Читать книгу Pioneering in Cuba - James Meade Adams - Страница 8

The newly arrived colonists found the Spanish word "mañana" still in high favor at Nuevitas, though it was difficult to fix the responsibility for the irritating delays. The Cubans and the officers of the company alike came in for a good deal of straight-from-the-shoulder Yankee criticism. Some of this was deserved, but not all. The company's officers had been handicapped in many ways, and for this and perhaps other reasons, had not pushed things along as rapidly and successfully as the colonists had been led to expect. It was learned that the town of La Gloria was as yet only a town in name, the foundation of its first building, the hotel, having just been laid. The lumber for the structure lay on the docks at Nuevitas. The company's portable sawmill machinery was rusting in the open air at the same place. If the colonists marveled at this, their wonder disappeared when, a little later, they tramped and waded the four miles of so-called "road" that lay between Port La Gloria and La Gloria "city". Nothing daunted by these discouraging signs and the many unfavorable reports, the most of the colonists determined to push ahead.

Arriving at Nuevitas Thursday noon, January 4, the passengers of the Yarmouth were not allowed to leave the vessel that day or evening. Many were desirous of exploring the ancient city of Nuevitas, but the most frequent and anxious inquiry was, "When shall we be taken to La Gloria?". It was a hard question to answer, and no one in authority attempted to do so. There were several causes contributing to the delay, one of which was the customs inspection and another the question of transportation. Communication between Nuevitas and La Gloria was neither easy nor regular. The overland route was the nearest, about forty miles, but could only be utilized by a person on foot or horseback. At the time of our arrival this way was entirely impracticable by any mode of travel. The inside or shallow water route was about forty-eight miles long, and the outside or deep water course, sixty miles. The officers of the company decided upon the latter as the most feasible, and set out to procure lighters to convey the colonists and their baggage. This was no easy matter, as the business had to be done with Cubans, and Cubans are never in any hurry about coming to terms.

Friday morning the passengers of the Yarmouth were permitted to go ashore and wake up the inhabitants of the sleepy city, each person paying some thrifty Cuban twenty-five cents for transportation thither in a sailboat. The Cuban boatmen coined money during our three days' stay in Nuevitas harbor. So also did the fruit venders, who came out to the steamer in small boats and sold us pineapples, tiny fig bananas, and green oranges at exorbitant prices. The fruit looked inferior, but the flavor was good. Most of it grew without care, and in a semi-wild condition. The colonists were eager to sample any fruit of the country, as most of them were intending to make fruit growing their business. The "Americanos" succeeded in waking up Nuevitas in some degree, and at night a few of them set out to "paint the town red". Only a few, however; the great majority behaved remarkably well. The day was spent in quietly inspecting the city and its surroundings. Many of the visitors bought needed supplies at the small stores.

Saturday was passed in the same way as Friday, the only incident of note being a small-sized disturbance which took place at the pier near midnight. Three belated Americans, who had done more than look upon the "aguardiente", got into a quarrel with a Cuban boatman in regard to their return to the Yarmouth. The Americans were mainly at fault, the boatman was obstinate, and a war of words was soon followed by blows. The boatman was getting the worst of the scrimmage when several of the Cuban police swooped down upon the party. Two of the Americans drew revolvers, but they were quickly disarmed and overcome, one of the trio, who wore the uniform of the United States army, which he had lately quitted, falling over into the harbor in the scuffle. This sudden and unexpected ducking ended the fight; the "Americanos" compromised with the boatman, and were allowed to return to the Yarmouth. These intending colonists did not remain long at La Gloria, although one of the three purposes to return. The conduct of the Cuban police upon this occasion, and upon all others which came under my notice, was entirely creditable. They dress neatly, are sober and inoffensive in manner, and appear to perform their duties conscientiously and well.

While we lay in Nuevitas harbor we received several visits from Gen. A. L. Bresler and the Hon. Peter E. Park, president and resident manager, respectively, of the Cuban Land and Steamship Company, both of whom had been stopping in the city for some time. They had acquired the Cuban dress and, to some extent, Cuban habits. Mr. Park decided to accompany the colonists to La Gloria, and to share with them all the hardships that they might encounter on the journey. It was no new thing for Mr. Park to make the trip. He had made it slowly along the coast in a small sailboat; he had made it in quicker time in a steam launch, and he had sometimes gone overland on horseback, struggling through mud and water and tangled vines, swimming swollen rivers and creeks, and fighting swarms of aggressive mosquitoes in the dense woods. He knew exactly what was before him; the colonists did not. General Bresler, strange to say, had never been at La Gloria.

It was on Sunday afternoon, at a little past one o'clock, that the colonists finally got away from Nuevitas and made the start for La Gloria. The fleet consisted of three small schooners loaded with light baggage, a little freight, and nearly two hundred passengers. Two of the boats were Nuevitas lighters, with Cuban captains and crew, while the third was a schooner from Lake Worth, Florida, carrying about twenty colonists from that state. This boat, known as the Emily B., had arrived at Nuevitas a day or two before the Yarmouth. Among her passengers were four or five women. The heavy baggage of the Yarmouth colonists was loaded upon yet another lighter, which was to follow later.

The colonists embarked upon the sailing craft from the decks of the Yarmouth, leaving behind a score or more of their number whose backbone had collapsed or who for some other reason had decided to return home immediately. It is, I believe, a veritable fact that more than one of the intending colonists went back on the same boat without so much as setting foot on the soil of Cuba. Probably examples of the "chocolate éclair" backbone are to be found everywhere. One of the returning voyagers was a tall, thin man of middle age, wearing a long, red, sorrowful face. It had been apparent from the very start that his was an aggravated case of home-sickness. He had shown unmistakable evidence of it before the Yarmouth had even left North river, and he did not improve as the vessel approached the coast of Cuba. He rarely spoke to anybody, and could be seen hour after hour kneeling in a most dejected attitude upon a cushioned seat in the main saloon, gazing mournfully out of the window at the stern across the broad waters. His was about the most striking example of sustained melancholy that ever came under my observation, and could not seem other than ridiculous in that company. When we slowly moved away from the Yarmouth, I was not surprised to see this man standing silently upon the steamer's deck. The look of unillumined dejection was still upon his face. A man whose face does not light up under the subtle charm of the Cuban atmosphere is, indeed, a hopeless case, and ought not to travel beyond the limits of the county wherein lies his home. There were others who remained behind on the Yarmouth for better reasons. Mr. and Mrs. Crandall returned to New York because the company's sawmill, which he was to operate, had not been taken to La Gloria and was not likely to be for some time to come. Mrs. Crandall was the only woman passenger on the voyage down and had been fearfully seasick all the way. Orders had been given that no women or children should be taken on this first excursion, but an exception was made in the case of Mrs. Crandall because she was the wife of an employé of the company.

The departing colonists waved their good-bys to the Yarmouth, and the little fleet was towed out to the entrance of Nuevitas harbor, about ten miles, when the schooners came to anchor and the tugboat returned to the city. Although it was but little past three o'clock and the weather fine, the passengers learned to their dismay that the boats had anchored for the night. The furrowed-faced old captain would take no chances with the open sea at night and so would proceed no farther. "To-morrow—four o'clock—wind right—go!" he said, with a dramatic gesture and what seemed to the colonists an unnecessarily explosive emphasis on the last word.

The boats were anchored in the narrow entrance to the harbor, where the smooth-running tide closely resembled a river. On one bank, one hundred yards away, were an old stone fort and a few Cuban shacks. Some of the passengers were desirous of going ashore to see the fort and the houses, but neither entreaties nor bribes could force the old Cuban captain to allow the use of his small boats. The Cubans are fond of waiting and cannot appreciate American restlessness. So we were obliged to sit quietly and gaze wistfully at the green-clad shore. As night came on, it was found that loaves of bread and large chunks of salt beef constituted the larder. It was poor fare, but the colonists accepted the situation cheerfully and broke bread and ate as much of the greasy meat as they could.

It was a radiant evening, with soft, caressing breezes and a star-lit sky of incomparable beauty. Many of the voyagers saw the famed Southern Cross for the first time and gazed at it long in silent contemplation, overcome by that delicious feeling of dreamy content which takes possession of one in the tropics. On one of the boats, religious services were held, conducted by a Georgia clergyman, the Rev. A. E. Seddon of Atlanta, one of the most enthusiastic and uncomplaining of the colonists. The singing of hymns was joined in by many of the eighty-seven passengers on the boat, and prayers were offered by no less than four individuals. It was a singularly impressive scene, not altogether unlike what took place on board the Mayflower centuries before.

The peaceful evening was followed by a night of great discomfort. The passengers were crowded together, and many slept, or attempted to sleep, on boxes, barrels, or the lumber which formed a part of the cargo of the schooner. I slept, at intervals, on the lumber designed for the hotel at La Gloria. Often had I slept in hotels, but this was my first experience in sleeping on one. Some of the passengers on the schooners sat up all night in preference to lying upon boxes and lumber. We were not, however, without entertainment during that long, wearisome night. We had a philosopher among us, in the person of quaint old Benjamin Franklin—of Griffin's Corners, New York—who talked earnestly and eloquently upon his appalling experiences in Confederate military prisons many years before. The handful of soldiers of the Spanish war were modestly silent in the presence of this gaunt old veteran of the great civil strife. Judge Groesbeck, of Washington, D. C., quoted poetry and told anecdotes and stories, while the Rev. Mr. Seddon, Dr. W. P. Peirce of Hoopeston, Ill., and others, contributed their share to the conversation. As we became drowsy, we could hear, now and again, some one of our companions giving an imitation of the Cuban captain: "To-morrow—four o'clock—wind right—go!".