Read Ebook: Trafalgar: A Tale by P Rez Gald S Benito

Font size: 10 px 15 px 20 px 25 px 30 px 35 px

Background color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Text color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Apply/Save settings

Ebook has 418 lines and 60118 words, and 9 pages

"The rest--the sea was wide enough to hold them all. Two thousand men went down to Davy Jones that day, and among them our captain, Ezguerra, and Emparan, the captain of the other ship."

"Lord have mercy on them!" ejaculated Do?a Francisca. "Though God knows! they were but ill-employed to be snatched away to judgment. If they had stayed quietly at home, as God requires...."

"Ah! and they played the game well," cried the lady. "It was well done though it was a mean trick!"

"Well--and then the taking of the four frigates which were coming from Rio de la Plata?" asked Don Alfonso, to incite the old sailor to go on with his stories.

"The English captain hailed us through his speaking-trumpet and told us--there is nothing like plain-speaking--told us to prepare to defend ourselves, as he was going to attack. He asked a string of questions, but all he got out of us was that we should not take the trouble to answer him. Meanwhile the other three frigates had come up and had formed in such order that each Englishman had a Spaniard to the leeward of him."

"They could not have taken up a better position," said my master.

"Poor man!--and it was then you lost your leg?" asked Do?a Francisca compassionately.

"You are a brave fellow," said my mistress. "Please God you may not lose the other. But those who seek danger...."

"Well we shall go to look on, wife,--simply and merely to look on"--said the hero in a tone of entreaty.

"Let us have done with sight-seeing," answered his wife. "A pretty pair of lookers-on you two would make!"

"The united squadrons," added Marcial, "will remain in Cadiz--and they will try to force the entrance."

"Well then," said my mistress, "you can see the whole performance from within the walls of Cadiz, but as for going out in the ships--I say no, and I mean no, Alonso. During forty years of married life you have never seen me angry --but if you join the squadron I swear to you ... remember, Paquita lives only for you!"

"Wife, wife--" cried my master much disturbed: "Do you mean I am to die without having had that satisfaction?"

"A nice sort of satisfaction truly! to look on at mad men killing each other! If the King of Spain would only listen to me, I would pack off these English and say to them: 'My beloved subjects were not made to amuse you. Set to and fight each other, if you want to fight.' What do you say to that?--I, simpleton as I am, know very well what is in the wind, and that is that the first Consul--Emperor--Sultan--whatever you call him--wants to settle the English, and as he has no men brave enough for the job he has imposed upon our good King and persuaded him to lend him his; and the truth is he is sickening us with his everlasting sea-fights. Will you just tell me what is Spain to gain in all this? Why is Spain to submit to being cannonaded day after day for nothing at all? Before all that rascally business Marcial has told us of what harm had the English ever done us?--Ah, if they would only listen to me! Master Buonaparte might fight by himself, for I would not fight for him!"

"It is quite true," replied my master, "that our alliance with France is doing us much damage, for all the advantages accrue to our ally, while all the disasters are on our side."

"Well, then, you utter simpletons, why do you encourage the poor creatures to fight in this war?"

"The honor of the nation is at stake," replied Don Alonso, "and after having once joined the dance it would be a disgrace to back out of it. Last month, when I was at Cadiz, at my cousin's daughter's christening, Churruca said to me: 'This French alliance and that villainous treaty of San Ildefonso, which the astuteness of Buonaparte and the weakness of our government made a mere question of subsidies, will be the ruin of us and the ruin of our fleet if God does not come to the rescue, and afterwards will be the ruin of the colonies too and of Spanish trade with America. But we must go on now all the same....'"

"Well," said Do?a Francisca, "what I say is that the Prince of Peace is interfering in things he does not understand. There you see what a man without learning is! My brother the archdeacon, who is on Prince Ferdinand's side, says that Godoy is a thoroughly commonplace soul, that he has studied neither Latin nor theology and that all he knows is how to play the guitar and twenty ways of dancing a gavotte. They made him prime minister for his good looks, as it would seem. That is the way we do things in Spain! And then we hear of starvation and want--everything is so dear--yellow fever breaking out in Andalusia.--This is a pretty state of things, sir,--yes, and the fault is yours; yours," she went on, raising her voice and turning purple. "Yes, se?or, yours, who offend God by killing so many people--and if you would go to church and tell your beads instead of wanting to go in those diabolical ships of war, the devil would not find time to trot round Spain so nimbly, playing the mischief with us all."

"But you shall come to Cadiz too," said Don Alonso, hoping to light some spark of enthusiasm in his wife's heart; "you shall go to Flora's house, and from the balcony you will be able to see the fight quite comfortably, and the smoke and the flames and the flags.--It is a beautiful sight!"

"Thank you very much--but I should drop dead with fright. Here we shall be quiet; those who seek danger may go there."

Here the dialogue ended, and I remember every word of it though so many years have elapsed. But it often happens that the most remote incidents that occurred even in our earliest childhood, remain stamped on our imagination more clearly and permanently than the events of our riper years when our reasoning faculties have gained the upper hand.

That evening Don Alonzo and Marcial talked over matters whenever Do?a Francisca left them together; but this was at rare intervals, for she was suspicious and watchful. When she went off to church to attend vespers, as was her pious custom, the two old sailors breathed freely again as if they were two giddy schoolboys out of sight of the master. They shut themselves into the library, pulled out their maps and studied them with eager attention; then they read some papers in which they had noted down the names of several English vessels with the number of their guns and men, and in the course of their excited conference, in which reading was varied by vigorous commentary, I discovered that they were scheming the plan of an imaginary naval battle. Marcial, by means of energetic gymnastics with his arm and a half, imitated the advance of the squadron and the explosion of the broadsides; with his head he indicated the alternate action of the hostile vessels; with his body the heavy lurch of each ship as it went to the bottom; with his hand the hauling up and down of the signal flags; he represented the boatswain's whistle by a sharp sibilation; the rattle of the cannon by thumping his wooden leg on the floor; he smacked his tongue to imitate the swearing and confusion of noises in the fight; and as my master assisted him in this performance with the utmost gravity I also must need take my share in the fray, encouraged by their example and giving natural vent to that irresistible longing to make a noise which is a master passion with every boy. Seeing the enthusiasm of the two veterans, I could no longer contain myself and took to leaping about the room--a freedom in which I was justified by my master's kind familiarity; I imitated with my head and arms the movements of a vessel veering before the wind, and at the same time making my voice as big as possible I shouted out all the most sonorous monosyllables I could think of as being most like the noise of a cannon. My worthy master and the mutilated old sailor, quite as childish as I in their own way, paid no attention to my proceedings, being entirely preoccupied with their own ideas.

How I have laughed since when I have remembered the scene! and how true it is--in spite of all my respect for my companions in the game--that senile enthusiasm makes old men children once more and renews the puerile follies of the cradle even on the very brink of the tomb!

They were deep in their discussion when they heard Do?a Francisca's step returning from church.

"She is coming!" cried Marcial in an agony of alarm, and they folded up the maps and began to talk of indifferent matters. I, however, not being able to cool down my juvenile blood so rapidly or else not noticing my mistress's approach soon enough, went on, down the middle of the room in my mad career, ejaculating with the utmost incoherence, such phrases as I had picked up: "Tack to starboard! Now Port! Broadside to the leeward! Fire! Bang! bom! boom!..." She came up to me in a fury and without any warning delivered a broadside on my figure-head with her right hand, and with such effect that for a few moments I saw nothing but stars.

The commotion ended by my running off to the kitchen crying and disgraced, after striking my colors in an ignominious manner, before the superior force of the enemy; Do?a Francisca giving chase and belaboring my neck and shoulders with heavy slaps. In the kitchen I cast anchor and sat down to cry over the fatal termination of my sea-fight.

In opposing her husband's insane determination to join the fleet, Do?a Francisca did not rely solely on the reasons given in the last chapter; she had another and more weighty one which she did not mention in the course of that conversation, perhaps because it was wiser not. But the reader does not know it, and must be told.

I have mentioned that my master had a daughter; this daughter's name was Rosita; she was a little older than I was, that is to say scarcely fifteen, and a marriage had been arranged for her with a young officer of artillery named Malespina, belonging to a family of Medinasidonia and distantly related to my master. The wedding had been fixed for the end of October and, as may be supposed, the absence of the bride's father on so solemn an occasion would have been highly improper.

I must here give some account of my young lady, of her bridegroom, her love-affairs and her projected marriage; and alas! my recollections take a tinge of melancholy, recalling to my fancy many troublesome and far-away scenes, figures from another world--and stirring my weary old heart with feelings of which I should find it hard to say whether they were more pleasurable or sad. Those ardent memories which now lie withered in my brain, like tropical flowers exposed to a chill northern blast, sometimes make me laugh--but sometimes make me grave. However, to my tale, or the reader will be tired of these wearisome reflections which, after all, interest no one but myself.

Rosita was uncommonly pretty. I remember vividly how pretty she was, though I should find it difficult to describe her features. I fancy I see her now, smiling in my face; the curious expression of her countenance, unlike any other I ever saw, dwells in my mind--from the perfect distinctness with which it rises before me--like one of those innate ideas which seem to have come into the world with us from a former existence, or to have been impressed on our minds by some mysterious power while we were still in the cradle. And yet I cannot describe it, for what then was real and tangible remains now in my brain as a vague ideal; and while nothing is so fascinating as a beloved ideal, nothing so completely eludes all categorical description.

When I first went into the house I thought that Rosita belonged to some superior order of beings; I will explain my feelings more fully that you may form an idea of my utter simpleness. When we are little and a child comes into the world within our family the grown-up folks are apt to tell us that it has come from France, Paris, or England. I, like other children, having no notions as to the multiplication of the human race, firmly believed that babies were imported packed up in boxes like a cargo of hardware. Thus, gazing for the first time at my master's daughter, I argued that so lovely a being could not have come from the same factory as the rest of us, that is to say from Paris or from England, and I remained convinced that there must be some enchanted region where heaven-sent workmen were employed in making these choicer and lovelier specimens of humanity. Both of us being children, though in different ranks of life, we were soon on those terms of mutual confidence which were natural to our years, and my greatest joy was in playing with her, submitting to all her vagaries and insolence, which is not saying a little, for our relative position was never lost sight of in our games; she was always the young lady and I always the servant, so that I got the worst of it when slaps were going, and I need not say who was the sufferer.

My highest dream of happiness was to be allowed to fetch her from school, and when, by some unforeseen accident, some one else was entrusted with this delightful duty I was so deeply distressed that I honestly thought there could be no greater grief in life, and would say to myself: "It is impossible that I should ever be more miserable when I am a man grown." My greatest delight was to climb the orange-tree in the court-yard to pick the topmost sprays of blossom; I felt myself at a height far above the greatest king on earth when seated on his throne, and I can remember no pleasure to be compared to that of being obliged to capture her in that divinely rapturous game known as hide and seek. If she ran like a gazelle I flew like a bird to catch her as soon as possible, seizing her by the first part of her dress or person that I could lay my hand on. When we changed parts, when she was the pursuer and I was to be caught, the innocent delight of the blissful game was doubled, and the darkest and dingiest hole in which I might hide, breathlessly awaiting the grasp of her imprisoning hands, was to me a perfect paradise. And I may honestly say that during these happy games I never had a thought or a feeling that did not emanate from the purest and most loyal idealism.

Then her singing! From the time when she was quite little she used to sing the popular airs of Andalusia with the ease of a nightingale, which knows all the secrets of song without having been taught. All the neighbors admired her wonderful facility and would come to listen to her, but to me their applause and admiration were an offence; I could have wished her to sing to no one but me. Her singing was a sort of melancholy warbling, qualified by her fresh childlike voice. The air, which repeated itself with complicated little turns and trills like a thread of sound, seemed to be lost in distant heights and then to come back to earth again on the low notes. It was like the song of the lark as it rises towards heaven and suddenly comes down to sing close in our ears; the spirit of the hearer seemed to expand as it followed the voice, and then to contract again, but always following the swing of the melody and feeling the music to be inseparable from the sweet little singer. The effect was so singular that to me it was almost painful to hear her, particularly in the presence of others.

We were, as I have said, of about the same age, she being eight or nine months older than I was. But I was stunted and puny while she was well grown and vigorous, and at the end of my three years' residence in the house she looked much the elder of the two. These three years slipped by without our either of us suspecting that we were growing up; our games went on without interruption, for she was much livelier by nature than I, though her mother would scold her, trying to keep her in order and make her study--in which, however, she did not always succeed. At the end of these three years, however, my adored young mistress was a woman grown; her figure was round and well formed, giving the finishing touch to her beauty; her face had a tenderer blush, a softer form, a gentler look; her large eyes were brighter but their glance was less restless and eager; her gait was more sober; her movements were, I cannot say lighter nor less light, but certainly different, though I could not, either then or now, define in what the difference lay. But no change struck me so much as that in her voice, which acquired a gravity and depth very unlike the shrill gay tones in which she had been wont to call me, bewildering my common-sense and making me leave my various duties to join in her games. The bud, in short, had become a rose, the chrysalis was transformed into a butterfly.

Then, one day--one dreadful, dismal day--my young mistress appeared before me in a long dress. This alteration made such an impression on me that I could not speak a word the whole day. I felt like a man who has been cruelly imposed upon, and I was so vexed with her that in my secret soul I found fifty reasons for seriously resenting her rapid development. A perfect fever of argumentativeness was fired in my brain, and I debated the matter with myself in the most fervent manner during my sleepless nights. The thing that utterly confounded me was that the addition of a few yards of stuff to her skirts seemed altogether to have altered her character. That day--a thousand times unblessed--she spoke to me with the greatest formality, ordering me coldly and even repellently to do all the things I least liked doing--and she, who had so often been my accomplice and screen in idleness, now reproved me for it! and all this without a smile, or a skip, or a glance!--No more running, no more songs, no more hiding for me to find her, no making believe to be cross ending in a laugh--not a squabble, not even a slap from her sweet little hand! It was a terrible crisis in my life--she was a woman and I was still a child!

I need not say that this was an end to our pranks and games; I never again climbed the orange-tree, which henceforth blossomed unmolested by my greedy devotion, and unfolded its leaves and shed its luscious perfume at its own sweet will; we never again scampered across the court-yard, nor trotted too and from school--I, so proud of my responsibility, that I would have defended her against an army if they had tried to carry her off. From that day Rosita always walked with the greatest dignity and circumspection. I often observed that as she went up-stairs in front of me she took care not to show an inch, not a line, of her pretty ankles, and this systematic concealment I felt to be an insult to my dignity, for I had till lately seen a great deal more than her ankles! Bless me! I can laugh now when I remember how my heart was ready to burst over these things.

But worse misfortunes were in store. One day in the same year as that of this transformation old 'Aunt' Martina, Rosario the cook, Marcial, and other members of the kitchen society were discussing something very important. I made the best use of my ears and presently gathered the most alarming hints: My young mistress was to be married. The thing seemed incredible for I had never heard of a lover. However, the parents used to arrange all these matters and the strange thing is that sometimes they did not turn out badly. A young man of good family had asked her hand, and her parents had consented. He came to the house accompanied by his relatives, who were some kind of counts or marquises with a high-sounding title. The suitor wore a naval uniform, for he served his country as a sailor, but in spite of his elegant costume he was by no means attractive. This no doubt was the impression he made on my young mistress, for from the first she manifested a great dislike to the marriage. Her mother tried to persuade her, but all in vain though she drew the most flattering picture of the young man's excellent talents, ancient lineage and splendid wealth. The young girl was not to be convinced, and answered all these arguments with others no less cogent.

However, the sly baggage never said a word about the real reason, which was that she had another lover whom she really loved. This was a young artillery officer, Don Rafael Malespina, a fine-looking young fellow with a pleasing face. My young mistress had made his acquaintance in church, and the traitor Love had taken advantage of her while she was saying her prayers; but indeed a church has always seemed the fittest place, with its poetical and mysterious influences, for the doors of the soul to be opened for the admission of love. Malespina took to lurking round the house, in which I detected him on various occasions, and this love-affair became so much talked of in Vejer that the young naval officer came to know of it and challenged his rival. My master and mistress heard the whole story when news was brought to the house that Malespina had wounded his antagonist severely.

The scandal caused an immense commotion. My mistress's religious feelings were so much shocked by this deed that neither she nor my master could conceal their wrath, and Rosita was their first victim. However, months went by; the wounded man got well again, and as Malespina himself was a man of birth and wealth, there were evident indications in the political atmosphere of the house that Don Rafael was about to be admitted. The parents of the wounded man gave up the suit, and those of the conqueror appeared in their place to ask the hand of my sweet young mistress. After some discussion and demur the match was agreed upon.

I remember the first time old Malespina came. He was a very tall, dry-looking man with a gaudily-colored waistcoat, a quantity of seals and ornaments hanging to his watch, and a very large sharp nose with which he seemed to be smelling every one he talked to. He was terribly voluble and never allowed any one else to get a word in; he contradicted everything, and it was impossible to praise anything without his saying that he had something far better. From the first I felt sure he was a vain man and utterly untruthful, and my opinion was amply justified later. My master received him with friendly politeness, as well as his son who came with him. From that time the lover came to the house every day, sometimes alone and sometimes with his father.

However, they carried on an extensive correspondence, and the worst of it all was that I had to be the go-between and courier. That drove me mad!--The regular thing was that I should go out and meet the young gentleman at a certain place, as punctually as a clock, and he would give me a note to carry to my young mistress; having discharged this commission, she would give me one to take to him. How often have I felt tempted to burn those letters instead of delivering them. However, luckily for me, I always kept cool enough to resist this base temptation. I need hardly add that I hated Malespina; I no sooner saw him come into the house than my blood boiled, and whenever he desired me to do anything I did it as badly and sulkily as possible, wishing to betray my extreme disgust. This disgust, which to them seemed simply bad service, while to me it was a display of honest wrath worthy of a proud and noble heart, earned me many reprimands, and above all it once led my young lady to make a speech that pierced me to the heart like the thrust of an arrow. On one occasion I heard her say: "That boy is getting so troublesome that we shall have to get rid of him."

At last the day was fixed for the wedding, and it was only a short while before that event that all I have already related took place with reference to my master's project. It may therefore be easily understood that Do?a Francisca had excellent reasons for objecting to her husband's joining the fleet, besides her regard for his safety.

I remember very well that the day after the cuffing bestowed on me by Do?a Francisca in her wrath at my irreverent conduct and her intense aversion to all naval warfare, I went out to attend my master in his daily walk. He leaned upon my arm, and on the other side of him walked Marcial; we went slowly to suit Don Alonso's feeble pace and the awkwardness of the old sailor's wooden leg. It was like one of those processions in which a group of tottering and worm-eaten saints are carried along on a shaky litter, threatening to fall if the pace of the bearers is in the least accelerated. The two old men had no energy or motive power left but their brave hearts, which still acted as truly as a machine just turned out of a workshop; or like the needle of a ship's compass which, notwithstanding its unerring accuracy, could do nothing to work the crazy craft it served to guide! During our walk my master--after having asserted, as usual, that if Admiral C?rdova had only tacked to port instead of starboard the battle of 'the 14th' would never have been lost--turned the conversation once more on their grand project, and though they did not put their scheme into plain words, no doubt because I was present, I gathered from what they said that they intended to effect their purpose by stealth, quietly walking out of the house one morning without my mistress's knowledge.

When we went in again indifferent matters were talked over. My master, who was always amiable to his wife, was more so, that day, than ever. Do?a Francisca could say nothing, however trivial, that he did not laugh at immoderately. He even made her a present of some trifles, doing his utmost to keep her in a good humor, and it was no doubt as a result of this conspicuous complaisance that my mistress was crosser and more peevish than I had ever seen her. No accommodation was possible; she quarrelled with Marcial over heaven knows what trifle, and desired him to quit the house that instant; she used the most violent language to her husband; and during dinner, though he praised every dish with unwonted warmth, the lady was implacable and went on grumbling and scolding.

"Merciful Heaven! If you are not enough to provoke a Saint!"

"I shall come to burning all that paper trash!" cried Do?a Francisca. "A plague on voyages and on the wandering dog of a Jew who invented them. You would do better to take some concern for the salvation of your soul, for the long and the short of it is you are no chicken. What a man! to be sure--what a man to have to take care of!"

She could not get over it; I happened to pass that way, but I cannot remember whether she relieved her fury by giving me a thrashing and demonstrating at once the elasticity of my ears and the weight of her hands. The fact is that these little endearments were so frequently repeated, that I cannot recollect whether I received them on this particular occasion; all I remember is that my master, in spite of his utmost amiability, entirely failed to mollify his wife.

Meanwhile I have neglected to speak of Rosita; she was in a very melancholy mood, for Se?or de Malespina had not made his appearance all day nor written her a note; all my excursions to the market-place having proved vain. Evening came and with it grief fell on the young girl's soul, for there was no hope now of seeing him till next day--but suddenly, after supper had been ordered up, there was a loud knock at the door. I flew to open it, and it was he; before I opened it my hatred had recognized him.

I fancy I can see him now as he stood before me then, shaking his cloak which was wet with rain. Whenever I recall that man I see him as I saw him then. To be frankly impartial, I must say he was a very handsome young fellow, with a fine figure, good manners, and a pleasant expression; rather cold and reserved at first, grave and extremely courteous with the solemn and rather exaggerated politeness of the old school. He was dressed that evening in a frock-coat, with riding breeches and top boots; he wore a Portuguese hat and a very handsome cloak of scarlet cloth, lined with silk, which was the height of fashion with the gilded youth of that time.

As soon as he had come in I saw that something serious had happened. He went into the dining-room where all were much surprised to see him at so late an hour, for he never called in the evening; but my young mistress had hardly time to be glad before she understood that this unexpected visit was connected with some painful occasion.

"I have come to take leave of you," said Malespina. They all sat stupefied, and Rosita turned as white as the paper on which I am writing; then she turned scarlet and then again as pale as death.

Share on: WhatsApp @Hash Facebook Tweet