Part 16

We are here all joy and delight. Without the humours of an April day, the morning has been hailed in cheerfulness, from bringing to us friends we have long been anxious to meet.

At an early hour the ensign was flying at the battery, announcing the approach of unnumbered strangers.

On this occasion, as on many others, we were both pleased and surprised to observe the acuteness of sailors in discovering the nature and extent of a distant fleet. Before _we_ could well distinguish a ship from a brig, our tars, from the cut of the sails, proclaimed it to be an English convoy, but not that of Admiral Cornwallis. From the mode of setting the canvass, from the form of the ship, the figure of the masts, or some slight circumstance, attaching to different vessels, but totally imperceptible to us, they had no hesitation in declaring, while yet very remote, that instead of the fleet from Spithead, it was our long-wished-for convoy from Cork.

The whole fleet is now at anchor in the bay, and has brought to us a large body of troops, destined for St. Domingo, under the command of General Whyte. This being the division of the expedition to which we are attached, we had twofold pleasure in greeting its arrival.

In our gladness to hail it, we climbed the shrouds up to the main top, and there stood to view its entrance into the bay. Such a scene must have been highly interesting, even if it had been wholly independent of the intimate connexion we had with it: the day was fine; the breeze soft and mild; and the surface of the water gently moving. The picture was rich and varied; comprehending, under a bird’s-eye view, the town, and neighbouring plantations, the bay crowded with shipping, a great extent of the fine country around, and the wide ocean, together with the numerous vessels of our desired convoy dropping, with full sails, into the harbour.

This fleet, which had been so often reported at sea, even so long since as before we left England, and which did once sail and return, finally took its departure from Cove on the 25th of February: hence it may be considered to have made at last a very favorable passage, having been precisely five weeks at sea.

We now look forward to a speedy change of place, and I may soon have to address you from St. Domingo, where I hope to meet your letters, and learn tidings of ye all. It is about a week’s voyage, and is considered a very pleasant one, being as fine sailing as is known on any part of the ocean; the ship having only to spread wide her canvass and fly before _the trades_.

Indolence is considered to be the general effect of excessive heat of climate; and if the ingenious Bruno had visited the tropical regions, he might here have found many facts in support of his very plausible doctrine. The languor of climate is felt by few on their early arrival in the West Indies: the first effect of the heat seems to be that of stimulating the rigid northern fibre into increased activity; and creole inertness follows only as the result of continued residence.

“Precisely thus,” would have exclaimed Dr. Brown, “and so with wine, opium, brandy, and all other stimuli. They, at first, only increase the excitement, and give new vigour to the frame; but, continued to excess, they exhaust the excitability, over-run ever-delighting excitement, and plunge the body into indirect debility, inducing a state of body, precisely similar to that of creole inactivity; a state from which there is no escape, but through the medium of new or still more powerful stimuli.” Yet, the renewed vigour—the restored excitement, acquired by a return to the _sedative north_, would seem an everlasting obstacle to the theory as stated by its great projector: the languor of climate, or indirect debility, being removed by a directly debilitating power—the abstraction of heat.

But I am straying from our path. Let me, therefore, retrace my steps, and tell you the effect of climate upon a cold Hollander of our crew.

I have already made known to you that neither my comrade Dr. Cleghorn, nor myself, feel yet any sense of tropical indolence, but that we continue our habits of exercise in all our rude European strength. We have, for some days past, been closely watching one of our sailors who is a Dutchman. He is recently from Holland, and, in manners and appearance, a true Batavian. On the passage he was a dull, heavy, slow, and plodding Dutchman—frigid, and inanimate as the most icy boor of his aquatic nation. His movements were a tolerably accurate representation of the crawling sloth; and the unvaried sedateness of his visage no less emblematical of his native home.

Having particularly noticed him throughout the voyage, we feel some surprise in now witnessing, as it were, a complete revolution of his nature and habits. The rays of a tropical sun seem to have given play to his muscles, set free all the circulating juices of his frame, and thawed the icy coldness of his soul. The change we observe in him is indeed greater than you can imagine: roused from the torpor of unheeding sameness, by the all-vivifying power of tropical warmth, the frigid cloud of indifference is dissipated from his brow; he is grown cheerful and gay; wears a smile of mirth upon his countenance, and moves with an alertness, beyond all that could have been expected in a Dutchman. He now skips merrily about the ship; pulls his oar with glee in the boat; and, on all occasions, appears animated and lively; vying in spirits and activity with the sprightliest tar of the ship.

LETTER XXXIII.

Barbadoes, April.

Perhaps you will feel surprised if I should tell you that we have seen an African slave perform a chirurgical operation, with greater dexterity than it could have been done by the most skilful surgeon of Europe!

Walking on the beach, we remarked two negroes sitting on the sands, occupied with something, which seemed to command minute attention. On approaching near to them, we found the one engaged in extracting that sadly troublesome insect the Chigoe from the other’s foot. Our curiosity being excited, we stopped to witness the operation, and saw it executed with great neatness and ability.

The chigoe is a very minute insect, which insinuates itself, imperceptibly, under the skin, most commonly of the toes, and there, forming a nidus, produces its young. These are enveloped in a small cyst or bag, which usually increases to the size of a pea, as the period of maturity approaches. When the young are about to escape, a sense of tingling, or itching is felt in the part, at first very slight and often not sufficient to attract the notice of Europeans; but, if longer neglected, it increases to a sense of soreness on pressure, or on treading upon that part of the foot. This commonly leads to examination, when a dark point is discovered, which directs to a small, and scarcely tumid circle, whitish, or very slightly inflamed, of an appearance somewhat like what might arise from a pea lodged under the skin. If, at this period, the cyst be removed, the disease may be eradicated, and nothing further apprehended; but if it be still neglected, the nidus ruptures, and the young ones escaping, penetrate into the parts around, producing a sore which degenerates into a troublesome ulcer, and this being increased by the new cysts of many chigoes, often proceeds to incurable disease, and ultimately to the destruction of the toe.

The chigoes prevail most in sandy places: in this island they are very numerous. A negro sometimes extracts five or six from his feet, at one sitting; and so expert is he at finding them, that, in examining the foot of an European, a slave will, frequently, discover two or three chigoes, before the individual could perceive the least itching or uneasiness from them.

The mode of extracting them is as follows: with a pointed penknife, not very sharp, or the blunt end of a large needle, a slight opening is made in the skin, at the small black point over the cyst. From this opening the skin is forced away, by being torn, or broken down, and pressed outwards, on all sides, care being taken not to puncture, or otherwise rupture the cyst. The skin being thus separated, the nidus or small bag becomes exposed in form of a little round body, and is, afterwards, extracted by forcing down the point of the instrument, at one side, and turning it out. A hole remains not unlike a pea issue: this the negro commonly fills with ashes from the pipe or sagar, mixed with butter, tallow from a candle, or any other kind of grease that happens to be at hand, and the cure is completed with the operation.

A specimen of indolence in labour has occurred to our observation, which, whether it be regarded as the effect of climate, or of slavery, I may note to you as an additional example of the feeble exertions used by slaves in their unrequited round of toil. A party of negroes being employed to remove some hospital stores, from the side of the water to a warehouse, Dr. Cleghorn and myself took the opportunity of passing that way in our walk, in order to see them at work, and observe their industry and mode of labour. We found no less than ten slaves occupied in rolling a middle-sized chest, with a black driver holding his whip at their backs, and an overseer, of fairer skin, to command them. It was perhaps, in all respects, the very worst way in which such a package could have been moved! From the size of the chest it was only with difficulty each negro could find space for an assisting hand; from its shape it was most inconvenient for rolling; and from its contents, most improper; being filled with bottles, jars, earthen pots, and the like. In England four men would have carried it upon a hand-barrow with great ease: but here, the time and labour of twelve men were consumed in moving it, at a rate incomparably slower, and at the expense, probably, of great part of its contents.

We pointed out to them the injury that might, and the loss of time that necessarily must derive from this method of moving it, and endeavoured to convince them how much safer, and more expeditious it would be, to take it up, and carry it. But, no! that was not their way! “_We no savez carry him, we roll him gently, Massa, den we no break ’em bottles inside_,” was the reply. In even the most liberal it is always a task to oppose habits confirmed by long usage; among slaves it were utterly in vain to attempt it! Had we insisted upon the case being carried, it is more than probable that it would have quickly fallen to the ground, and the whole contents been shattered to atoms; we, therefore, left them to pursue their own means.

We have since met with another circumstance nearly similar, which I might offer to you as a further example of the indolent manner in which slaves execute their task: or I might note it as a specimen of the cruelties which men, held in slavery, may, and too frequently do become subject to, from passionate, and unfeeling individuals. Walking towards the hospital we met a party of negroes rolling a box of stores from the boat, in which they had been brought on shore, to the store-room. Perceiving the case to be light, and knowing it to contain only vessels of tin, a desire to see how they would perform led us to try the experiment of making them carry it: nor, in doing this, were we aware of exposing any of them to an act of cruelty, or we should have left them, as before, to their own way. On attempting to lift the package to their shoulders, they set about it precisely in the awkward and ludicrous manner we had expected; still as no accident, nor injury of consequence could derive from it, we, who were recently from Europe, were quite diverted at their fruitless and incompetent efforts; but Captain ——, who was with us, and had resided long enough in the West Indies to have accustomed himself to the arbitrary treatment of slaves, seeing the stupid way in which they attempted this new task, immediately gave one of the poor fellows a cruel cut, with a large horse-whip, across the face and eyes! We remonstrated with him on this unnecessary and unmerited severity; and could not but mark it, in our minds, as an act of wanton cruelty; which, if I may judge from the impulse of my own feelings, will long stand against him. We desired the poor negroes to put down the box, and convey it according to their own method; and, in sentiments of indignation, left the Captain to the remorse which ought to be his punishment.

You will be pleased to know that intelligence has just reached us of the defeat of the brigands at Grenada, in an action with our troops, commanded by General Nicoll. Their loss is said to amount to three hundred men.

The Portsmouth fleet is still a truant to our expectations. From the tidings we had received of it we now think it long delayed; and have many fears lest Admiral Cornwallis may have sailed into Admiral Christian’s unfortunate path; and, like him, been obliged to trace his course back into an English port.

LETTER XXXIV.

Barbadoes, April 7.

Having, from time to time, detailed to you, in desultory remark, the whole chain of circumstances passing under my eye, perhaps, you will not deem it premature, should I now offer you a few general observations concerning the island of Barbadoes. After a residence of many weeks it is probable that my remarks may possess more of correctness than any I might have given you immediately on my arrival. I feel it likely also, that you may find them rather more interesting after the irregular notes which have preceded them. I purpose therefore taking up my pen, at each moment of leisure, until I shall have copied the few memoranda which I have collected on the general subject of Barbadoes; and shall send them to you, in a full packet, by some early occasion.

From the situation of the West India Islands in the Atlantic ocean, extending in form of a semicircle, nearly from the coast of Florida to the river Oronoko, it might seem that, at some remote period, they had been detached from the great continent of America, either by the gradual and progressive power of the ocean, or by some great and sudden convulsion of nature. But from their being of very irregular and mountainous surface, while the land of the proximate shore is peculiarly low and flat, to a distance of many miles from the coast, it is probable that the islands and the main land had a different origin. The craggy shores, and rugged broken figure of the islands bespeak a sudden formation; while the smooth and muddy surface of the opposite coast indicates a less disturbed and slower beginning. Probably the latter has been produced from the gradual deposit of a feculent ocean—the former from volcanic eruptions.

Barbadoes is the most windward of the West India Islands; and is in that division of them known by the appellation of Charibbee Islands; a name they have obtained from one of the nations of Indians, who formerly inhabited them.

It is about twenty-one miles in length, by fourteen in breadth; lying in latitude 13° North, longitude 59° West. The English have occupied it nearly two centuries, having taken possession of it in the reign of James I. At the time of being settled by our countrymen, it was covered with wood, and had no marks of having been, before, occupied by man; but it now appears under a very different aspect, the destructive axe having converted its deep and heavy forests into even characteristic nakedness.

West Indians regard it as of low and level surface: but this can be only comparatively speaking, in reference to the neighbouring islands, whose bold summits pierce the clouds; for Barbadoes has all the pleasant variety afforded by hills and broken land, and, in some parts, is even mountainous, though less so than Grenada, St. Vincent, or St. Lucie.

It is considered as an old island, and, from having been long in cultivation, is said to be much exhausted, and wearing to decay. Those concerned in the culture of more recent, and now more prolific colonies, seem to compassionate Barbadoes as the venerable and decrepit parent of the race; while its inhabitants pride themselves upon its antiquity, and, like the feudal lords of still more ancient states, assume a consequence, I might almost say claim hereditary rank and privilege from priority of establishment. Some of the creoles of the island commit the excess of attaching to it a degree of importance beyond even the mother-country. “_What would poor Old England do_,” say they, “_were Barbadoes to forsake her?_” This sense of distinction is strongly manifested also in the sentiment conveyed by the vulgar expression so common in the island—“_neither Charib, nor creole, but true Barbadian_,” and which is participated even by the slaves, who proudly arrogate a superiority above the negroes of the other islands! Ask one of them if he was imported, or if he be a creole, and he immediately replies, “_Me neder Chrab, nor creole, Massa! me troo Barbadian born_.”

Perhaps the late decline of this island may be less the effect of exhaustion of the soil, than of the extensive emigration, and the diversion of commerce consequent on the cultivation of new islands and colonies. In the early period of its culture Barbadoes yielded a produce, and gave rise to an extent of commerce, not known in any other island, and its population increased to a degree, perhaps unprecedented in any part of the globe. Within the first fifty years the trade of the island had become sufficient to employ four hundred sail of shipping; and the number of inhabitants amounted to no less than one hundred and fifty thousand, being upwards of five hundred to every square mile.

To enable the land to continue the bountiful produce it now afforded, required much labour, and a great and expensive supply of manure; therefore as new colonies were settled, and new land brought into cultivation, which was capable of yielding equal returns with less labour, and less of artificial supply, it became an object to individuals to emigrate from the neighbouring island of Barbadoes, and engage in the culture of the more recent, and less exhausted settlements; and, thus, with the population, the commerce, which before had been confined to the parent island, was necessarily diverted into new and various channels.

At this day the Dutch colonies of Guiana, and the captured island of Martinique are a continual drain upon the population of Barbadoes. But notwithstanding its decline from what it once was, it is still the most populous, and one of the most important of our West India possessions. From situation, and from its fine bay for shipping, even independent of its produce, it must ever be valuable to us; and may be considered as the key of the West Indies.

If in the richness of its crops Barbadoes now yields to other settlements; if its population and commerce have decreased; if its thick woods have fallen before the ruthless axe; and if its mountains are less aspiring than the towering summits of some of the adjacent islands; still its trade and produce continue to be important; its population great; and the picturesque scenery of its surface, perhaps, unrivalled. Nor are these its only advantages; for, in consequence of being more cleared, and more generally cultivated, than the other islands, its temperature is more equable, and its air more salubrious. Damp woods do not interrupt, nor stagnant morasses empoison the breeze. Every part is exposed to the influence of the trade-wind; by the coolness and salubrity of which, this is rendered the most healthful of the islands; insomuch that it is common, in sickness, to make a voyage from the neighbouring colonies to Barbadoes, as the Montpelier of the West Indies. Being situated to windward of the other settlements it receives the steady breeze, brought to it, in all its purity, from a wide extent of ocean, unimpregnated by the septical exhalations of stagnant waters, or marshy soils. Its temperature has been far less inconvenient than we expected: we have felt but little oppression from heat; and have continued our habits of exercise without interruption. In the harbour, and placed in the shade, the thermometer has seldom been higher than 84, and at no time has exceeded 86 degrees.

Yet blessed as the island is in its exemption from excessive heat, from noxious miasmata, and from great and general sickness, it has its peculiar ills; being visited with an endemial affliction, so much its own as to have obtained the appellation of _the Barbadoes disease_. It appears in form of the elephantiasis, or what is here termed the “glandular disease,” and is a most unsightly and distressful malady.

Bridge-town is the capital of the island, and is situated on the S. W. bank of Carlisle Bay, which is one of the finest harbours, for shipping, in the West Indies; but is not considered to be secure during the hurricane season. It derives its name from the circumstance of a royal grant of the island having formerly been made to the Earl of Carlisle. The other towns are Speights-town, Austin-town, and Hole-town, all of which are much inferior to Bridge-town.

Both the scenery and the population of the island are more indebted to the number and variety of mansions, cottages, and huts, dispersed over its surface, than to its towns; which, as is too commonly the case in all countries, are built with less regard to general appearance, and the health of the inhabitants, than to the convenience of trade, and the profit of individuals.

On all quarters of the island are seen windmills, storehouses, and other buildings for sugar, coffee, and cotton; houses of planters, the smaller dwellings of cottagers, and the huts of negroes; all of which improve the scenery, while they convey the idea of extensive population, and delight the mind with images of rural enjoyment, and of generally diffused comfort and tranquillity. The various buildings, together with the protecting shades about them—the luxuriant vegetation—the constant verdure of the fields—the evergreen foliage of the trees—the broken irregular hills, lofty mountains, and cultivated plains—all surrounded with extensive views of shipping, and the open sea, create an effect more diversified and interesting than is often to be met with, and contribute to render Barbadoes a most pleasant and picturesque island.

I have before mentioned to you the general appearance of its soil: near Bridge-town it is of rich black earth, mostly spread on a base of calcareous rock, formed of madripores, and other marine concretions: in some districts it is of a red earth, of greater depth, but less rich: in others the soil is of a light whitish earth, broken into a grey-looking mould, or hardened into lumps resembling chalk; but actually consisting of indurated argille, bleached by exposure to the weather.