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THE RED TARTANE; 



A TALE OP THE SPANISH COAST IN 1760. 



CHAPTER III. 



WE must now refer to a period of our tale, antecedent to the gale 

 before described, when the Tartane of the Gitano was riding in secu- 

 rity in one of the numerous inlets or channels, formed by the rocks 

 on the coast of Andalusia, the entrances and outlets of which were 

 known to few human beings indeed, and to none so perfectly as the 

 Rover. His vessel was moored almost beneath a steep and rocky 

 cliff, the bottom of which could only be gained by a narrow and 

 circuitous path cut into the rock ; the Gitano was pacing the deck 

 alone, apparently absorbed in a reverie, that was only interrupted 

 from time to time by a searching glance which he darted along the 

 beetling cliffs. 



The sun had disappeared but a few minutes beneath the horizon, 

 when a single horseman was indistinctly visible through the increas- 

 ing twilight ; at the commencement of the path, he appeared to hesi- 

 tate, and confer with some one concealed by a clump of aloes, then 

 took a cigarito from his mouth, and threw it down the rock, so as to 

 produce a slight momentary train of fire ; a signal, in reply, made by 

 the Gitano, caused him to advance, attended by about a dozen Spa- 

 niards, all mounted, who evinced the utmost caution in descending 

 the dangerous path. 



Some of these horsemen wore the common sombrero, others had 

 gay coloured handkerchiefs, the ends of which floated gracefully 

 over their shoulders ; their countenances were weather-beaten, their 

 features strongly marked, and bearing that reckless bold expression, 

 which distinguishes the Andalusian dealer in contraband ; each of 

 their horses bore two large, but exceedingly light panniers, covered 

 with tarred cloth, the rider being seated behind, almost upon the 

 crupper. 



When the little troop had descended to the beach, the leader 

 stopped his horse at about a hundred yards distance from the Tar- 

 tane, and thus addressed his companions : 



" By the shrine of my patron, my friends, the light of the rising 

 moon shews only on the deck of the vessel the cap and white feather 

 of the accursed Gitano." 



"Where then is the holy brother?" demanded several of the 

 party. 



" True," continued the leader, " if the holy man is not here, not 

 the value of a real of this merchandize shall enter my coffers. Heaven 

 help me, but I think the Superior of San Juan is wrong to employ 

 such a miscreant to disembark this contraband merchandize ; and, 

 though we have a priest to bless and efface the marks of Satan's 

 claws, I fear we shall, some time or other, be punished for trafficking 

 with an excommunicated wretch." 



M.M. No. 108. 4 N 



