Evening Republican, Volume 19, Number 193, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 16 August 1915 — San Juan De Ulua [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

San Juan De Ulua

THE ancient fortress of San Juan de Ulua, which General Carranza kept for a time as his official residence and which he has decreed shall no longer be used as a military prison, stands well out in the harbor of Vera Cruz and is joined to the main land only by a narrow breakwater. The fortress was built by the Spanish conquerors of Mexico and for many years has been used by the Mexican authorities to imprison military and political offenders.

When the American forces occupied Vera Cruz a correspondent explored the prison from the topmost ramparts to the deepest, darkest dungeon beneath the sea, and this is the story he wrote: Grim, gaunt and forbidding, rising sheer from the blue inner harbor of Vera Cruz, there lies the castle of San Juan de Ulua, a name which is whispered in terror throughout Mexico. There are tales of its dungeons and labyrinth of secret passages; there are tales of a quiet and secluded opening along the sea wall, where, in the shadow of night, straining forms have plipped shapeless bulks in sacks over the sill to the tongues of the lapping waves—sacks which struggled 'and screamed in terror —and the black waters have been cut by the lightning rush of triangular fins as the sharks claimed their human prey; and more tales, of firing squads at break of day facing a bullet-pocked wall; and still other tales of men immured within the walls in their youth—and their names forgotten when the burial squad carried the remains from out the reeking dungeons. A launch carried the visitors across the harbor to the castle. The way winds about to the northward. Entrance was gained into the shallow moat, where a landing was effected on the counterscarp steps which lead to the outer defenses of the bridgehead.

Fortress Is Ancient. The fortress is an ancient one, of the Vauban type, yet every twist and turn, every ramification and addition of art of defense, portcullis and drawbridge, caponniers, machicolation, bastion and keep, all are there. An arching bridge leads across the moat to the main part of the castle. The waters of the moat are of a peculiar green clearness, yet with the impression of sliminess. In places the walls of the fortress are crumbling with age, white and ghastly, the color of long-imprisoned faces, and two-inch slits in the masonry’s ponderousness tell of the only glimmer of light which finds its way into dungeons. A suggestion of modernness is added by the larger ports which are barred with imbedded iron rails, yet even they are flaking away with the rust caused by the salt air and the salt sea.

Within the irregular-shaped walls lies the parade ground, of sunken and fallen granite and flag, worn deep in places by the tread of a host of forgotten feet, and in crevices, as though in an effort to lend a gleam of cheer to oppressiveness, nature has made grass to struggle for an existence. In the Musty Cells. The officers in charge directed that the main cell gate be opened, and the prison proper was entered. Under an archway the light of day became a gloom, and within the first gate there lay another entrance, within the bars of which an evil-looking prisoner remained as trusty. . At the rear of this reception chamber there rose the barred and crossbarred grille of the great cellroom, at whose rounds there clung a hundred whitened hands, while half as many pallid faces pressed against the iron and peered wonderingly at the strangers in khaki.

A musty, damp odor emerged from the entrance and struck the visitors full in the face. Then, as the interior was gained, the mustiness became an odor, the odor a stench, and the stench overwhelmingly repulsive—nauseating. The only light came from far above, through grilled openings in the vaulted ceiling; and the light

struck only upon a tiny spot directly beneath, while the rest of the cavern was plunged in a deep darkness, through which shadowy forms seemed to slink. From the main cell, which is practically four long vaults connected by archways, some of the lesser cells were entered, and then the dungeons. There is a small cell reached by a ladder, neither high enough for a small man to stand erect in nor stretch out full length. It was vacant at the time, but there was a crust of bread in the corner. The dungeons are long, low cells, with barred gate at one end and blank wall at the other. Through the gloom, straining eyes could dimly make out drawings and writings on the walls. Here and there a roughly drawn cross told of a release from suffering—a release which came not by the hand of man.

Dungeons Under Sea. The old trusty, careful to explain that he had been there but nine asked other prisoners about the entrance to the subterranean passages to dungeons under the sea—then pointed it out. More rusty keys were called into trial, and, finally, a grim passageway was unbarred and we looked in. The darkness was so dense that the faint light of a modern oil lantern seemed unable to penetrate, and a slimy, sloping footway led onward and disappeared into blackness. The stench was there, too, more horrible than above, and the dampness and the mustiness. A step within, close to the dripping wall, and a metallic jangle sounded; the lantern flashed to the left showed a dangling chain, handcuff on end, which had been brushed against. No one seemed to know where the passageway led, the mud was deepening, the light dim and the place ghostly. A further advance, with growing chills running adown the ,spine, revealed cells, cells —chains, chains —and a freshly mortared block of stone at the end of the wall. And here exploration necessarily ended.

VIEW OC THE FORTRESS