THE WAR

A letter from the special correspondent of "L'éclair": the defence works on Key-West Island

Key-West, 6th June.

I was able to resume the walk so tragically interrupted the other day and I must admit that I was no longer worried. The more I reflect and observe what is going on around me, the less I can explain how Captain Merril could have been so naive as to think that he had got hold of Spanish spies. Regardless of the obvious evidence to the contrary, which should have opened his eyes, he could have told himself that the presence of a spy in Key West is perfectly superfluous and worthless.

Although Key West is the base of operations for the American fleet in the current war, I wonder what a spy could be doing here. On this islet, where communications with the mainland are not very easy, there is very little information about what is happening in the theatre of war. The only newspaper published here, the "Key-West Herald", is a rag that cannot, as you would expect, afford good correspondents. So you have to see the stew it serves up to its readers every day. As for communicating with the sailors of the warships that periodically come to refuel with coal and food, and learning something from them, don't even think about it. They are strictly forbidden to go ashore. Besides, what could they learn that would be important?

I suppose Captain Merril didn't imagine that I wanted to take the plans of the island's fortifications. Half the Spaniards in Cuba know Key-West like the back of their hand, and if Marshal Blauco had wanted information, even if he hadn't, he would have had plenty to choose from without having to resort to spies. Besides, everyone knows that Key West is completely safe from attack, not because of its fortifications, but because of its natural situation. The reefs that surround it, like so many advanced sentinels, form an impassable barrier to enemy vessels. With a few sea mines in the channel leading to the port, Key-West is absolutely safe.

This allows me to give my opinion on the island's fortifications more freely, without fear of committing any indiscretion and prejudicing the Americans.

Kev-West's defences are not serious. I am speaking only for the record of the old fortifications to the north and east, which are falling into ruin and which the Americans, quite rightly, have not seen fit to replace. But it is the two forts in the south-east of the island, which are said to be modern, that I want to criticise. They are modern in name only. They are two sections of concrete wall six metres wide and ten metres high overlooking the sea. On the other hand, as far as I'm told, their weapons are excellent, and they have the latest battery systems. However, I don't think they're in a position to offer any vigorous resistance.

In short, Key-West is not a favourable point for information and I would have left it long ago to return to Tampa if I had not been held back by the secret hope of being able to make an excursion to Cuba at any moment. I have every reason to believe that the opportunity will not be long in coming.

In the meantime, I'm taking advantage of my stay in Key-West to take a close look at the Cubans living here. In a way, it's a study before its time. The Cubans, who make up the majority of the population of Key-West, are generally small and thin; their faces are very intelligent, their eyes very bright, but they have no energy. They have a great deal of imagination and exaltation of ideas, but no activity or action. The Cuban women of Key-West are very brown little dolls, with huge eyes, pale complexion, shapeless and extremely nonchalant. In Florida, and especially in Key-West, Cuban houses are easily recognised by the fact that the women always sit nonchalantly on their doorsteps, smoking cigarettes.

The indomitable energy shown by the insurgents in Cuba is astonishing when you see the life led by their compatriots here. They spend all day stretched out in the sun like lizards, and in the evening they frequent the revolutionary clubs to which they belong. After all, every self-respecting Cuban must belong to a club. This explains why, for a town of 18,000 inhabitants, there are no fewer than 32 of them. It goes without saying that exaltation is now very high in all these parlotes and that the news of the war is greeted and commented on with enthusiasm. All these clubs are in agreement at the moment, but I fear that they will not be as much in agreement when it comes to organising the famous Cuban Republic, if it ever sees the light of day.