The Pearl of the Antilles, or An Artist in Cuba Part 21

We have to wait some time at the consul's office, for important dispatches from President Baez. I devote the time which elapses before these dispatches appear, to a little business on behalf of the _New York Trigger_. There is, however, scarcely any news of importance to be obtained. Since the war of Santo Domingo, the inhabitants have enjoyed an uninterrupted peace, and with the exception of a few petty squabbles with their neighbours, the Haytiens, and the projected purchase of the Bay of Samana, nothing eventful has transpired in the island.

The President's dispatches having arrived, we take leave of the consul and the company a.s.sembled, and, under the escort of a torn and tattered negro porter bearing the mail bags, reach the quay. Pa.s.sing through the custom-house, which is represented by a roof and eight posts, we embark in our little canoe, and gliding over the waters of the river Ozana, which skirts the town, reach our steamer.

In rather more than forty-eight hours the Morro Castle is sighted, and in due course I land once again at the Pearl of the Antilles.

The various items of information collected during my cruise being already carefully prepared for telegraphic purposes, I repair without loss of time to the telegraph office.

Behold me safely seated in the scribbling department of that establishment, rejoicing in the fact that I am the sole occupant of the apartment. From the perfect quiet which reigns in the operating room, I conclude that the clerks are not very busy, and that they are prepared to 'wire' any number of words which I may present to them. I have no dread of compet.i.tion, at least for the present; for even if my rival correspondents should have received news by the same steamer which brought me, I know from experience, that some hours must necessarily elapse before it can be in a condition for telegraphing.

With a triumphant smile, I seize a quire of printed telegraph forms, and proceed to copy in 'a clear, bold hand' from my notes.

Now to astonish the _Trigger_, and all whom my abundant information may concern!

I have scarcely finished my first instalment of news, when a telegraph messenger taps me on the shoulder and staggers me with the information, that in consequence of a serious interruption in the line of communication with Havana, the operations of the telegraph are for the present suspended!

Then I learn for the first time that a great revolution has broken out in Spain, and that, despite the precautions of the governor of our town, the revolutionary mania has seized the natives of Cuba, many of whom have already risen in arms not many leagues from Santiago! Among other achievements, the rebellious party have cut the telegraph wires and intercepted the land mails.

There are no railways in direct communication with Havana, and the postal service is effected by means of mounted carriers. Thus the speediest ways for conveying news to Havana are cut off, and there is no other resource but the tardy steamer. I accordingly return without delay to the 'Pajaro del Oceano,' which is to sail for Havana in three hours' time, and finding my good friend Don Fernandez on board, I secretly hand him my big budget of news, begging him by all the saints in the calendar to deliver the same into the hands of the Havana agent.

I am afraid to think what effect this further delay will have upon the _New York Trigger_! Still it may be some consolation for the enterprising proprietor of that newspaper if he find that his contemporaries are suffering from the same complaint.

CHAPTER XXIV.

A STATE OF SIEGE IN CUBA.

A Cuban Newspaper Office--Local Intelligence--The Cuban Revolution--Spanish Volunteers--A Recruit--With Bimba--- 'Los Insurrectos'--At a Fire--Cuban Firemen.

'We are in a state of siege!' says my friend, Don Javier, editor of a Cuban periodical called _El Sufragio Universal_.

'Y bien, amigo mio; how does the situation affect you?'

'Malisisimamente!' returns Don Javier, offering me a seat at his editorial table. 'The maldito censor,' he whispers, 'has suppressed four columns of to-day's paper; and there remains little in the way of information, besides the feuilleton, some advertis.e.m.e.nts, and a long sonnet addressed to 'Lola' on the occasion of her saint's day, by an amorous Pollo-poet.

The weather is sultry and oppressive. The huge doors and windows of _El Sufragio Universal_ office are thrown wide open. Everybody is dressed in a coat of white drill, a pair of white trousers, is without waistcoat, cravat, or shirt-collar, wears a broad-brimmed Panama, and smokes a long damp cigar.

The sub-editor--a lean, coffee-coloured person, with inky sleeves--is seated at a separate table making up columns for to-morrow's 'tirada,'

or impression. Before him is a pile of important news from Puerto Rico and San Domingo, besides a voluminous budget from that indefatigable correspondent, Mr. Archibald Cannie, of Jamaica. More than half of this interesting news has been already marked out by the censor's red pencil, and the bewildered sub looks high and low for material wherewith to replenish the censorial gaps. Small, half-naked negroes, begrimed with ink--veritable printer's devils--appear and crave for 'copy,' but in vain.

'Give out the foreign blocks,' says the editor, in the tone of a commander.

The foreign blocks are stereotyped columns, supplied by American quacks and other advertisers to every newspaper proprietor throughout the West Indies. On account of their extreme length and picturesque embellishments, these advertis.e.m.e.nts are used only in cases of emergency.

While the foreign blocks are being dispensed, the 'localista,' or general reporter, enters in breathless haste. He has brought several fragments of local information. Four runaway negroes have been captured by the police. Two English sailors have died of yellow fever in the Casa de Salud. A coolie has stabbed another coolie at the copper mines, and has escaped justice by leaping into an adjacent pit. A gigantic cayman, or shark, has been caught in the harbour. The localista has also some items of news about the Cuban insurrection. The rebels have increased in numbers. They have occupied all the districts which surround our town, destroyed the aqueduct, cut the telegraph wire, and intercepted the land mails to Havana. There is now no communication with the capital, save by sea. Troops have again been dispatched to the interior, but their efforts have proved ineffectual. Upon their appearance, the rebels vanish into the woods and thickets, and there exhaust the patience and the energy of the military.

The sub-editor notes everything down, taking care to eschew that which is likely to prove offensive to the sensitive ears of the authorities.

The material is then given out for printing purposes; for his worship the censor will read nothing until it has been previously set up in type. As many hours will elapse before the proof sheets are returned with censorial corrections, Don Javier proposes a saunter through the town.

On the way, Don Javier entertains me with an account of the revolution.

'The first grito de independencia,' says he, 'took place on October the tenth (1868), at La Demajagua--an ingenio, or sugar estate, belonging to Don Carlos Manuel Cespedes, a wealthy Cuban planter and a distinguished advocate. One hundred and forty-seven men, armed with forty-five fowling-pieces, four rifles and a few pistols and machetes, const.i.tuted the rebellious band which, under Senor Cespedes' leadership, had ventured to raise the standard of independence. Two days after, their numbers were increased to 4,000.

'When our governor was first told that a party of Cubans had risen in open revolt, not many leagues from our town, he publicly proclaimed that the rebellious band consisted of a small crowd of "descamisados," or ragged vagrants, and runaway negroes, whom a dozen policemen could easily disperse. In spite of this pretended indifference, he nevertheless thought fit to communicate with the Captain-General of Havana. That mighty functionary thought more seriously of the outbreak; he was perfectly aware of the heavy taxes which had been imposed upon the inhabitants of our island; of the state of ruin into which many of our leading planters had been thrown by these taxes; and conscious also of the oppression and despotism which had been exercised over our colony during the reign of the lately dethroned Queen of Spain, he doubtless calculated that the revolutionary mania inaugurated in the Mother Country would naturally be imitated in the Loyal and Ever-faithful Isle.

But whatever may have been his speculations, certain it is that as soon as he heard of the rebellious movement, he telegraphed to our governor, commanding him to dispatch to the scene of the outbreak as many troops as could be safely spared from the garrison at Santiago. Meanwhile, he himself dispatched a battalion of tried warriors from the capital.

'Before our apathetic governor had had time to obey the orders of his chief, an encounter had already taken place at Yara, in the district of Manzanillo, between some of the rebels and a column of the Crown regiment who were quartered at the town of Bayamo.

'Our governor was now alive to the gravity of the situation, and in due course began to take what he called "active measures." Following the example set by the governor of Manzanillo, he declared our town in a state of siege; and you will now have an opportunity of judging for yourself what a siege in Cuba is like.'

The usual military precautions against a.s.sault on an unfortified place have been taken. The entrances to the streets have been barricaded with huge hogsheads containing sand and stones; small cannon stand in the plaza and princ.i.p.al thoroughfares. At every corner that we turn, we are accosted by a sentry, who challenges us three times over: 'Who goes there?' 'Spain.' 'What kind of people?' 'Inoffensive.' And so forth. The theatre, the bull-ring, the promenade, are all closed for the season.

The masquerading and carnival amus.e.m.e.nts are at an end. Payments have been suspended, and provisions have become scarce and dear. The people whom we meet have grown low-spirited, and the sunny streets look gloomy and deserted. We glance in at the warehouses and manufactories, and find everybody within attired in military costume; for many of the inhabitants have enrolled themselves as volunteers for the pleasure of wearing a uniform at their own expense, and of sporting a rifle provided by the government. The names of those who object to play at soldiers have been noted down, and their proceedings are narrowly watched.

The Plaza de Armas is crowded with volunteers; their uniform consists of a blue and white striped blouse, white drill trousers, and a Panama hat, to the band of which is attached a vermilion-coloured c.o.c.kade embellished with silver lace. The majority of these amateur warriors are Catalan shopkeepers, and clerks from Spanish warehouses.

Don Javier tells me that these gentlemen, together with the Havana volunteers, represent a very formidable army; and that in the event of affairs taking a more serious turn, the volunteers would take an active part in the hostilities.

'The Catalan shopkeepers,' says Don Javier, 'are even more interested than Spain in preserving our colony under its present administration.'

'Under a more just and humane government, together with the abolition of slavery, these traders would be considerable losers; for most of them are large slave-owners, and enjoy certain mercantile privileges, which would be denied them under a new policy.'

I remind Don Javier that these said Catalans are after all Spaniards born, and that, whatever their private object may be, for patriotic reasons it seems only natural that they should desire to maintain order in the Spanish colony.

'No muy! not a bit of it,' says my friend; 'they are not prompted by any feeling of patriotism. They have been too long estranged from their home at Barcelona, and love Cuba and her rich resources too much, to make that a consideration. I have heard them say that they would take up arms against their own government, rather than that Cuba should enjoy the privileges to which I have alluded.'

While we are conversing, a couple of volunteers approach and salute us.

One of them is my friend Bimba, who tells me that he has enlisted, partly for the 'fun' of wearing a uniform, and partly to ensure himself against arrest.

'Well, Don Javier,' says he,'are you not one of us yet? And you too, Don Gualterio, surely you will help to protect our town?'

I plead, as an excuse, my nationality.

'Que caramba!' exclaims Bimba; 'why, your countryman, the clerk in B---- 's warehouse, is a volunteer; and so are the S---- 's from the German house in the Calle de la Marina.'

Don Javier observes that our numerous duties prevent us from joining the corps.

'Car! Que duties y duties?' says Bimba; 'business is slack with all of us now. You, Don Javier, will have an easy time of it, notwithstanding your trade of news-disseminator; for you know, only "official" accounts of the war are fit for publication in your paper! As for you, amigo Gualterio, there will be no more triumphal arches wanted for the present; and no more "monos" (portraits) of defunct people, till the revolution is over, and then I have no doubt there will be more than enough to occupy you and your partner Nicasio! The theatre, too, is closed until further notice, so there will be no more theatricals.'

Leaving Don Javier to chat with the other volunteer, I withdraw with Bimba to a quiet corner of the square and converse with him in private.

Bimba is one of the favoured few who is aware of my connection with an American newspaper, because, for obvious reasons, I have always been careful to preserve my incognito. Now, more than ever, it behoves me to adopt this precaution.

As a blind to the authorities and in order to facilitate my journalistic operations, Bimba suggests that I should join the volunteers. He tells me that our governor has signified his intention to make another sally with the troops, and that he has invited some of the volunteers to accompany the expedition. Enrolled as a volunteer, my friend says that it will not be difficult to obtain permission to follow with others in the rear of the Spanish regulars, and that by so doing I shall be able to 'report progress.'

Our mutual friend Tunicu has not yet enlisted, I find.