Olga - A Daughter's Tale (2 page)

Socially, Jamaica has a lot to offer, but, I do miss the theatres, art galleries and museums in London. But in spite of that, I am convinced we made the right choice about coming here. In fact I have almost forgotten what my former life in London was like because we have both settled down so well.

Tell Martha that Jamaican women are very fashion conscious and do seem to spend a lot of money on clothes which are certainly more expensive here than in London and I’m told they often arrange for material and patterns to be shipped over from London. We must persuade Ma and Pa to let you come for a visit.

Your loving sister
Lucy

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Dearest Lucy

It was lovely to receive your last letter. Martha was very interested with your remarks about Jamaican women and how fashion conscious they are. Maybe there is an opportunity for her skills over there, although at the moment she’s got a “gentleman friend”, a private in the army and they certainly do see a lot of each other.

I’m working as a governess in Kensington for a very nice young couple who have two children, Emily and Robert, but it’s only a temporary position because they have an elderly governess who has been with the family for ages (handed down from generation to generation I think) but took a leave of absence and will be returning to her position in about two months. That suits me well because when I finish I want to enrol in a housekeeping and basic cookery course with Marshall’s Cookery School in Marylebone Road.

I think the more things I can turn my hand too the less chance I’ll be pressured by Pa into marrying a man of his choice. Would you believe it, Lucy, in the past few weeks he has brought home three police constables to dinner with the express purpose of them looking me over to see if I am suitable marriage material. I’ve no intention of being press ganged into marrying someone I don’t love even if it means I do end up a spinster of the parish.

It’s wonderful to hear about your life over there. I read your letters over and over again, usually on the way home from work, freezing cold and trudging through London smog, snow or rain, Jamaica seems magical, like a fairy land.

Ma and Pa send their love to you and ask if you are going to mass on Sunday. I assured them that we were all too scared of the hell and damnation that would befall us were we not to.

Your loving sister
Becky

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Letter from Lucy Sinclair, “Mon Repose”, Jamaica

to

Becky and Martha Ross, Droop Street, London.

February 1902

Dearest Becky and Martha

It is barely a year ago that we arrived here; such a lot has happened in a short space of time. John has found a small estate for sale, about 1,050 acres, and it is within our budget so, we have bought it and named our first home “Mon Repose”. It is in the parish of St Andrews which is a few miles from Kingston and John says it is in a good position as it is on fairly level land and has a stream running through it. There are stables and a large barn which house some 50 or so cattle, 3 horses, 3 mules, a wagon cart and some other equipment that came with the land. The horses and mules will be useful but John is undecided about whether he wants to raise cattle. He is keen to grow more crops and make use of what he has learnt with Bertie Pollock. The land is divided by wire fences, most of which need repairing and has considerable cultivation in bananas, coffee, pimentos, over 150 bearing coconut trees and other bits and bobs.

The house is quite large though it does need an awful lot of renovation because it has been empty for years, but its structure is sound. It has a drawing room, dining room and four bedrooms and is quite well furnished. That takes care of one immediate problem, having to furnish it. There is a kitchen and outside a water closet as well as an outhouse for bathing.

Oh it’s perfect Becky. You and Martha must come and visit very soon. There is plenty of room in the house, lots to see, and so much I want to show you. Are you and Martha working on persuading Pa and Ma to let you come for a holiday?

Your loving sister
Lucy

******

Telegram from Martha and Becky Ross, London

to

Lucy Sinclair, Jamaica

SUCCESS AT LAST!. MARTHA AND I LEAVING AVONMOUTH AT 4.45 PM ON 16TH JULY FOR KINGSTON ON “S. S. PORT MORANT”. ALL BEING WELL SHOULD ARRIVE ON 28TH . VERY EXCITED. LONGING TO SEE YOU. LOVE BECKY.

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On Board Port Morant
: My goodness, Pa took a lot of persuading to let me go. He said I was too young to travel such a distance on my own and only agreed because suddenly Martha announced she wanted to see Jamaica too. For the longest time Martha said she didn’t want to go. I know the reason; a man. Alfred Trotter’s his name. He’s a private in the army. Maybe because he was used to taking orders in the army he didn’t mind being bossed around by Martha. If she’d told him to jump off Tower Bridge I think he would have done. No mind of his own. You need one when you’re around Martha otherwise she walks all over you, doesn’t she Private Trotter. Anyway, Trotter lasted a few months and now he’s gone and Martha and I are going to see Lucy and John.

Ma gave me this lovely leather bound book to keep an account of my holiday. The Port Morant is a beautiful boat and as well as passengers she carries fruit and the Royal Mail. Our cabin is comfortable, spacious and well ventilated and with, of all things, an electric light.

The dining room is decorated with light coloured woods and carved panels and has been divided into a number of recesses, each with a separate dining table with seating for up to six people. The seats are upholstered in royal blue and, this I thought wonderful, the glass in the doors have been hand painted with views of Jamaican scenery.

Our departure from Avonmouth was delayed because of dense fog and it was not until it cleared some hours later that we were able to proceed on our way. No sooner had we cleared the fog than we sailed straight into rough weather and the Captain confined all passengers to their cabins for safety.

Martha and I have discovered we have no sea legs. I’ve been ill for days now and am convinced there is nothing more miserable than seasickness. Except perhaps listening to the wailing through the cabin walls of others as miserable as we are. It’s all very distressing, I don’t think I shall ever forget these last few days.

Martha said she anticipated that there might be rough weather and brought some linctus which she keeps in a silver flask. She says it is good for keeping the contents of her stomach in place. It also appears to be good as a sleeping draught since she sleeps so soundly at night and is oblivious to the pitching and rolling of the boat. I tried it myself but didn’t like it. Martha says it is an acquired taste.

7th day at sea
: The weather has cleared and is glorious now, calm seas and lots of sunshine. It was a shock to get on the deck and see the chaos that the storm had caused. Deck chairs were lying broken in pieces and wooden benches were on their sides but it wasn’t long before the crew got everything shipshape. There is plenty of space on the deck for walking and it is wonderful to finally be able to stroll and get lots of lovely fresh air.

There was a “get together dinner” so we could all get acquainted with each other. The dining salon was ablaze with little coloured lights, paper streamers and balloons. Paper hats were provided for everybody and on the table were whistles and wooden things you twirl which make a bit of a racket.

At our dining table were Dr and Mrs Turton who are planning to retire to Jamaica permanently as they do not like the cold and damp winters in England. Many of the passengers are tourists, some are parents taking their children home from boarding school for the holidays and there are a couple of army officers who are going to be stationed on the island, one of whom I think Martha has already taken a shine to; she does seem to like a man in uniform.

After dinner, music sheets were handed out to us all containing verses of several well known songs and the ship’s orchestra started playing. At first we all started timidly singing, but it wasn’t long before everyone was participating with great gusto.

The closer we get to Jamaica the brighter the sun and the air becomes balmy. It’s lovely at night to walk round the deck looking at the stars which are so clear and twinkle in the night sky and feel the softness in the air and a warm breeze that wraps itself around you.

Our last night: Tomorrow night there is to be a last dinner with a special menu and we are going to put on our best frocks, although Martha says we should be wearing evening dresses, but we don’t have any.

HORS D’ŒUVERS

Croutes au Parmesan

Cockie Leekie Soup

FISH

Boned Halibut, Sauce Hollandaise

ENTREE

Coteletes d’Agneau, Sauce Soubice, Asperges eu branches

Roast Fillet Veal, Lemon Sauce

Perdreaux á la Anglaise

Jamaican Goat

Roast and Boiled Potatoes, Haricot Verts

DESSERT

Banana Pudding, Pineapple Jellies, Iced Pears

According to the new, soon to be Manager of the Constant Spring Hotel, Mr James McTavis, we drank French champagne, German white wine and Italian dessert wine. He didn’t believe me when I told him I’d never drunk either wine or champagne before and then he and Martha seemed to be in competition as to who could drink the most. My money was on Martha.

After dinner Lord Walsingham, who is a well known famous traveller, but not to me, thanked the Captain on behalf of the passengers for his “watchfulness and never ceasing supervision of the ship, particularly during those difficult early days in our journey”.

The Captain replied that the success of the voyage was not only his doing but also that of the officers and crew under his command. If he had not got such an able crew the ship could not have done so well.

Then Lord Walsingham called for three cheers for the Captain and his crew and then the Captain called for three cheers for Lord Walsingham and the passengers. All very friendly.

These last wonderful days have been the most enjoyable I have ever spent. Martha has enjoyed herself too and she has been a good travelling companion. She and I are not as close as Lucy and I are, and I don’t really know why. I have tried in the past to get close to her but she discourages me. Sometimes I don’t think she even likes me.

As the steamer nears Jamaica I can see in the distance the mangroves and waving palm leafs and huge mountain ridges that are thick with acres and acres of vegetation. A blue haze wafts lazily over the top of the mountains like a long pale blue-grey chiffon scarf. These are the Blue Mountains, the back drop to Kingston.

While we waited to disembark from the boat I watched the men tie the steamer to its berth in Kingston Harbour. On the dockside black men, women and children are working at a furious pace loading the boats with bananas for their return journey to England. Great piles of green bananas carefully stacked in sizes are being loaded onto the steamer I’m waiting to disembark from. I watched in fascination as the dirty, ragged figures of women and young girls ran up and down the gangplanks, in and out of the hatches in the sides of the boat below carrying the bananas on their heads with such consummate ease.

Some of the men have cutlasses and are using them to slice the stalks off the bananas if they are too long. I’ve never seen black men before and can’t stop staring at them. When they’ve finished loading the bananas the women and girls are handed a piece of paper from the negro foreman and take it to the paymaster to collect their wages, I think. Watching the hustle and bustle of the Negroes going about their work remind me of armies of ants soldiering away.