CHAPTER II.
LEFT ALONE.
This is what an observer close at hand might have noted.
All wore long cloaks, torn and patched, but covering them, and at needconcealing them up to the eyes; useful alike against the north wind andcuriosity. They moved with ease under these cloaks. The greater numberwore a handkerchief rolled round the head--a sort of rudiment whichmarks the commencement of the turban in Spain. This headdress wasnothing unusual in England. At that time the South was in fashion in theNorth; perhaps this was connected with the fact that the North wasbeating the South. It conquered and admired. After the defeat of theArmada, Castilian was considered in the halls of Elizabeth to be elegantcourt talk. To speak English in the palace of the Queen of England washeld almost an impropriety. Partially to adopt the manners of those uponwhom we impose our laws is the habit of the conquering barbarian towardsconquered civilization. The Tartar contemplates and imitates theChinese. It was thus Castilian fashions penetrated into England; inreturn, English interests crept into Spain.
One of the men in the group embarking appeared to be a chief. He hadsandals on his feet, and was bedizened with gold lace tatters and atinsel waistcoat, shining under his cloak like the belly of a fish.Another pulled down over his face a huge piece of felt, cut like asombrero; this felt had no hole for a pipe, thus indicating the wearerto be a man of letters.
On the principle that a man's vest is a child's cloak, the child waswrapped over his rags in a sailor's jacket, which descended to hisknees.
By his height you would have guessed him to be a boy of ten or eleven;his feet were bare.
The crew of the hooker was composed of a captain and two sailors.
The hooker had apparently come from Spain, and was about to returnthither. She was beyond a doubt engaged in a stealthy service from onecoast to the other.
The persons embarking in her whispered among themselves.
The whispering interchanged by these creatures was of compositesound--now a word of Spanish, then of German, then of French, then ofGaelic, at times of Basque. It was either a patois or a slang. Theyappeared to be of all nations, and yet of the same band.
The motley group appeared to be a company of comrades, perhaps a gang ofaccomplices.
The crew was probably of their brotherhood. Community of object wasvisible in the embarkation.
Had there been a little more light, and if you could have looked at themattentively, you might have perceived on these people rosaries andscapulars half hidden under their rags; one of the semi-women minglingin the group had a rosary almost equal for the size of its beads to thatof a dervish, and easy to recognize for an Irish one made atLlanymthefry, which is also called Llanandriffy.
You might also have observed, had it not been so dark, a figure of OurLady and Child carved and gilt on the bow of the hooker. It was probablythat of the Basque Notre Dame, a sort of Panagia of the old Cantabri.Under this image, which occupied the position of a figurehead, was alantern, which at this moment was not lighted--an excess of cautionwhich implied an extreme desire of concealment. This lantern wasevidently for two purposes. When alight it burned before the Virgin, andat the same time illumined the sea--a beacon doing duty as a taper.
Under the bowsprit the cutwater, long, curved, and sharp, came out infront like the horn of a crescent. At the top of the cutwater, and atthe feet of the Virgin, a kneeling angel, with folded wings, leaned herback against the stem, and looked through a spyglass at the horizon. Theangel was gilded like Our Lady. In the cutwater were holes and openingsto let the waves pass through, which afforded an opportunity for gildingand arabesques.
Under the figure of the Virgin was written, in gilt capitals, the word_Matutina_--the name of the vessel, not to be read just now on accountof the darkness.
Amid the confusion of departure there were thrown down in disorder, atthe foot of the cliff, the goods which the voyagers were to take withthem, and which, by means of a plank serving as a bridge across, werebeing passed rapidly from the shore to the boat. Bags of biscuit, a caskof stock fish, a case of portable soup, three barrels--one of freshwater, one of malt, one of tar--four or five bottles of ale, an oldportmanteau buckled up by straps, trunks, boxes, a ball of tow fortorches and signals--such was the lading. These ragged people hadvalises, which seemed to indicate a roving life. Wandering rascals areobliged to own something; at times they would prefer to fly away likebirds, but they cannot do so without abandoning the means of earning alivelihood. They of necessity possess boxes of tools and instruments oflabour, whatever their errant trade may be. Those of whom we speak weredragging their baggage with them, often an encumbrance.
It could not have been easy to bring these movables to the bottom of thecliff. This, however, revealed the intention of a definite departure.
No time was lost; there was one continued passing to and fro from theshore to the vessel, and from the vessel to the shore; each one took hisshare of the work--one carried a bag, another a chest. Those amidst thepromiscuous company who were possibly or probably women worked like therest. They overloaded the child.
It was doubtful if the child's father or mother were in the group; nosign of life was vouchsafed him. They made him work, nothing more. Heappeared not a child in a family, but a slave in a tribe. He waited onevery one, and no one spoke to him.
However, he made haste, and, like the others of this mysterious troop,he seemed to have but one thought--to embark as quickly as possible. Didhe know why? probably not: he hurried mechanically because he saw theothers hurry.
The hooker was decked. The stowing of the lading in the hold was quicklyfinished, and the moment to put off arrived. The last case had beencarried over the gangway, and nothing was left to embark but the men.The two objects among the group who seemed women were already on board;six, the child among them, were still on the low platform of the cliff.A movement of departure was made in the vessel: the captain seized thehelm, a sailor took up an axe to cut the hawser--to cut is an evidenceof haste; when there is time it is unknotted.
"Andamos," said, in a low voice, he who appeared chief of the six, andwho had the spangles on his tatters. The child rushed towards the plankin order to be the first to pass. As he placed his foot on it, two ofthe men hurried by, at the risk of throwing him into the water, got inbefore him, and passed on; the fourth drove him back with his fist andfollowed the third; the fifth, who was the chief, bounded into ratherthan entered the vessel, and, as he jumped in, kicked back the plank,which fell into the sea, a stroke of the hatchet cut the moorings, thehelm was put up, the vessel left the shore, and the child remained onland.