Hunsford Tales. El Capitan

A meeting with a new, and friendly, acquaintance is always a pleasure to be enjoyed, well, most of the time that is, providing wires are not crossed beyond mutual understanding.

Chapter One.

Mr Collins was returning from Oxted having paid a visit to the parson there, one Zachary Wallope, a man he didn’t particularly care for, but he had to exhibit civility towards a fellow man of the cloth. He had suffered an over-long inspection of Parson Wallope’s numerous boxing trophies and had to hear their legends, and now was driving home in his chaise with a feeling of a not particularly pleasant task completed satisfactorily. Wallope had very little in conversation that wasn’t either about boxing or himself, and Mr Collins was very glad to be free of him.
The day was quite warm and pleasant for driving, and maybe he should call at the Bell and Whistle Inn and take a light lunch to save Charlotte the trouble of making one? Yes, he decided he would do that, a slice of their excellent pork pie and a small jug of porter perhaps? He knew the stable boy there quite well and left his chaise and horse to his attention. Perhaps he would give him a shilling later?

He arrived there and was soon seated in the large dining area together with the passengers of a coach bound for Sevenoaks on route to the east coast via Maidstone and Ashford and eventually Folkestone. The place was busy and the only seat available was at a small table occupied by a rather colourfully dressed gentlemen sitting alone. Mr Collins removed his hat and settled himself down in the vacant seat. The man wore a dark blue velvet coat and had a mustard yellow waistcoat with a large gold chain to his pocked watch. His hat was on the table and had a bright feather on one side. He was sunburned like a sailor, and wore a gold ring in one ear and several rings on his fingers. He had a jug of ale and bread and cheese in front of him. He looked up and nodded. Mr Collins nodded back .
“Good morning Sir. I hope you have no objection to me joining you?” Mr Collins said pleasantly.
“Buenos Dias Senor. Bienvenida” (Good day Sir, welcome”) said the man with a beaming smile. Mr Collins smiled back a little uncertainly. “Dias”, was that Latin, was he an Italian? Did he mean Deus, which is God? Ah, he’s saying God go with me. How nice!”
“Er, you too my friend. God be with you also!”
“Ah, no comprende el Inglese senor. Yo soy Espanol. Tu hablas Espanol Senor?” ( Ah, I don’t understand English sir. I am Spanish. Do you speak Spanish Senor?”)
“Ah, Espanol.” I know that word. Spanish and he has two Spanish brothers, sisters?”
“Good, good. Isn’t it a nice day?”..beamed Mr Collins.
“Si Senor. Soy de Almeria. Me Llamo Juan Antonio Martin. Como te llamas?” (Yes sir, I am from Almeria. My name is Juan Antonio Martin. What are you called?)
“Ah, yes. He has a sister called Maria, one brother called Antonio and one called Martin. Excellent, I’m understanding him easily” Mr Collins raised a hand at a table servant.
“ I’m William Collins from Hunsford. I’m a parson!” He pointed at himself then his collar stock.
“He’s William? Is he calling me Garcon? Is he a priest who speaks French?” The man smiled uncertainly.
“Eres un padre de la Iglesia? “ (Are you a priest of the church?)
“Ah, padre, that’s father. Yes, I’m English but I have no children yet. I hope to have a little, er, “olive branch” in the future with my dear Charlotte.!” Mr Collins said coyly”
“Ah, si. Me gusto mucho los olives y shallots. Hay muchos olives en Espana. Que ellos crecemos!”…(Ah, yes, I quite like olives and shallots. There are many olives in Spain. We grow them!”)
At that point the waiter arrived and Mr Collins ordered his lunch. When his ale was put down the stranger raised his own jug and offered a salute with it.
“Salud, amor y pesetas senor!” ( Health, love and prosperity) he grinned widely and Mr Collins touched the jug with his own.
“Your health Sir. God save the King.. Are you familiar with Kent?”
“Ah, no tengo familia aqui en Kent. Estan en Almeria (Ah, no, I have no family in Kent. They’re all in Almeria!) he shook his head sadly.
Oh, he doesn’t know Kent but his sister Maria might?.” Are you a sailor?”
The man looked puzzled at this. Mr Collins waved a hand in front of himself, supposedly imitating waves. The man’s expression brightened.
“Ah, Azuela, an adze.( He thinks I’m a farmer?”)
No senor, no azuela, ha-ha, soy marinero. Soy un capitan de un barco. Voy a Folkes stones?” He pulled out a roughly drawn map of the route to the coast and pointed to Folkestone.
“( No sir, I’m not a farmer. Ha-ha, I’m a sailor. I am a captain of a ship. I’m going to Folkes tone)”
“Ah, he’s a captain from Barco, wherever that is and he’s going to Folkestone?” Very good. Are you married?” Mr Collins mentally congratulated his own understanding of the man.
“Si, si, soy marido. Me esposa es de Aleman. Su nombre is Arabella y tenemos tres ninos!” (Yes, yes, I am a husband. My wife is German. Her name is Arabella and we have three children “)
The man pulled a locket from around his neck and clicked it open and held it out for Mr Collins to examine. It was a portrait miniature of a rather harsh looking woman with bright blonde hair.
“I think he’s married to somebody from the Isle of Man and she might be an Arab? Has she got a sister called Nino? Mr Collins smiled and nodded but did not comment. He thought the woman did not look very like an Arab, but who knew with foreigners? The man spread his hands and his expression became serious.
“ El nonmbre de mi Barco es La Marguerita y vamos a Francais, ahora la Guerra ha terminda!” ( The name of my ship is The Marguerita and we go to France now the war is over!)
“Is he saying he is going to France to see Marguerita from Barco? Guerra, is that near Calais somewhere? He’s sailing from Folkestone, so it must be?
Just then a horn blew to signal that the coach was preparing to leave and alert the passengers. The man stood up and held out his hand. Mr Collins rose and took it. The man smiled widely. Adios amigo. Con Suerte, navageremos manana
Por la noche. Vaya con Dios!”
“ Me go to get mananas….bananas? for …? Mr Collins raised his eyebrows.

“He’s saying goodbye sir. With luck he’ll sail tomorrow night. Amigo means friend, and Man~ana means tomorrow in Spanish. I have some seafaring relations and know a little of the language. He says “Go with God”!” The landlord of the inn had appeared beside Mr Collins and also shook hands with the stranger. Mr Collins beamed widely.
“God go with you also, my friend, you also.!”

Chapter Two.

Charlotte was a little surprised that Mr Collins had already taken lunch, but the cold salad would keep for later. He husband was in high good humour as he related his encounter with the foreign stranger.
“Did he speak good English dear?” she enquired.
“No, actually he spoke no English at all but I managed to understand him quite well. He’s a sailor and going to Folkstone to sail for France to see somebody called Marguerita which is a bit odd because he also has an Arab wife from the Isle of man. She might be called Maria, or that might be his sister and he has two brothers. He was very well dressed and, do you know dear, he was a very nice chap but he had a lot of gold. I suspect he might be a pirate!”
He reached for the local weekly broadsheet and Charlotte frowned as she regarded the top of his head. It all sounded rather strange, but then again….
“So, will you be gardening this afternoon William” she asked.

“Man~ana dear, man~ana!”….he replied.
Charlotte only just managed to suppress her laugh.

End