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The world's latest refugee saga began three weeks ago, when an estimated 10,800 Cubans jammed into the Peruvian embassy compound in Havana seeking political asylum after guards were temporarily removed from the embassy's gates. The sight of these would-be exiles, demanding to leave Fidel Castro's so-called paradise, was deeply embarrassing to the Cuban President. With the world watching, he had no choice but to grant them exit visas. Eight nations eventually agreed to admit 6,250 of the exiles; the U.S. said that it would take 3,500, the largest single group. To hasten the exodus, Costa Rica organized twice-daily flights from Havana to San José, where the refugees could then be screened and sent on to the other nations.
After three days of airlifts and the evacuation of 678 exiles to San José, Castro abruptly ordered the Costa Rican flights suspended. Henceforth, Cuban authorities insisted, all refugees had to go directly to the countries where they planned to settle. Castro reportedly was annoyed that Costa Rican President Rodrigo Carazo himself welcomed the first planeload of refugees. More important, Castro was furious about the bad publicity Cuba was reaping in the Latin American press. To counter it, he staged a massive rally commemorating the anniversary of the 1961 Bay of Pigs invasion. More than a million Cubans marched through Havana, chanting "iQue se vayan!" (let them go) and hoisting signs reading ABAJO LA GUSANERA (down with the worms), a favorite Havana expression about expatriates.
Whether Castro anticipated what would happen after he suspended the Costa Rican mercy flights is unclear. What is certain is that he took full advantage of what began as a long-shot attempt by several Cubans now living in Miami to fetch some relatives and embassy refugees by boat. When Dos Hermanos and Blanchie III returned from Cuba with the exiles aboard, word raced through south Florida's community of 600,000 Cuban Americans that Castro was allowing boats to enter the port of Mariel, 27 miles west of Havana, to pick up refugees. Most important to the Cuban Americans, Castro was apparently willing to issue exit permits to any Cuban—not just the squatters at the Peruvian embassy.
Thus began the remarkable sealift. In Miami, boat stores quickly sold out of maps of the waters around Cuba. "We're selling anything that floats," said Oscar Rodriguez, manager of B & F marine store. "People are buying lifesavers, lamps, rope—anything, just as long as they need it on a trip to Cuba." Cars with boat trailers clogged the narrow two-lane road from the Florida mainland to Key West; some bore license plates from states as far away as New York. Drowsy Key West, just entering its off-season slumber, bucked to life as drivers steered their bulky rigs through the streets, looking for places to slip their boats into the water. "I am taking the chance because there may not be another time," explained Martin Larena, a Miami upholsterer who waited to set off in his 21-ft. launch. He hoped to be reunited with his son and granddaughter. Added Angel Hernandez, who hoped to bring back six relatives in his 38-ft. open runabout: "I don't know who will be waiting. We just hope."