To Cuba and Back   By: Richard Henry Dana (1815-1882)

BY

RICHARD HENRY DANA, JR.

1887

CONTENTS

I. From Manhattan to El Morro

II. Havana: First Glimpses (1)

III. Havana: First Glimpses (2)

IV. Havana: Prisoners and Priests

V. Havana: Olla Podrida

VI. Havana: A Social Sunday

VII. Havana: Belén and the Jesuits

VIII. Matanzas

IX. To Limonar by Train

X. A Sugar Plantation: The Labor

XI. A Sugar Plantation: The Life

XII. From Plantation to Plantation

XIII. Matanzas and Environs

XIV. Reflections via Railroad

XV. Havana: Social, Religious and Judicial Tidbits

XVI. Havana: Worship, Etiquette and Humanitarianism

XVII. Havana: Hospital and Prison

XVIII. Havana: Bullfight

XIX. Havana: More Manners and Customs

XX. Havana: Slaves, Lotteries, Cockfights and Filibusters

XXI. A Summing up: Society, Politics, Religion, Slavery, Resources and Reflections

XXII. Leave taking

I.

FROM MANHATTAN TO EL MORRO

The steamer is to sail at one P.M.; and, by half past twelve, her decks are full, and the mud and snow of the pier are well trodden by men and horses. Coaches drive down furiously, and nervous passengers put their heads out to see if the steamer is off before her time; and on the decks, and in the gangways, inexperienced passengers run against everybody, and mistake the engineer for the steward, and come up the same stairs they go down, without knowing it. In the dreary snow, the newspaper vendors cry the papers, and the book vendors thrust yellow covers into your face "Reading for the voyage, sir five hundred pages, close print!" And that being rejected, they reverse the process of the Sibyl with "Here's another, sir, one thousand pages, double columns." The great beam of the engine moves slowly up and down, and the black hull sways at its fasts. A motley group are the passengers. Shivering Cubans, exotics that have taken slight root in the hothouses of the Fifth Avenue, are to brave a few days of sleet and cold at sea, for the palm trees and mangoes, the cocoas and orange trees, they will be sitting under in six days, at farthest. There are Yankee shipmasters going out to join their "cotton wagons" at New Orleans and Mobile, merchants pursuing a commerce that knows no rest and no locality; confirmed invalids advised to go to Cuba to die under mosquito nets and be buried in a Potter's Field; and other invalids wisely enough avoiding our March winds; and here and there a mere vacationmaker, like myself.

Captain Bullock is sure to sail at the hour; and at the hour he is on the paddle box, the fasts are loosed, the warp run out, the crew pull in on the warp on the port quarter, and the head swings off. No word is spoken, but all is done by signs; or, if a word is necessary, a low clear tone carries it to the listener. There is no tearing and rending escape of steam, deafening and distracting all, and giving a kind of terror to a peaceful scene; but our ship swings off, gathers way, and enters upon her voyage, in a quiet like that of a bank or counting room, almost under a spell of silence.

The state rooms of the "Cahawba," like those of most American sea going steamers, are built so high above the water that the windows may be open in all but the worst of weather, and good ventilation be ensured. I have a very nice fellow for my room mate, in the berth under me; but, in a state room, no room mate is better than the best; so I change my quarters to a state room further forward, nearer "the eyes of her," which the passengers generally shun, and get one to myself, free from the rattle of the steering gear, while the delightful rise and fall of the bows, and leisurely weather roll and lee roll, cradle and nurse one to sleep.