St. Pierre, Martinique, May 13.
Pursuant to the instructions which I had received, as mentioned in my
late letters from the coast of Guiana, I took the earliest opportunity
of proceeding from Demarara to head-quarters at Martinique, accompanied
by Messrs. Mackie, Jordan, and Fleming, the only surviving assistants of
the St. Domingo hospital department, who still continue with me, to
rejoin that staff.
We embarked on Saturday, May 6th, on board the Shark schooner, a small
vessel deeply laden with cotton, and fitted up with little attention to
the accommodation of passengers. Lieutenant D’Arcey of the 39th
regiment, was of our party, and we had another cabin passenger in the
person of an aged planter from Essequibo, named Jordine, who,
notwithstanding he had been many years absent from Europe, still
discovered, by his accent, that he had originally sailed from the north
of Tweed.
We made the passage in five days, and arrived here on the 11th instant.
Knowing the total discomfort which I never fail to experience when at
sea, I give you all the pleasant tidings you will expect, regarding the
voyage, when I tell you that ... it is ended!
Scarcely were we under sail before we found ourselves in trouble. Our
crew had dipped so deeply into the parting glass, that they were quite
incapable of working the vessel. No sooner, therefore, had we passed the
bar into heaving and restless water, than we were compelled to let go
the anchor, and lie pitching up and down at the mercy of the waves and
the tide, until the sailors became sobered by sleep, They left their
hammocks on the morning of the 7th, at an early hour, to get the vessel
under weigh. Nearly as soon as the sails were unfurled I was seized with
a violent sickness, and driven to my pillow, where I remained until the
evening of the 8th, when we passed the island of Trinidad, leaving it
several leagues to leeward.
On the 9th the breeze moderated as the sun retired, and the schooner
becoming more steady, I took my seat upon deck, and directed my eye
towards the island of Tobago, which was visible at about ten leagues
distance.
Early on the morning of the 10th we were called from our births to see
St. Vincent and St. Lucie, which were then distinctly in view, the
former to leeward, the latter directly a-head of the vessel.
St. Vincent appeared a high and rocky island, with its aspiring
mountains rounded into a kind of regular form; while St. Lucie, which
was nearer to us, presented a number of rude and craggy summits, formed
into towering pyramids of naked rocks and broken precipices. At the S.W.
point of this colony were seen the tops of two mountains particularly
elevated, and from their form called “the Sugar-loaves.” It being in our
course to sail close under them, their appearance was rendered very
grand and awful; they seemed to hang suspended from the edge of the
shore, as if threatening to fall upon the vessel, and crush it to atoms.
Scarcely had we proceeded beyond the “Sugar-loaves,” when the breeze
forsook us, and we were becalmed directly under the lee of the island,
near Souffrée, which was formerly the capital of the colony. This town
is situated at the border of the sea, a little beyond the mountainous
point, in a confined bay, surrounded by lofty hills. After lying a
considerable time, with the sails loose, the breeze was renewed, and
carried our schooner pleasantly along the coast, affording us a most
favorable opportunity of viewing the leeward part of St. Lucie: but as
we were proceeding smoothly under the shore, a vessel hove in sight,
directly a-head, making full sail towards us. Believing her to be a
privateer, we instantly tacked about, and stood for the harbour of
Souffrée; but she outsailed us, and we were in danger of being cut off
from the land before we could reach near enough to be within the
protection of the battery. Unfortunately, too, the breeze forsook us,
and just as we approached near to the harbour’s mouth we found ourselves
immoveable, with the additional mortification of seeing the ship that
was chasing us coming up with full sails. Every thing was put in the
best state for our defence, but at the moment when we expected the enemy
to commence the attack, we observed that his vessel was also rendered
motionless by the calm.
The breeze was soon renewed, when our sails speedily filled, and we were
carried into the bay. Upon seeing us take shelter in the harbour, our
pursuer sailed across its mouth, making a signal implying that she was
an English cruiser, and that we might proceed on our passage! But we
presently discovered that this false alarm would be the loss of an
entire day to us. We endeavoured to reconcile the delay by the
opportunity it afforded of obtaining a better view of the island, which
appeared to be a rugged mountainous waste. At the sides of some of the
hills, and in the narrow valleys, were a few scattered houses; but most
of them were abandoned, or in ruins. Only very small spots, at different
points, were in cultivation, the greater part of the fields, which had
formerly been obedient to the hoe and the spade, being neglected, and
exhibiting one wide scene of desolation; indeed, the whole of the coast
bore strong marks of having been a prey to the anarchy of the times, and
displayed a gloomy example of the effects of that levelling and
revolutionary engine—“egalité.”
On the approach of evening we came within view of the Pigeon Island,
Morne Fortuné, Morne Duchasseau, the Vigie, the Carenage, and all those
places which, about twelve months before, had been the great scene of
action. Here the cultivation was equally neglected, as in the other
parts which we had passed. From the sterile prospect which met the eye,
an unhappy impression was forced upon the mind in the recollection that
these barren rocks had so recently been purchased at a melancholy
expense of the blood and treasure of our country.
In the whole line of coast, from Souffrée to Morne Fortuné, we did not
observe a single battery, a circumstance which accounts for the temerity
of the commanders of French privateers, who frequently capture our
defenceless trading vessels close under the shores of the island.
Just before sunset Martinique was discovered about ten leagues a-head;
and we went to our births anticipating the delight of breakfasting at
St. Pierre the next day.
On the morning of the 11th the captain called us up, between five and
six o’clock, in order that we might not lose the very favorable
opportunity which then offered of viewing the island. On quitting our
hammocks we found that we were sailing along the coast, close in shore,
between Fort Royal and St. Pierre, standing toward the latter, and
commanding a fine prospect, including Fort Royal harbour and the
shipping. We were prevented by frequent returns of calm from getting in
at breakfast-time, but the disappointment was amply compensated by the
gratification of beholding distinct landscapes of several very pleasant
parts of the territory.
Martinique is mountainous, but less rude and craggy than St. Lucie. The
hills are of more regular form. They also exhibit more of vegetation and
improvement, and do not so often terminate in heavy masses of naked
rock. The valleys are also wider, and better cultivated. These two
islands, however much they may have been formerly allied in feature,
appear from the sea to be the direct reverse of each other: while
Martinique offers an animated scene of culture and richness, St. Lucie
may be said to sleep under an extended and almost general sterility.
We observed several small villages on the beach; and saw many fishermen
employed in their boats or repairing their nets at the edge of the
water. Canoes were passing in various directions; batteries appeared at
short distances from each other, manned with soldiers; and all about the
coast formed an active, busy scene.
The approach to the town of St. Pierre presented one of the finest
pictures that can be imagined. The breeze freshened as we came into the
bay, and we were detained beating on and off until noon, which gave us
the advantage of seeing the town, with the finely cultivated hills and
fields of its environs, from different points.
Imagine yourself at sea, near the coast of a most beautiful island, and
sailing into an expansive bay, with a handsome town directly before you,
encompassed with hills richly planted with coffee and cassada, fields
spread with luxuriant verdure, and valleys loaded with sugarcanes: add
to the scene a crowd of shipping, appearing like a forest below the
town, and fruitful gardens and orchards hanging upon the hills above it;
then place in the back-ground lofty mountains, clothed with thick woods,
or crowned with dark majestic clouds, and you will have a correct
representation of the splendid picture which was before us, as we
approached the town of St. Pierre.
Nor is the appearance of the place itself less striking. Unlike the
towns of the English colonies, it resembles in structure those of
Europe, particularly some of the old cities of the continent—the houses
being high, the streets paved and very narrow, and the shops open, with
the goods lying exposed for sale at the door and the unclosed windows.
From its form, together with being placed directly under the hills, and
on the leeward side of the island, you will perceive that the
temperature of St. Pierre must be excessively high, and that
convenience, more than health, has been consulted in marking the site of
the capital. Happily a current of water finds its course down the middle
of each of the principal streets, from a spring at the side of one of
the hills, which serves as a stream of health and life to the
inhabitants: without this, the air of the town must have been dreadfully
oppressive, and the heat insupportable.
We remarked, as a further novelty upon landing at St. Pierre, that the
inhabitants, compared with those we had been lately accustomed to meet,
were of uncommonly fair complexion. Nor is this peculiarity confined to
those who have arrived from the distant shores of the Atlantic: it
extends equally to the white creoles, and the people of colour,
appearing even in those who are only a single remove from the negroes;
perhaps it may be attributed to their living in a more confined heat,
and closer shade, than those whom we had recently left in the more
exposed colonies of Guiana.
Not in its structure and appearance only, but in its accommodations
likewise, St. Pierre more resembles the towns of Europe, than any of the
places where we have lately resided. It is the capital of the Charibbee
islands; and may be regarded as the metropolis of the windward colonies.
It is now the head-quarters of the army, and consequently the great mart
of stores and provisions, and the centre of general commerce. It offers
the convenience of regularly established taverns and hotels, where
strangers or travellers immediately find an appropriate home. Public
walks, clubs, billiard-rooms, and a handsome playhouse, also crowded
streets, overflowing shops, and a busy traffic are found at St. Pierre:
these, together with the active movements of a military throng, create a
mixed and interesting scene of war, pleasure, and business, each, in its
turn, predominant, yet all prevailing together, and pursued with equal
ardor by their separate or their common votaries.
Coming from the quietude of Guiana, the change is peculiarly striking,
and excites an impression very similar to that which is experienced, in
England, upon removing from the stillness of a rural abode, to the noise
and hurry of London. At present we live at an hotel, kept by a mulatto
woman, where, by means of money, we have the power of procuring
accommodations, and amply supplying our wants: which was not always the
case at our late abode in South America. Our beds are good, the table is
well served, and of the attendance we cannot complain. For dinner we pay
two dollars each, for breakfast three quarters of a dollar, and for a
bed the same. Madeira wine is a dollar and a quarter the bottle, Claret
a dollar and a half, and other things in proportion; so that the whole
expense of living in the plainest manner (although, from our late
change, we might regard it as sumptuous) may be stated at an average of
a joe each day. This, it may be remarked, can ill consist with the
limited pay of many of the officers: but a well-regulated mess may be
provided at a cheaper rate, though not upon terms so reasonable as in
Europe, as you will readily perceive when I tell you that a thin
half-fed calf is sold in the market at the price of fifteen or sixteen
joes, a chicken for more than two dollars, and a turkey for seven
dollars.
The commander in chief being absent, with the expedition to Porto Rico,
at the time of our arrival, I have not yet had an opportunity of
acquiring any correct intelligence respecting our further destination:
he returned to Martinique yesterday; I may hope, therefore, to give you
some tidings, concerning our movements, in my next letter.
Adieu.