Somewhat precipitately we engaged our seats in the following day's coach, and then proceeded to make inquiries about the place. n.o.body, it seemed, had a good word to say of it, perhaps because no one went there. Baedeker scorned even to mention its name. There was only an inferior _fonda_, one informant said. There was no _fonda_ at all, amended another.

The diligence left Palma at two o'clock, and the fee for the 30 kilometros--over 20 miles--was two pesetas. Taking only a light suit-case, we locked the doors of the Casa Tranquila that glorious December afternoon, and walking down, reached in good time the little back-street cafe whence the coach started.

Several pa.s.sengers were already in waiting--a pleasant-faced old man and his comely wife in native dress, sundry peasant women m.u.f.fled in shawls, one or two men whom the mistress of the cafe was serving with lunch. A little pile of luggage--bundles tied in brilliant kerchiefs, and market baskets--littered the floor. As we waited, more pa.s.sengers arrived and more. We were glad our places had been secured.

At five minutes before two the mail-bag appeared; and at ten minutes past, the diligence rattled down the narrow cobbled street and pulled up at the door of the cafe. It was a c.u.mbrous and yet cramped vehicle lined with clean striped cotton.

The slender mail-bag having been deposited in a hollow seat, the Man and I hopped briskly in and secured the places on either side of the door, which had a wide window, arguing away our consciences'

accusation of selfishness by the excuse that we were probably the only pa.s.sengers to whom the scenery would be new. Then the nice old country couple came in, followed by a huge matron with a little son; and a pretty young girl took the seat next to me. An old dame, who, in spite of the heat, was m.u.f.fled into a living mummy, mounted beside the Boy on the box. The country women were packed into a hooded cart that was waiting to receive the overflow, the driver got up in front, and we were ready to start. It was already half an hour after starting-time, but we delayed until a nice little boy, attended by two juvenile shop-lads clad in overalls of check cotton, appeared to join us. As fitting preparation for his four-hour journey in the stuffy interior of the coach, careful relatives had enveloped the urchin in a heavy top-coat and wound a thick m.u.f.fler round his neck. He was hauled into the coach, his luggage, which consisted of two large round bundles neatly tied in gaily striped handkerchiefs, went to swell the mound on the top, and off we set at last, only to halt at the bottom of the street to admit a woman of such appalling dimensions that she seemed to prove what the Boy declares is the Majorcan rule with regard to diligences--that they first fill them quite full, and then add a couple of the fattest people procurable.

Clambering ponderously in she subsided with a flop between the other ma.s.sive matron and the pretty girl. "Caramba!" exclaimed the pretty girl, and the journey began in earnest.

Palma was brilliant in sunshine. Looking back as we crawled up the heights towards the Terreno, it glowed like a jewel in the strong sunlight. The sea was a vivid azure. Beyond the opposite sh.o.r.es of the bay the distant isle of Cabrera showed distinctly.

As the road wound onwards in and out, we got glimpses of fairy-like inlets of the sea, of beautiful caves and tiny bays all sparkling in the sunshine. As we pa.s.sed the hotel at Cas Catala a German waiter appeared to get the newspaper from our driver, and we felt glad that our journey ended in a place where German waiters were unknown.

Turning from the sea, the road pa.s.sed among rocky slopes crowned with pines and olives. Amid the stones we caught sight of rosy heath and of great clumps of lavender rich in purple blossom. It was on this beautiful sloping country-side that the first great battle was fought between the troops of King Jaime and the hosts of the Moorish Amir. The fighting was severe; and, though the victory was his, the chroniclers of the period tell how the brave young King of Aragon wept when he learned of the loss of two n.o.bles, brothers, who had been boon companions of his own. A tapestry in one of the chambers of the Casa Consistorial at Palma gives a pictorial rendering of the scene. And under a large pine by the wayside, nearly half-way between the capital and Andraitx, is a monument--a simple iron cross set on a stone pedestal--commemorating the valour of the Spaniards who lost their lives to help to free the Christians.

When the way was uphill, and the coach lumbered slowly along, slumber crept over the pa.s.sengers. When we again reached the level and the pace quickened, everybody awoke, and conversation became general; at least, as far as the native element was concerned. The Man and I yearned for a knowledge of Majorcan when the two plump ladies, whose tongues were their only active members, took turn about in relating what were evidently incidents of dramatic interest.

Once or twice, when the road ascended some specially steep slope in zigzags, the coach stopped, and most of us got out and, crossing the hill by a short cut--we followed those who knew the way--rejoined it on the farther side. Needless to mention, the only two dames whose absence would have made any appreciable lessening in the weight remained fixtures.

The two points of difference between Majorcan and British travellers that we had noticed on the drive from Soller again impressed us. One was their quiet demeanour. They were not restless, they never fidgeted. They sat quite still, their hands placidly folded--except when a little gesticulation was necessary to adorn a tale. The second, which was even more unlike the British of the same cla.s.s, was that though the journey was one of about four hours' duration they had made no provision for it. Even the small boy, or the little child, had not so much as a sweet or a biscuit to break the monotony.

When, half-way, we stopped to change horses, the old man, who had been pleasantly interested in the feminine gossip, stepped lightly out, and returning with a large tin mug of water, handed it round.

It was the pretty girl who, when it came to her turn to drink, gracefully declined the privilege in favour of me, saying, with a wave of her hand, "Ah, no! The senora first."

The way was wild and romantic. Only at long intervals was there a house even by the road-side. Just at dusk we pa.s.sed several open carts crowded with young olive-gatherers returning from work--a gay band, shouting and singing. After that the night appeared to fall suddenly upon the earth, and the new moon, a bright star poised above her, shone in the sky.

A second diligence, starting from some other point, had joined us; and as we moved slowly along in company, the two lumbering heavily-laden coaches and the covered van, the little procession had something of the aspect of a party of emigrants travelling in quest of a new home.

When the mysterious beauty of the half-lights had vanished, and the night gathered, we began to wonder why we had left the Casa Tranquila, where we had been so comfortable. We had no special reason for coming to Andraitx; there was no attraction to draw us thither. And even now we did not know if there was any place where we might sleep.

Just before we entered the town the coach stopped a moment and the Boy came round to the door.

"I've been consulting the driver," he said. "He recommends a place where he says we'll get the best cooking in Andraitx."

"Is it an inn?" we asked.

"No, I don't think it's exactly an _inn_, but the man has been a cook. His house is at this end of the town. The driver says he'll stop there if we like. Will that do?"

It was quite dark now. We were cramped and tired, and the refuge that wasn't exactly an inn was at least near. We agreed that it would do.

Three minutes later the diligence drew up in front of an open door, through which the light from a good oil lamp streamed into the blackness of the street.

"This seems to be the place," said the Boy. "But it's a shop!"

There was no opportunity for hesitation. Our luggage was already on the pavement. Turning to a tall, bearded man in a white ap.r.o.n who appeared in the doorway, we asked if he had accommodation.

Yes, he had room, he replied; would we enter?--and, following him, we found ourselves in a wide, airy shop. On one side were shelves filled with delicacies. On the other were three great wine barrels.

And on the floor stood the usual a.s.sortment of hampers and open baskets containing fruits and vegetables.

At the back of the shop, sandwiched between it and the kitchen, was a neat little dining-room. And when we had been ushered in there the Boy, as our spokesman, proceeded, after the custom of the country, to ask terms--"What would be the charge for board and lodging, wine included, a day?"

Our host hesitated. He was an exceptionally nice-looking man and spoke beautiful Spanish.

"The terms? That would depend upon what one had. He could make any terms that suited, from one peseta and a half a day. But for four pesetas--_then_ he could do us really well."

A bargain was quickly struck. We were to pay three pesetas and a half a day, wine and the little breakfast included; and our first meal was to be served as soon as it could be prepared.

After a short stroll through the dark streets, and not a little conjecture concerning immediate happenings, we returned to our lodging. The gla.s.s doors of the little dining-room opened on to the shop, its window looked to the kitchen, where our host was already busy over the stove. The sound of quick footsteps overhead suggested that rooms were being prepared for our reception. Her parents being engaged, the shop had been left in charge of the daughter of the house, a pretty, dark-eyed child of seven years old.

She made a charming little picture, as she sat amongst the scarlet _pimientos_ and the yellow lemons waiting for custom. And when a younger child, carrying a quart bottle, entered to buy a pennyworth of wine, the business-like way in which she placed the funnel in the bottle, and filling the measure from the barrel poured it in without spilling a drop, delighted us. As also did the accustomed way in which she dropped the penny into the table-drawer that served as till.

Before we had time to grow impatient our hostess, looking like an adult copy of her child, appearing, spread the table neatly with clean linen and shining crystal, then set before us a dish of rolls, one of olives, and small plates of spiced sausage and ham. Then the host entered carrying a bottle of a good brand of imported claret that he had taken from his shelves, and a syphon of seltzer.

We were nibbling at the appetizers, trying to restrain ourselves from making a meal of them, when an excellent soup was served.

"If I could choose, I know what I'd have next--a big fat omelet,"

the Boy said, as he finished his plate of soup. And on the thought, as though in answer to his wish, the landlord entered bearing a fine opulent omelet stuffed with green peas. When we had eaten that, he was waiting to replace it with a dish of delicately browned veal cutlets, savoury potatoes fried in b.u.t.ter, and more green peas. A sweet course is so rarely served in Majorca that it was a pleasant surprise to find the cutlets followed by a mould of the native preserve, _membrillo_ (quince) jelly, and pastry turn-overs. The dessert consisted of a pyramid of mandarin oranges cut with stems and leaves. It was a surprisingly complete meal to be served on an hour's notice in the back shop of a little unknown out-of-the-world town.

The rooms allotted to us comprised the whole floor above. The _salon_, which was to the front, had two handsome wardrobes--wardrobes would seem to be as often placed in sitting-rooms as in bedrooms in Majorca--a chest of drawers, several comfortable chairs. The beds, with their lace-trimmed and monogrammed linen, were perfection. As we fell asleep we blessed the happy chance that had led us to so much more comfortable quarters than we had antic.i.p.ated finding.

Breakfast, of French chocolate and hot b.u.t.tered rolls, served to confirm the good impression of the previous night.

The ambition of my infancy--to keep a little shop--threatened to return as, from the stronghold of our neat little dining-room, we watched the life of the shop, a portion of whose trade appeared to consist of barter. First a woman entered with a basket of glowing sun-kissed pomegranates which she exchanged for macaroni and other groceries. She was quickly followed by a man who had a hamper of lemons and a bag of the scarlet waxen pods of the sweet pepper to dispose of.

While the chocolate was still in process of consumption our host, courteously solicitous respecting our comfort of the night, waited on us, his tall, slender form begirt with an ap.r.o.n of spotless purity, on which was also embroidered the family monogram.

From our concerns the conversation naturally pa.s.sed to his, and with the simple friendliness of the Majorcan he told us his life-story.

Told how, like most of the Andraitx lads, he had early left home to seek his fortune, but while most of his companions had become sailors, he had chosen to make cooking his profession. A course of years pa.s.sed as a _chef_ in Havanna and other places had gained him the nest-egg he desired. Returning to his native town while still a comparatively young man, he had taken this shop, married to his liking, and settled down in comfort.

There was neither sun nor wind. The air was calm and cool. It was a splendid day for exploring a new locality. But Andraitx was still a sealed letter to us. We did not even know what to look for.

When we arrived on the previous night the town had been shrouded in darkness. So it was a charming surprise after we had mounted the commonplace street to find that in situation Andraitx resembled a miniature Soller. Hills, some crowned by windmills, enclosed it on every side. Pa.s.sing through the market square we climbed the eminence on which perched the quaint old church, and looking back, saw the town lying in the hollow beneath us; and to the north-west, its mouth guarded by sentinel hills, the wide inlet of the sea that marked the port.

Within the church, gloom and silence held possession. A little distance off was the walled cemetery. Leaving an environment that threatened to depress us, we scrambled down the farther side of the rocky incline, and, finding a path, followed it.

The path, chosen at random, pa.s.sed in front of Son Mas, a quaint old building whose tower bore signs of great antiquity. The place was evidently now in use as a farm-house, and the tenant, seeing us pause to look in through the wide gateway, came out and cordially invited us to enter.

He was a fine specimen of the handsome, robust sons of that gracious soil. His sun-tanned skin and workaday garb seemed at variance with his courteous dignity of manner, which admirably became the resident of so ancient a mansion. He appeared to feel a special pride in his surroundings and did not scamp the showing. Through the wide courtyard, and up the central staircase that led to the balconies, and through the deserted rooms he escorted us.

The tall square tower that now formed part of the house, he told us, had in older times been used as a place of refuge by the Christians during the attacks of the piratical Moors who infested the coast--a stronghold to which they fled when news reached them that the heathen marauders had entered the port and were advancing towards the town. Would we like to see it?

Would we not! Following our leader, we pa.s.sed along more corridors and over floors aslant with age, till he stopped before the entrance to what was probably the smallest winding stair ever devised for the pa.s.sage of human beings.

Up that very stair, our guide a.s.sured us, had the Christians fled to seek safety in the tower. And as we timorously mounted the narrow steps we agreed that the Andraitx early Christians must have been the leanest of mankind. For one plump Christian in a hurry would a.s.suredly have brought destruction on all the rest by sticking in the first bend of that pitch-dark winding staircase.