University of Virginia Library

CHAPTER XXI.

The people of Cuba have a mode of calling
attention by a sound of the tongue and lips, a
sort of "P—s—t!" after the fashion of some
parts of the continent of Europe. It is universal
here; and is used not only to servants
and children, but between themselves, and to
strangers. It has a mean sound, to us. They
make it clear and penetrating; yet it seems a
poor, effeminate sibilation, and no generous,
open-mouthed call. It is the mode of stopping
a volante, calling a waiter, attracting the
attention of a friend, or calling the notice of a
stranger. I have no doubt, if a fire were to
break out at the next door, a Cuban would
call "P—s—t!"

They beckon a person to come to them by
the reverse of our motion. They raise the
open hand, with the palm outwards, bending

the fingers toward the person they are calling.
We should interpret it to be a sign to go
away.

Smoking is universal, and all but constant.
I have amused myself, in the street, by seeing
what proportion of those I meet have cigars or
cigarettos in their mouths. Sometimes it has
been one half, sometimes one in three. The
cigar is a great leveller. Any man may stop
another for a light. I have seen the poor porters,
on the wharf, bow to gentlemen, strangers
to them, and hold out a cigar, and the
gentlemen stop, give a light, and go on,—all
as of course.

In the evening, called on the Señoritas
F—, at the house of Mr. B—, and on the
American young lady at Señor M—'s, and
on Mrs. Howe, at Mde. Almy's, to offer to take
letters or packets.

At Mrs. Almy's, there is a gentleman from
New York, Mr. G———, who is dying of consumption.
His only wish is to live until the
Cahawba comes in, that he may at least die at
sea, if he cannot survive until she reaches New
York. He has a horror of dying here, and being

buried in the Potter's Field.—Dr. Howe
has just come from his chamber.

I drove out to the bishop's, to pay my parting
respects. It is about half-past eight in the
evening. He has just returned from his evening
drive, is dressed in a cool, cambric dressing-gown,
after a bath, and is taking a quiet cigar,
in his high-roofed parlor. He is very cordial
and polite, and talks again about the Thirty
Millions Bill, and asks what I think of the
result, and what I have seen of the island,
and my opinion of the religious and charitable
institutions. I praise the Belen and the Sisters
of Charity, and condemn the prison, and
he appears to agree with me. He appreciates
the learning and zeal of the Brothers of Belen;
speaks in the highest terms of the devotedness
of the Sisters of Charity; and admits the
great faults of the prison, but says it was
built recently, at an enormous outlay, and he
supposes the government is reluctant to be at
the expense of abandoning it and building
another. He charges me with messages of
remembrance and respect to acquaintances we
have in common. As I take my leave, he

goes with me to the outer gate, which is kept
locked, and again takes leave, for two leave-takings
are the custom of the country, and
returns to the solitude of his house.

Yesterday I drove out to the Cerro, to see
the Coolie jail, or market, where the imported
Coolies are kept for sale. It is a well-known
place, and open to all visitors. The building
has a fair-looking front; and through this I
enter, by two porters, into an open yard in
the rear, where, on the gravel ground, are
squatting a double line of Coolies, with heads
shaved, except a tuft on the crown, dressed in
loose Chinese garments of blue and yellow.
The dealer, who is a calm, shrewd, heartless
looking man, speaking English as well as if
it were his native tongue, comes out with me,
calls to the Coolies, and they all stand up in
a double line, facing inward, and we pass
through them, preceded by a driver armed
with the usual badge of the plantation driver,
the short, limber whip. The dealer does not
hesitate to tell me the terms on which the
contracts are made, as the trade is not illegal.
His account is this—The importer receives

$340 for each Coolie, and the purchaser
agrees to pay the Coolie four dollars per
month, and to give him food, and two suits
of clothes a year. For this, he has his services
for eight years. The contract is reduced
to writing before a magistrate, and two originals
are made, one kept by the Coolie and
one by the purchaser, and each in Chinese
and Spanish.

This was a strange and striking exhibition
of power. Two or three white men, bringing
hundreds of Chinese thousands of miles, to a
new climate and people, holding them prisoners,
selling their services to masters having an
unknown tongue and an unknown religion, to
work at unknown trades, for inscrutable purposes!

The Coolies did not look unhealthy, though
some had complaints of the eyes; yet they
looked, or I fancied they looked,—some of
them, unhappy, and some of them stolid.
One I am sure had the leprosy; although the
dealer would not admit it. The dealer did
not deny their tendency to suicide, and the
danger of attempting to chastise them, but

alleged their great superiority to the negro in
intelligence, and contended that their condition
was good, and better than in China, having
four dollars a month, and being free at the
end of eight years. He said, which I found
to be true, that after being separated and
employed in work, they let their hair grow,
and adopt the habits and dress of the country.
The newly arrived Coolies wear tufts,
and blue-and-yellow, loose, Chinese clothes.
Those who have been here long are distinguishable
from the whites only by the peculiar
tinge of the cheek, and the form of the
eye.

The only respect in which his account differed
from what I heard elsewhere, was in the
amount the importer receives, which has always
been stated to me at $400.

While I am talking with him, a gentleman
comes and passes down the line. He is
probably a purchaser, I judge; and I leave my
informant to follow what is more for his interest
than talking with me.

The importation has not yet existed eight
years. So the question, what will become of

these men, exotics, without women or children,
taking no root in the land, has not come to a
solution. The constant question is—will they
remain and mix with the other races? Will
they be permitted to remain? Will they be
able to go back?

So far as I can learn, there is no law in
China regulating the contracts and shipment
of Chinese Coolies, and none in Cuba regulating
their transportation, landing, or treatment
while here. The trade has grown up and been
permitted and recognized, but not regulated.
It is yet to be determined how far the contract
is enforceable against either party. Those
Coolies that are taken from the British East
Indies to British islands, are taken under
contracts, with regulations, as to their exportation
and return, understood and enforced.
Not so the Chinese Coolies. Their importers
are lege soluti. Some say the government will
insist on their being returned. But the prevailing
impression is that they will be brought
in debt, and bound over again for their debts,
or in some other way secured to a life-long
servitude.

Mr.—, a very wealthy and intelligent
planter, tells me he is to go over to Regla, tomorrow
morning, to see a lot of slaves offered
for sale to him, and asks me if I have ever
seen a sale of slaves. I never have seen that
sight, and accept his invitation. We are to
leave here at half-past six, or seven, at the
latest. All work is early here; I believe I
have mentioned that the hour of 'Change for
merchants is 7.30 a. m.