In those days, Maunabo still relished its privacy—or, more accurately, still had privacy to relish. The previous summer, the railroad men in San Juan (in their infinite wisdom) had sent their hired German engineer, with his big bushy yellow beard and his haphazardly-stored explosives and his crew of indefatigable carrileros, to poke around the SierraContinue reading “El Maquinista: Maunabo, October 1891 (Prologue)”