THE ISLAND OF HAITI
Cape Haitien is a queer little town built on the shore of a bay at the
foot of a very high mountain. When the French possessed the place it was
called "La petite Paris," but an earthquake tumbled all the buildings,
and generally wrecked the whole place. A great many of the ruins still
remain. Some of the stone was utilized for new habitations, but most of
it was left where it had fallen.
The negroes had no ambition to restore the place to its former grandeur,
and only a few white men were to be found among its inhabitants.
Mahogany, logwood, and coffee were the only exports, and those only in
small quantities. We had arrived on a Sunday afternoon, and several of
us went on shore to visit the American consul, as an act of courtesy,
and then strolled through the town. Whisky was not allowed on board a
man-of-war, and it was quite natural for us to want a drink on our
arrival in a foreign country. Stopping at the only hotel, we ordered a
"brandy smash," and it nearly paralyzed the whole crowd. The atmosphere
was quite warm, and so was the brandy and water. There was no ice in the
whole town, and of all the mixed drinks I ever had that was the worst.
We had received some gold money from the paymaster, and a five-dollar
piece was given in payment for the aforesaid drinks. Well, the change
that was returned almost finished what the "smash" had not quite done,
for about sixty-four one-dollar bills were counted out, each printed on
bright yellow paper, about five by seven inches in size. "Une
Gourde"--meaning "one dollar"--was printed in large and small letters
all over the face of the note, and then, in French, something about its
redemption at a certain period.
The landlord was a Frenchman and had learned to speak English while on
board an American whaling vessel. He gave us considerable information
about the town, and also advised us to have our gold exchanged for his
Haitien currency, so we each got five dollars' worth from him. The
"gourdes" were at a discount of ninety-three per cent, making each one
worth seven cents in gold. Such a roll of bills as we received! The
bundles had to be put in our coat-tail pockets, no other place being
large enough to hold them. The only amusement in town that would take
place that night was a masquerade ball. Each of our drinks came to one
"gourde," rather cheap for brandy. We bade our host adieu until evening
and returned to the Nereus. Lieutenant Mullen, the surgeon, paymaster,
three ensigns, and three engineers made up a party to "take in" the
masquerade.
Special permit was required to be absent after sundown, as we were under
war regulations. No time was lost in getting to the hotel. The landlord
piloted us to the ballroom. Two "gourdes" were charged each for
admission. A large store with a brick floor was the extemporized
ballroom. In one corner, on a platform, was the orchestra, and four
"niggers" with clarionets composed it. In another end of the room was
the office, with a window opening into the store-room, that place being
transformed into a temporary barroom, the window-sill being the bar over
which the drinks were served. Lieutenant Mullen belonged in Baltimore,
Md., and he had no use for "niggers" under any circumstances, but he did
like liquor, and it seemed to have very little effect on him. When the
music struck up we all chose partners, with the exception of Mullen,
that gentleman selecting one side of the window-sill and keeping it all
night. My partner was neatly dressed and genteel in appearance, and, as
she was closely masked, I could not tell whether she was pretty or not.
She wore white kid gloves, and, as part of her wrists was exposed, I
could see by the smooth skin that she was young, and probably a
quadroon. That girl had the advantage of me, as I had no mask, and she
knew with whom she was dancing while I did not. However, both of us
seemed satisfied, for we were partners in every waltz.
About two in the morning we had to leave our coloured partners, for the
boat was to be at the landing for us at that hour. In the streets there
were no lamps. A light, drizzling rain made the darkness more intense.
Our most direct route was by a street facing the beach. A number of
warehouses had large quantities of logwood piled in front, and the
pieces were very crooked and lying in all positions. The doctor and I
were walking together. His vision was concentrated on the logwood, and
finally he expressed himself:
"Say, Thompson, did you ever see so many anchors piled up in a street
before?"
Of course Cape Haitien had a military dock for the men-of-war boats to
land at. On the shore end was a small guard-house, and as we passed it I
noticed a light through the open doorway. Looking inside, I saw several
Haitien soldiers sleeping soundly. In one corner of the shanty was a
most primitive lamp--a glass tumbler partly filled with water, and a
small quantity of oil on the top of it with a lighted wax taper floating
in it. Here was an opportunity to make myself a benefactor to my
fellow-officers. Without any hesitation I stole the lamp.
"Hello, gentlemen, allow me to carry a light down the wharf for you!"
Just then an engineer named Patterson gave my hand a knock, and away
went the whole illuminating apparatus. My eyes were blinded by the
sudden change from light to darkness. I walked about three steps, and
off the dock I went head first into the water. The unexpected immersion
improved my eyesight wonderfully, and when I got back on the dock I
could walk without a light. Patterson thought the whole affair a huge
joke. When we reached the Nereus it came my turn to laugh. Naval
etiquette requires officers to go up the companion-ladder according to
rank--the seniors first. Mr. Patterson, being lowest in grade, was to go
up last, and by some means he lost balance and fell out of the boat;
when he came to the surface of the water, some of the sailors pulled
him into the boat. He was not at all funny when he reached the deck.
Grasping his hand, I said, "Shipmate, I feel sorry for you."
That was our only night on shore. Captain Howell was of the opinion that
we could have pleasure enough during the daylight in the future. Hardly
a day passed that some of us was not raising "Old Ned." After supper we
would sit in the ward-room and relate our adventures, and some of them
were comical. By no means could we get into high society in that town.
We were politely referred to as persons of unfortunate colour. That was
the only country I ever visited where a white man, if he behaved
himself, was not as good as a "nigger." The east half of the island is
the Republic of Haiti, formerly belonging to France, and the language
spoken is French.
The western part is the Republic of San Domingo, formerly belonging to
Spain, and the language spoken is Spanish. The whole island had, at one
time, been very prosperous, but the slaves had formed a conspiracy, and
in one night had massacred all the whites and gained their
independence, France and Spain never being able to reconquer them. The
negroes became quite indolent. Very little clothing is needed in that
warm climate, and fruit, growing with little cultivation, provides them
with food. Revolutions are of frequent occurrence. On the 1st, 11th, and
21st of each month two of our ships would sail from Cape Haitien to meet
the California mail steamers, one going north to Turks Island, the other
south to Navassa Island. Our first trip was to the latter place. The
island was about three miles in circumference and almost inaccessible.
It was the breeding-place of sea-birds. A company belonging to
Baltimore, Md., had possession, and were shipping the guano to different
parts of Europe. We arrived some hours before the mail steamer was due.
A kedge anchor was fastened to a heavy rope and dropped overboard,
fish-lines were brought into service, and the sport began. The only
question with us was, What kind of fish will the next be? Such a variety
I never saw in my life in any part of the world--all different sorts,
sizes, and shapes were landed on deck. The steamer came in sight and our
anchor was pulled up. When the steamer came close by, a boat was sent to
her with mail from our fleet, two cakes of ice were presented to us, and
the vessel started for the passage. Before the mail steamer, being much
the faster boat, was out of sight, it being of no use to convoy a vessel
we could not see, we did the next best thing--returned to Cape Haitien.
The steamer at Turks Island adopted the same tactics, with the exception
of receiving the mail instead of sending it.
The Neptune, Galatea, Proteus, and Nereus certainly had an easy time on
convoy duty.