CHAPTER IV
A Night on the Neutral Ground
"GAME for a jaunt into Spanish territory, old man?" enquired Osborne,indicating the hilly ground across the blue waters of the bay."There's a boat leaving for Algeciras in half an hour."
The _Portchester Castle_ lay off the New Mole at Gibraltar. She hadcoaled and had taken in stores. A few minor defects were being madegood, and she was awaiting orders to proceed. Leave had been given tothe starboard watch that afternoon, and, having nothing in the way ofduty to perform, Osborne had made a tempting suggestion to his chumTom Webb.
"Rather, I'm on," replied the Sub. "There's leave for officers tilleight bells, I believe."
"Yes, but we'll have to be back well before that time," observedOsborne. "The gates of the fortress close at sunset, remember."
Tom Webb during the last few days had made good use of his time atGib., but, he argued, being ashore on that bold, rocky promontory wasnot exactly being abroad. He was still on British territory. Hencehis eagerness to set foot upon foreign soil.
Soon the two chums, in undress uniforms, were picking their waythrough the narrow streets of Gibraltar, dodging among the motleycrowd that comprises the populace of the place--Spaniards, Greeks,Moors, Arabs, and "Rock Scorps", with a liberal leavening of Britishseamen, marines, and soldiers.
"That fellow seems to take a lot of interest in us," remarked Webb asthe two officers found themselves on board the little steamer boundfor Algeciras.
"Let him," declared Osborne inconsequently. He had had too long anacquaintance with foreign ports to trouble about the curious looksand attentions of the inhabitants. "Which one do you refer to? ThatSpaniard with the piebald side-whiskers?"
"No, the johnny leaning against the ventilator," replied the Sub."Looks as if he wants a permanent prop, and his hands seem sewn up inhis pockets."
Osborne glanced over his shoulder. Instantly the individual inquestion feigned interest in the smoke issuing from the steamer'sfunnel, until the effort of craning his neck was too much of aphysical strain, and he again looked curiously at the two navalofficers.
He was a man of about thirty, full-faced and of a sleek and oilycomplexion. His dark chestnut hair was closely cropped. He sported atuft of side-whiskers on each cheek and a heavy moustache. Hiscostume consisted of a dirty white shirt, ill-cut trousers, andstraw-plaited shoes round his waist was a gaudily coloured scarf thatmight or might not have hidden a knife. On the back of his head hewore a broad-rimmed straw hat with a band of vivid yellow, into whichwas stuck a bunch of peacock's feathers.
"A picturesque-looking villain!" commented Webb.
"A typical Spaniard, that's all," Osborne reassured him. "We'll havea few dozen of 'em crowding round directly we land, you know. Everyman jack will offer his services as a guide, philosopher, andfriend."
Apparently the fellow thought it worth while to take time by theforelock, since his interest in the British officers wasreciprocated. Removing his hands from his pockets he came forward,and giving an elaborate sweep with his hat he tendered a dirty pieceof pasteboard.
"My card, señores!" he exclaimed. "At your service. Show youeveryzing in Algeciras. Blow me tight, I will."
The last sentence, of which he seemed particularly proud, had beenpicked up from a British Tommy. The Spaniard considered it to be thehall-mark of correct English.
Osborne took the proffered card. On it was printed: "Alfonzo y GuzmanPerez, Qualified Guide and Interpreter".
"We don't require a guide," said Osborne.
Señor Perez smiled benignly.
"P'raps ze senores get into ze mischief wizout a Spanish caballerowho through misfortune is obliged to accept ze monies for hisservices. You officers are from ze war-ship _Paragon_?"
"No, from the----" began Webb. Then he brought himself up with around turn.
"From ze----?" repeated the Spaniard. But Tom was not to be caughtnapping a second time.
"Sorry, Señor Perez," interrupted Osborne firmly. "We don't wantyou. Nothing doing this trip."
The steamer was now making fast to the little pier. Without payingfurther attention to the over-attentive Spaniard the young officerslanded, and, as Osborne had foretold, were surrounded by a mob offrantically gesticulating natives.
"Not much of a place," declared Webb. "Horribly dirty, in fact. Can'twe get out into the country?"
"We could," replied his chum. "In fact we could give the steamer amiss on the return journey."
"How?"
"By walking round the Bay and getting back to Gib. by means of theNeutral Ground. It's a tidy step, but we've heaps of time."
"Good idea!" declared Webb enthusiastically. "Let's get along out ofthis."
By degrees the mob of undesirables diminished. The pace set by twomad Englishmen was far too hot. A few, however, still hung on, theirappeals for alms giving place to abuse at the callousness of theBritish officers.
"Wish we had Laddie with us," remarked Webb. "He'd soon make thecrowd take to their heels."
"Couldn't be done," said Osborne. "I thought of it, but there are thelocal quarantine restrictions to be taken into consideration. Also,there'd be a risk of the dog being shot by the Spanish Customs guardson the Neutral Ground. They're dead nuts on dogs."
"Why?" asked Tom.
"Because dogs are largely used by smugglers to run contraband intoGib. Of course, I'm sorry, but it can't be helped."
At last the Spaniards dropped behind and the chums were free of anyembarrassing society. They, too, were glad to ease down, for the daywas extremely sultry. There were bunches of delicious grapes to behad without let or hindrance, and altogether the two chums werebeginning to enjoy themselves.
"How much farther?" enquired Tom at length.
Osborne consulted his watch.
"By Jove, we must look sharp!" he said. "We've a tidy step yet. Infact, we haven't got as far as Mayorga."
The road, hitherto by no means good, had deteriorated into a roughtrack. Progress, too, was impeded by several inlets, which meantconsiderable detours inland. Consequently it was late in theafternoon when, hot and tired, the young officers limped into thevillage of Mayorga, some five miles from the "Lines" of Gibraltar.
"I vote we get a carriage of sorts," suggested Osborne. "We'll beproperly dished if we don't. My heel's galled, and it's still someway to go."
Making the best of his limited knowledge of Spanish, Osbornecontrived to hire, for the sum of five pesetas, a ramshackleconveyance with solid wooden wheels and drawn by a couple of oxen. Itwas the only vehicle available, but the villainous-looking driverassured his hirers that it was a swift means of transport.
The cart set off in excellent style--"Under forced draught," Osborneexplained--but before it was clear of the village the swaying,jolting conveyance had settled down to a funeral pace. When Osborneexpostulated, the driver stopped to offer a lengthy explanation ofthe dangerous character of the road, promising to make up for thelost time directly the comparatively level Neutral Ground wasreached.
Anxiously the Lieutenant consulted his watch, glanced at the settingsun, and mentally measured the distance between him and the frowningRock, which appeared much nearer than it actually was.
Suddenly the cart gave an extra heavy lurch. The oxen stumbled;while, to the accompaniment of a rending crash and the angry oaths ofthe driver, the off-side wheel was wrenched from its axle. The nextinstant Osborne and Webb found themselves lying in the long rankgrass by the side of the cart-track.
"Excelsior, old bird!" exclaimed the Lieutenant as the twainrecovered their feet. "Look alive, there's no time to be lost!"
Paying the Spaniard his five pesetas, although he had not completedhis part of the contract, the two officers hastened towards theirgoal, regardless of the forcible demands of the driver that his latefares would contribute towards the damage done to the crazy vehicle.
Nearer and nearer came the "Lines", until the Neutral Ground was lessthan four hundred yards away. Then, to the chums' consternation, ag
un boomed forth in the still evening air. It was the signal thatuntil daybreak the gates of Gibraltar were closed so that none shouldenter or depart.
"A fine old business!" declared Osborne. "It's no use going on. We'dstand a chance of being fired upon by the Spanish guards, and a stillgreater one of being winged by the British sentries. They were alertenough in pre-war days, and you can bet your bottom dollar thatthey'll be doubly sharp now."
"Suppose the best thing to do is to return to Mayorga and get a bedat the inn," suggested Webb. "My word, there'll be a row foroverstaying our leave!"
"No Spanish inn for me," said the Lieutenant with conviction."Verminous holes, that's what they are. No, we'll camp out, andimagine it's the good old Scout days."
"Might do worse," agreed Tom with his cheery smile. "So the sooner wepitch upon a suitable spot the better. It will be dark in another tenminutes."
The site selected was a sandy hollow fringed with long coarse grass,and open to the east. In that direction lay the Mediterranean, itsshores being separated from the officers' bivouac by a distance ofabout twenty yards. To the south the summit of the towering heightsof the Rock could just be discerned, above the ridge of sand thatenclosed the hollow on three sides.
Thoroughly tired with their exertions, the chums were soon fastasleep. Then Webb awoke with a start and a stifled exclamation on hislips. It seemed as if he had slept but a few minutes. In reality sixhours had elapsed.
He could hear voices conferring in undertones--voices unfamiliar, andspeaking in a foreign language.
For some moments Webb lay still. He remembered where he was, and thatit was not at all strange for men to be conversing in an unknowntongue. What he remarked was the fact that they should choose anisolated spot in the small hours of the morning to engage upon whatwas evidently a secret confabulation.
Cautiously the Sub raised himself on his elbows and peered throughthe long grass. In the bright starlight he made a strange discovery.There were three men: two in the uniform that bore a strongresemblance to that of the British Navy; the third was none otherthan the chums' would-be philosopher and guide, Señor Alfonzo yGuzman Perez.