Bidwell's Travels, from Wall Street to London Prison: Fifteen Years in Solitude
against the sky, I stooped and crawled along the stringpiece of timber
until within twenty feet of the large house at the end of the bridge.
Peering through the gloom I listened, but could not see or hear any
movement. Straightening myself up I took half a dozen paces, when, in
the stillness, I heard a sharp crackle that turned me to stone as the
flame of a wax match revealed two soldiers sitting on a bench within the
porch of the guardhouse not ten feet away. One had struck the match to
light a cigarette. The flame that betrayed them to me showed to them my
form outlined on the bridge.
There was a sudden exclamation, a hail, "Quien va!" then a sudden and
thrilling rattle of accoutrements, but I had turned and was flying back
across the bridge. Suddenly a rifle shot rang out sharply on the night;
a second followed, but I was unharmed. In ten seconds I was beside my
little raft, and, pushing it before me, waded out in the shallow water.
When up to my knees I halted, unstrapped my revolvers and placed them on
the raft. Then pulling off my shoes I put them and my load on the raft,
fastening all with a string put there for the purpose. Sticking my knife
through the lapel of my coat and resting my chin on the raft I began to
swim, keeping well out, so as to go outside the long wharf.
In the mean time everything was in commotion ashore. Two more shots were
fired, and flashes of the guns proved that a squad had turned out and
had crossed the bridge in hot pursuit. Then I blessed the wise
forethought that had led me to construct the raft. Certainly it had
saved me, for they would surely search the jungle.
During the fearful excitement I had forgotten all about the sharks. In
the darkness I had given all my attention to trying to get a glimpse of
the wharf. Suddenly, near me in the calm and awful stillness, there
sprang out of the dark waters a large fish which fell back with a
splash.
My heart stood still and my blood seemed to freeze, for to my horror I
fancied I saw the black fins of numberless sharks cutting the water. I
saw myself dragged down into the awful depths and torn limb from limb,
by the fierce and hungry monsters. I gave up hope and ceased my
swimming, expecting every minute to see the water churned into angry
foam by the furious sharks. Instinctively I placed my hand on the knife
I had thrust through the lapel of my coat for just such an emergency,
but strength and courage were all gone and my nerveless hand could not
draw it out. It seemed a long time that I waited, half dazed, for death,
which I hoped when it came would be swift.
Then I began swimming again, but in a hopeless way. My nerve was all
gone. I fancied I was ringed around with the black-finned devils, and
thought I could discern the currents from their waving tails; but I kept
on swimming, pushing my raft before me, until suddenly I was thrilled
through by my foot striking the bottom.
Making a rush for the shore, and once there, heedless of the fact that I
was in the rear of the houses, I fell down in the sand, weak and
panting, and there I lay until strength enough to walk came to me. Then,
taking my baggage from the raft, and cutting the cords that bound it
together, I started on. Courage and confidence soon came back, and I
kept steadily on for three hours, passing several small salt water
inlets, but no fresh water to fill my now empty bottle.
At the first sign of day I went just within the border of the jungle,
and lying down was soon asleep, and sleeping soundly, too, for waking I
found the sun high in the heavens, and, looking at my watch, saw it was
9 o'clock. At the same time I discovered that I was hungry, with no food
save a small piece of dried beef and not a drop of water in my bottle.
The salt water lagoon, or inlet, where I had my adventure of the
previous night was marked on my map as a river, but it was not. However,
I did not worry over the water question, as I knew I was near the hilly
country surrounding the town of Alguizor, an important military
headquarters, and I was confident of soon meeting some creek flowing
from the hills. As for food, there were to be found in the dense jungle,
where the soil was moist and wet, the holes of the nut crabs. They were
large and fat--that is, appeared to be fat--and I knew that with plenty
of them in the jungle I should not suffer from hunger.
Before starting inland for the day I turned to look at the blue waters
rippling under a light breeze, and glancing in the sun, only a few yards
away, I smiled to think of the phantoms my fears had conjured up, but
for all that I resolved that no more night swims in the sea should find
place in my programme.
I made my way with difficulty through the tangled woods, but had gone
nearly a mile before I came to the road. After a cautious survey from my
shelter, I stepped out on it, and looking away to the west I saw
cultivated hills with teams and people moving about; I also saw the road
became two--the right-hand one led away from the coast into the hills,
the one to the left continued to skirt the beach. Both roads were well
traveled, and I knew I was near the tobacco belt, which is cultivated
throughout its entire length, from the Gulf to the Caribbean Sea, for a
breadth of twenty miles, its western border touching the province of
Pinar del Rio. Forty miles beyond that border the rebels held the town
of San Cristoval, but I had made up my mind to follow the coast until I
reached the hamlet and harbor of Rio de San Diego, fifty miles south
from San Cristoval, then to strike north to the town of Passos, twenty
miles west of San Cristoval. Once past San Diego, I would be well within
the rebel lines, and could safely show myself, although I determined not
to do so voluntarily until I was at Passos.
The roundabout way I was traveling doubled the distance, but, aside from
getting outside the lines of the Spanish patrols, I was in no particular
hurry, and my mode of life was hardening and fitting me for the service
in which I was to embark. I counted upon taking ten days, or rather
nights, to reach San Diego, and five from there to Passos, where I would
make myself known to the rebel chiefs as an American volunteer in the
cause of Cuban liberty. And, I thought, what a change of scene for Mr.
F. A. Warren. From the Bank of England to a volunteer in a rebel camp in
Cuba!
I crossed the road and entered the jungle to pass the day, but as the
ground was dry the trees and vines were not so closely matted, making it
easier to move about, and a far more agreeable place it was for a
daylight picnic than the jungle where I had passed the day before.
But no crabs showed themselves, and as there was no animal life to be
found, there was nothing but my piece of dried beef to be had "to go
into the interior," so I dined off that; then, lighting one of my
precious cigars, lay down in a sort of fairy bower to enjoy myself, and
succeeded. During the entire day no sight or sound of human form or
voice came to me, nor yet of animal life, save only a mateless bird,
garbed in green that flitted around. Of course, not a drop of water this
whole day long for me, and, though I was moderately thirsty, I did not
suffer, despite the fact that I smoked several cigars. But I felt that I
must have food and drink that night, whatever risk I incurred in
securing it. I determined, therefore, to start early on my journey and
get food before the country people were all in bed. As soon as night
fell I stepped out on the road and cautiously started westward. Knowing
there must be some town or hamlet near by, I purposed to enter, spy out
some shop and watch until the shopkeeper was alone, then enter and
purchase a supply of such food as he had, then march out and disappear
as quickly as possible.
Soon after starting I came to a small place such as the poor whites of
the country inhabit, and seeing two women in the doorway I walked in,
and with a salute and "Buenas noches, senoritas," I asked for water
(agua); they responded with alacrity and brought me some in a cocoanut
shell. I saw it was vile stuff, with an earthy taste, but thirsty as I
was it tasted like nectar. There was some food on a wooden dish inside,
and I suppose they saw me looking at it, for the older woman ran in and
returned bringing me two roasted plantains and a rice cake. Just then I
discovered a man inside and two others came up from the rear of the
house, or I would have purchased food of the women; but, seeing them, I
thanked the ladies, and, saying good night, disappeared in the darkness.
Picking up the empty bottle I had left in the road I walked on,
feasting as I went on my roasted plantains. How nice they tasted!
A mile ahead I came to a tumbledown roadhouse, with quite a crowd of
loud-voiced men standing around, who evidently had been indulging in the
fiery aguardiente sold there. Like the Levite and priest, I passed by on
the other side, giving the place a wide berth. Soon after I entered a
town or hamlet of a dozen houses. Two or three passed me in the darkness
with a "Buenas noches, senor," to which I mumbled some reply, they
doubtless taking me for a neighbor. Two uniformed men, evidently police
or soldiers, were lounging in the only shop, and I dared not enter until
they were gone. Planting myself in a deep shadow, I sat down waiting for
them to go out, but they showed no sign of moving until a shrill voice
from a female throat issued from a nearby house, bidding one of the
loungers to lounge no more just then, and he, hurriedly obeying the
summons, went; soon his companion followed; then, leaving my empty
bottle in the road, and with my hand on the revolver in my outside
pocket, I entered the shop. The easy-going Cuban shopkeeper paid no
particular attention to me, did not even stop rolling the cigarette he
was making. After deliberately lighting it, he lazily responded to my
"Buenas noches, senor," I saw bread, cakes and ham, and ordered of each;
then, seeing some Spanish wine, I took a bottle; also a bottle of
pickles. Producing a $10 Spanish bank note, I paid the bill, and emerged
into the night with the precious load, and so strong was the animal
instinct of hunger upon me that I would have fought to death sooner than
surrender the provisions I carried.
Picking up my empty bottle I looked out for a chance to fill it as I
walked through the town on the main road, which went straight west, but
intending to abandon it as soon as I came to the fields and found it was
safe to sit down for a feast, then make my way to the beach, now some
two miles away, and put in a good distance before daylight. But for two
mortal hours the road was bordered by impenetrable walls of cactus and
bayonet grass, and to make the matter worse the moon came out from
behind the clouds and poured a flood of light on the open road. Twice
men on horseback passed me, coming from the opposite direction, and both
times I sank down in the shadow of the cactus, both times with revolver
in hand, but dreading an encounter, as the noise of firing might wake a
hornets' nest about my ears.
At last I came to a road which entered a field. I was soon over the bars
and found myself in an old tobacco plantation, now partly planted in
Spanish beans. Crossing a couple of fields at the foot of the hills and
in going over a triangular piece of ground, I found the ruins of a
house, and nearby a small stream of water. I was in luck, and, taking a
good drink and filling my bottle, I sat down in a convenient shadow and
spread out my eatables. They were a goodly sight, and consisted of four
pounds of good ham, a dozen good-sized sweet cakes, two loaves of bread,
a bottle of pickles and one of wine, and one of water. I began with a