On leaving the Dolphin Nelson received his eleven salutes, standing up with bared head in the admiral’s barge as they thundered across the bay. We then went over to the Monterey to say good-by to Armstead, who made the journey down with us, and to see Captain Smith, who brought us first to the land of the cactus. The various boats, Spanish, French, and English, saluted as we passed in the Dolphin’s launch.
In the evening Mr. Lind had a dinner for us under the portales of the Diligencias. Admiral Fletcher, Consul Canada, Commander Yates Stirling, Captain Delaney of the commissary-ship, and Lieutenant Courts, one of the admiral’s aides, were the guests. The Diligencias takes up two sides of the old Plaza. The Municipal Palace, a good Spanish building, is on the third side, and the picturesque cathedral with its many domes and belfries embellishes the last. The band plays every night in the Plaza and the whole scene is gay and animated. Women in their mantillas and rebozos, dozens of tiny flower-girls, newspaper babes, and bootblacks of very tender years cluster like flies around soft-hearted diners.
The Mexican Herald arrived while we were sitting there, and we were most amused by the head-lines: “Five-Hour Conference This Morning Between Lind and O’Shaughnessy Resumed in the Afternoon.” “Policy Not Yet Known.”
At nine-thirty I broke up the festive gathering. The admiral, Mr. Lind, and N. went off toward the pier, and Commander Stirling and Lieutenant Courts brought me back to the car in a round-about way through the quiet streets. As half after four is a favorite breakfast hour here, they are all “early to bed.” Vera Cruz seems the most peaceful city in the world at the present moment, though no port in the world has seen more horrors and heroisms. Cortés landed there, la Villa Rica de la Vera Cruz, as he called it, and for centuries the seas around were pirate-infested. She has been sacked by buccaneers times without number; bombarded by nearly every power that has had interests here—the Spaniards, ourselves (in 1847), the French, etc.; and now her port is again black with battle-ships ready to turn their twentieth-century guns upon La Siempre Heroica (the always heroic). Two enemies she seems to have done with—yellow fever and cholera. The zopilotes (buzzards) that sail about in uncountable numbers find it rather hard to get a living. I see that the cleaning up of Guayaquil has been given to an English firm, who, however, will use our methods. Very few Latin-American contracts will be given to Uncle Sam these days.
Admiral Fletcher would like to come up to Mexico City, which he has never seen, but after all these months of not coming he could only do so now officially with his staff—uniforms, visits to Huerta and other authorities—and that is out of the question. I could put him up at the Embassy, with his two aides, and am quite keen about it, and so is he; but nothing can be done until what the newspapers call Watchington has been sounded. Mr. Lind thinks it impossible (he knows he can’t return), as it would be taken as a sign that the President might be wishing to change his Mexican policy. On the other hand, if he should wish to change that policy, such a visit could be the entering wedge, and lead to big things in the way of peace and prosperity.
Mr. Lind continues to think that the raising of the embargo on arms and ammunition in the north is the easiest solution of the problem; but I am terrified at such an issue. The last state of Mexico would be worse than the first. It might settle the Huerta dictatorship, but, alas! not the Mexican situation.
We had a most comfortable night. Practically no trains come and go in the station at night and there is none of the usual dust and dirt of travel, all the railroads burning oil instead of coal. I go at ten to visit our hospital-ship, the Solace, and I must now arise and buckle me up for a long day. I have a white silk tailor-made costume and various fresh blouses to choose from. Nelson is busy with newspaper men, who have discovered the car.
January 10th, Morning.
Before I was dressed yesterday morning Mr. Lind appeared with a steward from Captain Delaney, bringing me some delicious hams and bacons and other good things from the supply-ship to take to Mexico City. Then Captain Niblack appeared, looking very smart. He was our naval attaché in Berlin, relieved only last summer, I think, and is a charming man of the world. I was out of my state-room by this time and fresh myself, but the state-room looked like Messina after the earthquake. General Maass, military governor or Commander of the Port, and his aide, were next to appear. He shows his German blood in various ways (not in that of language, however). He has light, upstanding hair, German eyes, and much manner. There were many bows and palaverings, a los pies de Vd., etc. He put his automobile at our disposition for the day, and it was my car by the time he had finished offering it after the courteous Spanish custom. The interview finally ended by my arranging to call on his señora in the afternoon, and by N. escorting him from the car and down the platform. Lieutenant Courts then arrived to take me to the Solace. All the officers look so smart in their fresh linens. The Solace was lying quite inside the breakwater, looking very cool and inviting. She was painted white, with a broad, green stripe around her—her official colors. Dr. von Wedekin was waiting on deck with his staff. I was most interested in seeing the perfect arrangements for the care of all that is mortal of man; even eyes, teeth, ears, are looked after in a most efficient and up-to-date way. The wards are fine, large, and beautifully ventilated, the air as sweet and as fresh as that on deck; twenty-eight cases of malaria were being treated after the seven days’ bout at Tampico, and half a dozen of appendicitis. The ship carries no cargo, having the medical stores for the whole fleet. The captain told me he had not lost a case of anything for fourteen months. His operating-room can compare with that of any hospital I have ever seen and the ship also has a fine laboratory. She is well-named the Solace.
She was leaving that afternoon for Tampico, which is one of the dreariest spots on the earth, despite the mighty forces at work there. Mexico’s oil is at once her riches and her ruin. The place is malaria-ridden, infested with mosquitoes, and the inhabitants, I am told, have the weary, melancholy expression peculiar to fever districts. The ships that go there are as well screened as possible, but men on duty can’t always be protected. I understand the mosquito that does the damage is a gauzy, diaphanous, rather large kind, and the “female of the species is deadlier than the male.”