There is not much variety in these places, one cavern and one gun resembling the other.As for the guns, they are not of large calibre, indeed, such are not needed here, where a pebble discharged from so great an altitude would be fraught with death.On descending a shaft, however, I observed, in one cave of special importance, two enormous carronades looking with peculiar wickedness and malignity down a shelving rock, which perhaps, although not without tremendous difficulty, might be scaled.The mere wind of one of these huge guns would be sufficient to topple over a thousand men.What sensations of dread and horror must be awakened in the breast of a foe when this hollow rock, in the day of siege, emits its flame, smoke, and thundering wind from a thousand yawning holes; horror not inferior to that felt by the peasant of the neighbourhood when Mongibello belches forth from all its orifices its sulphureous fires.
Emerging from the excavations, we proceeded to view various batteries.I asked the sergeant whether his companions and himself were dexterous at the use of the guns.He replied that these cannons were to them what the fowling-piece is to the fowler, that they handled them as easily, and, he believed, pointed them with more precision, as they seldom or never missed an object within range of the shot.This man never spoke until he was addressed, and then the answers which he gave were replete with good sense, and in general well worded.
After our excursion, which lasted at least two hours, I made him a small present, and took leave with a hearty shake of the hand.
In the evening I prepared to go on board the vessel bound for Tangier, trusting in what the Jewish secretary had told me as to its sailing.Meeting him, however, accidentally in the street, he informed me that it would not start until the following morning, advising me at the same time to be on board at an early hour.I now roamed about the streets until night was beginning to set in, and becoming weary, I was just about to direct my steps to the inn, when I felt myself gently pulled by the skirt.I was amidst a concourse of people who were gathered around some Irish soldiers who were disputing, and Ipaid no attention; but I was pulled again more forcibly than before, and I heard myself addressed in a language which I had half forgotten, and which I scarcely expected ever to hear again.I looked round, and lo! a tall figure stood close to me and gazed in my face with anxious inquiring eyes.On its head was the kauk or furred cap of Jerusalem; depending from its shoulders, and almost trailing on the ground, was a broad blue mantle, whilst kandrisa or Turkish trousers enveloped its nether limbs.I gazed on the figure as wistfully as it gazed upon me.At first the features appeared perfectly strange, and I was about to exclaim, I know you not, when one or two lineaments struck me, and I cried, though somewhat hesitatingly, "Surely this is Judah Lib."I was in a steamer in the Baltic in the year `34, if Imistake not.There was a drizzling rain and a high sea, when Iobserved a young man of about two and twenty leaning in a melancholy attitude against the side of the vessel.By his countenance I knew him to be one of the Hebrew race, nevertheless there was something very singular in his appearance, something which is rarely found amongst that people, a certain air of nobleness which highly interested me.
I approached him, and in a few minutes we were in earnest conversation.He spoke Polish and Jewish German indiscriminately.The story which he related to me was highly extraordinary, yet I yielded implicit credit to all his words, which came from his mouth with an air of sincerity which precluded doubt; and, moreover, he could have no motive for deceiving me.One idea, one object, engrossed him entirely: