The war maker

by Horace Herbert Smith

IT was in vexed Venezuela that I was destined to end my days of deviltry, but not until after a protracted warfare, none the less bitter because it was conducted at long range, with Castro the Contemptible, who came into power two years after I had finally settled down at Santa Catalina as manager for the Orinoco Company. Cipriano Castro had been in Congress as Diputado, or Member of the House, from one of the Andean districts while I was in Caracas with President Crespo, and though he was regarded as a good fighter and a disturbing element he was never considered as a presidential possibility. Had that unhappy prospect ever been suggested it could easily have been imagined that he would, as he abundantly did, prove himself the “Vulture of Venezuela,” the most despotic and dishonest ruler with which that unfortunate country has ever been cursed, and the most cunning.

With all of my hatred for Castro and everything pertaining to him it must be admitted that he was an exceedingly shrewd scoundrel; had he been half as honest he could have made himself the greatest man in South America. He supported Anduesa Palacio, the deposed President who had betrayed Guzman Blanco, in his final campaign against Crespo, before the latter was recognized as Dictator, and defeated General Morales in the battle of Tariba on May 15, 1892. For some time after that he was in full control of that section of the country, but with the firm establishment of the new regime he gave up the fight. In recognition of the military ability he had displayed, Crespo offered to make him Collector of Customs at Puerto Cabello. He declined the position but, egotistically exaggerating the purpose of the proffer, he pompously promised Crespo that he would not attempt to overthrow his government. He then came to Congress, where he would have been almost unnoticed but for the amusement he created by solemnly removing his shoes and putting on black kid gloves every time he sat down to the, to him, herculean task of drafting a bill. He was as rough and uncouth as the rest of the mountaineers; short of stature, secretive of mind, and suspicious of every one, excepting only a few of his brother brigands from the Andes. At the expiration of his term he returned to the hills and bought a farm just across the Colombian border. He posed as a cattle-raiser, but all of the reports that reached Caracas said he was much more of a cattle-rustler, or stealer. He was a persistent tax-dodger and his herd, which was said to show fifty different brands that represented as many thefts, was driven back and forth across the border to avoid the Venezuelan and Colombian collectors. He was engaged in this profitable pastime when I left Caracas, and had disappeared from all political and revolutionary calculations.

I first arrived at Santa Catalina, whither I had gone on the urgent advice of Crespo, early in 1896. It was a straggling little town, with the company’s headquarters, a large wooden building containing forty rooms, which was used for both residential and administrative purposes, standing close to the bank of the Piacoa River, a branch of the Orinoco, opposite the lower end of the Island of Tortola—the Iwana of Sir Walter Raleigh. The building contained a store, with a large supply of goods adapted to the needs of colonists in a new and tropical country, and around it were carpenter, blacksmith, and machine shops. The company also owned three small steamers, which were used to bring supplies from Trinidad and run back and forth to Barrancas, thirty miles upstream at the head of the Macareo River, the main estuary of the Orinoco, through which all of the commerce passes. The Atlantic Ocean was one hundred and fifty miles below us and Ciudad Bolivar, the principal city on the Orinoco and the head of all-the-year navigation, was one hundred and eighty miles above.

Tradition says that Santa Catalina was named by Raleigh who, according to the native story, camped there when he was pushing his way up the Orinoco in search of the fabled El Dorado, with its golden city of Manoa. Just above Barrancas are the ruins of a strong fort that he built as a safe abiding place for a part of his force while he went farther on up the river. It is, perhaps, the irony of an unkind fate which pursued the great adventurer, that near this fort, from which searching parties were sent out, is the rich mine of El Callao, whose gold probably gave rise to the stories that started Raleigh on his heroic hunt for the shining city that was the objective point of all of the Argonauts who followed Columbus and Ojeda. If Raleigh had been looking for gold by the pound instead of by the ton and had searched more carefully he probably would have found enough to satisfy him.

Stretching away to unmeasured lengths from the pin prick which the headquarters village made in it, was the virgin forest, with its wealth of gold and iron, rubber and asphalt, and its square miles of mahogany, Spanish cedar, rosewood, carapo, greenheart, and mora wood, all within the confines of our concession. Far off to the southwest, in a region which I never could find time to explore, was the mythical dwelling place of the people whom Raleigh described, though only on the word of the natives, as having no heads but with eyes in their shoulders and mouths in their chests, with a long mane trailing out from their spines. Down the Orinoco, half-way to the coast, was Imitaca Mountain, a great hill of iron ore, which is said to be one of the largest and richest deposits in the world.

The letters which Crespo had given me to the Territorial Governor and to the “Jefe Civile,” who had immediate jurisdiction over the headquarters of our concession, gave me a high standing and I proceeded to conciliate the people, who had become disaffected toward the old management, and lay plans for the development of the property. The real boss of the people of Venezuela is the “Jefe Civile.” He has complete jurisdiction over the people of his district, which generally embraces a county, and is consulted on all matters of argument, whether domestic, political, or religious. His decision is usually final, although an appeal may be taken to the Court of First Instance in which his district is situated. His authority closely resembles that of a French prefect, and admits of an intimate knowledge of the private life of the people. Practically, there are no secrets in Venezuela. If two people stop in the street and talk for a moment they are surrounded by an inquisitive crowd. If a woman complains to the Jefe Civile of her husband’s ill treatment, it is done with the windows and doors open, in a room more or less filled with idle spectators.

The Jefe Civile at Catalina assisted me in my effort to open up the country and active operations were soon under way. The natives, who were living just as when Columbus discovered them, and wearing no more clothes than could be noticed, were attracted by the prosperity which it was presumed would follow our development work, and little pueblos sprang up along the river on both sides of us. These people, working directly for the company or under a license on a royalty basis, were employed chiefly in cutting timber and collecting balata gum, which has many of the qualities of rubber without its elasticity and is caught by tapping the trees. The native labor was not very satisfactory at the best, as judged by American standards, and we imported some negroes from Trinidad, who were little better.

Our concession covered a territory larger than the State of Massachusetts, nearly all of which was terra incognita. It was out of the question to think of trying to go all over it, but, to gain an intelligent idea as to the nature of the inland country and its resources, I made one trip into the interior, toward the disputed border of British Guiana, which was our eastern limit. But for the boundary dispute between Venezuela and England the Orinoco Company never would have secured its concession, for the shrewd Guzman granted it with the idea that the Americans would colonize the territory and effectively resist the British invasion, which he was powerless to do. In their progressive search for gold—the continued pursuit of Raleigh’s will-o’-the-wisp—the Englishmen in Guiana were advancing farther and farther into Venezuela and carrying the boundary with them, or claiming that it was always just ahead of them, which, so far as Venezuela’s protests went, amounted to the same thing. It was, in fact, the sweet siren song of gold that caused the establishment of the three Guianas, so that the British, French, and Dutch might prosecute the search under the most favorable conditions.

My expedition Guianaward was the hardest trip I have ever undertaken and yet one of the most interesting. We had to make our own trail and though I had a dozen men with me it was a tremendous task to cut our way through the thick underbrush, never before disturbed, which often barred our progress. We could carry few supplies, but it was easy to live off the country, for there was enough game to feed an army. Not knowing what to make of us, the jaguar, puma, tapir, and ocelot came so close that they were easily shot, while overhead were millions of monkeys, parrots, and macaws, to say nothing of great snakes that would have made the fortune of a menagerie manager. At long intervals, living on the banks of rivers, we encountered a few wild Indians, who were terrified until they found we were not tax collectors sent out by the government to take them into slavery on account of their inability to pay extortionate taxes, which are levied for no other purpose than to compel them to work for years without pay. When they became convinced that we meant them no harm they were very friendly and generously offered us things to eat, which I was afraid to touch. They never had seen a white man before, and I regretted that some of my friends were not hidden in the bushes to witness the reverence they showed me. They were armed with bows and arrows, which they used with wonderful accuracy, and crudely fashioned spears, and wore nothing much but feathers in their hair. They lived on fish and game, with yams and plantains, and sometimes corn, as side dishes, and native fruits for dessert, and they were the healthiest looking people I have ever seen. I pushed into this veritable paradise for all of a hundred miles, which carried me close to the border, and discovered one outcropping of gold which will some day be developed into a rich property. Our progress was so slow that it was two months before we were back in Catalina.

After getting the development work well started I left it in charge of the superintendent and returned to Caracas. I was not yet ready to bury myself on the concession, for that, I thought, was what it would mean to become a fixture there, and, besides, I was curious to know how things were going at the capital. I stopped at Trinidad on the way to attend to some business for the company and enjoy a taste of real civilization, so it was early in 1897 before I resumed my old confidential position with President Crespo. The restoration was to be only temporary, he declared, for he insisted that a fortune awaited me in the Orinoco delta and wished me to become established there. His term expired the following February and I found that he had already decided on General Ignacio Andrade as his successor. He had planned to continue as Dictator of the country, à la Guzman, and spend much of his idle time, and money, abroad, and he wanted a man who could be relied on to keep his organization intact and turn the office back to him at the end of his term, for the Venezuelan constitution prohibits a President from succeeding himself.