Slave Trade with Africa. -- Where the Slavers made their
Landing. -- An Early Morning Ride. -- Slaves marching to
Daily Labor. -- Fragrance of the Early Day. -- Mist upon the
Waters. -- A Slave Ship. -- A Beautiful but Guilty
Brigantine. -- A French Cruiser. -- Cunning Seamanship. -- A
Wild Goose Chase. -- A Cuban Posada. -- Visit to a Coffee
Estate. -- Landing a Slave Cargo. -- A Sight to challenge
Sympathy and Indignation. -- Half-Starved Victims. --
Destruction of the Slave Ship.
The author's first visit to the island of Cuba was during the year
1845, at a period when the slave traffic was vigorously, though
surreptitiously carried on between Africa and the island. The trade
was continued so late as 1853, and occasional cargoes were brought
over even later, slavers having been captured on the south coast two
years subsequent to the last named date. The slave vessels generally
sought a landing on the south side, both as being nearest and safest
for them, but when they were hard pressed they made a port wherever it
could be most easily reached. A favorite point at the time of which we
speak, was in the Bay of Broa, on the south coast, nearly opposite to
the Isle of Pines. It was here in 1845 that the author witnessed a
scene which forms the theme of the following chapter. A superior
knowledge of all the hidden bays and inlets of the south side gave the
contrabandists great advantages over any pursuing vessel, and their
lighter draught of water enabled them to navigate their small crafts
where it was impossible for a heavy ship to follow.
We were on a brief visit to the coffee estate of Don Herero, near
Guines, and having expressed a desire to visit the southern coast, our
host proposed that we should do so together on the following day. We
were to start on horseback quite early in the morning, so as to
accomplish the distance before the heat of the sun should become
oppressive.
The early day is almost as beautiful as the evenings of this region, a
fact to which we were fully awakened at an early hour, after a
refreshing night's sleep. Don Herero was already awaiting us on the
broad piazza, which we reached in time to see the slaves, directed by
an overseer, file past the house towards the field. "A couple of hours
before sunrise," said our host, "is the best time for them to work,
and we add these two hours to their noon rest, so that it divides the
labor to better advantage and avoids the midday heat." There were
perhaps seventy or eighty of this gang of slaves, one fifth only being
women. Don Herero went among them and exchanged some pleasant words,
mostly with the women, one of whom, evidently in a delicate situation,
he singled out and led aside, directing her to return to the huts. It
seemed that she had prepared to go to the field, but he did not
approve of it, and she acquiesced good naturedly. It was observed also
that he gave her a piece of money with a pleasant word, bidding her to
purchase some coveted piece of finery,--probably a gaudy "bandana," of
whose bright colors the negro women are very fond, binding them
turban-fashion about their curly heads. Another passion among the
Cuban negresses is a desire for large hoop earrings. Silver, or even
brass will answer, if gold cannot be obtained.
As we rode off that delicious morning towards our destination, mounted
upon a couple of bright little easy-going Cuban ponies, with their
manes and tails roached (that is, trimmed closely, after a South
American fashion), the cool, fresh air was as stimulating as wine. At
first we passed down the long avenue of palms which formed the
entrance of the plantation, and which completely embowered the road,
like the grand old oaks one sometimes sees lining the avenues to rural
English estates. The delicious fragrance of the morning atmosphere,
still moist with dew, the richness of the foliage, and the abundance
of fruit and flowers were charming beyond description. We glided along
at an easy gait over the roads, which in this thickly populated
district were smooth and admirably kept, lined on either side by
hedges of the flowering aloe, intermingled with many sweet-scented
shrubs, all trimmed with mathematical precision. But the gayest and
prettiest hedges were composed of the bitter orange, all aglow with
small yellow fruit, hanging in almost artificial regularity and
abundance. This immediate district was at that time in possession of
wealthy owners, who vied with each other in rendering their
surroundings attractive to the eye. Now and again we met little gangs
of trusted slaves, who had been sent out on special errands, all of
whom recognized Don Herero, and made him a respectful obeisance, which
he very carefully returned. There is a strict degree of etiquette
sustained in regard to these small matters between the slaves and
whites, which goes far in maintaining respect and discipline.
A ride of a couple of leagues or more brought us finally to a gentle
rise of ground, which opened to our view the ocean, and a line of
coast extending for many miles east and west. It was still quite
early, and a morning mist hung over the quiet Caribbean Sea, which
stretches away southward towards the Isle of Pines and the more
distant isle of Jamaica. A gentle breeze began at that moment to
disperse the mist and gradually in conjunction with the sun to lift
the veil from the face of the waters. For a considerable time,
however, only a circumscribed view was to be had, but Don Herero
observed that the mist was quite unusual; indeed, that he had seen
such a phenomenon but once or twice before on Cuban shores. He assured
us that with the exercise of a little patience we should soon be
rewarded by a clear and extensive view. So dismounting and lighting
our cigars we leaned upon the saddles of the horses and watched the
wreaths of the mist bank gradually dissolving. To the eastward there
jutted out a promontory with a considerable elevation, behind which
the sun began to show his florid countenance. Presently the indistinct
outline of a graceful tracery of spars and cordage greeted the eye
through the misty gauze, growing steadily more and more distinct and
gradually descending towards the sea level, until at last there lay
before us in full view, with a look of treacherous tranquillity, the
dark, low hull of a brigantine.
"A slaver!" was the mutual and simultaneous exclamation which burst
from our lips as we gazed intently on the small but symmetrical
vessel.
Don Herero looked particularly intelligent, but said nothing. There
could be no doubt as to the trade which engaged such a clipper craft.
No legitimate commerce was suggested by her appearance, no honest
trade demanded such manifest sacrifice of carrying capacity. It was
very natural that her guilty character should add interest to her
appearance and cause us to examine her very minutely. A short distance
from where we stood there was gathered a group of a dozen or more
persons, who silently regarded the brigantine, but they evinced no
surprise at her appearance there so close to the shore. She was of a
most graceful model, perfect in every line, with bows almost as sharp
as a knife. The rig was also quite unusual and entirely new to us. Her
deck was flush fore and aft. Not so much as an inch of rise was
allowed for a quarter-deck, a style which gave large stowage capacity
below deck, the level of which came up to within a couple of feet of
the cappings of the bulwarks. As we have before intimated, it required
no interpreter to indicate what business the brigantine was engaged
in. A single glance at her, lying in so unfrequented a place, was
enough. The rakish craft was of Baltimore build, of about two hundred
tons measurement, and, like many another vessel turned out by the
Maryland builders, was designed to make successfully the famous middle
passage to or from the coast of Cuba, loaded with kidnapped negroes
from the shores of Africa. The two requisites of these clippers were
great speed and large stowage capacity for a human freight.
At first it appeared as though Don Herero had purposely brought us
here to witness the scene, but this he insisted was not the case,
declaring that the presence of the slaver was a surprise to him. Be
that as it may, it was clear that a cargo of negroes was about to be
landed, and certain rapid signals had been exchanged by flags from a
neighboring hut ever since the mist lifted. Repulsive as the idea was
to a Northerner, still it would do no good to avoid the sight, and so
we resolved to witness the disembarkation. Our friend, though a
slaveholder, was so more by force of circumstances than through his
own choice; he did not defend the institution at all. His solemn
convictions were entirely against slavery, and he more than once said
he heartily wished that some means might be devised which should
gradually and effectually relieve the planters from the entire system
and its many troubles. Don Herero now lies in one of the tombs in the
Campo Santo, near Havana, but were he living he would doubtless
rejoice at the present manner of solving a question which was so
involved in perplexity during the last of his days.
While we were exchanging some remarks upon the subject, our attention
was suddenly drawn towards another striking object upon the waters of
the bay.
Nearly a league beyond the slaver, looming up above the mist, we could
now make out three topmasts, clearly defined, the stately set of
which, with their firm and substantial rig, betrayed the fact that
there floated beneath them the hull of a French or an English
man-of-war, such as was commissioned at that time to cruise in these
waters for the purpose of intercepting and capturing the vessels
engaged in the African slave trade.
"A cruiser has scented the brigantine," said Don Herero.
"It certainly appears so," we affirmed.
"Unless there be sharp eyes on board the little craft, the cruiser
will be down upon her before her people even suspect their danger."
"The brigantine can hardly escape, at any rate," we suggested.
"Don't be too sure," said Don Herero.
It was impossible for our friend to suppress the nervous anxiety which
so manifestly actuated him as he viewed the new phase of affairs.
"Look! Look!" he exclaimed.
While he spoke, a drapery of snow-white canvas fell like magic from
the spars of the slaver, ready to catch the first breath of the breeze
which the stranger was bringing down with him, though the larger
vessel was still partially wrapped in a thin bank or cloud of fog. A
couple of long sweeps were rigged out of either bow of the brigantine,
and her prow, which just before was heading shoreward, was swung to
seaward, while her canvas was trimmed to catch the first breath of the
on-coming breeze.
"This looks like business," said Don Herero with emphasis, at the same
time shading his eyes with both hands to get a better view of the
situation.
"Can you define the new-comer's nationality?" we asked.
"Not yet."
"See! she is now in full sight."
"French!" exclaimed Don Herero, as the tri-colors were clearly visible
hanging from her peak.
"What will the cruiser do with the brigantine?" we asked.
"First catch your hare," said our friend.
Our host then explained that the slaver had evidently intended to land
her cargo under cover of the night, but had been prevented by the mist
from coming to anchor in time. Fog, being so seldom known on this
coast, had not entered into their calculations. She had most likely
felt her way towards the shore by soundings, and was waiting for full
daylight when we discovered her.
While this explanation was being made, the brigantine had already got
steerage way upon her, aided by the steady application of the sweeps,
and her sharp bow was headed off shore. Nothing on the sea, unless it
were a steamer, could hold speed with these fly-aways, which were
built for just such emergencies as the present. The gradually
freshening breeze had now dispersed the mist, and the two vessels were
clearly in view from the shore and to each other. The remarkable
interest of the scene increased with each moment. Don Herero, with all
the excitability of his nationality, could hardly contain himself as
he walked rapidly back and forth, always keeping his eyes towards the
sea.
The cruiser had come down under an easy spread of canvas, wearing a
jib, three topsails, fore, main, and mizzen, and her spanker. It did
not appear as if she had any previous intimation of the presence of
the slaver, but rather that she was on the watch for just such a
quarry as chance had placed within reach of her guns. The moment she
discovered the brigantine, and at a signal which we could not hear
upon the land, a hundred dark objects peopled her shrouds and spars,
and sail after sail of heavy duck was rapidly dropped and sheeted
home, until the mountain of canvas began to force the large hull
through the water with increasing speed.
In the mean time the lesser craft had been by no means idle. In
addition to the regular square and fore and aft sails of a brigantine,
she had a mizzen-mast stepped well aft not more than four feet from
her taffrail, upon which she had hoisted a spanker and gaff-topsail,
thus completing a most graceful and effective rig, and spreading a
vast amount of canvas for a vessel of her moderate tonnage. It was
quite impossible to take one's eyes off the two vessels. It was a race
for life with the slaver, whose people worked with good effect at the
sweeps and in trimming their sails to make the most out of the light
but favorable wind that was filling them. The larger vessel would have
made better headway in a stiff breeze or half a gale of wind, but the
present moderate breeze favored the guilty little brigantine, which
was every moment forging ahead and increasing the distance between
herself and her enemy.
"Do you see that commotion on the cruiser's bow?" asked our friend
eagerly.
"Some men are gathered on the starboard bow," was our answer.
"Ay, and now she runs out a gun!"
That was plain enough to see. The cruiser trained a bow-chaser to bear
on the slaver, and the boom of the gun came sluggishly over the sea a
few seconds after the puff of smoke was seen. A quick eye could see
the dash of the shot just astern of the brigantine, where it must have
cast the spray over her quarter-deck. After a moment's delay, as if to
get the true range, a second, third, and fourth shot followed, each
ricochetting through and over the slight waves either to starboard or
port of the slaver, without any apparent effect. The brigantine, still
employing her sweeps, and with canvas well trimmed, took no notice of
the shots.
Every time the gun was discharged on board the cruiser, it became
necessary to fall off her course just a point or two in order to get a
proper aim, and her captain was quick to see the disadvantage of this,
as he was only assisting the slaver to widen the distance between
them. It would seem to the uninitiated to be the easiest thing
possible to cripple the brigantine by a few well directed shots, but
when sailing in the wake of an enemy this is by no means so easily
done. Besides, the distance between the two vessels, which was
considerable, was momentarily increasing. Notwithstanding that the
broad spread of canvas on board the slaver made her a conspicuous
mark, still, so far as could be seen or judged of by her movements,
she remained untouched by half a dozen shots, more or less, which the
cruiser sent after her as she slipped away from her big adversary. We
could even see that the sweeps were now taken in, showing that the
master of the slaver considered the game to be in his own hands.
"The brigantine steers due south," said our friend, rubbing his hands
together eagerly. "She will lead the Frenchman a wild goose chase
among the Cayman Isles, where he will be most likely to run aground
with his heavy draught of water. The sea round about for leagues is
underlaid by treacherous coral reefs. We shall see, we shall see," he
reiterated.
"But they must certainly have a good pilot on board the cruiser," we
ventured to say.
"Undoubtedly," replied Don Herero, "but the brigantine is built with a
centre-board, thus having, as it were, a portable keel, and can sail
anywhere that a man could swim, while the cruiser, with all her
armament, must draw nearly three fathoms. A ship will sometimes follow
a chase into dangerous water."
"True," we responded, "the brigantine's safety lies in seeking shoal
water."
"You are right, and that will be her game."
In half an hour both vessels were hull down in the offing, and were
soon invisible from our point of view. The early ride and subsequent
excitement had developed in us a healthy appetite, and we were
strongly reminded of the fact that we had not breakfasted. We were
near the little hamlet of Lenore, where there was a small inn, which
we had passed on the way, and towards which we now turned our horses'
heads. A breakfast of boiled eggs, fried plantains, and coffee was
prepared for us and well served, much to our surprise, supplemented by
a large dish of various fruits, ripe and delicious. Don Herero had
left us for a few moments while the breakfast was preparing, and it
must have been owing to his intelligent instructions that we were so
nicely served, for, as a rule, country posadas in Cuba are places to
be avoided, being neither cleanly nor comfortable. For strangers they
are not entirely safe, as they are frequented by a very rough class of
people. These idlers do not indulge in spirituous liquors to excess,
partaking only of the light Cataline wine in universal use both in
Spain and her colonies. Intemperance is little seen outside the large
cities, but gambling and quarreling are ever rampant among the class
who frequent these posadas. In the present instance there were a dozen
and more individuals in the Lenore inn who were more or less connected
with the expected arrival of the slave brigantine, and the
disappointment caused by the arrival upon the scene of the French
cruiser had put them all in a very bad humor. Angry words were being
exchanged among them in the large reception apartment, and Don Herero
suggested that we should finish our cigars under an inviting shade in
the rear of the posada.
At our host's suggestion a neighboring coffee plantation was visited,
and its floral and vegetable beauties thoroughly enjoyed. It was in
the very height of fragrance and promise, the broad expanse of the
plantation, as far as the eye could extend, being in full bloom. Some
hours were agreeably passed in examining the estate, the slaves'
quarters, and the domestic arrangements, and also in partaking of the
hospitalities of the generous owner, after which we rode back to
Lenore.
"We must not miss the closing act of our little drama," said Don
Herero, significantly.
"The closing act?" we inquired.
"Certainly. You do not suppose we have yet done with the brigantine?"
"Oh, the brigantine. Will she dare to return, now the cruiser has
discovered her?"
"Of course she will, after dropping her pursuer. Strange that these
French cruisers do not understand these things better; but so it is."
And Don Herero explained that the French cruisers watched the southern
coasts of the island, while the English cruised on the northern shore,
attempted to blockade it, and also cruised farther seaward, on the
line between Africa and Cuba. A couple of American men-of-war, engaged
in the same purpose of suppressing the slave trade, patrolled the
African coast. It was nearly night before we got through our dinner at
the posada. Just as we were preparing to leave the table, the landlord
came in and announced to Don Herero that if we desired to witness the
close of the morning's business in the bay, we must hurry up to the
plateau.
We hastened to our former position, reaching it just in time to see
the brigantine again rounding the headland. She now ran in close to
the shore, where there seemed to be hardly water sufficient to float
her, but the exactness and system which characterized her movements
showed that her commander was not a stranger to the little bay in
which he had brought his vessel. All was instantly bustle and
activity, both on board and on shore. There were not more than twenty
people to be seen at the shore, but each one knew his business, and
went about it intelligently. There was no more loud talking or
disputation. These men, all armed, were accustomed to this sort of
thing, and had evidently been awaiting the slaver's arrival for some
days. They were a rough-looking set of desperadoes, among whom we
recognized several who had been at the posada.
The brigantine was quickly moored as near to the shore as possible,
and a broad gangway of wood was laid from her deck to a projecting
rock, over which a long line of dark objects was hurried, like a flock
of sheep, and nearly as naked as when born into the world. We walked
down to the landing-place, in order to get a closer view. The line of
human beings who came out from below the deck of the slaver were
mostly full-grown men, but occasionally a woman or a boy came out and
hastened forward with the rest. As we drew nearer, one or two of the
women, it was observed, had infants in their arms, little unconscious
creatures, sound asleep, and so very young that they must have been
born on the voyage. How the entire scene appealed to our indignation
and sympathy! What misery these poor creatures must have endured,
cooped up for twenty-one days in that circumscribed space! They were
all shockingly emaciated, having sustained life on a few ounces of
rice and a few gills of water daily distributed to them. The
atmosphere, thoroughly poisoned when so confined, had proved fatal to
a large number. As we stood there, one dark body was passed up from
below the deck and quietly dropped into the bay. Life was extinct. It
was quite impossible to suppress a shudder as we looked upon the
disgraceful scene, which being observed Don Herero said,--
"They look bad enough now, but a few days in the open air, with a
plenty of fresh vegetables, fruits, and sweet water to drink, will
bring them round. They will get a good bath directly at the first
river they cross, which is the thing they most require."
While our friend was speaking, four tall, gaunt, fierce-looking
negroes passed us, shackled two by two at the wrists. Their eyes
rolled curiously about, full of wonder at all they saw, everything was
to them so strange. They knew no more than children just born what was
in store for them.
"Poor fellows!" we ejaculated. Perhaps they detected sympathy in the
tone of voice in which the words were uttered. They could not
understand their purport, but all four were observed to turn their
eyes quickly towards us, with an intelligent expression.
"These are Ashantees," said Don Herero. "They have thriven but poorly
on their small allowance of nourishment, but they will improve rapidly
like the rest, now they have landed. They belong to a powerful tribe
in Africa, and are rarely captured and sold to the factories on the
coast. They are sturdy and serviceable fellows, but they must be
humored. The lash will not subdue them. They bring a high price in
Havana for harbor workers."
Hastening back to the posada, a large basket of cassava bread and an
abundance of ripe bananas and oranges, with half a dozen bottles of
wine, were procured. With these, carried by a couple of colored boys,
we hastened back to the landing-place in time to distribute the
refreshments to all the women and boys. The balance of the provisions
were dealt out to the few men who had not already been hurried away
from the spot. It is impossible to describe the surprise and grateful
expression upon those dusky faces among the half-famished creatures,
as they eagerly swallowed a portion of the wine, and ate freely of the
delicious fruit and nourishing bread.
We were told afterwards that there were about three hundred and fifty
of these poor creatures originally embarked, and over three hundred
were landed. Perhaps between thirty and forty had died on the passage,
unable to sustain life under such awful circumstances, packed, as they
necessarily were, almost like herring in a box. Once a day, in fair
weather, thirty or forty at a time were permitted to pass a half hour
on deck. That was all the respite from their confinement which they
enjoyed during the three weeks' voyage. The horrors of the "middle
passage" have not been exaggerated.
"They must have lost many of their number by death, on the voyage," we
suggested to Don Herero, as we observed their weak and tremulous
condition.
"Doubtless," was the response.
"And what do they do in that case?"
"They have the ocean always alongside," was his significant reply.
"They throw them over as they did that body just now?" we asked.
"Exactly. And many a poor sick creature is cast into the sea before
life is extinct," he continued.
"That is adding murder to piracy," was our natural and indignant
rejoinder.
"Hush!" said Don Herero, "these are sensitive people, and desperate
ones, as well. I should find it difficult to protect you if they were
to overhear and understand such words."
We realized that his remarks were true enough. We were in a land of
slavery, and that meant that everything evil was possible.
The last of the living freight had been landed, and arranged in
marching trim they were turned with their faces inland, staggering as
they went, their swollen and cramped limbs hardly able to sustain the
weight of their bodies. They were all secured with handcuffs, twenty
in a lot, between whom,--there being ten on a side,--a pole was
placed, and each was fastened by a chain running through the steel
handcuffs to the pole. An armed Spaniard directed each lot. The faces
of all were quite expressionless. They had just endured such horrors
packed beneath the deck of the brigantine that the present change must
have been welcome to them, lame as they were.
We had been so completely engaged in watching the colored gangs and in
moving up to our lookout station of the early morning that our
thoughts had not reverted to anything else, but as the last lot filed
by there boomed over the waters of the bay the heavy report of a gun,
at once calling our attention seaward. A change had come over the
scene. That which has taken some space to relate had transpired with
great rapidity. Night had settled over the scene, but the moon and
stars were so marvelously bright as to render objects almost as plain
as by day. The ocean lay like a sheet of silver, luminous with the
reflected light poured upon it by the sparkling skies. Looking towards
the southeast, we saw the French cruiser rounding the headland which
formed the eastern arm of the little bay, and she had already sent a
shot across the water aimed at the brigantine. Don Herero had
prognosticated correctly. The slaver had led the cruiser a fruitless
chase and lost her among the islands, and then returning to her former
anchorage had successfully discharged her cargo. Her tactics could not
have been anticipated by the cruiser, yet had an armed party been left
behind in boats, the brigantine might have been captured on her
return. But then again, if the cruiser had left a portion of her crew
at this point, the slaver would have been notified by the friends on
shore, and would have sought a landing elsewhere.
The brigantine had cast off her moorings and was now standing seaward,
with her sails filled. We could distinctly see a quarter boat leave
her side manned by some of her crew, who at once pulled towards the
nearest landing. At the same time a bright blaze sprang up on board
the slaver just amidships, and in a moment more it crept, like a
living serpent, from shroud to shroud and from spar to spar, until the
graceful brigantine was one sheet of flame! It was dazzling to look
upon, even at the distance where we stood, the body of high-reaching
flame being sharply defined against the background of sky and blue
water.
While we watched the glowing view the cruiser cautiously changed her
course and bore away, for fire was an enemy with which she could not
contend. Presently there arose a shower of blazing matter heavenward,
while a confused shock and a dull rumbling report filled the
atmosphere, as the guilty brigantine was blown to atoms! Hemmed in as
she was there could be no hope of escape. Her mission was ended, and
her crew followed their usual orders, to destroy the ship rather than
permit her to fall a prize to any government cruisers.