Читать книгу Trafalgar & Saragossa - Benito Pérez Galdós - Страница 11

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The following morning had a great surprise in store for me, and my mistress was thrown into the most violent passion I suppose she can ever have known in her life. When I got up I perceived that Don Alonso was in the best of humors, and his wife even more ill-tempered than usual. While she was gone to mass with Rosita, I saw my master packing in the greatest haste, putting shirts, and other articles of clothing, and among them his uniform, into a portmanteau. I helped him and it made me suspect that he was about to steal away; still, I was surprised to see nothing of Marcial. However, his absence was presently accounted for; for Don Alonso, having made his rapid arrangements, became extremely impatient till the old sailor made his appearance, saying: “Here is the chaise. Let us be off before she comes in.” I took up the valise, and in a twinkling Don Alonso, Marcial, and I had sneaked out of the back gate so as to be seen by nobody; we got into the chaise, which set off as fast as the wretched hack could draw it and the badness of the road allowed. This, which was bad enough for horses was almost impassable for vehicles; however, in spite of jolting that almost made us sick, we hurried as much as possible, and until we were fairly out of sight of the town our martyrdom was allowed no respite.

I enjoyed the journey immensely, for every novelty turns the brain of a boy. Marcial could not contain himself for joy, but my master, who at first displayed his satisfaction with even less reticence than I, became sadder and more subdued when we had left the town behind us. From time to time he would say: “And she will be so astonished! What will she say when she goes home and does not find us!”

As for me, my whole being seemed to expand at the sight of the landscape, with the gladness and freshness of the morning, and above all with the idea of soon seeing Cadiz and its matchless bay, crowded with vessels; its gay and busy streets and its creek (the Caleta) which remained in my mind as the symbol of the most precious gift of life—liberty; its Plaza, its jetty and other spots, all dear to my memory. We had not gone more than three leagues when there came in sight two riders mounted on magnificent horses, who were fast overtaking us and before long joined us. We had at once recognized them as Malespina and his father—the tall, haggard, and chattering old man of whom I have already spoken. They were both much surprised to see Don Alonso, and still more so when he explained that he was on his way to Cadiz to join a ship. The son took the announcement with much gravity; but the father, who as you will have understood was an arrant braggart and flatterer, complimented my master in high-flown terms on his determination, calling him the prince of navigators, the mirror of sailors, and an honor to his country.

We stopped to dine at the inn at Conil. The gentlemen had what they could get, and Marcial and I eat what was left, which was not much. I waited at table and heard the conversation, by which means I gained a better knowledge of the elder Malespina, who at first struck me as a boastful liar and afterwards as the most amusing chatterbox I ever in my life met with.

Don José Malespina, my young mistress’s intended father-in-law—no relation to the famous naval officer of that name—was a retired colonel of artillery, and his greatest pride was founded on his perfect knowledge of that branch of military science and on his personal superiority in the tactics of gunnery. When he enlarged on that subject his imagination seemed to gain in vividness and in freedom of invention.

“Artillery,” he said, without pausing for a moment in the act of deglutition, “is indispensable on board ships of war. What is a vessel without guns? But it is on land, Señor Don Alonso, that the marvellous results of that grand invention of the human mind are seen to the best advantage. During the war in Roussillon—you know of course that I took part in that campaign and that all our successes were due to my promptness in managing the artillery.—The battle of Masdeu—: How do you suppose that was won? General Ricardos posted me on a hill with four pieces, ordering me not to fire till he sent the word of command. But I, not taking the same view of the case, kept quiet till a column of the French took up a position in front of me, in such a way as that my fire raked them from end to end. Now the French troops form in file with extraordinary precision. I took a very exact aim with one of my guns, covering the head of the foremost soldier.—Do you see? The file was wonderfully straight.—I fired, and the ball took off one hundred and forty-two heads Sir! and the rest did not fall only because the farther end of the line swerved a little. This produced the greatest consternation among the enemy, but as they did not understand my tactics and could not see me from where they stood, they sent up another column to attack our troops on my right, and that column shared the same fate, and another and another, till I had won the battle.”

“Well, señor, it was wonderful!” said my master, who, seeing the enormity of the lie, had no mind to trouble himself to contradict his friend.

“Then in the second campaign, under the command of the Conde de la Union, we gave the republicans a very pretty lesson. The defence of Boulou was not successful because we ran short of ammunition; but in spite of that I did great damage by loading a gun with the keys of the church—however, they did not go far, and as a last and desperate resource I loaded the cannon with my own keys, my watch, my money, a few trifles I found in my pockets and, at last, with my decorations. The strange thing is that one of the crosses found its billet on the breast of a French general, to which it stuck as if it had been glued there and did him no harm whatever. He kept it, and when he went to Paris, the Convention condemned him to death or exile—I forget which—for having allowed himself to accept an order from the hand of an enemy.”

“The devil they did!” said my master, highly delighted with these audacious romances.

“When I was in England,” continued the old soldier, “you know of course, that I was sent for by the English to make improvements in their artillery—I dined every day with Pitt, with Burke, with Lord North, Lord Cornwallis, and other distinguished personages, who always called me ‘the amusing Spaniard.’ I remember that once, when I was at the Palace, they entreated me to show them what a bull-fight was like and I had to throw my cloak over a chair and to prick it and kill it, which vastly diverted all the court, and especially King George III., who was very great friends with me, and was always saying that I must send to my country to fetch some good olive-trees. Oh! we were on the best terms possible. All his anxiety was that I should teach him a few words of Spanish, and above all some of our beautiful Andalusian—but he could never learn more than ‘otro toro’ (another bull) and ‘vengan esos cinco’ (that makes five), and he greeted me with these phrases every day when I went to breakfast with him off pescadillas2 and a few cañitas of Manzanilla.”

“That was what he took for breakfast?”

“That was what he preferred. I had some pescadillas bottled and brought from Cadiz. They kept very well by a recipe I invented and have at home.”

“Wonderful! And you succeeded in reforming the English artillery?” asked my master, encouraging him to go on for he was greatly amused.

“Perfectly. I invented a cannon which could never be fired, for all London, including the ministers and parliament, came to entreat me not to attempt it, because they feared that the explosion would throw down a number of houses.”

“So that the great gun has been laid aside and forgotten?”

“The Emperor of Russia wanted to buy it, but it was impossible to move it from the spot where it stood.”

“Then you surely can get us out of our present difficulties by inventing a cannon to destroy the whole English fleet at one discharge.”

“Yes,” replied Malespina. “I have been thinking of it, and I believe I may realize my idea. I will show you the calculations I have made, not only with regard to increasing the calibre of guns to a fabulous degree, but also for constructing armor plates to protect ships and bastions. It is the absorbing idea of my life.”

By this time the meal was ended. Marcial and I disposed of the fragments in less than no time, and we set out again; the Malespinas on horseback by the side of the chaise and we, as before, in the tumble-down vehicle. The effects of the dinner, and of the copious draughts of liquor with which he had moistened it, had stimulated the old gentleman’s inventive powers and he went on all the way, pouring out a flood of nonsense. The conversation returned to the subject with which it had begun, the war in Roussillon, and as Don José was preparing to relate fresh deeds of valor, my master, weary of so many falsehoods, tried to divert him to something else, by saying: “It was a disastrous and impolitic war. We should have done better never to have undertaken it.”

“Oh! the Conde de Aranda, as you know,” exclaimed Malespina, “condemned that unlucky war with the Republic from the first. How often have we discussed the question—for we have been friends from our childhood. When I was in Aragon we lived together for six months at Moncayo. Indeed, it was for him that I had a very curious gun constructed. …”

“Yes, Aranda was always opposed to it,” interrupted Don Alonso, intercepting him on the dangerous ground of gunnery.

“So he did,” said Don José to whom rodomontade was irresistible, “and I may say that when that distinguished man so warmly advocated peace with the republicans, it was because I advised it, being convinced from the first that the war was a mistake. But Godoy, who was then supreme, persisted in it, simply and solely to contradict me, as I have learnt since. But the best of it is that Godoy himself was obliged to put an end to the war in 1795, when he understood what it really was, and at the same time he adopted the high-sounding title of Prince of Peace.”

“How much we want a good statesman, my worthy friend,” said my master. “A man on a level with the times, who would not throw us into useless wars but who could maintain the dignity of the crown.”

“Well, when I was at Madrid last year,” continued Don José, “proposals were made to me to accept the post of Secretary of State. The Queen was most anxious for it—the King said nothing. I went with him every day to the Prado to fire a few shots.—Even Godoy would have agreed, recognizing my superior qualifications; and indeed, if he had not I should have had no difficulty in finding some snug little fortress where I might lock him up so that he might give me no trouble. However, I declined, preferring to live in peace in my own country-town; I left the management of public affairs in Godoy’s hands. There you have a man whose father was a mule-boy on my father-in-law’s estate in Estremadura. …”

“I did not know that. …” said Don Alonso. “Although he is a man of obscure origin I always supposed the Prince of Peace to belong to a family of good birth, whose fortune was impaired but whose ancestry was respectable.”

And so the dialogue went on; Señor Malespina uttering his falsehoods as if they were gospel, and my master listening with angelic calmness, sometimes annoyed by them, and sometimes amused at listening to such nonsense. If I remember rightly, Don José Maria took the credit of having advised Napoleon to the bold deeds of the 18th Brumaire.

Talking of these and of other matters we reached Chiclana as night overtook us, and my master, who was utterly tired and worn out by the villainous chaise, remained in the town, while the others went on, being anxious to reach Cadiz the same night. While we were at supper Malespina poured out a fresh farrago of lies, and I could see that his son heard them with pain, as if he were horrified at having for his father the most romancing liar in the world probably. We took leave of them and rested there till next day when we proceeded on our journey by day-break, and as the road from Chiclana to Cadiz was much easier than that we had already traversed, we reached the end of our journey by about eleven o’clock in the morning, without adventure, safe in body and in excellent spirits.