Bidwell's Travels, from Wall Street to London Prison: Fifteen Years in Solitude
actually disclose anything, I talked in a very impressive, grave way,
instructing him to leave Havana secretly after telling his mistress that
I had ordered him to go to Matanzas, a city forty miles east by rail. He
was to bring all the New York papers, meet me at Cajio and not let a
soul know his destination, but be there awaiting my arrival from the
Isle of Pines the following Sunday week. If in the mean time anything
unusual, no matter what, happened, then he was instantly to depart for
Cajio, there hire a boat and crew and come after me, not to mind expense
and not to lose a moment's time. Nunn was one of those wise men who know
how to obey orders without self-questionings as to the whys and
wherefores.
I had secured gun licenses from the authorities, and, giving them to
Nunn, ordered him to bring a breech-loader and a brace of revolvers with
him.
During my stay in the Isle of Pines I would be out of reach of the
outside world. If on meeting Nunn I found from the papers he brought
that there was any sign of danger I would not return to Havana, but
would secure a boat, provision it, set sail alone for some port in
Central America and send my servant back after my wife.
At 10 o'clock our party set out in an open-decked cargo boat from Cajio
for San Jose, seventy miles across the water and on the west coast of
the island. San Jose was one of the half-dozen plantations belonging to
our host, the chief product being coffee, and on this one there were 130
slaves.
We had a motley cargo. Twenty black fellows, dogs, turtles, fighting
cocks, two trained pigs, a good-sized snake that answered to the name of
Jacko and had the run of the ship. Ship, men, women and young darkies,
trained pigs and everything except we three guests were the absolute
property of our host.
We were passing through the gate of the Gulf of Matamano. The bottom was
so white and the water so clear that we could see distinctly all the
wondrous marine life beneath. Ashore in the thick forests all seemed to
be dead, but here in the water and beneath the surface all was teeming
with life. Flocks of sea fowl were in the air or whitened the rocks
which everywhere rose above the waters, and innumerable little islets
rested like lovely pictures in the blue setting of the sea.
At one of the loveliest, called Cayos de Tana, with a wide fringe of
white beach, we landed; that is, our boat ran toward it until the keel
stuck in the sand, when a dozen black fellows sprang over into the
water, and, taking us white trash on their shoulders, carried us ashore.
Once there we set out to find turtle eggs, and soon found heaps of sand
which, when scraped away, revealed the eggs in dozens. We took away
about a bushel, but they had a rancid flavor, so Gray and I backed out
of our promise to eat them, as did Senors Andrez and Mondago.
The man in charge of the boat was a skillful sailor, and, having a fine
breeze, we rushed through the water at a great rate. At last, after a
day of novel enjoyment, just as the short twilight of the tropics was
fading out, we ran alongside of the little pier of San Jose and were
welcomed with loud shouts and gun shots from about a hundred gaudily
attired slaves, who were excited and seemingly glad over the return of
their master, this being Sunday and a holiday.
Did any of my readers ever think what the rest of Sunday is to the
toilers of the earth? If Christ left no other legacy to the Christian
world but that happy day of rest, then must we still bless and praise
him as the Mighty Benefactor of the world, the Saviour and glorious hero
of the workingman. For nineteen years I toiled, exposed to every storm
that blew, and was sustained through all the six days' misery by the
blessed knowledge that Sunday, with its rest, was never far off. And
when the Sunday morning dawned and the happy consciousness filled my
mind that for one day at least I was free from toil, my heart filled
with gratitude to the Galilean carpenter, who, by his gracious deeds and
genius, had so impressed the hearts of men that for his sake they had
taken the seventh day of the Hebrew and bequeathed it as a day of rest
to all the toiling generations of the sons of men. The Roman Empire,
which overshadowed the world and held the nations in subjection, knew no
day of rest, and to-day the toiling millions of China never wake to say:
"This is a day of rest on which I can turn my thoughts to other things
than toil."
I must not here enter into details of that week of rare sport and keen
enjoyment in the Isle of Pines. We went shark fishing by day and tipping
turtles in the moonlight by night, when they came ashore to deposit
their eggs in the sand. One never-ending source of enjoyment to the
Cubans was the battles of the fighting cocks. I had got over some of my
repugnance to the sport, and enjoyed it almost as well as the cocks
themselves. How soon one learns to do in Rome as do the Romans!
The week had come to an end, and, although importuned by my host to
delay my departure, my anxiety as to the state of affairs in the outside
world was too great to postpone my return to the mainland. So, after a
rousing send-off from every one on the plantation, I departed. Just as
the sun was flinging its dyes over the clouds and waters, one week from
the Sunday of my arrival at San Jose, I was sailing into the little bay
of Cajio. Gray was to remain another week, and I was returning in a
small sloop manned by two of Senor Andrez's men. I found Nunn waiting
for me on the beach. He handed me a letter from my wife and said
everything was well at home. Opening the letter I found an earnest
appeal to return at once. Going to the hacienda near by I took the
bundle of New York and London papers Nunn had brought. I went to my
room, and, opening the Herald I was amazed to see the storm over the
Bank of England business and the great desire to discover the mysterious
Warren.
I felt that the time had come when it would no longer be prudent for me
to live under my right name. It was an easy matter to invent a name and
live under it, and I determined to do so, for a time at least, until
after I saw how matters developed. But I could not do this in Havana,
for in case of using an alias it would be necessary to take my wife into
my confidence. She was sure to discover the matter sooner or later, and
it was better for her to learn the miserable truth from my own lips than
to leave the discovery to come to her through the public press.
In Mexico I should really have nothing to fear, even if it was known I
was there. So, after some cogitation, I determined to return to Havana,
say good-bye to all our friends and embark as soon as possible for Vera
Cruz. I was impatient to set off at once, but it was both dangerous and
difficult work to go through the jungle by night, so telling Nunn to be
ready to start at sunrise I went to bed.
At dawn we set out and did not halt until we reached San Marcos, with
its gloomy memorial of human savagery. After an hour's halt we set out
and arrived at San Felipe in time to catch the train to Havana. On
arriving there at dusk I sent my servant to inform his mistress of my
safe arrival while I called on Don Fernando at the hotel. His frank and
hearty reception told me at once that he had heard nothing, and he knows
pretty well everything going on in the town. From the hotel I drove to
the police barracks and called on the colonel of police, with the same
result, which satisfied me beyond all doubt that however the storm blew
in London or New York there was not a single cloud on the horizon in
Havana. But it was soon to blow a hurricane. I had a very happy meeting
with my wife, and found her the picture of health and happiness.
As I looked in her face, beaming with confidence and faith, I realized
how hard it would be to tell her the terrible truth, and what a shock it
would be to her when she discovered the husband she believed the soul of
honor stood in danger of a prison. Yet I was tolerably certain she would
forgive me upon my promise never to do wrong again.
She had sent out invitations to dinner for Thursday to twenty friends.
There was then a steamer in the harbor advertised to sail in two days
for Mexico, and I had thought of going by her. Had we, this book would
never have been written.
As invitations were out for Thursday, I concluded to wait for Saturday's
steamer, but determined to sail on that day without fail.
Under our system of housekeeping a dinner party was a simple thing. We
merely had to notify our landlord how many guests we expected and the
thing was done, so far as we were concerned. Don Fernando would send his
hotel steward down to the house with reinforcements of cooks and
waiters, and my wife had simply to usher the guests into the dining room
and out again. Don Fernando's supernumeraries did the rest. On the day
of our dinner I was strongly tempted to give some hint to my wife that I
was in some way entangled in a web, but as she was so happy I could not
do it, but resolved to wait until we were settled in Mexico, and then to
tell her a little, but not all the truth.
My wife, all unconscious of the frightful calamity impending, entered
upon the last half day of happiness she was to know for many long years.
The same statement would be true of myself. As the guests were arriving
I was in a happy vein, and in the same happy frame of mind sat down to
dinner. Twenty happy mortals, but not one divined the termination of
that dinner party, least of all the proud and happy hostess. It was a
great success, and at 8 o'clock was drawing to a close. The long windows
were open, while the warm breeze from the nearby gulf was pouring
through the room. The clock had just chimed the quarter when there came
a sudden rush of feet over the veranda and through the hall. All eyes
were fixed on the open door leading to the hall, when an eager,
resolute-faced man, evidently an American, stepped with a firm pace into
the room, followed by a dozen civilians and soldiers. With a quick
glance over the company his eyes rested on me, and coming direct to my
chair, while my guests gazed in amazement, he bowed and said in a low
voice: "Mr. Bidwell, I am sorry to disturb your dinner party or to annoy
you in any way, but I am forced to tell you I have a warrant in my
pocket for your arrest upon a charge of forgery upon the Bank of
England. The warrant is signed by the Captain-General of Cuba,
everything is in due form, and you are my prisoner. I am William
Pinkerton."
Every man who enters the arena and joins in the struggle of life has
more or fewer takedowns in his history. But my wish is that between
this hour and my last I may have no more takedowns so near the freezing
point as this was. I shall never forget the look on my wife's face.
First she gazed at the intruders with indignation, then turned to me
with a look of eager expectation, as much as to say: "Wait till my
husband raises his arm and you will all go down." But instead of seeing
me rise, indignant and angry, driving the intruders out, she saw me
talking quite calmly to Curtin. Then her face grew deadly white. None of
the guests heard Pinkerton's words, but, as will be easily imagined,
there was a painful silence, which I broke by standing up and saying
that there was some unhappy mistake, that I was arrested upon the charge
of furnishing arms to the insurrectionists in the eastern provinces. I
requested my friends to withdraw at once, and everything would be
explained on the morrow.
There were five soldiers present, Mr. Crawford, the English
Consul-General, Pinkerton and Captain John Curtin, my servant Nunn being