As Ellie and I could not spend all our leisure in reading—neither of us being particularly literary or studious—the wonderfully brilliant heavens offered attractive astronomical research, and with the aid of an odd volume of Dick’s “System”—the only book on the subject we had, and a good field-glass—we were quite successful in locating the position of stars and constellations, many of which are not visible in more northern latitudes.
We had very little fancy-work. No Berlin wools work was needed in that climate, so the materials were not procurable. The laborious drawing of thread-in fine linen and embroidering over the drawn places in delicate, cobwebby designs, so intricate that it makes one’s eyes ache to look at them, had no charms for us, though it was the favorite occupation of Cuban señoras. We embroidered conventional morning glories and wheat on pillow-shams; scalloped flounces and dress-waists, and made yards upon yards of senseless tatting, till we wearied with the work. Sewing-thread could be had in abundance, and our busy fingers produced wonderful tidies and spreads, for which we had no use. There remains in my possession a round-table cover, five yards in circumference, crochetted in Spanish sewing-thread—the center an elaborate arrangement of pansies and fuchias, the border enlivened by forty performing monkeys in the midst of acrobatic feats. This pure white spread is not only valuable as a memento of a dull summer’s occupation, but an ingenious specimen of handicraft accomplished with scarcely an outline of instruction or pattern. Improvising a design to widen from a center to a periphery of sixteen feet, though by no means a slight undertaking, is diminutive compared with successful execution of the work.
Martha had time to “take in” sewing, and Ellie and I amused ourselves by designing—even frequently helping in the work itself—tombo dresses for the African belles on the plantation. Any new occupation that presented itself was eagerly welcomed. Zell brought us, from the swamps in the rear of the marquis’s place, quantities of palmetto, which we bleached in the sun, split into suitable widths, and braided into hats, pressing the crowns into shape by ironing them over a perfectly round tin pail! Soon every one had a brand-new palmetto hat, which a few showers ruined.
Henry, who, with the keen perception of boyhood, saw so much in his out-door life which brightened and cheered us, and whose incoming always brought a breath of fresh air—was gone. The daily duty of hearing him recite lessons amid countless interruptions that at the time were so trying, was sadly missed now. His father walked in and out of the rooms with a weary, listless air, missing the boy at every turn; while Ellie ceased to care for the early morning rides which they had so often enjoyed together.
Life was becoming a burden: we were wearying and losing heart; it was not occupation we needed, it was recreation, but the only change available in our dull lives was change of work. Ellie offered to teach Zell and Martha to read, but Zell “low’d half dese here white folks can’t read; I’se no time fur dictionary work. While I’se settin’ down readin’, who’s waitin’ on Lamo and ’terpretin’ fur him?” The faithful soul, now that “little Mars Henry” was gone, followed Lamo around, hoping to cheer and assist him in the varied occupations of the day. Martha was more easily persuaded, but she was rather dull, and at the end of a winter’s schooling, coming up every night with her book, had only advanced to words with two syllables. So the experiment was not very encouraging.
Finding Zell, now twenty years old, was casting amorous glances at a dusky Maud Muller, who raked cane in the field, I suggested that, if he contemplated marriage, it would be well to open a bank account, for he was inclined to be extravagant with his money. Martha, whose opportunities to spend her earnings were limited to an occasional visit with me to Havana, also brought up her little savings. In return I gave to each a note bearing ten per cent. interest. From time to time they were encouraged in adding to the amount; and when, at the end of the first year, the notes with accrued interest were renewed, and they understood how the money “grow’d,” they became enthusiastic capitalists.
Notwithstanding our heroic efforts to amuse and divert the mind with something to relieve us of the tiresome and busy routine of work, we found in time that a radical change was imperatively necessary, first to one, then to another, of the brave little household. Ellie, who had so lovingly and unselfishly shared my burden and lightened my cares, went home to her mother and remained several months. I had made various short and rapid trips to New York, which were exceedingly refreshing. Lamo, who felt his presence absolutely necessary at Desengaño, as indeed it was, valiantly staid year after year at his post, until his step began to falter, a paleness overspread his once ruddy countenance, a tired, dull look crept into his eye, and the faint smile that replaced his old cheery laugh, warned us there was a limit to the endurance of even the bravest spirit. When I spoke firmly and determinedly of a trip to the United States, insisted upon the (somewhat imaginary) business that needed his personal attention, and urged that the storm had so reduced the crop that it could easily be harvested without his aid, I think he realized that a still stronger motive was hidden in the proposition, and that his overtaxed mind and body demanded an entire change of climate. Deeply regretting the urgency of the step, he could no longer hesitate; and one of the bravest acts of an unselfish life was, turning his back on Desengaño for a whole six months, and leaving me there. Henry’s departure had already sundered one of the ties that bound us to the Cuban home that the boy loved so well. It was easy for us to break away after that. A few years later we left the island forever.
During the latter years of our residence, and those that immediately followed, military exactions and ruinous taxation crushed the life out of Cuba.
The gradual emancipation of slaves was enforced, the importation of coolies prohibited, and, as an inevitable sequence, an untold number of valuable estates were abandoned by their impoverished owners, thereby revolutionizing the entire financial and domestic status of the island.
Brito’s beautiful plantation, notwithstanding the rare administrative ability of its owner, is to-day a forsaken wilderness; and the once genial, whole-souled Don José, now broken-hearted, walks dejectedly the roads he erst traveled in such magnificent state.