DON LUIS'S NARRATIVE IS INTERRUPTED BY A BOAR--THE BATIDA
RESUMED--DEPARTURE FROM SANONA--ROAD TO CASA VIEJA--THE PRIEST'S
HOUSE--ADVENTURE WITH ITINERANT WINE-MERCHANTS--DEPARTURE FROM CASA
VIEJA--ALCALA DE LOS GAZULES--ROAD TO XIMENA--RETURN TO GIBRALTAR.
The old man, excited by the stirring recollections of the eventful times
to which his narrative referred, his eyes sparkling with animation, and
his words flowing somewhat more rapidly than in their wonted even
current, had risen from his rocky seat, and, having transferred his
fowling-piece to the left hand, was standing with his right arm extended
in the direction of the scene of his former exploits, when he suddenly
dropt his voice, and, after slowly, and, as it appeared to us,
abstractedly, repeating his favourite expression, "_Io y mi gente_," he
ceased altogether to speak, and appeared transfixed to the spot. His
right arm remained stretched out towards Cadiz, and his head was turned
slightly to one side, but the only motion perceptible was a tightening
of the fingers round the barrel of his long gun.
As if from the effect of sympathy, Damien's jaws--which for the last
hour had been keeping _Hubilon_ in a state of tantalization, threatening
to produce St. Vitus's dance--suddenly became equally motionless; his
huge proboscis was turned on one side for a moment to allow free access
to his left ear, and then starting up he exclaimed, "_Javali!
cospetto!_"[110]
"_Quiet ... o!_" said Don Luis, in an undertone, at the same time
motioning Damien to resume his seat, "_Si, es una puerca_."[111] And
then making signs to his men, they rose without a word, and went
stealthily off down the hill.
We now distinctly heard the grunting of a pig, and were hastily
distributed in a semicircle, along the crest of the steep ridge we had
selected for our resting-place. We had scarcely got into position before
the cries of the beaters, and several shots fired in rapid succession,
gave us notice that they had come in sight of the chase; but the sounds
died away, and we were beginning to speak to each other in terms of
disappointment, when a loud grunt announced the vicinity of a visiter.
Hearing our voices, however, he went off at a tangent, and attempted to
cross the ridge lower down; but this was merely, as the Spaniards say,
"_Escapar del trueno y dar en el relampago_:"[112] a sharp fire there
opened upon him, and after various trips he was fairly brought to the
ground. Our _couteaux de chasse_ were instantly brandished, but the
grisly monster, recovering himself quickly, once more got into a long
trot, and, most probably, would have effected his escape, but that he
was encountered and turned back by some of the dogs. Finding himself
thus pressed on all sides by enemies, he again attempted to force the
line of sportsmen, and a second time was made to bite the dust. He
managed, nevertheless, to recover himself once more, and might, even yet
possibly, have got away from us but for the dogs, which hung upon and
detained him until some of the beaters came up and despatched him with
their knives; not, however, until he had killed one dog outright, and
desperately gored two others. The dogs showed extraordinary _pluck_ in
attacking him.
On examining the huge monster, we found he had received no less than
four bullets: two in the neck, and two in the body. A fire was
immediately kindled, and, having been singed, to destroy the vermin
about him, he was decorated with laurel and holly, placed on the back of
a mule, and, with the rest of our spoils, sent off to the _Casería_.
The beaters informed us, that they had seen the wild sow and four young
ones, which Don Luis had sent them after; but that they had made off
through the wooded valley to the right, ere they could succeed in
heading and turning them up the hill.
It was decided that we should proceed immediately after them, and leave
the conclusion of Don Luis's tale for the charcoal fire-circle in the
evening; but, as the rest of his story related principally to events
that are well known, and was all "_Santiago y cierra España_,"[113] I
will spare my readers the recital.
The rest of the day's sport was poor, but the grand and ever-varying
mountain scenery was of itself an ample reward for the fatigue of
scrambling up the steep braes. Towards sunset we retraced our steps,
thoroughly tired, to the _Casería_. Damien, mounting a stout mule, rode
on to prepare dinner, saying, "_Messieurs, sans doute, désireront goûter
du chevreuil de Sanone; vado avanti con questo motivo, e subito, subito,
all red-dy"_;[114] and, digging his heels into the animal's side, he
thereupon started off at a jog-trot, his huge feet sticking out at right
angles, like the paddle-boxes of a steamer, the smoke of a cigar rolling
away from his mouth, like the clouds from the steamer's tall black
funnel.
On the following morning we departed from Sanona, taking the road to
Casa Vieja, and sending our game into Gibraltar.
Don Luis would on no account receive any remuneration for the use of his
house, &c.; and a very moderate sum satisfied the beaters he had engaged
for us.
The distance to Casa Vieja is about twelve miles, the country wild and
beautiful; but the view, after gaining a high pass, about three miles
from Sanona, is confined to the valley along which the road thenceforth
winds, until it reaches the river Celemin. This stream is frequently
rendered impassable by heavy rains. Emerging now from the woods and
mountains, the road soon reaches the Barbate, which river, though
running in a broad and level valley, is of a like treacherous character
as the Celemin.
The little chapel and hamlet, whither we were directing our steps, now
became visible, being situated under the brow of a high hill on the
opposite bank of the river, and distant about a mile and a half. The
road across the valley is very deep in wet weather, and the Barbate is
often so swollen, as to render it necessary, in proceeding from Casa
Vieja to the towns to the eastward, to make a wide circuit to gain the
bridges of Vejer or Alcalà de los Gazules.
We "put up" at the house of the village priest, which adjoins the
chapel. Indeed the portion of his habitation allotted to our use was
under the same roof as the church, and communicated with it by a private
door; and I have been credibly informed that, on some occasions, when
the party of sportsmen has been large, beds have been made up within the
consecrated walls of the chapel itself, whereon some of the visiters
have stretched their wearied heretical limbs and rested their _aching_
heads. In our case there was no occasion to lead the _Padre_ into the
commission of such a sin, since the small apartment given up to us was
just able to contain four stretchers, in addition to a large table.
The priest was another "_amigo mio de mucha aprec'ion_"[115] of Señor
Damien. Their friendship was based upon the most solid of all
foundations--mutual interest; for, it being an understood thing that the
accommodation, and whatever else we might require, was to be paid for at
a fixed rate, both parties were interested in prolonging our stay: the
_Padre_, to gain wherewith to shorten the pains of purgatory, either for
himself or others; Damien, simply because he liked shooting better than
even baking in this world.
To us also this was an agreeable arrangement, since it granted us a
dispensation from all ceremony in ordering whatever we wanted, and gave
us also the privilege of making the Padre's house our home as long as we
pleased. Accordingly, finding the sport good, we passed several days
here very pleasantly. The snipe and duck shooting in the marshes
bordering the Barbate is excellent; francolins, bustards, plover, and
partridges, are to be met with on the table-lands to the westward of the
village; and the woods towards Alcalà and Vejer abound, at times, in
woodcocks.
An adventure befel me during our short stay at Casa Vieja, which I
relate, as affording a ludicrous exemplification of the power of
flattery--an openness to which, that is to say, vanity, is certes the
great foible of the Spanish character.
I had devoted one afternoon to a solitary ride to Vejer, (which town is
about eleven miles from Casa Vieja,) and had proceeded some little
distance on my way homewards, when, observing a very curious bird on a
marshy spot by the road-side, I dismounted--knowing my pony would not
stand fire--to take a shot at it. The gun missed fire, as I expected it
would; for, in consequence of its owner not having been able to
discharge it during the whole morning, I had lent him mine to visit the
snipe-marsh, and taken his to bear me company on my ride. The explosion
of the detonating cap was enough, however, to frighten my pony; he
started--jerked the bridle off my arm--and, finding himself free,
trotted away towards Casa Vieja.
I ran after him for some distance, fondly hoping that the tempting green
herbage on the road-side would induce him to stop and taste, but my
accelerated speed had only the effect of quickening his; from a trot he
got into a canter, from a canter into a gallop; and, panting and
perspiring, I was soon obliged to abandon the chase, and trust that the
animal's natural sagacity would take him back to his stable.
I had long lost sight of the runaway--for a thick wood soon screened him
from my view,--and had arrived within four miles of Casa Vieja, when I
met a party of very suspicious-looking characters, who, under the
pretence of being itinerant _wine-merchants_, were carrying contraband
goods about the country. They were all very noisy; all, seemingly, very
tipsy; and most of them armed with guns and knives.
The van was led by a fat Silenus-looking personage, clothed in a shining
goatskin, and seated on a stout ass, between two well-filled skins of
wine; who saluted me with a very gracious wave of the hand, evidently to
save himself the trouble of speaking; but his followers greeted me with
the usual "_Vaya usted con Dios_;" to which one wag added, in an
undertone, "_y sin caballo_,"[116]--a piece of wit that put them all on
the grin.
Regardless of their joke, I was about to make enquiries concerning my
pony, which it was evident they knew something about, when I discovered
a stout fellow, bringing up the rear of the party, astride of the
delinquent. Considering the disparity of force, and aware of the
unserviceable condition of my weapon, I thought it best to be remarkably
civil, so informing the gentleman riding my beast that I was its owner,
and extremely obliged to him for arresting the fugitive's course, I
requested he would only give himself the further trouble of dismounting,
and putting me in possession of my property.
This, however, he positively refused to do. "How did he know I was the
owner? It might be so, and very possibly was, but I must go with him to
Vejer, and make oath to the fact before _la Justicia_." This, I said,
was out of the question: it was evident that the horse was mine, since I
had claimed him the moment I had seen him; and as, by his own admission,
he had found the animal, he must have done so out of my sight, since we
were now in a thick wood. If, I added, he chose to return with me to
Casa Vieja, the _Padre_, at whose house I was staying, would convince
him of the truth of my statement, and I would remunerate him for his
trouble. But I argued in vain! "If," he replied, "I felt disposed to
give him an _onza_,[117] he would save _me_ further trouble, but
otherwise justice must take its course."
I remarked that the _haca_ was not worth much more than a doubloon.
"No!" exclaimed one of the party, jumping off his mule, thrusting his
hand into his belt, and producing _two_, "I'll give you these without
further bargaining."
This occasioned a laugh at my expense. I turned it off, however, by
telling my friend, that if he would bring his money to Gibraltar we
might possibly deal; but, as I had occasion for my pony to carry me back
there, I could not at that moment conveniently part with him.
There seemed but slight chance, however, of my recovering my pony
without trudging back to Vejer; and, probably, they would have ridden
off, and laughed at me, after proceeding half way; or by paying a
handsome ransom, which I was, in fact, unable to do, having only the
value of a few shillings about me.
The dispute was getting warm, and my patience exhausted; for vain were
my representations that the _haca could_ belong to no one else--that the
saddle, bridle, and even the very _tail_ of the animal, were all
English. The Don kept his seat, and coolly asked, whether I thought
they could not make as good saddles, and cut as short tails, in Spain?
The party had halted during this altercation, and old Silenus, who, by
his dress and position, seemed to be the head of the _firm_, had taken
no part in the dispute. He appeared, indeed, to be so drowsy, as to be
quite unconscious of what was passing. I determined, however, to make an
appeal to him, and summoning the best Spanish I could muster to my aid,
called upon him as a Spanish _hidalgo_, a man of honour, and a person of
sense, as his appearance bespoke, to see justice done me.
He had heard, I continued, in fact he had _seen_, how the case stood;
and was it to be believed that a foreigner travelling in Spain--perhaps
the most enlightened country in the world--and trusting to the
well-known national probity, should be thus shamefully plundered? An
Englishman, above all others, who, having fought in the same ranks
against a common enemy, looked upon every individual of the brave
Spanish nation as a brother! Could a people so noted for honour,
chivalry, gratitude, and every known virtue, be guilty of so bare-faced
an imposition?
Oh, "flattery! delicious essence, how refreshing art thou to nature! how
strongly are all its powers and all its weaknesses on thy side!"
"_Baj' usted!_" grunted forth Silenus to the man mounted on my pony,
accompanying the words with a circular motion of his right arm towards
the earth. "_Baj' usted luego!_"[118] repeated the irate leader in a
louder tone, seeing that there was a disposition to resist his commands.
"Mount your horse, caballero," he continued, turning to me, "you have
not over-estimated the Spanish character."
I did not require a second bidding, but, vaulting into the vacated
saddle, pushed my pony at once into a canter, replying to the man's
application for something for his trouble, by observing, that I did not
reward people for merely obeying the orders of their superiors; and,
kissing my hand to the fat old Satyr, rode off, amidst the laughter
occasioned by the discomfiture of the dismounted knight.
On the morning fixed for our departure from Casa Vieja, Damien came to
us at a very early hour--a smile breaking through an assumed cloudy
expression of countenance--to report that the Barbate was so swollen by
the rain which had fallen without cessation during the night, as to be
no longer fordable: "_Nous pouvons demeurer encore trois ou quatre
jours_," he added, "_car il nous reste de quoi manger--du thé, du sucre,
du jambon, un bon morceau de bouilli de rosbif, et autres bagatelles; et
comme il fait beau temps à présent, puede ser que havra una entrada de
gallinetas esta noche--no es verdad Señor Padre?_"[119] turning to the
priest, who had followed him into the room.
We were prepared for this contingency, however, and, stating that we
_must_ go, signified our intention of returning home by way of Alcalà de
los Gazules. Damien was horror-struck. "_Corpo di Bacco! Messieurs,
celle là est la plus mauvaise route du pays! è infestata di cattivissima
gente, ad ogni passo. No es verdad, Don Diego, que esa trocha de Alcalà
allà 'se llama el camino del infierno!_" "_Si, si_," replied the
priestly lodging-house keeper with a nod, "_tan verdad como la Santa
Escritura._"[120]
Finding, however, that we were bent on departing, Don Diego went to make
his bill out; and Damien, now truly alarmed, proposed that, at all
events, we should take the shorter and more practicable route homewards,
by way of Vejer. But the name of the other had taken our fancy, and
orders were given accordingly, our departure being merely postponed
until the afternoon; for, as it would be necessary to sleep at Alcalà,
which is but nine miles from Casa Vieja, we agreed to have another brush
at the snipes ere leaving the place.
In the afternoon we set out. At two miles from Casa Vieja the road
crosses a tributary stream to the Barbate, which reached up to our
saddle-girths, and then traverses some wooded hills for about an equal
distance. The rest of the way is over an extensive flat.
Little is seen of Alcalà but an old square tower, and the ruined walls
of its Moorish castle, in approaching it on this side. The town is built
on a rocky peninsulated eminence, which, protruding from a ridge of
sierra that overlooks the place to the east, stretches about a mile in a
southerly direction, and, excepting along the narrow neck that connects
it with this mountain-range, is every where extremely difficult of
access. A road, however, winds up to the town by a steep ravine on the
south-eastern side of the rugged eminence; and a good approach has also
been made, though with much labour, at its northern extremity. The river
Barbate washes the western side of the mound, and across it, and
somewhat above the town--which is huddled together along the northern
crest of the ridge--a solid stone bridge presents itself, where the
roads from Casa Vieja, Medina Sidonia, and Xeres, concentrate.
The ascent from the bridge, as I have mentioned, is good, but very
steep. The position of the town is most formidable; its walls, however,
are all levelled; and, of the castle, the square tower, or keep, alone
remains. The streets are narrow, but not so steep as we expected to find
them, and they are remarkably well paved. The houses are poor, though
some trifling manufactories of cloths and tanneries give the place a
thriving look. Its population amounts to about 9000 souls.
_This_ Alcalà receives its distinctive name of "_los Gazules_" (i.e. the
Castle of the Gazules), from a tribe of Moors so called; but what Roman
city stood here is a mere matter of conjecture.
The inn afforded but indifferent accommodation; but our host and hostess
were obliging people, and very good-naturedly made over to us the olla
prepared for their own supper. It was a fine specimen of the culinary
art; the savoury odour alone, that exuded from the bubbling stew, drew a
smile from Damien's unusually lugubrious countenance; and, on afterwards
witnessing the justice we did to its merits, he kindly wished--with a
doubt-implying compression of the lips--that we might have as good an
appetite to enjoy as good a supper on the following night.
We set out at daybreak, accompanied by a guide, though, I think, we
could have dispensed with his services. The road enters the Serranía,
immediately on leaving Alcalà, taking an easterly direction, and
ascends for five miles by a rock-bound valley, partially under
cultivation, and watered by several streams, along which mills are
thickly scattered. On leaving them behind, the country becomes very wild
and desolate; the mountains ahead appear quite impracticable; and, long
ere we reached their base, the Piedmontese march had several times
resounded through the rocky gorges that encompassed us.
At length we began to scramble up towards a conical pinnacle, called _El
Peñon de Sancho_,[121] which presents a perpendicular face, to the
south-west, of some hundreds of feet, and whose white cap, standing out
from the dark sierra behind, is a landmark all along the coast from
Cipiona to Cape Trafalgar.
We soon attained a great elevation, crossing a pass between the _Peñon
de Sancho_ and the main sierra on our left. The view, looking back
towards Cadiz, is magnificent, and the scenery for the next four miles
continues to be of the most splendid kind, the road being conducted
along the side of the great sierra _Monteron_, and by the pass of _La
Brocha_ to the sierra _Cantarera_.
The road is by no means so bad as, from the name it bears, we were
prepared to expect; in fact, there are many others in the Serranía of a
far more infernal character. After riding about four hours--a distance
of twelve miles--we reached a verdant little vale, enclosed on all sides
by rude mountains, wherein the Celemin takes its rise, and whence it
wends its way through a deep and thickly wooded ravine to the south.
This gullet is called the _Garganta de los Estudientes_, from the
circumstance, as our guide informed us, of some scholars having ventured
down it who never afterwards were heard of--to which story Damien
listened with great dismay.
We halted at this delightful spot for half an hour, as well to breathe
our horses as to examine the contents of Damien's _alforjas_, who took
his meal, pistol in hand, for fear of a surprise. Continuing our
journey, we had to traverse some more very difficult country, the views
from which were now towards Ximena, Casares, Gibraltar, and the
Mediterranean; including an occasional peep of Castellar, as we advanced
to the eastward.
At four miles and a half from our resting-place, the road branches into
two, the left proceeding to Ximena (five miles and a half), the other
leading toward Estepona, and the towns bordering the Mediterranean.
Taking the latter path, in about two hours we reached the river
Sogarganta, along the right bank of which is conducted the main road
from Ximena to Gibraltar.
Damien's countenance brightened on his once more finding himself in "_un
pays reconnu_," and, turning joyfully into the well-known track, he
struck up one of his most _scherzosa_ arias; the heretofore dreaded
_Boca de Leones_ and Almoraima forest (which we had yet to pass), being
robbed of their terrors by the superior dangers we had safely
surmounted; and, in the words of the favourite poet of his country,
_"Dopo sorte si funesta_
_Sarà placida quest alma_
_E godrà--tornata in calma--_
_I perigli rammentar."_