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diff --git a/old/whspw11h.htm b/old/whspw11h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8d1675d --- /dev/null +++ b/old/whspw11h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,738 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<HTML><HEAD> +<TITLE>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Spanish Prisoners of War, by Howells</TITLE> +<META http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"> +<STYLE TYPE="text/css"> +<!-- +DIV.book { margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%; text-align: justify; } +P { text-indent: 2em; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; } +P.pg { text-indent: 0em; margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; } +--> +</STYLE> +</HEAD> +<BODY> +<center><h1>The Project Gutenberg EBook of<br><a href="#title"><i>Spanish Prisoners of War</i></a><br>by William Dean Howells</h1> +<h2>#30 in our series by William Dean Howells</h2></center> +<DIV align="justify"> +<p class="pg"><br> +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. 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You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. +<p class="pg"> +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** +<p class="pg"> +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** +<p class="pg"> +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** +<p class="pg"> +Title: Spanish Prisoners of War +<p class="pg"> +Author: William Dean Howells +<p class="pg"> +Release Date: August, 2002 [Etext #3383] +<br>[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +<br>[This HTML edition was first posted on April 1, 2003] +<p class="pg"> +Edition: 11 +<p class="pg"> +Language: English +<p class="pg"> +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 +<p class="pg"> +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, SPANISH PRISONERS OF WAR *** +<p class="pg"><br><br> +This eBook was converted to HTML, with additional editing, by Jose Menendez +from the text edition produced by David Widger. +<br><br><br></DIV> +<DIV class="book"> +<a name="title"></a><hr size="3" noshade> +<center> +<h1>LITERATURE AND LIFE</h1><hr width="50" size="3" noshade> +<h2>SPANISH PRISONERS OF WAR</h2><br><br><h3>BY</h3><br><h2>WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS</h2> +</center> +<hr size="3" noshade> +<p><br> +<big><big>C</big></big>ERTAIN summers ago our cruisers, the <i>St. Louis</i> and the <i>Harvard</i>, arrived +at Portsmouth, New Hampshire, with sixteen or seventeen hundred Spanish +prisoners from Santiago de Cuba. They were partly soldiers of the land +forces picked up by our troops in the fights before the city, but by far +the greater part were sailors and marines from Cervera’s ill-fated fleet. +I have not much stomach for war, but the poetry of the fact I have stated +made a very potent appeal to me on my literary side, and I did not hold +out against it longer than to let the <i>St. Louis</i> get away with Cervera to +Annapolis, when only her less dignified captives remained with those of +the <i>Harvard</i> to feed either the vainglory or the pensive curiosity of the +spectator. Then I went over from our summer colony to Kittery Point, and +got a boat, and sailed out to have a look at these subordinate enemies in +the first hours of their imprisonment. + +<br><br> +<center><hr width="200"><br> +<h3>I.</h3></center> +<p><br> +It was an afternoon of the brilliancy known only to an afternoon of the +American summer, and the water of the swift Piscataqua River glittered in +the sun with a really incomparable brilliancy. But nothing could light +up the great monster of a ship, painted the dismal lead-color which our +White Squadrons put on with the outbreak of the war, and she lay sullen +in the stream with a look of ponderous repose, to which the activities of +the coaling-barges at her side, and of the sailors washing her decks, +seemed quite unrelated. A long gun forward and a long gun aft threatened +the fleet of launches, tugs, dories, and cat-boats which fluttered about +her, but the <i>Harvard</i> looked tired and bored, and seemed as if asleep. +She had, in fact, finished her mission. The captives whom death had +released had been carried out and sunk in the sea; those who survived to +a further imprisonment had all been taken to the pretty island a mile +farther up in the river, where the tide rushes back and forth through the +Narrows like a torrent. Its defiant rapidity has won it there the +graphic name of Pull-and-be-Damned; and we could only hope to reach the +island by a series of skilful tacks, which should humor both the wind and +the tide, both dead against us. Our boatman, one of those shore New +Englanders who are born with a knowledge of sailing, was easily master of +the art of this, but it took time, and gave me more than the leisure I +wanted for trying to see the shore with the strange eyes of the captives +who had just looked upon it. It was beautiful, I had to own, even in my +quality of exile and prisoner. The meadows and the orchards came down to +the water, or, where the wandering line of the land was broken and lifted +in black fronts of rock, they crept to the edge of the cliff and peered +over it. A summer hotel stretched its verandas along a lovely level; +everywhere in clovery hollows and on breezy knolls were gray old farm-houses +and summer cottages—like weather-beaten birds’ nests, and like +freshly painted marten-boxes; but all of a cold New England neatness +which made me homesick for my malodorous Spanish fishing-village, +shambling down in stony lanes to the warm tides of my native seas. Here, +every place looked as if it had been newly scrubbed with soap and water, +and rubbed down with a coarse towel, and was of an antipathetic +alertness. The sweet, keen breeze made me shiver, and the northern sky, +from which my blinding southern sun was blazing, was as hard as sapphire. +I tried to bewilder myself in the ignorance of a Catalonian or Asturian +fisherman, and to wonder with his darkened mind why it should all or any +of it have been, and why I should have escaped from the iron hell in +which I had fought no quarrel of my own to fall into the hands of +strangers, and to be haled over seas to these alien shores for a +captivity of unknown term. But I need not have been at so much pains; +the intelligence (I do not wish to boast) of an American author would +have sufficed; for if there is anything more grotesque than another in +war it is its monstrous inconsequence. If we had a grief with the +Spanish government, and if it was so mortal we must do murder for it, we +might have sent a joint committee of the House and Senate, and, with the +improved means of assassination which modern science has put at our +command, killed off the Spanish cabinet, and even the queen-mother and +the little king. This would have been consequent, logical, and in a sort +reasonable; but to butcher and capture a lot of wretched Spanish peasants +and fishermen, hapless conscripts to whom personally and nationally we +were as so many men in the moon, was that melancholy and humiliating +necessity of war which makes it homicide in which there is not even the +saving grace of hate, or the excuse of hot blood. +<p> +I was able to console myself perhaps a little better for the captivity of +the Spaniards than if I had really been one of them, as we drew nearer +and nearer their prison isle, and it opened its knotty points and little +ravines, overrun with sweet-fern, blueberry-bushes, bay, and low +blackberry-vines, and rigidly traversed with a high stockade of yellow +pine boards. Six or eight long, low, wooden barracks stretched side by +side across the general slope, with the captive officers’ quarters, +sheathed in weather-proof black paper, at one end of them. About their +doors swarmed the common prisoners, spilling out over the steps and on +the grass, where some of them lounged smoking. One operatic figure in a +long blanket stalked athwart an open space; but there was such poverty of +drama in the spectacle at the distance we were keeping that we were glad +of so much as a shirt-sleeved contractor driving out of the stockade in +his buggy. On the heights overlooking the enclosure Gatling guns were +posted at three or four points, and every thirty or forty feet sentries +met and parted, so indifferent to us, apparently, that we wondered if we +might get nearer. We ventured, but at a certain moment a sentry called to +us, “Fifty yards off, please!” Our young skipper answered, “All right,” +and as the sentry had a gun on his shoulder which we had every reason to +believe was loaded, it was easily our pleasure to retreat to the +specified limit. In fact, we came away altogether, after that, so little +promise was there of our being able to satisfy our curiosity further. +We came away carefully nursing such impression as we had got of a spectacle +whose historical quality we did our poor best to feel. It related +us, after solicitation, to the wars against the Moors, against the +Mexicans and Peruvians, against the Dutch; to the Italian campaigns of +the Gran Capitan, to the Siege of Florence, to the Sack of Rome, to the +wars of the Spanish Succession, and what others. I do not deny that +there was a certain aesthetic joy in having the Spanish prisoners there +for this effect; we came away duly grateful for what we had seen of them; +and we had long duly resigned ourselves to seeing no more, when word was +sent to us that our young skipper had got a permit to visit the island, +and wished us to go with him. + +<br><br> +<center><hr width="200"><br> +<h3>II.</h3></center> +<p><br> +It was just such another afternoon when we went again, but this time we +took the joyous trolley-car, and bounded and pirouetted along as far as +the navy-yard of Kittery, and there we dismounted and walked among the +vast, ghostly ship-sheds, so long empty of ships. The grass grew in the +Kittery navy-yard, but it was all the pleasanter for the grass, and those +pale, silent sheds were far more impressive in their silence than they +would have been if resonant with saw and hammer. At several points, an +unarmed marine left his leisure somewhere, and lunged across our path +with a mute appeal for our permit; but we were nowhere delayed till we +came to the office where it had to be countersigned, and after that we +had presently crossed a bridge, by shady, rustic ways, and were on the +prison island. Here, if possible, the sense of something pastoral +deepened; a man driving a file of cows passed before us under kindly +trees, and the bell which the foremost of these milky mothers wore about +her silken throat sent forth its clear, tender note as if from the depth +of some grassy bosk, and instantly witched me away to the woods-pastures +which my boyhood knew in southern Ohio. Even when we got to what seemed +fortifications they turned out to be the walls of an old reservoir, and +bore on their gate a paternal warning that children unaccompanied by +adults were not allowed within. +<p> +We mounted some stone steps over this portal and were met by a young +marine, who left his Gatling gun for a moment to ask for our permit, and +then went back satisfied. Then we found ourselves in the presence of a +sentry with a rifle on his shoulder, who was rather more exacting. +Still, he only wished to be convinced, and when he had pointed out the +headquarters where we were next to go, he let us over his beat. At the +headquarters there was another sentry, equally serious, but equally +civil, and with the intervention of an orderly our leader saw the officer +of the day. He came out of the quarters looking rather blank, for he had +learned that his pass admitted our party to the lines, but not to the +stockade, which we might approach, at a certain point of vantage and look +over into, but not penetrate. We resigned ourselves, as we must, and +made what we could of the nearest prison barrack, whose door overflowed +and whose windows swarmed with swarthy captives. Here they were, at such +close quarters that their black, eager eyes easily pierced the pockets +full of cigarettes which we had brought for them. They looked mostly +very young, and there was one smiling rogue at the first window who was +obviously prepared to catch anything thrown to him. He caught, in fact, +the first box of cigarettes shied over the stockade; the next box flew +open, and spilled its precious contents outside the dead-line under the +window, where I hope some compassionate guard gathered them up and gave +them to the captives. +<p> +Our fellows looked capable of any kindness to their wards short of +letting them go. They were a most friendly company, with an effect of +picnicking there among the sweet-fern and blueberries, where they had +pitched their wooden tents with as little disturbance to the shrubbery as +possible. They were very polite to us, and when, after that misadventure +with the cigarettes (I had put our young leader up to throwing the box, +merely supplying the <i>corpus delicti</i> myself), I wandered vaguely towards a +Gatling gun planted on an earthen platform where the laurel and the +dogroses had been cut away for it, the man in charge explained with a +smile of apology that I must not pass a certain path I had already +crossed. +<p> +One always accepts the apologies of a man with a Gatling gun to back +them, and I retreated. That seemed the end; and we were going +crestfallenly away when the officer of the day came out and allowed us to +make his acquaintance. He permitted us, with laughing reluctance, to +learn that he had been in the fight at Santiago, and had come with the +prisoners, and he was most obligingly sorry that our permit did not let +us into the stockade. I said I had some cigarettes for the prisoners, +and I supposed I might send them in, but he said he could not allow +this, for they had money to buy tobacco; and he answered another of our +party, who had not a soul above buttons, and who asked if she could get +one from the Spaniards, that so far from promoting her wish, he would +have been obliged to take away any buttons she might have got from them. +<p> +“The fact is,” he explained, “you’ve come to the wrong end for +transactions in buttons and tobacco.” +<p> +But perhaps innocence so great as ours had wrought upon him. When we +said we were going, and thanked him for his unavailing good-will, he +looked at his watch and said they were just going to feed the prisoners; +and after some parley he suddenly called out, “Music of the guard!” +Instead of a regimental band, which I had supposed summoned, a single +corporal ran out the barracks, touching his cap. +<p> +“Take this party round to the gate,” the officer said, and he promised us +that he would see us there, and hoped we would not mind a rough walk. We +could have answered that to see his prisoners fed we would wade through +fathoms of red-tape; but in fact we were arrested at the last point by +nothing worse than the barbed wire which fortified the outer gate. Here +two marines were willing to tell us how well the prisoners lived, while +we stared into the stockade through an inner gate of plank which was run +back for us. They said the Spaniards had a breakfast of coffee, and hash +or stew and potatoes, and a dinner of soup and roast; and now at five +o’clock they were to have bread and coffee, which indeed we saw the +white-capped, white-jacketed cooks bringing out in huge tin wash-boilers. +Our marines were of opinion, and no doubt rightly, that these poor +Spaniards had never known in their lives before what it was to have full +stomachs. But the marines said they never acknowledged it, and the one +who had a German accent intimated that gratitude was not a virtue of any +Roman (I suppose he meant Latin) people. But I do not know that if I +were a prisoner, for no fault of my own, I should be very explicitly +thankful for being unusually well fed. I thought (or I think now) that a +fig or a bunch of grapes would have been more acceptable to me under my +own vine and fig-tree than the stew and roast of captors who were indeed +showing themselves less my enemies than my own government, but were still +not quite my hosts. + +<br><br> +<center><hr width="200"><br> +<h3>III.</h3></center> +<p><br> +How is it the great pieces of good luck fall to us? The clock strikes +twelve as it strikes two, and with no more premonition. As we stood +there expecting nothing better of it than three at the most, it suddenly +struck twelve. Our officer appeared at the inner gate and bade our +marines slide away the gate of barbed wire and let us into the enclosure, +where he welcomed us to seats on the grass against the stockade, with +many polite regrets that the tough little knots of earth beside it were +not chairs. +<p> +The prisoners were already filing out of their quarters, at a rapid trot +towards the benches where those great wash-boilers of coffee were set. +Each man had a soup-plate and bowl of enamelled tin, and each in his turn +received quarter of a loaf of fresh bread and a big ladleful of steaming +coffee, which he made off with to his place at one of the long tables +under a shed at the side of the stockade. One young fellow tried to get +a place not his own in the shade, and our officer when he came back +explained that he was a <i>guerrillero</i>, and rather unruly. We heard that +eight of the prisoners were in irons, by sentence of their own officers, +for misconduct, but all save this <i>guerrillero</i> here were docile and +obedient enough, and seemed only too glad to get peacefully at their +bread and coffee. +<p> +First among them came the men of the <i>Cristobal Colon</i>, and these were the +best looking of all the captives. From their pretty fair average the +others varied to worse and worse, till a very scrub lot, said to be +ex-convicts, brought up the rear. They were nearly all little fellows, and +very dark, though here and there a six-footer towered up, or a blond +showed among them. They were joking and laughing together, harmlessly +enough, but I must own that they looked a crew of rather sorry jail-birds; +though whether any run of humanity clad in misfits of our navy +blue and white, and other chance garments, with close-shaven heads, and +sometimes bare feet, would have looked much less like jail-birds I am not +sure. Still, they were not prepossessing, and though some of them were +pathetically young, they had none of the charm of boyhood. No doubt they +did not do themselves justice, and to be herded there like cattle did not +improve their chances of making a favorable impression on the observer. +They were kindly used by our officer and his subordinates, who mixed +among them, and straightened out the confusion they got into at times, +and perhaps sometimes wilfully. Their guards employed a few handy words +of Spanish with them; where these did not avail, they took them by the +arm and directed them; but I did not hear a harsh tone, and I saw no +violence, or even so much indignity offered them as the ordinary trolley-car +passenger is subjected to in Broadway. At a certain bugle-call they +dispersed, when they had finished their bread and coffee, and scattered +about over the grass, or returned to their barracks. We were told that +these children of the sun dreaded its heat, and kept out of it whenever +they could, even in its decline; but they seemed not so much to withdraw +and hide themselves from that, as to vanish into the history of “old, +unhappy, far-off” times, where prisoners of war, properly belong. I +roused myself with a start as if I had lost them in the past. +<p> +Our officer came towards us and said gayly, “Well, you have seen the +animals fed,” and let us take our grateful leave. I think we were rather +a loss, in our going, to the marines, who seemed glad of a chance to +talk. I am sure we were a loss to the man on guard at the inner gate, +who walked his beat with reluctance when it took him from us, and eagerly +when it brought him back. Then he delayed for a rapid and comprehensive +exchange of opinions and ideas, successfully blending military +subordination with American equality in his manner. +<p> +The whole thing was very American in the perfect decorum and the utter +absence of ceremony. Those good fellows were in the clothes they wore +through the fights at Santiago, and they could not have put on much +splendor if they had wished, but apparently they did not wish. They were +simple, straightforward, and adequate. There was some dry joking about +the superiority of the prisoners’ rations and lodgings, and our officer +ironically professed his intention of messing with the Spanish officers. +But there was no grudge, and not a shadow of ill will, or of that stupid +and atrocious hate towards the public enemy which abominable newspapers +and politicians had tried to breed in the popular mind. There was +nothing manifest but a sort of cheerful purpose to live up to that +military ideal of duty which is so much nobler than the civil ideal of +self-interest. Perhaps duty will yet become the civil ideal, when the +peoples shall have learned to live for the common good, and are united +for the operation of the industries as they now are for the hostilities. + +<br><br> +<center><hr width="200"><br> +<h3>IV.</h3></center> +<p><br> +Shall I say that a sense of something domestic, something homelike, +imparted itself from what I had seen? Or was this more properly an +effect from our visit, on the way back to the hospital, where a hundred +and fifty of the prisoners lay sick of wounds and fevers? I cannot say +that a humaner spirit prevailed here than in the camp; it was only a more +positive humanity which was at work. Most of the sufferers were +stretched on the clean cots of two long, airy, wooden shells, which +received them, four days after the orders for their reception had come, +with every equipment for their comfort. At five o’clock, when we passed +down the aisles between their beds, many of them had a gay, nonchalant +effect of having toothpicks or cigarettes in their mouths; but it was +really the thermometers with which the nurses were taking their +temperature. It suggested a possibility to me, however, and I asked if +they were allowed to smoke, and being answered that they did smoke, +anyway, whenever they could, I got rid at last of those boxes of +cigarettes which had been burning my pockets, as it were, all afternoon. +I gave them to such as I was told were the most deserving among the sick +captives, but Heaven knows I would as willingly have given them to the +least. They took my largesse gravely, as became Spaniards; one said, +smiling sadly, “Muchas gracias,” but the others merely smiled sadly; and +I looked in vain for the response which would have twinkled up in the +faces of even moribund Italians at our looks of pity. Italians would +have met our sympathy halfway; but these poor fellows were of another +tradition, and in fact not all the Latin peoples are the same, though we +sometimes conveniently group them together for our detestation. Perhaps +there are even personal distinctions among their several nationalities, +and there are some Spaniards who are as true and kind as some Americans. +When we remember Cortez let us not forget Las Casas. +<p> +They lay in their beds there, these little Spanish men, whose dark faces +their sickness could not blanch to more than a sickly sallow, and as they +turned their dull black eyes upon us I must own that I could not “support +the government” so fiercely as I might have done elsewhere. But the +truth is, I was demoralized by the looks of these poor little men, who, +in spite of their character of public enemies, did look so much like +somebody’s brothers, and even somebody’s children. I may have been +infected by the air of compassion, of scientific compassion, which +prevailed in the place. There it was as wholly business to be kind and +to cure as in another branch of the service it was business to be cruel +and to kill. How droll these things are! The surgeons had their +favorites among the patients, to all of whom they were equally devoted; +inarticulate friendships had sprung up between them and certain of their +hapless foes, whom they spoke of as “a sort of pets.” One of these was +very useful in making the mutinous take their medicine; another was liked +apparently because he was so likable. At a certain cot the chief surgeon +stopped and said, “We did not expect this boy to live through the night.” +He took the boy’s wrist between his thumb and finger, and asked tenderly +as he leaned over him, “Poco mejor?” The boy could not speak to say that +he was a little better; he tried to smile—such things do move the +witness; nor does the sight of a man whose bandaged cheek has been half +chopped away by a machete tend to restore one’s composure. +<br><br><hr size="3" noshade></DIV> +<br><DIV align="justify"> +<a name="footer">*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, SPANISH PRISONERS OF WAR ***</a> +<p class="pg"> +This file should be named whspw11h.htm or whspw11h.zip<br> +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, whspw12h.htm<br> +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, whspw10a.htm +<p class="pg"> +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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