A young corporal of Engineers quickly followed us, saluting as he entered. He was a good-looking, reddish-fair man, a native of the island, and an admirable example of the educated conscript. Hearing that we were British, he called to another corporal of the corps who was playing with a dog near, and who, on being introduced by his friend, spoke to us in surprisingly good English. Not only so, but he understood perfectly when spoken to, a much rarer accomplishment in a foreign language. He said he had been learning our language for ten months only, and without leaving Minorca.
I don't know who his instructor had been; there are said to be no English residents in Mahón, yet the soldier certainly spoke good colloquial English. As we parted he amused us by saluting and saying "Well, so-long!"
Another corporal having got into the conveyance—whose only flooring seemed to be a sagging mat—we started for Mahón. He, like the first, was a specialist in signalling and telegraphy. Both of these men struck us as taking their soldiering really seriously. They had each served two years in Madrid to learn their business thoroughly, and now had charge of telegraph stations on opposite sides of the harbour from each other.
On one happy possession Minorca must be most heartily congratulated. She has a most excellent British Vice-Consul. When we called on him at his house in the Calle Rosario (just off the picturesque Calle de San Roque), which was not until the last afternoon of our stay at Mahón, his reception of us was so cordial that we sincerely regretted not having called sooner.
Señor Bartolomé Escudero has many qualifications for the post he holds, and not least among them is a perfect knowledge of the language of the country he represents. Not only does the señor speak English, but it is his hobby to teach it to others who show a desire to learn.
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 passengers 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.
There was little stir on the quay. The departure of a mail boat from Mahón 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 rushing 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.