The sanitary conditions of Principe are perfect or as nearly perfect as a medical staff of fifteen physicians can make them. The floors, walls and roofs of the entire prison are of Cuban stone and are “sluiced” twice a day. The “dormitories” are large, airy casemates and both ends are covered by steel bars which make a window fifteen feet square. A continuous sea breeze blows through them. The berths or bunks extend in one tier on each side of the casemate and are made to fold up against the wall. The “bed clothes” consist of two duck sheets and a blanket for cool weather, which are changed twice a week. A row of shower baths completes the furniture and the inmates are required to take at least two baths a day.
There are three hospitals—the tuberculosis, contagious diseases and the “public” ward. They are upon the roof of the south bastion and face the sea. Their sanitation, according to the physicians, can not be improved upon. The “lungers” sleep practically out of doors, or rather with just enough overhead to protect them from the heavy tropical dews. So healthy and sanitary is the prison that very few cases of sickness occur. The majority of the inmates of the hospitals are those sick, principally with consumption, when they arrive.
There has never been an insurrection or mutiny in Principe. In fact, scores of prisoners when released at the end of their terms have asked Colonel Garzon to save their “cup and pan,” and invariably they return to use them. They really fare better “inside” than “outside.” The average Cuban of the criminal type has but few necessities of life, and these of the barest.
“How do you manage to keep the prisoners so orderly and apparently well satisfied?” was asked General Castillo.
“We try to make them contented,” he replied. “We have a band that gives concerts in the court yard. We let them study, work them, feed them well, keep them sanitary, study each one personally and let them know they must obey the regulations. Each man knows he will get fair and impartial treatment. If one gets into trouble (and fist fighting is the only trouble we have), we simply put him in solitary confinement. There is nothing that hurts a Cuban prisoner as badly as to keep him from talking and away from his associates, and besides, those in solitary confinement are not allowed tobacco. We never prevent them from talking with one another, and besides, each man gets two months off of each year for good behavior. We hope to put the prison upon a self-supporting basis during the present administration.”
In 1905, Juan Jose Garcia, serving a ten-year sentence for highway robbery and holding a rich farmer for ransom, escaped. He, with a squad of prisoners, was working outside the walls, and during a severe rainstorm, he made a successful dash for liberty. He had four years to serve. His escape was reported to the warden and the usual reward offered for his arrest.
Some days later General Castillo was going into Havana by automobile, when a man stepped into the road in front of the machine and held up his hand for it to stop. “What do you want?” inquired the general. “I am Juan Jose Garcia. I ran away from the prison last week, but want to return. I have been dogged and chased by the officers and am worn out and starving.”
“It serves you right,” said General Castillo. “You have been a very, very bad prisoner, and moreover, I can’t keep such men as you in my prison. You ruin discipline and break the rules.”
“But,” Garcia pleaded, “if you will just give me one more trial I’ll promise never to run away again.”
“I am very busy to-day, but go up to the prison and if Colonel Garzon will take you back I suppose it will be all right.”