And I
myself fell to the ground crying out Estadinha! The Estadea are
the spirits of the dead which ride upon the haze, bearing candles
in their hands. I tell you frankly, my master, that if we meet the
assembly of the souls, I shall leave you at once, and then I shall
run and run till I drown myself in the sea, somewhere about Muros.
We shall not reach Corcuvion this night; my only hope is that we
may find some choza upon these moors, where we may hide our heads
from the Estadinha.
The night overtook us ere we had traversed the moor; there was,
however, no haze, to the great joy of my guide, and a corner of the
moon partially illumined our steps. Our situation, however, was
dreary enough: we were upon the wildest heath of the wildest
province of Spain, ignorant of our way, and directing our course we
scarcely knew whither, for my guide repeatedly declared to me, that
he did not believe that such a place as Finisterra existed, or if
it did exist, it was some bleak mountain pointed out in a map.
When I reflected on the character of this guide, I derived but
little comfort or encouragement: he was at best evidently half
witted, and was by his own confession occasionally seized with
paroxysms which differed from madness in no essential respect; his
wild escapade in the morning of nearly three leagues, without any
apparent cause, and lastly his superstitious and frantic fears of
meeting the souls of the dead upon this heath, in which event he
intended, as he himself said, to desert me and make for the sea,
operated rather powerfully upon my nerves. I likewise considered
that it was quite possible that we might be in the route neither of
Finisterra nor Corcuvion, and I therefore determined to enter the
first cabin at which we should arrive, in preference to running the
risk of breaking our necks by tumbling down some pit or precipice.
No cabin, however, appeared in sight: the moor seemed
interminable, and we wandered on until the moon disappeared, and we
were left in almost total darkness.
At length we arrived at the foot of a steep ascent, up which a
rough and broken pathway appeared to lead.
"Can this be our way?" said I to the guide.
"There appears to be no other for us, captain," replied the man;
"let us ascend it by all means, and when we are it the top, if the
sea be in the neighbourhood we shall see it."
I then dismounted, for to ride up such a pass in such darkness
would have been madness. We clambered up in a line, first the
guide, next the pony, with his nose as usual on his master's
shoulder, of whom he seemed passionately fond, and I bringing up
the rear, with my left hand grasping the animal's tail. We had
many a stumble, and more than one fall: once, indeed, we were all
rolling down the side of the hill together. In about twenty
minutes we reached the summit, and looked around us, but no sea was
visible: a black moor, indistinctly seen, seemed to spread on
every side.
"We shall have to take up our quarters here till morning," said I.
Suddenly my guide seized me by the hand: "There is lume, Senhor,"
said he, "there is lume." I looked in the direction in which he
pointed, and, after straining my eyes for some time, imagined that
I perceived, far below and at some distance, a faint glow. "That
is lume," shouted the guide, "and it proceeds from the chimney of a
choza."
On descending the eminence, we roamed about for a considerable
time, until we at last found ourselves in the midst of about six or
eight black huts. "Knock at the door of one of these," said I to
the guide, "and inquire of the people whether they can shelter us
for the night." He did so, and a man presently made his
appearance, bearing in his hand a lighted firebrand.
"Can you shelter a Cavalheiro from the night and the Estadea?" said
my guide.
"From both, I thank God," said the man, who was an athletic figure,
without shoes and stockings, and who, upon the whole, put me much
in mind of a Munster peasant from the bogs. "Pray enter,
gentlemen, we can accommodate you both and your cavalgadura
besides."
We entered the choza, which consisted of three compartments; in the
first we found straw, in the second cattle and ponies, and in the
third the family, consisting of the father and mother of the man
who admitted us, and his wife and children.
"You are a Catalan, sir Cavalier, and are going to your countryman
at Corcuvion," said the man in tolerable Spanish. "Ah, you are
brave people, you Catalans, and fine establishments you have on the
Gallegan shores; pity that you take all the money out of the
country."
Now, under all circumstances, I had not the slightest objection to
pass for a Catalan; and I rather rejoiced that these wild people
should suppose that I had powerful friends and countrymen in the
neighbourhood who were, perhaps, expecting me. I therefore
favoured their mistake, and began with a harsh Catalan accent to
talk of the fish of Galicia, and the high duties on salt. The eye
of my guide was upon me for an instant, with a singular expression,
half serious, half droll; he however said nothing, but slapped his
thigh as usual, and with a spring nearly touched the roof of the
cabin with his grotesque head. Upon inquiry, I discovered that we
were still two long leagues distant from Corcuvion, and that the
road lay over moor and hill, and was hard to find.
