BRAZIL'S ENTHUSIASTIC WELCOME
Never Before Did American Ships Have Such a Welcome--The Visit a
Continual Exchange of Prisoners Made by Friendship--Americans
Found it Easy to Sail Into This Bay of all Delights, but Very
Hard to Sail Out--Jack Had a Fine Time Ashore and Behaved
Properly--More Than 4,000 of Him on Liberty at One Time--
Official Welcome Sincere, and That of the People From the
Heart--Vice Admiral's Salutes Greeted Evans.
_On Board U. S. S. Louisiana, U. S. Battle Fleet_,
RIO JANEIRO, Jan. 22.
In describing the arrival, reception and stay of the American fleet in
this port, the impulse is almost irresistible to use superlatives. There
can be no error of judgment or of taste in employing the comparative
degree, for strict accuracy compels the assertion that never was an
American fleet greeted more cordially and never entertained more
elaborately in a foreign port than in this port, the "Bay of All
Beauties," and in this city, fast becoming the Paris of the Western
Hemisphere.
The greetings were unmistakably of the heart. They were far more than
official expressions of esteem. It was our old familiar friend of the
North, the Vox Populi, that spoke, and no levity is intended when that
expression is used. The people acclaimed the fleet and that aspect was
so overwhelming, so constant, so omnipresent that it dwarfed everything
else. No foreign port and no American port ever saw so many American
bluejackets ashore in ten days; no foreign port ever opened its arms
more freely to American sailors of high and low degree.
The reception of the fleet was a decided surprise. The officers were
confident that the welcome would be cordial, that the expressions of
politeness customary on such occasions would ring true, that the
entertainments would be in keeping with the situation. No one doubted
that Brazil would do the handsome thing. It was expected that the
officials would exert themselves to say pleasing things and provide
receptions and dinners, and would exchange calls and observe
punctiliously all the niceties that international courtesy demands. But
no one expected what might be called strictly an uprising of the people,
and the bestowal of that fiction of official receptions in a foreign
port, known as the freedom of the city, in such a manner as to turn
fiction into fact.
It seemed to be true and undoubtedly was true that the Americans
captured Rio, took it by storm, if you please; it did not seem to be
true but was true that Rio captured the Americans from Admirals down to
coal passers. From the hour of arrival to the hour of departure it was a
constant, an incessant exchange of friendship's prisoners. Without this
the American fleet could never have sailed away, and the fears expressed
in the United States when the fleet left on its cruise that it might
never come back as a unit or in parts would have been realized.
It was easy as a matter of seamanship to sail into Rio harbor. It was as
hard a job as any American Admiral ever tackled, as a matter of parting
with friends, to sail out. Any American President who may order a fleet
of battleships into this harbor in the future should take that matter
into serious consideration. The Americans do not want to lose their
battleships. Prudence requires caution hereafter in running risks with
Brazilian hospitality.
It was about 9 o'clock on Sunday morning, January 12, when the fleet
passed Cape Frio, seventy-five miles to the east of Rio. Far back on the
hills is a signal station. It used the international code and the flags
that snapped in the breeze said:
"Welcome, American fleet!"
"Sounds pretty good," said a signal officer. Then came the Yankton,
which had been sent on ahead to meet Admiral Evans and inform him of the
plans for anchoring and receptions and the like. Just before noon three
Brazilian warships were observed about a dozen miles out from Rio. On
they came and bugles were sounded and rails manned and salutes
exchanged. One, two, three, and so on, went the guns of the Brazilian
cruiser that led the two torpedo boats. One by one the reports were
counted carefully, as is always the case on a warship. Thirteen were
boomed out and then came another and another and then a stop. It was a
Vice-Admiral's salute.
Instantly the query ran through the fleet: Has Admiral Evans been
promoted? The wiseacres were not deceived. They said that the Brazilians
reasoned that the Commander-in-Chief of any fleet the size of this
should be a Vice-Admiral, and that the Brazilians were taking no chances
in not being sufficiently polite to cover any contingency.
Soon the mountains immediately surrounding the beautiful harbor came
into view. A dozen steam launches had ventured outside. Then came the
careful evolutions of getting into exact column for entering the harbor.
The day was beautiful, old Sugar Loaf and Corcovado and all the other
peaks seemed to be standing up with the dignity of stiff salutes, and
then came a peep into the narrow entrance of the harbor. The place was
alive with small boats. The signal stations were all aflutter with
welcome flags.
Slowly the Connecticut led the way and, when just beyond old Fort Santa
Cruz on the eastern side, boomed a salute to the port. From a little
rock all smoothed off and fairly polished, given up entirely to a fort,
Villegagnon, came the answering salute. Instantly the whistles of
hundreds of craft were set loose and tied down. No American has ever
heard such a shrieking of vessels except at the international yacht
races off Sandy Hook. The noise at Sandy Hook was greater because the
number of boats about was greater; that's the only reason. How-de-do and
welcome came from big and little craft all loaded down with people in
their Sunday best, if they have such things down here. Parenthetically
it may be remarked that judging from the way the women dress for street
wear every day is Sunday with them in the matter of clothes. There were
half a dozen boat crews out in eight-oared barges. Launches, rowboats,
steamers, ferryboats, sailing craft of all kinds were just inside the
harbor entrance.
Soon magnificent Botafoga Bay unfolded itself with that wonderfully
beautiful long reach of avenue, Bairo-Mar, running four miles in a
crescent from the heart of the city toward Sugar Loaf, all set out in
artistic landscape treatment. It was black with the people. Then the
fleet approached the city proper. With a glass one could make out that
the hills, the houses, the waterfront were black with the people. As
Vice-Admiral Maurity afterward said in a speech:
"The whole of the population of Rio, of all ages, chiefly belonging to
the fair sex, could not avoid going out of their houses to crowd the
neighborhoods of the harbor, the hills and islands around it, and all
other points of view from the city of Rio and the Nictheroy's side, in
order to greet the passage of the American fleet and to better
appreciate the interesting display of her manoeuvres."
Moreover, the population had been waiting there practically for two
days. The fleet was scheduled to come in on Saturday. All of Saturday
and far into the night tens of thousands had waited upon the hills and
waterfronts. They were back, we were told, early on Sunday morning and
they blackened and whitened the entire city. The American officers were
almost dumfounded. What does it all mean, was the general inquiry.
On steamed the Connecticut, and it was discovered that there was a
German cruiser, the Bremen, in the harbor. More salutes! By the way, it
may be remarked that Admiral Evans got the Rear Admiral's salute inside
the harbor, the proper one that his two-starred flag requires. He got
another Vice-Admiral's salute--and many persons thought it was a
delicate hint to the United States--when the Italian cruiser Puglia came
in a day or two later and gave him fifteen guns.
When the ships anchored in four lines opposite the central part of the
city, the Brazilian ships, about a dozen of them, were anchored inside.
Pratique was granted within half an hour of the time of the anchoring,
which required some slow manoeuvring in order to reach the exact
positions.
No official calls were made that night because it was well after 5
o'clock when the last anchor was down, and it was Sunday. The populace
thronged the waterfront, in some places ten deep, until after dark, and
then the Brazilian ships illuminated in honor of the fleet. Fireworks
were set off from the hilltops. Still the people stayed on the
waterfront. Up to midnight they could be seen in thousands. They were
there when daylight came; if not the same ones, then a fresh relay. From
that day on until the ships left there never was an hour when the
waterfront, especially of the city proper, was not thronged with the
people looking at the ships.
The far famed Bay of Rio! What shall be said about it? Travellers and
guide books have told of its beauties without ceasing. Every
well-informed person knows that it is regarded as the finest in the
world, that even Naples is dwarfed in these descriptions in comparison.
It is worth while to recount its glories again, especially as it
revealed itself to naval men.
The writer knows of no better naval twist to give to such a description
than was written by Herman Melville, who entered this bay on the United
States frigate United States way back in 1843, and who has described the
scene in his fascinating book "White Jacket." Nature is still the same.
Old Sugar Loaf, the liberty capped Corcovado, literally the hunchback,
the Organ Mountains and all the other peaks still rear their heads as
they did then and encircle Rio. Here is what Melville wrote from a
naval standpoint:
"Talk not of Bahia de Todos os Santos, the Bay of All Saints, for though
that be a glorious haven, yet Rio is the Bay of all Rivers, the Bay of
all Delights, the Bay of all Beauties. From circumjacent hillsides
untiring summer hangs perpetually in terraces of vivid verdure, and
embossed with old mosses convent and castle nestle in valley and glen.
"All around deep inlets run into the green mountain land, and overhung
with wild highlands more resemble Loch Katrine than Lake Leman, yet here
in Rio both the loch and the lake are but two wild flowers in a prospect
that is almost unlimited. For behold, far away and away stretches the
broad blue of the water to yonder soft swelling hills of light green,
backed by the purple pinnacles and pipes of the grand Organ Mountains
fitly so-called, for in thunder time they roll cannonades down the bay,
drowning the blended bass of all the cathedrals in Rio.
"Archipelago Rio, ere Noah on old Ararat anchored his ark, there lay
anchored in you all these green rocky isles I now see, but God did not
build on you, isles, those long lines of batteries, nor did our blessed
Saviour stand godfather at the christening of you, you frowning fortress
of Santa Cruz, though named in honor of Himself, the divine Prince of
Peace.
"Amphitheatrical Rio! in your broad expanse might be held the
Resurrection and Judgment Day of the whole world's men-o'-war,
represented by the flagships of fleets--the flagships of the Phoenician
armed galleys of Tyre and Sidon; of King Solomon's annual squadrons
that sailed to Ophir, whence in aftertimes, perhaps, sailed the
Acapulco fleets of the Spaniards, with golden ingots for ballasting; the
flagships of all the Greek and Persian craft that exchanged the warhug
at Salamis; of all the Roman and Egyptian galleys that, eaglelike, with
blood dripping prows, beaked each other at Actium; of all the Danish
keels of the Vikings; of all the mosquito craft of Abba Thule, King of
the Pelaws, when he went to vanquish Artinsall; of all the Venetian,
Genoese and Papal fleets that came to shock at Lepanto; of both horns of
the Spanish Armada; of the Portuguese squadron that under the gallant
Gama chastised the Moors and discovered the Moluccas; of all the Dutch
navies led by Van Tromp and sunk by Admiral Hawke; of the forty-seven
French and Spanish sail-of-the-line that for three months essayed to
batter down Gibraltar; of all Nelson's seventy-fours that thunderbolted
off St. Vincent's, at the Nile, Copenhagen and Trafalgar; of all the
frigate merchantmen of the East India Company; of Perry's war brigs,
sloops and schooners that scattered the British armament on Lake Erie;
of all the Barbary corsairs captured by Bainbridge; of the war canoes of
Polynesian Kings, Tamma-hammaha and Pomare--ay, one and all, with
Commodore Noah for their Lord High Admiral, in this abounding Bay of Rio
might all come to anchor and swing round in concert to the first of the
flood.
"Rio is a small Mediterranean, and what was fabled of the entrance to
that sea, in Rio is partly made true, for here at the mouth stands one
of Hercules's Pillars, the Sugar Loaf Mountain, 1,000 feet high,
inclining over a little like the leaning tower of Pisa. At its base
crouch like mastiffs the batteries of José and Theodosia, while
opposite you are menaced by a rock bounded fort. The channel
between--the sole inlet to the bay--seems but a biscuit's toss over,
you see naught of the landlocked sea within until fairly in the
strait. But then what a sight is beheld! Diversified as the harbor of
Constantinople, but a thousandfold grander. When the Neversink (the
frigate United States) swept in word was passed, 'Aloft, topmen! and
furl t'-gallant sails and royals!' At the sound I sprang into the
rigging and was soon at my perch. How I hung over that main royal yard
in a rapture! High in air, poised over that magnificent bay, a new
world to my ravished eyes. I felt like the foremost of a flight of
angels new lighted upon earth from some star in the Milky Way."
Few men on this fleet felt the rapture that Melville described so
poetically, but every one felt a thrill. Had Melville lived to more
recent times he might have included the fleet of Farragut and Porter, of
the Austrians and Italians, of the Russians and Japanese, of the
Spanish, in that mighty roll call of the ressurrection of fleets of the
world, for surely there is room for all.
For twenty miles up there is deep water in the bay, and hiding places
too among the 365 islands, one for every day in the year, that stud the
waters. Santa Cruz and all the other forts Melville mentions are still
there and a dozen more besides, most of them inside the harbor, built,
as one grim fighter on the American fleet said, more for use against
domestic than foreign foes. The very situation of those forts spells out
fear of revolution, but that's another matter.
The next morning after arrival came the unfolding of Rio to the
visitors. Even those who had visited the place before had shaken their
heads solemnly about it. The scenery all about is grand, they said,
wonderful, but the city itself--well, hands were raised in deprecation,
nostrils dilated, followed by a sad shake of heads. Didn't the guide
books tell you it was a foul, ill smelling place? Wasn't it a matter of
course that the city would be reeking with yellow fever in this its
midsummer time?
The officials told the fleet officers that there was no yellow fever in
the place. Polite expressions of surprise with surreptitious nudges
behind the back! They said that the city had been transformed in the
last four years, was well paved and beautified and they expressed the
hope that the Americans would like it. More expressions of polite
surprise and assurances that the city always was attractive, with more
nudges behind the back. And then when the officials went back to shore
didn't the officers make a dive for the ships' libraries and read facts,
real facts, mind you, about the place? Didn't W. E. Curtis write this
about Rio:
"Viewed from the deck of a ship in the harbor the city of Rio looks like
a fragment of fairyland--a cluster of alabaster castles decorated with
vines; but the illusion is instantly dispelled upon landing, for the
streets are narrow, damp, dirty, reeking with repulsive odors and filled
with vermin covered beggars and wolfish looking dogs. There is now and
then a lovely little spot where nature has displayed her beauties
unhindered and the environs of the city are filled with the luxury of
tropical vegetation; but there are only a few fine residences, a few
pleasant promenades, and a few clusters of regal palms which look down
upon the filth and squalor of the town with dainty indifference. The
palm is the peacock of trees. Nothing can degrade it, and the filth in
which it often grows only serves to heighten its beauty. The pavements
are of the roughest cobblestone; the streets are so narrow that scarcely
a breath of air can enter them, and the sunshine cannot reach the pools
of filth that steam and fester in the gutters, breeding plagues."
There are half a dozen descriptions such as that, some of them as recent
as 1900. Oh, yes, the Americans knew what kind of a city they were going
to see. Hadn't some of them been here before? Didn't some of the
surgeons on the fleet shake their heads gravely when it was signalled
from the flagship that there would be general liberty?
What did the Americans find? This is part of what the Americans saw; it
would take pages to tell it all:
They saw one of the cleanest and best paved cities in the world. New
York in the Waring days never had cleaner streets. There was not a foul
smell in evidence. There was even no West street or South street odor
along the waterfront. Where the streets were not of asphalt they were of
wood. There were no beggars on the highways; at any rate the Sun's
correspondent did not see one, and he spent hours ashore every day.
The old part of town still has its narrow streets, the chief of which,
Ouvridor, is about half as wide as Nassau street and which no vehicles
are permitted to enter. But the great surprise of all was the
magnificent Central avenue, built within the last four years right
through the heart of the city from north to south, just as Napoleon
built highways in Paris, connecting at the south with the great
sweeping shore boulevards, where the beautiful Monroe Palace stands.
This new avenue rivals anything that Paris can show. It is about 120
feet wide, with sidewalks fifteen feet broad. In the centre are lofty
lights on artistic poles, each group set in a little isle of safety
filled with flowers and grasses and plants. The architecture along the
avenue is harmonious throughout. The effect is imposing and makes a New
Yorker think.
But those sidewalks! It is mighty fortunate for New York that she has
none like them. If she had, the psychopathic ward in Bellevue would have
to be enlarged ten times over for the patrons of the Great White Way.
They are big mosaics, composed of small pieces of black and white
granite. The black pieces are used for ornamentation. Every block has a
different design. Some have zigzags, others curves and curlycues, others
dragons and starfish (at least they resemble such), others swing here
and there; others are straight, until you feel that all you need is a
brass band to make you march; others take you in swoops this way and
that; arrows and daggers point themselves at you; bouquets in stone
attract you until you almost feel that you want to stoop to get a whiff;
but the predominant feeling is that the designs were sunk for sailors to
roll back to the ship on, heaving to occasionally for bearings; or for
intoxicated men to take another tack in the hope of finding a shorter
way.
One of the bluejackets hit this particular "beach" one afternoon after
he had been drinking too much. He stopped short and called to his mate,
a few feet away:
"Bill, come here! Take me away! What do I see? Look at 'em! Snakes? Yes,
they are snakes! I got 'em! Hit that big feller on the head! It's the
brig fer me when I get back. Take me away, Bill! Think o' the disgrace
o' gettin' the jimjams in a foreign port. Bowery booze fer me after
this! Take me away, Bill! 'Tain't snakes? Honest? Jes' sidewalk? 'Ray
for Brazil!"
Then the bluejacket got on his knees and felt to make sure it was "jes'
sidewalk" while a crowd of Brazilians gathered around and some of them
thought Yankee sailors either had queer ways of investigation or of
making their devotions under the effect of libations and smiled, and in
Portuguese told Bill and Tom they were good fellows.
As one went to the south on this Central avenue he came upon the nearly
finished municipal theatre, one of the handsomest playhouses in the
world and probably the largest in the western hemisphere. Then came the
new public library and other Federal and municipal buildings that are
being erected back of old Castello Hill, where the first settlers
squatted, and the remains of their huddled manner of living still
present themselves to the eye. And then one came to the white
Renaissance pile, the strikingly beautiful Monroe Palace, named after
our own Monroe, whose famous doctrine is woven into the woof and warp of
the Brazilian institutions.
The building is segregated and is at the very gate of the great
boulevard system fronting on the bay. It is conspicuous from the harbor.
Brazil's flag--the green field, representing luxuriant vegetation; the
yellow diamond, representing the gold and other mineral wealth; the
broad, banded globe of blue in the centre, representing the dominion of
Brazil, with one star above the equator for its single State in the
northern hemisphere, and other stars in the south portraying the
southern States, and also the famous constellation of the Southern Cross
at a certain significant date in the year--the Brazilian flag flew from
the dome and on each corner were large American flags.
This palace is where the Pan-American Congress met, where Secretary Root
made a profound impression in his address. Next to Roosevelt the name of
Root is foremost on the lips of Brazilians. His visit made the deepest
impression here. It is still talked of, even on the highways. That
visit, the Monroe Palace and the visit of this fleet are bound to be
felt for years in the expressions of genuine international friendship of
various kinds which will be made between the two great republics of the
North and South.
Then one saw the boulevard system. Again one must repress himself. It is
safe to say that no city in the world has anything like it, that no
avenue or highway is more beautiful and imposing. One might combine the
beauties of the waterfront of Naples and Nice or of any spot in the
Riviera with those of the Shore Drive of New York's Narrows and
Riverside Drive and Lafayette Boulevard in New York, and still they
could not compare with this beautifully ornamented stretch of boulevard
that curves about the bright blue bay.
Illuminated with thousands of lights at night the effect from the harbor
is that of a long crescent of diamonds flashing upon the forehead of the
bay. No one who has ever seen this highway of miles with its palatial
dwellings fronting upon it and set back against the hills can ever
forget it. It wasn't here when Melville wrote, but truly it makes the
city Amphitheatrical Rio!
Then the Americans began to wander about the city. The narrow streets in
the business district are like those of Havana and many other cities of
people of Latin descent. Through this part of town run little mule
propelled tramways with the narrow rails so close to the sidewalks that
when the tram is crowded to the side steps there is danger of sweeping
the passengers off by passing pedestrians. The visitors saw the cafés,
real cafés, where the principal drink is coffee, "strong as the devil,
as black as ink, as hot as hell and as sweet as love."
Some of the Americans liked the coffee, but the wise ones confined their
drinking to limeades. Then the visitors saw the many crowded
cinematograph shows, the crowded shops, the powdered, and what Americans
would call overdressed women, the panorama of the highways, the
newsboys, the hundreds of lottery shops.
But above all else they noted the clean condition of things. They asked
if it was a sudden spurt of cleanliness and were told that it was not.
They asked how about these new streets and the extensive, harmonious and
comprehensive building that is going on. It was declared to be part of a
broad policy that has been in progress for four or five years, part of a
plan to make Rio one of the most beautiful cities in the world, a plan
to make it fit the magnificent surroundings which nature has provided
for it. American opinion was all summed up in this general expression:
"As handsome a city as I ever saw."
[Illustration: _Courtesy of Collier's Weekly_
At Anchor at Rio de Janeiro]
It was when the bluejackets went ashore that the Americans began to
realize what Brazil's welcome really meant. The boys landed with a whoop
and began to scatter. Sailorlike some of them headed for the saloons,
but the people expected that and were surprised that more of them didn't
fall by the wayside. Most of the men, however, went in for rational
enjoyment. They crowded the post card emporiums, they bought fruit and
trinkets, they piled on the tramways and went any old place so long as
it was somewhere.
They filled the streets, the cinematograph places. Yes, they hired
automobiles and rode about like nabobs to the astonishment of the
natives, who must have wondered at the princely wages the United States
paid its men. They went to the best restaurants and hotels. Everywhere
they were welcomed. "English spoken here" was a frequent sign. They were
even allowed to loll on the grass of the many beautiful parks, an act
that costs a native a fine of from five to fifteen milreis. They were
respectful to all, but they had a commanding way about them that took.
They owned the town; they knew it, but did not attempt to take the
slightest advantage of it.
As the days went by and one saw the behavior of these bluejackets his
American heart was filled with pride over them. They were clean,
intelligent, manly, open, as fine a brand of sailor as ever wore a
uniform, obeyed an order or sported their money lavishly in a foreign
port.
The first thing that greeted the eye of every man who landed at the
beautiful park that used to be an eyesore in the central part of the
waterfront was a big sign reading:
"Information Bureau for American Seamen."
It was an information bureau, a real one. It was the most useful kind
of a welcome ever provided in a foreign port for the sailors of any
people. The American and English residents, aided by those of other
countries, had been busy preparing for weeks for the visit of Jack
ashore. Every safeguard, every assistance that was possible to make his
liberty comfortable, profitable, enjoyable was looked after. It took
hard cash to do it, but the money was raised and it amounted to
thousands of dollars.
In the first place, the ferry company to Nictheroy set apart a large
room in its commodious new building. Counters were put up for
information booths, postal card booths, exchange of money, sale of
various kinds of tickets for things with guides by the score and
attendants anxious to answer all kinds of questions. Men and women
worked there from twelve to fourteen hours a day for ten days in the
stifling heat, all eager to be of assistance to Jack ashore. A pamphlet
was provided giving a map of the city and displaying all the chief
places of interest. Full information was printed about everything that a
man bent on rational enjoyment could desire. The pamphlets told all
about transportation, about the places to see, about postage and the
many general and special excursions that had been planned.
Jack soon found it out and he rushed there in throngs. He found long
tables in the room with free writing paper, ink, pens, mucilage, and
down he sat to write to sweetheart or wife. Then he went to change his
money. Here he struck a snag. A dollar is worth 3,200 reis. One of the
sailors got a $10 note changed. He received in exchange 32,000 reis. He
was astonished.
"Here, fellers!" he shouted, "I got 32,000 reis for $10. Gee, whiz! Me
for Wall Street! When kin I get a steamer home, mister? Holy Moses! I've
got rich and I didn't know it."
Jack found out quickly that he wasn't rich, for Rio is just now fairly
oppressed with enormously high prices, due, it is said, to paying heavy
taxes for all the improvements that have been going on. He found that he
had to pay 300 reis for an ordinary postage stamp, 400 reis for a glass
of limeade, about 800 reis for a handkerchief or a collar, and as for a
bottle of beer, that was good for a thousand reis or so, and the money
began to melt quickly. But what did Jack care? It was an automobile for
him, or something equally expensive. What's the use of being an American
man-o'-war's man if you can't act like a millionaire for an hour or so
in a foreign port?
When the money was changed Jack found out the full value of these
self-sacrificing men and women who had done so much for his comfort. He
got a fair exchange for his money and wasn't robbed. This committee had
provided him with guides to all sorts of places free of charge, had made
up excursion parties all over the city and the surrounding country, had
provided rubbernecks--and how Jack did grin when he saw the familiar
things--carriages, special trams and what not; had provided for the sale
of meal tickets, the best postal cards, had co-operated with the police
to look for stragglers.
Well, Jack smiled and smiled, and he knew he was in the hands of his
friends. The Prefect of the city, Gen. Souza Aguiar, was chairman of the
committee, and all the leading Americans and Englishmen joined in.
Especially active was the acting Consul-General of the United States,
J. J. Slechta, and Myron A. Clark, the Y. M. C. A. secretary. The Y. M.
C. A. here is affiliated with the Sands street branch in Brooklyn. The
placards told Jack all about it, and the first thing he asked was if
Miss Gould had helped to pay the expenses. He was told that she had not,
because she had probably not been informed about it. He answered
invariably:
"Betch'r sweet life she would if she'd known about it. 'Ray for Helen
Gould!"
Here is a summary of what work was done for our sailors by this bureau
in ten days:
Eight thousand sheets of paper and 5,000 envelopes provided free of
charge, 21,000 guides to the city printed and circulated, about 175,000
postage stamps sold, nearly 2,000 meal tickets sold, 3,500 special
excursions provided, these in addition to the many general excursions;
about $175,000 exchanged at the lowest possible rates, about 170,000
post cards sold, about 2,000 automobile trips arranged.
So Jack and all the others of the fleet went sightseeing. They went to
Petropolis, the summer capital, with its temperate climate, in the
tropics, and only twenty-two miles away, up back of the Organ Mountains.
You climb the heights on a cog railroad, just as you climb Pike's Peak,
and you see the magnificent views of valleys, the bay, the ravines and
gulches that would do credit to the Rocky Mountains. Jack and his mates
went to Corcovado in throngs, starting on trolleys that crossed the
famous old aqueduct back of the hills right in the city and climbed on
and up around the city for miles with scarce a hundred feet of straight
track. Then they took the steep cog railroad, and after a time found
themselves poised on the peak 2,300 feet above the city, with this place
of 800,000 inhabitants and its bay and the sea all spread out before
them in probably the most fascinating panorama that the world presents.
They visited the wonderful botanical garden, with its magnificent avenue
of royal palms and its flower beds, its trees, its ferns, a truly royal
place. One of the young officers told what he thought of this garden
when he said:
"When I get married I am going to come down here and march up that mile
of palms for the aisle in God's church. It will be the finest setting
for the finest bride in the world. The newspapers needn't take the
trouble to mention the bridegroom's name. That of the bride linked with
the majestic aisle will be sufficient."
And so one might go on and on into raptures and extravagant expressions.
The people's gracious mood matched their city and the visitors were
simply overwhelmed with hospitality on every side.
The sailors grew to the situation. Day by day there were fewer signs of
too much drinking. Occasionally a man or two would overstep the bounds,
but the authorities saw to it that the Americans handled their own men
in that condition.
Only one incident marred the visit, and it was a pity that any mention
of it was cabled to the United States. After that had been done it was
necessary to send the truth and correct misapprehension. It was on the
first night of liberty. It was merely a saloon brawl. A native negro had
a row with another and threw a bottle at him. The second dodged it and
the bottle struck one of our seamen at a table and hurt him. He got
after the negro, who escaped. Back the negro came with a razor and fell
upon the first bluejacket he saw.
Several of the best petty officers on one of the ships jumped in to
quell the disturbance. The rabble thought they jumped in to fight.
Stones were thrown and three of the peacemakers were hurt. The local
police didn't size up the situation and were slow to act. They arrested
the negro, but let him go. After that they said it was a deplorable
blunder.
Liberty was recalled at once and marines were sent ashore, but it was
soon over, and the next morning at the request of the authorities 2,000
men were sent ashore instead of 1,000 daily as had been planned. The men
were warned to conduct themselves properly, and to the everlasting
credit of our American seamen it must be said they heeded the caution
well.
An illustration of what might have been occurred on the night of Sunday,
January 19. Rival political clubs were parading about town carrying
banners and flags and also giving cheers of "Vivan los Americanos!" They
invited a lot of bluejackets to join them. Not knowing what the parades
meant, good natured Jack of course would go along. About twenty of them
joined each of two processions and had the distinction of carrying the
flags and hurrahing every other step. It was great fun. The naval
officers on shore heard of what was going on and dashed up in
automobiles. The Brazilians would not let their dear friends go and the
officers had a hard time to get the men free. They at once obeyed
instructions to scatter, and said they were simply having a good time
with their new friends.
Ten minutes later those two parades minus the bluejackets came into a
collision and there was quite severe rioting, with stone throwing and
the use of knives and bludgeons. Had the bluejackets remained innocently
with the parades they would have been in the thick of it and terrible
reports would probably have been cabled to the United States of our
sailors mixing in political affairs, probably instigating revolution and
being most awful rioters. It was a narrow escape to get them away in
time.
By the end of the week so completely had good feeling been established
that from 4,000 to 5,000 men were sent ashore on Sunday. It was the
largest liberty party of American sailors ever known. New York never saw
so many of our men ashore at one time. It made one proud of his country
and its men to see that party ashore. There were not twenty cases of
drunkenness when the boys came home.
Nothing could have been more cordial and warmhearted, more lavish, than
the entertainments given in the name of the Brazilian Government. The
one regret was that Admiral Evans, because of an attack of his recurrent
malady, rheumatism, was unable to take part in them personally. Admiral
Thomas took his place admirably.
The tone of all the official greetings was that of undisguised
friendship. President Penna made it manifest on the first day when he
met the officers at Petropolis. Then Vice-Admiral Cordovil Maurity
voiced it in English on the top of Corcovado the next day, and perhaps
it is well to give his speech in full. Here it is as translated for the
Americans:
Ladies, His Excellency Vice-Admiral the Minister of Marine,
Gallant Admirals, Captains and officers of the Navy of the U. S.
A., Gentlemen:
In my character of Admiral of the Brazilian Navy, Chief of the
General Staff and Commander-in-Chief of the Fleet, as well as
with the authority of an old sailor, who knows the rules of
military and diplomatic pragmatic, I feel very happy in this
moment, to speak to you, American sailors, in the name of my
Government, of the Brazilian people and of my comrades of the
National Navy, in order to salute and give the hearty welcome
to Admiral R. Evans, the Commander-in-Chief, Admirals Charles
Sperry, Charles Thomas and William Emory, the Captains,
Officers and Crews of the powerful North American fleet that
entered the day before yesterday in the harbour of Rio.
I beg then to avail myself of this fine opportunity, when we
are just gathered at the summit of Corcovado, at 800 metres
above the level of the sea, to present the warmest
demonstration of sympathy and friendship towards our brothers
of the great Navy of the United States of America, as a general
and sincere greeting spontaneously born from the core of the
Brazilian's hearts. The real proof of this true assertion of
mine you have just met during the solemn occasion of the
triumphal entrance of your brilliant fleet, the most efficient
naval strength, up to the present, that has ever been seen
crossing this side of the Atlantic Ocean and getting into
waters of the bay of Guanabara.
Indeed, it was such an important naval scene, such a splendid
maritime spectacle, that the whole of the population in Rio, of
all ages, chiefly belonging to the fair sex could not avoid
going out their houses to crowd the neighbourhoods of the
harbour, the hills and islands around it, and all other points
of view from the city of Rio and the Nictheroy side, in order
to greet the passage of the American fleet and to better
appreciate the interesting display of her manoeuvres. So, I may
assure you, gentlemen, with my experience of a sea man, that
the splendor of the scenery just alluded to, in combination
with the singular and natural beauties of the bay of Guanabara,
in which you were fraternally received with open arms, by the
mild people all classes of our society, was of the sort of
those fairy things impossible to be described, written or
spoken about.
Yes, gentlemen, the peaceful commission of your fleet waving
the star spangled banner of the great Republic of the United
States of America around this continent of ours and training
the crews of her men-of-war across the largest and deepest
oceans, is certainly an act of very right naval policy, chiefly
on the behalf of order and discipline of industry, labor and
trade, of diplomacy and fraternal comity, and, at last, it
means an exchange of civilisation amongst the peoples of the
several countries of the young, immense and futurous continent
of both Americas.
Therefore, I raise my cup for the health and prosperity of the
sister Navy of the United States of America, one of the
mightiest and more illustrious of the world, whose sacred
emblem in command and perfect sisterhood with ours, let God
grant may float side by side--ever for ever and ever--for the
benefit of universal peace and general comfort of mankind.
President Penna again made the welcome plain when he said at his
luncheon the day following to the Admirals and several Captains at
Petropolis:
The warm and fraternal welcome which the people of the capital
of the republic have given to the American fleet which is now
visiting us ought to prove how deep and sincere the sympathy and
friendship which the Brazilian nation feels for its great and
prosperous sister of North America.
These are no fleeting or transitory sentiments, since they date
from the hour of our birth as a nation and are ever growing in
strength. Every day the bonds of friendship and of trade
between the two nations are drawn closer.
When the South American peoples proclaimed their independence,
at that moment so fraught with misgivings and uncertainty as to
the future, the young American republic gave them strength by
solemnly declaring the intangible unity of the peoples of the
new world through the declaration of their great President
Monroe, whose name figures in history with brilliance as a
statesman of great perception and of rare political foresight.
The long and difficult voyage of the powerful fleet which
to-day is the guest of Brazil, necessitating as it does the
doubling of the American continent, is a fresh and splendid
evidence of the unequalled vigor and the extraordinary energy
of the great power which is a friend of Brazil.
With an expression of ardent and sincere wishes for the
fortunate continuation of the voyage of the friendly fleet I
drink to the glorious American navy, to the prosperity of the
republic of the United States of America and to the personal
happiness of its eminent chief, that great statesman, President
Roosevelt.
The Minister of Foreign Affairs added to all this in the great banquet
given to the officers later in the Monroe Palace when, after offering a
toast to President Roosevelt, he said:
The ancient sympathies between the American and Brazilian
navies, added to by these deeds of war, could not fail to be
augmented, until the point they have attained by the beneficial
force of the increasing approximation between the two friendly
peoples. In Norfolk and Washington last year the unequivocal
demonstrations made to our officers, which the American
Government so expressly associated itself with, caused the
Brazilian gratitude and indebtedness; and it is to-day with the
greatest satisfaction that in the entertainments promoted by the
Brazilian Government, by our navy, and by our society the people
of Rio de Janeiro welcome the American sailors with the same
spontaneous enthusiasm with which they saluted, in his memorable
passage by this country, the eminent propagandist of peace and
of continental concord, Mr. Root.
Brazil is grateful for the visit of her Northern friends,
arrived here in these powerful men of war, which, according to
the fine expression of President Roosevelt, are messengers of
friendship and good will, commissioned to celebrate with us the
long continued and never to be broken amity and mutual
helpfulness of the two great republics.
I invite my countrymen here present to unite with me in the
name of the Brazilian nation and its Government in a toast to
the gallant American navy, an example of skill and military
discipline, a model of devotion to their country, and a
formidable guardian of the immense prestige of the Great
Republic, the pride of the continent.
The same thing was iterated and reiterated in hundreds of private dinner
parties. It received its most vociferous expression on January 16 at a
smoker given to the officers of the fleet at the Park Fluminense, an
outdoor music hall with a mere roof covering and a stage, set in a
garden. It was like the outdoor suburban amusement places in which St.
Louis and other of our Western cities abound. Four bands of the ships
were massed at the entrance to the pavilion. An immense American shield
was lighted with electricity.
The flags of Brazil and England and the United States were entwined. The
place was reserved exclusively for American officers and their hosts.
They had an unusually good vaudeville show and in the intervals our
combined band played. Beer and cigars were served, and soon things began
to warm up. When a medley of patriotic American airs was played the
cheers began to rise. They could have been heard for blocks. Soon
Annapolis songs and yells and shouts were being given. In the
intermissions the place fairly rocked with the songs and yells of old
days. Men who had been tablemates for months shook hands with one
another as if they had just met after a prolonged separation. Speeches
were going on at a dozen places at once.
Then came the close. Our bands first played the Brazilian national hymn.
What a job that is will be told later. A great outburst of cheers
followed after every man had ceased to stand at attention. The
Brazilians were beside themselves with joy. Then came "God Save the
King!" Every one could sing that, and while standing at attention a
mighty chorus of song rolled out. More frantic cheering!
Then came "The Star Spangled Banner." Profound silence was observed to
the last note. When the salute was finished a cyclone roar followed. Men
jumped on chairs and yelled and yelled. Hats went into the air. The
Brazilians and English could not be contained. A score of men were on
tables, each trying to take command of the occasion, each calling for
three cheers for this person and that, for this country and that. None
heard the others, but it was a grand acclaim of good fellowship and
intense patriotism.
One little Brazilian called for three cheers for President Roosevelt.
The Sun man heard him because he was only two feet away. The cheers
rolled out and the Brazilian thought he had taken the place by storm,
and was as happy as a child, but the cheers were simply a part of all
that was going up and meant for everybody and everything in the way of
international friendship. It was a night that stirred one.
And so the visit wore on, and it was a pretty tired crowd of guests and
hosts before the finish came. Probably the weariest men on the ships
were the bandmasters who struggled through the bars of the Brazilian
national hymn. No disrespect is meant, but those Americans who are
clamoring for a new national hymn ought to hear what the Brazilians have
to put up with and then rest themselves content for all time with what
we have.
In the first place the Brazilian hymn is so long that when you are
playing it as a Brazilian warship passes the Brazilian gets out of
hearing and almost out of sight before you finish. After a few struggles
with the music the orders were given on some ships to shorten up if the
other ship was out of hearing and save the wind of the players. Then too
it is queer music. It goes hippety hop--it seems a combination of waltz
and march, of anthem and jig. It may be music, but the writer of this
is frank to say that the Japanese national hymn, with its weird swoops
and dives, curls and twists, seems like a gliding Strauss waltz compared
with the Brazilian hymn. One of the bandmasters on the fleet complained
that his men could not play it properly.
"Musish no-a good," he said. "No Italian musish players. All come from
Kalamazoo, bah!"
The Brazilians had hard struggles with the names of our warships.
Minnesota, Louisiana and such were all right, but Connecticut staggered
them. They made almost as bad as a mess of it as when they pronounced
the name of the High Life Club here or the Light and Power Company. The
Brazilian name for the High Life Club is Higgie Leaffie Cloob. That of
the Light and Power concern is Liggety Poor Companee. Let it go at that.
The reader must imagine how they pronounced Connecticut, for it can't be
put down on paper.
The departure of the fleet bids fair to be even more spectacular than
the one at Hampton Roads, only the powder and smoke, and the blare of
the bands and all the rest of the show will be in honor of another
President than our own. When the last gun has boomed it will mean not
only good-by to President Penna and Brazil, but it will be the
blackthroated response of 14,000 American sailors to Rio. The guns will
declare Rio to be not only the City of All Delights but the City of All
Hospitality.