Morning journal and courier., 1888-01-14


 hind them with an utter absence of criti- eism. We were being pounded squarely into port at the rate of twenty knots an hour. We saw no welcome signal from Moro. Even with our glasses we could see no look out Along the whole savage coast there was naught but the crags. the pink and white city with it's strange half -Moorish architee- ture, and the tremendous forts in front of us, with a rim of white spray where the great waves beat madly on the deadly lodges below. Just there, between Moro Castle and the low-lying La Punta fort opposite, was 8 steely, black line. That marked the narrow entrance not five hundred feet wide. The splendid bay was in there behind all this fu- ry. But three other wind-whipped objects were in sight-ths gray gulls that circled and shrieked. the hateful flag of yellow and red above old Moros tower, and dismas.ed Spanish bark just astern of us, with her decks stove in, her hold water-logged, and her hull careening to leeward as though the very life were beaten out of her. Like 8 broken life going down where all who should give suceor stand silent, in sight of her own flag and in desperate peril, there was no sign of aid from behind those grim battlements where hundreds of craft were safe and silent in peaceful waters underneath 8 glowing sun.
 Our captain was agitated, but he swore he would make that harbor. So our steamers blistered old nose went cracking and cutting through the boiling sea with increasing speed. We were charged squarely into Spanish su- thority like 8 riotous ram. Moro Castle loomed high and grand above us. The surf at it's feet and our side reminded one of 8 swirling snow storm. Opposite La Punta, not stone's throw away, was completely hidden from sight by the waves which rose up and shook their crests like shrieking hags Suddenly there popped up out of the caul- dron in front of and beneath us hfeboat full of Cuban barqueros and a pilot wild with indignation at our temerity. Like the sea, the pilot also fairly loaned. Though yelling at us savagely, we could not hear his voice, But his gesticulations plain ly ordered us to put about and stand out to sea again. Our captain responded in still more frantic tones and movements. High above the fury of the elemental din his brave oaths rang out excuse, invective, scorn, defiance. We nearly ran down the boat which barely got under our leeward, it's occupants the maddest Spaniards that ever escaped drowning; and thus as we rounded Moro, we swept past all danger of the sea the pilot, crew and our captain testing their lungs and profanity to the utmost-into one of the most beautiful harbors known to sea- men, finally coming to anchor, over against the Regla side of the harbor, where the quaint city rising higher and higher from the wha1ves to the low-lying, fortified noun tains behind, was spread before our view like some fantastic picture from half-Moslem old Spain.
 The noble harbor which made the gay cap- ital of the West Indies possible is named Ha- yana Bay. s'The Careening Place." the childlike natives called it, because here came land and sea chiefs and attended to the 'careening" and mending of their craft on the circling palm-shade beaches of it's shores. They also took rum and counsel here. Lay your left hand upon your table, 1AooI vuith ha firOnra south. Then imagine your thumb twice its size and standing out squarely to the east and you will have very clever notion of the shape of Havana Bay, save that it's en- trance from your wrist-joint would be pro- portionately no larger than your wrists least vein. The bay is nearly three miles long and quite as wide. As you enter, overhanging your very vessel, is the famous Moro Castle, and to the right and opposite, not two hun dred yards distant, is La Punta, fort set low in the shore, it's southern angle extend ing to where the shipping is dense western angle turning sharp from the narrow entrance back along the sea, term mating where the noted sea drive, Calle Anche del Norte, begins. La Punta is so low it might almost be described as water battery. It bristles threateningly with can- senals and many buildings of ugly sugges- tiveness; little park, Parque de Ia Punta, where the lovely Cubanas firt with the gay trumpeteers, and many sad low life tragedy is begun; and still behind this is the colossal prison, which immense quadrangulsr struct- ure will guard 5000 prisoners at one time. Havana proper lies to the south and west of this spot. You may wander in Tod Nurem. berg and dream in older Granada, and you will find no more quaint and vagsrous struct- ural composites than you will here stumble upon in the narrow calles on every hand.
 But there lies Havana, Q rare study ia Moorish, Saracen and Doric architecture, startling in it's pink, yellow, red, lavender and blue colors and decorations, on the west of the gleaming bay, while ferries ply to the villages, estacions, steamer landings and warehouse communities of the opposite side. On this east side, where the close jaws of the harbor open bit, and clambering up the mountain-side where frown the landward outworks of Moro Castle, is Casa Blanca, with it's queer villas and structures, each one standing out in this wonderful daylight of the tropics in such distinctness, and with such strange seeming of approaching and growing proportions that, in your fancy, the houses individually become great pillared temples. In and over and through this dreamful spot, away up the side of the mountain, thread and run such indescri- bable wealth of vegetation that, as you look again and again, the clustered, shining homes seem like great white grapes burst ing through glorious wealth of vines and leaves.
 Beyond Casa Blanca the bay debouches to the east Here is @ yeritable valley of rest. Every half mile is a little cluster of homes set in a marvellous wealth and villages, each with it's half-ruined church whose only suggestion of use or occupation is had in the din of never-ceasing chimes; and still beyond these are uplands which almost reach the dignity of mountains, upon whose far and receding serrated heights an occasional cocoa tree or royal palm looms lonely as ghostly sentinel upon some medic val tower.
 Below and nearer, upon little peninsula extending towards Havana into the bay, is the gloomy quarantine. Farther to the south lie the great Santa Catalina warehouses where the saccharine source of Cuba's wealth is stored in huge hogsheads, or rests dark as lakes of pitch in tremendous vats. Behind these is Regla, the lesser Havana, across the harbor, with it's churches, it's quaint old markets, it's eock-pits, it's ceaseless fandan- goes and it's bull-pen. Over beyond this, set like gleaming nest in the crest of the mountains, glimpse is caught of Guana- bacoa full of villas, beautiful gardens and fountains, and in the olden times thethen old est Indian village of which Cuban legends tell Beyond Regla to the south and upon the shores of the bay is the ferry and railroad station whence thousands resch the outlying villas, or leave the capital for the various seaports of the northern coast; and right here, night and day, is as busy and inter esting spot for the study of manner and character as may be found in all Cuba. At this station is seen famous statue to Edo uard Fesser, founder of the Havana ware house system. The entire southern portion of the bay, where some day the barren shore line will be lined with great warehouses and docks, is filled with old hulls of sunken steamers and ships, conveying the keenest | sense of desolation, and the shore here rises to uplands bare as Sahara, until, skirting to ! the right. the bold mountain Jesu del Monte is seen; and then come the great outlying forts extending far around to the sea. Between you and these, if still aboard ship, you see | Havana's demes and minarets, and, to all | intents, you are anchored in seeneful harbol l of old Spain.
 EDGAR l.. WAKEMAN.