XXV
Our recall from Mexican soil—A historic dinner with General Funston—The navy turns over the town of Vera Cruz to the army—The march of the six thousand blue-jackets—Evening on theMinnesota.
Yesterday, April 30th, Admiral Fletcher turned “La Villa Rica de la Vera Cruz” over to the army. It was perfectly quiet, continuing to enjoy unknown prosperity. But of that later. At eleven o’clock, as we were about to go on shore, an envelope was brought to N. On opening it he found it was his recall from Mexican soil, and we forthwith departed for the shore to see Admiral Fletcher. He was receiving visitors, for the last time, at his headquarters, and N. was immediately admitted. Admiral Badger passed through the antechamber, in his strong, dynamic way, as I waited with Captain Huse, whose face and personality are graven on my memory as he appeared in my compartment that afternoon at Tejería.
Soon I went into Admiral Fletcher’s room, a great, square, high-ceilinged room, where he and Captain Huse had slept and worked during all those strange days, with another almost equally large, a sort of Neronian bathroom, opening out of it. A breeze nearly always blows in from the sea. N. was turning over the motor to the navy, where it will be of great service. It was a feat to get it down here with no further injury than a damaged clutch, which the clever seamen put in order. There was a good deal of coming and going atheadquarters, so we soon left and went to call on General Funston at General Maass’s old headquarters. It ended by our remaining to dinner with General Funston—his first dinner in General Maass’s home.
I suppose I am not only the only woman who has had a meal there under two flags, but the only person. I went up the broad stairs with Colonel Alvord, the stairs I had last descended on General Maass’s arm. When I got there General Funston was in the large front room where the Maass family had lived and breathed and had its being. After greeting him, my eye roved over the room. On the table, with its white drawn-work cloth, was the same centerpiece of white coral (from which hung bits of bright green artificial moss) and the large silver cup; there was the silent piano, with its piles of worn music; the porcelain ship (sad augury), filled with faded artificial roses; the bead curtains dividing the big room in half; the rocking-chair of which the family had been so proud; even the doily that came off on my back! We went in almost immediately to the large, bountifully spread table, where the food was served in the Maass china. I, of course, sat on General Funston’s right, and N. on his left. His fine, alert staff, ready and anxious to take over the town and the country, the hemisphere, or anything else, made up the party. They were all very nice about my being there “to grace their first meal.”
General Funston is small, quick, and vigorous. There is a great atmosphere of competency about him, and he is, they tell me, a magnificent field officer. He had been to Mexico nineteen years before, thinking to invest money in coffee; now in the turning wheel of life his reputation is being invested in the situation which he is more than equal to. They are all afraid that some hybrid breed of “dove of peace”—“peace at any price” (or“preparedness for more kicks”—as some one gloomily observed) will flap his wings over the land. The army is ready, willing, and able to bring to a successful issue, in the face of any difficulty, any task set it. I am sure that the officers feel the cruelty of half-measures, cruelty both to our own people and to Mexico; they know war can’t be more disastrous than what we are doing. The dinner of ham, with cream sauce, potatoes, macaroni, beans, and pickles, came to an end all too soon. Coffee and cigarettes were served as we still sat around the big table. My eyes rested admiringly on those half-dozen strong, competent men in their khaki suits. It is the most becoming of all manly apparel—flannel shirt, with low, pointed collar, trousers like riding-breeches, leather leggings, cartridge-belts, and side-arms all in one tone. They are going to pack the Maass relics and turn them over to their owners. Admiral Fletcher had sent a message to General Maass, promising to forward all their effects. I must say I had a real conception of “fortunes of war” when they hunted for butter-dishes and coffee-cups in the Maasses’ gaudy china-closet. They had only got into the house in the morning, and had had no time for anything except the arrangements for taking over the town.
General Funston said he had a little daughter, Elizabeth, born to him the day he arrived in Vera Cruz. He also told us he had been routed out of bed, one night, by extras, saying “O’Shaughnessy Assassinated!PrairieSunk!” and he felt that the moment of departure might, indeed, be near. He gave N. an historic pass to go between the lines at any time, and we left soon afterward, as it was nearing the hour for the officers to go to the function on the Sanidad pier—“a little Funston,” as Captain Huse called it. I shook hands with them all and wished the general “Godspeed to theheights.” Whatever is necessary, he and his strong, faithful men will do. We walked through the hot, white streets to the Plaza, and were soon overtaken by General Funston and his chief of staff, riding in a disreputablecochedrawn by a pair of meager gray nags. I believe the navy arrived on the scene in our smart auto. A few minutes later I saw the general, in his khaki, standing by Admiral Fletcher, who was in immaculate white on the Sanidad pier.
Then began the wonderful march of six thousand blue-jackets and marines back to their ships. The men had had their precious baptism of fire. As ship’s battalion after battalion passed, there was cheering, lifting of hats to the colors, and many eyes were wet. The men marched magnificently, with a great, ringing tread, and made a splendid showing. If the old Indian on the hill could have seen them he would have recognized all the might and majesty of our land and the bootlessness of any struggle. The passing of the troops and their embarkment took exactly thirty-seven minutes. They seemed to vanish away, to be dissolved into the sea, their natural element. For a moment only the harbor looked like some old print of Nelsonian embarkings—Trafalgar, the Nile, Copenhagen, I know not what! The navy flowed out and the army flowed in. There were untold cinematograph and photograph men, and the world will know the gallant sight. N. stood with Admiral Fletcher and General Funston.
Sometimes, alone in Mexico City, with the whole responsibility of the Embassy on his Shoulders, N. would be discouraged, and I, too, fearful of the ultimate end. Had I realized the might and magnificence of the navy represented in the nearest harbor, ready and able to back up our international undertakings and our national dignity, I think I would never have had a moment’sdespondency. I said something of this to Captain Simpson, and he answered, “Yes, but remember you were in the woods.”
Admiral Busch took us back to theMinnesota, where we arrived in time to see the returned men drawn up on the decks to be inspected by Captain Simpson, who gave them a few warm, understanding words of commendation. Some were missing. Peace to them!
We went again on shore, leaving Nelson at theCarlos V., to return the call of the Spanish captain in Mexico City. I was so tired out with the sun and the long day that I stayed in the small boat. I simply had not the nervous energy to climb the gangway and go on board, though I would have liked to see the ship. After the visit we went and sat under theportalesof the Diligencias for an hour or so, to watch the busy scene. The ice-plant of the Diligencias was not yet in working order, so the usual dirty, lukewarm drinks were being served to disgusted patrons. In the Palacio Municipal, the Second Infantry regiment was quartered, and under itsportalesthey had put up their cook-stoves and were preparing their early evening meal, before going to their night-work on the outposts. Several dozen fat, sleek, well-dressed Mexicans were being shoved off at the point of three or four bayonets. I asked Ensign McNeir why it was, and he said:
“Oh, that is the bread-line. They can’t be bothered with it now.” The “bread-line,” which at times probably includes one-third of the population of Vera Cruz, had evidently had good success at other points, and had been enjoying a workless, well-fed day; for its members had disposed themselves comfortably on bench or curb of the Plaza, and listened to the strains of the“Star-spangled Banner,” “Dixie,” and “The Dollar Princess”—provided for their entertainment by the thoughtful, lavish invaders. Even the little flower-girls seemed to have on freshly starched petticoats; the bright-eyed newsboys had clean shirts, and the swarming bootblacks looked as spruce as their avocation permitted. A sort of millennium has come to the city; and money, too, will flow like water when pay-day comes for the troops.
Richard Harding Davis came up to our table. His quick eye misses nothing.Ifthere is anything dull to record of Vera Cruz, it won’t be dull when it gets to the world through that vivid, beautiful prose of his. We teased him about his hat, telling him there had been many loud bands in town that day, marine bands, army bands, and navy bands, but nothing quite as loud as his blue-and-white polka-dot hat-band. We said he could be spotted at any distance.
He answered, quite unabashed: “But isn’t recognition what is wanted in Mexico?”
Jack London also came up to speak to us. Burnside, his hair closely cropped and his heart as warm as ever, sat with us during the many comings and goings of others. Captain Lansing, a very smart-looking officer, had recently been transferred from the pomp and circumstance of Madrid, where he had been militaryattaché, to the jumping-off place of the world, Texas City. He said that after a year in the dust or mud and general flatness and staleness of that place, Vera Cruz seemed a gay paradise. Lieutenant Newbold, from Washington, and many others, were also presented. They all looked so strong, so sound, so eager. I think eagerness is the quality I shall best remember of the men at Vera Cruz. Burnside walked back to the boat with us, the tropical night falling in that five minutes’ walk. General Funston’sfirst official orders were already up with the formal notification of his authority:
Headquarters United States Expeditionary Forces.Vera Cruz,April 30th, 1914.GENERAL ORDER No. 1The undersigned, pursuant to instructions from the President of the United States, hereby assumes command of all the United States forces in this city.Frederick Funston,Brig. Gen. U. S. Army Commanding.
Headquarters United States Expeditionary Forces.
Vera Cruz,April 30th, 1914.
GENERAL ORDER No. 1
The undersigned, pursuant to instructions from the President of the United States, hereby assumes command of all the United States forces in this city.
Frederick Funston,Brig. Gen. U. S. Army Commanding.
Already in those short hours since the army “flowed” in, the soldiers had installed themselves as though they had been there forever. In the dusk we saw their tents stretched, their bake-ovens up, and the smell of fresh bread was mingled with the warm sea odors. It was “efficiency” indeed.
This morning the news that Mr. Bryan will not permit any fighting during the period of armistice and mediation will dampen much of the eagerness I mentioned.
The full complement of the blue-jackets being again on board, there is a lively sound of ship-cleaning going on. Everything seemed immaculate before. We have been so comfortable, so cool, so well looked after in every way on this man-of-war. But I shall not soon forget the face of the young officer just home from outpost duty who discovered that my French maid was occupying his cabin!
Last night, as we sat talking on the deck, looking out over the jeweled harbor, the gentle, peaceful bugle-call to “taps” sounded suddenly from San Juan Ulua. A big light hung over the entrance to Captain Chamberlain’s quarters. It is balm on my soul that the pest-hole of centuries is open to the sun and light, the bolts hanging slack, and comparative peace and plenty everywhere.I say comparative peace, because those imprisoned for murder and foul crimes are still to be dealt with. When I first visited the prison under the Mexican flag Captain McDougall and I asked the sentry who showed us around if there had been many executions lately.
He answered, “SinceThursday” (this was Sunday) “onlyby order of the colonel!” Whether this was true or not I don’t know; but the guard gave it out with the air of one making an ordinary statement. Captain McDougall asked because, from theMayflower, anchored almost where we now are, he had heard many a shot at night and in the early morning.
Immediately after dinner we had gone up on deck. A delicious breeze was turning and twisting through the soft, thick, tropical night. Every night a large screen is put up on the after part of the ship, and the officers and crew gather to watch the “movies,” seating themselves without distinction of rank. The turrets are garlanded with men; even the tops of the mast had their human decorations. It was most refreshing, after the hot, historic day, to sit quietly on the cool, dim deck and watch the old tales of love, burglars, kidnapping, and kindred recitals unroll themselves from the films. But it was more beautiful later on, as we sat quietly on the deck in the darkness, watching the wondrous scene about us. A thousand lights were flashing across the water, catching each dark ripple. The “city of ships,” as I call Vera Cruz harbor, is constantly throwing its flash-lights, its semaphores, its signalings of all kinds, and water and sky reflect them a hundredfold.
Just after the peaceful sounding of “Taps” from the fortress, Admiral Fletcher and Captain Huse came on board to pay us a farewell visit. Admiral Fletcher’s courtesy is always of the most delicate kind, coming from the depths of his kind heart and his broad understandingof men and life. He and N. walked up and down the deck for a while, planning about our getting off. He intends that thechargéshall depart from Mexican waters with all fitting dignity. After a warm handclasp he and Captain Huse went off over the summer sea. Standing at the rail, we watched the barge disappear into a wondrous marquetry design of darkness and light, and knew that some things would never be again.
Later we got the inclosed radio from theArkansas, Admiral Badger’s flag-ship, to say theYanktonwould be put at our disposal on the morrow to take us to our native shores, and so will the story end. I am homesick for my beautiful plateau and the vibrant, multicolored life I have been leading.Adelante!But I have little taste for dinners, teas, and the usualtrain-train, though a few expeditions to dress-makers and milliners will be profitable to me as well as to them. As you know, I had no time to have my personal things packed at the Embassy, and what I did bring with me reposed for twenty-four hours on the sand-dunes at Tejería, between the Mexican lines and ours. My big yellow trunk is reported at the Terminal station. What is left in it will be revealed later. They may not call it war in Washington, but when a woman loses her wardrobe she finds it difficult to call it peace. N.’s famous collection of boots, forty or fifty pairs, evidently left those sand-dunes on Aztec or mestizo feet. My silver foxes and other furs I don’t worry about. Under that blistering sky and on that hot, cutting sand they could offer no temptations.
Joe Patterson has just been on board. He came down with the army on the transportHancock,sui generis, as usual, his big body dressed in the loosest of tan coverings. He is always electric and interesting, running with a practised touch over many subjects. He said he wanted not an interview with N. for his newspaper (whichwould finish N. “dead”), but to make some account that would interest the public and not get him (N.) into trouble. I shall be interested to see what he does. The boresome news of the armistice has made him feel that he wants to get back, and I dare say there will be many a departure. Nelson will not allow himself to be interviewed by a soul. It is impossible to please everybody, but, oh, how easy it is todisplease everybody!