VI
THE FAIR AT INCA
Our first experience of the Majorcan railway system was a curious and unexpected one.
Having a fancy to see Inca, a thriving town situated in the very heart of the island, we called at Palma station one November day and asked for a time-table. The one handed us—it was the latest issued—bore the date of July, 1907. But even although it was well over two years old there appeared to have been no alteration either in the hours of departure or of arrival.
Learning that Thursday was the market-day at Inca, we got up before sunrise on a Thursday morning and reached the station in good time for the train that was timed to leave at 7.40. The other train, for only two trains a day leave Palma, was out of the question, as it did not start until two o'clock.
We had imagined that the paucity of trains argued a corresponding scarcity of travellers, but to our surprise the station was already crowded with a pleasantly excited mob of people, all in gala dress.
The women had their mantillas or lace-embroidered rebozillos fastened to the hair with little gold pins, and many wore long white gloves reaching to the sleeves, which were decorated at the elbows with a row of gold or silver buttons. The little shawls that are always a feature of native full dress were of all colours and materials, from silk with long fringes to richly-hued plush or delicate light brocades.
The trains of Majorca resemble those of most other civilized countries in providing first, second, and third-class carriages. The first are cramped and stuffy. The second are inferior to some old-fashioned uncushioned English third-class. The third closely resemble cattle-trucks with benches running along the sides and down the middle. They have no windows; leather curtains protect their open sides.
We went second-class, as did the majority of our fellow-travellers. Long before the hour of starting, every carriage, with the exception of the firsts, which were almost empty, was packed full of passengers, all talking at the pitch of their voices. But nothing happened until quite forty minutes after the time fixed for departure, when the engine gave a violent jerk, as though putting all its strength into a superhuman effort, the women crossed themselves devoutly, and the train moved slowly out of the station. So slowly indeed, that three late-comers, arriving on the platform after the train was in motion, not only succeeded in entering the train but were able, by running forward, to secure places in the front carriages.