A TOUGH TRAMP TO LA GLORIA CITY.
As the fleet of schooners drew near La Gloria port, a row of small tents
was discerned close to the shore. Elsewhere there was a heavy growth of
bushes to the water's edge--the mangroves and similar vegetation fairly
growing out into the sea. Between and around the tents was a wretched
slough of sticky, oozy mud nearly a foot deep, with streams of surface
water flowing over it in places into the bay. The colonists were filled
with excitement and mingled emotions as they approached the shore, but
their hearts sank when they surveyed this discouraging scene. They
landed on the rude pier, and after much difficulty succeeded in
depositing their light baggage in tents reserved for the purpose. Narrow
boards laid down to walk on were covered with slippery mud, and some
lost their footing and went over headforemost into the slough. One
jaunty, well-dressed young man from New Jersey, who had found the trip
vastly entertaining up to this point, was so disgusted at suffering a
"flop-over" into the mire that he turned immediately back and returned
to his home in Atlantic City. And so the sifting process went on among
the intending colonists.
The conditions at the port at that time were certainly most unpleasant.
Mud and water were on every hand, and sand flies were as thick as swarms
of bees, and nearly as ferocious; they allowed no one any peace. The
company had considerately provided coffee and bread for the landing
"immigrants", and something of the sort was certainly needed to fortify
them for what was to follow. Lunch over, such of the colonists as had
not decided to turn back started for the "city" of La Gloria, four miles
inland. We found that the electric cars were not running, that the 'bus
line was not in operation, and that we could not take a carriage to the
hotel; nor was there a volante, a wagon, a bullock cart, a horse, mule,
or pony in evidence. Neither was there a balloon or any other kind of
airship. We learned further that a rowboat could be used only a portion
of the way. Under the circumstances, we decided to walk.
[Illustration: PORT LA GLORIA.
_Photograph by V. K. Van De Venter, Jan. 25, 1900._]
The road, if such it may be called, led through an open savanna, with
occasional belts of timber. There had been heavy rains just before our
arrival, and the trail was one of the most wretched ever followed by a
human being. For about a quarter of a mile there was an apology for a
corduroy road, but the logs composing it were so irregular and uneven in
size, and had been so disarranged by surface water and so nearly covered
with debris that it all seemed to have been placed there to obstruct
travel rather than to facilitate it. After the corduroy, the trail was a
disheartening mixture of water, mud, stumps, roots, logs, briers, and
branches. Now we would be wading through shallow water and deep mud that
almost pulled our shoes off; then splashing through water and tall,
coarse grass; and again, carefully threading our precarious way among
ugly stumps, logs, and fallen limbs, in water above our knees. At times
the traveler found himself almost afloat in the forest. He was lucky,
indeed, if he did not fall down, a misfortune which was little less than
a tragedy. Before leaving the port we had been advised to remove our
stockings and roll our trousers above our knees. Few of us had on
anything better than ordinary shoes, and the sensation of tramping
through the mud and water with these was far from pleasant. Many had
rubber boots or leggings in their trunks, but the trunks were still at
Nuevitas.
[Illustration: AUTHOR ON ROAD TO LA GLORIA. (_Jan. 8, 1900._)]
Notwithstanding the bad road, one hundred and sixty stout-hearted
colonists set out for La Gloria between 1:30 and 3 o'clock. They
straggled along for miles, old men and young men, and even lame men;
some with valises, some with bundles, and many with overcoats. In the
lead was Peter E. Park, the Detroit lawyer who for months had been
acting as the Cuban manager for the company. His stalwart form was
encased in a suit of white duck, and he wore a broad, slouch hat and
high, leather boots. He looked quite picturesque as he strode through
the mud and water, apparently trying to impress the colonists with the
idea that the poor road was nothing to justify making a fuss. Inwardly,
no doubt, he was somewhat sensitive on the subject of the road; justly
or unjustly, the colonists blamed him for its condition.
It was hot and hard work, this four-mile walk under a tropical sun, but
the men bore it with a good deal of patience. I started with a pair of
rubbers on, but was compelled to abandon them before getting far,
leaving a large amount of rich Cuban soil in and on them. The scene
which presented itself was unique and interesting. All sorts of costumes
were worn, including some young fellows in soldiers' uniforms, and there
was no little variety in the luggage carried. Some staggered under very
heavy loads. Quite a number of cameras and kodaks were to be seen. The
trail led through a rich savanna, soil which is undoubtedly adapted to
the raising of sugar cane, rice, and cocoanuts. Many palmetto and palm
trees lined the way. One could not well view the scenery without
stopping, for fear of losing one's footing. Thorns were troublesome and
easily penetrated the wet shoes of the weary travelers. The colonists
all agreed that this road was the freest from dust of any they had ever
trod.
At last, after two hours of toil and discomfort, we came in sight of dry
land and the camp. We had crossed two small creeks and seen a few
unoccupied native shacks. No part of the land had been cultivated. Many
of us had seen for the first time close at hand the majestic royal palm,
which is deservedly the most distinguished tree in the island. It is a
tree without branches, crowned at the top of a perfectly straight shaft
with a bunch of long, graceful, dark green leaves. The royal palm rises
to a height of sixty, seventy, and even eighty feet, its symmetrical
shape and whitish color giving it the appearance of a marble column. It
bears no fruit, and affords little shade, but it is highly ornamental
and forms a striking feature of the landscape. The tree often lives to
be two hundred years old; it has twenty leaves, one of which is shed
about once a month. It has been stated that the seeds from a single
tree will support one good-sized hog.
As we approached our destination we passed two buxom women sitting on a
huge stump. They were clad in shirt waists, belted trousers and
leggings, and wore broad hats of a masculine type. We silently wondered
if this was the prevailing fashion among the women of La Gloria, but
soon found that it was not. Even the pair that we had first seen came
out a few days later in dainty skirts and feminine headgear. Indeed, we
found La Gloria, in some respects, more civilized than we had
anticipated.
It was late in the afternoon of Monday, January 8, 1900, that the one
hundred and sixty members of the first excursion to establish the first
American colony in Cuba, reached the camp which occupied the site of La
Gloria city of to-day. We found about a dozen tents, and as many more
native shacks occupied by Cubans who were at work for the company. The
Cubans numbered about fifty, and the American employés nearly as many
more. There were also a few Florida and other settlers who had reached
the spot early. Altogether, the population just before our arrival was
about one hundred, seven or eight of whom were women.
[Illustration: COL. THOMAS H. MAGINNISS.]
The white city grew rapidly after we appeared on the scene. The company
had tents, which we were obliged to put up for ourselves, and it was
several hours before we had opportunity to even partially dry our wet
feet and shoes. All that evening little groups of barefooted men could
be seen gathered around camp-fires, drying themselves and their
clothing. The distribution, location, and erection of the tents was
placed in charge of Col. Thomas H. Maginniss of Philadelphia, Pa., an
ex-officer of the United States regular army and a veteran of the Civil
War, who had come down among the colonists on the _Yarmouth_. Colonel
Maginniss was a handsome man of great stature, youthful in appearance,
mentally alert and physically active, with very prepossessing manners.
Although a little past fifty years of age, he looked to be hardly more
than forty. He was a favorite from the start, and aside from being a
picturesque personality, soon became an influential power among the
colonists. So efficiently did he perform his duties in supervising the
erection of the tent city, that a little later he was regularly given
the position of superintendent of camp, in the employ of the company.
He held this post until his return to the States, early in April.
Our first night in La Gloria was not one of sybaritic pleasure. We were
able to secure some poor cots and one thin blanket apiece. This was
insufficient, for the nights, or rather the early mornings, were quite
cold. Some of the men were obliged to sit up all night to gather warmth
from fires. The rotten cloth on the cots went to pieces, in most cases,
before the night was over, and, altogether, sleep was at a premium. Many
of the tents were crowded; in mine were eight persons, representing
nearly as many states. Fortunately, the insects gave us very little
trouble. The population of the camp that first night must have been
nearly three hundred, and the next day it increased to quite that
number.
* * * * *
While the colonists did not arrive at La Gloria in any considerable
numbers until January, 1900, the preliminary operations began there on
October 9, 1899, when Chief Engineer J. C. Kelly landed with a survey
corps from Texas. It was a splendid corps of bright, hardy, plucky,
indefatigable men, skilful in their work and under discipline as rigid
as that of an army. Chief Kelly was from Eagle Lake, Texas, in which
state he had become well known through the performance of a great deal
of important work. He was an exceedingly capable engineer, a strict but
just disciplinarian, a good financier, and at all times highly popular
with his men, whose devotion to him was as striking as that often shown
by soldiers to their colonel or their general. Mr. Kelly was an
interesting talker, and an athlete and amateur impersonator of no mean
pretensions. With him he brought, as assistant chief, Mr. H. O. Neville,
a well-educated, versatile, and agreeable young man. Among the others in
the Texas party were Sam M. Van der Voort, son of the general, and I. G.
Wirtz, both of whom later became instrument men. S. H. Packer, also of
Texas, was one of the corps. From New York came F. Kimble and J. A.
Messier, the latter familiarly known as "Albany", and from Havana, B. B.
Lindsley, all three serving later as instrument men more or less of the
time. All the men above mentioned were efficient surveyors and good
fellows, each something of a "character" in his way. Among other early
arrivals, most of whom were attached to the survey corps, were O. V. De
Long of Havana, H. L. Starker of Chicago, David Porter of Detroit,
Richard Head of Florida, J. A. McCauley of New York, Will Corlett, and
Jack Griffith.
The experiences of the members of the survey corps at La Gloria had been
a continued story of hardship, privation, and exposure. They came in
before the rainy season had ended, pushing their toilsome way through
tangled vines and thorny thickets, wading through mud and water, and
often being compelled to swim swollen creeks. Much of the time they
patiently worked knee deep or waist deep in water, covered with swarms
of mosquitoes or other pestiferous insects. Often they had little to eat
save cornmeal "mush" and boniatos (sweet potatoes); but for all this,
they were seldom ill and rarely made a complaint. Sleeping in their wet
clothes, which would not dry in the dampness of the night, they were up
early each morning ready for another day's attack upon the jungle. The
fact that they were not more often sick is the best testimonial to the
healthfulness of the climate of northeastern Cuba that has come under my
notice. It speaks volumes, especially when it is known that a little
later men from the Northern states, and even British Columbia, worked
on the survey corps under similar conditions and with like immunity from
serious illness. Occasionally, to be sure, they would be poisoned from
standing too long in water or coming in contact with the güao tree, or
shrub, but this affliction, while severe, was never fatal. The good work
faithfully and uncomplainingly performed by the survey corps in and
around La Gloria, under such trying circumstances, is worthy of as much
praise and admiration as a successful military campaign. It required
courage, skill, and patient endurance to move upon and tame this
tropical forest on the north coast of Cuba.
A handful of colonists followed the survey corps into La Gloria at
intervals, the first ladies coming in December. These were Mrs. D. E.
Lowell and Mrs. W. G. Spiker; they came with their husbands. Mr. Lowell
had been a prosperous orange and pineapple grower in Florida until the
great freeze came, and Mr. Spiker was a successful photographer in Ohio
before leaving his state to find him a new home in the tropics. The
Lowells and Spikers were intelligent and cultivated people who had been
accustomed to a good style of living, but who were now ready to
undertake a rough, pioneer life in the strong hope of a bright future.
The party landed at Palota, northwest of La Gloria, and came in with
horses and wagon of their own, following the roughest kind of trail for
the larger part of nine miles. It was a hard and perilous trip; only
with the greatest difficulty could the horses draw the load through the
heavy mud and over the deeply gullied road. More than once the team
seemed hopelessly stuck, but was extricated after a time and the
toilsome journey continued. At last the bedraggled party reached La
Gloria, and the first women colonists set foot on the soil of the future
Cuban-American city. When the _Yarmouth_ colonists arrived, the Lowells
and Spikers had been living at La Gloria for several weeks; they were
well and happy, and pleased with the climate and the country.