THE HATTO.
We will leave the filibustering flotilla steering through the
inextricable labyrinth of the Antilles, and transport ourselves to St.
Domingo, as the French call it, Hispaniola as Columbus christened it,
or Haiti as the Caribs, its first and only true owners, called it.
And when we speak of the Caribs, we mean the black as well as the red,
for it is a singular fact, of which many persons are ignorant, that
some Caribs were black, and so thoroughly resembled the African race,
that when the French planters settled at St. Vincent, and brought
with them Negro slaves, the black Caribs, indignant at resembling men
degraded by slavery, and fearful too lest at a later date their color
might serve as a pretext to make them endure the same fate, fled into
the wildest recesses of the forest, and in order to create a visible
distinction between their race and the slaves brought to the island,
they compressed the foreheads of their new born infants, so that they
became completely flattened, which in the ensuing generation produced,
as it were, a new race, and afterwards became the symbol of their
independence.
Before resuming our narrative, we ask the reader's permission to
indulge in a little geography: as many of the incidents of the history
of filibustering will take place at St. Domingo; it is indispensable
that this island should be well known.
St. Domingo, discovered on December 6, 1492, by Christopher Columbus,
is, by the general verdict, the most lovely of all the Antilles. From
the centre of the island rises a group of mountains, springing one from
the other, from which issue three chains, running in three different
directions. The longest stretches to the west, and passes through
the middle of the island, dividing it into two nearly equal parts.
The second chain runs north, and ends at Cape Fou. The third, less
extensive than the preceding, at first follows the same direction, but
ere long taking a curve to the south, terminates in Cape St. Mark.
In the interior of the island there are several other mountain ranges,
though much less considerable. The result of this multiplicity of
mountains is that communication, especially at the time when our story
is laid, was excessively difficult between the north and south of the
isle.
At the foot of all these mountains are immense plains covered with a
luxurious vegetation; the mountains are intersected by ravines, which
keep up a constant and beneficent humidity; they contain different
metals, in addition to rock crystal, coal, sulphur, and quarries of
porphyry, slate and marble, and are covered with forests of bananas,
palms and mimosas of every species.
Although the rivers are numerous, the largest are unfortunately
scarcely navigable, and cannot be ascended by canoes for more than a
few leagues; the principal ones are the Neyva, the Macoris, the Usaque,
or river of Montecristo, the Ozama, the Juna and the Artibonite, the
most extensive of all.
Seen from the offing, the appearances of this island is enchanting; it
resembles an immense bouquet of flowers rising from the bosom of the
sea.
We are not going to write the history of the colony of St. Domingo, but
will merely say that this island so rich and fertile had, through the
carelessness, cruelty and avarice of the Spaniards, fallen, one hundred
and fifty years after its discovery, into such a state of wretchedness
and misery, that the Spanish Government was compelled to send to this
colony, which became not only unproductive but burdensome, funds to pay
the troops and officials.
While St. Domingo was thus slowly decaying, new colonists, brought by
accident, established themselves on the north west of the island, and
took possession of it, in spite of the resistance and opposition of the
Spaniards.
These new colonists were French adventurers, most of them expelled from
St. Christopher on the descent of Admiral de Toledo on that colony, and
who were wandering about the Antilles in search of a refuge.
At the period of the discovery, the first Spaniards had left on the
island some forty head of cattle; these animals, restored to liberty,
rapidly multiplied and traversed the savannahs of the interior in
immense herds; the French adventurers, on their arrival, did not dream
of cultivating the soil, but, seduced by the attractions of a perilous
chase, they occupied themselves exclusively in pursuing the bulls and
the wild boars, which were also very numerous and extremely formidable.
The sole occupation of these adventurers then was the chase; they
preserved the hides of cattle and dried the meat by smoke in the Indian
fashion. Hence comes the name of buccaneers, for the Caribs gave the
name of _boucans_ to the spot where they smoked the flesh of the
prisoners taken in war, and whom they ate after fattening them.
We shall soon have occasion to return to this subject and enter into
fuller details about these singular men.
Still, in spite of their love of independence, these adventurers had
understood the necessity of creating outlets for the sale of their
hides. Hence they established several counters at Port Margot and Port
de la Paix, which they regarded as the capital of their establishments;
but their position was most precarious owing to the proximity of the
Spaniards, who had hitherto been sole masters of the island, and would
not consent to have them as such near neighbours; hence they constantly
waged a savage war, which was the more cruel because quarter was not
granted on either side.
Such was the situation of St. Domingo at the time when we resume our
narrative, about a fortnight after the departure of the filibustering
fleet from St. Kitts under the command of Montbarts the Exterminator.
The sun, already low on the horizon, was enormously lengthening the
shadows of the trees, the evening breeze was rising, gently agitating
the leaves and tall grass, when a man mounted on a powerful horse,
and wearing the costume of the Spanish Campesinos, followed a scarce
traced path which wound through the centre of a vast plain covered
with magnificent plantations of sugar cane and coffee, and led to an
elegant hatto, whose pretty mirador commanded the country for a long
distance.
This man appeared to be five and twenty years of age at the most;
his features were handsome, but imprinted with an expression of
insupportable pride and disdain; his very simple dress was only
relieved by a long rapier, whose hilt of carved silver hung on his left
hip and showed him to be a gentleman, as the nobility alone had the
right to wear a sword.
Four black slaves, half naked, and whose bodies glistened with
perspiration, ran behind his horse, one carrying a richly damascened
fusil, the second a game bag, and the two others a dead boar, whose
tied feet were resting on a bamboo supported by the shoulders of the
poor fellows.
But the rider seemed to trouble himself but little about his
companions, or rather his slaves, toward whom he did not deign to turn
his head, even when speaking to them, which he did sometimes to ask
them for directions in a harsh and contemptuous voice.
He held in his band an embroidered handkerchief, with which he wiped
away every moment the perspiration that inundated his forehead, and
looked savagely around him, while urging his horse with the spur, to
the great sorrow of the slaves who were forced to double their efforts
to follow him.
"Well," he at length asked in an ill-tempered tone, "shall we never
arrive at this accursed hatto?"
"In half an hour at the furthest, _mi amo_," a Negro answered
respectfully, "there is the mirador over there."
"What a deuce of a notion it was of my sister, to come and bury herself
in this frightful hole instead of remaining quietly at her palace in
St. Domingo. Women are mad, on my honour," he grumbled between his
teeth.
And he spiced this most ungallant observation by furiously digging the
spurs into his horse, which started at a gallop.
Still, he was rapidly approaching the hatto, all the details of which
it was already easy to distinguish.
It was a pretty and rather large mansion with a terraced roof,
surmounted by a mirador and with a peristyle in front formed by four
columns supporting a verandah.
A thick hedge surrounded the house, which could only be reached by
crossing a large garden; behind were the corrals to shut in the beasts,
and the cottages of the Negroes, miserable, low and half ruined huts,
built of clumsily intertwined branches and covered with palm leaves.
This hatto, tranquil and solitary, in the midst of this plain of
luxuriant vegetation, and half concealed by the trees that formed a
screen of foliage, had a really enchanting aspect, which, however, did
not seem to produce on the traveller's mind any other effect but that
of profound weariness and lively annoyance.
The arrival of the stranger had doubtless been signalled by the sentry
stationed on the mirador to watch the surrounding country, for a
horseman emerged at a gallop from the hatto, and came toward the small
party composed of the gentleman we have described and the four slaves
who still ran behind him, displaying their white, sharp teeth, and
blowing like grampuses.
The newcomer was a man of short stature, but his wide shoulders and
solid limbs denoted far from common muscular strength, he was about
forty years of age, his features were harsh and marked, and the
expression of his countenance was sombre and crafty. A broad-brimmed
straw hat nearly concealed his face, a cloak called a poncho, made
of one piece, and with a hole in the middle to pass his head through,
covered his shoulders; the hilt of a long knife peeped out of his right
boot, a sabre hung on his left side, and a long fusil was lying across
the front of his saddle. When he arrived within a few paces of the
gentleman, he stopped his horse short on its hind legs, uncovered, and
bowed respectfully.
"_Santas tardes_, Señor Don Sancho," he said in an obsequious voice.
"Ah, ah! It is you, Birbomono," the young man said, as he carelessly
touched his hat; "what the deuce are you doing here? I fancied you were
hung long ago."
"Your Excellency is jesting," the other replied, with an ill-tempered
grimace, "I am the Señora's Major-domo."
"I compliment her on it, and you, too."
"The Señora was very anxious about your Excellency, and I was
preparing, by her orders, to make a battue in the neighbourhood. She
will be delighted to see you arrive without misadventure."
"What misadventure?" the young man said, as he loosened his rein; "What
do you mean, scamp? And what had I to fear on the roads?"
"Your Excellency cannot be ignorant that the ladrones infest the
savannahs."
The young man burst into a laugh.
"The ladrones! What a pleasant story you are telling me, too; come, run
and announce my arrival to my sister, without further chattering."
The Major-domo did not let the order be repeated, but bowed, and set
off at a gallop.
Ten minutes later, Don Sancho dismounted in front of the peristyle of
the hatto, where a young lady of rare beauty, but cadaverous pallor,
and who appeared hardly able to keep up, as she was so weak and ill,
was awaiting his arrival.
This lady was the sister of Señor Don Sancho, and the owner of the
hatto.
The two young people embraced each other for a long while without
exchanging a word, and then Don Sancho offered his arm to his sister,
and entered the house with her, leaving the Major-domo to look after
his horse and baggage.
The young gentleman led his sister to an easy chair, fetched one for
himself, rolled it up to her side, and sat down.
"At last," she said a moment later, in an affectionate voice, as
she took one of the young man's hands in her own, "I see you again,
brother; you are here, near me--how glad I am to see you."
"My dear Clara," Don Sancho replied, as he kissed her forehead, "we
have been separated for nearly a year."
"Alas!" she murmured.
"And during that year many things have doubtless happened, of which you
will inform me?"
"Alas! My life during this year may be summed up in two words--I have
suffered."
"Poor sister, how changed you are in so little time, I could hardly
recognize you; I came to St. Domingo with such joy, and no sooner had I
landed than I went to your palace; your husband, who has not altered,
and whom I found as heavy and silent as usual, with an increased dose
of importance, doubtless the result of his high position, told me that
you were not very well, and that the physicians had ordered you country
air."
"It is true," she said, with a sad smile.
"Yes; but I fancied you merely indisposed, and I find you dying."
"Let us not talk of that, Sancho, I implore you; what matter if I am
ill? Did you receive my letter?"
"Had I not, should I be here? Two hours after its receipt I set out;
for three days," he continued with a smile, "I have been going uphill
and down dale, along frightful roads, to reach you the sooner."
"Thanks, oh thanks, Sancho; your presence renders me very happy--you
will remain for a while with me, will you not?"
"As long as you like, dear sister, for I am a free man."
"Free!" she repeated, looking at him with an air of amazement.
"Well, yes; his Excellency, the Duc de Peñaflor, my illustrious father
and yours, the Viceroy of New Spain, has deigned to grant me an
unlimited leave."
At her father's name a slight shudder ran over the young lady's person,
and her eyes became dimmed with tears.
"Ah," she said, "my father is well?"
"Better than ever."
"And has he spoken about me?"
The young man bit his lips.
"He spoke to me about you very little," he said; "but I in revenge,
said a good deal about you, which re-established the balance: I even
believe that he granted me the leave I asked in great measure to free
himself from my chattering."
Doña Clara hung her head without replying, and her brother fixed upon
her a glance full of tender pity.
"Let us talk about yourself," he said.
"No, no, Sancho; we had better talk about _him_." she replied
hesitatingly.
"Of _him!_" he said in a hollow voice, and with a groan; "Alas, poor
sister, what can I tell you? All my efforts have been vain; I have
discovered nothing."
"Yes, yes;" she murmured, "his measures were well taken to make him
disappear. Oh, Heaven! Heaven!" she exclaimed, clasping her hands
wildly, "Will you not take pity on me?"
"Calm yourself, I implore you, sister; I will see, I will seek--I will
redouble my efforts, and perhaps I shall at length succeed--"
"No," she interrupted him, "never, never shall we be able to effect
anything; he is condemned, condemned by my father; that implacable man
will never restore him to me! Oh! I know my father better than you do;
you are a man, Sancho, you can try to struggle against him, but he has
crushed me, crushed me at a single blow; he broke my heart by a deadly
pressure in making me the innocent accomplice of an infernal vengeance!
Then he coldly reproached me with a dishonour which is his work, and
at the same blow eternally destroyed the happiness of three beings who
would have loved him, and whose future he held in his hands."
"And you, my dear Clara, do you know nothing--have you discovered
nothing?"
"Yes," she replied, looking at him fixedly, "I have made a horrible
discovery."
"You terrify me, Clara; what do you mean? Explain yourself."
"Not at present, my dear Sancho, not at present, for the time has not
arrived; so be patient. You know that I never had any secrets from you,
for you alone have always loved me. I wrote to you to come that I
might reveal this secret to you: in three days at the latest you shall
know all, and then--"
"Then?" he said, looking at her intently.
"Then you shall measure, as I do, the immense depth of the gulf into
which I have fallen; but enough of this subject for the present, I am
suffering terribly, so let us talk of something else."
"Most willingly, my dear Clara; but what shall we talk about?"
"Well, whatever you like, dear, the rain, the fine weather, your
journey, or anything of that sort."
Don Sancho understood that his sister was suffering from extreme
nervous excitement, and that he would aggravate her already very
serious condition by not acceding to her wishes; hence he made no
objection, but readily yielded to her caprice.
"Well then," he said, "my dear Clara, since that is the case, I
will take advantage of the opportunity to ask you to give me some
information."
"What is it brother? I live in great seclusion as you see, and doubt
whether I can satisfy you, but speak all the same."
"You know, little sister, that I am a stranger in Hispaniola, where I
only arrived four days ago, and then for the first time."
"That is true; you have never visited the island; what do you think of
it?"
"It is frightful, that is to say admirable; frightful as regards roads,
and admirable for scenery: you see that my proposition is not so
illogical as it at first appeared."
"In truth the roads are not convenient."
"Say that there are none, and you will tell the truth.";
"You are severe."
"No, I am only just; if you had seen what magnificent roads we possess
in Mexico, you would be of my opinion; but that is not the point at
present."
"What is it then?"
"Why, the information I want of you."
"Ah, that is true, I forgot it; but explain yourself, I am listening."
"This is it. Just imagine when I embarked at Veracruz to come here, all
the persons to whom I announced my departure invariably answered me
with a desperate agreement:--'Ah! you are going to Hispaniola, Señor
Don Sancho de Peñaflor, hum, hum, take care.' On board the vessel I
constantly heard the officers muttering among themselves 'keep a good
watch, take care.' At last I reached St. Domingo; my first care was,
as I told you, to go to the Count de Bejar, your husband, who received
me as kindly as he is capable of doing; but when I announced my
intention of coming to join you here, he frowned, and his first words
were 'the deuce, Don Sancho, you want to go to the hatto, take care,
take care.' It was enough to drive me mad; this sinister warning which
everywhere and at all hours echoed in my ears infuriated me. I did
not try to obtain any explanation from your husband, as I should not
have succeeded; but I inwardly resolved to get to the bottom of this
ill-omened phrase so soon as the opportunity presented itself. It did
present itself soon, but I am no further advanced than I was before,
and hence apply to you to solve the riddle."
"But I am waiting for your explanation, for I confess that up to the
present I have not understood a word you have been saying."
"Very good, let me finish. I had scarce set out with the slaves your
husband lent me, when I saw the scamps constantly turn their heads
to the right and left, with a look of terror. At first I attached no
great importance to this; but they ran away on seeing a magnificent
wild boar. I felt a fancy to shoot it, which I did by the way, and have
brought it here. When these unlucky Negroes saw me cock my fusil they
fell at my knees, clasping their hands with terror, and exclaiming in
a most lamentable voice,--'Take care, Excellency, take care!' 'What
must I take care of, you scoundrels?' I exclaimed in exasperation.
'The _ladrones_, Excellency, the _ladrones_!' I could obtain no other
explanation from them but this; but I hope, little sister, that you
will be kind enough to tell me who these formidable ladrones are."
He bent over her; but Doña Clara, with her eyes widely dilated, her
arms stretched out and her features distorted, fixed upon him such an
extraordinary look, that he recoiled in horror.
"The ladrones, the ladrones!" she twice repeated in a shrill voice;
"Oh! have pity, brother."
She rose to her full height, advanced a few paces mechanically, and
fell fainting on the floor.
"What is the meaning of this?" the young man asked himself, as he
rushed forward to raise her.