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  THE ROCK

  JOHN MASTERS

  A BERKLEY MEDALLION BOOK PUBLISHED BY G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS

  DISTRIBUTED BY BERKLEY PUBLISHING CORPORATION

  Copyright 1970 by John Masters All rights reserved

  G. P. PUTNAM'S-BERKLEY MEDALLION EDITION, OCTOBER, 1971

  SBN 425-02064-9

  G. P. Putnam's Sons 200 Madison Avenue New York, N.Y. 10016

  Berkley Publishing Corporation 200 Madison Avenue New York, N.Y. 10016

  BERKLEY MEDALLION BOOKS TM 757,375

  Printed in the United States of America

  CONTENTS

  FOREWORD

  One

  IN THE BEGINNING

  The Woman

  Two

  OUT OF THE CAVES

  The Talisman

  Three

  PHOENICIA, CARTHAGE, ROMAN REPUBLIC A Private Sacrifice

  Four

  ROMAN EMPIRE

  Into the Dark

  Five

  VISIGOTHIC KINGDOM

  Brother Aethelred's Story

  Six

  CALIPHS, EMIRS, AND KINGS

  A Jewel for the King

  Seven

  SPANISH TOWN

  Weep for Jerusalem!

  Eight

  ENGLISH OUTPOST

  Extracts from the Private Diaries of Gamaliel Hassan

  Nine

  NELSON'S PORT

  The Education of Eliott Conquy

  Ten

  VICTORIAN HEYDAY

  A View from La Linea

  Eleven

  THE GREY DIPLOMATISTS

  Sanctuary

  Twelve

  BETWEEN WARS

  Inside

  Thirteen

  FOREIGN FORTRESS? PUPPET COLONY?

  FREE PEOPLE?

  1985

  BIBLIOGRAPHY

  FORWARD

  Coming in low from due east, looking through the curved perspex, it appears first as a pale cloud on the surface of the sea off the mountains of Africa. The edges fast become more sharply defined, and the whiteness intensifies as the morning sun strikes back from it. Darker areas, but still quite pale, take form to left and right of the central white, and the sky beyond silhouettes the shape of the crest. It is a great wall of rock, over 2 miles long, 1400 feet high at right and center. It falls gradually to the left—south—and seems to be a gigantic crouching animal, its head toward Africa, its paws extended. Northward the resemblance ends, for there are no hind quarters or tail: the rock ends sheer.

  There is a huge straight-sided patch in the middle of the eastern slope, as pale in itself as the gray of the cliffs but appearing brighter from its smoothness, which more strongly casts back the sun's light. It is manmade, the huge patch, perhaps half a mile long and 700 feet high; but who knows what it is? There is nothing else like it on earth.

  Closer now: parts of the wall are thinly painted in green—a few broad daubs run down gullies, a fine stippling marks ledges, crevices, gentler slopes where soil can stay and plants take hold. Along the shoreline the dark mouths of caverns appear, some small, most large. The outer arch often shelters a lesser inner arch and that a lesser again, thus gradually bringing the eye from the colossal to the human scale, in the manner used by the architect of the Buland Darwaza at Fatehpur Sikri.

  The up thrust rock is sliding past on the right, and the works of man command the eye. The crest bristles like a threatened porcupine. Guns, masts, directors, radar towers, range finders, antennae, guns ... guns ... guns ... scattered large buildings toward the low point of the rock—not houses, but barracks or hospitals, or prisons perhaps ... on the very point, a white and red lighthouse. Turning north, the barracks give way to houses; the houses close in on each other; trees, gardens, streets cling in parallel rows to this western slope. It is more gentle than the almost sheer eastern wall but still very steep for a town. Directly below now a big harbor opens up—long sea walls, gray warships alongside, dry docks: more sea moles —yachts, oil tankers, cargo ships: The houses condense rapidly into suburbs, the suburbs become a narrow, huddled town. Momentarily, a four-square medieval castle appears on a bluff above the town. Below it, half hidden, half ruined, there are the regular zigzags of fortifications, more walls, embrasures for cannon.

  The landing pad drifts up to the wheels. On the right the sheer cliff which we had once seen as the back of the crouching lion begins to take on a familiar shape. Everyone knows it, for everyone has seen it in advertisements, and by now it is not only a place but a byword. The name evokes a geographical location, a habitation, a fortress, yes—but equally, an idea, an attitude, an attribute.

  It is the Rock: Gibraltar.

  Everyone knows it, but only in part, because although it is small in area, it is big in story. No place in the world has witnessed, and played a part in, so much history. It is a history not only of battles and sieges, of that defiance and resistance for which the name has come to stand, but of mankind's climb from the caves—these very caves—to the technological heights exemplified in the artifacts arrayed along this very crest. It is a story of man exploring the world and himself, of building civilizations and casting them down, of the long, eventful journey to the miracles and malaises of today. The Rock has seen it all.

  It is a story of immense length and complexity, with two special problems. The first is the lack of human continuity. Except for prehistoric peoples and occasional later visitors, the Rock was uninhabited until medieval times, and since then there have been four complete turnovers of population. But except for one break, and that very short in Gibraltar's time scale, one people has always been represented here: the Jews; and it is they who provide the continuity. This is not the story of Gibraltar as seen through Jewish eyes, still less a history of the Jews of Gibraltar; but as in actual history, Jewish characters and the Jewish character—so aptly similar to the attributes of the Rock—link what would otherwise have no human connection.

  The second problem is that of uneven depth, caused by the fact that much is known of some parts of Gibraltar's history, little of others; yet the importance of an event and the realness, the humanity, of the people involved in it should not be lessened by our ignorance. The two-stream plan on which this book is written has been designed to overcome this drawback.

  Back then, not this time in a helicopter, nor to east or west or north or south—but back in time, to the beginnings....

  BOOK ONE

  IN THE BEGINNING

  Four thousand million years ago, as the molten ball of Earth whirled through space, it began to cool. Its surface solidified into a crystalline crust. Earth's atmosphere formed, and new forces began to act on the rocky surface. Ice, wind, frost, lightning, rain—storms of unimaginable fury lasting for thousands of years on end—broke up and wore away the fire-born rock, grinding much of it into sand and silt and sweeping this debris down to the plains and to the sea.

  The coming of vegetation and of the first forms of life vastly increased the amount of matter deposited. In deeper seas the sediment was mostly the calcareous skeletons of marine life. Closer to the land masses, where much of the sediment was brought down by the rivers, it was mostly pebbles, grit, and mud.

  In the course of hundreds of millions of years these deposits, cemented together by chemical action and compressed by their own sheer weight, formed a different kind of rock: sedimentary rock. In the Gibraltar area the sedimentary rock being formed far below the sea was limestone. It continued to be laid down during the Jurassic period (180,000,000 years ago) and was then covered by a thinner layer of shale and grit.

  As the Earth continued to cool, it shrank. The crust had to adjust to the new smaller size and did so by folding. The folds did not take place evenly but where the crust was thin, weak, or un
usually depressed. The western Mediterranean was such an area. It is bounded by a huge circle of solid masses of igneous rock: the Spanish tableland, the Massif Central of France, the main body of North Africa. The shrinking pressure forced the earth's crust to fold up here. Inside the resistant shield behind, new mountains were formed—steep, high, dramatic, quite different from the rounded igneous hills of the containing circle. The new mountains were the Atlas, the Apennines, the Alps, the Pyrenees, and the Sierra Nevada.

  At a bend in this new fold (here running north to south) appeared a special phenomenon. The surface here, the substance being folded by the pressures of the earth's shrinkage, was limestone, thousands of feet thick. On top of the limestone lay a thin deposit of shale and grit. Limestone is not cloth, and when the folding reached a certain point, it split. It might have cracked in any number of ways, but it actually split in two places: one in the top center of the fold and one halfway down the western side. The unbelievable pressure continued. The central wedge of limestone continued to thrust upward, breaking the weak tension of the shale, pushing on up, baring a vertical face scores—hundreds—thousands of feet high. The outer parts of the original fold subsided, one almost completely, the other saving itself by leaning against the towering center.

  The shale, which had been lying on a fairly flat surface far below the sea, now found itself clinging to exposed and sharply tilted slopes. Wind, rain, and the upheavals of adjustment to the new form washed the shale off the steeper parts of the limestone and collected it in the hollows. Gibraltar had come into existence.

  The process of settling took a long time. During these eons the earth sank and rose and the seas advanced and retreated several times, to immense heights and depths. About 12,000,000 years ago other passages between the Atlantic and the Mediterranean closed, and the earth sank south of Gibraltar. The waters passing through this strait survived as the only link between the two oceans. The Rock guarded the north side of the new channel, looking very much as it does now—its steep white faces, of pure limestone, toward the north and east, its sloping and duller aspects, of shale, toward the south and west. It was 2-3/4 miles long by three-quarters of a mile wide at the widest place and was joined to the mainland on the north by a sandy isthmus about a mile long and gradually increasing from half a mile to a full mile wide where the mainland proper begins. The west side of the isthmus curves gently round in a full semicircle 4 miles in diameter. Two rivers flow into this bay from the land behind, which quickly rises and fades to distant mountains. On the east side of the isthmus the shoreline continues almost due north, curving only very gradually toward the northeast. South, the jagged African shore is 11-1/2 miles away, and the mountains on that side are higher than Gibraltar. Southwest, through the strait, the Atlantic ocean forms the horizon.

  Limestone is a clean, hard, pale gray rock, formed mainly of calcium carbonate. It dissolves slowly under the action of water, especially if the water carries acids or alkalis. As soon as the mass of the Rock was raised and exposed, water began to eat into it. Rainwater, falling into cracks, enlarged them into clefts, then into "vertical" caves. Seawater tunneled into the foot of the cliffs to make "horizontal" caves at all levels, for during the settling period there were many sea levels (one sea-made cave is 700 feet above the present shore).

  The sheer energy of the years created tunnels, halls, passages, rooms, cells, and amphitheaters inside the Rock. And the chemical action of the water not only excavated the caves, it decorated them. As water comes out of the interior of the rock, where it has been under pressure, and enters a cave, it must give up some of the calcium carbonate with which it has been supercharged. A tiny deposit of sinter-limestone is made, and according to the other substances through which the water has flowed —e.g., iron, carbon, shell layers—or the acids which have been added to it, the deposit will have color, a limitless variety of colors, though all muted in intensity and tone. Limitless, too, are the other forces which will shape and sculpture the accumulating deposits: how the wind blows, whether the roof is flat or sloping, whether the water drips regularly or irregularly, fast or slow....

  Doubly limitless, then, are these formations of sinter-limestone in the caves—stalagmites rising from the ground, stalactites hanging from the roof, pillars, knobs, warts, candles, palettes, tree trunks, water lilies, straws, frills, flounces, curtains, tracery, leaves, cathedral arches and hammer beams, people, animals ... in white, tan, rust red, blue, gray. Three of the most extraordinary forms are helectites (crazy worm casts shaped by wind action, which seem to defy all laws of gravity and reason); cave pearls, or pitholite (formed when the steady dripping of the water keeps rolling the sinter deposit around as it forms); and rimstone (thin ledges around the rim of pools and lakes, or even right over them).

  The floor of the caves, if it is not "live" sinter—that is, still being formed—is an extraordinary dark brown powder, like snuff, of the consistency of fine flour. This is the deposit of millions of years of vegetable mold and, in some caves, of bat guano. It is often many feet thick.

  About three quarters of a million years ago the Ice Ages began to modify the Rock into its present exact form. Each ice age lasted at least 40,000 years, and the warmer gap between them, the interglacial periods, were generally longer.

  In each ice age the north polar ice cap spread much farther south than it does now. During one it covered England solid; France was uninhabitable and Gibraltar very cold. Because so much water was locked up in the ice the sea level fell: at Gibraltar it was some 300 feet below its present level.

  During the interglacials the climate was much warmer than it is now. England became tropical and Gibraltar equatorial; the sea level rose to 300 feet above the present; and the loss of the weight of the ice actually caused those areas that had been under it to rise, while bordering areas, such as Spain, sank in compensation, raising the sea level there still higher.

  At each of these levels—and every ice age and every interglacial had different ones—the sea made beaches, sea cliffs, and sea caves. Some are now submerged; others are stranded far above the shore but quite recognizable for what they were.

  The ice ages also continued the work of previous eons in sculpting the Rock. Ice and frost action broke off pieces of sharp-angled limestone, which rolled to the foot of the slope and were cemented together by the action of the charged water to form the limestone breccia which covers most of the lower part of the Rock. Mixed into it, and also sometimes in considerable depth in and above the shale deposits, is bone breccia, presumably from the victims of carnivorous animals.

  Finally, there is sand. A large part of the eastern face of the Rock is covered by a gigantic and very steep slope of aeolian (windblown) sand. This sand—some of it cemented by the usual action—was formed in the ice ages, when for thousands of years without cease a strong east wind blew sand from the exposed floor of the Mediterranean onto the Rock.

  When the last ice age ended, the east wind created another special feature of Gibraltar's climate, the levanter cloud. Coming across hundreds of miles of Mediterranean, it is always charged with water. When it meets the steep east face, it has to rise 1,400 feet very rapidly. It cools, and some of its water condenses to form vaporous cloud, which often hangs oppressively over the top of the Rock, also streaming out to the west, while the sky over mainland, bay, and strait is quite clear. For the rest, the climate is equable, temperately warm, and—except with a levanter—pleasant. The rainfall, concentrated mainly between September and March, is adequate.

  When the land took its present shape, Gibraltar stood at the gate of the only channel linking the Mediterranean with the Atlantic. The surface current formed: strongly eastward in the center of the strait, less so at the sides. For thousands of years no one knew how the Atlantic water pouring into the Mediterranean returned. Then in the last century British naval surveys found an equally strong underwater current, perpetually westbound, which carried huge amounts of water over the sill of the strait into the Atl
antic. The configuration of the ocean bed causes much of this great river to come to the surface off Cape Trafalgar, increasing the already great danger of that cape for small vessels, especially in the days of primitive navigation by sail and oar. (These discoveries solved some legendary sea mysteries, notably that of a ship sunk in collision off Tarifa about 1805. She sank in a riproaring eastbound current—and came to the surface the next day off Trafalgar, 30 miles to the west.)

  The fish that inhabited these waters were, first, the tunny. The ancients believed that tunny perpetually circled the Mediterranean in a counterclockwise direction, since they had only one good eye, the right. Modem pollution, the increase in fishing, and the noise of ships' engines have driven tunny away from the immediate neighborhood of the strait. Beside tunny there are or were whale, swordfish, squid, eel, bonito, sardine, sea bream, sea bass, red mullet, perch, pollack, and gilthead.

  As the land took shape, the vegetation settled on and in it. The Rock is too steep, and the surface soil too shallow or scattered over the limestone, for the vegetation ever to have been lush; but neither was it ever wholly barren. Now, its climate median between the extremes it has known, the pale limestone is overlaid with a thin-woven carpet of scrub, mainly aromatic—heather, rosemary, sage, Sodom apple, thyme, lavender, pennyroyal. In the scrub stand steeply tilted thickets, woods, or isolated trees—cork oak, carob bean, holly oak, wild olive, wild fig.

  The flowers do not lie in great banks like cowslips in an English meadow, for there is no rich loam to make the bed for them. Instead they line the edges of runnels, shelter in small crevices, or hang onto tiny patches of earth exposed to the wind, high on the cliffs. Every month of the year some flowers are cautiously displaying their blossoms —clematis, narcissus, mesembryanthemum, stonecrop, ragwort, oxalis, bindweed, mignonette, borage, asphodel, marigold, autumn crocus, periwinkle, bee orchid, snapdragon, rue, mallow, gladiolus, giant leaved acanthus. In March three score varieties flower, stippling the whole Rock with color—white and yellow of chrysanthemum, jasmine, coronilla, broom, sea aster, giant fennel, freesia, campion; blue of iris, bugloss, pimpernel, scilla, wild pea; rose and pink of mallow, cistus, snapdragon; and a flower that, in Europe, exists only here—the flat white and mauve, many-petaled faces of Gibraltar candytuft.