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TRAFALGAR
A Tale
by
B. PEREZ GALDOS
Author of "Gloria," etc.
From the Spanish by Clara Bell
Revised and Corrected in the United States
New York
William S. Gottsberger, Publisher
11 Murray Street
1884
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1884
by William S. Gottsberger
in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington
This Translation Was Made Expressly for the Publisher
Press of
William S. Gottsberger
New York
CONTENTS.
PAGE
CHAPTER I. 1
CHAPTER II. 14
CHAPTER III. 22
CHAPTER IV. 29
CHAPTER V. 50
CHAPTER VI. 63
CHAPTER VII. 77
CHAPTER VIII. 88
CHAPTER IX. 111
CHAPTER X. 126
CHAPTER XI. 137
CHAPTER XII. 154
CHAPTER XIII. 174
CHAPTER XIV. 192
CHAPTER XV. 207
CHAPTER XVI. 231
CHAPTER XVII. 244
TRAFALGAR.
CHAPTER I.
I trust that, before relating the important events of which I have
been an eye-witness, I may be allowed to say a few words about my
early life and to explain the singular accidents and circumstances
which resulted in my being present at our great naval catastrophe.
In speaking of my birth I cannot follow the example of most writers
who narrate the facts of their own lives, and who begin by naming
their ancestry--usually of noble rank, _hidalgos_ at the very least,
if not actually descended from some royal or imperial progenitor. I
cannot grace my opening page with high-sounding names, for, excepting
my mother whom I remember for some few years, I know nothing of any of
my forefathers, unless it be Adam from whom my descent would seem to
be indisputable. In short, my history began in much the same way as
that of Pablos, the brigand of Segovia; happily it pleased God that it
should resemble it in no other particular.
I was born at Cadiz in the notorious quarter "de la Viña," which was
not then, any more than at the present day, a good school of either
morals or manners. My memory does not throw any light on the events of
my infancy till I was six years old, and I remember that, only because
I associate the idea of being six with an event I heard much talked
about, the battle of Cape St. Vincent, which took place in 1797.
Endeavoring to see myself as I was at that time, with the curiosity
and interest which must attach to self-contemplation, I am aware of a
dim and hazy little figure in the picture of past events, playing in
the creek with other small boys of the same age, more or less. This
was to me the whole of life--as it was, at any rate, to our privileged
class; those who did not live as I did appeared to me exceptional
beings. In my childish ignorance of the world I firmly believed that
man was made for the sea, Providence having created him to swim as
being the noblest exercise of his limbs and body, and to dive for
crabs as the highest use of his intelligence--and especially to fish
up and sell the highly-esteemed crustacean known as _Bocas de la
Isla_--as well as for his personal delectation and enjoyment, thus
combining pleasure with profit.
The society into which I was born was indeed of the roughest, as
ignorant and squalid as can well be imagined; so much so that the boys
of our quarter of the town were regarded as even lower than those of
the adjoining suburb of Puntales, whose occupations were the same and
who defied the elements with equal devilry; the result of this
invidious distinction was that each party looked upon the other as
rivals, and the opposing forces would meet from time to time for a
pitched battle with stones, when the earth was stained with heroic
blood.
When I was old enough to begin to think that I might go into business
on my own account, with a view to turning an honest penny, I remember
that my sharpness stood me in good stead on the quay where I acted as
_valet de place_ to the numerous English who then, as now, disembarked
there. The quay was a free academy peculiarly fitted to sharpen the
wits and make the learner wide-awake, and I was not one of the least
apt of its disciples in that wide branch of human experience; nor did
I fail to distinguish myself in petty thefts, especially of fruit, an
art for which the Plaza de San Juan offered an ample field, both for
the experiments of the beginner and the exploits of the adept. But I
have no wish to enlarge on this part of my history, for I blush with
shame now, as I remember the depth to which I had sunk, and I thank
God for having released me from it at an early period, and directed me
into a better path.
Among the impressions which remain most vivid in my memory is the
enthusiastic delight I felt at the sight of vessels of war, when they
anchored outside Cadiz or in the cove of San Fernando. As I had no
means of satisfying my curiosity, when I saw these enormous structures
I conceived the most absurd and fanciful ideas about them, imagining
them as full of mysteries.
Always eager to mimic the greater world around us, we boys too had our
squadrons of little ships, roughly hewn in wood, with sails of paper
or of rag, which we navigated with the greatest deliberation and
gravity in the pools of Puntales or La Caleta. To make all complete,
whenever a few coppers came into our hands, earned by one or another
of our small industries, we bought powder of old "Aunt Coscoja" in the
street "del Torno de Santa María," and with this we could have a
grand naval display. Our fleets sailed before the wind in an ocean
three yards across, fired off their cannon, came alongside of each
other to mimic a hand-to-hand fight--in which the imaginary crews
valiantly held their own, and swarmed into the tops unfurling the
flag, made of any scrap of colored rag we could pick up in a
dust-heap--while we danced with ecstasy on the shore at the popping of
the artillery, imagining ourselves to be the nationalities represented
by our respective standards, and almost believing that in the world of
grown-up men and great events the nations too would leap for joy,
looking on at the victories of their splendid fleets. Boys see things
through strange windows.
Those were times of great sea-fights, for there was one at least every
year and a skirmish every month. I thought that fleets met in battle
simply and solely because they enjoyed it, or to prove their strength
and valor, like two bullies who meet outside the walls to stick knives
into each other. I laugh when I recollect the wild ideas I had about
the persons and events of the time. I heard a great deal about
Napoleon and how do you think I had pictured him to myself! In every
respect exactly like the smugglers whom we not unfrequently saw in our
low quarter of the town: _Contrabandistas_ from the lines at
Gibraltar. I fancied him a man on horseback, on a Xerez nag, with a
cloak, high boots, a broad felt-hat, and a blunderbuss of course. With
these accoutrements, and followed by other adventurers on the same
pattern, I supposed this man, whom all agreed in describing as most
extraordinary, to have conquered Europe, which I fancied was a large
island within which were other islands which were the different
nations: England, Genoa, London, France, Malta, the land where the
Moors lived, America, Gibraltar, Port Mahon, Russia, Toulon and so
forth. This scheme of geography I had constructed on the basis of the
names of the places from which the ships came whose passengers I had
to deal with; and I need not say that of all these nations or islands
Spain was the very best, for which reason the English--men after the
likeness of highwaymen--wanted to get it for their own. Talking of
these and similar matters I and my amphibious companions would give
vent to sentiments and opinions inspired by the most ardent
patriotism.
However, I need not weary the reader with trifles which relate only to
my personal fancies, so I will say no more about myself. The one
living soul that made up to me for the wretchedness of life by a
wholly disinterested love for me, was my mother. All I can remember of
her is that she was extremely pretty, or at any rate she seemed so to
me. From the time when she was left a widow she maintained herself and
me by doing washing, and mending sailors' clothes. She must have loved
me dearly. I fell ill of yellow fever which was raging in Andalusia
and when I got well she took me solemnly to mass at the old cathedral
and made me kneel on the pavement for more than an hour, and then, as
an _ex-voto_ offering, she placed an image in wax of a child, which I
believed to be an exact likeness of myself, at the foot of the altar
where the service had been performed.
My mother had a brother, and if she was pretty, he was ugly and a
cruel wretch into the bargain. I cannot think of my uncle without
horror, and from one or two occurrences which I remember vividly I
infer that this man must have committed some crime at the time I refer
to. He was a sailor; when he was on shore and at Cadiz he would come
home furiously drunk, and treat us brutally--his sister with words,
calling her every abusive name, and me with deeds, beating me without
any reason whatever.
My mother must have suffered greatly from her brother's atrocities,
and these, added to severe labor for miserable pay, hastened her death
which left an indelible impression on my feelings, though the details
dwell but vaguely in my memory. During this period of misery and
vagabondage my only occupations were playing by the sea-shore or
running about the streets. My only troubles were a beating from my
uncle, a frown from my mother, or some mishap in the conduct of my
squadrons. I had never felt any really strong or deep emotion till the
loss of my mother showed me life under a harder and clearer aspect
than it had ever before presented to me. The shock it gave me has
never faded from my mind. After all these years I still remember, as
we remember the horrible pictures of a bad dream, that my mother lay
prostrate from some sickness, I know not what; I remember women coming
and going, whose names and purpose I cannot recall; I remember hearing
cries of lamentation, and being placed in my mother's arms, and then I
remember the shudder that ran through my whole body at the touch of a
cold, cold hand. I think I was then taken away; but mixed up with
these dim memories I can see the yellow tapers which gave a ghastly
light at mid-day, I can hear the muttering of prayers, the hoarse
whispers of the old gossips, the laughter of drunken sailors--and
then came the lonely sense of orphanhood, the certainty that I was
alone and abandoned in the world, which for a time absorbed me
entirely.
I have no recollection of what my uncle was doing at that time; I only
know that his brutality to me increased to such a point that, weary of
his cruelty, I ran away, determined to seek my fortune. I fled to San
Fernando and from thence to Puerto Real. I hung on to the lowest class
that haunt the shore, which has always been a famous nest for
gaol-birds. Why or wherefore I quite forget, but I found myself with a
gang of these choice spirits at Medinasidonia when, one day, a tavern
where we were sitting was entered by a press-gang and we promptly
separated, each hiding himself as best he might. My good star led me
to a house where the owners had pity on me, taking the greatest
interest in me, no doubt by reason of the story I told, on my knees
and drowned in tears, of my miserable plight, my past life and all my
misfortunes.
These good people took me under their protection and saved me from the
press-gang, and from that time I remained in their service. With them
I went to Vejer de la Frontera where they lived; they had only been
passing through Medinasidonia.
My guardian angels were Don Alonso Gutierrez de Cisniega, a ship's
captain, and his wife, both advanced in years. They taught me much
that I did not know, and as they took a great fancy to me before long
I was promoted to be Don Alonso's page, accompanying him in his daily
walks, for the worthy veteran could not use his right arm, and it was
with difficulty that he moved his right leg. What they saw in me to
arouse their interest I do not know; my tender years, my desolate
circumstances and no doubt too my ready obedience may have contributed
to win their benevolence, for which I have always been deeply
grateful. I may also add--though I say it that should not--as
explaining their kind feeling towards me, that although I had always
lived among the lowest and most destitute class, I had a certain
natural refinement of mind which enabled me very soon to improve in
manners, and in a few years, notwithstanding I had no opportunities
for learning, I could pass for a lad of respectable birth and
training.
I had spent four years in this home when the events happened which I
must now relate. The reader must not expect an accuracy of detail
which is out of my power when speaking of events which happened in my
tender youth, to be recalled in the evening of my existence when I am
near the end of a long and busy life and already feel the slow poison
of old age numbing the fingers that use the pen; while the torpid
brain strives to cheat itself into transient return of youth, by
conjuring up the sweet or ardent memories of the past. As some old men
strive to revive the warm delights of the past by gazing at pictures
of the beauties they have known, I will try to give some interest and
vigor to the faded reminiscences of my long past days, and to warm
them with the glow of a counterfeit presentment of departed glories.
The effect is magical! How marvellous are the illusions of fancy! I
look back with curiosity and astonishment at the bygone years, as we
look through the pages of a book we were reading, and left with a leaf
turned down to mark the place; and so long as the charm works I feel
as if some beneficent genius had suddenly relieved me of the weight of
old age, mitigating the burden of years which crushes body and spirit
alike. This blood--this tepid and languid ichor, which now scarcely
lends warmth and life to my failing limbs, grows hot again, flows,
boils, and fires my veins with a swifter course. A sudden light
breaks in upon my brain, giving color and relief to numberless strange
figures--just as the traveller's torch, blazing in some dark cavern,
reveals the marvels of geology so unexpectedly that it seems as though
they were then and there created. And my heart rises from the grave of
past emotions--a Lazarus called by the voice of its Lord--and leaps in
my breast with joy and pain at once.
I am young again; time has turned backwards, I stand in the presence
of the events of my boyhood; I clasp the hands of old friends, the
joys and griefs of my youth stir my soul once more--the fever of
triumph, the anguish of defeat, intense delights, acute sorrows--all
crowded and mixed in my memory as they were in life. But stronger than
any other feeling one reigns supreme, one which guided all my actions
during the fateful period between 1805 and 1834. As I approach the
grave and reflect how useless I am among men--even now tears start to
my eyes with the sacred love of country. I can only serve it with
words--cursing the base scepticism which can deny it, and the corrupt
philosophy which can treat it as a mere fashion of a day.
This was the passion to which I consecrated the vigor of my manhood,
and to this I will devote the labors of my last years, enthroning it
as the tutelary genius, the guiding spirit of my story as it has been
of my existence. I have much to tell. Trafalgar, Bailén, Madrid,
Zaragoza, Gerona, Arapiles!--I can tell you something of all these, if
your patience does not fail. My story may not be as elegantly told as
it should be but I will do my best to insure its being true.