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EQUATORIAL AMERICA
_DESCRIPTIVE OF A VISIT TO ST. THOMAS
MARTINIQUE, BARBADOES, AND
THE PRINCIPAL CAPITALS
OF SOUTH AMERICA_
BY
MATURIN M. BALLOU
[Illustration: Printer's logo]
BOSTON AND NEW YORK
HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY
The Riverside Press, Cambridge
1892
Copyright, 1892,
BY MATURIN M. BALLOU.
_All rights reserved._
_The Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass., U. S. A._
Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton & Company.
DEDICATED
TO
CAPTAIN E. C. BAKER
OF THE
_STEAMSHIP VIGILANCIA_
WITH WARM APPRECIATION OF HIS QUALITIES
AS A GENTLEMAN
AND AN ACCOMPLISHED SEAMAN
[Illustration: decoration]
PREFACE.
"I am a part of all that I have seen," says Tennyson, a sentiment which
every one of large experience will heartily indorse. With the
extraordinary facilities for travel available in modern times, it is a
serious mistake in those who possess the means, not to become familiar
with the various sections of the globe. Vivid descriptions and excellent
photographs give us a certain knowledge of the great monuments of the
world, both natural and artificial, but the traveler always finds the
reality a new revelation, whether it be the marvels of a Yellowstone
Park, a vast oriental temple, Alaskan glaciers, or the Pyramids of
Ghiza. The latter, for instance, do not differ from the statistics which
we have so often seen recorded, their great, dominating outlines are the
same as pictorially delineated, but when we actually stand before them,
they are touched by the wand of enchantment, and spring into visible
life. Heretofore they have been shadows, henceforth they are tangible
and real. The best descriptions fail to inspire us, experience alone can
do that. What words can adequately depict the confused grandeur of the
Falls of Schaffhausen; the magnificence of the Himalayan
range,--roof-tree of the world; the thrilling beauty of the Yosemite
Valley; the architectural loveliness of the Taj Mahal, of India; the
starry splendor of equatorial nights; the maritime charms of the Bay of
Naples; or the marvel of the Midnight Sun at the North Cape? It is
personal observation alone which truly satisfies, educating the eye and
enriching the understanding. If we can succeed in imparting, a portion
of our enjoyment to others, we enhance our own pleasure, and therefore
these notes of travel are given to the public.
M. M. B.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
PAGE
Commencement of a Long Journey.--The Gulf
Stream.--Hayti.--Sighting St. Thomas.--Ship
Rock.--Expert Divers.--Fidgety Old Lady.--An
Important Island.--The Old
Slaver.--Aborigines.--St. Thomas
Cigars.--Population.--Tri-Mountain.--The
Negro Paradise.--Hurricanes.--Variety of
Fish.--Coaling Ship.--The Firefly Dance.--A
Weird Scene.--An Antique Anchor 1
CHAPTER II.
Curious Seaweed.--Professor Agassiz.--Myth of
a Lost Continent.--Island of Martinique.--An
Attractive Place.--Statue of the Empress
Josephine.--Birthplace of Madame de
Maintenon.--City of St. Pierre.--Mont
Pelee.--High Flavored Specialty.--Grisettes
of Maritinque.--A Botanical
Garden.--Defective Drainage.--A Fatal
Enemy.--A Cannibal Snake.--The Climate 33
CHAPTER III.
English Island of Barbadoes.--Bridgetown the
Capital.--The Manufacture of Rum.--A
Geographical Expert.--Very English.--A Pest
of Ants.--Exports.--The Ice House.--A Dense
Population.--Educational.--Marine
Hotel.--Habits of
Gambling.--Hurricanes.--Curious
Antiquities.--The Barbadoes Leg.--Wakeful
Dreams.--Absence of Twilight.--Departure from
the Island 51
CHAPTER IV.
Curious Ocean Experiences.--The Delicate
Nautilus.--Flying-Fish.--The Southern
Cross.--Speaking a Ship at Sea.--Scientific
Navigation.--South America as a Whole.--Fauna
and Flora.--Natural Resources of a Wonderful
Land.--Rivers, Plains, and Mountain
Ranges.--Aboriginal
Tribes.--Population.--Political
Divisions.--Civil Wars.--Weakness of South
American States 68
CHAPTER V.
City of Para.--The Equatorial Line.--Spanish
History.--The King of Waters.--Private
Gardens.--Domestic Life in Northern
Brazil.--Delicious Pineapples.--Family
Pets.--Opera House.--Mendicants.--A Grand
Avenue.--Botanical Garden.--India-Rubber
Tree.--Gathering the Raw
Material.--Monkeys.--The Royal
Palm.--Splendor of Equatorial Nights 94
CHAPTER VI.
Island of Marajo.--Rare and Beautiful
Birds.--Original Mode of Securing
Humming-Birds.--Maranhao.--Educational.--
Value of Native
Forests.--Pernambuco.--Difficulty of
Landing.--An Ill-Chosen Name.--Local
Scenes.--Uncleanly Habits of the
People.--Great Sugar Mart.--Native Houses.--A
Quaint Hostelry.--Catamarans.--A Natural
Breakwater.--Sailing down the Coast 115
CHAPTER VII.
Port of Bahia.--A Quaint Old City.--Former
Capital of Brazil.--Whaling
Interests.--Beautiful
Panorama.--Tramways.--No Color Line
Here.--The Sedan Chair.--Feather Flowers.--A
Great Orange Mart.--Passion Flower
Fruit.--Coffee, Sugar, and Tobacco.--A Coffee
Plantation.--Something about
Diamonds.--Health of the City.--Curious
Tropical Street Scenes 138
CHAPTER VIII.
Cape Frio.--Rio Janeiro.--A Splendid
Harbor.--Various Mountains.--Botafogo
Bay.--The Hunchback.--Farewell to the
Vigilancia.--Tijuca.--Italian
Emigrants.--City Institutions.--Public
Amusements.--Street
Musicians.--Churches.--Narrow
Thoroughfares.--Merchants' Clerks.--Railroads
in Brazil.--Natural Advantages of the
City.--The Public Plazas.--Exports 155
CHAPTER IX.
Outdoor Scenes in Rio Janeiro.--The Little
Marmoset.--The Fish Market.--Secluded
Women.--The Romish Church.--Botanical
Garden.--Various Species of Trees.--Grand
Avenue of Royal Palms.--About
Humming-Birds.--Climate of Rio.--Surrounded
by Yellow Fever.--The Country
Inland.--Begging on the
Streets.--Flowers.--"Portuguese Joe."--Social
Distinctions 180
CHAPTER X.
Petropolis.--Summer Residence of the Citizens
of Rio.--Brief Sketch of the late Royal
Family.--Dom Pedro's Palace.--A Delightful
Mountain Sanitarium.--A Successful but
Bloodless Revolution.--Floral
Delights.--Mountain Scenery.--Heavy
Gambling.--A German
Settlement.--Cascatinha.--Remarkable
Orchids.--Local Types.--A Brazilian
Forest.--Compensation 201
CHAPTER XI.
Port of Santos.--Yellow Fever Scourge.--Down
the Coast to Montevideo.--The
Cathedral.--Pamperos.--Domestic
Architecture.--A Grand Thoroughfare.--City
Institutions.--Commercial Advantages.--The
Opera House.--The Bull-Fight.--Beggars on
Horseback.--City Shops.--A Typical
Character.--Intoxication.--The Campo
Santo.--Exports.--Rivers and Railways 217
CHAPTER XII.
Buenos Ayres.--Extent of the Argentine
Republic.--Population.--Narrow
Streets.--Large Public
Squares.--Basques.--Poor Harbor.--Railway
System.--River Navigation.--Tramways.--The
Cathedral.--Normal
Schools.--Newspapers.--Public
Buildings.--Calle Florida.--A Busy
City.--Mode of furnishing
Milk.--Environs.--Commercial and Political
Growth.--The New Capital 244
CHAPTER XIII.
City of Rosario.--Its Population.--A
Pretentious Church.--Ocean
Experiences.--Morbid Fancies.--Strait of
Magellan.--A Great Discoverer.--Local
Characteristics.--Patagonians and
Fuegians.--Giant Kelp.--Unique Mail
Box.--Punta Arenas.--An Ex-Penal Colony.--The
Albatross.--Natives.--A Naked
People.--Whales.--Sea-Birds.--Glaciers.--
Mount Sarmiento.--A Singular Story 271
CHAPTER XIV.
The Land of Fire.--Cape Horn.--In the Open
Pacific.--Fellow Passengers.--Large
Sea-Bird.--An Interesting Invalid.--A Weary
Captive.--A Broken-Hearted Mother.--Study of
the Heavens.--The Moon.--Chilian Civil
War.--Concepcion.--A Growing
City.--Commercial Importance.--Cultivating
City Gardens on a New Plan.--Important Coal
Mines.--Delicious Fruits 297
CHAPTER XV.
Valparaiso.--Principal South American Port of
the Pacific.--A Good Harbor.--Tallest
Mountain on this Continent.--The Newspaper
Press.--Warlike Aspect.--Girls as Car
Conductors.--Chilian Exports.--Foreign
Merchants.--Effects of Civil War.--Gambling
in Private Houses.--Immigration.--Culture of
the Grape.--Agriculture.--Island of Juan
Fernandez 315
CHAPTER XVI.
The Port of Callao.--A Submerged
City.--Peruvian Exports.--A Dirty and
Unwholesome Town.--Cinchona Bark.--The
Andes.--The Llama.--A National Dance.--City
of Lima.--An Old and Interesting
Capital.--Want of Rain.--Pizarro and His
Crimes.--A Grand Cathedral.--Chilian
Soldiers.--Costly Churches of Peru.--Roman
Catholic Influence.--Desecration of the
Sabbath 334
CHAPTER XVII.
A Grand Plaza.--Retribution.--The University
of Lima.--Significance of Ancient
Pottery.--Architecture.--Picturesque
Dwelling.--Domestic Scene.--Destructive
Earthquakes.--Spanish Sway.--Women of
Lima.--Street Costumes.--Ancient Bridge of
Lima.--Newspapers.--Pawnbrokers'
Shops.--Exports.--An Ancient Mecca.--Home by
Way of Europe. 355
EQUATORIAL AMERICA.
CHAPTER I.
Commencement of a Long Journey.--The Gulf
Stream.--Hayti.--Sighting St. Thomas.--Ship Rock.--Expert
Divers.--Fidgety Old Lady.--An Important Island.--The Old
Slaver.--Aborigines.--St. Thomas
Cigars.--Population.--Tri-Mountain.--Negro
Paradise.--Hurricanes.--Variety of Fish.--Coaling Ship.--The
Firefly Dane.--A Weird Scene.--An Antique Anchor.
In starting upon foreign travel, one drops into the familiar routine on
shipboard much after the same fashion wherever bound, whether crossing
the Atlantic eastward, or steaming to the south through the waters of
the Caribbean Sea; whether in a Peninsular and Oriental ship in the
Indian Ocean, or on a White Star liner in the Pacific bound for Japan.
The steward brings a cup of hot coffee and a slice of dry toast to one's
cabin soon after the sun rises, as a sort of eye-opener; and having
swallowed that excellent stimulant, one feels better fortified for the
struggle to dress on the uneven floor of a rolling and pitching ship.
Then comes the brief promenade on deck before breakfast, a liberal
inhalation of fresh air insuring a good appetite. There is no hurry at
this meal. There is so little to do at sea, and so much time to do it
in, that passengers are apt to linger at table as a pastime, and even
multiply their meals in number. As a rule, we make up our mind to follow
some instructive course of reading while at sea, but, alas! we never
fulfill the good resolution. An entire change of habits and associations
for the time being is not favorable to such a purpose. The tonic of the
sea braces one up to an unwonted degree, evinced by great activity of
body and mind. Favored by the unavoidable companionship of individuals
in the circumscribed space of a ship, acquaintances are formed which
often ripen into lasting friendship. Inexperienced voyagers are apt to
become effusive and over-confiding, abrupt intimacies and unreasonable
dislikes are of frequent occurrence, and before the day of separation,
the student of human nature has seen many phases exhibited for his
analysis.
Our vessel, the Vigilancia, is a large, commodious, and well-appointed
ship, embracing all the modern appliances for comfort and safety at sea.
She is lighted by electricity, having a donkey engine which sets in
motion a dynamo machine, converting mechanical energy into electric
energy. Perhaps the reader, though familiar with the effect of this mode
of lighting, has never paused to analyze the very simple manner in which
it is produced. The current is led from the dynamos to the various
points where light is desired by means of insulated wires. The lamps
consist of a fine thread of carbon inclosed in a glass bulb from which
air has been entirely excluded. This offers such resistance to the
current passing through it that the energy is expended in raising the
carbon to a white heat, thus forming the light. The permanence of the
carbon is insured by the absence of oxygen. If the glass bulb is broken
and atmospheric air comes in contact with the carbon, it is at once
destroyed by combustion, and all light from this source ceases. These
lamps are so arranged that each one can be turned off or on at will
without affecting others. The absence of offensive smell or smoke, the
steadiness of the light, unaffected by the motion of the ship, and its
superior brilliancy, all join to make this mode of lighting a vessel a
positive luxury.
Some pleasant hours were passed on board the Vigilancia, between New
York and the West Indies, in the study of the Gulf Stream, through which
we were sailing,--that river in the ocean with its banks and bottom of
cold water, while its current is always warm. Who can explain the
mystery of its motive power? What keeps its tepid water, in a course of
thousands of miles, from mingling with the rest of the sea? Whence does
it really come? The accepted theories are familiar enough, but we place
little reliance upon them, the statements of scientists are so easily
formulated, but often so difficult to prove. As Professor Maury tells
us, there is in the world no other flow of water so majestic as this; it
has a course more rapid than either the Mississippi or the Amazon, and a
volume more than a thousand times greater. The color of this remarkable
stream, whose fountain is supposed to be the Gulf of Mexico and the
Caribbean Sea, is so deep a blue off our southern shore that the line of
demarcation from its surroundings is quite obvious, the Gulf water
having apparently a decided reluctance to mingling with the rest of the
ocean, a peculiarity which has been long and vainly discussed without a
satisfactory solution having been reached. The same phenomenon has been
observed in the Pacific, where the Japanese current comes up from the
equator, along the shore of that country, crossing Behring's Sea to the
continent of North America, and, turning southward along the coast of
California, finally disappears. Throughout all this ocean passage, like
the Gulf Stream in the Atlantic, it retains its individuality, and is
quite separate from the rest of the ocean. The fact that the water is
saltier than that of the Atlantic is by some supposed to account for the
indigo blue of the Gulf Stream.
The temperature of this water is carefully taken on board all well
regulated ships, and is recorded in the log. On this voyage it was found
to vary from 75 deg. to 80 deg. Fahrenheit.
Our ship had touched at Newport News, Va., after leaving New York, to
take the U. S. mail on board; thence the course was south-southeast,
giving the American continent a wide berth, and heading for the Danish
island of St. Thomas, which lies in the latitude of Hayti, but a long
way to the eastward of that uninteresting island. We say uninteresting
with due consideration, though its history is vivid enough to satisfy
the most sensational taste. It has produced its share of native heroes,
as well as native traitors, while the frequent upheavals of its mingled
races have been no less erratic than destructive. The ignorance and
confusion which reign among the masses on the island are deplorable.
Minister Douglass utterly failed to make anything out of Hayti. The
lower classes of the people living inland come next to the inhabitants
of Terra del Fuego in the scale of humanity, and are much inferior to
the Maoris of New Zealand, or the savage tribes of Australia. It is
satisfactorily proven that cannibalism still exists among them in its
most repulsive form, so revolting, indeed, that we hesitate to detail
the experience of a creditable eye-witness relating to this matter, as
personally described to us.
Upon looking at the map it would seem, to one unaccustomed to the ocean,
that a ship could not lay her course direct, in these island dotted
waters, without running down one or more of them; but the distances
which are so circumscribed upon the chart are extended for many a league
at sea, and a good navigator may sail his ship from New York to
Barbadoes, if he so desires, without sighting the land. Not a sailing
vessel or steamship was seen, on the brief voyage from the American
continent to the West Indies, these latitudes being far less frequented
by passenger and freighting ships than the transatlantic route further
north.
It is quite natural that the heart should throb with increased
animation, the spirits become more elate, and the eyes more than usually
appreciative, when the land of one's destination heaves in sight after
long days and nights passed at sea. This is especially the case if the
change from home scenes is so radical in all particulars as when coming
from our bleak Northern States in the early days of spring, before the
trees have donned their leaves, to the soft temperature and exuberant
verdure of the low latitudes. Commencing the voyage herein described,
the author left the Brooklyn shore of New York harbor about the first of
May, during a sharp snow-squall, though, as Governor's Island was passed
on the one hand, and the Statue of Liberty on the other, the sun burst
forth from its cloudy environment, as if to smile a cheerful farewell.
Thus we passed out upon the broad Atlantic, bound southward, soon
feeling its half suppressed force in the regular sway and roll of the
vessel. She was heavily laden, and measured considerably over four
thousand tons, drawing twenty-two feet of water, yet she was like an
eggshell upon the heaving breast of the ocean. As these mammoth ships
lie in port beside the wharf, it seems as though their size and enormous
weight would place them beyond the influence of the wind and waves: but
the power of the latter is so great as to be beyond computation, and
makes a mere toy of the largest hull that floats. No one can realize the
great strength of the waves who has not watched the sea in all of its
varying moods.
"Land O!" shouts the lookout on the forecastle.
A wave of the hand signifies that the occupant of the bridge has already
made out the mote far away upon the glassy surface of the sea, which now
rapidly grows into definite form.
When the mountain which rises near the centre of St. Thomas was fairly
in view from the deck of the Vigilancia, it seemed as if beckoning us to
its hospitable shore. The light breeze which fanned the sea came from
off the land flavored with an odor of tropical vegetation, a suggestion
of fragrant blossoms, and a promise of luscious fruits. On our starboard
bow there soon came into view the well known Ship Rock, which appears,
when seen from a short distance, almost precisely like a full-rigged
ship under canvas. If the sky is clouded and the atmosphere hazy, the
delusion is remarkable.
This story is told of a French corvette which was cruising in these
latitudes at the time when the buccaneers were creating such havoc with
legitimate commerce in the West Indies. It seems that the coast was
partially hidden by a fog, when the corvette made out the rock through
the haze, and, supposing it to be what it so much resembles, a ship
under sail, fired a gun to leeward for her to heave to. Of course there
was no response to the shot, so the Frenchman brought his ship closer,
at the same time clearing for action. Being satisfied that he had to do
with a powerful adversary, he resolved to obtain the advantage by
promptly crippling the enemy, and so discharged the whole of his
starboard broadside into the supposed ship, looming through the mist.
The fog quietly dispersed as the corvette went about and prepared to
deliver her port guns in a similar manner. As the deceptive rock stood
in precisely the same place when the guns came once more to bear upon
it, the true character of the object was discovered. It is doubtful
whether the Frenchman's surprise or mortification predominated.
An hour of steady progress served to raise the veil of distance, and to
reveal the spacious bay of Charlotte Amalie, with its strong background
of abrupt hills and dense greenery of tropical foliage. How wonderfully
blue was the water round about the island,--an emerald set in a sea of
molten sapphire! It seemed as if the sky had been melted and poured all
over the ebbing tide. About the Bahamas, especially off the shore at
Nassau, the water is green,--a delicate bright green; here it exhibits
only the true azure blue,--Mediterranean blue. It is seen at its best
and in marvelous glow during the brief moments of twilight, when a
glance of golden sunset tinges its mottled surface with iris hues, like
the opaline flashes from a humming-bird's throat.
The steamer gradually lost headway, the vibrating hull ceased to throb
with the action of its motive power, as though pausing to take breath
after long days and nights of sustained effort, and presently the anchor
was let go in the excellent harbor of St. Thomas, latitude 18 deg. 20'
north, longitude 64 deg. 48' west. Our forecastle gun, fired to announce
arrival, awakened the echoes in the hills, so that all seemed to join in
clapping their hands to welcome us. Thus amid the Norwegian fiords the
report of the steamer's single gun becomes a whole broadside, as it is
reverberated from the grim and rocky elevations which line that
iron-bound coast.
There was soon gathered about the ship a bevy of naked colored boys, a
score or more, jabbering like a lot of monkeys, some in canoes of home
construction, it would seem, consisting of a sugar box sawed in two
parts, or a few small planks nailed together, forming more of a tub than
a boat, and leaking at every joint. These frail floats were propelled
with a couple of flat boards used as paddles. The young fellows came out
from the shore to dive for sixpences and shillings, cast into the sea by
passengers. The moment a piece of silver was thrown, every canoe was
instantly emptied of its occupant, all diving pell-mell for the money.
Presently one of the crowd was sure to come to the surface with the
silver exhibited above his head between his fingers, after which,
monkey-like, it was securely deposited inside of his cheek. Similar
scenes often occur in tropical regions. The last which the author can
recall, and at which he assisted, was at Aden, where the Indian Ocean
and the Red Sea meet. Another experience of the sort is also well
remembered as witnessed in the South Pacific off the Samoan islands. On
this occasion the most expert of the natives, among the naked divers,
was a young Samoan girl, whose agility in the water was such that she
easily secured more than half the bright coins which were thrown
overboard, though a dozen male competitors were her rivals in the
pursuit. Nothing but an otter could have excelled this bronzed, unclad,
exquisitely formed girl of Tutuila as a diver and swimmer.
But let us not stray to the far South Pacific, forgetting that we are
all this time in the snug harbor of St. Thomas, in the West Indies.
A fidgety old lady passenger, half hidden in an avalanche of wraps,
while the thermometer indicated 80 deg. Fahr., one who had gone into partial
hysterics several times during the past few days, upon the slightest
provocation, declared that this was the worst region for hurricanes in
the known world, adding that there were dark, ominous clouds forming to
windward which she was sure portended a cyclone. One might have told her
truthfully that May was not a hurricane month in these latitudes, but we
were just then too earnestly engaged in preparing for a stroll on shore,
too full of charming anticipations, to discuss possible hurricanes, and
so, without giving the matter any special thought, admitted that it did
look a little threatening in the northwest. This was quite enough to
frighten the old lady half out of her senses, and to call the stewardess
into prompt requisition, while the deck was soon permeated with the odor
of camphor, sal volatile, and valerian. We did not wait to see how she
survived the attack, but hastened into a shore boat and soon landed at
what is known as King's wharf, when the temperature seemed instantly to
rise about twenty degrees. Near the landing was a small plaza, shaded by
tall ferns and cabbage palms, with here and there an umbrageous mango.
Ladies and servant girls were seen promenading with merry children,
whites and blacks mingling indiscriminately, while the Danish military
band were producing most shocking strains with their brass instruments.
One could hardly conceive of a more futile attempt at harmony.
There is always something exciting in first setting foot upon a foreign
soil, in mingling with utter strangers, in listening to the voluble
utterances and jargon of unfamiliar tongues, while noting the manners,
dress, and faces of a new people. The current language of the mass of
St. Thomas is a curious compound of negro grammar, Yankee accent, and
English drawl. Though somewhat familiar with the West Indies, the author
had never before landed upon this island. Everything strikes one as
curious, each turn affords increased novelty, and every moment is full
of interest. Black, yellow, and white men are seen in groups, the former
with very little covering on their bodies, the latter in diaphanous
costumes. Negresses sporting high colors in their scanty clothing, set
off by rainbow kerchiefs bound round their heads, turban fashion; little
naked blacks with impossible paunches; here and there a shuffling negro
bearing baskets of fish balanced on either end of a long pole resting
across his shoulders; peddlers of shells and corals; old women carrying
trays upon their heads containing cakes sprinkled with granulated sugar,
and displayed upon neat linen towels, seeking for customers among the
newly arrived passengers,--all together form a unique picture of local
life. The constantly shifting scene moves before the observer like a
panorama unrolled for exhibition, seeming quite as theatrical and
artificial.
St. Thomas is one of the Danish West Indian Islands, of which there are
three belonging to Denmark, namely, St. Thomas, St. Croix, and St. John.
For the possession of the first named Mr. Seward, when Secretary of
State, in 1866, offered the King of Denmark five million dollars in
gold, which proposition was finally accepted, and it would have been a
cheap purchase for us at that price; but after all detail had been duly
agreed upon, the United States Congress refused to vote the necessary
funds wherewith to pay for the title deed. So when Mr. Seward
consummated the purchase of Alaska, for a little over seven million
dollars, there were nearly enough of the small-fry politicians in
Congress to defeat the bargain with Russia in the same manner. The
income from the lease of two islands alone belonging to Alaska--St.
George and St. Paul--has paid four and one half per cent. per annum upon
the purchase money ever since the territory came into our possession.
There is one gold mine on Douglas Island, Alaska, not to mention its
other rich and inexhaustible products, for which a French syndicate has
offered fourteen million dollars. We doubt if St. Thomas could be
purchased from the Danes to-day for ten million dollars, while the
estimated value of Alaska would be at least a hundred million or more,
with its vast mineral wealth, its invaluable salmon fisheries, its
inexhaustible forests of giant timber, and its abundance of seal, otter,
and other rich furs. A penny-wise and pound-foolish Congress made a huge
mistake in opposing Mr. Seward's purpose as regarded the purchase of St.
Thomas. The strategic position of the island is quite sufficient to
justify our government in wishing to possess it, for it is
geographically the keystone of the West Indies. The principal object
which Mr. Seward had in view was to secure a coaling and refitting
station for our national ships in time of war, for which St. Thomas
would actually be worth more than the island of Cuba. Opposite to it is
the continent of Africa; equidistant are the eastern shores of North and
South America; on one side is western Europe, on the other the route to
India and the Pacific Ocean; in the rear are Central America, the West
Indies, and Mexico, together with those great inland bodies of salt
water, the Caribbean Sea and the Gulf of Mexico. It requires no argument
to show how important the possession of such an outpost might prove to
this country.
Since these notes were written, it is currently reported that our
government has once more awakened to the necessity of obtaining
possession of this island, and fresh negotiations have been entered
into. One thing is very certain, if we do not seize the opportunity to
purchase St. Thomas at the present time, England, or some other
important power, will promptly do so, to our serious detriment and just
mortification.
St. Thomas has an area of nearly fifty square miles, and supports a
population of about fourteen thousand. In many respects the capital is
unique, and being our first landing-place after leaving home, was of
more than ordinary interest to the writer. The highest point on the
island, which comes first into view from the deck of a southern bound
steamer, is West Mountain, rising sixteen hundred feet above the level
of the surrounding waters. Geologists would describe St. Thomas as being
the top of a small chain of submerged mountains, which would be quite
correct, since the topography of the bottom of the sea is but a
counterpart of that upon the more familiar surface of the earth we
occupy. When ocean electric cables for connecting islands and continents
are laid, engineers find that there are the same sort of plains,
mountains, valleys, and gorges beneath as above the waters of the ocean.
The skeletons of whales, and natural beds of deep-sea shells, found in
valleys and hills many hundred feet above the present level of tide
waters, tell us plainly enough that in the long ages which have passed,
the diversified surface of the earth which we now behold has changed
places with these submerged regions, which probably once formed the dry
land. The history of the far past is full of instances showing the slow
but continuous retreat of the water from the land in certain regions and
its encroachment in others, the drying up of lakes and rivers, as well
as the upheaval of single islands and groups from the bed of the ocean.
A range of dome-shaped hills runs through the entire length of this
island of St. Thomas, fifteen miles from west to east, being
considerably highest at the west end. As we passed between the two
headlands which mark the entrance to the harbor, the town was seen
spread over three hills of nearly uniform height, also occupying the
gentle valleys between. Two stone structures, on separate hills, form a
prominent feature; these are known respectively as Blue Beard and Black
Beard tower, but their origin is a myth, though there are plenty of
legends extant about them. Both are now utilized as residences, having
mostly lost their original crudeness and picturesque appearance. The
town, as a whole, forms a pleasing and effective background to the
land-locked bay, which is large enough to afford safe anchorage for two
hundred ships at the same time, except when a hurricane prevails; then
the safest place for shipping is as far away from the land as possible.
It is a busy port, considering the small number of inhabitants, steamers
arriving and departing constantly, besides many small coasting vessels
which ply between this and the neighboring islands. St. Thomas is
certainly the most available commercially of the Virgin group of
islands. Columbus named them "Las Vergines," in reference to the
familiar Romish legend of the eleven thousand virgins, about as
inappropriate a title as the fable it refers to is ridiculous.
Close in shore, at the time of our visit, there lay a schooner-rigged
craft of more than ordinary interest, her jaunty set upon the water, her
graceful lines, tall, raking masts, and long bowsprit suggesting the
model of the famous old Baltimore clippers. There is a fascinating
individuality about sailing vessels which does not attach to steamships.
Seamen form romantic attachments for the former. The officers and crew
of the Vigilancia were observed to cast admiring eyes upon this handsome
schooner, anchored under our lee. A sort of mysterious quiet hung about
her; every rope was hauled taut, made fast, and the slack neatly coiled.
Her anchor was atrip, that is, the cable was hove short, showing that
she was ready to sail at a moment's notice. The only person visible on
board was a bareheaded, white-haired old seaman, who sat on the transom
near the wheel, quietly smoking his pipe. On inquiry it was found that
the schooner had a notable history and bore the name of the Vigilant,
having been first launched a hundred and thirty years ago. It appeared
that she was a successful slaver in former days, running between the
coast of Africa and these islands. She was twice captured by English
cruisers, but somehow found her way back again to the old and nefarious
business. Of course, she had been overhauled, repaired, and re-rigged
many times, but it is still the same old frame and hull that so often
made the middle passage, as it was called. To-day she serves as a mail
boat running between Santa Cruz and St. Thomas, and, it is said, can
make forty leagues, with a fair wind, as quick as any steamer on the
coast. The same evening the Vigilant spread her broad white wings and
glided silently out of the harbor, gathering rapid way as she passed its
entrance, until feeling the spur of the wind and the open sea, she
quickly vanished from sight. It was easy to imagine her bound upon her
old piratical business, screened by the shadows of the night.
Though it no longer produces a single article of export on its own soil,
St. Thomas was, in the days of negro slavery, one of the most prolific
sugar yielding islands of this region. It will be remembered that the
emancipation of the blacks took place here in 1848. It was never before
impressed upon us, if we were aware of the fact, that the sugar-cane is
not indigenous to the West Indies. It seems that the plant came
originally from Asia, and was introduced into these islands by Columbus
and his followers. As is often the case with other representatives of
the vegetable kingdom, it appears to have flourished better here than in
the land of its nativity, new climatic combinations, together with the
soil, developing in the saccharine plant better qualities and increased
productiveness, for a long series of years enriching many enterprising
planters.
When Columbus discovered St. Thomas, in 1493, it was inhabited by two
tribes of Indians, the Caribs and the Arrowauks, both of which soon
disappeared under the oppression and hardships imposed by the Spaniards.
It is also stated that from this island, as well as from Cuba and Hayti,
many natives were transported to Spain and there sold into slavery, in
the days following close upon its discovery. Thus Spain, from the
earliest date, characterized her operations in the New World by a
heartlessness and injustice which ever attended upon her conquests, both
among the islands and upon the continent of America. The Caribs were of
the red Indian race, and appear to have been addicted to cannibalism.
Indeed, the very word, by which the surrounding sea is also known, is
supposed to be a corruption of the name of this tribe. "These Caribs did
not eat their own babies," says an old writer apologetically, "like some
sorts of wild beasts, but only roasted and ate their prisoners of war."
The island was originally covered with a dense forest growth, but is now
comparatively denuded of trees, leaving the land open to the full force
of the sun, and causing it to suffer at times from serious droughts.
There is said to be but one natural spring of water on the island. This
shows itself at the surface, and is of very limited capacity; the scanty
rains which occur here are almost entirely depended upon to supply water
for domestic use.
St. Thomas being so convenient a port of call for steamers from Europe
and America, and having so excellent a harbor, is improved as a depot
for merchandise by several of the neighboring islands, thus enjoying a
considerable commerce, though it is only in _transitu_. It is also the
regular coaling station of several steamship lines. Judging from
appearances, however, it would seem that the town is not growing in
population or business relations, but is rather retrograding. The value
of the imports in 1880 was less than half the aggregate amount of 1870.
We were told that green groceries nearly all come from the United
States, and that even eggs and poultry are imported from the neighboring
islands, showing an improvidence on the part of the people difficult to
account for, since these sources of food supply can be profitably
produced at almost any spot upon the earth where vegetation will grow.
Cigars are brought hither from Havana in considerable quantities, and
having no duty to pay, can be sold very cheap by the dealers at St.
Thomas, and still afford a reasonable profit. Quite a trade is thus
carried on with the passengers of the several steamers which call here
regularly, and travelers avail themselves of the opportunity to lay in
an ample supply. Cuban cigars of the quality which would cost nine or
ten dollars a hundred in Boston are sold at St. Thomas for five or six
dollars, and lower grades even cheaper in proportion. There is said to
be considerable smuggling successfully carried on between this island
and the Florida shore, in the article of cigars as well as in tobacco in
the unmanufactured state. The high duty on these has always incited to
smuggling, thus defeating the very object for which it is imposed.
Probably a moderate duty would yield more to the government in the
aggregate, by rendering it so much less of an object to smuggle.
Though the island is Danish in nationality, there are few surroundings
calculated to recall the fact, save that the flag of that country floats
over the old fort and the one or two official buildings, just as it has
done for the last two centuries. The prominent officials are Danes, as
well as the officers of the small body of soldiers maintained on the
island. English is almost exclusively spoken, though there are French,
Spanish, and Italian residents here. English is also the language taught
in the public schools. People have come here to make what money they
can, but with the fixed purpose of spending it and enjoying it
elsewhere. As a rule, all Europeans who come to the West Indies and
embark in business do so with exactly this purpose. In Cuba the
Spaniards from the continent, among whom are many Jews, have a proverb
the significance of which is: "Ten years of starvation, and a fortune,"
and most of them live up to this axiom. They leave all principles of
honor, all sense of moral responsibility, all sacred domestic ties,
behind them, forgetting, or at least ignoring, the significant query,
namely, "What shall it profit a man, if he gain the whole world, and
lose his own soul?"
About one third of the population is Roman Catholic. The Jews have a
synagogue, and a membership of six hundred. They have a record on the
island dating as far back as the year 1757, and add much to the activity
and thrift of St. Thomas. No matter where we find the Jews, in Mexico,
Warsaw, California, or the West Indies, they are all alike intent upon
money making, and are nearly always successful. Their irrepressible
energy wins for them the goal for which they so earnestly strive. That
soldier of fortune, Santa Anna, formerly ruler of Mexico, when banished
as a traitor from his native country, made his home on this island, and
the house which he built and occupied is still pointed out to visitors
as one of the local curiosities. The social life of St. Thomas is
naturally very circumscribed, but is good so far as it goes. A few
cultured people, who have made it their home for some years, have become
sincerely attached to the place, and enjoy the climate. There are a
small public library, a hospital, several charitable institutions, and a
theatre, which is occupied semi-occasionally. The island is connected
with the continent by cable, and has a large floating dock and marine
railway, which causes vessels in distress to visit the port for needed
repairs. The town is situated on the north side of the bay which indents
the middle of the south side of the island. The harbor has a depth of
water varying from eighteen to thirty-six feet, and has the advantage of
being a free port, a fact, perhaps, of not much account to a place which
has neither exports nor imports of its own. St. Thomas is the only town
of any importance on the island, and is known locally as Charlotte
Amalie, a fact which sometimes leads to a confusion of ideas.
The reader need not encounter the intense heat, which so nearly wilted
us, in an effort to obtain a good lookout from some elevated spot; but
the result will perhaps interest him, as it fully repaid the writer for
all the consequent discomfort.
From the brow of a moderate elevation just behind the town, a delightful
and far-reaching view is afforded, embracing St. Thomas in the
foreground, the well-sheltered bay, dotted with vessels bearing the
flags of various nations, an archipelago of islets scattered over the
near waters, and numerous small bays indenting the coast. At a distance
of some forty miles across the sea looms the island of Santa Cruz; and
farther away, on the horizon's most distant limit, are seen the tall
hills and mountains of Porto Rico; while the sky is fringed by a long
trailing plume of smoke, indicating the course of some passing
steamship. The three hills upon which the town stands are spurs of West
Mountain, and the place is quite as well entitled to the name of
Tremont--"tri-mountain"--as was the capital of Massachusetts, before its
hills were laid low to accommodate business demands. On the seaward side
of these elevations the red tiled roofs of the white houses rise in
regular terraces from the street which borders the harbor, forming a
very picturesque group as seen from the bay.
Though it has not often been visited by epidemics, Mr. Anthony Trollope
pronounces the island, in his usual irresponsible way, to be "one of the
hottest and one of the most unhealthy spots among all these hot and
unhealthy regions," and adds that he would perhaps be justified in
saying "that of all such spots it is the hottest and most unhealthy."
This is calculated to give an incorrect idea of St. Thomas. True, it is
liable to periods of unhealthiness, when a species of low fever
prevails, proving more or less fatal. This is thought to originate from
the surface drainage, and the miasma arising from the bay. All the
drains of the town flow into the waters of the harbor, which has not
sufficient flow of tide to carry seaward the foul matter thus
accumulated. The hot sun pouring its heat down upon this tainted water
causes a dangerous exhalation. Still, sharks do not seem to be sensitive
as to this matter, for they much abound. It is yet to be discovered why
these tigers of the sea do not attack the negroes, who fearlessly leap
overboard; a white man could not do this with impunity. The Asiatics of
the Malacca Straits do not enjoy any such immunity from danger, though
they have skins as dark as the divers of St. Thomas. Sharks appear in
the West Indies in small schools, or at least there are nearly always
two or three together, but in Oriental waters they are only seen singly.
Thus a Malay of Singapore, for a compensation, say an English sovereign,
will place a long, sharp knife between his teeth and leap naked into the
sea to attack a shark. He adroitly dives beneath the creature, and as it
turns its body to bring its awkward mouth into use, with his knife the
Malay slashes a deep, long opening in its exposed belly, at the same
time forcing himself out of the creature's reach. The knife is sure and
fatal. After a few moments the huge body of the fish is seen to rise and
float lifeless upon the surface of the water.
A large majority of the people are colored, exhibiting some peculiarly
interesting types, intermarriage with whites of various nationalities
having produced among the descendants of Africans many changes of color
and of features. One feels sure that there is also a trace of Carib or
Indian blood mingled with the rest,--a trace of the aborigines whom
Columbus found here. The outcome is not entirely a race with flat noses
and protruding lips; straight Grecian profiles are not uncommon,
accompanied by thin nostrils and Anglo-Saxon lips. Faultless teeth, soft
blue eyes, and hair nearly straight are sometimes met with among the
creoles. As to the style of walking and of carrying the head and body,
the common class of women of St. Thomas have arrived at perfection. Some
of them are notable examples of unconscious dignity and grace combined.
This has been brought about by carrying burdens upon their heads from
childhood, without the supporting aid of the hands. Modesty, or rather
conventionality, does not require boys or girls under eight years of age
to encumber themselves with clothing. The costume of the market women
and the lower classes generally is picturesque, composed of a Madras
kerchief carefully twisted into a turban of many colors, yellow
predominating, a cotton chemise which leaves the neck and shoulders
exposed, reaching just below the knees, the legs and feet being bare.
The men wear cotton drawers reaching nearly to the knee, the rest of the
body being uncovered, except the head, which is usually sheltered under
a broad brimmed straw hat, the sides of which are perforated by many
ventilating holes. The whites generally, and also the better class of
natives, dress very much after the fashion which prevails in North
America.
This is the negroes' paradise, but it is a climate in which the white
race gradually wanes. The heat of the tropics is modified by the
constant and grateful trade winds, a most merciful dispensation, without
which the West Indies would be uninhabitable by man. On the hillsides of
St. Thomas these winds insure cool nights at least, and a comparatively
temperate state of the atmosphere during the day. Vegetation is
abundant, the fruit trees are perennial, bearing leaf, blossom, and
fruit in profusion, month after month, year after year. Little, if any,
cultivation is required. The few sugar plantations which are still
carried on yield from three to four successive years without replanting.
It is a notable fact that where vegetation is at its best, where the
soil is most rank and prolific, where fruits and flowers grow in wild
exuberance, elevated humanity thrives the least. The lower the grade of
man, the nearer he approximates to the animals, the less civilized he is
in mind and body, the better he appears to be adapted to such
localities. The birds and the butterflies are in exact harmony with the
loveliness of tropical nature, however prolific she may be; the flowers
are glorious and beautiful: it is man alone who seems out of place. A
great variety of fruits are indigenous here, such as the orange, lime,
alligator pear, moss-apple, and mango, but none of them are cultivated
to any extent; the people seem to lack the energy requisite to improve
the grand possibilities of their fertile soil and prolific climate.
We were reminded by a resident of the town, before we left the harbor of
St. Thomas, that the nervous old lady referred to was not entirely
without reason for her anxiety. Some of our readers will remember,
perhaps, that in October, 1867, a most disastrous hurricane swept over
these Virgin Islands, leaving widespread desolation in its track. The
shipping which happened to be in the bay of St. Thomas was nearly all
destroyed, together with hundreds of lives, while on the land scores of
houses and many lives were also sacrificed to the terrible cyclone of
that date. Even the thoroughly built iron and stone lighthouse was
completely obliterated. There is a theory that such visitations come in
this region about once in every twelve or fifteen years, and upon
looking up the matter we find them to have occurred, with more or less
destructive force, in the years 1793, 1819, 1837, 1867, 1871, and so
late as August, 1891. Other hurricanes have passed over these islands
during the period covered by these dates, but of a mitigated character.
August, September, and October are the months in which the hurricanes
are most likely to occur, and all vessels navigating the West Indian
seas during these months take extra precautions to secure themselves
against accidents from this source. When such visitations happen, the
event is sure to develop heroic deeds. In the hurricane of 1867, the
captain of a Spanish man-of-war, who was a practical sailor, brought up
from boyhood upon the ocean, seeing the oncoming cyclone, and knowing by
experience what to expect, ordered the masts of his vessel to be cut
away at once, and every portion of exposed top hamper to be cast into
the sea. When thus stripped he exposed little but the bare hull of his
steamer to the fury of the storm. After the cyclone had passed, it was
found that he had not lost a man, and that the steamer's hull, though
severely battered, was substantially unharmed. Keeping up all steam
during the awful scene, this captain devoted himself and his ship to the
saving of human life, promptly taking his vessel wherever he could be of
the most service. Hundreds of seamen were saved from death by the
coolness and intrepidity of this heroic sailor.
Since these notes were written among the islands, a terrible cyclone has
visited them. This was on August 18, last past, and proved more
destructive to human life, to marine and other property, than any
occurrence of the kind during the last century. At Martinique a sharp
shock of earthquake added to the horror of the occasion, the town of
Fort de France being very nearly leveled with the ground. Many tall and
noble palms, the growth of half a hundred years, were utterly demolished
in the twinkling of an eye, and other trees were uprooted by the score.
The waters of this neighborhood teem with strange forms of animal and
vegetable life. Here we saw specimens of red and blue snappers, the
angel-fish, king-fish, gurnets, cow-fish, whip-ray, peacock-fish,
zebra-fish, and so on, all, or nearly all, unfamiliar to us, each
species individualized either in shape, color, or both. The whip-ray,
with a body like a flounder, has a tail six or seven feet long, tapering
from an inch and over to less than a quarter of an inch at the small
end. When dried, it still retains a degree of elasticity, and is used by
the natives as a whip with which to drive horses and donkeys. In some
places, so singularly clear is the water that the bottom is distinctly
visible five or six fathoms below the surface, where fishes of various
sorts are seen in ceaseless motion. White shells, corals, star-fish, and
sea-urchins mingle their various forms and colors, objects and hues
seeming to be intensified by the strong reflected light from the
surface, so that one could easily fancy them to be flowers blooming in
the fairy gardens of the mermaids. The early morning, just after the sun
begins to gild the surface of the sea, is the favorite time for the
flying-fishes to display their aerial proclivities. They are always
attracted by a strong light, and are thus lured to their destruction by
the torches of the fishermen, who often go out for the purpose at night
and take them in nets. In the early morning, as seen from the ship's
deck, they scoot above the rippling waves in schools of a hundred and
more, so compact as to cast fleeting shadows over the blue enameled
surface of the waters. At St. Thomas, Martinique, and Barbadoes, as well
as among the other islands bordering the Caribbean Sea, they form no
inconsiderable source of food for the humble natives, who fry them in
batter mixed with onions, making a savory and nutritious dish.
St. Thomas is, as we have said, a coaling station for steamships, and
when the business is in progress a most unique picture is presented. The
ship is moored alongside of the dock for this purpose, two side ports
being thrown open, one for ingress, the other for egress. A hundred
women and girls, wearing one scanty garment reaching to the knees, are
in line, and commence at once to trot on board in single file, each one
bearing a bushel basket of coal upon her head, weighing, say sixty
pounds. Another gang fill empty baskets where the coal is stored, so
that there is a continuous line of negresses trotting into the ship at
one port and, after dumping their loads into the coal bunkers, out at
the other, hastening back to the source of supply for more. Their step
is quick, their pose straight as an arrow, while their feet keep time to
a wild chant in which all join, the purport of which it is not possible
to clearly understand. Now and again their voices rise in softly mingled
harmony, floating very sweetly over the still waters of the bay. The
scene we describe occurred at night, but the moon had not yet risen.
Along the wharf, to the coal deposits, iron frames were erected
containing burning bituminous coal, and the blaze, fanned by the open
air, formed the light by which the women worked. It was a weird picture.
Everything seemed quite in harmony: the hour, the darkness of night
relieved by the flaming brackets of coal, the strange, dark figures
hastening into the glare of light and quickly vanishing, the harmony of
high-pitched voices occasionally broken in upon by the sharp, stern
voice of their leader,--all was highly dramatic and effective.
Not unfrequently three or four steamers are coaling at the same time
from different wharves. Hundreds of women and girls of St. Thomas make
this labor their special occupation, and gain a respectable living by
it, doubtless supporting any number of lazy, worthless husbands,
fathers, and brothers.
After our ship was supplied with coal, these women, having put three
hundred tons on board in a surprisingly short period of time, formed a
group upon the wharf and held what they called a firefly dance,
indescribably quaint and grotesque, performed by the flickering light of
the flaming coal. Their voices were joined in a wild, quick chant, as
they twisted and turned, clapping their hands at intervals to emphasize
the chorus. Now and again a couple of the girls would separate from the
rest for a moment, then dance toward and from each other, throwing their
arms wildly about their heads, and finally, gathering their scanty
drapery in one hand and extending the other, perform a movement similar
to the French cancan. Once more springing back among their companions,
all joined hands, and a roundabout romp closed the firefly dance. Could
such a scene be produced in a city theatre _au naturel_, with proper
accessories and by these actual performers, it would surely prove an
attraction good for one hundred nights. Of course this would be
impossible. Conventionality would object to such diaphanous costumes,
and bare limbs, though they were of a bronzed hue, would shock Puritanic
eyes.
Upon first entering the harbor, the Vigilancia anchored at a short
distance from the shore; but when it became necessary to haul alongside
the wharf, the attempt was made to get up the anchor, when it was found
to require far more than the usual expenditure of power to do so.
Finally, however, the anchor was secured, but attached to its flukes
there came also, from the bottom of the bay, a second anchor, of antique
shape, covered with rust and barnacles. It was such a one as was carried
by the galleons of the fifteenth century, and had doubtless lain for
over four hundred years just where the anchor of our ship had got
entangled with it. What a remarkable link this corroded piece of iron
formed, uniting the present with the far past, and how it stimulated the
mind in forming romantic possibilities! It may have been the holding
iron of Columbus's own caravel, or have been the anchor of one of
Cortez's fleet, which touched here on its way into the Gulf of Mexico,
or, indeed, it may have belonged to some Caribbean buccaneer, who was
obliged to let slip his cable and hasten away to escape capture.
It was deemed a fortunate circumstance to have secured this ancient
relic, and a sure sign of future good luck to the ship, so it was duly
stored away in the lower hold of the Vigilancia.
That same night on which the coal bunkers were filled, our good ship was
got under way, while the rising moon made the harbor and its
surroundings as clearly visible as though it were midday. The light from
the burning coal brackets had waned, only a few sparks bursting forth
now and again, disturbed by a passing breeze which fanned them into life
for a moment. When we passed through the narrow entrance by the
lighthouse, and stood out once more upon the open sea, it was mottled,
far and near, with argent ripples, that waltzed merrily in the soft,
clear moonlight, rivaling the firefly dance on shore. Even to the very
horizon the water presented a white, silvery, tremulous sheen of liquid
light. One gazed in silent enjoyment until the eyes were weary with the
lavish beauty of the scene, and the brain became giddy with its
splendor. Is it idle and commonplace to be enthusiastic? Perhaps so; but
we hope never to outlive such inspiration.