When Columbus discovered the New World he landed on a small island
southeast of North America where the gentle red people greeted him as a
god from heaven. You probably know the story,--how Columbus thought he
had reached India, the land of silks and spices, and how he accordingly
called the red men whom he met, Indians. In fact India was far away, and
instead of landing on its shores, the great sailor had reached one of a
long chain of islands reaching from North to South America, which we
know to-day as the West Indies.
The red people who greeted Columbus did not live long after the coming
of the Spaniards who followed him. They were made to dig gold in the
mines for their cruel masters, and to do other hard work to which they
were not used. They soon sickened and died under the hard treatment.
Many of them, alas, were killed by the white men in sport, so that
before long not an Indian was left in all the islands.
To-day many white children, whose people came from Spain long ago, are
living in happy homes in the West Indies. Besides them, there are
hundreds of little Negroes with kinky hair and rolling eyes, whose homes
are tiny huts thatched with palm leaves, and who wear little or no
clothing. They bask in the sunshine and play in the clear waters along
the shore and are as happy as the day is long.
The beautiful islands of the West Indies lie in the hot belt of the
world, and the people who live there know but two seasons, a wet and a
dry. For several months rain falls every day,--not all day long, however,
keeping the boys and girls indoors, but there are heavy showers every
morning, after which the world looks lovelier than ever. It is far
pleasanter then than in the dry season, when the trees and plants lose
their freshness and the dust is thick upon everything around.
Although the West Indies lie in the hot belt, yet cool breezes from the
ocean blow over the land throughout the year so that the people who live
there do not suffer from the heat. The white children wear thin linen
and cotton garments, and instead of the meat and blood soup so necessary
to the little Eskimo, they have cooling drinks made with limes and
lemons, and they eat freely the delicious fruits that are so plentiful.
They are not fond of lively games like football and baseball, which are
such favorites with many American children. Instead, they spend many
hours in hammocks among groves of orange and breadfruit trees.
These children go to school for two hours of the early morning and two
in the late afternoon, but when the sun is bright in the heavens and the
air is hot they stay at home to rest and sleep. In many of the homes of
the richer people the children take their breakfast of rolls, and coffee
or chocolate in bed, then get up to study their lessons with a governess
who lives with the family.
Some of the islands of the West Indies have been built up, bit by bit,
by the little coral insects of the sea. Others are the tops of mountains
resting on the bed of the ocean; most of them are broken up into deep
valleys and high hills, among which are many strange plants and animals.
Not many years ago there was a war between Spain and the United States.
It lasted but a short time, and when it came to an end Spain agreed to
give up her rights in the West Indies. Porto Rico, one of the most
important islands, became a part of the United States, and Cuba, the
largest island of all, was made a republic. Since that time many
Americans have gone to live in the West Indies to carry on business in
the cities, or raise sugar and coffee on the plantations.
When the Spaniards had no more Indians to work for them, they sent ships
to Africa for Negroes who should serve them as slaves on their
plantations. Now, however, the Negroes have all been freed. Hayti, one
of the islands, is divided into two small republics of black people. In
the other islands most of the workmen are black, for these people can
bear a great deal of heat and can stay all day long in the sugar and
tobacco fields without harm, when white men would suffer from sunstroke.
Hurricanes.
There is one time of the year which the children of the West Indies do
not enjoy. This is the season of hurricanes. It is because of these that
most of the houses are only one story high, for the winds are so strong
and terrible then that the strongest buildings are in danger.
As the time draws near when hurricanes are expected, boats are drawn up
along the shore, roofs are patched and made tight, and everyone watches
the sky for the dread signs. Then, as the clouds gather and the birds
take flight into the depths of the forest, the children run home to
their parents for safety. If they live in the country the whole family
will sometimes leave the house and seek safety in a stone cavern, built
on purpose for their protection in the hurricane season. There the
people will stay till the wind has done its work and passed on. When
they leave their hiding-place they often find that great harm has been
done; noble trees lie stretched on the ground, the crops have been
destroyed, and the glass of the house windows is shattered. They look
about them at the world that is once more so beautiful and peaceful, and
take long breaths as they think, "Perhaps there will be no more danger
for us for another long year and that is a long way off. We will not
worry."
In the Woods.
There are no large animals in the forests of the West Indies to frighten
the children, but among the grasses and beautiful plants that grow
everywhere about them there are many insects that might do them harm.
Scorpions, which belong to the spider family, may give painful bites,
and centipedes with their hundred legs, must also be watched for. Then
there are mosquitoes without number, and chigos as the children call
them, which creep between the tender skins of the white people's toes
and make poisonous sores, but seldom trouble those of the Negroes.
"I must not go far into the woods when I am alone," think many small
boys and girls, for they are afraid they may meet a wild dog which they
are quite sure is a most fierce and dangerous animal. But the children
have little to fear on this account, for wild dogs are so scarce that
few people have ever met them. Long ago in Mexico, in the time of the
Aztecs, and in the West Indies before the coming of the white men there,
it is said there were such creatures in the forests, but now they are
rare indeed.
Sometimes the children meet a strange kind of army when they are walking
in the woods or driving along the country roads. This army is composed
of huge land crabs who go once a year from their home on the mountain
sides to the sea. There are often hundreds in this army, which marches
slowly but steadily onward, through patches of woods, across roads, and
over fields of tobacco. After the journey is once begun, it is said that
the crabs do not rest till the ocean lies before them.
The children of the West Indies spend much time training beautiful
parrots caught in the woods not far from their homes; they gather
firebugs so brilliant that on summer evenings the tiny insects light up
their gardens, making them appear like fairyland; they can listen to the
singing-tree that makes a soft cooing noise when the breeze stirs its
branches; they can gather limes and lemons, breadfruit and oranges in
their own groves.
Among the Sugar-canes.
Many children of the West Indies live on large plantations where tobacco
and sugar are raised. As you drive along through the country you will
pass broad fields covered with tobacco plants whose glossy leaves spread
out in the sunlight. Workmen are constantly busy caring for the plants
and watching lest troublesome insects injure the leaves.
Again, you will see before you wide fields of what seems at first to be
corn, but as you draw nearer you discover that the stalks are much
taller. It is the sugar-cane which grows so high that a man on horseback
may hide himself in its midst. A great deal of the West Indian sugar is
raised in Cuba where the plantations are so large that they seem like
small villages in themselves.
Let us visit the children of a sugar planter. We pass through a wide
driveway of beautiful trees and arrive in front of a large, one-story
house with wide verandas. Flowering vines trail over the trellises. The
door is opened by a smiling Negro maid with a gaily-colored 'kerchief
wound around her woolly head. She shows you into the drawing-room where
a dark-eyed lady in white is sitting in a lounging chair. It is the
mother of your little Cuban friends, whom you have come to visit. She
speaks to you in a sweet, low voice and smiles so pleasantly that you
feel at home at once.
A moment afterwards the children appear. They are slim and dark-skinned
like their mother; perhaps they are bare-footed, or they may have
sandals on their feet. They take delight in making you welcome, and in
showing you over the plantation. First, they wish you to see their
gardens, where roses and lilies, oleanders and jessamines fill the air
with sweetness.
After this, it may be, they call to a young Negro not much older than
themselves, who leads some ponies from the stable so that you may all
ride over the plantation, since it stretches over the country for
several miles.
In a few minutes you are out in the sugar fields where you are obliged
to look up to see the tops of the canes. They are jointed like
corn-stalks, and contain a sweet liquid, as you find out after breaking
off a young cane and chewing it. The white overseer is riding here and
there, directing the Negroes at their work, for the cane is ripe and the
men are busy cutting it down and piling it in loads to be taken to the
mill.
You follow one of these loads and soon reach the sugar mill where iron
rollers crush the canes and squeeze out the juice. In another building
near by there are big fires over which the sweet syrup is kept boiling
in copper pans until it is so thick that it will form into crystals.
Then it is poured into wooden coolers; last of all, when it is quite
cold, it is placed in hogsheads with holes in the bottom. There it is
left for several weeks while the molasses drips, drop by drop, through
the holes, leaving the clear sugar inside.
Your little Cuban friends may tell you with much pride that their island
home is the largest sugar market in the world and that the hogsheads of
sugar you have just seen will be sent to the city of Havana not far away
and there be loaded on ships which will carry the sugar to the United
States and other countries.
No doubt the little Cubans will ask you if you have seen the big
fortress called Morro Castle which defends the harbor of Havana. It is
so strong they feel quite sure that enemies would be afraid to pass it.
Before you leave the plantation your friends take you to visit the homes
of the Negro workmen, which are only small huts. Many of them have small
gardens where melons and sweet potatoes are sure to be found. Although
the huts are small, the families who live in them are large, and groups
of little "darkies" some of whom are quite naked, are playing about and
smile as you pass them, showing broad rows of white teeth, and rolling
their eyes in such a funny way that you laugh in spite of yourself.
The children of the West Indies have good reasons to be happy and
loving. The people do not need to work hard; a little food and a few
clothes, a simple home and a hammock to swing in, are enough to make
anyone comfortable in the hot lands. How different such a life is from
the toiling and struggle of the people of the far north, who meet danger
and trouble every day in their search for the wild animals which furnish
them with all they have,--food, fuel, and clothing.
* * * * *
Transcriber's Notes:
1. All images in the printed book included the notice: "From Copyrighted
Stereograph by Underwood & Underwood, N. Y."
2. Inconsistent hyphenation has been normalized.