Part 11

I am decked out in a white skirt, purple hat and veil, and purple jersey. We have struck the tail end of the norther and the temperature is delightful. The moving-picture man, who followed us down last night, is now trying to persuade Mr. Lind and N. to let him “get them” in conversation, but Mr. Lind refuses on the plea that he is not in politics. I asked him how about his noble Lincoln head, and he answered, “Nothing doing; that unrepeatable head is long in its grave.”... The admiral is announced.

XI

Dramatic values at Vera Cruz--Visits to the battle-ships--Our superb hospital-ship, the _Solace_--Admiral Cradock’s flag-ship--An American sailor’s menu--Three “square meals” a day--Travel in revolutionary Mexico.

“LA SIEMPRE HEROICA,” VERA CRUZ, _January 9th_.

I am writing in my state-room before getting up. Yesterday I sent off the merest scrap by the _Monterey_. We had a long and interesting day. We went with Admiral Fletcher and Commander Stirling to the _Dolphin_ for lunch. Fortunately the admiral’s flag is flying from her instead of from the _Rhode Island_, which is anchored, while waiting for a good berth inside the breakwater, in the rough sea beyond the Isla de los Sacrificios.

Captain Earl is in command of the _Dolphin_, the despatch-boat that successive Secretaries of the Navy have used for their journeyings and which has just come from “watching” the elections in Santo Domingo. The admiral offered to put us up, but I thought it was unnecessary to trouble him, as we were already unpacked on the car. Admiral Fletcher, besides being an agreeable man of the world, is an open-minded, shrewd, experienced seaman, versed in international usage, knowing just what the law allows in difficult decisions, where to curtail his own initiative and fall in with established codes, or where to go ahead. The splendid order and efficiency of the men and matters under his command are apparent even to my lay eyes.

We sat on deck for an hour or so after lunch. The harbor is like a busy town--a sort of new Venice. Launches and barges are constantly going from one war-ship to another. It is a very different scene from the one my eyes first rested on nearly three years ago, when the Ward Line boat bringing us, and the _Kronprinzessin Cecilie_ bringing von Hintze, were the only boats in the harbor. I sent a wireless to Admiral Cradock to let him know that we are in town, or rather in harbor, and he wired back an invitation for lunch to-day.

On leaving the _Dolphin_ Nelson received his eleven salutes, standing up with bared head in the admiral’s barge as they thundered across the bay. We then went over to the _Monterey_ to say good-by to Armstead, who made the journey down with us, and to see Captain Smith, who brought us first to the land of the cactus. The various boats, Spanish, French, and English, saluted as we passed in the _Dolphin’s_ launch.

In the evening Mr. Lind had a dinner for us under the _portales_ of the Diligencias. Admiral Fletcher, Consul Canada, Commander Yates Stirling, Captain Delaney of the commissary-ship, and Lieutenant Courts, one of the admiral’s aides, were the guests. The Diligencias takes up two sides of the old Plaza. The Municipal Palace, a good Spanish building, is on the third side, and the picturesque cathedral with its many domes and belfries embellishes the last. The band plays every night in the Plaza and the whole scene is gay and animated. Women in their mantillas and rebozos, dozens of tiny flower-girls, newspaper _babes_, and bootblacks of very tender years cluster like flies around soft-hearted diners.

The _Mexican Herald_ arrived while we were sitting there, and we were most amused by the head-lines: “Five-Hour Conference This Morning Between Lind and O’Shaughnessy Resumed in the Afternoon.” “Policy Not Yet Known.”

At nine-thirty I broke up the festive gathering. The admiral, Mr. Lind, and N. went off toward the pier, and Commander Stirling and Lieutenant Courts brought me back to the car in a round-about way through the quiet streets. As half after four is a favorite breakfast hour here, they are all “early to bed.” Vera Cruz seems the most peaceful city in the world at the present moment, though no port in the world has seen more horrors and heroisms. Cortés landed there, la Villa Rica de la Vera Cruz, as he called it, and for centuries the seas around were pirate-infested. She has been sacked by buccaneers times without number; bombarded by nearly every power that has had interests here--the Spaniards, ourselves (in 1847), the French, etc.; and now her port is again black with battle-ships ready to turn their twentieth-century guns upon _La Siempre Heroica_ (the always heroic). Two enemies she seems to have done with--yellow fever and cholera. The _zopilotes_ (buzzards) that sail about in uncountable numbers find it rather hard to get a living. I see that the cleaning up of Guayaquil has been given to an English firm, who, however, will use our methods. Very few Latin-American contracts will be given to Uncle Sam these days.

Admiral Fletcher would like to come up to Mexico City, which he has never seen, but after all these months of _not_ coming he could only do so _now_ officially with his staff--uniforms, visits to Huerta and other authorities--and that is out of the question. I could put him up at the Embassy, with his two aides, and am quite keen about it, and so is he; but nothing can be done until what the newspapers call _Watch_ington has been sounded. Mr. Lind thinks it impossible (he knows _he_ can’t return), as it would be taken as a sign that the President might be wishing to change his Mexican policy. On the other hand, if he _should_ wish to change that policy, such a visit could be the entering wedge, and lead to big things in the way of peace and prosperity.

Mr. Lind continues to think that the raising of the embargo on arms and ammunition in the north is the easiest solution of the problem; but I am terrified at such an issue. The last state of Mexico would be worse than the first. It might settle the Huerta dictatorship, but, alas! not the Mexican situation.

We had a most comfortable night. Practically no trains come and go in the station at night and there is none of the usual dust and dirt of travel, all the railroads burning oil instead of coal. I go at ten to visit our hospital-ship, the _Solace_, and I must now arise and buckle me up for a long day. I have a white silk tailor-made costume and various fresh blouses to choose from. Nelson is busy with newspaper men, who have discovered the car.

_January 10th, Morning._

Before I was dressed yesterday morning Mr. Lind appeared with a steward from Captain Delaney, bringing me some delicious hams and bacons and other good things from the supply-ship to take to Mexico City. Then Captain Niblack appeared, looking very smart. He was our naval _attaché_ in Berlin, relieved only last summer, I think, and is a charming man of the world. I was out of my state-room by this time and fresh myself, but the state-room looked like Messina after the earthquake. General Maass, military governor or Commander of the Port, and his aide, were next to appear. He shows his German blood in various ways (_not_ in that of language, however). He has light, upstanding hair, German eyes, and much manner. There were many bows and palaverings, _a los pies de Vd._, etc. He put his automobile at our disposition for the day, and it was _my_ car by the time he had finished offering it after the courteous Spanish custom. The interview finally ended by my arranging to call on his señora in the afternoon, and by N. escorting him from the car and down the platform. Lieutenant Courts then arrived to take me to the _Solace_. All the officers look so smart in their fresh linens. The _Solace_ was lying quite inside the breakwater, looking very cool and inviting. She was painted white, with a broad, green stripe around her--her official colors. Dr. von Wedekin was waiting on deck with his staff. I was most interested in seeing the perfect arrangements for the care of all that is mortal of man; even eyes, teeth, ears, are looked after in a most efficient and up-to-date way. The wards are fine, large, and beautifully ventilated, the air as sweet and as fresh as that on deck; twenty-eight cases of malaria were being treated after the seven days’ bout at Tampico, and half a dozen of appendicitis. The ship carries no cargo, having the medical stores for the whole fleet. The captain told me he had not lost a case of anything for fourteen months. His operating-room can compare with that of any hospital I have ever seen and the ship also has a fine laboratory. She is well-named the _Solace_.

She was leaving that afternoon for Tampico, which is one of the dreariest spots on the earth, despite the mighty forces at work there. Mexico’s oil is at once her riches and her ruin. The place is malaria-ridden, infested with mosquitoes, and the inhabitants, I am told, have the weary, melancholy expression peculiar to fever districts. The ships that go there are as well screened as possible, but men on duty can’t always be protected. I understand the mosquito that does the damage is a gauzy, diaphanous, rather large kind, and the “female of the species is deadlier than the male.”

On leaving, Lieutenant Courts took me for a little turn about the harbor, as it was too early for the _Suffolk_ lunch. We went around the ill-famed prison of San Juan Ulua. Its six desolate palms are almost the first thing one sees on entering the harbor. I regret that I did not get a pass from General Maass to visit it. I saw a few pale, hopeless-looking prisoners in dull blue and white stripes, standing on the parapets or working in the dry dock, the guns of soldiers always poking in their faces. These are the “better class” of criminals; there are those in dark, oozing, terrible holes who are never allowed outside of them, and it is said that those who survive lose in a few years all human semblance. The foundations of the fortress were laid in early Cortés days and the fortunes and misfortunes of the town have always centered round it. It was from its tower that the last Spanish flag was lowered at the time of the Mexican independence, 1821. When first in Mexico I used to hear that Madero was to close the prison; but, like many of his intentions, this never became a fact. Peace to his soul!

We got back to the Sanidad landing at half past twelve. Admiral Cradock’s flag-lieutenant was waiting with the barge and I was delivered into his hands. N. came up at the same time and we put out for the _Suffolk_, which has a berth inside the breakwater. The admiral, very handsome and agreeable, not only immaculate, but effulgent, received us on deck and we went down to his delightful room. It contains really good things from all parts of the world--old silver from Malta, a beautiful twelfth-century carving (suitable for a museum) from Greece, fine enamels from Pekin, where Sir Christopher distinguished himself during the siege, and many other lovely things, besides books and easy-chairs. He is really a connoisseur, but he said that the ladies, God bless them, had robbed him of most of his possessions. After an excellent lunch Captain Niblack came in to say good-by, the _Michigan_ having received sailing orders for New York. We had such a friendly talk with Sir Christopher, who said--and we quite concurred--that he didn’t see any cause for feeling about British

## action in Mexico, adding that he had no politics, no idea in the world

except to save British lives and property, and that he and Admiral Fletcher were working together, he hoped, in all sympathy and harmony. He wants to come up to Mexico again and jokingly lays it at Nelson’s door that he can’t. There is something so gallant about him, but with a note of sadness; and I am always conscious of a certain detachment in him from the personal aims of life. We left about three o’clock. The English use black powder for their salutes and the thirteen guns made a very imposing effect. The ship was enveloped in smoke, a sort of Turneresque effect, making one think of “Trafalgar,” while the shots reverberated through the harbor.

[Illustration: ADMIRAL SIR CHRISTOPHER CRADOCK]

[Illustration: ADMIRAL F. F. FLETCHER]

I went back to the Consulate to have a little talk with Mr. Lind, then got into the Maass auto, which was waiting at the Consulate door, and proceeded to pay my respects to Señora Maass. General Maass has a breezy house at the barracks at the other end of the town, in front of the rather dreary Alameda, with its dusty palms and dry fountain and general wind-swept appearance. An endless time of parleying followed. My Spanish, after a long day, gets tired like myself. However, I saw them all--daughters, and nieces, and friends, and the parrot and the dog; the beasts were most useful conversationally. Then the family sang and played, and one of the daughters, pretty, with a clear soprano, gave me a good deal of Tosti. Then more talk. I was getting desperate, no move being made to a large, well-spread, absolutely unavoidable, preordained table in the corner. I finally said that Captain Niblack, who was leaving for the United States in the morning, was waiting for me to go to the _Michigan_. That broke through the tea _impasse_, and, after partaking of the collation, I finally got away, escorted on General Maass’s arm to “my” automobile.

I arrived at the Consulate, hot and tired, and without the sustaining feeling that “duty is a well-spring in the soul.” I was thankful to find myself at last in the _Michigan’s_ boat with Captain Niblack and Nelson, going out across a bay of wondrous sunset effects--“twilight and evening hour and one last call for me.” It was a marvelous “crossing the bar.” Looking back, the outline of the Pico de Orizaba made a soft violet mass against the deepening sky, with a strange, red lighting up of the top. The bay was filled with ships of destruction from all over the world, but everything in nature for once was soft and merciful and seemed to dissolve and harmonize discordant and destructive meanings.

The _Michigan_ is a huge ship, one of the first dreadnaughts, and Captain Niblack is both enthusiastic and earnest about his work. After a glass of something--for a lady inclined to temperance I have drained many pleasant cups to their cheerful lees these days--we all went over to the _Chester_, a ship of the scout type, that had just returned with Mr. Lind from the Pass Christian trip. There we picked up Captain Moffett--who also insisted on decocting something sustaining--and then turned shoreward, where Mr. Lind was giving another dinner for us, under the _portales_ of the Diligencias. It was quite dark, but a thousand lights from a hundred boats made the harbor one vast jewel--not in the “Ethiop’s ear,” but in Mexico’s poor, battered, torn ear. At half after nine, after another pleasant dinner, I began to feel that my bed would be my best friend, and we went back to the car, through the quiet, well-lighted streets. Women were leaning over the little green balconies of the little pink houses in the classic Spanish style, with here and there a note of guitar or mandolin. I thought of the “Goyas” in the Louvre.

VERA CRUZ, _January 10th, 6.30_ P.M.

Home to rest a little before dressing for Admiral Fletcher’s dinner to-night, for which we decided to stay over. We spent the morning on the _Michigan_, Captain Niblack giving us an early luncheon, as he expected till noon to start for New York at one o’clock. The officers and crew were full of anticipations of home. Then the _Minnesota_, which had arrived in the morning, expecting to replace the _Michigan_, found orders awaiting her to coal immediately for a trip to Panama. Captain Simpson, her commander, had rushed in for lunch with Captain Niblack, and there got the wireless. Captain N. hated to tell the officers and the crew that after all the months of waiting at Vera Cruz they were not to leave, their hearts had been beating so high. The crews are never allowed ashore for fear of complications, and it is no light task to keep the thousands of sailors and marines in Vera Cruz harbor well occupied and content within the compass of their ships. They are, I can testify, magnificently fed. At lunch Captain Niblack ordered for us some of the soup the men were having, a delicious bean soup with pieces of sweet pork; also the meat served us was the same as theirs--a juicy, tender steak such as I couldn’t get in Mexico City for love or money. I also got the printed menu for the week, three full, varied meals a day. Judging from that and the samples tasted they have first-class fare, and all at an expense of thirty cents a day for each man.

We had taken on board with us Wallace, the moving-picture man, who had come with a letter to N. from John Bassett Moore. Captain Niblack had the drill, salutes, etc., for N. on leaving the boat, so I suppose that brief episode of our career will be duly chronicled in our native land. After leaving the _Michigan_ we went again to the _Chester_, and sat on deck for an hour or so with Captain Moffett, who had many interesting things to tell about the Tampico fight. A heavenly breeze was blowing. Salutes were fired as usual when we left. Some one made the little joke that they could “hear us walking all over the harbor.” Going from one ship to another, as we have been doing for three days, I have received a tremendous impression of the might and glory of our navy, and of the noble, clean, and wise lives which must be led by the men who command the ships.

AT ORIZABA, _(the Next Morning), January 11th, 10.30_.

Well, traveling in Mexico in revolutionary times is _all_ that it is supposed to be! The rebels have destroyed the track at Maltrata ahead of us, sacked and burned fourteen provision-cars, damaged a bridge, and, officials say, we are held up until to-morrow. It is the first time anything has happened on this road, though all the other lines in Mexico have been cut times without number. Maltrata, above which the damage has been done, is the site of the most delicate and difficult engineering-work on the line and a tempting spot for havoc.

I am staying in my state-room, worn out with the comings and goings of the last three days. A drizzling rain is falling, the results of the norther at Vera Cruz. Orizaba is known politely as the watering-pot of Mexico. I say “politely,” as against a somewhat similar name which you will remember is applied to Rouen. N. is disgusted at not getting back to Mexico City, and I dare say the town is full of all sorts of rumors about us. He has just been to see the train-master, who has simply had orders to await instructions; no tickets are to be sold further than Orizaba.

I am glad of these moments for a little word with my precious mother. Last night the admiral’s dinner was most agreeable. The Military Commander Maass and his wife were there, Admiral Cradock with two of his officers, Mr. Lind, the Consul, Yates Stirling, and others of the admiral’s staff. I sat on Admiral Fletcher’s left, with Maass next to me. The conversation was in Spanish, and I worked hard; I told the admiral that I deserved a trip to Panama as a recompense. The _norte_ which had been announced from Tampico began creakingly and ominously to make itself felt and heard about half after nine. The admiral gave us an amusing picture of the life at Tampico with a hundred refugees, mostly women and children, on board. He said it was a sweet and touching sight to see certain baby garments hung out to dry on the cannon, and officers lulling the little innocents to sleep, or engaged in other and often unsuccessful attempts to keep the refugees pleased and happy.

At about ten o’clock, after sitting on deck awhile, the _norte_ began to blow stronger. Señora Maass, stout, elderly, and placid, did not seem to like her own _nortes_, so we proceeded to do what was about my seventeenth gangway that day. The northers of Vera Cruz are a great feature of the climate. They have all sorts and degrees--the _nortes fuertes_ that nearly blow the town away; the _nortes chocolateros_ that are milder, last a long time, and keep the place healthy and bearable, and various others. I don’t know what kind was developing last night, but after an uncertain trip we were dashed up against the Sanidad pier, where the large Maass auto was waiting. We said good-by to Mr. Lind and Mr. Canada at the Consulate door, and in an instant they were blotted out in the thick darkness of the gathering _norte_. The Maasses took us on to the station, where we parted with all expressions of regard and compliments. I must say they have been more than polite.

I went to bed immediately. Jesus, who is a gem, had everything in order. I don’t think I would have been able to don my filmy black gown for the dinner had it not been for his deftness and general efficiency. At six o’clock they hitched our car onto the morning train, with indescribable groanings and joltings, and this is our history up to the present moment.

Through the window I see only bits of a dreary station and crowds of Indians huddled under their _serapes_ and _rebozos_. The poor wretches do so hate to get wet. It means hours of chill until the garments dry on them. Worried train employees are running about. I understand that Orizaba, in spite of the “watering-pot” effect, is a delightful resort. Many people from Yucatan come up to recuperate--rich _henequén_ and sisal planters; there are all the beauties and marvels of the tropics in the way of flowers and fruits, orchids, convolvuli, ahuacate pears, pineapples, pomegranates, and a wonderfully tonic, even temperature. If it weren’t for the downpour I would venture out for antiques. This is an old Spanish city and there are lovely things to be picked up in the way of ivory and wood inlaid-work if one is lucky. However, I don’t feel like being watered. I haven’t had the desire, since hearing of the hold-up, to tell you of the beauty of the scenery from Vera Cruz, but look at those first enchanting pages of Prescott’s _Conquest_. He who never saw it, describes its beauties as if they were spread before him. Though, for really up-to-date reading on Mexico give me Humboldt, 1807. He still seems to have said the last and latest word about Mexico and Mexicans as we know them to-day.