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              GIBRALTAR

  [Illustration: THE ALAMEDA PARADE.]




              GIBRALTAR

                  BY
            Henry M. Field

             _ILLUSTRATED_

    LONDON: CHAPMAN AND HALL, Limited.
                 1889.
        [_All rights reserved._]

                TROW'S
    PRINTING AND BOOKBINDING COMPANY,
               NEW YORK.




         To My Friend and Neighbor
          IN THE BERKSHIRE HILLS,
             JOSEPH H. CHOATE,
     WHO FINDS IT A RELIEF NOW AND THEN
   TO TURN FROM THE HARD LABORS OF THE LAW
         TO THE ROMANCE OF TRAVEL:
       I SEND AS A CHRISTMAS PRESENT
       A STORY OF FORTRESS AND SIEGE
       THAT MAY BEGUILE A VACANT HOUR
  AS HE SITS BEFORE HIS WINTER EVENING FIRE.




PREFACE.


The common tour in Spain does not include Gibraltar. Indeed it is not
a part of Spain, for, though connected with the Spanish Peninsula, it
belongs to England; and to one who likes to preserve a unity in his
memories of a country and people, this modern fortress, with its English
garrison, is not "in color" with the old picturesque kingdom of the
Goths and Moors. Nor is it on the great lines of travel. It is not
touched by any railroad, and by steamers only at intervals of days, so
that it has come to be known as a place which it is at once difficult
to get to and to get away from. Hence easy-going travellers, who are
content to take circular tickets and follow fixed routes, give Gibraltar
the go-by, though by so doing they miss a place that is unique in the
world--unique in position, in picturesqueness, and in history. That
mighty Rock, "standing out of the water and in the water," (as on the
day when the old world perished;) is one of the Pillars of Hercules,
that once marked the very end of the world; and around its base ancient
and modern history flow together, as the waters of the Atlantic mingle
with those of the Mediterranean. Like Constantinople, it is throned on
two seas and two continents. As Europe at its southeastern corner stands
face to face with Asia; at its southwestern it is face to face with
Africa: and these were the two points of the Moslem invasion. But here
the natural course of history was reversed, as that invasion began in
the West. Hundreds of years before the Turk crossed the Bosphorus, the
Moor crossed the Straits of Gibraltar. His coming was the signal of an
endless war of races and religions, whose lurid flames lighted up
the dark background of the stormy coast. The Rock, which was the
"storm-centre" of all those clouds of war, is surely worth the attention
of the passing traveller. That it has been so long neglected, is the
sufficient reason for an attempt to make it better known.




CONTENTS.


                                                         PAGE
  I.    Entering the Straits,                               1

  II.   Climbing the Rock,                                 12

  III.  The Fortifications,                                18

  IV.   Round the Town,                                    29

  V.    Parade on the Alameda, and Presentation of Colors
          to the South Staffordshire Regiment,             35

  VI.   The Society of Gibraltar,                          48

  VII.  A Chapter of History--The Great Siege,             63

  VIII. Holding a Fortress in a Foreign Country,          110

  IX.   Farewell to Gibraltar--Leaving for Africa,        128




LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.


  The Alameda Parade,                         _Frontispiece_.

                                                  FACING PAGE
  The Lion Couchant,                                        4

  General View of the Rock,                                12

  The Signal Station,                                      14

  The New Mole and Rosia Bay,                              19

  The Saluting Battery,                                    27

  Walk in the Alameda Gardens,                             62

  Catalan Bay, on the East Side of Gibraltar,              65

  Plan of Gibraltar,                                       71

  "Old Eliott," the Defender of Gibraltar,                108

  Windmill Hill and O'Hara's Tower,                       132

  Europa Point,                                           143




CHAPTER I.

ENTERING THE STRAITS.


I heard the last gun of the Old Year fired from the top of the Rock,
and the first gun of the New. It was the very last day of 1886 that we
entered the Straits of Gibraltar. The sea was smooth, the sky was clear,
and the atmosphere so warm and bright that it seemed as if winter had
changed places with summer, and that in December we were breathing the
air of June.

On a day like this, when the sea is calm and still, groups of travellers
sit about on the deck, watching the shores on either hand. How near they
come to each other, only nine miles dividing the most southern point of
Europe from the most northern point of Africa! Perhaps they once came
together, forming a mountain chain which separated the sea from the
ocean. But since the barrier was burst, the waters have rushed through
with resistless power. Looking over the side of the ship, we observe
that the current is setting eastward, which would not excite surprise
were it not that it never turns back. The Mediterranean is a tideless
sea: it does not ebb and flow, but pours its mighty volume ceaselessly
in the same direction. This, the geographers tell us, is a provision
of nature to supply the waste caused by the greater evaporation at the
eastern end of the Great Sea. But this satisfies us only in part,
since while this current flows on the surface, there is another, though
perhaps a feebler, current flowing in the opposite direction. Down
hundreds or fathoms deep, a hidden Gulf Stream is pouring back into
the bosom of the ocean. This system of the ocean currents is one of the
mysteries which we do not fully understand. It seems as if there were
a spirit moving not only upon the waters, but in the waters; as if the
great deep were a living organism, of which the ebb and flow were like
the circulation of the blood in the human frame. Or shall we say that
this upper current represents the Stream of Life, which might seem to be
over-full were it not that far down in the depths the excess of Life is
relieved by the black waters of Death that are flowing darkly beneath?

Turning from the sea to the shore, on our left is Tarifa, the most
southern point of Spain and of Europe--a point far more picturesque than
the low, wooded spit of land that forms the most southern point of
Asia, which the "globe-trotter" rounds as he comes into the harbor of
Singapore, for here the headland that juts into the sea is crowned by a
Moorish castle, on the ramparts of which, in the good old times of the
Barbary pirates, sentinels kept watch of ships that should attempt to
pass the Straits from either direction: for incomers and outgoers
alike had to lower their flags, and pay tribute to those who counted
themselves the rightful lords of this whole watery realm. I wonder that
the Free-Traders do not ring the changes on the fact that the very word
_tariff_ is derived from this ancient stronghold, at which the mariners
of the Middle Ages paid "duties" to the robbers of the sea. If both
sides of the Straits of Gibraltar were to-day, as they once were, under
the control of the same Moslem power, we might have two castles--one in
Europe and one in Africa--like the "Castles of Europe and Asia," that
still guard the Dardanelles, at which all ships of commerce are required
to stop and report before they can pass; while ships-of-war carrying
too many guns, cannot pass at all without special permission from
Constantinople.

But the days of the sea-robbers are ended, and the Mediterranean is free
to all the commerce of the world. The Castle of Tarifa is still kept
up, and makes a picturesque object on the Spanish coast, but no corsair
watches the approach of the distant sail, and no gun checks her speed;
every ship--English, French, or Spanish--passes unmolested on her way
between these peaceful shores. Instead of the mutual hatred which once
existed between the two sides of the Straits, they are in friendly
intercourse, and to-day, under these smiling skies, Spain looks love to
Barbary, and Barbary to Spain.

While thus turning our eyes landward and seaward, we have been rounding
into a bay, and coming in sight of a mighty rock that looms up grandly
before us. Although it was but the middle of the afternoon, the winter
sun hung low, and striking across the bay outlined against the sky the
figure of a lion couchant--a true British lion, not unlike those in
Trafalgar Square in London, only that the bronze is changed to stone,
and the figure carved out of a mountain! But the lion is there, with his
kingly head turned toward Spain, as if in defiance of his former master,
every feature bearing the character of leonine majesty and power. That
is Gibraltar!

It is a common saying that "some men achieve greatness, and some have
greatness thrust upon them." The same may be said of places; but here
is one to which both descriptions may be applied--that has had greatness
thrust upon it by nature, and has achieved it in history. There is not
a more picturesque spot in Europe. The Rock is fourteen hundred feet
high--more than three times as high as Edinburgh Castle, and not, like
that, firm-set upon the solid ground, but rising out of the seas--and
girdled with the strongest fortifications in the world. Such greatness
has nature thrust upon Gibraltar. And few places have seen more history,
as few have been fought over more times than this in the long wars of
the Spaniard and the Moor; for here the Moor first set foot in Europe,
and gave name to the place (Gibraltar being merely Gebel-el-Tarik, the
mountain of Tarik, the Moorish invader), and here departed from it,
after a conflict of nearly eight hundred years.

  [Illustration: THE LION COUCHANT.]

The steamer anchors in the bay, half a mile from shore, and a boat takes
us off to the quay, where after being duly registered by the police, we
are permitted to pass under the massive arches, and through the heavy
gates of the double line of fortifications, and enter Waterport Street,
the one and almost only street of Gibraltar, where we find quarters in
that most comfortable refuge of the traveller, the Royal Hotel, which,
for the period of our stay, is to be our home.

When I stepped on shore I was among strangers: even the friend who had
been my companion through Spain had remained in Cadiz, since in coming
under the English flag I had no longer need of a Spanish interpreter,
and I felt a little lonely; for inside these walls there was not a human
being, man or woman, whom I had ever seen before. Yet one who has been
knocked about the world as I have been, soon makes himself at home,
and in an hour I had found, if not a familiar face, at least a familiar
name, which gave me a right to claim acquaintance. Readers whose
memories run back thirty years to the laying of the first Atlantic Cable
in 1858, may recall the fact that the messages from Newfoundland were
signed by an operator who bore the singular name of De Sauty, and when
the pulse of the old sea-cord grew faint and fluttering, as if it were
muttering incoherent phrases before it drew its last breath, we were
accustomed to receive daily messages signed "All right: De Sauty!" which
kept up our courage for a time, until we found that "All right" was "All
wrong." The circumstance afforded much amusement at the time, and Dr.
Holmes wrote one of his wittiest poems about it, in which the refrain
of every verse was "All right: De Sauty!" Well, the message was true,
at least in one sense, for De Sauty was all right, if the cable was not.
The cable died, but the stout-hearted operator lived, and is at this
moment the manager of the Eastern Telegraph Company in Gibraltar. This
is one of those great English companies, which have their centre in
London, and whose "lines have" literally "gone out through all the
earth." Its "home field" is the Mediterranean, from which it reaches out
long arms down the Red Sea to India and Australia, and indeed to all the
Eastern world. Its General Manager is Sir James Anderson, who commanded
the Great Eastern when she laid the cable successfully in 1866. I had
crossed the ocean with him in '67, and now, wishing to do me a good
turn, he had insisted on my taking a letter to all their offices on both
sides of the Mediterranean, to transmit my messages free! This was a
pretty big license; his letter was almost like one of Paul's epistles
"to the twelve tribes scattered abroad, greeting." It contained a sort
of general direction to make myself at home in all creation!

With such an introduction I felt at home in the telegraph office in
Gibraltar, and especially when I could take by the hand our old friend
De Sauty. He has a hearty grip, which speaks for the true Englishman
that he is. If any of my countrymen had supposed that he died with the
cable, I am happy to say that he not only "still lives," but is very
much alive. He at once sent off to London a message to my friends in
America--a good-bye for the old year, which brought me the next morning
a greeting for the new.

From the telegraph office I took my way to that of the American
Consul, who gave me a welcome such as I could find in no other house in
Gibraltar, since his is the only American family! When I asked after my
countrymen (who, as they are going up and down in the earth, and show
themselves everywhere, I took for granted must be here), he answered
that there was "not one!" He is not only the official representative of
our country, but he and his children the only Americans. This being
so, it is a happy circumstance that the Great Republic is so well
represented; for a better man than Horatio J. Sprague could not be found
in the two hemispheres. He is the oldest Consul in the service, having
been forty years at this post, where his father, who was appointed by
General Jackson, was Consul before him. He received _his_ appointment
from President Polk. Through all these years he has maintained the
honor of the American name, and to-day there is not within the walls of
Gibraltar a man--soldier or civilian--who is more respected than this
solitary representative of our country.

Some may think there is not much need of a Consul where there are no
Americans, and yet nearly five hundred ships sailed from this port last
year for America: pity that he should have to confess that very few
bore the American flag! Thus the post is a responsible one, and at times
involves duties the most delicate and difficult, as in the late war,
when the Sumter was lying here, with three or four American ships
off the harbor (for they were not permitted to remain in port but
twenty-four hours) to prevent her escape. At that time the Consul was
constantly on the watch, only to see the privateer get off at last by
the transparent device of taking out her guns, and being sold to an
English owner, who immediately hoisted the English flag, and put to
sea in broad daylight in the face of our ships, and made her way to
Liverpool, where she was fitted out as a blockade-runner!

Those were trying days for expatriated Americans. However, it was all
made up when Peace came, and Peace with Victory--with the Union restored
and the country saved. Since then it has been the privilege of the
Consul at Gibraltar to welcome many who took part in the great struggle,
among them Generals Grant and Sherman and Admiral Farragut. Of course a
soldier is always interested in a fortress, for it is in the line of
his profession; and the greatest fortification in the world could but be
regarded with a curious eye by old soldiers like those who had led our
armies for four years; who had conducted great campaigns, with long
marches and battles and sieges--battles among the bloodiest of modern
times, and one siege (that of Richmond) which lasted as long as the
famous siege of Gibraltar.

But perhaps no one felt a keener interest in what he saw here than the
old sea-dog, who had bombarded the forts at the mouth of the Mississippi
six days and nights; had broken the heavy iron boom stretched across the
river; and run his ships past the forts under a tremendous fire; only
to find still before him a fleet greater than his own, of twenty armed
steamers, four ironclad rams, and a multitude of fire-rafts, all
of which he attacked and destroyed, and captured New Orleans, an
achievement in naval warfare as great as any ever wrought by Nelson. To
Farragut Gibraltar was nothing more than a big ship, whose decks were
ramparts. Pretty long decks they were, to be sure, but only furnishing
so many more port-holes, and carrying so many more guns, and enabling
its commander to fire a more tremendous broadside.

Talking over these things fired my patriotic breast till I began to feel
as if I were in "mine ain countrie," and among my American kinsmen. And
as I walked from the Consul's back to the Royal Hotel, I did not feel
quite so lonely in Gibraltar as I felt an hour before.

As the afternoon wore away, the Spaniards who had come in from the
country to market, to buy or sell, began to disappear, and soon went
hurrying out,