No. 81.
Mr. Scruggs
to Mr. Frelinghuysen.
July 5, 1882. (Received August 9.)
Sir: In making the voyage from the United States to Colombia we must embark at New York, either for Aspinwall or Sabanilla; for between our southern ports and those of Colombia there is no direct line of communication, nor is there any direct line between the ports of Cuba and those of Colombia. Between New York and Sabanilla there is now, however, a direct line of ocean steamers, owned by an American company; but, under our present navigation laws, these steamers can neither obtain an American register nor sail under the American flag.
By embarking on a steamer of this new line—the North and South [Page 143] American Steam Navigation Company—we should reach Cartajena or Sabanilla within eight days, making one call at the Bahamas.
Cartajena, as you are aware, is one of the oldest of the Spanish American seaports. In the time of Philip the Second it was one of the strongest naval stations in the world. Its fortifications, still in fair condition, seem to have been constructed without regard to expense, and for all time. The massive walls of the city are still, to all appearances, impregnable, and the ancient subterranean passes leading outward to the foot-hills of the adjacent mountains are still visible. The entrance to the magnificent harbor is studded with ancient fortifications, which, though now unused for more than half a century, seem almost as good as new. Formally, the city was connected by ship channel with the river Magdalena, at a point many leagues above the delta, and was, therefore, in easy communication with the fertile valleys and plateaux of the interior; the gate of commerce in time of peace, and secure alike from protracted siege or successful assault in time of war.
The decline of Cartajena seems to have commenced with the present century, and to have steadily continued to within the past fifteen years, when the commerce of the country began to revive. In the mean time the ship canal, connecting the port with the great fluvial highway of the interior, having fallen into disuse, became filled up and overgrown with tropical jungle; so that the few foreign trading vessels visiting the coast sought harborage farther up, within easy distance of the river, near the present site of Sabanilla. Meantime, the short railway of 14 miles, which connects this new harbor of Sabanilla with the river at Barranquilla, had been projected and built by a German company; and thus, through the apparent apathy of its property owners, Cartajena found itself supplanted by Barranquilla—a new city of some 25,000 inhabitants, the outgrowth of steam navigation on the Magdalena. But the harbor of Sabanilla, though now the principal one of the republic, is neither convenient nor safe. It is shallow, full of shifting sand-bars, and exposed to furious wind-storms; while the new port of Barranquilla is quite inaccessible from the delta, by reason of its treacherous sandbars. So that, with the opening of the ancient dique or ship channel between Cartajena and Calamar, or the construction of a railway between the first named point and Barranquilla (both of which enterprises are being agitated), Cartajena will regain her ancient prestige and become the chief port of the republic.
The great valley of the Magdalena, extending from the Caribbean coast to the equatorial line, is one of inexhaustible natural resources. Its width varies from 100 to 150 miles before gradually sloping to a point on the northern borders of Equador. At the mouth of the river Cauca this valley branches off into another of less general width but of greater elevation, and consequently possessing a more equable and temperate climate. The river Cauca is itself navigable by light-draught steamers as far up as Cali, a point less than 80 miles from the port of Buenaventura, on the Pacific coast.
The lower valley of the Magdalena is one vast alluvial plain, a large portion of which is subject to periodical overflow. In fact, during the rainy season, the greater portion of it is usually under water. This, however, might be prevented, and the fertile lands reclaimed, by a system of dikes far less expensive than those on the lower Mississippi. But in a country like this, where population is sparse, and nature lavish in her bounties, such enterprises are not readily undertaken.
As we ascend the river to a point some 250 miles above Barranquilla, the banks become higher and better defined. Here inundations are [Page 144] infrequent, and the soil incredibly fertile. In the days of the Spanish viceroyalty this was the garden of New Granada, and traces of the magnificent estates of the old hidalgos are still visible. But these rich plantations seem to have been abandoned when emancipation of negro slavery was proclaimed in 1824; and few of them have since been reclaimed. They are now mere grazing grounds for immense herds of ungroomed and almost unattended cattle, and many of them are completely overgrown by thick, impenetrable jungle and forest. The negro and his descendants, who now inhabit this once prosperous region, lives an idle, shiftless sort of life, subsisting upon the indigenous fruits and fish. Agriculture receives very little attention, and cattle-breeding is the chief industry, even among the more ambitious and enterprising of the inhabitants. Within the past few years, however, there has been a very marked improvement. A number of small villages and trading stations have sprung up all along the margins of the river, where small merchants have established a kind of barter trade, and ship fruits, cattle, hides, eggs, poultry and palm nuts to the coast, receiving in return small supplies of foreign goods, such as cotton cloth, cheap jewelry and other small articles of American, English or German manufacture. But the chief commerce of the river is the carrying trade between Barran-quilla and Honda; the last named place being the great inter-depot for the shipment of coffee, indigo, tobacco, quina bark, hides, minerals, and other exports of the interior table lands of the Andes. This trade now employs over twenty river steamers, besides a number of bungoes which constantly ply between the two points named.
The river itself is one of the physical curiosities of this region. With its source a little southward of the equatorial line, it flows in general direction due northward with a current of greater average rapidity than the Mississippi, and carries an average volume of water nearly as great. Its waters, always muddy, are often so charged with sand and sediment that a tinkling metallic sound is distinctly audible from the upper deck of the steamer. In many places it is full of counter-currents and whirlpools, not unlike those seen in the great Yangtze in eastern Asia, uprooting trees and cutting away the loaming banks, filling in new islands and carrying away old ones, and thus constantly changing its main channel. In some places its waters are expanded over an immense plain to the width of from two to five miles; in others they are forced into a narrow channel between the extending foot-hills of the adjacent mountains where the rapidity of the current renders its ascent by steamers difficult and dangerous. Thus, from Nare to Honda, a distance of some two hundred miles, it is little else than a mere succession of whirlpools and cataracts; and the motive power of the steamers being necessarily out of all proportion to their tonnage, accidents and wrecks are not unusual. No wonder that, on a river like this, freights are incredibly high and the rates of insurance beyond precedent.
The entire distance from Barranquilla to Honda, following the tortuous course of the river, is 780 miles, and the voyage usually requires from ten to twenty days, according to the state of the water. In making it we pass through three distinct grades or belts of country, distinct alike as to soil, topography, climate, scenery, and the general appearance and character of the inhabitants. The first 200 miles is, as I have said, little else than an expanse of swamp, overgrown by reeds and rushes alternated by occasional spots of dry laud, inhabited only by negroes and mulattoes. The next 300 miles is likewise a vast plain on either side, but seldom subject to overflow; the site of abandoned plantations alternated by dense forest and occasional patches of maize and banana.
[Page 145]The mango and the plantain are indigenous, and the bread-fruit and calabash tree are often seen. The remainder of the journey is through the volcanic region, where the fertility of the soil, salubrity of the climate, and majesty and grandeur of the scenery combine to make a most desirable country, but which has been heretofore carefully avoided by the industrious emigrant for the sole reason, perhaps, that its government has been too unsettled or unstable to insure protection to the rights of person and property.
The inhabitants of this volcanic region differ as widely from those of the coast and lower valley as the two regions of country differ in general aspect; and this difference is equally well defined whether we regard their peculiarities of dialect, their personal appearance, or their daily habits of thought and life. The Indian and his descendants, who constitute the basis of population in the upper valley, are deferential and often courteous in manner and language; while the negro and his descendants, who constitute the basis of the population in the lower valley, are usually irreverent, aggressive, quarrelsome, and shamelessly immoral. The uplander speaks the Castilian with tolerable accuracy and purity, while the lowlander employs a kind of jargon which is often unintelligible even to his own countrymen of the table lands. The Indian seldom drinks anything stronger than a decoction of molasses and maize, called chiche, which, although very stupefying, is never intoxicating, while the mulatto drinks a vile species of native brandy, called aguardiente, which is very fiery and intoxicating. Both peoples are very superstitious, but in opposite directions. The highlander believes in modern miracles, spiritual epiphanies, and angelic guidance and visitations, and is governed almost entirely by a deep religious sentiment, directed by the Roman Church. The lowerlander believes in charms, incantations, and witchcraft, but pays little or no attention to the church or its requirements. The first seems to delight in rendering a kind and hospitable service without expecting anything in return; the second never thinks of doing a kind or benevolent act or of rendering a polite service, without pay. The one is reticent and dignified, often evasive and untruthful, but never uncivil or inhospitable; the other is garrulous, profane, and often uncivil, ready to assert his fancied “equality” upon all possible occasions, quick to quarrel, and difficult to appease when excited or angry. The Indian is naturally docile, obedient to authority, and conservative in his habits of thought and life. The mulatto, on the other hand, is a constitutional pessimist, and is ready for a “revolution” upon short notice and upon the slightest pretext.
I have, &c.,