CHAPTER III.
THE ENGINEERS.
Gibraltar is well named the Key of the Mediterranean. In peace it protects our commerce and our fleets, in war it affords equal facility for harassing our foes; by its position and its strength its possession is of the utmost importance to the English, and it has excited for the last century and a half the suspicion and the jealousy of other nations. The rock of Gibraltar projects into the sea about three miles. Its northern extremity, owing to its perpendicular altitude, is inaccessible; its southern extremity is known as Europa Point; and the southern and eastern sides are rugged and steep, affording natural defences of a very formidable character. It is only on the western side fronting the bay that the rock gradually declines to the sea; but the town of Gibraltar is so built that an attack upon it, however well planned, however strong or long continued, is almost certain of failure. The bay formed by the two points already named is more than four miles across. The depth of its waters, and the protection afforded by the headland, render the harbour remarkably secure, and it is well adapted for vessels of every description. The extreme depth of the water within the bay is a hundred and ten fathoms. The security of the harbour has been still further increased by two moles, one extending eleven hundred feet, and the other seven hundred feet into the bay. The bold outline of the rock is conspicuous and striking, as it lifts its colossal proportions into the sky, and against the intense blue of that sky every crag is sharply defined. From the water to the summit, from the land forts to Europa Point, the whole rock is lined with formidable batteries. Like a crouching lion it looks out to sea, and every foe is daunted by its aspect.
Gibraltar is essentially military. Sentinels, gateways, drawbridges, fortifications, guns pointing this way, that way, and the other, looking as if—supposing them to be fired—they would inevitably blow up one another; narrow streets of stairs which it is hard work in the hot sunshine to ascend; nothing to see when you reach the top but a line of ramparts, and another street of stairs in perspective. Excavated passages in the rock lead from point to point; every new position seems more impregnable than the last; awful heights rise above, terrific depths yawn below; guns peer—at the most unexpected points—from the sides of the rock, as if they were natural productions; tunnelled galleries open to the right and to the left, inviting or deterring the visitor. There is one huge chamber cut out of the solid rock, and serving as a battery or a banquet room as occasion may require; it is called St. George’s Hall, and is the most formidable and singular cutting of Gibraltar. There is another excavation of the same character christened by the name of Cornwallis, but it is neither so spacious nor so elegant as that of St. George.
The people one meets in Gibraltar are a mixed multitude—the familiar English uniform is of course conspicuous, but for the rest it is only what we have read of, or heard of, or dreamed of in connexion with Gil Blas and Don Quixote. There is so much that is Spanish that you might fancy yourself in Barcelona; so much that is Moorish that you might fancy yourself in Morocco; so much that is English, Italian, Greek, Polish, Jewish, African, and Portuguese, that you might conceive yourself to be in the midst of an animated Ethnological museum on a large scale, opened at Gibraltar, regardless of expense.
The rock of Gibraltar, forming with Abyla in ancient times the far-famed pillars of Hercules, was captured from the Spaniards by Sir George Rooke in 1704. During the nine following years the Spaniards in vain tried to recover it, and in 1713 its possession was secured to the English by the treaty of the peace of Utrecht. But treaties are liable to be broken. When the men of the pen have finished their work the men of the sword may undo it. To hold the rock of Gibraltar by treaty was one thing, to hold it by strength was another. The fortifications required for its defence were necessarily on a gigantic scale, and the men of the pick and the shovel were in request. When we glance at the subterranean passages cut in the rock, the huge caverns scooped out of it, the long lines of rampart making the place impregnable, even though attacked by an enemy having the command of the sea, we may readily understand how important was the service rendered by the engineer and labourer. So important indeed was their work, that it added a new division to the British army—a division, that wherever our flag waves has done good service—namely, that of the Engineers.
Previous to the year 1772 all our great engineering works in connexion with military operations were mainly executed by civilians. The works at Gibraltar were entrusted to ordinary mechanics obtained from England and the Continent. These operatives were not engaged for any term of years, neither were they amenable to military discipline; they worked when they pleased, they idled when they pleased; they were wholly regardless of authority; received good wages; and their dismissal was in all instances more injurious to the Government than it was to the men.
The hindrance and inconvenience of this system led to the formation of a corps of military artificers. The idea was suggested to Lieutenant-Colonel Green by the useful result of the occasional occupation of soldiers who had learned mechanical trades previous to enlistment. He thought it possible that a sufficient number of these men might be banded together for the carrying on of all necessary engineering works, and that their employment would lessen the cost while it secured the completion of any engineering operation, and at the same time, that the men so employed would at any period be ready to participate in the defence of the place.