I postponed the fatal hour when I must face my master as long as
possible, but at last my destitute condition, without money and
without a home, brought me to the point. As I went to the house of
Doña Flora my heart beat so violently that I had to stop for breath at
every step. The terrible shock I was about to give the family by
announcing young Malespina's death weighed so terribly on my soul that
I could not have felt more crushed and guilty if I had myself been the
occasion of it. At last however, I went in. My presence in the
court-yard caused an immense sensation. I heard heavy steps hurrying
along the upper galleries and I had not been able to speak a word
before I felt myself in a close embrace. I at once recognized Doña
Flora, with more paint on her face than if it had been a picture, but
seriously discomposed in effect by the good old soul's delight at
seeing me once more. But all the fond names she lavished on me--her
dear boy, her pet, her little angel--could not make me smile. I went
up stairs, every one was in a bustle of excitement. I heard my master
exclaim: "Oh! thank God! he is safe." I went into the drawing-room,
and there it was Doña Francisca who came forward, asking with mortal
anxiety--"And Don Rafael?--Where is Don Rafael?"
But for some minutes I could not speak; my voice failed me, I had not
courage to tell the fatal news. They questioned me eagerly and I saw
Doña Rosita come in from an adjoining room, pale, heavy-eyed, and
altered by the anguish she had gone through. At the sight of my young
mistress I burst into tears, and there was then no need for words.
Rosita gave a terrible cry and fell senseless; her father and mother
flew to her side, smothering their own grief, while Doña Flora melted
into tears and took me aside to assure herself that I, at any rate,
had returned whole in every part.
"Tell me," she said, "how did he come by his death? I felt sure of
it--I told Paca so; but she would only say her prayers and believed
that so she could save him. As if God could be troubled with such
matters.--And you are safe and sound--what a comfort! No damage
anywhere?"
It is impossible to describe the consternation of the whole
household. For a quarter of an hour nothing was to be heard but
crying, lamentation, and sobbing; for Malespina's mother had come to
Cadiz and was also in the house. But how mysterious are the ways of
Providence in working out its ends! About a quarter of an hour, as I
say, had elapsed since I had told them the news when a loud assertive
voice fell on my ear. It was that of Don José Maria, shouting in the
court-yard, calling his wife, Don Alonso, and Rosita. That which first
struck me was that his tones seemed just as strident and cheerful as
ever, which I thought very indecorous after the misfortune that had
happened. We all ran to meet him, and I stared to see him radiant and
smiling.
"But poor Don Rafael...." said my master.
"Safe and sound," replied Don José. "That is to say not exactly sound,
but out of danger, for his wound is nothing to be anxious about. The
fool of a surgeon said he would die, but I knew better. What do I care
for surgeons! I cured him, gentlemen--I, I myself, by a new treatment
which no one knows of but myself."
These words, which so suddenly and completely altered the aspect of
affairs, astounded the audience. The greatest joy took the place of
grief and dismay; and to wind up, as soon as their agitation allowed
them to think of the delusion they had suffered under, they scolded me
soundly for the fright I had given them. I excused myself by saying
that I had only repeated the tale as it was told to me, and Don José
flew into a great rage, calling me a rascal, an imposter, and a
busybody.
It was happily true that Don Rafael was alive and out of danger; he
had remained with some friends at Sanlúcar while his father had come
to Cadiz to fetch his mother to see him. My readers will hardly
believe in the origin of the mistake which had led me to announce the
young man's death in such perfect good faith; though a few may have
been led to suspect that some tremendous fib of the old man's must
have given rise to the report that reached me. And so it was, neither
more nor less. I heard all about it at Sanlúcar whither I went with
the family. Don José Maria had invented a whole romance of devotion
and skill on his own part, and had related more than once the history
of his son's death, inventing so many dramatic details that for a few
days he figured as a hero, and had been the object of universal
admiration for his humanity and courage. His story was that the boat
had upset, and that as the choice lay between rescuing his son and
saving all the others he had chosen the latter alternative as the most
magnanimous and philanthropical. This romance he dressed up in so many
interesting, and at the same time probable circumstances that it could
not fail to be believed. The falsehood was of course very soon found
out, and his success was of brief duration, but not before the story
had come to my ears and put me under the necessity of reporting it to
the family. Though I knew very well how absolutely mendacious old
Malespina could be, I had never dreamed of his lying about so serious
a matter.
* * * * *
When all this excitement was over my master sank into deep melancholy;
he would scarcely speak and seemed as though his soul, having no
illusions left, had closed accounts with the world and was only
waiting to take its departure. The absence of Marcial was to him the
loss of the only companion of his childish old age; he had no one now
to fight mimic battles with, and he gave himself up to dull sorrow.
Nor did Doña Francisca spare him any drop of mortification, seeing him
in this crest-fallen state. I heard her the same day saying
spitefully:
"A pretty mess you have made of it! What do you think of yourself
now? Now are you satisfied? Go, oh go by all means and join the fleet!
Was I right or was I wrong? If you would only have listened to me. But
you have had a lesson I hope; you see now how God has punished you."
"Woman, leave me in peace," said my master sadly.
"And now we are left without any fleet at all, and without sailors,
and we shall soon find ourselves ruined out of hand if we keep up our
alliance with the French.--Please God those gentry may not pay us out
for their misfortunes. Señor Villeneuve!--he has covered himself with
glory indeed! And Gravina again! If he had opposed the scheme of
taking the fleet out, as Churruca and Alcalá Galiano did, he might
have prevented this heartbreaking catastrophe."
"Woman, woman--what do you know about it? Do not annoy me," said Don
Alonso quite vexed.
"What do I know about it? More than you do. Yes--I repeat it: Gravina
may be a worthy gentleman and as brave as you please; but in this
case, much good he has done!"
"He did his duty. You would have liked us all to be set down as
cowards, I suppose?"
"Cowards, no--but prudent. It is as I say and repeat: the fleet ought
never to have gone out of Cadiz just to humor the whims and conceit of
Villeneuve.
"Every one here knew that Gravina, like the others, was of opinion
that it ought to stop in the bay. But Villeneuve had made up his mind
to it, intending to hit a blow that might restore him to his master's
favor, and he worked on our Spanish pride. It seems that one of the
reasons Gravina gave was the badness of the weather, and that he said,
looking at the barometer in the cabin: 'Do you not see that the
barometer foretells foul weather? Do you not see how it has gone
down?' And then Villeneuve said drily: 'What is gone down here is
courage!' At such an insult Gravina stood up, blind with rage, and
threw the French Admiral's own conduct at Finisterre in his teeth.
Some angry words were spoken on both sides and at last our Admiral
exclaimed: 'To sea then to-morrow morning.'
"But I say that Gravina ought to have taken no notice of Villeneuve's
insolence--none whatever; that prudence is an officer's first duty,
and particularly when he knew--as we all knew--that the fleet was not
in a condition to fight the English."
This view, which at the time seemed to me an insult to our national
honor, I understood later was well-founded. Doña Francisca was right.
Gravina ought not to have given way to Villeneuve's obstinacy, and I
say it almost dims the halo of prestige with which the popular voice
crowned the leader of the Spanish forces on that disastrous occasion.
Without denying Gravina's many merits, in my opinion there was much
exaggeration in the high-flown praises that were lavished upon him,
both after the battle, and again when he died of his wounds a few
months later.[3] Everything he did proved him to be an accomplished
gentleman and a brave sailor, but he was perhaps too much of a
courtier to show the determination which commonly comes of long
experience in war; he was deficient too in that complete superiority
which, in so learned a profession as the Navy, can only be acquired by
assiduous study of the sciences on which it relies. Gravina was a good
commander of a division under superior orders, but nothing more. The
foresight, coolness, and immovable determination, which are
indispensable elements in the man whose fortune it is to wield such
mighty forces, he had not; Don Cosme Damian Churruca had--and Don
Dionisio Alcalá Galiano.
[3] March, 1806.
My master made no reply to Doña Francisca's last speech and when she
left the room I observed that he was praying as fervently as when I
had left him in the cabin of the _Santa Ana_. Indeed, from that day
Don Alonso did nothing else but pray; he prayed incessantly till the
day came when he had to sail in the ship that never comes home.
He did not die till some time after his daughter's marriage with Don
Rafael Malespina, an event which took place two months after the
action which the Spanish know as "the 21st," and the English as the
battle of Trafalgar. My young mistress was married one lovely morning,
though it was winter time, and set out at once for Medina-Sidonia
where a house was ready and waiting for the young couple. I might look
on at her happiness during the days preceding the wedding but she did
not observe the melancholy that I was suffering under; nor, if she
had, would she have guessed the cause. She thought more of herself
every day, as I could see, and I felt more and more humiliated by her
beauty and her superior position in life. But I had taught myself to
understand that such a sweet vision of all the graces could never be
mine, and this kept me calm; for resignation--honest renunciation of
all hope--is a real consolation, though it is a consolation akin to
death.
Well, they were married, and the very day they had left us for
Medina-Sidonia Doña Francisca told me that I was to follow them and
enter their service. I set out that night, and during my solitary
journey I tried to fight down my thoughts and my feelings which
wavered between accepting a place in the house of the bridegroom or
flying from them forever. I arrived very early in the morning and
found out the house. I went into the garden but on the bottom step I
stopped, for my reflections absorbed all my energies, and I had to
stand still to think more clearly; I must have stood there for more
than half an hour.
Perfect silence prevailed. The young couple were sleeping untroubled
by a care or a sorrow. I could not help recalling that far-off time
when my young mistress and I had played together. To me she had then
been my first and only thought. To her, though I had not been the
first in her affections, I had been something she loved and that she
missed if we were apart for an hour. In so short a time how great a
change!
I looked round me and all I saw seemed to symbolize the happiness of
the lovers and to mock my forlorn fate. Although it was winter time, I
could picture the trees in full leaf, and the porch in front of the
door seemed suddenly overgrown with creepers to shade them when they
should come out. The sun was warmer, the air blew softer round this
nest for which I myself had carried the first straws when I served as
the messenger of their loves. I seemed to see the bare rose-bushes
covered with roses, the orange-trees with blossoms and fruit pecked by
crowds of birds thus sharing in the wedding feast. My dreams and
reflections were at last interrupted by a fresh young voice breaking
the silence of the place and which made me tremble from head to foot
as I heard it. It thrilled me with an indescribable sensation, that
clear, happy, happy voice--whether of fear or shame I can hardly say;
all I am sure of is that a sudden impulse made me turn from the door,
and fly from the spot like a thief afraid of being caught.
My mind was made up. I quitted Medina-Sidonia forthwith, quite
determined never to be a servant in that house, nor to return to
Vejer. After a few minutes reflection I set out for Cadiz intending to
get from thence to Madrid; and this was what I ultimately did, in
spite of the persuasions of Doña Flora who tried to chain me to her
side with a wreath of the faded flowers of her affection!
But since that day how much I have gone through; how much I have seen,
well worthy of record. My fate, which had taken me to Trafalgar, led
me subsequently through many glorious and inglorious scenes, all in
their way worth remembering. If the reader cares to hear the story of
my life I will tell him more about it at a future opportunity.
* * * * * *
Transcriber's note:
Minor punctuation errors have been corrected.
Hyphenation and accent usage has been made consistent.
Variant and archaic spelling is preserved as printed.
One character is named variously as Alonso, Alonzo and Alfonso. Both
Medina-Sidonia and Medinasidonia appear, as do both Rousillon and
Roussillon. These are all preserved as printed.
Assuming typographic errors, the following changes have been made:
Page 20--converstion amended to conversation--Being now desirous
of taking part in the conversation, ...
Page 68--Veger amended to Vejer--... he was stationed at Cadiz
and at Vejer only on leave.
Page 82--Audulusian amended to Andalusian--... and above all
some of our beautiful Andalusian--but he could ...
Page 113--predominence amended to predominance--... the
predominance of vertical over horizontal lines, ...
Page 143--canon-balls amended to cannon-balls--The cannon-balls,
fired at such a short range, ...
Page 166--feeing amended to feeling--... mingled with an
indescribable feeling of awe, ...
Page 178--Gardogui amended to Gardoqui--... for six hours until
Alava and Gardoqui, ...
Page 196--transcient amended to transient--... like a transient
spark in a night of gloom and horror.
Page 208--ruddeless amended to rudderless--... was in greater
jeopardy, dismasted and rudderless, ...
A Table of Contents has been added by the transcriber for the
convenience of the reader.