There were bands of freebooters—not a result of government oppression—who made robbery their only pursuit. They swept over the island with the fleetness of the wind; here to-day and there to-morrow, possessing such a thorough knowledge of all the wild country around that a place of concealment or an avenue of escape was always open to them. They did not go in detached parties, but in well-organized bands, and were a law unto themselves, bidding all government defiance, long before the insurrection was in existence. Indeed, marauding bands of like nature have flourished since the earliest days of civilization in Cuba.
The Spaniards claimed that the rebel army was composed of these outlaws. No doubt some did join, as affording a wider field for their daring, and others became purveyors for the rebels; but the professional brigands generally retained their organizations, and recognized no allegiance superior to their captain. In course of time our plantation, in the absence of Lamo and myself, was visited by such a band, and I can not better describe the affair than by the introduction of a letter written some time after the event:
“The world breathes easier hereabout. Carlos Garcia, the renowned freebooter, has at last been sent to his final account. Five captains-general pardoned him at as many different times in his career, but a pardon to return to the field of his exploits Garcia will receive no more. Long before the insurrectionary war in Cuba, Garcia, though a young man (born in 1832), was a desperate, fearless, and noted highway robber. Always accompanied with a band of from ten to twenty men, he rode when and where he pleased, overawed the planter on his large estate, cursed the poor peasant in his hut, took the fine horses and carefully hoarded doubloons of the humble farmer. His followers were well disciplined, and obeyed his every look and gesture. If one showed too little zeal or too much mercy, behold him stretched upon the road-side with a bullet in his brain, and a paper pinned to his breast, penciled ‘no sirve’ (no account).
“‘You are a gentleman, sir; if I can serve you in future, command me: my name is Garcia—Carlos Garcia.’ These were the parting words of the scoundrel as he took leave of me, after selecting the finest horses, all the saddles, etc., ransacking the dwelling, and securing all the coin that could be found. While he and four of his men were searching and stealing, six others, with cocked pistols, stood guard over me and the white men in my employ. They did their work systematically, accomplished all in twenty minutes, and the politest gentleman that ever cut a throat rode off at the head of his troop, offering me, with all the airs of a Turveydrop, his services at any time! What could a man do, but turn back into his house, pick up the scattered and rifled bureau-drawers, shut the plundered desk, and estimate the losses? This elegant gentleman always respected the presence of ladies. A raven-haired señorita in the house was a protection that no weapon could insure; her flashing eyes did the execution denied the Minié rifle, for not a man of them would enter a dwelling to rob it when a timid señorita met him at the threshold with her low, musical ‘Buenos dias, señor.’
“For years this state of things existed. Once in a while a captain-general would order the arrest of the party, but the partido captains had neither the men nor the courage to meet Garcia. In fact, they seemed inclined to keep out of his way. After his visit to me, I, being a foreigner, and claiming protection of a flag that was not red-and-yellow, made formal complaint to the captain-general at Havana, who at once issued orders and furnished men to hunt the outlaws. Garcia, finding himself closely beset, appeared in person one morning at the captain-general’s palace at Havana. After a short interview with that vice-regal dignitary, he mounted his horse and proudly rode off, unmolested. The next day a free pardon to Carlos Garcia was proclaimed. It is whispered that Spanish ounces did the work. The clink of gold is as sweet to the ear of the Spaniard to-day as it was to Cortes and Pizarro in the proudest days of Spain.
“Meanwhile he became bolder and less merciful in his outrages. His cruelty soon excited the whole people. Cubans submit with good grace to robbery, they are used to that, but cruelty is revolting to them; they are a kind-hearted, sympathetic race.
“Later, Lersundi became captain-general, and one of his first official acts was to dispatch from Havana three hundred men, under efficient and reliable officers, with peremptory orders to capture Garcia. They were divided into various detachments. In a few hours the country in the vicinity of Garcia’s last exploit was alive with the red-and-yellow uniforms. He fled, almost unattended, to the Guanamon swamp, which was quickly surrounded, and soldiers ambushed at every possible outlet. A soldier gave me an account of the final act of the tragedy. ‘We took our position at the pass of El Jobo, at 9 P. M., thirteen in company; saw nothing until 7 A. M., then we saw three outlaws riding toward us. At the command ‘Fuego!’ we all fired. One fell dead; another reeled a moment, holding his rifle with both hands, then tumbled dead over the head of his horse—this was Garcia; the third rode rapidly off, turned suddenly, and, with deliberate aim, fired, killing one of our men. Again ‘Fuego!’ and the bold woman, as she proved to be, fell dead.’
“Garcia had three women in his band, one of the others has since presented herself for ‘free pardon,’ according to custom.
“Garcia’s right arm was broken years ago, and he never quite recovered its use; so he had to discard his heavy Winchester rifle and use a Smith and Wesson, which was the handsomest article of the kind I ever saw: the stock was solid gold, exquisitely carved, and fretted with precious stones. This, besides a pair of Colts, of extra size and finish, and a rifle, were in his possession at the time of his death.”
Garcia was a type of a class of freebooters infesting every highway, and lurking in obscure and unprotected city streets—while the others sneak like thieves in the night, he was bold and daring. All this in a land of military and priestly rule, where few live more than five miles from a captain’s headquarters, or beyond the jurisdiction of a visible church!