ARTEMISA.

STREET IN CAVITE SHOWING GENERAL AGUINALDO’S HEADQUARTERS.

Whilst these various provisions and improvements in and around Havana, in the little orphanage and Los Fosos were going on, food was going out from the great warehouse upon requisition, to thirty or forty towns and villages in number, which no one had yet had the time to visit; and their first distribution must be made on trust. From many sources we had heard of the needs of Artemisa, several miles to the east by rail. As usual, there was but one train daily from Havana, and that, like the road we had traveled to Jaruco and Matanzas on the west, left at six o’clock in the morning, and also meant rising at half-past four, a carriage ride of three-quarters of an hour in the dark. Our party again formed, including Mr. Elwell, Drs. Hubbell and Egan, Senator Proctor, Colonel Parker and a few other attendants. The day was clear and fine, affording an excellent opportunity to observe the condition of the country as we passed through. There was entire lack of cultivation; the tall palm threw its stately shadow over miles of desolated, rolling and meadow land; no people in sight save in the little thatched hovels; no cattle, no tools, the rank, wild grass swarding the soil where the richest of crops belong; and we bringing food grown on the sterile fields of North America, among the gravel and rocks, with a quarter of the year under snow, nearly one-half under frost, to a country like this, where the verdure is perpetual and three crops possible, where the rain and the sun never fail, where land is abundant and yet where millions of hands want acres and millions of acres want hands. Heavenly Father, what is the matter with this beautiful earth that Thou hast made! “And, what is man that Thou art mindful of him!”

Eight o’clock in the bright morning sunshine found us at Artemisa. A brief examination by carriage served to show us where its defences had once been, now practically abandoned and the field of military activity drawn to other points.

We found here a most practical mayor, with two thousand to three thousand people about him almost entirely without food. Since November 24, until some three months ago, the Spanish government had issued small rations to these people, but these grew less and less,and finally stopped altogether. This small help from the government had saved the people thus far, but they were now beginning to be dangerously hungry. What gladness it was to feel that our provisions would fall in just in time to save, we hoped, the greater portion of those remaining.

The district of Artemisa had originally 10,000, and the town 2000 inhabitants. Into this small number 10,000 reconcentrados had been sent. Three thousand of these had died; some had strayed away to other places in the hope of more food and fewer persons to eat it; 5000 still remained. In August 770 persons died—now the death rate is 5 to 6 persons per day, or about 175 per month. We found only one hospital and this for smallpox, far out in the fields, with forty patients. There were three physicians who would be more than glad to make up a hospital—if there were anything to provide it with—attend to it personally, and find women who would care for the sick, as nurses. They were directed to do this at once, and suitable hospital food would be sent to them as soon as their hospital was reported ready for it. They were also directed to gather all the sick in the outlying hovels and bring them into hospitals. One of our physicians would go directly with the food and assist in the establishment of the institution. We remained over night; the distribution of food which had been sent them took place at seven the next morning. Their system of tickets was excellent; a better system of relief we had not seen. The mayor himself would visit every family and the physicians the same, until the sick would be all in hospitals. It was a welcome sight at eight o’clock that morning, when the crowd of waiting thousands stood around the mayor, to see the tight hand grasp on the bag of rations, like a godsend from heaven when hope was lost. The mayor had a thousand acres of land lying within the military lines of fortifications, which he offered free for the use of the people, if they could get permission, and if the people could help to cultivate it. In three months, he said, under their own cultivation it would feed them all.

Our work at Artemisa closed at noon and we returned to Havana.

Referring again to the diary I find the following record:

Sagua la Grande and Cienfuegos yet remain within our limits to be reached at once. We have not a day to lose, and again leave at six o’clock for Sagua la Grande. This means the usual morning ride in the dark, the ferry and the beautiful opening of the day speeding on through a strange land of waste and desolation. Our same company assembled, and as we neared Sagua we were met by our friend, Consul Barker, and later on the mayor, Senor Machado. Carriages were taken and inspection made of the reconcentrados, their condition and needs, the land, etc. While there is evidently great want here, there is still an atmosphere of care and effort on the part of the best people and the officials which fills one with an earnest desire to help them on. The best place possible for the poor had been provided by the mayor, and as he passed among them, pointing out to us especial cases and conditions, their eyes followed him with a look of grateful devotion. While sympathizing with all, his deepest care seemed to be for the young girls; to find some occupation for them, and some protection. The plan most feasible to him was the starting of a cigarette factory where the hundreds might be employed, with suitable time for instruction, earn their living, and be kept out of danger. I am glad to know that he is partially succeeding in this, and also that he had, and I think still has, the earnest co-operation of our good consul at Sagua, Mr. Barker.The day had been very fully occupied, and we must remain until morning to witness the operation of the kitchens established by the consul and the mayor, where the poor are fed with well-cooked rice, beans and such vegetables as can be obtained.These people are desperately poor, and need all the help that can be given them, and yet they are not in the condition of the people of Matanzas. Their doctors are caring for the sick, and the ladies of the town giving every assistance in their power. The mayor again reverts to his great interest in the young girls; “Here is the greatest danger of all. Can you not help me out with this?” His earnestness made such an impression upon me that I finally asked if he had young daughters of his own. He hesitated a moment, and then with a look of confidence,as if he were about to entrust a secret to me, he replied: “We have an adopted daughter, who is very, very dear to us. She is the sister of Miss Cisneros, but does not know it, and we have not the courage to tell her. She is some fourteen or fifteen years of age, has read everything regarding Miss Cisneros, and admires her intensely, but never mistrusts the relationship.” “Will you not tell her?” I asked. “Oh yes; some day,” he replied, “and it must be before long; but the relationships are so sweet that my wife and I both dread to break them. Of course, some day we must tell her, but we put it off as long as we can.” He then explained that the father had been an active patriot and fell under political censure; in his imprisonment the family was broken up, and this little girl, then a mere babe, had been adopted by the mayor and his wife, who were intimate friends of the family. I hope I have not betrayed a trust; but there was a little touch of romance in this—something so sweet and paternal in the relationship—and something altogether so interesting in the thought of this bright young girl reading and admiring the courage and successful exploits of her own sister, without ever dreaming that it was anything to her—it seems really too good a point to keep dark. I trust that the good mayor, if he ever learns that I have betrayed his trust, will forgive me.

The day had been very fully occupied, and we must remain until morning to witness the operation of the kitchens established by the consul and the mayor, where the poor are fed with well-cooked rice, beans and such vegetables as can be obtained.

These people are desperately poor, and need all the help that can be given them, and yet they are not in the condition of the people of Matanzas. Their doctors are caring for the sick, and the ladies of the town giving every assistance in their power. The mayor again reverts to his great interest in the young girls; “Here is the greatest danger of all. Can you not help me out with this?” His earnestness made such an impression upon me that I finally asked if he had young daughters of his own. He hesitated a moment, and then with a look of confidence,as if he were about to entrust a secret to me, he replied: “We have an adopted daughter, who is very, very dear to us. She is the sister of Miss Cisneros, but does not know it, and we have not the courage to tell her. She is some fourteen or fifteen years of age, has read everything regarding Miss Cisneros, and admires her intensely, but never mistrusts the relationship.” “Will you not tell her?” I asked. “Oh yes; some day,” he replied, “and it must be before long; but the relationships are so sweet that my wife and I both dread to break them. Of course, some day we must tell her, but we put it off as long as we can.” He then explained that the father had been an active patriot and fell under political censure; in his imprisonment the family was broken up, and this little girl, then a mere babe, had been adopted by the mayor and his wife, who were intimate friends of the family. I hope I have not betrayed a trust; but there was a little touch of romance in this—something so sweet and paternal in the relationship—and something altogether so interesting in the thought of this bright young girl reading and admiring the courage and successful exploits of her own sister, without ever dreaming that it was anything to her—it seems really too good a point to keep dark. I trust that the good mayor, if he ever learns that I have betrayed his trust, will forgive me.

Although a rather early train on the next day would take us to Cienfuegos, the visit to the kitchens with their great, steaming cauldrons of food must not be passed by. Although it was simply beans, rice, such other dry vegetables as could be obtained, and the little meat or lard that came with the ration, slowly and thoroughly cooked, it was still a food that any good appetite could appreciate—wholesome, clean and as abundant as the circumstances would permit. It was a pleasure to see the children and the mothers come up with the little pails and buckets and receive the one large ladle of food, steaming hot from the cauldron, and bear it cheerfully away for the coming meal. There was a degree of order and systematic thought in this rarely met under occasions so grave. It will remain ever a happy memory with Consul Barker and the good mayor of Sagua, that under their wise direction this system was instituted and carried out. The courtesies of the railroad were cheerfully extended to us, and without incident worth relating the night found us at Cienfuegos. The country round about Cienfuegos is favorable to cultivation; the troubles there had been of a less grave nature, consequently the suffering has been less. Judging from the report of the consul, there had been very little; but to our stranger eyes, upon personal observation, there were traces of something not compatible with thrift, prosperity and happiness. We were sure that some help might be comfortably given there, and made our preparations accordingly. This also was a visit of investigation, and being Tuesday, the next day’s boat from Havana to the States must take our good friends from us, and an early start, over a long, jolting road, took us from Cienfuegos back to Havana.

Our journey through the three or four districts had shown us the worst of human suffering, the greatest of desolation, and a degree of discouragement as hard perhaps to rally the people from as the absolute physical conditions under which they existed. We had arranged for food for all. The ships with their various consignments were already on the way, the “Fern” to Matanzas, a shipment from the Philadelphia Red Cross on the “Bergen,” also bound for Matanzas, from both of which supplies could go forward to Artemisa and Sagua, for the railroads were generous in giving free transportation; and we were informed that a shipment was also en route for Cienfuegos. Remembering our own generous shipment of food to Matanzas of the third instant, we felt that we might give the time of a day or two to the institutions we were founding and supporting in Havana. The little hospital was growing finely, increasing in numbers, and the numbers increasing in strength. The frail, pale creatures were commencing to sit up in bed and hold the playthings that generous friends had brought them by the basketful; some even walked about and tried to play. Their heavenly godmother, “Sister Bettina,” was providing everything for their comfort, also for their nurses and the little household that made up a pattern hospital. Dr. Lesser had established a clinic on the grounds, and under the shade of the great, beautiful garden trees the poor invalids of the town assembled by the hundred each afternoon with the various maladies that misfortune, poverty and neglect had brought them. The gratitude which their strange tongues spoke in evident blessing upon him who had thought to come to their relief, and the great brown eyes that followed him as he turned quickly and gently from one to another, were pictures not to be forgotten.

Los Fosos, on the other hand, was fast losing its terrors. A regular distribution of American food had gone into it, and even rooms were partitioned off for a dispensary, fairly well provided with medicines, and another for clothing and bedding fast filling up from our warehouse were all in grateful operation. All had beds, the floors and stairs were strengthened, and the food went regularly through twice a day among all the waiting inmates. M. Sr. J. Palacios y Airoso, the Consul of Bolivia, and a member of our committee, had volunteered to take personal charge, and his fine, manly form seen day by day among these poor,suffering creatures, watching and providing their wants, was like a benediction from heaven. And Sister Bettina, with her band of faithful nurses, soon carried strong traces of order and cleanliness where it had once seemed impossible.

The morning that saw our first welcome party of American visitors, Senator Proctor and friends, leave us, brought another party still larger, among whom were Senator and dear Mrs. Thurston, Senator Money and nieces, Senator Gallinger, Mr. Cummings, Mr. Smith, and others. It was not only comforting, but hopeful, to see such interest manifested in these dreadful conditions by the highest prestige in our country and those who had it in their power to make these conditions better. We welcomed them with an earnestness they could scarcely comprehend.

There was in all these surroundings a feeling akin to horror, an isolation from the world it seemed, and it is not difficult to understand the welcome we gave in our hearts to those who came to us. Our new guests visited Havana, its institutions, the little orphanage, and the Los Fosos of that day—a terror to them, but a comfort to us, as we saw it daily growing better and better.

Matanzas must of course be visited, and another early morning train found our large party en route for that city and the sights that had so distressed us ten days before. Although realizing how terrible the state of things must seem to our party of American visitors, we still rejoiced during the entire journey that they were not to see those hospitals in the condition in which we had first found them. Our supplies, so promptly and generously sent, we were sure had dulled the keen edge of hunger, and could not fail to show an improvement there. Our guests, then, would not see all the terrors of unfed famine that had so shocked us, and we knew that by that time the ships from the North must have arrived. The breakfast at the hotel and a second visit to our hospitable governor brought with them no apprehension of what was to meet us a little later. We drove to the hospitals, to learn that no food had been distributed or received. Those whom we had seen dying there on our first visit were gone; others had taken their places, and it was only a repetition of the first visit, with the addition of ten days more of hunger. Astonished and shocked beyond description, we drove at once to the railway station, to find in its freight house our four tons of provisions sent from Havana ten days before. Although every notice had been given by us that the goods would be sent—again that they were sent—and the authorities asked to look out for them,our consul appeared to have no intimation that they were there. The hospital authorities, of course, had none, and it only remained for us to order out the provisions and get something to the patients as quickly as possible, leaving Dr. Hubbell to see that at last they had a supper.

It is not strange that from this event went out the cry of “starving Matanzas,” although at that moment, in addition to our four tons of goods previously sent, the “Fern” lay in the harbor under the American flag, with fifty tons of American supplies, and fifty rods away lay the “Bergen,” under the same colors, bearing a cargo of fifty-two tons from the Philadelphia Red Cross, faithfully sent through the New York Committee, by request. So uncontrollable a thing is human excitement that these facts could not be taken in, and the charities of our whole country were called afresh to arms over “starving Matanzas,” which was at that moment by far the best provided city in Cuba. The result of this was an entire train of supplies from Kansas, which, remaining there after the blockade, not being consigned to the Red Cross, was, we were informed, distributed among the Spanish soldiery by the Spanish officials. Goods bearing the mark of the Red Cross were everywhere respected, and we have no record of any ofourgoods having been appropriated by the Spanish authorities.

The third member of the Cuban Relief Committee of New York, Mr. Louis Klopsch, having arrived, it was perhaps natural and proper that the work of relief and distribution under the consul-general should pass to his direction. Accordingly, by request of Mr. Klopsch, no more visits were made to other cities, and by his direction Mr. Elwell gave his entire attention to the warehouse, and I continued the very hopeful negotiations I had commenced with the Spanish authorities for the privilege of unmolested cultivation by the reconcentrados of the broad glades of land lying within the trochas. In some instances, as around Sagua, hundreds of acres lay thus unoccupied by either Cubans or Spanish, and only the fear of the Spanish soldiery from their own side of the trochas prevented the cultivation of this land by the reconcentrados gathered in the towns. In some long and earnest interviews with General Blanco I laid this matter before him, and begged his interference and commands on behalf of the safety of the poor people who might desire to cultivate this land. The captain-general said they had the matter already under consideration, and desired me to meet his board of education, who would be glad to co-operate. I met this body of gentlemen—middle-aged, thoughtful, intelligent men. They had already taken some important steps, but were perplexed on both sides;first by the Spanish soldiery, liable to attack the workers, likewise the Cuban guerillas, who were equally as dangerous. And yet, despite all this, some important steps had really been taken and some little commencement made. I need not say that the exciting news which followed in less than a month put to an end all thoughts of steps in that direction. A new enemy would appear and the ground was likely to be plowed by shells from the monster ships that would line the bay.

I met the Spanish authorities, not merely as a bearer of relief, but as the president of the American National Red Cross, with all the principles of neutrality which that implied, and received in return the unfailing courtesy which the conditions demanded. From our first interview to the last sad day when we decided that it was better to withdraw, giving up all efforts at relief, and leave those thousands of poor, dying wretches to their fate, there was never any change in the attitude of the Spanish authorities, General Blanco or his staff, toward myself or any member of my staff. One of my last visits before the blockade was to the palace. The same kindly spirit prevailed; I was begged not to leave the island through fear of them; every protection in their power would be given, but there was no guarantee for what might occur in the exigencies of war. I recall an incident of that day: General Blanco led me to the large salon, the walls of which are covered with the portraits of the Spanish officials for generations past, and pointing to the Spanish authorities under date of 1776, said, with a look of sadness, “When your country was in trouble, Spain was the friend of America. Now Spain is in trouble, America is her enemy.” I knew no answer for this but silence, and we passed out through the corridor of guards, he handing me to my carriage with a farewell and a blessing. I could but recall my experience with the Turkish officials and government, where I entered with such apprehension and left with such marks of cordiality.

During this interval of time important business had called me to Washington, and I only returned to Cuba some time during the second week of April, when the diary commences with, “strong talk of war.”

It is needless to say that the strong talk went on—well or ill, wise or unwise, welcome or unwelcome—it went on. Evidently the blockade was near at hand and a declaration of war liable to follow. What should one do but to ask counsel of all within reach? I have given the result of my interview with the Spanish authorities; cabling to American authorities brings the answer, “The consul should know best. Take no chances.” Reference to the consul brings the kindly reply, “I am going myself.” The order was for all American citizens to leave Havana, and the order was obeyed, but not without having laid the matter formally in counsel before my staff of assistants and taking their opinion and advice, which was to the effect that while personally they would prefer to remain for the chance of the little good that might be accomplished, in view of the distress which we should give our friends at home, and, in fact, the whole country, when it should be known that we were inside that wall of fire that would confront us, with no way of extricating or reaching us, it seemed both wiser and more humane to leave. And the ninth of April saw us again on shipboard, a party of twenty, bound for Tampa. We would not, however, go beyond, but made headquarters there, remaining within easy call of any need there might be for us. Here follow the few weeks of impending war. Do we need to live them over? Do we even want to recall them? Days when the elder men of thought and memory pondered deeply and questioned much! When the mother, patriot though she were, uttered her sentiments through choking voice and tender, trembling words, and the young men, caring nothing, fearing nothing, rushed gallantly on to doom and to death! To how many households, alas, these days recall themselves in tones never to be forgotten! Notwithstanding all this excitement and confusion and all the pressure that weighed upon him, our good President still remembered the suffering, dying reconcentrados, and requested that a ship be provided as quickly as possible loaded from the warerooms of the indefatigable Cuban Relief Committee in New York, and be sent for the relief of the sufferers in Cuba whenever they could be reached. One need not say with what promptness this committee acted, and I was informed that the “State of Texas” laden with fourteen hundred tons of food would shortly leave New York en route for Key West, and itwas the desire of that committee and the Government that I take command of the ship, and with my staff and such assistants as I would select, undertake the getting of that food to its destination.

Some members of the staff were in New York, and with Dr. Hubbell in charge sailed from that port on Saturday, the twenty-third of April. A hasty trip from Washington, gathering up the waiting staff at Tampa, and pushing on by the earliest train brought us to Key West in time to meet the “State of Texas” as she arrived, board her and take charge of the snug little ship that was henceforth to take its place in American history. She was well built, but by no means new, nor handsome. Her dull black hull could in no way compare with the snow white, green and red striped hospital ships, those heralds of relief that afterwards graced the waters of that bay. Still she was firm, sound, heavy-laden, and gave promise of some good to someone at some future day, that day being only when the great war monsters should have pealed out to the world that an entrance was made on the coast of Cuba, and we would be invited to follow.

By the authorities at Washington, the “State of Texas” had been consigned to the protection of the navy, and accordingly we must report our arrival. This was done to the senior officer, representing Admiral Sampson, in the port, Captain Harrington, of the monitor “Puritan.” This brought at once a personal call from the captain with an invitation to our entire staff to visit his beautiful ship the following day. The launch of the “Puritan” was sent to take us, and not only was the ship inspected, but the dainties of his elegant tea table as well.

When all was over the graceful launch returned us safely to our ship, with grateful memories on the part of the younger members of our company, who had never chanced to form an intimate acquaintance with a piece of shipping at once so beautiful and so terrible, as that death-dealing engine of destruction. I record this visit and courtesy on the part of Captain Harrington as the first of an unfailing series of kindnesses extended by the navy to the Red Cross from first to last. There was no favor too great, no courtesy too high to be cheerfully rendered on every occasion.

The memories of pitiful Cuba would not leave us, and, knowing that under our decks were fourteen hundred tons of food, for the want of which its people were dying, the impulse to reach them grew very strong, and a letter was addressed to Admiral Sampson.

This brought immediately the launch of the “New York” to the side of our ship, and Captain Chadwick, the gallant officer whom noone forgets, stepped lightly on board to deliver the written message from the admiral, or rather to take me to the “New York.” Nothing could have exceeded the courtesy of the admiral, but we were acting from entirely opposite standpoints. I had been requested to take a ship, and by every means in my power get food into Cuba. He, on the other hand, had been commanded to take a fleet, and by every means in his power keep food out of Cuba. When one compared the two ships lying side by side and thought of a contest of effort between them, the situation was ludicrous, and yet the admiral did not absolutely refuse to give me a flag of truce and attempt an entrance into Havana; but he disapproved it, feared the results for me and acting in accordance withhishighest wisdom and best judgment, I felt it to be my place to wait. By the concurrence of the admiral our letters were both given to the public, and appear elsewhere in these pages, and we remained, as we had been, neighbors and friends.

These days of waiting were by no means lost time. The accidents constantly occurring in a harbor filled with transports, kept the surgeons of the Red Cross constantly in active duty, while the twenty or thirty Spanish ships which had been and were being captured as prizes, lay a few miles out, unprovided either by themselves or their captors. They had been picked up whilst out at sea, some of them having no knowledge of the existence of a war and supposing themselves as safe as in the balmiest days of peace. Most of them were provided with a little open well in the bottom of the ship where live fish were kept. But for this provision, it is by no means certain that deaths from starvation would not have occurred. The ships were mainly little Spanish vessels—their crews honest working men, who knew their ships and the hills and harbors of Spain and Cuba, and little else—could speak no word of any language but their own—our people, unused to privateering or to the treatment of captives, forgot to provide them, and thus they waited, living on the few fish in their holds, with neither meat, lard, butter, nor oil for their cooking, nor vegetables, nor bread as accompaniments. Our men learned this state of things, and naturally attended to it. It is enough for me to say that recently the thanks of all Spain, through its Red Cross, has come back to us for the kindnesses rendered her captive seamen.

The days waxed and waned; the summer sun poured its burning rays down on the glistening waters of the bay; the reveille and tattoo warned us that we were in camp, with the little difference between land and sea—waiting for some onward movement.

Tampa became the gathering point of the army. Its camps filled like magic, first with regulars, then volunteers, as if the fiery torch of Duncraigen had spread over the hills and prairies of America; the great ships gathered in the waters; the monitors, grim and terrible, seemed striving to hide their heads among the surging waves; the transports, with decks dark with human life, passed in and out, and the great monarchs of the sea held ever their commanding sway. It seemed a strange thing, this gathering for war. Thirty years of peace had made it strange to all save the veterans, with their gray beards, and the silver-haired matrons of the days of the old war, long passed into history. Could it be possible that we were to learn this anew? Were men again to fall, and women weep? Were the youth of this generation to gain that experience their fathers had gained, to live the war lives they had lived, and die the deaths they had died? Here was abundant food for reflection, while one waited through the days and watched the passing events.

At length the fleet moved on, and we prepared to move with, or rather after, it. The quest on which it had gone and the route it had taken bordered something on the mystery shrouding the days when Sherman marched to the sea. Where were the Spanish fleets? and what would be the result when found and met? and where were we to break that Cuban wall and let us in? Always present in our minds were the food we carried, the willing hands that waited, and the perishing thousands that needed. We knew the great hospital ships were fitting for the care of the men of both army and navy. Surely they could have no need of us, and the knowledge that our cargo was not adapted to army hospital use brought no regret to us.

CITIZENS OF JARUCO PRESENTING A MEMORIAL FOR THE VICTIMS OF THE “MAINE.”Copyright, 1898, byThe Christian Herald.LITTLE CONVALESCENTS IN HOSPITAL.

CITIZENS OF JARUCO PRESENTING A MEMORIAL FOR THE VICTIMS OF THE “MAINE.”

LITTLE CONVALESCENTS IN HOSPITAL.

These days of quiet waiting were like the lull that precedes the storm. The time seemed long regarded only from that standpoint, but when it is remembered that these few days were all that had been allowed for a great nation with thirty years of peace to rouse up and plunge itself into a war, the time seems comparatively short. We had taken possession of our ship at Key West on the twenty-ninth of April; it was now the twentieth of June, and the great national records of two countries at least will always give the history of those days. It is our part to keep as clearly, truthfully and kindly as possible the record ofthe little that fell to us to perform in this great drama. Our arrangements for putting out to sea were quickly made. Such supplies and such persons as were not to go with us must be landed and left. Among the latter, to our deep and lasting regret, was our charming friend, Mrs. J. Addison Porter, who had kindly passed the last weeks with us, leaving us as she did, however, with the comforting promise to return if she should find it possible.

All preliminaries arranged, at ten o’clock, the twentieth of June we weighed anchor at Key West and steamed for the open sea, having first taken the official advice of Commodore Remie, commanding the navy at that point, to find Admiral Sampson and report to him.

The twenty-fifth gave us our first view of the water of Santiago. Our transports and battleships were gathered there, and the advice of Admiral Sampson was that we proceed to Guantanamo, where the marines had made a landing and were camped on the shore. There had been some fighting at Guantanamo. The “Solace” was there. Its harbor was fine, and the run of forty miles was made by noon of that day. Whoever has enjoyed the quiet, sheltered harbor of Guantanamo will not require to be reminded of it—protected on three sides by beautifully wooded hills. At six o’clock our anchors sunk in the deep still waters, and we had time to look about us and see for the first time the beginning of the war. The marines were camped diagonally along the brow of a beautiful hill. On our right a camp of Cubans, and all about us the great monsters with their protruding guns which told of forthcoming trouble. Captain McCalla, who was in command of Guantanamo, had sent compliments and a launch pointing out our place of anchorage.

The courtesies of the navy, so early commenced at Key West, were promptly continued. At eight o’clock we received a visit from Commander Dunlap of the “Solace” which, after a long and cordial interview, closed by his proposing to send his launch at ten o’clock the following day to take our entire company for a visit to the “Solace” and its fifty wounded men. If that beautiful ship or its management had left room on the records of our country’s mead of gratitude for more words of appreciative praise, I should be glad to speak them. Only those familiar with the earliest history of the Red Cross in our country and the methods by which our navy alone of all the Red Cross nations had gained even an approximately legal place, can judge what the sight of that first naval relief ship on our American waters was to me. It brought back so vividly the memory of the day when President Arthur called me to him to carefully explain the conditions of the treatywhich he had just signed in 1881, and that Congress, having generously included the navy in its treaty for war, he would provide to hold it carefully until the probable widening of the original treaty would include thenaviesof the world as well as the armies. I was thankful for themodus vivendi, which I knew was as welcome to Spain as to ourselves, that had made it possible to pick up these poor wounded sailors and given them kindly care among their own, that there were not to be left uncared for, or thrown into land hospitals where everything would be strange to them. My twenty or thirty assistants glided about the polished decks of the magnificent ship, with a kindly greeting for every poor, wounded fellow, and delighted with everything they saw. For me, I had few words, prayerful gratitude, and many memories of the long years of patient waiting that had brought the American Red Cross even up to the point it had attained.

LOCATION OF SHORE BATTERIES, SANTIAGO.

Before the day closed news came to us of a more serious character than we had before learned. The daring Rough Riders had been hardly dealt by; Hamilton Fish and Capron had been killed, and the wounded needed help. Wherever they might be, it must be possible to reach them, and it was decided that no time be lost. Our men commenced work in the hold of the ship to get at medical supplies and dressings, and the captain took his orders. I find in my diary at the close of that day the following paragraph:

“It is the Rough Riders we go to, and the relief may be also rough; but it will beready. A better body of helpers could scarcely be gotten together.”

Nine o’clock of the same night, June 26, found us in Siboney and anchored in its waters, which can scarcely be called a harbor. It seems to be rather an indenture in the coast. Shall I be pardoned if I again revert to the diary which, by some means, I found time to hastily pencil:

Siboney, Cuba,June 27, 1898.We were wakened at daybreak to see the soldiers filing up over the hill in heavy marching order, forming in lines by ones and twos, winding up, in and out among the hills, higher and higher, like a great anaconda. As we watched them through a glass, they were a moving line trailing on toward the clouds, till lost in the mist, and we can only think as we look at them, on how many or on which is set the mark of death, He knows no more than we, poor fellow, and unthinkingly, perhaps, with his swinging, careless gait, toils up and up and waits for—he knows not what.

Siboney, Cuba,June 27, 1898.

We were wakened at daybreak to see the soldiers filing up over the hill in heavy marching order, forming in lines by ones and twos, winding up, in and out among the hills, higher and higher, like a great anaconda. As we watched them through a glass, they were a moving line trailing on toward the clouds, till lost in the mist, and we can only think as we look at them, on how many or on which is set the mark of death, He knows no more than we, poor fellow, and unthinkingly, perhaps, with his swinging, careless gait, toils up and up and waits for—he knows not what.

The hospitals, both American and Cuban, are located on the shore just to the right of us, and have been visited by our men during the night. Some of their surgeons called on us; all seemed interested in the Red Cross, but none thought that a woman nurse would be in place in a soldier’s hospital; indeed, very much out of place. I suggested that that decision was hard for me, for I had spent a great deal of time there myself. They appeared to understand that perfectly, or were so polite as not to criticise it, but there seemed to be alaterline which could not be crossed. The Cubans, who had just come into camp, were less conventional and expressed a great desire for any assistance we could give them. “Sister Bettina” and her four trained “Sisters,” Drs. Egan and Hubbell went ashore to the hospitals. This had been proposed the evening before at General Garcia’s headquarters; but they were begged to wait just one day until their hospital could be in a little better order. These “Sisters” were not the persons to grant that day of preparation.On the contrary, we were told that as soon as they were fairly in the wards they commenced putting things into order and cleanliness, and worked through the day without interruption, coming home only after dark, tired it must be, but fresh and happy, full of the conviction of a work well done. Long before that day’s work was ended our own American hospitals alongside commenced to be jealous of the Cubans, and believed that they had spoken first. Be that as it might, we were equally forgetful, and from that time no distinction between the hospitals was known.

Dr. Lesser, Mr. Kennan and Mr. Elwell tramped, for there was no other mode of conveyance, to our advance line within three miles of Santiago. They found the artillery up and things nearly ready for attack, which it was thought would be on the following Wednesday.

JULY FIFTH IN RIFLE PITS.

The sea grew wild and rough; the water was too deep for firm anchorage, and we rocked at such a fearful rate that in pity for the pale faces about me, I begged the captain to draw as near the shore as possible and let, at least, a portion of them onto the land. Let them have, if only a few minutes, the solid ground under their feet. He drew up to within two or three hundred feet of the cliff which runs around like a firm sea wall, and succeeded in anchoring; took a boat and tried to land some of our people, but there were no wharves; the poor little seven by nine bench, designated as a wharf, running out into the sea, against which the boats swung and crashed as they tried to land supplies, was all there was, except the narrow beach with a heavy surf. Our people declined the landing, and headsick, heartsick and seasick returned to the ship.

We had been long without news from the United States; but the next day brought the following dispatch from the New York Cuban Relief Committee:

Cobb sails Wednesday with Red Cross supply boat. All articles requested by her will be shipped. The launch will be towed from Jacksonville. Do you want additional nurses? Five hundred tons provisions and clothing, also three ambulances complete, shipped to Key West warehouse this week from New York. Send “State of Texas” to New York as soon as can be spared. Cobb with Red Cross boat expects to reach Guantanamo July 5 to 10. Massachusetts relief ship cannot sail before middle of July. Will dispatch schooner with ice within a fortnight. Make your requisitions specific in kind and quantity.

This was only one of the scores of dispatches reaching us within the few following weeks, and I repeat it here, not as having any special significance, excepting to show the uncertainty and utter instability of all human calculations. Analyzing this kind-hearted and well-meant dispatch in the light of the future, we find that neither the Red Cross supply boat, the steam launch, the Massachusetts relief ship, nor the additional nurses ever reached us. The ice schooner proved to be the “Mary E. Morse,” of which mention is made elsewhere. The five hundred tons of provisions shipped to the Key West warehouse were distributed there. I name this, not in any spirit of complaint—far from it, indeed—but simply to show still further and make more apparent, if possible, the difficulties attendant upon all work at a field of war. Those who have seen only this one war will find these uncertainties and shortcomings very strange, and unaccountable; to me, who had seen other wars, they seemed natural, probably largely inevitable, and quite the thing to be expected, the fatal results of which misfortunes I had spent half my lifetime in instituting measures to prevent or lessen.

We were honored next day by a call from an officer of the “Olivette,” with his assistant. It is not singular, in the light of the great, elegant, newly-fitted ship at his command, that it was difficult for him to realize the use or the necessity of an unpretending little black boat like the “State of Texas,” or of what service it could be expected to be to an army. We labored to impress upon him the fact that this ship did not come for the war, but was loaded and dispatched weeks before there was any war, and simply waited an opportunity to deliver its cargo to the hungry and naked reconcentrados for whom they were designed. This explanation we hoped would make it apparent to the gentleman, how it was, that our supplies of clothing would not be likely to contain the articles of which he said his ship was in want; it probably never having entered into the minds of our sympathetic generous lady donors of America to providepajamasfor Cuban women. Anything wehadwas freely at his service. If we made anyattempt atconversion(which I do not now recall), it was simply on the line of a better understanding of Red Cross methods and principles as connected with his profession, andnota change of heart.

With the constant reminders of the sufferings of the people on shore and our inability to reach them, it was a welcome errand brought by a dispatch boat that afternoon from Captain McCalla, that if we could get five thousand rations to him before the next Thursday morning, he could find a way to deliver them to the refugee families of insurgents and others lying out in the hills and woods beyond his camp at Guantanamo, where they had fled for safety. We steamed at once to Guantanamo and landed the rations next morning, returning to Siboney the same afternoon. The next day our working force was busy all day getting off material to refugees coming in from the mountains. General Garcia detailed a detachment to repair pontoons for the purpose of landing the supplies. Captain McCalla cabled for twenty thousand rations for refugees, to be delivered at Guantanamo by Sunday.

Our Red Cross sisters and surgeons were all busy at the Cuban Hospital, when the following letter from Major Le Garde was received:

To Miss Clara Barton,President American National Red Cross:I have the honor to request your assistance in caring for the patients in a so-called hospital near the landing at this point. The orders are to the effect that all patients now under treatment on the shore shall be transferred to the “Iroquois” and “Olivette,” but the facilities for carrying out this order are apparently inadequate. In order that the Divisional Hospital may remain unhampered for the care of the wounded in the engagement about to take place, it is necessary for me to request this favor of you, and I trust that you may find it possible to comply with said request.Your obedient servant,Louis A. Le Garde,Major and Surgeon, U.S.A., Commanding Hospital.

To Miss Clara Barton,President American National Red Cross:

I have the honor to request your assistance in caring for the patients in a so-called hospital near the landing at this point. The orders are to the effect that all patients now under treatment on the shore shall be transferred to the “Iroquois” and “Olivette,” but the facilities for carrying out this order are apparently inadequate. In order that the Divisional Hospital may remain unhampered for the care of the wounded in the engagement about to take place, it is necessary for me to request this favor of you, and I trust that you may find it possible to comply with said request.

Your obedient servant,Louis A. Le Garde,Major and Surgeon, U.S.A., Commanding Hospital.

To this the following reply was immediately returned:

Steamship “State of Texas,”Siboney, Santiago de Cuba,June 30, 1898.Dr. Louis A. Le Garde,Major and Surgeon, U.S.A., Commanding Hospital:Major:—Permit me, I pray you, to express the great pleasure given me by your cordial letter inviting the assistance of the persons here under my direction in the care of the sick and wounded of the engagement about to take place.Although not here as a hospital ship by any means, nor legitimately fitted for the work, still we have some hospital supplies, a few intelligent workers, skill, intrepidity, experience, the willingness to serve, the readiness to obey, and I believe, the true spirit of the Red Cross, that seeks to help humanity wherever its needs exist.I send them to you in the hope that they may be of service. With grateful appreciation, I am, doctor,Most cordially yours,Clara Barton,President American National Red Cross.

Steamship “State of Texas,”Siboney, Santiago de Cuba,June 30, 1898.

Dr. Louis A. Le Garde,Major and Surgeon, U.S.A., Commanding Hospital:

Major:—Permit me, I pray you, to express the great pleasure given me by your cordial letter inviting the assistance of the persons here under my direction in the care of the sick and wounded of the engagement about to take place.

Although not here as a hospital ship by any means, nor legitimately fitted for the work, still we have some hospital supplies, a few intelligent workers, skill, intrepidity, experience, the willingness to serve, the readiness to obey, and I believe, the true spirit of the Red Cross, that seeks to help humanity wherever its needs exist.

I send them to you in the hope that they may be of service. With grateful appreciation, I am, doctor,

Most cordially yours,Clara Barton,President American National Red Cross.

In the afternoon of this day some members from our ship went ashore and visited the Cuban Hospital and General Garcia’s headquarters, which that general, on leaving Siboney had graciously ordered to be placed “at Miss Barton’s disposal as headquarters for herself and her staff.” It was found, however, that the building would be required by the military, and the matter was given no further consideration.

On the first of July Dr. and Mrs. Lesser with their assistants went early ashore to work in the hospitals, both United States and Cuban. The transport “Harvard” arriving with troops, demanded our anchorage, and on coming out of the harbor to give place to her, we saw that a bombardment of Aguadores, five miles to the west, was taking place. A battleship, perhaps the “Oregon,” the flagship “New York” and a little cruiser were standing in near the shore, the latter keeping up a rapid fire, which was responded to by the batteries on both sides of a ravine which the railroad crossed. We ran down as close as safety permitted and watched the engagement from the bridge of our own ship. The two large ships then drew in and shelled the ravine, apparently silencing the batteries. When we returned to Siboney we learned that our troops had been fighting all day, and that large numbers of wounded were walking or being brought in for treatment. The Red Cross had been requested to take entire charge of a fever hospital of United States troops, which it did. Dr. and Mrs. Lesser and two of the Sisters were assisting in the operating tent. All of us worked nearly through the night—the nurses and physicians as above stated; the others taking out supplies for wounded—one hundred cots, bedding, hospital utensils, medicine, food, etc. The reports were that we had taken and held all the commanding positions around Santiago, but that it had cost us four hundred men.

The diary of July 2 says: The day opened cool and fresh, and although having worked steadily until three o’clock the night previous,when they had been brought back to the ship for a little rest, the Sisters were ready for work at half-past six. Sisters Anna and Isabell had been on duty all night, and must now be relieved. Dr. Egan and Mr. Kennan made ready for the front, the former to have a field hospital.

With a portion of my assistants I go ashore to visit the hospitals in the early part of the day, to learn if anything further can be done for them. We find the wounded coming in rapidly, long rows of hospital tents being filled with them, and many waiting their turn on the operating tables. We learned that the officers had suffered very severely, having been picked off by Spanish sharpshooters. A note came by messenger from Mr. Kennan at the front, saying that by order from General Shafter’s headquarters “Miss Barton was directed to seize any empty wagons coming in and send by them hospital supplies, medical stores, which were badly needed at the front.” This direction would of course be filled as far as possible; the supplies would be gotten out and sent, and it was decided that myself and as many of our assistants as could be spared go with them the next day. These were anxious, trying days throughout the whole country. All America was astir, once more in the dreaded throes of war.

Another dispatch from our committee at New York reveals this state of feeling:

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