To curtain her sleeping world.
This is about as I would have written except that I should also have put the Fruit Company’s clerk and the English lady’s maid in the scene to emphasize the moonlight and add that human interest which the lines do not express. The difference between Shelley’s lines and mine would have been that Shelley’s contain more poetry than truth, while mine would have contained more truth than poetry. Truth is better than poetry.
I have given Shelley’s description because people are seldom satisfied with the naked truth. They prefer something in costume, and labeled with a name. For instance, when they ask for medicine they get something with a name; when they want Christian Science they get nothing, with a name; when they want lies they get the real thing. Those who can no longer be deceived are ready for another world, but not for a better one.
Every one who visits the torrid zone takes a look at the Southern Cross. So did I. On the Caribbean it arises very late at night, and comes out about the time civilized banqueters are going home. I had to get up after midnight to obtain a view of it. There were several crosses visible and I looked at them all, and thus saw the Southern one. But I was unable to say which one was the one, for I had no compass. However, that did not matter, since I could say I had seen it. The one that travelers see and talk about is a crooked one. It does not stand straight in the heavens, and has its beams warped. I would not advise any one to travel down here in a banana boat, that becomes inebriated and intolerable every time a zephyr blows, in order to stay awake to see a little, crooked, imperfect cross that wouldn’t be looked at in Chicago. One can stay at home and hunt up a better and bigger one before midnight, not to mention our glorious Orion, our beautiful Milky Way and many other interesting and historic constellations. In fact, how many Northern people who know of and have seen, and have acted silly about, the Southern Cross, know of all and have seen all and have acted silly about all of our Northern constellations? We should know something about our own heaven before we devote our attention to that of others.
CHAPTER IV
Port Limón
Christmas Eve—Heat as a Stimulant—Essentials to a Good Sleeper—Sheltering Reefs—Flying-Fish—Port Limón—View of the Island and Town from the Ship—A Sailing Vessel—The Piers—Fruits—Sharks—Christmas Festivities of San José—The Great Flood—Accidents on the Railway—The Graveyard Washout—Two Weeks of Travel to go a Hundred Miles—Ashore—Almost an Accident—Difficult Landing—A Negro with an Irish Brogue—Other Negroes—A Cockney Accent—U. S. Accent—Sun Baths and Shower Baths—The Rainy Season—No Thunder—An Earthquake—Its Wasted Energy—Population of Limón—-The Fruit Company—The Stores and Business Houses—San Joséans Caught at Limón by the Washout—Boarding the Boat—Freight-ship Luxury—Arrival of the Italian Ship—Christmas Dinner on Board—Government Piers—The Warehouse of the United Fruit Company—Other Houses—Clean Streets—The Colored Inhabitants—The Race Problem—Vultures—The Cockpit—The Cock Fight—A Used-up Victor—The Market—Tough Meat—Saloons—The Hotel and Garden—A Cockatoo—Highballs—Dear S. S. Limón—Escape from Malaria, Mosquitoes and Yellow Fever.
Extracts From Letters.
Off Port Limón, on S. S. Limón.
10:30 A. M. Saturday, Dec. 24, 1904.
This is Christmas eve, or will be when it is. It required quite a little will power for me to come into the smoking-room where there is no breeze, in order to write and swelter, and swelter and write, and thus do two things at the same time on the same day. I feel like one bird being killed by two stones.