When we started the moon was shining brightly,and the morning was piercingly cold.We soon entered a sandy,hollow way,emerging from which we passed by a large edifice,standing on a high,bleak sand-hill,on our left.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 horses belly.I questioned the old man as to the cause of their going thus armed;he answered that the roads were very bad (meaning that they abounded with robbers),and that these people carried arms 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 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 man.He seemed to have but one theme of conversation,'the robbers'and the atrocities they were in the habit of practising in the very spots we were passing.The tales he related 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 wild broken ground covered with MATO or brushwood.The mules stopped to drink at a shallow pool,and on looking to the right Isaw a ruined wall.This,the guide informed me,was the remains of the Vendal Velhas,or the old inn,formerly the haunt of the celebrated robber Sabocha.This Sabocha,it seems,had,about sixteen years since,a band of 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's 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 brother of Sabocha was the lieutenant of the troop,a fellow of great strength and ferocity,particularly famous for the skill he possessed in darting a long knife and transfixing his opponents.Sabocha's connection with the gang at last became known,and he fled with the greatest part of his associates across the Tagus,to the northern provinces.He and his brother 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 of this house are still frequently visited by banditti,who eat and drink amongst the stones 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 from Aldea Gallega with his mules from accompanying some travellers,he had been knocked down,stript naked,and had all his money taken from him,by a fellow who,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 were to pass the night.The fellow on recognising him took him aside and threatened,with horrid imprecations,that he should never be permitted to return home if he attempted to discover him;he therefore held his peace,as he said there was little to be gained and everything to be lost by 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 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 that there was a party of horsemen behind.
Our mules were good,and they did not overtake us for at least twenty minutes.The foremost rider was a gentleman in a fashionable travelling dress;a little way behind were an officer,two soldiers,and a servant in livery.I heard the principal horseman,on overtaking Anthonio,enquiring who I was,and whether I was 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 that he believed I spoke French and Italian better.The gentleman then spurred on his horse and accosted me,not in Portuguese,or in French,or Italian,but in the purest English that I have 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 English countenance which,though it cannot be described,is sure to betray the Englishman),I should have concluded that I was conversing with a countryman.He continued in company and discourse until we arrived at Pegoens.
