Caóba, the Guerilla Chief. A real romance of the Cuban rebellion

Front matter

ca6ba THE GUERILLA CHIEF BV THE SAME. Paul Ray at the Hospital: A Picture of London Medical Student Life. Cloth Bvo, 6s. (By Subscription.) Out of print. Pictures of East Anglian Life. Folio. Illustrated with 32 Photo- Etchings and 15 small Illustrations. Edition de Luxe, limited to 75 numbered copies, £7, 7s. ; all sold. Ordinary Edition, limited to 500 copies, £s, 5S- ; twenty left. All plates destroyed. Pictures from Life in Field and Fen. Folio. Being 20 Photo* Etchings, with Introductory Essay, in Portfolio. Edition de Luxe, limited to 50 numbered copies, £,s, 5*. ', all sold. Ordinary Edition, limited to 200 copies, £2, 3s. ; al! sold. All plates destroyed. Idyls of the Norfolk Broads. Being 12 Autogravures, with Introductory Essay and Notes, in Portfolio. Edition de Luxe, limited to 100 copies, £1, us. 6d. Ordinary Edition, limited to 100 copies, £1, is.

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Part I

— LA ESPERANZA ESTATE CHAP. PAGE I. THE PLANTER AT THE CASA GRANDE . 3 II. IN THE FOREST PRIMEVAL 13 III. THE SLAVER, " CRUZ DE MAYO " . . 27 IV. WILD CATS ...... 42 V. THE SPANIARD'S WILD CATTLE . . 45 VI. THE BANDIT'S THREAT 50 VII. OLD FLORA'S DEATH . . . -58 VIII. THE BANDITS . . . . .61 IX. EL PADRE ...... 67 X. THE MONTERO'S THREAT ... 70 XI. TETANUS ...... 78 XII. THE INSOLENT CABRADOR ... 84 XIII. MURDER AND SUICIDE .... 87 XIV. FRANCISCA HABANERA . . . .TOI XV. FEAST AND DANCE . . . . 104 xvi. poison — the Spaniard's revenge . 113 xvn. at the coast . . . . i25 xviii. fight with the bandits . . 135 XIX. LOLA OF MARAVILLA .... 144 XX. THE DUEL . . . . . 152 Contents X

PART IL

— PEACE AND CARE CHAP. PAGE I. FIRE 157 II. DEATH AND WARNINGS. . . . l6l III. THE HIGHWAYMEN . . . 1 63 IV. DYSENTERY . . . . . 172 V. CHOLERA MORBUS . . . . -174 VI. THE MASTER'S EYE . . . 177 VII. DISMANTLED . . . . 1 79 VIII. FRIENDS . . . . . .182 IX. RUIN . . . . . . 185 X. THE ONE-EYED MAN . 1 91 XI. IN THE TORRENT . . . . .196 XII. JARS 200 XIII. MANUMISSION ..... 202 XIV. THE RUNAWAY 204 XV. THE LONE STAR ..... 208 XVI. SMUGGLED 210 XVII. SIGNS AND PORTENTS . . 2 13 XVIII. THE PLANTER'S DEATH . . . .217

Part III

— WAR— BLOOD T WAR I. REBELLION 221 II. SCHEMING VILLAINS 224 III. LOS INSURRECTOS. .... 228 IV. A SPY 234 V. THE WARNING 23S VI. LAND-HUNGER 24I Contents XI CHAP. PAGE VII. FIRE AND BLOOD ..... 243 VIII. TWO STORIES 247 IX. BUTTERFLIES AND BULLETS . . . 253 X. SELF-MURDER ..... 259 XI. KIDNAPPED . . . . . .262 XII. SENTENCED TO DEATH .... 268 XIII. BUTCHERY 277 XIV. PILLAGED ...... 293 XV. ROGUES IN COUNCIL . . . .296 XVI. THE COMPACT ..... 303 XVII. LAURA ....... 306 XVIII. BETRAYED 312 xix. caoba's commission . . . -316 XX. TORNADO 326 XXI. NEMESIS 331 XXII. BLOOD-MONEY 34O Civilised warfare is honourable : to devastate and murder, criminal. The author sympathises with neither side, for both have been guilty of manv atrocities, and he would like lo see the island under the rule of the all-conquering Anglo-Saxon.

Chapter I The Planter At The Casa Grande

The castellated Casa Grande of La Esperanza estate, in the island of Cuba, crested a limestone hill, and overlooked thousands of acres of waving sugar-canes that covered the rich alluvial plains round about. The white walls of the great house gleamed in the dazzling tropical sunlight, for the rains were over, and December had come — the dry season had set in with lovely weather. This mansion of the Esperanza was a picturesque pile, solidly built of limestone, blasted from the very hill upon which it stood, and covered with plaster — smooth, hard, and whiter than ivory. It consisted of a large, one-storied casa, with a picturesque fringe, beneath which a cool, i Pronounced Kah-o-bah, Caoba : The Guerilla Chief 4 red-tiled piazza ran, enclosing the front and sides of the structure. The roof of the piazza was supported on pillars of graceful form.

Behind the casa, from the left end, projected at right angles a long, low, white wing of rooms, pierced externally with small grated windows, roofed with tiles above, and opening by narrow doors into a covered corridor that looked upon the quadrangular garden within. From the right end of the house extended another wing of solidly-built offices, store-rooms, servants' quarters, and stables, communicating with the exterior, some by tall doorways, others with the garden by low doors and grated windows. Behind, a high massive wall, rising some thirty feet from the hill-side, closed the garden from all access save by the front entrance. The wall was railed on the top, and terraced towards the garden, each platform gay with flowers and fresh with ornamental foliage plants. From the left of the terraced wall, at its junction with the cor ridor, rose a square white tower, its four sides pierced with small gratings, its top tiled and en closed by embrasures.

In the hollow of the tower hung a heavy alarm bell. To the right of the terrace, adjoining the stables, was the hen-house, with tiled roof and cemented floors, its sides enclosed by louvained woodwork. Below it was the sheepfold. As a further precaution, a solid stone wall, ten feet high, was built round the grounds of the Casa Grande — an outwork soon covered with wild creepers that grew with tropical luxuriance — a green screen, gay in patches, with red and yellow flowers. A winding carriage-drive descended from the front of the casa through the grounds to the gates, whence, to the right, an avenue of cocoa nut trees led to the king's highway, or camino real, as the Spaniards called it, and on the left, for a mile, to the batey — the centre of life of the estate. In this stronghold the planter and his retainers could have well stood a siege by the class of enemy by which they were surrounded ; and, truth to tell, such precautions were necessary, for, besides the bandoleros^ who frequented the primeval forests to the right of the house, a rising of slaves had ever to be guarded against.

One fine December evening, in the year 18 — , the wealthy hacendado, Don Enrique, the owner of those broad acres, sat in the piazza, gazing at the evening landscape. Don Enrique was a tall, powerfully-built man, as well set up as a trained soldier. His deeply- 1 Banditti. bronzed skin showed he had lived long beneath the tropical sun ; but his white hair, closely cropped moustache, and blue eyes — like the sea — showed he had sprung from some northern race ; and, indeed, such was the case, for Don Enrique was of English stock, a descendant of a Border clan, which had given many sons to the colonies to win distinction in many fields. Upon this particular evening, the planter was alone but for his three Cuban mastiffs that lay beside him. He was dressed in a black silk coat, negligently thrown open, showing an em broidered linen shirt, confined at the waist by a red silk sash, from which the ivory stock of a long revolver shone.

White linen trousers and patent leather shoes completed his costume. His fine plaited Panama hat was pushed back from his forehead, and a long green vaquero cigar was fixed in one corner of his stern mouth. A little table stood by his side with a coffee service, maraschino and liqueur glasses, a box of cigars, and a small brazier containing live charcoal. Don Enrique sat with one arm resting on the rail of the piazza, watching the transparent sky in the horizon, just beyond where the galvanised iron roofs of the neighbouring La Marguerita estate gleamed amid the green sea of sugar-canes. In a few minutes the setting sun touched the rustling cane-tassels — for the crop was ripe, — when suddenly the landscape seemed to brighten and glow — the roosting signal for flocks of green parrots that at once began to fly to the forest that stretched on the right between La Esperanza and the Caribbean Sea.

Far away on the left a flock of turkey-buzzards circled over some foul carcase — of a mule, perchance — left by the muleteers, whose jingling bells and trappings Don Enrique could hear approaching along the camino real. As he puffed his cigar, and watched the peaceful tropic sunset, the drawling voices of the muleteers could be heard singing lazily — Canta, Filomena, canta, Canta y yote dare, Una cinta para tu pie, Y un collar para tu Garganta, Y una manta de differentes colores, Y un grande pucka de stores, Y si tu no me quieros ami, Temos a Ios regores." This barbaric music, stealing across the bright green leaves of the plantains, echoed from the hollows lurking round El Monte — the single peak on the right of the house that raised its head from the forest, its foot hidden in dense vegeta tion — a lonely summit that looked down un challenged upon the flat land of the estate, a summit from whose bald top the cautious bando lero kept watch, looking over the adjoining estates on the one hand, and the sapphirine sea on the other.

Ere the muleteers' song had faded in the dis tance, darkness began to gather over the scene ; and when the singers' voices were lost in the forest road that led to Maravilla — a secluded little seaport some twenty miles from the estate, — the tropic night had already fallen ; and the silence of sunset was suddenly broken by the awakening voices of myriads of living creatures. The forest resounded with strange and mysterious noises, whilst about the grounds of the Casa Grande thousands of insects began their nightly concert. The face of the sky, too, had changed from pale blue to violet. Overhead burnt brightly the great belt of Orion, whilst away in the southern sky the firefly-like stars glowed about the Southern Cross, and all around the wondrous violet skies showed sources of pale light, violet abysses, and bright points of fire that filled the beholder with wonder and poetry.

As Don Enrique smoked and gazed upon the magic beauty of the night, a flock of cucuyos, those large beetles with eyes and bodies of flame, flew through the grounds at the same moment that a black man-servant, clad in white linen with a red turban on his head, came noiselessly from the house, and removed the coffee-tray. " How is the sefiora ?" asked Don Enrique. " Flora says she is well and the child sleeps, my master," replied the slave gravely. " It is well ; light my office candles." " Yes, my master," replied the man, disappear ing into the dark lofty rooms that opened from the piazza, rooms about which turbaned servants moved noiselessly lighting the candelabras. The planter rose and stretched himself, bored to have to return to the petty details of business, and walked round to his private office, built against the house, but opening on to the piazza.

At the opposite side of the house was a simi lar room, kept as a guest-chamber for doubtful visitors, for in those wild times, unknown and sometimes suspicious persons came on to the estate and begged for a night's lodging — engineers going to and from distant estates, bagmen, ship wrecked mariners, and others. All these strange persons of unproved character slept in this guest chamber outside the house, and were entertained indoors according to their position — either with the servants, by themselves, or with the planter. Don Enrique entered his office, and took his seat at his writing-table that was covered with long day-books and ledgers made of coarse Spanish paper and bound in rough leather, files of letters written on thin blue paper and sealed with wafers, the writing here and there showing traces of the sand-box.

Whilst engaged in correspondence three stalwart negroes entered, each one carrying on his shoulder a long cube of ironwood, some eighteen inches through and six feet in length. Each block was fitted with a short mahogany handle for purposes of portage. These cubes of heavy timber were ranged side by side on the low, tiled window-seat against the iron gratings, and locked in their places by an iron bolt. Thus no one could shoot the planter through the windows, for West Indian landlords were sub ject to this attention long before the landlords of Ireland. Meanwhile all the windows of the house had been barricaded in a similar way for the night ; all the candles had been lighted ; and upon the dining-room table was placed a salver upon which stood a carafe of water, some lemons and sugar, some panellas, a dish of fruit : oranges, a pine-apple, and some custard apples.

Beside this was placed a box of cigars, a flask of maraschino, glasses, and the brazier of candela. The clock had struck midnight when Don Enrique locked his office doors. Standing for a minute, he looked over the sleeping landscape to see that no dread fires were burning in the cane-fields or forest, after which he entered the sala? The lofty white walls, simply decorated with oil-paintings, the marble floor and light cane 1 Salon. furniture lit up by wax candles, looked simple and inviting enough ; but Don Enrique passed on to the dining-room and drank a panella with water. Then returning to the sala, he opened a tall cedar door that led to his young wife's room. As he entered, the black waiting-women, with gaily-coloured turbans, white teeth, heavy gold earrings, and white muslin dresses, arose and bowed, then stood silently, whilst the master went to his wife's bedside and opened the musquito-nets to bid her good night and kiss his sleeping first born, after which he returned to the dining room, and called down the corridor — " Caoba !

" In response, a bright-eyed, intelligent negro boy appeared in white livery, his short coat decorated with red cord. Bowing gravely, the lad said — " Yes, my master." " Call in the dogs ; I am going to bed." " Yes, my master." Don Enrique then went to one of the small bedrooms opening into the dining-room, as the lion-like mastiffs walked heavily into the house — Como-tu, spotted like a pard ; Leon, tawny of skin ; and Sancho, white of coat. Reappearing from the bedroom, Don Enrique went round the house examining the bolts and bars, some of the slaves already snoring on the mats before the bedroom doors, whilst away down the corridor some of the men-servants could be heard moving restlessly on their cotton cots. After Caoba had valeted his master, he said — "Good night, my master," and withdrew.

" Good night, Caoba," replied the planter, shutting the door. Having placed his revolver beneath his pillow, he jumped into bed, drew his musquito-nets, and soon that household of eighteen persons was asleep.

Chapter II In The Forest Primeval

Don Enrique was awakened that night by the loud and furious barking of the dogs. Quickly he lighted the candle by his bedside, and hastened to dress. Whilst he was still putting the finishing touches to his hasty toilet, some one knocked softly at his door. " Who is it ? " asked the hacendado. " Caoba, my master," was the reply. "Well, what is it, boy?" " Ramon and Marzial have gone out into the night, and a countryman on horseback wishes to speak with the master." " What is his business ? " " He will not say, my master.' " Good ! Tell him to draw up at Ramon's wicket." This was a small grated window opening into one of the trusty men-servant's rooms. Caoba disappeared, and immediately returned, bearing a torch. The hacendado followed the boy down the corridor, past the delicious scents that floated in from the garden on the night breeze, and entered Ramon's room, and cautiously opening the wicket, stood so that he could not be fired at from with out, and asked in a commanding voice — "Who is it?"

" Don Juan Chicadillo, Don Enrique," replied a harsh voice. "Hola! Don Juan. What do you want at this hour of the night ? " asked the planter, looking out of the postigo, for he had recognised the man's voice. Juan Chicadillo, who was seated upon a small horse carrying a seron, or panniers, that hung over each flank of his animal, replied in a low, clear voice — "The ship!" "Hola!" replied the hacendado. "Wait a moment ; you shall be admitted." Then turning to Caoba, he gave quick orders that Juan should be admitted, and that his own horse, Marikita, should be saddled forthwith. In a moment all the servants were astir, the dining-room lighted up, fresh cigars, coffee, and candela placed upon the table. Juan Chicadillo was ushered in between the two herculean negroes, Ramon and Marzial, with their machetes in leathern cases at their belts.

The Spaniard was himself a picturesque-looking rascal — a small -featured, black-eyed rogue, with gleaming white teeth, and dressed in the ordinary peasant's costume — a broadbrimmed, coarsely-plaited grass hat, an embroidered white shirt, white trousers ; a long slender machete in silver-mounted leathern scabbard hanging at his side, and large brass Spanish spurs at his heels completed the costume. When Juan saw Don Enrique, he took off his hat with a bow, saying — " How are you, gentleman ? " "Good morning, gentleman," replied the planter, with hidden contempt ; " do me the favour of taking a seat, and tomamos la mafiana," 1 he added, signing to Caoba to pour out a glass of aguadiente from a decanter, and to hand it to the Spaniard. The planter himself filled a liqueur glass with maraschino.

"To your health, Don Enrique," said the countryman, raising his glass. " And to yours, Don Juan," retorted the planter. When the glasses were drained, the hacendado turned to Caoba, and said — " Boy — leave us." " Yes, my master." "And so the Cruz de Mayo is in at last, Don Juan ? " " Yes, Don Enrique, with two hundred bozales, — young and handsome." 1 Let us drink the morning. " Does El Conde of La Caridad know ?" " No, no, Don Enrique. I have heart — when a gentleman pays as you do. Caramba — El Conde may go rot." "When do they land?" "At seven in the morning; it will be high water then, and she can slip over the bar if we are disturbed." The planter thought for a few minutes, and replied — " Good ! we must start in two hours, Don Juan." " As the gentleman pleases," retorted the Spaniard, now more at his ease.

"We'll have breakfast first. Eh, Don Juan? The house is at your disposal. " Many thanks, Don Enrique," said the Spaniard, bowing and helping himself to a trabuco, lighting it with a flint and tinder which he drew from his pocket. Caoba was recalled, and promptly answered the summons. "Order breakfast for two as soon as possible." " Yes, my master," the lad replied, and ran off to the kitchen. Whilst breakfast was being prepared by the Chinese chef and his black assistants over the charcoal fires, Don Enrique went to his safe, built into the wall of his bedroom, and filled a leathern belt with golden onzas, securing them about his waist ; the Spaniard, meanwhile, smoking and drinking coffee. Having visited his wife, and explained to her the journey he was about to take, he found, on returning to the dining-room, that the covers were laid, the silver and glass sparkling on the white napery beneath the candles.

A vase filled with lilies and tuberoses — still dripping with the heavy tropical dew- — shed a rich perfume through the cool dining-room. After some delay, a gong sounded from the kitchen, and a file of comely young negresses, all gaily turbaned, led by matronly old Flora — • a trusted slave — walked into the dining-room, each one bowing and muttering — " Blessing, my master," 1 as she placed her dish upon the table. Then they withdrew as they had come, down the corridor, to the kitchen, looking in the gloom like phantoms ; but their merry laughter, as they reached the kitchen, dispelled the illusion. Meanwhile, two men-servants and Caoba en tered and stood silently behind their master. " Come, sit yourself down, Don Juan," said the planter. Don Juan deposited his dirty hat, in the crown of which was rolled a bandana handkerchief, upon the floor, boor that he was, and sat down 1 Bendicion, mi amo.

B Caoba : The Guerilla Chief 18 opposite to Don Enrique ; but never a smile passed over the hacendado 's face, for apart from good breeding, he knew the Spanish peasantry and small farmers only too well : their pride was boundless, and he knew them to be touchy as tinder. The alert and well-trained servants took off the covers, disclosing a sumptuous breakfast. There were omelette garnished with fried sweet peppers, fried ripe plantains and rice, fried green plantains, guinea-hen stew, fried fish from the river, soft-shelled crabs, fried oysters from Maravilla, avocado pears, cheese, Boston water-crackers, preserves, caraffes of water, and St. Vincent wine. They ate their meal hurriedly, finishing up with a glass of maraschino and a cup of coffee, after which they lighted their cigars and walked on to the piazza, where the grooms stood with flaring torches, holding the horses, Ramon and Marzial standing at attention by the steps.

" You come this time, Ramon ; and you, Mar zial, re-lock the doors and keep watch," ordered the hacendado after he had mounted Marikita. The grooms bowed, and Juan on his hack, and Don Enrique on his beautiful little chestnut, for all the horses of the island are small, being of Spanish descent, walked down the winding drive, Ramon following. At the gates there was a pause, whilst Ramon unlocked and re-locked them. The party then took the road to the right, leading to the King's highway, and set off at a walk, for the roads were bad. The lovely tropical night was cool, and ere they reached the high way, Ramon was wet to the skin by the heavy dews that dripped from the long slim plantain leaves, rustling in the grove, and the tall wild plants that grew beside the road. Puffs of sweet perfume, swept by the gentle breezes, met them at every turn, while at intervals a cry came from the woods as some bird or beast fell a prey to the snakes or wild dogs.

The sweet-potato fields looked black as they rode through them. After passing them, they rode through a tall strong gateway, and the little party found themselves off the Esperanza and on the highway. Beside them was the black mysterious forest, and every one instinctively loosened his weapon ; and Don Enrique, digging his spurs into Marikita, cried to his companion — " Vamos, Don Juan." Ramon seized his master's crupper, and both horses broke into that quick run so familiar to Cuban riders ; and they passed along the high way, startling a hutia here, a campanero there, who cried his bell note. On reaching the foot of the mountain, they stopped beneath the violet sky Caoba : The Guerilla Chief 20 and formed single file, Juan leading, for they were about to make short cut by a bridle-path, through the forest.

Lighting fresh cigars, they passed beneath the tall, mast-like trees whose crowns far aloft hid the sky. The darkness deepened, and the night was filled with the music of myriads of musquitos that at once attacked the riders, so that they were compelled to break branches from the undergrowth to beat them off. They moved through an arcade walled on either side by thick vegetation, black depths filled with strange voices, matted growths impene trable to daylight. After half-an-hour's ride, they passed the mouth of a cave in the mountain, when suddenly a negro ran across the path, and disappeared on his hands and knees into the thick vegetation. " See, see ! Don Enrique — a runaway negro." 1 " I saw him," said the planter ; " one of the Conde's people, I believe." "Ah, he told me Alfonso, one of his carters, had run away on Monday."

"Why?" "He had ordered him twenty-four for going with his mulatta, Rosa." "Hola," said the planter, staring in the direc tion the fugitive had taken, " sinverguenza." " I'll take him, my master," volunteered Ramon. 1 Cimarron. " No, man, it is not worth it." " Ah ! my master has heart," said Ramon sen tentiously, for it was well known that Don Enrique would never go out of his way to catch a strange fugitive. " And Ramon, too," remarked the planter. " Blessing, my master," said the negro. Just before sunrise the little cavalcade emerged from the dark woods with blood-stained faces, for the mosquitos had played havoc with them. Riding side by side, they traversed a cart road with deep ruts on either hand. It was now a little before five o'clock, and a deep silence had fallen upon the woods, broken only by the cries of some wild birds, among which the clear whistles of the meadow-larks, the calls of the torrero, as it pecked a rotten quebra hacha branch, and the call of the campanero could be distinguished.

"The morning has come," ventured Juan "Yes, there comes the light," replied Don Enrique. "Yes, my master, and the parrots call, the morning is here," remarked the negro. "The first glimmer of light brightened, the formless vegetation began to shape itself, when suddenly the red rim of the sun appeared. " The sun, my master," said the stalwart negro, pointing to the glowing disc. " Yes, like a fire," acquiesced the hacendado. In less than half-an-hour the full day was upon them, the foliage glittered with heavy dew gems, and beams of golden light shimmered through openings in the scrub ; flocks of parrots screamed as they fed on the wild oranges, great bees buzzed by, and gorgeous butterflies flew across the road, and alighted on shrubs to sun their metal -like wings. The temperature was delightful, and the riders soon recovered from the slight chill of the night, and began to chat cheerily, Ramon joining in.

"This way, this way, Don Enrique," shouted Juan, turning his horse into the forest again. It was like going into a cave after the bright sunshine, for the light scarce penetrated the dense vegetation and twining creepers that crowned the tall, twisted tree-trunks. Strange and fantastic were some of these forest giants, twisted like mighty lianas wound together, whilst others were round and smooth, and others again had buttress roots — the ironwood, the caoba, the quebra-hacha, the cedar, the sabicu. All grew there, bound together by thick ropes of creepers. Some of the living ropes were covered with gorgeous yellow flowers, whilst others were lost in the thick glossy leaves of the tree-tops. Here and there the sun streamed down into the forest, through an opening left in the dense overgrowth, whence some hoary monarch had fallen, having crashed through the undergrowth, and was now lying on the ground — a corpse covered with lovely arums and gaily decorated with orchids.

Ramon ran up to the trunk and wrenched off a parasite, resembling the top of a pine-apple, and, raising it to his lips, he drank the pure water preserved in the cup. " How beautiful it is ! " cried Don Enrique, pointing to a tree, the trunk of which was covered with gorgeous red flowers. " Lovely," said the Spaniard ; " a bunch of flowers for the senora." After riding another ten minutes, they emerged from the forest, and before them lay the sea — a sapphirine flood of indescribable hues, a back ground to the straggling but stately royal palms that grew along the coral reefs. " The sea, the sea ! " exclaimed the Spaniard, "we are nearly there." Riding along the shore, they startled the crabs, that scattered over the coral, and dived into the water. Following the shore they turned a bend in the coast, and at once came in sight of the little bay of Maravilla.