In our spring rambles down the avenue and through the fields, Ellie and I picked up a number of dainty little white shells; and Henry returned from his explorations in the woods with pockets full of red and yellow beans, such as are now brought in quantities from Florida, whither they have been borne by the Gulf Stream from the tropical zone, and scattered along the sandy beach.
When that dull, rainy spell set in, we amused ourselves by ornamenting a tall, three-cornered, home-made stand of shelves that was found in the infirmary. A portion of each day was spent gluing the beans and shells in pretty combinations of color and design all over the étagère, as we now called it.
In due time we produced a piece of furniture that was really a beauty; the wood completely covered, so that the entire exterior was a mosaic of odd forms and varied colors. It was proudly moved into a conspicuous corner of the parlor, a few vases and knickknacks arranged upon it, and there it stood, the admiration and wonder of every one that entered the house so long as we remained at Desengaño.
Of the china, pictures, books, etc., sent to various supposed places of safety when our Louisiana home was threatened, nothing could be found, when we had once more an abiding-place, but a box of books. The house where the pictures were stored was robbed in the absence of its owner, and years after I heard that some of our family portraits had been seen in the cabins of neighboring negroes. The china—a wedding anniversary gift, and therefore doubly prized—had never been wholly unpacked; the few sample pieces that were taken out at Arlington were carefully replaced, and the cask sent to my widowed sister’s plantation on Bayou Fordoche. While General Lawlor was in command in the vicinity, the enterprising colonel of a New York regiment “captured” it while passing through the plantation. Some efforts were made for the recovery of the china, but they were unsuccessful, and later my sister was informed that it had been shipped North. When the books arrived, we felt very much like the parson whose hat was passed around and returned to him empty, “thankful that nobody took the hat.” In the general and indiscriminate custom of “appropriating” that prevailed during that exciting period we were thankful that nobody took the books.
Rejoicing to see their dear old faces, we planned a tier of shelves in the parlor for their reception. With the exception of a fine French and Spanish library in the office of our merchant in Havana, ours was the only receptacle for books that I ever saw in Cuba. There were scattered volumes about the houses, but barely enough to make it necessary to provide a place for them. The universal exclamation of visitors, on entering the parlor at Desengaño, was, “Ay! que libros!” (“What a number of books!”) No Cuban woman could understand why we read so much. Her everyday literature consisted of simpering “to be continued” stories in the daily newspapers, which were so completely under government espionage that their news consisted of an editorial laudatory of Spain; a paragraph relating the killing of, perhaps, one insurrectionist and the capture of two others, and a horse, in some engagement of the previous week; some legal notices, arrivals and departures of steamers, notices of funeral services, where any “visiting priest desiring to assist would receive the gratuity of un escudo ($2.12¹⁄₂),” etc. Our private mail, on steamer days, was greater than that of all the neighbors combined; besides numbers of letters, we regularly received papers and periodicals from the States. Twice a week the whole family assembled on the veranda to greet Zell, with the anxiously looked-for mail-bag! American engineers in that vicinity, even miles remote, availed themselves of every opportunity to borrow newspapers from us; apparently caring very little how old the dates, so long as they brought tidings from home. We willingly obliged them, and the courtesy was so thoroughly appreciated that at any time, when accidents to the machinery rendered skilled mechanical labor necessary, we could command the best talent in the partido, often without recompense. In fact, the rumor that the engine at “Los Americanos” had broken down would bring with dispatch volunteer aid for leagues around. Oftentimes persons whom we had never seen, brought their own introductions, and expressed themselves as gratified at being able to make some return for the rare pleasure they had derived from the newspapers and magazines we had so freely circulated.
CHAPTER XVIII.
MORE LABORERS REQUIRED—HENRY SHOOTS WILD DOGS—MILITARY RULE—EXTORTION.
The first year crept slowly by. We fought a brave fight against odds; sometimes sick at heart and almost discouraged, as petty annoyances rose here and there, thick about us. Our slight knowledge of the language, our utter ignorance of the habits and ways of the country people; the strangeness of the negroes, who feared and distrusted us; the trickery and untruthfulness of the white men we had to employ; the grand hidalgo airs and graces, and hollow professions of friendship, of our few visitors—made us suspicious and timid, bold and self-asserting, by turns. We realized, all the first year, that we were strangers in a strange land, misunderstood and unappreciated. People who said “yes” when they meant “no,” could not understand us who meant what we said. Their mañana (to-morrow) never came, never was intended to come; our mañana came, the bill was paid, the business transacted, or the pledge fulfilled, just as surely as the morrow’s sun rose. The beginning of the second year found us unscathed by the fires of suspicion and distrust, while the mists of doubts and fears slowly vanished from our own minds, for “truth is mighty and will prevail.”
Lamo soon found that the pressing need of more laborers compelled him to visit Havana, in order to secure the only kind available—Chinese coolies.
In his absence, Henry went up the mountain (which we called a steep hill back of the house) to shoot wild dogs, that had been raiding old Cinto’s chicken preserves.
Vegetation is so vigorous and rank, through cane-fields as well as uncultivated land, that animals wandering into the thicket any considerable distance become bewildered. Cane sprouting year after year from the same joint, sends up, with fantastic irregularity, bent and crooked stalks, whose interlacing leaves cover the furrows, so that they are almost obliterated, while the forest-trees are draped with luxuriant vines reaching from tree to tree, and the undergrowth forms an almost impenetrable barrier to human footsteps. Cur-dogs, that abound all over the island, wander into these seclusions, making their beds and rearing their young. In time the woods become infested with these semi-wild animals, that rarely venture outside the fastnesses, except when driven by hunger to the hen-roosts of the clearings. We heard firing here and there for a few hours, and Henry returned, all aglow with the sport, to say that those he did not kill were scared to the woods, and old African Cinto would not have cause to complain again.