A Sojourn in Cuba 



shouts of the sentinels in measured time. Com 

 bined they made the most incessant sharp- 

 angled mass of noise that I ever was doomed 

 to hear. Nine or ten o clock found me in a small 

 bunk with the harbor wavelets tinkling outside 

 close to my ear. The hours of sleep were filled 

 with dreams of heavy heat, of fruitless efforts 

 for the disentanglement of vines, or of running 

 from curling breakers back to the Morro, etc. 

 Thus my days and nights went on. 



Occasionally I was persuaded by the captain 

 to go ashore in the evening on his side of the 

 harbor, accompanied perhaps by two or three 

 other captains. After landing and telling the 

 sailors when to call for us, we hired a carriage 

 and drove to the upper end of the city, to a fine 

 public square adorned with shady walks and 

 magnificent plants. A brass band in imposing 

 uniform played the characteristic lance-noted 

 martial airs of the Spanish. Evening is the 

 fashionable hour for aristocratic drives about 

 the streets and squares, the only time that is 

 delightfully cool. I never saw elsewhere people 



