falling down a well, and the crash made when I reached
the bottom awoke me. I forgot for the moment where I
was, hut my first impressions were that, Zazel-like, I
had been shot out of a cannon, and that I was whirling
round chain-shot fashion. Instinctively stretching out
my hands, I found myself in my berth, but the ship was
plunging and rolling very much, and everything move-
able was knocking about in all directions. Another
crash, similar to the one which awoke me, told of loose
crockery going to destruction in the steward s pantry.
I spent some time in tiying to decide whether the ship
was playing at leapfrog, or trying to turn a somersault.
A “ sea change ” put an end to my deliberations. Sleep
was impossible, and I was glad when morning came, and
I held on to the berth with one hand, and dressed with
the other. That man of the sea was right. We had
“ got ” it, and Ho mistake; and we continued to “ get
i t ” until off Cape St. Yincent, when we regained smooth
water.
Cape St. Yincent is a rocky bluff, crested with a ruined
convent and a lighthouse, the white walls of which gleam
out brightly in the sunshine, although we are fully ten
miles away. After we have passed it, and look back, it
forms a much more picturesque object than when seen
directly opposite; and in front of the nearly perpendicular
cliffs is a curious cone-shaped rock, and through
the narrow passage between this and the mainland,
(tradition says an American skipper ran his vessel for a
mager, and got through safely. The whole coast here is
Ibold and rocky, but not dangerous. Large craft may
aide close in under the cliffs.
A few miles further along is Cape Sartenius, a rocky
headland, which rises perpendicularly from the sea, and
is'rcrowned with a fort and lighthouse; and from this
point the rugged coast-line falls away towards Trafalgar
Bay and Gibraltar, a distance of nearly two hundred
miles. We were fortunate in seeing the red honeycombed
rock at Gibraltar in the morning’s sunshine, the
pretty little town of St. Roque lying behind across the
neutral ground. To the left the cork woods and Alge-
siraz. Exactly opposite “ Gib,” on the African side, is
Ceuta, with its lighthouse and fort on the hill, and
square flat-topped Moorish houses below; while Apes’
Hill stands up clear and dark against the masses of
fleecy white clouds. The straits here are about six miles
wide, and it was near this point that the Moors used to
cross, Piet and Scot fashion, into Spain in the olden
time. Of course, like Mark Twain, we saw the “ Queen
of Spain’s chair” on the hill behind Gibraltar, and a
naturalist friend reminds me that the rock here is the
•only place in Europe where monkeys and scorpions are
naturalised. The wag meant “ Rock Scorpions ” I suppose,
but the monkeys are there all right enough. By
the aid of a good glass, we saw patches of cultivated
crops on the low coast hills, and whitewashed farmhouses
were freely dotted amongst them. Now we were
fairly into the blue waters of the Mediterranean, and the
coast lines began to recede on either side. Here and
there, however, over the coast hills we obtained glimpses
of the snow-peaked Sierra Nevada mountains standing
out clear and cool against the blue sky.
It was about the middle of June, and very hot during
the day tiny?, but chilly at night. The sea is of the most
emphatic blue when you look down into it, but has a
purplish glow towards the horizon. The sunsets are
occasionally very beautiful, with their tints of crimson,
salmon, grey, vermilion, and gold. It is pleasant at sunrise,
after a bracing salt-water bath under the hose-pipe,