Conquistadora - Esmeralda Santiago [13]
“I plan to sell those properties.”
“But there’s greater potential in the hacienda,” Inocente started, “than realizing a small profit in the short term,” Ramón finished.
“We looked into the accounts.” Inocente spread some pages in front of his father. “Tío Rodrigo has owned the farm in Caguas for five years. It’s closer to the capital than the plantation, and he used it as a retreat from the city.”
“Fruits, vegetables, chickens, and pork from the farm provisioned his ships,” Ramón said. “A husband and wife do the entire planting and harvesting with three grown sons who live on the property in exchange for a small plot where they grow their own food. They cared for Tío Rodrigo’s house when he was away, and when he was there, the wife and daughter cleaned and cooked. There are expenses here for day laborers when the manager and his family can’t keep up with the bounty.”
“We’ve studied the options,” Inocente said. “Colonel George Flinter’s book has helped us understand the possibilities.”
“Colonel Flinter?” Eugenio raised his eyebrows. He tasted his coffee. Cold.
“Do you know him?” Ramón asked eagerly.
“If it’s the same man … a red-faced, squinty-eyed, bellicose Irishman. He fought for Spain against Bolívar in Spanish America, then distinguished himself here against the Carlists.”
“His book was published in 1832,” Ramón said.
“—charged to report on the conditions of Puerto Rico—,” Inocente broke in.
“—with emphasis on agriculture,” Ramón added.
“I never would’ve guessed he was a writer.” Eugenio scratched his whiskers. “Although he could talk until your ears ached.…”
“In any case”—Inocente brought his father back to their discussion—“his report is quite informative. The yields per acre in Puerto Rico are superior to any in the West Indies.” He pointed to a column of figures. “Here, for example, you can see that rice produces three crops per annum, compared to nearby islands, like Hispaniola, which only harvest two a year.”
“Are you proposing to become rice farmers?” Eugenio was still trying to conjure Colonel Flinter beyond his braggadocio and impressive ability to drink anyone under the table.
“No, Papá,” Ramón said. “This is an example of how fertile the land is known to be. Look, yams, plantains, and oranges in Puerto Rico yield four times as much as anywhere in the West Indies.”
“We propose to develop the sugar hacienda, however,” Inocente continued. “The farm in Caguas works well, but the plantation on the other side of the island has been untended and the possibilities unexploited.”
“And the figures we looked at”—Ramón riffled through the papers—“indicate that sugar yields in Puerto Rico are five times as much as on other islands. Five times, Papá!”
“All this from Flinter’s report?” Eugenio was unable to let go of the image of the swaggering colonel masquerading as an expert on agriculture.
“It was a comprehensive study,” Inocente said. “His recommendations to Europeans looking to settle in Puerto Rico are clear and well examined.”
“We expect to turn a profit in five years,” Ramón explained.
“But neither of you has ever planted so much as a daisy.”
Ramón smiled. “We’ll be managing the people who do the work.”
Eugenio looked at his sons. Their faces were bright, open, and eager. He hadn’t seen them so enthusiastic about anything in years.
“You do know that the hacienda is worked by slaves?”
“Yes, Papá, we’re aware of that,” Inocente said. “But it’s not like Cuba or Jamaica, where the entire operation is done by slaves. In Puerto Rico they’re supplemented by day laborers.”
“But there will still be slaves working for you.”
“We plan to free them as soon as possible. Perhaps even after the first harvest,” Inocente said.
Eugenio could tell that the thought had only just occurred to his son. Ramón exchanged a grateful look with his brother.
“And you,” Eugenio turned to Ramón, “you’re soon to be married to a señorita who grew up with every possible comfort. Not all women are as adaptable as your mother.”
“Ana is not