When I Put My Little Secret Beyad
Peluni, - You Understand Me, Sir?
- When I entrust my poor secret to
the custody of an individual, and that individual a Jew, a Yudken,
sir, I do not wish to be blown, indeed, I do not expect it.
In a
word, what do you think of the GOLD DUST ROBBERY, and what will be
done to those unfortunate people, who I see are convicted?"
That same day I made enquiry respecting the means of transferring
myself to Tangier, having no wish to prolong my stay at Gibraltar,
where, though it is an exceedingly interesting place to an
observant traveller, I had no particular business to detain me. In
the evening I was visited by a Jew, a native of Barbary, who
informed me that he was secretary to the master of a small Genoese
bark which plied between Tangier and Gibraltar. Upon his assuring
me that the vessel would infallibly start for the former place on
the following evening, I agreed with him for my passage. He said
that as the wind was blowing from the Levant quarter, the voyage
would be a speedy one. Being desirous now of disposing to the most
advantage of the short time which I expected to remain at
Gibraltar, I determined upon visiting the excavations, which I had
as yet never seen, on the following morning, and accordingly sent
for and easily obtained the necessary permission.
About six on Tuesday morning, I started on this expedition,
attended by a very intelligent good-looking lad of the Jewish
persuasion, one of two brothers who officiated at the inn in the
capacity of valets de place.
The morning was dim and hazy, yet sultry to a degree. We ascended
a precipitous street, and proceeding in an easterly direction, soon
arrived in the vicinity of what is generally known by the name of
the Moorish Castle, a large tower, but so battered by the cannon
balls discharged against it in the famous siege, that it is at
present little better than a ruin; hundreds of round holes are to
be seen in its sides, in which, as it is said, the shot are still
imbedded; here, at a species of hut, we were joined by an artillery
sergeant, who was to be our guide. After saluting us, he led the
way to a huge rock, where he unlocked a gate at the entrance of a
dark vaulted passage which passed under it, emerging from which
passage we found ourselves in a steep path, or rather staircase,
with walls on either side.
We proceeded very leisurely, for hurry in such a situation would
have been of little avail, as we should have lost our breath in a
minute's time. The soldier, perfectly well acquainted with the
locality, stalked along with measured steps, his eyes turned to the
ground.
I looked fully as much at that man as at the strange place where we
now were, and which was every moment becoming stranger. He was a
fine specimen of the yeoman turned soldier; indeed, the corps to
which he belonged consists almost entirely of that class. There he
paces along, tall, strong, ruddy, and chestnut-haired, an
Englishman every inch; behold him pacing along, sober, silent, and
civil, a genuine English soldier. I prize the sturdy Scot, I love
the daring and impetuous Irishman; I admire all the various races
which constitute the population of the British isles; yet I must
say that, upon the whole, none are so well adapted to ply the
soldier's hardy trade as the rural sons of old England, so strong,
so cool, yet, at the same time, animated with so much hidden fire.
Turn to the history of England and you will at once perceive of
what such men are capable; even at Hastings, in the grey old time,
under almost every disadvantage, weakened by a recent and terrible
conflict, without discipline, comparatively speaking, and uncouthly
armed, they all but vanquished the Norman chivalry. Trace their
deeds in France, which they twice subdued; and even follow them to
Spain, where they twanged the yew and raised the battle-axe, and
left behind them a name of glory at Inglis Mendi, a name that shall
last till fire consumes the Cantabrian hills. And, oh, in modern
times, trace the deeds of these gallant men all over the world, and
especially in France and Spain, and admire them, even as I did that
sober, silent, soldier-like man who was showing me the wonders of a
foreign mountain fortress, wrested by his countrymen from a
powerful and proud nation more than a century before, and of which
he was now a trusty and efficient guardian.
We arrived close to the stupendous precipice, which rises abruptly
above the isthmus called the neutral ground, staring gauntly and
horridly at Spain, and immediately entered the excavations. They
consist of galleries scooped in the living rock at the distance of
some twelve feet from the outside, behind which they run the whole
breadth of the hill in this direction. In these galleries, at
short distances, are ragged yawning apertures, all formed by the
hand of man, where stand the cannon upon neat slightly-raised
pavements of small flint stones, each with its pyramid of bullets
on one side, and on the other a box, in which is stowed the gear
which the gunner requires in the exercise of his craft. Everything
was in its place, everything in the nicest English order,
everything ready to scathe and overwhelm in a few moments the
proudest and most numerous host which might appear marching in
hostile array against this singular fortress on the land side.
There is not much variety in these places, one cavern and one gun
resembling the other. As for the guns, they are not of large
calibre, indeed, such are not needed here, where a pebble
discharged from so great an altitude would be fraught with death.
On descending a shaft, however, I observed, in one cave of special
importance, two enormous carronades looking with peculiar
wickedness and malignity down a shelving rock, which perhaps,
although not without tremendous difficulty, might be scaled.
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