Berbische.
We left Essendam early the following morning, but not without receiving
additional proofs of attention from Mynheer Abbensets, who kindly
intreated us to lengthen our present visit, and invited us to make his
house our home, and remain longer with him on our return. In all the
generosity of his character he ordered some bottles of wine, and a store
of provisions to be put into the boat for our use, en route; and,
likewise, supplied the negroes with a fresh stock of Hollands and of
plantains. According to the Dutch custom, coffee had been served to us
as soon as we rose from our hammocks, but we reserved ourselves for a
more solid breakfast at our next place of call.
This was at one of the sugar plantations of Mr. Blair, on the border of
the river, nearly opposite to Essendam. Here again warm greetings met us
at the landing-place. M. Schneider, who has the management of the
estate, received us with a most friendly welcome; and a breakfast of
fowls, eggs, and other solids was, presently, set before us. We found M.
Schneider a very intelligent man, and acquired more information from him
respecting our journey, than from any other person. He had made a
similar excursion; but to a far greater extent than we could possibly
follow him, he having gone many hundred miles up the river. He was
equipped for the purpose, and attended by a party of Indians as
conductors, together with a young Indian girl, who had resided among the
colonists, as interpreter.
The tide serving for us to proceed, we were compelled to make our visit
at M. Schneider’s much shorter than we could have wished; we had
therefore barely time to take our breakfast, and accompany the manager
in a short walk about the estate, in order to see the sugar-works, some
fine trees of the mango, and a young plantation of the bread-fruit. At
ten o’clock we resumed our seats in the boat, when M. Schneider kindly
desired to contribute to our store, some bread, and some rum. We also
discovered that he had sent on board, without our knowledge, half a
dozen bottles of very fine porter, of which he had observed us to
partake, with great enjoyment, at our second breakfast. Instructed by M.
Schneider, we were to make our next home at Vigilantie, where we arrived
at seven o’clock in the evening. This was a severe day for the slaves.
Indeed they were exposed to far more of labour and exertion than we
should have required of them, but from their own consent to the proposal
of M. Schneider; who, assuring us that they were fully competent to the
toil, asked if they could row to Vigilantie that evening? They replied
in the affirmative, and cheerfully executed the task, arriving in high
spirits, and smiling when we asked them if they were not sadly tired.
Except the short time we remained with M. Schneider, we were in the boat
from half past eight in the morning until seven in the evening. That
even negroes could support so many hours of heavy and incessant labour
in such a climate was past our conjecture. The only relief they required
was to rest, occasionally, for a few minutes, upon their oars; at which
intervals, although extremely heated, and bathed in perspiration, they
plunged from the side of the boat into the river, and swam about in
order to cool themselves, and drive away fatigue. Hazardous as this
might seem, they did not suffer the slightest inconvenience from it, but
returned to their oars with renewed spirit and vigour, feeling more
refreshed, and more delighted with their bathing than with their food,
or even their beloved grog, which we gave them in very plentiful supply.
The borders of the river offered but little to arrest our attention or
to gratify our curiosity, so that we were in danger of suffering more
fatigue from our wearisome confinement, in the boat, than the negroes
did from the heavier labour of pulling the oars.
We were received with great kindness, and entertained with much
cordiality, by M. Malsted, but unluckily no person at Vigilantie
understood any other than the Dutch language; our conversation was
therefore very limited, being carried on only by signs and broken words.
The task of interpreter fell to the lot of your friend, and you would
have been highly diverted could you have seen him occupied throughout
the evening in repeating a few words of bad Dutch to serve all purposes,
and explain for all parties.
Desirous to know the mode of life, and to observe the habitations of the
slaves, as well as of their masters, I did not neglect to make visits to
the different negro-yards at our various places of call. Pursuant to
this custom, soon after my arrival at Vigilantie, I took with me one of
the house negroes, as conductor, and went to view the huts of the
slaves. In one of them my ebon guide, with great form, begged to
introduce me to a very fine negress, his sister. I dare not tell you
what soft overtures were made by this young lady, on my having the honor
of being presented to her. But, to convey kind hints, seemed equally the
object of brother and sister. I mention this fact only to show you in
what light prostitution is viewed by slaves—the brother would feel
honored in placing the pillow, for his sister, on a _backra_ man’s bed!
In my walk to the negro-yard I met a slave who appeared under a peculiar
mode of punishment, being compelled to wear an iron collar with three
long spikes projecting from it, in sharpened points, to the distance of
eight or ten inches from his person. What crime had led to this strange
method of punishment I did not learn. The poor man not only suffered the
annoyance of moving about, loaded with this heavy collar, but he was
effectually prevented from lying down, and from approaching near to any
person without the danger of injuring him with the sharp points of his
iron yoke.
The house at Vigilantie was very inferior to that at Essendam, but we
found in it good fare, and an honest welcome. Fowls, milk, rice, eggs,
and various other dishes, were set before us for supper; and we had
afterwards some very fine Hollands; but as my bad Dutch gave no charms
to conversation, we retired at an early hour to our hammocks.
The following day was far less fatiguing to us: although equally busy,
it was broken into more varied succession. We went into the boat between
three and four o’clock in the morning, in order to avail ourselves of
the tide, so as to reach the old town of Amsterdam before breakfast. We
accordingly arrived at seven, in time to take coffee with Mynheer ——, le
vieux fiscal, with whom we afterwards shared a more solid breakfast à la
Hollandoise. Our visit was divided between _the fiscal_, and _the
doctor_ (M. Scholten), both of whom received us with great urbanity, and
invited us to prolong our stay at the old town.
The fiscal is 61 years of age, and although his youthful days are past,
he is still active and alert. He walked with us to M. Scholten’s, and
the different parts of the town, during the morning, and was very
animated and facetious, meaning to be good company; but sadly fatigued
us with an incessant flow of senile garrulity. He knew but little
French, and although he was more fluent in Latin, it was neither
classical, nor always intelligible. At dinner he took his glass rather
freely, as we afterwards learned was too commonly his custom. He now
became officious and troublesome in his attentions, and at length grew
unpleasant and querulous. He professed a high esteem for the English,
and his civilities to us had seemed in unison with his professions. He
drank bumpers to “George the Third and Old England,” but on the health
of the Stadtholder being given, as we had intended in complimentary
return, the mask at once fell off, and exposed him in the full character
of a modern leveller. He raved and swore, called himself a patriot, and
declared that he was the _firm friend_ of Holland, adding, “_I hope
again to see Batavia a great nation, for England has not yet conquered
all the world!_” But still, in loud noise, and with strange
inconsistency, the poor old man would drown himself in bumpers to George
III.! It availed nothing to tell him that His Majesty and the
Stadtholder were friends: he would lose his senses, and sober himself
again, drinking to the king of England; but nothing, he persisted,
should ever compel him to _swallow a drop_ to the health of the prince
of Orange. His nephew, who was present, was very much distressed, and,
begging us to accept apologies from him, intreated that we would pardon
the conduct of his uncle, which he attributed to the royal bumpers he
had taken. We could only regard his effusions as the harmless ravings of
imbecility, which but served to verify the common adage! Before dinner
his sentiments were disguised: wine tore away the veil, and in deep
drinking, the intemperate old man again became a child—was unguarded,
and ... _spake the truth_!