MURDEROUS ASSAULT--COMPLAINTS TO THE CAPTAIN-GENERAL--CARLOS GARCIA.
My husband, who never knew the meaning of the word _fear_, rode bravely
about our own domain, sometimes alone, but more frequently accompanied
by an interpreter, whose services were often needed. Early one autumn
morning he rode unattended to a remote part of the plantation, quite
a mile distant from the house. While he could see, by the rustling of
the long, slender leaves, that the plows were busy in the midst of
the tall cane, and could hear the mournful creak of the wheel that
was slowly drawing water from a neighboring well, two mounted men, of
rather diminutive size and questionable appearance, suddenly presented
themselves on each side the narrow roadway and politely asked the time
of day, emphasizing their request by pointing to the sun and to Lamo’s
watch. He intuitively knew they were on deeds of evil intent, and while
repeating his stereotyped phrase, “_No intende_” (“Don’t understand
you”), by motion invited them to the house, whose white façade
terminated the long vista of the straight road.
Before he could advance a step, one of the men wheeled his horse across
the narrow pathway in front of him and, pointing menacingly at the
tempting fob that hung from his pocket, repeated the _demand_ (as now
appeared) in a low and threatening tone. If my husband had previously
entertained any doubts regarding their intentions, he had none now.
He made a desperate rush to advance, when a pistol was quickly drawn
and two shots fired in rapid succession. Each time the hurried aim was
rendered ineffectual by blows from an open umbrella, and the bullets
flew wide of the mark.
Meanwhile the accomplice, armed with a machete (a large, broad-bladed,
short-handled knife, used for cutting cane), pressed forward. Lamo, by
a dexterous whirl of his horse, was enabled to catch him by the waist
and hurl him to the ground. The unexpected, bold defense, and the fall
of one of the men, produced a moment’s confusion, which Lamo, never
for a moment losing his presence of mind, availed himself of to ride
rapidly away. Two shots followed the retreating figure, and my brave
man received a bullet in the side of the neck. All this occurred so
quickly that the men plowing in the tall cane, alarmed by the shots,
rushed to the spot only in time to see Lamo wildly riding toward the
house, swaying from side to side, unable to steady himself in the
saddle. The assailants had already disappeared around the first corner,
concealed by the towering growth of the fields.
I was leisurely sewing in my usual seat by the window, when the clatter
of horse’s feet and a rapid running toward the front of the house,
coupled with exclamations of wonder and alarm, brought me breathless
to the veranda to see my husband’s fainting, and, as I then thought,
lifeless form, bathed in torrents of blood, fall from the horse into my
brother’s open arms.
He was stretched, gasping, upon the sofa. The wound, which had
swollen his neck alarmingly, was tenderly wiped with damp cloths. My
brother, who had some knowledge of surgery, and great presence of
mind, cautiously felt for the missile, and, by a dexterous pressure,
dislodged a large conical bullet that had missed the jugular vein by
the sixteenth of an inch. Pitcher after pitcher of cold water was
poured over the wound until the swelling gradually subsided. Messengers
were dispatched at the earliest moment for medical aid, and to notify
the captain of the _partido_, who immediately sent his clerk to take
the deposition of the supposed dying man. Lamo was found able to give
sufficient explanation to satisfy all that it was a case of murderous
assault; whereupon a _posse_ of the captain’s men were sent in hot
haste to pursue and arrest the highwaymen.
The village doctor did not receive the summons until after the
officials had departed, and, being afraid to venture without an
escort, was unable to make his appearance until our patient had
received all needful attention. Finding the bullet on a shelf and the
swelling reduced, there was nothing left for him to do but to go into
an exhaustive explanation of the _law_ that governs such cases, by
which it appeared that all we had the legal right to do was to lay
the sufferer down and summon a surgeon. We had no right to remove the
bullet, or even to wash the blood from the wound! I will here add that,
if one finds a man lying wounded and bleeding on the public road-side
in Cuba, he must on no account touch the body himself, but call a
physician, or notify the captain at the nearest available station,
for, if he should act the part of the good Samaritan, he would surely
be arrested on suspicion. The way of the priest and the Levite is the
legal and therefore the only safe way in that land where the Bible is
contraband.
By the first mail we dispatched letters, written under intense
excitement, giving alarming accounts of the whole affair to the
American consul, to our merchant, and to a friend, a wealthy and
influential citizen, President of the Bank of Commerce in Havana.
Each, not knowing but that he was the only one whose good offices were
invoked, repaired immediately to the captain-general’s palace. They
were admitted by turns to the presence of that august official, who,
after giving audience to three prominent persons on one and the same
business, realized the necessity of taking active and immediate steps
in the premises, and gave our zealous friends every assurance to that
effect.
Then followed days of slow but steady convalescence. The old village
doctor kept us in alarm by repeating at each visit that lock-jaw--a
very common disease in Cuba--was almost sure to follow a wound
treated, as this had been, with cold water! Lamo united caution with
bravery, and kept quietly within-doors long after he felt well enough
to resume his busy life. Our tranquillity was disturbed every few
days by official visits. A surgeon, with a consulting brother, was
sent from Matanzas (our estate being located in that district) to
examine and report upon the wound. He was followed by some Matanzas
officials, whose exact business we did not fathom. The assailants had
not been captured, and there began to be doubts whether our _partido_
captain had been as efficient in the matter as the law required; hence
higher authorities were ordered to investigate. The long and tedious
deposition was repeated over and over again, through the aid of
government interpreters, whose knowledge of English was so imperfect
that Lamo kept Henry at his side, to listen to both languages and
detect errors that might creep in, with a tendency to invalidate his
statement. Every article of clothing my husband wore on the occasion
had been taken by our captain, to which was afterward added the broken
and ragged umbrella found on the field of battle.
Then followed a visit of surgeons from Havana, armed with orders to
examine the wound, which was by this time so far healed that only the
scar remained as evidence. Our neighbors could not comprehend the
bravery of a man who, assailed by two armed highwaymen, would make a
sturdy defense with an open umbrella for his only weapon, when, by
emptying his pockets and relinquishing his watch, he would have been
allowed to ride gracefully away. The watch was opened, turned over, and
critically examined by our incredulous visitors, as though seeking in
its intricacies for a confirmation of the brave story.
The description of the assailants which Lamo gave, on the day of the
occurrence, to the pursuing party, was so accurate, that several of
them, including the lieutenant, declared they recognized the men.
Subsequently we had reason to know they had no intention of compassing
their capture. Zell, whose loyal heart was bursting with vengeance,
had mounted his horse and followed the uniformed men who raced down
the avenue and disappeared in a twinkling in their apparent hot haste
to overtake the scoundrels. The party did not return to Desengaño, but
Zell did, and he secretly imparted valuable information to Lamo. “Dey
know’d dem men better’n dey know you, Mars Jim. And when a ’ooman
at dat _bodega_, by Valera’s field, tole ’em she had jist seed ’em
cutting for all dey was worf down Valera’s Lane, dat ar white-livered
lieutenant ses ‘’Tain’t dem--it’s no use,’ and dem fool cowards dey
jist tuk tail and rode back. De minit dey smell de scent, dey drap’d de
trail.”
Of course, “negro testimony” was not admissible; but Zell’s word was
always received in our family without a doubt or question. We imparted
this information, in the garb of strong suspicion, to the officials in
Havana, whence a company was now sent to scour the Matanzas district
and capture those bandits, of whose identity there remained no doubt.
They were so closely pressed now that surrender was inevitable; and,
without even a semblance of trial, they were immediately shot. Upon
their persons were found _cedulas_ such as the _guardia civiles_
are required to demand of suspicious persons on the highways, as
evidence of good standing. These passes had been lately _viséed_ by
our “white-livered” lieutenant, and his knowledge that these _cedulas_
were in their possession accounted for his unwillingness to arrest
them; so he was involved in a net of his own weaving. The last heard of
that unworthy official he was journeying over the rough country roads
between plantations and through tangled woods to Matanzas, handcuffed,
strapped astride his horse, with his face turned to the animal’s tail,
and surrounded by a howling escort. Whether that unique mode of
punishment was the only one inflicted we never knew.
We had reason to hope that the decisive action of the government
would relieve us from the possibility of any further aggressions by
roving bands, and for a long time we were undisturbed. The two outlaws
referred to were not highwaymen in the fullest acceptation of the term.
They were _guajiros_, who worked for planters around us, and doubtless
driven to desperation by government oppression, had become bold and
lawless.
There were bands of freebooters--not a result of government
oppression--who made robbery their only pursuit. They swept over the
island with the fleetness of the wind; here to-day and there to-morrow,
possessing such a thorough knowledge of all the wild country around
that a place of concealment or an avenue of escape was always open to
them. They did not go in detached parties, but in well-organized bands,
and were a law unto themselves, bidding all government defiance, long
before the insurrection was in existence. Indeed, marauding bands of
like nature have flourished since the earliest days of _civilization_
in Cuba.
The Spaniards claimed that the rebel army was composed of these
outlaws. No doubt some did join, as affording a wider field for
their daring, and others became purveyors for the rebels; but the
professional brigands generally retained their organizations, and
recognized no allegiance superior to their captain. In course of
time our plantation, in the absence of Lamo and myself, was visited
by such a band, and I can not better describe the affair than by the
introduction of a letter written some time after the event:
“The world breathes easier hereabout. Carlos Garcia, the renowned
freebooter, has at last been sent to his final account. Five
captains-general pardoned him at as many different times in his career,
but a pardon to return to the field of his exploits Garcia will receive
no more. Long before the insurrectionary war in Cuba, Garcia, though
a young man (born in 1832), was a desperate, fearless, and noted
highway robber. Always accompanied with a band of from ten to twenty
men, he rode when and where he pleased, overawed the planter on his
large estate, cursed the poor peasant in his hut, took the fine horses
and carefully hoarded doubloons of the humble farmer. His followers
were well disciplined, and obeyed his every look and gesture. If one
showed too little zeal or too much mercy, behold him stretched upon the
road-side with a bullet in his brain, and a paper pinned to his breast,
penciled ‘_no sirve_’ (no account).
“‘You are a gentleman, sir; if I can serve you in future, command me:
my name is Garcia--Carlos Garcia.’ These were the parting words of the
scoundrel as he took leave of me, after selecting the finest horses,
all the saddles, etc., ransacking the dwelling, and securing all the
coin that could be found. While he and four of his men were searching
and stealing, six others, with cocked pistols, stood guard over me
and the white men in my employ. They did their work systematically,
accomplished all in twenty minutes, and the politest gentleman that
ever cut a throat rode off at the head of his troop, offering me,
with all the airs of a Turveydrop, his _services_ at any time! What
could a man do, but turn back into his house, pick up the scattered
and rifled bureau-drawers, shut the plundered desk, and estimate the
losses? This elegant gentleman always respected the presence of ladies.
A raven-haired señorita in the house was a protection that no weapon
could insure; her flashing eyes did the execution denied the Minié
rifle, for not a man of them would enter a dwelling to rob it when a
timid señorita met him at the threshold with her low, musical ‘_Buenos
dias, señor._’
“For years this state of things existed. Once in a while a
captain-general would order the arrest of the party, but the _partido_
captains had neither the men nor the courage to meet Garcia. In fact,
they seemed inclined to keep out of his way. After his visit to me,
I, being a foreigner, and claiming protection of a flag that was not
red-and-yellow, made formal complaint to the captain-general at Havana,
who at once issued orders and furnished men to hunt the outlaws.
Garcia, finding himself closely beset, appeared in person one morning
at the captain-general’s palace at Havana. After a short interview with
that vice-regal dignitary, he mounted his horse and proudly rode off,
unmolested. The next day a free pardon to Carlos Garcia was proclaimed.
It is whispered that Spanish ounces did the work. The clink of gold
is as sweet to the ear of the Spaniard to-day as it was to Cortes and
Pizarro in the proudest days of Spain.
“Meanwhile he became bolder and less merciful in his outrages. His
cruelty soon excited the whole people. Cubans submit with good grace to
robbery, they are used to that, but cruelty is revolting to them; they
are a kind-hearted, sympathetic race.
“Later, Lersundi became captain-general, and one of his first official
acts was to dispatch from Havana three hundred men, under efficient
and reliable officers, with peremptory orders to capture Garcia. They
were divided into various detachments. In a few hours the country in
the vicinity of Garcia’s last exploit was alive with the red-and-yellow
uniforms. He fled, almost unattended, to the Guanamon swamp, which was
quickly surrounded, and soldiers ambushed at every possible outlet. A
soldier gave me an account of the final act of the tragedy. ‘We took
our position at the pass of El Jobo, at 9 P. M., thirteen in company;
saw nothing until 7 A. M., then we saw three outlaws riding toward us.
At the command ‘_Fuego!_’ we all fired. One fell dead; another reeled
a moment, holding his rifle with both hands, then tumbled dead over the
head of his horse--this was Garcia; the third rode rapidly off, turned
suddenly, and, with deliberate aim, fired, killing one of our men.
Again ‘_Fuego!_’ and the bold woman, as she proved to be, fell dead.’
“Garcia had three women in his band, one of the others has since
presented herself for ‘free pardon,’ according to custom.
“Garcia’s right arm was broken years ago, and he never quite recovered
its use; so he had to discard his heavy Winchester rifle and use a
Smith and Wesson, which was the handsomest article of the kind I ever
saw: the stock was solid gold, exquisitely carved, and fretted with
precious stones. This, besides a pair of Colts, of extra size and
finish, and a rifle, were in his possession at the time of his death.”
Garcia was a type of a class of freebooters infesting every highway,
and lurking in obscure and unprotected city streets--while the others
sneak like thieves in the night, he was bold and daring. All this in
a land of military and priestly rule, where few live more than five
miles from a captain’s headquarters, or beyond the jurisdiction of a
_visible_ church!