CHAPTER XXXI.
BEAUTIFUL OCTOBER—VIEW FROM THE MOUNTAIN—TERRIBLE TEMPORAL—DEVASTATION.
October was upon us. The summer rains had ceased, the air was full of the odor of fruit and fruit-blossoms by day, and overpowering, when the shades of evening fell, with the fragrance of the brilliant, white, night-blooming cereus, which flung its exuberant wealth of golden stamens in prodigal profusion over the coral-rock fences that bounded the grassy lawn. All nature that never donned a russet or yellow coat, or dropped a withered leaf, bloomed forth in freshly washed green. Vines, that had hung their heads under beating showers for six months, took heart again, and ran riot over the fences, and hung in long, tangled, graceful festoons from tree to tree, draping the rocky mountain’s sides with curtains of verdure besprinkled with gorgeous blossoms of crimson and gold; while aloft on the mountain-top, in every tree nestled the beautiful dark-green parasites of the tropics, hanging in clusters, here and there and everywhere; with the overflowing abundance that Nature so lavishly provided in Cuba, there was sustenance for all, so that the idle parasite, that had nothing to do but exhibit its beautiful self, did not diminish the vitality of the generous tree on which it feasted.
The rasping notes of the wild Guinea-fowl and the sharp whistle of the quail were heard all through the cane-fields, where the long, sweeping leaves had tenderly sheltered their nests, and now they were coming forth with abundant broods. The tiny yellow tomiguin, with his musical chirp, the brown arriero (mule-driver), with his two long, slender tail-feathers and his strident call; the gorgeously plumaged tocalor (every color), nestled in the mango-trees, swung upon the slender branches of the mimosa, and flew joyously over our heads; while the buzzards that we jestingly claimed were entitled to be emblazoned on our coat-of-arms, as at least one was forever to be seen perched on the arch at the end of the avenue, sailed in grand and graceful curves over and above all.
The mountain-range that runs like a backbone through the length of Cuba was only a quarter of a mile east of our dwelling, and a ride or walk up the steep sides well repaid a lover of nature. From the summit there spread before us an extended view of Oriental loveliness and exquisite beauty. At our feet limitless cane-fields hung their light-green leaves, topped here and there with erect torches of blossoming seed that shimmered and glistened in the sun like molten silver. In the distance, amid the intense green of fruit-trees and whole avenues of kingly palms, towering chimneys of sugar-houses and groups of modest buildings marked the domain of neighboring planters. Far off to the right a broad expanse of still darker green revealed a coffee estate. To the left a tiny church-spire surmounted by a white cross denoted the village home of the captain and the cura, who exercised controlling influence in all matters temporal and spiritual, considerately relieving the docile population of that grandly beautiful country from all responsibility in the present and the future. The cerulean dome, scarcely flecked by a single fleecy cloud, stretching from zenith to horizon, the gently undulating landscape, the soft, hazy, languid atmosphere, the faint zephyrs redolent with perfume, suggested Arcadian peace and rest.
September, which so often took a boisterous farewell, retired with gracious smiles, and it seemed that every bird and bush felt safer when she was gone; but September had left a legacy to the incoming month.
Almost imperceptibly the air became still, oppressive in its stillness; not a leaf stirred in the topmost branches of the tall palms, whose feathery summits danced and tossed in every breeze. They became as painted trees on a painted landscape. Birds were to be seen restless and flying aimlessly about; horses whinnied and stamped and pulled from their halters under the shed where they were tied. Old Mish, the cat, came mewing pitifully around and refused to be comforted. Dogs whined and howled, got up and turned around, only to lie down again, as though too nervous and restless to be still a moment. All nature was wretched and uncomfortable. The atmosphere became preternaturally transparent, and objects long distances off were revealed as though seen through a powerful field-glass. The total lack of vitality in the air made its very inhalation an effort. Cattle about the fields drifted in a restless manner to their pens and huddled together. Sheep found shelter in their mountain-cave, where they stood with noses to the ground; bugs and ants crept in through the doors and windows which had been flung wide open to catch the faintest breath of air.
The most inanimate of created things seemed to share in the depression. Leaves of trees curled and drooped, and flowers closed their limp petals as though a sirocco had swept over them.
Suddenly all was flurry and excitement to prepare for the cyclone that even the very lizards knew was coming. Sledge-hammers, axes, and immense timbers were hastily brought inside the house. We rapidly prepared to occupy and defend the three front rooms only. Ciriaco brought in some cold meat and bread, brandy, aguadiente, and a pail of water, which were deposited in a corner of the parlor.
The rear of the house was closely barred and secured in the strongest way possible. There was a sudden and hurried rush into the various buildings. Chinese and negroes fled to their respective barracoons and fastened themselves in. Lamo, with two white men in our employ, and several trusty, stalwart negroes, waited to see that all were protected, thoroughly safe as possible, barely allowing themselves time to rush into the house and close the last windows when the hurricane broke upon us. The wind rose in great, howling gusts, and swooped down and around with tumultuous roar like the booming of cannon. A rattle and a bang, as though we were being assaulted with battering-rams on one side the house, and all rushed to the threatened windows to secure them with great solid timbers driven by sledge-hammers into the polished floor, and forced against the massive panels of the shutters that closed from within. A rushing and a whizzing sound, broken into a prolonged roar, admonished us that the wind had veered, and now the opposite windows were threatened; before they could be properly secured, a great rattling and howling at the door drove every one with axes, sledge-hammers, and timbers to the front of the house. So the wind whirled round and round, stopping at every door and window to blow a louder and more startling blast. Like a great giant battling for admission, or a besieging army attacking first on one side, then on another, then all around at once, in the determination to carry the defenses by storm, the merciless wind fought. We knew only too well that if it gained admission, the house would be wrecked; one of its mighty blasts could lift the very stone roof.
Meanwhile, except for a single candle in a corner, so shielded for fear of sudden gusts that it only served to make darkness visible, we were without any light. A panel a few inches square, hung on hinges in a front shutter, was our only means of obtaining a glimpse of the outside world, and we dared not open this while the storm was doing its utmost. For thirty hours we bravely and unceasingly defended the besieged castle—thirty hours of mortal terror and incessant vigilance—before the giant, with one last, deafening howl, diminished the force of the attack, and gave us one moment’s peace. Cautiously taking hurried peeps through the little panel, while the tornado was whirling with fearful impetuosity through a roseate atmosphere, the very wind seemed a tangible pink element sweeping everything before it. Débris of every kind was being borne upon its mighty wings. Great sheets of metal roofing from the sugar-house went careering along like scraps of paper; huge palm-trees whirled aloft and away like straws; while tiles, bricks, and smaller objects sailed with lightning rapidity across the horizon like motes in a breeze, so utterly insignificant were they in the grasp of the mighty element. A few holes, wrenched through the strong stone roof of the house, gave access to the rain, that now poured down in blinding floods, and we were soon like Noah’s dove, flying in vain search of a dry spot.