BRIGANDS AND BRIGANDAGE
Disordered state of Spain at the accession of Isabella--Brigandage
raised into an organised system by lawless nobility and rebels--The
revival of the Santa Hermandad or Holy Brotherhood--This
institution revived again in the 19th century under the name of
"Migueletes"--Attack on the mail coach outside Madrid--The famous
brigand José Maria--His daring robberies in the Serrania--His
early life--English officers from Gibraltar captured and held to
ransom--Beloved and venerated by the peasants--In 1833 appointed an
officer of the Migueletes--Brigandage not extinct in Spain--Don Julian
de Zugasti appointed governor of Cordova--Methods of procedure--The
famous robber Vizco el Borje--His seizure of Don Pedro de M.--Enormous
ransom extorted--Agua Dulce.
Brigandage, the form of organised highway robbery practised by bands of
thieves in countries where roads are long and lonely and imperfectly
guarded, has been always popular with the Latin races. It suited the
tastes and temperament of reckless people who defied the law and
laughed at the attempt to protect defenceless wayfarers. Their activity
was stimulated by the long wastes of rugged country that separated the
towns, giving harbourage and security to the robbers who issued forth
to prey upon travellers and easily retired to their rocky fastnesses
and escaped pursuit. These Ishmaelites have been especially active in
Spain and Italy and the aggressive spirit that moved them is not yet
entirely extinct. More settled government has produced a more effective
police in these latter days, but acts of brigandage in its latest
development, that of "holding up" modern means of conveyance, express
trains, bicycles and motor cars, have occurred, and may be reasonably
expected to increase.
Brigandage is as old as the hills in Spain and some of its earliest
phases are well worth describing before they are forgotten or replaced
by newer processes. We may look back and gather some idea of those
early days in Spain.
When Isabella, the Catholic, ascended the throne of Castile, she was
called upon to govern a country profoundly demoralised, infested
with evil doers and dominated by a turbulent and vicious nobility.
The throne was an object of contempt, the treasury empty, the
people poverty stricken, and the princes of the Church rebellious
and rejoicing in large revenues. A lawless aristocracy hungry for
independent authority were fighting for their own lands or conspiring
secretly to overawe the Crown. Titled alcaldes, traitors and rebels,
openly raised brigandage into a system, exacted tribute by blackmail
from the lower classes, and made unceasing war upon the higher. Within
the kingdom a rival pretender aimed at the Crown. One near neighbour,
Alfonso V of Portugal, menaced the peace of the country and kept
an army on the frontier; another, Louis XI of France, crafty and
unscrupulous, constantly threatened war and held his army in Guipuscoa.
In a few short years the whole aspect of the country was changed.
Isabella brought her rebellious nobles to their knees, all of them
asking pardon and promising allegiance; the French army withdrew
hastily to France; the Portuguese was defeated and expelled; the
claimant to the throne was imprisoned and numbers of high-born
criminals suffered on the scaffold. The great ecclesiastics disgorged
much of their wealth to buy forgiveness, the robber haunts were
attacked and destroyed, the high-roads became perfectly safe, thieves
and highwaymen took to honest labour. Now the revenue was largely
improved, the law was respected, crime was actively pursued and
rigorously punished. But for the terrors and cruelties practised by the
Inquisition, Spain would have enjoyed unbroken domestic peace and all
the benefits accruing from general good government. These satisfactory
results were largely achieved by the excellent police organised by
Isabella and her husband, Ferdinand. The revival and consolidation of
the "Santa Hermandad" or Holy Brotherhood which had always existed in
the country districts to secure peace and tranquillity, but heretofore
wielding smaller powers, worked wonders. A comprehensive system was now
introduced by which all parts were patrolled by well-armed guardians
of the law, mounted and on foot, who checked, prevented or punished
misdeeds. In every collection of thirty houses or more two officials
were appointed to deal with all offenders according to a strict code.
Every thief when taken was punished with fine, flogging and exile, in
penalties proportioned to the amount stolen. For more heinous offences
his ears were cut off and he got a hundred lashes, or yet again one of
his feet was amputated and he was peremptorily forbidden to ride on a
horse or mule at peril of his life. A sentence of death was carried out
by shooting with arrows.
This ancient Hermandad was at one time revived in the _Migueletes_,
a body of men organised early in the nineteenth century to act as
escorts to private travellers, as the regular mails and diligences
were under the protection of troops provided by the Government. The
_Migueletes_ were a semi-military force composed of picked youths of
courageous conduct, wearing uniform and armed with a short gun, with
a sword, a single pistol and carrying a cord by which to secure their
prisoners. The _Migueletes_ took their name from one Miguel de Pratz,
who had been a lieutenant of Caesar Borgia. They were often recruited
from the robbers who were offered service as a condition of pardon when
captured, and afterwards behaved admirably. No one with an escort of
ten or twelve _Migueletes_ need fear attack.
The mail coach was sometimes attacked, and on one occasion was stopped
at Almuwadiel outside Madrid. It carried several passengers, among
others an Englishman, a German artist and a Spaniard. At the first
appearance of the brigands, the guard threw himself on the ground with
his face in the mud and the postillions did the same. When summoned
to deliver up their possessions, the Englishman gave up his well
filled purse and was warmly thanked; the German artist would have been
ill-treated as a punishment for his empty pockets, but was spared
when his poverty was explained; the Spaniard was caught attempting to
conceal his valuables in the carriage lining and narrowly escaped a
beating. The coach was at last permitted to proceed and at parting the
leader of the band shook hands with the Englishman and said he was a
real gentleman, the German was ignored and the Spaniard was sharply
taken to task for his attempted "fraud."
To this period (1825-35) belongs the famous brigand, José Maria, the
Spanish Fra Diavolo, whose name is still remembered in the "Serrania"
or mountain country of Ronda and throughout Southern Andalusia, for his
daring robberies and continual defiance of the authorities. A "pass" or
safe conduct granted by him was a better protection than any official
escort. So great was his power that he was known by the proud title
of "El Señor del Campo" (the lord of the country), and he ruled more
absolutely in Andalusia than King Ferdinand in Spain. Travellers paid
him a head tax, blackmail was levied on all public conveyances and, as
has been said, he issued passports at a price to all who chose to pay
for his protection. Strong bodies of troops were sent against him, but
he managed always to elude or oppose them successfully.
José Maria started in life as a small cultivator in a village near
Antequera, but, unable to earn a decent living, he took to the more
profitable business of smuggling, a profession greatly honoured and
esteemed in Spain. In one of his operations he was drawn into an affray
with the soldiers and unfortunately shot and killed one of them. He at
once fled to the mountains, where he was soon surrounded by other no
less reckless companions, all of them outlaws like himself, and became
the chief and centre of the band which soon spread terror throughout
Southern Spain. His headquarters were in the rugged and lofty mountain
district of Ronda near the little town of Grazalema, but he was
ubiquitous in his rapid movements and traversed the whole of Andalusia.
A story is preserved of an English nobleman who travelled to Spain
for the express purpose of making his acquaintance but long sought
him in vain in his favourite haunts and much disappointed retraced
his steps to Madrid. But on the road between Carmona and Ecija[23] he
had the questionable good fortune to meet José Maria in person, who
thanked him courteously for the compliment he had paid him in seeking
an interview, in return for which he proceeded to relieve his lordship
of his valuables and his baggage so that he might continue his journey
without encumbrance. He had many ways of levying contributions. One was
to send a messenger to some landed proprietor, demanding a large sum of
money, and declaring that if it was not paid he would swoop down to lay
waste his lands and burn his house over his head. Another plan was to
take post with his gang, all of them well mounted and fully armed, on
the highroad just outside some populous city, and "hold up" every one
who passed in or out, seizing all ready money and carrying off to some
secret fastness all persons known to possess means.
[23] This town of Ecija is renowned in the history of Spanish
brigandage as the home of the "Seven Sons of Ecija," a very daring
and dangerous band whose achievements have been told by the Spanish
novelist, Fernandez y Gonzalez.
English officers, part of the garrison of the Rock of Gibraltar, did
not escape the exactions of José Maria. Once a shooting party in the
woods near Gibraltar was suddenly attacked and captured, but after
the first surprise they showed fight and a brigand was wounded. The
lives of all of them were in danger but were saved on the persuasion
of José Maria that they would be more valuable as prisoners for whom a
large ransom would be obtained than as corpses. One of the party was
accordingly sent to the Rock to procure the money while the rest were
detained as hostages for his return at a certain hour the next day.
The messenger was warned that if a rescue was attempted, the whole of
the prisoners would be instantly massacred. He reached the Rock after
gunfire, but the gates were presently especially opened to admit him,
the money was collected, not without difficulty, and was conveyed to
the brigands in sufficient time to secure the release of the captives.
For some time later English officers were forbidden to go into Spain
except in sufficient numbers to set the brigands at defiance. In quite
recent years (1871) two gentlemen, natives of the Rock, were carried
off and detained until a large ransom was paid.
José Maria dominated the country for nearly ten years. The secret of
his long continued impunity may be traced to the fact that many of
the local authorities, influenced either by fear or interest, were in
collusion with him, and that the peasantry all wished him success;
for, as he never oppressed them, but assisted and protected their
smuggling transactions in which they are nearly all, in one way or
other, engaged by opposing the regular troops, he was greatly beloved
and venerated. He was in fact regarded as a hero; for such a life, wild
and adventurous, where there is plenty of plunder and no laborious
duty, has wondrous charms in the eyes of the lower Andalusians, by
whom the laws of _meum_ and _tuum_ have never been well understood.
How long José might have continued in power it is impossible to say,
but like some other great personages he chose to abdicate. In 1833, he
made his own terms with the Queen's government, agreeing to break up
his band on condition of receiving an _indulto_, or pardon for all past
offences, and a salaried appointment as an officer of Migueletes, or
"police." He did not long exercise this honest calling, for soon after,
when attempting to secure some of his former comrades who had taken
refuge in a farmhouse, he was shot dead as he burst open the door.
With all his bad qualities, José had some of a redeeming character.
Among these were his kindness to his female prisoners, his generosity
to the poor, and his forbearance, for he frequently restrained his
troop from acts of violence, and displayed on occasions a certain
chivalrous nobility of character, hardly to be expected from a robber.
In person he was very small, scarcely more than five feet in height,
with bowed legs; but he was stout, strong and active and made amends
in boldness, determination and talent for his physical deficiencies.
His success and the long continued control which he exercised over the
lawless fellows who composed his band proved that he possessed the
difficult art of command. His courage indeed was proverbial. As an
instance of it, it is reported that he once ventured into the presence
of the Prime Minister at Madrid and dared to beard him in his own house.
Brigandage has not wholly disappeared in Spain although it no longer
exists on the grand scale of former days when the mountain passes
and lesser highways were infested by robber bands led by daring
and unscrupulous chiefs who stopped travellers, blackmailed landed
proprietors and carried off country folk whom they held to ransom often
for considerable sums. To-day, if the knights of the road are still to
be met with occasionally, they are for the most part paltry pilferers
bent on stealing small sums from the poorer folk returning from market,
or in rare cases holding up some solitary vehicle and its defenceless
passengers. These are of the type of the old fashioned _salteadores_
or "jumpers," so named because they jumped out from behind a rock and
dropped suddenly on their prey with the old peremptory summons of
"_Boca abajo!_" "_Boca à tierra!_" "Faces down! Mouth to the ground!"
The cry may still be heard, and it means mischief when backed as of old
by the muzzle of a gun protruding from the bushes in some narrow pass
or defile. They are courageous too, these Spanish road agents, ready
to fight at need as well as to rob, to overbear resistance and to meet
the officers of the law with their own weapons. A story is told of one
daring ruffian, Rullo de Zancayro, who, in 1859, murdered the alcalde
of his village and was followed by two _guardias civiles_. At the end
of a long chase they went too near some brushwood, when one was shot
dead and the fugitive made good his escape.
In the year 1870 brigandage was general throughout Spain, but the
heart and centre of it was the province of Andalusia, with branches
and ramifications everywhere, spreading dismay and apprehension
among all peaceable people. This was in the interregnum that followed
the revolution which drove Queen Isabella from the throne. There
was safety for no one. Respectable landowners dared not visit nor
reside upon their estates for fear of attack, dreading robbery with
violence or seizure of their persons, and they constantly received
threatening letters demanding the purchase of immunity on the payment
of considerable sums. The roads were more than ever insecure, trains
and diligences were repeatedly held up, and small parties of travellers
or solitary wayfarers were certain to be laid under contribution. It
was claimed that the _guardias civiles_, the fine rural police, were
no longer active but were diverted from their legitimate duties by
political party leaders in power. So many bitter complaints, so many
indignant demands for protection, reached the central government in
Madrid, that the authorities resolved to put down brigandage with a
strong hand. A new governor of Cordova was appointed, a man of vigour
and determination, armed with full powers to purge the province of its
desperadoes.
The choice fell upon Don Julian de Zugasti y Saenz, who had been a
member of the Cortes and employed as civil administrator, first as
governor of Teruel, where he had restored order in a period of grave
disorder, and at Burgos, where he had laid bare a formidable conspiracy
against the government. When Zugasti undertook the task, it was high
time to adopt energetic measures. There was no security for life or
property as robberies on a large scale were perpetrated both in town
and country. Well-to-do citizens were seized in the public streets and
carried off to sequestration; farmers and cultivators were compelled to
share their produce, their harvests, and their herds with the brigands
who swooped down on them; the police were impotent or too much overawed
to interfere in the interest of honest folk. The prevailing anarchy
and widespread lawlessness were a disgrace to any country that called
itself civilised. Zugasti did a great work in restoring order and
giving security to the disturbed districts. The whole story is told
at some length in his book on "Bandolerismo,"[24] which deals with
brigandage in Spain from its very beginnings, describing the principal
feats of the banditti.
[24] "Bandolerismo estudo social y memorias historicas," by Don Julian
de Zugasti. Madrid, 1876.
At the outset he was faced with a most difficult situation. Crimes
in great number had been committed with impunity. Many of their
perpetrators were wholly hidden from the authorities, while others
were perfectly well known. A crowd of spies were ever on the watch and
ready, whether from greed or to curry favour, with abundant information
of openings that offered for attempts at crime. On the other hand the
_guardias civiles_ were greatly discouraged and far too weak in numbers
for the onerous duties they were expected to perform. Judges were
dishonest and had been known to accept bribes, the ordinary police were
torpid, nearly useless and generally despised. A complete reform in the
administration of justice was a crying need, as the power and authority
of the law were completely broken down.
The new governor was helpless and handicapped on every side. His
representations to the government for support were but coldly
received and he had to rely on such scanty means as he had at hand.
He looked carefully into the character of all police employés and
dismissed all of doubtful reputation. He established a system of
supplying the _guardias civiles_ at all stations with photographs of
criminals at large whom they could identify and arrest, and insisted
on strictly revising the permits issued to carry arms, allowing none
but respectable persons to do so. The prohibition was extended to all
kinds of knives, many of them murderous weapons of the well known type.
The quarters of all evil doers he heard of were broken up, including
the farm which had come to be called Ceuta because it harboured a
mob of ex-convicts, escaped prisoners who were eager to resume their
depredations by joining themselves to the plans and projects of others.
These active measures were bitterly resented and vigorously resisted by
all evil doers, who went so far as to seek the removal of the governor,
and it was falsely announced in more than one newspaper that he had
sent in his resignation. The disastrous consequence was the immediate
revival of brigandage in various forms. Horses and cattle were once
more stolen in the open country and a house in the town of Estado
was broken into and a large amount in cash and securities with much
valuable jewelry was seized. At the same time ten prisoners escaped
in a body from the gaol of that city. On the highroad between Posadas
and Villaviciosa, seven armed men robbed nineteen travellers, and a
party had the audacity to carry off a child of nine and hold him to
ransom. The police and well-disposed people were greatly disheartened,
the _guardias civiles_, which had done excellent service in capturing
more than a hundred prisoners in a short time, slackened in their
endeavours, while the municipal police, which had forty captures to
its credit, also held their hand. The whole situation was greatly
aggravated and crime gained the ascendancy. But Zugasti rose to the
occasion, publicly denied the report of his resignation; the government
published a complimentary decree commending his conduct, and his
pursuit of wrong doers was continued with renewed energy. Naturally he
incurred the bitterest hostility and went constantly in danger of his
life. He received anonymous letters containing the most bloodthirsty
threats and was warned by his friends that they could not possibly
support or protect him. Undeterred he held his way, bravely and wisely
organised an association akin to the "Regulators" of the wild days
in the Western States of the United States to patrol the country and
insure the general safety, and employed a large force of secret police
agents to perambulate the country, keeping close watch upon suspicious
persons, travelling by all trains, patrolling all roads, visiting
taverns in low quarters, entering the prisons in disguise and gaining
the confidence of the fellow prisoners. Zugasti himself spent long
periods in the various gaols, observing, investigating and interviewing
notable offenders.
The thoroughness of his proceedings might be gathered from the choice
he made of his agents. One of the most useful was an idiot boy, whose
weak-mindedness was relieved by some glimmerings of sense and who
passed entirely unsuspected by those upon whom he spied. His foolish
talk and silly ways gained him ready admission into cafés and clubs,
where he was laughed at and treated as a butt upon whom food, drink
and unlimited cigars were generously bestowed. He had the gift of
remaining wide awake while seeming to be sound asleep, his ears ever on
the stretch to pick up compromising facts which were openly mentioned
before him. He had also a prodigious memory and seldom forgot what he
heard, storing up everything to be produced later when he attended
upon the governor. In this way Zugasti often heard of crimes almost
as soon as they were planned, and could hunt up their perpetrators
without delay. On one occasion a mysterious crime was unravelled by
placing the idiot in the same cell with two of the suspected actors,
who entirely believed in the imbecility of their cell companion and
unguardedly revealed the true inwardness of the whole affair.
The _ladron en grande_, the "robber chief" at the head of a numerous
band, is still to be met with, although rarely representing the type
of the famous José Maria. These leaders rose to the command of their
lawless fellows by force of superior will, and they were unhesitatingly
obeyed and followed with reckless devotion in the constant commission
of crime. One or two noted specimens have survived till to-day and some
account of them may be extracted from recent records.
Vizco el Borje was long a terror to the peaceable people in northern
Andalusia. He was originally an officer of _carabineros_, the "custom
house" regiment of Spain, but had been, in his own judgment, unjustly
dismissed and found himself deprived of the means of subsistence.
Falling lower and lower, step by step he became an outcast, an
Ishmaelite consumed with an intense hatred of all social arrangements,
with his hand against every man. He began business as a smuggler and
soon took to worse, following the Spanish proverb:--
"De contrabandista e ladron
No haymas que un escalon."
"There is only one short step from smuggler to thief," and Vizco
quickly crossed the narrow space and became a notorious criminal. He
carried on the war against law and order with constantly increasing
recklessness and more and more daring outrages. His strong personal
character, his iron will, his unbounded courage and boldness gave
him a great ascendancy over the men who collected around him and who
served him with the greatest loyalty and unstinting effort. One of his
exploits may be quoted at some length as exhibiting his methods and the
success that generally attended them.
A certain landowner, Don Pedro de M----, whose estates were in the
neighbourhood of the mountain village of Zahrita, was in the habit of
providing bulls free of charge for the amusement of the villagers, at
the annual festival of their patron saint. Amateur bull fighters are
always to be found to take part in the performance of a _novillos_,
or game with young bulls. Don Pedro like many of his class was also
an _aficionado_, an amateur devoted to bull fighting, and he loved to
pick out himself the animals he gave from his herds, trying first their
temper and their aptitude for the so-called sport of _tauromaquia_.
He was thus engaged, assisted by his steward and a herdsman, and had
dismounted with the steward to walk round the herd, when the ominous
cry was raised, "_Boca abajo!_" and they found themselves covered
by the rifles of three brigands who had crept upon them unobserved.
Resistance was hopeless, though they also were armed, for their guns
hung at the saddles of their horses, which they led at the full length
of their reins, and to have made any hostile move would have drawn
down a murderous fire. The chance soon passed, for one of the robbers
quickly took possession of both horses and guns. The seizure was
complete and the captors proceeded to carry off their prize.
All remounted by order of the chief of the band, who took the lead,
and the party started in single file along the narrow mountain path,
an armed escort bringing up the rear. They made straight for the
upper sierra, avoiding the frequented track until they reached a
dense thicket, where a halt was called and a scout sent on ahead.
After an interchange of whistled signals, nine other horsemen rode
up, the two prisoners were ordered to dismount, their eyes closely
bandaged, and they were warned that their lives depended upon their
implicit obedience to the orders they received. Then the march was
resumed. The road led constantly upward, becoming more and more rugged
and precipitous till from the utter absence of brushwood and the
stumbling of their horses they knew that they were climbing through
a mountainous region. Another halt was called, all again dismounted,
and the prisoners were led on foot along a narrow passage, that from
the echoing sounds and the closeness of the air evidently penetrated
far into the hill. It opened presently into an extensive cavern,
probably the long-abandoned workings of some ancient Roman mine.
Here their bandages were removed and Don Pedro saw that he was in the
presence of the three bandits who had first made him prisoner. The cave
contained nothing but a few empty boxes, on one of which was a light,
a flickering wick in a saucerful of oil. Another box was offered Don
Pedro as a seat, writing materials were produced and he was desired to
write from dictation as follows:--
"DEAR FATHER, I am in the power of the 'Sequestradores,' who make good
plans and bind fast. It is madness to put the government on their
track--they will escape and you will lose your son. Your secrecy and
your money can at once free me. You can send the silver by Diego our
steward, who is the bearer of this. Let him appear on the mountain
between Grazalema and El Bosque, riding a white donkey and bringing
ten thousand dollars."
Here the prisoner stopped short and point blank refused to demand so
large a sum, declaring that to pay it his brothers would be robbed of
their patrimony and that he had no right to ask even when his life was
at stake for more than his individual share as one member of a large
family. It was a fair argument and he held out so staunchly that the
brigand was pleased to reduce the demand to six thousand dollars. The
letter conveying these terms was then completed, signed and delivered
to Diego, who was told to make the best of his way to Xeres, and as
dawn had now broken he had no difficulty in finding the road.
Don Pedro was hospitably entertained. A wine skin (_borracha_) was
broached and a plentiful supper laid out. The day was spent in sleep,
but at nightfall the march was resumed. The prisoner was once more
blindfolded, the weary pilgrimage, halting by day, travelling by
night for three nights in succession, was resumed. On one occasion he
seemed near rescue. A cry of "Civiles! Civiles!" was raised, an alarm
of the near approach of the much dreaded _guardias civiles_. Orders
were promptly issued to prepare for action. The brigands closed their
ranks, sent their prisoner to the rear and took post to open fire. In
the confusion Don Pedro, keenly alert for the deliverance that seemed
so near, managed to lift the bandage over his eyes sufficiently to
peep around. The party stood on a narrow ledge of the mountain side,
straight cliff above, sheer drop below: movement forward or back was
alone feasible. Meanwhile the increasing clatter of hoofs betrayed
the enemy's approach, nearer and nearer, and the brigands barring the
narrow road hoped to take them at a disadvantage and, after shooting
them down, make good their retreat. But the sight of the first horse
showed that it had been a false alarm. These were not "_Civiles_" but
"_Contrabandistas_," smugglers not policemen, friends not foes. A long
train of animals, heavily laden with goods that had paid no duty, were
being guided across the mountains. Don Pedro's hopes were crushed
out of him when he heard the interchange of friendly greetings: "_Muy
buenas noches!_" on one side and "_Vayan ustedes con Dios_," on the
other; "Good night!" and "Go in God's keeping," and room was made by
the robbers for the safe passage of the smuggling train.
On the third day news came that the authorities were on the alert and
it would be unsafe to meet the messenger returning on his white donkey.
Another tryst was therefore appointed. Don Pedro's father was desired
to send half the whole sum demanded to Grazalema and the other half was
carried by a man on the white donkey to a lonely spot among the hills.
The father started in person on the long ride from Xeres to Grazalema
weighted with three thousand dollars in cash, reached his destination
safely but remained there for a couple of days tortured with suspense.
On the third morning he was approached by a man leading a pony laden
with rolls of the rough brown cloth manufactured in Grazalema, who
said under his breath as he passed, "Follow me." The peddler led the
way to a small draper's shop where the same cloth was exposed for sale
and, dismounting, passed into the back premises, where another man,
also a peddler, was seated waiting. This was Vizco el Borje himself,
who at once asked for the money, producing Don Pedro's pencil case
as his credentials. The dollars had been sewn for security into the
pack saddle of the pony which had brought the old man, and they were
extracted, counted and handed over. Vizco forthwith climbed on top of
the pile of cloth carried by his own mount and rode boldly out of the
town.
Meanwhile Diego, the steward on the white donkey, with the remaining
three thousand dollars patiently hung about the mountain lair to
which he had been directed, and at last encountered a goatherd at the
entrance of the village, who told him to ride on till he met a woman
dressed in black seated by the side of a well. "She will ask you the
time, and you will answer twelve o'clock, at which she will guide you
to the spot where you are expected." It was a cavern in the hill and he
was met there by his young master Don Pedro safe and sound. The money
was handed over, but no release was permitted until news came of the
delivery of the other half, when the prisoners were guided to a path
familiar to them and they were free to return home. Next evening they
rode into Xeres after a captivity of fifteen days.
The end of Vizco el Borje was such as might be expected. He was shot
down by the _guardias civiles_. For a long time he carried his life
in his hands and had many hairbreadth escapes, saved always by his
fine pluck and resourcefulness. At last the authorities had positive
information of his whereabouts, gained through treachery, and he was
surrendered. He made a gallant defence, but his retreat was cut off
and he was soon overpowered. When he fell his body had been pierced by
five rifle bullets.
Another type of brigand was Agua Dulce, who worked on a much smaller
scale, but was long a terror in the neighbourhood of Xeres. He was
a mean, contemptible ruffian who preyed upon charcoal burners, poor
travellers, carriers and workmen returning home with their hard earned
wages. He had one narrow escape. After securing an unusually large sum,
the equivalent of £600, all in small coins, he was caught dividing
these with two accomplices in a wine shop. His arrest and imprisonment
followed. When called upon to account for his possession of the gold,
Agua Dulce explained that he had got it in the course of a business
transaction in Seville and was removed to that city for trial, where he
was acquitted, although little doubt was entertained of his guilt.
For years he continued his depredations, committing for the most part
small thefts and petty larcenies. Now and again he made bold coups, as
when, under threat of damaging a herd of valuable mares, he extorted
three thousand dollars from a lady who raised horses. He levied a
thousand dollars on another landowner by using the same menace and a
third gentleman, who had stoutly refused to be blackmailed and who
owned a large drove of donkeys, found them all with their throats cut
lying by the high road. When his misdeeds became too numerous to be
borne the municipal guard of Gorez swore to put an end to him. A hot
pursuit was organised and he was found at a ford near a wood belonging
to the Duke of San Lorenzo, where he was caught hiding among the trees.
Two guards opened fire, which was returned, with the result that one
guard was killed and one robber. Agua Dulce, who was still alive, got
into the covert, and shots were again and again exchanged, ending in
the destruction of the brigand.
A later affair with brigands occurred at Gibraltar in 1870, when two
gentlemen, natives of the Rock, much given to hunting and taking long
rides in the neighbourhood, were waylaid and made prisoners. They were
carried off to a lonely house in the hills near Ronda and detained
for ransom, which was advanced by the British government through the
governor of the fortress of Gibraltar, and eventually repaid by the
Spanish authorities. After the money had been paid over the _guardias
civiles_ intercepted the robbers and shot them down.