Next morning Mr Duquesné and I, accompanied by Listado and Mr M----,
rode into the country about five miles, on the Batabano road, to visit
Mr D---- and family at their villa. I found M---- a very intelligent
Scotchman; indeed, in most matters of trade he was, and I hope _is_,
considered a first-rate authority in the place. He was a tall thin
fair-haired man, with a good deal of the Yankee in his cut and
appearance, although none whatever in his manner; and as for his
kindness I never can forget it. Mr D---- was an Englishman who had
married a Spanish lady; and at the time I mention, he had returned from
England with his children--a son, and several daughters grown up--the
latter with all the polish and accomplishments of Englishwomen
engrafted on the enchanting _naïveté_ of Spanish girls; and even at
this distance of time I can remember their beautifully pliant and most
graceful Spanish figures, as things that I can dream of still, but
never expect again to see; while their clear olive complexions, large
dark eyes, and coal-black ringlets, were charms, within gunshot of
which no disengaged heart could venture, and hope to come off
scatheless. Disengaged hearts! Go on, Master Benjamin Brail, I see
how it is with you, my lad.
I had previously shaken hands with Lennox, whose heart, poor fellow,
between parting with me and little Dicky Phantom, was like to burst,
and did not expect to have seen him again; but on our return from Mr
D----'s in the evening, we met a man mounted on a strong pacing horse,
dressed as usual in a gingham jacket and trowsers, with a large
slouched hat of plaited grass, a cloak strapped on his saddle-bow, and
a valise behind him. He carried his trabuco, or blunderbuss, in his
right hand, resting on the cloak; and his heels were garnished with a
pair of most persuasive silver spurs buckled over _shoes_. His
trowsers, in the action of riding, had shuffled up to his knees,
disclosing a formidable sample of muscle in the calf of his leg: while
his gaunt brown sinewy hand, and sun-burnt moorish-looking features,
evinced that he would, independently of his arms, have been a tough
customer to the strongest man in the Old Gazelle.
M---- and Listado both addressed this brigand-looking subject with the
greatest familiarity, and enquired where his comrades were. He nodded
his head backwards over his shoulder, as much as to say, "Close behind
me." Indeed, we now heard the clattering of mules' feet up the path,
that here ascended suddenly from the level country, and more resembled
a dry river course than a road, and the shouting of the riders to their
bestias and each other.
Presently about thirty odd-looking tailor-like creatures appeared on
stout mules, riding with their knees up to their noses, evidently not
at all at home, but held in their seats by the old-fashioned
demi-piques, with which their animals were caparisoned. I directed an
enquiring look at M----. He laughed.
"Batabano smugglers."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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