SUGAR.
BY this time the ponies had been brought up, and the young riders
started off.
How high the sugar-canes stood! The children could not see over the
tops, even from their ponies' backs. The long, narrow leaves hung down
much like our own Indian corn. Far up on each plant was a feathery
white plume. The stalks were now a golden yellow colour. This was
Mother Nature's sign that the cane was full of sap.
At Maria's home the cane had been already cut and made into sugar. But
there were only two or three fields. Here, on Lucia's plantation, there
were hundreds of acres. The men had been working for weeks already,
and it was not yet half cut.
"Oh, look, Ramon!" said Maria, "see that dear little black baby asleep
between the canes. She can't be more than two years old. The other
children must have gone away and forgotten her."
Ramon jumped down, and, picking up the little tot, lifted her up in
front of him on the pony's back. She had been waked up so suddenly that
she began to cry. But when the others smiled at her she rolled her big
eyes around, and soon began to laugh. She was going to have a ride with
white children, and that was a grand event in her life.
A turn in the rough road showed an ox-cart ahead. How small the Cuban
oxen are! But they are such gentle, patient creatures, a child could
drive them. How they pushed ahead with their heavy load!
When they were young a hole had been bored through the centre of their
nostrils, and an iron ring was passed through. When the oxen were
harnessed a rope was fastened on each side of this ring. The black
driver held the ends of the rope, and guided the oxen. He had no whip,
for it was not needed.
"Let's follow him up to the top of the hill," said Lucia. "He must
carry his load to the boiler-house that way, and I do like to watch the
oxen go down a steep place. There, see! The man will not even get off;
he's perfectly safe."
As the heavily loaded wagon passed over the brow of the hill, the oxen
squatted down like dogs, and seemed to slide rather than walk, till
they reached the foot.
"Bravo!" shouted Ramon. "I'd trust such creatures anywhere. They ought
to be rewarded with a good supper to-night. And now that they have
reached level ground see how well they trot along. These dear little
ponies cannot do much better."
The children still followed the ox-cart, and soon reached the
sugar-mill. Immense machines were crushing the canes, and the sap was
flowing into great tanks from which it was afterward taken to be boiled.
"What does the molasses come from?" you may ask. All Cuban children
would tell you at once that it is the drippings from the newly made
sugar.
Lucia's father does not sell his molasses, as do many other planters.
He thinks it is not worth while. You cannot guess what use he makes of
it. His work-people spread it on the ground to make it richer for the
next year's crop.
His wife does not think of having it used in cooking, either, as
American women do, and so Lucia has never tasted gingerbread in her
life. Perhaps you feel sorry for her. Never mind. She enjoys sucking
the juice from the fresh sugar-cane as well as the black children on
her father's plantation; she has as much of this as she wishes, so she
never misses the molasses cookies and cakes you like so much.
"Lucia, how is it your father keeps on having the cane cut?" asked
Ramon, as the children stood watching the sap boiling down to sugar.
"You know, don't you, a new law has been passed ordering the work
stopped? It is all because the Spaniards are afraid that the poor
insurgents will get food and help from the sugar planters."
"Yes, I know," answered Lucia. "I heard father talking about it. He
said he had paid the government a large sum of money to let him keep
on. So he's all right. But perhaps I ought not to have said this, for
it is his own business, and I should not repeat what I hear."
The children entered the sugar-mill, and stood watching the workers.
Every one was so busy that no notice was taken of the young visitors.
Here were great troughs full of the canes which were being crushed by
heavy rollers; the juice was flowing fast into the tanks below. And
there were the caldrons full of the boiling syrup; by their sides stood
men with long, heavy skimmers stirring the juice, and taking off the
scum which rose to the surface.
[Illustration: "THE MACHINES MADE A STEADY, GRINDING SOUND"]
There were large, shallow pans close by, where the sugar was placed to
cool. The air was full of the sweet smell of the sugar; the engines
were clanking noisily; the machines made a steady, grinding sound, and,
above all, the cries of the negroes could be heard, as they called to
each other at their work.
A few minutes was long enough for the children to stay in this busy,
steaming place. Then they went out again into the bright, clear air.
After giving the black baby into the charge of one of the negro girls
who was standing near by, our little cousins mounted their ponies,
and rode slowly back to the house.
They passed field after field where men were cutting down the tall
sugar-canes. How rapidly they moved along, leaving the ground quite
clear, as they passed over it! Was it such hard work? They certainly
bent over very much as they lifted the heavy, clumsy tools in their
hands. These tools looked somewhat like long cheese-knives, only they
were much thicker and heavier.
Ramon would say, "Why, those are machetes. I wish I could use one now
in defending my country. Many a brave insurgent has nothing else to
fight with excepting the machete he brought from his little farm. No
guns can be obtained, for the Spaniards hold the cities, and will not
allow any weapons to get to the Cubans. But those machetes will do
great good yet."
As the boy watched the men working, he was thinking how differently
he would like to use the machete, but he did not say anything of this
kind to Lucia. He was just a little afraid that her father was not as
anxious for Cuba to be free as he and his own parents were.
When the children reached the house, Lucia's parents insisted that
Ramon and Maria should spend the day, and a delicious luncheon was now
waiting for them.
"This afternoon," said the planter, "you may go over to the quarters
and see the fun. You know it is a half-holiday, and there will be great
good times among the blacks."