With a railroad, connecting Havana with Matanzas and Union, passing so near that the smoke of the engine could always be seen and the rattle of the passing train often heard from his door-step, there were no facilities for Don Ruano to ship his fruit. We occasionally made the attempt to send Don Anastasio (our invalid merchant) a basket of zapotes; but, no matter how well secured and sealed or carefully dispatched, the basket invariably reached its destination with diminished contents. As freight on small packages must be prepaid, and no guarantee was given by the railroad company (then under military control), of course there could be no reclamation. I presume that Don Ruano never dreamed of patronizing the road at such risks.
The Don had a comfortable, simple country home. All the cots and bed-room furnishings were sunning by the side of the house as we entered. The old señora, in a low-neck, almost sleeveless muslin garment, too infirm and obese to rise from her chair without great effort, received us most cordially, and ordered la mulata, as she called her chocolate attendant, to pass me the cigars and a taper. Every morning it was her devoted son’s first duty to make, with his own fingers, cigars for his mother’s use during the day. They were long and thick, dark and strong, but limited in number to six. The señora mentioned, as though it were an indication of praiseworthy self-denial, that she never allowed herself to exceed that number. Don Ruano, with his white linen shirt starched stiff as pasteboard and glistening with polish, the skirt hanging in unyielding drapery over his pantaloons, was as courtly and gracious as a dancing-master. A sugar-planter’s harvest begins after that of a cafetero ends, and from the latter the planter recruits the extra workmen required. From this neighbor we hired all the extra laborers we needed for our busy season, and in any emergency he cheerfully increased the number for a limited time. With Henry’s aid he was informed of our urgent need of any workmen he could spare for a month, and we were assured, with hand on his immaculate shirt-bosom and a thousand protestations of undying friendship, that we not only could command all the laborers he had, but his house and all its contents were also at our disposal!
CHAPTER XXX.
HOUSE-BUILDING ANTS—ELLIE’S YOUNG OWLS—HENRY SAYS “ADIOS.”
Henry delighted in repairing to the bench under the zapote-trees in the garden with his lesson-books, pretending that the quiet of that retreat was conducive to mental application, but most of his time was employed in watching the movements of certain large ants that had great subterranean caves under his feet. The industrious little insects were not compelled, like the historic ant, to lay up winter stores, therefore their energies were spent in house-decorations. Their nests were huge excavations, lateral galleries leading to roomy chambers. In many places the ground for a considerable space was honey-combed with their abodes. The apertures on the surface were so small and usually concealed or protected by leaves that they were not visible, and passers-by could scarcely realize that they were treading over myriads of busy lives when they walked the carefully swept paths of the garden. Henry, book in hand, would sit hour after hour on the bench, curiously watching the march of long processions of these hormigas issuing from a minute, obscure hole in the ground, moving, with the regularity and precision of trained troops, in a direct line to the base of a small orange or pomegranate tree, that had already been ascended by an advance corps, and which, with their sharp mandibles, they were rapidly denuding of foliage. The small particles of leaves that fell in showers to the ground were shouldered in a position to utilize the propelling power of any air in circulation, and the long, brown retinue was rapidly converted into a fluttering green ribbon, threading another route to their home. So wonderfully methodical and orderly were they, that the little green sails were of uniform size, and the returning legions marched without a straggler. Henry, boy-like, amused himself by placing obstructions in their pathway. If only a stick, they boldly trudged over it; if a stone or some seemingly insurmountable barrier, the whole army halted in line, while a few scouts went forward to examine the enemy’s works and report; frequently a détour was decided upon, to fall into line again as soon as practicable. These fresh, green leaves furnished their houses with not only floor but wall decorations. Repairs completed, the colony retired behind their gates, and there remained in peaceful seclusion until the nests required renovating. Then all the withered débris was laboriously brought to the surface, scattered broadcast, and everything within made ready for new furnishing. There was frequently cause to complain of their depredations. They destroyed or bodily removed the seeds of certain vegetables as often as they were deposited in the ground, and the young sprouts of many others when they appeared above the surface. They made their excavations through the fields also, but their presence resulted in no injury to the cane. Our merchant, Don Anastasio, assured me that in some parts of the island these insects were so numerous and destructive that their nests frequently extended beneath the foundations and undermined large stone houses, rendering them so unsafe that the buildings had to be abandoned!
Great excavations were made with spades down into the recesses of the ants and the places filled with fire and brimstone, but even these violent measures seemed to make no appreciable diminution in their numbers, though millions must have been destroyed; in a week or two they were as numerous and destructive as ever. The dainty little tomiguins, that flew like canaries all about the garden, fearless as birds become that are never molested, often pierced an orange with their sharp little bills and extracted the juice; then a corps of hormigas followed and robbed it of the pulp; so an orange, “fair to see” as it hung in its golden beauty among the clustering green leaves, was often light and deceptive as a toy balloon.
Henry’s love of the whole animal kingdom was gratified in some measure by a choice collection of gay-plumaged birds that he kept in cages made of the delicate twigs of the caña brava (wild cane). Our friendly neighbors were constantly adding to the number, and one end of the veranda was devoted to his pets. Don José sent him a cage of ring-doves, whose mournful cooing always reminded my homesick husband of the days when he was a boy in a Western clearing. To these the generous Don added a number of pure white Guinea-fowls, and a pair of rabbits; the latter we colonized on the mountain, but they did not possess the agility of the jutias, and the hungry majas eventually destroyed them. It had been Henry’s desire to find a nest of the beautiful veiled owl, and secure the young, which he hoped to be able to tame. The marquis had maintained an ominous silence regarding the pair promised Ellie, though doubtless he made every effort to compass their capture. One day, however, a guajiro whose services had been enlisted, presented himself, the fortunate possessor of two very young birds which he desired to offer to the señorita. Almost naked of plumage, with heads of abnormal size, and great, bulging eyes, they were, of course, very unattractive; but the full-grown owl is so handsome that Ellie eagerly accepted the gift, and used every effort to tame them. As they grew, they became so vicious and snappish that she found it hazardous to approach, even with caresses. No downy white feathers appeared; they were long-legged and skinny, and Henry began to ask Ellie if it was not time for her owls to put on their veils and conceal their nakedness! Don Ruano called one morning, on business bent, and seeing the forlorn birds with blinking eyes and drooping heads, their legs tied with long strings to the banisters of the veranda, innocently inquired of Henry what we intended to do with those buzzards! Ellie, who had already dawning suspicions of their genuineness, was horrified, and the dejected creatures were removed by Zell, who “’low’d he know’d all de time dem was buzzards, or sum’thin’ wuss.”
Scarcely a day passed that news was not brought our boy of some attractive out-door sport. The discovery of a tree filled with wild honey made from the flowers of the banana, orange, or other fruit-trees, the most fragrant in odor, delicate in color, and delicious in taste in the world, was sure to take him to the woods and bring him back laden with spoils.
Permission having been tacitly given to use fire-arms, his gun was in constant requisition, and excursions in search of game or adventure were temptations hard to resist. With all these distractions, added to the frequent calls of importance made upon Henry as interpreter and to transact many minor details of business, it became evident that there were too frequent interruptions to render a continuous course of study possible while living on the plantation. Naturally bright and studious as he was, the necessity of the discipline and application enforced by an academic course was too apparent to be ignored. When he was fourteen we felt compelled to make the sacrifice, an unusually great one, of parting from him. Lamo felt that it was hardly in the bounds of possibility to spare the boy, who had been at our side through all these vicissitudes, not only a dear son, but a valued assistant who had become well-nigh indispensable, but there was no other alternative than to send him to the United States to school.
In July he took a lingering farewell of all his boyish pets. His gun was carefully oiled and put away, with injunctions not to let it be disturbed. The little pet tomiguins that had been trained to hop on his finger and peck seed from his mouth, were set free in the garden. The pigeons that flocked daily at the sound of his voice were called and fed from a basket of rice for the last time. Old Mish, the cat, that nestled in his arms every night, had a last nap in that cozy embrace. The pony had his last gallop up the mountain, and Bob brought the last wounded dove, at his young master’s bidding. To all the neighbors he made farewell calls. The kind old priest in the village, who was found sipping his vino Colorado, and playing cards with some of his parishioners, when “Enrique” called to bid him adios, rose and solemnly laid his hand upon the boy’s head and blessed him.
When the hour for departure arrived, he mounted his pony and galloped down the avenue. Passing through the Josefita plantation, he paused at the hospitable house, where the tender-hearted Caridad was found waiting with tearful eyes and open arms to embrace him. Don Pancho mounted the white stallion, already saddled at the door, and rode by his side to the depot; while bluff, brawny McClocky, the Scotch engineer, who had made so many helpful visits to Desengaño, threw his old cap after him, shouting, “God bless ye, me boy!” A goodly number of guajiros, headed by Manuel and Pio, his companions in many a woodland expedition and field-hunt, were already assembled at the paradero. Henry had endeared himself to all classes. Full of enthusiasm for boyish sports and adventures, he was the beau-idéal of every guajiro. “Adios! Enrique!” “Adios, amigo mio!” echoed again and again through the air, as the cars rumbled off from the depot, and a last glimpse was had for a long time of his home surroundings—a home that was ever strange to us, but the home of the boy’s childhood, was very dear to him. How desolate it became after his departure he never knew.