ILLUSTRATIONS BY RONALD GRAY.

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It is not difficult to appreciate the recent catastrophe in Oceania,

where the island of Great Sangir was partially smothered by terrific

volcanic and seismic convulsions, when one has visited the Western

Indies.

[Illustration: "WHERE LORD NELSON ENJOYED HIS HONEYMOON."]

Many of these tropic isles probably owe their present isolation, if not

their actual existence, to mighty earthquake throes in remote ages of

terrestrial history beyond the memory of man. But man's memory is not a

very extensive affair, and at best probes the past to the extent of a

mere rind of a few thousand years. For the rest he has to read the word

of God, written in fossil and stone and those wondrous arcana of Nature,

which, each in turn, yields a fragment of the secret of truth to human

intellect.

Regions that have been produced or largely modified by earthquake and

volcanic upheaval may, probably enough, vanish at any moment under like

conditions; and the island of Nevis, hard by St. Christopher, in the

West Indies, strongly suggests a possibility of such disaster. It has

always been the regular rendezvous of hurricanes and earthquakes, and it

consists practically of one vast volcanic mountain which rises abruptly

from the sea and pushes its densely-wooded sides three thousand two

hundred feet into the sky. The crater shows no particularly active

inclination at present, but it is doubtless wide awake and merely

resting, like its volcanic neighbour in St. Christopher, where the

breathing of the dormant giant can be noted through rent and rift. The

Fourth Officer of our steamship "Rhine" assured me, as we approached the

lofty dome of Nevis and gazed upon its fertile acclivities and fringe of

palms, that it would never surprise him upon his rounds to find the

place had altogether disappeared under the Caribbean Sea. He added,

according to his custom, an allusion to Columbus, and explained also

that, in the dead and gone days of Slave Traffic, Nevis was a much more

important spot than it is ever likely to become again. Then, indeed, the

island enjoyed no little prosperity and importance, being a head centre

and mart for the industry in negroes. Emancipation, however, wrecked

Nevis, together with a good many other of the Antilles.

At Montpelier, on this island, Lord Nelson enjoyed his honeymoon, but

now only a few trees and a little ruined masonry at the corner of a

sugar-cane plantation appear to mark the spot. Further, it may be

recorded, as a point in favour of the place, that it grows very

exceptional Tangerine oranges. These, to taste in perfection, should be

eaten at the turning point, before their skins grow yellow. We cannot

judge of the noble possibilities in an orange at home. I brought back a

dozen of these Nevis Tangerines with me, but I secretly suspected that,

in spite of their fine reputation, quite inferior sorts would be able to

beat them by the time they got to England; and it was so.

We stopped half-an-hour only at Charlestown, Nevis, and then proceeded

to St. Christopher, a sister isle of greater size and scope.

At Antigua, there came aboard the "Rhine" a young man who implicitly

leads us to understand that he is the most important person in the West

Indies. He is the Governor of Antigua's own clerk, and is going to St.

Christopher with a portmanteau, some walking-sticks, and a despatch-box.

It appears that his significance is gigantic, and that, though the

nominal seat of government lies at Antigua, yet the real active centre

of political administration may be found immediately under the Panama

hat of the Governor's own clerk. This he takes the trouble to explain

to us. The Governor himself is a puppet, his trusted men of resource and

portfolio-holders are the veriest fantoccini; for the Governor's own

clerk pulls the strings, frames the foreign policy, conducts, controls,

adjusts difficulties, and maintains a right balance between the parties.

This he condescends to make clear to us.

[Illustration: "THE MOST IMPORTANT PERSON IN THE WEST INDIES."]

I ventured to ask him how many of the more important nations were

involved with the matters at present in his despatch-box; and he said

lightly, as though the concern in hand was a mere bagatelle, that only

the United States, Great Britain and Germany were occupying his

attention at the moment.

The Model Man said:

"I suppose you'll soon knock off a flea-bite like that?"

And the Governor's own clerk answered:

"Yes, I fancy so, unless any unforeseen hitch happens. Negotiations are

pending."

I liked his last sentence particularly. It smacked so strongly of miles

of red tape and months of official delay.

When we reached St. Christopher, it was currently reported that the

Governor's own clerk had simply come to settle a dispute between two

negro landowners concerning a fragment of the island rather smaller than

a table-napkin; but personally I doubt not this was a blind, under cover

of which he secretly pushed forward those pending negotiations. He

certainly had fine diplomatic instincts, and a sound view, from a

political standpoint, of the value of veracity.

When we cast out anchor off Basseterre, St. Christopher, the Treasure

hurried to me in some sorrow. He had proposed going ashore, with his

Enchantress and her mother, to show them the sights, but now, to his

dismay, he found that unforeseen official duties would keep him on the

ship during our brief sojourn here. With anxiety almost pathetic,

therefore, he entrusted the Enchantress to me, and commended her mother

to the Doctor's care. I felt the compliment, and assured him that I

would simply devote myself to her--platonically withal; but the Doctor

was not quite so hearty about her mother. However, he must behave like

a gentleman, whether he felt inclined to do so or not, which the

Treasure knew, and, therefore, felt safe.

Our party of four started straightway for a ramble in St. Kitts (as St.

Christopher is more generally called), and, upon landing, we were

happily met by a middle-aged negro, who had evidently watched our boat

from afar. He tumbled off a pile of planks, where he had been basking in

the sun, girt his indifferent raiment about him, and then, by sheer

force of character, took complete command of our contemplated

expedition. It may have been hypnotism, or some kindred mystery, but we

were unresisting children in his hands. He said: "Follow me, gem'men: me

show you ebb'ryting for nuffing: de 'tanical Garns, de prison-house, de

public buildings, de church, an' all. Dis way, dis way, ladies. Don't

listen to dem niggers; dey nobody on dis island."

[Illustration: "'FOLLOW ME, GEM'MEN!'"]

The Doctor alone fought feebly, but it was useless, and, in two minutes,

our masterful Ethiop had led us all away to see the sights.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"Jefferson, sar; ebb'rybody know Jefferson. Fus', we go to 'tanical

Garns. Here dey is."

The Botanical Gardens of Basseterre, St. Kitts, were handsome,

extensive, and well cared for. We wandered with pleasure down broad

walks, shaded by cabbage palms and palmettos, mahogany and tamarind

trees; we admired the fountain and varied foliage and blazing

flower-beds, streaked and splashed with many brilliant blossoms and

bright-leaved crotons.

"There," said the mother of the Enchantress, pointing to a handsome

lily, "is a specimen of Crinum Asiaticum."

The Doctor started as though she had used a bad word. He hates a woman

to know anything he does not, and this botanical display irritated him;

but our attention was instantly distracted by Jefferson, who, upon

hearing the lily admired, walked straight up to it and picked it.

[Illustration: "'THERE IS A SPECIMEN OF CRINUM ASIATICUM.'"]

The Idler Magazine, Volume III., July 1893 An Illustrated Monthly · 第 10 / 24 题