Early rising and “Jamie Thomson”—Journey to
English Harbour—Windmills and Don Quixote—Groups of
negroes and their equipages—All Saints’ chapel of
ease—The “Hamlet”—Village of Liberta—Grace
Hill—Patterson’s and Prince William—English Harbour
market—Streets and dwellings—Commissariat’s store and
government tank—Dockyard—The
superintendent—Stores and storehouses—Engineer’s
workshop—Blacksmith’s shop and blowing machine—Limes and
roses—Recollections of England—Lieutenant Peterson and
Lord Camelford—His lordship’s pranks—The
ordnance—Clarence House and Dows Hill—The Ridge and
“Shirley heights”—Fort Charlotte and Fort Berkeley—Bats
Cave—The Savannah and its tombs—Indian
Creek—Return to town.
The church clock proclaimed the hour of five, as a gentle rap
came at my chamber door. Awakened from a pleasant dream, I
started from my couch, and heard with something like vexation,
that it was time to dress, in order to prosecute our intended
journey to English Harbour.
Beautiful as is the breath of “early morn,” still there is
something very disagreeable in leaving your comfortable bed, and
it may be, your gorgeous dreams, for the dull realities of life,
and the necessary, but irksome duties of the
toilet. I know I
shall be cried down by all lovers of Nature for my unsentimental
remarks. Thomson, enraptured with his subject “of early rising,”
exclaims with all a poet’s fervour—
Falsely luxurious, will not man awake,
And, springing from the bed of sloth, enjoy
The cool, the fragrant, and the silent hour,
To meditation due and sacred song?
For is there aught in sleep can charm the wise?
To lie in dead oblivion, losing half
The fleeting moments of too short a life—
Total extinction of th’ enlighten’d soul!
Or else to feverish vanity alive,
Wilder’d, and tossing through distemper’d dreams,
Who would in such a gloomy state remain
Longer than nature craves—when every muse
And every blooming pleasure wait without,
To bless the wildly devious morning walk.”
Now, all this sounds very pretty—very romantic indeed; and we
begin to fancy the poet amid some “bosky dell,” or upland lawn,
his shoes liberally bedewed with those glittering gems, which
“hang in every cowslip’s bell,” and his unpowdered locks
streaming behind him in the morning gale. But stay, gentle
reader! hast thou not heard that Thomson was himself a very
sluggard, and loved his warm bed far better than any sylvan scene
he could so well describe? And in truth, many and many a poet,
even to “Joanna Bailey,” the morning rhymester, has been of the
same mind. Then, why should I not tell the truth, and own my
sloth—although at the same time, when once abroad, no one feels
the nameless “melodies of morn” more than I do.
But to resume my subject: the incidents of a day’s journey to
English Harbour. After partaking of a light breakfast, and
quaffing of that cup “which cheers, but not inebriates,” we
stepped into the phaeton, and drove through the town, leaving our
friends in “Scotch-row” busily employed in arranging their
incongruous goods to the best advantage.
The day was very favourable to our undertaking, for it was fine,
but overcast. The sun was robbed of his extreme lustre by the
intervention of various clouds, which passed
along the sky in
many beautiful forms. Some dark as ebon night; others of a
silverish grey; the eastern ones tinged with gold and purple;
while some again looked so white and fleecy, that you could fancy
them so many snow-wreaths spread out upon an ocean of blue. The
lights and shadows, too, of the far mountains, with all their
blended tints, were beautiful objects in the landscape; and the
occasional sight of a herd or two of cattle, standing in their
usual dreamy posture, completed the picture. We passed several
windmills (used in grinding the sugar-cane) with their sails
unfurled, and going round merrily in the breeze; but unlike Don
Quixote, I took them not for so many giants, nor wished myself a
knight-errant, that I might rescue the “beautiful and high-born
damsels” from their clutches.
The road to English Harbour is, however, for the most part dull
and uninteresting; only here and there a pretty prospect attracts
the eye. But on this day (Monday[84]) it was rendered more
cheerful by the groups of negroes, who, of every age and sex,
were coming into town to purchase their weekly stores. Baskets,
trays, and boxes—all kinds of vessels, indeed—were placed in
critical positions upon their heads; but this appeared to cause
no impediment to their ambling gait, while the chatter and song
among themselves, and the smile and courtesy as they passed us,
with the accustomed “How d’ye, massa?” “How d’ye, missis?” shewed
that they considered their errand as one of pleasure rather than
of toil. Carts were also put into requisition by the more
extensive purchasers; some drawn by a ragged Canadian pony,
similar to the little Sheltie breed; others by a tall
grim-looking American horse, with its bones sticking out as bare
as “Rozinante’s;” and others again dragged along by a slight-made
Creole, its mane and tail the colour of flax. Cattle carts were
also bringing in loads of sugar, drawn by six miserable-looking
oxen two abreast, their poor necks weighed down by the heavy
wooden yokes.
In one part of the road we passed All Saints’ chapel of ease,
belonging to the parish of St. John’s. It is a very plain
building, surmounted by a gothic pinnacle, answering the purpose
of a steeple, with an aperture in the middle, intended, I
suppose, for the admission of a bell.
After passing a ruined estate, where the long grass grew upon the
walls of a roofless building, once used as a boiling house, and
accomplishing a steep descent, and one or two abrupt turnings in
the road, we came to a cluster of houses, known by the title of
“the hamlet.” Many of these rural dwellings are very neatly built
of native stone; and their little gardens appear to be well
stocked with the country produce, such as potatoes, peas, eddoes,
arrowroot, &c. A short distance from the hamlet is another
similar collection of dwellings, bearing the name of “the village
of Liberta,” (as a painted board informed us,) and equally
abundant in its bright green patches of edibles. The emancipation
of the negroes, and their desire to possess a portion of the soil
in perpetuity, gave rise to these villages, of which there are
many in different parts of the island. Here they erect small
houses, and plant ground provisions. Some of these little
dwellings are very neatly constructed, being raised a little
distance from the ground, and the front door graced with a flight
of steps and a small portico, while the open windows are
furnished with white curtains.
Adjoining the “village of Liberta,” lies the Moravian settlement
of Grace Hill, snugly ensconced in its leafy fence, and, like
other settlements of the kind in this island, breathing an air of
happy tranquillity.
Leaving Grace Hill, and travelling on some distance, we arrived
at an estate called Patterson’s, belonging to the Hon. John
Athill, and celebrated in Antiguan history, as
being the spot where the murder of the governor’s child was
perpetrated, (already narrated in the legend of Ding a Ding
Nook,) on the occasion of the abduction of his lady in 1640.
The “great house” upon this estate was honoured by a visit
from our late lamented monarch, William IV., who in 1798
passed a night there.
We here once again came within sight of the sea, which greatly
added to the attractions of the scene, while on our left hand
rose Monk’s Hill, surmounted by its fortifications, and strewed
in some parts with ruined Carib’s houses. Passing through the
town of Falmouth, we gained a kind of marsh, dotted over with
clumps of aquatic shrubs, and here and there opening to the sea,
and in a few moments entered the village of “English Harbour.”
The market is just at its entrance, and consisted, upon the day
we visited it, of about ten or twelve persons, squatting on the
ground, and having before them shallow wooden trays, containing a
few country vegetables, a miserable-looking chicken or two, a few
strings of strong-scented fish, a store of sun-burnt bread, and
other similar luxuries!
The houses are in general of very mean construction, and
destitute of paint. There are, however, some very pleasant
residences belonging to the crown, from which beautiful sea-views
may be obtained; for the village is built along the margin of the
sea, and in some parts the waves come rippling up to the very
street, and wet the feet of the passengers. Dogs and ducks were
enjoying themselves in the water,—the former dashing in and out,
and rolling in the sand, while the latter, with their eyes almost
closed, were resting upon their glassy couch, in all the luxury
of idleness.
Before entering the dockyard, we passed the commissariat stores;
and on the opposite side of the road, a large tank, capable of
containing 240 tons of water, built by the legislature for the
use of the shipping, but from which the inhabitants of the
village are allowed to draw water, the dockyard being so well
supplied with those necessary reservoirs. This tank bears many a
sculptured name; among the rest,
that of “Nelson,” that
laurel-crowned hero, who visited Antigua in 1784.[85]
A pair of strong, well-secured gates guard the entrance to the
dockyard; which being thrown open, we drove in, and alighted at
the office of the superintendant of the establishment,
preparatory to inspecting the accommodations of the place.
The dockyard consists of two separate departments. The first,
since entitled St. Helena, was commenced in 1726, during the
administration of John Hart, Esq., and at the suggestion of Capt.
Francis Cooper, commander of H. M. S. “Lynn,” and Capt. Arthur
Del Garno, commander of H. M. S. “South Sea Castle.” These
experienced and clever naval officers saw the advantage of having
proper wharfs, &c. for careening ships in Antigua, instead of
being obliged to despatch the vessels appointed to this station,
to the northern colonies, when any repairs were necessary, as
they had before been in the practice of doing. The land chosen,
as being most applicable to the purpose, consisted of two
portions, of ten acres each, which in 1718 had been granted to
Joseph Green, and William Greatrix, privates in H.M. troops,
disbanded in consequence of the cessation of war. These lands
were, however, forfeited to the crown by the non-settlement of
them, by the grantees; and they were consequently appropriated to
the purpose of establishing a dockyard, which is now not to be
equalled in this part of the globe.
This establishment having proved of such advantage to Antigua,
and the rest of the Leeward Islands, his majesty, George II.,
ordered that another wharf, with magazines, stores, and other
appendages, should be constructed. Accordingly, in 1743, a tract
of land was purchased from Thomas Bodkin; five acres of which was
to be appropriated for the site of the new naval buildings; and
the remainder to be allotted to poor white settlers, at the
discretion of the commander-in-chief, the council, and assembly
of Antigua. Such was the origin of the village of English
Harbour, which, on account of being principally crown property,
is disfranchised.
The dockyard presents a fine and noble appearance; and under the
able superintendence of Joseph Hart, Esq., everything seems to be
conducted in the best possible manner; while the yard itself is
kept so beautifully clean, that a walk through it affords real
pleasure. The exertions of Mr. Hart may perhaps be better
appreciated when it is considered that only six labourers are
allowed him to perform all necessary duties; and that these men
are also liable to be called upon by the pilot, at a moment’s
notice, whenever that officer is employed in piloting vessels of
war in or out of the harbour.
The storehouses upon St. Helena are principally used for storing
coals, and in consequence, her majesty’s steam-vessels frequent
more that side of the dock. The largest ships of war (that visit
these seas) can go alongside this wharf when necessary.
On the south of St. Helena lies “Freeman’s Bay,” where such of H.
M. vessels as are intended to remain but a short time generally
anchor; the offing being more readily gained from thence than
when further in.
The last-erected part of this naval establishment, or “the
dockyard,” as it is more generally called, is separated from St.
Helena by the blue waters of the dock, and contains various
buildings, of which I shall first mention the commissioner’s
room, and pay offices, (under one roof,) as that was the first
place I visited. The commissioner’s room is a very pleasant
apartment, with windows to the east and west, and folding-doors
to the south opening upon a small stone terrace, with a flight of
steps leading to the wharf beneath. From this terrace a
delightful view may be obtained. St. Helena lies exactly
opposite, its warehouses reflected in the clear, blue sea, which
flows at your feet; on your left, Clarence House, and the
adjacent country; while, on your right, the mouth of the harbour,
guarded with its forts, and the blue ocean, with its snowy
crested waves, blends with the sky in the distance. In the
apartment itself are considerable quantities of Psalters and New
Testaments, designed, I suppose, for the use of the naval seamen;
but those annoying pests, the cock-roaches, have made sad work
with the bindings. Leaving this room, we walked into the pay
offices, divided by blue railings, into the commissioner’s
office, master shipwright’s office, master attendant’s office,
and storekeeper’s office; as the several white-lettered
inscriptions informed me. These paying offices are all contained
in one apartment, measuring about 8 feet by 4 feet. They must not
be corpulent persons who occupy them, or they will be less at
their ease than poor “Hudibras” was in the “Wooden Bastile.”
Descending another flight of stone steps, we crossed part of the
yard, and arrived at the naval officers’ quarters, a very
pleasant and handsome building, along which runs a pretty
verandah, commanding a similar view to that obtained from the
terrace of the commissioner’s room. Underneath these quarters, is
the principal tank, divided into twelve compartments, and capable
of containing 1000 tuns of water. From this tank pipes pass
under-ground, to the edge of the wharf, (a distance of a hundred
feet,) which being furnished with a cock, the water can be turned
into the casks at pleasure;
or, when in great haste, another pipe is fixed from
thence into the hold of the ship, which in this manner receives
its proper allowance of water, at a distance of 100
feet from shore.
A few paces from the officers’ quarters, stands a large building,
100 feet by 90 feet, used as a copper, steamer’s, and lumber
store; attached to which are four semi-circular tanks, capable of
holding ten tuns of water each. Passing from this, we came to the
cordage, sail, canvass, and clothing store, of a similar size;
and opposite to which, at the distance of about ten feet, is the
working mast-house, (100 feet square,) and joiners’ loft above.
In this building a party of men were busily employed in making a
new mast for H. M. schooner, “Fair Rosamond,” which, having met
with an accident, a few days before, had put into Antigua to
repair. Parallel with this building is another working
mast-house, and joiners’ loft above, of similar dimensions to the
former, used also for the accommodation of the yard engines.
Peeping into a snug little box, called the porter’s
lodge, and passing the guard house, store for condemned
articles, and paint store, we entered the boat-house.
By this time the sun had gained its meridian height,
and poured a blaze of light over the whole yard, which,
reflected from the white, sandy ground, dazzled my eyes
with its powerful radiance, and oppressed me with its
excessive heat. As I entered then this building, how delightful
did its cooling air strike upon me!—how sweet was
the breeze which passed over my brow, and allayed its
throbbing! while the gentle plash of the water sounded
most musically to the ear. One part of the boat-house is
floored; the other has a channel cut in it to the depth of 18
feet, for the admission of the water. The roof is supported
by 16 round stone pillars, of 12 feet in circumference; and
above is a loft, where ships’-sails are kept. Leaving the
boat-house, we entered the tar and block stores, where we
found a part of the crew of the “Fair Rosamond” employed
in making spun-yarn, used for the purpose of lashing, &c.
About 20 feet distant, is a building containing painter’s cabin
for grinding paint, and the engineer’s office, beneath is a lead
cellar. We next visited the engineer’s workshop, where we were
agreeably entertained with seeing the cutting and punching
machine put into motion. I am not engineer enough to describe
this machine in a technical manner, and must therefore only
remark that, by means of an oblong wheel, if I may be allowed the
expression, worked by two men, it is capable of cutting through
the thickest piece of cold iron, with the same ease and quickness
a person would cut a scrap of paper, and at the same time,
punching holes of about the diameter of a shilling through
another piece of the same metal. We also saw a turning-lathe
capable of turning any description of iron from three inches to
28 in diameter. There were also innumerable machines, of other
forms, and for various purposes, which were put into motion for
our amusement; and a piece of the iron, which had been cut and
punched in divers figures, was tendered to me—a memento of an
engineer’s workshop in a West Indian dockyard.
The next place we entered was one more suited to a hyperborean
climate than an Antiguan noonday—a blacksmith’s shop. Here, six
forges can be worked; and several Cyclops ply their skill amid
their dingy implements. To these forges, immense bellows “turned
their iron mouths,” and, impelled by swarthy hands, sent forth a
shower of glittering sparks. We also saw, two patent blowing
machines, manufactured by “Thomas, late Halley and Co.,” which,
by a peculiar arrangement, propels the blast upwards and
downwards at the same time. The master blacksmith worked them for
a few moments, but informed us they had not so much power as the
first pair of bellows we observed upon our entrance, which, from
its magnitude, ought to be called the “King of the Bellows.” He
bid us place ourselves
before the mouth of this last-mentioned
pair, and we should be convinced of the truth of his assertions;
but as I felt no wish to be blown away in a gale of ashes, I
declined the invitation, humbly subscribing to his superior
knowledge in such matters. I could not help thinking, that had
Eolus known the use of these “blowing-machines,” what a far more
powerful wind he might have raised, than (as it is pictured he
did) by employing the sons of Astræus to blow so painfully with
their distended cheeks amid his mighty caverns.
Leaving the blacksmith’s shop, we passed the sawpit shed and
smaller tank, and the shipwright’s house, and then turning an
acute angle, came to a very pleasant residence, occupied by the
superintendent of the yard, Mr. Hart. Here I met with some of my
favourite lime-trees, their pearly flowers redolent with perfume.
Mr. Hart kindly plucked for us some of the golden fruit; and
afterwards presented, what was dearer to me, from the
recollections they call up, three beautiful roses.[86] I may be
laughed at for being so fanciful, but I never see a rose, I never
inhale its rich fragrance, without wandering in imagination
through the flowery gardens of my own land. “Oh! England, my own
dear country! never did one of thy children love thee better than
I do! In the midst of sickness, in the midst of suffering—when
the fervour of a tropical sun burns through my very frame, and
the climate throws its languor around me—my mind still reverts to
thy verdant fields, I see again thy hawthorn-hedges with all
their snowy blossoms, thy carpeting of lovely lowly flowers,—I
breathe thy countless odours,—I hear thy sweet-toned birds, or
the soft chime of thy village bells, and feel upon ‘my very cheek
thy bland and healthy breeze.’”
But to return to Mr. Hart and his roses. I kept them through the
hot day, bore them in safety to my home, and
they now stand
before me. But, alas! their beauty is all gone,—their discoloured
leaves seem to mourn their own dishonour; and only that “the
scent of the roses hangs round it still,” I should scarcely know
what the vase contains.
After resting in a cool apartment for some time, and taking a
glass of lemonade which Pomona herself would not have refused,
the carriage was ordered to the door, and we were in the act of
stepping in, when it occurred to us that this was a good
opportunity to visit the spot where Lieut. Peterson received his
death wound.
I have already mentioned, in the historical part of this work,
this unfortunate incident, but, with the permission of my
readers, I must again allude to it. At the time of the
occurrence, Lord Camelford commanded the “Favourite,” sloop of
war, and Commodore Fahie the ship “Perdrix,” Mr. Peterson holding
the rank of first lieutenant on board the last-named vessel.
Commodore Fahie had left Antigua a short time before, to take
temporary command of the fleet, then anchored before St.
Kitts,[87] and during his absence, Lieutenant Peterson was, of
course, left in command of the “Perdrix.”
It was the custom, in those troubled days of warfare, for boats
to row backwards and forwards across the harbour during the hours
of night, the sailors of the different ships in the dock, headed
by one of their officers, taking it by turns to keep this watch;
and the sleeper might often be roused from his dreams as the
deep-toned all’s well resounded through the still night air.
Lord Camelford and Lieutenant Peterson were unhappily
at variance; and, perhaps to mortify his rival, Lord
Camelford ordered Mr. Peterson to take the watch upon
the very evening that a gay ball was to be given at Blacks
Point to the naval officers. Unfortunately Lieutenant
Peterson entertained the idea that as he was in command
of the ship “Perdrix,” in the absence of Commodore
Fahie, he was superior officer to Lord Camelford,
who only commanded a sloop; and, in consequence of this
false impression, he positively refused to obey his lordship’s
orders.
The disastrous evening approached, and the lieutenant retired to
his quarters above the capstan-house, in order to dress for the
festive party. Arming himself with a pair of loaded pistols, and
telling his boat’s crew to attend him, Lord Camelford quitted his
retirement, and stationed himself directly between the capstan
house and the guard house, (now called the commissioner’s house,)
and there waited the approach of Mr. Peterson, whom he had
already summoned to attend him.
Upon the unfortunate young officer making his appearance,
accompanied by some of his friends, his lordship again commanded
him to take charge of the watch for the evening—the command was
again refused—when, taking one of the pistols from his bosom,
Lord Camelford immediately fired, and the ball passing through
the breast of the brave, but inconsiderate lieutenant, he fell a
corpse upon the ground, the deadly stream welling from the wound,
and staining, as it flowed, the gay ball-dress which he wore.
No sooner did the well-aimed weapon do its work, than, drawing
the other from its resting-place, his lordship turned to the
second lieutenant of the “Perdrix,” and pointing it at him, asked
if he would obey his orders, or meet the same punishment as Mr.
Peterson? Life is sweet! The second in command saw his friend
stretched at his feet with the red blood gurgling around him, and
fearing the same fate, he obeyed Lord Camelford, and took the
watch.
Oh, duty! what a stern goddess thou art! or else how much art
thou belied, for the deed was laid to thy charge. He disobeyed
his superior officer, and in the midst of health, of buoyant
feelings, and without, perhaps, time to think of a hereafter,
he was to die. I can never more pass those sunken anchors which
mark the tragic spot, without thinking of the mournful fate of
this self-deceived mutineer, poor Lieutenant
Peterson, or fancying I can see him in his death throes,
stretched upon that sandy ground by the hand of him who
had been once his friend.
This circumstance was not the only one that caused Lord
Camelford’s name to be well known in Antigua. Upon another
occasion he went to Mr. Kitto, then superintendent of the
naval-yard, and informed him he wanted certain alterations made
on board the vessel of war he commanded. Mr. Kitto, in the
mildest terms, acquainted his lordship that he could not oblige
him, as it would be going beyond his warrant. To this refusal the
angry officer made no reply, but immediately going on board his
ship, he summoned his boatswain to his presence, and ordered him
to provide himself with a cat-of-nine-tails, and hold himself in
readiness to accompany him ashore.
In the course of a short time, Lord Camelford, the boatswain, and
his mate, and a few of the crew of the “Favourite,” proceeded to
the dockyard, and a message was despatched to Mr. Kitto, desiring
his attendance.
Upon the arrival of the superintendent, Lord Camelford again
demanded to know if he would accede to his wishes, at the same
time giving a pretty broad hint that, in case of refusal, his
back should be visited by the “Cat.” Mr. Kitto once more
observed, “It would be going beyond my warrant,” when, as he
uttered these words, at a signal from his lordship, the
unfortunate superintendent was seized, and twelve dozen lashes
inflicted with no unsparing hand by the boatswain of the
“Favourite.”
This illegal and brutal conduct was not, however, passed over; a
complaint was laid against Lord Camelford, and the case was
investigated at the court house. Upon the day of trial, as may be
supposed, the court was thronged with spectators; the assault was
proved, and bail was about to be demanded, when his lordship
begged permission to retire for a short time. His request was
complied with; but no sooner had he gained the outer gate of the
court house, than, seizing a horse which some gentleman visitant
had fastened
to the iron palisading, he mounted, and rode away in direction
of English Harbour as fast as the animal could be
urged.
In a moment all was confusion. “The prisoner’s escaped!” was the
universal cry; and as the truth became known within the court
house, various were the individuals who hurried forth, mounted
their horses, and joined in the pursuit. The Honourable Edward
Byam was then president of the island, and with the same high
spirit of equity which has ever marked that family, and unbiassed
by the rank of the offender, he immediately threw up one of the
windows of the court-house, and shouted—“A hundred pounds for his
recapture—a hundred pounds for his head!”
On kept Lord Camelford, (almost overtaken by one of the
constables, a very athletic man, of the name of White,) until at
length the horse he was riding fell down from exhaustion, and
obliged his lordship to take refuge in an adjoining cane-field.
Upon the party who were in pursuit gaining the place of his
retreat, a sudden stand was made. The rabble who had joined the
party, and some of the horsemen, were stationed around the
cane-field; while the constables, with a few attendants, and
several dogs, entered the precincts of the field, and literally
hunted the offending lord through its tangled mazes, until,
overcome with fatigue, and unarmed, he was taken by his pursuers.
In the escape, Lord Camelford’s hat had fallen off, and he was
therefore placed upon a horse bareheaded; and in this manner,
surrounded by the officials, and followed by all the riff-raff of
“St. John’s and its environs,” he was brought back, and once more
placed before the court. Lord Camelford was ordered to find bail
for his appearance at the sessions. The amount of his
recognisances was 5000l.; Walter Colquhoun and Walter Riddle,
Esqs., standing sureties for his forthcoming. Upon his lordship’s
return to English Harbour, he drew bills for the amount, (for
which his sureties would have been liable by his departure, had
he not
taken this precaution,) and then proceeded on board his ship
“Favourite,” made sail, and quitted the shores of Antigua,
with no very enviable feelings, it is to be supposed.
The forfeited money was devoted to the purpose of sinking wells,
(or springs, as they are termed in the West Indian idiom,) for
the accommodation of the inhabitants of St. John’s; and
accordingly, a party of negroes were employed to prosecute the
work.
They commenced their labours at the head of the town, opposite to
where the Scotch kirk is now building; but after digging to a
great depth, and still finding no appearance of water, they
became seriously alarmed, and unanimously refused to proceed,
giving as their excuse, “that dey heard all de cocks crowing in
de oder world!”
To return to the incidents of our day’s journey to English
Harbour. After leaving the scene of Lieutenant Peterson’s death,
we once more walked round by the superintendant’s residence,
admiring as we went the neat manner in which the ponderous
anchors and various-sized buoys were arranged; and then bidding
the dockyard farewell, proceeded on our way to the Ridge, which,
as its name implies, is the upper ground of a gentle ascent,
appropriated to the erection of barracks, and other military
establishments, for the accommodation of her majesty’s troops.
Before I proceed to describe the rest of the Antigua “lions,” I
must be allowed to remark, that, although in my life I have
visited many public buildings in England, as well as in other
parts of the globe, I never met with more politeness, from the
lowest to the highest of the officials, than I experienced at
this English Harbour naval establishment.
A few paces from the dockyard, on the road to the Ridge, we
passed the ordnance, consisting of two separate departments,
divided from each other by an arm of the sea—one used as a
store-place for guns and balls, the other for the reception of
powder. These deadly weapons were so neatly arranged, the
different sizes forming different
tiers, and the balls were so
prettily packed in the form of pyramids—the day was so fine, the
sea so blue, and the buildings themselves so spruce, in their
uniform of light yellow picked out with black, that I was quite
enraptured with the picture—forgot the use they were intended
for, nor thought how many heart-broken wives and desolate orphans
had wept, with tears like blood, the carnage such instruments had
effected.
The road wound up the ascent, which is continued until the Ridge
is gained. On one side stands a very pretty residence, known as
“Clarence House,” belonging to the queen, and one of the
dwellings the superintendent of the naval yard has under his
control; and on the other side of the road rises “Dow’s Hill,”
surmounted by the country-seat of the governor. In this part of
the road, a stone, marked with an anchor, points out the boundary
of the naval ground; and on the other side of the stone, the land
appropriated to the military commences.
Still following the ascent, in process of time we gained the
engineers’ quarters, the first building which marks the Ridge;
and opposite to it is the victualling office. Passing by the
officers’ quarters, the barracks for the privates, the several
storehouses, and the iron hospital, for the reception of invalid
soldiers, we stood upon the utmost verge of the place bearing the
title of Shirley Heights, so named after one of the former
governors, Sir Thomas Shirley, Bart. A very beautiful view may be
obtained from this spot, well worthy of a painter’s study. Hills
and dales clothed in tropical luxuriance; rocky precipices and
lonely glens, where nature sits enthroned; steep mountains and
ample solitudes, that look as if the foot of man never disturbed
their primeval silence; and gentle slopes, dotted here and there
with neat-looking dwellings. Below, on your right, lies the
dockyard, with its uniform buildings, and the lovely harbour,
forming a complete basin, encircled with its white sands; while
beyond, the ocean presents one level sheet of burnished gold,
over which the
fishing-boats were gaily bounding, and throwing
the shadow of their simple sails and slender masts far before
them. The mouth of English Harbour, which is 113 fathoms across,
was formerly defended in times of warfare by an immense iron
chain. That, however, is now no more; but the staples by which it
was secured still remain in the massive rocks, to prove the truth
of this assertion. It is now protected by two forts placed on
each side of the opening: Fort Charlotte, mounted with four guns,
18 and 24 pounders; Fort Berkley, mounting twenty-four guns. At
the latter fort is a magazine.
After leaving the Ridge, we turned down a slight declivity, by
the victualling offices, on our way to Bat’s Cave, and the
Savannah. Our road lay through groves of loblolly, manchineel,
and acacia, which, twining their long arms together, formed
various natural colonnades; while the ground was strewed with
their matted leaves, in all stages of decay. Having alighted, we
walked through the interwoven path, carefully avoiding as we went
the different varieties of cactus, which spring up on all sides,
and guarding our faces from the long sharp thorns of the acacia,
and the boughs of the poisonous manchineel. The ground, rugged
and broken, was plentifully sprinkled with disrupted portions of
spar, which glittered in the sunbeams like so many gems, and put
me in mind of Sinbad’s walk in the “Valley of Diamonds.” Immense
ground-lizards were trailing their long bodies about, in search
of their daily food, so amply provided for them by the great
Benefactor of all; while others were basking upon these dazzling
fossils, to imbibe the heat of the meridian sun.
After taking many devious routes among the impending bushes, in
order to discover the wished-for cavern, I was well pleased to
hear the cheerful voice of our pioneer shouting forth “Come this
way; I’ve found the right path.” Scrambling, as best we could,
over a huge bed of prickly pear, (one of the cactus family,) we
gained an opening in the copse, and stood before the mouth of the
cave. Two large
trees, which grew on each side, extended their gnarled roots
(from which the earth had been washed) across the opening,
forming natural steps, by which we descended, and stood
within the cave.
Huge masses of the rock which forms the cavern have fallen in,
and in great measure blocked it up, so that it now only presents
an arena of about 50 feet in circumference, although in time past
it was of considerable extent. From the main cavern, two passages
branch off in opposite directions. They are perfectly dark, the
only means of exploring them being by the use of flambeaux; but
to what length they extend has never been discovered. Mr. McLane,
a late resident of English Harbour, (now of Canada,) has made
several attempts to that purpose, all of which proved fruitless;
the greatest distance he ever proceeded was to the extent of two
sea-lines, about 120 yards. The only known occupants are bats,
which breed there in immense numbers, and often attain the size
of a common pigeon. A dank unhealthy vapour is emitted from these
openings, proceeding, no doubt, from the carbonic acid gas they
contain. This vapour soon extinguishes the light of a torch,
which is one reason this cavern has never been further
explored.[88] A streak of dark green runs down one side of the
cave, which was pointed out to me as indicating the existence of
copper; but upon examining a portion of the rock I brought away
with me, I found that the colour was occasioned only by a
vegetable substance adhering to the stones.
In former times, Bat’s Cave was a great place of concealment for
the tribes of erratic Caribs, when visiting Antigua on their
predatory excursions; and tradition still points it out as the
scene of a barbarous carousal among that wild and savage race, in
one of their attacks upon this island. As, however, I am now
giving the narration of a day’s journey, I will proceed to
mention the other spots we visited, and
leave the Legend, which is rather lengthy, for the next
chapter.
Emerging from “Bat’s Cave,” and wending our way amid the same
rugged impediments, in process of time we reached our vehicle,
and stepping into it, proceeded to visit the ruins of the old
government house in the Savannah, the scene of the attack
narrated in the “Legend of Ding a Ding Nook,” and of a similar
attempt in 1654. After driving for a short distance over pasture
land, exhibiting a dreary view of brown and withered herbage, the
effects of the late dry weather, (rendered more striking by the
contrast of the deep green of the different trees,) which
crackled under the horses’ feet, we arrived at another tangled
maze of shrub and brushwood, where it was again necessary to
proceed on foot, in order to prosecute our intended search.
Forcing our way through this almost impenetrable thicket,
rendered in some places more impervious by the twinings and
intertwinings of the withe, (a native parasite,) stooping to
avoid some straggling branch, or springing over a thorny bank, we
gained an open glade; and walking up the gentle acclivity, stood
by the side of the ruins.
They consist of what appears to have been a cistern, probably the
first built in the island, and a low wall of stone, marking the
foundation of the government house. Within this last-mentioned
ruin stand two tombs, the inscriptions upon which are as
follows:—
Antigua.
Here lieth the body of Mrs. Elizabeth Warner,
Late wife of Edward Warner,
Of this island, Esq.
She was a woman of exemplary piety;
She was the best of wives,
The tenderest of mothers,
The faithfulest of friends,
And of a most charitable, compassionate disposition,
Whose death was generally and deservedly lamented
By the good people that knew her.
She departed this life the thirteenth of August,
1723,
In the 37th year of her age.
Here lies the body of
Mr. Henry Warner,
Who died on the 17th day of Sept, 1731,
In the 39th year of his age,
Much beloved and lamented
By all that knew him.
In memory of whom, his
Affectionate brothers, Edward and
Ashton Warner,
Erected this Monument.
About these tombs grew many a sweet and fragile flower, and many
a gaily painted butterfly hovered around, and sported in the
blaze of the “great luminary;” while the “Turk’s caps” (another
species of cactus) shewed their crimson crests in all directions.
A broken bottle, the relic of some former maroon (fête
champetre) lay upon one of the tombs—not more fragile or fickle
in its nature than the mouldering dust which slept beneath, or
those who in the heyday of life stood looking on.
Leaving the tombs and ruins to their usual solitude, we retraced
our steps; but in doing so, I could not help thinking that the
name “Savannah” was misapplied, or Dr. Johnson was wrong in his
etymology, for I am sure there is wood in abundance of one kind
or the other. A great number of wild cattle inhabit this part of
the country, deriving, it is said, a plentiful supply of
nutriment from the herbage found there.
On our return to English Harbour, along the same road, we had a
glimpse of “Indian Creek,” so famous in “story,” which meanders
through verdantly-decked shores in a picturesque manner. It
derives its name from an engagement which took place upon its
banks, between a party of Caribs, (or Indians,) narrated in the
following “Legend.”
Once more entering the village of English Harbour, we proceeded
to the house of W. C. Brooks, Esq., where we rested for some
time, experiencing those nameless acts of hospitality for which
the Antiguans are noted; and where I willingly laved my burning
temples with the fragrant “Eau de Cologne.” Really, this marching
and counter-marching, beneath a tropical sun, is no slight
matter, let my readers
think as they may. “Sol” visits the face
with many a fiery mark, and if he kisses, he leaves his sting
behind. I felt glad when we once more took our way to town; and
although no lovely moon was abroad,
“——the floor of Heaven
Was thick inlaid with patines of bright gold,”
which sufficed to light us gloriously on our way, and bring us in
safety to Spring Gardens.
[84] It may be necessary to remark, for the benefit of my English
readers, that although Saturday is the principal market-day,
Monday is more generally used by the labouring class for coming
into the capital to provide their weekly supplies. So much is
this the case, that where you may see fifty labourers employed
upon a plantation upon the other days of the week, on Monday you
will scarcely find twenty.
[85] As it may amuse the reader, we here transcribe an original
letter, written by our great naval hero at this period, which is
carefully preserved by its proprietor as an invaluable relic:—
“English Harbour, Aug. 3rd, 1784.
“As the captains of the navy at this port mean to establish a
mess for the hurricane months, by their desire I write to beg
that you will send us round, by the first opportunity, the
undermentioned articles—viz., one hogshead of port, one of the
best white wine that you have, twelve dozen of porter in bottles,
fifty pounds loaf sugar, one firkin of good butter, two baskets
of salt, two pounds black pepper.
“I have the honour to be, your humble servant,
“Horatio Nelson.
“P.S. As we only wait for these things to begin our mess, the
sooner they arrive the better. Mr. Druce, the agent victualler is
a going to send provisions round for the Fury which will be a
good opportunity.
“Addressed to ——— Kerr, Esq.”
[86] It may be necessary to remark, that roses are very choice
flowers in Antigua, the climate not appearing to agree with them.
This is strange, as in the East Indies, where the heat is even
greater, whole fields are planted with this beautiful shrub, in
order to get their leaves to distil the far-fame “Attar.”
[87] Of which island he was a native.
[88] It is supposed that these passages extend to the sea-shore,
a distance of about a quarter of a mile.