[Illustration: GENERAL SMITH-DORRIEN. 1911.]
Another scene I was privileged to witness from the balcony of my room (which looked down on some rocks in the bay), where I was "lazing" in the sun one morning, when I became aware of a picturesque group of Moorish ladies who, with their maids, were preparing to disrobe by the sea. The process was interesting because it was so astonishingly beautiful; after removing their outer garment and yashmak, they appeared in robes of every imaginable colour. Garment after garment was divested in this manner, and each one more bewilderingly brilliant than the other, gorgeous orange, green, or scarlet, contrasted with the cool sea and the hot African sky, the rocks looming darkly in the background, the soft sand at their feet; and presently when a bevy of beautiful brown ladies stepped into the water, I saw a real Alma Tadema picture without the inevitable marble, and all the added charm of movement and the sky and the sea.
When my visit of five weeks was at an end, and professional duties had to be thought of, I prepared for departure, and, accompanied by the brothers Duff-Gordon and Ansaldo (the hotel proprietor), I journeyed to Gibraltar, where Ansaldo had formerly been a big "boss," and was still very popular. As the first race-meeting was being held, I accepted his invitation to witness the sport, where he offered me hospitality in his refreshment tent. At the end of a very jolly day, Cosmo Duff-Gordon and his brother joined me at the hotel, they having returned from the bull-ring in Algeciras; and the next day we were homeward bound on the P. and O. for England.
One of the smartest figures in Society was Lord Portarlington, known to his friends as "the Dasher." I drew him--and there was plenty of him--smoking his very unusually large cigar, and not forgetting the gardenia, which was in proportion.
_À propos_ of the choice of riding in a four-wheeler or a hansom, "the Dasher" on one occasion played heavy lead in a cab drama in which the third person and I took part in addition to the cabman and the crowd. We were leaving the Beefsteak Club together one night when "the Dasher" suggested that as we were all going the same way he should give us a lift, so he hailed a four-wheeler and we drove off. He directed the driver to go to Grosvenor Place, but the man mistook the way and drove on. Lord Portarlington got up to direct the cabman, I tried to stop him, fearing his weight was too great for the springs to bear, but I was too late--they all gave way and over we went. The third occupant was a long thin creature, whose boots I distinctly felt on my back as he wormed his way out through the open window, which for the time being was in place of the roof; then I felt myself being hauled up and extricated just in time to see the cabman dragged from under the horse, which directly he was freed from his harness bolted, taking the greater part of the crowd in his wake. Meantime, Lord Portarlington remained a prisoner in the cab; just then a man came up to me not knowing I had been a victim in the accident, and looking at me very earnestly as much as to say, "This is a sad case indeed," said in a hushed voice, pointing to the overturned cab, "Do you know, sir, there is somebody in there!" At last by the aid of several pairs of strong arms acting in concert Lord Portarlington was dragged out, but he felt the shock badly, and was laid up for two or three days.