CHAPTER XVI
PERNÁLES
A COUNTRY better adapted by nature for the success of the enterprising bandit cannot be conceived. The vast despoblados = uninhabited wastes, with scant villages far isolated and lonely mountain-tracts where a single desperado commands the way and can hold-up a score of passers-by, all lend themselves admirably to this peculiar form of industry. And up to quite recent years these natural advantages were exploited to the full. Riding through the sierras, one notes rude crosses and epitaphs inscribed on rocks recording the death of this or that wayfarer. Now travellers, as a rule, do not die natural deaths by the wayside; and an inspection of these silent memorials indicates that each occupies a site eminently adapted for a quiet murder. Fortunately, during the last year or two, the extension of the telegraph and linking-up of remote hamlets has aided authority practically to extinguish brigandage on the grander scale. Spain to-day can no longer claim a single artist of the Jack Sheppard or Dick Turpin type; not one heroic murderer such as José Maria (whose safe-conduct was more effective than that of his king), Vizco el Borje, Agua-Dulce, and other ladrones en grande whose life-histories will be found outlined in Wild Spain.
The two first-named represent a type of manhood one cannot but admire—admire despite oneself and despite its inconvenience to civilisation. These were men ignorant of fear, who, though themselves gentle, were yet able, by sheer force of iron will, to command and control cut-throat gangs which set authority at defiance, and who subjected whole districts to their anarchical aims and orders. The outlaw-overlords ever acted on similar lines. Respecting human life as, in itself, valueless, they commandeered real value by an adroit combination of liberally subsidising the peasantry while yet terrorising all by the certainty of swift and merciless retribution should the least shade of treachery befall—or rather what to the brigand-crew represented treachery. Human life was otherwise safe. Two points in this connection demand mention. Besides direct robberies, the brigands battened upon a tribute exacted from landowners and paid as a ransom to shield themselves and their tenants from molestation. Secondly, their safety and continued immunity from capture was largely due to that secret influence—quite undefinable, yet potent to this day—known as “Caciquismo.” That influence was exerted on behalf of the outlaws as part of the ransom arrangement aforesaid.
Neither for robber-chieftains of the first water, such as these, nor for brigandage as a scientific business, is there any longer opportunity in modern Spain, any more than for a Robin Hood at home. Lesser lights of the road, footpads and casual sequestradores, will survive for a further space in the wilder region; but the real romance of the industry ceased with the new century.
Its first decade has nevertheless produced a brace of first-rate ruffians who, though in no sense to be compared with the old-time aristocracy of the craft, at least succeeded in setting at naught the civil power, and in pillaging and harassing rural Andalucia during more than two years.
The original pair were known as Pernáles and El Vivillo, the latter a man of superior instincts and education, who, under former conditions, would doubtless have developed into the noble bandit. Vivillo on principle avoided bloodshed; not a single assassination is laid to his charge during a long career of crime. Pernales, on the contrary, revelled in revolting cruelties, and rated human life no higher than that of a rabbit. At first this repulsive ruffian, as hateful of aspect as of character,[31] acted as a sort of lieutenant to Vivillo, but the partnership was soon renounced by the latter consequent on a cowardly crime perpetrated by Pernales in the Sierra of Algamita. At a lonely farm lived an elderly couple, the husband an industrious, thrifty man, who had the reputation of being rich among his fellows. Their worldly possessions in actual fact consisted of some 2000 reales = £20. Pernales was not likely to overlook a hoard so ill-protected, and one night in November 1906 insisted, at the muzzle of his gun, on the savings being handed over to him. A lad of fourteen, however, had witnessed the transaction, and on perceiving him (and fearing he might thus be denounced) Pernales plunged his knife in the boy’s breast, killing him on the spot. Vivillo, on hearing of this insensate murder by his second, insisted on the restitution of their money to the aged pair, expelled Pernales from his gang, and threatened him with death should he dare again to cross his path.
Pernales now formed a fresh partnership with a desperado of similar calibre to himself, a soulless brute, known as the Niño de Arahál, whose acquaintance he had made at a village of that name. This pair, along with a gang of ruffians who acclaimed them as chiefs, were destined to achieve some of the worst deeds of violence in the whole annals of Spanish Bandolerismo. For two years they held half Andalucia in awe, terrorised by the ferocity of their methods and merciless disregard of life. None dared denounce them or impart to authority a word of information as to their whereabouts, even though it were known for certain—such was the dread of vengeance.
Innumerable were the skirmishes between the forces of the law and its outragers. An illustrative incident occurred in March 1907. A pair of Civil Guards, riding up the Rio de los Almendros, district of Pruna, suddenly and by mere chance found themselves face to face with the men they “wanted.” A challenge to halt and surrender was answered by instant fire, and the outlaws, wheeling about, clapped spurs to their horses and fled. Now for the Civil Guards as brave men and dutiful we have the utmost respect; but their marksmanship on this occasion proved utterly rotten, and an easy right-and-left was clean missed twice and thrice over! The fugitives, moreover, outrode pursuit, and the fact illustrates their cool, calculating nonchalance, that so soon as they reckoned on having gained a forty-five minutes’ advantage, the pair paid a quiet social call on a well-to-do farmer of Morón, enjoyed a glass of wine with their trembling host, and then (having some fifteen minutes in hand) rode forward. Now comes a point. On arrival of the pursuers, that farmer (though not a word had been said) denied all knowledge of his new-gone guests. Pursuit was abandoned.
For eight days the bandits lay low. Then Pernales presented himself at a farm in Ecija with a demand for £40, or in default the destruction of the live-stock. The bailiff (no farmer lives on his farm) despatched a messenger on his fleetest horse to bring in the ransom. As by the stipulated hour he had not returned, Pernales shot eight valuable mules! Riding thence to La Coronela, a farm belonging to Antonio Fuentes, the bull-fighter, a similar message was despatched. Pending its reply our outlaws feasted on the best; but instead of bank-notes, a force of Civil Guards appeared on the scene. That made no difference. The terrified farm-hands swore that the bandits had ridden off in a given direction, and while the misled police hurried away on a wild-goose chase, our heroes finished their feast, and late at night (having loaded up everything portable of value) departed for their lair in the sierra.