CHAPTER LI.

THE OLD DRAGON-TREE OF CAORA.

The trial came on in a couple of days after, and proceeded with a celerity unknown in England or Scotland either. We were all examined, and previously were sworn, not on a Bible, but over two sword-blades held in the form of a cross,--for such is the old chivalric custom in a Spanish court of law.

Without hesitation the judges found Antonio guilty; he was sentenced to die by the _garotte_; and heard his doom with apparent apathy.

The _tindal_ of the Lascars was released, as it would appear that he had acted under compulsion; but Benito Ojeda and eight other Spanish seamen were sentenced to work in the fortifications or on the highways for ten years, in chains, as felons or galley-slaves.

The trial over, Hislop and I gladly left the crowded hall of justice, and made our way through the streets of Santa Cruz, passing a mingled population of yellow mulattoes, Spanish laborers, negro water-carriers, mercantile men, old ecclesiastics, and importunate beggars, till we reached our hotel, the windows of which faced the sea.

There we resolved to dine, and then ride over to Orotava, to see the wonderful tree which grows near it, taking care, however, to provide ourselves with rifles and ammunition for our protection as the adventures of Tom Lambourne and myself were too recent to be forgotten.

On our return we hoped to be able to visit the Valley of the famous Diamond, which was only visible in the night.

I have little more to relate now than what would seem more suitable to a traveller's commonplace book than the conclusion of adventures so wild as mine have been; and so must hasten on.

At the posada in the main street of Santa Cruz we procured horses; and leaving the fertile plain in which the little city stands, traversed a bleak and barren mountain-track for some leagues, until we reached the town of Orotava, or Caora, as it was named of old when the Dragon-tree was a sapling. It is built on the western side of the isle, and is both pretty and picturesque.

The mighty force of the Atlantic was breaking on the shore, in billows so vast, so white, so over-arching, and with a sound so thundering, that they exceeded all we had ever heard before. The sky was becoming black to the northwest, and he could see the ships at anchor near Porto de la O getting under way, and shaking out their courses with all speed, to make a safe offing in case a squall came on.

Orotava, a pretty little town, clean and neatly built, stands upon the green slope of a beautiful hill, and faces the Atlantic. Ruins of sugar-mills and wine-presses were to be seen here and there among the corn and maize-fields, the vineyards and gardens; for these remains, now almost covered by creepers and luxuriant plants, are the ruined fragments of the edifices destroyed by the great hurricane of 1826.

We reached an inn, gave our horses to the stable-boy, dined on a galina stewed with beans (and garlic of course); we had some native wine, and for a shilling might have had a sackful of pineapples.

From the windows of the posada, as we sat at dinner, we watched the waves rolling in mountains of snowy foam, before the wind, in-shore; and all the craft weighing or slipping their cables, and beating close-hauled under topsails and courses to attain good sea-room, lest they might be driven on the rocks. It was a lively sight, and a stirring one.

"Oh, for a fair wind when we sail again!" said I. "I would beg, borrow, or steal one, if I knew where such commodities were to be had."

"'Tis a pity you are not a subject of King Eric-with-the-Windy-Cap," replied Hislop, while making up a cigarito. "See how clumsily those lubbers sheer that brig to her anchor! Why the deuce don't they keep the current right ahead, and lessen the strain on the chain-cable? I shouldn't like to have my fingers between it and the hawse-pipe just now. Why, she's forging broadside on!"

"Who was King Eric-with-the-Windy-Cap?" I asked.

"Did you ever read _Olaus Magnus_?"

"No; the name would seem enough for me. Moreover, we don't read Scotch poetry at Eton."

"He was one of the oldest annalists of Scandinavia, and you lose a deal in not reading him."

"Well, but this Eric----" I resumed.

"Was King of Sweden. He was surnamed _Waderhat_, and was deemed in his time a great sorcerer,--so great, that he ranked second to none in that kind of craft. He was on the most familiar terms with all kinds of goblins and evil spirits, and constructed a peculiar cap, which by spells he endowed with such extraordinary power that the wind would blow from whichever way he chose to turn it. Our old Scotch fishermen in Orkney and Shetland, who are half Norsemen, can spin yarns by the hour about King Eric Waderhat; and it was by his aid, says Olaus, and thus being able to have always a fair wind, that the great pirate, Regner, King of Denmark, who was his nephew, carried the terror of his name to the uttermost parts of Europe. But now, Dick, as the bones of the galina are picked clean, as the wine is drunk, and the sun in the west, let us be off to see this famous old bit of arboriculture,--the Dragon Tree of Caora. Ah! that brig has got her anchor apeak at last; the port-tacks are close aboard, and the jib hoisted, and--by George! if her stupid fiddle-head is long in paying off she'll be foul of that polacca! But here comes the senor de casa."

We asked the landlord, who entered at that moment, where the famous tree stood; on which he politely offered to accompany us; and certainly our visit was not time wasted.

In the garden of a Senor Franqui (whose father showed it to Humboldt), we saw this gigantic specimen of the many-headed palm, the aged Dragon Tree of Caora.

Its stem is forty-eight feet in diameter, and ascends like a solid pillar to the height of sixty feet, from whence an incredible number of strangely twisted and fantastic branches shoot off in every direction, but all bearing flowers and fruit.

"This, senores," said the hostalero, "is said by a learned traveller----"

"Aye," interrupted Hislop; "you mean Humboldt."

"Si, senor,--to be the oldest tree in the world. Documents exist in the town of Santa Cruz which prove that in the fifteenth century--that is, when the Spaniards first came here under Don Alphonso, Ferdinand of Lugo, and others--it was just the size we see it now, and not a twig more or less.

"This is very likely, Dick," said Hislop, in English, turning to me; "but for all that, it is not the oldest tree in the world. Europe and Asia are full of trees with doubtful or fabulous ages; but M. de Candolle, of Geneva, asserts that the most ancient tree in the world--one which was in full bloom when our Saviour was born--is the old yew of Fortingall, at the mouth of Glenlyon, in Scotland. Well, senor," he resumed, in Spanish, "and this palm?"

"Alphonso de Lugo struck it thrice with his sword, in token that Teneriffe and all the adjacent isles belonged to Ferdinand and Isabella, to Castile, and to the Catholic Church."

"What wonders, and how many changes has the world seen since _then_! And this old tree is in bloom and bearing yet!" I exclaimed.

"I think," added Hislop, as we turned to leave the garden of Senor Franqui, "that Humboldt says this species is very slow in growth; and that the Dragon Tree required a thousand years to attain its present maturity."

"A thousand years!" I repeated, looking at it with that vague emotion of interest which is generally excited by the knowledge that we are looking on what we, in all probability, shall never see again.

It was near evening when we returned to the posada; and after giving a "consideration" to the hostalero, who was a very pleasant and intelligent Spanish colonist from the old city of Iaen, in Andalusia, we mounted to return; on which he said,--

"Senores Inglesos, you should not leave Teneriffe without visiting the Valley of the Diamond."

"We had some thoughts of doing so," said Hislop; "but is it far from this?"

"About a league and half."

"Where away?"

"Among the mountains, on the northern slope of the great peak."

"Ugh! the scenery looks rather wild thereabout," replied Hislop; "but 'twere a pity to leave without having a look at it, after all."

"You may remember, Marc," said I, "that this diamond is particularly mentioned in the old volume of voyages which I found in the water-logged brig at Alphonso."

"Yes, to be sure I do," replied Hislop; "and that book, I think, must form part of _La Collection de Viages y Discubrimientos_. The diamond was first seen by Albuquerque and Tristan da Cunha, senor hostalero. I believe that it shines only in the night," said Marc, turning to the landlord.

"But then it beams like a star in heaven, senores," replied the Spaniard, crossing himself.

"You have seen it then?" I asked.

"Oh! senor, a hundred times and more."

"Is it supposed to be worth much?"

"From its light and size, many millions of duros."

"And yet it has been allowed to glitter away there for more than three hundred and fifty years!" I exclaimed, with incredulity.

"Because, senor, its exact locality can never be discovered, even by the most active searchers."

"Why?"

"On their approach it gradually fades, and finally disappears."

"But in daylight?"

"Not a trace of it can be found among the rocks, though a thousand men have searched for it a thousand times, till their fingers were worn and their hearts grew sick."

"Strange!" we exclaimed.

"Many an illustrious senor who has been captain-general of the Canaries for his Most Catholic Majesty has offered a thousand duros for its discovery, and many a dog of a Jew has almost lost his senses in the rocky valley; others have nearly died of starvation rather than quit the search; but it always seems to melt away on being approached or as day dawns, so there are many who aver that it is no diamond at all."

"What then?"

"An enchanted light," replied the hostalero.

Hislop seemed to ponder for a moment; then a bright smile spread over his jovial and sunburnt face, and he asked,--

"Will this be a good night for seeing it, think you, senor hostalero?"

"The innkeeper turned to the north-west, where the clouds were still banking up in heavy masses.

"Si, senor; I should say so."

"At what distance is this diamond visible, and from what spot?"

The Spaniard now gave us a knowing glance; his keen black eyes glittered, and he laughed aloud.

"Par todos santos, if _you_, senor, have any desire for getting it, you may find it easier to call down one of the blessed stars that are now beginning to twinkle in the heavens above us."

"Never mind what I wish; but say, where is it to be seen?"

"If you ride fast, senores, the light will yet enable you to reach the valley," replied the hostalero, still smiling,--almost grinning, in fact.

"Pursue the way from this to the eastward for nearly a league, passing on your left La Montanza de Centejo, and so on, till you reach a well shaded by three old rosewood trees."

"What next?"

"Wheel off by a narrow path that lies to the right, and pass between two rocks; you will then see the summit of the great peak before you; and after proceeding about a mile, you will come to a flat stone, and from there you will perceive the diamond (if the atmosphere serves) shining like a light in the face of the rock, about fifty yards or so before you."

"Muchos gratios, senor," said Hislop; "these directions seem very clear."

"I am glad senor is pleased," replied the hostalero, removing his broad straw hat.

"Could you oblige me with a piece of hard chalk?"

"Hard chalk," reiterated the hostalero; "certainly, senor," and in a second he brought a piece from his kitchen.

Hislop thanked him, placed it in his pocket, and we rode off just as the clear twilight began to deepen with the most magnificent effects of lingering light and purple shadow on land and sea, on mountain, isle, and shore.

"What are you about to do with that piece of chalk?" asked I; "for assuredly there is something veiled under the request."

"You shall soon learn,--that is, if we see this real or enchanted diamond," said Hislop, laughing.

"What do you mean?"

"That I shall put this diamond, if such indeed it is, into my old mother's lap, when I go home to Scotland!" said he, with a boisterous laugh, in which I could not resist joining.