Among the Islands. -- San Salvador. -- A Glimpse at the
Stars. -- Hayti. -- The Gulf Stream. -- The Caribbean Sea. --
Latitude and Longitude. -- The Southern Coast of Cuba. -- A
Famous Old Fortress. -- Fate of Political Prisoners. -- The
Oldest City in Cuba. -- The Aborigines. -- Cuban Cathedrals.
-- Drinking Saloons. -- Dogs, Horses, and Coolies. -- Scenes
in Santiago de Cuba. -- Devoured by Sharks. -- Lying at
Anchor. -- Wreck of a Historic Ship. -- Cuban Circulating
Medium. -- Tropical Temperature.
After leaving Nassau we stood northward for half a day in order to get
a safe and proper channel out of the crooked Bahamas, where there is
more of shoal than of navigable waters, leaving a score of small
islands behind us inhabited only by turtles, flamingoes, and sea
birds. But we were soon steaming due south again towards our objective
point, the island of Cuba, five hundred miles away. San Salvador was
sighted on our starboard bow, the spot where Columbus first landed in
the New World, though even this fact has not escaped the specious
arguments of the iconoclasts. Nevertheless, we gazed upon it with
reverent credulity. It will be found laid down on most English maps as
Cat Island, and is now the home of two or three thousand colored
people. San Salvador is nearly as large as New Providence, and is said
to claim some special advantages over that island in the quality of
its fruits. It is claimed that the oranges grown here are the sweetest
and best in the world, the same excellence being attributed to its
abundant yield of pineapples and other tropical fruits.
There are so many of these small islands in the Bahama group that the
geographers may be excused for the heterogeneous manner in which they
have placed them on the common maps. To find their true and relative
position one must consult the sailing-charts, where absolute
correctness is supposed to be found, a prime necessity in such
intricate navigation. The total population of the Bahamas has been
ascertained, by census, to be a fraction less than forty thousand.
The voyager in these latitudes is constantly saluted by gentle breezes
impregnated with tropical fragrance, intensified in effect by the
distant view of cocoanut, palmetto, and banana trees, clothing the
islands and growing down to the water's very edge. As we glide along,
gazing shoreward, now and again little groups of swallows seem to be
flitting only a few feet above the water for a considerable distance,
and then suddenly disappearing beneath the waves. These are
flying-fish enjoying an air bath, either in frolic or in fear;
pursued, may be, by some aqueous enemy, to escape from whom they essay
these aerial flights. The numerous islands, very many of which are
uninhabited, have yet their recorded names, more or less
characteristic, such as Rum Key, Turk's Island,--famous for the export
of salt,--Bird Rock, Fortune Island, Great and Little Inagua, Crooked
Island, and so on, all more or less noted for the disastrous wrecks
which have occurred on their low coralline shores. Our Northern cities
are largely dependent upon the Bahamas for their early annual supplies
of pineapples, cocoanuts, oranges, bananas, and some vegetables, in
which they are all more or less prolific. Here also is the harvest
field of the conchologist, the beaches and coral reefs affording an
abundant supply of exquisitely colored shells, of all imaginable
shapes, including the large and valuable conch-shell, of which many
thousand dollars' worth are annually exported, the contents first
serving the divers for food.
It was interesting to remain on deck at night and watch the heavens,
as we glided silently through the phosphorescent sea. Was it possible
the grand luminary, which rendered objects so plain that one could
almost read fine print with no other help, shone solely by borrowed
light? We all know it to be so, and also that Venus, Mars, Jupiter,
and Saturn shine in a similar manner with light reflected from the
sun. It was curious to adjust the telescope and bring the starry
system nearer to the vision. If we direct our gaze upon a planet we
find its disk sharply defined; change the direction and let it rest
upon a star, and we have only a point of light, more or less
brilliant. The glass reveals to us the fact that the star-dust which
we call the Milky Way is an aggregation of innumerable single suns.
Sweeping the arching blue with the telescope, we find some stars are
golden, some green, others purple, many silvery-white, and some are
twins. Probably there is no such thing as stars of the first and
second magnitude, as the common expression names them. It is most
likely only a question of distance, which regulates the brightness to
our vision. Science reduces the distances of heavenly bodies from our
earth to figures, but they are so immense as to be simply bewildering.
At the North the moon is silvery, but in tropical skies at night it
becomes golden, glowing, and luxurious in its splendor, never pale and
wan as it seems with us.
When the lonely lighthouse which marks Cape Maysi, at the easterly
point of Cuba, hove in sight on the starboard bow, the dim form of the
mountains of Hayti was also visible on the opposite horizon. A
subterranean connection is believed to exist between the mountain
ranges of the two islands.
When the outline of the Haytian mountains was in view, it was very
natural to express a wish to visit the island at some convenient time.
This led to some intelligent and interesting remarks from a compagnon
de voyage, who had resided for two years at Port-au-Prince, the
capital. "Unless you are compelled to land there," said he, "I advise
you to avoid Hayti." He fully confirmed the reports of its barbarous
condition, and declared it to be in a rapid decadence, as regarded
every desirable element of civilization. In the country, a short
distance from either Gonaives, Jacmel, or Port-au-Prince, where the
mass of the negro population live, Voudou worship and cannibalism are
quite common at the present time. The influence of the Voudou priests
is so much feared by the government that the horrible practice is
little interfered with. When the officials are forced to take
cognizance of the crime, the lightest possible punishment is imposed
upon the convicted parties. The island of San Domingo is about half
the size of Cuba, Hayti occupying one third of the western portion,
the rest of the territory belonging to the republic of San Domingo.
"As to Port-au-Prince," said our informant, "it is the dirtiest place
I have ever seen in any part of the world." Nevertheless, the historic
interest clustering about the island is very great. It was the seat of
the first Spanish colony founded in the New World. Its soil has been
bathed in the blood of Europeans as well as of its aboriginal
inhabitants. For three hundred years it was the arena of fierce
struggles between the French, Spaniards, and English, passing
alternately under the dominion of each of these powers, until finally,
torn by insurrection and civil war, in 1804 it achieved its
independence. The city of San Domingo, capital of the republic, is the
oldest existing settlement by white men in the New World, having been
founded in 1494 by Bartholomew Columbus. It contains to-day a little
less than seven thousand inhabitants.
We gave Cape Maysi a wide berth, as a dangerous reef makes out from
the land, eastward, for a mile or more. The fixed light at this point
is a hundred and thirty feet above sea level, and is visible nearly
twenty miles off shore.
We were running through the Windward Passage, as it was called by the
early navigators, and whence one branch of the Gulf Stream finds its
way northward. The Gulf Stream! Who can explain the mystery of its
motive power; what keeps its tepid waters in a course of thousands of
miles from mingling with the rest of the sea; whence does it come? The
accepted theories are familiar enough, but we do not believe them.
Maury says the Gulf of Mexico is its fountain, and its mouth is the
Arctic Sea. The maps make the eastern shore of Cuba terminate as
sharply as a needle's point, but it proved to be very blunt in
reality, as it forms the gateway to the Caribbean Sea, where the
irregular coast line runs due north and south for the distance of many
leagues. It is a low, rocky shore for the most part, but rises
gradually as it recedes inland, until it assumes the form of hills so
lofty as to merit the designation of mountains.
There was on board of our ship an intelligent resident of Santiago,
who was enthusiastic in his description of the plains and valleys
lying beyond the hills which stood so prominently on the coast,--hills
probably older than any tongue in which we could describe them. The
Scriptural Garden of Eden has absolutely been placed here by
supposition on the part of traveled people. The temperature is simply
perfect, if we are to believe our informant; the vegetation is of a
primitive delicacy and beauty unequaled elsewhere; the fruits are
fabulously abundant and of the most perfect flavor; the water bubbles
forth from springs of crystal purity, and the flora is so lovely as to
inspire the most indifferent beholder with delight. "It is called the
Garden of Cuba," said the American Consul of Cienfuegos, "but many go
further, and declare it to be the location of the original Paradise."
Certain it is that the few Americans who have sought this so highly
praised region, though compelled to deny themselves the ordinary
comforts to be found in more accessible resorts, have admitted with
emphasis that nature, pure and undefiled, was here to be enjoyed in
unstinted measure.
The hills bordering the shore and extending some distance inland
contain much undeveloped mineral wealth, such as iron, silver, and
gold. A mine of the former product is now being profitably worked by
an American company, and the ore regularly shipped to Pennsylvania for
smelting. This ore has special properties which render it more than
usually valuable, and it is even claimed to be the best iron mine in
the world. There is a strangely solitary and inhospitable appearance
about this portion of the island, devoid as it is of all human
habitations, and fringed either with long reaches of lonely
snow-white beach or rugged brown rocks. The volcanic appearance of the
land is significant of former upheavals, and this immediate region is
still occasionally troubled with geological chills and fever.
The nights of early March in this latitude were exceedingly beautiful,
and solemnly impressive was the liberal splendor of the sky. The full
moon looked down upon and was reflected by waters of perfect
smoothness. River navigation could not have been more quiet than were
these nights on the blue Caribbean Sea. The air was as mild as June in
New England, while at night the Southern Cross and the North Star
blazed in the horizon at the same time. As we steered westward after
doubling the cape, both of these heavenly sentinels were seen abeam,
the constellation on our port side, and the North Star on the
starboard. Each day, at the noon hour, the passengers were interested
in watching the officers of the ship while they were "taking the sun,"
to determine the latitude and longitude. Shall we put the process into
simple form for the information of the uninitiated? When the sun
reaches the meridian, or culminating point of ascension, the exact
moment is indicated by the instrument known as a quadrant, adjusted to
the eye of the observer. The figures marked on the quadrant give the
latitude of the ship at the moment of meridian. The ship's time is
then made to correspond, that is to say, it must indicate 12 o'clock,
M., after which it is compared with the chronometer's Greenwich time,
and the difference enables the observer to determine the longitude. As
fifteen miles are allowed to the minute, there will be nine hundred
miles to the hour. The importance of absolute correctness in the
chronometer will at once be realized, since, were it only three
minutes out of the way, it would render the calculation as to
longitude wrong by nearly fifty miles, which might be, and doubtless
often has been, the cause of wrecking a ship upon rocks laid down upon
the charts, but supposed to be far away. With the chronometer and the
quadrant observation correctly ascertained, the sailing-master can
prick off his exact situation on the chart. So long as the weather
will permit a clear view of the sun at noon, the ship's precise
location on the wide waste of waters can be known; but when continuous
cloudy weather prevails, the ship's course is calculated by what is
called dead reckoning, depending upon the speed and distance run as
indicated by the log, which is cast hourly under such circumstances,
and becomes the main factor in calculating the position of the ship.
Of course the result cannot be very accurate, but is a dernier
ressort. When land is in sight no observation is necessary, as the
bearing of the ship is then unmistakably defined.
The sea was like molten sapphire as we glided swiftly along the
southern coast of Cuba, watching the gracefully undulating shore. The
mountains rose higher and higher, until they culminated in the lofty
peak of Pico Turquino (blue mountain), over ten thousand feet high, as
lately ascertained by actual measurement. There are coves and bays
along this coast where oysters _do_ grow upon trees, ridiculous as the
assertion first strikes the ear. The mangrove-trees extend their roots
from the shore into the sea, to which the oysters affix themselves,
growing and thriving until plucked by the fishermen. They are small
and of an inferior species compared with those of our own coast, but
are freely eaten in the island. Near the shore hereabouts are many
islets containing from three to five square miles, some of which are
quite barren, while others are delicious gardens, full of tropical
fruit trees, flowers, and odoriferous plants, where Paul and Virginia
might have felt quite at home, wandering hand in hand.
Soon after passing the remarkably sheltered port of Guantanamo, which
was for nearly a century the most notorious piratical rendezvous in
the West Indies, the famous castle of Santiago is seen. It is known as
Moro Castle, but it antedates the more familiar Moro of Havana by a
full century. This antique, yellow, Moorish-looking stronghold--which
modern gunnery would destroy in about eight minutes--is picturesque to
the last degree, with its crumbling, honeycombed battlements, and
queer little flanking turrets, grated windows, and shadowy towers. It
is built upon the face of a lofty dun-colored rock, upon whose
precipitous side the fortification is terraced. It stands just at the
entrance of the narrow channel leading to the city, so that in passing
in one can easily exchange oral greetings with the sentry on the outer
battlement. What strikingly artistic pictures the light and shade
together formed with those time-stained walls, as we steamed slowly by
them! On the ocean side, directly under the castle, the sea has worn a
gaping cave, so deep that it has not been explored within the memory
of the people living in the neighborhood. The broad and lofty entrance
is in form as perfect an arch as could be drawn by the pencil of a
skillful architect. As is usual with such formations all over the
world, there is a romantic legend concerning the cave related as
connected with the olden time, and there is also a prevailing
superstition, that no one attempting to explore it will live to
return.
In passing up the channel two or three little forts of queer
construction are seen, supplementing the larger one, placed upon
jutting headlands. The Moro of Santiago is now used as a prison for
political offenders; its days of defensive importance ended with the
period of the buccaneers, against whose crude means of warfare it was
an ample protection. As we steamed past it that sunny afternoon,
stimulated by the novelty of everything about us, a crowd of pallid,
sorrowful faces appeared at the grated windows, watching us
listlessly. Two days later five of them, who were condemned patriots,
were led out upon those ramparts and shot, their bodies falling into
the sea, and eight were sent to the penal settlement of Ceuta. Spain
extends no mercy to those who dare to raise their hands or voices in
favor of freedom; her political existence is sustained only in an
atmosphere of oppression and cruelty. Every page of her history is a
tableau of bloodshed and torture. The narrow winding channel which
leads from the open sea to the harbor passes through low hills and
broad meadows covered with rank verdure, cocoanut groves, and little
fishing hamlets. Thrifty laurels, palms with their graceful plumes of
foliage, and intensely green bananas line the way, with here and there
upon the banks a pleasant country house in the midst of a pretty
garden of flowering shrubs. So close is the shore all the while that
one seems to be navigating upon the land, gliding among trees and over
greensward rather than on blue water. Presently we pass a sharp angle
of the hills into a broad, sheltered bay, and before us lies the
quaint, rambling old city of Santiago de Cuba, built upon a hillside,
like Tangier in Africa, and nearly as Oriental as that capital of
Morocco. The first most conspicuous objects to meet the eye are the
twin towers of the ancient cathedral which have withstood so many
earthquakes. The weather-beaten old quartermaster on our forecastle
applies the match to his brass twelve-pounder, awaking a whole
broadside of echoes among the mountains, the big chain rushes swiftly
through the hawse-hole, and the ship swings at her anchor in the
middle of the picturesque bay.
A boat was promptly secured with which to land at this ancient city,
founded by Velasquez. From the moment one touches the shore a sense of
being in a foreign land forces itself upon the new-comer. The
half-unintelligible language, the people, the architecture, the
manners, the vegetation, even the very atmosphere and the intensity of
the sunshine, are novel and attractive. It is easy to convey our
partial impressions of a new place, however unique it may be, but not
our inward sensations. The former are tangible, as it were, and may be
depicted; the latter are like atmospheric air, which cannot be seen,
but is felt. The many-colored, one-story houses of Santiago are
Moorish in architecture, ranged in narrow streets, which cross each
other at right angles with considerable regularity, but with roadways
in an almost impassable condition, lined with sidewalks of ten or
fifteen inches in width. These thoroughfares were once paved with
cobblestones, but are now characterized by dirt and neglect, a stream
of offensive water constantly percolating through them, in which
little naked children are at play. No wonder that the city is
annually decimated by yellow fever; the surprise is that it does not
prevail there every month in the year. The boys and girls of the lower
classes, white and black, are not thought to require clothing until
they are about nine years of age. A few negresses were observed
sitting on the ground, at the corners of the streets, beside their
baskets containing sweet cakes, mouldy biscuits, bananas, and
grape-fruit, the uninviting appearance of which seemed to indicate
that they were in the last stage of collapse. Was it possible any one
could eat such stuff? As we passed and repassed these patient waiters,
certainly no purchasers appeared. How the forty-five thousand
inhabitants manage to achieve a living it would be difficult to
imagine, for the town seemed to be as dead and void of all activity as
Cordova, in far-off Spain, the sleepiest city in all Europe. Santiago
has not a single bookstore within its limits. No other place in
Christendom, with so numerous a population, could exist, outside of
Spain, without some literary resort. There are here three or four
spacious two-story club-houses, with some pretension to neatness and
social accommodations; but then no Cuban town of any size would be
complete without these anti-domestic institutions, where the male
population may congregate for evening entertainment. The interior
arrangements of these club-houses were entirely exposed to view, as we
passed by the iron-grated windows, devoid of curtains, blinds, or
screens of any sort, and extending from ceiling to floor.
Santiago dates back to the year of our Lord 1514, making it the oldest
city in the New World, next to San Domingo, and it will be remembered
as the place whence Cortez sailed, in 1519, to invade Mexico. Here
also has been the seat of modern rebellion against the arbitrary and
bitterly oppressive rule of the home government. The city is situated
six hundred miles southeast of Havana, and, after Matanzas, comes next
to it in commercial importance, its exports reaching the handsome
annual aggregate of eight millions of dollars. It is the terminus of
two lines of railways, which pass through the sugar districts, and
afford transportation for this great staple. Three leagues inland,
among the mountains, are situated the famous Cobre copper mines, said
to be of superior richness, and whence, in the days of their active
working, four million dollars' worth of the ore has been exported in
one year. This was the amount shipped in 1841, and so late as 1867 six
thousand tons were exported in ten months. Not content with realizing
a very large income from the mines by way of taxes upon the product,
the Spanish government increased these excise charges to such an
extent as to absorb the entire profits of the works and kill the
enterprise, so that the rich ores of Cobre now rest undisturbed in the
earth. It seems there is an Indian village near the copper mines,
whose people are represented to be the only living descendants of the
aborigines,--the Caribs whom Columbus found here on first landing.
Careful inquiry, however, led us seriously to doubt the authenticity
of the story. Probably this people are peculiar in their language, and
isolation may have caused them to differ in some respects from the
inhabitants of the valley and plains, but four centuries must have
destroyed every trace of the early inhabitants of Cuba. Having been
from the very outset enslaved and brutally treated by the Spaniards,
it is believed that as early as the year of our Lord 1700 they had
utterly disappeared, and some historians say no trace even was to be
found of the native race one century after the settlement of the
island by Europeans.
The head of the Church of Rome in Cuba is located here, it being an
archbishop's see; and the elaborate ceremonials which occasionally
take place attract people from the most distant cities of the island.
We chanced to be present when the bishop was passing into the
cathedral, clothed in full canonicals and accompanied by church
dignitaries bearing a canopy above his head. Observing our little
party as strangers, though in the midst of a stately ceremony, the
bishop graciously made us a sign of recognition. The cathedral of
Santiago is the largest in Cuba, but extremely simple in its interior
arrangements; and so, indeed, are all the churches on the island. As
to the exterior, the façade resembles the cathedral of Havana, being
of the same porous stone, which always presents a crumbled and mottled
surface. The inside decorations are childish and fanciful, consisting
mostly of artificial flowers of colored paper, crudely formed by
inexperienced hands into stars, wreaths, and crosses. One innovation
was noticed in this church: a saint on the right of the altar was
mounted upon a wooden horse, with spear in rest à la militaire,
forming a most incongruous figure. In the church of Matanzas, visited
a week or two later, the effigy of our Saviour was observed to be half
dressed in female attire, a glaring absurdity which the author has
once before seen in the Spanish convent-church of Burgos. In the
Matanzas church alluded to, boys and girls of nine and ten years were
seen at the confessional. Could absurdity be carried to a greater
height? These with negro women form nearly all the audiences to be met
with in the Cuban churches, unless upon festal occasions. The men
manifest their indifference by their absence, and white women are
scarcely represented. Besides the cathedral, Santiago has three or
four other old churches, small and dilapidated, within whose sombre
walls one seems to have stepped back into the fifteenth century. Upon
strolling accidentally into one of these we felt a chill suffuse the
whole system, like that realized on descending into a dark, undrained
cellar.
The multiplicity and gaudiness of the drinking-saloons and bar-rooms
were particularly noticeable in passing along the principal streets,
and all were doing a thriving business, judging from appearances. The
Cubans drink lightly, but they drink often, and are especially
addicted to gin, which is dealt out to them at an extraordinarily low
price. It appears that people can consume a much larger quantity of
spirituous liquors here without becoming intoxicated than they can do
at the North. It is very rare to see a person overcome by this
indulgence in Cuba, and yet, as was afterwards observed in Cienfuegos,
Matanzas, and Havana, the common people begin the day with a very
liberal dram, and follow it up with frequent libations until
bed-time,--tippling at every convenient opportunity. A few of the
better class of private houses were constructed with courts in the
centre, where flowers and tropical fruits were growing luxuriantly.
These dwellings were confined to no special quarter of the town, but
were as often found next to a commercial warehouse or a negro shanty
as elsewhere. The dogs, horses, and Chinese coolies were all in
wretched condition. One might count the ribs of the first two a long
way off, while the latter were ragged, lame, half-starved, and many
of them blind. Animals are the recipients of the severest sort of
usage both in Cuba and Spain. Few vehicles were to be seen, as
merchandise is mostly transported on the backs of mules and ponies,
and these animals are seldom shod.
The town is lighted with gas, or rather it was so illuminated a few
weeks since; but it was quietly whispered about that the corporation
had failed to pay for this service last year, and that the monopoly
itself was on the verge of bankruptcy, like nearly everything else of
a business character in Cuba. The gaslights certainly appeared pale
and sickly enough, as though only half confirmed in the purpose of
giving any light at all, and were prematurely extinguished in many of
the streets. In the shops, whose fronts were all open, like those of
Canton and Yokohama, the clerks were to be seen in their shirt
sleeves, guiltless of vests or collars, coquetting over calicoes and
gaudy-colored merinos with mulatto girls decked in cheap jewelry, and
with negresses wearing enormous hoop-earrings. At the approach of
evening the bar-rooms and saloons, with a liberal display of
looking-glasses, bottles of colored liquors, gin, and glitter, were
dazzling to behold. The marble tables were crowded with domino and
card players, each sipping at intervals his favorite tipple. The
sidewalks are so narrow that the pedestrian naturally seeks the middle
of the street as a pathway, and the half a dozen victorias and four
volantes which form the means of transportation in Santiago, and which
are constantly wandering about in search of a job, manage to meet or
to overtake one perpetually; causing first a right oblique, then a
left oblique, movement, with such regularity as to amount to an
endless zig-zag. We did not exactly appreciate the humor of this
annoyance, but perhaps the drivers did. After climbing and descending
these narrow, dirty streets by daylight and by gaslight, and watching
the local characteristics for a few hours, one is only too happy to
take a boat back to the ship, and leave all behind.
A desire for a cold bath and a good swim is natural in this climate
after sunset, but beware of indulging this inclination in the waters
of Santiago. Under that smooth, inviting surface, glistening beneath
the rays of a full moon, lurk myriads of sharks. They are large,
hungry, man-eating creatures, the tigers of the ocean, and the dread
of all local boatmen here. To fall overboard in these waters, however
good a swimmer one may be, is simply to be devoured. At Singapore,
Sumatra, or Batavia, a Malay will for a consideration dive into the
waters of the Malacca Straits, armed with a long, sharp knife, boldly
attack a shark, and rip open his bowels at the moment when he turns on
his side to give the deadly bite. But on that coast this dreaded fish
appears singly; it is rare to see two of them together; while Santiago
harbor seems to swarm with them, the dark dorsal fin of the
threatening creatures just parting the surface of the sea, and
betraying their presence. Lying at anchor between our ship and the
shore was a trig Spanish corvette,--an American-built vessel, by the
way, though belonging to the navy of Spain. It was curious at times to
watch her crew being drilled in various martial manoeuvres. While an
officer was exercising the men at furling topsails, a few days before
our arrival, a foretopman fell from aloft into the sea. Under
ordinary circumstances and in most waters, the man could easily have
been saved, but not so in this instance. He did not even rise to the
surface. A struggle for portions of his body between half a dozen
ravenous sharks was observed alongside the corvette, and all was
quickly over. The foretopman had been torn limb from limb and
instantly devoured.
The over-stimulated brain felt no inclination for sleep on this first
night in the harbor, the situation was so novel, and the night itself
one to suggest poetic thoughts. The moon was creeping slowly across
the blue vault, like a great phantom mingling with the lambent purity
of the stars. We sat silently watching the heavens, the water, and the
shore; saw the lights go out one after another among the clustering
dwellings, and the street gas-burners shut off here and there, until
by and by the drowsy town was wrapped in almost perfect darkness. Only
the ripple of the sea alongside the ship broke the silence, or the
sudden splash of some large fish, leaping out of and falling back into
the water. It seemed as though no sky was ever before of such
marvelous blue depth, no water so full of mystery, no shore so clad in
magic verdure, and no night ever of such resplendent clearness. The
landing-steps and grating had been rigged out from a broad porthole on
the spar deck, where a quartermaster was awaiting the return of the
purser and a party of gentlemen who were making late, or rather early,
hours on shore; for it was nearly two o'clock in the morning, and the
weary seaman, who had sat down at his post on the grating, was snoring
like a wheezy trombone. The measured tread fore and aft of the second
officer, who kept the anchor watch, was the only evidence of
wakefulness that disturbed our lonely mood. A similar night scene was
vividly called to mind as experienced in Typhoon Bay, below Hong Kong,
a few years since.
In the harbor, next morning, a sunken wreck was pointed out to us,
which was partially visible at low tide, not far from the shore. Only
the ribs and stanchions are still held together by the stout keel
timbers and lower sheathing. This wreck has lain there unheeded for
years, yet what a story these old timbers might tell, had they only a
tongue with which to give voice to their experience!--literally the
experience of ages. We refer to the remains of the old St. Paul, one
of the ships of the great Spanish Armada that Philip II. sent to
England in 1588, being one of the very few of that famous flotilla
that escaped destruction at the time. What a historical memento is the
old wreck! After a checkered career, in which this ancient craft had
breasted the waves of innumerable seas and withstood the storms of
nearly three centuries, she was burned to the water's edge here in the
harbor of Santiago a few years since, and sunk, where her remains now
lie, covered with slime and barnacles,--a striking emblem of the
nation whose flag she once proudly bore. During the last years of her
career afloat she was used for transporting troops from Europe, and as
a Spanish guard-ship in these seas by the local government. It is
doubtful if it is generally known that this relic of the Spanish
Armada is in existence. Curio-hunters, once put upon the scent, will
probably soon reduce these ancient timbers to chips, and a crop of
canes and snuff-boxes, more or less hideous and more or less
counterfeit, will ensue.
Here we got our first experience of the present currency,--the
valueless circulating medium of Cuba. When one has occasion to visit
the island it is best to take American funds, either in bank-bills or
gold, sufficient to meet all ordinary expenses. Our bank-bills and our
gold are both at a premium. This will also save all necessity for
drawing on home through any local bankers, who have a way of charging
for the accommodation quite after the style of everything Spanish. The
hotel-keepers will require their pay on the basis of Spanish gold, but
will cheerfully allow a premium of six per cent. on American gold or
American bank-bills. As to the banks in Cuba, all are shaky, so to
speak; several have lately failed, and the others might as well do so.
It is not long since the president of the Havana Savings Bank placed a
pistol at his temple and blew his brains out. Mercantile credit may be
said to be dead, and business nearly at a standstill. Commercial
honesty is hardly to be expected from a bankrupt community, where the
people seem only to be engaged in the sale and purchase of lottery
tickets, a habit participated in by all classes.
What little gold and silver coin there is found in circulation is
mutilated; every piece of money, large and small, has been subjected
to the ingenious punch, and thus has lost a portion of its intrinsic
value. American gold and silver, not having been thus clipped, justly
commands a six per cent. premium.
The circulating medium upon the island is paper scrip, precisely
similar to that used in this country before the resumption of specie
payment. This scrip is dirty beyond endurance, and one absolutely
hesitates to take it in making change.
When our currency became soiled and torn we could exchange it for new,
but there is no such facility in Cuba. One dollar of our money will
purchase $2.45 of this scrip. It passes current, and really seems to
answer the necessities of trade, but even the Cubans are not deceived
by it. They know that it is really worthless, being based upon
nothing, and issued indiscriminately by a bankrupt government. The
paper-mill grinds it out in five, ten, twenty, and fifty cent pieces
as fast as it can be put into circulation, while no one knows how much
has been issued. But one thing is known; namely, that every authorized
issue of a given sum has been enormously exceeded in amount.
Within about five years, or less, an issue of bank-bills and of this
small currency was entrusted to an establishment in the United States,
when fourteen millions of dollars were printed in _addition_ to the
amount authorized! All were duly receipted for and signed by corrupt
Spanish officials, who coolly divided these millions among themselves!
The Captain-General of Cuba during whose administration this financial
stroke was accomplished came to the island a poor man, and returned to
Spain in two years possessed of three million dollars!
There is no more beautiful or safe harbor in the world than that of
Santiago de Cuba, commercially speaking, as it is completely
land-locked and protected on all sides from storms; but for the same
reason it is as close and hot an anchorage as can be found in the
tropics. An intelligent resident gave us 80° Fahrenheit as the average
temperature of the year, though the thermometer showed a more
ambitious figure during our brief stay. There are but two seasons,
the wet and the dry, the latter extending from September to May. The
city might have an excellent water supply if there were sufficient
enterprise among the citizens to cause it to be conducted by pipes
from the springs in the neighboring hills. It is now wretchedly
deficient in this respect, causing both suffering and ill health in a
climate especially demanding this prime necessity of life.