CHAPTER VII.

KITE-FLYING AND GIBRALTAR.

When they awoke, next morning, the engines were at work again, and

their heavy thud, thud, was mingled with the swash of water, as the

Bengali boys washed down decks, while a rattling of spars and creaking

of cordage showed that sails were being set, or lowered.

Hope, always wide awake at once, sprang from her little white couch to

find that it was difficult to keep her footing on the sliding plane of

her stateroom floor, but slipping into gown and ulster as quickly as

possible, and bracing herself with extended hands through the narrow

passageway to the deck, she was soon outside, gasping a little in the

fresh wind that met her full in the face and caught her breath away.

For the ship was now headed for the Straits, and steaming almost in the

teeth of the brisk northeaster.

There was not a hint of land, as far as the eye could see, and the

waters, of a deep, cold blue, were white-capped to the horizon's edge.

She felt dizzy, and most uncertain on her feet, but not six feet

distant was a heap of low camp-chairs, huddled together out of the way

of the still dripping deck planks. If she could reach one and get to

leeward of that capstan--but what should she hold on to meanwhile?

And, even as she asked herself the question, the goodly steamer,

happening to dip her lowest courtesy to a rude in-coming wave of giant

proportions, shipped its combing crest, that poured through the

latticed guard-rail and swirled across the deck, with a force, that

sent poor Hope a drenched, doubled-up little heap of helplessness,

pounding right into the midst of the chair-stack.

Before she had time to cry out, however, she was caught up, and her

father's voice, hoarse and frightened, asked quickly,

"Are you hurt, love?--Are you hurt?"

As she looked up into his anxious face, pale beneath the sun-bronze,

Hope fully realized how deeply her father loved her, and answered in a

much subdued voice,

"No, papa--not much. I think I've barked my knees and bumped my head,

but I guess that's all--except the wetting!" shivering a little.

"Yes, you mustn't take cold. I'll help you right back, and send Martha

to you. You'd better crawl into your little nest again as soon as

you're thoroughly dry, and don't venture outside again until I come and

get you, my storm-bird."

"Father," she said, as he was about leaving her at the cabin door, "do

you _never_ sleep? I left you up at midnight, and I find you up at

dawn."

"Sleep? Oh, yes, sometimes. That's the last thing a captain thinks

of, though. If I should sleep too much it might mean an eternal sleep

for my passengers and crew. Now hurry into bed and get warm, chicken.

I'll see that you have some hot chocolate at once."

It was nearly two hours later, and Hope had quite slept off the effects

of her wetting, when the two girls ventured forth again, but now the

motion was still and even, and the old ship steady as a house floor,

for they were under the lee of Cape Trafalgar, making swift time for

Tarifa and the Straits.

As the girls sat lazily, after their morning's outlook, in the pleasant

saloon, amid a group of ladies and children, listening to the cheerful

chatter going on about them, and laughing at the antics of the little

tots playing about in charge of their gaily-turbaned Indian ayahs, or

nurses, Dwight came in, all excitement, and cried,

"Come, girls, we're going to have an exhibition. Loo Wing has made an

elegant kite--regular Chinese one, you know--and we're going to fly it

from the after-deck. Hurry up!"

They hastily followed his rush around the guards, and after them

trailed all the children old enough to run alone, and many of the

mothers, for anything new is welcome at sea. On the after-deck they

found the captain, Mr. Lawrence, Mr. Malcolm, and other passengers,

assisting the cook's boy, Loo Wing, inputting the last touches to a

singular erection of red, yellow, and purple, made of crinkled paper,

which looked like a hybrid creature, half bird, half dragon.

Loo Wing had it in hand, and Mr. Lawrence was adjusting its immensely

long tail, while the captain was paying out twine from a stick.

"Oh, uncle!" called Dwight in an agonized voice, "you know I was to

start it. Loo Wing promised I should."

"Well, well, who said you weren't? We're only making ready. But be

careful and not let it get tangled in the rigging," was quickly

returned.

"No, indeed!" cried the boy, trembling with excitement, as he received

from the smiling oriental the gaudy thing, and started for the taffrail

eager to see it off on its aerial journey.

But he was in too great a hurry, and despite warning cries from Captain

Hosmer, Loo Wing, and the Bengali boy, who was supposed to be polishing

the brass rod of the taffrail, he sent the kite up just in season for a

contrary puff of wind to catch its extended wings, and blow it squarely

into the topmost shrouds and ratlines of the mizzen-mast, where,

entangled in the network of ropes, it fluttered helplessly.

Poor Dwight was almost beyond speaking in his despair, when the little

Bengali, with a swift, beseeching look at his captain, sprang forward

and ran up the rope-ladder with the lithe, quick motion of a monkey.

"Oh, don't let him!" cried Faith, but her father only laughed.

"He's used to it, don't worry!" he said, and thus assured, they watched

the brown lad's dizzy climb until the kite was reached. Here, hanging

on by his toes, apparently, to the cross-bar, he bent over and loosened

the erratic flyer. Then, holding it far out, he looked down for

further orders.

"Shall he let her go, Master Dwight?" said the captain. "It's your

kite to command. Here's the twine, and hang tight, if he does, for

'twill give you a strong pull."

"Yes, let her fly!" cried Dwight, excitedly, bracing himself and gazing

upwards.

The little Indian waited for a favorable instant, then with a prolonged

"Hi-yi!" that drew the attention of all on board, gave it a light toss

to leeward, which sent it off like a bird, indeed. Luckily, it had not

been torn by its temporary delay, and now, caught aft by the wind, it

sailed up and away with a force that fairly dragged Dwight across the

deck until, laughing heartily, the captain eased him by a grasp on the

twine, until he could "get another cinch," as the lad explained, and

pay it out more rapidly.

It really made a beautiful appearance against the blue sky, with its

gay colors and extended wings, and Loo Wing clapped his hands in

delight, while the passengers cheered lustily. They watched it till it

was a mere speck in the canopy, and Dwight greatly amused the little

ones by sending up "letters," or bits of white paper, on the twine.

But after an hour or two of this fun, the captain sang out,

"Better tie your bird to the taffrail and take a look for'ards pretty

soon. 'Twill pay for the trouble."

They acted upon his advice, making a rush for the forward deck, and saw

that it was well worth a longer journey than from end to end of a great

steamer.

They were nearing the Straits; already Tarifa's white fortress was

smiling in friendly fashion across the narrowing waters, while, on the

other hand, the hazy spurs of Atlas outlined the African coast. And as

they gazed delightedly, with much laughter over the roughening waves,

which made it necessary for them to wedge themselves into convenient

nooks in order to stand upright, they saw great Gibraltar looming up

somber, massive, and gray-blue, with the frown of a giant defying the

universe.

No wonder the ancients thought these opposite heights, so impregnable,

so sentinel-like, were gates set by the gods to define earth's outer

boundaries, beyond which the most daring mariner must never sail.

As our friends watched the broad slope of Calpe, lying in the full

sunshine of a brilliant noon, its ledges bristling with bastions and

cannon, above the little town which seems to nestle beneath in

contented safety, Faith turned to her sister with kindling eyes.

"Now, aren't you proud of our mother, England? Where in all the world

is there such another fortress commanding the entrance to two oceans,

and looking down upon two continents, I'd like to know?"

Hope looked up in amazement.

"Well, Faith, I never heard you soar into such eloquence, before. You

have subjugated me! What shall I do? Sing 'God save the Queen,' or

shout 'For England and St. George'? I'm at your service. But then,"

she added mischievously, "I don't think it was such a wonderful thing

for its garrison to hold out over three years, as our history tells us

they did, for what could all the warships France and Spain might bring,

ever accomplish against that solid rock?"

"Ah! but it was a gallant resistance, just the same!" cried Mr.

Lawrence, as he joined them. "There has, perhaps, never been such a

fierce and prolonged bombardment as that, and Europe looked on with

wonder, as every resource of two great nations was brought to bear

against that garrison of seven thousand men, who could not be starved,

nor conquered. It looked black for them, sometimes, but British

endurance and red-hot shot won the day, and the carnage on board those

ill-fated vessels during the last of the fierce engagement was beyond

anything recorded in history. They simply _had_ to give it up!"

As they now slowly steamed up the beautiful bay it was almost like

sailing over a mill-pond, after the past roughness, for it lay still

beneath the vertical sun, and was thronged with shipping of every

description and nationality. Presently there came a reverberation that

seemed to ricochet from rock and wave, and a little girl cried blankly,

"Oh dear! Are they firing at us?"

But an officer called out,

"No, it's a Russian corvette, saluting. See its dragon flag of black

and yellow? Now--watch!"

He pointed shorewards just as a puff of white smoke issued from an

innocent-looking clump of trees on the rocky hillside, which preceded

the sound of an answering boom from the iron lips of the fortress.

This was repeated many times, the hoarse cannon barks alternating

between gun-ship and shore, in an awe-inspiring exchange of courtesies.

As the girls grew used to the thunderous sounds they delighted to

speculate from which bastion, or ledge, or flowering bush, would come

that little puff of smoke, to be followed by the lightning and thunder

of man's invention, scarcely less terrible than those of nature's cloud

contests.

"I'm glad to have seen it," said Faith somewhat tremulously, when the

salvo was over. "It gives one some idea of what it might be if that

fortress were really firing for business. Just think how dreadful!"

"But do tell me," cried her sister, "how can trees and shrubs grow so

luxuriantly on that rocky soil, and what keeps the houses from blowing

off some of those steep cliffs? Do you know, I never supposed there

were any houses, before. I thought, from the pictures, that the rock

went straight up out of the water, with the fort stuck on top, like a

thimble on a big chocolate caramel. But here's a regular town."

Mr. Lawrence laughed.

"It's odd, the ideas we get of places till we see them! To be sure,

the rock is nearly perpendicular to the north and east, but here, as

you see, it makes a long slope to the water's edge, and the cliff is

broken into many elevations. Of course, you'll go ashore and take a

closer look at it all?"

"Yes, father's going with us. We'll be here quite a while to take on

coal, and he wants us to see the galleries, and the signal-station."

"And I want to see the tailless monkeys," added Dwight, as he joined

them. "We'll have a procession to brag of, for nearly everybody's

going ashore. Mr. Malcolm's to lead the van with the children, he

says, and Mrs. Campbell is to close up the rear of his section, while

mother follows with ours. They've been laughing about it over there.

Ah, there's Bess beckoning! Be sure and join us, girls."

"Yes, when father comes. Goody! here he is. We're all ready, papa."

"So am I, but you'll have to wait till I've attended to my papers--but

it won't take long. Just follow on."

The passengers were soon streaming shorewards over the long pier, and

sniffing with delight the fresh odor of flowers that filled the air,

which, to Hope, was a continual wonder, for she could not yet accept

the fact of lovely English gardens on this gray old rock.

A walk through the paved streets, with their home-like dwellings,

stores, churches, and official buildings only increased this wonder,

and her stock of adjectives was soon exhausted. Mr. Malcolm,

naturally, led them first to the market, where business called him, and

here the girls were specially interested in the flowers, some of the

booths being fancifully arranged with a bewildering display.

The people they met seemed of every complexion and country, from groups

of tourists in the latest fashion to a couple of long-robed Parsees,

with their funny little caps perched above their black polls. Bess

indicated another passer-by, and said in a low tone, "What an old maid

of a man!" and certainly, with his straight gown, and a high comb stuck

up in his back hair which was coiled into a tight knot, the

dark-skinned fellow did strongly suggest a typical spinster.

Even Hope looked pleased, and Faith's eyes glittered as a small company

of British soldiery, from the barracks, in red coats and white helmets,

and with fresh young faces, came clattering down the street, and

returned the greetings of the gentlemen, and smiles of the ladies, with

their military salute, and a second glance in the direction of their

pretty young countrywomen.

Some of the party, who were not good climbers, had been accommodated

with donkeys at the hotel, before starting for the galleries, but many

walked, and it was a long and somewhat straggling procession.

The galleries mentioned are long passageways, cut through the solid

rock, and pierced with portholes at regular intervals, so that the

gun-muzzles, which peer through them, can command town, bay, and

neutral ground. Faith, whose reverence for this old citadel grew every

minute, felt that the clatter of the donkey's heels, the gay calling

back and forth, and the cries of the children ought, in these dim

tunnels, to be hushed into awed silence. But no one else seemed so

impressed, though the men made measurements and discussed the labor and

expense of such enginery, as if it were a great achievement.

As they emerged she found herself close by Lady Moreham, also walking,

who remarked carelessly,

"You look solemn, Miss Hosmer."

"Do I? I think all this strength and power are wonderful, don't you,

my lady?"

"Yes, and awful! It oppresses me. When England lays her hand on

anything it is a heavy hand. The victim must yield, or die."

"And yet, surely our people are comfortable and wisely ruled? We are a

happy nation."

"Perhaps--of course. I was speaking of her in the abstract, merely.

But is it not true that the marked characteristic of all Englishmen is

tyranny? Don't they rule wherever they go? Aren't they always and

everywhere the dominant class--the oppressors? Watch the British

tourist in any far country. Does he ever conform to its customs in the

least? No, he forces them to come to his ways. You will see this in

every port we enter, every hotel we visit. English ideas govern

everything."

"But why shouldn't they?" asked Faith, feeling as if rather beyond her

depth, but bound to be loyal to her country. "If they have conquered

these people, haven't they the right to make laws for them?"

"Oh, laws! Yes. But not to strip them of all originality, all

independent thought and manner. They need not change their tastes,

their habits, their traditions--but there! what does a girl like you

know, or care, about all this, to be sure? Your wings have never felt

the cold shears of British superiority, nor your heart been wounded by

the sneers and scorn of her aristocracy."

She smiled bitterly, and Faith was puzzled to know what she could mean

when she, herself, was a distinguished member of the class she seemed

to take issue with.

They were separated then, and Faith borne on by the younger ones, but

as she looked out over the bay, with its forest of shipping, and down

at the terraced streets just below, she thought it a strange thing that

so favored a woman should rail at her own country and kinsmen. It

oppressed her loyal little heart, for she had begun to like the titled

lady, and hated to find so grave a flaw in her nature.

The signal house, perched like an eagle's nest on its rocky spur,

proved intensely interesting, though it was difficult to remember what

all the instruments were for, while the signal flags and their many

combinations were a complete mystery. Perhaps they enjoyed all the

more the visit to the tailless monkeys, that Dwight insisted upon

later, where they did not expect to be learned, but only to look and

laugh to their young hearts' content.

Dwight was anxious to own one, but his uncle resisted his entreaties,

declaring that monkeys--with, or without tails--would be a drug in the

market long before they returned to New York.

It was late afternoon when they steamed out of the New Mole, and as

they looked back upon the precipitous eastern face of Gibraltar, and

watched the signal station, which now seemed sitting on a mere

knife-edge of rock, and the roads winding up like paths for birds to

light on, it did not seem as if they could have found them so roomy

when on the spot. In dreamy mood Faith watched the surf, ceaselessly

beating itself against that massive wall, only to fall back bruised and

broken. It saddened her, and she was not surprised, after the first

shock of it, to see that Lady Moreham, standing near by, was gazing

also, with tear-filled eyes.

As Faith discovered her emotion, the lady, believing herself

unobserved, turned with a gesture that was eloquent of despair, and

Faith heard her murmuring, "It is like my life--oh! pitiless, pitiless."

Half frightened, the girl slipped behind an intervening barrier, and

stole away.

"Poor lady!" she thought, almost in tears herself. "I would not have

her know I heard for anything. What can make her so unhappy? She

seems to have no friends, no country. I do not believe it is pride,

either, nor any feeling of rank and exclusiveness that keeps her so

shut in, else why should she be so pleasant to me? It is some great

misery, I'm sure. God help, and pity her!"

All Aboard: A Story for Girls · 第 7 / 22 章