RORAIMA AND BRITISH GUIANA.
[Illustration: RORAIMA.]
RORAIMA
AND
BRITISH GUIANA
WITH A GLANCE AT BERMUDA, THE WEST INDIES,
AND THE SPANISH MAIN.
BY
J. W. BODDAM-WHETHAM,
AUTHOR OF
‘PEARLS OF THE PACIFIC,’ ‘ACROSS CENTRAL AMERICA,’ ETC.
[Illustration: VIEW ON THE CURIPUNG RIVER.]
LONDON:
HURST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS,
13 GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET.
1879.
_All Rights reserved._
PREFACE.
“Will no one explore Roraima, and bring us back the tidings which it has
been waiting these thousands of years to give us? One of the greatest
marvels and mysteries of the earth lies on the outskirt of one of our own
colonies—only not within British territory because the frontier line has
been bent in at the spot, on purpose, it would seem, to shut it out—and
we leave the mystery unsolved, the marvel uncared for.”
The above words, together with a general outline of the wonders to be
explored, appeared in a number of the “Spectator” for April, 1877, and
aroused my interest to such a degree that I thought by day and dreamt by
night of Roraima.
After reading Mr Brown’s delightful book on British Guiana—which was
referred to in the article from which I have quoted—I made up my mind
to visit that colony, with the hope of at all events seeing Roraima and
exploring its floral treasures, even if I should be unable to make its
ascent.
The summit, Mr Brown says, is inaccessible, except by means of balloons.
“According to the traditions of the Indians,” says Sir Robert Schomburgh,
“the summits of the flat-topped gigantic sandstone walls, which never
can be reached by human beings, contain large lakes, full of remarkable
fish-like dolphins, and continually encircled by gigantic white
eagles—their eternal warders.”
Full then, of curiosity, with a great longing to become better acquainted
with this mysterious region, I arranged my plans so as to arrive in
Demerara about January, paying a flying visit on my way to Bermuda _viâ_
New York, and so on through the West Indies to Guiana. Fortune favoured
me, inasmuch as on my arrival at Georgetown, Demerara, I found that the
Colonial government was about to send an expedition to Roraima, for the
purpose of trying to reach the top of that mountain. With great kindness,
the authorities permitted me to accompany it, and I cannot let this
occasion pass without expressing my sincere thanks for the opportunity
thus afforded me of visiting the interior of British Guiana.
The following rough record of my journey is but a poor return for the
many attentions shown me, but it may add its mite in attracting the
notice of travellers to a country not often visited for pleasure.
J.W.B.W.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
OUTWARD BOUND—THE ‘CANIMA’—A ROUGH VOYAGE—FIRST VIEW OF
BERMUDA—COASTING—IRELAND ISLE—COMMISSIONERS’ HOUSE—THE
SOUND—HAMILTON—LANDING—AN INDIA-RUBBER TREE—A BILL OF FARE—THE
REGISTER—HAMILTON HOTEL—PAPAWS—A SUGGESTION 1
CHAPTER II.
A WHITE TOWN—A CEDAR AVENUE—THE “DUCKING-STOOL”—SEA
ENCROACHMENTS—FERN PITS—SPANISH POINT—FAIRY-LAND—THE ISLAND
ROAD—AMUSEMENTS—A PAPER HUNT—REEFS—SEA CUCUMBERS—THE SOUTH
WIND—SAND-HILLS—BOILERS—ARCHITECTURE—MUSEUM—A RARE SPIDER 8
CHAPTER III.
BERMUDIAN ROADS—NIGHT BLOOMING CACTUS—A NATURAL
CURIOSITY—EXPORTS AND IMPORTS—THE COLOURED NATIVE—HARRINGTON
SOUND—DEVIL’S HEAD—NEPTUNE’S GROTTO—A SALT-WATER
FOUNTAIN—A DIABOLICAL PLOT—THE CALABASH—MEMENTOES OF TOM
MOORE—WALSINGHAM—THE CAUSEWAY—A NEW FEATURE IN CULTIVATION—ST.
GEORGE’S 18
CHAPTER IV.
ST. THOMAS—FORTS—BOATMEN—DIVERS—HOTEL DU COMMERCE—MAIN
STREET—STABLE COMPANIONS—AMAZONS—A NEGRO POLITICIAN—DANISH
RULE—A SORRY SIGHT—JUSTICE IN THE VIRGIN GROUP—A DAY’S
DOINGS—KRUMM BAY—CHA-CHAS—AN OCEAN PAWNBROKER’S—LANDSLIP—ALOE—A
CURE FOR LUNG DISEASES—UP THE MOUNTAIN 27
CHAPTER V.
TO SANTA CRUZ—BASSIN—A DOG-HOUSE—FRUIT STEALING—“THIBET”
TREES—GREEN HERONS—PRETTY SCENERY—WEST END—SANTA
CRUZ v. ST. THOMAS—CENTRAL ROAD—STEAM PLOUGH—A
CENTRAL FACTORY—OPPOSITION—WAGES—CHILDREN—HOME
AGAIN—RE-EMBARKATION—OFFICIAL DELAY 39
CHAPTER VI.
SABA—CRATER COLONIES—ST. EUSTATIUS—ST. KITTS—BRIMSTONE
HILL—MOUNT MISERY—AN ATMOSPHERE—BASSETERRE—CROWN COLONY
SYSTEM—THE NARROWS—NEVIS—REDONDO—MONTSERRAT—ANTIGUA—ITS HARBOUR
BY MOONLIGHT—GUADELOUPE—MARIEGALANTE—DOMINICA—CARIBS—ISLAND
SCENERY—ROSEAU—FROGS 49
CHAPTER VII.
MARTINIQUE—ST. PIERRE—MUSCULAR FEMALES—FEVER—GRANDE
RUE—TAMARIND AVENUE—SAVANNA—SKETCHING FROM NATURE—BOTANICAL
GARDENS—MOUNTAIN CABBAGE PALM—THE GREAT TROPICAL
FALLACY—WATERFALL—THE LAKE—MUSEUM—A FORSAKEN GARDEN—TO MORNE
ROUGE—COUNTRY LIFE—THE CALVARY 57
CHAPTER VIII.
A GALA DAY—COSTUMES—CINQ-CLOUS—BATTERIE D’ESNOTY—A CASSAVA
FARM—PANDEMONIUM—PREPARATION OF CASSAVA—A “CATCH”—COUNTRY
SCENES—FRESH ATMOSPHERE—A STORM—RAINBOWS—FOREST SCENES—TROPICAL
VEGETATION—NOON-DAY HALT 69
CHAPTER IX.
A CURIO HUNTER—FORT DE FRANCE—BATHS OF DIDIER—DIAMOND
ROCK—FLYING-FISH TRADE—BARBADOES—CARLISLE BAY—HOAD’S—TRAFALGAR
SQUARE—THE ICE-HOUSE—ST. ANN’S—SCOTLAND—CONFEDERATION—COAST OF
TOBAGO—BIRDS OF TOBAGO—FAUNA OF THE WEST INDIES 82
CHAPTER X.
TO TRINIDAD—BOCA DE MONOS—GULF OF PARIA—PORT OF
SPAIN—SAVANNA—BOTANIC GARDENS—A HINDOO VILLAGE—STAPLES—A CACAO
PLANTATION—THE BLUE BASIN—FALLS OF MARACAS—THE PITCH LAKE—START
FOR THE ORINOCO 92
CHAPTER XI.
THE “HEROE DE ABRIL”—APPROACHING THE ORINOCO—MOUTHS
OF THE ORINOCO—THE MACAREO CHANNEL—MACAWS—WATER
LABYRINTHS—GUARANOS—INDIAN CAMP—TROUPIALS—BARRANCAS—LITTLE
VENICE—LAS TABLAS—CARATAL GOLD MINES—VENEZUELA—THE CARONI—ROCKS
OF PORPHYRY—CIUDAD BOLIVAR—PIEDRA MEDIO—ANGOSTURA BITTERS—UPPER
ORINOCO—FEATHER HAMMOCKS 102
CHAPTER XII.
TO GEORGETOWN—FIRST IMPRESSIONS—BATHS—A DROUGHT—STREET
SCENES—AN OIL PAINTING—VICTORIA REGIA—THE CANNON-BALL
TREE—SWIZZLES—A PROVISION OF NATURE—DIGNITY BALLS—CALLING
CRABS—FOUR EYES—KISKIDIS—FEATHER TRADE—COLOURED SUGAR—A
VERSATILE AMERICAN—DEMERARA CRYSTALS—PHYSALIA—OFF TO RORAIMA 120
CHAPTER XIII.
TO THE ESSEQUIBO—BARTICA GROVE—THE PENAL SETTLEMENT—CUYUNI
RIVER—EL DORADO—RALEIGH’S CREDULITY—TENT BOATS—CAMP IN
SHED—CARIA ISLAND—AN ARCHIPELAGO—KOSTERBROKE FALLS—ASCENT OF
CATARACTS—WARIMAMBO RAPIDS—MORA—A NEW YEAST 135
CHAPTER XIV.
A NEW HOUR—MARABUNTAS—SINKING OF THE BURA—ROCK FORMATIONS—ARA
HUMMING-BIRD—FALLS OF YANINZAEC—JABIRU—CABUNI RIVER—SHOOTING
FISH WITH ARROWS—PACU—AN INDIAN CAMP—GREEN-HEART BREAD—INDIAN
LIFE—A PAIWORIE FEAST—DUCKLARS—CURRI-CURRIS—SUN BITTERNS 149
CHAPTER XV.
THE BUSH-MASTER—LABARRI—CAMOODI—WOOD ANTS—TURESIE—A PACU
HUNT—CASHEW TREE—WOODSKINS—PIRAI—SINGING FISH—INDIAN
DANCE—BEADS—FASHION—A RIVER BEND—VIEW OF HILLS—SNIPE—INDIAN
MYTHOLOGY—WANT A DOG—TABLE MOUNTAINS—MERUME RIVER—COURSE OF THE
MAZARUNI 162
CHAPTER XVI.
A FISH HUNT ON LAND—STINGRAYS—THE “CARIBISCE”—TABLE
MOUNTAINS—A RIVER GOD—DESERTED VILLAGES—CURIPUNG RIVER—INDIAN
ENCAMPMENT—INDIAN SUPERSTITION—THE “PEAIMAN”—DURAQUA—EATING
CUSTOMS—ARRIVAL OF LANCEMAN—TRIANGLE OF MOUNTAINS—MACREBAH
FALLS—START ACROSS COUNTRY 175
CHAPTER XVII.
A “DACANA-BALLI”—STRANGE ROCKS—A ROOT PATH—INDIAN
SUPERSTITION—THE CRY OF A LOST SOUL—NEW CARRIERS—A FEATHERED
COSTUME—CURIOUS TREES—COCK OF THE ROCKS—CAMP ON THE LAMUNG—A
BOA-CONSTRICTOR—STENAPARU RIVER—THE CARIAPU—A BURNING TREE—THE
MAZARUNI—CAPTAIN DAVID—PICTURESQUE CAMP 189
CHAPTER XVIII.
AMATEUR BARBERS—AN INDIAN EXQUISITE—MOUTH OF THE CAKO—CAMP
ON VENEZUELAN TERRITORY—TRUMPETERS—MOUNT CAROUTA—REASON
FOR ASCENDING THE CAKO—MARIMA—INDIAN GUIDE—GLIMPSE OF
RORAIMA—THE ARUPARU CREEK—COTINGAS—SAVANNA INDIANS—A WATER
LABYRINTH—AMUSING SCENES—END OF NAVIGATION 204
CHAPTER XIX.
OLD GRANNY’S DESCRIPTION OF THE PATH TO
RORAIMA—TREE-BRIDGES—MONKEY-POTS—BUSH-ROPES—CASHEW
COTTAGE—SAVANNA INDIANS—MAZARUNI—MAGNIFICENT PALMS—BIXA
ORELLANA—COTENGA RIVER—FALLS OF OOKOOTAWIK—VILLAGE OF
MENAPARUTI—MARIKA RIVER—THE SORCERER AGAIN 216
CHAPTER XX.
SAVANNA—RORAIMA AT LAST—APPEARANCE OF THE
MOUNTAIN—WATERFALLS—HEAD OF THE QUATING—TRIBUTARIES OF THE
AMAZON AND THE ESSEQUIBO—KUKENAM—ITS FALL AND RIVER—THE
“PEAIMAN” AGAIN—FALLS OF EKIBIAPU—A CELEBRATION 227
CHAPTER XXI.
CLUSIAS—A MELASTOMA—FOREST TREES—FRESH CAMP—A FLORAL
TREASURY—BRAZILIAN MOUNTAINS—A COLOUR SYMPHONY—RORAIMA’S
EASTERN WALL—NO MEANS OF ASCENT—GOAT-SUCKERS—SOUTHERN WALL
OF RORAIMA—FALL OF KAMAIBA—KUKENAM FALLS—WESTERN SIDE OF
RORAIMA—REASONS FOR RETURNING HOME—SAVANNA FIRE—A STORM 232
CHAPTER XXII.
INDIAN VISITORS—A REWARD TO ASCEND RORAIMA—LAST VIEW
OF RORAIMA—HOW TO ASCEND RORAIMA—MENAPARUTI—A HUNTING
PARTY—CASSIREE—INDIAN PASTIMES—RUMOURS OF WAR—AMARYLLIS—QUATING
RIVER—CASHEW COTTAGE AGAIN—THE ARAPARU—FALSE ALARMS—OLD FRIENDS 245
CHAPTER XXIII.
A PAINFUL WALK—BIRD’S NEST FERNS—DOWN THE CURIPUNG—VOICES
OF THE NIGHT—AN INDIAN FAMILY—A QUICK JOURNEY—SHOOTING THE
FALLS—TIMBER SHOOTS IN CANADA—A LOST CHANNEL—ANTICIPATIONS OF A
FEAST—CAPSIZE—A SWIM FOR LIFE—TEBUCU FALLS—HOME AGAIN 253
CHAPTER XXIV.
FROM SOURCE TO SEA—END OF THE DROUGHT—D’URBAN—A
RACE MEETING—ENTHUSIASTIC COLOURED FOLK—ROYAL MAIL
STEAMERS—VENEZUELANS—CARIBE—CARUPANO—CUMANA—AN EARTHQUAKE
CENTRE—BARCELONA—LLANURAS—LLANERO—PLAINS—LA SILLA 265
CHAPTER XXV.
VIEW OF LA GUAIRA—PROJECTS IN VENEZUELA—LANDING—INDIAN PATH
TO CARACAS—BRILLIANT BEETLES—VIEW FROM CERRO DE AVILA—DESCENT
TO CITY—CLIMATE—AN EARTHQUAKE ALARM—SAD ASPECT OF THE
CITY—MYSTERIOUS POWER OF THE MOON—PERIHELION AND PESTILENCE 275
CHAPTER XXVI.
EL PASEO—HISTORICAL RENOWN—RESERVOIRS—VIEW OF CARACAS—RIVERS
OF PARADISE—COMPARED WITH MEXICO—PLAZA DE BOLIVAR—STATUE OF
THE LIBERATOR—ENTRY INTO CARACAS—FUNERAL CORTEGE—A NATION’S
GRATITUDE 287
CHAPTER XXVII.
THE LEGISLATIVE PALACE—A COMPLIMENT TO THE CAPITOL AT
WASHINGTON—PLAZA DE GUZMAN BLANCO—THE UNIVERSITY—SAN
FELIPE—REMINISCENCES OF HUMBOLDT—A STRANGE DISEASE—PROJECTS IN
VENEZUELA—EARTHQUAKE AT CUA—THE LEGISLATURE—LEAVE FOR LA GUAIRA 295
CHAPTER XXVIII.
CARRIAGE ROAD BETWEEN CARACAS AND LA GUAIRA—THE “COW-TREE”—A
VENEZUELAN SUCCESS—FRENCH MAIL STEAMER—LEAVE LA GUAIRA—PUERTO
CABELLO—GOLFO TRISTE—MILITARY HISTORY—CURACOA—GULF OF
MARACAIBO—SAVANILLA—EMERALD MINES—CLOUDS OF BUTTERFLIES—LEAVE
SAVANILLA 305
CHAPTER XXIX.
TREASURES OF THE DEEP—THE SAN PEDRO ALCANTARA—MARGARITA—SEEKING
LOST TREASURE—OCEAN MINING—NAVY BAY, COLON—INTER-OCEANIC
COMMUNICATION—GOMARA’S PROJECT—NELSON’S SCHEME—THE NICARAGUA
ROUTE—THE ACANTI-TUPISI ROUTE—INTERNATIONAL COMMISSION 313
CHAPTER XXX.
COLON—DEPARTURE—COLUMBUS AND MR. ASPINWALL—RAILWAY ACROSS
ISTHMUS—SCENES ON THE ISTHMUS—TELEGRAPH POSTS—HOLY GHOST
ORCHID—PANAMA HATS—PARADISE—MOUNT ANCON—PACIFIC MAIL STEAMER—ON
THE WHARF AT PANAMA—PANAMA FROM THE SEA—LAST LOOKS 323
APPENDIX 337
RORAIMA.
CHAPTER I.
OUTWARD BOUND—THE ‘CANIMA’—A ROUGH VOYAGE—FIRST VIEW OF
BERMUDA—COASTING—IRELAND ISLE—COMMISSIONERS’ HOUSE—THE
SOUND—HAMILTON—LANDING—AN INDIA-RUBBER TREE—A BILL OF FARE—THE
REGISTER—HAMILTON HOTEL—PAPAWS—A SUGGESTION.
“Under the eaves of a southern sky,
Where the cloud roof bends to the ocean floor
Hid in lonely seas, the Bermoothes lie—
An emerald cluster that Neptune bore
Away from the covetous earth god’s sight,
And placed in a setting of sapphire light.”
“Well, if we are going to a warmer temperature than this, few of us
will return,” was the remark made by one of the passengers on board the
little steamer ‘Canima,’ which was rolling heavily in a perfectly smooth
sea, past Staten Island on her way from New York to Bermuda. It was
the month of November, but the sun was as hot and the sky as brassy as
though it had been August. On shore we could see preparations being made
for cricket, lawn-tennis, and archery; and there were we bound for a
semi-tropical climate. It was one of those days with which the clerk of
the weather favours New York in early spring, and sometimes even when the
Indian summer is supposed to have ended.
I have said that the vessel rolled heavily, even in a smooth sea, and
we were naturally anxious to know what she would do in rough weather;
some thought that she would turn over altogether, others, that she would
regain her equilibrium and keep it, but this latter idea was soon proved
to be a fallacy, as the wretched ship had no more centre of gravity than
a cherub.
Hardly had we entered the open sea when a change in the weather occurred.
The sky was overcast, the waves assumed a threatening aspect, a cold
drizzle set in, and general discomfort prevailed.
How gay and lively the scene on deck was when we started! how dull and
quiet it suddenly became! just as I was imitating the example of the rest
of the passengers by retreating to my cabin, an old gentleman who had
made the passage to Bermuda thirty-two times spoke to me of
“The old green glamour of the glancing sea.”
As I did not feel much inclined to listen to poetry, I merely remarked
that I thought Lucretius was right when he declared that “the sea was
meant to be looked at from shore,” and then withdrew.
A less enjoyable voyage could not be imagined, and what with a head
wind, rainy weather, the gulf-stream in a state of extra-roughness,
and French-Canadian stewards, whose dirty appearance made the greasy
food less appetising, if possible, than it otherwise would have been,
a more ghostly, half-starved lot of travellers never arrived at their
destination. How many lines of steamers there are whose owners trade
on the old Sanscrit proverb which they might adopt as their motto, “The
river is crossed, and the bridge is forgotten.”
Fortunately the passage only lasted four days, the advertised time being
seventy-two hours; and glad indeed were we when we had passed through the
narrow reef-channel, and were coasting along the western side of the main
island of the Bermudas, and within the formidable chain of breakers which
surrounds them.
The first view of the island is disappointing, as the low hills have a
barren and desolate appearance, and the plain white cottages which are
dotted about here and there stand in bare, uncultivated spots. Lower
down, however, as we approach the central portion, the face of the
island brightens. Old acquaintances of Bermuda point out the position
of Harrington Sound, which they declare—and rightly as we afterwards
thought—to be the most lovely part of the island; but from the vessel all
we can see is a narrow inlet which one could almost jump across. The long
lines of roofs which sparkle so in the sun on the hill yonder are the
barracks, and the red coats of the soldiers make pleasant bits of colour,
which contrast well with the gleaming sand and the deep green cedar-nooks
in which the white houses nestle.
Farther on we pass Government House and the signal station, from which
the arrival of the steamer has long been signalled; then Clarence
Hill—Admiralty House—is left behind, and we round Spanish Point, with
Ireland and other islands forming a semi-circle on our right. On Ireland
Island is to be seen as everybody knows, the famous floating dock which
was towed from England in 1869. At another time, this would probably have
been the centre of attraction, but the eyes of our sea-worn passengers
were directed to a fine large building well situated at the extremity of
that island. “What a splendid hotel!” said one, and “How delightfully
cool it must be there!” said another. It proved to be the “Commissioner’s
House,” now used as military quarters.
The history of this building is rather singular. A certain Treasury
clerk was appointed “Commissioner” in charge of the dockyard, and, not
being satisfied with the house given him to occupy, received permission
from the Home Government to spend £12,000 in building a new one. This
concession appears to have turned his head, for the house gradually
assumed the dimensions of a palace; marble chimney-pieces were erected,
and stabling built for a dozen horses, and this in a country where
fire-places were hardly necessary, and where, at that time, horses
were useless. Marble baths and other trifles ran up the bill to over
£60,000. The gentleman for whom this expense was incurred never occupied
the house, as he went mad, and the office of “Commissioner” was soon
dispensed with.
Whilst an old resident was telling us this story, we had entered the
Great Sound, and we found ourselves in a pretty land-locked harbour, on
whose wonderfully clear blue water floated numerous fairy islets—a scene
which reminded us of the words of Moore:
“The morn was lovely, every wave was still
When the first perfume of a cedar-hill
Sweetly awakened us, and with smiling charms
The fairy harbour wooed us to its arms.”
Through these green islands we wound our way carefully, one channel being
particularly narrow and dangerous. Beneath its transparent waters we
could distinguish an old cannon; and then a sudden turn brought us into
the pretty port of Hamilton, where we dropped anchor close to the shore.
But being on shore and only near it are very different things, and it
seemed hours to us hungry mortals before the vessel was gradually dragged
to within forty feet of the quay. Nearer we could not get, on account of
a shallow.
Now to land in boats appeared too ridiculous for such a short distance,
but no other means were visible. A bridge lowered by a crane would have
landed us all in a few minutes, but there was no appearance of such a
thing. Old-fashioned Bermuda wanted no new-fangled notions, so we had
to abide our time and wait until a bridge had been manufactured in
the following way: Ropes were thrown from the vessel and fastened to
the outer ends of long beams, which were hauled on board, their other
extremities resting on shore. Then a number of grinning darkies strided
these beams, and lashed cross-bars to them; planks were laid on the
frame, and over these we walked on to the quay.
There were only two passengers besides myself for the Hamilton Hotel,
and these were a very charming old lady and her son—a young physician
from Boston—who had been advised to spend the winter abroad. A short walk
brought us to the hotel, a good-sized, comfortable building, commanding a
fine view of the harbour and port of the town. On our way up, we passed
a splendid specimen of the india-rubber tree, whose luxuriant growth
almost hid the broad veranda’d cottage behind it. Speaking of this tree,
Mark Twain says that, when he saw it, it was “out of season, possibly
as there were no shoes on it, nor suspenders, nor anything a person
would properly expect to find there.” This tree was the first sign of
tropical vegetation that we had seen, which fact had rather surprised us,
as on the cover of a “bill of fare,” which had been shown to us in New
York, was a picture of the Hamilton Hotel, with an avenue of palms and
bananas leading up to it. The fine palms—mountain cabbage—we afterwards
discovered about half-a-mile off, and not even within sight of the hotel.
But one cannot expect to find everything one sees, even on a bill of
fare. We were informed by the clerk that we were the first visitors of
the season. “But somebody else is here,” said I, pointing to a solitary
name in the visitor’s register. “Oh,” said he, “that’s me;” and forthwith
assigned us our rooms.
And now let me say a word about this hotel, which is notorious for having
prevented many strangers from visiting Bermuda, and others who would have
liked to return, from coming back. The rooms are simply but comfortably
furnished, the situation is good, and the grounds might be very prettily
laid out. The whole cause of discontent with the hotel has hitherto—that
is, up to the winter of 1877-78—been with the management. The house had
been leased to an American, a pleasant, agreeable person, but without
the least idea of managing an hotel. People did not come to Bermuda
for third-rate American hotel dinners, but there they got them, until
they could stand it no longer. It was useless to speak to the manager;
no redress was obtainable. Everything was served at once; an armada of
little white dishes was placed before you, in one a dry cutlet, in
another a few dried pellets of fried potatoes, peas like buckshot, boiled
potatoes like cannon-balls; here an inch of tough chicken, there a slice
of beef, baked until all its proper juices had been extracted; heavy
pumpkin pies, tea and coffee quite undrinkable, butter that no one could
touch; such, with but little variation, were the component parts of the
three meals. Even the provisions of Nature were not made as available
as they might have been. In the garden were two or three fine papaw
trees, whose insipid green fruit was sometimes given to us as a delicious
West-Indian preserve. It is said that the leaves of this tree, if rubbed
on a bull’s hide, would immediately convert it into tender beefsteak; now
our meat was always of the toughest description.
Day after day I used to see my two friends, fresh from their home in
Boston, rise from the table without having touched anything, and I felt
quite ashamed of our English colony. Had the proprietor been English,
I think I should have run away. As it was, we limited our visit to a
fortnight instead of a month, the doctor accompanying me to the West
Indies, whilst his mother returned home.
It seems a pity that quiet Bermuda should not attract more
visitors—Americans especially—than it does. A well-kept hotel there would
be very welcome to many who now winter in Florida or Nassau (Bahamas).
The island is more interesting than either of those places, and equally
picturesque; and I have no doubt that visitors, when they left, would
carry away as pleasant recollections as they would probably leave behind.