Imperial Valley press., 1910-08-13
"A Journey Darkest America
Observations By Intrepid Explorer of the Manners and
 Customs of CaUe- -DrOeLing Horde

| this perpetual and prodigious clamor,
 produced by mechanical devices that
 appear to serve no other purpose, has
 made them deaf to speech. It cer-
 tainly makes conversation impossible
 to persons of normal vocal power.
 The means of subsistence of this
 horde, inhabiting an utterly barren
 and unproductive rock on the very outer edge of things, was a mystery until I discovered that the rulers of | the horde levy vast tribute from the
 industrious tribes of the mainland. 1 The tribute of the producers to the idle few and the non producing mil l lions on the island, in food alone, amounts to the value of $700,000,000
 yearly. These producers are slaves or peons to the horde and the horde
 in turn are slaves to the landlords,
 who are only serfs to the Morgan eers, the descendants and lineal suc- cessors of the pirates that used the island as a refuge and base of opera tion a few hundred years ago. The most infamous and successful of the old pirate chiefs was one Sir Henry Morgan, from whom the present ru- lers of the island derived their dis tinguishing traits, their system and their name as a class. One of the direct descendants of the old bucan- neer is the Grand Ruler of the island, and, in grateful recognition of the services to high finance of Sir Henry and his crew, he has named his flag ship "The Corsair"
 It might be supposed that the Island CTS were too low in the scale to have any religious beliefs, but was in formed by captives held by the Nor ganneers, who make predatory raids i on the mainland and occasionally catch intelligent natives, that the high buttes at the south end of the island have been fashioned into tenn pies dedicated to the islands tute- lary divinity the Great God Loot, and that the horde is driven daily into these temples to serve him. The In- ner Temple, the holy of holies, is in a canon called Wallstreet, and there the high priests assemble to worship Loot with the most hideous orgies, working themselves up to maniacal frenzy and bowling frightfully for hours at stretch. At the conclu- sion of the insane rites, the devotees drawl out of the sanctuary, pale, hag- gard and exhausted, dive into the subterranean caverns and gibber and cover in darkness until another day.
 Unintelligent and undeveloped as the cave-dwellers of the island seem to be, there are indications of the stirring of aspirations to a higher plane of existence, the working no doubt of the impulse of evolution that made man out of Pithecanthropus erectus. One of their demigods, Bwana Tumbo, who is engaged in adventures similar to the labors of Hercules, recently returned from years of wandering, bringing with him what the Islanders believe to be divine fire of enlightenment from the heart of Africa. They seem to have vague hopes that Bwana Tumbo can show them the way out of slavery, that with his Big Stick he can de- stroy the Morganneers and batter down the walls of the temples of Loot, and daily they crowd about him, piteously begging him to say the words that shall guide them, to lead them in revolt against the Morgan neers. But Bwana Tumbo broods and is silent. Perhaps he knows how long a road it is from the savagery of the Island to the civilization of Africa.
 A distinguished citizen of Africa is sojourning near the Island, and there is more hope of immediate help from him than from the demigod. He is a Chimpanzee, an anthropoid a step hi9ber in the scale of evolution than the horde. The more advanced and ambitious Islanders visit their emi- nent brother at his residence in the woods on the mainland-for even Chimpanzee is too intelligent to live on the Island-to observe his man ners and customs and learn from him how to take the first steps upward
 They gravely watch him when he eats, using fork and spoon, and a marked improvement in their table manners is already noticeable They