Authors: Caryl Phillips
A week ago we had the good fortune to fall in with the trade wind, and we are now careering both rapidly and smoothly upon the bosom of the ocean. The ship makes much headway, and what movement she achieves she does so steadily. The brilliant sun has chased away the clouds of darkness, and a delightful prospect confronts us. Since crossing the tropic this perfect weather has rescued me from an ague which reduced my person to lying supine and daily fearing the onset of contagion. These days it is true to say that there is not sufficient wind to fill out the sails, but there is certainly enough to render the air cool and pleasant. I have therefore passed much time on deck observing nature's new delights.
The sailors caught a dolphin, the heavenliest creature that goes upon fins, but attempted to do so without the traditional spear. A line was fastened to the stern and baited with salt-pork, but the dolphin is a large and powerful fish. Through a natural fear that this graceful beauty might break the line and flee, the decision to toss the spear was taken. This goddess of the deep was soon wrestled onto the deck where her bright colours
were observed and admired, that is until the loss of blood caused them to fade and the cook made ready to prepare her for dinner. Other representatives of Neptune's family occupy us in our peregrination. The comical inhabitants of the ocean are without doubt the porpoises who gambol along both above and beneath the surface, always ready to delight with the unannounced spouting of ornamental water. Hawk-bill turtles might occasionally be espied, and they cause everybody's mouths to water. They have a tendency to idle, and it is when they are in this somnambulant state that the greatest efforts to capture them are made. But, as though with some special sense, they always contrive to awaken at just the precise moment that one is ready to haul them up and into the pot. They flick their rubbery protrusions with enviable calm, then roll and dive to the depths. Whole shoals of whale and shark are also daily visible, and as populous as sheep on the South Downs. Tropicus has indeed revealed to us a new world, the beauty of which has gone no small way to mollifying the pain which is daily lacerating my heart.
The weather has become excessively close, indeed sultry, bestowing upon us the full benefit of the concentrated rays of the tropical sun. Not a breath of wind is perceivable, and I am occasionally seized by a suffocating sensation which is only relieved when the pregnant afternoon hours finally give way to the relative coolness of dusk. I have in consequence thrown off my shop-dress and I now wear muslin, clothing myself according to the exigency of the weather. At night I he under a solitary Holland sheet, which I have to confess is too much – yes, even this little. The crew no longer retire to their quarters at night but can be heard on deck. Before they finally submit to their slumbers, they are able to witness the phenomenon of a blood-red horizon where the sun plunges in a blaze of fire into the sea. In the morning I am agreeably saluted by the peaceful calm of a new day, but still there is no breeze to greet my clammy cheek. These early sunbeams, devoid of
the noonday heat, dance playfully on the rippled surface atop which we sit. I am now inclined to bathe on deck in a large cask, but only after the crew have vacated the premises for the preservation of my modesty. I have grown accustomed to bathing myself, and executing other tedious duties, for there is nobody on board to whom I might turn and offer employment. I long to arrive in the islands, where I shall engage a servant to take up where Isabella left off.
Each day flatters with the hopes of land, but as yet nothing. I think I detect that our captain is quickly growing out of patience with the tortoise-pace that we are making, but for my part I care very little as long as we do not encounter any further squally weather. To reach my journey's end peaceably and without harm is my sole aim. Of late I have thought much of this ocean, whose breast has supported many a ship heavy with slaves. The torn roots of these
children of the sun
has occasioned the stain of
the institution
to mark first their native soil, and then bleed across the waters to deface the Americas. There will be much to discover on arriving in tropical America, but I am engaged to spend only a three-month sojourn. I am therefore set apart from those projectors who visit the West Indies to either make or mend their fortune. For one such as I, my day of departure will be dawning from the moment we espy land, and I am accordingly neither anxious nor full of trepidation.
It would appear that we have finally crawled into the Caribbean sea. This morning I was alarmed by the loud call of the morning sun and the excited cry, 'Land! Land!' Together they shook me from my slumbers. I quickly pulled about me enough clothing to render me decent, hastily fastened a dainty bonnet about my head, and dashed upstairs to join the others who stared on at the small and seemingly deserted
bird island
that we sailed close by. And then in the distance, where the horizon invited and detained the eye, I beheld our destination; a mountainous island heavily clothed in vegetation, wooded on the upper slopes, the highest peaks swaddled in clouds, an
island held in the blue palm of the sea like a precious green gem. The captain confirmed that this was to be my port of disembarkation, and I thanked him for the information. He seemed surprised, clearly unused to such civility. I do believe I even detected a small bow! I craned back my head and silently praised the Lord that I had survived the passage in safety. A little malnourishment, and the development of a small feverish tendency, constituted the sum of my ailments. When set against the watery tomb to which my Isabella and others of our society had been consigned, I had indeed much cause to be grateful.
There was just sufficient wind to gently impel us forward with elemental grace towards our, or at least my, destination. The forest-garmented heights, the wheeling gulls, the careless beauty of this verdant isle, all caused my heart to quicken further her already excited beat. I retired beneath the wooden deck and prepared myself for arrival. Assembling my belongings presented little difficulty, for I had already performed much in this line in order to occupy myself during the previous few days. On returning to the deck I discovered that a negro pilot had come aboard, his negro assistant having transported him by means of a canoe evidently hollowed out of a sturdy tree of some description. It caused me a little discomfort to hear our captain immediately baptize the pilot with the tide,
nigger,
but the pilot seemed somewhat resigned to his appellation.
The negro brought with him a water melon whose taste I could not suffer. It had about it a Shylocky taste of raw flesh. I preferred to watch in raptured fascination as the bluff sea-dogs devoured what was to them clearly a familiar fruit. The less ravenous, and generally more agreeable, mariners threw the lead to sound the depths. The sea adopted a lighter blue, and the negro pilot skilfully brought us around the rocks and squeezed us into the wine bottle of a bay, where the gentle plash of water sounded most musically to my ears. I was unable to perceive any exhibition of repugnance by the crew towards this black helmsman, they appearing to appreciate
his navigational prowess and utmost decorum of deportment. This, to my intelligence, appeared only natural, for they were to a man generally less polished than the negro.
The beauty of the island improved as we drew nearer and found ourselves with land on either side. Hills and valleys opened on my view, and I could clearly discern that the land was dappled with trees, plants and shrubbery that were, in the main, afresh to me. However, I recognized the infamous sugar canes, whose young shoots billowed in the cooling breeze like fields of green barley, and 1 noted the tall cabbage palms, whose nobility of appearance provided a formidable decor to the small settlement of Baytown which spread before us in ordered and recklessly formal beauty. Behind our capital town, slender lines of houses snaked up the hillsides and merged with the vegetation. Indeed, I was beholding a tropical paradise. Our exploratory party returned with baskets full of fruit, excellent milk and fresh fowl which we consumed as our final and most succulent meal aboard the ship. This repast proved a most necessary balm to my intoxicated senses. I retired to my small cabin with a constitution for once well-watered and nourished, and a heart light with anticipatory joy at what I might witness in this new world that I had crossed the ocean to discover.
What a day! I write now on land, but my heart is giddy. I have great difficulty in maintaining my balance, veering first to the left, and then to the right, much as I did when aboard ship. It must be a curious sight to behold, but I am told that such visions are quite common, and before two days have expired my person will once more steer a true course. My last night on board the little wooden world passed most pleasantly. Having consumed what amounted to a near feast, soft slumber then contrived to seal my eyes for many an hour. If only all my nights in this cabin had passed as pleasantly it would be politic to consider making such voyages for recreation. Indeed, one might venture to suggest that such voyages could
benefit the health of a traveller, instead of threatening their very existence.
In the morning I stepped out on deck as the sun cleared the horizon. We were at anchor. The view of the island that I now beheld was nothing less than magnificent. We had drifted perhaps only a further two hundred yards towards shore, but this gave one the opportunity of discerning not only general movement, but individual negro figures going about their daily business. I bade the captain farewell, and rewarded him with a small bag of coins for having delivered me safely. The truth is I wish I had a coin for every member of his crew, for my survival was more a tribute to their skills than to any act of this bellicose man, who could barely mutter a few words of thanks upon my presenting him with this token of my appreciation. I enquired as to the existence of any known family for the cabin-boy. As far as the captain was concerned there was none. And so his family lineage would appear to have reached a watery conclusion. I then raised the difficult question of wishing to know where, as near as it was possible for him to advise me, we finally committed Isabella to her grave. The captain, without even pausing for thought, answered, 'By the Azores.' He responded with such speed that for an instant I wondered if this was his common answer to all such enquiries, but I deemed it sage to hold my tongue and thank him for his information. I requested such knowledge having decided that upon my return to my native land I would erect a monument for Isabella, inscribing it with all the details of her life, and sadly her death too.
Now I was ready to leave. The negro pilot reappeared and drew a small boat up against the side of our ship. Having taken modesty into account, and having spurned all tendered help, I descended an unlikely ladder constructed of rope, and set myself in this diminutive vessel. The crew on deck applauded my feat, but I wondered if their applause signified relief at having finally abandoned this woman. They might now roister anew without consideration (if any they did show) for the presence of a lady,
for these men were clearly used to treating female creatures as little more than beings of an inferior nature whose task it was merely to render service and expect in return neither gratitude nor the simplest cheering word or kindly smile. I looked back and folded my fingers in farewell, as the negro began to paddle gracefully in the direction of Baytown. He kept time and tune to his oars with what appeared to be an extemporaneous chant. As far as I was able to discern, the
song
was composed of the following words:
Old rum kill de captain
O dear, He must die
New rum kill de sailor
O dear, He must die
Hard work kill de neger
O dear. He must die
La, la, la, la, etc.
A few yards short of the shore I discovered that there was yet another journey to be made, for it proved inadvisable to beach the small craft in such shallow waters. I therefore completed my adventure on the back of a negro. I arrived exceedingly wet and much incommoded by the surge. On shore I discovered a white gentleman whose hair was cut uncommonly close to his head. I wondered if this butchery illustrated the local fashion, but I chose to remain silent. My suitor claimed to have spent many hours waiting for my arrival, and he presented a letter of his credentials which he assured me entitled him to the honour of attending me to my father's plantation. Again I said nothing, for I now simply desired to take some rest and change out of my wet clothes. Before we left the shore the gentleman beckoned to a shoeless negro girl, whose head was buried in an old felt hat that had clearly lost its original shape. She bestowed upon me a glass of what I was informed the locals call
sangaree,
a tropical drink composed of Madeira, water, sugar
and lime juice. This most refreshing drink served to increase momentarily the giddiness that I felt on achieving
terra firma,
but I was assured that its medicinal value far outweighed any unpleasant reaction that I might temporarily experience.
With the aid of my gentleman companion, I stepped aboard a carriage belonging to the estate. The carriage was light and airy and drawn by English horses. This seemed to me a needless expense, for I knew that in these parts they were blessed with perfectly serviceable horses from New England. I noted the difference between this carriage and those preferred by the negroes, whose carriages were large and heavy and drawn by mules. I further noted that the negro men wore thin-clothed apparel which left scarce anything to the imagination, and that their women wandered hither and thither barely stirring to cover their bodies. Certainly most had nothing about them more substantial than a petticoat. I imagined that in such heat as this clothing would indeed become burdensome, so I did envy the negroes their ability to dress without concern for conventional morality. However, on first encountering such a manner of display it is difficult to disguise one's revulsion.
On noticing my discomfort the gentleman at my attendance chose to enter the black throng and return with a negro woman, who was clearly a pilgrim of some sixty years. Her toothless gums were visible through her thick and open lips, and her church hat failed to mask her sad, unfeminine baldness. My factotum placed her on the backplate of our carriage and furnished her with a large fan, with which it was understood that her task would be to cool me during the forthcoming journey. And so with a black driver now in place, the gentleman seated on the rear seat next to myself, and the negro woman already gently fanning our persons, we set forth towards the estate, which I knew to be not above three or four miles to the north-west of Baytown. As we did so I bestowed a final gaze upon the good sailer which had conveyed me safely to these American shores. I am not above admitting that if one had
looked closely at my visage it might have been possible to have espied a tear of sadness. This first part of my journey was over and I was breaking the last remaining link with a past that I understood. From this moment I would be entering a dark tropical unknown.