it. In fine,
amusing and even interesting though our quarters had been for the time,
circumstances pointed towards a move into others, the interval being
spent in a run across to Gibraltar.

The steamers which call at Martine, down on the seashore, and bring goods
to be carted up to Tetuan, six miles inland, are as mysterious as they
are rare. One is supposed to call on alternate Tuesdays, weather
permitting; another occasionally calls in the intervening weeks; none
come direct from Gibraltar, though all are supposed to go straight back
there after touching at Ceuta. But there are many buts. Worst of all, the
river at Martine has formed a bar, and Martine is a "bar port": this
prevents landing in a strong wind.

We pinned our faith upon the Tuesday boat, not realizing its uncertainty;
for if the boat had not enough cargo on board to make it worth while her
calling, or if she had too much and time was short, or if the weather was
bad, she had no hesitation in missing Martine and Tetuan out of that
fortnight's round altogether.

We did not want to ride forty-four miles to Tangier with the "roads" in
the state they were, even if it had been practicable; nor almost as far
and a worse track to Ceuta: either would have meant sleeping a night in
the fondak up in the hills, or in a Spanish lodging-house of doubtful
repute: therefore we planned to go by boat from Martine, engaged rooms
for a week in Gibraltar beforehand, and, with the optimism born of
ignorance, doubted not but that we should get away on the steamer.

Packing up overnight and breakfasting at eight, we were soon ready to
mount our mules and ride down to the shore to catch our boat. It was a
matter of two and a half hours from Tetuan down to Martine: the track
need not be described--this speaks for itself. Our luggage, tied with
complicated rope-knots, was judiciously balanced upon one mule, and we
had said good-bye to Amanda and family when a message arrived from the
steamships agency to say that the steamer was not in.

After taking counsel, however, the luggage was dispatched down to
Martine; a muleteer badly marked with small-pox climbed on the top of our
worldly goods, and the mule jogged off: we would follow when the steamer
was sighted.

[Illustration: REFUSE GOING OUT OF TETUAN.

[_To face p. 124._]

Walking into the feddan in search of information about her, every Moor or
Jew only replied with shrugged shoulders and extended palms. Who could
te