From flag to flag

October was upon us. The summer rains had ceased, the air was full of the odor of fruit and fruit-blossoms by day, and overpowering, when the shades of evening fell, with the fragrance of the brilliant, white, night-blooming cereus, which flung its exuberant wealth of golden stamens in prodigal profusion over the coral-rock fences that bounded the grassy lawn. All nature that never donned a russet or yellow coat, or dropped a withered leaf, bloomed forth in freshly washed green. Vines, that had hung their heads under beating showers for six months, took heart again, and ran riot over the fences, and hung in long, tangled, graceful festoons from tree to tree, draping the rocky mountain’s sides with curtains of verdure besprinkled with gorgeous blossoms of crimson and gold; while aloft on the mountain-top, in every tree nestled the beautiful dark-green parasites of the tropics, hanging in clusters, here and there and everywhere; with the overflowing abundance that Nature so lavishly provided in Cuba, there was sustenance for all, so that the idle parasite, that had nothing to do but exhibit its beautiful self, did not diminish the vitality of the generous tree on which it feasted.

The rasping notes of the wild Guinea-fowl and the sharp whistle of the quail were heard all through the cane-fields, where the long, sweeping leaves had tenderly sheltered their nests, and now they were coming forth with abundant broods. The tiny yellow tomiguin, with his musical chirp, the brown arriero (mule-driver), with his two long, slender tail-feathers and his strident call; the gorgeously plumaged tocalor (every color), nestled in the mango-trees, swung upon the slender branches of the mimosa, and flew joyously over our heads; while the buzzards that we jestingly claimed were entitled to be emblazoned on our coat-of-arms, as at least one was forever to be seen perched on the arch at the end of the avenue, sailed in grand and graceful curves over and above all.

The mountain-range that runs like a backbone through the length of Cuba was only a quarter of a mile east of our dwelling, and a ride or walk up the steep sides well repaid a lover of nature. From the summit there spread before us an extended view of Oriental loveliness and exquisite beauty. At our feet limitless cane-fields hung their light-green leaves, topped here and there with erect torches of blossoming seed that shimmered and glistened in the sun like molten silver. In the distance, amid the intense green of fruit-trees and whole avenues of kingly palms, towering chimneys of sugar-houses and groups of modest buildings marked the domain of neighboring planters. Far off to the right a broad expanse of still darker green revealed a coffee estate. To the left a tiny church-spire surmounted by a white cross denoted the village home of the captain and the cura, who exercised controlling influence in all matters temporal and spiritual, considerately relieving the docile population of that grandly beautiful country from all responsibility in the present and the future. The cerulean dome, scarcely flecked by a single fleecy cloud, stretching from zenith to horizon, the gently undulating landscape, the soft, hazy, languid atmosphere, the faint zephyrs redolent with perfume, suggested Arcadian peace and rest.

September, which so often took a boisterous farewell, retired with gracious smiles, and it seemed that every bird and bush felt safer when she was gone; but September had left a legacy to the incoming month.

Almost imperceptibly the air became still, oppressive in its stillness; not a leaf stirred in the topmost branches of the tall palms, whose feathery summits danced and tossed in every breeze. They became as painted trees on a painted landscape. Birds were to be seen restless and flying aimlessly about; horses whinnied and stamped and pulled from their halters under the shed where they were tied. Old Mish, the cat, came mewing pitifully around and refused to be comforted. Dogs whined and howled, got up and turned around, only to lie down again, as though too nervous and restless to be still a moment. All nature was wretched and uncomfortable. The atmosphere became preternaturally transparent, and objects long distances off were revealed as though seen through a powerful field-glass. The total lack of vitality in the air made its very inhalation an effort. Cattle about the fields drifted in a restless manner to their pens and huddled together. Sheep found shelter in their mountain-cave, where they stood with noses to the ground; bugs and ants crept in through the doors and windows which had been flung wide open to catch the faintest breath of air.

The most inanimate of created things seemed to share in the depression. Leaves of trees curled and drooped, and flowers closed their limp petals as though a sirocco had swept over them.

Suddenly all was flurry and excitement to prepare for the cyclone that even the very lizards knew was coming. Sledge-hammers, axes, and immense timbers were hastily brought inside the house. We rapidly prepared to occupy and defend the three front rooms only. Ciriaco brought in some cold meat and bread, brandy, aguadiente, and a pail of water, which were deposited in a corner of the parlor.

The rear of the house was closely barred and secured in the strongest way possible. There was a sudden and hurried rush into the various buildings. Chinese and negroes fled to their respective barracoons and fastened themselves in. Lamo, with two white men in our employ, and several trusty, stalwart negroes, waited to see that all were protected, thoroughly safe as possible, barely allowing themselves time to rush into the house and close the last windows when the hurricane broke upon us. The wind rose in great, howling gusts, and swooped down and around with tumultuous roar like the booming of cannon. A rattle and a bang, as though we were being assaulted with battering-rams on one side the house, and all rushed to the threatened windows to secure them with great solid timbers driven by sledge-hammers into the polished floor, and forced against the massive panels of the shutters that closed from within. A rushing and a whizzing sound, broken into a prolonged roar, admonished us that the wind had veered, and now the opposite windows were threatened; before they could be properly secured, a great rattling and howling at the door drove every one with axes, sledge-hammers, and timbers to the front of the house. So the wind whirled round and round, stopping at every door and window to blow a louder and more startling blast. Like a great giant battling for admission, or a besieging army attacking first on one side, then on another, then all around at once, in the determination to carry the defenses by storm, the merciless wind fought. We knew only too well that if it gained admission, the house would be wrecked; one of its mighty blasts could lift the very stone roof.

Meanwhile, except for a single candle in a corner, so shielded for fear of sudden gusts that it only served to make darkness visible, we were without any light. A panel a few inches square, hung on hinges in a front shutter, was our only means of obtaining a glimpse of the outside world, and we dared not open this while the storm was doing its utmost. For thirty hours we bravely and unceasingly defended the besieged castle—thirty hours of mortal terror and incessant vigilance—before the giant, with one last, deafening howl, diminished the force of the attack, and gave us one moment’s peace. Cautiously taking hurried peeps through the little panel, while the tornado was whirling with fearful impetuosity through a roseate atmosphere, the very wind seemed a tangible pink element sweeping everything before it. Débris of every kind was being borne upon its mighty wings. Great sheets of metal roofing from the sugar-house went careering along like scraps of paper; huge palm-trees whirled aloft and away like straws; while tiles, bricks, and smaller objects sailed with lightning rapidity across the horizon like motes in a breeze, so utterly insignificant were they in the grasp of the mighty element. A few holes, wrenched through the strong stone roof of the house, gave access to the rain, that now poured down in blinding floods, and we were soon like Noah’s dove, flying in vain search of a dry spot.

When at last, after thirty hours of exhaustive battle and mortal alarm, our doors were once more thrown open, the scene of desolation was beyond all powers of description. The boundless fields of waving cane, that delighted our eyes only two days before, had entirely disappeared; beaten flat down by the wind, the rapidly descending waters rushed completely over them. The sugar-house was wholly unroofed; and for days broad strips of the metal, bent as though Vulcan’s hammer had beaten them into a thousand fantastic shapes, were brought from the fields hundreds of yards away. Rock fences had been dashed to pieces and the fragments strewed over the fields. The proud army of majestic palms, that had for so many decades stood guard of our entrance, lost twenty of its bravest veterans. The grand old bell, whose ringing peals so often summoned help in the hour of danger, and whose gentle, solemn toll always brought to my tired heart memories of peaceful Sabbath days, lay shattered on the ground, its silvery tongue silenced forever!

Desolation was everywhere supreme. When the waters subsided (they ran off into low places and partly filled creeks with surprising rapidity), the negroes sallied forth from their long confinement. The first move was to count all hands at the barracoons. Many had had wonderful escapes, and it was a great satisfaction to ascertain that only one, a Chinese, was missing. While the rushing waters were still several feet deep, messengers on horseback were dispatched to search for him. He was found extended upon a fragment of fence that surrounded the cattle-pen, insensible, and in that condition brought to the house, hanging in front of one of the riders. After rolling the poor, water-logged fellow again and again on a bench, and rubbing him with dry mustard, some evidence of life appeared. At the first signs of vitality copious draughts of brandy were administered, and he soon entirely recovered. The half-drowned cattle, that huddled together with the impulse of brute instinct, began to hold up their beaten and weary heads. The horses, that crowded into the sugar-house when it was under bare poles, with the intuition that taught them they were safer there than in the open field, escaped without serious injury. Basket after basket of drowned and half-drowned fowls were brought to the house; many of them had even their feathers wrenched out by the wind. The birds that had flown, in gay plumage and joyous note, from tree to tree only a short time before, were gone; hushed was the busy call of the Guinea fowl; silent was the whistle of the quail—the angry winds had whirled them away. A few buzzards, whose vitality is so proverbial—it is even averred that a bullet can not kill one—were to be seen perched, day after day, in a most dejected and melancholy attitude, on the remnants of fences and posts, with scarcely a tail-or wing-feather left, naked and shivering, too helpless and disheartened to hop down; to attempt to fly would have been suicidal.

A walk through the house revealed broken and wrenched railings, battered windows, and a court-yard strewed with stone and cement plowed out of the roof by relentless winds. Everything was wet—each shoe floated in its particular puddle, all our garments dripped, and every chair-seat was soaked. Water ran in small streams over the floors; the very beds were saturated; the occupancy of each little dry spot had to be contested with ants, lizards, and scorpions that invaded the premises by myriads.

I wondered, on first seeing Desengaño, why people in a mild, soft climate should build a house solid as a castle, with walls three feet thick; and I wondered, after that temporal, that any one dared to live in a house less substantial and with less protection than massive walls and a stone roof afford.

Long before securing any degree of comfort, we had to help our neighbors, particularly the guajiros, who had a sitio between us and the village. Panchito and Manuel waded through the submerged roads to tell that their houses were entirely blown away. The places were washed and smoothed over all fresh and clean to begin again: four holes and four uprights and some cross-poles, with a covering of green palm-branches, made each as complete as it was before. We furnished men and means to tide them over their losses. In the beginning of the temporal, or rather when it threatened, they sought refuge in the caves of the mountain-side, and a merciful Providence saved their lives from destruction.

Under the warm rays of the sun the cane soon lifted crooked and bent stalks, with their few remaining leaves whipped into shreds, and nature slowly recovered from the fearful shock.

It was hard work to get the sugar-house in order to take off the crop, greatly diminished though it was. Weeks passed before we were again even moderately comfortable in the house. By and by the water-logged trunks, the contents of drawers, and the soaked shoes, after long exposure to the sun, dried, but the musty odor of mold never seemed to depart from them. All the creeping things of the earth, and the flying things that live in dark places, came upon us like a plague. Ants and curious little split-tailed bugs swarmed by thousands, and the floor was often marked with the black streak of the one battalion, or the glittering yellow line of the other. Centipedes started from under every pillow, and big-bodied spiders, with long, hairy legs, ran from among the damp books, while the mosquitoes, that were always with us, became more voracious and tormenting than ever. Cunning little lizards, the least objectionable of all our reptile visitors, darted about with their pretty emerald coats and shining black eyes, and the glorious cucullos, with blazing lanterns on their heads, flew in and out the open windows, when the shades of night revealed the brilliancy of their tiny lamps.