The Argosy — page 50: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

40, Letters from Majorca. they have proved a fathomless abyss, no deeper depth beyond? They were forbidding enough for anything. We were less than half an hour in the caves, but when we came out, the broad sunshine and free air were like Heaven itself. The entrance was locked up again, and we returned to our omnibus. We had now earned our luncheon; and in the shade cast by the shandaradan, sat and enjoyed our nectar and ambrosia, having first given the driver and the boy their full share of the hamper’s goodly store. We had liked the caves very well, but enjoyed this sylvan soli- tude far more. It would be difficult to describe the beauty of this natural harbour: those green slopes, between which flashed and played that crystal water. The day was so hot, the sea so absolutely calm, that when we saw a fisherman go down to his boat, we hailed him and made him understand that a row or a sail about the coast was the one thing wanting to complete our happiness. In a few moments, a bronzed and weather-beaten old Mallorquin and his son—both more than commonly intelligent—rowed across the creek and placed themselves at our service. ‘The driver and the boy, taking French leave, stepped into the boat after us. This we had not intended, as too much ballast on a calm day is worse than too little ; but we wisely said nothing. Once clear of the harbour, the men hoisted sail, and for a couple of hours we had a glorious time of it: a perfect luxury of lazy enjoy- ment. As the boat receded from the shore, each point of land opened out, and on either side, for miles might be traced the out- line of the coast: now shelving down to the water, now rising in abrupt cliffs, full of beauty and grandeur. The old man told us the name of each headland, and pointed out all the little unseen creeks and harbours: gave us a geographical lesson, indicated the positions of Spain and Sicily, and the islands of the Levant. Then he brought out a keg, and bade us take a deep, deep draught, not of good Rhine wine, but of strong waters. The most delicious anisette it was ever my fortune to taste. H. C. accepted it suspiciously, but fear soon vanished in delight. His eyes began to sparkle and his face to flush, as he returned again and again to the charge. Even the old man at last looked anxious and fidgetty, at a deeper, deeper draught than even he had ever dreamed of or indulged in. I do not believe that the next day’s inequalities on H. C.’s usually placid brow were a// the result of mosquito bites. At the end of a couple of hours, we returned. Not that we had had enough of this Elysian existence, this being gently wafted about by outspread canvass wings: but a long drive lay before us. The old man, too, had to go a-fishing and earn his daily bread, and his time was up. We made for the harbour, and even in twenty and thirty feet of water distinctly saw the bottom. The old man landed us where the glistening sand and the white-edged water met. We comicbooks.com