Part 11 (1/2)
This morning I stood looking down upon the deck next below me, watching a company of thirty or forty little boys aged from ten to twelve and fourteen years, one little girl among them, seemingly sister to one of the younger boys. They were mostly sitting in groups of four and five tossing _centavos_ and shouting with delight. They were gambling away the few coins in their possession. A couple of sailors came up, seized two of the little boys and stood them up in front of each other. The prisoners seemed to comprehend the intention of their captors, and immediately fell to fighting desperately, until one knocked out the other, just as a couple of game c.o.c.ks will go to fighting when placed in opposition. As soon as one of them had been vanquished, his sailor patron shoved him to one side, as something now quite useless, and grabbing another boy, set him in front of the victor. Then, at it they went again, and many of the children stopped their play to look on. The Mexicans about me were betting on the fights and apparently enjoying the pastime. I inquired who were these children, and learned them to be a company, who had mostly been stolen from the streets of Mexico and neighboring towns, and was told some had been bought from the state orphan asylums, at ten dollars a head, upon the payment of the price no questions being asked as to their destination. They are being taken into practical slavery to be speedily worked to death by the heniquen planters of Yucatan. They are delivered to the plantations and there perish rapidly from poor food, harsh treatment, yellow fever, and the bites of insects which burrow into their unprotected legs and arms. They are said to die off like flies, the effort of the buyer being to get out of them his money's worth in work before they die. The children know nothing of their fate, until they are delivered to their death. The little fellows before me were in great glee through all the voyage; each had been presented with a few silver coins, the first many of them had seen in all their lives, and the joy of possession set them to gambling merrily all the day through. This traffic in children is said to have been long established and to be winked at by the Mexican authorities.
Later on, we watched them climb down the side of the s.h.i.+p and enter the lighters, shouting with glee at the prospect of going to ”the lovely new homes in the country,” where their captors pretended, would be their journey's end.
[Ill.u.s.tration: OFF FOR PROGRESSO]
It was late Monday evening when we set sail from Progresso. All day long we were discharging cargo into the lighters, which swarmed around us, while after the pa.s.sengers and cargo departed larger vessels brought out bales of heniquen, which were quickly stowed below.
Among the pa.s.sengers who left the s.h.i.+p, were several Americans. One, a large, redheaded, heavy-set man, with genial face and friendly manner, from Mississippi, was a timberman, out buying mahogany in the forests of Yucatan. He told me that Americans are purchasing all the available mahogany now standing in the accessible Mexican forests, and he seemed to regard the mahogany of Yucatan as of especial value. Another of the pa.s.sengers leaving the s.h.i.+p was a man of small stature and clean shaven. He early attracted our attention by his sanctimonious air, and the frightfully fluent American oaths with which he spiced his games of poker in the smoking room, where in company with a group of flas.h.i.+ly dressed and bediamonded Mexicans, he played apparently for the highest stakes. The contrast between his smooth exterior and the noisome contents of his mind, as well as the fact that the two or three hard-faced Mexicans who seemed to have in charge the company of little boys, constantly sought him out in consultation, led to the suspicion that he was the chief trafficker in this death trade. In response to our questioning as to his antecedents and business, he became abusive, and upon my taking his picture with my kodak, he grew angry and afterwards fought shy of all intercourse with his fellow-countrymen. As to who he may really be we know not. When the little boys departed from the s.h.i.+p, we noticed that he also sailed away.
The sun was just sinking, like a ball of fire, into the margin of the western sea, when we weighed anchor and steamed eastward to cross the Strait of Yucatan. The surface of the waters lay calm and quiet as a sheet of gla.s.s. We were two nights and a day in reaching Havana, and the one day was spent in crossing the Strait.
Most of the afternoon I have sat or lain upon the forward deck watching the waters and observing the sea life everywhere about me. We have pa.s.sed innumerable flocks of flying fish. Here and there a few porpoises have tumbled and wheeled about us, but the sharks have disappeared. Also, I have caught sight of my first nautilus, so daintily sailing its convoluted shallop upon the sea. These exquisite sh.e.l.l-fish I have never before seen alive, and I have watched them with keenest interest. They appear only when perfect calm prevails.
At the least roughness of the sea, they instantly sink from view. We have also all day been pa.s.sing through extensive ma.s.ses of yellow gulf weed, such as I have noticed when traversing the Gulf Stream on transatlantic voyages, only here the weed was in great ma.s.ses, not yet having been broken up by the tempestuous ocean tides. But we have been accompanied by no birds.
As we drew further eastward the air grew more soft and balmy. We were utterly alone, no craft other than our own appeared anywhere upon the waters.
I fell asleep watching the big stars and dreaming of Spanish galleons and British buccaneers, of Portuguese pirates and French marauders, whose adventurous sails have in the centuries gone by whitened in countless mult.i.tudes these now silent seas.
When morning broke, the sh.o.r.es of Cuba bounded the horizon on the south, ten or fifteen miles away. Low sandy reaches stretched along the sea; palms, tall and feathery, were waving in the morning breeze behind the white ribbon of the strand, a faint blue line of mountains lying yet beyond. As we approached the island there seemed to be no break in the coast line, but farther on we discovered a narrow channel, between the fortress of El Moro and the city of Havana and, entering it, came into a harbor, landlocked and storm free, one of the securest in the world. We cast anchor near the projecting rusted wreck of the United States Steams.h.i.+p _Maine_. I had finished my voyage. I was here to go ash.o.r.e, while a few hours later the _Monterey_ would turn northward and sail on to New York.
[Ill.u.s.tration: THE HARBOR OF HAVANA]
XX
The City of ”Habana”--Incidents of a Day's Sojourn in the Cuban Capital
HABANA, CUBA, _December 5th_.
”Habana,” says the Cuban and Spanish mouth, and the _b_ is so gently uttered that you cannot tell it from a _v_.
Yesterday morning, Tuesday, we cast anchor beneath the ramparts of the great fortress of La Cabana (Cabanya) in the wide landlocked bay; many other s.h.i.+ps swung to their moorings in the quiet waters, among these the battles.h.i.+p _Ma.s.sachusetts_ and two cruisers, _Kentucky_ and _Kearsarge_, of the navy of the United States.
The harbor of Habana, you will remember, is a mile or more wide and nine or ten miles long, capable of accommodating an extensive s.h.i.+pping. Now, since it has been dredged and cleaned of the acc.u.mulated filth of centuries, the largest boats may come up to the docks and sea wall along the city's marge. The larger vessels, however, just as at Vera Cruz, still prefer to anchor out in the bay, and send pa.s.sengers and freight ash.o.r.e by means of tugs and lighters.
[Ill.u.s.tration: A SPANISH HOTEL--HAVANA]
We were scarcely moored, when a mult.i.tude of small boats surrounded us, all apparently offering to ferry us to the city. We ignored their clamor and clambered aboard the large steam tug to which our baggage was also transferred, and were quickly landed at the customshouse.
My two steamer trunks and big basket of Mexican pottery I left in care of the customs officers, and came up into the city with only a valise.
The customshouse is a long, low, stone building, with an iron fence shutting it in and enclosing also an extensive paved storage yard. The Cuban officers, who were very polite, are yet under the military control of the United States and of General Wood, and they all spoke English fluently.
Pa.s.sing out through the great iron gates, we signalled for a _cochero_, when half a dozen galloped up gesticulating and vociferating eagerly. We choose the cleanest-looking _cocha_ of the lot, a curious ancient vehicle, which seemed to be a cross between the German _fiacre_ and a Parisian _voiture_. Into this three of us climbed, when we set off on a gallop through narrow streets up into the city, halting at last before the Spanish-kept Hotel Pasaje. It is big and airy, and I have a room at the top where I can catch any breeze which may be blowing. The floor of my chamber is tiled; it is fitted with an iron bedstead with wire mattress, and neat American cottage furniture. An electric incandescent lamp dangles from the ceiling, and there are two large sashless windows with slatted Venetian curtains which may be let down to shut out wind and light. My first view of Habana was from one of these windows. I looked out over a city of flat roofs, where much domestic labor was carried on, and then beyond, across the palm-ornamented _plaza_ and along the beautiful Prado to the sea.
My first commercial transaction was the purchase of really fine cigars at a most reasonable figure; and then a packet of postal cards ill.u.s.trated with views of Cuba. Down in the corner of each card was the legend, ”Made in Detroit.” When I called the attention of the Spanish salesman to this fact, he declared ”there is no such place as Detroit,” and ”undoubtedly the words are the name of the Spanish artist who designed the cards!”
Leaving the hotel, I sauntered toward the Plaza Grande, an open square of several acres, traversed by gravel walks, and shaded by many Royal and other graceful palms; and then crossing it I came to the Prado.
”_Muy bonita esta el Prado_,” (very lovely is the Prado), is the common phrase of every Habanista; and rightfully are the Habanese proud of their splendid parklike boulevard.
[Ill.u.s.tration: CALLE OBISPO--HAVANA]