XXII
Vera Cruz taken—Anti-American demonstrations—Refugees at the Embassy—A long line of visitors—A dramatic incident in the cable-office—Huerta makes his first and last call at the Embassy.
April 21st. 12.30
Nelson has been informed through Mexican sources—a most embarrassing way to get the news—that Vera Cruz was taken by our ships at eight o’clock this morning. (Cortés landed on April 21st, if I am not mistaken, though, of course, that isn’t much help to us now!) The line from Mexico City to Vera Cruz has been blown up. I am so worn out that I wouldn’t mind seeing even the Zapatistas climbing in at the windows. Aunt Laura has been sitting by my bed, wearing that pale-blue woolen jacket you sent me. She feels, after all these decades of Tehuantepec, a chill even in these lovely days. The situation she will find herself in after we go appalls me, but she is determined to remain. All these years she has watched the increasing glories and securities of Don Porfirio’s Mexico. One could go unarmed from the Rio Grande to Guatemala. Now, when the years begin to press upon her, she is caught up and ruined by present-day Mexican uncertainties, or rather, certainties. One knows one will lose everything one has here.
N. just looked in at the door to say we may have to leave via the Pacific (Manzanillo and San Francisco). Well, it is all in the hands of the Lord. Some time, some way, we are destined to be recalled from Mexico City. I wonder what Huerta is thinking of doing this morning. Will the situation weld together his divided people? I am thankful not to be among the hundreds—no, thousands—without bank accounts in New York, Chicago, Boston, or other places, who are being packed like sardines on transports for “home.” These are the real tragedies of the situation to us, though I can’t help thinking of the Mexican side. Several hundred thousand men, women, and children have been killed in various ways since Madero started for Mexico City—American gunners manning his guns.