Their Principal Haunt Was The Vicinity Of The Bridge, And
It Was Their Practice To Cast The Bodies Of The Murdered Into The
Deep Black Water Which Runs Rapidly Beneath.
Those three heads
will always live in my remembrance, particularly that of the
captain, which stood on a higher pole than the other two:
The long
hair was waving in the wind, and the blackened, distorted features
were grinning in the sun. The fellows whom I met wore the relics
of the band.
We arrived at Betanzos late in the afternoon. This town stands on
a creek at some distance from the sea, and about three leagues from
Coruna. It is surrounded on three sides by lofty hills. The
weather during the greater part of the day had been dull and
lowering, and we found the atmosphere of Betanzos insupportably
close and heavy. Sour and disagreeable odours assailed our
olfactory organs from all sides. The streets were filthy - so were
the houses, and especially the posada. We entered the stable; it
was strewed with rotten sea-weeds and other rubbish, in which pigs
were wallowing; huge and loathsome flies were buzzing around.
"What a pest-house!" I exclaimed. But we could find no other
stable, and were therefore obliged to tether the unhappy animals to
the filthy mangers. The only provender that could be obtained was
Indian corn. At nightfall I led them to drink at a small river
which passes through Betanzos. My entero swallowed the water
greedily; but as we returned towards the inn, I observed that he
was sad, and that his head drooped. He had scarcely reached the
stall, when a deep hoarse cough assailed him. I remembered the
words of the ostler in the mountains, "the man must be mad who
brings a horse to Galicia, and doubly so he who brings an entero."
During the greater part of the day the animal had been much heated,
walking amidst a throng of at least a hundred pony mares. He now
began to shiver violently. I procured a quart of anise brandy,
with which, assisted by Antonio, I rubbed his body for nearly an
hour, till his coat was covered with a white foam; but his cough
increased perceptibly, his eyes were becoming fixed, and his
members rigid. "There is no remedy but bleeding," said I. "Run
for a farrier." The farrier came. "You must bleed the horse," I
shouted; "take from him an azumbre of blood." The farrier looked
at the animal, and made for the door. "Where are you going?" I
demanded. "Home," he replied. "But we want you here." "I know
you do," was his answer; "and on that account I am going." "But
you must bleed the horse, or he will die." "I know he will," said
the farrier, "but I will not bleed him." "Why?" I demanded. "I
will not bleed him, but under one condition." "What is that?"
"What is it! - that you pay me an ounce of gold." "Run for the red
morocco case," said I to Antonio. It was brought; I took out a
large fleam, and with the assistance of a stone, drove it into the
principal artery horse's leg. The blood at first refused to flow;
with much rubbing, it began to trickle, and then to stream; it
continued so for half an hour. "The horse is fainting, mon
maitre," said Antonio. "Hold him up," said I, "and in another ten
minutes we will stop the vein."
I closed the vein, and whilst doing so I looked up into the
farrier's face, arching my eyebrows.
"Carracho! what an evil wizard," muttered the farrier, as he walked
away. "If I had my knife here I would stick him." We bled the
horse again, during the night, which second bleeding I believe
saved him. Towards morning he began to eat his food.
The next day we departed for Coruna, leading our horses by the
bridle: the day was magnificent, and our walk delightful. We
passed along beneath tall umbrageous trees, which skirted the road
from Betanzos to within a short distance of Coruna. Nothing could
be more smiling and cheerful than the appearance of the country
around. Vines were growing in abundance in the vicinity of the
villages through which we passed, whilst millions of maize plants
upreared their tall stalks and displayed their broad green leaves
in the fields. After walking about three hours, we obtained a view
of the bay of Coruna, in which, even at the distance of a league,
we could distinguish three or four immense ships riding at anchor.
"Can these vessels belong to Spain?" I demanded of myself. In the
very next village, however, we were informed that the preceding
evening an English squadron had arrived, for what reason nobody
could say. "However," continued our informant, "they have
doubtless some design upon Galicia. These foreigners are the ruin
of Spain."
We put up in what is called the Calle Real, in an excellent fonda,
or posada, kept by a short, thick, comical-looking person, a
Genoese by birth. He was married to a tall, ugly, but good-
tempered Basque woman, by whom he had been blessed with a son and
daughter. His wife, however, had it seems of late summoned all her
female relations from Guipuscoa, who now filled the house to the
number of nine, officiating as chambermaids, cooks, and scullions:
they were all very ugly, but good-natured, and of immense
volubility of tongue. Throughout the whole day the house resounded
with their excellent Basque and very bad Castilian. The Genoese,
on the contrary, spoke little, for which he might have assigned a
good reason; he had lived thirty years in Spain, and had forgotten
his own language without acquiring Spanish, which he spoke very
imperfectly.
We found Coruna full of bustle and life, owing to the arrival of
the English squadron. On the following day, however, it departed,
being bound for the Mediterranean on a short cruise, whereupon
matters instantly returned to their usual course.
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