We remained at Tarifa a few months longer, continually fighting for our bread (the crops), when many a lively and serious skirmish took place. It is a pleasant little town, and famous as the point where the Moors made their first descent into Spain, invited by Count Julian to avenge the insult offered to his daughter, the beautiful Florinda, by Roderick the last of the Visigoth monarchs. When the Moors had been expelled from Spain, a watch-tower was erected here, in which towards evening a bell rings every hour until dark; it then sounds every half hour until midnight,—from that hour until three o’clock in the morning it rings every quarter, and after that every five minutes until daybreak. This custom continued down to the period when we were quartered there and probably does so to the present time; and this bell to our great annoyance hung close to the officers’ guardroom.
CASTILIAN PURITY.
Nothing offends a Spaniard, particularly in Andalusia, more than to insinuate even that he is in any way connected with the Moors. Should you through doubt ask a Spaniard to what country he belongs, he answers that he is a pure and legitimate Castilian, not intending to say that he is a native of either of the Castiles or that he was born in wedlock, but giving you to understand that his veins are not contaminated with any mixture of Moorish blood. Yet in Tarifa, where they are most particular on this point, they still continue a Moorish custom peculiar to that town and not practised, I believe, in any other part of Spain. The ladies wear a narrow shawl or strip of silk, called a mantilla, generally black; the centre of this strip is placed on the crown of the head, the ends hanging down in front of the shoulders, the deep fringe, with which they are trimmed, reaching close to the ankle. So far this dress is common throughout Spain; but in Tarifa the ladies cross the mantilla in front of their faces, by which the whole countenance is concealed, with the exception of one eye; this is done by dexterously lapping the mantilla across at the waist, and so gracefully that the movement is scarcely perceptible. I have seen many English and even Spanish ladies of the other provinces endeavour to imitate this sudden and graceful movement, but never without awkwardness; whereas every female in Tarifa accomplishes it in a moment. This temporary disguise is resorted to when the ladies go out to walk; and so perfect is the concealment and the dress of the ladies so much alike, that the most intimate acquaintances pass each other unknown. Thus accidents may happen and husbands fail to know their own wives.
Spanish ladies in general are very fine figures, for which reason, as I have been told, their under garments, far from flowing, are very narrow, and tied down the front with many knots of fine silk ribbon.
The order for the flank companies to join headquarters having arrived, after a long and happy sojourn we bade a final adieu to this pleasant and hospitable little town, and proceeded to Gibraltar.
After remaining a few days in Gibraltar to exchange our tattered Barossa clothing for a new outfit, which the flank companies had no opportunity of doing previously, the regiment sailed for Lisbon on July 10th, on board two men-of-war; but a calm setting in, we were carried by the current to Ceuta on the African coast. Dropping anchor, the officers landed to dine with our old friends, the 2nd Battalion 4th or King’s Own, who were quartered there; but the weather promising fair, Blue Peter and a gun summoned us on board before the cloth was removed.
SCENES OF LOVE AND WAR.
Next morning we found ourselves off Tarifa. The whole population were on the beach kissing hands and waving kerchiefs in the breeze; we recognised them all; and a recollection of the many happy days we passed there, where so oft we played and sang and danced the gay fandango, called forth from all a tear or sigh. The Tarifa ladies were famed throughout Spain for their beauty. But the charmed city soon receded from our view; and on we plodded listlessly, until we came abreast of Barossa Hill, when we all hurried on deck and drank a flowing bumper with three times three cheers to the health of the gallant Graham. Continuing our course towards the land, where dwell the brown maids with the lamp-black eyes, we arrived at Lisbon on the 20th and next day disembarked.
Our field equipments were immediately put in preparation; our baggage animals were procured as soon as the market supplied, and as cheap as the Portuguese sharpers would sell, who next to Yorkshiremen are the greatest rogues known in regard to horses. Our wooden canteens were well soaked, securely to keep in what the commissaries cautiously served out. A portable larder or haversack was given to each to carry his provisions in, and a clasp knife which was both fork and spoon. Our little stock of tea, sugar and brandy was carefully hoarded in a small canteen, wherein dwelt a little tin kettle, which also acted the part of teapot; two cups and saucers (in case of company), two spoons, two forks, two plates of the same metal, a small soup-tureen, which on fortunate occasions acted as punch-bowl but never for soup. This was termed a rough-and-ready canteen for officers of the line only. Hussars, lancers and other cavalry captains would doubtless sooner starve than contaminate their aristocratic stomachs with viands, however exquisite, served on such plebeian utensils; however a frying-pan was common to all ranks.
TO THE MEMORY OF SIR JOHN MOORE.