The Bible in Spain, Vol. 1 [of 2]: Or, the Journeys, Adventures, and Imprisonments of an Englishman in an Attempt to Circulate the Scriptures in the PeninsulaBorrow, George
Religion
The Bible in Spain, Vol. 1 [of 2]: Or, the Journeys, Adventures, and Imprisonments of an Englishman in an Attempt to Circulate the Scriptures in the Peninsula
Borrow, George
Borrow, George, 1803-1881 -- Travel -- Spain; Spain -- Description and travel; Spain -- History -- 19th century
articulation that has ever come under my observation in any human being;
it was the scream of the hyena blended with the bark of the terrier,
though it was by no means an index of his disposition, which I soon found
to be light, merry, and anything but malevolent; for when I, in order to
show him that I cared little about him, began to hum “_Eu que sou
contrabandista_,” {18} he laughed heartily, and said, clapping me on the
shoulder, that he would not drown us if he could help it. The other poor
fellow seemed by no means averse to go to the bottom: he sat at the fore
part of the boat, looking the image of famine, and only smiled when the
waters broke over the weather side and soaked his scanty habiliments. In
a little time I had made up my mind that our last hour was come; the wind
was getting higher, the short dangerous waves were more foamy, the boat
was frequently on its beam, and the water came over the lee side in
torrents. But still the wild lad at the helm held on, laughing and
chattering, and occasionally yelling out part of the Miguelite air,
“_Quando el Rey chegou_,” {19} the singing of which in Lisbon is
imprisonment.
The stream was against us, but the wind was in our favour, and we sprang
along at a wonderful rate, and I saw that our only chance of escape was
in speedily passing the farther bank of the Tagus, where the bight or bay
at the extremity of which stands Aldea Gallega commences, for we should
not then have to battle with the waves of the stream, which the adverse
wind lashed into fury. It was the will of the Almighty to permit us
speedily to gain this shelter, but not before the boat was nearly filled
with water, and we were all wet to the skin. At about seven o’clock in
the evening we reached Aldea Gallega, shivering with cold and in a most
deplorable plight.
Aldea Gallega, or the Galician Village (for the two words are Spanish,
and have that signification), is a place containing, I should think,
about four thousand inhabitants. It was pitchy dark when we landed, but
rockets soon began to fly about in all directions, illuming the air far
and wide. As we passed along the dirty unpaved street which leads to the
_largo_, or square, in which the inn is situated, a horrible uproar of
drums and voices assailed our ears. On inquiring the cause of all this
bustle, I was informed that it was the eve of the Conception of the
Virgin.
As it was not the custom of the people at the inn to furnish provisions
for the guests, I wandered about in search of food; and at last, seeing
some soldiers eating and drinking in a species of wine-house, I went in
and asked the people to let me have some supper, and in a short time they
furnished me with a tolerable meal, for which, however, they charged
three crowns.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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