April 29th. Morning
The norte still threatens, but up to now, with falling glass, there has been only a slight stirring of heavy, lifeless air.
Yesterday morning we went on shore at ten, and found the auto before the door of the Terminal station (otherwise Admiral Fletcher’s headquarters). A French chauffeur, risen up from somewhere, was sitting in it. No use inquiring into the genesis of things these days. We took Captain Simpson down to his old headquarters on the Paseo de los Cocos. He wanted to see Captain Niblack, who had replaced him in command. Then we drove down through the town to the “roundhouse,” bowing to friends and acquaintances on every side, and feeling unwontedly comfortable and cool.
The roundhouse makes ideal quarters—a huge coolness, with plenty of room for all the avocations of camp life. After wading through a stretch of sand under a blazing sky, we found Major Butler in his “headquarters”—a freight-car—but with both opposite doors rolled back, making the car cool and airy. Two of his officers were with him. He is himself a man of exhaustless nervous energy, and the A. B. C. combination hangs like a sword over his head. He could go forward and wipe up the coast to Panama, if he had the chance, he and his set of dauntless men. A few disconsolate-looking mules and horses were browsing in the dry, sandy grass near by; they had been taken against payment.
“In the good old days in Nicaragua it was otherwise. You took what you needed. This government running things is too pious and honest to suit me,” was his disgruntled observation when I asked if the steeds belonged to him.
The order and tranquillity of this town is maintained by force of arms and is complete. Since the desultory shots heard Friday night, sniping being then in full force, there has been silence along the dark waters; silence in every cul-de-sac, and silence on every roof.
At twelve we went back for Captain Simpson. We had a glimpse of Captain Niblack and Captain Gibbons, looking very big and effective in their khaki clothes. We left N. at the Diligencias, under the arcades, where people still drink lukewarm liquids, though Captain Simpson said he had told them where they could get cart-loads of ammonia for the repairing of the ice-plant. At one o’clock I had a very pleasant tête-à-tête lunch with Captain Simpson. He was naval attaché in London before getting the Minnesota, and we found ourselves, for once, talking of people and things far removed from Vera Cruz. A note came for Nelson from Captain Huse, saying the admiral wanted to confer with him, and Captain Simpson sent a man to find Nelson and deliver it. Afterward, Captain Moffett of the Chester came on board. He has been a friend of ours from the first, a very agreeable man, always au courant with events as they really are. We are all hoping that the matter of the affairs of Americans being taken out of the hands of Sir Lionel and given to the Brazilians would not get into the newspapers. It might lead to hard feeling between the nations and individuals concerned. Captain Watson of the Essex then appeared on board, with the Baron and Baroness von Hiller, and we all went in his launch to the outer harbor, which I had not yet seen—the view being completely blocked by the Condé, which also hid the handsome Essex, really very near us. Oh, the glory and majesty and potency of the United States as there depicted! Great dreadnoughts, destroyers, torpedo-boats, every imaginable craft, nearly eighty of them—and for what? To pry a sagacious and strong old Indian out of a place and position that he has proved himself eminently well fitted to fill. Captain Ballinger’s hydroplane, operated by Mustin, was circling above the harbor, coming from time to time to rest upon the water like some creature equally at home in sky or sea.
In the evening we went to dine with the von Hillers, aboard the Ypiranga. Admiral Cradock and Captain Watson were also there. Captain Watson told me of the return of Commander Tweedie, who had brought down from Soledad in his private car two hundred and six American men, women, and children, whom he had found dumped on sand-dunes, and who had been without food and without drink for twenty-four hours. I don’t know the details, but I will ask Tweedie to lunch to-morrow. This much I do know—that the English, whose help we have refused, continue to display their strong arms and kind hearts and have been angels of mercy to our ruined and distracted countrymen.
After dinner we went up on deck, where Captain Bonath of the Ypiranga joined the party. He was more than polite to N. and myself, in a frozen way, but the air was charged and tense, and the look of surprise, indignation, and resentment not yet gone from his face. In the course of the conversation it came out that the Brazilian consul in Vera Cruz is a Mexican! There was a scarcely perceptible shrug of the shoulders on the part of the captain, and Captain Watson caught and then avoided his eye. To all inquiries and innuendoes we have only answered that, as Washington seemed to put some hope in the A. B. C. mediation affair, it was thought best, at home, to pay Brazil the compliment of putting our affairs in her hands. The fact is that all that has been done at this special moment for our needy and suffering ones has been accomplished by the long, strong arm of England. Rowan, who was also at dinner, came away with us and we walked along the pier through our lines of sentinels pacing everywhere in the heavy darkness. Away back in the country, on the dim distant sand-dunes they are pacing too, alert, prepared for any surprise.
When we came out to the Minnesota not a breath was stirring over the glassy water. Captain Simpson met us at the gangway. I told him the air was a little tense on shore, and added that I wanted to have Tweedie come to see us to-morrow. So we arranged luncheon for to-day. Captain Simpson remarked, with his usual broad outlook, “The nations will have to work out things in their own way; but we, the individuals, can always show appreciation and courtesy.”