We were speedily overtaken by five or six men on horseback, riding at a rapid pace, each with a long gun slung at his saddle, the muzzle depending about two feet below the horse's belly.I inquired of the old man what was the reason of this warlike array.He answered, that the roads were very bad (meaning that they abounded with robbers), and that they went armed in this manner for their defence; they soon turned off to the right towards Palmella.
We reached a sandy plain studded with stunted pine; the road was little more than a footpath, and as we proceeded, the trees thickened and became a wood, which extended for two leagues, with clear spaces at intervals, in which herds of cattle and sheep were feeding; the bells attached to their necks were ringing lowly and monotonously.The sun was just beginning to show itself; but the morning was misty and dreary, which, together with the aspect of desolation which the country exhibited, had an unfavourable effect on my spirits.I got down and walked, entering into conversation with the old man.
He seemed to have but one theme, "the robbers," and the atrocities they were in the habit of practising in the very spots we were passing.The tales he told were truly horrible, and to avoid them I mounted again, and rode on considerably in front.
In about an hour and a half we emerged from the forest, and entered upon a savage, wild, broken ground, covered with mato, or brushwood.The mules stopped to drink at a shallow pool, and on looking to the right I saw a ruined wall.This, the guide informed me, was the remains of Vendas Velhas, or the Old Inn, formerly the haunt of the celebrated robber Sabocha.
This Sabocha, it seems, had, some sixteen years ago, a band of about forty ruffians at his command, who infested these wilds, and supported themselves by plunder.For a considerable time Sabocha pursued his atrocious trade unsuspected, and many an unfortunate traveller was murdered in the dead of night at the solitary inn by the wood-side, which he kept; indeed, a more fit situation for plunder and murder I never saw.The gang were in the habit of watering their horses at the pool, and perhaps of washing therein their hands stained with the blood of their victims; the lieutenant of the troop was the brother of Sabocha, a fellow of great strength and ferocity, particularly famous for the skill he possessed in darting a long knife, with which he was in the habit of transfixing his opponents.Sabocha's connection with the gang at length became known, and he fled, with the greater part of his associates, across the Tagus to the northern provinces.Himself and his brothers eventually lost their lives on the road to Coimbra, in an engagement with the military.His house was razed by order of the government.
The ruins are still frequently visited by banditti, who eat and drink amidst them, and look out for prey, as the place commands a view of the road.The old man assured me, that about two months previous, on returning to Aldea Gallega with his mules from accompanying some travellers, he had been knocked down, stripped naked, and all his money taken from him, by a fellow whom he believed came from this murderers' nest.
He said that he was an exceedingly powerful young man, with immense moustaches and whiskers, and was armed with an espingarda, or musket.About ten days subsequently he saw the robber at Vendas Novas, where we should pass the night.The fellow on recognising him took him aside, and, with horrid imprecations, threatened that he should never be permitted to return home if he attempted to discover him; he therefore held his peace, as there was little to be gained and everything to be risked in apprehending him, as he would have been speedily set at liberty for want of evidence to criminate him, and then he would not have failed to have had his revenge, or would have been anticipated therein by his comrades.
I dismounted and went up to the place, and saw the vestiges of a fire and a broken bottle.The sons of plunder had been there very lately.I left a New Testament and some tracts amongst the ruins, and hastened away.
The sun had dispelled the mists and was beaming very hot;we rode on for about an hour, when I heard the neighing of a horse in our rear, and our guide said there was a party of horsemen behind; our mules were good, and they did not overtake us for at least twenty minutes.The headmost rider was a gentleman in a fashionable travelling dress; a little way behind were an officer, two soldiers, and a boy in livery.Iheard the principal horseman, on overtaking my servant, inquiring who I was, and whether French or English.He was told I was an English gentleman, travelling.He then asked whether I understood Portuguese; the man said I understood it, but he believed that I spoke French and Italian better.The gentleman then spurred on his horse and accosted me, not in Portuguese, nor in French or Italian, but in the purest English that I ever heard spoken by a foreigner; it had, indeed, nothing of foreign accent or pronunciation in it; and had I not known, by the countenance of the speaker, that he was no Englishman, (for there is a peculiarity in the countenance, as everybody knows, which, though it cannot be described, is sure to betray the Englishman), I should have concluded that I was in company with a countryman.We continued discoursing until we arrived at Pegoens.
