Part 10

In the part of the wood where we saw the inflammable spring were growing mountain-cabbage trees, which were said to be of a peculiar kind, and different from all others in the island. This magnificent palm is unquestionably the finest tree that is known. From words, or drawings, you can collect only an imperfect idea of it. To comprehend its fine symmetry, its grandeur, and majestic loftiness, it must be seen. Its trunk is very smooth, and almost regularly cylindrical, rising into a superb and stately pillar, resembling a well-hewn column of stone. At the base its circumference is somewhat greater than at any other part, yet lessening so gradually, upwards, as to preserve the most just and accurate proportion. Not a single branch, nor even the slightest twig, interrupts the general harmony of the trunk, which often rises, in a correct perpendicular, to the height of from sixty to a hundred feet, and then spreads its palmated foliage into a wide and beautifully radiated circle. Branches it has none, but the fine expansive leaves, shooting immediately from the summit of the trunk, extend around it, crowning, and as it were, protecting the massy column, in form of a full-spread umbrella.

It will perhaps occur to you that our noble English oak, with all its rude and crooked limbs, must be a more picturesque object. So it is; and so is likewise the wide-branching silk-cotton: but the loftiness, the stately grandeur, the exact proportion, and the deep-shading foliage of the mountain-cabbage are unequalled, and, in their happy combination, crown this tree the king of the forest—the most exalted of the vegetable world.

When planted in avenues, it forms a grand and imposing approach to a dwelling, conveying an air of greatness to the mansion which it adorns. It grows, free from decay, to a very old age, but cannot be converted to the useful purposes of timber. It is a tree of state, calculated to enrich, and augment the magnificence of a palace: nor let it detract from its majestic qualities to know that, after all, it is but——_a cabbage tree_! Its loftiest summit is a spiral succulent shoot, the sides of which, by gradually and successively unfolding, form the fine wide-spreading foliage. Before this opens, to expand itself around, it is a congeries of young and tender leaves, in which state it is often boiled and brought to table as a cabbage, of which it is the very best kind I ever remember to have tasted. It is also used, without boiling, by way of salad, and is then eaten with oil and vinegar; and so highly is it esteemed for these culinary purposes, that, too often, a very fine tree has been devoted to the axe, merely because no other means could be found, of obtaining, from its towering summit, this most excellent cabbage.

The variety of this tree found near the inflammable spring, differs only in having its thick tuft of fibrous roots appear several feet out of the ground, looking as if the tree, instead of taking root in the earth, was growing upon another short trunk placed under it, as a base or pedestal, to support it from the soil: a circumstance which seems to have arisen from these trees standing upon the side of a hill, and the earth being partially washed from their roots by heavy rains. In all other respects they are the same as the rest of their species.

After viewing the beauties of Scotland, and seeing the inflammable spring, and the tar-pits, we went next to Mount Hilloughby, and ascended the highest point of land in Barbadoes. From what I have said of the part called Scotland, you will believe that the prospect from Hilloughby’s summit must be grand and delighting indeed. The whole island, encircled by the Atlantic ocean, was under the eye, displaying a scene which comprehended all the variety of land and sea, of hill and vale, of rude nature and high cultivation. On one hand were barren rugged rocks; on the other rich and fertile plains. Towns, houses, huts, and sugar-works were seen distributed about; bays and rivulets were before us opening into the sea; a large fleet appeared at anchor, with its forest of masts intermixed amidst the buildings of the town; multitudes of ships and boats were sailing in all directions round the coast; and the solemn forests, and painted groves displayed all the rich foliage of tropical vegetation. To form such a picture would defeat the genius of a Claude, or defy the bold pencil of a Salvator Rosa. It was also further enhanced, by the circumstances under which we saw it; the bright tropical sun being, suddenly, overcast by a heavy cloud, which, stealing along the mountain tops, so varied the shades and tints as to give additional effect to all the beauties of the scene: but while we were earnestly contemplating it, this cloud broke upon us in all the violence of a pelting storm, and drove us to seek shelter in a neighbouring cottage.

Amidst the variety comprised in the view from Hilloughby hill I must not forget to mention that we saw what is here termed the “_Runaway estate_;” which is a territory of many acres of fine and rich soil, so called from having been carried away, at various times, to a considerable distance, by heavy torrents of rain, or sudden ruptures of the earth. It is said not to be an unfrequent occurrence, in this island, for a tract of land thus to assume a change of place; many examples of which are to be seen in the parishes of St. Andrew and St. Joseph. Large trees, plantains, sugar-canes, and different crops of growing produce have been removed with the soil, and have continued to thrive in their new situation, as well as if they had remained undisturbed.

A very singular change of crop, and of soil, is said to have happened at the estate of a Mr. Foster, where a considerable portion of land in the possession of a poor tenant near the coast, suddenly moved into the sea; and, while the unhappy man was bewailing the loss, not only of his crop, but likewise of the territory on which it was planted, the land of his neighbour, Mr. Foster, travelled to the spot, and brought him a crop of canes, which thrived quite as well as before they took their journey.

On our approach to Col. Williams’s, we were led into a fine valley of fruits, which offered us the most grateful refreshment that could have presented itself. We had been long riding in excessive heat, and were parching with thirst: when the Colonel, without previously announcing it, conducted us to the point of a hill from which we suddenly viewed a rich and golden orchard below. Elevated as we were above the narrow gully in which the fruits were suspended, our situation seemed in a degree vexatious and tantalizing: but the Colonel only tempted us, to augment our gratification, for we quickly descended, by a steep and confined path, into the midst of this region of sweets. Such delicious refreshment had never before met our lips! The oranges were not only the best we had ever tasted, but they were taken fresh from the tree, and at a moment which was calculated to render them tenfold sweeter than they could have been at any other time. We gathered and consumed them in dozens; and, after having thus feasted, we proceeded to explore the extent, and to examine the various productions of this bounteous orchard, by whose excellent fruit, and fragrant odour, we had been so exquisitely regaled.

The orchard is planted in a narrow gully between two hills, and is nearly half a mile in length. It abounds in many different species of the orange tribe—oranges, shaddocks, limes, lemons, and forbidden fruit hanging in the most inviting profusion. The banana, the plantain, and divers other fruits are likewise plenteously intermixed. It is the employment of two negroes constantly to attend the orchard and protect the fruit. The oranges which we most enjoyed, and which were esteemed the best in the colony, were from a tree nearly a hundred years old, and the largest upon the island. The fruit was small, but of exquisite flavour.

Having made a most delicious repast in this sweet-shaded valley, we again mounted our horses, and, after a short ride, arrived at Col. Williams’s house. Here we had the refreshment of cold water and a change of linen, and having taken a little time to rest ourselves, proceeded to eat our dinners under the “social rock.” Descending from the house by a steep path, we came into the valley, not far from the orchard, and passed under a large open arch which formed the grand entrance to a suite of natural and romantic apartments. A little further in the gully we found an excavation called the drawing-room; and, beyond this, under a stupendous and impending part of the rock, we arrived at a smooth and level spot called the dining-room, which is sufficiently spacious to accommodate a hundred people. Here was placed the hospitable board, which is often and liberally spread by the friendly Colonel; and in this sequestered shade were assembled chairs, benches, wine, punch, fruit, and all that could contribute to the ease and comfort of wearied travellers. But, in truth, we were not of this class; for the gratification and high mental delight we had experienced, had completely protected us against bodily fatigue, notwithstanding our long and scorching ride.

We drank a glass of punch, and explored the deep caverns and various recesses of this natural retreat before the dinner was served. About four o’clock we took our seats at table, having been in almost constant exercise from five in the morning. A hanging rock of madripores shaded us above and behind; and, in the front, the breeze of the valley softly made its way to us through a plantation of bamboos and fragrant limes, while, immediately before us, smoking viands, rich wines, and delicious fruits crowned the board. Having endeavoured to provoke your thirst for the oranges of the valley, I might further urge your appetite in quest of the cray-fish soup of the “social rock,” for I do not know that I ever tasted any dish so rich, or of such exquisite flavour.

In the evening the Colonel loaded us home with fruits from the orchard; but the party did not separate until our kind friends had planned for us a still more extensive _marooning_ excursion; to which I need scarcely say we gave our most cordial consent. Our return to Bridge-town was peculiarly pleasant: the moon shone bright, the heat was moderate, and we had quite the agreeable ride of an English summer evening. The distance is about eight miles, and as we descended from the higher to the lower land the air became perceptibly closer, until, at the town, the breeze seemed to desert us, and we, no longer, felt the cool perflation, which had been so grateful to us in the more elevated parts of the island.

Never, perhaps, did a long and interesting day pass more pleasantly; nor was hospitality ever bestowed with more friendly urbanity. We felt infinitely less fatigued than might have been expected, from the great distance we had journeyed, and from the length of time we were exposed to heat, and exercise; and the only alloy, which in any degree interrupted our enjoyment, throughout this happy visit, was a sense of suffering, of which we could not wholly divest ourselves, concerning the poor slaves, who had to support, on foot, the very same journey which, in us, was regarded as a surprising exertion on horseback.

In the course of the ride we repeatedly made compassionate appeals to the gentlemen of the island concerning them, but they as constantly assured us that our pity was misplaced, adding, that the negroes were accustomed to the exercise, and would suffer less than ourselves. Still our European feelings forced upon us the wish that either they had been accommodated with mules, or we had dispensed with their attendance; and it will require a much longer residence, amidst this new order of things, before we shall be able to persuade ourselves that our sense of disquietude was only a misplaced humanity.

I should have told you that in our long ride we had the opportunity of seeing a very extensive variety of the vegetable productions of the tropical world; and that we met with multitudes of trees, shrubs, and plants, which were not before familiar to us—many, also, which were wholly new to our observation. Among those which most attracted our attention were the pimento, wild cinnamon, ginger, cassia, cassada, banana, plantain, tamarind, cashew-apple, mango, sapadillo, papaw, mammee, soursop, goava, grenadillo, water-lemon, oranges, limes, lemons, shaddock, forbidden fruit, the aloe, logwood, mahogany, cedar, and lignum vitæ. The great staple productions of the West Indies, sugar, cotton, and coffee, were also brought frequently before the eye, during this interesting excursion.

It appeared to us somewhat remarkable that, in the whole extent of our tour, we should not have seen any pines growing, except at one spot near Hilloughby hill, where they were regularly planted as the crop of part of a sugarfield. The fruit was not ripe; we had no opportunity therefore of comparing its flavour with that of the pines of our English hot-houses; and, consequently, none of judging whether the cultivation of this plant be one of those circumstances, as some have asserted, in which art has been made to rival the works of nature. Improbable as this would seem, upon a first view of the great perfection of nature’s productions, still a further consideration renders it more than possible; for, if animals can be improved by culture; if the apple and the cabbage can be rendered more useful, the pink and the tulip more beautiful, by the hand of man; and, if the powers of our organs of vision can be enlarged by his researches in the science of optics; what is there that shall prevent him from enriching the flavour of a tropical fruit, in a temperate climate? It would seem, indeed, to require only an accurate and steady attention to the laws, and operations of nature itself; not with a view to oppose or distort the beautiful harmony of her works; but to profit of the great lesson she so liberally displays, by directing, towards the one great object of our care, those means which she is busied in supplying to all. Her bounty is not confined to one plant, or a single animal, but is unlimited as the universe. It belongs to her not only to foster the fragrant pine and the honeyed cane, but with equal care, to give pungency to capsicum, and bitterness to the aloe.

If the growth and flavour of a pine depend upon a certain degree of heat and light, with a due proportion of air and moisture—all these we have in England; and, from careful observation, we may enable ourselves to supply to this, or any other particular plant, the necessary quantum of these elements with a more undeviating certainty, than will commonly be done by nature; she having to dispense her means, not to one root alone, but to all creation. The particular degree of moisture necessary for the pine might injure the neighbouring coffee—the appropriate quantity of air, might not be the exact proportion required by the cotton—or the precise ratio of light and heat might differ from that demanded by the sugar-cane! But where man commands the disposal he may direct the elements, in due degree, to his exotic nursling, and, avoiding the irregularities of the natural climate, may learn to cultivate, and to improve, at home, what nature never gave to his native soil.

LETTER XXII.

Barbadoes, Feb.

We still remain without any accurate intelligence respecting the great body of our convoy; and, having no tidings of the commander in chief, we continue in equal uncertainty when we may proceed to our original destination, at St. Domingo. All here is suspense and anxiety. The solicitude of the mercantile world is not less than that of the military. No packet is arrived; the affairs of commerce are interrupted; and we have no news of Europe or the war. Straggling vessels of our disastrous fleet continue to join us; and, most unhappily, from the transports coming out, in this dispersed and unprotected manner, we have the painful intelligence of frequent captures being made by the enemy’s cruisers from Guadaloupe.

A ship which came in this day reports that she parted from the Admiral and a hundred sail of the convoy, on the seventh of January, in latitude 45, longitude 17. This is received, by some, as favorable intelligence, it seeming to strengthen the hope that the fleet has not been under the necessity of again putting back to Cork, or Spithead. But it is now so long since the seventh of January, and we have known in the interval such violent,—such repeated and long-continued gales, that, to many of us, this news is equally unsatisfactory as all we had heard before. So little does it meet our hopes, that we have still many apprehensions lest the majority of the convoy may have been obliged to return to Ireland or to England.

Unhappily the finest season is passing away; and before the whole army can arrive, and be brought into action, the rainy period will be fast approaching; but, as many of the men already here are in a sickly state, we hope the delay may prove beneficial to them, by affording them an opportunity of recovering from the ills of the voyage, and of their long confinement on board, before they enter upon the fatigues of the campaign. They are daily taken on shore to relieve them from the close atmosphere of the transports; and, from being regularly exercised, they will have the advantage of becoming, in some degree, seasoned previous to being ordered upon actual service.

We learn from our captain that a great desertion is taking place among the sailors of his vessel. Six have already absconded, and the number of our crew is reduced to fourteen. This intelligence makes us apprehensive lest, by the time we sail for St. Domingo, we may not have enough hands to work the ship. But we are consoled in the recollection that the friendly _trades_ will be entirely in our favor; and that we cannot require so strong a ship’s company as amidst the adverse and terrific gales which so long beset us on our passage hither.

A sad alarm has spread throughout the harbour, and we have all been in fearful concern, respecting the fate of twelve men who went out in a flat-bottomed boat to consign to the deep the body of a deceased shipmate. Desirous not to throw over the corpse within the harbour, where it would be instantly devoured by the numerous sharks which infest the bay, and which we see almost daily swimming round the vessels in search of prey, they rowed so far out to sea as to be unable to pull back again; and the tide being against them, their heavy boat, notwithstanding all their efforts to row her into the harbour, was carried out into the wide Atlantic, with all hands on board. The captain finding it long before his men returned, grew very apprehensive regarding their safety. A general concern spread through the bay: it extended likewise to the shore, and multitudes soon covered the beach, while the shrouds, and yards of the ships, were thronged with anxious crowds looking out for the funeral party. No boat appeared, and the fears respecting their perilous situation becoming universal, two schooners were despatched in search of them. Happily the weather was moderate, or the whole would have been certainly lost, for the boat was found adrift at open sea! Fortunately all the men were in her, and were brought back in safety to the harbour, expressing themselves very thankful for their unexpected deliverance from the all-devouring ocean.

A strong contrast to the dangerous situation of these poor men presented itself in the repose of some other seamen, whom we perceived sitting at rest in their boats, and sailing about the harbour by means of their oars; a custom which we find to be common here; for we often see parties of negroes, boatmen, or sailors, scud indolently about the bay, employing their oars by way of sails. They fix the handles of them at the bottom of the boat, and setting them up, two on each side, with the flat surface to the wind, collect a sufficiency of the breeze to carry them along without the trouble of rowing.

The captains of the Guineamen frequently relieve their ships’ company from the duty of the boat, by training some of their black cargo to the use of the oar: indeed so adroit do many of the negroes become, during the passage, and the time they are detained on board, that their assistance is of much service in working the vessel. We see occasionally the master of a slave-ship rowed ashore by four of his naked Africans, who appear as dexterous, in the management of the boat, as if they had been for years accustomed to it.

Sometimes we observe the captains parading the streets, accompanied by parties of their prime slaves—apparently with the intention of exhibiting them to the eye of the public, in a sound and good condition. This contributes, at the same time, to the health and amusement of these poor beings, who seem delighted at placing their feet on shore, and, in due obedience to their captain, dance and frolic as they go along, either in real, or in well dissembled contentment.

I made a visit to Bridge-town this morning with the intention of leaving some books to be bound, which I brought out, in sheets, from the printer; but you will be surprised to learn that no such person as a book-binder can be found in Barbadoes. We called on Mr. Hinde, and were informed that, by the assistance of his friends Messrs. Jordan and Maxwell, he had provided horses for our intended “_marooning_ party” to Hackleton’s Cliff, and the northern coast of the island; when, upon our apologizing to him, and his friends, and observing that we had sent our servants to hire horses for the journey, he replied that no apologies could be heard, for it would be “quite inconsistent with Barbadoes to suffer strangers to have the trouble of procuring horses, or of seeking, themselves, the accommodations for a country excursion.”

LETTER XXIII.

Barbadoes, Feb. 27.

We have made our projected marooning excursion to Hackleton’s Cliff, and the windward coast of the island, as planned by our friends at the “social rock,” and often, in the course of it, did my thoughts wander to another friend, wishing yet one addition to the party!

On the 23d inst. we went off before six in the morning to Bridge-town, where, as before, we found slaves, horses, and every necessary for the journey, provided by the friendly Mr. Hinde, and in readiness for our departure. It was arranged, that we should avail ourselves of the early part of the day, by proceeding to Col. Williams’s before breakfast. The morning was dull; the sky lowered, and it threatened rain; but none fell; still, from the sun being obscured, the air was pleasantly cool.