The Fortunate Isles Part 24

It was no surprise to hear that on his visit to Minorca the late King Edward had made his Consul a Member of the Victorian Order.

From the bustle of departure in the hotel we judged that some of the _comerciantes_ might be our fellow-travellers on the _Isla de Menorca_. But when we went on board and, having taken up a position on the promenade deck, were watching the pa.s.sengers arrive, it was something of a surprise to see all of them appear. The little man with the long trousers; the bald man who performed surprising feats with wine-flasks, drinking with the slender spout held far from his lips in a way that held us fascinated spectators until he chose to set it down; the beautiful being who, we were convinced, could travel in nothing less refined than perfumery; the man who always, even at table, wore the latest thing in smart caps, and whom we had seen coming out of a _sombrero_ shop--all were there. Not even the gentleman who, during our voyage together on the _Monte Toro_, had used a dust-coat as a dressing-gown was awanting.

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Comerciantes_ in the Fonda at Mahon]

There was little stir on the quay. The departure of a mail boat from Mahon does not cause so much commotion as does a like event at Palma, where the long breakwater is a favourite promenade, and where everybody who has a letter to post seems to delight in rus.h.i.+ng on board with it at the last possible moment.

Many young men have to leave Minorca to seek their fortune elsewhere. I wonder if they return to that rocky island as they love to do to fertile Majorca.

Just as the siren blew the first warning, a fine well-built young Minorcan hastened up the long gangway. A male friend helped him to carry his substantial trunk, and three girls followed closely. They had barely time to bid him farewell--one with a lingering embrace, the others with a warm handshake, before the gangway was withdrawn and water was widening between the exile and his native land.

For a little s.p.a.ce he allowed his feelings to govern him, and with quivering shoulders wept unrestrainedly into his handkerchief in the intervals of waving it. Then, when the boat had rounded the horn of the bay and the beautiful city was out of sight, he put away his handkerchief, lit a cigarette, and resolutely turned his face towards the land of promise.

There were no first-cla.s.s pa.s.sengers at all. Our commercial friends, taking possession of the after-deck, formed themselves into an impromptu concert party, the little man acting as conductor, as with admirable voices they sang popular choruses.

Two ladies had come on board; but the steward, taking our hint of the morning, had given them a small cabin to themselves, as doubtless they preferred, and had reserved the whole of the large ladies' cabin for us. So once again we knew the luxury of travelling second-cla.s.s on a Balearic Island steamer!

The voyage was pleasantly uneventful, and not rough enough to disturb us. We awoke to find ourselves entering Palma harbour, and to see the lovely land bathed in the warm glow of sunrise.

Soon we were in a _carruaje_, waving farewell to the _comerciantes_ as in a band they walked towards their hotel. A few minutes later we had reached Son Espanolet, had pa.s.sed the house of our friend the Consul with its flagstaff and gaily painted s.h.i.+elds, and were back again under the homely roof of the Casa Tranquila.

[Ill.u.s.tration: An Interior in Alaro]

XVIII

ALARo

The shutters of the Casa windows had been left open that the growing light might awaken us in time to catch the morning train to Alaro, where we had planned to spend the day with two friends from England.

Looking out while it was yet dark, we were conscious of a lowering sky. The pocket barometer had fallen two points, and for the first time in many weeks we felt that the downpour which appeared to be threatening would be unwelcome.

While we dressed, the rain began to fall sulkily. It had been agreed that if the morning opened wet the expedition would be deferred, and having had experience of the thoroughness of Majorcan rain, I was half inclined to take a gloomy view of the situation and stay at home. But the others pooh-poohed my fears and off we set.

The optimists proved to be right. When we entered the station at Palma the rain had ceased, and the sun shone out on the Squire and the Lady, who were in the act of alighting from the Grand Hotel omnibus.

The town of Alaro, which lies close to the base of the northern range of mountains, is connected by a light railway with the main line at Consell. Horses drag the single carriage up the slight gradient to Alaro; it returns by the force of its own impetus. At Consell the funny conveyance with its tandem horses was waiting to receive the pa.s.sengers. It had probably begun its career of usefulness by being a tram-car in some other part of the world. Now a part.i.tion divided the interior into first and second cla.s.ses.

Disregarding the suggestion of the driver, who followed to remind us that first-cla.s.s was inside, we mounted to the top, where two long lines of seats were set back to back.

Our progress towards the still invisible town was slow. The efforts of the driver to induce the leading horse to put on speed by throwing stones at him happily proved unavailing. With something of the smooth motion of a boat on a ca.n.a.l we glided on through fields of lush grain in whose midst olives grew luxuriantly. The threatening clouds had vanished, the sun was warm, the play of light and shade on the mountains was glorious, and there was not a soul in sight. The deliberate mode of progress through the lovely country was so delightful that when the line ended abruptly where the town began we all felt sorry. We agreed that we would have been content to glide thus slowly onwards for hours.

But on alighting we found our interest in the surroundings for the time being subdued by a stronger and more insistent interest in food. Our seven o'clock breakfast had been necessarily sc.r.a.ppy and hurried, and our first concern was to find an inn.

The civil guard who had been awaiting the arrival of our car was at hand. Applied to for direction, he not only recommended a _fonda_, but in person escorted us there.

The _fonda_, which was close at hand, looked clean and inviting; but its mistress, overwhelmed by this sudden intrusion of five ravenous and unintelligible foreigners, eyed us dubiously. She did not know a word of Spanish, and her husband--who was evidently the linguist of the family--was at Inca market. As she gazed blankly at us her children, from the eldest--a pretty girl in a red frock--to the baby, cl.u.s.tered about her, their faces reflecting the bewilderment expressed in hers.

The fact that the youngsters looked round and rosy and that they all held little branches of mandarin oranges hinted that we had come to the right place for food. Hunger has a universal language. The landlady's blank expression gradually gave place to one of intelligence. Before we left her she had promised to have a meal ready at ten o'clock; and comforting ourselves with that a.s.surance, we went out to stroll about until the half hour of waiting had pa.s.sed.

Wandering through the streets of the little town and peeping in at the open doors with the unblus.h.i.+ng effrontery peculiar to the Briton abroad, we were rewarded by glimpses of many quaint interiors. In one, beside an uncla.s.sable machine, a heap of the thick fleshy leaves of the _chumbera_ (cactus) was lying.

The owner of the house, a man toothless and shrivelled, but endowed with that aspect and air of juvenility that seems the heritage of age in Majorca, cordially invited us in. He had no knowledge of Spanish, but he had what was far more valuable--a keen intelligence.

Indulging our curiosity as to the nature of the odd machine, he ran off to return with a handful of macaroni; then darting into the machine house, he reappeared with a perforated bowl of burnished copper, and by signs proceeded to explain the process of pressing the paste through.

"But the _chumberas_?" somebody asked. "Were they the food of the mule who drove the machine?"

The old man shook his head. Evidently the motive power was not supplied by a member of the a.s.s tribe. Returning to pantomime, he raised his hands to his head and protruded his fore-fingers after the manner of horns; then indicating to us to follow, ran out into the street, where we found him pointing down into an adjacent cellar, in whose depths two sleek grey oxen were placidly chewing the cud. So it was the oxen who turned the machine that made the macaroni, and it was the p.r.i.c.kly foliage of the _chumberas_ that their jaws were patiently munching.

The little town that nestles out of sight at the foot of the great range of hills is an enterprising one. Through the open front of a building in another street we caught sight of a fine dynamo; and being invited to enter, found ourselves in the presence of the electric plant of the town. As the grey-bearded superintendent told us, Alaro was the first town on the island to have electric light installed. Manacor was the second.

"And Palma?" we asked.

The superintendent shrugged his shoulders. Evidently the capital city had been a bad third.

The half hour of waiting had pa.s.sed quickly, and even in the pa.s.sing were we conscious that the landlady of the _fonda_ was exerting herself on our behalf. For while we were gazing at the oxen the red-frocked eldest girl had hastened by carrying a big dish of fish.

On the marble-topped table of the dining-room was a huge black sausage, a pyramid of rolls, a decanter of red wine, siphons of soda-water, and a plate of a pickled plant that was new to us all, even to the Squire and the Lady, who had a wide experience of many countries.

We were in danger of making a meal of the sausage, when the little girl brought in a dish of the omelets that every Majorcan housewife makes to perfection.

The pickle had proved delicious, but all our little waitress could tell us was that it came from the sea. And we had almost reconciled ourselves to the idea that we were eating seaweed when the explanation (which proved to be correct) that we might be eating samphire occurred to us. In England in Shakespeare's time, and on the Continent to this day, the tender young shoots of samphire, which grows on rocks by the ocean, are gathered, sprinkled with salt, and then preserved in vinegar.

A dish of crisp fried fish followed the omelets. Then came a second dish of fish, then an abundance of very sweet mandarin oranges, freshly cut, with long stems and plenty of their green leaves.

The moment of repletion having arrived, the men lit their pipes, and for a s.p.a.ce we lazed. But a few minutes of indolence sufficed.

Calling for our hostess, we asked for the bill. She was prepared for the question, and had the amount at the tip of her tongue--eight pesetas.

Leaving our wraps in her care, we separated: the Squire and the Boy to climb the mountain called the Castle of Alaro, the Man to find a subject for his brush, and the Lady and I to prowl about and enjoy ourselves in a feminine way.

Our prowl first led through a part of the town where at the open doors women, and little boys with ap.r.o.ns tied about their thin waists, were busy making boots. I wonder how it is that the sight of a small boy at work always makes me sad. I think it is the thought of the immensity of the task he has to accomplish before his labour ends.

Once clear of the town, we sauntered along a path that crossed a field, and ended at a fine old mansion overlooking an orange grove.

The trees were heavy with fruit, and the air was perfumed with the fragrance of the blossoms that starred the glossy foliage. A giant bougainvillea draped a complete wall with a mantle of royal purple.

The front windows were closely shuttered. Except for three dogs the place might have been deserted. But on making our way round to the back we found ourselves in the midst of the bevy of people--caretakers, gardeners, labourers, and their families--who live about and in a big country house.

The wife of the caretaker, supported by her half-dozen children and an old dame who was presumably their grandmother, advanced to the wide doorway of the kitchen to greet us. From the vicinity of the stables and outhouses men and lads gathered, and stood a silent group, attentive to our attempts at Spanish conversation, which attempts, it must be admitted, were puerile.

We were merely asking if we might have the privilege of seeing over the house, but we failed to make our meaning clear. Calling her little dark-eyed _chica_, who was evidently the educated member of the family, the mother conjured her to translate; but the _chica_, for the first time removing her eyes from the Lady's hat and flowing veil, only blushed and hung her pretty head.

At our wits' end, we were reduced to helpless laughter, when comprehension suddenly flashed upon the mother.

"Si, si, senoras," she said, and trotted briskly off, with us close upon her heels and the children and the grandmother bringing up the rear, across the s.p.a.cious kitchen, along a pa.s.sage, and up a stair so dark that we had to grope our way.