The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1898-07-01
PICTURED BY a BRIT0N
SCENES NEAR SANTIAGO PAINTED By
A NOTED WAR CORRESPONDENT.
Night View of the Transport Fleet
Picturesque MORO Castle, Forlorn
Jaugura and Sad Baiquiri.
Special Correspondence of the Associated Press


ciated Press boat Wanda from Kingston,
came rollicking. like a petrol. round Point
Morant, and, heading almost due north, was
making for Santiago de Cuba. And, all of
of a sudden, up from the deep blue pillows
of the midnight sea, there glistened out all
along the horizon coronet of noble jewels
necklace fit for the throat of queen-dia-
monds, emeralds and ruby, the signal lights
of great squadron of some forty vessels,
rocking under easy steam in the deep. And
as they rolled through the waves the stars
seemed to come down to meet the Great
Bear his lowest stars swinging just behind
the lamps of the Indiana, the Southern
cross mingling its bright lights with the
gems that made so beautiful a night.
We had CHANGED, by good fortune, upon
the long expected transport fleet, taking
some 10000 men to the attack of the south
ern coast of Cuba, escorted by a powerful
convoy of men-of-war. Perhaps it is that
the outward and visible signs of war thrill
me more than they do most civilians; per-
haps 1t is that blood is really thicker than
water. and that looking out upon the noble
constellation of flashing ships / feel myself
half an American. Anyhow, the fact remains
that l feel proud of our common Anglo
Saxon kinship and, sympathetic as I must
needs be with the ruin of a nation of most
ancient fame, gazed upon the scene with
something warmer more enthusiastic, than
mere English feelings
scouting gunboat, ablaze with color, ct
once discovered US, made friendly prize of
US, questioned us and let us go, and till
dawn we lay there in little yacht, rock
ing on the swell among the great company
OF lev1athans. AT daybreak we watched
lhem bulklly awaking into life, taking their
places with monstrous leisureness) in
the SAILING line, and with the flagship AHEAD
and war ships thrown we'll out on either
nank, steaming away along the coast to
the eastward towards Guantanamo How
empty the sea seemed without these behe-
moths, black and gray: how terribly sig
nlficant of speed and power those wisps of
ugly smoke below the horizon. And, mean
While, we We're steering to the westward
Cuba.
THE MORO OF ST. JAGO.
sharp tropical squall caught us as we
went pelting us with raindrops as keen and
sharp as hailstones and ermining all the
black sea with points of silver. But we ran
through it very soon and as the rising sun
caught the rain laden air / saw for the
nrst time the beautiful phenomenon of the
double rainbow. One arch started, so it
seemed. from our very keel and spanned
only the few miles of sea between us and
nung out her longest, brightest broadcast.
rlband, the one end dipped in the sea some
where on the farther side of the. scene and
tbe e 9 G6 was f lost beyond the blue haze of
frst saw the MORO of ST Jago under the
arches of the rainbow
There are those who have written of this
me old Rhine castle in the Caribbean sea
IN contemptuous scorn, not merely as a
fortress, unsuited, by the misfortune of its
antiquity. to oppose the scientific terrors of
modern onense, but as a building no longer
OF any use to anybody" I cannot under
stand the tone of mind that, even under the
ulStoFtIng stress OF war, can write like this
IN the pnDlc press of so picturesque and
70 America, so precious building Granted
II Is no tort, 1t is thing of beauty, like
nothing IN America proper graced with a
reverend antiquity. The squadron should
spare 1t II they can. There is nothing to be
ashamed OF IN respect for an old past nor
IN the sentiment of reverence. Compare il
with the brutal objects, denominations of
machinery and steel ungainly in the very
Shlps and uglier monitors, unlovely scows.
dynamite crafts, torpedo boats and con
neFited cel ,ie wicked looking congre-
the gentle contours of thea old Morreii1so
palmetto in the rays of the setting sun. tits
like comparing the beautiful rounded
wreaths of steam that curl and float away
behind railway train, with the angularity
OF the cars and engines that go racing for
ward.
JURAGUA AND BAIQUIRI.
The coastline around st. Jago is resplen-
dent. the rocky hills have a rough fleece of
scrub which is patched as if with mango
showing bare leprous spots of rudy under
earth We pass the noble looking old fort,
perched like the castle of some medieval
ropoer baron upon the crest and brow of the
crags and, trailing its lower levels of DON
Jon-keep in the waters of the bay. to
Juragua. where iron mines were worked
peIore the war" The white cottages of the
miners still stand dotted about among the
unlnWt1ng hills. or scattered along the
peach, shore most inviting to eyes accus-
t TSLre 10 the more comfortable outlines of
Europe, ana lamentable by contrast with
Jamaica.
But soon the coast alters. The mountains.
lying back from the sea, sand down about
thelr feet softly undulating lines of hills,
gentle heralds, as it were, of the sterner up
per helghts and the foreShore is broken into
outlying ramparts the first line of de-
tense of the imperious hills behind,
rounded knobs, great cushions of green upon
coral strands. Half islands they seem, and
ittle harbors and bays break away between
them from the sea, each margined with mar
row strips of sand-what shells must be
StreWn upon those inlets-bush, dense and
deep, creeps with jealous accuracy of out
line. And when the setting sun caught the
coasts, the rugged hills looked like crumpled
velvet. the bush a close-piled plush Groups
of white houses struggled down through the
green foliage to the waters edge, very sad
them.
desolate all And here is great iron pier
ten trucks in row, all standing on it,
rusty and red waiting for the creak of the
crank, the push of the strong arm to start
them into life again. And the day is not
far distant, for this is Baiquiri this queer
little harbor with its sad hamlet its little
iron pier upon which tomorrow the electri-
tying hand of war will be laid-to-morroW
and Baiquiri knows nothing of the awful
change that is coming, the old hills know
nothing and the unruff1ed harbor knows
nothing and all are dreaming together as if
the past was to be the future.
And yet. / know that tomorrow. before
the sun sets, the leviathans that l saw lying
Spangled with signal lights upon the sea
last night will be clustered round this little
port, that the rattle of small arms will
shake all the folk in fuss and feathers that
live in that slumbering bush. that the walls
of the machine guns will send the terms
that now float asleep upon the tranquil wa
tiers OF the bay, out screaming in alarm to
the sea, and the angry voices of feldguns
awaken the long-distant echoes Of the ma
jestic lakes. What a dawn is that of to-
morrow. What day it is that is about to
break. The life story of a people begins
anew. Tomorrow the AngIo-Saxon lays
upon the island the hand, under the touch
of which every country leaps with fresh ex-
istence and renewed youth drinking the new
air of freedom ard starting regirded about
the lOinS for a new race to run. the goal of
which is peace, honor and tranquility under
law PHIL ROBINSON.