ing the energy and undermining the health of any person compelled to stay there. Malaria and all kinds of diseases infested the locality, and no one but a young man of iron constitution and unquestioned courage and determination could withstand the horrors awaiting him there. But if plagues of noxious insects and reptiles beset the land, while malarial poison and fever germs filled the atmosphere with disease, and undrinkable water and uneatable food aided in destroying the health and vitality, and a climate insufferable because of its heat and humidity added its quota to the dread array of afflictions, yet all these fearful evils were more endurable than the social and political conditions which prevailed there. Under the administration of Colombia this region was the most shameless hotbed of murder, rapine, intrigue, revolution, and crime to be found on the earth. One wave of political assassination (euphemistically called revolution) was swiftly followed by another. Murder trod on the heels of murder, and the living dwelt in constant terror. Violence and anarchy stalking abroad; one military rule after another; bands of ragged, debauched, half-breed soldiers, living on loot and forced contributions; semi-bandits holding the reins of misgovernment through intrigues with military Jefes, appropriating to their own uses the revenues of the government, stifling all industry by their enormous levies of blackmail, disregarding all legal rights, international as well as domestic, so reads Colombia's wretched history, a long and blackened page of debauchery, bribery, iniquity, and crime. It seemed impracticable, if not impossible, to carry on the peaceful vocations of civilization in that stricken country. The unhappy land had known in seven years not twenty-four hours of peace. IV Such was the general situation, and such the disposition of pieces and of pawns upon the chess-board of the Isthmus, when, on November 3, 1903, the people of Panama, disgusted and outraged by the military oligarchy's rejection in Bogotá of the Hay-Herran Treaty, and by the recurring years of misrule and corruption (again become unendurable), raised once more, for the fiftieth or the hundredth time, the banner of revolution. President Roosevelt at once recognized the Republic of Panama, and the ensuing treaty guaranteed its independence. For once the "Latin-American International Lawyer" was confounded. The President's conduct in this connection was not open to the slightest criticism. Indeed his patriotism, energy, and moral courage had prevented the United States from being victimized by the Colombian guerrillas. After the Isthmian canal route had been secured through the treaty with Panama (the Hay-Varilla convention), ratifications of which were exchanged at Washington on February 26, 1904, Colombia contributed a plaintive little epilogue. General Rafael Reyes, then as now the dominant power there, proposed that if the President of the United States would undo what had been done, would subdue the infant Republic of Panama, and would restore it to the sovereignty of Colombia, the Colombian government would ratify the Hay-Herran Treaty, and give the United States all it asked - or even more. Not only was this amazing proposition highly incongruous, but, in fact, the terms of the Hay-Varilla Treaty are slightly more favorable to the United States than were those of the Hay-Herran proposed treaty as rejected by Colombia. General Reyes was too late. The Colombians had killed the goose that laid the golden egg. CHAPTER XV THE PANAMA MASSACRE IN 1856 HE massacre of Americans and other foreigners at Panama on April 15, 1856, was on a larger scale than the usual LatinAmerican atrocity. Generally the outrage is directed against an individual, or at best a few persons; in this case several hundred people were comprehended within the scope of the tragedy. On account of the gold excitement in California, travel from the Eastern States westward at this time was extremely heavy. The route across the Isthmus was by far the best one to the gold fields. The muleteers, boatmen, and innkeepers of the Isthmus had for some years been reaping a harvest in the transportation business; but the Panama Railroad, which was completed in 1855, cut off this source of revenue, and the natives now longed to be revenged upon the Americans for having introduced an institution that so adversely affected their business. About a thousand Americans, many of whom were women and children, had landed from the Illinois at Colon, and had crossed to Panama, expecting to embark in the John L. Stephens for San Francisco. This vessel was lying in the harbor about two miles off shore, and a small boat called the Taboga was to be used in transferring the passengers from the railway station to the steamer. There was a delay of several hours in Panama, until the tide should serve. A large number of the passengers remained in the railway station, while others went to hotels and eating-houses in the vicinity. A graphic description of the occurrence is given by Richard Belleville, in "Gunter's Magazine," for March, 1905, as follows: "A good many of the ladies were carrying large quantities of the precious metal, obtained by the sales of their old homes in the Eastern States, intended for the purchase of new homes upon the Pacific coast. Wells, Fargo, & Co.'s tariff being very high for the transportation of the treasure either to or from California, the ladies carried their funds secreted in their baggage or about their persons; in addition some of the male passengers bore around their waists belts full of gold pieces. - "This had become very well known during their few hours' passage across the Isthmus and sojourn in the town not only to the lower classes about the railway station, but also the Chief of Police and the Governor of Panama. It was an opportunity not to be missed. "Among the crowd of passengers unconsciously waiting for the shambles, slouched, sad to say, an American, with just enough bad whiskey in him to make him quarrelsome. He was called 'New York Jack,' and had arrived at Aspinwall by the steamer Philadelphia. He had already purchased from a negro huckster a slice of watermelon and eaten most of it. When the native demanded his pay, he refused it. "Gringo,' cried the native, 'give me my real!' "Go to the the devil!' hiccoughed drunken New York Jack. "A real, or your life blood, Americano!' The savage drew his machete threateningly. "The black eyes of the fifty or sixty dark-skinned lounging muleteers and boatmen began to grow lurid. They approached their compatriot. Upon the delicate American ladies and children and the helpless passengers fell threatening glances. "Noting this, another American stepped beside the drunken one and said diplomatically, 'Here's your real, blackie!' tossing the huckster a coin. "Hang it, the nigger was trying to b-bully me,' hiccoughed the drunken American, trying to draw a revolver. "The next second there was the sound of a pistol-shot, and riot, plunder, and murder were let loose upon the defenceless Americans, who in a foreign land, in some cases burdened with their women and children, were almost helpless in the presence of a debased and armed mob. "With a rush a hundred natives armed with machetes were upon them. It was as sudden as the massacre of Saint Bartholomew ! "At this moment the bells of the church of Santa Anna were heard sounding the alarm, and the Cuinago, or native portion of the town next the railroad depot, was already alive with hurrying blacks. "Many lives had not been taken before the American consul, Mr. Ward, McLane, the agent of the Pacific Mail Company, and Nelson of the railroad, with some other residents of Panama, tried to stop the contest; but some of the passengers had drawn their pistols and the passions of the natives, pent up for over a year against the railroad company, had now become as uncontrollable as a tropic hurricane. A man named Willis had hastily rolled a sixpounder out of the railroad depot and trained it, loaded to the muzzle, down the lane running between the palm-thatched huts towards the Cuinago, which was crowded with the mixed races of the Isthmus. "Suddenly a bugle was heard. It heralded the police, headed by Garrido, their chief, marching from the main town of Panama. Barefooted, but armed with muskets and well-filled cartridge boxes, they came tramping on. "A cry of joy arose from the American ladies and children who had not as yet escaped to the steamboat. 'Law and order!' shouted one of the Americans. 'We're all right now!' said Willis, and turning away the sixpounder he rolled it back into the depot. "The bugle sounded again. As its notes rang out, there was a crashing volley from the police; shrieks arose from the crowd of passengers as men fell dying and Mr. de Sabla, secretary of the United States consul, and Palmer, an employé of the railroad, sank wounded to the earth. us!' "It's a mistake!' cried the passengers. The police are firing upon "Another crashing volley! Mistake no more! It was no riot. It was a - massacre, conducted by the police of Panama, their chief at their head, the governor of the city looking on.1 "Supported by agents of the law, the attacking natives rushed upon the Ocean House, still full of guests unarmed and entirely defenceless. Into the hotel they broke, cutting and shooting at every one they encountered. The bar, well stored with liquors, was soon gutted. "The mob, now half drunk, made their way upstairs and broke open and robbed every trunk belonging to the passengers, even to those of women and children, while the police fired into the Ocean House regular volleys through its thin partitions, windows, and doors, riddling the building, killing a few and wounding many more. "Then the police drove the horde of natives out of the hotel, and thus obtained for themselves a considerable amount of money. "The passengers who had escaped from the Ocean House and the Pacific House, which had suffered a similar fate, now ran to the railroad depot. In it at least five hundred people were congregated, many of them trying to escape along the wharf to the Taboga and some being shot while doing it. "Here was the main and most shocking scene, not only of robbery and pillage, but of murder. The floor was covered with blood mingled with the papers of the passengers and the railroad company. Hundreds of trunks were broken open and their contents looted or scattered upon the ground. "While the police were firing on the depot and passengers from one side, the mob broke into the depot on the other, where in cold blood they murdered many of the defenceless while on their knees supplicating for mercy. "During the whole continuance of the riot the mob were engaged in robbing individual passengers, without regard to the sex, depriving them of all valuables and baggage, even taking rings from the fingers and earrings from the ears of the ladies. This was all done in the presence of the governor, Don Francesca de Fabriga." "Having destroyed all they could lay their hands upon in the railroad depot, the crowd now turned their attention to the rest of the passengers who had escaped on board the Taboga, but desisted in their attack, for the boat, having steam up, was ready to move. In addition, they probably feared that should the commotion proceed to the water the United States sloop-of-war St. Mary's, at anchor at some distance out in the bay, might take part in it. “Then the rabble began to vent their hatred upon the Panama Railroad Company and commenced tearing up its tracks and destroying it. "But word of the émeute having reached Captain Bailey of the war-vessel, though astounded at such an utterly unexpected outrage, he very shortly afterwards took active measures for the defence of the American passengers. "When order was restored, lying about the railroad depot and the Pacific and Ocean houses were the corpses of eighteen Americans and foreign residents, among them those of a lady and two little children. A large number were badly wounded, one of the ladies having her hand shattered to pieces by a musket ball and another being shot through the shoulder. All these wounds were produced by the firearms of the police, as very few of the natives carried more than their usual machetes. G. M. Totten, the engineer of the Panama Railroad, specifically charged this in his report of April 18, 1856. This is quoted from the report of G. M. Totten, engineer of the Panama Railroad, April 18, 1856. |