Corunna—Crossing the Bay—Ferrol—The Dock-yard—Where are we now?—Greek
Ambassador—Lantern-Light—The Ravine—Viveiro—Evening—Marsh and
Quagmire—Fair Words and Fair Money—The Leathern Girth—Eyes of Lynx—The
Knavish Guide.
From Corcuvion I returned to St. James and Corunna, and now began to make
preparation for directing my course to the Asturias. In the first place
I parted with my Andalusian horse, which I considered unfit for the long
and mountainous journey I was about to undertake, his constitution having
become much debilitated from his Gallegan travels. Owing to horses being
exceedingly scarce at Corunna, I had no difficulty in disposing of him at
a far higher price than he originally cost me. A young and wealthy
merchant of Corunna, who was a national guardsman, became enamoured of
his glossy skin and long mane and tail. For my own part, I was glad to
part with him for more reasons than one; he was both vicious and savage,
and was continually getting me into scrapes in the stables of the
_posadas_ where we slept or baited. An old Castilian peasant, whose pony
he had maltreated, once said to me, “Sir Cavalier, if you have any love
or respect for yourself, get rid, I beseech you, of that beast, who is
capable of proving the ruin of a kingdom.” So I left him behind at
Corunna, where I subsequently learned that he became glandered and died.
Peace to his memory!
From Corunna I crossed the bay to Ferrol, whilst Antonio with our
remaining horse followed by land, a rather toilsome and circuitous
journey, although the distance by water is scarcely three leagues. I was
very sea-sick during the passage, and lay almost senseless at the bottom
of the small launch in which I had embarked, and which was crowded with
people. The wind was adverse, and the water rough. We could make no
sail, but were impelled along by the oars of five or six stout mariners,
who sang all the while Gallegan ditties. Suddenly the sea appeared to
have become quite smooth, and my sickness at once deserted me. I rose
upon my feet and looked around. We were in one of the strangest places
imaginable. A long and narrow passage overhung on either side by a
stupendous barrier of black and threatening rocks. The line of the coast
was here divided by a natural cleft, yet so straight and regular that it
seemed not the work of chance but design. The water was dark and sullen,
and of immense depth. This passage, which is about a mile in length, is
the entrance to a broad basin, at whose farther extremity stands the town
of Ferrol.
Sadness came upon me as soon as I entered this place. Grass was growing
in the streets, and misery and distress stared me in the face on every
side. Ferrol is the grand naval arsenal of Spain, and has shared in the
ruin of the once splendid Spanish navy: it is no longer thronged with
those thousand shipwrights who prepared for sea the tremendous
three-deckers and long frigates, the greater part of which were destroyed
at Trafalgar. Only a few ill-paid and half-starved workmen still linger
about, scarcely sufficient to repair any _guarda costa_ {43a} which may
put in dismantled by the fire of some English smuggling schooner from
Gibraltar. Half the inhabitants of Ferrol {43b} beg their bread; and
amongst these, as it is said, are not unfrequently found retired naval
officers, many of them maimed or otherwise wounded, who are left to pine
in indigence: their pensions or salaries having been allowed to run three
or four years in arrear, owing to the exigencies of the times. A crowd
of importunate beggars followed me to the _posada_, and even attempted to
penetrate to the apartment to which I was conducted. “Who are you?” said
I to a woman who flung herself at my feet, and who bore in her
countenance evident marks of former gentility. “A widow, sir,” she
replied, in very good French; “a widow of a brave officer, once admiral
of this port.” The misery and degradation of modern Spain are nowhere so
strikingly manifested as at Ferrol.
Yet even here there is still much to admire. Notwithstanding its present
state of desolation, it contains some good streets, and abounds with
handsome houses. The _alameda_ is planted with nearly a thousand elms,
of which almost all are magnificent trees, and the poor Ferrolese, with
the genuine spirit of localism so prevalent in Spain, boast that their
town contains a better public walk than Madrid, of whose _prado_, when
they compare the two, they speak in terms of unmitigated contempt. At
one end of this _alameda_ stands the church, the only one in Ferrol. To
this church I repaired the day after my arrival, which was Sunday. I
found it quite insufficient to contain the number of worshippers who,
chiefly from the country, not only crowded the interior, but, bareheaded,
were upon their knees before the door to a considerable distance down the
walk.
Parallel with the _alameda_ extends the wall of the naval arsenal and
dock. I spent several hours in walking about these places, to visit
which it is necessary to procure a written permission from the
captain-general of Ferrol. They filled me with astonishment. I have
seen the royal dock-yards of Russia and England, but, for grandeur of
design and costliness of execution, they cannot for a moment compare with
these wonderful monuments of the bygone naval pomp of Spain. I shall not
attempt to describe them, but content myself with observing that the
oblong basin, which is surrounded with a granite mole, is capacious
enough to permit a hundred first-rates to lie conveniently in ordinary:
but instead of such a force, I saw only a sixty-gun frigate and two brigs
lying in this basin; and to this inconsiderable number of vessels is the
present war marine of Spain reduced.
I waited for the arrival of Antonio two or three days at Ferrol, and
still he came not: late one evening, however, as I was looking down the
street, I perceived him advancing, leading our only horse by the bridle.
He informed me that, at about three leagues from Corunna, the heat of the
weather and the flies had so distressed the animal that it had fallen
down in a kind of fit, from which it had been only relieved by copious
bleeding, on which account he had been compelled to halt for a day upon
the road. The horse was evidently in a very feeble state; and had a
strange rattling in its throat, which alarmed me at first. I, however,
administered some remedies, and in a few days deemed him sufficiently
recovered to proceed.
We accordingly started from Ferrol, having first hired a pony for myself,
and a guide who was to attend us as far as Rivadeo, {45} twenty leagues
from Ferrol, and on the confines of the Asturias. The day at first was
fine, but ere we reached Novales, a distance of three leagues, the sky
became overcast, and a mist descended, accompanied by a drizzling rain.
The country through which we passed was very picturesque. At about two
in the afternoon we could descry through the mist the small fishing-town
of Santa Marta on our left, with its beautiful bay. Travelling along the
summit of a line of hills, we presently entered a chestnut forest, which
appeared to be without limit: the rain still descended, and kept up a
ceaseless pattering among the broad green leaves. “This is the
commencement of the autumnal rains,” said the guide. “Many is the
wetting that you will get, my masters, before you reach Oviedo.” “Have
you ever been as far as Oviedo?” I demanded. “No,” he replied, “and once
only to Rivadeo, the place to which I am now conducting you, and I tell
you frankly that we shall soon be in wildernesses where the way is hard
to find, especially at night, and amidst rain and waters. I wish I were
fairly back to Ferrol, for I like not this route, which is the worst in
Galicia, in more respects than one; but where my master’s pony goes,
there must I go too; such is the life of us guides.” I shrugged my
shoulders at this intelligence, which was by no means cheering, but made
no answer. At length, about nightfall, we emerged from the forest, and
presently descended into a deep valley at the foot of lofty hills.
“Where are we now?” I demanded of the guide, as we crossed a rude bridge
at the bottom of the valley, down which a rivulet swollen by the rain
foamed and roared. “In the valley of Coisa Doiro,” {46} he replied; “and
it is my advice that we stay here for the night and do not venture among
those hills, through which lies the path to Viveiro; for as soon as we
get there, _adios_! I shall be bewildered, which will prove the
destruction of us all.” “Is there a village nigh?” “Yes, the village is
right before us, and we shall be there in a moment.” We soon reached the
village, which stood amongst some tall trees at the entrance of a pass
which led up amongst the hills. Antonio dismounted, and entered two or
three of the cabins, but presently came to me, saying, “We cannot stay
here, _mon maître_, without being devoured by vermin; we had better be
amongst the hills than in this place. There is neither fire nor light in
these cabins, and the rain is streaming through the roofs.” The guide,
however, refused to proceed. “I could scarcely find my way amongst those
hills by daylight,” he cried surlily, “much less at night, ’midst storm
and _bretima_.” We procured some wine and maize bread from one of the
cottages. Whilst we were partaking of these, Antonio said, “_Mon
maître_, the best thing we can do in our present situation is to hire
some fellow of this village to conduct us through the hills to Viveiro.
There are no beds in this place, and if we lie down in the litter in our
damp clothes we shall catch a tertian of Galicia. {47} Our present guide
is of no service; we must therefore find another to do his duty.”
Without waiting for a reply, he flung down the crust of _broa_ which he
was munching and disappeared. I subsequently learned that he went to the
cottage of the _alcalde_, and demanded, in the queen’s name, a guide for
the Greek ambassador, who was benighted on his way to the Asturias. In
about ten minutes I again saw him, attended by the local functionary,
who, to my surprise, made me a profound bow, and stood bare-headed in the
rain. “His excellency,” shouted Antonio, “is in need of a guide to
Viveiro. People of our description are not compelled to pay for any
service which they may require; however, as his excellency has bowels of
compassion, he is willing to give three _pesetas_ to any competent person
who will accompany him to Viveiro, and as much bread and wine as he can
eat and drink on his arrival.” “His excellency shall be served,” said
the alcalde; “however, as the way is long and the path is bad, and there
is much _bretima_ amongst the hills, it appears to me that, besides the
bread and wine, his excellency can do no less than offer four pesetas to
the guide who may be willing to accompany him to Viveiro; and I know no
one better than my own son-in-law, Juanito.” “Content, _Señor Alcalde_,”
I replied; “produce the guide, and the extra _peseta_ shall be
forthcoming in due season.”
Soon appeared Juanito with a lantern in his hand. We instantly set
forward. The two guides began conversing in Gallegan. “_Mon maître_,”
said Antonio, “this new scoundrel is asking the old one what he thinks we
have got in our portmanteaus.” Then, without awaiting my answer, he
shouted, “Pistols, ye barbarians! Pistols, as you shall learn to your
cost, if you do not cease speaking in that gibberish and converse in
Castilian.” The Gallegans were silent, and presently the first guide
dropped behind, whilst the other with the lantern moved before. “Keep in
the rear,” said Antonio to the former, “and at a distance: know one
thing, moreover, that I can see behind as well as before. _Mon maître_,”
said he to me, “I don’t suppose these fellows will attempt to do us any
harm, more especially as they do not know each other; it is well,
however, to separate them, for this is a time and place which might tempt
any one to commit robbery and murder too.”
The rain still continued to fall uninterruptedly, the path was rugged and
precipitous, and the night was so dark that we could only see
indistinctly the hills which surrounded us. Once or twice our guide
seemed to have lost his way: he stopped, muttered to himself, raised his
lantern on high, and would then walk slowly and hesitatingly forward. In
this manner we proceeded for three or four hours, when I asked the guide
how far we were from Viveiro. “I do not know exactly where we are, your
worship,” he replied, “though I believe we are in the route. We can
scarcely, however, be less than two mad leagues from Viveiro.” “Then we
shall not arrive there before morning,” interrupted Antonio, “for a mad
league of Galicia means at least two of Castile; and perhaps we are
doomed never to arrive there, if the way thither leads down this
precipice.” As he spoke, the guide seemed to descend into the bowels of
the earth. “Stop,” said I; “where are you going?” “To Viveiro,
_Senhor_,” replied the fellow: “this is the way to Viveiro; there is no
other. I now know where we are.” The light of the lantern shone upon
the dark red features of the guide, who had turned round to reply, as he
stood some yards down the side of a dingle or ravine overgrown with thick
trees, beneath whose leafy branches a frightfully steep path descended.
I dismounted from the pony, and delivering the bridle to the other guide,
said, “Here is your master’s horse; if you please you may lead him down
that abyss, but as for myself I wash my hands of the matter.” The
fellow, without a word of reply, vaulted into the saddle, and with a
_vamos_, _Perico_! {49} to the pony, impelled the creature to the
descent. “Come, _Senhor_,” said he with the lantern, “there is no time
to be lost; my light will be presently extinguished, and this is the
worst bit in the whole road.” I thought it very probable that he was
about to lead us to some den of cut-throats, where we might be
sacrificed; but, taking courage, I seized our own horse by the bridle,
and followed the fellow down the ravine amidst rocks and brambles. The
descent lasted nearly ten minutes, and ere we had entirely accomplished
it, the light in the lantern went out, and we remained in nearly total
darkness.
Encouraged, however, by the guide, who assured us there was no danger, we
at length reached the bottom of the ravine; here we encountered a rill of
water, through which we were compelled to wade as high as the knee. In
the midst of the water I looked up and caught a glimpse of the heavens
through the branches of the trees, which all around clothed the shelving
sides of the ravine, and completely embowered the channel of the stream:
to a place more strange and replete with gloom and horror no benighted
traveller ever found his way. After a short pause we commenced scaling
the opposite bank, which we did not find so steep as the other, and a few
minutes’ exertion brought us to the top.
Shortly afterwards the rain abated, and the moon arising, cast a dim
light through the watery mists. The way had become less precipitous, and
in about two hours we descended to the shore of an extensive creek, along
which we proceeded till we reached a spot where many boats and barges lay
with their keels upward upon the sand. Presently we beheld before us the
walls of Viveiro, upon which the moon was shedding its sickly lustre. We
entered by a lofty and seemingly ruinous archway, and the guide conducted
us at once to the _posada_.
Every person in Viveiro appeared to be buried in profound slumber; not so
much as a dog saluted us with his bark. After much knocking we were
admitted into the _posada_, a large and dilapidated edifice. We had
scarcely housed ourselves and horses when the rain began to fall with yet
more violence than before, attended with much thunder and lightning.
Antonio and I, exhausted with fatigue, betook ourselves to flock beds in
a ruinous chamber, into which the rain penetrated through many a cranny,
whilst the guides ate bread and drank wine till the morning.
When I arose I was gladdened by the sight of a fine day. Antonio
forthwith prepared a savoury breakfast of stewed fowl, of which we stood
in much need after the ten-league journey of the preceding day over the
ways which I have attempted to describe. I then walked out to view the
town, which consists of little more than one long street, on the side of
a steep mountain thickly clad with forest and fruit-trees. At about ten
we continued our journey, accompanied by our first guide, the other
having returned to Coisa Doiro some hours previously.
Our route throughout this day was almost constantly within sight of the
shores of the Cantabrian sea, whose windings we followed. The country
was barren, and in many parts covered with huge stones: cultivated spots,
however, were to be seen, where vines were growing. We met with but few
human habitations. We, however, journeyed on cheerfully, for the sun was
once more shining in full brightness, gilding the wild moors, and shining
upon the waters of the distant sea, which lay in unruffled calmness.
At evening fall we were in the neighbourhood of the shore, with a range
of wood-covered hills on our right. Our guide led us towards a creek
bordered by a marsh, but he soon stopped, and declared that he did not
know whither he was conducting us.
“_Mon maître_,” said Antonio, “let us be our own guides; it is, as you
see, of no use to depend upon this fellow, whose whole science consists
in leading people into quagmires.”
We therefore turned aside, and proceeded along the marsh for a
considerable distance, till we reached a narrow path which led us into a
thick wood, where we soon became completely bewildered. On a sudden,
after wandering about a considerable time, we heard the noise of water,
and presently the clack of a wheel. Following the sound, we arrived at a
low stone mill, built over a brook; here we stopped and shouted, but no
answer was returned. “The place is deserted,” said Antonio; “here,
however, is a path, which, if we follow it, will doubtless lead us to
some human habitation. So we went along the path, which, in about ten
minutes, brought us to the door of a cabin, in which we saw lights.
Antonio dismounted and opened the door: “Is there any one here who can
conduct us to Rivadeo?” he demanded.
“_Senhor_,” answered a voice, “Rivadeo is more than five leagues from
here, and, moreover, there is a river to cross.”
“Then to the next village,” continued Antonio.
“I am a _vecino_ of the next village, which is on the way to Rivadeo,”
said another voice, “and I will lead you thither, if you will give me
fair words, and, what is better, fair money.”
A man now came forth, holding in his hand a large stick. He strode
sturdily before us, and in less than half an hour led us out of the wood.
In another half-hour he brought us to a group of cabins situated near the
sea; he pointed to one of these, and having received a _peseta_, bade us
farewell.
The people of the cottage willingly consented to receive us for the
night; it was much more cleanly and commodious than the wretched huts of
the Gallegan peasantry in general. The ground floor consisted of a
keeping room and stable, whilst above was a long loft, in which were some
neat and comfortable flock beds. I observed several masts and sails of
boats. The family consisted of two brothers, with their wives and
families. One was a fisherman; but the other, who appeared to be the
principal person, informed me that he had resided for many years in
service at Madrid, and, having amassed a small sum, he had at length
returned to his native village, where he had purchased some land, which
he farmed. All the family used the Castilian language in their common
discourse, and on inquiry I learned that the Gallegan was not much spoken
in that neighbourhood. I have forgotten the name of this village, which
is situated on the estuary of the Foz, which rolls down from Mondonedo.
In the morning we crossed this estuary in a large boat, with our horses,
and about noon arrived at Rivadeo.
“Now, your worship,” said the guide, who had accompanied us from Ferrol,
“I have brought you as far as I bargained, and a hard journey it has
been: I therefore hope you will suffer Perico and myself to remain here
to-night at your expense, and to-morrow we will go back; at present we
are both sorely tired.”
“I never mounted a better pony than Perico,” said I, “and never met with
a worse guide than yourself. You appear to be perfectly ignorant of the
country, and have done nothing but bring us into difficulties. You may,
however, stay here for the night, as you say you are tired, and to-morrow
you may return to Ferrol, where I counsel you to adopt some other trade.”
This was said at the door of the _posada_ of Rivadeo.
“Shall I lead the horses to a stable?” said the fellow.
“As you please,” said I.
Antonio looked after him for a moment, as he was leading the animals
away, and then, shaking his head, followed slowly after. In about a
quarter of an hour he returned, laden with the furniture of our own
horse, and with a smile upon his countenance. “_Mon maître_,” said he,
“I have throughout the journey had a bad opinion of this fellow, and now
I have detected him: his motive in requesting permission to stay was a
desire to purloin something from us. He was very officious in the stable
about our horse, and I now miss the new leathern girth which secured the
saddle, and which I observed him looking at frequently on the road. He
has by this time doubtless hid it somewhere; we are quite secure of him,
however, for he has not yet received the hire for the pony, nor the
gratuity for himself.”
The guide returned just as he had concluded speaking. Dishonesty is
always suspicious. The fellow cast a glance upon us, and probably
beholding in our countenances something which he did not like, he
suddenly said, “Give me the horse-hire and my own _propina_, for Perico
and I wish to be off instantly.”
“How is this?” said I; “I thought you and Perico were both fatigued, and
wished to rest here for the night: you have soon recovered from your
weariness.”
“I have thought over the matter,” said the fellow, “and my master will be
angry if I loiter here: pay up, therefore, and let us go.”
“Certainly,” said I, “if you wish it. Is the horse furniture all right?”
“Quite so,” said he; “I delivered it all to your servant.”
“It is all here,” said Antonio, “with the exception of the leathern
girth.”
“I have not got it,” said the guide.
“Of course not,” said I. “Let us proceed to the stable; we shall perhaps
find it there.”
To the stable we went, which we searched through: no girth, however, was
forthcoming. “He has got it buckled round his middle beneath his
pantaloons, _mon maître_,” said Antonio, whose eyes were moving about
like those of a lynx; “I saw the protuberance as he stooped down.
However, let us take no notice: he is here surrounded by his countrymen,
who, if we were to seize him, might perhaps take his part. As I said
before, he is in our power, as we have not paid him.”
The fellow now began to talk in Gallegan to the bystanders (several
persons having collected), wishing the _Denho_ to take him if he knew
anything of the missing property. Nobody, however, seemed inclined to
take his part; and those who listened only shrugged their shoulders. We
returned to the portal of the _posada_, the fellow following us,
clamouring for the horse-hire and _propina_. We made him no answer, and
at length he went away, threatening to apply to the _justicia_; in about
ten minutes, however, he came running back with the girth in his hand.
“I have just found it,” said he, “in the street: your servant dropped
it.”
I took the leather and proceeded very deliberately to count out the sum
to which the horse-hire amounted, and having delivered it to him in the
presence of witnesses, I said, “During the whole journey you have been of
no service to us whatever; nevertheless, you have fared like ourselves,
and have had all you could desire to eat and drink. I intended, on your
leaving us, to present you, moreover, with a _propina_ of two dollars;
but since, notwithstanding our kind treatment, you endeavoured to pillage
us, I will not give you a _cuarto_: go, therefore, about your business.”
All the audience expressed their satisfaction at this sentence, and told
him that he had been rightly-served, and that he was a disgrace to
Galicia. Two or three women crossed themselves, and asked him if he was
not afraid that the _Denho_, whom he had invoked, would take him away.
At last, a respectable-looking man said to him, “Are you not ashamed to
have attempted to rob two innocent strangers?”
“Strangers!” roared the fellow, who was by this time foaming with rage,
“innocent strangers, _carracho_! they know more of Spain and Galicia,
too, than the whole of us. Oh, _Denho_, that servant is no man, but a
wizard, a _nuveiro_.—Where is Perico?”
He mounted Perico, and proceeded forthwith to another _posada_. The
tale, however, of his dishonesty had gone before him, and no person would
house him; whereupon he returned on his steps, and seeing me looking out
of the window of the house, he gave a savage shout, and shaking his fist
at me, galloped out of the town, the people pursuing him with hootings
and revilings.