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GARDENS OF THE CARIBBEES
VOLUME I
Travel Lovers' Library
_Each in two volumes profusely illustrated_
Florence
By GRANT ALLEN
Romance and Teutonic Switzerland
By W. D. MCCRACKAN
Old World Memories
By EDWARD LOWE TEMPLE
Paris
By GRANT ALLEN
Feudal and Modern Japan
By ARTHUR MAY KNAPP
The Unchanging East
By ROBERT BARR
Venice
By GRANT ALLEN
Gardens of the Caribbees
By IDA M. H. STARR
Belgium: Its Cities
By GRANT ALLEN
L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY
Publishers
200 Summer Street, Boston, Mass.
[Illustration: WHERE THE POMEGRANATE GROWS
CHARLOTTE AMALIE, ST THOMAS.]
GARDENS OF
THE CARIBBEES
Sketches of a Cruise to the West
Indies and the Spanish Main
By
Ida M. H. Starr
IN TWO VOLUMES
VOL. I.
_ILLUSTRATED_
[Illustration]
Boston
L. C. Page & Company
_MDCCCCIV_
_Copyright, 1903_
By L. C. PAGE & COMPANY
(INCORPORATED)
_All rights reserved_
Published July, 1903
Colonial Press
Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds & Co
Boston Mass., U. S. A.
To
My Beloved Children
TO THE READER
These sketches were written during a memorable cruise to the West Indies
and the Spanish Main in the winter and spring of 1901. There has been no
attempt to write a West Indian guide-book, but rather to give preference
to the human side of the picture through glimpses of the people and
their ways of life and thought. With this idea it was thought best to
give attention only to such of the ports visited as were full of human
interest and typical of the life about the Caribbean Sea.
There was a strong feeling that we were sailing in romantic waters, and
there has been no desire to eliminate the element of fancy from these
pages.
It may be of interest to remember that at no time since--and perhaps
never before--could this voyage have been made under the same
conditions. Since then man and the greater powers of Nature seem to
have conspired to make much of this delightful region forbidding to
strangers. Several ports have become dangerous because of fever and
plague; proclamations in French and _pronunciamientos_ in Spanish have
adorned West Indian street corners; Haïti has reverted to its almost
chronic state of riot and revolution; the Dominican republic has again
chosen a President whose nomination came from a conquering army;
Venezuela has been full of alarms and intrigues; while already the
Germans are beginning to show their hand in the Caribbean; Martinique
and St. Vincent have been desolated by volcanoes then thought to be
practically extinct; and of delicious St. Pierre there remains but a
sadly sweet memory.
I. M. H. S.
_10 June, 1903._
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. THE VOYAGE 11
II. PORT-AU-PRINCE, HAÏTI 35
III. SANTO DOMINGO 83
IV. SAN JUAN, PUERTO RICO 124
V. CHARLOTTE AMALIE, ST. THOMAS 162
VI. MARTINIQUE 197
VII. MARTINIQUE, "LE PAYS DES REVENANTS" 246
VIII. ISLAND OF TRINIDAD. PORT OF SPAIN 275
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
VOLUME I.
PAGE
WHERE THE POMEGRANATE GROWS, CHARLOTTE
AMALIE, ST. THOMAS _Frontispiece_
MAP OF THE CRUISE _facing_ 34
THE LANDING-PLACE, PORT-AU-PRINCE, HAITI 39
WAITING FOR CUSTOMERS, PORT-AU-PRINCE, HAITI 43
THE "COACHES," PORT-AU-PRINCE, HAITI 47
MAIN BUSINESS STREET OF THE CAPITAL OF THE
REPUBLIC OF HAITI, PORT-AU-PRINCE, HAITI 51
A PUBLIC FOUNTAIN, PORT-AU-PRINCE, HAITI 59
A WEST INDIAN AFRICA, PORT-AU-PRINCE, HAITI 71
COURTYARD OF THE AMERICAN LEGATION, HAITI 77
A MILL FOR SAWING MAHOGANY, HAITI 81
THE OLD FORT AT THE RIVER ENTRANCE, SANTO
DOMINGO 87
A CLOSER VIEW OF THE OLD FORT, SANTO DOMINGO 91
THE CATHEDRAL AND THE STATUE OF COLUMBUS,
SANTO DOMINGO 95
RUINS OF CASTLE BUILT BY DIEGO COLON, SANTO
DOMINGO 99
WHERE COLUMBUS PLANTED THE CROSS, SANTO DOMINGO 103
ENTRANCE TO THE FORT AND MILITARY SCHOOL,
SANTO DOMINGO 109
LOOKING ACROSS THE PLAZA, SANTO DOMINGO 113
ALONG THE OZAMA, SANTO DOMINGO 119
LOOKING TO SEA FROM SAN JUAN, PUERTO RICO 125
BOAT LANDING AND MARINE BARRACKS, SAN JUAN,
PUERTO RICO 135
THE FIRST TROLLEY-CAR IN SAN JUAN, PUERTO
RICO 141
THE MILITARY ROAD ACROSS PUERTO RICO, NEAR
SAN JUAN 145
INLAND COMMERCE, PUERTO RICO 151
A RANCH NEAR SAN JUAN, PUERTO RICO 159
THE HARBOUR, CHARLOTTE AMALIE, ST. THOMAS 165
HILLSIDE HOMES, CHARLOTTE AMALIE, ST. THOMAS 171
IN CHARLOTTE AMALIE, ST. THOMAS 175
CHARLOTTE AMALIE FROM "BLUE BEARD'S CASTLE,"
ST. THOMAS 183
ON THE TERRACE, CHARLOTTE AMALIE, ST. THOMAS 187
COALING OUR SHIP, CHARLOTTE AMALIE, ST.
THOMAS 191
THE SUGAR MILL NEAR ST. PIERRE, MARTINIQUE 203
COMING TO WELCOME US, ST. PIERRE, MARTINIQUE 207
LOOKING FROM THE DECK OF OUR SHIP, ST. PIERRE,
MARTINIQUE 213
THE HARBOUR AND SHIPPING, ST. PIERRE, MARTINIQUE 217
THE LIGHTHOUSE ON THE BEACH. ST. PIERRE,
MARTINIQUE 221
THE STREET ALONG THE WATER-FRONT, ST. PIERRE,
MARTINIQUE 225
THE CATHEDRAL AND WATER-FRONT. ST. PIERRE,
MARTINIQUE 231
THE CITY AND ROADSTEAD, ST. PIERRE, MARTINIQUE 249
NEAR THE LANDING-PLACE, ST. PIERRE, MARTINIQUE 259
THE RIVIÈRE ROXELANE, NEAR ST. PIERRE, MARTINIQUE 271
THE DRAGON'S MOUTH, ENTRANCE TO GULF OF
PARIA, BETWEEN SOUTH AMERICA AND TRINIDAD 277
THE BUSINESS SECTION, PORT OF SPAIN, TRINIDAD 283
A VILLAGE GREETING, SAN FERNANDO, TRINIDAD 289
WHERE THE LEPERS LIVE AND DIE, TRINIDAD 303
Gardens of the Caribbees
CHAPTER I.
THE VOYAGE
I.
"Thank you, Rudolph, I believe I will take some lemonade and one or two
of the sweet biscuit; that will do;" and I settled back in my ship
chair, feeling as serene and happy as a woman in a white linen frock can
feel. Every one must have gone down into every one's trunk this morning;
was there ever such a change? Why, the count and his brother are fairly
blinding to the eyes, in their smart white flannels. They actually look
a bit interesting. Here they come now; the count has evidently had his
lemonade, I see he is still nibbling a biscuit.
This is the first time I have realised where we are going. This arraying
of one's self in cool things and white things makes one really believe
that, after all, the voyage is not a delusion.
"Rudolph, you're a dear," this to myself, but aloud, as the faithful
steward comes with my lemonade, I thank him and take the glass while he
goes on in search of the youngsters. What a comfort that old soul has
been to us! He began by being willing to speak German, and certainly
that was an indication of a great deal of character. I think he was the
first German I had ever met, who, knowing enough English to carry on an
ordinary conversation, would, at times, express himself in his native
tongue. That was good of Rudolph; of course we had to tell him not to
speak English at first, but he never forgot. And such care as he gave us
those horrible days, when we didn't drink lemonade or sit on the deck;
when the ship wouldn't go anywhere but up and down; when it fairly ached
to turn itself inside out, I know it did. It was then that Rudolph was
neither man nor woman, but the incarnation of goodness and patience.
Dear old Rudolph!
Let me see--how many meals is this so far? Breakfast at eight o'clock
makes one; bouillon and wafers at half-past ten, two; lunch at
twelve-thirty makes three, and here I am hungry as ever, simply
revelling in number four. I wish I had another biscuit. This is
delicious! I mean the sky and the sea and the ship and all the people
dressed so airily and looking so unconscious of what has gone before. If
no one else will testify, Rudolph certainly can, that much has gone
before. But this sea, this straightaway plowing into Southern waters is
beginning to make me forget, and for fear that I may do so I must tell
you how it happens that I am feeling so blissfully relieved at this
moment. Of course I am not perfectly at ease, for I don't think a woman
in a white linen frock can be until it has passed the stage where she
has to be thinking of spots.
Six days ago I was not sitting here in a white frock. I was bundled in
furs, and even then cringed and shivered with the cold. Ough! it was raw
and bleak that sad day of our sailing. The January wind, chilling us to
the marrow, swept in from the desolate ocean like the cruel thrusts of
so many icy knives. Even the prospect of a voyage to the _Islands of the
Blest_ left us indifferent and shivering and blue. I vaguely thought
that when we were once on shipboard we could get warm, but the doors
were all open and the passages so blocked with visitors that even had it
occurred to any one to shut the doors I don't think it could have been
done.
My handsome cousin from New York came with a big bunch of lovely
violets, and I thought, as I touched their cold faces to mine, that
they, too, must certainly be suffering and homesick.
This voyage had been one of our dreams. We two--Daddy and I--had sat
many a night by the crackling wood fire in our dear library talking it
over. We planned how we should take the little girls and leave the four
boys; how we should for once really go off for a glorious lark; but now,
alas! every vestige of romance faded from our firelight dreams as we
pulled ourselves away on such a bleak day, with not a gleam of sunshine
to cheer us.
Had there been at that last moment any sane reason for turning back, I
should have done so. I do not see why I had expected anything else but a
bleak wind on the North River in January, but certainly I did have a
sort of a fancy that, once on shipboard bound for Southern seas, the
glamour of our voyage would warm me to the very heart, but it didn't. I
grew colder every minute, and after the cousin had said "Good-bye" and
his tall silk hat was lost in the crowd at the gangway, it seemed to me
that we were all bereft of our senses to think of leaving the library
fireplace; but Daddy was beckoning me, and the little girls were making
off in his direction; there was no escape. All I could do was to shiver
and follow them. They were in tow of a red-nosed, white-coated steward;
that was Rudolph. We didn't know it then, and even if we had I hardly
think we would have cared. Rudolph had our luggage, loads of it, our
bags, our rug rolls, our numerous duffle; he had it all well in hand and
he forged ahead through the crowd with good-natured indifference to the
wrath of those going the other way, loaded down in similar fashion. We
were trying to find Numbers 41 and 44. Everybody else was trying in
like haste to find some other number. There were more crooks and turns
and funny little corridors running off in different directions than you
would imagine could be built into a self-respecting ship, with here and
there a constricted spot where a narrow steel door led through some
"water-tight bulkhead." Now and then I lost sight of the little girls'
bobbing ribbons and found myself peering down the wrong corridor,
following some other person's luggage; then I would turn and elbow
through the crowd, and bolt down the wide passage again to catch a
glimpse of Little Blue Ribbons and Sister, both fairly dancing at the
prospect of a real voyage in a real ship. And then came the appalling
thought, "If I don't hurry and push through these swarms of people,
those youngsters may disappear for ever in a sort of Pied-Piper-of-Hamelin
Fashion."
In a dazed way I stumbled and hurried on, and finally, to my great
relief, I heard the children's voices issuing from Number 41, which
proved to be well aft on the upper deck. It was a beautiful, large room,
with big lower berths on opposite sides, and convenient mahogany
wardrobes for the clothing--quarters quite befitting the dainty little
maids who were to call it home for many weeks. My traps were left in the
other room with Daddy's, and as it was but a few moments of sailing
time, we left things as they were, ran up the stairway near our door
just as the stiff German bugler was sounding the warning for visitors to
leave the ship. Then the last preparations for departure began. The
gangplank was taken in, and we began to move, ever and ever so slowly,
and, shuddering, I turned around to see how the deluded people looked
who were going to death and destruction with me. "It is all the fault of
that wretched sun," I thought. "Why doesn't it know enough to shine on
sailing day? If the clouds don't shift, we'll all go to Davy Jones's,
and only think of the trouble I have had getting ready!" Much as I
commiserated as a whole my fellow sufferers, outside of our own little
group there was only one couple of which I have now any distinct
remembrance, and I noticed them because I was quite sure they were bride
and groom. "It is just too bad of her to wear that lovely gown to a
watery grave! She ought to have left it at home for a relative.
Anything would have done to swim in if it was only warm," I thought; but
the bride leaned over the rail and waved her handkerchief at some one
and laughed, and then wiped her eyes and laughed once more, but she kept
the gown on.
A horribly blatant German band, on board an Atlantic liner which lay
alongside, bellowed forth national airs, and I wished I could choke it.
The dwindling crowd on shore waved and shouted, and I went off alone and
directly rubbed against some fresh white paint. That was too much! I
just sat down and cried, and wondered why I hadn't brought some
turpentine and why I had ever left the babies, why I had ever forsaken
the comfortable library in midwinter; but alas, I wondered a great deal
more a few days later!
II.
Contrary to all precedent, instead of watching the fast-fading shores of
New York Harbour, I simply went to the stateroom and began to find
myself, and certainly I did not regret it afterward. I unpacked our most
necessary clothing, got out the brushes and combs, unstrapped the roll
of rugs, stowed away in a handy corner my smelling-salts, and small
convenient bottles of various kinds,--all the time accusing myself that
I had not been satisfied with the calmer view I had had of "The Islands
of the Blest" from our library window; that I must need hunt the real
thing by steamship; an ever impossible method, as Kipling had warned me
long ago:
"That route is barred to steamers: you'll never lift again
Our purple-painted headlands or the lordly keeps of Spain.
They're just beyond the skyline, howe'er so far you cruise
In a ram-you-damn-you liner with a brace of bucking screws.
"Swing round your aching search-light--'twill show no haven's peace!
Ay, blow your shrieking sirens to the deaf, gray-bearded seas!
Boom out the dripping oil-bags to skin the deep's unrest--
But you aren't a knot the nearer to the Islands of the Blest."
I shall always believe that the force of suggestion was the cause of our
undoing. When a lot of people sit down to luncheon, all with one fixed
idea, with one definite question in their minds, sooner or later that
question is bound to be answered in one way or another. All one has to
do is simply to wait long enough and the answer will come. "Mental
Science" and "Christian Science" notwithstanding, there wasn't a soul in
that dining-room but was wondering with all his faculties whether he
would be or would not be. Incidentally, the ship felt the pulse of old
Atlantic, and he began to be. And, as time wore on, the dining-saloon
became deserted, and the question was answered. I never knew nor cared
where the people went. As for myself, I took a rug, made for the warmest
corner of the deck I could find, covered myself head and ears, and
wanted to be alone. I was conscious that Little Blue Ribbons had tucked
herself under my wing, a sad little birdling; but Sister and Daddy were
very grand. They gaily walked the decks and laughed when they passed
us,--but we didn't laugh! No, we didn't even smile. The ocean had never
troubled me before,--that is not to any extent, for I had had a theory
that if I could only keep on deck and wear a tight belt, the worst
would soon be over. But there are seasons when all signs fail, and this
time everything turned out wrong.
The following day I managed to dress and get upon deck with the others.
Oh! if I only had a chance at a good railroad, those who would might
hunt up the islands; I had had enough already. I made up my mind to one
thing, I should give up my ticket at Nassau and go home alone by rail
through Florida. I didn't say anything of this plan to Daddy, but I
thought it all out and had it all arranged, when I found that I could
not get warm and could get so miserably seasick. I considered it a
brilliant and original inspiration, and I clung to it with all my feeble
strength.
Sunday it commenced to blow furiously, coming first from the southwest,
and increasing as the day wore on, until by night, with the wind shifted
to north of west, a howling gale was on, outer doors battened down,
promenade decks swept by water, and everybody curled up in bed, bracing
themselves as best they could, trying to keep from rolling out of their
berths. I wish it understood that the word _everybody_ is used
reservedly, for there were a few exceptions, Daddy being one of
them,--cranks who prided themselves on not missing a meal. Then came
that awful night! This was the time Rudolph shone. It was he who
suggested champagne and ship-biscuit. Daddy didn't know how many bottles
he brought to our room, and we didn't, until it came time to pay the
bills. Then Daddy was surprised, but Rudolph wasn't. "Rudolph," I said,
that terrible night, as he brought in the bottle, and steadied himself
to pour a glassful, "were you ever in such a storm as this before; don't
you really think we're in great danger?" He assured me that he had been
in much worse storms, but I knew he hadn't. I could tell by the way he
looked that he was only trying to cheer me up, for he was dreadfully
solemn, and had a big black lump on his forehead where he had hit his
head as he came in with the bottle. I listened while he told of other
storms ever and ever so much worse; how he had been thirty years a
steward, how he swore every voyage would be his last; but how somehow he
kept on shipping; he didn't mind storms. "So you have never gone down at
sea, Rudolph? Oh, I am so glad, for then you wouldn't be here, would
you?" He forgave me of course. I was not the first sufferer Rudolph had
brought champagne and ship's biscuit.
When Sister was a babe, Daddy gave her a little Jap toy, which we called
the "Red Manikin." He was round as an apple, with his face one big grin.
Whichever way we stood him, Manikin would jump up serenely on his plump
little legs, always smiling and jolly. But one day there came a sad
ending to Manikin's smiles. He was smashed in a nursery storm, and we
found him under the bed standing straight on his head. Through snatches
of sleep, my disordered dreams made a grinning, red Manikin of our ship.
I wondered when the final smash would come and our big toy no longer
swing back on its round legs? Over and over the great ship went, and I
held my breath. "Now this time it will never come back. I know it. Oh!
how terrible to have the water pour into our staterooms and never a
chance to swim. No, there we go the other way. Now we go, go, go! Oh, if
I wouldn't try to keep the ship from rolling over! What good can I do by
holding my breath and bracing back in this way? I wonder how the bride
feels by this time? That lovely brown dress, she'll never wear it
again. Well, I'm glad I'm not a bride."
Whatever happened just then I could not tell, but there was a curious
sort of a dull explosion, and all the electric lights went out. Then our
trunks broke loose and went crashing back and forth at each other,
whack, bang, with a vicious delight.
"I'll not endure this suspense another moment," thought I, "I must have
a light and I must know what is the matter, and I must bring Daddy in
here this minute. If we are going down I want him to be with us." So I
swung myself out of the berth, dodged a trunk, groped my way to the
door, and ran barefooted to Number 44. I didn't stop to knock, but
turned the knob, as a terrific lurch of the ship threw me against
Daddy's berth, where the only man who knew anything about running that
ship lay fast asleep.
Of course you'll think that an absurd thing to say, but then you don't
know Daddy. He is the kind of a man who was born with expedients in both
hands. However much I doubted the wisdom of confessing it to Daddy,
away down in my heart I felt that if he would only wake up and come
into our room, he would devise a way to save us, if every one else went
to the bottom. Hadn't he time and again rescued us from dreadful
disasters by fire and water, didn't he in his quiet way master every
situation at the right moment; was there any one more skilled in
handling boats, more subtle in knowledge of winds and waves than Daddy?
Wasn't there just cause that I should wake him up? Of course there was!
It wasn't right that he should be sleeping so peacefully while his wife
and children were waiting for the last trump. No, it wasn't right. So I
touched him rather lightly, somewhat hesitatingly, because he never
likes to be awakened, and I said--well, I don't recall just what I said;
you know how I felt; and he, the man of expedients, the man of many
rescues, turned over and grunted out, "What on earth are you making such
a fuss about? Go and see the captain? No, I'll not go and see the
captain or any other man, and I don't want to sit on your trunk. Go to
bed, we're all right; the sea isn't as bad as it was before midnight,
and what's the use of worrying anyway? Go to bed, that's a good girl."
What could I do but go? He wouldn't budge, so I went back to Number 41
with all the injured dignity possible under the circumstances, and I
didn't care a bit when his door banged good and hard after me. I have
never since then been able to understand his utter indifference to our
distress that night. It must have been something he ate for dinner.
It was a weird night outside; a white gray night, shone upon fitfully by
a sullen moon and a few lonely stars. Every other minute we were in
utter darkness, as a thunderous wave came surging deep over the
port-holes; then for a brief moment again the sickly light of the moon
would steal through the thick wet glass to where the little girls lay,
and I wondered if the morning would ever come.
III.
The next day I did not dare look from my port-hole. I had not only drawn
the lattice-screen to keep out the water--for the ports were leaking
badly--but had even fixed up a curtain with some towels, so that I might
not see the storm-vexed sea without. I simply lay there wondering why,
why, why, I had ever come? But after awhile adorable Rudolph knocked at
the door and gave us each our glass of wine and biscuits, and we felt
encouraged, and asked him what had happened to the lights last night. He
looked blandly ignorant of any disaster, and shook his head and told us
nothing. He was a wise man, that Rudolph! Then he suggested that we get
up and dress, after he had lashed the trunks back where they belonged,
and had straightened up a nice little round spot in the middle of the
room, where we could stand and reach for things. With a grim
determination, I pulled down the towel, opened the lattice, and looked
out. There is no use in trying to tell you anything about the sea,
because I couldn't. All I can do is advise you never to round Cape
Hatteras in a gale. "But what shall we do about the Islands of the
Blest?" you ask. That is a simple problem, start from well down in
Florida, and take the shortest cut across!
At seven o'clock by the ship's bell I went to work to keep my promise to
Rudolph. I have a distinct remembrance of having put both stockings on
wrong side out. I was an hour hunting for my shoes. Everything else had
to be scrambled for in the same way. It was two o'clock when I was
dressed sufficiently to make a decent appearance; but I needed to have
had no fear of criticisms, for as I made my way on deck, crawling up the
main cabin stairway, there wasn't a soul to be seen, except the jackies
in their oilskins, who looked rather amazed when I poked my head out of
the door.
I then had a view of the ship's deck which I had not hitherto had. She
was very narrow and long, I hadn't before realised how long and how
narrow. No wonder she rolled like a gigantic log canoe, but she was a
beauty though! I began to forget her temper because of her looks--a
common blunder in judging her sex, I am told. She was stripped naked for
the plunge, and to see her pitch headlong into the seething water,
throwing foam to the mast-heads, sending a deluge of crashing seas adown
our decks, made me scream with delight. It was glorious, glorious,
glorious! Down she went,--the beauty,--roaring, cracking, twisting,
groaning, howling, and hissing. She fought as with a thousand furies,
plunging and rolling into and through the seas, which rushed down upon
her as if they would crush her to atoms.
Just then the sun broke from out the fast-moving clouds, and sprang upon
the water in a million glistening rays of brilliant light, and my whole
being was filled with joy that I had eyes to see such wonders. The storm
was at its height the night before when we were to the southeast of Cape
Hatteras, after we had steamed well into that beautiful Gulf Stream one
reads about. There we were hove to, with head to the storm, engines
slowed down, and oil dripping over our bows for twenty-four hours, and
were carried one hundred miles out of our course. Unfortunately the oil
did little good, for we were in a cross sea which occasionally broke
with a thundering crash over our stern as well as over our bows, and we
were horribly twisted and shaken. But at last, on Monday afternoon, at
four o'clock, the storm quieted so we were able to square away again for
the Windward Passage. So much for that terrible gale from the Gulf,
which, as we afterward learned, did much damage to coastwise shipping.
As the storm broke, one by one, poor forlorn remnants of our fellow
passengers began to appear in all possible states of dilapidation; and
for the rest of the day, inspired by a subject of common interest, we
sat about, clinging to fixed chairs, talking over our experiences, and
watching the fast disappearing tempest.
It was then I learned that my original plan of buying a ticket home from
Nassau in the Bahamas and through Florida by rail was shared by every
second person I met, and whether the purpose is fully carried out or not
remains to be seen.
IV.
There was one peculiar and unlooked-for feature in the experience of
seasickness which may be universal to all like sufferers, but it was
novel to me. It was when in one of my sane moments the morning before
the storm that I threw myself down on a couch in the main saloon, too
inert to lift my head, too woebegone to think that I could ever smile
again, that I raised my eyes and caught sight of a figure opposite me,
compared with which I was in a state of heavenly rapture. It was none
less than his Excellency, Herr Baron von Pumpernickel Donnerwetter
Hohenmaltsteinhaufen, high officer in the service of his Majesty, the
Kaiser. He was all in a heap, a big soft heap, wound about by a big
brown ulster. Poor soul, he didn't care much how it was buttoned, it was
all wrong anyway, but he was not thinking of trifles. On a bald pate was
a comical felt hat,--one of those little Alpine hats German tourists
affect,--jammed over the left eye; his face was unshaven, his hair
unshorn and uncombed, his nose big and red, and his eyes watery,
meaningless, colourless, glassy eyes rolling about in helpless agony. He
sat there with his arms dangling at his sides, mumbling to himself. I
hadn't anything else to do, so I watched him and listened. What can he
be saying? I suppose it's the "Lorelei;" maybe he dreams he's on the
Rhine! His sorrowful, wife-forsaken look aroused my sympathy; I listened
more attentively. I have always had a lingering affinity for the German
Folkslieder, but, oh, dear, it wasn't a Folkslied at all! He was
swearing volley after volley of feeble, limp oaths, uttered in a broken
and scarcely audible voice. I thought the sight of a woman might stop
his flow of wrath, so I lifted myself up a little and looked at him as
severely as I could under the circumstances, but to no purpose. His
monotonous oaths went rolling on and on, until a kind steward came and
asked his Excellency if he would have something to eat. Now that steward
ought to have known better. I knew there would be trouble. There are
times when men must be left alone, and this was his Excellency's time.
I tried to warn the steward, and even worked up an especial groan to
attract his attention, but, like a stupid old dunderhead, he stood
there with his mouth open; and then he caught it:
"_Verdamter--damter--damity--dam--_" it pealed, bellowed forth with
royal spontaneity, and the steward was a white streak out of the saloon
door.
There were sufferers in the room besides myself, and it was remarkable
to note, how that full and complete expression of his Excellency's wrath
worked like a healing balm upon us all. I shall not confess to any such
lapses on the part of my immediate family and friends,--no, I shall
never confess to that! but I will say that there are times when the use
of strong language is an outlet most beneficial to overwrought digestive
organs. I _will_ say that much.
The little blue map of the West Indies given to me at our departure,
which same map has lain very snugly between the unopened pages of my
journal until to-day, shows me, as for the first time I unfold the
wrinkled paper, that we have just passed Watling's Island (the San
Salvador of the early explorers) and a lot of other little islands;
while a row of tiny dots shows that we are somewhere near the Tropic of
Cancer. Daddy tells of watching until late last night to make out the
light on San Salvador, and how it blinked up finally from the waves far
ahead on our starboard bow and as quickly disappeared, to gradually grow
brighter as we brought it abeam of us--our first smell of land since we
dropped the bleak shore of New Jersey. My eyes tell me as they look
seaward that we have left the great lonely waste of the Atlantic and
have come into sweeter waters, on seas of heavenly rest, which flow away
from us as do the rolling white clouds above. I watch dreamily the
shoals of flying fish darting aside from under the bow in long low
lines of flashing silver; and I look away to where ships come up from
over the meeting of sky and ocean.
I know now why Rudolph can not give it up.
[Illustration]