THE PASSAGE OF THE WINDWARD ISLANDS.
In the good old days, when men called things by their proper names,
those islands which run down in a string from north to south, from
the Virgin Islands to the mouth of the Orinoco River, were called the
Windward Islands--the Windward or Caribbean Islands. They were also
called the Lesser Antilles. The Leeward Islands were, and properly
speaking are, another cluster lying across the coast of Venezuela, of
which Curaçoa is the chief. Oruba and Margarita also belong to this
lot, among which, England, I believe, never owned any.*
[*The greater Antilles are Cuba, Jamaica, Hayti, and Porto Rico,
though I am not quite sure whether Porto Rico does not more
properly belong to the Virgin Islands. The scattered assemblage
to the north of the greater Antilles are the Bahamas, at one of
the least considerable of which, San Salvador, Columbus first
landed. Those now named, I believe, comprise all the West India
Islands.]
But now-a-days we Britishers are not content to let the Dutch and
others keep a separate name for themselves; we have, therefore,
divided the Lesser Antilles, of which the greater number belong
to ourselves, and call the northern portion of these the Leeward
Islands. Among them Antigua is the chief, and is the residence of
a governor supreme in this division.
After leaving St. Thomas the first island seen of any note is St.
Christopher, commonly known as St. Kitts, and Nevis is close to it.
Both these colonies are prospering fairly. Sugar is exported, now I
am told in increasing, though still not in great quantities, and the
appearance of the cultivation is good. Looking up the side of the
hills one sees the sugar-canes apparently in cleanly order, and
they have an air of substantial comfort. Of course the times are
not so bright as in the fine old days previous to emancipation;
but nevertheless matters have been on the mend, and people are
again beginning to get along. On the journey from Nevis to Antigua,
Montserrat is sighted, and a singular island-rock called the Redonda
is seen very plainly. Montserrat, I am told, is not prospering so
well as St. Kitts or Nevis.
These islands are not so beautiful, not so greenly beautiful, as are
those further south to which we shall soon come. The mountains of
Nevis are certainly fine as they are seen from the sea, but they are
not, or do not seem to be covered with that delicious tropical growth
which is so lovely in Jamaica and Trinidad, and, indeed, in many of
the smaller islands.
Antigua is the next, going southward. This was, and perhaps is, an
island of some importance. It is said to have been the first of the
West Indian colonies which itself advocated the abolition of slavery,
and to have been the only one which adopted complete emancipation
at once, without any intermediate system of apprenticeship. Antigua
has its own bishop, whose diocese includes also such of the Virgin
Islands as belong to us, and the adjacent islands of St. Kitts,
Nevis, and Montserrat.
Neither is Antigua remarkable for its beauty. It is approached,
however, by an excellent and picturesque harbour, called English
Harbour, which in former days was much used by the British navy;
indeed, I believe it was at one time the head-quarters of a naval
station. Premising, in the first place, that I know very little about
harbours, I would say that nothing could be more secure than that.
Whether or no it may be easy for sailing vessels to get in and out
with certain winds, that, indeed, may be doubtful.
St. John's, the capital of Antigua, is twelve miles from English
Harbour. I was in the island only three or four hours, and did not
visit it. I am told that it is a good town--or city, I should rather
say, now that it has its own bishop.
In all these islands they have Queen, Lords, and Commons in one shape
or another. It may, however, be hoped, and I believe trusted, that,
for the benefit of the communities, matters chiefly rest in the
hands of the first of the three powers. The other members of the
legislature, if they have in them anything of wisdom to say, have
doubtless an opportunity of saying it--perhaps also an opportunity
when they have nothing of wisdom. Let us trust, however, that such
opportunities are limited.
After leaving Antigua we come to the French island of Guadaloupe,
and then passing Dominica, of which I will say a word just now, to
Martinique, which is also French. And here we are among the rich
green wild beauties of these thrice beautiful Caribbean islands. The
mountain grouping of both these islands is very fine, and the hills
are covered up to their summits with growth of the greenest. At both
these islands one is struck with the great superiority of the French
West Indian towns to those which belong to us. That in Guadaloupe
is called Basseterre, and the capital of Martinique is St. Pierre.
These towns offer remarkable contrasts to Roseau and Port Castries,
the chief towns in the adjacent English islands of Dominica and St.
Lucia. At the French ports one is landed at excellently contrived
little piers, with proper apparatus for lighting, and well-kept
steps. The quays are shaded by trees, the streets are neat and in
good order, and the shops show that ordinary trade is thriving. There
are water conduits with clear streams through the towns, and every
thing is ship-shape. I must tell a very different tale when I come to
speak of Dominica and St. Lucia.
The reason for this is, I think, well given in a useful guide to
the West Indies, published some years since, under the direction
of the Royal Mail Steam-Packet Company. Speaking of St. Pierre, in
Martinique, the author says: "The streets are neat, regular, and
cleanly. The houses are high, and have more the air of European
houses than those of the English colonies. Some of the streets have
an avenue of trees, which overshadow the footpath, and on either
side are deep gutters, down which the water flows. There are five
booksellers houses, and the fashions are well displayed in other
shops. The French colonists, whether Creoles* or French, consider
the West Indies as their country. They cast no wistful looks towards
France. They marry, educate, and build in and for the West Indies,
and for the West Indies alone. In our colonies it is different. They
are considered more as temporary lodging-places, to be deserted as
soon as the occupiers have made money enough by molasses and sugar to
return _home_."
[*It should be understood that a Creole is a person born in the
West Indies, of a race not indigenous to the islands. There may
be white Creoles, coloured Creoles, or black Creoles. People
talk of Creole horses and Creole poultry; those namely which
have not been themselves imported, but which have been bred
from imported stock. The meaning of the word Creole is, I think,
sometimes misunderstood.]
All this is quite true. There is something very cheering to an
English heart in that sound, and reference to the word home--in
that great disinclination to the idea of life-long banishment.
But nevertheless, the effect as shown in these islands is not
satisfactory to the _amour propre_ of an Englishman. And it is not
only in the outward appearance of things that the French islands
excel those belonging to England which I have specially named.
Dominica and St. Lucia export annually about 6,000 hogsheads of
sugar each. Martinique exports about 60,000 hogsheads. Martinique
is certainly rather larger than either of the other two, but size
has little or nothing to do with it. It is anything rather than want
of fitting soil which makes the produce of sugar so inconsiderable
in Dominica and St. Lucia.
These French islands were first discovered by the Spaniards; but
since that time they, as well as the two English islands above named,
have passed backwards and forwards between the English and French,
till it was settled in 1814 that Martinique and Guadaloupe should
belong to France, and Dominica and St. Lucia, with some others, to
England. It certainly seems that France knew how to take care of
herself in the arrangement.
There is another little island belonging to France, at the back of
Guadaloupe to the westward, called Marie-Galante; but I believe it is
but of little value.
To my mind, Dominica, as seen from the sea, is by far the most
picturesque of all these islands. Indeed, it would be difficult to
beat it either in colour or grouping. It fills one with an ardent
desire to be off and rambling among those green mountains--as if
one could ramble through such wild, bush country, or ramble at all
with the thermometer at 85. But when one has only to think of such
things without any idea of doing them, neither the bushes nor the
thermometer are considered.
One is landed at Dominica on a beach. If the water be quiet, one gets
out dryshod by means of a strong jump; if the surf be high, one wades
through it; if it be very high, one is of course upset. The same
things happen at Jacmel, in Hayti; but then Englishmen look on the
Haytians as an uncivilized, barbarous race. Seeing that Dominica lies
just between Martinique and Guadaloupe, the difference between the
English beach and surf and the French piers is the more remarkable.
And then, the perils of the surf being passed, one walks into the
town of Roseau. It is impossible to conceive a more distressing
sight. Every house is in a state of decadence. There are no shops
that can properly be so called; the people wander about chattering,
idle and listless; the streets are covered with thick, rank grass;
there is no sign either of money made or of money making. Everything
seems to speak of desolation, apathy, and ruin. There is nothing,
even in Jamaica, so sad to look at as the town of Roseau.
The greater part of the population are French in manner, religion,
and language, and one would be so glad to attribute to that fact this
wretched look of apathetic poverty--if it were only possible. But we
cannot do that after visiting Martinique and Guadaloupe. It might be
said that a French people will not thrive under British rule. But
if so, what of Trinidad? This look of misery has been attributed
to a great fire which occurred some eighty years since; but when
due industry has been at work great fires have usually produced
improved towns. Now eighty years have afforded ample time for such
improvement if it were forthcoming. Alas! it would seem that it is
not forthcoming.
It must, however, be stated in fairness that Dominica produces more
coffee than sugar, and that the coffee estates have latterly been
the most thriving. Singularly enough, her best customer has been the
neighbouring French island of Martinique, in which some disease has
latterly attacked the coffee plants.
We then reach St. Lucia, which is also very lovely as seen from the
sea. This, too, is an island French in its language, manners, and
religion; perhaps more entirely so than any other of the islands
belonging to ourselves. The laws even are still French, and the
people are, I believe, blessed (?) with no Lords and Commons. If
I understand the matter rightly, St. Lucia is held as a colony or
possession conquered from the French, and is governed, therefore, by
a quasi-military governor, with the aid of a council. It is, however,
in some measure dependent on the Governor of Barbados, who is again
one of your supreme governors. There has, I believe, been some recent
change which I do not pretend to understand. If these changes be
not completed, and if it would not be presumptuous in me to offer a
word of advice, I would say that in the present state of the island,
with a Negro-Gallic population who do little or nothing, it might be
as well to have as much as possible of the Queen, and as little as
possible of the Lords and Commons.
To the outward physical eye, St. Lucia is not so triste as Dominica.
There is good landing there, and the little town of Castries, though
anything but prosperous in itself, is prosperous in appearance as
compared with Roseau.
St. Lucia is peculiarly celebrated for its snakes. One cannot walk
ten yards off the road--so one is told--without being bitten. And if
one be bitten, death is certain--except by the interposition of a
single individual of the island, who will cure the sufferer--for a
consideration. Such, at least, is the report made on this matter. The
first question one should ask on going there is as to the whereabouts
and usual terms of that worthy and useful practitioner. There is, I
believe, a great deal that is remarkable to attract the visitor among
the mountains and valleys of St. Lucia.
And then in the usual course, running down the island, one goes to
that British advanced post, Barbados--Barbados, that lies out to
windward, guarding the other islands as it were! Barbados, that is
and ever was entirely British! Barbados, that makes money, and is in
all respects so respectable a little island! King George need not
have feared at all; nor yet need Queen Victoria. If anything goes
wrong in England--Napoleon coming there, not to kiss Her Majesty
this time, but to make himself less agreeable--let Her Majesty
come to Barbados, and she will be safe! I have said that Jamaica
never boasts, and have on that account complained of her. Let
such complaint be far from me when I speak of Barbados. But shall
I not write a distinct chapter as to this most respectable little
island--an island that pays its way?
St. Vincent is the next in our course, and this, too, is green and
pretty, and tempting to look at. Here also the French have been in
possession but comparatively for a short time. In settling this
island, the chief difficulty the English had was with the old native
Indians, who more than once endeavoured to turn out their British
masters. The contest ended in their being effectually turned out by
those British masters, who expelled them all bodily to the island
of Ruatan, in the Bay of Honduras; where their descendants are now
giving the Anglo-American diplomatists so much trouble in deciding
whose subjects they truly are. May we not say that, having got rid of
them out of St. Vincent, we can afford to get rid of them altogether?
Kingston is the capital here. It looks much better than either Roseau
or Castries, though by no means equal to Basseterre or St. Pierre.
This island is said to be healthy, having in this respect a much
better reputation than its neighbour St. Lucia, and as far as I could
learn it is progressing--progressing slowly, but progressing--in
spite even of the burden of Queens, Lords, and Commons. The Lords and
Commons are no doubt considerably modified by official influence.
And then the traveller runs down the Grenadines, a petty cluster of
islands lying between St. Vincent and Grenada, of which Becquia and
Cariacou are the chief. They have no direct connection with the mail
steamers, but are, I believe, under the Governor of Barbados. They
are very pretty, though not, as a rule, very productive. Of one of
them I was told that the population were all females. What a Paradise
of Houris, if it were but possible to find a good Mahommedan in these
degenerate days!
Grenada will be the last upon the list; for I did not visit or even
see Tobago, and of Trinidad I have ventured to write a separate
chapter, in spite of the shortness of my visit. Grenada is also very
lovely, and is, I think, the head-quarters of the world for fruit.
The finest mangoes I ever ate I found there; and I think the finest
oranges and pine apples.
The town of St. Georges, the capital, must at one time have been
a place of considerable importance, and even now it has a very
different appearance from those that I have just mentioned. It is
more like a goodly English town than any other that I saw in any of
the smaller British islands. It is well built, though built up and
down steep hills, and contains large and comfortable houses. The
market-place also looks like a market-place, and there are shops in
it, in which trade is apparently carried on and money made.
Indeed, Grenada was once a prince among these smaller islands,
having other islands under it, with a Governor supreme, instead of
tributary. It was fertile also, and productive--in every way of
importance.
But now here, as in so many other spots among the West Indies, we are
driven to exclaim, Ichabod! The glory of our Grenada has departed,
as has the glory of its great namesake in the old world. The houses,
though so goodly, are but as so many Alhambras, whose tenants now are
by no means great in the world's esteem.
All the hotels in the West Indies are, as I have said, or shall say
in some other place, kept by ladies of colour; in the most part
by ladies who are no longer very young. They are generally called
familiarly by their double name. Betsy Austen, for instance; and
Caroline Lee. I went to the house of some such lady in St. Georges,
and she told me a woful tale of her miseries. She was Kitty
something, I think--soon, apparently, to become Kitty of another
world. "An hotel," she said. "No; she kept no hotel now-a-days--what
use was there for an hotel in St. Georges? She kept a lodging-house;
though, for the matter of that, no lodgers ever came nigh her. That
little granddaughter of hers sometimes sold a bottle of ginger beer;
that was all." It must be hard for living eyes to see one's trade die
off in that way.
There is a feminine accomplishment so much in vogue among the ladies
of the West Indies, one practised there with a success so specially
brilliant, as to make it deserving of special notice. This art is one
not wholly confined to ladies, although, as in the case with music,
dancing, and cookery, it is to be looked for chiefly among the female
sex. Men, indeed, do practise it in England, the West Indies, and
elsewhere; and as Thalberg and Soyer are greatest among pianists and
cooks, so perhaps are the greatest adepts in this art to be found
among the male practitioners;--elsewhere, that is, than in the West
Indies. There are to be found ladies never equalled in this art by
any effort of manhood. I speak of the science of flirting.
And be it understood that here among these happy islands no idea of
impropriety--perhaps remembering some of our starched people at home,
I should say criminality--is attached to the pursuit. Young ladies
flirt, as they dance and play, or eat and drink, quite as a matter
of course. There is no undutiful, unfilial idea of waiting till
mamma's back be turned; no uncomfortable fear of papa; no longing
for secluded corners, so that the world should not see. The doing
of anything that one is ashamed of is bad. But as regards flirting,
there is no such doing in the West Indies. Girls flirt not only with
the utmost skill, but with the utmost innocence also. Fanny Grey,
with her twelve admirers, required no retired corners, no place apart
from father, mother, brothers, or sisters. She would perform with all
the world around her as some other girl would sing, conscious that in
singing she would neither disgrace herself nor her masters.
It may be said that the practice of this accomplishment will often
interfere with the course of true love. Perhaps so, but I doubt
whether it does not as often assist it. It seemed to me that young
ladies do not hang on hand in the West Indies. Marriages are made
up there with apparently great satisfaction on both sides; and then
the flirting is laid aside--put by, at any rate, till the days of
widowhood, should such evil days come. The flirting is as innocent
as it is open, and is confined to ladies without husbands.
It is confined to ladies without husbands, but the victims are not
bachelors alone. No position, or age, or state of health secures
a man from being drawn, now into one and now into another Circean
circle, in which he is whirled about, sometimes in a most ridiculous
manner, jostled amongst a dozen neighbours, left without power to get
out or to plunge further in, pulled back by a skirt at any attempt to
escape, repulsed in the front at every struggle made to fight his way
through.
Rolling about in these Charybdis pools are, perhaps, oftenest to be
seen certain wearers of red coats; wretches girt with tight sashes,
and with gilding on their legs and backs. To and fro they go, bumping
against each other without serious injury, but apparently in great
discomfort. And then there are black-coated strugglers, with white
neck-ties, very valiant in their first efforts, but often to be seen
in deep grief, with heads thoroughly submersed. And you may see
gray-haired sufferers with short necks, making little useless puffs,
puffs which would be so impotent were not Circe merciful to those
short-necked gray-haired sufferers.
If there were, as perhaps there should be, a college in the West
Indies, with fellowships and professorships,--established with the
view of rewarding proficiency in this science--Fanny Grey should
certainly be elected warden, or principal, or provost of that
college. Her wondrous skill deserves more than mere praise, more
than such slight glory as my ephemeral pages can give her. Pretty,
laughing, brilliant, clever Fanny Grey! Whose cheeks ever were so
pink, whose teeth so white, whose eyes so bright, whose curling locks
so raven black! And then who ever smiled as she smiled? or frowned as
she can frown? Sharply go those brows together, and down beneath the
gurgling pool sinks the head of the red-coated wretch, while with
momentary joy up pops the head of another, who is received with a
momentary smile.
Yes; oh my reader! it is too true, I also have been in that pool,
making, indeed, no wilful struggles, attempting no Leander feat of
swimming, sucked in as my steps unconsciously strayed too near the
dangerous margin; sucked in and then buffeted about, not altogether
unmercifully when my inaptitude for such struggling was discovered.
Yes; I have found myself choking in those Charybdis waters, have
glanced into the Circe cave. I have been seen in my insane struggles.
But what shame of that? All around me, from the old patriarch dean of
the island to the last subaltern fresh from Chatham, were there as
well as I.