Bidwell's Travels, from Wall Street to London Prison: Fifteen Years in Solitude
drink of wine, then followed ham and bread and cake for dessert, all
washed down with a fine long drink of water. Then lighting a cigar I
stretched myself at full length and spent a delightful hour star-gazing.
Then I arose, took another drink of wine, but as it was not particularly
select, threw the remainder away, and, filling both bottles from the
brook, I prepared to march.
How I wish the kodak fiend existed then and that one of them had
happened along just then to take a snap shot at me as I stood there in
full marching order, with my water bottles slung over my shoulders, my
eatables tied up in a large silk handkerchief, with my garments all in
tatters, the result of thorns and creepers snatching at them in my
jungle trampings; but, worst of all, my trusty and precious walking
boots were beginning to show signs of rough usage.
I struck the road leading to the beach and marched westward, but it was
an unknown land, and I was in constant fear of running against some
military post or patrol, being thus constantly delayed by long halts to
watch some suspicious object or by making long detours to avoid them.
Once I had a fright. Two men on horseback riding on the sandy road were
almost on me before I saw or heard them, and I only had time to sink
into the shadow as they passed almost within reach of my hand. Both were
smoking the everlasting cigarette, and were engaged in earnest talk.
Daylight came and found me not more than eight or ten miles further on
my journey, but I was very well content as I pitched my camp for the
day. I had a royal feast, then, after a cigar, lay down to sleep in
another fairy bower and slept until noon, and awoke to find myself
wondering how matters were going with Capt. Curtin in Havana, rather
amused over the state of chagrin I knew he must be in. I thought of a
possible future meeting some years ahead, when, all danger over, I would
see and chaff him over a bottle of Cliquot and the $50,000 he wouldn't
have, and how I went all the same and saved the money.
I realized I must be frugal or my provisions would never hold out; so,
after a light lunch, I began to make my way slowly to the beach through
the tangled maze of trees and vines. Coming in sight of the blue waters
I lay down to sleep again and awoke when the stars were out. The moon
would not go down till late, but as there was a deep, broad shadow cast
by the trees I walked in it.
Good food and the long day of rest restored my strength. All my
confidence returned, and I made good progress. At last the moon went
down, and then I pressed rapidly forward, always with revolver in hand,
ready for instant action. I think I made fully twenty-five miles this
night, but as the coast was indented my progress in a straight direction
was not more than half that distance. Just as it began to grow gray in
the east I came out on a wide inlet. It ran deep into the land. I
recognized it from my map as Puerto del Gato, and then I knew I was in
the province of Pinar del Rio and almost out of danger.
I went into the bush again and pitched camp, waiting for daylight to
come and reveal my surroundings. Pitching camp consisted in scraping a
few leaves together and lying down; but this morning I was too excited
to sleep. I felt that I was near my goal, after having safely gone
through many dangers. Once across the Puerto del Gato, two nights of
travel would place me outside of the farthest Spanish pickets and bring
me among friends, far beyond chance of pursuit, and I also knew that the
mere knowledge of my presence in the rebel camp would cause all thought
of pursuit to be dropped.
When daylight came I stood and looked around. Across the inlet, twenty
miles away, I could see only dark masses of green, with no sign of life.
To the north the land was hilly, with houses here and there in the
distance, and signs of animal life. I cautiously searched the shore for
a mile in the hope of finding a boat to cross to the other shore of the
inlet, but none was in sight.
About 9 o'clock I saw smoke off at sea, and soon I made out a small
Spanish gunboat coming rapidly up. Dropping anchor about a mile up the
inlet, she sent a boat ashore. I was feeling sleepy, and, going into the
woods again, I took a light lunch, and, emptying one bottle of water,
lay down to sleep, resolved to make my plans when I awoke. I did not
like the appearance of this gunboat; it seemed to promise the presence
of the enemy in force around me, besides being a visible manifestation
of the power of that enemy.
When I awoke from my nap I started on a cautious spying out of the land,
making my way toward the head of the inlet, but keeping always under the
protection of the woods. While going cautiously along I was startled by
the notes of a bugle ringing out some military call not far away, and a
moment later the gunboat replied with a gun, then steamed out to sea.
Continuing my progress through the woods I came to the road, and, hiding
securely in a thicket where I could see unseen, I watched. Soon I heard
the sound of voices, and then a detail of armed men passed, going
leisurely east, escorting an empty wagon drawn by four mules. It meant
much, these armed escorts, showing they were in the face of the enemy.
Several others passed during the hour of my watch. Then, with many
cautious glances up and down the road, I slipped quietly across and
crept for two hours through the jungle. Making my way to the side of the
bay, I saw that I had left the military post behind me. There were white
barracks and a wharf with people walking on it, and here the road and
beach were one. This much discovered, I went a safe distance into the
jungle and lay down to have a good sleep, feeling I would need all my
energy and strength for the coming night, as it promised to be a
critical one, especially as I could not afford to wait for the moon to
go down, and would not have the shelter of darkness, for the moonlight
was so powerful that one could easily read print by it.
I slept until dark, and awoke refreshed, then lunched and nearly
finished my last bottle of water. I had only sufficient food for two
more light meals. After lunch I smoked for an hour, star-gazing and
philosophizing. At 9 o'clock, emerging into the road, I started
cautiously out, walking in the shadow of the jungle as much as possible.
I thought the head of the inlet was about ten miles away, and expected
to find a military post or at least a picket stationed there.
* * * * *
Daylight once more. But it found me happy and content, for the
difficulties of the passage of the wide inlet, which had confronted me
the night before, had all been surmounted. I was now in a densely wooded
point on the western side of the bay. Between me and San Diego lay a
wild no man's land of fifty miles. That meant only two nights more of
peril and uncertainty, and it was all straight going. So far as the
coast line was concerned I was outside of the Spanish lines. Tired out
and very well contented, just as the sun rose fiery red above the
horizon, I lay down and was at once in dreamland. At noon, hungry and
with only a few ounces of food to satisfy my hunger, I woke. Finishing
my last bit of ham and bread, I lighted a cigar and set about planning.
Pulling out my little map, I began to scan it for the thousandth time.
About six miles to the north was the little town of San Miguel. Between
me and San Diego lay fifty miles of wild country swept by fire and
sword, without an inhabitant and without food. Hungry as I already was,
I felt it would not do to undertake a two days' journey through that
wilderness without eating. Of course I made a mistake. I was clear of
the toils, and I ought to have taken every and any chance rather than
enter the enemy's lines again.
I resolved, soon after night came, to set out for San Miguel, watch my
chance to enter a shop and purchase food, then, beating a hasty retreat,
strike out across the country straight for San Diego, there to find
myself among friends in the rebel camp.
I set out and without any particular adventure arrived about 9 o'clock
at San Miguel. It proved to be a hamlet with the houses ranged close
together on opposite sides of the streets. The moonlight cast a deep
shadow on one side, while the opposite side was almost like day. I stood
in the deep shadow watching. The first building was evidently a police
or military barrack. The door was wide open, but no one was visible
inside. About five doors off was a shop, but the door was closed, and
from where I stood there appeared no sign of life within. I waited about
ten minutes, and rashly concluding that there was no one save the
proprietor there, I stepped out of the shadow into the moonlight and
hurrying across the street, put my hand on the door, opened it and
stepping within found myself in the presence of twenty soldiers, all
gossiping, smoking or gambling. Belts and cartridge boxes along with
bayonets decorated the walls or were lying about on boxes and barrels.
All eyes were turned on me. I saw myself in a fearful trap and nothing
but consummate coolness could keep them from questioning me. My heart
beat fast, but with an affectation of indifference I saluted and said:
"Buenos noches, senores." They all returned my salutation, but looked at
each other eagerly, each waiting for the other to question me.
I stepped to the counter and asked for bread; two loaves were given me.
I picked up some cakes and paid for them. From the door I turned, and
putting all my dignity into a bow, I said: "Good night, gentlemen." They
all seemed held by a spell, but they looked and were dangerous as death.
I closed the door, fully realizing my peril, feeling the storm would
break the instant I was out of sight. Fortunately there was no one near,
and I ran swiftly across the street into the protecting shadow and
crouched down in a dark space between two houses. The cactus-like weeds
grew there and pricked me, but I heeded them not, for that instant the
soldiers poured out of the shop, an angry and excited mob, buckling on
their belts, cartridge boxes and bayonets as they ran. Some had their
muskets, others hastened to get them and all save two stragglers rushed
out of the town in the direction from which I had entered. I wondered at
this, but soon discovered the reason. Some few women, hearing the
tumult, came into the street, but seeing nothing, went in again; the
stragglers all disappeared and the street was quiet.
I came out of my corner and hurried in the shadow down the road in the
opposite direction to the course followed by my pursuers. Arriving at
the last house at the foot of the street, I found myself confronted by a
small river, quiet and apparently deep, with all the space from the
last house to the river one impassable barrier of giant cactus, I had
either to swim the river or turn back, and I ought to have plunged in as
I was, revolver and all, the distance over being short; and, as I am an
expert swimmer, I could easily have got across, loaded down as I was.
But a contemptible trifle had weight enough to cause me to adopt the
suicidal course of turning back.
The fierce animal instinct of hunger was on me, the smell of the food
enraged me, and I thought if I swam the stream the cakes and bread I
carried would be soaked and probably lost, for I had them loose in my
arms; beside, I was overconfident of my ability to escape my pursuers.
They had marched by the road that led behind the village to the bridge
crossing the river some distance up; evidently, not seeing me, they took
it for granted I knew of the bridge, and had gone that way.
To appease at once my hanger, in a fatal moment I retraced my steps. As