The Lands of the Saracen: Pictures of Palestine, Asia Minor, Sicily, and SpainTaylor, Bayard
History
The Lands of the Saracen: Pictures of Palestine, Asia Minor, Sicily, and Spain
Taylor, Bayard
Middle East -- Description and travel; Spain -- Description and travel
"Wherein the cub-drawn bear would crouch,
The lion and the belly-pinched wolf
Keep their furs dry."
Nevertheless, I noticed that each of the few convoys of laden mules which
we met, had one or more of the _guardia cicia_ accompanying it. Besides
these, the only persons abroad were some wild-looking individuals, armed
to the teeth, and muffled in long cloaks, towards whom, as they passed,
José would give his head a slight toss, and whisper to me: "more
contrabandistas."
We were soon in a condition to defy the weather. The rain beat furiously
in our faces, especially when threading the wind-blown passes between the
higher peaks. I raised my umbrella as a defence, but the first blast
snapped it in twain. The mountain-sides were veined with rills, roaring
downward into the hollows, and smaller rills soon began to trickle down my
own sides. During the last part of our way, the path was notched along
precipitous steeps, where the storm was so thick that we could see nothing
either above or below. It was like riding along the outer edge of the
world, When once you are thoroughly wet, it is a great satisfaction to
know that you can be no wetter; and so José and I went forward in the best
possible humor, finding so much diversion in our plight that the dreary
leagues were considerably shortened.
At the venta of Gaucin, where we stopped, the people received us kindly.
The house consisted of one room--stable, kitchen, and dining-room all in
one. There was a small apartment in a windy loft, where a bed (much too
short) was prepared for me. A fire of dry heather was made in the wide
fire-place, and the ruddy flames, with a change of clothing and a draught
of the amber vintage of Estepona, soon thawed out the chill of the
journey. But I received news which caused me a great deal of anxiety. The
River Guadiaro was so high that nobody could cross, and two forlorn
muleteers had been waiting eight days at the inn, for the waters to
subside. Augmented by the rain which had fallen, and which seemed to
increase as night came on, how could I hope to cross it on the morrow? In
two days, the India steamer would be at Gibraltar; my passage was already
taken, and I _must_ be there. The matter was discussed for some time; it
was pronounced impossible to travel by the usual road, but the landlord
knew a path among the hills which led to a ferry on the Guadiaro, where
there was a boat, and from thence we could make our way to San Roque,
which is in sight of Gibraltar. He demanded rather a large fee for
accompanying me, but there was nothing else to be done. José and I sat
down in great tribulation to our accustomed olla, but neither of us could
do justice to it, and the greater part gladdened the landlord's two
boys--beautiful little imps, with faces like Murillo's cherubs.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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