On the Mexican Highlands Part 11

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 ship 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 ship, 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 ship 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 flashily 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 ship, 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 Steamship _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 ships swung to their moorings in the quiet waters, among these the battleship _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 shipping. 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]

Habana is built upon a low, broad-topped hill, which descends gently to the water side. On the flattened crest of this hill is the Plaza Grande, and from the Plaza down to the sea, a mile or two in length, stretches the Prado;--a wide boulevard on either side of a broad green strip of park, where a walk-way pa.s.ses beneath a double row of ancient and umbrageous trees, and comfortable seats are placed at intervals.

It is on the Prado that the fashion and beauty of Habana drives and promenades and lingers to see and be seen of all the world. Along its borders, on either hand, are built many of the n.o.blest mansions of her merchant and planter magnates. To have a residence upon the Prado is to command respect.

The Spaniard and Cuban cared little for his streets, but he devoted himself with lavish attention to beautifying the interior of his home.

Hence, in the Cuban as in the Mexican cities, you often pa.s.s along between bare uninteresting walls, while the costliest marbles, the richest fabrics, the rarest paintings within, quite hidden from all curious eyes, may be collected.

Later in the day I wandered through the shopping districts along the famous Calles Obispo and O'Rielly, streets so narrow that during the heat of the day they are wholly overspread with awnings while wheel traffic must go down O'Rielly and up Obispo. Here are gathered in plain unpretentious buildings many sumptuous shops. The Cuban has not yet learned the art of window display; he is not up even to the Mexican in that. But once you are within and know what to ask for, beautiful fabrics and expensive goods are shown you without stint.

Among other shops, the hat store holds an important place in Cuban as well as Mexican life. In Mexico, the _sombrero_, costly or cheap, marks the social status of the wearer and, just so, here in Cuba the quality of your _panama_ determines the amount of consideration which you receive. I entered the Hotel Pasaje wearing a modern American felt hat, and when I bloomed out in a really good _panama_, the clerks and servants treated me with markedly increased respect. In the same way, when you enter a shop, the clerk sizes up your hat and treats you accordingly.

A noteworthy thing about Habana is the great number of cigar stores.

No city in the world possesses so many. Nor are the cigars there purchased to be surpa.s.sed. Every one smokes cigars in Habana. The cigarette holds the inferior place. The men smoke cigars; the boys smoke cigars; even many of the women smoke cigars. In Mexico, in the hotels and railway cars, the ladies were usually smoking cigarettes.

Here in Habana delicate feminine lips close tenderly upon _el segaro_.

There is also much fruit sold at little stands along the street curbs and at the corners, but in nothing like the quant.i.ty or profusion seen in the Mexican cities, nor have I met any _dulce_ boys with trays of candied fruits upon their heads.

There are two chief markets in Habana; one is by the water side, where the fishermen come and where I was greatly interested. There were the splendid _red-snapper_--which I saw in the markets of Mexico fresh from the sea,--a large handsome fish of deep-red color, weighing five or six pounds; and mult.i.tudes of sorts I did not know. The other, a large market where flowers and fruits and vegetables are sold is on the hill a mile or two from the sea.

The vegetable gardens in the outskirts of the city, are in the hands of the Chinese, who bring the vegetables to the markets where they are sold by the Cubans. They work the gardens just as they would in Shanghai, in Canton, in Pekin; they have come over from China direct; they already control the greengrocer trade of Habana, and are said to be fast growing rich.

The markets are neither so large, nor so abundantly supplied as those of Mexico City, where the fruits and vegetables of the temperate highlands, and also those of the tropics are offered in the same stall.

It was the day before Christmas when I visited the larger market, and the chief interest of the buyers seemed to be centered in the display of live and suckling pigs. It is the custom of the Cuban to celebrate his Christmas with a royal banquet of roast pig. So the housewife selects a "live and squealing dinner," ties him together by his four legs and with a cord slung across her shoulder, carries him home, l.u.s.tily vociferating beneath her arm. I saw few pigs in Mexico, only an occasional hog or shoat, lean and wild, scampering along the wayside in Michoacan; but here, in Cuba, the pig is _el gran Senor_.

The crowds gathering in these markets were in strong contrast to those of Mexico. Here, were none of the warm brown Indian tints, but instead the yellow mulatto and the very dark Spaniard or negro. The curious thing about these Cuban crowds is that the Spanish mulatto, instead of carrying the white man's color with the negro's features, bears, on the contrary, the white man's features with the darker color of his African blood, and hence, the impression created by a Cuban crowd is rather that of men having Caucasian features shaded in color from the paler to the darker hues. It is also said, that many of the darker faces have in them no negro blood at all, but are those of the descendants of the ancient Moors, who, once the lords of old Spain, have left as legacy a proud lineage and swarthy skin. To the unpracticed eye, it is almost impossible to distinguish between the Spanish negro and the "Black Spaniard." Thus in Cuba the color line of race distinction, as drawn in the United States, becomes almost impossible. Nor does it exist. Men of all shades mingle and mix in social functions, for who can tell whether the dark face is shaded by the infused blood of the lowly negro or the haughty Moor?

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE CATHEDRAL--HAVANA]

In the late afternoon I took my way down along the Prado, and, stopping before No. 55, touched an electric bell. The door opened and I entered a s.p.a.cious _patio_; on one side stood a modern automobile,--on the other, pots of flowering plants, and I entered a large and airy drawing room.

I might have been in my own country, for it bore the marks of modern taste. It was the drawing room of _Senora_ ---- who as Miss ----, I had known and admired in the United States. She expressed delight at seeing me, greeting me with the cordiality of an old friend. She at once insisted that I accompany her that evening to Mrs. General Wood's private box at the dinner to be given by the citizens of Havana to the United States naval officers now here with the squadron. The dinner was to be held in the Opera House. It would be the most notable function of the year; all that was distinguished in Cuban, Spanish, and American social, military and naval life would be there a.s.sembled.

I was a pa.s.sing traveler, and my white duck trousers and blue flannel coat were scarcely the costume to wear among so brilliant a company; but it was the best I had and what better could I do than accept? My hostess' husband, as one of the receiving committee, must be separated from her and my escort would stand her in good stead.

A few hours later we were ushered into the big theater, and shown with much ceremony to the private box of the wife of Cuba's Military Governor. Here were gathered Mrs. Wood herself, the wife of Admiral Converse, and the ladies of their entourage. The scene was splendid.

The s.p.a.cious Opera House, built by the Spaniards with their appreciation of pomp and ceremony and brilliant functions, was filled with a distinguished a.s.semblage; from floor to lofty roof were tiers of boxes, and these boxes were occupied with the beauty and fashion of Cuba. The great parquet of the theater was floored over and upon this s.p.a.ce were set long tables. The dinner had already some time ago begun. The company there gathered were nearing the hour when toasts are offered. Young _Senor_ Garcia, son of the Cuban General, was Toast Master of the occasion. On his right sat General Wood; upon his left the Archbishop of Santiago, in rich and gorgeous robes, the first native Cuban priest to reach that high dignity. The American naval and military officers were in full dress uniform, and the Cuban Generals were brilliant in warlike trappings and gold lace. The civilians wore dress suits, and I was conspicuous as the only guest of the evening in white duck and blue flannel.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE FIRST GREENSWORD--HAVANA]

The speeches were in Spanish and English, and great enthusiasm and good fellowship prevailed. In the course of the evening, most of the gentlemen present came to pay their respects to the wife of Cuba's Governor, and I had the good fortune to be introduced to the greater part of them.

The sentiment between the Cubans and the Americans is now most cordial, or, perhaps I should say, between the governing and more cultivated Cubans and ourselves; for among those whose knowledge of the United States is gathered chiefly from contact with a soldiery, not altogether courteous in enforcing order, there is little good feeling, but rather a sense of sharp antagonism, which, though usually suppressed, nevertheless now and then crops out.

After the dinner and the closing of the function, I wandered out beneath the stars along the Prado and through the Plaza Grande to my hotel. The streets were yet alive with people, although it was late.

In the great square the band had not finished its nightly concert, and the chairs which, in Havana as in Mexico, are rented to the public, were yet well-filled with those who lingered to enjoy the music and the cool night air.