"Dan, my dear old boy, how little you thought when we parted at the close of that last agreeable visit of a week, which I paid you the other day, that within a month I should be "cribbed, cabined, and confined" in the infernal hole of a dungeon from which I indite this. I wish you would send the Spanish minister a case of that very old Madeira of yours, which he professes to prefer to the wines of his own country, and tell him the silly scrape I have got myself into, if indeed it be not too late, for they talk of sending me to "the bourne" to-morrow. However, one never can believe a word these rascals say, so I write this in the hope that they are lying as usual,—and am, my dear old school-mate, your affectionate friend, ——.' For once the absence of friends proved a real blessing. Had the captain been occupied by domestic considerations, he never would have invented so valuable an ally as was thus extemporised, and he was rewarded for his shrewd device on the following morning, by finding himself the only solitary individual of all the party allowed to 'stand over.' In a couple of hours Lopez and his companions had gone to the bourne, to which our captain so feelingly alluded; and when, at last, the trick was discovered, the crisis was past, and the Spanish Government finally condemned him to two years' confinement in chains in the dungeon at Ceuta, which was afterwards commuted to eighteen months. He had just returned from this dismal abode in time once more to gratify the adventurous propensities which had already so nearly cost him his life; and it is due to him to say, that even the daring and reckless spirits by whom he was surrounded, agreed in saying that he placed an unusually low estimate on that valuable possession."
There is little to add to the history of filibusterism, which may be ranked among the dead industries or the lost arts, just as one chooses to regard it. Contrary to the predictions of the prophets, the disbandment of a million of men at the end of the American Civil War was effected without trouble. The European Powers breathed more freely when it was accomplished, satisfied that the aggressive "Yankee" was not so grasping as he had been painted. Maximilian of Mexico slept peacefully, and his late unruly subjects renewed their fraternal quarrels, undisturbed by interference from abroad, and finally settled into uninteresting peace and prosperity. Filibusterism died because, in sooth, it had no longer a reason for being. To "extend the area" of an abolished slavery were as paradoxical as Quixotic. Nevertheless, the peculiar institution chanced to prove the cause of yet one final, fallacious, and ghastly episode.
Cuba, once coveted as an ally by the slaveholders of the United States, was now the only spot on the civilized globe afflicted with the barbarous stain. The "ever-faithful isle" was trebly cursed with slavery, foreign rule, and martial law. Like a spendthrift come to his last penny, Spain, having squandered a continent, clung with tenacity to its remaining possession in the Western world. Thrones were set up and knocked down at home, republics were born and strangled, but no change for the better was ever felt in the wretched colony. Rather, it suffered from every change, since each involved a change of masters. Hungry, avaricious masters they were, spurred on by the uncertain tenure of their office, to reap as rich plunder as might be got out of the hapless colony, ere a new turn of the cards at home should force them to make room for other needy patriots. The power of the Captain-General is almost absolute at the best of times. In such times as those it is well-nigh omnipotent. The colony was denied representation in the Cortes, while taxed beyond endurance to support the government, and robbed by an army of officials appointed to rule over her without her consent or choice.
Cuba at last rebelled. The planters who found themselves robbed of the fruits of their industry as fast as they were gathered, and who saw the system of slavery develop into the most intolerable of all wrongs, the wrong unprofitable, at last determined to strike for their liberty. They freed and armed their slaves. They burned their plantations, and in September, 1868, hoisted the lone star flag in the mountains and bade defiance to the Spaniard. The leading insurgents were all men of wealth and influence, while their followers were necessarily ignorant and undisciplined. But success meant freedom to both classes; and they threw themselves into the unequal struggle with sublime desperation. All, or mostly all, of the leaders perished during the long and bloody contest, which ended only after it had lasted eight years, at a cost to Spain of two hundred thousand lives and over seven hundred million dollars. The figures are those of Governor-General Don Joaquin Javellar.
The Junta of Cuban patriots in New York sent out several cargoes of war material, and enlisted many American adventurers; but no regular expedition was at any time organized. Among those who participated in the guerilla conflict were Domingo de Goicouria, once Minister of Hacienda in Nicaragua, and Colonel Jack Allen, also not unknown to filibuster fame.
The culminating tragedy came to pass in October, 1873. On the 23rd of that month, the steamer Virginius, a former blockade-runner, cleared from Kingston, Jamaica, for Port Limon, Costa Rica, with passengers to the number of a hundred or more. Her true destination was the island of Cuba, her mission the transportation of arms and filibusters. Among the passengers were the patriot leaders, Cespedes, Ryan, Varona, and Del Sol. The steamer touched at Port au Prince, received her cargo of arms, ammunition, medicines, and equipments, and made sail for Cuba. She was seen and chased by the Spanish gunboat Tornado, which, by a curious coincidence, was also a former blockade-runner and a sister ship of the Virginius—a favoured sister, since she speedily overhauled and captured her prey.
The Virginius, though flying the American flag on the high seas, was made a prize and carried into the port of Santiago de Cuba. Captain Fry, her commander, an American citizen and former officer in the United States and Confederate navies, protested in vain against the outrage. He was denied communication with his consul, and thrown into prison, with all his passengers and crew. The four insurgent leaders were first tried by summary court martial on board of the Tornado, before General Buriel, Governor of the province, and sentenced to death. The sentence was promptly executed, at sunrise on the 4th of November, five days after the capture, before the walls of the Slaughter House, infamous in the annals of Cuba for over thirty years. It lies in the suburbs, about half a mile from the main wharf and on the edge of a swampy tract, beyond which are the sluggish waters of the bay and the blue, barren mountains, dark, desolate and forbidding. Some squalid huts are scattered along the sides of the road. The vegetation is scanty and the stunted palm trees are few and far between. The four walls of the Slaughter House grounds are each about 400 feet long and twelve or thirteen feet high, built of brick covered with stucco. The front gate is a rather pretentious work with ornamental pillars and strong iron pickets. Between it and the extreme left, as you face the structure, is the place set apart for executions. It bears to-day this inscription, surmounted by the Lone Star and two crossed palm-branches, with, on one side, "1868," and on the other, "1898":
Tu que paseas descubrete; este lugar es tierra con segrada. Durante treinte años benedicida ha sido con sangre de Patriotas immolados por la tirania.
"Thou who passest by, uncover; this spot is consecrated ground. During thirty years it has been hallowed with the blood of Patriots immolated by tyranny."
Ryan and Varona refused to kneel, and were shot as they stood. The heads of the four were cut off and carried on pikes through the city and before the windows of the prison, where their comrades lay awaiting a similar fate. Cespedes was the son of a patriot who had died for Cuba Libre. Varona, a chivalrous commander, had given freedom to fifteen Spanish officers captured in battle, and those fifteen, to their credit be it said, pleaded, though in vain, for clemency to him when he fell into the hands of Buriel. Del Sol was a brave young man with a wife and children. Ryan, Canadian born, was a daring adventurer. He had saved eight persons from drowning, a short time before, and leaped into the sea and saved one more on the day of the ship's departure. Santa Rosa, who was shot with the next batch of victims, had fought beside Lopez in 1851 and was one of the thirteen who raised the banner of revolt in 1868. He was imprisoned but escaped to renew the struggle, and died at last, after twenty years of strenuous endeavor for the freedom of his country, leaving the reputation: "He was very brave and very eccentric; of violent temper, but good-hearted and very devout. He never went into battle without praying for the souls of the Spaniards who might be slain."