Bidwell's Travels, from Wall Street to London Prison: Fifteen Years in Solitude
Among other things, Nunn, by my orders, procured good maps of the
country. A Spanish gentleman, a warm friend, but whose name I will not
mention, was my counselor in the plot. He advised me to go to the Isle
of Pines, as Senor Andrez had promised to keep me safely from all
pursuit. I let my friends think that was my destination. I proposed as
when on my visit to embark from Cajio, but to take a westward course
along the coast, and when well off Pinar del Rio and night fell to put
about and steer to shore under cover of the darkness. Once ashore, to
get as far inland as possible before dawn. Then to keep a lookout for
any body of rebels and join them as a volunteer in the cause of "free
Cuba." We were sure of a welcome, particularly as we would come well
armed.
I had made it a practice to give the sentinels in the police barracks a
bottle of brandy every day and a box of cigars every second day during
my stay, besides what were to them valuable presents, so I was highly
popular in the barracks. We had fixed on the night of March 20 for the
venture.
My room was in the second story of the barracks, but I was allowed to go
freely through all the rooms on that floor, followed more or less by a
guard. None of the windows opened on the street. There was a room
leading to an open window, but the door was kept locked. It was arranged
to have it unlocked with the key on the inside at 10 o'clock that night.
I was to walk about as usual, and, when the hour came suddenly step
through the door, lock it behind me and then bolt through the window
into the street. Nunn and my friend were to await me outside of the
window with orders to shoot any man (not a native) who attempted to stop
me, as I feared Curtin or his men might be on guard in the street, and
once in the street I did not propose to go back again alive.
The guns and two extra revolvers had been made into a bundle and left at
the station. At a nearby room were disguises for Nunn and myself,
consisting simply of cloaks and whiskers. We intended to board the 10:30
train going South, and once well out of the station would dispense with
all disguise but the Spanish cloak each of us wore.
The day for the venture came. I had previously instructed my wife to
send word she was indisposed, and to remain at the hotel. She had very
bravely offered to be on hand and with me up to the moment I disappeared
through the door, but fearing that in the excitement some of the
soldiers might say or do something insulting, I forbade her being on the
scene. I had had an unusually large number of visitors during the day. I
felt but little anxiety over the result, save only on the side of
Pinkerton. I had a sort of suspicion or presentment that, once fairly
outside of the barracks, I would run against him. The day passed rapidly
away, and 6 o'clock came, and all the civil officials, with the horde of
hangers-on, departed, leaving the usual evening solitude in the
barracks. Soon Nunn came with my supper and cautiously produced a
revolver and belt. I strapped the belt around me under my vest, placing
the revolver under a pile of clothing. Nunn reported everything all
right. He had seen Curtin that day as usual around the hotel and
apparently unsuspicious of anything unusual going on.
The window I was to jump out of opened on the public street, and the
street would be jammed full of people at the hour I was going. Of course
there were a good many chances of failure, chiefly so because all the
police from top to bottom knew me by sight, and if one of them happened
to be one of the half hundred witnesses of my jump he might have wit
enough to seize me.
Nunn and my friend were to be under the window ready to act according to
circumstances. Above all, to be ready to seize hold of any one who
manifested any intention to detain me. Nunn was full of courage and
hope. At 7 o'clock he went away, not to see me again until we met
outside the barracks. I called the guard and three or four idle soldiers
into my room and served them out liberal doses of brandy. Unluckily
enough, however, the one on duty would drink but lightly. Soon after 8
Consul-General Torbet came in to smoke a cigar and have a chat. He
remained until nearly 10, and then departed. Then I felt the hour had
indeed come. I thrust the revolver inside my shirt, and rolled up a cap
and put it in the same place. Then calling the sentry, I gave him a
drink and a cigar, and stepping out into the hall, I began my usual
march around through the upper rooms of the barracks. I was to go out of
the window at precisely 10. It wanted ten minutes of that time. It was a
long ten minutes to me, but I marched around puffing my cigar
unconcernedly, with an eye on the door I was to slip through. At the
hour I had my watch in my hand, and was in the room farthest from the
door of exit into the room opening on the street. I walked swiftly
through the two intervening rooms and so was for a brief four or five
seconds out of sight of the slow following sentinel. I reached the door,
opened it, stepped through and instantly locked it. In a moment I was
through the open window into the little iron balcony outside. One swift
glance showed me the street thronged with people, but hesitation meant
failure and death. I climbed lightly over the railing and hung suspended
for an instant from the bottom; the crowd below made a circle from
under, and I dropped easily to the ground, bareheaded, of course. Nunn
was there, and instantly clapped a large straw hat on my head. The
strange incident did not seem to attract the least notice, for in a
moment we were lost in the crowd. I had my hand on my revolver, and had
so strong a belief I should every second be confronted by Curtin that I
was strangely surprised when I saw no sign of the gentleman. In less
time than it takes to tell it, I was down into an open hallway and then
into a room. I and Nunn, who were smooth-faced, were given bushy
whiskers and a cloak. In the mean time, I paid an agent in waiting
$10,000 in French and Spanish notes, then we hurried out of the rear
into a cab and were driven to the station, arriving just in time to
catch the 10:30 train.
The cab ride and train ride that night were happy rides. I had been a
captive and now was free. The sights and sounds all around me took on a
deeper purpose and a more significant meaning than they had ever borne
before.
I had for a few brief days been a captive, shut out from nature's sights
and sounds, and that brief deprivation awoke in me a feeling of
appreciation for the feast that is everywhere around us spread with a
lavish hand. My mind was in a tumult of delight, and I almost forgot I
was a fugitive; fortunately the Spaniard is not a suspicious animal, and
no notice was taken of us; and so we bumped slowly on southward through
the tropic night.
Seven o'clock on the morning of the 11th found us at Guisa, a small
station on the railroad about ninety miles from Havana and west from
Cajio some twenty miles. Our friend here procured us horses, and,
bidding him good-bye, Nunn and I started on our ride to Cajio. We were
both greatly elated over the success of our adventure. Our friends had
procured for us police passports and gun permits under the names of
Parish and Ellis.
I had a chronometer, several valuable diamonds, a revolver and gun. Nunn
carried a canvas bag containing, among other things, 250 capital cigars,
tobacco, matches and 300 cartridges. Then we had good maps of the island
and current charts of the Gulf of Mantabano, with its hundreds of rocky
inlets, spreading everywhere along the south coast. But, armed as we
were, it would never do to be picked up by any Spanish boat or patrol
anywhere near the rebel border. It probably meant death if we were
captured.
I think on the whole it would have been the wiser plan to have gone to
Senor Andrez's plantation at San Jose. The fear in that case was that if
an order arrived from Madrid to deliver me up I might not be safe even
in the Isle of Pines. At Cajio I resolved to lose myself so far as the
Spanish authorities were concerned, and only travel by night. If we
remained on land this would be necessary, as soldiers were everywhere
and our police passports would not hold good if we were found traveling
in the direction of the rebel lines.
I proposed going by sea, and then all our voyaging would necessarily be
by night, for there were Spanish gunboats everywhere patrolling around
the shores, but there were innumerable small inlets where we could draw
up our boat, lay perdu during the day and spy out the next island to
sail to at night.
We arrived in due time at Cajio, and here our passports were demanded by
a little yellow monkey of a sergeant. I did not quite like having
passports scrutinized and determined to try and avoid any more of it.
We found no boat at Cajio, nor could we buy, or, if we bought, could not
manage one alone. The only thing we could do was to charter one with a
crew of four men. During my stay in Cuba I had been studying Spanish. I
had become a tolerably proficient speaker, so I had no great difficulty
in associating with the natives.
I found my idea of joining the rebels by sea impracticable, and as to go
by land was perilous in the extreme, I made up my mind to send Nunn back
to Havana and to make the venture alone. I did not care to chance his
life, and I also felt that it was safer for one than for two.
Forty miles away was the last fortified post on the Rio Choerra, at the
small town of Voronjo. Once across that small stream I would be on
neutral ground, liable at any time to fall in with a rebel band.
Nunn was very plucky and most devoted. He by no means wanted to go back,
but at last consented.
I determined to chance traveling on the beach by night. So at 12 o'clock
the day after our arrival at Cajio we mounted our horses and announced
that we were returning to Havana. Two miles away, at the small hamlet of
Zoringa, we put our horses out and struck for the beach about four miles
west of Cajio. Then we went a few yards into the jungle and sat down for
our last talk and to wait for the darkness. We were no longer master and
servant, but friends. The hours went slowly by; we did not say much, but
felt strongly. We had good cigars and smoked almost incessantly.
I told him to see Curtin, to give him my regards and laugh at him in a
nice way, and to tell my wife that I would limit my stay with the rebels
to a year. I told Nunn to send for his wife to join him in New York, and
my wife would take her into service so that they could be together.
I did not dare to keep the gun we had, but retained the revolvers in a
belt around my waist. They were rather old-fashioned, and, as the sequel
proved, the ammunition was not waterproof or else was defective. I had
two bottles of water, a hundred cigars in my pocket, 300 cartridges,
four pounds of dried beef and a loaf of bread. I wore a soft hat and had
on a fine pair of English walking boots, an important article for the
tramp ahead of me. I wore my chronometer tied by a stout string. I sent
my wife all my valuables save three diamond studs, $700 in gold and
$5,000 in notes, mostly Spanish bank notes, and I kept $10,000 in bonds.
Nunn cut me a stout ironwood cudgel as a handy weapon.
At last the night came, and still we waited, loath to say good-bye. We
had come out of the jungle and were sitting in the still warm sand
talking in low tones and watching the stars. At last when my watch told
me it was 10 we rose, and, shaking hands warmly, parted, he going east
to Cajio, I west toward Pinar del Rio and the rebel camps.