John Masters

by The Rock

  "Here," she faltered. "... But how...?"

  "We Jews were expelled from Spain many, many years ago. Without reason. Without recompense. We have not forgotten. Why do you think we speak Ladino? It is Spanish as your ancestors used to speak it.... Some of our forefathers locked their houses and took the key, thinking the Christian king would recover soon from his madness. But he did not. So why should we not recover our own? You robbed—now you are being robbed. Good!" He shook the key at her. "See that Senor Fuentes takes the key of this house when he goes. Perhaps he too will wait two hundred and twelve years to come back."

  He saw her look of consternation, put away the key in the skirt of his coat, and sat down. "What do you know of all this?" he said. "You are a country girl. Can you read?"

  She shook her head.

  He said, "I want to know what is the reason for haste. When you heard me talk about the English reinforcements, you—"

  "That was a trap!" she cried.

  "I fear so.... You rushed hither and thither like a mad thing. I had expected you to wait until dark. Why did you hurry so?"

  She pressed her lips together and looked past him.

  "What would you say to ten maravedis? You know, the English hang spies. Even women. Do you want me to take you to the town major? He has a gallows set up ready."

  She knew, for half a dozen soldiers had dangled from it in the past month, convicted of looting.

  It was a matter of time. This devil would find out or guess if he kept at her much longer. He liked her, or perhaps he liked all girls. It was her only chance. She burst into tears, only half voluntarily, and sunk her head in her hands. He had a habit of standing close, bending over her. He came now, one hand dropped gently to her shoulder, his voice was low and close. "Don't cry, pretty, just..." She jerked her head up and back with all her strength. She felt a smashing thump and heard a cry and sprang for the heavy candlestick. He was reeling, blood spouting like a fountain from his nose. She hit him as hard as she could with the base of the candlestick and hit him again, and he collapsed.

  She flew out of the room and the house and into the stable and in a moment back with rope. She had tied up many sheep and goats, and in five minutes he was well trussed, a cloth tied in his mouth. Then she wondered if he was dead and listened. In the silence she heard his breathing and sighed with relief. She ran out and found Senora de Fuentes. "Help me drag the Jew to the cellar, senora," she said. "Then—clean the blood off the tiles. Hear nothing. Know nothing."

  She went to the outer door. It was dark. She started up the street.

  It was moonless and cold on top of the ridge. They were burning the heath on the sierra to the north, and a fire glowed from the fishermen's huts across the bay. Rafael Santangel sat huddled close to Amelia in the darkness, waiting. A bush stirred, and he strained his eyes to peer down the eastern steep but saw nothing. The wind soughed in the spiny grass and made a thousand tiny flutes of the pitted, holed surface of the limestone. Lights shone in the harbor, and...

  A man stood over him, dagger gleaming. "The password!"

  "All Saints," he muttered.

  "Don Rafael... and is that you, Amelia? What are you doing here?"

  Colonel Figueroa came up, gasping for breath and smelling of sweat and old wine. "Mother of sin, I wouldn't come up there in daylight for all the gold in Potosi. Lead on, Simeon, for I have five hundred men huddled like sheep on that infernal path, only they have but two legs each."

  Simeon said, "I'll guide this party to St. Michael's Cave, Don Rafael. They'll all shelter there till dawn. Will you wait here for the next party and bring them along? Five hundred more."

  "Very well," Rafael said. Simeon moved off, and the soldiers followed, passing in an endless line. He counted—506 men went by; then he sat down to wait. The second party should be close behind.

  Half an hour passed; then an hour; an hour and a half; two hours. The wind sawed into his bones, and the thin shirt gave no protection.

  "Should I go to the cave and tell the colonel?" Amelia asked.

  Rafael said, "No. He will realize that something's gone wrong. We must stay here. The second party might come any moment."

  This time he saw Simeon coming from fully ten paces off. "No one?" the shepherd asked.

  "No one."

  "The colonel asks that you join him at the cave. I'll go back down the path and see whether they are stuck somewhere. Will you come with me, Amelia?"

  "I'd be afraid in the dark," she said. "I'll stay with Don Rafael."

  Simeon Susarte dropped over the edge like a falling stone. Rafael led down and across the great face of the Rock to St. Michael's Cave.

  There was no light, and once inside the arch, after answering a quiet challenge, they had to step carefully among men sprawled asleep all over the damp floor and propped like sacks against every stalagmite.

  Colonel Figueroa seemed unconcerned at the delay. "It's five hundred French who are supposed to be following, and to tell the truth, I'd just as soon they didn't come. More honor for us, you understand? If five hundred Spaniards—and we all took the Holy Sacrament before we set out—can't beat three thousand drunken English and Dutch heretics .. There was a whirr of metal as he half drew his sword and slammed it back into the scabbard. —Brave but stupid, Rafael thought glumly.

  They sat down among the soldiers. "How was it, coming up the Rock?" Rafael asked the nearest shape.

  "Ah, that? Nothing," the man answered in a strong accent. "We're from the Asturias. Cono, I've come up worse than that carrying a sick ewe, and in a rainstorm, man—" The voices murmured all around in agreement. "Me, too..."

  "Me too..."

  "Aye..."

  "We're shepherds, all...."

  " 'Twas nothing..."

  "But this is something," another rough voice cut in. "Do you know how much ammunition we have? Three rounds each."

  "Quiet there!" an officer's voice was sharp.

  Three rounds a man, Rafael thought angrily. It was fortunate indeed they had all taken the Sacrament and were shriven.

  The time passed. Amelia was warm beside him. He found he was holding her hand but did not let go. "You should stay here when we go," he said.

  "Let me come with you," she said. "I am not afraid." He squeezed her hand.

  A little later, "Don Rafael," Colonel Figueroa said, "time to go, I think. If you will be so good as to lead me to the nearest English outpost ..

  In the first gray of dawn they passed over the rained Moorish wall and five minutes later came in sight of Middle Hill. The bay was dull green below, the western mountains just beginning to glow with light. "The English have a guard there," he said, pointing. "They sleep under that bit of sailcloth."

  The colonel drew his sword. "Ready, men?" The soldiers crowded up and around. "Charge!"

  They swept past, breaking into a shambling trot and then into a full run. A musket went off, close, with a sudden nervous bang. The yell arose—"Santiago! Espana!"—more shouts, shots, confusion. Rafael found himself running forward in the middle of the pack, his dagger in his hand. Ahead, the yellow and white tide swept over the Englishmen's hill, then swirled round but did not advance.

  When Rafael came up, he saw a dozen English soldiers lying about in the grotesque contortions of violent death. Colonel Figueroa was shouting, "Take position here! Captain, you go there...." The Spanish soldiers formed up, marched hither and thither.

  "Go on down," Rafael cried, suddenly aboil with fury. "Don't stop here, colonel! The English don't have a single man on this side. Down into the town!"

  The one-armed colonel awkwardly straightened his powdered wig. "Do you look to your duty, Don Rafael, and I will look to mine. What is that girl doing here? Take her away at once.... Steady there, men!"

  A bugle in the town began to blow hysterical calls. A couple of musket balls whistled overhead. The Spanish force gave no reply—only one or two rounds per man left now, Rafael thought. But Mother of God, if they attacked now, they could seiz
e powder and ball from the English! He looked up the slope. Simeon came running down the mountain, bounding from rock to rock in huge leaps. He was alone.

  A column of redcoats marched out of the town and began to deploy into line. Bugles blew, officers shouted incomprehensible orders. Rafael counted quickly ... about eight hundred men. Simeon Susarte arrived, breathing evenly. "No more soldiers are coming," he said. "And no more ammunition. I have been back to the camp. General Villadarias said the French colonel refused to follow you because it was his right to go before you. Also, he thought the enterprise foolish."

  "Trust a viper sooner than a woman and a woman sooner than a Frenchman," Colonel Figueroa said pleasantly. "Well then, we must the alone. Viva la muerte!"

  "Go back, man," Simeon said violently. "Nearly all will be saved."

  A storm of musket balls struck the hilltop. A dozen Spanish soldiers fell. The colonel smoothed his wig. "You go, Simeon, and you, Don Rafael, with the girl. Tell the marquis that we die like Spaniards. Give my compliments to the Frenchman.... Now, my chicks, face the front."

  The musket balls flew thicker. Simeon Susarte's hand was on his arm, tugging. "Come, master." Then Amelia had his other arm and he began to walk, then run, scrambling up the long slope with them.

  He felt no emotion until they were down the tremendous path, where they would have fallen, many times, a thousand feet to death but for Simeon Susarte's sure hand and steady voice. He felt nothing until they had hurried along the eastern beach, past the end of the Spanish trenches. Then they turned and looked at the great gray tower of the north face.

  Amelia suddenly said, "Asher Conquy will take my ivory woman.... Let him. I owe him something."

  "I'm thinking we've lost more than a little piece of bone," Simeon said somberly. "We've lost the Rock. It'll be many a year before my sheep set foot on there again. When Englishmen and Jews get together, the rest of us stand little chance."

  Then Rafael felt the tears hot behind his eyes, and the flowed silently until he found Amelia's hand, and she took his and pressed it to her cheek without speaking. When they moved on, at length, she tried to free her hand, for her uncle was staring strangely at them, but he held her the tighter.

  BOOK EIGHT

  ENGLISH OUTPOST

  Guarded by British Arms! Gibraltar Rock,

  Of France and Spain, sustains the hostile shock;

  See them in vain their arts and arms employ

  The vet'ran fortress proves a second Troy;

  Though that the Greeks by ten years' siege could gain

  Here Bourbon and Iberia strove in vain.

  (S. Ancell, 58th Foot)

  The Jewish years 5465-5539

  AUC 2457-2532

  A.D. 1704-1779

  A.H. 1116-1193

  Simeon Susarte survived to tend his sheep on the mountains of the mainland, and so did Colonel Figueroa, though he was wounded three times more in this attack—twice in the chest and once in the leg; but most of his gallant five hundred were killed. Before another assault could be made, the English had discovered the shepherd's path and scarped it to make it impassable even for mountain goats or Andalusians.

  In the following month, November, vile weather, good gunnery, and starvation almost succeeded where Figueroa had failed. Food ran low, and the number of men fit for duty fell to 1,300, which was not enough to man all the guards. Then, as so often in the future, the Royal Navy came to the rescue, bringing in nine ships on December 7. Through December and January the siege continued under incessant cold rain, which was now beginning to hurt the Spanish in their encampments more than the British in their houses and fortifications. Becoming impatient, the Spanish king told Villadarias that he was to be replaced by a Frenchman especially lent by Louis XIV for the task. Since this man, Marshal Tesse, was due to arrive on February 9, 1705, Villadarias staged a massive attack on February 7.

  In spite of the inundation and the seemingly impregnable fortifications, the stubborn Spanish infantry nearly forced a success and probably would have but for the long and heroic stand, in an isolated outpost, of sixteen men of the 4th Foot. But fail they did, and Villadarias went, and Tesse came. After he had sat under that North Face for a few weeks, he reported to his royal master that the Spanish were incompetent and improvident. On April 18, under cover of this verbal smoke screen, he raised the siege and marched his armies away, having achieved much less than the despised Spanish, in fact exactly nothing.

  Late that year Archduke Charles visited the Rock which his English allies had so obligingly seized for themselves in his name, and they permitted him to appoint a loyal Spaniard, Ramos, to succeed Prince George of Hesse as the governor. But Ramos was soon succeeded by Colonel Roger Elliot, and from then on the governors were British. The war dragged on with, inside Spain, remarkably poor results for the archduke. Queen Anne of England, moved by what whim or logic has never been clear, made Gibraltar a free port, decreeing that no manner of tax or impost was to be levied there on goods whether coming, going, or in transit. This free-port status has been the source of much of Gibraltar's wealth, although from the very beginning it has been eroded, at first by the greed of the governors and later by the local administration's need to raise revenue.

  The former inhabitants of the Rock waited in the "Most Noble, Most Loyal City of San Roque, in which resides that of Gibraltar" for a peace treaty which would return them to their homes. But the negotiations moved very slowly—because England was beginning to feel her rising power, because France, though financially weakened by Louis's megalomania, was still militarily strong, and because it was always to France's interest that England and Spain should not become allies; so France always tried to prevent or delay solution of the Gibraltar problem.

  Then the war became more complicated. The Emperor died, and Archduke Charles succeeded him on the throne in Vienna as Emperor Charles VI. The powers which had been supporting Charles now cooled off, as success in Spain would make him almost a universal monarch. The war finally ended when Charles renounced all claim to the Spanish throne ... and Britain insisted on keeping Gibraltar.

  In the Treaty of Utrecht (1713) Spain unwillingly but formally granted Britain possession of it. Article X of that treaty, which is the basis of all Britain's claims and Spain's counterclaims, deserves to be set out here in full in the English translation from the original official Latin:

  X. The Catholic King does hereby for Himself, His heirs and successors, yield to the Crown of Great Britain the full and entire propriety of the Town and Castle of Gibraltar, together with the port, fortifications and forts thereunto belonging; and He gives up the said propriety, to be held and enjoyed absolutely with all manner of right forever, without any exception or impediment whatsoever.

  But that abuses and frauds may be avoided by importing any kind of goods, the Catholic King wills, and takes it to be understood, that the above-named propriety be yielded to Great Britain without any territorial jurisdiction, and without any open communication by land with the country round about.

  Yet whereas the communication by sea with the coast of Spain may not at all times be safe or open, and thereby it may happen that the garrison, and other inhabitants of Gibraltar may be brought to great straits; and as it is the intention of the Catholic King, only that fraudulent importations of goods should, as is above said, be hindered by an inland communication, it is therefore provided that in such cases it may be lawful to purchase, for ready money, in the neighbouring territories of Spain, provisions, and other things necessary for the use of the garrison, the inhabitants and the ships which lie in the harbour.

  But if any goods be found imported by Gibraltar, either by way of barter for purchasing provisions, or under any other pretence, the same shall be confiscated, and complaint being made thereof, those persons who have acted contrary to the faith of this Treaty shall be severely punished.

  And Her Britannic Majesty, at the request of the Catholic King, does consent and agree, that no leave shall be given under a
ny pretence whatsoever, either to Jews or Moors, to reside or have their dwellings in the said town of Gibraltar.

  Clauses follow permitting trade between Gibraltar and Morocco and ensuring that Roman Catholic residents shall be freely permitted to practice their religion. The last clause of Article X follows:

  And in case it shall hereafter seem meet to the Crown of Great Britain to grant, sell, or by any means to alienate therefrom the propriety of the said town of Gibraltar, it is hereby agreed and concluded, that in preference of having the same shall always be given to the Crown of Spain, before any others.

  There it is; and it is permissible to wonder what "full propriety without any manner of territorial jurisdiction" might mean. The warding has been used to assert and rebut all sorts of claims and rights, but it seems clear that the fundamental purpose of Spam's reservations was to prevent smuggling by ensuring that there should be no land trade between Spain and Gibraltar and that Spain retained certain territorial sovereignty to prevent this; that is, she wrote her terms into an infinite-year head lease.

  Semantics apart, it was a bad treaty. It did not correct an injustice but legalized it. Both parties signed it in bad faith. Neither had any intention of keeping its side of the bargain. The Spanish immediately started harassing tactics which prevented Gibraltar's buying goods in Spain; the British had no alternative but to turn to Morocco, a trade which was specifically allowed in the treaty. But many of the Moroccan traders were Jews, and the rest were Moors; and the Emperor of Morocco refused to allow trading unless his subjects were given full freedom to come and go and reside in Gibraltar. Other Jews and Moors bribed the governors to permit them to live in Gibraltar. Several provisions of Article X were thus being broken before the ink was dry on the treaty... and the treaty itself was never considered by the European powers as proper peace but rather as a pause for regrouping and making fresh plans.

  The next spasm of the general war which took up most of the eighteenth century came in 1727, and the Spanish instituted the Thirteenth Siege of Gibraltar. This lasted from February to June of that year; vast quantities of powder and shot were fired and two or three abortive attacks made. The siege failed; the Rock continued in British hands.