American marines had already been landed to guard the Treasury and a large force of United States troops, under General Frederick Funston, was in readiness to sail at once for Havana.
There was a strong sentiment among the better elements of Cubans, and an almost unanimous expression on the part of foreign residents, in favour of annexation to the United States. Indeed, feeling ran so high on this point, and especially among those, of whatever nationality, with financial interests at stake in Cuba, that it was thought for a time that an effort would be made to stampede or force the United States government into such action. But Mr. Taft’s Philippine experience proved of value to him in this crisis, and his proclamation provided only for a provisional government “to last long enough to restore order and peace and public confidence.” The Cuban flag was not hauled down; no Cuban official was to be disturbed in the discharge of his regular duties; and the American flag was to fly over nothing but American troops. In other words, the Cuban Republic was not to cease for an instant to exist. It was a curious situation.
Shortly after the provisional government was instituted, Mr. Magoon was appointed to relieve Mr. Taft in the office of governor, and was instructed to proceed at once to Havana. Mr. Taft cabled me and Mr. Bacon cabled to Mrs. Bacon, asking if we did not want to accompany Mr. Magoon, and, of course, we immediately decided to do so. We sailed on the Mascotte with the battleship Texas in our wake, carrying three hundred marines from Norfolk, and for the first time in my life I felt as if I were actually “going to war.” There was such a sense of rush throughout the whole performance that it seemed tremendously serious. As a matter of fact, intervention was accomplished without the firing of a single gun, and when we landed at Havana, on the afternoon of the 10th of October, just twenty days after Mr. Taft’s arrival on the scene, the principal enterprise in progress was the disarmament of insurgent troops which was by that time almost completed.
When we landed in Cuba I found myself once again, although only for the moment “the first lady of the land,” and we were received with much ceremony. It reminded me of Manila days.
As we passed the Cabañas fortress at the entrance of Havana harbour the Texas fired a salute and the echo of the answering guns cracked and rattled from piers and surrounding seawalls. Everything in the harbour dipped its flag as we came in, while from out of the maze of battleships and cruisers, transports, merchant vessels and shore boats we saw a launch approaching in the bow of which I could easily make out my husband’s generous proportions. With him were his colleague, Mr. Bacon, his aide, Captain McCoy, and a second aide, Captain José Marti, an artilleryman and son of an old Cuban patriot whom he had appointed to this position, to the intense gratification of the Cuban people.
A second launch followed, bearing General Funston and his aide, Captain Cloman, while a third full of Cuban newspaper men brought up the rear. These newspaper men were the most engaging reporters I ever encountered. They didn’t approach Mrs. Bacon and me with pads and pencils and a few ill-considered questions. No, indeed. They came bearing flowers, great, gorgeous bouquets for each of us, and we were permitted to receive these without having to say anything more compromising than: “It was a very pleasant voyage, thank you,” and, “Yes, indeed, we are very glad to get to Havana.”
When we reached the wharf of the Captain of the Port we found a large gathering of American naval officers and Cuban citizens, and we were formally welcomed by Señor Julio de Cardenas, the Mayor of Havana, who was continuing to exercise his official authority exactly as if nothing unusual had occurred. He was accompanied by the members of the City Council and with them later escorted us to the Palace.
As Mrs. Bacon and I stepped into our carriage the commander of the rebel army and his wife came up to welcome us with what the paper that evening described as “a floral offering,” but we saw nothing of the deposed President or his followers. Upon his resignation he had gone down into the country, where he was said to have been received with marked enthusiasm and sympathy. Nobody ever accused President Palma of being anything but an honest man and a sincere patriot, the victim of political chicanery on the part of his supporters. It was afterward shown that he could easily have been reelected without trickery, but dishonest politics were the only kind of politics that his people had yet learned how to play.
When we arrived at the Palace, Mr. Taft, Mr. Bacon and Mr. Magoon went into a long conference in the governor’s office, while I wandered around the imposing building. It was about as cheerful as a mortuary chapel. It seemed to be admirably adapted for the display of gold lace, gorgeous decorations and lofty martial manners. After a brief inspection I sought the spacious discomfort of my own room and an hour’s repose under a betasseled canopy.
Mr. Magoon was not to assume the office of governor until disarmament was completed and an amnesty proclamation had been issued. Mr. Taft intended to leave him with no insurgents except those who refused to give
