“I have half a mind to handcuff the fellow for his self-importance,” said the Frenchman to his companions, not supposing I could understand his language; “and would too, only that there does appear to be something stirring; for one of his cut-throat compatriots has already been admitted to make ‘important disclosures,’ within the last twenty-four hours. Eh bien mon vieux, you shall be forwarded, but let us first see what you have about you.” So saying, my person was strictly searched; but I had only a few ochavos about me, half a dozen doubloons, which I had brought in case of need (for “quien no trahe soga se ahoga,”[223] as we Spaniards say), being tied to the rope passed through my borrico’s mouth.
Another short delay took place at the gate of the fortress; but an order was finally brought from the commandant to conduct me to his presence.
The information I had gained, that another of my countrymen had been recently admitted to the fortress on a similar errand as myself, tended to confirm the anonymous warning of treachery, and made my position rather alarming; since, if brought face to face with the other informer, I should indubitably be recognised, and as certainly be hanged, drawn, and quartered.
However, my motto was ever a lo hecho buen pecho.[224] It was too late to recede; so muffling myself up in the old cloak to avoid being recognised by any of my countrymen, and taking the doubloons from their hiding-place, I left my monture at the town gate, and, accompanied by a file of soldiers, proceeded on foot to the governor’s abode.
His excellency had just returned from his nightly tertulia, and, attended by a single aide-de-camp, or secretary, was awaiting my arrival in his dressing-room.
The governor was a wizen-faced elderly man, short, thin, and phthisical, with quick grey eyes, thick bushy eyebrows, a high forehead, and a nose made expressly for taking snuff. He appeared to be, and I believe was, one of the emigrés rentrés, whom, about this time, the Emperor Napoleon was imprudently admitting into his service. The secretary, on the other hand, had all the appearance of un vieux caporal; his pockmarked full face, shaggy black hair, coiffé à la Brutus, and affected brusque fránchise, denoting him clearly to be un homme du peuple.
Haciendo la Zalama,[225] and then looking round at my escort, I said, that the information I had to impart might better, perhaps, be communicated as privately as possible.
“Q’uest ce qu’il dit?” asked the governor, turning to his aide-de-camp.
This having been duly translated to him, “Bien!” he replied, in a sharp querulous key; and asking the corporal if my person had been searched, ordered him to withdraw with the escort. This done, addressing me in very bad Spanish, he begged to be made acquainted with the nature of my communication, desiring his secretary, who, I soon found out, conversed fluently in the Castillian language, to pay attention to what I said.
I briefly stated, that a plan had been laid by some guerrilla chieftains, assembled in the neighbouring Sierras, to entice him from Ronda, whilst a large body of facciosos, collected at El Burgo, was to pounce upon the fortress; that I was master of all the details of the project, and was willing to lend him my services in frustrating it.