with sails, was now blank and cheerless;
only the enemy's cruisers were visible, lying under the opposite shore
of Spain.

Owen and my grandfather arrived at the mouth of the cave somewhat in
advance of the convoy. To their surprise a smoke was issuing from it;
and, as they approached nearer, their nostrils were greeted by an odour
at once savoury and spicy. Going softly up they looked in.

Mr Bags and a couple of friends were seated round a fire, over which was
roasting a small pig, scientifically butchered and deprived of his hair,
and hung up by the heels. The fire, in the absence of other fuel (of
which there was an extreme scarcity in Gibraltar), was supplied by
bundles of cinnamon plundered from the store of some grocer, and, as the
flame waxed low, Mr Bags took a fresh bundle from a heap of that
fragrant spice by his side, and laid it on the embers. Mrs Bags was
occupied in basting the pig with lard, which she administered from time
to time with an iron ladle.

Presently Mr Bags tapped on the pig's back with his knife. It sent
forth a crisp crackling sound, that made my grandfather's mouth water,
and caused Mr Bags to become impatient.

"Polly," said he, "it's my opinion it's been done these three minutes. I
can't wait much longer."

And he cast a glance at the other two soldiers (in whom, as well as in
Bags, Owen recognised men of his company who had been reported absent
for some days, and were supposed to have gone over to the enemy), to
ascertain if their opinions tallied with his own on this point.

"It can't be no better," said one, taking hold of the pig's neck between
his finger and thumb, which he afterwards applied to his mouth.

"I can't abear my meat overdone," said the third. "What I say is, let
them that likes to wait, wait, and let them that wants to begin, begin."
So saying, he rose, and was about to attack the ribs of the porker with
his knife.

"Do stop a minute--that's a dear," said Mrs Bags; "another bundle of
cinnament will make it parfect. I'll give ye something to stay your
stomach;" and stepping to a nook in the wall of the cavern, where stood
a large barrel, she filled a pewter measure, and handed it to the
impatient advocate for underdone pork, who took a considerable dram, and
passed it to his companions.

"Cinnament's better with pork nor with most things," said Bags. "It
spoils goose, because it don't agree with the inions, and it makes
fowls wishy-washy; but it goes excelle