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
Nevertheless, I passed rather a merry evening, chatting with some of the
villagers over a brazier of coals; and one of the aforesaid boys, who,
although only eight years old, already performed the duties of mozo,
lighted me to my loft. When he had put down the lamp, he tried' the door,
and asked me: "Have you the key?" "No," said I, "I don't want one; I am
not afraid." "But," he rejoined, "perhaps you may get afraid in the night;
and if you do, strike on this part of the wall (suiting the action to the
word)--_I_ sleep on that side." I willingly promised to call him to my
aid, if I should get alarmed. I slept but little, for the wind was howling
around the tiles over my head, and I was busy with plans for constructing
rafts and swimming currents with a rope around my waist. Finally, I found
a little oblivion, but it seemed that I had scarcely closed my eyes, when
José pushed open the door. "Thanks be to God, senor!" said he, "it begins
to dawn, and the sky is clear: we shall certainly get to Gibraltar
to-day."
The landlord was ready, so we took some bread and a basket of olives, and
set out at once. Leaving Gaucin, we commenced descending the mountain
staircase by which the Serrania of Ronda is scaled, on the side towards
Gibraltar. "The road," says Mr. Ford, "seems made by the Evil One in a
hanging garden of Eden." After four miles of frightfully rugged descent,
we reached an orange grove on the banks of the Xenar, and then took a wild
path leading along the hills on the right of the stream. We overtook a few
muleteers, who were tempted out by the fine weather, and before long the
_correo_, or mail-rider from Ronda to San Roque, joined us. After eight
miles more of toilsome travel we reached the valley of the Guadiaro. The
river was not more than twenty yards wide, flowing with a deep, strong
current, between high banks. Two ropes were stretched across, and a large,
clumsy boat was moored to the shore. We called to the ferrymen, but they
hesitated, saying that nobody had yet been able to cross. However, we all
got in, with our horses, and two of the men, with much reluctance, drew us
over. The current was very powerful, although the river had fallen a
little during the night, but we reached the opposite bank without
accident.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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