Pioneering in Cuba

by James Meade Adams

A Tough Tramp to La Gloria City.

As the fleet of schooners drew near La Gloria port, a row of small tents was discerned close to the shore. Elsewhere there was a heavy growth of bushes to the water's edge—the mangroves and similar vegetation fairly growing out into the sea. Between and around the tents was a wretched slough of sticky, oozy mud nearly a foot deep, with streams of surface water flowing over it in places into the bay. The colonists were filled with excitement and mingled emotions as they approached the shore, but their hearts sank when they surveyed this discouraging scene. They landed on the rude pier, and after much difficulty succeeded in depositing their light baggage in tents reserved for the purpose. Narrow boards laid down to walk on were covered with slippery mud, and some lost their footing and went over headforemost into the slough. One jaunty, well-dressed young man from New Jersey, who had found the trip vastly entertaining up to this point, was so disgusted at suffering a "flop-over" into the mire that he turned immediately back and returned to his home in Atlantic City. And so the sifting process went on among the intending colonists.

The conditions at the port at that time were certainly most unpleasant. Mud and water were on every hand, and sand flies were as thick as swarms of bees, and nearly as ferocious; they allowed no one any peace. The company had considerately provided coffee and bread for the landing "immigrants", and something of the sort was certainly needed to fortify them for what was to follow. Lunch over, such of the colonists as had not decided to turn back started for the "city" of La Gloria, four miles inland. We found that the electric cars were not running, that the 'bus line was not in operation, and that we could not take a carriage to the hotel; nor was there a volante, a wagon, a bullock cart, a horse, mule, or pony in evidence. Neither was there a balloon or any other kind of airship. We learned further that a rowboat could be used only a portion of the way. Under the circumstances, we decided to walk.

The road, if such it may be called, led through an open savanna, with occasional belts of timber. There had been heavy rains just before our arrival, and the trail was one of the most wretched ever followed by a human being. For about a quarter of a mile there was an apology for a corduroy road, but the logs composing it were so irregular and uneven in size, and had been so disarranged by surface water and so nearly covered with debris that it all seemed to have been placed there to obstruct travel rather than to facilitate it. After the corduroy, the trail was a disheartening mixture of water, mud, stumps, roots, logs, briers, and branches. Now we would be wading through shallow water and deep mud that almost pulled our shoes off; then splashing through water and tall, coarse grass; and again, carefully threading our precarious way among ugly stumps, logs, and fallen limbs, in water above our knees. At times the traveler found himself almost afloat in the forest. He was lucky, indeed, if he did not fall down, a misfortune which was little less than a tragedy. Before leaving the port we had been advised to remove our stockings and roll our trousers above our knees. Few of us had on anything better than ordinary shoes, and the sensation of tramping through the mud and water with these was far from pleasant. Many had rubber boots or leggings in their trunks, but the trunks were still at Nuevitas.

Notwithstanding the bad road, one hundred and sixty stout-hearted colonists set out for La Gloria between 1:30 and 3 o'clock. They straggled along for miles, old men and young men, and even lame men; some with valises, some with bundles, and many with overcoats. In the lead was Peter E. Park, the Detroit lawyer who for months had been acting as the Cuban manager for the company. His stalwart form was encased in a suit of white duck, and he wore a broad, slouch hat and high, leather boots. He looked quite picturesque as he strode through the mud and water, apparently trying to impress the colonists with the idea that the poor road was nothing to justify making a fuss. Inwardly, no doubt, he was somewhat sensitive on the subject of the road; justly or unjustly, the colonists blamed him for its condition.

It was hot and hard work, this four-mile walk under a tropical sun, but the men bore it with a good deal of patience. I started with a pair of rubbers on, but was compelled to abandon them before getting far, leaving a large amount of rich Cuban soil in and on them. The scene which presented itself was unique and interesting. All sorts of costumes were worn, including some young fellows in soldiers' uniforms, and there was no little variety in the luggage carried. Some staggered under very heavy loads. Quite a number of cameras and kodaks were to be seen. The trail led through a rich savanna, soil which is undoubtedly adapted to the raising of sugar cane, rice, and cocoanuts. Many palmetto and palm trees lined the way. One could not well view the scenery without stopping, for fear of losing one's footing. Thorns were troublesome and easily penetrated the wet shoes of the weary travelers. The colonists all agreed that this road was the freest from dust of any they had ever trod.

At last, after two hours of toil and discomfort, we came in sight of dry land and the camp. We had crossed two small creeks and seen a few unoccupied native shacks. No part of the land had been cultivated. Many of us had seen for the first time close at hand the majestic royal palm, which is deservedly the most distinguished tree in the island. It is a tree without branches, crowned at the top of a perfectly straight shaft with a bunch of long, graceful, dark green leaves. The royal palm rises to a height of sixty, seventy, and even eighty feet, its symmetrical shape and whitish color giving it the appearance of a marble column. It bears no fruit, and affords little shade, but it is highly ornamental and forms a striking feature of the landscape. The tree often lives to be two hundred years old; it has twenty leaves, one of which is shed about once a month. It has been stated that the seeds from a single tree will support one good-sized hog.

As we approached our destination we passed two buxom women sitting on a huge stump. They were clad in shirt waists, belted trousers and leggings, and wore broad hats of a masculine type. We silently wondered if this was the prevailing fashion among the women of La Gloria, but soon found that it was not. Even the pair that we had first seen came out a few days later in dainty skirts and feminine headgear. Indeed, we found La Gloria, in some respects, more civilized than we had anticipated.