TODAY, AS I CLOSE the last pages of ANSWER (the original Spanish edition of this book) with these words, the date is March 10th, a date which will appear bloodless in the history of revolutions, as will that of September 4, 1933. Terror, insidious propaganda, lies, have tried to bury it under avalanches of mud.
The Castro Bohemia has extended its corrosive interest to the land where Columbus lived before the discovery of Cuba. Two days ago we completed six months on this island of dreams ( Madeira), which a magazine describes as devastated by the winds of Africa without woods or cultivation, with transportation limited to oxen and "inhabited by a primitive population descended from 90,000 African Negroes whom the Marquis de Pombal imported when the earthquake of 1775 destroyed a large part of old Lisbon." All this is untrue, nor is the ethnic statement credible, although there is no racial discrimination in the Madeiras or in continental Portugal.
Dawn of September 8th caught us navigating the waters around Porto Santo, one of the islands, which, with the Desertas, the Salvagem, and Madeira, make up the archipelago. A sunlit noon permitted us to contemplate the spectacle of the green mountains in all their splendor. When we doubled Cape Garajau, dominated by the image of the Redeemer, the sight of a beautiful garden city took us by surprise. It was the small capital, Funchal, with its active commerce, populous streets paved with stones polished by the sea, and with a heavy traffic of shiny buses and modern taxis imported from Europe. The inhabitants, mostly white Portuguese and a small English colony, are very