In the dry season matters are a trifle better, the fevers diminish, and
it is possible to sleep in the open air without serious risk. The
insects, too, are a trifle less vicious, and the brilliant moonlit
winter's nights are often pleasant enough. Then the bivouac becomes
endurable, and if the enemy is sufficiently distant, a certain element
of gaiety lends a picturesque, even romantic, character to the barbaric
gathering. The negroes twang their banjos, blow their horns, and dance
in rings, and the white adventurers gather round the camp fires, to tell
old-world stories, or dream, perchance, of their childhood, spent under
more temperate skies,--and in their heart of hearts, as their
recollection slips back to home, to regret they ever embarked on such
pitiful adventures as these. Suddenly the alert is called, the trumpet
blows, an order is hoarsely shouted, and the motley crowd moves on
elsewhere, or is commanded to make a descent on some plantation to
demand provisions, and, may be, if the owner does not comply, to fire
his sugar canes. Not unfrequently, to screen their flight, they set
light to the prairie or to the forest, and the grass and the trees burn
on for days and nights on end. Some of these bands have a chaplain with
them--a priest of the sort called in England, before the Reformation, a
"hedge-priest"--who, on Sundays and feast days, celebrates Mass at an
improvised altar, in some forest glade. But, on the other hand, the
negroes, of whom there are thousands, seem, as a result of the free life
they lead, to have reverted, in most cases, by a species of atavism, to
their old savage habits.
I have said elsewhere that in the olden days their Cuban masters only
gave them a veneer of Christianity; they soon relapse into the obscene
and bloody creed of Voudism, the traditions of which they have never
lost. And in almost every rebel camp there are a number of coolies who,
although--to please the Cubans--they prostrate themselves before the
images of Neustra Señora de Cobre, and of Our Lady of Guadalupe,
secretly practise the lowest forms of Buddhism.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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