ILLINOIS
UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN
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917.29
G19SA WEST INDIES PALMA SNAP-SHOT
IN
The West IndiesA SNAP-SHOT
IN
The West Indies.
A THIRTY-FIVE DAY TRIP
F. P. GARRETTSON.
NEWPORT, R, I.
HERALD PUBLISHING COMPANY, 1902.
TO ALL THOSE WHO MAY SAIL THE SAME SEA.PREFACE.
Prefaces are generally superfluous and rarely read, so it is here omitted.
Newport, R. /.,
April 15, 1902.CONTENTS.
CHAPTER.		PAGE.
I.	The Voyage Out	17
IL	Bermuda . . , .	23
III.	San Juan	31
IV.	St. Croix	42
Y.	Ponce . .	52
VI.	Martinique .	56
VIL	St. Lucia . .	68
VIII.	Barbadoes	80
IX.	Dominica	121
X.	Neyis and St. Kitts	132
XI.	St. Thomas	143
XII.	Santiago	155
XIII.	Havana . .	164
XIV.	Homeward	169
XV.	Conclusion	172
XVI.	Destruction of St. Pierre	177ILLUSTRATIONS.
1.	West Indies Palm	Frontispiece
2.	Morro Castle, San Juan	31
3.	St. Croix . . .	42
4.	Government Palace, Fredricksted	44
5.	Women Washing Clothes, St. Croix	47
6,	Market Place, Fredricksted	49
7.	Spanish Home, Ponce	52
8.	St. Pierre .	56
9.	Diving Boys, St. Pierre	58
10.	Village Scene, Martinique .	60
11.	Near St. Pierre, Martinique	65
12.	Women Coaling, St. Lucia .	69
13.	Laborers & Diving Boys, St. Lucia	74
14.	Fishing Boats, St. Lucia	77
15.	Village Street Scene, Barbadoes	. 81
16.	Road to Hastings, Barbadoes	113
17.	Fording Brook, Dominica	. 122
18.	Nevis . . .	133
19.	Sugar Mill & Cane Field, Nevis	135
20.	View of St. Kitts	137
21.	View of St. Kitts	141
22.	Blue Beard Castle, St. Thomas	147
23.	Morro Castle, Santiago	155
24.	Street in Santiago ....	157
25.	Surrender Tree, Santiago	159
26.	Street in Santiago ....	161
27.	Government Palace, Santiago	163
28.	Map of West Indies . . .	183THE VOYAGE OUT.
ON a bitterly cold day, the 6th of February, a ship load of tourists was hugging the leeward side of the Madiana at Pier 47, N. R., New York, endeavoring to keep warm and saying their last goodbyes to a host of friends and relatives. At last a long blast pealed forth the warning, “ All ashore that’s going ashore.” In half an hour, the tugs puffed, the lines cast off and the screw began- its churn. Crunch, crash, went the solid cakes of up river ice, as we backed out in the stream, and swung around straight for the narrows. We heard the bells “ ahead full speed” and off we were through an Arctic field for a trip to the West Indies.
We dropped our pilot off the Hook; gave him a parting cheer, and then began to look around and size up ship and passengers. We found the Madiana a staunch screw A 118	THE VOYAGE OUT.
Lloyds steamer, 3080 tons, good beam and length, and if she had a stub smoke stack could easily have been taken for an old Cun-arder. She formerly was a Castle liner from England to Cape Town, and admirably adapted for tropical cruising.
Our rooms were large, comfortable and well ventilated. We soon straightened things out, “ sized up” our stewards, and they in turn did likewise by us. On deck again until dinner, we hugged the smokestack and began to make friends.
On the bridge we beheld a jolly looking fellow, and from his makeup, we knew he was the boss, in short Captain Frazer. We found out later that he lived in Jersey and the only lie he was ever known to make, was that he never had a mosquito in his house. He was a blue nose, down Halifax way, and condescended to leave King Edward’s realm and become a Jerseyite. He is not quite sure whether he will ever become an Ameri-
can.19
THE VOYAGE OUT.
Now the Captain is a very modest fellow and did not tell of certain deeds of magnificent bravery, and of a certain piece of work that entitles him to a niche in the temple of Marine fame. However, we found that out ourselves. We beheld other ship faces, and found on better acquaintance that they were like the ship, A 1 Lloyds.
Now of all good natured, polite and affable fellows, Griset, our Purser, takes the prize. From start to finish, whether handing out tickets for shore, computing exchange, or listening to fairy tales and answering fool questions, he was always a Chesterfield. It was a wonderful sight to see him boss those negroes at the foot of the gangway, and what majestic dignity he displayed, as he handed the ship’s house flag to those lively boatmen.
Our good old Engineer looked as though he was equally fit to wear a bishop’s mitre, or address a class of Harvard students. In short we found ourselves in mighty good hands.20
THE VOYAGE OUT.
Soon the ready gong sounded and at six o’clock we took our assigned seats at the table, and had our first meal. We did’nt do a thing to that meal, in fact for thirty-five days we kept up the record, Our deck load of live sheep and steers gave out, and on every occasion later the steward was busy ashore looking for food. The only joke on him, (or rather on us) was that original oyster soup. Some one got two oysters, the rest one. It was a case of “ Billy, Billy Button, who’s got the button?”
Now as to our passengers. We looked
each other over, passed usual sea remarks,
sub rosa and otherwise. At the end of the
cruise all hands found themselves fast friends.
Before we were out two days we felt as though €
we had known each other years, and it was not very long before we were calling a certain Deacon, “ Foxy Grandpa,” much to his horror. He had to get used to it.
Next day we left off our coats; and the ladies, their wraps. Steamer rugs were pro-THE VOYAGE OUT.
21
nounced useless, and the only time they were again seen was in hand straps, going down the gang plank at Pier 47, N. R., March 13.
About suntaking time we beheld the “ Long” and the “ Short” of it. One, six feet three, tall and thin; the other three feet six, short and fat, wearing the N. Y. Y. C. insignia, well up forward squinting through their instruments, and then at last we knew we were safe. We had for breakfast, lunch and dinner, latitudes, longitudes, sail area, abaft the beam, and abeam the baft, until finally we all became salty ourselves. Now u Shorty” should have kept to the blue and we would have held him in deep respect, but when he straddled a Dominica broncho, and went up the trail he was a veritable Sancho Panza. It was a sight to see ! The other navigator took a different trail and spared our feelings. There are snap shots of Shorty which will eventually find their way to a certain firm which deals in broken lots.
Everybody looked for trouble off Hatteras22
THE VOYAGE OUT.
and seemed disappointed that it did not come. Some thought the Captain should have coaxed Hatteras to come near enough so that we could see it, but as he was heading just a little bit another way, and that way Bermuda, it was out of his line.BERMUDA.
E arrived off Bermuda late at night,
got our first tossing up, which was not very much, but just enough to make some feel as though they would just as soon be ashore.
In the morning we picked up our pilot, and were turned, twisted and squirmed amidst rips, tides and rocks, until finally our mud hook touched bottom opposite the Princess Hotel. As Bermuda is so well known it is not worth while saying much about its beauty. The little town, Hamilton, lies in a veritable pocket with a channel leading up to it, not over 350 feet wide, well guarded from foes from without. Bermuda in fact is a collective name. It seems as though the Creator had a hand full of beautiful little emeralds, and unconsciously dropped them in this spot. The coloring of water and land challenges the im-24
BERMUDA.
agination ; the former every shade of blue so lovely no pen can describe it. The coral rocks, massive and broken a wonderful background of fertile fields and glorious verdure, tinted in greens, make a picture not often seen.
These islands were discovered by the Spaniards, lost again off the map, rediscovered and finally became the property of Great Britain. Visitors are cordially welcome. We saw the dock yards at a distance and could easily have gained admittance, if time had not been short. Some of us saw the darky regiment, and fine looking fellows they were. They were stationed in the post just back of the Hamilton Hotel. The white regiment was guarding the Boer prisoners, (some 3000) on Darrells Island. We could quite easily see them at a distance and from what we heard and learned, were exceedingly well treated. They are guarded on all sides, and torpedo destroyers patrol night and day, and at no hour of darkness is a search light off* these poor un-BERMUDA.
25
fortunates, excepting if one happens to be in the glass parlor of the Princess, when an occasional flash comes that way. It is rather awkward for flirting couples. Touristlike, we were shown all the sights. We saw Tom Moore’s Calabash tree and house, the lovely caves just beyond, gorgeous with stalactites, and when lit up by a burning palm all the beauty and splendor of Aladin’s palace pales. These caves are connected with the sea, the floors veritable liquid crystal, so clear is the water and the bottom so plainly seen that near sighted persons often take involuntary baths. The whole island is honeycombed with little caves and grottoes.
The Devil’s Hole on a road skirting the sea, is most curious and interesting. Some twenty or thirty feet deep, and alive with tropical fish of every hue and color. Of course you must believe all you are told. A young woman, recently married, was scolding her husband on the edge of the Hole. She slipped and fell in, and the fish did the26
BERMUDA.
rest. Not even a button was left. The husband plunged in after her but the fish were too quick for him. He escaped without a scratch. History goes no further. Many are the tales told of this peculiar place. The above points out a moral.
Of course one meets friends at Bermuda. Though not at the height of the season, the hotels were fairly full. Some stayed ashore over night and were exceedingly well pleased. As there was considerable rivalry as to the good qualities of each hotel, we finally agreed that one was as good as the other.
Monday morning opened up rainy and disagreeable. We did not mind that a bit; we had been having a jolly good time and a little thing like that did not fase us. At last, the whistle sounded and we were in the tender ready to put out for the ship. Alas! We waited and waited; finally a sharp blast from the old ship told us in plain language “ to get a move on.” But what was the trouble? Then it unrolled itself. GastonBERMUDA.
27
and Alphonse were piloting themselves toward the tender. We could not do without those cherubs. When they got to the pier they saw half a dozen tenders all exactly alike. Finally with a wild Butte war whoop, they landed with a dull sickening thud on deck. Gaston’s papa and Alphonse’s mamma were aboard. Their eyes were dimmed with moisture but a look of firm determination was apparent. Garrison hospitality was too much. The next day quiet of an ominous kind hovered over their end of the ship, and it looked as though the Father Mathew’s would obtain two new recruits.
We picked up at Bermuda several more tourists. The Baby and his Pal soon announced their intentions to run the glee end of the ship. Now the Baby, when home lives in Brooklyn and finances (so he says) a theatre or church. The Pal runs an insurance office in Morrisiana or Catas-aqua, and between them there was a deep laid plot, to down Gaston and Alphonse.28
BERMUDA.
Honors at the end of the trip were even.
After leaving our pilot, we headed straight for San Juan, and as we had three days of sea before us, amused ourselves in becoming not only better acquainted, but e’re long downright familiar.
Happy Houligan was the greatest lawyer we had aboard. There were several, but he was strictly incog, and discoursed much more fully and concisely on Corbett and Fitzsimmons than on Blackstone or constitutional History. Perhaps Happy was fooling us and was only a Jerome Reformer.
“Chauncey,” the Beau Brummel of the ship, was taken for a leading man who had quarrelled with his manager and was off for a mid-winter rest. He really studied law at one time, had a diploma, (so he said) and desk room in papa’s legal office. He had no use for criminal law, but clung strictly to modern jurisprudence of the higher order. He has aspirations for the Supreme Court and many well wishers.BERMUDA.
29
The first night out from Bermuda, Foxy Grandpa undertook to lay the law down to good old Father T., our only sky pilot, as to the temporal power of the Pope. Foxy had but one round and went off a sadder and wiser man. Temporal power was a hobby with the father. He and Foxy roomed together, and early morning and late at night, immersion and King James version were everlasting subjects for discussion.
Dick Crocker, not of Wantage, but of Rochester, was a great crony of Father T., and always stood up much better for him owing to fortuitous circumstances, than for Governor Odell. His hobby was state Charities and how they should be run. Now Dick was very convincing and his arguments held water. At least, at sea where there was plenty of it.
There were other characters and other pet names. Of course the writer had none. No writer, excepting Richard Harding Davis or Chimmie Fadden ever had one. The ladies,30
BERMUDA.
God bless them, amused and instructed us, and at times kept wild exuberance in check. How eagerly we rushed below when a certain charming brunette played the Holy City, or ragtime. How we gave our autographs to her blonde sister for the Flag. All these will be happy memories for years to come. At last one afternoon all eyes were intently fixed on a faint blue haze. Glasses were trained and as we approached nearer, the lofty mountains back of San Juan gradually loomed up, and we were in sight of lovely Port Rico.lasffia&sassssiaâOKs:SAN JUAN.
E forgot the flying fish and dolphins,
which had, but an hour before amused us, and thoughts of history, past and present, flashed across our minds. How nations rise and fall, and how quickly too our Caesar of boyhood days reminds us of Rome’s Empire and its magnificence. Her mighty works still show in ruins on Spanish soil. Overrun at last by Goths and Yandals, Rome succumbs on land and sea, and her power goes forever. The nation of the Scimiter rises with the red glow of the morning sun, and, bathed in blood, Hispania again builds up a mighty nation; which sinks below the horizon at the advance of the Cross; and as Ferdinand and Isabella take from the proud Moore, his key, they face the grim determined soldier of the Church, and Columbus is told that as he wished, in the name of Spain, he32
SAN JUAN.
may plant the banner of Castile in those unexplored lands beyond the sea.
A mighty nation dies. Another, the greatest in all ages is the destiny of his discoveries. How rapidly our thoughts revolve about Columbus, Ponce of the Lion Heart, Boabdilla, Cortez, Pizarro and the rest of that band of heroes. Spain and her haughty chiefs, the Armada and its ruin, and with that ruin the death knell of another nation, and the proud Hidalgo takes his place with the Roman. A little island laughed at and sneered at by France and Spain, with her Drake and Raleigh, takes the lead and the great Anglo-Saxon race asserts itself, and over the far distant sea, England built better she knew. Spain, and her red and yellow
standard, stained with the blood of thousands, cruel and crafty, forgetful of the Cross and
its teachings, one fine morning in another tropical sea, thousands of miles away, finds her standard lowered forever. Within what an incredibly short space of time was theSAN JUAN.
33
lowering of the red and yellow in Manila Bay followed by the hoisting of the Stars and Stripes oyer her gems in the Caribbean Sea.
As we come nearer and nearer to Porto Rico we behold the mountains bolder and bluer. Right ahead, right over there—see-just at the left of those hills, El Morro Castle, and on that little staff (it looks from this distance like a pin,) waves the emblem of liberty and freedom.
Soon the pilot boards us, a fine looking fellow, dark and grim, and as we enter San Juan harbor, we see here and there, on the old El Morro, marks of shot and shell which were the introduction of war, and peace as well. These massive fortifications, portions of which were built in 1502 or thereabouts, by Carib slaves, and eventually finished under a darker race, whipped, cursed and spat upon, now are trodden by the lithe form of another soldier. We see him watching us from the parapet. The light brown tropical uniform, the slouch hat waved aloft, and there is the34	SAN JUAN.
United States Regular; we all know him and are mighty glad to see him.
As we rounded El Morro a beautiful harbor confronted us. Lying at anchor was the Princess Louise, spick and span and like a veritable yacht. She was on the same mission as the Madiana, making a cruise in the tropics. Within an hour, much to our disappointment she steamed away, and we had little opportunity to exchange compliments.
The cruiser Topeka was belching forth black smoke and we knew that she meant to leave us. Before we had fairly anchored, her bow was heading for the sea, and away for Guantanamo.
It was an exceedingly pretty sight as we came in to see the queer little hooded boats put out like a miniature squadron from the piers. Some with sails hoisted and some propelled with oars alone. A motley crew they were. All colors from light brown to ebony. A jargon of Porto Rican Spanish and polyglot English made a most indescrib-SAN JUAN.
35
able din. But it made no impression on Griset. Not a soul could get a passenger until the little house flags were distributed and not a passenger could get away before the tickets were in hand. This was our first experience with Griset as ticket distributor. We were, in fact, compelled to be lamb-like. At last we tumbled in these little ferry boats and in a few minutes landed at the fine government wharf.
The heat on shore was intense and the first
thing, many sought shelter under white sun
umbrellas. San Juan is pretty much all hill,
except the Plaza, which is about the size of
a small city park. Poorly kept, no grass,
but picturesque. The Plaza of any Spanish
city is a good starting point. We soon found
the best hotel and some decided to stay over
*
night. Those of us who did, thought of Flagler, Oscar and Sherry. We tried to dream, but one has to sleep to dream, and therefore wakeful, built castles in our minds to while away those hours. What fortunes36
SAN JUAN.
that triumvirate could make in San Juan if only they would put up some sort of a hotel and run it. There is no excuse for any town of such importance in having such miserable accommodations.
There happens to be a very good trolly road in San Juan which runs to an outlying section and connects with a little suburb where quite a number of our Army and Navy friends live. We soon found them and mutual agreeable surprises were in store. We had a good dinner, and a charming evening at the Olimpo and only wished we had bunked out there, instead of in San Juan.
Next day we took in all the sights, wandered at our sweet will over the wonderful fortifications nearly four centuries old; listened to tales of past and present valor and took away a fund of historical information. The town, thanks to General Wood, is beautifully clean and not a particle of rubbish could we find anywhere. What a contrast to Spanish rule! Then indiscribable filthSAN JUAN.
37
and pestilence, now, a healthy winter resort.
The queer Spanish houses, red tiled and with sides glistening in soft toned colors add a singularly picturesque appearance to the general aspect. Views of distant mountains, lofty and sombre, on one hand and on the other, deep blue sea, with white foam dashing at the foot of El Morro, make a lovely picture. Traces of the old walled town still exist to a marked degree and the old type of narrow street is the same as seen in Mexico or Spain.
As this is a mere sketch and as many excellent articles have been published on this old town, details may as well be overlooked. We notice customs and types so different from our own. Apparently a happy-go-lucky people, nevertheless there in the pathetic side. Ignorance and superstition, particularly the former, is evident everywhere. Much of this is due to the mixture of races and centuries of mental languor.
The shops, in many cases are owned and38
SAN JUAN.
conducted by colored Spaniards. Though neat in appearance, they show a lack of thrift and snap and are but third rate. Our customs are not their customs, our ways not their ways, and so we must not criticise too harshly. We therefore must look on the picturesque side and not on the commercial. At a breakfast given at the leading hotel by a certain charming American Admiral’s wife, we had an excellent opportunity for observing features which were interesting and entertaining. At one table near our own we observed, in animated discourse a party of fine looking men. We learned that they were Porto Rican politicians of high standing. Their charm of manner reminded one of the French School. In fact all the Latins, the world over, are alike in that respect. The higher classes are indifferent to the welfare of the masses to a sad degree. The latter are vindictive and cruel. It is pitiable to see how faithful beasts, whether horse, or donkey, cow or dog are treated. We saw onSAN JUAN.
39
one of the steep streets a yoke of little oxen trying to tug and haul an immense load of merchandise up the incline and the seeming impossibility was accomplished only by the most cruel belaboring of these patient little animals. It would have given us the greatest pleasure to have seen the pair raise the \
d— and to have seen them kick the driver to Kingdom Come. All beasts of burden are like the inhabitants, as far as size is concerned, small and compact.
We heard a great deal about the moral condition of the city, which was not of a complimentary nature, but true or not, there was no apparent indication. The streets at night were as respectable as those of a quiet New England town. Strange as it may seem, malaria and other fevers are as rare now, as with us, and we learned that consumption was much more common than yellow fever. Occasional cases of leprosy exist, but when discovered the victims are at once removed to the leper island just outside the entrance40
SAN JUAN.
of the harbor. There is really little difference in the social customs of Porto Rico and those of Spain. The upper classes have their dinners and balls. The middle and lower classes frequent the open cafes, sit and chat, sup their chocolate or coffee until tired, when they gradually drop off one by one for home and bed. So much for San Juan.
A splendid military road, some 90 miles long connects San Juan with Ponce. This traverses the lofty mountains and is quite the equal to the road from Marseilles to Genoa. The scenery is superb and most picturesque. Some of our party engaged traps and crossed over, arriving at Ponce in time to catch the steamer. Arrangements were made with the purser who attended to the details and made suitable terms. Considering the distance, six dollars a head seemed very reasonable. One night was spent on the road at the famous Springs which still bear traces of their former popularity and beauty. The water, though hot, was exhilarating and refreshing.SAN JUAN.
41
Those of us who missed this part of the trip were indeed unfortunate. However it was a question whether to take the ride or miss St. Croix. We could not do both as the Madiana left the harbor Friday afternoon for St. Croix and was scheduled to be at Ponce Sunday morning, thus making a triangular trip, in order to pick up the mountaineers.ST. CROIX.
BEFORE sunrise many were on deck looking towards the land, faintly showing up in outline, owing to the darkness. The sun rose in splendor, not a cloud to obscure the vision, and before us, as if by magic we beheld the lovely isle St. Croix. There is no harbor, but an open roadstead, and at this time of the year it is as quiet as a mill pond, just a long easy swell and hardly perceptible. We were anchored in ten or fifteen fathoms and it seemed as if some one had emptied millions of gallons of indigo, so blue was the water.
Like at San Juan, we took the little boats and in five minutes landed at the quaint hamlet of Friedricksted. How quiet it all seemed, so different from what was expected. We felt, many of us, as if we were transplanted to a fairy land, A low rambling setSt
ST. CROIX.ST. CROIX.
43
of quaint houses strewn along the shore with a few back streets and there you have the town. The inhabitants, ninety per cent blacks, swarmed oyer everything and took us in with good natured glances. They were extremely persistent in their endeavors to ‘‘ touch us” in every conceivable way. However, they were easily held at bay, and though the police, fine looking blacks, were on hand, no one thought of appealing to them for protection.
A toy fort guards the town, and the guns mounted were very formidable looking, possibly to birds and flying fishes. It was market time and natives were arriving from the inland afoot, or in their little donkey carts. The women, tall, erect, and superb in their semi-barbaric style, carried every thing on their heads. It matters not in these islands, whether it be a stick of sugar cane or a basket of coal, it is all the same to them, everything is tossed on the top of their woolly heads, and off they go. You chat with them,44
ST. CROIX.
crack jokes and though they may laugh and jump about, nothing ever tumbles off. From observation it appeared to us that the lord and master was quite content that the spouse should do most of the work, at least in the carrying line. As there was no livery stable in this little town we had to hustle about for any kind of conveyance, and soon a motley collection of ancient victorias and buggies drawn by fairly good looking, though little horses, were obtained from different private individuals and then in regular tourist fashion we drove across the island. As we had changed our money for Danish coins we were fit to cope with the customs of the people. We had before us a drive of twelve or fifteen miles to Bassin or Christiansted, (the town is known by these two names) and from the very start we were enchanted with the scene. On every side we beheld acre upon acre of rich cane just ready for cutting, or being cut. The road, as "smooth as any in Central Park, was lined with tall and stately palms for theST. CROIX.	45
entire distance. Here and there the tops were gone and we learned that this was due to a fearful hurricane which destroyed much property and many lives about three years ago. Lateral roads branch off to plantations, sugar mills and estates and everything seemed to be teeming with life. Though St. Croix is only twenty miles long by five miles wide, it has a population of nearly forty-five thousand souls, and all black wage earners. And such wages! A child gets ten or twelve cents a day, and a man or woman eighteen to twenty cents and that for general labor as well as cane cutting, their hours from sunrise to sunset. On this island we observed that most of these poor people live in little huts, which form hamlets adjacent to the mills or estates. Some who are thrifty own both land and building, but the majority live on leased soil. By close questioning our driver gave much information as to habits and conditions of the islanders and we found it subsequently verified.46
ST. CROIX.
They live on starvation wages, all due of course to the low price of sugar and the apparent inability of the island to produce anything else. It does not seem reasonable that the Creator ordained but one commodity for a soil so rich and fertile. To be sure, cocoa-nuts, a few tropical fruits, sweet potatoes and yams are raised, but only for home consumption.
W§ visited one of the sugar mills and found it up to date with the best of modern machinery and with an excellent electric plant. Here they work night and day. Suffice it to say an American firm operates it; in fact this firm practically controls and owns the whole island. Though Danish in government, for years the inhabitants have been more closely affiliated with the States and all speak English. Even in the local government this is the official language. The whole population was much excited over transfer, and were eagerly looking forward to the day when the Stars and Stripes would proclaimST. CROIX.
47
them American citizens. Their ideas were of a lofty kind and they imagined that as if by magic* wages would be doubled and less work fall to their lot. Alas! What disappointment waits them on that score. It was indeed a sad sight as we drove along to behold some splendid old estates falling into decay, fine houses, dilapidated and windowless. What times those old planters must have had in years gone by ! Then sugar was king; now a fallen monarch. On a hill in the centre of the island we rested our horses under a clump of magnificent trees. They had been panting with the heat and we ourselves were ready to throw off all conventionality, and envied the little naked darkies in their cool attire. We were refreshed by the juice of the fresh cocoanuts, easily obtained by offering a Danish nickle to any agile chap who would climb a palm like a monkey, butt his head against a nut and down it would come. By a quick move of his cane knife a hole was soon opened and all of us were in-48
ST. CROIX.
tent on draining the green ball. Right near these trees on a high hill we observed a curious old red-stained castle and on a sort of rampart a frowning gun. This was the island midway police station. The gun is used for salutes only. At times however this old castle was most useful, especially in 1878, when a fierce insurrection broke out; stringent measures were resorted to and only by shot and sabre was the riot quelled. Just eleven years before that, the terrible earthquake and tidal wave which did so much damage throughout the Indies was the direct cause of the insurrection, owing to the impoverishment of the people due to the vast destruction occasioned. The old Monongahela, (now a training ship) was stranded high and dry at that time.
After our well earned rest we went forward at a rattling good pace and in a short time were right in the heart of Bassin. The ladies, on arrival, immediately rushed to a little dry goods store and invested in native49
ST. CROIX.
bandanas of wondrous hue and size. They could have bought them at half the price in Fourteenth street. Thompson street style is no different. These bandanas are-all frotri the same American factory. It was pretty hot, but we did not mind that, we wanted to see everything. We obtained permission to investigate the fort which was. about the size of two hotel table cloths; saw the Wonderful little guns and their heaps of pyramid ball ammunition and felt awe inspired. (These balls are about the size of ping pongs but heavier.) The garrison, fifteen strong, buried in thoughts of dear old Denmark, seemed perfectly oblivious of their surroundings. No doubt they were patriotic, but we all have an intense hankering after home. Fine broad shouldered fellows they were. With little coaxing, higher pay and with wives and sweethearts on this toy island, Uncle Sam might persuade them to wear a slouch hat and Kahki uniform, and become his regulars. They would not be the only50
ST. CROIX.
foreigners serving the States. The bay or harbor here is extremely beautiful, but accessible only to light draft vessels owing to the many shoals and bars.
A pretty little speck of an island lies within half a mile of the fort. This island was an old pirate stronghold and we listened to gruesome tales and believed them all.
We were so hungry we were ready to eat nails, so we hastened back to the only hotel in town and polished off everything there was in Bassin. However the good landlady was mighty glad to see us, as we were the first visitors she had had of any description for nearly a year. She posessed some very fine old Danish furniture but money could not buy it. After dinner we amused ourselves by pitch- -ing pennies to the children. Demoralization was complete and the schools soon found out what was going on. We had lots of fun and so did the children. In the wild scramble everything was good-natured, and the moment a hand held the coin, no thought of unfairST. CROIX.
51
means of obtaining the same was appearent. A trip on foot a few steps off found us in the market place. As the principal articles offered were food products, we had no use for them. As these poor people cannot afford meat most of the products for sale were fruit and vegetables.
It was now time to go back and as we got into our carriages, we drove off amid the cheers and good wishes of the natives. The drive back was cooler, a delicious breeze had sprung up and at last we were in sight of the Madiana. By five o’clock we were underway, and looking back on the lovely masses of green which covered the isle of The Holy Cross, we had a picture of exquisite beauty. So much for another old Spanish possession, held by others in turn, and now to be caressed and loved by sweet Columbia.PONCE.
HE next morning after a pleasant
night’s sail, found us off the harbor of Ponce, on the southern side of Porto Rico. The mountains towered to a lofty height, and were superb in the light of the morning sun. Nestling at their feet, lay the town. The harbor is rather poor, and evidently dangerous at times, particularly during the hurricane season. Some fine vessels were wrecked about three years ago, and their hulls are plainly seen. Prom the name it is not hard to conjecture who founded the city. Poncfe of the Lion Heart is the father of Porto Rico. We wished before the day was over that he had left something of interest there. Outside of the fact that our troops landed here and made their famous march through the
island during the Spanish war, there is nothing to see. The landing place was veryPONCE.
53
dirty and very poor. We were met by a surly lot of swindling cabmen and only because we had to, did we patronize them. We expected to find the trolly line finished but were a little ahead of time. It is oyer two miles from the landing to the heart of the town and a hot drive it was.
The town, though larger than San Juan, and more business like, is not as clean or as well kept. Fortunately there is a good hotel and we found an excellent table here. A French family own and conduct it. We drove out on the military road, for a short distance and could easily see what splendid work had been put into it by the Spaniards.
Those of the inhabitants that we saw were dirty, squalid and miserable. They evidently, judging from their demeanor, disliked us, and we reciprocated in kind. All hands were glad to leave the place and were in fact, on board ship a couple of hours before she was scheduled to sail. The only reason for going to Ponce was due to those of the ship’s com-54
PONCE.
pany who had taken the mountain trip across the island. They were extremely enthusiastic and could not sing praises of the scenery enough. As they were satisfied with their mountain drive, so were we, with our experience at St. Croix which they had missed.
As Martinique was the next island and a good distance off we were booked for a sail of two nights and a day. We did not mind that a bit as we were supplied with fresh vegetables and fruits, thanks to our hard working steward who was seen bargaining in the Ponce market.
Besides we all had a chance to chat over our experiences of the last few days. After leaving Ponce and dinner over, we suddenly remembered that it was Sunday and our friend Foxy Grandpa, through a brother deacon, suggested a service of song. Many familiar hymns were sung, portions of the bible read, prayers and then an impromptu sermon. Foxy delivered the sermon, and for downright eloquence and persiflage, it was aPONCE.
55
“ corker.” There was’nt a dry eye in the house. Nothing disturbed our meditations the next day. The sea was calm and placid, and an occasional white cap and the little flying fish were our only companions. But we were nearing Martinique, and earlye Tus-day morning, we heard, those of us who were awake, the rattle of the chain, and we knew we were at St. Pierre.MARTINIQUE.
WE were surprised at the bable of voices, and on looking out of the ports, beheld a swarm of half naked black boys, in all sorts of little boats of every conceivable size and shape. They used shingles as paddles and the crews generally consisted of two boys to a boat. They were the famous divers, and were as much at home in the water, as on land.
We spent an hour on deck before breakfast, forgetful of the lovely scenery, so intent were we in pitching pennies into the water for the boys. They would poise themselves for a jump, and as soon as a coin touched the water, a dozen or more, were after it. Away down they would go, under the crystal sea. They looked like queer amphibious animals, as they swam beneath the surface. As soon as they rose to the top, they wouldMARTINIQUE.	57
put the coins into their mouths and look up for the next, in a manner that reminded one of a dog waiting for a bone. It made not the slightest difference whether their little boats were on end, upside down, or in the right position. They did’nt care as long as their banks were safe. A little triangular partition with a slit in the top, was in the bow of each boat, and when the boys had more cash, than they could conveniently hold in their mouths, they would make their deposits in these banks. They were very particular as to the coin, and spurned all but French and English pieces. If you fooled them, they gave you a good tongue lashing. For a shilling they would dive clear under the ship and back again. In only one instance was a display of temper seen and then ensued a battle royal. Far below the surface two swarthy denizens of the sea were kicking and clinching, and trying to hold each other from coming up. When they did rise, with muttered French and Patois curses58	MARTINIQUE
they were at it again hammer and tongs. At length, both were utterly tired out and swam for their respective boats. One little fellow, about ten years old was crying in a most heart rending manner, and when questioned said he was so small, that the others would not give him a show. The ladies all felt very sorry for him, in fact so did the whole ship’s company, and before the game was up,, he was the Morgan of the crowd.
We found out afterwards that he was the
/
slickest of the lot, and this was his little game.
The moment we arrived on shore, these same boys were ready to welcome us in the guise of couriers. We could not shake them off; no matter how we abused them, they still clung like leaches. However, for a very little money they proved useful and faithful guides.
Martinique is midway between Dominica and St. Lucia and exceedingly mountainous, the highest peak, Mount Pelee, being forty-DIVING BOYS, ST. PIERRE.MARTINIQUE.	59
five hundred feet high. The population is about one hundred and fifty-five thousand, and, of course, nearly all black. Naturally in a mountainous country, scarcely thirty -five miles long, and sixteen miles wide, the density of population is too great for comfort. Though the French government does what it can, these poor people are poverty stricken and live no better than do those on the other islands.
We found St. Pierre, a most picturesque and rather lively town of twenty-five thousand inhabitants, with streets well paved and beautifully clean. This is partially due to the fact that from the mountains, streams of water course down, and flow along the city gutters, into the roadstead. Everything goes with the streams. We saw little children bathed in them, clothes, and even dishes washed. Probably the inhabitants drink out of the gutters; from observation we judge that they do. By the introduction of this system years ago, yellow and malarial60	MARTINIQUE.
fevers have since abated to a marked degree.
The whole tone is that of a French provincial town, and the blacks assume the airs of their former masters. Unfortunately since France has become a republic, these people have been more or less spoiled, and are now rather insolent, and exceedingly cheeky. For peace and comfort, when a collection of black hoodlums hover about as guides, we found the best plan was to select one, tell him what we would pay and then emphatically state that if he could’nt or would’nt keep the rest off, he would lose his pay. That was very effective. So persistent were they, that while dining at the quaint little French hotel, they even followed us to the table and about a dozen hung outside the window singing, or trying t6 sing, American rag-time songs. A glass or two of water had but little effect, but when a syphon of vichy was aimed that way, there was a general scattering. One little fellow informed us that as he had sung for us, heVILLAGE SCENE IN MARTINIQUE.
IMARTINIQUE.	61
should be paid, and if we did’nt hand over, he would complain to the police. That of course put us in a state of frantic terror.
A curious little tramway courses the street along the water front. The cars looked very much like dry goods boxes fitted up with seats and awnings, and the poor donkeys and mules acted as thciugh they would drop, so tired did they appear. However, as an investment, we concluded the stockholders of this line were not overburdened with dividends. After a great deal of trouble we procured the remnant of a victoria, and took in the town, driving through Rue Victor Hugo, the main thoroughfare. The shops on either side are very picturesque in their different colorings and with their quaint wares. The churches are rather plain and not at all interesting. They contain a few poor pictures and no relics to speak of. The park is very pretty, and is filled with a great variety of tropical treesand plants, and well kept up. The prettiest effect was the veil of water62	MARTINIQUE.
falling over the rocks, and framed on either side with exquisite palms and trailing plants. We were told that the dreaded fer de lance, a very poisonous snake inhabited the park, but when we saw some little children and their turbaned maids walking about, we took the scare for what it was worth. Tn former times this snake was very much dreaded, but is now fast disappearing, owing to the introduction of the little mongoose, an animal about the size, (perhaps a little larger) than the ferret. Mr. Mongoose has finished his job pretty well; but as he is obliged to live, and being rather partial to spring chicken, many a poor native on looking over his live stock in the morning, finds an entire absence of feathered egg producers. We saw plenty of these little fellows running about, but the only fer de lance we saw was bottled up in an alcohol jar.
Never shall we forget the pretty climb up the luxuriant hills back of St. Pierre, and the quaint little village on Mount RougeMARTINIQUE.	63
with its picturesque church. These poor people are very proud of the church, but not half so proud are they of that, as they are of the good father who looks after them, of the little convent nearby, and of the sisters who devote their lives to the uplifting of their charges.
We lunched in a little hut on the hill top and found everything scrupulously clean; good table linen, and to our surprise, the service included solid silver forks and spoons. Though served by two very trim little black maidens, as we departed a neat and refined French woman with a truly Parisian accent wished us God’s speed. We presumed that she was the landlady. Very likely she had a history, so many have in these little out of the way places.
Three islands claim the distinction of being the spot made famous through the story of Paul and Virginia, Mauritius in the Pacific, Guadaloupe and Martinique, but as we were not booked for isles of another sea,64	MARTINIQUE.,
and only obtained a faint view of Guada-loupe in the distance as we steamed along, we naturally felt inclined toward the Martinique claim.
It does’nt matter as far as the scenery and plot are concerned, reminiscences of that
t.
sweet story came up before us as we descended. What a superb and lovely scene it was! Everlasting green of every hue, lofty mountains and towering hills, reaching their tops to the blue sky, bathed with the still bluer waters of the sea and seamed with little sparkling rivers of pure crystal. Go back in thought, if you will, when Martinique was in all its primitive loveliness, and as you look over there to the right, under that gorgeous vegetation sprayed with liquid diamonds, you will see Paul and Virginia. Erom a century of strenuous strenuity to a century of poetry and romance. Whether or not we believe the pretty story, at least one of the saddest of romances occurred on this lovely island.MARTINIQUE.	65
We journeyed around the rocky and mountainous coast, some twelve or fifteen miles, in a puffing little English built tug, and entered a beautiful roadstead. Anchored there, were three French men-of-war, spick and span. The Tage (which we afterwards saw in Havana) was the Admiral’s flag ship, and her ram bow and frowning guns gave hef a very formidable appearance. We were not so much interested in the men-of-war, though they added color to the scene, as we were in that little white marble monument
looking seaward, in the park of Fort de France, for that is the name of the town. Yes, there it stands, erected by France, the white marble memorial of'Josephine. As long as Napoleon is upon the pages of his-tory> just so long will, the memory of Josephine be cherished. This spot will be halloWed for all time to come.
One could go on indefinitely writing about these islands but time forbids, in this little sketch. Go to your library, pull down66	MARTINIQUE.
your French history, and you will again refresh your memory with the sad romance of this island Empress; or if you like glance over your favorite English historian, it matters not which one. Read about the naval heroes and their deeds, you wont read far, before you come across the gallant fights in these southern seas. You will find what Hood and Rodney did, and how the French fleet were sent to Kingdom Come. You will read of land fights as well. In fact, for years this whole chain of islands was bathed in blood, until finally weary with war and contest, the two rival nations, France and England, settled their differences, these islands were tossed up for, and the game ended.
Fort de France is only interesting in being the French naval rendezvous, and the proud possessor of Josephine’s statue. There is a hot mineral spring close by, but we had not time to visit it. We hastened our departure, as there was but the little puffing tug to takeMARTINIQUE.	67
us back. We were bumped and tossed about like a cork on the return, as the sea was pretty choppy, and a number of the native passengers were seasick. Whether any of our party were affected or not, will never be known. If they were they disguised their feelings most beautifully.
Martinique soon faded from our sight, as the * Madiana steamed beyond her lovely shores, but the memory of her lofty hills will ever be as fresh in our minds, as her fields and mountains are green.
* It may be interesting to the reader of this sketch to learn that the Madiana takes her name from this island. Under Carib rule it was known as Madiana.ST. LUCIA.
ST. LUCIA, twenty-five miles away, was our next stopping place. In appearance this island is not unlike Martinique, and though nearly as large, being thirty-five miles long and twelve miles wide, has but thirty thousand inhabitants. Back in the mountains there is a volcano, which in times past has done its fiery duty. You can see its top, every now and then, when the breeze is sufficiently strong to blow away the white fleecy clouds that hover about the summit. We kept this in view until we came to the mouth of a very pretty little harbor, guarded on both sides with guns, mounted far up on the hills, and going up its channel were soon along side the very dirty and grimy pier of Castries.
England knows a good thing when she sees it, and when she has the opportunity,69
ST. LUGIA.
always takes advantage of it. Undoubtedly this is by far the best coaling station in the West Indies, outside of St. Thomas, in as much as it has this harbor, and is well adapted for immense fortifications, which are in contemplation. Already work is going on.
Unfortunately not long ago, some old graves were opened and it is presumed that the yellow fever which suddenly broke out, and claimed several victims, including three or four officers, arose from this source. As a further precaution, the soldiers were transferred, and at the time of our visit, but a corporal’s guard was there. Every care is now being exercised, and no stone is left unturned to make this spot as healthy as any in the Caribbean sea. On the southern side of the harbor, the hills are so steep and the ascent so winding, the government is building an incline road. This will save very much unnecessary labor, and will be of great convenience. Castries is not at all interest-70
ST. LUCIA.
ing, and for a town of five thousand inhabitants, it seemed dull and dead. The • only decent building was the Roman Catholic Cathedral situated in the centre of the town. Though English in government, in name and everything else the island is French. Naturally therefore the natives are Catholics. On driving up one of the main streets we noticed well dressed and gaudily attired natives, all going in one direction, and on inquiring we found that a Confirmation service was being held at the Cathedral. We alighted and went in. The full ritual of the church, with dusky altar boys, and little girls
clad in spotless white, ready to take the vows, was singularly impressive. Back of
these children, sat or knelt their sponsors, dressed in dark clothes, and every one tur-baned with a white kerchief. Possibly there were two thousand people present and not a single white person excepting priests and bishop. No matter where one goes throughout the world, the Roman CatholicST. LUCIA.
71
Church deems it wisdom to have intelligent men as priests. In these little churches, wherever a priest was met, we would find him singularly refined and educated, the peer of any. The church does not take any poor old broken down preacher, and send him to spread the gospel. No one is too good for such work, and for that reason the Roman missions are so successful. When will Protestants learn that lesson?
The park, or rather garden, was pretty, but not nearly as interesting as that of Martinique, nor as trim looking. There was an air of decay about it; just the difference one might expect. England is always commercial by instinct and alive for the practical. France softens the nature of her subjects, by indulging those characteristics which has made her what she is, the World’s Artist.
We found a great difference in these islands, as to happiness and contentment, and though all of them are poor and impoverished, none are so discontented or neglected72
ST. LUCIA.
as the islands under English rule. We are very sorry to make this statement, but it is so.
As it was exceedingly hot and oppressive, we came aboard the ship some hours before she was scheduled to sail, and amused ourselves watching the long line of black dames, loading and unloading coal. While splendid large blacks were helping as stevedores to unload our freight, their wives and sweethearts were hard at work increasing the immense piles of coal, which were heaped up in square sections on this pier. These masses of coal, (most of which was Pocahontas) extended for a great distance along the shore. In fact there were thousands of tons, every portion of which is taken ashore from the colliers, in baskets, holding about one hundred and twenty-five pounds, on the heads of these black and singularly picturesque women. How they laughed, chattered and crooned as they formed the ceaseless chain! We could look right over the stern of ourST. LUCIA.
73
ship, into the hold of an old Belgian collier and see the operation. These stately women shovelled their heaps into baskets and with a dexterous swing landed them on their heads, walked down a plank, past a little shed, where a tell tale in the shape of a man, sized up the load with his eye, and if he thought it “regulation” and up to the mark, no word was said. On emptying the load, they repassed him and obtained their little brass checks, which count for money. At the end of the day, or job, these are all cashed in, and legitimate coin is exchanged. If my lady plays any “funny business,” and brings ashore a light load, her trouble is all for nothing, and no check comes her way. So it is rare to find one trying anything of the sort. They occasionally get tired. Who wouldn’t? Good naturedly they squat on the coal, light their pipes, take a few whiffs, not lasting over two or three minutes, and are soon at it again. Quite a number act as partners and divide up their work. We74
ST. LUCIA.
noticed that some would merely shovel and load but never carry. We presumed that at the end of the day, dividends were declared. We witnessed a very funny incident. A great big Amazon took a fancy to a piece of brass piping on the collier, and deliberately, before our very eyes made oif with it. She was detected and her punishment consisted in putting her oif the dock, and not allowing her to work any more that day. She went off shouting and laughing and didn’t seem to mind it a bit. They are all petty thieves and if they ever get a chance to slip a hand unseen into a port hole, especially of a passenger steamer, something is sure to be missed. Poor ignorant beings! They know little of pleasure, such as we enjoy, and we should therefore judge them by their own and not by our standard. They quarrel but little, are always considerate of one another, and particularly kind to children. They make fairly good servants, when properly trained, and are very loyal.ST. LUCIA.	75
A few of the old Caribbean Indians are left, a mere handful, and they even are not of the pure type. Dominica is the only isle claiming the distinction of possessing a colony of pure Caribs.
Captain Frazer, with good forethought, timed the sailing of his ship that we might view the wondrous Pitons at sun down time. Waving adieu to another steamer, the Oruro, hailing from Halifax and bound southward, which merely stopped here for coal, we took our departure, and were soon skirting the coast. What lovely scenery! When will we learn to bottle up our enthusiasm? Why don’t we stick to one thing, and not be so fickle ? It is simply impossible. No matter how beautiful this bit of scenery is, somehow or other, the next eclipses it. In short this is veritable enchantment. Away up on the frowning hills, we see little white specks. They look like birds nestling amid ferns.
On leveling our glasses we found they were the cosey huts of natives. Patches of76
ST. LUCIA.
sugar cane seemed to surround them; and on that and the little fruit and vegetables raised they must sustain their poor existence. However they are at least land owners; better that, than mere wage earners. How diminutive our steamer must look to them as they peer down into the sea! Look at those pretty villages nestling at the foot of the mountains, particularly the one just around that great point. How the setting sun with its southern warmth lights up the glittering white and pink sides of these thatched huts, making a contrast to those made of plated palm and bamboo, sombre and sad; and which are no different than those found in the heart of Africa by Stanley and Livingston. Under those stately palms, just in front of the parish church spire, see the row of fishing boats drawn up for the night. Watch those half naked ebon boys, so young and stalwart, helping one another. Some are counting out the fish of wondrous color and flavor, weighing and selling them for aFISHING BOATS, NEAR ST. LUCIA.ST. LUCIA.	77
few coppers; others are hauling in the nets and on great poles, hanging them up to dry. Not so many years ago, this very village was almost destroyed by volcano and earthquake. The inhabitants still have faith in the beautiful spot, and may we hope that the Titanic force of nature will hereafter forever pass them by. The sun is rapidly sinking and our: camera fiends are worried and nervous, fearing that we will have a poor light for the Pitons.
The swagger semi-demi-professional picture snapper brings his tripod on the after deck and has his plates ready for immediate use. At last there they are 1 Eight ahead of us; Awe and wonder are followed by intense enthusiasm as we behold first the one and then the other. Away back in the heart of St. Lucia we see a mass of towering mountains, while right here in the very sea itself rise these two wonderful mountain peaks. The slender needle like one, nearly three thousand feet in height is a veritable78
ST. LUCIA.
rock. The other more mountainous in aspect is a trifle less in attitude. Both are clad to the very summit with stunted trees and bushes. The Madiana steers sharply from her course, and Captain Frazer takes us right beneath them.	So high do they ap-
pear that the cameras are elevated at a goodly angle. As the last rays of the setting sun flash on their lofty sides, the effect is magnificent. The gong sounds for dinner, but not a soul stirs so intent is the entire
ship’s company on the beautiful sight. The light fades, as it does so rapidly in the tropics, the red ball of fire disappears and instantly the entire scene changes. In the dying light as we look sternward, they seem almost black. Again the gong sounds, and reluctantly we go below. The temptation is too strong, we rush through dinner, are again on deck, but are too late, the Pitons are only outlined in the dim distance. Nevertheless another picture is before us, as the moon is fast appearing over the mountains, and herST. LUCIA.
79
silver rays add another enchanting picture. Soon a light appears, and we are abreast of the last, point of St. Lucia. Tomorrow morning we will be in Bridgetown, one hundred and ten miles away.
The history of St. Lucia is like that of all the other islands. The same scenes of war and plunder. The fierce Caribs, (man-eaters, so we are told) in their day drove to destruction the aborigines and they in turn became the prey of Spanish pikemen. In the seventeenth century we find France and England striving each to possess these lovely shores and splendid roadsteads. England at last is here and intends to remain.BARBADOES.
HAT a different scene the next mor-
ning! Here we are at Bridgetown, the capital of Barbadoes. The harbor gay with shipping, brigs, barks and steamers. There is the Italian flag; in fact, as we look about, we see many national emblems. Just a couple of cable lengths astern of us, is a large black four masted steamer, which arrived the night before from Cape Town, short of coal. Her mission is carrying cattle and mules from New Orleans to the English army in South Africa. On her outward trip a couple of months ago, a foul murder was committed in her forecastle, and the murderer was handed over to the authorities at Bridgetown for trial. He was convicted and sentenced to be hanged. But what joy must have come to this poor miserable degraded fellow, when incredible luck suddenlyBARBADOES.
81
came his way. This cattle steamer is here again with the same crew, who are ready to give their testimony but not as before, when they were prejudiced by anger and malice. Time has somewhat softened their vindictiveness.
Over yonder is Farragut’s old flag ship the Hartford, filled to the brim with lusty young sailor boys, who are Uncle Sam’s wards. Though stern in discipline, her commander has a heart; he hears the story of the murder, and as the circumstances unfold themselves, he finds out that the poor devil is an American. In the heat of passion he had killed his mate, who had tortured and goaded him to desperation. The tragedy occurred on an English vessel, but points of law are somewhat intricate, and questions of jurisdiction arise. A human life is at stake, and that life an American. No matter how lowly or forlorn, he has the Stars and Stripes to protect him. Captain Reeder cares nothing about the poor man’s color, his thoughts82	BARBADOES.
are for his salvation. The little steam launch takes him ashore and with his compliments to the governor, explained his mission; a reprieve is given, and a new trial ordered. All Bridgetown is glad, the gloom of an execution, is at least for the time being removed, and the prisoner has another fighting chance for life.
How little do we realize when any of our ships are off in distant ports, what they are doing toward the uplifting of our dignity, and for humanity. But more about the Hartford later.
There is a long swell on, and Carlisle Bay, (for that is the name of this roadstead,) is bobbing on its bosom the many vessels at anchor. The bay is alive with queer looking lighters, all sorts and conditions of small boats, and, of course, the ever present little divers. As we look forward, we see that Bridgetown is a closely built, glistening white city, and that the wharves are teeming with life and color. We breakfasted andBARBADOES.
83
were ready to go ashore. We were told that the breeze would soon spring up; and so it did, and how deliciously cool it seemed after the intense morning heat. Several of the ship’s party decided to remain at Barbadoes for a week, until the steamer returned from Demerara. Those of us who remained, decided to stay at the Marine Hotel, two miles out from Bridgetown at the suburb of Hastings. No end of victorias were at our disposal, and selecting one we rapidly drove through the streets, catching occasional glimpses of the harbor. We finally came to a large modern hotel built of native stone, similar to that seen in Bermuda. This is the famous Marine Hotel. A great large room looking towards the east was assigned the writer and his better half.
Before any thoughts of sight seeing were to be entertained, the great and serious question of washing, confronted us. Two or three weeks at sea, and no washing, makes a vast difference to personal comfort. How-84	BARBADOES.
ever this question was soon disposed of. The hotel reminded us of those at Narra-gansett Pier, being similar as to comfort and expense. We were therefore bound to be content. Well groomed clean natives all in white served as waiters. Good hall boys, just a little bit on the sleepy order, attended to their usual duties. Our host was a mighty good fellow from Way Down East, and he seemed much more interested in making our visit a pleasant one, than in collecting the weekly bill. His proper name and title is George L. Pomroy, Esq., of Portland, Maine, but all of the one hundred and eighty-five thousand negroes and fifteen thousand whites call him “George” for short. All George has to do, is to give up the State of Maine, take out English papers, and he will be made governor of Barbar-does. He is full of fun, a regular Tom Ochiltree as to story and anecdote, and always has a kind word for the blacks. No wonder everybody likes him.BARBADOES.	85
The first thing visitors do after they have settled themselves at the hotel is to go down by tram car from Hastings to Trafalgar Square, the starting point of everything. These little trams run all over the city, and are drawn by patient hardworking mules, and driven by blacks. The conductors use the old fashioned punch and give you little pink slips on payment of fare, which reminds one of the old system used in our native land twenty-five years ago.
There are excellent shops in Bridgetown, and some of them very large. Everything is exceedingly reasonable and several purchases were made by members of our party. They resemble on a diminutive scale our city department stores. Apparently they do a large business, not only with the Barbadeans, but with the islanders of the entire chain. Many a man has made his fortune here. But alas! days of prosperity are now gone forever. Great depression exists. The staple produce is sugar but when planters raise this86
BARBADOES.
commodity at a loss of thirty-five cents on every one hundred pounds, and are unable to obtain advances from the banks what are they to do ? No one comes to their assistance, not even the Home Government. So desperate are the poor cane cutters, and so eager to obtain immediate employment, that they frequently fire the crops. This causes immense damage. They know that the remainder must then be cut at once, whether ripe or not to insure saving at least a portion. So serious is this offence that a person convicted is sentenced to fifteen years at hard labor, and the lash applied on his bare back twice a month. The density of population is as great almost as in China, and wages no better. They exist, per capita, on from three to five cents a day. Think of that! To outward appearances they are happy, but as in times past, great outbreaks may occur; and with a diminishing white population, what horrors may yet be enacted! The ever increasing black zone is slowly but surelyBARBADOES.
87
advancing and unless some unforseen circumstances arise, with the tremendous #birth rate, and low moral standard the doom is inevitable. The finger of Fate is pointing toward more than one of these beautiful islands. The problem is one of great seriousness, and the government is at its wit’s end, likewise the merchants. England feels that she has done what she can, and in business matters the bankers have decided that they must call a halt.
Such today is the condition of West India’s England, for that is the nickname of Barbadoes. It is very much like England in appearance. At a distance you might imagine you were looking toward the South or East coast of King Edward’s home, but on close inspection the waving cane and busy windmills, with their bristling, hustling black labor-orers change the picture to an individuality of its own. The charm of these green fields, the estates, the history of the island, and the many spots of interest give Barbadoes its lustre.88	BARBADOES.
To be sure, Bridgetown is quaint; but outside . of the Government buildings, the historic Icehouse, and a church or two there is nothing of particular interest. Of course we go to the curio shops and are strongly tempted to purchase all sorts of queer things. We see beautiful shells, splendid turtle backs polished to perfection, and some of our party yield to temptation.
Now the Icehouse is the home of the swizzle, and the hottest sauces and peppers outside of—well, we wont say where. Just try them if you ever get the chance.
The Icehouse got its name from the fact that many years ago a very clever young Englishman, without a penny, but with lots of brains conceived the idea that ice would be a “go” in Barbadoes. To make a long story short, he had a vessel or two, running from Boston ice laden, and as these vessels were floating refrigerators, the old time Boston merchant thought it would not be a bad idea to ship cold storage goods. So our Eng-BARBADOES.
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lishman made his freights, sold his ice, and brought back sugar, rum and everything there was in sight. Now the Icehouse was a Pandora box, in which you could get anything, you could sleep, eat or drink there. Ship anything you liked or import anything you liked. From a few little schooners going up and down the Atlantic it was not very many years before the Icehouse syndicate was known all over the world.
But a remnant of this greatness exists and the Icehouse is now merely a restaurant and hotel combined, with a grocery store attached. It is gratifying to know, that the original merchants left handsome fortunes to their heirs. But times have changed. Now an ice machine squares out cakes at a penny a pound.
You will probably want to know what a swizzle is. It is a West India mixed drink and perfectly delicious to all those who are anti-temperance. The name comes from the swizzle stick which is formed by cutting a90	BARBADOES.
twig having a number of roots, at right angles, polishing the same, and then when ready for business, twisting it with both hands in a tumbler or goblet of any mixed drink. This takes the place of our American shaker and is more effective.
Many of the natives make excellent pottery. It is a picturesque sight to see them walking in town with great trays of brown earthenware balanced on their woolly heads. Some of these people walk twelve or fifteen miles, sell their wares and then return: thev do not seem to mind it and never appear fatigued.
This island is flat in comparison to the others so recently visited, and of an entirely different aspect. Still it is a beautiful triangular shaped country, somewhat rolling, and rising by a gradual incline, almost imperceptibly, to the Eastern shore where cliffs of volcanic origin, over a thousand feet in height seem to hold back the Atlantic. The highest point is called Chimborazo and isBARBADOES.
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eleven hundred and four feet in altitude. The best way to see these cliffs is to drive out through the country early in the morning, and make up your mind to spend an entire day. Go on the cliffs, look seaward and take in the picture of the little flying fish boats as they dance from wave to wave, and drink in the invigorating air. Right below, straight down below you, lies a white beach, with here and there a clump of palms, and all along as far as the eye can reach, vast masses of fantastic rocks lie in the ocean broken off, as if by some great convulsion of Nature. Two little hotels are near the shore, quite different from any you have ever seen before, and if you care to climb down from your lofty perch and take a very brisk walk you can reach them. It is impossible to drive as the country is too hard and dangerous. The better and easier way is to go by the narrow guage road that extends from Bridgetown to St. Andrews which is just below the cliffs. The distance92
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is about eighteen or twenty miles. You wind in and out among the cane fields, past windmill and estate stopping every mile or so until you come to a station where you can alight, and go to the Crane Hotel which is located in an exceedingly picturesque spot, and where you will get the best of treatment. The scenery here is very fine and nearby is Lord’s Castle named after an old eccentric Englishman, who, so the story goes, was such a bold bad man, that he placed lights along the shore, and lured vessels on the rocks, thereby enriching himself in the true old Pirate style. Old Lord was very nasty to his wife, and just before he went on a visit to England, locked her in the castle to starve to death. He sailed away and one day on visiting a relative or friend of his wife’s when asked how she was, said, “she is very well, thanks, and attending to her household duties,” when low and behold she stepped from behind a curtain, and in true melodramatic style denounced him andBARBADOES.
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gave him the marble stare. It seemed that after Lord had left, she managed to escape, and sailed several days after his departure* and by good luck and fair winds succeeded in reaching England before him. Poor old Lord died soon after, but not the story. As a matter of fact he was very eccentric and that was all. He could not have lured any ship to destruction by false beacon lights for the simple reason chat there is not a single harbor on that side of the island, and as a rule, somebody on ship board has a chart or two. When little Barbadean boys and girls are naughty the story is all right, and the black mammy can utilize it to her heart’s content. The Castle is simply a large square house built of native stone, and is fast going to ruin. Codrington College, once well patronized, is in this section of the island. It is very prettily situated, but situation does not make up for lack of students. There are, in the present year of grace, less than ten, and it is but a short time before this94
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institution of learning will close its doors. Perhaps a good Pittsburg millionaire may put it on its feet again, as this portion of Barbadoes is called Scotland. By the way, the whole island is divided into parishes and is governed according to the old English system. Here you will find St. Andrew’s, St. Lucy’s and St Phillip’s parish. Each of course has its little church. Not so very long ago at Bathsheba, a pretty church built upon a cliff took a tumble one night, and was a mass of ruins in the morning. These cliffs are very treacherous and porous; a vast landslide of many acres, about two years ago went right out into the sea, carrying houses and cattle to destruction; fortunately but few lives were lost. This occured in St. Andrew’s parish. We gained much local information of Barbadoes from the chief superintendent of the rail road who answered all our questions. Moreover he proved a veritable guide book. After leaving Sudbury, the station for the Crane hotel, heBARBADOES.
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pointed out the new Boer quarters which had just been finished^ Long, low wooden buildings on splendid ground, well laid out, and every modern convenience, as to sanitary matters, was apparent. Each officer will be entitled to a room by himself; he can have his bath, plenty of food and wholesome water, but alas ! his life must be within that high wire fence with English sentries ever on guard. Let us hope that peace will soon ensue, and those wooden barracks used for a better purpose.
The road soon after passing this spot, skirts the very edge of the lower cliffs, and one can look down on the white surf dashing against these porous rocks, and carving them out into fantastic shapes, and e’er long we are whirling down grade, and as we round curve after curve, we feel as though we might at any moment take a header and plunge far out to sea. Owing to the rainy season this railroad is very difficult to keep up; in a night perhaps, a thousand tons of loose dirt96
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and gravel may obliterate the rails. For that and other reasons the railroad does not pay. Before reaching Bathsheba we pass by the oil fields, where a peculiar oil, somewhat like petroleum is found. Not much attention is now paid to it, as there is so little money to be made owing to the cost necessary for operation.
We are now at the bottom of the cliffs and our journey is finished. The train proceeds to St. Andrew’s a few miles further on
!
but there is nothing to be gained by journeying there. As there is only one train a day and walking very hard, and no conveyances to be had, we could only have cast a hasty glance over a somewhat stupid town. While here at Bathsheba we could wander between the two hotels, sit on the broad piazzas, and take in the beautiful scenery. Though we were obliged to stay here for nearly six hours, the air was so invigorating and the sea so full of life and color the time seemed altogether too short.BARBADOES.
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In the seventeenth century, a large number of Irish and Scotch settlers, (some say they were convicts) were sent here for the good of their native land. It may be so, and it may not be so. If they were very bad then, their descendants certainly are mild enough. They resemble in trait and energy the Florida cracker. It is sad to see such ignorance where Celtic and Saxon blood predominates. So far most of them have kept aloof from the blacks, though occasionally a strain of the dark blood appears. We found some little flaxen haired children wandering over the rocks; they* were shy and timid, and apparently feared us. Another, more bold than the rest, piloted us to a house where two old women were preparing arrowroot for the market. They were very proud of it, and well they might be, it was so beautiful in its intense whiteness. The old chap who helped them was their brother. Simple folk they were, and they seemed delighted98
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with a shilling for a present. Their accent was most peculiar and different from any we had ever heard before.
After partaking of a very simple lunch, well cooked and nicely served, we sat smoking our cigars, and watching the fishing boats heading for the beach. How they could come through that long line of surf, was a mystery. Nearer and nearer approaching, a stub-nosed boat with jib and mainsail set soon reaches the surf. Hello! there she goes ! No, not this time, though she ships a lot of water. At length she is over the treacherous, reef with its foaming surf, and well up on shore. The waiting crowd rush down; all hands join to give her a lift, and soon she is high and dry. Women and children swarm about. For a penny they buy a dozen or so of flying fish. All laughing, shouting and as jolly as possible. They were much amused, at us, for we could not resist the temptation of leaving the piazza and mingling with them.BARBADOES.
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A couple of black beauties were eyeing us, and we were not sure if it was a case of “mash” or not. We flattered ourselves. They wanted our cigar butts when we had finished smoking that was all. We compromised, not wishing to cause any jealous feeling, by suggesting that a toss would be in order. We let the butts go and a motley crowd of maidens made short work of them. One of the lucky ones pulling out an antique clay pipe and crushing the butts between the palms of her hands used it for smoking tobacco, and was as happy as a politician with a pull. Don’t try to jolly these people. They easily get the best of you, and if you give them a joke they will go you one better. An Englishman, whom we afterwards found out was the brother of one of Great Britian’s most distinguished fighters, entertained us with many stories of these fisher folk.
About every tenth boat capsizes, and their day’s labor goes for nothing. A vivid100
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illustration occurred under our very eyes. Right in the midst of the surf, after returning with a fine catch, we saw one boat knocked down and over. No sooner was she filling than all hands on shore plunged in, and before she sank, ballast in the shape of stones was thrown out. Sails and masts likewise, and nothing remained but to bring her in and beach her. The whole catch was apparently lost, and indeed would have been, but for the fact that some of the men swam out, and with nets scooped up as many fish as they could find. The poor fellows, thanks to their amphibious friends, soon had all their belongings on shore, and no serious mishap ensued. They good-naturedly took their loss in a philosophical way, but it was too much for us. We rushed down to sympathize with them and gave the captain of the crew four shillings. He was tickled to death and we feared from the way he grinned, that he would get an attack of St. Vitus’ dance. No wonder!BARBADOES.
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Why, if these poor fellows can make two shillings a day they are lucky, and just because their boat turned turtle without any effort at all, two days pay was in hand. Our English friend told us we were setting a very bad example. If more Yankees came to Bathsheba there would be a succession of accidents (?).
At length it was time to go back to Hastings. We bade our new friends goodbye, tossed a few pennies to the little ones, and soon were toiling up grade; and just at dusk arrived at the Bridgetown station. It is positively dangerous to ride on this road, the speed is so excessive. In the short space of one and three quarters hours, we travelled eighteen miles. We had just time enough to dress for dinner, and then heard that George was going to bring out the coach for a moonlight drive. Now when any such rumor gets about, there is as much diplomacy needed to get seats, and especially the box seat, as is necessary to obtain a102	BARBADOES.
Parterre at the opera, when an Emperor's brother takes in the show. We were fortunate. We had our after-dinner smoke on the piazza of the Marine, listened to the boys sing their queer plaintive songs, and perform their musical antics in the road, and around the corner came the coach and four. A long blast on the horn from the ebon lips of Percy made the ladies hurry. As the air was cool they wisely donned wraps. Percy is the Pides Achates of our host and does as he is told.
All hands are on top of the coach, a crack of the whip, a blast of the horn and we are off at a galloping pace, down the white road which glistened under the light of a gorgeous full moon. The blacks in swarms cheer us all along the route. “Hello George,” greets us, and finally we swing about, right under a great revolving light, which send its rays far out to sea.
We rest the horses, and listen to the soft murmur of a gentle surf, purring on theBARBADOES.
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white sandy shore. We return over the same road, past the same interminable line of huts, but what a change ! Now not a soul astir, not a sound save the clatter of our horses’ hoofs, and our own voices. What means this silence? Has a plague suddenly broken out, and swept the life out of this teeming throng ? No. Customs of long standing are the cause. Almost at a given time, throughout the entire island, the one hundred and eighty-five thousand blacks, enter their huts, close tight every window and door, so, that scarcely a breath of air can penetrate, and they do not appear again until daylight. It is almost startling. In these little box-like huts, some not more than fifteen by twenty feet, and but one story high, there will be as many as twenty-five souls. They sleep packed like sardines, men, women and children. Only the wonderful climate of the island prevents disease outbreaks, and strange to relate the only real menace is consumption, which is very preva-104	BARBADOES.
lent. Under such conditions of life you can readily understand why the moral standard is so low.
Our moonlight ride is soon at an end. Tired and weary, we find good beds and blankets most attractive, and are soon in the arms of Morpheus.
The Eastern sun next morning streams in through the shutters and tells us of another day. From six to eight is the men’s hour for bathing. It takes us about five minutes to reach the bath house, just a little way from the hotel, and we take our plunge. To think of it! February, with Northern frosts and blizzard, railroads blocked with snow and ice, and here but five days away from Wall street, we were swimming about in the sun, at a temperature of eighty degrees. Suffice it to say that every morning found us in the sea.
The daily papers have practically no news, the barest cable dispatches, and those principally devoted to sugar reports. The Bar-BARBADOES.
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badoes Club, situated in a modern building, belonging to one of the great Life Insurance Companies, was at our disposal, and a bulletin was posted every day on current events. The club is excellent in all respects, well managed, with all modern improvements and we soon felt quite at home, and no dues of any sort expected from us. Our wives made us tell about the doings of Prince Henry, and were horrified at the news of the disastrous fires, especially the one which destroyed the 71st Regiment Armory and the Park Avenue Hotel. News from home, even at ninety cents a word, and of the most meagre kind is more than acceptable.
On the road to Hastings, on both sides, there is a collection of long brick buildings. At a glance it is easy to see that Tommy Atkins makes this his home. On one side an English Regiment is quartered, and on the other a black Zouave.
The English Tommy does not swagger in his scarlet down here, as he does on the106	BARBADOES.
Strand. He might almost be taken for one of Uncle Sam’s pets, the kahki and slouch hats are much the same. Those black fellows are corkers, six feet tall, broad shouldered and tremendously powerful. They wear dark trousers, leggings and top off with a short red coat, and a red and white turban. They are regular lady killers. Underneath the trees, day and evening you will always find a bevy of these chaps and their sweethearts.
The poor white soldiers have a hard time in this respect, and love making with them is rather difficult. These two regiments get along very well, but there is no comradeship. It is so the world over. An impassable gulf lies between the two races.
A splendid drill ground lies right in front of the barracks and is surrounded with different government buildings; it reminded us of a college campus. No matter how hot the sun, you will see a game of cricket, golf or football in progress there. A mightyBARBADOES.
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good game, a match game in fact, for fifteen pounds was played one afternoon, during our visit, and it was very exciting. Accustomed to our own style of playing we were somewhat mystified at first, but in a short time “caught on.”
Polo is much in vogue here, but we did not see an example of their style of game. The regimental band plays on the Hastings rocks every Tuesday night, and all the Bar-badean four hundred go there. They stroll about or sit in their carriages, and the scene has quite the air of a continental watering place. After we left it was understood that the Hartford band was to play. Our ships are very popular at Bridgetown, especially the training ships. Every winter at least a half-dozen of our men-of-war are at anchor in the roadstead off and on. Not long ago the Monongahela was in port* and by the way a very funny story is going the rounds of Bridgetown about a very good man of that ship. We wont tell it.108	BARBADOES.
If you ever go to Barbadoes, some one is sure to give the snap away. We had a number of friends on the Hartford, in fact, as this ship quarters several hundred boys from the Newport Training Station, we felt as though we had a pretty close hold on all concerned. Just live in Newport for a time and you soon feel that you not only own the United States Navy, but are a part of it. Let anyone on Thames Street or Bellevue Avenue speak slightingly of “ours” and the game is up with him. We had a feeling that those boys on board the Hartford, in fact the old Hartford herself, should have been at home and not kiting around in such unseemly waters.
Our Navy friends were quite at home at Pomroy’s and had been there before. They dined with us, and we, in return went aboard for a visit.
A very sad accident occurred in the Hartford’s crew. While one of the launches was going ashore a fireman fell over in the bottom of the boat and died instantly. WeBARBADOES.	109
did not know of this and were surprised and shocked to see, on boarding the Hartford, a coffin draped with the flag, and the sailor boys lined up on deck, for the last tribute to the dead. The launches were along side, and soon the sad procession was headed shoreward and the remains buried in the English garrison graveyard. The routine duty of ship at once resumed, and soon poor Jack is even lost to memory. Our visit was naturally, rather gloomy.
One day the coach drove over to Gun Hill, the highest elevation in the centre of the Island, from where a beautiful view is obtained. It is chiefly noted as a summer camp. We had afternoon tea at its foot, just where the great white lion is carved out of the soft rock. This is exceedingly well executed, considering that the sculptors were only amateurs. The story is, that they were prisoners and were allowed to while away the time in this manner. The names of those who assisted in this work of art are110
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carved on a slab and surrounded with a lot of sawed-off Latin words. We must confess that none in the party could fully translate them, though there was one Oxonian, a Gir-ton Girl and one American collegian. Percy came to the rescue and told us what it all meant.
We had such a crowd of natives looking at us as we sipped our tea, and partook of some delicious cake, that we were roped off. Probably there were three hundred viewing us. It is a great day for Gun Hillites when the coach drops its load for afternoon tea; they know the old custom and also know that George has something up his sleeve for them, as well as for his star boarders. They are very obedient to his wishes, do anything he asks of them, and all goes well. A shrivelled up old woman, a veritable prea-
damite relic tottered along and stood behind the rope.
Now the writer overheard a conversation between Pom and the relic. When he wasBARBADOES.
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accused of coaching her to tell the ladies that she was one hundred and twelve years old, using a slice of cake as a bribe, he displayed great indignation of the theatrical kind. Though denying in part the base libel, Pom told us that the old woman had a stricter regard for truth than all England and America combined. She said she could not tell us a lie, she was not one hundred and twelve but only a mere child of one hundred and three. She got the cake.
There is always a prize in the Gun Hill cakes, and you cut for it. A very pretty little fruit knife fell to the lot of the writer. Now all good things come to an end, the the darkies had pennies scattered among them, all hands were happy and off we were again at a galloping rate, trying to see the country and listening to island anecdotes told us by George.
One day we took a drive in a victoria with Percy as coachman. He was told to show us the wonderful picture of the Evil112
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Eye. We entered one of the parish churches and over the altar was a splendid painting of our Saviour, in one of those scenes of His Agony and Torture. In the lower left hand corner we beheld the figure of a man with a daub of paint over the eye. This was the Evil Eye picture. It seems that several years ago, some workmen were performing their duties in the Church and one of them became so impressed with this painting that he could not keep away from it. He felt that this wicked villain was looking clean through him. Whether he worked in front of it, at one side, or in the gallery, that eye was always upon him. He could stand it no longer. With trowel in hand he dashed at the picture and gauged out this penetrating eye, and thus was a masterpiece ruined. Percy tried to tell the story as it had been told him, but it had variations, and great was his downfall when he pointed out the wrong eye. There are many such stories and legends is this far off isle.113
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The most- striking is that in connection with the yault in Christ Church burying ground. As the story is a long one, in a sketch like this, it can only be outlined in brief. An eccentric old gentleman desired at his death to be buried in this vault, which was twelve by seven feet, built of solid rock, and with a doorway of the same material. He gave imperative orders that no one of his relatives was to be interred in this vault. A few years after, a death occurred in the family, and contrary to instructions, the body was placed in this tomb. A few nights later the neighbors were alarmed at strange uncanny noises, knockings, poundings, and so forth. The superstitious were terrified, but finally they became somewhat accustomed to them. On the ninth of August, 1812, another body was to be interred, and on opening the vault, to the intense horror of everyone, one of the two coffins was turned and twisted in different angles. The circumstance was in everybody’s mouth, but at last114
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became an everyday ghost story, and for the time served its purpose. In 1816 a baby was to be interred. The officials this time, made a most careful examination before opening the vault. It was, to all outward appearances, exactly as it had been left, four years ago. On removing the solid stone door, to the intense horror of all concerned, the same confusion was seen as on the former mournful occasion, The family owning the vault scouted the idea of anything supernatural, and believed that some uncanny trick had been played. Two months later a body was transferred from another vault and deposited there. The same conditions existed, yet the family refused to investigate. In 1819 still another body was to be laid away in this vault. On removing the stone the coffins were even in a worse condition than before, and excitement was at fever heat. Lord Combermore, the Governor of the island, appeared at the interment, and before the body was deposited,BARBADOES.
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every nook and corner, every stone and coffin was thoroughly examined. Sand an inch deep was strewn on the floor of the vault, the coffins were rearranged, and the door closed with the very best cement. The government seal was impressed, and many bystanders affixed their private marks. It was absolutely impossible for any one to obtain entrance without detection, especially as a guard was assigned to watch the vault.
On the eighteenth of April, 1820, Lord Combermore having obtained consent from the family to open the vault for further investigation, he and hundreds of the best Bar-badeans repaired to the little church yard. The seals and private marks were intact. Not a sign of any disturbance was visible. The workmen strained at their task, the great stone was removed, and the interior exposed. The largest coffin a leaden one, was standing, but upside down. The coffin containing the child’s body was in such a position that it was at once evident, great116
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force must have been displayed. It was jammed up in one corner with an end crushed, and where it had been crashed against the side of the vault a great indentation was made. Still stranger; in spite of this confusion, the sand showed no signs of disturbance. It took several men to lift the great leaden coffin. Drawings were made of the exact positions, a sworn copy of the occurence was sent to the Colonial office, signed by the Governor and the Rector of Christ Church. All the bodies were at once removed, buried in separate places, and no further disturbances occurred thereafter. The vault as we saw it was certainly very respectable looking, and worthy of better treatment. Indeed this is a strange story. How do you account for it?
Our week was at a close and yet there was plenty of sight seeing left. We can only refer to such interesting spots as the old church where for years rested Ferdi-nando Paleólogos, a surviving descendant ofBARBADOES.
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the old Greek emperors; to Monkey Hill
filled (?) with monkeys; to the Indian country and to many strange historical anecdotes.
Some day you may go down there, and if you do, Pom and Percy will help you to enjoy yourself. But stay a month or two, and not a week. There are several smaller hotels and boarding houses which are excellent, but the Marine seems to be the favorite, and as we were all so pleased with our treatment, we felt that the day of departure came all too soon.
The Madiana was waiting for us, we packed our trunks, bade goodbye to our new made friends, and were again on board. Of course we wanted to know from our friends all about Demerara, the trip up the river and their different experiences. They were delighted, naturally, and tried to impress upon our minds, what we had missed. They told us how the monkeys skipped from tree to tree. How the long snakes thick as one’s118
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leg, dangled from every branch as they hung over the river bank. They also told us about the wonderful plants and birds of brilliant hue. We heard many tales of this sort but they didn’t altogether fit. They certainly however had a good time, but we will never regret our week at Barbadoes, despite the fact that we missed Demerara.
Away up in the bow there was a collection of parrots belonging to passengers. One old fellow must have driven the deckhands crazy. Day and night, from the time he came on board, until New York was reached, he kept up a continual racket. As he was destined to spend his days in Quebec, no doubt they are numbered, and probably, e’er long he’ll rest under a snowdrift. Thank fortune no monkeys were brought on board. Speaking about monkeys, a pretty good story was told the writer, by an officer, about one which belonged on one of our ships. He was a great pet, but very naughty. It was astonishing how things disappearedBARBADOES.
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on board, One day, perhaps a comb or brush, another day a picture or a cap. Suspicion of a deep-dyed hue reigned. Who was the thief? Finally, one day, Mr. Monk was caught in the act of throwing out of the port, a young lieutenant’s gold watch and chain. It was then presumed, naturally, that the ocean was lined with silver-backed brushes, sweethearts’ pictures, and gold sleeve buttons. This made the monk very unpopular; possibly his conscience went back on him; at any rate he slid in the captain’s quarters one day, took his pet razor, went out on the end of a spar, and promptly attempted to cut his throat. As he used the back side of the razor he came to the conclusion that it was too dull for honeing, and wouldn’t fill the bill, so chucked it overboard. Courtmartial was in order, conviction followed, and he is now serving a life sentence in Bronx Park.
At the foot of the companion way we found a slip of paper pasted up giving the120
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homeward bound itinerary, and though we were haying such an enjoyable time, nevertheless, the little word Homeward was filled with much meaning. Our prow was soon cutting the deep blue sea, Barbadoes lost to view, and we were nearer and nearer home.
We had lots to see yet, and when we awoke next morning, and went up on deck, as many of us did before dawn, we beheld a wondrous scene. The stars were still studding the sky, but gradually one by one they faded from view, as the day awakened. The splendor of a tropical morning was displayed. The sun had risen, but was still unseen. Right before us was a magnificent mass of solid verdure, from darkest green to a soft nile shade, rising directly from the blue sea, and towering skyward until lost in a bank of clouds far up in the heavens. At length the sun appeared above the mountain peaks; here and there great tongues of fire shot out like the search light of a man-of-war. and this was the morning picture of Dominica.DOMINICA.
OLUMBUS had a practical mind, and
his illustrations were very effective. We all know the egg story, how he stood the egg on end by breaking it. All good little children are told this by their nice little teachers, and that helps them to remember the great man, and also helps toward the depletion of the household supply of eggs. Imitation is the sincerest flattery, and Columbus is directly responsible for many a spanking.
Now when he was in favor with Ferdinand and Isabella, so the story goes, he was describing the new found possessions, and illustrated Dominica by taking a sheet of paper, crunching it in his hand, and throwing it before his sovereigns. Whether the story is true or not, it aptly depicts this wild mountainous island. Little Roseau nestles122	DOMINICA.
on the shore at the foot of a beautiful valley, through which, from away back in the mountains, a sparkling river winds and empties into the sea. We must go up that valley. There is a scramble for wagons, but the only one obtainable in the entire village was corralled by Foxy Grandpa. However, wheeled vehicles are almost useless, as nearly everything is done here on mule or pony back and trails instead of roads are more fashionable. It was very amusing to see all sorts and conditions of men and women on all sorts and conditions of ponies. Now this is the island, where the Long and Short of it, our Navigators, inspired us with great disrespect. Fortunately the party was divided in two sections. One section led by the Long of it, went off into the mountains* to the little lake nestling amid the clouds. The other, started for the Sulphur Springs. The ladies looked superb on their noble steeds, veterans in truth. What difference did it make to them if they wore “Rainyt
FORDING BROOK, DOMINICA.DOMINICA.
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days.” Ay ariagated collection of hose was in evidence, but we were intent on busting bronchos, and keeping our seats and not on that sort of sight seeing. Shorty was in despair. Aboard a yacht he can coil up a mast and stow it away or pass a yellow buoy without flinching, but here he was conquered. Great beads of perspiration stood out on his forehead. Strange oaths were muttered. Something sounded like “D—-n this trip, why didn’t I stay at the Exchange ?” However at last things settled down somewhat. We plodded along over the cobbled streets, past the beautiful park and soon reached the bridge which carried us over the river. The banks of the river were lined with turbaned blacks, busy cleansing the soiled linen of Roseau. How they hammered and pounded that poor linen ! How the buttons flew! When we see such a picture, a wholesome respect for our Chinese and other professional washers enters our souls. Just above the bridge, perhaps some124	DOMINICA.
two or three hundred feet, a large pool of clear crystal water was filled with a bevy of boys swimming about. This evidently was the town bath tub. We felt on looking at this roaring plunging torrent, that if we only had a supply of flies, and a good trout or salmon rod, we would undoubtedly be rewarded. We were reminded however, that our old friends live in cooler waters.
The road becomes winding, great chalk cliffs are on one side, and the dashing stream far below us is on the other. We meet donkeys with large baskets of limes meekly walking toward Roseau, and little black boys jabbing them with sticks to make them move faster. The foliage becomes more dense, the road steeper, rougher and narrower. Great lizards, over a foot long glisten in the sun, as they dart across our path, and seek safely in the woods or rocks. They look formidable, but are very harmless, and if you were a native Dominican, would probably have one for your dinner. AtDOMINICA.
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length we leave the road, strike the trail, near an old lime press, watch for a moment the natives with the same curiosity as they probably watch us. The short rest gave the ponies more life and soon we were in this wild wonderful mountain trail. Sheer precipices below us, and cliffs above, yet clothed with plants of every description. They seem to cling to anything; often they hung like huge canopies over our very heads. Our ponies are now more sure footed. We go down the path, fording a little brook, which plunges to depths below, up again, and we reach a jutting cliff, and there see the remnants of a land slide, scarcely a month old. We have no footing to spare. If we slip or lose our heads, obituary notices will be in order. We shut our eyes, cling to mane or tail and go ahead. Thank fortune we are safe. Of course no one is frightened, no one ever is under such circumstances, Yet somehow or other, our tanned faces seem a little drawn. One comforting donkey leader,126
DOMINICA.
told his charge, a lady, when nearing this spot, that people were often killed going over this trail. Nice, wasn’t it? We are now nearing the Sulphur Springs, the steam is rising far up in the air, a few more moments, we roll off our ponies and take to our legs. Away up here it rains and showers continually, though in a mild sort of manner. First a ray of sun, and then the drops. In consequence the valley and gorges are superb in their wonderful luxuriance. Look away up on those stupendous cliffs and rugged mountains and see those ferns, veritable trees. How botanists must revel here, when so fortunate as to take this trip ! We descend a little foot path, are carried by great strong limbed negroes over a turbulent streams, and in a few minutes are near the bubbling, boiling sulphur. The ground is hot, and in places it almost burns. The springs themselves are rather disappointing, but they are simply the drawing cards for the environment. The guides tell you not toDOMINICA.
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poke the ground with sticks, as deadly vapors may issue forth and overcome you. While probably harmless in this spot, nevertheless, it is a fact that a young Englishman is supposed to have lost his life by punching the ground with a staff only three months before our visit, when on a trip to Mt. Diablotin, the volcano of this island. This is the highest mountain in the West Indies, five thousand three hundred and fifteen feet high. A boiling lake fills the old crater, and in trying to get near it his staff went through the porous soil, and the fumes arising therefrom suffocated him. The guide endeavored to reach him and shared his fate. Both having gone from Roseau, they were absent so long, their friends became anxious and a searching party started forth. Four days after the accident the bodies were brought over the trail.
This island is a tragedy in itself. Beautiful, luxuriant, gloomy, and forboding. Its area less than five hundred miles supports128
DOMINICA.
twenty-five thousand blacks and a sprinkling of whites. They live like all the rest of the islanders, from hand to mouth. The fierce Carib once swarmed over these mountains, they fought and conquered, and for a century were the dread of Saxon as well as Latin. In these wild passes they were safe from attack. They knew every cave and every height, and when ready, like the wily Boer, pounced down on the luckless Europeans and drove them into the sea. Now a mere handful of these savages remain and they live by fishing and basket weaving, on the Eastern side of the island. Their characteristics gone, their own language forgotten, now a peaceful, dying race. Sad, isn’t it? And yet our own stately Indian is fast following in the Carib’s footsteps.
Columbus named this island in honor of our Lord. He dropped anchor here on his second voyage in search of water, Sunday, November 3, 1493. Peace on Earth, Good will toward Men is the keynote of His teach-DOMINICA.
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ings, but under the Spanish banner, what awful cruelties were enacted in these fastnesses ! Carib or cannibal, it matters not, he fought for his own, and though death and destruction was his fate, he left the impress of a brave race. In those days the Spaniard piked and stabbed his foes to death. In our enlightened day we are much more humane, we merely utilize science, and hurl bursting shells, use smokeless powder, and machine guns. Where one was killed before, now ten or twenty are rent and torn asunder, and masses of quivering flesh tossed high in air. Another race far off in Africa is fighting a civilized power for liberty and home. Is .that brave band to follow the Carib ? All these thoughts come upon us, as we behold the grandeur. We must be going back over the brook. We are again carried, but, alas ! accidents will happen. It was really very impolite, but when Mrs. D. was dropped plump into that gurgling stream, it was too much of a temptation for a camera fiend.130
DOMINICA.
The film was perfectly successful. The trip back was uneventful. We had our second scare when we reached the land slide, and finally hove to at the landing place. Some of- us felt rather stiff, but altogether we threw bouquets at each other, and concluded we could show the cowboy a trick or two. We had not very much time left, so we wandered through the town to limber up. We saw the market place which was deserted on every day but Saturday; also the Catholic and English churches, and the old fort. The mountain party soon came in and were as enthusiastic about the scenery as we were. The day was far too short. Such glorious days always are. We soon steamed away, fair Dominica faded from view, but her glorious memory never will. We spent the moonlight evening on deck chatting about our trip. We turn our thoughts to history. We remember Rodney and are not forgetful of the great French nation which helped us to gain our liberty in the last quarter ofDOMINICA.
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the eighteenth century. Lafayette, Rocham-beau and others cross our minds, they were land heroes. France also produced admirals and one of them was de Grasse.
If memory serves us rightly, we have an idea he was once rather near Yorktown. We find de Grasse with sails flapping idly on the many yards of his splendid fleet, becalmed right under the mountains of Dominica. This was on the eighth of April, 1782. Wig wagging was not known in those days, but nevertheless Rodney got news that he was wanted, and in spite of the great inferiority, of his fleet in many respects, he gave battle, and de Grasse, four days later, was defeated. England lost her colonies, but saved her islands. This naval battle was one of the greatest in history; and this mere statement is a hint for you to again take down your favorite historian.NEVIS AND ST. KITTS.
IN the morning we beheld two mountain peaks, and as we steamed nearer, found that they were separated by a narrow channel. One was Ben Nevis on the island of Nevis, and the other the peak of Mount Misery in St. Christopher, more commonly called St. Kitts. The clouds still obscured old Nevis with its four thousand feet of elevation, but not its wondrous sloping beauty. Far up on the side, the incline is so gentle, every foot of soil is utilized for cane. In the light breeze the cane waves in soft undulating motion, just as we see in our own corn fields. This is a wee bit of an island, only seven miles long and six miles wide.
We had but a short time to stay, as the Madiana was booked for St. Kitts, nevertheless our request to drop anchor here for a while was granted, and we started ashore.'SIA3NNEVIS AND ST. KITTS.	133
Dilapidation and decay were everywhere, and depression overcame us. All nature smiled and laughed, but man showed his misery. Not so very long ago, everything was prosperous and bright. The fearful hurricane swept over the island and carried death and destruction with it. The whites left it; fine old estates were, abandoned and now scarcely a handful remain.
When the West Indies were teeming with a white population and money flowed like water, the swells came to Nevis just as they go now to Newport or Bar Harbor in our own land. The ruins of a splendid stone building with large lofty rooms stand on the road across the island. This was the scene of many a brilliant ball and dance. .The remains of a warm sulphur pool exists and at one time this was connected with the hotel. Here the high livers, and gouty gentry of the day had their cure. Port and sherry were more prized then, than their native rum. Very likely Nelson danced in134	NEVIS AND ST. KITTS.
those old rooms, and probably strolled under the trees with Dr. Nesbit’s widow. Just beyond here, a mile or so, you will find a quaint little stone church, recently restored. On entering, the black sexton will show you a priceless relic in the shape of a marriage notice of the greatest admiral the world ever knew, and the charming island widow. Though the records are kept here, he was quietly married near by in a little stone house, now fast going to ruin. Mr. Herbert, the father of Nelson’s wife, was a man of gentle birth, and the President of Nevis at the time of the marriage.
As you go down the aisle of this diminutive church, you see before you, quite near the door a white marble slab with a coat of arms carved thereon, which reads “Here lies, etc.” The name Hamilton confronts you. Nelson belongs to England and helped to make her great, while Alexander Hamilton, born on this island of Scotch parents, in the full vigor of young manhood, helped toNEVIS AND ST. KITTS.	135
frame the greatest document ever given to man — the Declaration of Independence; the basis, not only of the very existence of seventy million citizens on the American continent, but the coming document for the whole civilized world. He left Nevis in 1772 and we soon find him a college lad at King’s College, New York, (afterwards Columbia). Little Nevis therefore, is strongly linked by history to the two great Anglo-Saxon nations. There is little else to see here, but our pretty drive to the church paid us.
As St. Kitts is only eleven miles away we are soon there. Mt. Misery lifts its head fully four thousand five hundred feet, but the lowering vapors hid it from view. Its sides resemble Ben Nevis, clothed with growing cane and dark green foliage, and a little to the east of it is a smaller mountain called Monkey Hill. You are told that so many of these little sportive animals live there, that all you have to do, is to put your136	NEVIS AND ST. KITTS.
hand up on any swinging branch, and they will drop off like apples, when you shake a tree, You are also told that the old fort is literally alive with them. As a matter of fact we saw just one monkey and he was held in captivity and owned in Basseterre. Needless to say the Cabbies told these yarns. Cabbies are alike, all the world over, fond of romancing, any old fib goes as long as they think a fare can be captured.
The financial condition of St. Kitts is indeed deplorable, far worse than any of the other islands. We were almost mobbed when we landed. Around the Custom House, which was a fine substantial building, mendicants literally swarmed. They came from everywhere.
Before the day was over, the annoyance became so great we fled to the ship. With but sixty-eight square miles of soil, and a large part mountainous, is it any wonder that twenty-eight thousand human beings are hungry and destitute, especially as cane isST. KITTS.NEVIS AND ST. KITTS.	137
the only source of revenue ? The same sad story. A quiet gentle looking negro with intelligence displayed in his countenance, and using excellent English, begged the writer to take him away. He said he would do anything, or go anywhere. He did not care for wages if only he could live and not starve. So after all we may have been too severe with the Basseterre population. Had they employment, they might not have begged.
Just beyond the Custom House there is a little circle, and in the centre a huge and very ugly pedestal, on which stands an equally ugly clock. Art is wanting in these towns. A very large church built of dark stone, and named after St. George is the pride of the islanders. With possibly one exception it is the largest in all the West Indies. It has recently been renovated and rebuilt. After every hurricane some great building has to go through this process. We commiserate with them for their hurri-138	NEVIS AND ST. KITTS.
canes and they in turn feel sorry for their northern friends, who live amid frost, snow and blizzards. They prefer hurricanes and perhaps they are wise. A beautiful road takes you past or through a botanical garden, almost as well kept as the one at Roseau in Dominica, out to the old fort. The road is alive with blacks, wandering to and from the town. You see them resting under great spreading trees, and nearly all sucking a piece of cane, the only intemperate vice the thousands of blacks indulge in. During our whole trip we did not see one drunken black, and saloons, if any, are so hidden from public gaze they are hard to find.
The fort was built by the French, long,
long ago, when France owned this end of
the island. It is a curious fact, that at one
time away back in the seventeenth century,
the inhabitants, composed of French and
English emigrants or settlers, couldn’t pull
together, so they decided to separate, peace-
fullv or otherwise. Our French friends took */NEVIS AND ST. KITTS.	139
the Basseterre end of the island and the English colonists took Sandy Point and environs. Naturally this little arrangement was just about as successful as putting a lion and a tiger in the same cage. Those good old days are now gone, and the land of pounds, shillings and pence controls. The old fort is extremely picturesque and romantic looking. Here and there an old gun pointing seaward; and scattered through the grass are still older pieces, dismounted and rusting their old lives away. A charming old fellow lives out there with his mate, and every now and then fires a salute. His actual vocation is hoisting signals and proclaiming the arrival of vessels. With a glass one can see miles and miles away and no doubt when the house flag of the Madiana flew from his staff, it summoned our friends, the beggars.
The elite of St. Kitts live on the shore, and around a pretty little park at the eastern end of the town, surrounded with stately140	NEVIS AND ST. KITTS.
palms and tropical plants. The park is about the size of an ordinary city square. A dear old lady keeps the only hotel in town. After driving about all morning, we decided to lunch on shore. Somewhat slow, (nobody hurries) she finally, one hour and a half
after our giving the order, served a fairly good meal. You cannot expect to get good
meat in hot countries no matter what kind it is, so the chicken which was promptly killed for us proved a dismal failure. The first time you get a chance, try to eat a freshly killed chicken.
We were scheduled to sail at five, but owing to the politeness of the American Consul and his charming wife, who invited the entire ship’s party to attend a reception, we sailed one hour later. This was certainly very thoughtful and was greatly enjoyed. We met many of the best citizens, and in conversation they gave much information about the islands. They were extremely interested in the Cuban question, and desired to knowNEVIS AND ST. KITTS.	141
whether our Government intended to keep its promises. Naturally as their interests were somewhat similar, especially in regard to sugar, they took this method of enlightening themselves.
When we returned to the ship, we learned that a number of the male portion of the ship’s company had been trying to capture the sharks that played about the stern. They were anything but successful. The monsters of the deep are like rats—very cautious in their daring. This was the only port where they appeared to us.
We sailed out of the roadstead, skirted the coast, for some time, and as darkness fell upon us, could still see the little hamlets with their lights in the distance. It was too late to see Saba, a most interesting island, which would have been in full view had it been daylight. A very good account of this island is given by Miss Day who wrote “The Cruise of the Scythian.”
We were particularly anxious to see St.142
NEVIS AND ST. KITTS.
Thomas, owing to the annexation question and the next morning, long before daylight many were on deck peering through the darkness in search of land.ST. THOMAS.
AS dawn approached we beheld the high hills looming up ahead of us and on entering a narrow channel, saw just along the shore, and high up on the mountain sides, an extremely picturesque collection of many colored houses. This is the town of Charlotte Amelia. As we afterward observed it was the best laid out town in the West Indies, and by far the most modern. Moreover, there were more whites here than elsewhere.
As a coaling station or harbor of refuge, this position in the West Indies is surpassed by none, unless it be St. Lucia. There were two other steamers in port and one Danish Man-of-War, of the Texas type, though somewhat smaller. This vessel was stationed there, in connection with the annexation question.144
ST. THOMAS.
We landed on an extremely good pier, near a small park, and the day being Sunday, the majority of our passengers went to church, and the minority took in the town. There was no difficulty for the latter to find “Raines Law” resorts. There is little humbug of that nature outside of our own Country.
«
The public conveyances are excellent and the drivers polite and well informed. The star attractions of the island, in the historical line, of course, are the stories about the early pirates and their two famous castles.
What child has not read or heard the gruesome tales of Bluebeard and Black-beard and their bloody doings?
This land locked harbor was an excellent rendezvous for such Knights of the Sea.
Bluebeard buiit himself a strong castle away up on the side of the mountain. He placed his Long Tom there and with a few partners went into business and formed a close corporation. Not long after, Black-ST. THOMAS.
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beard did likewise. His castle was a little less elevated, and about a mile distant. At first they were rivals, but the community of interest idea pervaded them, and they formed a Pirate Trust. In those good old days there was a lot doing, and they had their hands full. Naturally we wished to see at least one of these old castles. Though owned by a gentleman of wealth and leisure, we had no difficulty in obtaining permission to enter. It must be a great nuisance to him, as every one going to St. Thomas at once foots it, or drives thitherward, for the same purpose. The castle is simply a round tower, situated in the centre of a small level place on the top of this hill, and surrounding it is a rampait, on which guns were formerly mounted.
The view from here is magnificent and with the glasses, you can see Porto Rico. The career of the original owner of this castle was one of murder and robbery, so bold was he that once he actually sailed into146	ST. THOMAS.
Charleston harbor, and obtained by sheer nerve, exactly what he desired. At last, after thousands of pounds were spent, and many lives lost, he was captured and executed. As we all know, two centuries or more ago, these pirates ruled the Southern seas. There is not the least doubt that it was openly winked at by those in high authority, for obvious reasons, just as was the slave trade, which was then at its height, and carried on with incredible cruelty. Our race brought an alien race on these fair shores, and now one of the greats est and most serious problems confronts, not only the entire West Indies, but our own great Nation.
It is expedient that we should own the Danish isles, for strategic and other reasons. We must remember that we are also adding over fifty thousand more blacks to our nation, by the stroke of the pen. Whatever we may think of this great and serious question, namely, the negro problem,ST. THOMAS.
147
there are certain fundimental facts. The negroes in America are eight million strong, ever increasing, and the black belt widening. The curse of negro slavery, in which both North and South must share responsibility and a legacy which is handed down to us from centuries past, and in which the three great nations of the time, Spain, England and France, were so closely and intimately connected, still remains. The poor wretches were huddled in the holds of the fearful slave ships after capture on the African coast, and untold torture inflicted. Death, sometimes as high as forty per cent occurred; and the bodies of the victims tossed overboard like rotten meat.
They arrived not only by thousands, but by tens of thousands. There was no hope for them; nothing to look forward to but death. A gleam of light flashed over their path. Humanity awoke. A nation was almost rent assunder in a frightful carnage of four years. They are now free forever.148
ST. THOMAS.
That was thirty-seven years ago. Yes, they have made progress, but slow, very slow. Upbuild this race on grounds of humanity. Elevate; don’t degrade. Educate and instruct; first industrially, and await results. Thanks to such men as Booker Washington, our eyes are made clearer, and our conscience tells us that humanity is responsible for his location on this continent. As Christians, we should apply the golden rule to black as well as white.
We were certainly well received at St. Thomas. At one end of the town the Russian Consul has an extremely pretty place. We drove past the cemetery, along the shore, and finally reached this lovely spot. Not only were we given permission to wander over the grounds, but were allowed to walk through the garden and pluck flowers. The camera fiends were at work and our Russian friends made no hindrance whatsoever.
In leaving St. Thomas we say goodbye toST. THOMAS.
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the little islands. How sorry we are. The shores fade away and at length vanish. We again skirt Porto Rico. The lofty hills and deep valleys clothed in everlasting green awaken in our souls visions of Utopia. Here and there little villages; down on the coast line and away back in the hills, a curl of smoke denotes life. Again we see Morro Castle at the mouth of the harbor of San Juan. The old flag is still there, just as we saw it weeks ago. The panorama ever changing, at length shows up another land.
How lovely Hayti looks ? The shore at times is very abrupt and steep cliffs rise from the sea. Huge caves are carved out; the sea dashes in and out, and the white spray is sent glistening into the air.
Would that life was as beautiful on this lordly isle ! Saint Domingo, or Hayti (it matters not as far as the name is concerned) is one dark living tragedy. Under whatever government this great island has been, the story is the same. Today quiet150	ST. THOMAS,
and peace* tomorrow war and rapine. The experiment of an absolute black government exists. It is yet too soon for final judgment. The evidences are ill-boding and it looks as though* some outside Power must exercise its force. Within the past century it has gone from bad to worse* and today but a veneer of civilization exists. For all we know, back of those lofty hills, as we view them* heathen rites are carried on and possibly human sacrifices made and cannibalism practiced. Whether all the stories which are heard are founded on fact or not, strong evidence is brought forth to prove that the existing conditions on this island are deplorable. From want of contact with the whites* thousands have lapsed into a condition* almost of primeval savagery.
As we sailed along these shores* the writer took up “In The Wake of Columbus,” and read a graphic description of these people. Mr. Ober* the author* gives much in fewST. THOMAS.	151
words. His book was of great interest at this particular time, for when reading about the supposed location of the first real settlement in the New World, we were actually off the spot he describes, and with the aid of a chart could follow his words to a nicety. It is a pity we did not stop at some port. This is not expressed as a complaint or criticism but refers only to the natural desire, of seeing something of this strange land.
As the run from St. Thomas to Santiago was in the neighborhood of six hundred miles, we had practically, two and a half day’s sail. Early on the second day, Cape Maysi was sighted, and we were in familiar waters. At once we picture in our minds Ceyera’s ships hastening to Santiago, the anxious days and nights our scouts had in chasing the phantom fleet, all ready, unknown to them safe and sound in that landlocked harbor. The Cape passed, we sail under the rugged mountains, which appeared152
ST. THOMAS.
as great masses of rock divested of verdure. Nearer and nearer we come to Santiago. Nothing in the way of life is seen, until we are abreast of a long iron trestle and a clump of cottages. Near at hand and high up on the side of the hills is a very respectable sized town. This is the mining town of Daiquiri. No one ever heard of this spot until the United States landed some thousands of troops here, during the Spanish war. Now it is famous. Just beyond is Sibony, another speck of a town which will find a place in history. When we look at these two little towns and see the rugged nature of the country, we are astonished at the work our men must have accomplished before El Caney and San Juan were in sight. Passing these places, we rapidly near Santiago and our blood tingles. This is the famous spot which changed the map of the world in the shortest time on record, with the smallest loss of life and money, and made an Empire out of a Republic.ST THOMAS.
153
We behold the barracks, long low buildings, and just beyond, the outline of El Morro. We are soon under the very walls and behold a narrow opening, scarcely wide enough to permit two vessels to pass. Just under these walls, facing the entrance is a cave. This is the spot Hobson and his men intended reaching, if they could avoid capture. The pilot takes us in. On the heights above, the soldiers wave to us, and two or three of them seem to be dancing a jig. Hobson’s prison window is pointed out. We twist and turn, and then see the very waters, where the Merrimac took her final plunge, and where another batch of heroes, was added to the already long list. We suddenly behold a harbor of indescribable beauty. It looks more like a lake, and on the eastern side we see the old Spanish city of Santiago, rising from the water’s edge and terminating in a plain. The Cathedral stands out boldly. The setting sun colors the lofty mountains and the city with the154
ST. THOMAS.
exquisite hues of a semi-tropical clime. We drop anchor some distance from the quay, and have a long pull to shore.SANTIAGO.
WE landed amid a pile of sewer piping which is indicative of cleanliness* and find that the city fulfills our ideas in that respect. Whatever may have been the condition under Spanish rule, now some of our own cities could take a lesson from Santiago. Everywhere we went the streets were in splendid condition, and absolutely clean. We had been told about this good work of the last few years and it certainly is most gratifying.
As far as general appearance goes, Santiago is like San Juan. A broad promenade along the water front, terminates at the railroad station at one end, and at the other is a road going to El Morro. After a steep drive we arrive at the Plaza, which is very pretty; surrounded on the south by the Cathedral, on the east by a hotel and a club,156
SANTIAGO.
on the north by the Palace, and west by the Cafe Venus and a number of shops. As we were hungry it was not long before we were having a regulation Spanish dinner at the Venus. The menu . was printed partially in our own language. However it was somewhat difficult to detect, as some of the words were very funny. We were invited to use the Club and promptly accepted. The members were exceeding hospitable, and entertained us by musical selections. Our own Paderewski supplied the honors for the Madiana, and there was a friendly competion between Cuba and America. The writer fears he will never be forgiven by either of these two distinguished players. Not being up on Nocturnes and boiler-shop music he suggested the Sextet from Florodora and was immediately sat upon. With all due respect to musical classics at the Metropolitan, Carnegie hall or elsewhere, most applause, even from our German friends, invariablySANTIAGO.
157
bursts forth when melody is reached. This club with its lofty rooms, marble floors and great easy chairs must have been a delightful haven of rest after the fatigues of the Spanish campaign. Our officers after the war were put up at this club, and were treated in the kindest possible manner. The park in front of the club is shaded with large trees and for ornamental purposes, some fine old Spanish guns are in evidence. In another smaller park there are guns, somewhat different in type, which though antiquated, were actually used against our forces during the war. No end of relics are for sale here fiom a gun to a cartridge. The writer bought the only original and genuine sword that General Toral surrendered to Shaffer. How General Shaffer could have been so careless as to leave this sword behind is a mystery. Price two dollars.
Believe all you hear, you thereby confer happiness to those who give information, and satisfy yourself. The pawn shops are158
SANTIAGO.
filled with all sorts of gruesome things, and ready purchasers are always to be found. We were rather shocked at the lax care of the Cathedral. No one in authority was present either in the sacred edifice or about the square. It was dirty, shabby and generally dilapidated. Two small brats about ten years o]d were running about and had no seeming reverence for anything. They actually played about the very altar itself. This old Cathedral was built probably three hundred years ago and is of the regulation Spanish type.
At the evacuation of Cuba by the Spanish many priests left. The people pleaded poverty as the cause of existing religious conditions, but we were inclined to attribute it to absolute indifference. Strange as it may seem to those who have been in Catholic Countries, in Europe and elsewhere, neither in Porto Rico or Cuba do you see priests or sisters in the streets. Such a sight is now almost a rarity. A Catholic country that loses interest in the church is in a se-SANTIAGO.
159
rious condition, and forbodes not only moral but political degradation as well.
Our intention was to spend the night ashore, but accommodations were rather limited, and poor at that. We went back to the ship. It was stifling aboard, not a breath of air stirring, so a rather uncomfortable night was passed. Early next morning, all aboard went ashore as soon as possible, in order to avoid the midday heat, and to see San Juan in the cool of the morning. A short drive took us to a part of the town, where we could plainly see both El Caney and San Juan. A drive of twenty minutes, from this spot, found us at the Surrender Tree, now fenced in. All about there you could see the graves, still open, from whence coffins had been removed. In one there was still a portion of a metal casket left and exposed to view. The memory of San Juan as we approached it was particularly sad. One could not help but feel, that only a short time ago this very soil160
SANTIAGO.
was soaked with the blood of the youth and manhood of two warring nations. As you look down into the valley of death, you wonder how it was possible for our brave troops to leave the narrow road, and storm this position, which was held by men, concealed in the long deep trenches. You wonder how they ever hewed and hacked their way through the dense underbrush, all the way from the sea to this place, burning and scorching under the fierce July sun. As it was, we were, even with our sun umbrellas, at this early hour in the morning, uncomfortably hot and were glad to return to the cool and shade of the city.
It is easy for you to poke about the dirt and trenches and find cartridges, if the relic fever is upon you. As the war is so fresh in the minds of all, and the battle of San Juan in all details is so familiar, it is not worth while to dwell on it, other than to let it be a reminder of the remark of General Sherman “War is Hell.”SANTIAGO.
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Some of the ship’s company drove to El Morro and inspected the walled-fortress, and of course looked in upon Hobson’s cell, which is now used as an office. Both officers and men were very courteous, and were glad of the opportunity to show us the sights. The soldiers were like school boys, counting the days before vacation. Their principle idea is to get home and see their friends again. Why not ?
The time slipped by, and we were soon twisting and turning out of the harbor. We were disappointed at not being able to go along the southern coast of Cuba; thus making Havana by the westward, which would have enabled us to see the site of the great naval battle; but this was impossible, owing to lack of time. However, we could plainly see the lofty mountains just beyond the harbor, and we knew that underneath their shadow, buried in the sands on the shore, are the fragments of a second Armada.
Would that this awful destruction of hu-162
SANTIAGO.
man life, a veritable carnage of hell, be a lesson to Christian nations ! What is Christian America doing today ? What are England, Germany, Russia, France and other nations doing ?
Draining their coffers and enslaving mankind, and having in mind expectant taxation, for the purpose of building battleships, and equipping them with the most deadly instruments of destruction the world has ever known. They say this is to preserve the peace of the world. In short, that Fear, and not Love, must rule. If come it must, God grant that the horror of another Saturnalia of blood will convince Christianity that the teachings of Christ were Good Will and Peace, and not the chemistry of smokeless powder and rapid fire guns. Constituted as humanity is, this work goes on, and we, as a nation, are forced to do likewise. Navies must be built and if so, then may our own be formidable enough to command the respect of the world, and, wherever
SSÜM
if U ««!>•:
GOVERNMENT PALACE, SANTIAGO.SANTIAGO.	163
and whenever possible, help to keep the peace.
We retraced our tracks and rounded Cape May si. For nearly two days we sailed along the coast of Cuba, the lofty mountains gradually dwindling in size, until they became mere foothills.
We were all sorry to see the third El Morro, as it meant the breaking up of our party, Havana being our last stopping place. A number intended to leave us here, some going to Mexico, some to New Orleans, and others to Florida. As we had already used up our alloted time, we had but a few hours in which to see Havana. We asked the Captain to telegraph to New York for permission to stay a day longer. When we dropped anchor, he at once did so, and a prompt reply followed, granting his request. Considering that the expense of the ship for twenty-four hours longer was borne by the Steam Ship Company, this extension of time was much appreciated. However this was in the line of their policy.HAVANA.
HE fortifications of Havana are in-
deed vast* but as they are so well known, mere mention only is necessary. Some of us had been here before, and the wreck of the Maine was therefore a familiar figure. Alongside of this mass of iron, now so famous, was anchored the “Morro Castle,” a very fine fast steamer of the Ward Line, a vessel of five thousand five hundred tons, built by the Cramps. The writer had the pleasure of taking a trip to Havana on her initial voyage, and found her the equal of any Atlantic liner. We certainly can build fine ships, and it is to be hoped that ship building will again be one of our giant industries.
Here at anchor was the French Admiral’s flag ship, the Tage, which we saw at Fort de France, in Martinique. She was gayHAVANA.
165
with bunting, and her afterdeck was being prepared for a reception. A superb silk French flag was hanging astern. The harbor of this city was full of life and animation. The ferries reminded one of New York, as the type of boats are somewhat the same; in fact, we were inclined to think they were some old Fulton ferry “cast offs.” They certainly had an ancient look.
How different Havana seemed to those who had been there only fifteen months before ! Then an epidemic of yellow fever existed and few Americans were there The mosquito theory was at its full height and when we retired at night, the nasty little pests sang to us and we were sure that sooner or later, they would pump virus into us. We survived, but left as quickly as possible, by way of Florida. Now the streets were alive with Americans, the trolley cars flying all over the city, and when we boarded them, and felt the old familiar jerk, we were happy and thought of home.166
HAVANA.
The hotels have improved in cleanliness* and the food is more to our taste. Though Spanish characteristics still exist and ever will* to a marked degree, American influence is felt. There was a rumor afloat that some capitalists intended to erect a large hotel on the Praedo. Let us hope they will. It certainly should pay. Nobody there cares for Lent* so the opera was in full blast* and the Tacon filled with a fashionable audience. Some of our party went to the Opera* and those having Lenten consciences went to the Albisu* a variety theatre.
Great interest was manifest on all sides* and by every body* in the sugar question* and the transfer of authority. The Cubans feel that the United States, a great Nation* should keep its pledge and that their own flag should float over their own land. A little nation of a new birth looks up to its protector* one of the most powerful on earth, possessing untold riches* and merely asks it to do its duty. Reciprocity and expediencyHAVANA.
167
are well enough in their way, but let no nation, great or small, forget that integrity is the keystone that props up its character.
We visited the cigar factories, had cigars rolled for us, drove and walked through the narrow streets, and only wished that during the heat of the day in our own cities, great large awnings should be stretched across to keep off thè hot noon sun, as the merchants in Obispo and O’Reilly streets do. The old palace was visited. In short we took in all the sights so well known and so often written about. Camp Columbus, just outside of Havana, where our few remaining troops were stationed, was visited. A few favored ones were invited to a ball. It was, after living in our own happy-go-lucky way, quite an event to see “Chauncey'’ in his Conduit Street dress suit, and one of the fair ones, in a beautiful French gown, going offin the evening. They were the envy of all the rest as they
likewise were the guests of-------and slept
that night, or rather morning, in the Palace.168
HAVANA.
On the trip up the coast we listened to the marvels of this palace. “P. Chauncey” told us about the frescoes, the Murillos and so forth, concealed in the wondrous guest chamber. Tapestries of the days of Grenada kept out the light of day, and were looped with golden chains. In short his story was one of the regular pipe dream order. If he can argue a case in court as well as he describes his Palatial visit, other legal luminaries have but little show.HOMEWARD.
OUR trip is almost over. We buy a few cigars and knick-knacks, and find that just as we are about to sail, a superb fan is to be drawn for. This is offered to the passengers by a very enterprising firm, whose specialty is fans. It is a good stroke of business, and advertises their wares in an unusual way. We are not at all envious, but highly delighted, when a bride, a most charming lady, draws the winning number. Later on though, her youthful husband did not do a thing to the pools. He won them all. In fact one day, he suggested raffling for the Madiana. The captain thought this was too much, and advised that he keep still until his return to Boston, and then he might tackle Amalgamated Copper, or corner granite.
We left Havana with a brisk breeze from170
HOMEWARD.
the northwest, and feared it was the warning of something stronger further up the coast. Some passengers left us, fearing a stormy March passage, but from the time we left Havana until we dropped anchor off quarantine, the sea was as smooth as the Hudson, and even up to the very day we arrived, warm and bright.
The old scenes confronted us, the towering buildings; puffing tugs, and at last we were warped into our slip. On the dock, awaiting us, were the Custom House officers, who -promptly did their duty, and only too well. None of us had any objection to internal, external or any other old revenue, but it did seem a little far fetched for the United States Government to levy tribute on a few trinkets, and a mere handful of cigars and cigarettes. One poor family had their belongings strewn all over the dock, and judging from what the official collected on dutiable articles, it could not have been of any value to the government, and only caused disgust and contempt.HOMEWARD.
171
The officers are often condemned, but they are on their oaths, and are compelled to do their duty. No doubt the performance is as distasteful to them, as it is to the poor traveller.
A steamer in dock is a poor place to say goodbye, but here we were about to break up, and go our several ways. The memory of the trip, and the memory of pleasant acquaintances, will always remain fresh. During the entire trip, both on board and on shore, there was the utmost good feeling. Everyone took his or her little “roasts” in perfect good nature. In fact, though we all got pretty familiar, no unkind words oi thoughts were indulged in. Occasionally some slight complaint was heard, but was soon forgotten. The description of many little incidents has been left out, such as the mock trial, etc., but the writer feels that this little sketch in quite long enough as it is.CONCLUSION.
IN taking a trip to the West Indies, there are several ways of going, and it is simply a question of individual choice. No matter, you cannot help but have a good outing. The Madiana trip was exactly thirty-five days. It is necessary to carry enough clothes to last the entire trip, as it is sometimes difficult to have washing done in a satisfactory manner. Moreover both winter and summer garments must be taken. You must also expect many inconveniences, and must put up with the customs of the people you encounter. Don’t expect to be in a hurry, and then think that their characteristics are of like nature. They won’t hurry, they can’t hurry. They are not built that way. If we lived for a few years in a clime, where the thermometer registers eighty or ninety degrees the year round, we wouldCONCLUSION.
173
probably be like the natives in a short time.
Unconsciously you become almost a vegetarian, you won’t care for meat and will choose fish instead. You will learn very soon to drink fresh cocoanut milk, eat sap-odillas, sour sops, guava and other tropical fruits too numerous to mention. But if these are served and a good old North American apple is in sight, you will be patriotic and choose the latter. These fruits may be very delicious, but the taste in most cases must be cultivated. Very little has been said about the botanical or geological sides of the islands. The reason is due to the fact that this little work was written out of pure enthusiasm, for a most delightful trip. If little personalities have been indulged in, no harm can come as no names have been used, and the “pet” nicknames are known only to our fellow voyagers, and they are all fully aware of the little incidents connected therewith.174
CONCLUSION.
If the writer has appeared over enthusiastic towards the Quebec Steamship Company, so ably represented by the Outerbridges, it is due to the pleasure given by them. If he has slapped the backs (metaphorically speaking) of Captain Frazer and Purser Griset, it is because they were jolly good
fellows and deserved it.
Finally he wishes that these trips will always be as delightful in the future, as was the one of 1902.
“ Haec olim meminisse Juvabit.
99N. B. The writer suggests to any one taking this trip, to read up Stark's History and Guide to Barbadoes and Carribbee Islands, obtainable at Thomas Cooks and Sons, or the Photo Electrotype Co., Boston, Mass.
“Cruising in the Madiana," by N. Allen Lindsey, Lynn, Mass.
“Cruise of the Scythian," by Susan De Forest Day. F. Tennyson Neely, New York*
“In the Wake of Columbus," by Frederick Ober, Boston. D. Lothrop & Co.DESTRUCTION OF ST. PIERRE.
HOW peaceful and sweet all Nature seemed. The blue sky flecked with fleecy clouds, meets on the horizon a still bluer sea. The clear waters of the little babbling brook, away up on the side of the mountain, jumps and leaps from its birthplace, and laughing in its glee, dashes its diamond spray hither and thither, over the ferns and grasses that line the rocky banks. Lower down it becomes a mountain torrent, until it finds a resting place in the Carib sea. The songs of the birds are heard, as they perch on the branches of the trees above. Their gay plumage specks the landscape, and their nests are filled with the hungry broods, awaiting their feathered parents.
Along the winding road, the dusky natives bear high on head, their burdens of cane, or baskets filled with yams and fruits. They178 DESTRUCTION OF ST. PIERRE.
chat and laugh together, or nod to friends and discuss their coming sales and market values. The little donkeys, patient and docile, with huge paniers, as large as their rotund bodies, sway along, flecking with their tails the buzzing flies, as they hasten downward toward the city.
The sun has hardly given out its early morning heat, and still lies low over those Eastern hills. The inhabitants of the busy little city are awakening, and going about their daily toil. The serving women are, as usual, prepariug the morning meal. The early clerks are opening up their masters’ stores on Rue Victor Hugo. The draymen are moving to the wharves with loads of sugar and cocoa. Already the lighters are waiting. Impatience is displayed, because the Captain is in a hurry to leave with his cargo, for the North, and this last load delays him. But there are other ships, and he must wait his turn. The barks, brigs and steamers tug lazily at their chains. They areDESTRUCTION OF ST. PIERRE. 179
having their morning scrubbing, preparing for another hot day.
On the green slopes of the steep hills, the villagers are busily engaged at their morning’s work. The merchants and their families in the villas are ready for their early meal, and the children are giving their books a hurried glance before they betake themselves to their tasks.
Older and wiser heads for the past few days have been uneasy. The negroes have been recounting their superstitions, and tales weird and awesome, have sprung up again. The noises and rumblings of the past few days have implanted fear and forboding, and the destruction of a factory and its workmen, was the sole topic of conversation. Many had not slept for two or three nights, but the good priests, and the braver folk of St. Pierre had partially quelled the fears of the people, inasmuch as the worst was over, and no greater calamity could befall them.
Confidence was gradually returning. Old180 DESTRUCTION OF ST. PIERRE.
Mt. Pelee, to be sure, was at times irritable, not very, though. His bottled-up steam arose, sometimes more, sometimes less, and occasionally he grumbled. Tradition had it, that in times far back, he was angry, and some fifty years ago, let forth a trifle of his wrath; but now that he had vented his spleen on those luckless victims of a few days ago, St. Pierre was again as safe as any city in the world.
Such was the morning hour of May the eighth, and such, the quiet scenes and pictures that we had witnessed a few weeks before.
How absolutely impossible it is to picture the horror and the awfulness of the sudden blotting out, not only of life in every form, and in every phase, but the very earth itself. Who can conjecture what passed in the minds of those forty thousand human beings in that brief five minutes, as the hell of fire rained upon them. Not even the sea was spared, the very waters were licked up and shrivelled. Even the cities of Pompeii and HerculaneumDESTRUCTION OF ST. PIERRE. 181
wel*e given time to offer themselves in prayer to the Roman Dieties. Even the horrors of the Lisbon catastrophe were not so sudden as Was this one of St. Pierre, where it was as instantaneous as it was stupendous. Dante could not begin to picture a scene such as this must have been. Pliny, graphic as he was, utterly fails. The awfulness is too great, yes, far too great for mortal mind.
We read “The Last Days of Pompeii'5 and almost look upon the wonderful story as a gruesome tale or fantasy of ages past. Yet here in the beginning of the twentieth century, which boasts of Nature being controlled by science, a cataclysm, even greater, has occurred.
The writer does not attempt the task of describing such a scene. Little did he dream that, while these pages were actually in the hands of the binder, and the work complete, a chapter like this would be added. What; other horrors in these lovely islands are now being enacted, at this writing, he does not know.182 DESTRUCTION OF ST. PIERRE.
The Almighty, in His terrible Majesty shows to us our utter puniness but let our prayers go up, that mankind may be spared throughout all coming ages, another such awful cataclysm.
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SOUTH AMERICA.This book is a preservation facsimile produced for the University of Illinois, Urbana-Champaign.
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