TOWARD THE CONTINENT
"Aren't you tired of hearing people wonder when we shall arrive at
Gibraltar?"
"They needn't wonder. This is a slow boat, but we have averaged about
three hundred and twenty-five miles every day, so we must get in early
Tuesday unless something unusual happens. A high wind may spring up, but
even then we are pretty certain to come in sight of Gibraltar before
night."
"Oh, I can hardly wait until then," began Irma. "I hope we can go up on
top of the Rock, and down in the dungeons, and everywhere." Muriel, who
was walking with Irma and Marion, looked surprised at her friend's
enthusiasm, and even a trifle bored.
"Don't talk like a school book," she whispered, and Irma, reddening,
glanced up at Marion, to see if he shared Muriel's strange distaste for
history. But he gave no sign.
Since leaving the Azores, Muriel's frank friendliness for Irma had added
much to the pleasure of the two girls. Though they had been brought up
so differently, they had much in common. Muriel's winters were usually
spent there, but she had also travelled widely. She had been educated by
governesses, and yet Irma could but notice that she was less well
informed in history and had less interest in books than many of her own
friends at home. Irma did not compare her own knowledge with Muriel's,
but an impartial critic would probably have decided that, whatever might
be the real merits of the two systems, Irma had profited the more from
the education given her. In modern French and German, however, Muriel
certainly was proficient, and when she complained of Mademoiselle Potin,
Irma would tell her to be thankful that she had so good a chance to
practice French.
Since the day at St. Michael's, Marion had ceased to avoid Irma, and
though he spent little time with her, he was evidently trying to be
friendly. He never referred to his misadventure coming on board. Aunt
Caroline had brought Irma his thanks.
"He is very nervous, as you must have noticed," she said, "and he may be
unable to talk to you about this. For he feels that he has disgraced
himself again; and though he is incorrect in this, still I appreciate
his feelings, and hope you will accept his thanks."
"Why, there's really nothing to thank me for," began Irma.
"Oh, yes, my dear, we all think differently. You certainly have great
presence of mind. Poor Marion."
In spite of Aunt Caroline's sympathetic tones, Irma did not pity Marion.
He was a fine, manly-looking boy, and the sea air had brought color to
his face, while his fretful expression had almost gone.
After the first day or two at sea Irma had begun to make new
acquaintances. Among them was a little girl who greatly reminded her of
Tessie as she had been a few years earlier. So one day she called her to
listen to the steamer letter from Tessie, that she had found under her
plate that morning.
"Dear Irma, when you read this--for I hope Uncle Jim will give my
letter to you--you will be far out on the ocean, where it is very deep,
with no islands or peninsulas in sight, and I hope you will be careful
not to fall overboard. But please look over the edge of the boat once in
a while to see if there are any whales about. Of course, I hope they
won't be large enough to upset your steamboat, but if you see one,
please take a photograph and send it to me, for I never saw a photograph
of a truly, live whale.
"I can't tell you any news, because I am writing this before you leave
home, so you'll be sure to get it. I would feel too badly to write after
you get started.
"From your loving Tessie."
The letter interested little Jean very much. She had already heard about
Tessie and Nap, and now she rushed to the edge of the deck, and when
Irma followed her, the child upturned to her a disappointed face.
"I can't see one."
"One what?"
"A whale--and Tessie will be so disappointed. I know she wants that
photograph."
"No matter, I can take your photograph, only you must smile."
So Jean smiled, and the photograph was taken with the camera that Uncle
Jim had given Irma.
"It will be more fun to look for Gibraltar than for whales. To-morrow we
must all have our eyes open."
"What's Gibraltar?"
"The great big rock where we are going to land."
"I don't want to land on a rock," pouted Jean. "I want to go ashore."
"Oh, we'll go ashore, too."
That evening there was a dance on the ship. The upper deck was covered
with canvas, and canvas enclosed the sides. Gay bunting and English and
American flags brightened the improvised ballroom, and most of the
younger passengers, as well as not a few of the elder, spent at least
part of the evening there.
"Hasn't Marion been here?" asked Aunt Caroline, when she and Uncle Jim
appeared on the scene.
"I haven't seen him," responded Irma.
"What a goose he is!" exclaimed Uncle Jim.
"He's very grumpy, isn't he?" commented Muriel, but Irma made no reply.
On Tuesday Irma was on deck early. In the distance a thin dark line
after a time took on height and breadth.
"Cape Trafalgar!" some one exclaimed.
"Europe at last!" thought Irma.
"What do you think of Spain?" asked Uncle Jim, standing beside her.
"It seems to be chiefly brown cliffs. And so few villages! Where are the
cities?"
"You'll find seaports only where there are harbors. They are not
generally found on rocky promontories."
Irma turned about. Yes, the speaker was indeed Marion, whose approach
she had not observed.
"Oh, Cadiz is not so very far to the north there," interposed Uncle Jim,
in an effort to throw oil on the troubled waters, "and we cannot tell
just what lies behind those heights. What is there, Marion? You've been
in Spain."
But Marion had disappeared.
After passing Trafalgar, the _Ariadne_ kept nearer shore. Now there was
a house in sight, again a little white hamlet lying low at the base of
the brown, bare cliffs.
Far ahead the clouds took on new shapes, and did not change. Could that
be the huge bulk of Gibraltar, seen through a mist?
Uncle Jim laughed when Irma put the question to him.
"You are looking in the wrong direction."
"Then it must be Africa. Oh, I wish we might go nearer."
"In that case you might miss the Rock altogether, and take the chance,
too, of being wrecked on a savage coast."
But the Spanish shore gained in interest. Here and there small fishing
boats pushed out. Sometimes steamboats were in sight, smaller than the
_Ariadne_ yet of good size, traders along the coast from London,
perhaps, to Spanish or French ports. Muriel and Irma amused themselves
guessing their nationality, with Uncle Jim as referee. Strange birds
flew overhead. Then a town, grayish rather than white, and a lighthouse
on the height above.
"Tarifa," some one explained, and those who knew said that Gibraltar
could not be far away. Soon Irma, who had kept her face toward the
African shore, was startled by a voice in her ear. "The Pillars of
Hercules are near; people are so busy gathering up their things to go
ashore that I was afraid you might go to your stateroom for something,
and so miss them."
"You are very kind to think of me," said Irma, turning toward Marion,
for it was he who had spoken. "How I wish we were to land at some of
those strange African places."
"Tangiers might be worth while, but I love this distant view of the
mountains."
"Do you know the name of the African pillar?"
"Yes--Abyla! and Gibraltar, formerly known as Calpe, was the other. It's
a pity we won't have time to go to the top of the Rock. The
Carthaginians used to go up there to watch for the Roman ships. The
British officer on guard at the top of the Rock must have a wonderful
view. Some one told me you can see from the Sierra Nevadas in Spain to
the Atlas in Africa. Just think of being perched up there, fourteen
hundred feet above the sea. If only we could have a whole day at
Gibraltar, we might see something, but now----" and the old expression
of discontent settled on Marion's lips.
"Oh, well, we can probably go around the fortifications," responded
Irma, trying to console him.
"The fortifications! Oh, no, there are miles of them, and the galleries
are closed at sundown, so that we couldn't get into them, even if we had
a pass,--I suppose that's what they call it."
"Well, at least we'll see the town itself, and we can't help running
upon some of the garrison, for there are several thousand soldiers and
officers."
"Oh, I dare say, but it isn't the same thing as visiting Gibraltar
decently. Uncle Jim ought to have planned a trip through Spain. It would
be three times more interesting than Italy."
Irma, who had visited neither country, did not contradict Marion. Enough
for her even a short stay at one of the most famous places in the world,
the wonderful fortress that the British had defended and held so bravely
during a four years' siege more than a century ago.
"Marion is a strange boy," thought Irma. "I wonder why he tries to make
himself miserable."
After passing the jagged and mysterious Pillars of Hercules, Irma soon
saw the huge bulk of Gibraltar not far off, and then it seemed but a
short run until they had gained the harbor. Her heart sank when she
found they were to anchor some distance from shore, for though the water
was still and calm, she did not like the small boats. But Uncle Jim
laughed at her fears, assuring her that they would be taken off in a
comfortable tender.
The tender was slow in coming, and during the time of waiting some
passengers fretted and fumed. "If they don't get us in by sunset they
may not let us land at all. There is such a rule."
When others asserted that there was no such rule, some still fretted,
because after five there would be no chance to visit the fortifications.
"Come, Irma," said Uncle Jim, "these lamentations have some foundation
in fact. But Gibraltar's a small town, and we'll improve our two shining
hours, which surely shine with much heat, by getting our bearings here."
"There's plenty to see," responded Irma. "I suppose those are English
warships in their gray coats, and there's a German flag on that great
ocean liner. It seems to be crowded with men, immigrants, I suppose, for
they are packed on the decks like--like----"
"Yes, like flies on flypaper." And Irma smiled at the comparison.
Not far from a great mole that stretched out, hot and bare in the sun,
two clumsy colliers were anchored; here and there little sailboats
darted in and out, and the small steam ferries plied backward and
forward to the distant wooded shore, which Uncle Jim said was Algeciras.
But it was the gray mass of Gibraltar itself that held Irma's attention.
The town side, seen from the harbor, though less steep than the outline
usually seen in pictures, was yet most imposing. Along its great
breadth, lines of fortifications could be discerned, and barracks,
grayish in color, like the rock itself. There were lines of pale brown
houses that some one said were officers' quarters, and an old ruin, the
remains of an ancient Moorish castle.
A number of passengers were to land at Gibraltar to make a tour of
Spain, among them little Jean. Irma had turned for a last good-by to
them, when Aunt Caroline, joining her, told her that people were already
going on board the tender.
"What are your exact sensations, Irma?" whispered Uncle Jim,
mischievously, "on touching your foot to the soil of Europe? You know
you'll wish to be accurate when you record this in your diary. Excuse me
for reminding you."
"Come, come," remonstrated Aunt Caroline. "Irma may have to record her
feelings on finding that every conveyance into the town has been secured
by other passengers, while a frivolous uncle had forgotten his duty."
But even as she spoke, Marion approached them, walking beside a
carriage, to whose driver he was talking.
"Well done, Marion; so you jumped off ahead, and though it's a
queer-looking outfit, it will probably have to suit your critical aunt."
"It's much better than most carriages here," replied Marion, a trifle
indignantly; "some of them have only one horse."
"You are very thoughtful, Marion," said Aunt Caroline, as they took
their places in the brown, canopied phaeton. "No, not now, not now," she
cried, as a tall, dignified Spaniard thrust a basket of flowers toward
her. "Orange blossoms and pansies are almost irresistible, but it is
wiser to wait until we are on our way back to the boat."
Marion's face had brightened at Aunt Caroline's praise, and thus, in
good humor, he chatted pleasantly with Irma as they drove on. So long
was the procession of vehicles ahead of them that their own carriage
went slowly through the narrow street. A Moor in flowing white robes and
huge turban attracted Irma's attention, as she observed him seated in
the doorway of a warehouse on the dock. Farther on they saw a boy of
perhaps seventeen, similarly arrayed, pushing a baby carriage.
"The servant of an English officer," Uncle Jim explained. "Look your
hardest at him, for we shall not see many of his kind after this. It is
now past the hour when the Moorish market closes. After that all Moors
must be out of the town in their homes outside the gates, except those
employed in private families."
As the carriage turned into the long, crooked thoroughfare that is the
chief business street of Gibraltar, the driver pulled up before a small
shop that had a sign "New York Newspapers."
"He knows what we need; run, Marion, and get us the latest news."
"Yes, Aunt Caroline." But there was disappointment on Marion's face when
he returned a few moments later.
"There was another liner in early this morning, and all the latest
papers are gone. They have only the European editions of New York
papers, and the two I could get are a week old."
"No matter, son, you did the best you could."
"These are two or three days later than the last we saw in New York, and
as they have no bad news, or I might say no news at all, we may be
thankful. But we must move on. In this bustling town there's no time to
stand still."
"What interesting shops!" began Irma.
"Oh, they're ugly and dingy," said Marion.
"In Europe we're almost bound to admire the dingy, if not the ugly,"
returned Uncle Jim.
"Where are we going?" asked Aunt Caroline.
"Out to the jumping-off place," said Marion. "That won't take long.
After that we can go shopping, or at least you can."
"There's a great deal I can enjoy," said Irma pleasantly.
Then they drove on past a park where boys were romping on a gravelled
playground, while in another portion officers played cricket. They
passed many soldiers in khaki, and here and there a red coat. A sloping
road led up to a set of officers' quarters, detached houses, shaded by
tropical trees. Here they noticed a girl on horseback, a young girl of
about Irma's age, with her hair hanging in a long braid beneath her
broad, felt hat, and not far from her two or three girls driving.
At the little Trafalgar burying-ground their driver paused a moment that
they might read the inscriptions on some of the monuments, marking the
burial places of many brave English patriots. They had time for a bare
glance at the old Moorish garden across the road.
"This is the jumping-off place," cried Marion, as they came in sight of
the water. At one side was a pool where the soldiers bathed, and near by
the officers' bathing-houses.
"I know that I should be turning back," said Aunt Caroline. "My special
shop is up Gunners' Lane, and when I have been left there, you others
may inspect the town. At the most there isn't much time."
Marion, however, insisted on staying with Aunt Caroline.
"Very well, then. After we have spent all our money on antiques, we'll
meet you in front of the post office. I noticed it as we came along; and
you must surely be there at half past seven."
"Yes, yes," promised Uncle Jim. "Now, my dear," he said, as he and Irma
returned to the main street, "we can let the carriage go, as we shall
probably spend our time passing in and out of these shops."
It was now after six, and the street was thronged. Many were evidently
working people on their way home from their day's labors, but some were
shoppers with baskets on their arms, and others were evidently tourists,
loitering or running in and out of the shops. It was a good-natured
crowd that pushed and jostled and overflowed into the middle of the
street. Among the throng were many sailors from the ships of war.
For some time Uncle Jim with Irma gazed in the windows, and wandered in
and out of the most promising shops. In his shopping he had one
invariable method. No matter what the object, or its cost, he always
offered half the price asked.
"Is it fair," asked Irma timidly, "to beat them down?"
"It's fair to me," he replied. "In this way I stand a chance of getting
things at something near their value."
"How much is that?"
"Usually one half the asking price. Listen."
So Irma listened while a lady near by was bargaining with the Hindu
salesman.
"Never in my life has such a price been known," he protested, as the
lady held up for inspection a spangled Egyptian scarf. The lady advanced
reasons for her price.
"I cannot make my bread," cried the man, "if I throw my goods away." Yet
he thrust the scarf into the lady's hand, and then sold her a second at
the same price, without a word of argument.
"These men are Orientals," explained Uncle Jim, "and this is their way
of doing business. They mark a thing double or treble what they expect
to get, and would be surprised if you should buy without bargaining.
This man probably goes through this process a dozen times a day after an
ocean liner has come into port, and doubtless congratulates himself on
the extent of his trade."
Uncle Jim further explained that things made in India and Egypt were
brought to Gibraltar at small expense, and could be sold for much less
than in America or France or even Spain. So he bought spangled scarfs
and silver belt buckles, and a number of other little things that he
said would exactly suit Aunt Caroline. But Irma bought nothing, tempting
though many things were. Realizing that all Italy lay before her, she
did not care to draw yet on the little hoard that she was saving for
presents for those at home. After they had visited a number of shops,
Irma remembered that she had several letters to post.
"You can't buy stamps at the post office," said Uncle Jim. "That's one
of the peculiarities of Europe. Stamps are sold where you least expect
to find them, usually in a tobacconist's. I will go to the shop over
there and get some."
A moment later, when Uncle Jim returned with the stamps, a gentleman
whom Irma did not know was with him.
"This is my old friend, Gregory," he said, presenting him to Irma. "If
we had not that appointment to meet your aunt and Marion here, I would
take you to the hotel to see Mrs. Gregory. It is impossible for her to
come out, and I am sorry to miss her."
"Yes, and she will be disappointed at not seeing you. But she is
extremely tired, as we arrived on the German liner this morning, and
to-morrow we start on a fatiguing trip through Spain."
"If it would not take more than a quarter of an hour, there is no reason
why you should not go back to the hotel, Uncle Jim. I can wait here, for
Aunt Caroline and Marion may come along at any minute."
After a little thought, Uncle Jim decided that Irma's plan was
practicable. But he wished her to wait in a phaeton, to whose driver he
gave explicit directions not to go more than a block from the
post-office door.
But when after a quarter of an hour neither Uncle Jim nor Aunt Caroline
had appeared, Irma was greatly disturbed.
"I wouldn't make a good Casabianca," she thought.
Some of her friends from the _Ariadne_ passed her, and one or two
stopped to advise her. "They would have been here ten minutes ago, had
they expected to meet you here." "No, they are probably waiting for you
at the landing." Even the driver shared this view, and at a quarter of
eight Irma drove down to the boat escorted by the carriage in which sat
Muriel and her mother and governess.
"You must stay with us," said Muriel, "until you find your aunt. She's
probably on the tender."
But just at this moment a hand was laid on Irma's arm. Turning about,
she saw that the little old gentleman was beside her.
"Excuse me," he said, "but your aunt is over there. She has not yet gone
aboard the tender." As he pointed to the left, Irma saw Aunt Caroline
and Marion under the electric light near the waiting-room. When she had
reached them the old gentleman was nowhere in sight.
"We forgot that we had agreed on the post office," explained Aunt
Caroline, "at least I thought it was the landing. Then we were afraid to
go back, for fear of making matters worse. But what has become of your
uncle?"
Irma's explanation was not particularly soothing to her aunt.
"If he isn't here soon, he will lose his passage on the _Ariadne_. We
must go on, even without him. Some other boat for Naples will come soon.
We can better spend extra time at Naples than wait here."
"But suppose something has happened to him!" suggested Marion.
"I am not afraid. This isn't the first time he has missed boats--but
still----" Aunt Caroline seemed to waver. The last whistle had been
blown when a figure was seen making flying leaps towards the boat. It
was Uncle Jim, who later explained that he had forgotten to look at his
watch until his friend suddenly reminded him that he had but five
minutes in which to reach the boat. Thereupon he had decided that his
only way was to run as if for his life. Almost exhausted, he was
evidently not a fit subject for reproof, and Aunt Caroline merely
expressed her thankfulness that he had not been detained at Gibraltar.