Читать книгу Antigua and the Antiguans (Vol. 1&2) - Mrs. Lanaghan - Страница 18

Table of Contents

My first voyage to Antigua​—​Visit upon deck​—​The booby’s welcome​—​Nearer approach​—​Harbour of St. John’s​—​The Black Pilot​—​North Sandy Island​—​Wreck of the mail-boat​—​Dangerous navigation​—​Long Island​—​South Sandy Island​—​Panoramic views from the vessel’s deck​—​Light winds​—​Disappointment made pleasing​—​Anchorage for the night

Having noticed the most important of its historical events, I must now be allowed to give some description of the appearance of Antigua, and of my first visit to its shores. After a voyage of many weeks, early one morning we were agreeably saluted with the cry of “land!” Sleep was immediately banished from my eyes, and with a beating heart I waited until the day should “pour in apace,” and allow me the pleasure of viewing for the first time one of those tropical islands I had often thought of with delight. A fair wind filled our sails, and we rapidly gained upon the distant object, which (when I first peeped up the companion ladder) looked like one of those shadowy clouds I had so frequently seen resting, as it were, upon the bosom of the ocean, at the utmost verge of the horizon.

By this time the sun was fast mounting up the sky, and shone with all its fervour upon the glassy waves below; and as we noiselessly glided on, the mountains began to assume a distincter form, and proved beyond doubt that we were near the end of our voyage.

A bustle upon the deck, the trampling of many feet, the rattling of ropes, and the sound of strange voices, and a stranger dialect, announced the arrival of the pilot; and unable any longer to suppress the longing desire I had to behold Antigua from a more eligible situation than my peep-hole, I hastily tied on my bonnet, and spite of the increasing heat, sought my companion upon the deck. Seated upon a hen-coop, which had been arrayed in all the glories of bright green paint, I prepared to look about me; when suddenly I felt a peculiar sensation, which told me, that, like “Achilles,” I was anything but invulnerable in my heel. A “booby,” or gannet, an aquatic bird, which had been captured the night before, and placed in “durance vile” within the self-same coop, was bidding me welcome to her native clime, by unceremoniously inserting her bill into that very susceptible part; and as I was not stoic enough to receive such favours unmoved, she expressed her displeasure by a doleful unharmonious scream. “Well,” thought I, “this is not the pleasantest welcome possible,” and turning my eyes towards the land, “nor this the most interesting looking island in the world.” In fact, it looked dull and dreary; its mountains appeared barren and sunburnt; and the distance prevented me from seeing the valleys and dingles which in some degree redeem it from insipidity.

Our gallant vessel, however, still kept on her way, and—

“Walk’d the waters like a thing of life;”

and as we approached the land, the scene changed for the better. Bright green patches of the sugar-cane appeared amid the brown of the foremost mountains; while the more distant of the chain presented that harmonious blending of a thousand dyes, which poets love to sing, and painters love to study. As it happened to be that season of the year when the sugar harvest was in progress, the white sails of the various mills glittered in the sunbeams, and upon the eminences the manager’s house (or in the language of the country, the “great house”) looked down upon its little hamlet of negro huts, picturesquely embosomed in trees.

On, on we glided; the merry breeze piping in our ears, and the snow-white foam curling and writhing around our prow, until at length we came so near that we could see and almost count the waves as they dashed upon the silver sands of the surrounding bays. In one part a number of tall cocoa-nut trees stretched their long arms to the blast, whilst upon every side of us the light skiffs of the fishermen danced like cockle-shells upon the buoyant waters, and their dusky masters intently pursued their trade of entrapping the finny race.

Our good breeze did not desert us; and rapidly and surely we made way, until we passed over the bar, and entered the harbour of St. John’s. What a busy scene now presented itself to my view; the various ships from England, Scotland, Ireland,⁵⁸ and America, distinguished by their several flags; the boats and droughers⁵⁹ hurrying backwards and forwards with their loads; whilst the hallooing of the sailors, and the screaming of the negro watermen, conspired to render it the very imagery of discord.

The town of St. John’s, with its white houses and green jalousies, lay stretched before us, surmounted by its neat and pretty church; and upon our left the Fort of St. James and Rat Island. While looking at the latter, up went a flag, which, fluttering in the breeze, announced to the good people of St. John’s the arrival of a ship from “home” as the Antiguans always call England. Several boats now joined us from the shore, conveying friends to welcome us to Antigua; a harbour-master, (a very agreeable and worthy personage by-the-bye,) to make certain inquiries; custom-house officers, (of a superior class of men to those who board vessels in the Thames, and are so disagreeably distinguished by their undeviating devotion to that herb, which Sir Walter Raleigh, in his excessive overflow of human kindness, is said to have introduced into England,) to see that if you smuggled yourselves on shore, you did not smuggle your goods; and plenty of black boys, to grin and chatter, and get all the biscuit and beef they could.

But I must not omit to give a more particular account of the black pilot. A very pompous personage he was, and one who no doubt stood vastly high in his own estimation, as he lent upon the rail of the vessel, with his large straw hat, and gigantic snuff-box, giving orders to the sailors, and in the interim discussing the news of the island. “Hab fine rain last night; you bring good wedder​—​(war for you ’tand staring dere for, you black nigger ?)​—​yes, feber berry bad last month, many buckra die​—​(war you go do, run de ship on de shore?)​—​Crop bery good dis year; ship load fast ’nough​—​(why you no haul dat rope good?)​—​Yes, gubbernor bin bery bad; better now tho’.” And thus he ran on, until, the proper place gained, down dropped the ponderous anchor, a boat received us, and in a short time landed us “all well” upon one of the wharfs of Antigua, amid blacks and whites, porters and boatmen, and boys and girls clad “à la Venus.”

The harbour of St. John’s is reckoned one of the finest and most commodious in the West Indies. The entrance is defended by Goat Hill Fort on the south, and St. James Fort on the north; across the mouth of it runs a shoal, known as the bar, which extends from a bay called Hog John, to Fort James. The depth of water upon this bar is only from seven to fourteen feet; and consequently, ships, when they are partly laden, pass over this shoal, and take in the remainder of their cargo off Dickenson’s Bay. The principal trade of the island is carried on at this port, the harbour is generally full of shipping; and during the hurricane months, many vessels from the neighbouring islands come here for safety. The approach to it is, however, intersected with numerous rocks, and about three miles from its mouth lies a small island, surrounded by reefs and breakers, to which the name of “Sandy Island” has been attached. It was upon these reefs that, in 1826, the “Maria” mail boat was wrecked, and, with her hapless crew, went to the bottom. She had been down to St. Thomas and the other Islands with the mails for England;⁶⁰ and upon her return, putting into Monserrat, took on board the Wesleyan missionaries, and their wives and children, who had been to St. Kitts to attend their yearly district meeting, and who were desirous of returning to Antigua, the scene of their labours. They had left St. Kitts a few days before, in a small vessel hired for the purpose; but finding it rather “crank,” they were unwilling to proceed, and determined to wait at Monserrat for the arrival of the “Maria.”

But who can look into futurity? who can tell what may be in store for him? The crank vessel reached Antigua in safety; the mail boat and all on board, with the exception of one solitary female, perished in the treacherous waters, almost within sight of their own homes​—​within hearing of the church bell. I never pass the spot without shuddering, and fancying what must have been the feelings of that one who was spared to tell the dreadful tale. A woman of lively imagination and affectionate disposition, she saw friend after friend washed away by the remorseless waves. The pride of manhood!​—​the shrinking delicacy of woman!​—​the helplessness of infancy!​—​all of no avail!​—​a splash​—​a bubble​—​and all was over, and their bodies filled the maw of some rapacious monster, or rested in some coral cave beneath the waters, there to remain until that great day, when sea and earth must give up their dead. Of the ill-fated voyagers, all who remained were, she who was destined to be the sole survivor, her husband, and the master of the vessel. Worn out by mental agony, and unavailing exertions to attract the notice of the many fishing-boats and other vessels which were constantly passing within their sight, but which either did not perceive or would not assist them, the master of the vessel gave himself up to the dominion of the “giant despair,” and losing his hold of the wreck, was quickly carried away by the waves. One more victim was required​—​and that was the dearest, the best beloved​—​her husband died in her arms, and after holding him for many a painful minute, and struggling for mastery with the billows to retain the much-loved corpse, nature became exhausted, and she sank into a state of insensibility. In this state she remained until the crew of some passing vessel raised an alarm upon their gaining shore. A party of gentlemen went in search of the supposed wreck, and finding the inanimate female, quickly conveyed her to the main land, where every care was lavished upon her, and happily not without success.

No one can read the affecting details of the sufferings of this unhappy crew (an account of which Mrs. Jones, the name of the lady, afterwards published) without feeling deep sorrow at the event. At the same time, no one dares to ask “why was it so?” All we can allege is,

“God moves in a mysterious way.”

This melancholy catastrophe was known at St. Kitts as soon as (if not before) it was at Antigua: the dead body of a child (one of the unfortunate passengers) conveyed the first direful tidings.

Sandy Island is by no means the only sentinel which Nature has placed to guard her favourite land from the sudden inroads of the enemy, the whole of the north side of Antigua being surrounded by rocks and breakers, which make it dangerous navigation. On this account ships generally come down the south side of the island, although some masters of vessels, from the impulse of a daring spirit, or from a want of knowledge, pursue the other course, and often have to lament the issue.

On the northern and eastern sides of Antigua a great number of small islands are scattered, and it is from some of these that the smooth yellowish free-stone, of which the Court-house is built, is obtained; this free-stone is proved to be composed of carbonate of lime and oxyde of iron. The principal of these islands are, Pole-cat Isle, Goat’s Isle, Guana⁶¹ Isle, Maiden’s Isle, Cochran’s Isle, and Long Island.

In 1700, Long Island, then the property of the Honourable Edward Byam, was sold by him, and it is now in the hands of the Honourable Bertie E. Jarvis. Since the Emancipation Act came into operation, a great part of it has been let out at an annual rent to the negroes, who plant it with provisions. It is noted for a peculiar breed of sheep, its rabbit-warrens, and the number of sea-side grape trees (Coccolobo uvifera) which grow in all directions. In former times, there was a mill and sugar works upon it, (the ruins of which are still to be seen,) and more than a thousand hogsheads of sugar have been known to be shipped from thence in one year. This apparent improbability has been thus accounted for: large quantities of sugars used to be smuggled from Martinique and Guadaloupe, and landed safely and silently upon Long Island, which is particularly favourable for such adventures. These sugars were afterwards shipped to England as the produce of the island, by the following evasion of the law. It was customary at that period, to swear before one of the magistrates, as to the quantity of sugar made and intended to be shipped; and the certificate was then taken to the collector of her majesty’s customs, who, seeing the signature of the magistrate, allowed all was correct. The parties who were possessed of this smuggled sugar, and who were wishful of transporting it to its destined market, would come before a justice and assert that the seven or nine hogsheads which they intended shipping on board such vessel were the real growth of Long Island; the customary oaths were therefore administered, the magistrate signed his name, and the cocket was presented to the shippers to hand over to the collector. On the road to the custom-house, however, with ready pen they added a ty to the seven or nine (or whatever it might be) in the space which was cunningly left for that purpose, making it of course seventy or ninety; and as no questions were asked by the collector, they were in this manner enabled, from 100 hogsheads of the actual growth of the island, to ship from time to time more than the above number of 1000 hogsheads. This practice of evading the law (while they soothed their own consciences) gave rise to these shipments being called the “T. Y. sugar,” as will be remembered by many to this day.

Guiana and Cochran Island also produced sugar at one time; and in 1725, it was enacted by the legislature, that if the proprietors of those islands, as well as Long Island, suffered any loss from the inroads of the enemy, they should be reimbursed from the public treasury as well as any other inhabitant of Antigua.

Following the line of coast from the north, before we once more make the harbour of St. John’s, we meet with, another “guard,” in the shape of a small island, bearing direct west from English Harbour, with a reef running three miles into the sea, and which is known as South Sandy Island. This is also very dangerous to unwary mariners, particularly when the storm king rides the blast, and “warns the devoted wretch of woe and death.”

But, with all its rocks and breakers, beautiful, very beautiful are the scenes which present themselves to your notice, as, seated upon the deck of some vessel, whose graceful sails are filled with a fresh and favourable breeze, you skirt along the sunny shores of lovely little Antigua. It has happened, in some of my frequent trips around the island, that, although the breeze has been fair, it was so light as scarcely to lift the canvas from the mast. But yet, the disappointment of not gaining land so soon as we expected has been amply compensated for by the beauties we have had more time to discover. Overhead is the sweet, clear blue of the sky, here and there dotted with a cloud so fair, that it might serve to pillow a sleeping Juno; and beneath, the crystal waters sparkling like gold in the beams of the blazing sun. In some parts, the green mountains descend to the very shore; while in others a calm and silent glen opens upon your sight, and the zephyr comes laden to you with the scent of its various flowers. Numerous creeks run far inland, and appear amid the surrounding verdure like chains of silver; and here and there a few negro huts lie nestling among a clump of splendid trees, with their neat-looking provision-grounds spread before them. As you pass Grace Bay, the land looks sprinkled over with gold, from the flowers of the aloe, (aloe vulgaris,) which grows there in vast profusion; and the shore is bordered with sand, on which Amphitrite and her train might love to dance, and wreathe their flowery locks with the dropping seaweeds. And thus we while away the day, enjoying an ever-changing panorama, until the glorious sun reaches the west, and throws his rich beams on every cloud which “throngs to pavilion him.” Suddenly he appears to touch the bosom of the flaming waves; and then sending forth one long vivid line of glory, sinks to rest on his golden couch.

Now comes “still evening” on, and Hesperus and all “the starry host” people the heavens, until at length the moon

“Shews her broad visage in the crimson’d east,”

and robs them of their brightness. And there she paces through those azure fields, not with the cold, pale aspect she wears in my own severer clime, but with the glow, the fervour, with which, in other days, she was wont, as “fabling poets” sing, to visit Endymion on the flowery heights of Latmus. Lovely is it, at such a time, to lean over the vessel’s side, and watch the limpid waves, as they throw up their sparkling foam. All turbulent passions die away​—​a pleasing calm ensues​—​and then, casting aside all heathen folly, and allowing the mind to revel at its will, come thoughts, indistinct, but beautiful, and dreamy imaginings of that happy land, where

“The crystaline stream, bursting forth from the throne,

Flows on, and for ever will flow;

Its waves, as they roll, are with melody rife,

And its waters are sparkling with beauty and life,

In the land which no mortal may know.”

But earth’s chains are still about us, and the fairest scenes may prove the most deadly. A kind voice warns me of the increasing cold of the night-breeze; and as the last inch of the cable slides through the hawse-hole, and the tremor of the vessel, as it is suddenly stopped in its course, shews we have anchored for the night, I leave the cool air upon deck for the confinement of the cabin, with a prayer of thankfulness upon my lips for my frequent safe trips across the “blue waters,” and a hope that to-morrow’s dawn will bring us safely to shore.

⁵⁸ The Scotch and Irish, in addition to the Union Jack, hoist a distinctive national signal.

⁵⁹ Droughers are small vessels used for conveying the produce of the island from the neighbouring bays to the shipping.

⁶⁰ At that period, the mails from the different islands were conveyed to St. Thomas’s, in small vessels employed for that purpose, from whence they were despatched to England in one of her Majesty’s packets.

⁶¹ Formerly called Guiana Island, from the English settlers who emigrated thither from Guiana, when that country was surrendered to the Dutch by the treaty of Breda. The name is now corrupted to Guana.