CHAPTER III.

A TOUGH TRAMP TO LA GLORIA CITY.

As the fleet of schooners drew near La Gloria port, a row of small tents was discerned close to the shore. Elsewhere there was a heavy growth of bushes to the water's edge--the mangroves and similar vegetation fairly growing out into the sea. Between and around the tents was a wretched slough of sticky, oozy mud nearly a foot deep, with streams of surface water flowing over it in places into the bay. The colonists were filled with excitement and mingled emotions as they approached the shore, but their hearts sank when they surveyed this discouraging scene. They landed on the rude pier, and after much difficulty succeeded in depositing their light baggage in tents reserved for the purpose. Narrow boards laid down to walk on were covered with slippery mud, and some lost their footing and went over headforemost into the slough. One jaunty, well-dressed young man from New Jersey, who had found the trip vastly entertaining up to this point, was so disgusted at suffering a "flop-over" into the mire that he turned immediately back and returned to his home in Atlantic City. And so the sifting process went on among the intending colonists.

The conditions at the port at that time were certainly most unpleasant. Mud and water were on every hand, and sand flies were as thick as swarms of bees, and nearly as ferocious; they allowed no one any peace. The company had considerately provided coffee and bread for the landing "immigrants", and something of the sort was certainly needed to fortify them for what was to follow. Lunch over, such of the colonists as had not decided to turn back started for the "city" of La Gloria, four miles inland. We found that the electric cars were not running, that the 'bus line was not in operation, and that we could not take a carriage to the hotel; nor was there a volante, a wagon, a bullock cart, a horse, mule, or pony in evidence. Neither was there a balloon or any other kind of airship. We learned further that a rowboat could be used only a portion of the way. Under the circumstances, we decided to walk.

The road, if such it may be called, led through an open savanna, with occasional belts of timber. There had been heavy rains just before our arrival, and the trail was one of the most wretched ever followed by a human being. For about a quarter of a mile there was an apology for a corduroy road, but the logs composing it were so irregular and uneven in size, and had been so disarranged by surface water and so nearly covered with debris that it all seemed to have been placed there to obstruct travel rather than to facilitate it. After the corduroy, the trail was a disheartening mixture of water, mud, stumps, roots, logs, briers, and branches. Now we would be wading through shallow water and deep mud that almost pulled our shoes off; then splashing through water and tall, coarse grass; and again, carefully threading our precarious way among ugly stumps, logs, and fallen limbs, in water above our knees. At times the traveler found himself almost afloat in the forest. He was lucky, indeed, if he did not fall down, a misfortune which was little less than a tragedy. Before leaving the port we had been advised to remove our stockings and roll our trousers above our knees. Few of us had on anything better than ordinary shoes, and the sensation of tramping through the mud and water with these was far from pleasant. Many had rubber boots or leggings in their trunks, but the trunks were still at Nuevitas.

Notwithstanding the bad road, one hundred and sixty stout-hearted colonists set out for La Gloria between 1:30 and 3 o'clock. They straggled along for miles, old men and young men, and even lame men; some with valises, some with bundles, and many with overcoats. In the lead was Peter E. Park, the Detroit lawyer who for months had been acting as the Cuban manager for the company. His stalwart form was encased in a suit of white duck, and he wore a broad, slouch hat and high, leather boots. He looked quite picturesque as he strode through the mud and water, apparently trying to impress the colonists with the idea that the poor road was nothing to justify making a fuss. Inwardly, no doubt, he was somewhat sensitive on the subject of the road; justly or unjustly, the colonists blamed him for its condition.

It was hot and hard work, this four-mile walk under a tropical sun, but the men bore it with a good deal of patience. I started with a pair of rubbers on, but was compelled to abandon them before getting far, leaving a large amount of rich Cuban soil in and on them. The scene which presented itself was unique and interesting. All sorts of costumes were worn, including some young fellows in soldiers' uniforms, and there was no little variety in the luggage carried. Some staggered under very heavy loads. Quite a number of cameras and kodaks were to be seen. The trail led through a rich savanna, soil which is undoubtedly adapted to the raising of sugar cane, rice, and cocoanuts. Many palmetto and palm trees lined the way. One could not well view the scenery without stopping, for fear of losing one's footing. Thorns were troublesome and easily penetrated the wet shoes of the weary travelers. The colonists all agreed that this road was the freest from dust of any they had ever trod.

At last, after two hours of toil and discomfort, we came in sight of dry land and the camp. We had crossed two small creeks and seen a few unoccupied native shacks. No part of the land had been cultivated. Many of us had seen for the first time close at hand the majestic royal palm, which is deservedly the most distinguished tree in the island. It is a tree without branches, crowned at the top of a perfectly straight shaft with a bunch of long, graceful, dark green leaves. The royal palm rises to a height of sixty, seventy, and even eighty feet, its symmetrical shape and whitish color giving it the appearance of a marble column. It bears no fruit, and affords little shade, but it is highly ornamental and forms a striking feature of the landscape. The tree often lives to be two hundred years old; it has twenty leaves, one of which is shed about once a month. It has been stated that the seeds from a single tree will support one good-sized hog.

As we approached our destination we passed two buxom women sitting on a huge stump. They were clad in shirt waists, belted trousers and leggings, and wore broad hats of a masculine type. We silently wondered if this was the prevailing fashion among the women of La Gloria, but soon found that it was not. Even the pair that we had first seen came out a few days later in dainty skirts and feminine headgear. Indeed, we found La Gloria, in some respects, more civilized than we had anticipated.

It was late in the afternoon of Monday, January 8, 1900, that the one hundred and sixty members of the first excursion to establish the first American colony in Cuba, reached the camp which occupied the site of La Gloria city of to-day. We found about a dozen tents, and as many more native shacks occupied by Cubans who were at work for the company. The Cubans numbered about fifty, and the American employés nearly as many more. There were also a few Florida and other settlers who had reached the spot early. Altogether, the population just before our arrival was about one hundred, seven or eight of whom were women.

The white city grew rapidly after we appeared on the scene. The company had tents, which we were obliged to put up for ourselves, and it was several hours before we had opportunity to even partially dry our wet feet and shoes. All that evening little groups of barefooted men could be seen gathered around camp-fires, drying themselves and their clothing. The distribution, location, and erection of the tents was placed in charge of Col. Thomas H. Maginniss of Philadelphia, Pa., an ex-officer of the United States regular army and a veteran of the Civil War, who had come down among the colonists on the _Yarmouth_. Colonel Maginniss was a handsome man of great stature, youthful in appearance, mentally alert and physically active, with very prepossessing manners. Although a little past fifty years of age, he looked to be hardly more than forty. He was a favorite from the start, and aside from being a picturesque personality, soon became an influential power among the colonists. So efficiently did he perform his duties in supervising the erection of the tent city, that a little later he was regularly given the position of superintendent of camp, in the employ of the company. He held this post until his return to the States, early in April.

Our first night in La Gloria was not one of sybaritic pleasure. We were able to secure some poor cots and one thin blanket apiece. This was insufficient, for the nights, or rather the early mornings, were quite cold. Some of the men were obliged to sit up all night to gather warmth from fires. The rotten cloth on the cots went to pieces, in most cases, before the night was over, and, altogether, sleep was at a premium. Many of the tents were crowded; in mine were eight persons, representing nearly as many states. Fortunately, the insects gave us very little trouble. The population of the camp that first night must have been nearly three hundred, and the next day it increased to quite that number.

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While the colonists did not arrive at La Gloria in any considerable numbers until January, 1900, the preliminary operations began there on October 9, 1899, when Chief Engineer J. C. Kelly landed with a survey corps from Texas. It was a splendid corps of bright, hardy, plucky, indefatigable men, skilful in their work and under discipline as rigid as that of an army. Chief Kelly was from Eagle Lake, Texas, in which state he had become well known through the performance of a great deal of important work. He was an exceedingly capable engineer, a strict but just disciplinarian, a good financier, and at all times highly popular with his men, whose devotion to him was as striking as that often shown by soldiers to their colonel or their general. Mr. Kelly was an interesting talker, and an athlete and amateur impersonator of no mean pretensions. With him he brought, as assistant chief, Mr. H. O. Neville, a well-educated, versatile, and agreeable young man. Among the others in the Texas party were Sam M. Van der Voort, son of the general, and I. G. Wirtz, both of whom later became instrument men. S. H. Packer, also of Texas, was one of the corps. From New York came F. Kimble and J. A. Messier, the latter familiarly known as "Albany", and from Havana, B. B. Lindsley, all three serving later as instrument men more or less of the time. All the men above mentioned were efficient surveyors and good fellows, each something of a "character" in his way. Among other early arrivals, most of whom were attached to the survey corps, were O. V. De Long of Havana, H. L. Starker of Chicago, David Porter of Detroit, Richard Head of Florida, J. A. McCauley of New York, Will Corlett, and Jack Griffith.

The experiences of the members of the survey corps at La Gloria had been a continued story of hardship, privation, and exposure. They came in before the rainy season had ended, pushing their toilsome way through tangled vines and thorny thickets, wading through mud and water, and often being compelled to swim swollen creeks. Much of the time they patiently worked knee deep or waist deep in water, covered with swarms of mosquitoes or other pestiferous insects. Often they had little to eat save cornmeal "mush" and boniatos (sweet potatoes); but for all this, they were seldom ill and rarely made a complaint. Sleeping in their wet clothes, which would not dry in the dampness of the night, they were up early each morning ready for another day's attack upon the jungle. The fact that they were not more often sick is the best testimonial to the healthfulness of the climate of northeastern Cuba that has come under my notice. It speaks volumes, especially when it is known that a little later men from the Northern states, and even British Columbia, worked on the survey corps under similar conditions and with like immunity from serious illness. Occasionally, to be sure, they would be poisoned from standing too long in water or coming in contact with the güao tree, or shrub, but this affliction, while severe, was never fatal. The good work faithfully and uncomplainingly performed by the survey corps in and around La Gloria, under such trying circumstances, is worthy of as much praise and admiration as a successful military campaign. It required courage, skill, and patient endurance to move upon and tame this tropical forest on the north coast of Cuba.

A handful of colonists followed the survey corps into La Gloria at intervals, the first ladies coming in December. These were Mrs. D. E. Lowell and Mrs. W. G. Spiker; they came with their husbands. Mr. Lowell had been a prosperous orange and pineapple grower in Florida until the great freeze came, and Mr. Spiker was a successful photographer in Ohio before leaving his state to find him a new home in the tropics. The Lowells and Spikers were intelligent and cultivated people who had been accustomed to a good style of living, but who were now ready to undertake a rough, pioneer life in the strong hope of a bright future. The party landed at Palota, northwest of La Gloria, and came in with horses and wagon of their own, following the roughest kind of trail for the larger part of nine miles. It was a hard and perilous trip; only with the greatest difficulty could the horses draw the load through the heavy mud and over the deeply gullied road. More than once the team seemed hopelessly stuck, but was extricated after a time and the toilsome journey continued. At last the bedraggled party reached La Gloria, and the first women colonists set foot on the soil of the future Cuban-American city. When the _Yarmouth_ colonists arrived, the Lowells and Spikers had been living at La Gloria for several weeks; they were well and happy, and pleased with the climate and the country.