Title: Trafalgar - A Tale
Author: Pérez Galdós, Benito
Language: English
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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.



CHAPTER II.


It was on one of the early days of October in that fatal year, 1805,
that my worthy master called me into his room and looked at me with
the severity that was habitual to him--a severity that was only on the
surface for his nature was gentleness itself--he said:

"Gabriel, are you a brave man?"

I did not know what to answer, for, to tell the truth, in my fourteen
years of life no opportunity had ever presented itself for me to
astonish the world with any deed of valor; still, it filled me with
pride to hear myself called a man, and thinking it ill-judged to deny
myself the credit of courage before any one who held it in such high
estimation, I answered, with boyish boldness:

"Yes, sir, I am a brave man."

At this the noble gentleman, who had shed his blood in a hundred
glorious fights and who nevertheless did not disdain to treat a
faithful servant with frank confidence, smiled at me kindly, signed to
me to take a seat, and seemed on the point of informing me of some
business of importance, when his wife, my mistress, Doña Francisca
entered the study, and, to give further interest to the discussion,
began to declaim with vehemence.

"You are not to go," she said, "I declare you shall not join the
fleet. What next will you be wanting to do?--at your age and when you
have long retired as superannuated! No, no, Alonso my dear. You are
past sixty and your dancing days are over."

I can see her now, that respectable and indignant dame--with her
deep-bordered cap, her muslin dress, her white curls, and a hairy mole
on one side of her chin. I describe these miscellaneous details, for
they are inseparable from my recollection of her. She was pretty even
in old age, like Murillo's Santa Anna, and her sober beauty would have
justified the comparison if only the lady had been as silent as a
picture. Don Alonso somewhat cowed, as he always was, by her flow of
words, answered quietly:

"I must go, Paquita. From the letter I have just now received from my
worthy friend Churruca, I learn that the united squadrons are either
to sail from Cadiz and engage the English or to wait for them in the
bay in case they are so bold as to enter. In either case it will be no
child's play."

"That is well, and I am glad to hear it," replied Doña Francisca.
"There are Gravina, Valdés, Cisneros, Churruca, Alcalá Galiano, and
Alava; let them pound away at the English dogs. But you are a piece of
useless lumber who can do no good if you go. Why you cannot move that
left arm which they dislocated for you at Cape St. Vincent."

My master lifted his arm, with a stiff attempt at military precision,
to show that he could use it. But his wife, not convinced by so feeble
an argument, went on with shrill asseveration.

"No, you shall not go, what can they want of a piece of antiquity like
you. If you were still forty as you were when you went to Tierra del
Fuego and brought me back those green Indian necklaces.--Then indeed!
But now!--I know, that ridiculous fellow Marcial fired your brain this
morning with talking to you about battles. It seems to me that Señor
Marcial and I will come to quarrelling.--Let him go to the ships if he
likes and pay them out for the foot he lost! Oh! Saint Joseph the
blessed! If I had known when I was a girl what you seamen were!
Endless worry; never a day's peace! A woman marries to live with her
husband and one fine day a dispatch comes from Madrid and he is sent
off at two minutes notice to the Lord knows where--Patagonia or Japan
or the infernal regions. For ten or twelve months she sees nothing of
him and at last, if the savages have not eaten him meanwhile, he comes
back again the picture of misery--so ill and yellow that she does not
know what to do to restore him to his right color. But old birds are
not to be caught in a trap, and then suddenly another dispatch comes
from Madrid, with orders to go to Toulon or Brest or Naples--go here
and go there--wherever it is necessary to meet the whims of that
rascally First Consul...! If you would all do as I say, you would soon
payout these gentlemen who keep the world in a turmoil!"

My master sat smiling and gazing at a cheap print, badly colored by
some cheap artist, which was nailed against the wall, and which
represented the Emperor Napoleon mounted on a green charger, in the
celebrated "redingote" which was smeared with vermilion. It was no
doubt the sight of this work of art, which I had seen daily for four
years, which had modified my ideas with respect to the smuggler's
costume of the great man of the day, and had fixed his image in my
mind as dressed something like a cardinal and riding a green horse.

"This is not living!" Doña Francisca went on, throwing up her arms:
"God forgive me, but I hate the sea, though they say it is one of His
most glorious works. What is the use of the Holy Inquisition, will you
tell me, if it is not to burn those diabolical ships of war to ashes?
What is the good of this incessant firing of cannon,--balls upon
balls, all directed against four boards, as you may say, which are
soon smashed to leave hundreds of hapless wretches to drown in the
sea? Is not that provoking God?--And yet you men are half-wild as soon
as you hear a cannon fired! Merciful Heaven! my flesh creeps at the
sound, and if every one was of my way of thinking, we should have no
more sea-fights, and the cannon would be cast into bells. Look here,
Alonso," she said, standing still in front of her husband, "it seems
to me that they have done you damage enough already; what more do you
want? You and a parcel of madmen like yourself,--had you not enough to
satisfy you on the 14th?"[1]

    [1] The battle of Cape St. Vincent was fought on February 14,
    1797.

Don Alonso clenched his fists at this bitter reminiscence, and it was
only out of consideration for his wife, to whom he paid the utmost
respect, that he suppressed a good round oath.

"I lay all the blame of your absurd determination to join the fleet to
that rascally Marcial," the lady went on, warming with her own
eloquence; "that maniac for the sea who ought to have been drowned a
hundred times and over, but that he escaped a hundred times to be the
torment of my life. If he wants to join, with his wooden leg, his
broken arm, his one eye, and his fifty wounds--let him go, by all
means, and God grant he may never come back here again--but you shall
not go, Alonso, for you are past service and have done enough for the
King who has paid you badly enough in all conscience. If I were you, I
would throw those captain's epaulettes you have worn these ten years
in the face of the Generalissimo of the land and sea forces. My word!
they ought have made you admiral, at least; you earned that when you
went on that expedition to Africa and brought me back those blue beads
which I gave with the Indian necklace to decorate the votive urn to
the Virgin 'del Cármen.'"

"Admiral or not, it is my duty to join the fleet, Paquita," said my
master. "I cannot be absent from this struggle. I feel that I must pay
off some of my arrears to the English."

"Do you talk of paying off arrears!" exclaimed my mistress; "you--old,
feeble, and half-crippled...."

"Gabriel will go with me," said Don Alonso, with a look at me which
filled me with valor.

I bowed to signify that I agreed to this heroic scheme, but I took
care not to be seen by my mistress, who would have let me feel the
full weight of her hand if she had suspected my bellicose
inclinations. Indeed, seeing that her husband was fully determined,
she was more furious than ever, declaring that if she had to live her
life again nothing should induce her to marry a sailor. She cursed the
Emperor, abused our revered King, the Prince of Peace, and all those
who had signed the Treaty of Subsidies, ending by threatening the
brave old man with punishment from Heaven for his insane rashness.

During this dialogue, which I have reported with approximate exactness
as I have to depend on my memory, a loud barking cough in the
adjoining room revealed the fact that Marcial, the old sailor, could
overhear with perfect ease, my mistress's vehement harangue, in which
she had so frequently mentioned him in by no means flattering terms.
Being now desirous of taking part in the conversation, as his intimacy
in the house fully justified his doing, he opened the door and came
into Don Alfonso's room. Before going any farther I must give some
account of my master's former history, and of his worthy wife, that
the reader may have a better understanding of what follows.



CHAPTER III.


Don Alfonso Gutierrez de Cisniega belonged to an old family of Vejer,
where he lived. He had been devoted at an early age to a naval career
and, while still quite young, had distinguished himself in defending
Havana against the English in 1748. He was afterwards engaged in the
expedition which sailed from Cartagena against the Algerines in 1775,
and was present at the attack upon Gibraltar under the Duke de Crillon
in 1782. He subsequently joined the expedition to the Straits of
Magellan in the corvette _Santa María de la Cabeza_, commanded by Don
Antonio de Córdova, and fought in the glorious engagements between the
Anglo-Spanish fleet and the French before Toulon in 1793, terminating
his career of glory at the disastrous battle of Cape St. Vincent,
where he commanded the _Mejicano_, one of the ships which were forced
to surrender.

From that time my master, whose promotion had been slower than his
laborious and varied career had merited, retired from active service.
He suffered much in body from the wounds he had received on that
fatal day, and more in mind from the blow of such a defeat. His wife
nursed and tended him with devotion though not in silence, for abuse
of the navy and of seamen of every degree were as common in her mouth
as the names of the saints in that of a bigot.

Doña Francisca was an excellent woman, of exemplary conduct and noble
birth, devout and God-fearing--as all women were in those days,
charitable and judicious, but with the most violent and diabolical
temper I ever met with in the whole course of my life. Frankly I do
not believe that this excessive irritability was natural to her, but
the result and outcome of the worries in her life arising out of her
husband's much-hated profession; it must be confessed that she did not
complain wholly without reason, and every day of her life Doña
Francisca addressed her prayers to Heaven for the annihilation of
every fleet in Europe. This worthy couple had but one child, a
daughter--the incomparable Rosita, of whom more anon.

The veteran, however, pined sadly at Vejer, seeing his laurels covered
with dust and gnawed to powder by the rats, and all his thoughts and
most of his discourse, morning, noon, and night, were based on the
absorbing theme that if Córdova, the commander of the Spanish fleet,
had only given the word "Starboard" instead of "Port" the good ships
_Mejicano_, _San José_, _San Nicolás_ and _San Isidro_ would never
have fallen into the hands of the English, and Admiral Jervis would
have been defeated. His wife, Marcial, and even I myself, exceeding
the limits of my duties--always assured him that there was no doubt of
the fact, to see whether, if we acknowledged ourselves convinced, his
vehemence would moderate--but no; his mania on that point only died
with him.

Eight years had passed since that disaster, and the intelligence that
the whole united fleet was to fight a decisive battle with the English
had now roused my master to a feverish enthusiasm which seemed to have
renewed his youth. He pictured to himself the inevitable rout of his
mortal enemies; and although his wife tried to dissuade him, as has
been said, it was impossible to divert him from his wild purpose. To
prove how obstinate his determination was it is enough to mention that
he dared to oppose his wife's strong will, though he avoided all
discussion; and to give an adequate idea of all that his opposition
implied I ought to mention that Don Alonso was afraid of no mortal
thing or creature--neither of the English, the French, nor the
savages of Magellan, not of the angry sea, nor of the monsters of the
deep, nor of the raging tempest, nor of anything in the earth or
sky--but only of his wife.

The last person I must mention is Marcial the sailor, the object of
Doña Francisca's deepest aversion, though Don Alonso, under whom he
had served, loved him as a brother.

Marcial--no one knew his other name--called by all the sailors "the
Half a Man," had been boatswain on various men-of-war for forty years.
At the time when my story begins this maritime hero's appearance was
the strangest you can imagine. Picture to yourself an old man, tall
rather than short, with a wooden leg, his left arm shortened to within
a few inches of the elbow, minus an eye, and his face seamed with
wounds in every direction--slashed by the various arms of the enemy;
with his skin tanned brown, like that of all sea-faring men, and a
voice so hoarse, hollow and slow, that it did not seem to belong to
any rational human creature, and you have some idea of this eccentric
personage. As I think of him I regret the narrow limits of my palette,
for he deserves painting in more vivid colors and by a worthier
artist. It was hard to say whether his appearance was most calculated
to excite laughter or command respect--both at once I think, and
according to the point of view you might adopt.

His life might be said to be an epitome of the naval history of Spain
during the last years of the past century and the beginning of this--a
history in whose pages the most splendid victories alternate with the
most disastrous defeats. Marcial had served on board the _Conde de
Regla_, the _San Joaquin_, the _Real Cárlos_, the _Trinidad_ and other
glorious but unfortunate vessels which, whether honorably defeated or
perfidiously destroyed, carried with them to a watery grave the naval
power of Spain. Besides the expeditions in which my master had taken
part Marcial had been present at many others, such as that of
Martinica, the action of Cape Finisterre, and before that the terrible
battle close to Algeciras in July, 1801, and that off Cape Santa María
on the 5th of October, 1804. He quitted the service at sixty-six years
of age, not however for lack of spirit but because he was altogether
"unmasted" and past fighting. On shore he and my master were the best
of friends, and as the boatswain's only daughter was married to one of
the servants of the house, of which union a small child was the token,
Marcial had made up his mind to cast anchor for good, like a hulk
past service, and even succeeded in making himself believe that peace
was a good thing. Only to see him you would have thought that the most
difficult task that could be set to this grand relic of a hero was
that of minding babies; but, as a matter of fact, Marcial had no other
occupation in life than carrying and amusing his grandchild, putting
it to sleep with his snatches of sea-songs, seasoned with an oath or
two--excusable under the circumstances.

But no sooner had he heard that the united fleets were making ready
for a decisive battle than his moribund fires rose from their ashes,
and he dreamed that he was calling up the crew in the forecastle of
the _Santísima Trinidad_. Discovering in Don Alfonso similar symptoms
of rejuvenescence, he confessed to him, and from that hour they spent
the chief part of the day and night in discussing the news that
arrived and their own feelings in the matter; "fighting their battles
o'er again," hazarding conjectures as to those to be fought in the
immediate future, and talking over their day-dreams like two ship's
boys indulging in secret visions of the shortest road to the title of
Admiral.

In the course of these _tête-à-tête_ meetings, which occasioned the
greatest alarm to Doña Francisca, the plan was hatched for setting
out to join the fleet and be present at the impending battle. I have
already told the reader what my mistress's opinion was and all the
abuse she lavished on the insidious sailor; he knows too that Don
Alonso persisted in his determination to carry out his rash purpose,
accompanied by me, his trusty page, and I must now proceed to relate
what occurred when Marcial himself appeared on the scene to take up
the cudgels for war against the shameful _status quo_ of Doña
Francisca.



CHAPTER IV.


"Señor Marcial," she began, with increased indignation, "if you choose
to go to sea again and lose your other hand, you can go if you like;
but my husband here, shall not."

"Very good," said the sailor who had seated himself on the edge of a
chair, occupying no more space on it than was necessary to save
himself from falling: "I will go alone. But the devil may take me if I
can rest without looking on at the fun!"

Then he went on triumphantly: "We have fifteen ships and the French
twenty smaller vessels. If they were all ours we should not want so
many. Forty ships and plenty of brave hearts on board!"

Just as the spark creeps from one piece of timber to the next, the
enthusiasm that fired Marcial's one eye lighted up both my master's,
though dimmed by age. "But the _Señorito_" (Lord Nelson), added the
sailor, "will bring up a great many men too. That is the sort of
performance I enjoy: plenty of timbers to fire at, and plenty of
gunpowder-smoke to warm the air when it is cold."

I forgot to mention that Marcial, like most sailors, used a vocabulary
of the most wonderful and mongrel character, for it seems to be a
habit among seamen of every nation to disfigure their mother tongue to
the verge of caricature. By examining the nautical terms used by
sailors we perceive that most of them are corruptions of more usual
terms, modified to suit their eager and hasty temperament trained by
circumstances to abridge all the functions of existence and
particularly speech. Hearing them talk it has sometimes occurred to me
that sailors find the tongue an organ that they would gladly dispense
with.

Marcial, for instance, turned verbs into nouns and nouns into verbs
without consulting the authorities. He applied nautical terms to every
action and movement, and identified the ideas of a man and a ship,
fancying that there was some analogy between their limbs and parts. He
would say in speaking of the loss of his eye that his larboard
port-hole was closed, and explained the amputation of his arm by
saying that he had been left minus his starboard cat-head. His heart
he called his courage-hold and his stomach his bread-basket. These
terms sailors at any rate could understand; but he had others, the
offspring of his own inventive genius of which he alone understood the
meaning or could appreciate the force. He had words of his own coining
for doubting a statement, for feeling sad; getting drunk he always
called "putting on your coat" among a number of other fantastical
idioms; and the derivation of this particular phrase will never occur
to my readers without my explaining to them that the English sailors
had acquired among the Spaniards the nickname of "great-coats," so
that when he called getting drunk "putting your coat on" a recondite
allusion was implied to the favorite vice of the enemy. He had the
most extraordinary nicknames for foreign admirals; Nelson he called
the _Señorito_, implying a certain amount of respect for him;
Collingwood was _Rio Calambre_, (Uncle Cramp) which he believed to be
an equivalent for the English name; Jervis he called--as the English
did too--The old Fox; Calder was known as _Rio Perol_ (Uncle Boiler)
from an association of the name Calder with _caldera_, a kettle, and
by an entirely different process he dubbed Villeneuve, the Admiral of
the united fleets, with the name of _Monsieur Corneta_, borrowed from
some play he had once seen acted at Madrid. In fact, when reporting
the conversations I can recall, I must perforce translate his
wonderful phraseology into more ordinary language, to avoid going into
long and tiresome explanations.

To proceed, Doña Francisca, devoutly crossing herself, answered
angrily:

"Forty ships! Good Heavens! it is tempting Providence; and there will
be at least forty thousand guns for the enemies to kill each other."

"Ah! but _Monsieur Corneta_ keeps the courage-hold well filled!"
exclaimed Marcial, striking his breast. "We shall laugh at the
great-coats this time. It will not be Cape St. Vincent over again."

"And you must not forget," added my master eagerly recurring to his
favorite hobby, "that if Admiral Córdova had only ordered the _San
José_ and the _Mejicano_ to tack to port, Captain Jervis would not now
be rejoicing in the title of Earl St. Vincent. Of that you may be very
certain, and I have ample evidence to show that if we had gone to port
the day would have been ours."

"Ours!" exclaimed Doña Francisca scornfully. "As if you could have
done more. To hear these fire-eaters it would seem as if they wanted
to conquer the world, and as to going to sea--it appears that their
shoulders are not broad enough to bear the blows of the English."

"No," said Marcial resolutely and clenching his fist defiantly. "If it
were not for their cunning and knavery...! We got out against them
with a bold front, defying them like men, with our flag hoisted and
clean hands. The English never sail wide, they always steal up and
surprise us, choosing heavy seas and stormy weather. That is how it
was at the Straits, when we were made to pay so dearly. We were
sailing on quite confidingly, for no one expected to be trapped even
by a heretic dog of a Moor, much less by an Englishman who does the
polite thing in a Christian fashion.--But no, an enemy who sneaks up
to fight is not a Christian--he is a highwayman. Well now, just fancy,
señora," and he turned to Doña Francisca to engage her attention and
good-will, "we were going out of Cadiz to help the French fleet which
was driven into Algeciras by the English.--It is four years ago now,
and to this day it makes me so angry that my blood boils as I think of
it. I was on board the _Real Cárlos_, 112 guns, commanded by Ezguerra,
and we had with us the _San Hermenegildo_, 112 guns too, the _San
Fernando_, the _Argonauta_, the _San Agustin_, and the frigate
_Sabina_. We were joined by the French squadron of four men-of-war,
three frigates and a brigantine, and all sailed out of Algeciras for
Cadiz at twelve o'clock at noon; and as the wind was slack when night
fell we were close under Punta Carnero. The night was blacker than a
barrel of pitch, but the weather was fine so we could hold on our way
in spite of the darkness. Most of the crew were asleep; I remember, I
was sitting in the fo'castle talking to the mate, Pepe Débora, who was
telling me all the dog's tricks his mother-in-law had played him, and
alongside we could see the lights of the _San Hermenegildo_, which was
sailing at a gun-shot to starboard. The other ships were ahead of us.
For the very last thing we any of us thought of was that the
'great-coats' had slipped out of Gibraltar and were giving chase--and
how the devil should we, when they had doused all their lights and
were stealing up to us without our guessing it? Suddenly, for all that
the night was so dark, I fancied I saw something--I always had a
port-light like a lynx--I fancied a ship was standing between us and
the _San Hermenegildo_, which was sailing at a gun-shot to starboard.
'José Débora,' says I, 'either I saw a ghost or there is an Englishman
to starboard?' José Débora looks himself, and then he says: 'May the
main-mast go by the board,' says he, 'if there is e'er a ship to
starboard but the _San Hermenegildo_.' 'Well,' says I, 'whether or no
I am going to tell the officer of the watch.'

"Well hardly were the words out of my mouth when, rub-a-dub! we heard
the tune of a whole broadside that came rattling against our ribs. The
crew were on deck in a minute, and each man at his post. That was a
rumpus, señora! I wish you could have been there, just to have an idea
of how these things are managed. We were all swearing like demons and
at the same time praying the Lord to give us a gun at the end of every
finger to fight them with. Ezguerra gave the word to return their
broadside.--Thunder and lightning! They fired again, and in a minute
or two we responded. But in the midst of all the noise and confusion
we discovered that with their first broadside they had sent one of
those infernal combustibles (but he called it 'comestibles') on board
which fall on the deck as if it were raining fire. When we saw our
ship was burning we fought like madmen and fired off broadside after
broadside. Ah! Doña Francisca, it was hot work I can tell you!--Then
our captain took us alongside of the enemy's ship that we might board
her. I wish you could have seen it! I was in my glory then; in an
instant we had our axes and boarding-pikes out, the enemy was coming
down upon us and my heart jumped for joy to see it, for this was the
quickest way of settling accounts. On we go, right into her!--Day was
just beginning to dawn, the yards were touching, and the boarding
parties ready at the gangways when we heard Spanish oaths on board the
foe. We all stood dumb with horror, for we found that the ship we had
been fighting with was the _San Hermenegildo_ herself."

"That was a pretty state of things," said Doña Francisca roused to
some interest in the narrative. "And how had you been such asses--with
not a pin to choose between you?"

"I will tell you. We had no time for explanations then. The flames on
our ship went over to the _San Hermenegildo_ and then, Blessed Virgin!
what a scene of confusion. 'To the boats!' was the cry. The fire
caught the _Santa Bárbara_ and her ladyship blew up with loud
explosion.--We were all swearing, shouting, blaspheming God and the
Virgin and all the Saints, for that seems the only way to avoid
choking when you are primed to fight, up to the very muzzle...."

"Merciful Heavens how shocking!" cried my mistress. "And you escaped?"

"Forty of us got off in the launch and six or seven in the gig, these
took up the second officer of the _San Hermenegildo_. José Débora
clung to a piece of plank and came to shore at Morocco, more dead than
alive."

"And the rest?"

"The rest--the sea was wide enough to hold them all. Two thousand men
went down to Davy Jones that day, and among them our captain,
Ezguerra, and Emparan, the captain of the other ship."

"Lord have mercy on them!" ejaculated Doña Francisca. "Though God
knows! they were but ill-employed to be snatched away to judgment. If
they had stayed quietly at home, as God requires...."

"The cause of that disaster," said Don Alonso, who delighted in
getting his wife to listen to these dramatic narratives, "was this:
The English emboldened by the darkness arranged that the _Superb_, the
lightest of their vessels, should extinguish her lights and slip
through between our two finest ships. Having done this, she fired both
her broadsides and then put about as quickly as possible to escape the
struggle that ensued. The two men-of-war, finding themselves
unexpectedly attacked, returned fire and thus went on battering each
other till dawn, when, just as they were about to board, they
recognized each other and the end came as Marcial has told you in
detail."

"Ah! and they played the game well," cried the lady. "It was well
done though it was a mean trick!"

"What would you have?" added Marcial. "I never loved them much; but
since that night!... If _they_ are in Heaven I do not want ever to go
there. Sooner would I be damned to all eternity!"

"Well--and then the taking of the four frigates which were coming from
Rio de la Plata?" asked Don Alfonso, to incite the old sailor to go on
with his stories.

"Aye--I was at that too," said Marcial. "And that was where I left my
leg. That time too they took us unawares, and as it was in time of
peace we were sailing on quietly enough, only counting the hours till
we should be in port, when suddenly---- I will tell you exactly how it
all happened, Doña Francisca, that you may just understand the ways of
those people. After the engagement at the Straits I embarked on board
the _Fama_ for Montevideo, and we had been out there a long time when
the Admiral of the squadron received orders to convoy treasure from
Lima and Buenos Ayres to Spain. The voyage was a good one and we had
no mishaps but a few slight cases of fever which only killed off a few
of our men. Our freight was heavy--gold belonging to the king and to
private persons, and we also had on board what we called the 'wages
chest'--savings off the pay of the troops serving in America.
Altogether, if I am not much mistaken, a matter of fifty millions or
so of _pesos_, as if it were a mere nothing; and besides that,
wolf-hides, vicuña wool, cascarilla, pigs of tin and copper, and
cabinet woods. Well, sir, after sailing for fifty days we sighted land
on the 5th of October, and reckoned on getting into Cadiz the next day
when, bearing down from the northeast, what should we see but four
frigates. Although, as I said, it was in time of peace, and though our
captain, Don Miguel de Zapiain, did not seem to have any suspicion of
evil, I--being an old sea-dog--called Débora and said to him that
there was powder in the air, I could smell it. Well, when the English
frigates were pretty near, we cleared the decks for action; the _Fama_
went forward and we were soon within a cable's length of one of the
English ships which lay to windward.

"The English captain hailed us through his speaking-trumpet and told
us--there is nothing like plain-speaking--told us to prepare to defend
ourselves, as he was going to attack. He asked a string of questions,
but all he got out of us was that we should not take the trouble to
answer him. Meanwhile the other three frigates had come up and had
formed in such order that each Englishman had a Spaniard to the
leeward of him."

"They could not have taken up a better position," said my master.

"So say I," replied Marcial. "The commander of our squadron, Don José
Bustamante, was not very prompt; if I had been in his shoes.... Well,
señor, the English commodore sent a little whipper-snapper officer, in
a swallow-tail coat, on board the _Medea_, who wasted no time in
trifling but said at once that though war had not been declared, the
commodore had orders to take us. That is what it is to be English!
Well, we engaged at once; our frigate received the first broadside in
her port quarter; we politely returned the salute, and the cannonade
was brisk on both sides--the long and the short of it is that we could
do nothing with the heretics, for the devil was on their side; they
set fire to the _Santa Bárbara_ which blew up with a roar, and we were
all so crushed by this and felt so cowed--not for want of courage,
señor, but what they call demoralized--well, from the first we knew we
were lost. There were more holes in our ship's sails than in an old
cloak; our rigging was damaged, we had five feet of water in the
hold, our mizzen-mast was split, we had three shots in the side only
just above the water line and many dead and wounded. Notwithstanding
all this we went on, give and take, with the English, but when we saw
that the _Medea_ and the _Clara_ were unable to fight any longer and
struck their colors we made all sail and retired, defending ourselves
as best we could. The cursed Englishman gave chase, and as her sails
were in better order than ours we could not escape and we had nothing
for it but to haul our colors down at about three in the afternoon,
when a great many men had been killed and I myself was lying half-dead
on the deck, for a ball had gone out of its way to take my leg off.
Those d----d wretches carried us off to England, not as prisoners, but
as _détenus_; however, with despatches on one side and despatches on
the other, from London to Madrid and back again, the end of it was
that they stuck for want of money; and, so far as I was concerned,
another leg might have grown by the time the King of Spain sent them
such a trifle as those five millions of _pesos_."

"Poor man!--and it was then you lost your leg?" asked Doña Francisca
compassionately.

"Yes, señora, the English, knowing that I was no dancer, thought one
was as much as I could want. In return they took good care of me. I
was six months in a town they called _Plinmuf_ (Plymouth) lying in my
bunk with my paw tied up and a passport for the next world in my
pocket.--However, God A'mighty did not mean that I should make a hole
in the water so soon; an English doctor made me this wooden leg, which
is better than the other now, for the other aches with that d----d
rheumatism and this one, thank God, never aches even when it is hit by
a round of small shot. As to toughness, I believe it would stand
anything, though, to be sure, I have never since faced English fire to
test it."

"You are a brave fellow," said my mistress. "Please God you may not
lose the other. But those who seek danger...."

And so, Marcial's story being ended, the dispute broke out anew as to
whether or no my master should set out to join the squadron. Doña
Francisca persisted in her negative, and Don Alonso, who in his wife's
presence was as meek as a lamb, sought pretexts and brought forward
every kind of reason to convince her.

"Well we shall go to look on, wife,--simply and merely to look
on"--said the hero in a tone of entreaty.

"Let us have done with sight-seeing," answered his wife. "A pretty
pair of lookers-on you two would make!"

"The united squadrons," added Marcial, "will remain in Cadiz--and they
will try to force the entrance."

"Well then," said my mistress, "you can see the whole performance from
within the walls of Cadiz, but as for going out in the ships--I say
no, and I mean no, Alonso. During forty years of married life you have
never seen me angry (he saw it every day)--but if you join the
squadron I swear to you ... remember, Paquita lives only for you!"

"Wife, wife--" cried my master much disturbed: "Do you mean I am to
die without having had that satisfaction?"

"A nice sort of satisfaction truly! to look on at mad men killing each
other! If the King of Spain would only listen to me, I would pack off
these English and say to them: 'My beloved subjects were not made to
amuse you. Set to and fight each other, if you want to fight.' What do
you say to that?--I, simpleton as I am, know very well what is in the
wind, and that is that the first Consul--Emperor--Sultan--whatever you
call him--wants to settle the English, and as he has no men brave
enough for the job he has imposed upon our good King and persuaded
him to lend him his; and the truth is he is sickening us with his
everlasting sea-fights. Will you just tell me what is Spain to gain in
all this? Why is Spain to submit to being cannonaded day after day for
nothing at all? Before all that rascally business Marcial has told us
of what harm had the English ever done us?--Ah, if they would only
listen to me! Master Buonaparte might fight by himself, for I would
not fight for him!"

"It is quite true," replied my master, "that our alliance with France
is doing us much damage, for all the advantages accrue to our ally,
while all the disasters are on our side."

"Well, then, you utter simpletons, why do you encourage the poor
creatures to fight in this war?"

"The honor of the nation is at stake," replied Don Alonso, "and after
having once joined the dance it would be a disgrace to back out of it.
Last month, when I was at Cadiz, at my cousin's daughter's
christening, Churruca said to me: 'This French alliance and that
villainous treaty of San Ildefonso, which the astuteness of Buonaparte
and the weakness of our government made a mere question of subsidies,
will be the ruin of us and the ruin of our fleet if God does not come
to the rescue, and afterwards will be the ruin of the colonies too and
of Spanish trade with America. But we must go on now all the
same....'"

"Well," said Doña Francisca, "what I say is that the Prince of Peace
is interfering in things he does not understand. There you see what a
man without learning is! My brother the archdeacon, who is on Prince
Ferdinand's side, says that Godoy is a thoroughly commonplace soul,
that he has studied neither Latin nor theology and that all he knows
is how to play the guitar and twenty ways of dancing a gavotte. They
made him prime minister for his good looks, as it would seem. That is
the way we do things in Spain! And then we hear of starvation and
want--everything is so dear--yellow fever breaking out in
Andalusia.--This is a pretty state of things, sir,--yes, and the fault
is yours; yours," she went on, raising her voice and turning purple.
"Yes, señor, yours, who offend God by killing so many people--and if
you would go to church and tell your beads instead of wanting to go in
those diabolical ships of war, the devil would not find time to trot
round Spain so nimbly, playing the mischief with us all."

"But you shall come to Cadiz too," said Don Alonso, hoping to light
some spark of enthusiasm in his wife's heart; "you shall go to
Flora's house, and from the balcony you will be able to see the fight
quite comfortably, and the smoke and the flames and the flags.--It is
a beautiful sight!"

"Thank you very much--but I should drop dead with fright. Here we
shall be quiet; those who seek danger may go there."

Here the dialogue ended, and I remember every word of it though so
many years have elapsed. But it often happens that the most remote
incidents that occurred even in our earliest childhood, remain stamped
on our imagination more clearly and permanently than the events of our
riper years when our reasoning faculties have gained the upper hand.

That evening Don Alonzo and Marcial talked over matters whenever Doña
Francisca left them together; but this was at rare intervals, for she
was suspicious and watchful. When she went off to church to attend
vespers, as was her pious custom, the two old sailors breathed freely
again as if they were two giddy schoolboys out of sight of the master.
They shut themselves into the library, pulled out their maps and
studied them with eager attention; then they read some papers in which
they had noted down the names of several English vessels with the
number of their guns and men, and in the course of their excited
conference, in which reading was varied by vigorous commentary, I
discovered that they were scheming the plan of an imaginary naval
battle. Marcial, by means of energetic gymnastics with his arm and a
half, imitated the advance of the squadron and the explosion of the
broadsides; with his head he indicated the alternate action of the
hostile vessels; with his body the heavy lurch of each ship as it went
to the bottom; with his hand the hauling up and down of the signal
flags; he represented the boatswain's whistle by a sharp sibilation;
the rattle of the cannon by thumping his wooden leg on the floor; he
smacked his tongue to imitate the swearing and confusion of noises in
the fight; and as my master assisted him in this performance with the
utmost gravity I also must need take my share in the fray, encouraged
by their example and giving natural vent to that irresistible longing
to make a noise which is a master passion with every boy. Seeing the
enthusiasm of the two veterans, I could no longer contain myself and
took to leaping about the room--a freedom in which I was justified by
my master's kind familiarity; I imitated with my head and arms the
movements of a vessel veering before the wind, and at the same time
making my voice as big as possible I shouted out all the most
sonorous monosyllables I could think of as being most like the noise
of a cannon. My worthy master and the mutilated old sailor, quite as
childish as I in their own way, paid no attention to my proceedings,
being entirely preoccupied with their own ideas.

How I have laughed since when I have remembered the scene! and how
true it is--in spite of all my respect for my companions in the
game--that senile enthusiasm makes old men children once more and
renews the puerile follies of the cradle even on the very brink of the
tomb!

They were deep in their discussion when they heard Doña Francisca's
step returning from church.

"She is coming!" cried Marcial in an agony of alarm, and they folded
up the maps and began to talk of indifferent matters. I, however, not
being able to cool down my juvenile blood so rapidly or else not
noticing my mistress's approach soon enough, went on, down the middle
of the room in my mad career, ejaculating with the utmost incoherence,
such phrases as I had picked up: "Tack to starboard! Now Port!
Broadside to the leeward! Fire! Bang! bom! boom!..." She came up to me
in a fury and without any warning delivered a broadside on my
figure-head with her right hand, and with such effect that for a few
moments I saw nothing but stars.

"What! you too?" she cried, battering me unmercifully. "You see," she
added, turning on her husband with flashing eyes, "you have taught him
to feel no respect for you!--You thought you were still in the
_Caleta_ did you, you little ne'er do weel?"

The commotion ended by my running off to the kitchen crying and
disgraced, after striking my colors in an ignominious manner, before
the superior force of the enemy; Doña Francisca giving chase and
belaboring my neck and shoulders with heavy slaps. In the kitchen I
cast anchor and sat down to cry over the fatal termination of my
sea-fight.



CHAPTER V.


In opposing her husband's insane determination to join the fleet, Doña
Francisca did not rely solely on the reasons given in the last
chapter; she had another and more weighty one which she did not
mention in the course of that conversation, perhaps because it was
wiser not. But the reader does not know it, and must be told.

I have mentioned that my master had a daughter; this daughter's name
was Rosita; she was a little older than I was, that is to say scarcely
fifteen, and a marriage had been arranged for her with a young officer
of artillery named Malespina, belonging to a family of Medinasidonia
and distantly related to my master. The wedding had been fixed for the
end of October and, as may be supposed, the absence of the bride's
father on so solemn an occasion would have been highly improper.

I must here give some account of my young lady, of her bridegroom, her
love-affairs and her projected marriage; and alas! my recollections
take a tinge of melancholy, recalling to my fancy many troublesome
and far-away scenes, figures from another world--and stirring my weary
old heart with feelings of which I should find it hard to say whether
they were more pleasurable or sad. Those ardent memories which now lie
withered in my brain, like tropical flowers exposed to a chill
northern blast, sometimes make me laugh--but sometimes make me grave.
However, to my tale, or the reader will be tired of these wearisome
reflections which, after all, interest no one but myself.

Rosita was uncommonly pretty. I remember vividly how pretty she was,
though I should find it difficult to describe her features. I fancy I
see her now, smiling in my face; the curious expression of her
countenance, unlike any other I ever saw, dwells in my mind--from the
perfect distinctness with which it rises before me--like one of those
innate ideas which seem to have come into the world with us from a
former existence, or to have been impressed on our minds by some
mysterious power while we were still in the cradle. And yet I cannot
describe it, for what then was real and tangible remains now in my
brain as a vague ideal; and while nothing is so fascinating as a
beloved ideal, nothing so completely eludes all categorical
description.

When I first went into the house I thought that Rosita belonged to
some superior order of beings; I will explain my feelings more fully
that you may form an idea of my utter simpleness. When we are little
and a child comes into the world within our family the grown-up folks
are apt to tell us that it has come from France, Paris, or England. I,
like other children, having no notions as to the multiplication of the
human race, firmly believed that babies were imported packed up in
boxes like a cargo of hardware. Thus, gazing for the first time at my
master's daughter, I argued that so lovely a being could not have come
from the same factory as the rest of us, that is to say from Paris or
from England, and I remained convinced that there must be some
enchanted region where heaven-sent workmen were employed in making
these choicer and lovelier specimens of humanity. Both of us being
children, though in different ranks of life, we were soon on those
terms of mutual confidence which were natural to our years, and my
greatest joy was in playing with her, submitting to all her vagaries
and insolence, which is not saying a little, for our relative position
was never lost sight of in our games; she was always the young lady
and I always the servant, so that I got the worst of it when slaps
were going, and I need not say who was the sufferer.

My highest dream of happiness was to be allowed to fetch her from
school, and when, by some unforeseen accident, some one else was
entrusted with this delightful duty I was so deeply distressed that I
honestly thought there could be no greater grief in life, and would
say to myself: "It is impossible that I should ever be more miserable
when I am a man grown." My greatest delight was to climb the
orange-tree in the court-yard to pick the topmost sprays of blossom; I
felt myself at a height far above the greatest king on earth when
seated on his throne, and I can remember no pleasure to be compared to
that of being obliged to capture her in that divinely rapturous game
known as hide and seek. If she ran like a gazelle I flew like a bird
to catch her as soon as possible, seizing her by the first part of her
dress or person that I could lay my hand on. When we changed parts,
when she was the pursuer and I was to be caught, the innocent delight
of the blissful game was doubled, and the darkest and dingiest hole in
which I might hide, breathlessly awaiting the grasp of her imprisoning
hands, was to me a perfect paradise. And I may honestly say that
during these happy games I never had a thought or a feeling that did
not emanate from the purest and most loyal idealism.

Then her singing! From the time when she was quite little she used to
sing the popular airs of Andalusia with the ease of a nightingale,
which knows all the secrets of song without having been taught. All
the neighbors admired her wonderful facility and would come to listen
to her, but to me their applause and admiration were an offence; I
could have wished her to sing to no one but me. Her singing was a sort
of melancholy warbling, qualified by her fresh childlike voice. The
air, which repeated itself with complicated little turns and trills
like a thread of sound, seemed to be lost in distant heights and then
to come back to earth again on the low notes. It was like the song of
the lark as it rises towards heaven and suddenly comes down to sing
close in our ears; the spirit of the hearer seemed to expand as it
followed the voice, and then to contract again, but always following
the swing of the melody and feeling the music to be inseparable from
the sweet little singer. The effect was so singular that to me it was
almost painful to hear her, particularly in the presence of others.

We were, as I have said, of about the same age, she being eight or
nine months older than I was. But I was stunted and puny while she was
well grown and vigorous, and at the end of my three years' residence
in the house she looked much the elder of the two. These three years
slipped by without our either of us suspecting that we were growing
up; our games went on without interruption, for she was much livelier
by nature than I, though her mother would scold her, trying to keep
her in order and make her study--in which, however, she did not always
succeed. At the end of these three years, however, my adored young
mistress was a woman grown; her figure was round and well formed,
giving the finishing touch to her beauty; her face had a tenderer
blush, a softer form, a gentler look; her large eyes were brighter but
their glance was less restless and eager; her gait was more sober; her
movements were, I cannot say lighter nor less light, but certainly
different, though I could not, either then or now, define in what the
difference lay. But no change struck me so much as that in her voice,
which acquired a gravity and depth very unlike the shrill gay tones in
which she had been wont to call me, bewildering my common-sense and
making me leave my various duties to join in her games. The bud, in
short, had become a rose, the chrysalis was transformed into a
butterfly.

Then, one day--one dreadful, dismal day--my young mistress appeared
before me in a long dress. This alteration made such an impression on
me that I could not speak a word the whole day. I felt like a man who
has been cruelly imposed upon, and I was so vexed with her that in my
secret soul I found fifty reasons for seriously resenting her rapid
development. A perfect fever of argumentativeness was fired in my
brain, and I debated the matter with myself in the most fervent manner
during my sleepless nights. The thing that utterly confounded me was
that the addition of a few yards of stuff to her skirts seemed
altogether to have altered her character. That day--a thousand times
unblessed--she spoke to me with the greatest formality, ordering me
coldly and even repellently to do all the things I least liked
doing--and she, who had so often been my accomplice and screen in
idleness, now reproved me for it! and all this without a smile, or a
skip, or a glance!--No more running, no more songs, no more hiding for
me to find her, no making believe to be cross ending in a laugh--not a
squabble, not even a slap from her sweet little hand! It was a
terrible crisis in my life--she was a woman and I was still a child!

I need not say that this was an end to our pranks and games; I never
again climbed the orange-tree, which henceforth blossomed unmolested
by my greedy devotion, and unfolded its leaves and shed its luscious
perfume at its own sweet will; we never again scampered across the
court-yard, nor trotted too and from school--I, so proud of my
responsibility, that I would have defended her against an army if they
had tried to carry her off. From that day Rosita always walked with
the greatest dignity and circumspection. I often observed that as she
went up-stairs in front of me she took care not to show an inch, not a
line, of her pretty ankles, and this systematic concealment I felt to
be an insult to my dignity, for I had till lately seen a great deal
more than her ankles! Bless me! I can laugh now when I remember how my
heart was ready to burst over these things.

But worse misfortunes were in store. One day in the same year as that
of this transformation old 'Aunt' Martina, Rosario the cook, Marcial,
and other members of the kitchen society were discussing something
very important. I made the best use of my ears and presently gathered
the most alarming hints: My young mistress was to be married. The
thing seemed incredible for I had never heard of a lover. However, the
parents used to arrange all these matters and the strange thing is
that sometimes they did not turn out badly. A young man of good family
had asked her hand, and her parents had consented. He came to the
house accompanied by his relatives, who were some kind of counts or
marquises with a high-sounding title. The suitor wore a naval uniform,
for he served his country as a sailor, but in spite of his elegant
costume he was by no means attractive. This no doubt was the
impression he made on my young mistress, for from the first she
manifested a great dislike to the marriage. Her mother tried to
persuade her, but all in vain though she drew the most flattering
picture of the young man's excellent talents, ancient lineage and
splendid wealth. The young girl was not to be convinced, and answered
all these arguments with others no less cogent.

However, the sly baggage never said a word about the real reason,
which was that she had another lover whom she really loved. This was a
young artillery officer, Don Rafael Malespina, a fine-looking young
fellow with a pleasing face. My young mistress had made his
acquaintance in church, and the traitor Love had taken advantage of
her while she was saying her prayers; but indeed a church has always
seemed the fittest place, with its poetical and mysterious influences,
for the doors of the soul to be opened for the admission of love.
Malespina took to lurking round the house, in which I detected him on
various occasions, and this love-affair became so much talked of in
Vejer that the young naval officer came to know of it and challenged
his rival. My master and mistress heard the whole story when news was
brought to the house that Malespina had wounded his antagonist
severely.

The scandal caused an immense commotion. My mistress's religious
feelings were so much shocked by this deed that neither she nor my
master could conceal their wrath, and Rosita was their first victim.
However, months went by; the wounded man got well again, and as
Malespina himself was a man of birth and wealth, there were evident
indications in the political atmosphere of the house that Don Rafael
was about to be admitted. The parents of the wounded man gave up the
suit, and those of the conqueror appeared in their place to ask the
hand of my sweet young mistress. After some discussion and demur the
match was agreed upon.

I remember the first time old Malespina came. He was a very tall,
dry-looking man with a gaudily-colored waistcoat, a quantity of seals
and ornaments hanging to his watch, and a very large sharp nose with
which he seemed to be smelling every one he talked to. He was terribly
voluble and never allowed any one else to get a word in; he
contradicted everything, and it was impossible to praise anything
without his saying that he had something far better. From the first I
felt sure he was a vain man and utterly untruthful, and my opinion was
amply justified later. My master received him with friendly
politeness, as well as his son who came with him. From that time the
lover came to the house every day, sometimes alone and sometimes with
his father.

Now a new phase came over my young mistress. Her coolness to me was so
marked that it verged on utter contempt. It made me understand
clearly, for the first time, the humbleness of my condition, and I
cursed it bitterly; I tried to argue with myself as to the claims to
superiority of those who really were my superiors, asking myself, with
real anguish of mind, how far it was right and just that others should
be rich and noble and learned, while my ancestry were of such low
origin; my sole fortune was my skin, and I hardly knew how to read.
Seeing what the reward of my devotion was, I fully believed that there
was no ambition in this wide world that I dared aspire to; and it was
not till long after that I acquired a rational conviction that, by a
steady and vigorous use of my own powers, I might gain almost
everything I was deficient in. Under the scorn with which she treated
me I lost all confidence in myself; I never dared open my lips in her
presence, and she inspired me with far greater awe than her parents.
Meanwhile I attentively watched all the signs of the love that
possessed her; I saw her sad and impatient when her lover was late; at
every sound of an approaching footstep her pretty face flushed and her
black eyes sparkled with anxiety and hope. If it was he who came in
she could not conceal her rapture, and then they would sit and talk
for hours together; but always under the eye of Doña Francisca, for
she would not have allowed the young lady to have a _tête-à-tête_
meeting with any one, even through iron bars.

However, they carried on an extensive correspondence, and the worst of
it all was that I had to be the go-between and courier. That drove me
mad!--The regular thing was that I should go out and meet the young
gentleman at a certain place, as punctually as a clock, and he would
give me a note to carry to my young mistress; having discharged this
commission, she would give me one to take to him. How often have I
felt tempted to burn those letters instead of delivering them.
However, luckily for me, I always kept cool enough to resist this base
temptation. I need hardly add that I hated Malespina; I no sooner saw
him come into the house than my blood boiled, and whenever he desired
me to do anything I did it as badly and sulkily as possible, wishing
to betray my extreme disgust. This disgust, which to them seemed
simply bad service, while to me it was a display of honest wrath
worthy of a proud and noble heart, earned me many reprimands, and
above all it once led my young lady to make a speech that pierced me
to the heart like the thrust of an arrow. On one occasion I heard her
say: "That boy is getting so troublesome that we shall have to get rid
of him."

At last the day was fixed for the wedding, and it was only a short
while before that event that all I have already related took place
with reference to my master's project. It may therefore be easily
understood that Doña Francisca had excellent reasons for objecting to
her husband's joining the fleet, besides her regard for his safety.



CHAPTER VI.


I remember very well that the day after the cuffing bestowed on me by
Doña Francisca in her wrath at my irreverent conduct and her intense
aversion to all naval warfare, I went out to attend my master in his
daily walk. He leaned upon my arm, and on the other side of him walked
Marcial; we went slowly to suit Don Alonso's feeble pace and the
awkwardness of the old sailor's wooden leg. It was like one of those
processions in which a group of tottering and worm-eaten saints are
carried along on a shaky litter, threatening to fall if the pace of
the bearers is in the least accelerated. The two old men had no energy
or motive power left but their brave hearts, which still acted as
truly as a machine just turned out of a workshop; or like the needle
of a ship's compass which, notwithstanding its unerring accuracy,
could do nothing to work the crazy craft it served to guide! During
our walk my master--after having asserted, as usual, that if Admiral
Córdova had only tacked to port instead of starboard the battle of
'the 14th' would never have been lost--turned the conversation once
more on their grand project, and though they did not put their scheme
into plain words, no doubt because I was present, I gathered from what
they said that they intended to effect their purpose by stealth,
quietly walking out of the house one morning without my mistress's
knowledge.

When we went in again indifferent matters were talked over. My master,
who was always amiable to his wife, was more so, that day, than ever.
Doña Francisca could say nothing, however trivial, that he did not
laugh at immoderately. He even made her a present of some trifles,
doing his utmost to keep her in a good humor, and it was no doubt as a
result of this conspicuous complaisance that my mistress was crosser
and more peevish than I had ever seen her. No accommodation was
possible; she quarrelled with Marcial over heaven knows what trifle,
and desired him to quit the house that instant; she used the most
violent language to her husband; and during dinner, though he praised
every dish with unwonted warmth, the lady was implacable and went on
grumbling and scolding.

At last it was time for evening prayers, a solemn ceremony performed
in the dining-room in the presence of all the household; and my
master, who would not unfrequently go to sleep while he lazily
muttered the _Paternoster_, was that evening unusually wide awake and
prayed with genuine fervor, his voice being heard above all the rest.
Another incident occurred which struck me particularly. The walls of
the rooms were decorated with two distinct sets of prints: sacred
subjects and maps--the hierarchy of Heaven on one hand and the
soundings all round Europe and America on the other. After supper my
master was standing in the passage, studying a mariner's chart and
tracing lines upon it with his trembling forefinger, when Doña
Francisca, who had gathered some hints of the plan for evasion, and
who always appealed to Heaven when she caught her husband red-handed
in any manifestations of nautical enthusiasm, came up behind him, and
throwing up her arms, exclaimed:

"Merciful Heaven! If you are not enough to provoke a Saint!"

"But, my dear," my master timidly replied, "I was only tracing the
course taken by Alcalá Galiano and Valdés in the schooners _Sutil_ and
_Mejicana_ when we went to explore the straits of Magellan. It was a
delightful expedition--I must have told you all about it."

"I shall come to burning all that paper trash!" cried Doña Francisca.
"A plague on voyages and on the wandering dog of a Jew who invented
them. You would do better to take some concern for the salvation of
your soul, for the long and the short of it is you are no chicken.
What a man! to be sure--what a man to have to take care of!"

She could not get over it; I happened to pass that way, but I cannot
remember whether she relieved her fury by giving me a thrashing and
demonstrating at once the elasticity of my ears and the weight of her
hands. The fact is that these little endearments were so frequently
repeated, that I cannot recollect whether I received them on this
particular occasion; all I remember is that my master, in spite of his
utmost amiability, entirely failed to mollify his wife.

Meanwhile I have neglected to speak of Rosita; she was in a very
melancholy mood, for Señor de Malespina had not made his appearance
all day nor written her a note; all my excursions to the market-place
having proved vain. Evening came and with it grief fell on the young
girl's soul, for there was no hope now of seeing him till next
day--but suddenly, after supper had been ordered up, there was a loud
knock at the door. I flew to open it, and it was he; before I opened
it my hatred had recognized him.

I fancy I can see him now as he stood before me then, shaking his
cloak which was wet with rain. Whenever I recall that man I see him as
I saw him then. To be frankly impartial, I must say he was a very
handsome young fellow, with a fine figure, good manners, and a
pleasant expression; rather cold and reserved at first, grave and
extremely courteous with the solemn and rather exaggerated politeness
of the old school. He was dressed that evening in a frock-coat, with
riding breeches and top boots; he wore a Portuguese hat and a very
handsome cloak of scarlet cloth, lined with silk, which was the height
of fashion with the gilded youth of that time.

As soon as he had come in I saw that something serious had happened.
He went into the dining-room where all were much surprised to see him
at so late an hour, for he never called in the evening; but my young
mistress had hardly time to be glad before she understood that this
unexpected visit was connected with some painful occasion.

"I have come to take leave of you," said Malespina. They all sat
stupefied, and Rosita turned as white as the paper on which I am
writing; then she turned scarlet and then again as pale as death.

"But what has happened? Where are you going Don Rafael?" asked my
mistress. I have said that Malespina was an artillery officer, but I
did not mention that he was stationed at Cadiz and at Vejer only on
leave.

"As the fleet is short of men," he replied, "we are under orders to
embark and serve on board ship. They say a battle is inevitable and
most of the vessels are short of gunners."

"Christ, Mother Mary and Saint Joseph!" shrieked Doña Francisca almost
beside herself. "And they are taking you too? That is too much. Your
duties are on land, my friend. Tell them to manage as best they may;
if they want men let them find them. Upon my soul this is beyond a
joke!"

"But, my dear," said Don Alonso humbly, "do not you see that they
must...." But he could not finish his sentence, for Doña Francisca,
whose cup of wrath and grief was overflowing, proceeded to
apostrophize all the potentates of the earth.

"You--" she exclaimed, "anything and everything seems right in your
eyes, if only it is to benefit those blessed ships of war. And who, I
say, who is the demon from hell who has ordered land forces on board
ship? You need not tell me.--It is Buonaparte's doing. No Spaniard
would have concocted such an infernal plot. Go and tell them that you
are just going to be married. Come now," she added, turning to her
husband, "write to Gravina and tell him that this young man cannot
join the squadron." Then, seeing that her husband only shrugged his
shoulders, she cried:

"He is of no use whatever! Mercy on me! If only I wore trousers I
would be off to Cadiz and stop there till I had got you out of this
mess."

Rosita said not a word. I who was watching her narrowly perceived how
agitated she was. She never took her eyes off her lover, and if it had
not been for good manners and to keep up her dignity, she would have
cried and sobbed loudly to relieve the grief that was almost
suffocating her.

"The soldier," said Don Alonso, "is the slave of duty, and our young
friend is required by his country to serve on board ship in her
defence. He will gain glory in the impending struggle, and make his
name famous by some great deed which history will record as an example
to future generations."

"Oh yes--this, that and the other!" said Doña Francisca mimicking the
pompous tone in which her husband had made this speech. "We know--and
all for what? To humor those ne'er-do-weels at Madrid. Let them come
themselves to fire the cannons, and fight on their own account!--And
when do you start?"

"To-morrow morning. My leave is cut short and I am under orders to
proceed at once to Cadiz."

It would be impossible to describe the look that came into my young
mistress's face as she heard these words. The lovers looked at each
other, and a long and mournful silence fell after this announcement of
Malespina's immediate departure.

"But this is not to be borne!" exclaimed Doña Francisca. "They will be
calling out the peasantry next--and the women too, if the whim takes
them. Lord of Heaven!" she went on looking up to the ceiling with the
glare of a pythoness, "I do not fear to offend Thee by saying: Curses
on the inventor of ships--Curses on all who sail in them, and Curses
on the man who made the first cannon, with its thunder that is enough
to drive one mad, and to be the death of so many poor wretches who
never did any harm!"

Don Alonso looked at the young officer, expecting to read some
protest in his face against these insults to the noble science of
gunnery. Then he said:

"The worst of it is that the ships will lack material too and it would
be...."

Marcial, who had been listening at the door to the whole conversation,
could no longer contain himself. He came into the room saying:

"And why should they lack material?--The _Trinidad_ carries 140
guns--32 thirty-six pounders, 34 twenty-four pounders, 36
twelve-pounders, 18 eighty-pounders, and 10 mortars. The _Príncipe de
Astúrias_ carries 118, the _Santa Ana_ 120, the _Rayo_ 100, the
_Nepomuceno_, and the _San_ ..."

"What business have you to interfere!" exclaimed Doña Francisca. "And
what does it matter to us whether they carry fifty or eighty?" But
Marcial went on with his patriotic list all the same, but in a lower
voice and speaking only to my master, who dared not express his
approbation. Doña Francisca went on:

"But for God's sake, Don Rafael, do not go. Explain that you are a
landsman, that you are going to be married. If Napoleon must fight,
let him fight alone: let him come forward and say: 'Here am I--kill
me, you English--or let me kill you.' Why should Spain be subject to
his lordship's vagaries?"

"I must admit," said Malespina, "that our alliance with France has
proved most disastrous."

"Then why was it made? Every one says that this Godoy is an ignorant
fellow. You might think a nation could be governed by playing the
guitar!"

"After the treaty of Basle," the young man said, "we were forced to
become the enemies of the English, who defeated our fleet off Cape St.
Vincent."

"Ah! there you have it!" exclaimed Don Alonso, striking the table
violently with his fist. "If Admiral Córdova had given the word to
tack to port, to the vessels in front--in accordance with the simplest
rules of strategy--the victory would have been ours. I consider that
proved to a demonstration, and I stated my opinion at the time. But
every man must keep his place."

"The fact remains that we were beaten," said Malespina. "The defeat
might not have led to such serious consequences if the Spanish
ministry had not signed the treaty of San Ildefonso with the French
republic. That put us at the mercy of the First Consul, obliging us to
support him in wars which had no aim or end but the furthering of his
ambition. The peace of Amiens was no better than a truce; England and
France declared war again immediately, and then Napoleon demanded our
assistance. We wished to remain neutral, for that treaty did not
oblige us to take any part in the second war, but he insisted on our
co-operation with so much determination that the King of Spain, to
pacify him, agreed to pay him a subsidy of a hundred millions of
_reales_--it was purchasing our neutrality with gold. But even so we
did not get what we had paid for; in spite of this enormous sacrifice
we were dragged into war. England forced us into it by seizing,
without any justification, four of our frigates returning from America
freighted with bullion. After such an act of piracy the parliament of
Madrid had no choice but to throw the country into the hands of
Napoleon, and that was exactly what he wished. Our navy agreed to
submit to the decision of the First Consul--nay, he was already
Emperor--and he, hoping to conquer the English by stratagem, sent off
the combined fleets to Martinique, intending to draw off the British
naval forces from the coasts of Europe. Thus he hoped to realize his
favorite dream of invading Great Britain; but this clever trick only
served to prove the inexperience and cowardice of the French Admiral
who, on his return to Europe would not share with our navy the glory
of the battle off Finisterre. Then, in obedience to the Emperor's
orders, the combined fleets were to enter Brest. They say that
Napoleon is furious with the French Admiral and intends to supplant
him immediately."

"But from what they say," Marcial began, putting his oar in again, as
we say, "Monsieur Corneta wants to cancel it, and is on the look-out
for some action which may wipe out the black mark against him. I am
only too glad, for then we shall see who can do something and who
cannot."

"One thing is certain," Malespina went on, "the English fleet is
cruising in our waters and means to blockade Cadiz. The Spanish
authorities think that our fleet ought not to go out of the bay, where
they have every chance of conquering the foe; but it seems that the
French are determined to go out to sea."

"We shall see," said my master. "It cannot fail to be a glorious
battle, any way."

"Glorious! yes...." replied Malespina. "But who can promise that
fortune shall favor us. You sailors indulge in many illusions and,
perhaps from seeing things too closely, you do not realize the
inferiority of our fleet to that of the English. They, besides having
a splendid artillery have all the materials at hand for repairing
their losses at once. As to the men, I need say nothing. The enemy's
sailors are the best in the world--all old and experienced seamen,
while only too many of the Spanish vessels are manned by raw recruits,
indifferent to their work and hardly knowing how to serve a gun; our
marines, again, are not all we could wish, for they have been
supplemented by land-forces--brave enough, no doubt, but certain to be
sea-sick."

"Well, well," said my master, "in the course of a few days we shall
know the end of it all."

"I know the end of it all very well," said Doña Francisca. "All these
gentlemen--though I am far from saying they will not have gained
glory--will come home with broken heads."

"What can you know about it?" exclaimed Don Alonso, unable to conceal
an impulse of vexation, which, however, lasted but a moment.

"More than you do," she retorted sharply. "But God have you in his
keeping, Don Rafael, that you may come back to us safe and sound."

This conversation had taken place during supper, which was a
melancholy meal, and after Doña Francisca's last speech no one said
another word. The meal ended, Malespina took a tender leave of them
all, and as a special indulgence on so solemn an occasion the
kind-hearted parents left the lovers together, allowing them to bid
each other adieu at their ease and unseen, so that nothing might
prevent their indulging in any demonstration which might relieve their
anguish. It is evident that I was not a spectator of the scene and I
know nothing of what took place; but it may be supposed that no
reticence on either side checked the expression of their feelings.

When Malespina came out of the room he was as pale as death; he once
more bid farewell to my master and mistress, who embraced him
affectionately, and was gone. When we went up to Rosita we found her
drowned in tears, and her grief was so desperate that her devoted
parents could not soothe her by any persuasion or argument, nor revive
her energy by any of the remedies for which I was sent backwards and
forwards to the apothecary. I must confess that I was so deeply
grieved at the distress of these hapless lovers that my rancorous
feelings against Malespina died away in my breast. A boy's heart is
easily appeased, and mine was always open to gentle and generous
impulses.



CHAPTER VII.


The following morning had a great surprise in store for me, and my
mistress was thrown into the most violent passion I suppose she can
ever have known in her life. When I got up I perceived that Don Alonso
was in the best of humors, and his wife even more ill-tempered than
usual. While she was gone to mass with Rosita, I saw my master packing
in the greatest haste, putting shirts, and other articles of clothing,
and among them his uniform, into a portmanteau. I helped him and it
made me suspect that he was about to steal away; still, I was
surprised to see nothing of Marcial. However, his absence was
presently accounted for; for Don Alonso, having made his rapid
arrangements, became extremely impatient till the old sailor made his
appearance, saying: "Here is the chaise. Let us be off before she
comes in." I took up the valise, and in a twinkling Don Alonso,
Marcial, and I had sneaked out of the back gate so as to be seen by
nobody; we got into the chaise, which set off as fast as the wretched
hack could draw it and the badness of the road allowed. This, which
was bad enough for horses was almost impassable for vehicles; however,
in spite of jolting that almost made us sick, we hurried as much as
possible, and until we were fairly out of sight of the town our
martyrdom was allowed no respite.

I enjoyed the journey immensely, for every novelty turns the brain of
a boy. Marcial could not contain himself for joy, but my master, who
at first displayed his satisfaction with even less reticence than I,
became sadder and more subdued when we had left the town behind us.
From time to time he would say: "And she will be so astonished! What
will she say when she goes home and does not find us!"

As for me, my whole being seemed to expand at the sight of the
landscape, with the gladness and freshness of the morning, and above
all with the idea of soon seeing Cadiz and its matchless bay, crowded
with vessels; its gay and busy streets and its creek (the Caleta)
which remained in my mind as the symbol of the most precious gift of
life--liberty; its Plaza, its jetty and other spots, all dear to my
memory. We had not gone more than three leagues when there came in
sight two riders mounted on magnificent horses, who were fast
overtaking us and before long joined us. We had at once recognized
them as Malespina and his father--the tall, haggard, and chattering
old man of whom I have already spoken. They were both much surprised
to see Don Alonso, and still more so when he explained that he was on
his way to Cadiz to join a ship. The son took the announcement with
much gravity; but the father, who as you will have understood was an
arrant braggart and flatterer, complimented my master in high-flown
terms on his determination, calling him the prince of navigators, the
mirror of sailors, and an honor to his country.

We stopped to dine at the inn at Conil. The gentlemen had what they
could get, and Marcial and I eat what was left, which was not much. I
waited at table and heard the conversation, by which means I gained a
better knowledge of the elder Malespina, who at first struck me as a
boastful liar and afterwards as the most amusing chatterbox I ever in
my life met with.

Don José Malespina, my young mistress's intended father-in-law--no
relation to the famous naval officer of that name--was a retired
colonel of artillery, and his greatest pride was founded on his
perfect knowledge of that branch of military science and on his
personal superiority in the tactics of gunnery. When he enlarged on
that subject his imagination seemed to gain in vividness and in
freedom of invention.

"Artillery," he said, without pausing for a moment in the act of
deglutition, "is indispensable on board ships of war. What is a vessel
without guns? But it is on land, Señor Don Alonso, that the marvellous
results of that grand invention of the human mind are seen to the best
advantage. During the war in Roussillon--you know of course that I
took part in that campaign and that all our successes were due to my
promptness in managing the artillery.--The battle of Masdeu--: How do
you suppose that was won? General Ricardos posted me on a hill with
four pieces, ordering me not to fire till he sent the word of command.
But I, not taking the same view of the case, kept quiet till a column
of the French took up a position in front of me, in such a way as that
my fire raked them from end to end. Now the French troops form in file
with extraordinary precision. I took a very exact aim with one of my
guns, covering the head of the foremost soldier.--Do you see? The file
was wonderfully straight.--I fired, and the ball took off one hundred
and forty-two heads Sir! and the rest did not fall only because the
farther end of the line swerved a little. This produced the greatest
consternation among the enemy, but as they did not understand my
tactics and could not see me from where they stood, they sent up
another column to attack our troops on my right, and that column
shared the same fate, and another and another, till I had won the
battle."

"Well, señor, it was wonderful!" said my master, who, seeing the
enormity of the lie, had no mind to trouble himself to contradict his
friend.

"Then in the second campaign, under the command of the Conde de la
Union, we gave the republicans a very pretty lesson. The defence of
Boulou was not successful because we ran short of ammunition; but in
spite of that I did great damage by loading a gun with the keys of the
church--however, they did not go far, and as a last and desperate
resource I loaded the cannon with my own keys, my watch, my money, a
few trifles I found in my pockets and, at last, with my decorations.
The strange thing is that one of the crosses found its billet on the
breast of a French general, to which it stuck as if it had been glued
there and did him no harm whatever. He kept it, and when he went to
Paris, the Convention condemned him to death or exile--I forget
which--for having allowed himself to accept an order from the hand of
an enemy."

"The devil they did!" said my master, highly delighted with these
audacious romances.

"When I was in England," continued the old soldier, "you know of
course, that I was sent for by the English to make improvements in
their artillery,--I dined every day with Pitt, with Burke, with Lord
North, Lord Cornwallis, and other distinguished personages, who always
called me 'the amusing Spaniard.' I remember that once, when I was at
the Palace, they entreated me to show them what a bull-fight was like
and I had to throw my cloak over a chair and to prick it and kill it,
which vastly diverted all the court, and especially King George III.,
who was very great friends with me, and was always saying that I must
send to my country to fetch some good olive-trees. Oh! we were on the
best terms possible. All his anxiety was that I should teach him a few
words of Spanish, and above all some of our beautiful Andalusian--but
he could never learn more than '_otro toro_' (another bull) and
'_vengan esos cinco_' (that makes five), and he greeted me with these
phrases every day when I went to breakfast with him off pescadillas[2]
and a few _cañitas_ of Manzanilla."

    [2] Pescadillas are a small fish peculiar to the south Atlantic
    coast of Spain. _Cañitas_ is the name given to certain small
    glasses used only for drinking Manzanilla.

"That was what he took for breakfast?"

"That was what he preferred. I had some pescadillas bottled and
brought from Cadiz. They kept very well by a recipe I invented and
have at home."

"Wonderful! And you succeeded in reforming the English artillery?"
asked my master, encouraging him to go on for he was greatly amused.

"Perfectly. I invented a cannon which could never be fired, for all
London, including the ministers and parliament, came to entreat me not
to attempt it, because they feared that the explosion would throw down
a number of houses."

"So that the great gun has been laid aside and forgotten?"

"The Emperor of Russia wanted to buy it, but it was impossible to move
it from the spot where it stood."

"Then you surely can get us out of our present difficulties by
inventing a cannon to destroy the whole English fleet at one
discharge."

"Yes," replied Malespina. "I have been thinking of it, and I believe I
may realize my idea. I will show you the calculations I have made, not
only with regard to increasing the calibre of guns to a fabulous
degree, but also for constructing armor plates to protect ships and
bastions. It is the absorbing idea of my life."

By this time the meal was ended. Marcial and I disposed of the
fragments in less than no time, and we set out again; the Malespinas
on horseback by the side of the chaise and we, as before, in the
tumble-down vehicle. The effects of the dinner, and of the copious
draughts of liquor with which he had moistened it, had stimulated the
old gentleman's inventive powers and he went on all the way, pouring
out a flood of nonsense. The conversation returned to the subject with
which it had begun, the war in Roussillon, and as Don José was
preparing to relate fresh deeds of valor, my master, weary of so many
falsehoods, tried to divert him to something else, by saying: "It was
a disastrous and impolitic war. We should have done better never to
have undertaken it."

"Oh! the Conde de Aranda, as you know," exclaimed Malespina,
"condemned that unlucky war with the Republic from the first. How
often have we discussed the question--for we have been friends from
our childhood. When I was in Aragon we lived together for six months
at Moncayo. Indeed, it was for him that I had a very curious gun
constructed...."

"Yes, Aranda was always opposed to it," interrupted Don Alonso,
intercepting him on the dangerous ground of gunnery.

"So he did," said Don José to whom rodomontade was irresistible, "and
I may say that when that distinguished man so warmly advocated peace
with the republicans, it was because I advised it, being convinced
from the first that the war was a mistake. But Godoy, who was then
supreme, persisted in it, simply and solely to contradict me, as I
have learnt since. But the best of it is that Godoy himself was
obliged to put an end to the war in 1795, when he understood what it
really was, and at the same time he adopted the high-sounding title of
Prince of Peace."

"How much we want a good statesman, my worthy friend," said my master.
"A man on a level with the times, who would not throw us into useless
wars but who could maintain the dignity of the crown."

"Well, when I was at Madrid last year," continued Don José, "proposals
were made to me to accept the post of Secretary of State. The Queen
was most anxious for it--the King said nothing. I went with him every
day to the Prado to fire a few shots.--Even Godoy would have agreed,
recognizing my superior qualifications; and indeed, if he had not I
should have had no difficulty in finding some snug little fortress
where I might lock him up so that he might give me no trouble.
However, I declined, preferring to live in peace in my own
country-town; I left the management of public affairs in Godoy's
hands. There you have a man whose father was a mule-boy on my
father-in-law's estate in Estremadura...."

"I did not know that...." said Don Alonso. "Although he is a man of
obscure origin I always supposed the Prince of Peace to belong to a
family of good birth, whose fortune was impaired but whose ancestry
was respectable."

And so the dialogue went on; Señor Malespina uttering his falsehoods
as if they were gospel, and my master listening with angelic calmness,
sometimes annoyed by them, and sometimes amused at listening to such
nonsense. If I remember rightly, Don José Maria took the credit of
having advised Napoleon to the bold deeds of the 18th Brumaire.

Talking of these and of other matters we reached Chiclana as night
overtook us, and my master, who was utterly tired and worn out by the
villainous chaise, remained in the town, while the others went on,
being anxious to reach Cadiz the same night. While we were at supper
Malespina poured out a fresh farrago of lies, and I could see that
his son heard them with pain, as if he were horrified at having for
his father the most romancing liar in the world probably. We took
leave of them and rested there till next day when we proceeded on our
journey by day-break, and as the road from Chiclana to Cadiz was much
easier than that we had already traversed, we reached the end of our
journey by about eleven o'clock in the morning, without adventure,
safe in body and in excellent spirits.



CHAPTER VIII.


I cannot describe the enthusiasm that fired my mind at the sight of
Cadiz. As soon as I had a moment to myself--as soon, that is to say,
as my master was fairly settled in his cousin's house--I went out into
the streets and ran to and fro without any fixed destination,
intoxicated as it were by the atmosphere of my beloved native city.
After so long an absence all I saw attracted my attention as though it
were something new and beautiful. In how many of the passers-by did I
recognize a familiar face? everything charmed me and appealed to my
feelings--men, women, old folks, children--the dogs, nay the houses
even; for my youthful imagination discovered in each a personal and
living individuality; I felt towards them as towards intelligent
creatures; they seemed to me to express, like all else, their
satisfaction at seeing me, and to wear, in their balconies and
windows, the expression of gay and cheerful faces. In short my spirit
saw its own gladness reflected in every surrounding object.

I hurried through the streets with eager curiosity, as if I wanted to
see them all at once. In the Plaza San Juan I bought a handful of
sweetmeats, less for the satisfaction of eating them than for that of
introducing myself under a new aspect to the sellers, whom I addressed
as an old friend; some of them with gratitude as having been kind to
me in my former misery and others as victims, not yet indemnified, to
my childish propensity for pillage. Most of them did not remember me;
some, however, received me with abusive language, bringing up the
deeds of my youth against me and making ironical remarks on my new
fit-out and the dignity of my appearance, reducing me to flight as
quickly as possible and damaging my appearance by pelting me with the
rind or husks of fruit, flung by skilful hands at my new clothes.
However, as I was fully convinced of my own importance, these insults
increased my pride more than they hurt my feelings.

Then I went to the ramparts, and counted all the ships at anchor
within sight. I spoke to several sailors that I met, telling them that
I too was about to join the fleet, and asking them with eager emphasis
whether they had seen Nelson's fleet; and then I assured them that
_Monsieur Corneta_ was no better than a coward and that the impending
fight would be a grand affair. At last I reached the creek and there
my delight knew no bounds. I went down to the shore and, taking off my
shoes, I leaped from rock to rock; I sought out my old comrades of
both sexes but I found only a few, some who were now men had taken to
some better mode of living, others had been impressed into the ships,
and those who were left hardly recognized me. The undulating motion of
the water excited my very senses; I could not resist the
temptation--urged by the mysterious spell of the sea whose eloquent
murmurs have always sounded to me--I know not why--like a voice
inviting me to happiness or calling me with imperious threats to rave
and storm. I stripped myself as quick as thought and threw myself into
the water as if I were flying to the arms of a lover. I swam about for
more than an hour, happy beyond all words, and then, having dressed
myself, I continued my walk to the purlieus of _la Viña_ where, in the
taverns, I came across some of the most famous rascals of my young
days. In talking with them I gave myself out to be a man of position,
and as such, I wasted the few _cuartos_ I possessed in treating them.
I asked after my uncle but no one could give me any news of that
gentleman, and after we had chatted for awhile they made me drink a
glass of brandy which instantly went to my head and lay me prone on
the floor. During the crisis of my intoxication I thought the
scoundrels were laughing at me to their hearts' content; but as soon
as I recovered a little I sneaked out of the tavern much ashamed of
myself. I still had some difficulty in walking; I had to go by my own
old home and there, at the door, I saw a coarse-looking woman frying
blood and tripe. Much touched by recognizing the home of my childhood
I could not help bursting into tears and the heartless woman, seeing
this, took it for granted it was some jest or trick to enable me to
steal her unsavory mess. However, I was able to take to my heels and
so escape her clutches, postponing the expression of my emotion till a
more favorable opportunity.

After this I thought I should like to see the old Cathedral, with
which the tenderest memory of my childhood was inseparably linked, and
I went into it; the interior seemed to me most beautiful; never have I
felt a deeper impulse of religious veneration in any church. It gave
me a passionate desire to pray, and I did in fact throw myself on my
knees, before the very altar where my mother had offered an _ex-voto_
for my escape from death. The waxen image which I believed to be an
exact likeness of myself was still in its place which it filled with
all the solemnity of sanctity, but it struck me as very like a
chestnut-husk. And yet this trumpery doll, the symbol of piety and
maternal devotion, filled me with tender respect. I said my prayers on
my knees, in memory of my good mother's sufferings and death, and
trying to realize that she was now happy in Heaven; but as my head was
not yet very clear of the fumes of that accursed brandy, I stumbled
and fell as I rose from my knees and an indignant sacristan turned me
out into the street. A few steps took me back to the Calle del Fideo,
where we were staying, and my master scolded me for being so long
absent. If Doña Francisca had been cognizant of my fault I should not
have escaped a sound drubbing, but my master was merciful and never
beat me, perhaps because his conscience told him he was as much a
child as I was.

We were staying at Cadiz in the house of a cousin of my master; and
the reader must allow me to describe this lady somewhat fully, for she
was a character deserving to be studied. Doña Flora de Cisniega was an
old woman who still pretended to be young. She was certainly past
fifty, but she practised every art that might deceive the world into
believing her not more than half that terrible age. As to describing
how she contrived to ally science and art to attain her object--that
would be an undertaking far beyond my slender powers. The enumeration
of the curls and plaits, bows and ends, powders, rouges, washes and
other extraneous matters which she employed in effecting this
monumental work of restoration, would exhaust the most vivid fancy;
such things may be left to the indefatigable pen of the
novelist--this, being History, deals only with great subjects and
cannot meddle with those elegant mysteries. As far as her appearance
was concerned what I remember best was the composition of her face,
which all the painters of the Academy seemed to have touched up with
rose color; I remember too that when she spoke she moved her lips with
a grimace, a mincing prudery which was intended either to diminish the
width of a very wide mouth, or to conceal the gaps in her teeth from
whose ranks one or two proved deserters every year; but this elaborate
attempt was so far a failure that it made her uglier rather than
better looking. She was always richly drest, with pounds of powder in
her hair, and as she was plump and fair--to judge from what was
visible through her open tucker, or under the transparency of gauze
and muslin--her best chance lay in the display of such charms as are
least exposed to the injurious inroads of time, an art in which she
certainly was marvellously successful.

Doña Flora was devoted to everything antiquated, and much addicted to
piety, but not with the genuine devoutness of Doña Francisca; indeed
she was in everything diametrically the opposite of my mistress; for
while Doña Francisca hated even the glory that was won at sea, she was
an enthusiastic admirer of all fighting-men and of the navy in
particular. Fired by patriotic passion--since at her mature age she
could not hope to feel the flame of any other--and intensely proud of
herself as a woman and as a Spaniard, love of her country was
symbolized in her mind by the roar of cannon, and she thought the
greatness of a nation was measured by tons of gunpowder. Having no
children her time was spent in gossip, picked up and passed round in a
small circle of neighbors by two or three chatterboxes like herself;
but she also amused herself by her indefatigable mania for discussing
public affairs. At that time there were no newspapers, and political
theories, like public news, were passed on from mouth to mouth, these
being even more falsified then than now, in proportion as talk is less
trustworthy even than print.

In all the large towns, and particularly in Cadiz, which was one of
the foremost cities of Spain, there were a number of idle persons who
made it their business always to have the latest news from Madrid and
Paris, and to be diligent in distributing it, priding themselves, in
fact, on a mission which gained them so much consideration. Some of
these newsmongers would meet in the evening at Doña Flora's house, and
this, seconded by excellent chocolate and still better cakes,
attracted others eager to learn what was going on. Doña Flora, knowing
that she could not hope to inspire a tender feeling or be quit of the
burthen of her fifty years, would not have exchanged the part she was
thus enabled to play for any other that could have been offered to
her; for, at that time, to be the centre to which all news was
conveyed was almost as precious a distinction as the majesty of a
throne. Doña Flora and Doña Francisca could never get on together, as
may easily be supposed when we consider the enthusiastic military
tastes of one, and the pacific timidity of the other. Thus, speaking
to Don Alonso the day we arrived, the good lady said:

"If you had always listened to your wife you might have been a common
sailor to this day. What a woman! If I were a man and married to such
a wife I should burst up like a bomb-shell. You did very rightly not
to follow her advice but to come to join the fleet. Why you are not an
old man yet, Alonsito; you may still rise to the rank of commodore,
which you would have been sure of if Paca had not clipped your wings,
as we do to chickens to prevent their straying."

When, presently, my master's eager curiosity made him press her for
the latest news, she went on:

"The most important news is that all the naval men here are extremely
dissatisfied with the French Admiral, who displayed his incapacity in
the expedition to Martinique and the fight off Finisterre. He is so
timid and so mortally afraid of the English that, when the combined
fleets ran in here last August, he dared not seize the cruisers
commanded by Collingwood though they were but three ships in all. All
our officers are greatly disgusted at finding themselves obliged to
serve under such a man; indeed Gravina went to Madrid to tell Godoy
so, foreseeing some terrible disaster if the command were not placed
in more able hands; but the minister gave him some vague answer as to
why he could not venture to decide in the matter, and as Buonaparte is
in Germany, dealing with the Austrians, he cannot be appealed to.--But
it is said that he too is dissatisfied with Villeneuve and has
determined to dismiss him; but meanwhile.... If only Napoleon would
put the whole fleet under the command of some Spaniard--you, for
instance, Alonso--promoting you at once as I am sure you richly
deserve...."

"Oh! I am not fit for it!" replied my master, with his habitual
modesty.

"Well, to Gravina, or to Churruca, who is said to be a very first-rate
sailor. If not I am afraid mischief will come of it. You cannot see
the French from here; only think, when Villeneuve's ships arrived they
were short of victuals and ammunition, and the authorities here did
not care to supply them out of the arsenal. They forwarded a complaint
to Madrid, and as Godoy's one idea is to do what the French ambassador
M. de Bernouville asks him, he sent orders that our allies should have
as much of everything as they required. But this had no effect. The
commandant of the navy yard and the commissary of the ordnance stores
declared they would deliver nothing to Villeneuve till he paid for it
money down and in hard cash. This seems to me very right and fair. The
last misfortune that could come upon us was that these fine gentlemen
should take possession of the little we had left! Pretty times we live
in! Everything is ruinously dear, and yellow fever on one side and
hard times on the other had brought Andalusia to such a state that she
was not worth a doit--and now, to that you add all the miseries of
war. Of course the honor of the nation is the first thing and we must
go on now to avenge the insults we have received. I do not want to go
back to the fight of Finisterre where, through the meanness of our
allies, we lost the _Firme_ and the _Rafael_, two splendid ships--nor
of the piratical seizure of the _Real Cárlos_, which was such an act
of treachery that the Barbary pirates would have been disgraced by
it--nor of the plunder of the four frigates--nor of the battle off
Cape St. ..."

"That was the thing," interrupted my master eagerly. "Every man must
keep his own place, but if Admiral Córdova had given the word to
tack...."

"Yes, yes--I know," exclaimed Doña Flora, who had heard the story a
hundred times before. "We must positively give them a thorough beating
and we will. You, I know, are going to cover yourself with glory. It
will enfuriate Paca."

"I am of no use for fighting," said my master sadly. "I am only going
to look on, for sheer love of it and devotion to the Spanish flag."

The day after our arrival my master received a visit from a naval
officer, an old friend of his, whose face I can never forget though I
saw him but that once. He was a man of about five and forty, with a
really beautiful and gentle face and an expression of such tender
melancholy that to see him was to love him. He wore no wig, but his
abundant hair, untortured by the barber into the fashionable _ailes de
pigeon_, was carelessly tied into a thick pigtail and heavily
powdered, though with less elaborate care than was usual at that time.
His eyes were large and blue, his nose finely chiselled, perfect in
outline, rather wide, but not so wide as to disfigure him--on the
contrary, it seemed to give distinction to his expressive countenance.
His chin, which was carefully shaved, was somewhat pointed, and added
to the melancholy charm of an oval face which was indicative of
delicate feeling rather than of energetic determination. This noble
exterior was well matched by the elegance of his manners--a grave
courtesy of which the fatuous airs of the men of the present day
retain no trace, any more than the modish graces of our _jeunesse
dorée_. His figure was small, slight and even sickly looking. He
looked more like a scholar than a warrior, and a brow, behind which
lofty and subtle thoughts must have lain hid, looked ill-fitted to
defy the horrors of battle. His fragile form, inhabited by a soul so
far above the common, looked as though it must succumb to the first
shock. And yet--as I afterwards learnt--this man's heart was as brave
as his intellect was supreme. It was Churruca.

Our hero's uniform, though it was not in holes nor threadbare, bore
the marks of long and honorable service; afterwards, when I heard it
authoritatively stated that the Government owed him nine quarters'
pay, I could account for this dilapidated appearance. My master asked
after his wife, and I gathered from the answer that he was only lately
married, which filled me with pity; it seemed to me so terrible a
thing to be dragged off to battle in the midst of so much happiness.
Then they talked of his ship, the _San Juan Nepomuceno_, which he
seemed to love as much as his young wife; for, as was well known, he
had had it planned and fitted to his own taste, under a special
privilege, and had made it one of the finest ships in the Spanish
fleet. Then of course they discussed the absorbing subject of the day:
whether the squadrons would or would not put out to sea and the
Commodore expressed his opinion at much length, in very much such
words as these; for their substance had always remained in my memory
so that now, by the help of dates and historical records, I can
reconstruct his speech with considerable accuracy.

"The French admiral," said Churruca, "not knowing what course to
pursue and being anxious to do something which might cast his errors
into oblivion, has, ever since we arrived, manifested an inclination
to go and seek the English. On the 8th of October he wrote to Gravina,
saying that he wished to hold a council of war on board the
_Bucentaure_ (Villeneuve's ship) to agree on the best course of
action. Gravina went to the council, taking with him the Vice-Admiral
Alava, Rear-Admirals Escaño and Cisneros, Commodore Galiano and
myself. Of the French there were present Rear-Admirals Dumanoir and
Magon and Captains Cosmas, Maistral, Villiegries, and Prigmy.

"Villeneuve having expressed his wish to go out to sea, we Spaniards
unanimously opposed it. The discussion was warm and eager, and Alcalá
Galiano and Magon exchanged such hard words that it must have come to
a duel if we had not intervened to pacify them. Our opposition greatly
annoyed Villeneuve, and in the heat of argument he even threw out
certain insolent hints to which Gravina promptly retorted.--And indeed
these worthies display a curious anxiety to go forth to seek a
powerful foe, considering that they forsook us at the battle off Cape
Finisterre, depriving us of what would have been a victory if they had
seconded us in time. But there are many reasons, which I fully
explained to the council--such as the advanced season, which render it
far more advantageous for us to remain in the bay, forcing them to
form a blockade which they cannot maintain, particularly if at the
same time they blockade Toulon and Cartagena. We cannot but admit the
superiority of the English navy, as to the completeness of their
armament, their ample supply of ammunition, and, above all, the
unanimity with which they manœuvre.

"We--manned for the most part with less experienced crews,
inadequately armed and provided, and commanded by a leader who
dissatisfies everyone--might nevertheless act to advantage on the
defensive, inside the bay. But we shall be forced to obey, to succumb
to the blind submission of the ministry at Madrid and put our vessels
and men at the mercy of Buonaparte, who, in return for this servility
has certainly not given us a chief worthy of so much sacrifice. We
must go if Villeneuve orders it, but if the result is a disaster our
opposition to his insane resolution stands on record as our acquittal.
Villeneuve in fact is desperate; his sovereign has used harsh language
to him, and the warning that he will be degraded from his command is
prompting him to the maddest acts, in the hope of recovering his
tarnished reputation, in a single day, by death or victory."

So spoke my master's friend. His words impressed me deeply; child as I
still was, I took an eager interest in the events going on around me,
and since--reading in history all the facts to which I was then
witness, I have been able to aid my memory by authenticated dates so
that I can tell my story with considerable accuracy.

When Churruca left us, Doña Flora and my master sang his praises in
the warmest terms; praising him especially for the expedition he had
conducted to Central America to make charts of those seas. According
to them Churruca's merits as a navigator and a man of learning were
such that Napoleon himself had made him a magnificent present and
heaped civilities upon him. But we will leave the sailor and return to
Doña Flora.

By the end of the second day of our stay in her house I became aware
of a phenomenon which disgusted me beyond measure, which was that my
master's cousin seemed quite to fall in love with me; that is to say,
that she took it into her head that I was made to be her page. She
never ceased to load me with every sort of kindness, and on hearing
that I too was to join the fleet she bewailed herself greatly,
swearing that it would be a pity if I should lose an arm or a leg, or
even some less important part of my person--even if I escaped with my
life. Such unpatriotic pity roused my indignation, and I believe I
even went so far as to declare, in so many words, that I was on fire
with warlike ardor. My gasconade delighted the old lady and she gave
me a heap of sweetmeats to recover her place in my good graces.

The next day she made me clean her parrot's cage--a most shrewd bird
that talked like a preacher and woke us at all hours of the morning by
shrieking "_perro inglés!_"--(dog of an Englishman.) Then she took me
to mass with her, desiring me to carry her stool, and in church she
was incessantly looking round to see if I were there. Afterwards she
kept me to look on while her hair was dressed--an operation that
filled me with dismay as I saw the catafalque of curls and puffs that
the hair-dresser piled on her head. Observing the stupid astonishment
with which I watched the skilful manipulation of this artist--a
perfect architect of head-pieces--Doña Flora laughed very heartily,
and assured me that I should do better to remain with her as her page
than to join the fleet, adding that I ought to learn to dress her
hair, and by acquiring the higher branches of the art I might earn my
living and make a figure in the world. Such a prospect, however, had
nothing seductive to my fancy, and I told her, somewhat roughly, that
I would rather be a soldier than a hair-dresser. This pleased her
mightily and as I was giving up the comb for something more patriotic
and military she was more affectionate than ever. But notwithstanding
that I was treated here with so much indulgence, I must confess that
the lady annoyed me beyond measure, and that I really preferred the
angry cuffing and slapping of Doña Francisca to Doña Flora's mawkish
attentions. This was very natural; for her ill-timed caresses, her
prudery, the persistency with which she invited my presence, declaring
that she was delighted with me and my conversation, prevented my going
with my master on his visits to the different ships. A servant of the
house accompanied him on these delightful expeditions, while I,
deprived of the liberty to run about Cadiz as I longed to be doing,
was left at home, sick of life, in the society of Doña Flora's parrot
and of the gentlemen who came every evening to announce whether or no
the fleets would quit the bay, with other matters less to the purpose
and far more trivial.

My vexation rose to desperation when I saw Marcial come to the house,
and he and my master went out together, though not to embark finally;
and when, after seeing them start, my forlorn spirit lost the last
faint hope of being one of the party, Doña Flora took it into her head
that she must have me to walk with her to the Alameda and then to
church to attend vespers. This was more than I could bear and I began
to dream of the possibility of putting a bold scheme into execution;
of going, namely, on my own account to see one of the ships, hoping
that, on the quay, I might meet some sailor of my acquaintance who
would be persuaded to take me.

I went out with the old lady and as we went along the ramparts I tried
to linger to look at the ships, but I could not abandon myself to the
enjoyment of the spectacle for I had to answer the hundred questions
with which Doña Flora persistently persecuted me. In the course of our
walk we were joined by some young men and a few older ones. They all
seemed very conceited, and were the most fashionable men of Cadiz, all
extremely witty and elegantly dressed. Some of them were poets, or--to
be accurate--wrote verses though sorry ones, and I fancied I heard
them talking of some Academy where they met to fire shots at each
other in rhyme, an amusement which could break no bones.

As I observed all that was going on round me, their extraordinary
appearance fixed my attention--their effeminate gestures and, above
all, their clothes, which to me looked preposterous. There were not
many persons who dressed in this style in Cadiz; and, reflecting
afterwards on the difference between their costume and the ordinary
clothes of the people I was in the habit of seeing, I understood that
it was that men in general wore the Spanish habit while Doña Flora's
friends followed the fashions of Madrid or of Paris. The first thing
to attract my attention were their walking-sticks, which were twisted
and knotted cudgels, with enormous knobs. Their chins were invisible,
being hidden by the cravat, a kind of shawl wrapped round and round
the throat and brought across below the lips so as to form a
protuberance--a basket, a dish, or, better still, a barber's basin--in
which the chin was quite lost. Their hair was dressed with elaborate
disorder, looking as if it had been done with a birch-broom rather
than with a comb. The corners of their hats came down to their
shoulders; their coats, extremely short-waisted, almost swept the
ground with their skirts; their boots were pointed at the toes;
dozens of seals and trinkets hung from their waistcoat pockets; their
breeches, which were striped, were fastened at the knee with a wide
ribbon, and to put the finishing stroke to these figures of fun, each
carried an eye-glass which, in the course of conversation, was
constantly applied to the right eye, half-closing the left, though
they would have seen perfectly well by using both.

The conversation of these gentlemen, also, turned on the plans of the
fleet, but they varied it by discussing some ball or entertainment
which they talked of a great deal, and one of them was the object of
the greatest admiration for the perfection with which he cut capers,
and the lightness of his heels in dancing the gavotte.

After chattering for some time the whole party followed Doña Flora
into the church _del Cármen_, and there, each one pulling out a
rosary, they remained praying with much energy for some little time,
and one of them, I remember, gave me a smart rap on the top of my head
because, instead of attending devoutly to my prayers like them, I was
paying too much attention to two flies that were buzzing round the
topmost curl of Doña Flora's structure of hair. After listening to a
tiresome sermon, which they praised as a magnificent oration, we went
out again, and resumed our promenade; the chat was soon more lively
than ever; for we were joined by some other ladies dressed in the same
style and among them all there was such a noisy hubbub of compliments,
fine speeches, and witticisms, with here and there an insipid epigram,
that I could gather nothing from it all.

And all this time Marcial and my dear master were arranging the day
and hour when they should embark! While I was perhaps doomed to remain
on shore to gratify the whims of this old woman whom I positively
loathed, with her odious petting! Would you believe that that very
evening she insisted on it that I must remain forever in her service?
Would you believe that she declared that she was very fond of me, and
in proof of the fact kissed me and fondled me, desiring me to be sure
to tell no one? Horrible spite of fate! I could not help thinking what
my feelings would have been if my young mistress had treated me in
such a fashion. I was confused to the last degree; however, I told her
that I wished to join the fleet, and that when I came back she might
keep me if it was her fancy, but that if she did not allow me to have
my wish I should hate her as much as that--and I spread my arms out
wide to express the immensity of my aversion.

Then, as my master came in unexpectedly, I thought it a favorable
opportunity for gaining my purpose by a sudden stroke of oratory which
I had hastily prepared; I fell on my knees at his feet, declaring in
pathetic accents, that if he did not take me on board with him I
should fling myself into the sea in despair.

My master laughed at this performance and his cousin, pursing her
lips, affected amusement with a grimace which made her sallow wrinkled
face uglier than ever; but, finally, she consented. She gave me a heap
of sweetmeats to eat on board, charged me to keep out of the way of
danger, and did not say another word against my embarking, as we did
very early next morning.



CHAPTER IX.


It was the 18th of October. I can have no doubt as to the date because
the fleet sailed out of the bay next day. We rose very early and went
down to the quay, where a boat was waiting to carry us on board.

Imagine if you can my surprise--nay surprise do I say?--my enthusiasm,
my rapture, when I found myself on board the _Santísima Trinidad_, the
largest vessel on the main, that floating fortress of timber which,
seen from a distance, had appeared to my fancy some portentous and
supernatural creature; such a monster as alone was worthy of the
majesty of the seas. Each time our boat passed under the side of a
ship I examined it with a sort of religious astonishment, wondering to
see the hulls so huge that from the ramparts had looked so small; and
in the wild enthusiasm that possessed me I ran the greatest danger of
falling into the water as I gazed in ecstasy at a figure-head--an
object which fascinated me more than anything else.

At last we reached the _Santísima Trinidad_. As we approached, the
colossal mass loomed larger and larger, and when the launch pulled up
alongside, lost in the black transparent void made where its vast
shadow fell upon the water--when I saw the huge hulk lying motionless
on the dark waves which gently plashed against the side--when I looked
up and saw the three tiers of cannon with their threatening muzzles
thrust through the port-holes--my excitement was changed to fear; I
turned pale and sat silent and motionless by my master's side.

But when we went up the side and stood on deck my spirits rose. The
intricate and lofty rigging, the busy scene on the quarter-deck, the
open view of the sky and bay, the perfect order of everything on deck,
from the hammocks lashed in a row to the bulwarks, to the capstans,
shells, windsails and hatchways; the variety of uniforms--everything I
saw, in short, amazed me to such a degree that for some time I stood
blankly gazing at the stupendous structure heedless of all else. You
can form no idea of any of those magnificent vessels, much less of the
_Santísima Trinidad_, from the wretched prints I have seen of them.
Still less, again, from the ships of war of the present day, covered
with ponderous plates of iron, heavy looking, uninteresting and black,
with no visible details on their vast sides, looking to me for all
the world like enormous floating coffins. Invented by a materialistic
age and calculated to suit the naval science of a time when steam has
superseded manual labor, and the issue of a sea-fight is decided by
the force and impetus of the vessels, our ships are now mere
fighting-machines, while those of that day were literally Men-of-War,
wielding all the implements of attack and defence but trusting mainly
to skill and valor.

I, who not only see, but observe, have always been in the habit of
associating--perhaps to an extravagant extent--ideas and images,
things and persons, which in appearance seem most dissimilar or
antagonistic. When, at a later period, I saw the cathedrals--Gothic,
as they call them--of Castile and of Flanders, and noted the
impressive majesty with which those perfect and elaborate structures
stand up among the buildings of more modern style, built only for
utility--such as banks, hospitals, and barracks--I could never help
remembering all the various kinds of vessels that I have seen in the
course of a long life, and comparing the old ones to those Gothic
cathedrals. Their curves, so gracefully prolonged, the predominance of
vertical over horizontal lines, a certain indefinable poetry about
them--not historical only but religious too--underlying the
complication of details and the play of colors brought out by the
caprices of the sunshine, are, no doubt, what led to this far-fetched
association of ideas--the result in my mind of the romantic
impressions of my childhood.

The _Santísima Trinidad_ had four decks; the largest ships in the
World had but three. This giant, constructed at Havana, in 1769, of
the finest woods of Cuba, could reckon thirty-six years of honorable
service. She measured 220 feet from stem to stern, 58 feet in the
waist, that is to say in width, and 28 feet deep from the keel to the
deck, measurements which no other vessel at the time could approach.
Her huge ribs, which were a perfect forest, supported four decks. When
she was first built 116 port-holes gaped in her sides which were thick
walls of timber; after she was enlarged in 1796 she had 130, and when
she was newly fitted in 1805 she was made to carry 140 guns, cannons
and carronades. The interior was a marvel of arrangement; there were
decks for the guns, the forecastle for the crew, holds for stores of
all kinds, state-cabins for the officers, the galley, the cock-pit and
other offices. I was quite bewildered as I ran through the passages
and endless nooks of this floating fortress. The stern cabins on the
main deck were a little palace within, and outside like some fantastic
castle; the galleries, the flag-turrets at the corners of the
poop--exactly like the oriels of a Gothic tower--looked like huge
cages open to the sea, whence the eye could command three quarters of
the horizon.

Nothing could be grander than the rigging--those gigantic masts thrust
up to heaven like a menace to the storm. It was difficult to believe
that the wind could have strength enough to fill those vast sails. The
eye lost its way and became weary in gazing at the maze of the rigging
with the shrouds, stays, braces, halyards, and other ropes used to
haul and reef the various sails.

I was standing lost in the contemplation of all these wonders when I
felt a heavy hand on the nape of my neck; I thought the main-mast had
fallen on the top of me. I turned round in alarm and gave a cry of
horror at seeing a man who was now holding me by the ears as if he
were going to lift me up by them. It was my uncle.

"What are you doing here, Vermin!" he asked, in the amiable tone that
was habitual with him. "Do you want to learn the service? Hark ye
Juan," he added, turning to a sailor of most sinister aspect, "send
this landlubber up to the main-yard to take a walk there."

I excused myself as best I might from the pleasure of taking a walk
on the main-yard, explaining that I was body-servant to Don Alonso
Gutierrez de Cisniega and had come on board with him. Three or four
sailors, my affectionate uncle's particular friends, wanted to torment
me so I decided on quitting their distinguished society and went off
to the cabin in search of my master. An officer's toilet is no less
elaborate on board than on shore, and when I saw the valets busied in
powdering the heads of the heroes they waited on, I could not help
asking myself whether this was not, of all occupations, the least
appropriate in a man-of-war, when every minute was precious and where
everything that was not directly serviceable to the working of the
ship was a hindrance. However, fashion was as tyrannical then as now,
and even at such a moment as this enforced her absurd and inconvenient
rules with inexorable rigor. The private soldiers even had to waste
their valuable time in tying their pigtails, poor men! I saw them
standing in a line, one behind another, each one at work on the
pigtail of the man in front of him; by which ingenious device the
operation was got through in a short space of time. Then they stuck on
their fur hats, a ponderous head-piece the use of which no one was
ever able to explain to me, and went to their posts if they were on
duty or to pace the deck if they were not. The sailors did not wear
this ridiculous queue of hair and I do not see that their very
sensible costume has been altered to any great extent since that time.

In the cabin I found my master eagerly conversing with the captain in
command of the ship, Don Francisco Xavier de Uriarte, and the
commander of the squadron, Don Baltasar Hidalgo de Cisneros. From what
I overheard I could have no doubt that the French admiral had ordered
the fleets to put out to sea the next morning.

Marcial was highly delighted at this, and he and a knot of veteran
sailors who held council on their own account in the forecastle,
discoursed grandiloquently on the imminent fight. Their society suited
me far better than that of my amiable uncle, for Marcial's companions
indulged in no horse-play at my expense; and this difference was of
itself enough to mark the difference of training in the two classes of
sailors; for the old sea-dogs were of the pure breed originally levied
as voluntary recruits; while the others were pressed men, almost
without exception lazy, refractory, of low habits, and ignorant of the
service.

I made much better friends with the former than with these and was
always present at Marcial's conferences. If I did not fear to weary
the reader, I might report the explanation he gave us that day of the
diplomatical and political causes of the war--a most comical parody of
all he had heard said, a few nights previously, by Malespina at my
master's house. I learnt from him that my young mistress' lover was on
board the _Nepomuceno_.

All these colloquies came round at last to the same point, the
impending battle. The fleet was to sail out of the bay next
morning--what joy! To ride the seas in this immense vessel--the
largest in the world; to witness a fight at sea; to see what a battle
was like, how cannon were fired, how the enemy's ships were
taken--what a splendid triumph! and then to return to Cadiz covered
with glory.--To say afterwards to all who cared to hear: "Yes, I was
there, I was on board, I saw it all...." To tell Rosita too,
describing the glorious scene, winning her attention, her curiosity,
her interest.--To say to her: "Oh yes! I was in the most dangerous
places and I was not afraid;"--and to see her turn pale with alarm, or
faint, as she heard my tale of the horrors of the battle--and then to
look down in contempt on all who would ask me: "Tell us, Gabrielito,
was it so terrible after all?"--All this was more than enough to fire
my imagination, and I may frankly say that I would not, that day, have
changed places with Nelson himself.

The morning of the 19th dawned, the day I hailed so eagerly; indeed it
had not yet dawned when I found myself at the stern of the vessel with
my master, who wanted to look on at the working of the ship. After
clearing the decks the business of starting the ship began. The huge
topsails were hoisted, and the heavy windlass, turning with a shrill
clatter, dragged the anchor up from the bottom of the bay. The sailors
clambered along the yards, while others handled the braces, obedient
to the boatswain's call; and all the ship's voices, hitherto mute,
filled the air with threatening outcries. The whistles, the bell, the
discordant medley of men's voices, mixed with the creaking of the
blocks, the humming of the ropes, the flapping of the sails as they
thrashed the mast before they caught the wind--all these various
sounds filled the air as the huge ship got under way. The bright
ripples seemed to caress her sides, and the majestic monster made her
way out of the bay without the slightest roll or even lurch, with a
slow and solemn advance which was only perceptible to those on board
by watching the apparent motion of the merchantmen lying at anchor
and the landscape beyond.

At this moment I stood looking back at the scene behind us. And what a
scene it was! Thirty-two men-of-war, five frigates, and two
brigantines, Spanish and French together--some in front, some behind,
and some abreast of us--were bursting into sail, as it were, and
riding before the light breeze. I never saw a lovelier morning. The
sun flooded those lovely shores with light; a faint purple tinge
colored the sea to the east, and the chain of hills which bound the
horizon on the side of the town seemed to be on fire in the sunrise;
the sky was perfectly clear excepting where, in the east, a few rose
and golden clouds floated above the horizon. The blue sea was calm,
and over that sea and beneath that sky the forty ships with their
white sails rode forward, one of the noblest fleets that human eyes
ever rested on.

The vessels did not all sail with equal speed. Some got ahead, others
were slow to get under way; some gained upon us, while we passed
others. The solemnity of their advance, the height of their masts,
covered with canvas, and a vague and obscure harmony which my childish
ears fancied they could detect proceeding from those glorious
hulls--a kind of hymn, which was no doubt the effect of my own
imagination--the loveliness of the day, the crispness of the air, the
beauty of the sea, which seemed to be dancing with joy outside the
gulf at the approach of the vessels--all formed the grandest picture
that the mind of man can conceive of.

Cadiz, itself, like a moving panorama, unfolded itself before our
eyes, displaying in turn every aspect of its vast amphitheatre. The
low sun, illuminating the glass in its myriad windows, sprinkled it
with living sparks of gold, and its buildings lay so purely white
above the blue water that it looked as if it might have been that
moment called into being, or raised from the sea like the fanciful
city of San Genaro. I could see the wall extending from the mole as
far as the fort of Santa Catalina; I could distinguish the bastions of
Bonete and Orejon, and recognize the _Caleta_; and my pride rose as I
reflected what I had risen from and where I now was. At the same time
the sound of the bells of the waking city came to my ear like some
mysterious music, calling the inhabitants to early mass, with all the
confused clamor of the bells of a large town. Now they seemed to me to
ring gladly, and send good wishes after us--I listened to them as if
they were human voices bidding us God-speed; then again they tolled
sadly and dolefully--a knell of misfortune; and as we sailed further
and further away their music grew fainter till it was lost in space.

The fleet slowly made its way out of the bay--some of the ships taking
several hours in getting fairly to sea. Marcial meanwhile made his
comments on each, watching their behavior, laughing them to scorn if
they were clumsy, and encouraging them with paternal advice if they
were swift and well-handled.

"What a lump that Don Federico is!" he exclaimed as he looked at the
_Príncipe de Astúrias_ commanded by Gravina. "There goes _Mr.
Corneta_!" he exclaimed as he saw the _Bucentaure_ with Villeneuve on
board. "He was a clever man that called you the _Rayo_!" (Thunderbolt)
he cried ironically, as he watched the ship so named, which was the
least manageable of all the fleet. "Well done _Papá Ignacio_!" he
added, pointing to the _Santa Ana_ commanded by Alava.

"Hoist your topsail properly, senseless oaf!" he went on, addressing
Dumanoir's ship, _Le Formidable_. "That Frenchman keeps a hair-dresser
to crimp the topsail and to clew up the sails with curling tongs!"

Towards evening the sky clouded over, and as night fell we could see
Cadiz, already at a great distance, gradually vanish in the mist till
the last faint outline became one with the darkness. The fleet then
steered to the Southward.

All night I kept close to Marcial, as soon as I had seen my master
comfortably settled in his cabin. The old sailor, eagerly listened to
by a couple of veteran comrades and admirers, was explaining
Villeneuve's plan of battle.

"_Mr. Corneta_," said he, "has divided the fleet into four lines. The
vanguard led by Alava consists of six vessels; the centre, likewise of
six, is commanded by _Mr. Corneta_ in person; the rear, again of six,
is under Dumanoir, and the reserve of twelve ships is led by Don
Federico. This seems to me not badly planned. I imagine that the
French and Spanish ships are mixed, in order that they may not leave
us impaled on the bull's horns as they did at Finisterre.

"From what Don Alfonso tells me the Frenchman says that if the enemy
comes up to leeward we are to form in line of battle and attack at
once.... This is very pretty talk in the state-room; but do you think
the _Señorito_ will be such a booby as to come up to leeward of us? Oh
yes--his lordship has not much brains in his figure-head and is sure
to let himself be caught in that trap! Well! we shall see--if we see,
what the Frenchman expects!--If the enemy gets to windward and attacks
us we are to receive him in line of battle, and as he must divide to
attack if he does not succeed in breaking our line, it will be quite
easy to beat him. Everything is easy to _Mr. Corneta_ (applause). He
says too that he shall give no signals, but expects every captain to
do his best. If we should see what I have always prophesied, ever
since that accursed subsidy treaty, and that is--but I had better hold
my tongue.--Please God...! Well I have always told you that Mr.
Corneta does not understand the weapons he has in his hands; there is
not room in his head for fifty ships. What can you think of an
admiral, who, the day before a battle, sends for his captains and
tells each of them to do what he thinks will win the day.--After that!
(Strong expressions of sympathy). However, we shall see what we shall
see.--But do you just tell me: If we Spanish want to scuttle a few of
those English ships, are we not strong enough and many enough to do
it? Then why in the world need we ally ourselves with the French, who
would not allow us to do anything we had a mind to, but would have us
dancing attendance at the end of their tow-line? Whenever we have had
to work with them they have got us into mischief and we have had the
worst of it. Well--may God and the Holy Virgin _del Cármen_ be on our
side, and rid us of our French friends for ever and ever, Amen."
(Great Applause.)

All his audience agreed heartily; the discussion was continued till a
late hour, rising from the details of naval warfare to the science of
diplomacy. The night was fine and we ran before a fresh breeze--I must
be allowed to say "_We_" in speaking of the fleet. I was so proud of
finding myself on board the _Santísima Trinidad_ that I began to fancy
that I was called to play some important part on this great occasion,
and I could not forbear from swaggering about among the sailors to let
them see that I was not there for nothing.



CHAPTER X.


On the morning of the 20th there was a stiff breeze blowing and the
vessels kept at some distance from each other; but as the wind had
moderated soon after noon the admiral signalled that the ships were to
form in five lines--the van, centre, and rear, and two lines of
reserve. I was enchanted with watching the docile monsters, obediently
taking their places; for, although the conditions of naval manœuvres
did not admit of great rapidity nor of perfect uniformity in the line,
it was impossible to see them without admiration. The wind was from
the southwest, according to Marcial, and the fleet, catching the
breeze on the starboard quarter, ran towards the straits. During the
night a few lights were seen and by dawn on the 21st we saw
twenty-seven ships to windward, among which Marcial pointed out three
as three-deckers. By eight o'clock the thirty-three vessels of the
enemy's fleet were in sight, forming two columns. Our fleet displayed
a wide front, and to all appearance Nelson's two columns, advancing in
a wedge, were coming down upon us so as to cut our lines through the
centre and rear.

This was the position of the hostile fleets when the _Bucentaure_
signalled that we were to put about; maybe you do not understand this.
It means that we were to turn completely round and that whereas the
wind was on our port side it would now be on the starboard, so that we
should sail in the opposite direction. The ships' heads were now
turned northwards and this manœuvre, which was intended to place us
to windward of Cadiz so that we might reach it in case of disaster,
was severely criticised on board the _Trinidad_, especially by
Marcial, who said:

"The line of battle is all broken up; it was bad before and is worse
now."

In point of fact what had been the vanguard was now in the rear and
the reserve ships, which as I heard said, were the best, were hindmost
of all. The wind had fallen and the ships, being of various tonnage
and inefficiently manned, the new line could not form with due
precision; some of the vessels moved quickly and rushed forward;
others went slowly, hanging back or losing their course, and forming a
wide gap that broke the line before the enemy took the trouble of
doing it.

"Reform the line" was now the signal; but, though a good ship answers
her helm with wonderful docility, it is not so easy to manage as a
horse. As he stood watching the movements of the ships nearest to us,
Marcial observed: "The line is wider than the milky-way. If the
_Señorito_ cuts through it, Heaven help us! we shall not be able to
sail in any sort of order; they will shave our heads for us if they
fire upon us. They are going to give us a dose through the centre and
how can the _San Juan_ and the _Bahama_ come up to support us from the
rear--or the _Neptuno_ and the _Rayo_ which are in front. (Murmurs of
applause.) Besides, here we are to leeward and the 'great-coats' can
pick and choose where they will attack us, while all we can do is to
defend ourselves as best we may. All I have to say is: God get us well
out of the scrape and deliver us from the French for ever and ever,
Amen."

The sun had now nearly reached the meridian and the enemy was coming
down upon us.

"And is this a proper hour to begin a battle?" asked the old sailor
indignantly. "Twelve o'clock in the day!"

But he did not dare to express his views publicly and these
discussions were confined to a small circle into which I, with my
eternal and insatiable curiosity, had squeezed myself. I do not know
why, but it seemed to me that there was an expression of
dissatisfaction on every face. The officers on the quarter-deck, and
the sailors and non-commissioned officers at the bows, stood watching
the ships to leeward, quite out of the line of battle, four of which
ought to have been in the centre.

I forgot to mention one preliminary in which I myself had borne a
hand. Early in the morning the decks were cleared for action, and when
all was ready for serving the guns and working the ship, I heard some
one say: "The sand--bring the sand." Marcial pulled me by the ear, and
taking me to one of the hatchways set me in a line with some of the
pressed men, ship's boys, and other supernumeraries. A number of
sailors were posted on the ladders from the hatchway to the hold and
between decks, and in this way were hauling up sacks of sand. Each man
handed one to the man next to him and so it was passed on without much
labor. A great quantity of sacks were thus brought up from hand to
hand, and to my great astonishment they were emptied out on the upper
deck, the poop, and the forecastle, the sand being spread about so as
to cover all the planking; and the same thing was done between decks.
My curiosity prompted me to ask the boy who stood next to me what this
was for.

"For the blood," he said very coolly.

"For the blood!" I exclaimed unable to repress a shudder. I looked at
the sand--I looked at the men who were busily employed at this
task--and for a moment I felt I was a coward. However, my imagination
reverted to the ideas which had previously filled it, and relieved my
mind of its alarms; I thought no more of anything but victory and a
happy issue.

Everything was ready for serving the guns and the ammunition was
passed up from the store-rooms to the decks by a chain of men, like
that which had brought up the sand-bags.

The English advanced to attack us in two sections. One came straight
down upon us, and at its head, which was the point of the wedge,
sailed a large ship carrying the admiral's flag. This, as I afterwards
learned, was the _Victory_, commanded by Nelson. At the head of the
other line was the _Royal Sovereign_, commanded by Collingwood. All
these names, and the strategical plan of the battle, were not known to
me till later.

My recollections, which are vividly distinct as to all the graphic and
picturesque details, fail me with regard to the scheme of action which
was beyond my comprehension at the time. All that I picked from
Marcial, combined with what I subsequently learnt, sufficed to give me
a good idea of the arrangement of our fleets; and for the better
intelligence of the reader I give in the next page a list of our
ships, indicating the gaps left by those that had not come up, and the
nationality of each.

It was now a quarter to twelve. The fatal moment was approaching. The
anxiety was general, and I do not speak merely from what was going on
in my own mind, for I was absorbed in watching the ship which was said
to contain Nelson, and for some time was hardly aware of what was
going on round me.

Suddenly a terrible order was given by our captain--the boatswains
repeated it; the sailors flew to the tops; the blocks and ropes
creaked, the topsails flapped in the wind.

"Take in sail!" cried Marcial, with a good round oath. "The infernal
idiot is making us work back."

And then I understood that the _Trinidad_ was to slacken her speed so
as to run alongside of the _Bucentaure_, because the _Victory_ seemed
to be taking measures to run in between those two ships and so cut the
line in the middle.

                                     Neptuno, Sp.          }
                                    Le Scipion, Fr.        }
                                   Rayo, Sp.               }
                                  Le Formidable, Fr.       } Front.
                                 ---- Le Duguay Trouin, Fr.}
                                Le Mont Blanc, Fr.         }
                               Asís, Sp.                   }

                              San Augustin, Sp.            }
                             Le Héros, Fr.                 }
    Victory                 Trinidad, Sp.                  }
    _Nelson_.              Le Bucentaure, Fr.              } Centre.
    --------------------> ---- Neptune, Fr.                }
                         Le Redoutable, Fr.                }
                        L'Intrépide, Fr.                   }
                       ---- Leandro, Sp.                   }
      Royal
    Sovereign         ---- Justo, Sp.                      }
    _Collingwood_.   ---- L'Indomptable, Fr.               }
    --------------> Santa Ana, Sp.                         } Rear.
                   Le Fougueux, Fr.                        }
                  Monarca, Sp.                             }
                 Le Pluton, Fr.                            }

                Bahama, Sp.                                }
               ---- L'Aigle, Fr.                           }
              Montañes, Sp.                                }
             Algeciras, Sp.                                }
            Argonauta, Sp.                                 }
           Swiftsure, Fr.                                  } Reserve.
          ---- L'Argonaute, Fr.                            }
         Ildefonso, Sp.                                    }
        ---- L'Achille, Fr.                                }
       Príncipe de Astúrias, Sp.                           }
      Le Berwick, Fr.                                      }
     Nepomuceno, Sp.                                       }

In watching the working of our vessel I could see that a great many
of the crew had not that nimble ease which is usually characteristic
of sailors who, like Marcial, are familiar with war and tempests.
Among the soldiers several were suffering from sea-sickness and were
clinging to the ropes to save themselves from falling. There were
among them many brave souls, especially among the volunteers, but for
the most part they were impressed men, obeying orders with an ill-will
and not feeling, I am very sure, the smallest impulse of patriotism.
As I afterwards learnt, nothing but the battle itself made them worthy
to fight. In spite of the wide differences in the moral stamp of all
these men, I believe that during the solemn moments that immediately
preceded the first shot a thought of God came to every mortal there.

So far as I am concerned, in all my life my soul has never gone
through any experiences, to compare with those of that hour. In spite
of my youth, I was quite capable of understanding the gravity of the
occasion, and for the first time in my life, my mind was filled with
grand ideas, lofty aspirations and heroic thoughts. A conviction that
we must conquer was so firmly rooted in my mind that I felt quite
pitiful towards the English, and wondered to see them so eagerly
advancing to certain destruction. For the first time too I fully
understood the ideal of patriotism, and my heart responded to the
thought with a glow of feeling such as I had never experienced before.
Until now my mother-country had been embodied in my mind in the
persons of its rulers--such as the King and his famous minister, for
whom I felt different degrees of respect. As I knew no more of history
than I had picked up in the streets, it was to me a matter of course
that everybody's enthusiasm must be fired by knowing that the
Spaniards had, once upon a time, killed a great number of Moors, and,
since then, swarms of French and of English. I considered my
countrymen as models of valor; but valor, as I conceived of it, was as
like barbarity as one egg is like another; and with such ideas as
these, patriotism had been to me nothing more than boastful pride in
belonging to a race of exterminators of Moors.

But in the pause that preceded the battle I understood the full
significance of that divine word; the conception of nationality, of
devotion to a mother-country, was suddenly born in my soul, lighting it
up, as it were, and revealing a thousand wonderful possibilities--as
the rising sun dissipates the darkness that has hidden a beautiful
landscape. I thought of my native land as a vast place full of people
all united in brotherly regard--of society as divided into families,
married couples to be held together, and children to be educated--of
honor, to be cherished and defended; I imagined an unspoken agreement
among all these human beings to help and protect each other against any
attack from without, and I understood that these vessels had been
constructed by them all for the defence of their native land; that is
to say, for the soil on which they lived, the fields watered by their
sweat, the homes where their ancestors had dwelt, the gardens where
their children played, the colonies discovered and conquered by their
forefathers, the harbors where their ships found shelter after long
voyages--the magazines where they stored their wealth--the Church which
was the mausoleum of those they had loved, the dwelling-place of their
saints, and the ark of their belief--the public places where they might
take their pleasure, the private homes where the venerable household
gods, handed down from generation to generation, seemed to symbolize
the perpetuity of the nation--their family hearth round which the
smoke-dyed walls seem still to re-echo with the time-honored legends
with which the grand dame soothes the flightiness or the naughtiness of
the little ones, the street where friendly faces meet and smile--the
field, the sea, the sky--everything which from the moment of birth
makes up the sum of existence, from the crib of a pet animal to the
time-honored throne of the king; every object into which the soul seems
to go forth to live, as if the body that clothes it were too narrow a
shell.

I believed too that the disputes between Spain and France or England
were always about something that those countries ought to give up to
us, and in which Spain could not, on the whole, be wrong. Her
self-defence seemed to me as legitimate as the aggression was brutal;
and as I had always heard that justice must triumph, I never doubted
of victory. Looking up at our red and yellow flag--the colors nearest
to that of fire--I felt my bosom swell, and could not restrain a few
tears of enthusiasm and excitement; I thought of Cadiz, of Vejer, of
the whole Spanish nation assembled, as it were, on a vast platform and
looking on with eager anxiety; and all this tide of emotion lifted up
my heart to God to whom I put up a prayer, which was neither a
_Paternoster_ nor an _Ave_, but a gush of inspiration that came to me
at the moment.

A sudden shock startled me from my ecstasy, terrifying me with its
violent vibration. The first broadside had been fired.



CHAPTER XI.


A vessel in the rear had been the first to fire on the _Royal
Sovereign_, commanded by Collingwood, and while that ship carried on
the fight with the _Santa Ana_ the Victory came down on us. On board
the _Trinidad_ every one was anxious to open fire; but our captain
would not give the word till he saw a favorable opportunity.
Meanwhile, as if the ships were in such close communication that a
slow-match was lighted from one to the other, the fire ran along from
the _Santa Ana_ in the middle, to each end of the line.

The _Victory_ fired first on the _Redoutable_, and being repulsed,
came up to the windward of the _Trinidad_. The moment had come for us;
a hundred voices cried "fire!"--loudly echoing the word of command,
and fifty round-shot were hurled against the flank of the English
man-of-war. For a minute I could see nothing of the enemy for the
smoke, while he, as if blind with rage, came straight down upon us
before the wind. Just within gun-shot he put the ship about and gave
us a broadside. In the interval between our firing and theirs, our
crew, who had taken note of the damage done to the enemy, had gained
in enthusiasm. The guns were rapidly served, though not without some
hitches owing to want of experience in some of the gunners. Marcial
would have been only too glad to undertake the management of one of
the cannon, but his mutilated body was not equal to the heroism of his
spirit. He was forced to be satisfied with superintending the delivery
of the charges and encouraging the gunners by word and gesture.

The _Bucentaure_, just at our stern, was, like us, firing on the
_Victory_ and the _Téméraire_, another powerful English vessel. It
seemed as though the _Victory_ must fall into our hands, for the
_Trinidad's_ fire had cut her tackle to pieces, and we saw with pride
that her mizzen-mast had gone by the board.

In the excitement of this first onslaught I scarcely perceived that
some of our men were wounded or killed. I had chosen a place where I
thought I should be least in the way, and never took my eyes off the
captain who stood on the quarter-deck, issuing his orders with heroic
coolness; and I wondered to see my master, no less calm though less
enthusiastic, encouraging the officers and men in his quavering voice.

"Ah!" said I to myself, "if only Doña Francisca could see him now!"

I am bound to confess that at times I felt desperately frightened, and
would gladly have hidden myself at the very bottom of the hold, while,
at others, I was filled with an almost delirious courage, when I
longed to see the glorious spectacle from the most dangerous posts.
However, I will set aside my own insignificant individuality and
relate the most terrible crisis of our fight with the _Victory_. The
_Trinidad_ was doing her immense mischief when the _Téméraire_, by a
wonderfully clever manœuvre, slipped in between the two vessels thus
sheltering her consort from our fire. She then proceeded to cut
through the line behind the _Trinidad_, and as the _Bucentaure_, under
fire, had got so close alongside of the _Trinidad_ that their yards
touched, there was a wide space beyond into which the _Téméraire_
rushed down and, going about immediately, came up on our lee and
delivered a broadside on that quarter, till then untouched. At the
same time the _Neptune_, another large English ship, ran in where the
_Victory_ had previously been, while the _Victory_ veered round so
that, in a few minutes, the _Trinidad_ was surrounded by the enemy and
riddled on all sides.

From my master's face, from Uriarte's heroic fury, and from a volley
of oaths delivered by Marcial and his friends, I understood that we
were lost and the idea of defeat was anguish to my soul. The line of
the combined fleets was broken at several points, and the bad order in
which they had formed after turning round, gave place to the most
disastrous confusion. We were surrounded by the enemy whose artillery
kept up a perfect hail of round and grape-shot on our ship, and on the
_Bucentaure_ as well. The _Agustin_, the _Héros_, and the _Leandro_
were engaged at some distance from us where they had rather more
sea-room, while the _Trinidad_, and the Admiral's ship, utterly hemmed
in and driven to extremities by the genius of the great Nelson, were
fighting heroically--no longer in hopes of a victory which was
impossible but anxious, at any rate, to perish gloriously.

The white hairs which now cover my old head almost stand on end as I
remember those terrible hours, from two to four in the afternoon. I
think of those five ships, not as mere machines of war obeying the
will of man, but as living giants, huge creatures fighting on their
own account, carried into action by their sails as though they were
active limbs and using the fearful artillery they bore in their sides
for their personal defence. As I looked at them then, my fancy could
not help personifying them and to this hour I feel as though I could
see them coming up, defying each other, going about to fire a
broadside, rushing furiously up to board, drawing back to gather more
force, mocking or threatening the enemy;--I can fancy them expressing
their suffering when wounded or loftily breathing their last, like a
gladiator who in his agony forgets not the dignity which beseems
him;--I can imagine that I hear the voices of the crews like the
murmur of an oppressed sufferer, sometimes eager with enthusiasm,
sometimes a dull roar of desperation the precursor of destruction,
sometimes a hymn of triumph in anticipation of victory, or a hideous
storm of voices lost in space and giving way to the awful silence of
disgrace and defeat.

The scene on board the _Santísima Trinidad_ was nothing short of
infernal. All attempt at working the ship had been abandoned, for it
did not and could not move. The only thing to be done was to serve the
guns with the utmost rapidity, and to do as much damage to the enemy
as they had done to us. The English small-shot rent the sails just as
if huge and invisible nails were tearing slits in them. The splinters
of timber and of masts, the stout cables cut through as if they were
straws, the capstans, spindles, and other heavy machinery torn from
their place by the enemy's fire, strewed the deck so that there was
scarcely room to move. Every minute men, till then full of life, fell
on deck or into the sea; the blasphemy of those who were fighting
mingled with the cries of the wounded, till it was impossible to say
whether the dying were defying God or the living crying to him for
mercy while they fought.

I offered my services for a melancholy task, which was carrying the
wounded into the cock-pit where the surgeons were busy doing their
utmost. Some were dead before we could get them there, and others had
to suffer painful operations before their exhausted bodies could be
left to repose.

Then I had the extreme satisfaction of helping the carpenters who were
constantly employed in repairing the holes made in the ship's sides;
but my youth and inefficiency made me less useful than I would fain
have been.

Blood was flowing in rivulets on the upper and lower decks and in
spite of the sand the motion of the ship carried it from side to side
making sinister patterns on the boards. The cannon-balls, fired at
such a short range, mutilated those they killed in a terrible manner,
and I saw more than one man still standing with his head blown away,
the force of the shock not having been great enough to fling the
victim into the sea, whose waters would have extinguished almost
painlessly the last sensation of existence. Other balls struck a mast
or against the bulwarks, carrying off a hail of hot splinters that
pierced and stung like arrows. The rifle-shots from the tops and the
round-shot from the carronades dealt a more lingering and painful
death, and there was hardly a man to be seen who did not bear the
marks, more or less severe, of the foe's iron and lead.

The crew--the soul of the ship--being thus thrashed by the storm of
battle and utterly unable to deal equal destruction, saw death at hand
though resolved to die with the courage of despair; and the ship
itself--the glorious body--shivered under the cannonade. I could feel
her shudder under the fearful blows; her timbers cracked, her beams
creaked, her ribs groaned like limbs on the rack, and the deck
trembled under my feet with audible throbs, as though the whole huge
creature was indignant at the sufferings of her crew. Meanwhile the
water was pouring in at a hundred holes in the riddled hull, and the
hold was fast filling.

The _Bucentaure_, the Admiral's vessel, surrendered before our very
eyes. Villeneuve struck to the _Victory_. When once the leader of the
fleet was gone, what hope was there for the other ships? The French
flag vanished from the gallant vessel's mast and she ceased firing.
The _San Augustin_ and the _Héros_ still persevered, and the _Rayo_
and _Neptuno_, of the van, made an effort to rescue us from the enemy
that was battering us. I could see what was going on in the immediate
neighborhood of the _Trinidad_, though nothing was to be seen of the
rest of the line. The wind had fallen to a calm and the smoke settled
down over our heads shrouding everything in its dense white wreaths
which it was impossible for eye to pierce. We could catch a glimpse
now and then of a distant ship, mysteriously magnified by some
inexplicable optical effect; I believe indeed that the terror of that
supreme moment exaggerated every impression.

Presently this dense cloud was dispersed for an instant--but in what a
fearful manner! A tremendous explosion, louder than all the thousand
guns of the fleet fired at once, paralyzed every man and filled every
soul with dread; and just as the ear was stunned by the terrific roar
an intense flash lighted up the two fleets, rending the veil of smoke
and revealing the whole panorama of the battle. This catastrophe had
taken place on the side towards the South where the rear line had been
posted.

"A ship blown up!" said one to another. But opinion differed as to
whether it was the _Santa Ana_, the _Argonauta_, the _Ildefonso_, or
the _Bahama_. We afterwards learnt that it was a Frenchman, the
_Achille_. The explosion scattered in a myriad fragments what had a
few moments before been a noble ship of 74 guns and 600 men. But a few
seconds after we had already forgotten the explosion in thinking only
of ourselves.

The _Bucentaure_ having struck, the enemy's fire was directed on us,
and our fate was sealed. The enthusiasm of the first hour was by this
extinct in my soul; my heart quaked with terror that paralyzed my
limbs and smothered every other emotion excepting curiosity. This I
found so irresistible that I could not keep away from places where the
danger was greatest. My small assistance was of no great use now, for
the wounded were too numerous to be carried below and the guns had to
be served by those who had some little strength left. Among these was
Marcial who was here, there, and everywhere, shouting and working to
the best of his small ability, acting as boatswain, gunner, sailor,
and carpenter all at once, doing everything that happened to be needed
at this awful moment. No one could have believed that, with hardly
more than half a body, he could have done the work of so many men. A
splinter had struck him on the head and the blood had stained his face
and given him a most horrible appearance. I could see his lips move as
he licked the blood from them and then he spit it out viciously over
the side, as if he thought he could thus punish the enemy.

What astonished me most, and indeed shocked me somewhat, was that
Marcial even in this scene of horror could still cut a good-humored
joke; whether to encourage his dejected comrades or only to keep his
own courage up I do not know. The fore-mast fell with a tremendous
crash, covering the whole of the fore-deck with rigging, and Marcial
called out to me: "Bring the hatchets, boy; we must stow this lumber
in Davy Jones' locker," and in two minutes the ropes were cut and the
mast went overboard.

Then, seeing that the enemy's fire grew hotter, he shouted to the
purser's mate, who had come up to serve a gun: "Daddy, order up some
drink for those 'great-coats,' and then they will let us alone."

To a soldier, who was lying like a dead creature with the pain of his
wounds and the misery of sea-sickness, he exclaimed as he whisked the
slow-match under his nose: "Take a whiff of orange-flower, man, to
cure your faintness. Would you like to take a turn in a boat? Nelson
has invited us to take a glass of grog with him."

This took place amidships; looking up at the quarter-deck I saw that
Cisneros was killed; two sailors hastily carried him down into his
cabin. My master remained immovable at his post, but his left arm was
bleeding severely. I ran up to help him, but before I could reach the
spot an officer had gone to him to persuade him to retire to his
state-room. He had not spoken two words when a ball shot away half his
head and his blood sprinkled my face. Don Alonso withdrew, as pale as
the corpse which fell on the quarter-deck. When my master had gone
down the commander was left standing alone, so perfectly cool that I
could not help gazing at him for a few minutes, astounded by such
courage. His head was uncovered, his face very white, but his eyes
flashed and his attitude was full of energy, and he stood at his
post, commanding the desperate strife, though the battle was lost past
retrieval. Even this fearful disaster must be conducted with due
order, and the captain's duty was still to keep discipline over
heroism. His voice still controlled his men in this struggle between
honor and death. An officer who was serving in the first battery came
up for orders, and before he could speak he was lying dead at the feet
of his chief; another officer of marines who was standing by his side
fell wounded on the deck, and at last Uriarte stood quite alone on the
quarter-deck, which was strewn with the dead and wounded. Even then he
never took his eyes off the English ships and the working of our
guns--the horrible scene on the poop and in the round-house, where his
comrades and subalterns lay dying, could not quell his noble spirit
nor shake his firm determination to face the fire till he too should
fall. As I recall the fortitude and stoical calmness of Don Francisco
Xavier de Uriarte, I understand all that is told us of the heroes of
antiquity. At that time the word Sublime was as yet unknown to me, but
I felt that there must be, in every language under heaven, some human
utterance to express that greatness of soul which I here saw incarnate
and which revealed itself to me as a special grace vouchsafed by God
to miserable humanity.

By this time most of our guns were silenced, more than half of our men
being incapable of serving them. I might not, however, have been aware
of the fact, but that being impelled by curiosity I went out of the
cabin once more and heard a voice saying in a tone of thunder:

"Gabrielillo, come here."

It was Marcial who was calling me; I ran to his side and found him
trying to work one of the guns which had been left silent for lack of
men. A ball had shot away the half of his wooden leg, which made him
exclaim: "Well! so long as I can manage to keep the one of flesh and
bone...!"

Two sailors lay dead by the gun; a third, though horribly wounded,
still tried to go on working it.

"Let be, mate!" said Marcial. "You cannot even light the match," and
taking the linstock from his hand, he put it into mine, saying: "Take
it, Gabrielillo.--If you are afraid you had better jump overboard."

He loaded the cannon as quickly as he was able, helped by a ship's boy
who happened to come up; we ran it forward: "fire!" was the word, I
applied the match and the gun went off.

We repeated this operation a second and a third time, and the roar of
the cannon fired by my own hand produced an extraordinary effect on my
nerves. The feeling that I was no longer a spectator but an actor in
this stupendous tragedy for the moment blew all my alarms to the
winds; I was eager and excited, or at any rate determined to appear
so. That moment revealed to me the truth that heroism is often simply
the pride of honor. Marcial's eye--the eyes of the world were upon me;
I must bear myself worthy of their gaze.

"Oh!" I exclaimed to myself with an impulse of pride: "If only my
young mistress could see me now!... Bravely firing cannon like a man!"
Two dozen of English were the least I might have sent to the other
world.

These grand visions, however, did not last long for Marcial, enfeebled
by age, was beginning to sink with exhaustion; he breathed hard as he
wiped away the blood which flowed profusely from his head, and at last
his arms dropped by his side, and closing his eyes, he exclaimed: "I
can do no more; the powder is rising to my head. Gabrielillo, fetch me
some water."

I ran to obey him, and when I had brought the water he drank it
eagerly. This seemed to give him fresh energy; we were just about to
load once more when a tremendous shock petrified us as we stood. The
main-mast, cut through by repeated shots, fell amidships and across
the mizzen; the ship was completely covered with the wreck, and the
confusion was appalling.

I happily was so far under shelter that I got no harm but a slight
blow on the head which, though it stunned me for a moment, did not
prevent my thrusting aside the fragments of rope and timber which had
fallen above me. The sailors and marines were struggling to clear away
the vast mass of lumber, but from this moment only the lower-deck guns
could be used at all. I got clear as best I could and went to look for
Marcial but I did not find him, and casting my eyes up at the
quarter-deck, I saw that the captain was no longer at his post. He had
fallen senseless, badly wounded in the head by a splinter, and two
sailors were just about to carry him down to the state-room. I was
running forward to assist when a piece of shell hit me on the
shoulder, terrifying me excessively, for I made sure my wound was
mortal and that I was at my last gasp. My alarm did not hinder me from
going into the cabin; I tottered from loss of blood and for a few
minutes lay in a dead faint. I was roused from my short swoon by
hearing the rattle of the cannon below and then a voice shouting
vehemently:

"Board her! bring pikes!--axes!"

And then the confusion was so complete that it was impossible to
distinguish human voices from the rest of the hideous uproar. However,
somehow--I know not how--without thoroughly waking from my drowsy
state, I became aware that all was given up for lost and that the
officers had met in the cabin to agree to strike; nor was this the
work of my fancy, bewildered as I was, for I heard a voice exclaiming:
"The _Trinidad_ never strikes!" I felt sure that it was Marcial's
voice; but at any rate some one said it.

When I recovered perfect consciousness, I saw my master sunk on one of
the sofas in the cabin, his face hidden in his hands, prostrate with
despair, and paying no heed to his wound.

I went to the heart-broken old man, who could find no way of
expressing his grief but by embracing me like a father, as if we were
both together on the brink of the grave. He, at any rate, was
convinced that he must soon die of grief, though his wound was by no
means serious. I comforted him as best I might, assuring him that if
the battle were indeed lost it was not because I had failed to batter
the English to the best of my power; and I went on to say that we
should be more fortunate next time--but my childish arguments failed
to soothe him.

Going out presently in search of water for my master, I witnessed the
very act of lowering the flag which was flying at the gaff, that being
one of the few spars, with the remains of the mizzen-mast, that
remained standing. The glorious flag, the emblem of our honor, pierced
and tattered as it was, which had gathered so many fighting-men under
its folds, ran down the rope never to be unfurled again. The idea of
stricken pride, of a brave spirit giving way before a superior force,
can find no more appropriate symbol to represent it than that of a
flying standard which sinks and disappears like a setting sun. And our
flag thus slowly descending that fatal evening, at the moment when we
surrendered, seem to shed a parting ray of glory.

The firing ceased, and the English took possession of the conquered
vessel.



CHAPTER XII.


When the mind had sufficiently recovered from the shock and excitement
of battle, and had time to turn from "the pity of it" and the chill of
terror left by the sight of that terrific struggle, those who were
left alive could see the hapless vessel in all its majesty of horror.
Till now we had thought of nothing but self-defence, but when the
firing ceased we could turn our attention to the dilapidated state of
the ship, which let in the water at a hundred leaks and was beginning
to sink, threatening to bury us all, living and dead, at the bottom of
the sea. The English had scarcely taken possession when a shout arose
from our sailors, as from one man:

"To the pumps!"

All who were able flew to the pumps and labored hard at them; but
these ineffectual machines turned out much less water than poured in.
Suddenly a shriek even more appalling than any we had heard before
filled us with horror. I have said that the wounded had been carried
down into the hold which, being below the water line, was secure from
the inroads of the cannon shot. But the water was fast gaining there,
and some sailors came scrambling up the hatchways exclaiming that the
wounded were being drowned. The greater part of the crew hesitated
between continuing to pump and running down to rescue the hapless
wretches; and God knows what would have happened if an English crew
had not come to our assistance. They not only carried up the wounded
to the second and third deck but they lent a hand at the pumps and
their carpenters set to work to stop the leaks in the ship's sides.

Utterly tired out, and thinking too that Don Alonso might need my
services, I returned to the cabin. As I went I saw some Englishmen
hoisting the English flag at the bows of the _Trinidad_. As I dare to
believe that the amiable reader will allow me to record my feelings, I
may say that this incident gave me something to think of. I had always
thought of the English as pirates or sea-highwaymen, as a race of
adventurers not worthy to be called a nation but living by robbery.
When I saw the pride with which they hauled up their flag, saluting it
with vociferous cheering; when I perceived the satisfaction it was to
them to have made a prize of the largest vessel that, until then, had
ever sailed the seas, it struck me that their country, too, was dear
to them, that her honor was in their hands and I understood that in
that land--to me so mysteriously remote--called England, there must
be, as in Spain, honorable men, a paternal king, mothers, daughters,
wives, and sisters of these brave mariners--all watching anxiously for
their return and praying to God for victory.

I found my master in the cabin, somewhat calmer. The English officers
who had come on board treated ours with the most distinguished
courtesy and, as I heard, were anxious to transfer the wounded on
board their own ship. One of these gentlemen went up to my master as
if recognizing him, bowed to him, and addressing him in fairly-good
Spanish, reminded him of an old acquaintanceship. Don Alonso responded
gravely to his advances and then enquired of him as to some of the
details of the battle.

"But what became of our reserve? What did Gravina do?" asked my
master.

"Gravina withdrew with some of his ships," replied the English
officer.

"Only the _Rayo_ and _Neptuno_ came to our assistance of all the front
line?"

"Four French ships--the _Duguay-Trouin_, the _Mont Blanc_, the
_Scipion_, and the _Formidable_ were the only ones that kept out of
the action."

"But Gravina--where was Gravina?" Don Alonso persisted.

"He got off in the _Príncipe de Astúrias_; but as he was chased I do
not know whether he reached Cadiz in safety."

"And the _San Ildefonso_?"

"She struck."

"And the _Santa Ana_?"

"Struck too."

"Good God!" cried my master, unable to conceal his indignation. "But
you did not take the _Nepomuceno_?"

"Yes, that too."

"Are you sure of that? With Churruca?"

"He was killed," said the Englishman with sincere regret.

"Killed--Churruca killed!" exclaimed Don Alonso in grievous
bewilderment. "And the _Bahama_--she was saved--the _Bahama_ must have
been able to reach Cadiz in safety."

"She was taken too."

"Taken! And Galiano? He is a hero and a cultivated gentleman."

"He was," said the Englishman sadly, "but he too is dead."

"And the _Montañes_ with Alcedo?"

"Killed, killed."

My master could not control his emotion and as, at his advanced age,
presence of mind is lacking at such terrible moments, he suffered the
slight humiliation of shedding a few tears as he remembered his lost
friends. Nor are tears unbecoming to a noble soul; on the contrary,
they reveal a happy infusion of delicate feeling, when combined with a
resolute temper. My master's tears were manly tears, shed after he had
done his duty as a sailor; but, hastily recovering from this paroxysm
of grief, and anxious to retort on the Englishman by some pain equal
to that he had caused, he said:

"You too have suffered, no doubt, and have lost some men of mark?"

"We have suffered one irreparable loss," said the English officer in
accents as deeply sad as Don Alonso's. "We have lost our greatest man,
the bravest of the brave--our noble, heroic, incomparable Nelson."

And his fortitude holding out no better than my master's he made no
attempt to conceal his anguish of grief; he covered his face with his
hands and wept with the pathetic frankness of incontrollable sorrow
for his leader, his guardian, and his friend.

Nelson, mortally wounded at an early stage of the battle by a
gun-shot--the ball piercing his chest and lodging in the spine--had
simply said to Captain Hardy: "They have done for me at last, Hardy."
He lingered till the evening, not losing any details of the battle,
and his naval and military genius only failed him with the last breath
of his shattered body. Though suffering agonies of pain, he still
dictated his orders and kept himself informed of the manœuvres of
both fleets; and when at length he was assured that victory was on the
side of the English, he exclaimed: "Thank God, I have done my duty!" A
quarter of an hour later the greatest sailor of the age breathed his
last. The reader will forgive me this digression.

It may seem strange that we did not know the fate of many of the ships
of the combined fleets. But nothing could be more natural than our
ignorance, considering the great length of our front and the plan of
isolated fights contrived and carried out by the English. Their
vessels had got mixed up with ours and the ships fought at close
quarters; the one which had engaged us hid the rest of the squadron
from view, besides which the dense smoke prevented our seeing
anything that was not quite close to us. Towards nightfall and before
the firing had altogether ceased, we could distinguish a few ships in
the offing, looking like phantoms; some with half their rigging gone,
and others completely dismasted. The mist, the smoke and, indeed, our
own wearied and bewildered brains, would not allow us to distinguish
whether they were our own or the enemy's, and as, from time to time
the glare of a broadside in the distance lighted up the lugubrious
scene, we could see that the fight was still going on to a desperate
end between detached groups of ships, while others were flying before
the wind without aim or purpose, and some of ours were being towed by
the English to the South.

Night fell, increasing the misery and horror of our situation. It
might have been hoped that Nature at least would be on our side after
so much disaster; but, on the contrary, the elements lashed us with
their fury as though Heaven thought our cup of misfortune was not yet
full. A tremendous storm burst and the winds and waves tossed and
buffeted our ship in their fury and, as she could not be worked, she
was utterly at their mercy. The rolling was so terrible that it was
very difficult even to work the pumps, and this, combined with the
exhausted condition of the men, made our condition grow worse every
minute. An English vessel, which as we learnt was the _Prince_, tried
to take us in tow; but her efforts were in vain and she was forced to
keep off for fear of a collision which would have been fatal to both.
Meanwhile it was impossible to get anything to eat, and I was dying of
hunger, though the others seemed insensible to anything but the
immediate danger and gave no thought to this important matter. I dared
not ask for a piece of bread even, for fear of seeming greedy and
troublesome; but at the same time, I must confess--and without
shame--I looked out sharply to see if there were any place where I
might hope to find any kind of eatable stores. Emboldened by hunger, I
made free to inspect the hold where the biscuit-boxes were kept, and
what was my astonishment at finding Marcial there before me, stowing
himself with every thing he could lay his hands on. The old man's
wound was not serious, and though a ball had carried away his right
foot, as this was only the lower end of his wooden leg the mishap only
left him a little more halt than before.

"Here, Gabrielillo," he said, giving me a heap of biscuits, "take
these. No ship can sail without ballast." And then he pulled out a
bottle and drank with intense satisfaction. As we went out of the
biscuit-room we saw that we were not the only visitors who had made a
raid upon it; on the contrary, it was very evident that it had been
well pillaged not long since.

Having recruited my strength I could now think of trying to make
myself useful by lending a hand at the pumps or helping the
carpenters. They were laboriously repairing some of the damage done,
aided by the English, who watched all our proceedings; indeed, as I
have since learnt, they kept an eye on every one of our sailors, for
they were afraid lest we should suddenly mutiny and turn upon them to
recapture the vessel; in this, however, the enemy showed more
vigilance than common-sense, for we must indeed have lost our wits
before attempting to recover a ship in such a condition. However, the
"great-coats" were everywhere at once, and we could not stir without
being observed.

Night fell, and as I was perishing with cold I quitted the deck where
I could scarcely bear myself besides incurring constant risk of being
swept overboard by a wave, so I went down into the cabin. My purpose
was to try to sleep a little while--but who could sleep in such a
night? The same confusion prevailed in the cabin as on deck. Those
who had escaped unhurt were doing what they could to aid the wounded,
and these, disturbed by the motion of the vessel which prevented their
getting any rest, were so pitiable a sight that it was impossible to
resign one's self to sleep. On one side, covered with the Spanish
flag, lay the bodies of the officers who had been killed; and in the
midst of all this misery, surrounded by so much suffering, these
senseless corpses seemed really to be envied. They alone on board the
_Trinidad_ were at rest, to them nothing mattered now: fatigue and
pain, the disgrace of defeat, or physical sufferings. The standard
which served them as a glorious winding-sheet shut them out, as it
were, from the world of responsibility, of dishonor, and of despair,
in which we were left behind. They could not care for the danger the
vessel was in, for to them it was no longer anything but a coffin.

The officers who were killed were Don Juan Cisniega, a lieutenant in
the navy, who was not related to my master, in spite of their identity
of name; Don Joaquin de Salas and Don Juan Matute, also lieutenants;
Don José Graullé, lieutenant-colonel in the army; Urias, lieutenant in
command of a frigate, and midshipman Don Antonio de Bobadilla. The
sailors and marines whose corpses lay strewn about the gun-decks and
upper-deck amounted to the terrible number of four hundred.

Never shall I forget the moment when the bodies were cast into the
sea, by order of the English officer in charge of the ship. The dismal
ceremony took place on the morning of the 22nd when the storm seemed
to be at its wildest on purpose to add to the terrors of the scene.
The bodies of the officers were brought on deck, the priest said a
short prayer for this was no time for elaborate ceremonial, and our
melancholy task began. Each wrapped in a flag, with a cannon-ball tied
to his feet, was dropped into the waves without any of the solemn and
painful emotion which under ordinary circumstances would have agitated
the lookers-on. Our spirits were so quelled by disaster that the
contemplation of death had become almost indifference. Still, a burial
at sea is more terribly sad than one on land. We cover the dead with
earth and leave him there; those who loved him know that there is a
spot where the dear remains are laid and can mark it with a slab, a
cross, or a monument; but at sea--the body is cast into that heaving,
shifting waste; it is lost forever as it disappears; imagination
cannot follow it in its fall--down, down to the fathomless abyss; it
is impossible to realize that it still exists at the bottom of the
deep. These were my reflections as I watched the corpses vanish--the
remains of those brave fighting-men, so full of life only the day
before--the pride of their country and the joy of all who loved them.

The sailors were thrown overboard with less ceremony; the regulation
is that they shall be tied up in their hammocks, but there was no time
to carry this out. Some indeed were wrapped round as the rules
require, but most of them were thrown into the sea without any shroud
or ball at their feet, for the simple reason that there were not
enough for all. There were four hundred of them, more or less, and
merely to clear them overboard and out of sight every able-bodied man
that was left had to lend a hand, so as to get it done as quickly as
possible. Much to my horror I saw myself forced to offer my services
in the dismal duty, and many a dead man dropped over the ship's side
at a push from my hand helping other and stronger ones.

One incident--or rather coincidence--occurred which filled me with
horror. A body horribly mauled and mutilated had been picked up by two
sailors, and just as they lifted it one or two of the by-standers
allowed themselves to utter some of those coarse and grim jests which
are always offensive, and at such a moment revolting. I know not how
it was that this poor wretch was the only one which moved them so
completely to lose the sense of reverence due to the dead, but they
exclaimed: "He has been paid out for old scores--he will never be at
his tricks again," and other witticisms of the same kind. For a moment
my blood rose, but my indignation suddenly turned to astonishment
mingled with an indescribable feeling of awe, regret, and aversion,
when, on looking at the mangled features of the corpse, I recognized
my uncle. I shut my eyes with a shudder, and did not open them again
till the splash of the water in my face told me that he had
disappeared forever from mortal ken. This man had been very cruel to
me, very cruel to his sister; still, he was my own flesh and blood, my
mother's brother; the blood that flowed in my veins was his, and that
secret voice which warns us to be charitable to the faults of our own
kith and kin could not be silenced after what I had seen, for at the
moment when I recognized him I had perceived in those blood-stained
features some reminder of my mother's face, and this stirred my
deepest feelings. I forgot that the man had been a brutal wretch, and
all his barbarous treatment of me during my hapless childhood. I can
honestly declare--and I venture to do so though it is to my own
credit--that I forgave him with all my heart and lifted up my soul to
God, praying for mercy on him for all his sins.

I learnt afterwards that he had behaved gallantly in the fight, but
even this had not won him the respect of his comrades who, regarding
him as a low sneak, never found a good word for him--not even at that
supreme moment when, as a rule, every offence is forgiven on earth in
the belief that the sinner is rendering an account to his Maker.

As the day advanced the _Prince_ attempted once more to take the
_Santísima Trinidad_ in tow, but with no better success than before.
Our situation was no worse, although the tempest raged with
undiminished fury, for a good deal of the mischief had been patched
up, and we thought that if the weather should mend the hulk, at any
rate, might be saved. The English made a great point of it, for they
were very anxious to take the largest man-of-war ever seen afloat into
Gibraltar as a trophy; so they willingly plied the pumps by night and
by day and allowed us to rest awhile. All through the day of the 22nd
the sea continued terrific, tossing the huge and helpless vessel as
though it were a little fishing-boat, and the enormous mass of timber
proved the soundness of her build by not simply falling to pieces
under the furious lashing of the waters. At some moments she rolled
over so completely on her beam ends that it seemed as though she must
go to the bottom, but suddenly the wave would fly off in smoke, as it
were, before the hurricane, the ship, righting herself, rode over it
with a toss of her mighty prow--which displayed the Lion of
Castile--and we breathed once more with the hope of escaping with our
lives.

On all sides we could see the scattered fleets; many of the ships were
English, severely damaged and striving to gain shelter under the
coast. There were Frenchmen and Spaniards too, some dismasted, others
in tow of the enemy. Marcial recognized the _San Ildefonso_. Floating
about were myriads of fragments and masses of wreck--spars, timbers,
broken boats, hatches, bulwarks, and doors--besides two unfortunate
sailors who were clinging to a plank, and who must have been swept off
and drowned if the English had not hastened to rescue them. They were
brought on board more dead than alive, and their resuscitation after
being in the very jaws of death was like a new birth to them.

That day went by between agonies and hopes--now we thought nothing
could save the ship and that we must be taken on board an Englishman
then again we hoped to keep her afloat. The idea of being taken into
Gibraltar as prisoners was intolerable, not so much to me perhaps as
to men of punctilious honor and sensitive dignity like my master whose
mental anguish at the thought must have been intolerable. However, all
the torment of suspense, at any rate, was relieved by the evening when
it was unanimously agreed that if we were not transferred to an
English ship at once, to the bottom we must go with the vessel, which
now had five feet of water in the hold. Uriarte and Cisneros took the
announcement with dignified composure, saying that it mattered little
to them whether they perished at once or were prisoners in a foreign
land. The task was at once begun in the doubtful twilight, and as
there were above three hundred wounded to be transferred it was no
easy matter. The available number of hands was about five hundred, all
that were left uninjured of the original crew of eleven hundred and
fifteen before the battle.

We set to work promptly with the launches of the _Trinidad_ and the
_Prince_, and three other boats belonging to the English. The wounded
were attended to first; but though they were lifted with all possible
care they could not be moved without great suffering, and some
entreated with groans and shrieks to be left in peace, preferring
immediate death to anything that could aggravate and prolong their
torments. But there was no time for pity, and they were carried to the
boats as ruthlessly as the cold corpses of their comrades had been
flung into the sea.

Uriarte and Cisneros embarked in the English captain's gig, but when
they urged my master to accompany them he obstinately refused, saying
that he wished to be last to leave the sinking ship. This I confess
disturbed me not a little, for as by this time, the hardy patriotism
which at first had given me courage had evaporated, I thought only of
saving my life, and to stay on board a foundering vessel was clearly
not the best means to that laudable end. Nor were my fears ill
founded, for not more than half the men had been taken off when a dull
roar of terror echoed through the ship.

"She is going to the bottom--the boats, to the boats!" shouted some,
and there was a rush to the ship's side, all looking out eagerly for
the return of the boats. Every attempt at work or order was given up,
the wounded were forgotten, and several who had been brought on deck
dragged themselves to the side in a sort of delirium, to seek an
opening and throw themselves into the sea. Up through the hatchways
came a hideous shriek which I think I can hear as I write, freezing
the blood in my veins and setting my hair on end. It came from the
poor wretches on the lowest deck who already felt the waters rising to
drown them and vainly cried for help--to God or men--who can tell!
Vainly indeed to men, for they had enough to do to save themselves.
They jumped wildly into the boats, and this confusion in the darkness
hindered progress. One man alone, quite cool in the midst of the
danger, remained in the state cabin, paying no heed to all that was
going on around him, walking up and down sunk in thought, as though
the planks he trod were not fast sinking into the gulf below. It was
my master. I ran to rouse him from his stupefaction. "Sir," I cried,
"we are drowning!"

Don Alonzo did not heed me, and if I may trust my memory he merely
said without looking round:

"How Paca will laugh at me, when I go home after such a terrible
defeat!"

"Sir, the ship is sinking!" I insisted, not indeed exaggerating the
danger, but in vehement entreaty.

My master looked at the sea, at the boats, at the men who were blindly
and desperately leaping overboard; I looked anxiously for Marcial and
called him as loudly as I could shout. At the same time I seemed to
lose all consciousness of where I was and what was happening. I turned
giddy and I could see nothing. To tell how I was saved from death I
can only trust to the vaguest recollections, like the memory of a
dream, for in fact I fairly swooned with terror. A sailor, as I fancy,
came up to Don Alonso while I was speaking to him; in his strong arms
I felt myself lifted up and when I somewhat recovered my wits I found
myself in one of the boats, propped up against my master's knees,
while he held my head in his hands with fatherly care and kindness.
Marcial held the tiller and the boat was crowded with men.

Looking up I saw, apparently not more than four or five yards away,
the black side of our ship sinking fast; but through the port-holes of
the deck that was still above water I could see a dim light--that of
the lamp which had been lighted at dusk and which still kept unwearied
watch over the wreck of the deserted vessel. I still could hear the
groans and cries of the hapless sufferers whom it had been impossible
to remove and who were within a few feet of the abyss while, by that
dismal lamp they could see each other's misery and read each other's
agony in their eyes.

My fancy reverted to the dreadful scene on board--another inch of
water would be enough to overweight her and destroy the little
buoyancy that was left her. How far did those poor creatures
understand the nearness of their fate? What were they saying in this
awful moment? If they could see us safe in our boat--if they could
hear the splash of our oars, how bitterly must their tortured souls
complain to Heaven! But such agonizing martyrdom must surely avail to
purify them of all guilt, and the grace of God must fill that hapless
vessel, now when it was on the point of disappearing for ever!

Our boat moved away; and still I watched the shapeless mass--though I
confess that I believe it was my imagination rather than my eyes that
discerned the _Trinidad_ through the darkness, till I believe I saw,
against the black sky, a huge arm reaching down to the tossing
waters--the effect no doubt of my imagination on my senses.



CHAPTER XIII.


The boat moved on--but whither? Not Marcial himself knew where he was
steering her to. The darkness was so complete that we lost sight of
the other boats and the lights on board the _Prince_ were as invisible
through the fog, as though a gust of wind had extinguished them. The
waves ran so high and the squalls were so violent that our frail bark
made very little way, but thanks to skilful steering she only once
shipped water. We all sat silent, most of us fixing a melancholy gaze
on the spot where we supposed our deserted comrades were at this
moment engaged in an agonizing death-struggle. In the course of this
passage I could not fail to make, as was my habit, certain reflections
which I may venture to call philosophical. Some may laugh at a
philosopher of fourteen; but I will not heed their laughter; I will
try to write down the thoughts that occupied me at this juncture.
Children too can think great thoughts and at such a moment, in face
of such a spectacle, what brain but an idiot's could remain unmoved.

There were both English and Spaniards in our boat--though most
Spaniards--and it was strange to note how they fraternized, helping
and encouraging each other in their common danger, and quite
forgetting that only the day before they had been killing each other
in hideous fight, more like wild beasts than men. I looked at the
English who rowed with as good a will as our own sailors, I saw in
their faces the same tokens of fear or of hope, and above all the same
expression, sacred to humanity, of kindness and fellowship which was
the common motive of all. And as I noted it I said to myself: "Good
God! why are there wars? Why cannot these men be friends under all the
circumstances of life as they are in danger? Is not such a scene as
this enough to prove that all men are brothers?"

But the idea of nationality suddenly occurred to me to cut short these
speculations, and my geographical theory of islands. "To be sure,"
said I to myself, "the islands must need want to rob each other of
some portion of the land, and that is what spoils everything. And
indeed there must be a great many bad men there who make wars for
their own advantage, because they are ambitious and wish for power,
or are avaricious and wish for wealth. It is these bad men who deceive
the rest--all the miserable creatures who do the fighting for them;
and to make the fraud complete, they set them against other nations,
sow discord and foment envy--and here you see the consequences. I am
certain"--added I to myself, "that this can never go on; I will bet
two to one that before long the inhabitants of the different Islands
will be convinced that they are committing a great folly in making
such tremendous wars, and that a day will come when they will embrace
each other and all agree to be like one family." So I thought then;
and now, after sixty years of life, I have not seen that day dawn.

The launch labored on through the heavy sea. I believe that if only my
master would have consented Marcial would have been quite ready to
pitch the English overboard and steer the boat to Cadiz or the nearest
coast, even at the imminent risk of foundering on the way. I fancy he
had suggested something of the kind to Don Alonso, speaking in a low
voice, and that my master wished to give him a lesson in honor, for I
heard him say:

"We are prisoners, Marcial--we are prisoners."

The worst of it was that no vessel came in sight. The _Prince_ had
moved off, and no light on either side told us of the existence of an
English ship. At last, however, we descried one at some distance and a
few minutes later the vague outline came in sight of a ship before the
storm, to our windward, and on the opposite tack to ours. Some thought
it was a Frenchman, others said it was English; Marcial was sure she
was a Spaniard. We pulled hard to meet her and were soon within
speaking distance. Our men hailed her and the answer was in Spanish.

"It is the _San Agustin_" said Marcial.

"The _San Agustin_ was sunk," said Don Alonso; "I believe it is the
_Santa Ana_ which was also captured." In fact, as we got close, we all
recognized the _Santa Ana_ which had gone into action under the
command of Alava. The English officers in charge immediately prepared
to take us on board, and before long we were all safe and sound on
deck.

The _Santa Ana_, 112 guns, had suffered severely, though not to such
an extent as the _Santísima Trinidad_; for, though she had lost all
her masts and her rudder, the hull was fairly sound. The _Santa Ana_
survived the battle of Trafalgar eleven years, and would have lived
much longer if she had not gone to the bottom for want of repairs in
the bay of Havana, in 1816. She had behaved splendidly in the fight.
She was commanded, as I have said, by Vice-admiral Alava leader of the
van which, as the order of battle was altered, became the rear. As the
reader knows, the line of English ships led by Collingwood attacked
the Spanish rear while Nelson took the centre. The _Santa Ana_, only
supported by the _Fougueux_, a Frenchman, had to fight the _Royal
Sovereign_ and four other English ships; and in spite of their unequal
strength one side suffered as much as the other, for Collingwood's
ship was the first to retire and the _Euryalus_ took her place. By all
accounts the fighting was terrific, and the two great ships, whose
masts were almost entangled, fired into each other for six hours until
Alava and Gardoqui, both being wounded (Alava subsequently died), five
officers and ninety-seven sailors being killed, besides more than 150
wounded, the _Santa Ana_ was forced to surrender. The English took
possession of her, but it was impossible to work her on account of her
shattered condition, and the dreadful storm that rose during the night
of the 21st; so when we went on board she was in a very critical,
though not a desperate situation, floating at the mercy of the wind
and waves and unable to make any course. From that moment I was
greatly comforted by seeing that every face on board betrayed a dread
of approaching death. They were all very sad and quiet, enduring with
a solemn mien the disgrace of defeat and the sense of being prisoners.
One circumstance I could not help observing, and that was that the
English officers in charge of the ship were not by a great deal so
polite or so kind as those sent on board the _Trinidad_; on the
contrary, among those on the _Santa Ana_ were some who were both stern
and repellent, doing all they could to mortify us, exaggerating their
own dignity and authority, and interfering in everything with the
rudest impertinence. This greatly annoyed the captured crew,
particularly the sailors; and I fancied I overheard many alarming
murmurs of rebellion which would have been highly disquieting to the
English if they had come to their ears.

Beyond this there is nothing to tell of our progress that night--if
progress it can be called when we were driven at the will of the wind
and waves, sailless and rudderless. Nor do I wish to weary the reader
with a repetition of the scenes we had witnessed on board the
_Trinidad_, so I will go on to other and newer incidents which will
surprise him as much as they did me.

I had lost my liking for hanging about the deck and poop, and as soon
as we got on board the _Santa Ana_ I took shelter in the cabin with my
master, hoping to get food and rest, both of which I needed sorely.
However, I found there many wounded who required constant attention
and this duty, which I gladly fulfilled, prevented my getting the
sleep which my wearied frame required. I was engaged in placing a
bandage on Don Alonso's arm when a hand was laid on my shoulder. I
turned round and saw a tall young officer wrapped in a large blue
cloak whom I did not immediately recognize; but after gazing at him
for a few seconds, I exclaimed aloud with surprise; it was Don Rafael
Malespina, my young mistress's lover.

My master embraced him affectionately and he sat down by us. He had
been wounded in the shoulder, and was so pale from fatigue and loss of
blood that his face looked quite altered. His presence here filled me
with strange sensations--some of which I am fain to own were anything
rather than pleasing. At first I felt glad enough indeed to see any
one I knew and who had come out alive from those scenes of horror, but
the next moment my old aversion for this man rose up, as strong as
ever in my breast, like some dormant pain reviving to torment me after
an interval of respite. I confess with shame that I was sorry to see
him safe and sound, but I must do myself the justice to add that the
regret was but momentary, as brief as a lightning flash--a flash of
blackness, as I may say, darkening my soul; or rather a transient
eclipse of the light of conscience which shone clearly again in the
next instant. The evil side of my nature for a moment came uppermost;
but I was able to suppress it at once and drive it down again to the
depths whence it had come. Can every one say as much?

After this brief mental struggle I could look at Malespina, glad that
he was alive and sorry that he was hurt; and I remember, not without
pride, that I did all I could to show him my feelings. Poor little
mistress! How terrible must her anguish have been all this time. My
heart overflowed with pitiful kindness at the thought--I could have
run all the way to Vejer to say: "Señorita Doña Rosa, your Don Rafael
is safe and sound."

The luckless Malespina had been brought on board the _Santa Ana_ from
the _Nepomuceno_, which had also been captured, and with so many
wounded on board that it had been necessary, as we learnt, to
distribute them or they must have perished of neglect. When the father
and his daughter's _fiancé_ had exchanged the first greetings and
spoken of the absent ones on shore, the conversation turned on the
details of the battle. My master related all that had occurred on
board the _Trinidad_ and then he added: "But no one has told me
exactly what has become of Gravina. Was he taken prisoner, or has he
got off to Cadiz?"

"The Admiral," said Malespina, "stood a terrific fire from the
_Defiance_ and the _Revenge_. The _Neptune_, a Frenchman, came to her
assistance with the _San Ildefonso_ and the _San Justo_; but our
enemies were reinforced by the _Dreadnought_, the _Thunderer_, and the
_Polyphemus_; so that resistance was hopeless. Seeing the _Príncipe de
Astúrias_ with all her tackle cut, her masts overboard and her sides
riddled with balls, while Gravina himself and Escaño, his second in
command, were both wounded, they resolved on giving up the struggle
which was quite in vain for the battle was lost. Gravina hoisted the
signal to retire on the stump of a mast and sailed off for Cadiz,
followed by the _San Justo_, the _San Leandro_, the _Montañes_ and
three others; only regretting their inability to rescue the _San
Ildefonso_ which had fallen into the hands of the enemy."

"But tell us what happened on board the _Nepomuceno_," said my
master, deeply interested. "I can hardly believe that Churruca can be
dead; and, though every one tells me that he is, I cannot help
fancying that that wonderful man must still be alive somewhere on
earth."

But Malespina told him that it had been his misfortune to see Churruca
killed and said he would relate every detail. A few officers gathered
round him while I, as curious as they could be, was all ears in order
not to lose a syllable.

"Even as we came out of Cadiz," said Malespina, "Churruca had a
presentiment of disaster. He had voted against sailing out to sea, for
he knew the inferiority of our armament, and he also had little
confidence in Villeneuve's skill and judgment. All his predictions
were verified--all, even to his own death: for there is no doubt that
he had foreseen it as surely as he did our defeat. On the 19th he had
said to Apodaca, his brother-in-law, before going on board: 'Sooner
than surrender my ship, I will blow her up or go to the bottom. That
is the duty of every man who serves his king and country.' And the
same day, writing to a friend, he said: 'If you hear that my ship is
taken you will know that I am dead.'

"Indeed it was legible in his sad grave face that he looked forward
to nothing but a catastrophe. I believe that this conviction, and the
absolute impossibility of avoiding defeat while feeling himself strong
enough for his own part, seriously weighed upon his mind, for he was
as capable of great deeds as he was of noble thoughts.

"Churruca's was a religious as well as a superior mind. On the 21st,
at eleven in the morning, he called up all the soldiers and crew; he
bid them all kneel and said to his chaplain in solemn tones: 'Fulfil
your function, holy Father, and absolve these brave souls that know
not what this fight may have in store for them.' When the priest had
pronounced absolution Churruca desired them to stand up, and speaking
in friendly but audible tones he added: 'My children all:--In God's
name I promise heavenly bliss to all who die doing their duty. If one
of you shirks it he shall be shot on the spot; or, if he escapes my
notice or that of the gallant officers I have the honor to command,
his remorse shall pursue him so long as he crawls through the rest of
his miserable and dishonored days.'

"This harangue, as eloquent as it was wise, combining the ideas of
religion and of military duty, filled every man on board with
enthusiasm. Alas for all these brave hearts!--wasted like gold sunk
at the bottom of the ocean! Face to face with the English, Churruca
watched Villeneuve's preliminary manœuvres with entire disapproval,
and when the signal was given for the whole fleet to turn about--a
manœuvre which, as we know, reversed the order of battle--he told his
captain in so many words that this blunder had lost us the day. He
immediately understood the masterly plan struck out by Nelson of
cutting our line through the centre from the rear, and engaging the
whole fleet at once, dealing with our ships in separate divisions so
that they could not assist each other.

"The _Nepomuceno_ was at the end of the line. The _Royal Sovereign_
and the _Santa Ana_ opened fire and then all the ships in turn came
into action. Five English vessels under Collingwood attacked our ship;
two, however, passed on and Churruca had only three to deal with.

"We held out bravely against these odds till two in the afternoon,
suffering terribly, however, though we dealt double havoc on the foe.
Our Admiral seemed to have infused his heroic spirit into the crew and
soldiers, and the ship was handled and the broadsides delivered with
terrible promptitude and accuracy. The new recruits had learnt their
lesson in courage in no more than a couple of hours' apprenticeship,
and our defence struck the English not merely with dismay but with
astonishment.

"They were in fact forced to get assistance and bring up no less than
six against one. The two ships that had at first sailed past now
returned, and the _Dreadnought_ came alongside of us, with not more
than half a pistol-shot between her and our stern. You may imagine the
fire of these six giants pouring balls and small shot into a vessel of
74 guns. But our ship seemed positively to grow bigger in proportion
to the desperate bravery of her defenders. They themselves seemed to
grow in strength as their courage mounted, and seeing the dismay we
created in an enemy six times as strong, we could have believed
ourselves something more than men.

"Churruca, meanwhile, who was the brain of us all, directed the action
with gloomy calmness. Knowing that only care and skill could supply
the place of strength he economized our fire, trusting entirely to
careful aim, and the consequence was that each ball did terrible havoc
on the foe. He saw to everything, settled everything, and the shot
flew round him and over his head without his ever once changing color
even. That frail and delicate man, whose beautiful and melancholy
features looked so little fitted to dare such scenes of terror,
inspired us all with unheard-of courage, simply by a glance of his
eye.

"However, it was not the will of God that he should escape alive from
that storm of fire. Seeing that no one could hit one of the enemy's
ships which was battering us with impunity, he went down himself to
judge of the line of fire and succeeded in dismasting her. He was
returning to the quarter-deck when a cannon ball hit his right leg
with such violence as almost to take it off, tearing it across the
thigh in the most frightful manner. We rushed to support him and our
hero sank into my arms. It was a fearful moment. I still fancy I can
feel his heart beating under my hand--a heart which, even at that
terrible moment, beat only for his country. He sank rapidly. I saw him
make an effort to raise his head, which had fallen forward on his
breast; I saw him try to force a smile while his face was as white as
death, and he said, in a voice that was scarcely weaker than usual:
'It is nothing--go on firing.'

"His spirit revolted against death and he did all he could to conceal
the terrible sufferings of his mutilated frame, while his heart beat
more feebly every instant. We wanted to carry him down into the
cabin, but nothing would persuade him to quit the quarter-deck. At
last he yielded to our entreaties and understood that he must give up
the command. He called for Moyna, his lieutenant, and was told that he
was dead; then he called for the officer in command of the first
battery, and the latter though himself seriously wounded at once
mounted the quarter-deck and assumed the command.

"But from that moment the men lost heart; from giants they shrank to
pigmies; their courage was worn out and it was plain that we must
surrender. The consternation that had possessed me from the instant
when our hero fell into my arms had not prevented my observing the
terrible effect that this disaster had produced in the minds of all. A
sudden paralysis of soul and body seemed to have fallen on the crew;
they all stood petrified and speechless and the grief of losing their
beloved leader quite overpowered the disgrace of surrender.

"Quite half of the men were dead or wounded; most of the guns were
past serving; all the masts except the main-mast were gone by the
board and the rudder could not be used. Even in this deplorable plight
we made an attempt to follow the _Príncipe de Astúrias_ which had
given the signal to retreat, but the _Nepomuceno_ was mortally
wounded and could not move nor steer. Even then, in spite of the
wrecked state of the ship, in spite of the dismayed condition of the
men, in spite of a concurrence of circumstances to render our case
hopeless, not one of the six English captains attempted to board us.
They respected our ship even when she was at their mercy.

"Churruca, in the midst of his agony, ordered that the flag should be
nailed to the mast, for the ship should never surrender so long as he
breathed. The delay alas! could be but brief, for Churruca was going
rapidly, and we who supported him only wondered that a body so mangled
could still breathe; it was his indomitable spirit that kept him alive
added to a resolute determination to live, for he felt it his first
duty. He never lost consciousness till the very end, nor complained of
his sufferings, nor seemed to dread his approaching death; his sole
care and anxiety was that the crew should not know how dangerous his
condition was, so that no one should fail in his duty. He desired that
the men should be thanked for their heroic bravery, spoke a few words
to his brother-in-law, Ruiz de Apodaca, and, after sending a message
to his young wife he fixed his thoughts on God, whose name we heard
frequently on his parched lips, and died with the calm resignation of
a just man and the fortitude of a hero; bereft of the satisfaction of
victory but with no angry sense of defeat. In him duty and dignity
were equally combined, and discipline was second only to religion. As
a soldier he was resolute, as a man he was resigned, and without a
murmur or an accusing word he died as nobly as he had lived. We looked
at his body, not yet cold, and it seemed all a delusion--he must
surely wake to give us our orders; and we wept with less fortitude
than he had shown in dying, for in him we had lost all the valor and
enthusiasm that had borne us up.

"Well, the ship struck; and when the officers from the six vessels
that had destroyed her came on board each claimed the honor of
receiving the sword of our dead hero. Each exclaimed: 'He surrendered
to me!'--and for a few minutes they eagerly disputed the victory, each
for the ship he represented. Then they asked the officer who had taken
the command to which of the Englishmen he had struck. 'To all,' he
replied. 'The _Nepomuceno_ would never have surrendered to one.'

"The English gazed with sincere emotion on the body of the hapless
Churruca, for the fame of his courage and genius was known to them
and one of them spoke to this effect: 'A man of such illustrious
qualities ought never to be exposed to the risks of battle; he should
be kept to live and serve the interests of science and navigation.'
Then they prepared for dropping him overboard, the English marines and
seamen forming a line of honor alongside of the Spaniards; they
behaved throughout like noble-minded and magnanimous gentlemen.

"The number of our wounded was very considerable, and they were
transferred on board other English or captured ships. It was my lot to
be sent to this one which has suffered worse than most; however, they
count more on getting her into Gibraltar than any other, now that they
have lost the _Trinidad_ which was the finest and most coveted of our
ships."

Thus ended Malespina's narrative which was attentively listened to as
being that of an eye-witness. From what I heard I understood that a
tragedy just as fearful as that I myself had seen had been enacted on
board every ship of the fleet. "Good God!" said I to myself, "what
infinite misery! and all brought about by the obstinacy of a single
man!" And child as I was, I remember thinking: "One man, however mad
he may be, can never commit such extravagant follies as whole nations
sometimes plunge into at the bidding of a hundred wise ones."



CHAPTER XIV.


A large part of the night was spent in listening to Malespina's
narrative and the experiences of other officers. They were interesting
enough to keep me awake and I was so excited that I found great
difficulty afterwards in going to sleep at all. I could not get the
image of Churruca out of my mind as I had seen him, handsome and
strong, at Doña Flora's house. On that occasion, even, I had been
startled by the expression of intense sadness on the hero's features,
as if he had a sure presentiment of his near and painful death. His
noble life had come to an untimely end when he was only forty-four
years old, after twenty-nine years of honorable service as a soldier,
a navigator, and a man of science--for Churruca was all of these,
besides being a noble and cultivated gentlemen. I was still thinking
of all these things when, at length, my brain surrendered to fatigue
and I fell asleep on the morning of the 23rd, my youthful nature
having got the better of my excitement and curiosity. But in my
sleep, which was long if not quiet, I was still haunted by nightmare
visions, as was natural in my overwrought state of mind, hearing the
roar of cannon, the tumult of battle and the thunder of billows;
meanwhile I fancied I was serving out ammunition, climbing the
rigging, rushing about between decks to encourage the gunners and even
standing on the quarter-deck in command of the vessel. I need hardly
say that in this curious but visionary battle I routed all the English
past, present, or to come, with as much ease as though their ships
were made of paper and their cannon-balls were bread-pills. I had a
thousand men-of-war under my command, each larger than the _Trinidad_,
and they moved before me with as much precision as the toy-ships with
which I and my comrades had been wont to play in the puddles of _la
Caleta_.

At last, however, all this glory faded away, which, as it was but a
dream, is scarcely to be wondered at when we see how even the reality
vanishes. It was all over when I opened my eyes and remembered how
small a part I had actually played in the stupendous catastrophe I had
witnessed. Still--strange to say--even when wide awake I heard cannon
and the all-dreadful tumult of war, with shouts and a clatter that
told of some great turmoil on deck. I thought I must still be
dreaming; I sat up on the sofa on which I had fallen asleep; I
listened with all my ears, and certainly a thundering shout of "God
save the King" left no doubt in my mind that the _Santa Ana_ was
fighting once more.

I went out of the cabin and studied the situation. The weather had
moderated; to the windward a few battered ships were in sight, and two
of them, Englishmen, had opened fire on the _Santa Ana_ which was
defending herself with the aid of two others, a Frenchman and a
Spaniard. I could not understand the sudden change in the aspect of
affairs. Were we no longer prisoners of war? I looked up--our flag was
flying in the place of the Union Jack. What could have happened?--or
rather what was happening? For the drama was in progress.

On the quarter-deck stood a man who, I concluded, must be Alava, and
though suffering from several wounds he still had strength enough to
command this second action, which seemed likely enough to recover the
honor his good ship had lost in the disaster of the first. The
officers were encouraging the sailors who were serving those guns that
could still be worked, while a detachment kept guard over the English,
who had been disarmed and shut up in the lower deck. Their officers
who had been our jailers were now become our prisoners.

I understood it all. The brave commander of the _Santa Ana_, Don
Ignacio de Alva, seeing that we were within hail of some Spanish
ships, which had come out of Cadiz in hope of rescuing some of our
captured vessels and to take off the survivors from such as might be
sinking, had addressed a stirring harangue to his disheartened crew
who responded to his enthusiasm by a supreme effort. By a sudden rush
they had disarmed the English who were in charge and hoisted the
Spanish flag once more. The _Santa Ana_ was free, but she had to fight
for life, a more desperate struggle perhaps than the first had been.

This bold attempt--one of the most honorable episodes of the battle of
Trafalgar--was made on board a dismasted ship, that had lost her
rudder, with half her complement of men killed or wounded, and the
other half in a wretched condition both moral and physical. However,
the deed once done we had to face the consequences; two Englishmen,
considerably battered no doubt, fired on the _Santa Ana_; but the
_Asís_, the _Montañes_, and the _Rayo_--three ships that had got off
with Gravina on the 21st--opportunely came to the rescue, having come
out with a view to recapturing the prizes. The brave cripples rushed
into the desperate action, with even more courage perhaps than into
the former battle, for their unhealed wounds spurred them to fury and
they seemed to fight with greater ardor in proportion as they had less
life to lose.

All the incidents of the dreadful 21st were repeated before my eyes;
the enthusiasm was tremendous, but the hands were so few that twice
the will and energy were needed. This heroic action fills indeed but a
brief page in history, for, by the side of the great event which is
now known as the Battle of Trafalgar, such details are dwarfed or
disappear altogether like a transient spark in a night of gloom and
horror.

The next thing that happened to me personally cost me some bitter
tears. Not finding my master at once I felt sure he was in some
danger, so I went down to the upper gun-deck and there I found him,
training a cannon. His trembling hand had snatched the linstock from
that of a wounded sailor and he was trying, with the feeble sight of
his right eye, to discover to what point in the foe he had better send
the missile. When the piece went off he turned to me trembling with
satisfaction, and said in a scarcely audible voice:

"Ah ha! Paca need not laugh at me now. We shall return to Cadiz in
triumph."

Finally we won the fight. The English perceived the impossibility of
recapturing the _Santa Ana_ when, besides the three ships already
mentioned, two other Frenchmen and a frigate came up to her assistance
in the very thick of the fray.

We were free, and by a glorious effort; but at the very moment of
victory we saw most clearly the peril we were in, for the _Santa Ana_
was now so completely disabled that we could only be towed into Cadiz.
The French frigate _Themis_ sent a cable on board and put her head to
the North, but what could she do with such a deadweight in tow as the
_Santa Ana_, which could do little enough to help herself with the
ragged sails that still clung to her one remaining mast? The other
ships that had supported her--the _Rayo_, the _Montañes_, and the _San
Francisco de Asís_, were forced to proceed at full sail to the
assistance of the _San Juan_ and the _Bahama_, which were also in the
hands of the English. There we were, alone, with no help but the
frigate that was doing her best for us--a child leading a giant. What
would become of us if the enemy--as was very probable--recovering
from their repulse, were to fall upon us with renewed energy and
reinforcements? However, Providence thought good to protect us; the
wind favored us, and our frigate gently leading the way, we found
ourselves nearing Cadiz.

Only five leagues from port! What an unspeakable comfort! Our miseries
seemed ended; ere long we should set foot on _terra firma_, and though
we brought news no doubt of a terrible disaster, we were bringing
relief and joy to many faithful souls who were suffering mortal
anguish in the belief that those who were returning alive and well had
all perished.

The valor of the Spaniards did not avail to rescue any ships but ours,
for they were too late and had to return without being able to give
chase to the English ships that kept guard over the _San Juan_, the
_Bahama_, and the _San Ildefonso_. We were still four leagues from
land when we saw them making towards us. A southerly gale was blowing
up and it was clear to all on board the _Santa Ana_ that if we did not
soon get into port we should have a bad time of it. Once more we were
filled with anxiety; once more we lost hope almost in sight of safety,
and when a few hours more on the cruel sea would have seen us safe
and sound in harbor. Night was coming on black and angry; the sky was
covered with dark clouds which seemed to lie on the face of the ocean,
and the lurid flashes which lighted them up from time to time added
terror to the gloom. The sea waxing in fury every instant, as if it
were not yet satiated, raved and roared with hungry rage, demanding
more and yet more victims. The remnant of the mighty fleet which a
short time since had defied its fury combined with that of the foe was
not to escape from the wrath of the angry element which, implacable as
an ancient god and pitiless to the last, was as cruel to the victor as
to the conquered.

I could read the signs of deep depression in the face not only of my
master but of the Admiral, Alava, who, in spite of his wounds, still
kept on his feet and signalled to the frigate to make all possible
speed; but, instead of responding to his very natural haste, the
_Themis_ prepared to shorten sail so as to be able to keep before the
gale. I shared the general dismay and could not help reflecting on the
irony with which Fate mocks at our surest calculations and best
founded hopes, on the swiftness with which she flings us from happy
security to the depth of misery. Here we were, on the wide ocean, that
majestic emblem of human life. A gust of wind and it is completely
transformed, the light ripple which gently caressed the vessel's side
swells into a mountain of water that lashes and beats it, the soft
music of the wavelets in a calm turns to a loud, hoarse voice,
threatening the frail bark which flings itself into the waters as
though its keel were unable to balance it, to rise the next moment
buffeted and tossed by the very wave that has lifted it from the
abyss. A lovely day ends in a fearful night, or, on the other hand, a
radiant moon that illumines an infinite sky and soothes the soul,
pales before an angry sun at whose light all nature quakes with
dismay.

We had experienced all these viscissitudes, and in addition, those
which are the result of the will of man. We had suffered shipwreck in
the midst of defeat; after escaping once we had been compelled to
fight again, this time with success; and then, when we thought
ourselves out of our troubles, when we hailed Cadiz with delight, we
were once more at the mercy of the tempest which had treacherously
deluded us only to destroy us outright. Such a succession of adverse
fortune seemed monstrous--it was like the malignant aberrations of a
divinity trying to do all the harm he could devise to us hapless
mortals--but it was only the natural course of things at sea,
combined with the fortune of war. Given a combination of these two
fearful forces and none but an idiot can be astonished at the
disasters that must ensue.

Another circumstance contributed to my master's distress of mind, and
to mine too, that evening. Since the rescue of the _Santa Ana_
Malespina had disappeared. At last, after seeking him everywhere, I
discovered him lying in a heap on a sofa in the cabin. I went up to
him and saw that he was very pale; I spoke to him but he could not
answer. He tried to move but fell back gasping.

"Are you wounded?" I asked. "I will fetch some one to attend to you."

"It is nothing," he said. "Can you get me some water?"

I went at once for my master.

"What is the matter--this wound in your hand?" said he, examining the
young officer.

"It is more than that," replied Don Rafael sadly, and he put his hand
to his right side close by his sword-belt. And, then, as if the effort
of pointing out his wound and speaking those few words had been too
much for his weakened frame, he closed his eyes and neither spoke nor
moved for some minutes.

"This is serious," said my master anxiously.

"It is more than serious," said a surgeon who had come to examine
him. Malespina, deeply depressed by finding himself in so evil a
plight, and believing himself past all hope, had not even reported
himself as wounded, but had crept away to this corner where he had
given himself up to his reflections and memories. He believed that he
was killed and he would not have the wound touched. The surgeon
assured him that though it was dangerous it need not prove mortal,
though he owned that if he did not get into port that night so that he
might be properly treated on shore, his life, like that of the rest of
the wounded, was in the greatest danger. The _Santa Ana_ had lost
ninety-seven men killed on the 21st, and a hundred and forty wounded;
all the resources of the surgery were exhausted and many indispensable
articles were altogether wanting. Malespina's catastrophe was not the
only one during the rescue, and it had been the will of Heaven that
another man very near and dear to me should share his fate. Marcial
had been wounded; though at first his indomitable spirit had kept him
up and he hardly felt the pain and depression, before long he
submitted to be carried down into the cock-pit, confessing that he was
very badly hit. My master sent a surgeon to attend to him, but all he
would say was that the wound would have been trifling in a man of
five-and-twenty--but Marcial was past sixty.

Meanwhile the _Rayo_ passed to leeward and we hailed her. Alava begged
her to enquire of the _Themis_ whether the captain thought he could
get us into Cadiz, and when he roundly said, No, the Admiral asked
whether the _Rayo_, which was almost unharmed, expected to get in
safely. Her captain thought she might and it was agreed that Gardoqui,
who was severely wounded, and several others, should be sent on board
her, among them Don Rafael Malespina. Don Alonso obtained that Marcial
should also be transferred to her in consideration for his age which
greatly aggravated his case, and he sent me, too, in charge of them as
page or sick-nurse, desiring me never to lose sight of them for an
instant till I saw them safe in the hands of their family, at Cadiz,
or even at Vejer. I prepared to obey him, though I tried to persuade
my master that he too ought to come on board the _Rayo_ for greater
safety, but he would not even listen to such a suggestion.

"Fate," he said, "has brought me on board this ship, and in it I will
stay till it shall please God to save us or no. Alava is very bad,
most of the officers are more or less hurt, and I may be able to be of
some service here. I am not one of those who run away from danger; on
the contrary, since the defeat of the 21st I have sought it; I long
for the moment when my presence may prove to be of some use. If you
reach home before me, as I hope you will, tell Paca that a good sailor
is the slave of his country, that I am very glad that I came--that I
do not regret it--on the contrary. Tell her that she is to be glad,
too, when she sees me, and that my comrades would certainly have
thought badly of me if I had not come. How could I have done
otherwise? You--do you not think that I did well to come?"

"Of course, certainly," I replied, anxious to soothe his agitation,
"who doubts it?" For his excitement was so great that the absurdity of
asking the opinion of a page-boy had not even occurred to him.

"I see you are a reasonable fellow," he went on, much comforted by my
admission. "I see you have a noble and patriotic soul. But Paca never
sees anything excepting through her own selfishness, as she has a very
odd temper and has taken it into her head that fleets and guns are
useless inventions, she cannot understand why I.... In short, I know
that she will be furious when she sees me and then--as we have not won
the battle, she will say one thing and another--oh! she will drive me
mad! However, I will not mind her. You--what do you say? Was I not
right to come?"

"Yes, indeed, I think so," I said once more: "You were very right to
come. It shows that you are a brave officer."

"Well then go--go to Paca, go and tell her so, and you will see what
she will say," he went on more excited than ever. "And tell her that I
am safe and sound, and my presence here is indispensable. In point of
fact, I was the principal leader in the rescue of the _Santa Ana_. If
I had not trained those guns--who knows, who knows? You--what do you
think? We may do more yet; if the wind favors us to-morrow morning we
may rescue some more ships. Yes sir, for I have a plan in my head....
We shall see, we shall see. And so good bye, my boy. Be careful of
what you say to Paca."

"I will not forget," said I. "She shall know that if it had not been
for you we should not have recaptured the _Santa Ana_, and that if you
are lucky you may still bring a couple of dozen ships into Cadiz."

"A couple of dozen!--no man; that is a large number. Two ships, I
say--or perhaps three. In short, I am sure I was right to join the
fleet. She will be furious and will drive me mad when I get home
again; but I was right, I say--I am sure I was right." With these
words he left me and I saw him last sitting in a corner of the cabin.
He was praying, but he told his beads with as little display as
possible, for he did not choose to be detected at his devotions. My
master's last speech had convinced me that he had lost his wits and,
seeing him pray, I understood how his enfeebled spirit had struggled
in vain to triumph over the exhaustion of age, and now, beaten in
strife, turned to God for support and consolation. Doña Francisca was
right; for many years my master had been past all service but prayer.

We left the ship according to orders. Don Rafael and Marcial with the
rest of the wounded officers were carefully let down into the boats by
the strong-armed sailors. The violence of the sea made this a long and
difficult business, but at last it was done and two boat loads were
pulled off to the _Rayo_. The passage, though short was really
frightful; but at last, though there were moments when it seemed to me
that we must be swallowed up by the waves, we got alongside of the
_Rayo_ and with great difficulty clambered on board.



CHAPTER XV.


"Out of the frying-pan into the fire," said Marcial, when they laid
him down on deck. "However, when the captain commands the men must
obey. _Rayo_ is an unlucky name for this cursed ship. They say she
will be in Cadiz by midnight, and I say she won't. We shall see what
we shall see."

"What do you say, Marcial? we shall not get in?" I asked in much
alarm.

"You, master Gabrielito, you know nothing about such matters," said
he.

"But when Don Alonso and the officers of the _Santa Ana_ say that the
_Rayo_ will get in to-night.... She must get in when they say she
will."

"Do not you know, you little landlubber, that the gentlemen of the
quarter-deck are far more often mistaken than we are in the fo'castle?
If not, what was the admiral of the fleet about?--_Mr. Corneta_--devil
take him! You see he had not brains enough to work a fleet. Do you
suppose that if _Mr. Corneta_ had asked my advice we should have lost
the battle?"

"And you think we shall not get into Cadiz?"

"I say this old ship is as heavy as lead itself and not to be trusted
either. She rides the sea badly and will not answer her helm. Why, she
is as lop-sided and crippled as I am! If you try to put her to port
off she goes to starboard."

In point of fact the _Rayo_ was considered by all as bad a ship as
ever sailed. But in spite of that, in spite of her advanced age--for
she had been afloat nearly fifty-six years--as she was still sound she
did not seem to be in any danger though the gale increased in fury
every minute, for we were almost close to port. At any rate, did it
not stand to reason that the _Santa Ana_ was in greater jeopardy,
dismasted and rudderless, in tow of a frigate?

Marcial was carried to the cock-pit and Malespina to the captain's
cabin. When we had settled him there, with the rest of the wounded
officers, I suddenly heard a voice that was familiar to me though for
the moment I could not identify it with any one I knew. However, on
going up to the group whence the stentorian accents proceeded,
drowning every other voice, what was my surprise at recognizing Don
José Maria Malespina! I ran to tell him that his son was on board, and
the worthy parent at once broke off the string of rodomontade that he
was pouring forth and flew to the wounded man. His delight was great
at finding him alive; he had come out of Cadiz because he could no
longer endure the suspense and he must know what had become of his boy
at any cost.

"Why your wound is a mere trifle," he said, embracing his son. "A mere
scratch! But you are not used to wounds; you are quite a mollycoddle,
Rafael. Oh, if only you had been old enough to go with me to fight in
Rousillon! You would have learnt there what wounds are--something like
wounds! Do you know a ball hit me in the fleshy part of the arm, ran
up to my shoulder and then right round the shoulder blade and out by
the belt. A most extraordinary case, that was. But in three days I was
all right again and commanding the artillery at Bellegarde." He went
on to give the following account of his presence on board the _Rayo_.

"We knew the issue of the battle at Cadiz, by the evening of the 21st.
I tell you, gentlemen--no one would listen to me when I talked of
reforming our artillery and you see the consequences. Well, as soon as
I knew the worst and had learnt that Gravina had come in with a few
ships I went to see if the _San Juan Nepomuceno_, on board which you
were, was one of them; but they told me she had been captured. You
cannot imagine my anxiety; I could hardly doubt that you were dead,
particularly when I heard how many had been killed on board your ship.
However, I am one of those men who must follow a matter up to the end,
and knowing that some of the ships in port were preparing to put out
to sea in hope of picking up derelicts and rescuing captured vessels,
I determined to set out without a moment's delay and sail in one of
them. I explained my wishes to Solano and then to the Admiral in
command, my old friend Escaño, and after some hesitation they allowed
me on board. I embarked this morning, and enquired of every one in the
_Rayo_ for some news of you and of the _San Juan_, but I could get no
comfort; nay, quite the contrary, for I heard that Churruca was killed
and that his ship, after a glorious defence, had struck to the enemy.
You may fancy my anxiety. How far was I from supposing this morning,
when we rescued the _Santa Ana_, that you were on board! If I had but
known it for certain I would have redoubled my efforts in the orders I
issued--by the kind permission of these gentlemen; Alava's ship should
have been free in two minutes."

The officers who were standing round us looked at each other with a
shrug as they heard Don José's last audacious falsehood. I could
gather from their smiles and winks that he had afforded them much
diversion all day with his vainglorious fictions, for the worthy
gentleman could put no bridle on his indefatigable tongue, even under
the most critical and painful circumstances.

The surgeon now said that his patients ought to be left to rest and
that there must be no conversation in their presence, particularly no
reference to the recent disaster. Don José Maria, however,
contradicted him flatly, saying that it was good to keep their spirits
up by talking to them.

"In the war in Rousillon," he added, "those who were badly
wounded--and I was several times--sent for the soldiers to dance and
play the guitar in the infirmary; and I am very certain that this
treatment did more to cure us than all your plasters and dosing."

"Yes, and in the wars with the French Republic," said an Andalusian
officer who wanted to trump Don José's trick, "it was a regular thing
that a _corps de ballet_ should be attached to the ambulance corps,
and an opera company as well. It left the surgeons and apothecaries
nothing to do, for a few songs, and a short course of pirouettes and
capers set them to rights again, as good as new."

"Come, come!" cried Malespina, "this is too much. You do not mean to
say that music and dancing can heal a wound?"

"You said so."

"Yes, but that was only once and it is not likely to occur again.
Perhaps you think it not unlikely that we may have such another war as
that in Rousillon? The most bloody, the best conducted, the most
splendidly planned war since the days of Epaminondas! Certainly not.
Every thing about it was exceptional; and you may believe me when I
say it, for I was in the thick of it, from the Introit to the last
blessing. It is to my experience there that I owe my knowledge of
artillery--did you never hear me spoken of? I am sure you must
recognize my name. Well, you must know that I have in my head a
magnificent scheme, and if one of these days it is only realized we
shall hear of no more disasters like that of the 21st. Yes,
gentlemen," he said, looking round at the three or four officers who
were listening, with consummate gravity and conceit: "Something must
be done for the country. Something must be devised--something
stupendous, to recoup us at once for our losses and secure victory to
our fleets for ever and ever, Amen."

"Let us hear, Don José," said one of the audience. "Explain your
scheme to us."

"Well, I am devoting my mind to the construction of 300-pounders."

"Three-hundred-pounders!" cried the officers with shouts of laughter
and derision. "Why, the largest we carry is a 36-pounder."

"Mere toys! Just imagine the ruin that would be dealt by a 300-pound
gun fired into the enemy's fleet," said Malespina. "But what the devil
is that?" he added putting out his hand to keep himself from falling,
for the _Rayo_ rolled so heavily that it was very difficult for any
one to keep his feet.

"The gale is stiffening and I doubt our getting into Cadiz to-night,"
said one of the officers moving away. The worthy man had now but two
listeners, but he proceeded with his mendacious harangue all the same.

"The first thing must be to build a ship from 95 to 100 yards in
length."

"The Devil you will! That would be a snug little craft with a
vengeance!" said one of the officers. "A hundred yards! Why the
_Trinidad_--God rest her--was but seventy and everybody thought her
too long. She did not sail well you know and was very difficult to
handle."

"It does not take much to astonish you I see," Malespina went on.
"What is a hundred yards? Why, much larger ships than that might be
built. And you must know that I would build her of iron."

"Of iron!" and his listeners went into fits of laughter.

"Yes sir, of iron. Perhaps you are not familiar with the science of
hydrostatics? There can be no difficulty in building an iron ship of
7000 tons."

"And the _Trinidad_ was of 4000! and that was too big. But do you not
see that in order to move such a monster you would want such gigantic
tackle that no human power could work it?"

"Not a bit of it!--Besides, my good sir, who told you that I was so
stupid as to think that I could trust to the wind alone to propel my
ship? If you knew--I have an idea.--But I do not care to explain my
scheme to you for you would not understand me."

At this point of his discourse Don José was so severely shaken that he
fell on all fours. But not even this could stop his tongue. Another of
his audience walked away, leaving only one who had to listen and to
keep up the conversation.

"What a pitching and tossing," said the old man. "I should not wonder
if we were driven on shore.--Well, as I was saying--I should move my
monster by an invention of my own--can you guess what?--By steam. To
this end I should construct a peculiar kind of machine in which the
steam, expanding and contracting alternately inside two cylinders,
would put certain wheels in motion; then...."

The officer would listen no longer, and though he had no commission on
board the ship nor any fixed duty, being one of the rescued, he went
off to assist in working the ship, which was hard enough to do as the
tempest increased. Malespina was left alone with me for an audience,
and at first I thought he would certainly cease talking, not thinking
me capable of sustaining the conversation. But, for my sins, it would
seem that he credited me with more merit than I could lay claim to,
for he turned to me and went on:

"You understand what I mean? Seven thousand tons, and steam working
two wheels, and then...."

"Yes señor, I understand you perfectly," I replied, to see if he would
be silent, for I did not care to hear him, nor did the violent motion
of the ship which threatened us with immediate peril at all incline my
mind to dissertations on the aggrandizement of the Spanish navy.

"I see," he continued, "that you know how to appreciate me and value
my inventions. You see at once that such a ship as I describe would
be invincible, and as available for attack as for defence. With four
or five discharges it could rout thirty of the enemy's ships."

"Would not their cannon do it some damage?" I asked timidly, and
speaking out of civility rather than from any interest I felt in the
matter.

"Your observation is a very shrewd one my little gentleman, and proves
that you really appreciate my great invention. But to avoid injury
from the enemy's guns I should cover my ship with thick plates of
steel. I should put on it a breastplate, in fact, such as warriors
wore of old. With this protection it could attack the foe, while their
projectiles would have no more effect on its sides than a broadside of
bread-pills flung by a child. It is a wonderful idea I can tell you,
this notion of mine. Just fancy our navy with two or three ships of
this kind! What would become of the English fleet then, in spite of
its Nelsons and Collingwoods?"

"But they might make such ships themselves," I returned eagerly and
feeling the force of this argument. "The English would do the same,
and then the conditions of the battle would be equal again."

Don José was quite dumbfounded by this suggestion and for a minute
did not know what to say, but his inexhaustible imagination did not
desert him for long and he answered, but somewhat crossly:

"And who said, impertinent boy, that I should be such a fool as to
divulge the secret so that the English might learn it? These ships
would be constructed in perfect secrecy without a word being whispered
even to any one. Suppose a fresh war were to break out. We should defy
the English: 'Come on, gentlemen,' we should say, 'we are ready, quite
ready.' The common ships would put out to sea and begin the action
when lo and behold! out come two or three of these iron monsters into
the thick of the fight, vomiting steam and smoke and turning here and
there without troubling themselves about the wind; they go wherever
they are wanted, splintering the wooden sides of the enemy's ships by
the blows of their sharp bows, and then with a broadside or two.... It
would all be over in a quarter of an hour."

I did not care to raise any further difficulties for the conviction
that our vessel was in the greatest danger quite kept my mind from
dwelling on ideas so inappropriate to our critical situation. In fact,
I never thought again of the monster ship of the old man's fancy till
thirty years after when we first heard of the application of steam to
purposes of navigation; and again when, half-way through the century,
our fine frigate the _Numancia_ actually realized the extravagant
dreams of the braggart of Trafalgar.

Half a century later I remembered Don José Maria Malespina and I said:
"He seemed to us a bombastic liar; but conceptions which are
extravagant in one place and time, when born in due season become
marvellous realities! And since living to see this particular instance
of the fact, I have ceased to think any Utopia impossible, and the
greatest visionaries seem to me possible men of genius."

I left Don José in the cabin and ascended the companion-way, to see
what was going forward, and as soon as I was on deck I understood the
dangerous situation of the _Rayo_. The gale not only prevented her
getting into Cadiz, but was driving her towards the coast where she
must inevitably be wrecked on the rocky shore. Melancholy as was the
fate of the abandoned _Santa Ana_ it could not be more desperate than
ours. I looked with dismay into the faces of the officers and crew to
see if I could read hope in any one of them, but despair was written
in all. I glanced at the sky--it was black and awful; I gazed at the
sea--it was raging with fury. God was our only hope--and He had shown
us no mercy since the fatal 21st!

The _Rayo_ was running northwards. I could understand, from what I
heard the men about me saying, that we were driving past the reef of
Marajotes--past Hazte Afuera--Juan Bola--Torregorda, and at last past
the entrance to Cadiz. In vain was every effort made to put her head
round to enter the bay. The old ship, like a frightened horse, refused
to obey; the wind and waves carried her on, due north, with
irresistible fury and science could do nothing to prevent it.

We flew past the bay, and could make out to our right, Rota, Punta
Candor, Punta de Meca, Regla and Chipiona. There was not a doubt that
the _Rayo_ must be driven on shore, close to the mouth of the
Guadalquivir. I need hardly say that the sails were close reefed and
that as this proved insufficient in such a furious tempest the
topmasts were lowered; at last it was even thought necessary to cut
away the masts to prevent her from foundering. In great storms a ship
has to humble herself, to shrink from a stately tree to a lowly plant;
and as her masts will no more yield than the branches of an oak, she
is under the sad necessity of seeing them amputated and losing her
limbs to save her life.

The loss of the ship was now inevitable. The main and mizzen-masts
were cut through and sent overboard, and our only hope was that we
might be able to cast anchor near the coast. The anchors were got
ready and the chains and cables strengthened. We were now running
right on shore, and two cannon were fired as a signal that we wanted
help; for as we could clearly distinguish fires we kept up our hope
that there must be some one to come to our rescue. Some were of
opinion that a Spanish or English ship had already been wrecked here
and that the fires we saw had been lighted by the destitute crew. Our
anxiety increased every instant, and as for myself I firmly believed
that I was face to face with a cruel death. I paid no attention to
what was doing on board, being much too agitated to think of anything
but my end, which seemed inevitable. If the vessel ran on a rock, what
man could swim through the breakers that still divided us from the
coast? The most dangerous spot in a storm is just where the waves are
hurled revolving against the shore, as if they were trying to scoop it
out and drag away whole tracts of earth into the gulfs below. The blow
of a wave as it dashes forward and its gluttonous fury as it rushes
back again, is such as no human strength can stand against.

At last, after some hours of mortal anguish, the keel of the _Rayo_
came upon a sand bank and there she stuck. The hull and the remaining
masts shivered as she struck; she seemed to be trying to cut her way
through the obstacle; but it was too much for her; after heaving
violently for a few moments, her stern went slowly down with fearful
creaks and groans, and she remained steady. All was over now, nothing
remained to be done but to save ourselves by getting across the tract
of sea which separated us from the land. This seemed almost impossible
in the boats we had on board; our best hope was that they might send
us help from the shore, for it was evident that the crew of a lately
wrecked vessel was encamped there, and one of the government cutters,
which had been placed on the coast by the naval authorities for
service in such cases, must surely be in the neighborhood. The _Rayo_
fired again and again, and we watched with desperate impatience, for
if some succour did not reach us soon we must all go down in the ship.
The hapless crippled mass whose timbers had parted as she struck
seemed likely to hasten her end by the violence of her throes, and
the moment could not be far off when her ribs must fall asunder and we
should be left at the mercy of the waves with nothing to cling to but
the floating wreck.

Those on shore could do nothing for us, but by God's mercy our signal
guns were heard by a sloop which had put to sea at Chipiona and which
now approached us, keeping, however, at a respectful distance. As soon
as her broad mainsail came in view we knew that we were saved, and the
captain of the _Rayo_ gave orders to insure our all getting on board
without confusion in such imminent peril. My first idea, when I saw
the boats being got out, was to run to the two men who most interested
me on board: Marcial and young Malespina, both wounded, though
Marcial's was not a serious case. I found the young officer in a very
bad way and saying to the men around him: "I will not be moved--leave
me to die here."

Marcial had crawled up on deck and was lying on the planks so utterly
prostrate and indifferent that I was really terrified at his
appearance. He looked up as I went near him and taking my hand said in
piteous tones: "Gabrielillo, do not forsake me!"

"To land!" I cried trying to encourage him, "we are all going on
shore." But he only shook his head sadly as if he foresaw some
immediate disaster.

I tried to help him up, but after the first effort he let himself drop
as if he were dead. "I cannot," he said at length. The bandages had
come off his wound and in the confusion of our desperate situation no
one had thought of applying fresh ones. I dressed it as well as I
could, comforting him all the time with hopeful words; I even went so
far as to laugh at his appearance to see if that would rouse him. But
the poor old man could not smile; he let his head droop gloomily on
his breast, as insensible to a jest as he was to consolation. Thinking
only of him, I did not observe that the boats were putting off. Among
the first to be put on board were Don José Malespina and his son; my
first impulse had been to follow them in obedience to my master's
orders, but the sight of the wounded sailor was too much for me.
Malespina could not need me, while Marcial was almost a dead man and
still clung to my hand with his cold fingers, saying again and again:
"Gabrielillo, do not leave me."

The boats labored hard through the breakers, but notwithstanding, when
once the wounded had been moved the embarkation went forward rapidly,
the sailors flinging themselves in by a rope or taking a flying leap.
Several jumped into the water and saved themselves by swimming. It
flashed through my mind as a terrible problem, by which of these means
I could escape with my life, and there was no time to lose for the
_Rayo_ was breaking up; the after-part was all under water and the
cracking of the beams and timbers, which were in many places half
rotten, warned me that the huge hulk would soon cease to exist. Every
one was rushing to the boats, and the sloop, which kept at a safe
distance, very skilfully handled so as to avoid shipping water, took
them all on board. The empty boats came back at once and were filled
again in no time.

Seeing the helpless state in which Marcial was lying I turned,
half-choked with tears, to some sailors and implored them to pick him
up and carry him to a boat; but it was as much as they could do to
save themselves. In my desperation I tried to lift him and drag him to
the ship's side, but my small strength was hardly enough to raise his
helpless arms. I ran about the deck, seeking some charitable soul; and
some seemed on the point of yielding to my entreaties, but their own
pressing danger choked their kind impulses. To understand such
cold-blooded cruelty you must have gone through such a scene of
horror; every feeling of humanity vanishes before the stronger
instinct of self-preservation which becomes a perfect possession, and
sometimes reduces man to the level of a wild beast.

"Oh the wretches! they will do nothing to save you, Marcial," I cried
in bitter anguish.

"Let them be," he said. "They are the same at sea as on shore. But you
child, be off, run, or they will leave you behind." I do not know
which seemed to me the most horrible alternative--to remain on board
with the certainty of death, or to go and leave the miserable man
alone. At length, however, natural instinct proved the stronger and I
took a few steps towards the ship's side; but I turned back to embrace
the poor old man once more and then I ran as fast as I could to the
spot where the last men were getting into the boat. There were but
four, and when I reached the spot I saw that all four had jumped into
the sea and were swimming to meet the boat which was still a few yards
distant.

"Take me!" I shrieked, seeing that they were leaving me behind. "I am
coming too!--Take me too!"

I shouted with all my strength but they either did not hear or did not
heed me. Dark as it was, I could make out the boat and even knew when
they were getting into it, though I could hardly say that I saw them.
I was on the point of flinging myself overboard to take my chance of
reaching the boat when, at that very moment, it had vanished--there
was nothing to be seen but the black waste of waters. Every hope of
escape had vanished with it. I looked round in despair--nothing was
visible but the waves preying on what was left of the ship; not a star
in the sky, not a spark on shore--the sloop had sailed away.

Beneath my feet, which I stamped with rage and anguish, the hull of
the _Rayo_ was going to pieces, nothing remained indeed but the bows,
and the deck was covered with wreck; I was actually standing on a sort
of raft which threatened every moment to float away at the mercy of
the waves.

I flew back to Marcial. "They have left me, they have left us!" I
cried. The old man sat up with great difficulty, leaning on one hand
and his dim eyes scanned the scene and the darkness around us.

"Nothing...." he said. "Nothing to be seen; no boats, no land, no
lights, no beach.--They are not coming back!"

As he spoke a tremendous crash was heard beneath our feet in the
depths of the hold under the bows, long since full of water; the deck
gave a great lurch and we were obliged to clutch at a capstan to save
ourselves from falling into the sea. We could not stand up; the last
remains of the _Rayo_ were on the point of being engulfed. Still, hope
never forsakes us; and I, at any rate, consoled myself with the belief
that things might remain as they were now till day-break and with
observing that the fore-mast had not yet gone overboard. I looked up
at the tall mast, round which some tatters of sails and ends of ropes
still flapped in the wind, and which stood like a dishevelled giant
pointing heavenward and imploring mercy with the persistency of
despair; and I fully determined that if the rest of the hull sank
under water I would climb it for a chance of life.

Marcial laid himself down on the deck.

"There is no hope, Gabrielillo," he said. "They have no idea of coming
back, nor could they if they tried in such a sea. Well, since it is
God's will, we must both die where we are. For me, it matters not; I
am an old man, and of no use for any earthly thing.--But you, you are
a mere child and you...." But here his voice broke with emotion.
"You," he went on, "have no sins to answer for, you are but a child.
But I.... Still, when a man dies like this--what shall I say--like a
dog or a cat--there is no need, I have heard, for the priest to give
him absolution--all that is needed is that he should make his peace
himself with God. Have you not heard that said?"

I do not know what answer I made; I believe I said nothing, but only
cried miserably.

"Keep your heart up, Gabrielillo," he went on. "A man must be a man,
and it is at a time like this that you get to know the stuff you are
made of. You have no sins to answer for, but I have. They say that
when a man is dying and there is no priest for him to confess to, he
ought to tell whatever he has on his conscience to any one who will
listen to him. Well, I will confess to you Gabrielillo; I will tell
you all my sins, and I expect God will hear me through you and then he
will forgive me."

Dumb with terror and awe at the solemnity of his address, I threw my
arms round the old man who went on speaking.

"Well, I say, I have always been a Christian, a Catholic, Apostolic
Roman; and that I always was and still am devoted to the Holy Virgin
del Cármen, to whom I pray for help at this very minute; and I say too
that though for twenty years I have never been to confession nor
received the sacrament, it has not been my fault, but that of this
cursed service, and because one always puts it off from one Sunday to
the next. But it is a trouble to me now that I failed to do it, and I
declare and swear that I pray God and the Virgin and all the Saints to
punish me if it was my fault; for this year, if I have never been to
confession or communion, it was all because of those cursed English
that forced me to go to sea again just when I really meant to make it
up with the Church. I never stole so much as a pin's head, and I never
told a lie, except for the fun of it now and then. I repent of the
thrashings I gave my wife thirty years ago--though I think she rightly
deserved them, for her temper was more venomous than a scorpion's
sting. I never failed to obey the captain's order in the least thing;
I hate no one on earth but the 'great-coats,' and I should have liked
to see them made mince-meat of. However, they say we are all the
children of the same God, so I forgive them, and I forgive the French
who brought us into this war. I will say no more, for I believe I am
going--full sail. I love God and my mind is easy. Gabriel hold me
tight and stick close to me; you have no sins to answer for, you will
go straight away to Heaven to pipe tunes with the angels. Ah well, it
is better to die so, at your age, than to stay below in this wicked
world. Keep up your courage, boy, till the end. The sea is rising and
the _Rayo_ will soon be gone. Death by drowning is an easy one; do not
be frightened--stick close to me. In less than no time we shall be out
of it all; I answering to God for all my shortcomings, and you as
happy as a fairy, dancing through the star-paved heavens--and they
tell us happiness never comes to an end up there because it is
eternal, or, as they say, to-morrow and to-morrow and to-morrow, world
without end...."

He could say no more. I clung passionately to the poor mutilated body.
A tremendous sea swept over the bows and I felt the water dash against
my shoulder. I shut my eyes and fixed my thoughts on God. Then I lost
consciousness and knew no more.



CHAPTER XVI.


When, I know not how long after, the idea of life dawned once more on
my darkened spirit, I was conscious only of being miserably cold;
indeed, this was the only fact that made me aware of my own existence,
for I remembered nothing whatever of all that had happened and had not
the slightest idea of where I was. When my mind began to get clearer
and my senses recovered their functions I found that I was lying on
the beach; some men were standing round me and watching me with
interest. The first thing I heard was: "Poor little fellow!--he is
coming round."

By degrees I recovered my wits and, with them, my recollection of past
events. My first thought was for Marcial, and I believe that the first
words I spoke were an enquiry for him. But no one could tell me
anything about him; I recognized some of the crew of the _Rayo_ among
the men on the beach and asked them where he was; they were all agreed
that he must have perished. Then I wanted to know how I had been
saved, but they would tell me nothing about that either. They gave me
some liquor to drink, I know not what, and carried me to a neighboring
hut, where, warmed by a good fire and cared for by an old woman, I
soon felt quite well, though still rather weak. Meanwhile I learnt
that another cutter had put out to reconnoitre the wreck of the _Rayo_
and that of a French ship which had met with the same fate, and that
they had picked me up still clinging to Marcial; they found that I
could be saved but my companion was dead. I learnt too that a number
of poor wretches had been drowned in trying to reach the coast. Then I
wanted to know what had become of Malespina, but no one knew anything
either of him or of his father. I enquired about the _Santa Ana_
which, it appeared, had reached Cadiz in safety, so I determined to
set out forthwith to join my master. We were at some distance from
Cadiz, on the coast to the north of the Guadalquivir, I wanted
therefore to start at once to make so long a journey. I took two days'
rest to recover my strength, and then set out for Sanlúcar, in the
company of a sailor who was going the same way. We crossed the river
on the morning of the 27th and then continued our walk, keeping along
the coast. As my companion was a jolly, friendly fellow the journey
was as pleasant as I could expect in the frame of mind I was in,
grieved at Marcial's death and depressed by the scenes I had so lately
witnessed. As we walked on we discussed the battle and the shipwrecks
that had ensued.

"A very good sailor was that old cripple," said my companion. "But
what possessed him to go to sea again with more than sixty years on
his shoulders? It served him right to come to a bad end."

"He was a brave seaman," said I, "and had such a passion for fighting
that even his infirmities could not keep him quiet when he had made up
his mind to join the fleet."

"Well, I have had enough of it for my part," said the sailor. "I do
not want to see any more fighting at sea. The King pays us badly, and
then, if you are maimed or crippled--good-bye to you--I know nothing
about you--I never set eyes on you in my life.--Perhaps you don't
believe me when I tell you the King pays his men so badly? But I can
tell you this: most of the officers in command of the ships that went
into action on the 21st had seen no pay for months. Only last year
there was a navy captain at Cadiz who went as waiter in an inn because
he had no other way of keeping himself or his children. His friends
found him out though he tried to conceal his misery, and they
succeeded at last in getting him out of his degrading position. Such
things do not happen in any other country in the world; and then we
are horrified at finding ourselves beaten by the English! As to the
arsenals, I will say nothing about them; they are empty and it is of
no use to hope for money from Madrid--not a _cuarto_ comes this way.
All the King's revenues are spent in paying the court officials, and
chief among them the Prince of Peace; who gets 40,000 dollars as
Counsellor of the Realm, Secretary of State, Captain-General, and
Sergeant-Major of the Guards.--No, say I, I have had enough of serving
the King. I am going home to my wife and children, for I have served
my time and in a few days they must give me my papers."

"But you have nothing to complain of friend," said I, "since you were
on board the _Rayo_ which hardly did any fighting."

"I was not in the _Rayo_ but in the _Bahama_, one of the ships that
fought hardest and longest."

"She was taken and her captain killed, if I remember rightly."

"Aye, so it was," he said. "I could cry over it when I think of
him--Don Dionisio Alcalá Galiano, the bravest seaman in the fleet.
Well, he was a stern commander; he never overlooked the smallest
fault, and yet his very severity made us love him all the more, for a
captain who is feared for his severity--if his severity is unfailingly
just--inspires respect and wins the affection of his men. I can
honestly say that a more noble and generous gentleman than Don
Dionisio Alcalá Galiano was never born. And when he wanted to do a
civility to his friends he did not do it by halves; once, out in
Havana he spent ten thousand dollars on a supper he gave on board
ship."

"He was a first-rate seaman too, I have heard."

"Ah, that he was. And he was more learned than Merlin and all the
Fathers of the Church. He made no end of maps, and discovered Lord
knows how many countries out there, where it is as hot as hell itself!
And then they send men like these out to fight and to be killed like a
parcel of cabin-boys. I will just tell you what happened on board the
_Bahama_. As soon as the fighting began Don Dionisio Alcalá Galiano
knew we must be beaten on account of that infernal trick of turning
the ships round--we were in the reserve and had been in the rear.
Nelson, who was certainly no fool, looked along our line, and he said:
'If we cut them through at two separate points, and keep them between
two fires, hardly a ship will escape me.' And so he did, blast him;
and as our line was so long the head could never help the tail. He
fought us in detachments, attacking us in two wedge-shaped columns
which, as I have heard say, were the tactics adopted by the great
Moorish general, Alexander the Great, and now used by Napoleon. It is
very certain, at any rate, that they got round us and cut us in three,
and fought us ship to ship in such a manner that we could not support
or help each other; every Spaniard had to deal with three or four
Englishmen.

"Well, so you see the _Bahama_ was one of the first to be under fire.
Galiano reviewed the crew at noon, went round the gun-decks, and made
us a speech in which he said: 'Gentlemen, you all know that our flag
is nailed to the mast.' Yes, we all knew the sort of man our Captain
was, and we were not at all surprised to hear it. Then he turned to
the captain of the marines, Don Alonso Butron, 'I charge you to defend
it,' he said. 'No Galiano ever surrenders and no Butron should
either.'

"'What a pity it is,' said I, 'that such men should not have had a
leader worthy of such courage, since they could not themselves conduct
the fleet.'

"Aye, it is a pity, and you shall hear what happened. The battle
began, and you know something of what it was like if you were on
board the _Trinidad_. The ships riddled us with broadsides to port and
starboard. The wounded fell like flies from the very first, and the
captain first had a bad bruise on his foot and then a splinter struck
his head and hurt him badly. But do you think he would give in, or
submit to be plastered with ointment? Not a bit of it; he staid on the
quarter-deck, just as if nothing had happened, though many a man he
loved truly fell close to him never to stand up again. Alcalá Galiano
gave his orders and directed his guns as if we had been firing a
salute at a review. A spent ball knocked his telescope out of his hand
and that made him laugh. I fancy I can see him now; the blood from his
wound stained his uniform and his hands and he cared no more than if
it had been drops of salt-water splashed up from the sea. He was a man
of great spirit and a hasty temper; he shouted out his orders so
positively that if we had not obeyed them because it was our duty, we
should have done so out of sheer alarm.--But suddenly it was all over
with him.--He was struck in the head by a shot and instantly killed.

"The fight was not at an end, but all our heart in it was gone. When
our beloved captain fell the officers covered his body that we men
might not see it, but we all knew at once what had happened, and
after a short and desperate struggle for the honor of our flag, the
_Bahama_ surrendered to the English who carried her off to Gibraltar
if she did not go to the bottom on the way, as I rather suspect she
did."

After giving this history and telling me how he had been transferred
from the _Bahama_ to the _Santa Ana_, my companion sighed deeply and
was silent for some time. However, as the way was long and dull I
tried to reopen the conversation and I began telling him what I myself
had seen, and how I had at last been put on board the _Rayo_ with
young Malespina.

"Ah!" said he. "Was he a young artillery officer who was transferred
to the sloop to be taken to shore on the night of the 23d?"

"The very same," said I. "But no one has been able to tell me for
certain what became of him."

"He was one of a party in the second boat which could not get to
shore; some of those who were whole and strong contrived to escape,
and among them that young officer's father; but all the wounded were
drowned, as you may easily suppose, as the poor souls of course could
not swim to land."

I was shocked to hear of Don Rafael's death, and the thought of the
grief it would be to my hapless and adored little mistress quite
overcame me, choking every mean and jealous feeling.

"What a dreadful thing!" I exclaimed. "And is it my misfortune to have
to carry the news to his sorrowing friends? But, tell me, are you
certain of the facts?"

"I saw his father with my own eyes, lamenting bitterly and telling all
the details of the catastrophe with such distress it was enough to
break your heart. From what he said he seemed to have saved everybody
on board the boat, and he declared that if he had saved his son it
would have been at the cost of the lives of all the others, so he
chose, on the whole, to preserve the lives of the greatest number,
even in sacrificing that of his son, and he did so. He must be a
singularly humane man, and wonderfully brave and dexterous." But I was
so deeply distressed that I could not discuss the subject. Marcial
dead, Malespina dead! What terrible news to take home to my master's
house. For a moment my mind was almost made up not to return to Cadiz;
I would leave it to chance or to public rumor to carry the report to
the sad hearts that were waiting in such painful suspense. However, I
was bound to present myself before Don Alonso and give him some
account of my proceedings.

At length we reached Rota and there embarked for Cadiz. It is
impossible to describe the commotion produced by the report of the
disaster to our fleet. News of the details had come in by degrees, and
by this time the fate of most of our ships was known, though what had
become of many men and even whole crews had not been ascertained. The
streets were full of distressing scenes at every turn, where some one
who had come off scot-free stood telling off the deaths he knew of,
and the names of those who would be seen no more. The populace crowded
down to the quays to see the wounded as they came on shore, hoping to
recognize a father, husband, son or brother. There were episodes of
frantic joy mingled with shrieks of dismay and bitter cries of
disappointment. Too often were hopes deceived and fears confirmed, and
the losers in this fearful lottery were far more numerous than the
winners. The bodies thrown up on the shore put an end to the suspense
of many families, while others still hoped to find those they had lost
among the prisoners taken to Gibraltar.

To the honor of Cadiz be it said never did a community devote itself
with greater willingness to the care of the wounded, making no
distinctions between friends and foes but hoisting the standard, as it
were, of universal and comprehensive charity. Collingwood, in his
narrative, does justice to this generosity on the part of my
fellow-countrymen. The magnitude of the disaster had deadened all
resentment, but is it not sad to reflect that it is only in misfortune
that men are truly brothers?

In Cadiz I saw collected in the harbor the whole results of the
conflict which previously, as an actor in it, I had only partially
understood, since the length of the line and the manœuvring of the
vessels would not allow me to see everything that happened. As I now
learnt--besides the _Trinidad_--the _Argonauta_, 92 guns, Captain Don
Antonio Pareja, and the _San Augustin_, 80 guns, Don Felipe Cagigal,
had been sunk. Gravina had got back into Cadiz with the _Príncipe de
Astúrias_, as well as the _Montañes_, 80 guns, commanded by Alcedo,
who with his second officer Castaños, had been killed; the _San
Justo_, 76 guns, Captain Don Miguel Gaston; the _San Leandro_, 74,
Captain Don José Quevedo; the _San Francisco_, 74, Don Luis Flores;
and the _Rayo_, 100, commanded by Macdonell. Four of these had gone
out again on the 23d to recapture the vessels making for Gibraltar;
and of these, two, the _San Francisco_ and the _Rayo_ were wrecked on
the coast. So, too, was the _Monarca_, 74 guns, under Argumosa, and
the _Neptuno_, 80 guns; and her heroic commander, Don Cayetano Valdés,
who had previously distinguished himself at Cape St. Vincent, narrowly
escaped with his life. The _Bahama_ had surrendered but went to pieces
before she could be got into Gibraltar; the _San Ildefonso_, 74 guns,
Captain Vargas, was taken to England, while the _San Juan Nepomuceno_
was left for many years at Gibraltar, where she was regarded as an
object of veneration and curiosity. The _Santa Ana_ had come safely
into Cadiz the very night we were taken off her.

The English too lost some fine ships, and not a few of their gallant
officers shared Nelson's glorious fate.

With regard to the French it need not be said that they had suffered
as severely as we had. With the exception of the four ships that
withdrew under Dumanoir without showing fight--a stain which the
Imperial navy could not for a long time wipe out--our allies behaved
splendidly. Villeneuve, only caring to efface in one day the
remembrance of all his mistakes, fought desperately to the last and
was carried off a prisoner to Gibraltar. Many of their officers were
taken with him, and very many were killed. Their vessels shared all
our risks and dangers; some got off with Gravina, some were taken and
several were wrecked on the coast. The _Achille_ blew up, as I have
said, in the midst of the action.

But in spite of all these disasters, Spain had paid dearer for the war
than her haughty ally. France had lost the flower of her navy indeed,
but at that very time Napoleon had won a glorious victory on land. His
army had marched with wonderful rapidity from the shores of the
English Channel across Europe, and was carrying out his colossal
schemes in the campaign against Austria. It was on the 20th of
October, the day before Trafalgar, that Napoleon, at the camp at Ulm,
looked on as the Austrian troops marched past, while their officers
delivered up their swords; only two months later, on the 2d of
December, he won, on the field of Austerlitz, the greatest of his many
victories.

These triumphs consoled France for the defeat of Trafalgar; Napoleon
silenced the newspapers, forbidding them to discuss the matter; and
when the victory of his implacable enemies, the English, was reported
to him he simply shrugged his shoulders and said: "I cannot be
everywhere at once."



CHAPTER XVII.


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.





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