“You are right, Frank. About the only wild animals I ever saw on the island were pigs and dogs. Under the old Spanish rule,” continued the professor, “matters were carried with a high hand by the government. The people were taxed outrageously and received little or nothing in return. Everything was taxed, even to a dancing party, and to prevent a revolution there was a law forbidding more than nineteen people to assemble at a given place without a special license or else the representative of the government had to be present. What few schools the people had were only such in name, and all citizens who could afford it sent their sons and daughters off to be educated. Newspapers were of the poorest and I never heard of but one magazine, which was worse than those sold for five cents at home. Those who owned slaves treated them horribly, and the slaves would often retaliate by misusing the horses, mules and cattle, and to-day horses are misused there shamefully.”
“I saw a picture of an ox cart,” said Mark. “Do they use them in Porto Rico?”
“Yes, they use all sorts of carts drawn by oxen, and the poor beasts are driven along by having goads prodded into them, so that the blood streams from them. But under our rule all these cruelties will some day cease.
“Strictly speaking, there is very little poverty in the island, for a person can live on very little. The climate is such that but scant clothing is required, and fruit and vegetables are exceedingly cheap. Any kind of a hut does for a shelter, and nothing has to be spent for fuel or light. If a native owns a little garden patch, and a few chickens and a cow, he can get along without any trouble, even though the whole outfit may not be worth a hundred dollars.”
“It must be lazy man’s land,” laughed Darry.
“To a certain extent it is, and many of the Porto Ricans have the old Spanish habit of putting off till to-morrow what should be done to-day. They lie around and smoke cigarettes, and arrange for cock fights, which are here, as in other islands, the national amusement. Years ago they used to have bull fights, but that is a thing of the past.”
The talk now became general, and the boys and the professor spent a good hour over the map, noting the position of the various towns and rivers, bays and mountains. The professor told a story about getting lost on a strange road, and of how he had seen a ghost which proved to be nothing but swamp-damp.
“When I finally got back to the road and told a native of this, he said the swamp-damp came from the bodies of brave soldiers who had died in battle,” concluded Amos Strong.
The entrance to San Juan harbor is a difficult one and steamers must be piloted in with great care. But once inside there is a fine anchorage, two miles wide by three miles long, situated on the south side of the city. Along this shore are located the governor’s castle, the soldiers’ barracks, the custom house, and a large number of warehouses and other buildings. On the north side of the city is a finely-kept cemetery and also another soldiers’ barracks.
“This city is really on an island,” said the professor, when they found themselves landed, the day after the talk above mentioned. “It is a long, narrow peninsula, separated from the mainland by a shallow body of water spanned by the San Antonio bridge. As you can see, it is inclosed by a high wall, which gives it the appearance of being what it really is, an old Spanish town. The castle you see on the bluff is Morro Castle, which played an important part during the War with Spain, just as did Morro Castle at Havana.”