Three of them consented to do this, and provided themselves
accordingly with pine-torches, wrapped round with bracken and leaves.
One, a very fine man, dressed in white, with his arm extended above
his head, bearing the light, led the way; another walked in front of
my horse, while the third brought up the rear. They conducted us down
the most frightfully steep paths until we had descended beneath the
clouds, when the light from our torches threw our shadows in gigantic
form upon the mists above, reminding us of the legend of the 'Spectre
of the Brocken.' At last the torches began to go out, one by one, and
just as the last light was expiring we arrived at a small village,
where we of course found that everybody was asleep. After some delay,
during which Mabelle and I were so tired that we lay down in the
street to rest, more torches were procured and a fresh guide, who led
us into the comparatively good path towards Puerto Orotava. Finally,
half an hour after midnight, we arrived at the house of the
Vice-Consul, who had provided refreshments for us, and whose nephew
was still very kindly sitting up awaiting our return. But we were too
tired to do anything but go straight on board the yacht, where, after
some supper and champagne, we were indeed glad to retire to our
berths.
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