Antigua and the Antiguans (Vol. 1&2). Mrs. Lanaghan

important of its historical events, I must now be allowed to give some description of the appearance of Antigua, and of my first visit to its shores. After a voyage of many weeks, early one morning we were agreeably saluted with the cry of “land!” Sleep was immediately banished from my eyes, and with a beating heart I waited until the day should “pour in apace,” and allow me the pleasure of viewing for the first time one of those tropical islands I had often thought of with delight. A fair wind filled our sails, and we rapidly gained upon the distant object, which (when I first peeped up the companion ladder) looked like one of those shadowy clouds I had so frequently seen resting, as it were, upon the bosom of the ocean, at the utmost verge of the horizon.

      By this time the sun was fast mounting up the sky, and shone with all its fervour upon the glassy waves below; and as we noiselessly glided on, the mountains began to assume a distincter form, and proved beyond doubt that we were near the end of our voyage.

      A bustle upon the deck, the trampling of many feet, the rattling of ropes, and the sound of strange voices, and a stranger dialect, announced the arrival of the pilot; and unable any longer to suppress the longing desire I had to behold Antigua from a more eligible situation than my peep-hole, I hastily tied on my bonnet, and spite of the increasing heat, sought my companion upon the deck. Seated upon a hen-coop, which had been arrayed in all the glories of bright green paint, I prepared to look about me; when suddenly I felt a peculiar sensation, which told me, that, like “Achilles,” I was anything but invulnerable in my heel. A “booby,” or gannet, an aquatic bird, which had been captured the night before, and placed in “durance vile” within the self-same coop, was bidding me welcome to her native clime, by unceremoniously inserting her bill into that very susceptible part; and as I was not stoic enough to receive such favours unmoved, she expressed her displeasure by a doleful unharmonious scream. “Well,” thought I, “this is not the pleasantest welcome possible,” and turning my eyes towards the land, “nor this the most interesting looking island in the world.” In fact, it looked dull and dreary; its mountains appeared barren and sunburnt; and the distance prevented me from seeing the valleys and dingles which in some degree redeem it from insipidity.

      Our gallant vessel, however, still kept on her way, and—

      “Walk’d the waters like a thing of life;”

      and as we approached the land, the scene changed for the better. Bright green patches of the sugar-cane appeared amid the brown of the foremost mountains; while the more distant of the chain presented that harmonious blending of a thousand dyes, which poets love to sing, and painters love to study. As it happened to be that season of the year when the sugar harvest was in progress, the white sails of the various mills glittered in the sunbeams, and upon the eminences the manager’s house (or in the language of the country, the “great house”) looked down upon its little hamlet of negro huts, picturesquely embosomed in trees.

      On, on we glided; the merry breeze piping in our ears, and the snow-white foam curling and writhing around our prow, until at length we came so near that we could see and almost count the waves as they dashed upon the silver sands of the surrounding bays. In one part a number of tall cocoa-nut trees stretched their long arms to the blast, whilst upon every side of us the light skiffs of the fishermen danced like cockle-shells upon the buoyant waters, and their dusky masters intently pursued their trade of entrapping the finny race.

      Our good breeze did not desert us; and rapidly and surely we made way, until we passed over the bar, and entered the harbour of St. John’s. What a busy scene now presented itself to my view; the various ships from England, Scotland, Ireland,⁵⁸ and America, distinguished by their several flags; the boats and droughers⁵⁹ hurrying backwards and forwards with their loads; whilst the hallooing of the sailors, and the screaming of the negro watermen, conspired to render it the very imagery of discord.

      The town of St. John’s, with its white houses and green jalousies, lay stretched before us, surmounted by its neat and pretty church; and upon our left the Fort of St. James and Rat Island. While looking at the latter, up went a flag, which, fluttering in the breeze, announced to the good people of St. John’s the arrival of a ship from “home” as the Antiguans always call England. Several boats now joined us from the shore, conveying friends to welcome us to Antigua; a harbour-master, (a very agreeable and worthy personage by-the-bye,) to make certain inquiries; custom-house officers, (of a superior class of men to those who board vessels in the Thames, and are so disagreeably distinguished by their undeviating devotion to that herb, which Sir Walter Raleigh, in his excessive overflow of human kindness, is said to have introduced into England,) to see that if you smuggled yourselves on shore, you did not smuggle your goods; and plenty of black boys, to grin and chatter, and get all the biscuit and beef they could.

      But I must not omit to give a more particular account of the black pilot. A very pompous personage he was, and one who no doubt stood vastly high in his own estimation, as he lent upon the rail of the vessel, with his large straw hat, and gigantic snuff-box, giving orders to the sailors, and in the interim discussing the news of the island. “Hab fine rain last night; you bring good wedder​—​(war for you ’tand staring dere for, you black nigger ?)​—​yes, feber berry bad last month, many buckra die​—​(war you go do, run de ship on de shore?)​—​Crop bery good dis year; ship load fast ’nough​—​(why you no haul dat rope good?)​—​Yes, gubbernor bin bery bad; better now tho’.” And thus he ran on, until, the proper place gained, down dropped the ponderous anchor, a boat received us, and in a short time landed us “all well” upon one of the wharfs of Antigua, amid blacks and whites, porters and boatmen, and boys and girls clad “à la Venus.”

      The harbour of St. John’s is reckoned one of the finest and most commodious in the West Indies. The entrance is defended by Goat Hill Fort on the south, and St. James Fort on the north; across the mouth of it runs a shoal, known as the bar, which extends from a bay called Hog John, to Fort James. The depth of water upon this bar is only from seven to fourteen feet; and consequently, ships, when they are partly laden, pass over this shoal, and take in the remainder of their cargo off Dickenson’s Bay. The principal trade of the island is carried on at this port, the harbour is generally full of shipping; and during the hurricane months, many vessels from the neighbouring islands come here for safety. The approach to it is, however, intersected with numerous rocks, and about three miles from its mouth lies a small island, surrounded by reefs and breakers, to which the name of “Sandy Island” has been attached. It was upon these reefs that, in 1826, the “Maria” mail boat was wrecked, and, with her hapless crew, went to the bottom. She had been down to St. Thomas and the other Islands with the mails for England;⁶⁰ and upon her return, putting into Monserrat, took on board the Wesleyan missionaries, and their wives and children, who had been to St. Kitts to attend their yearly district meeting, and who were desirous of returning to Antigua, the scene of their labours. They had left St. Kitts a few days before, in a small vessel hired for the purpose; but finding it rather “crank,” they were unwilling to proceed, and determined to wait at Monserrat for the arrival of the “Maria.”

      But who can look into futurity? who can tell what may be in store for him? The crank vessel reached Antigua in safety; the mail boat and all on board, with the exception of one solitary female, perished in the treacherous waters, almost within sight of their own homes​—​within hearing of the church bell. I never pass the spot without shuddering, and fancying what must have been the feelings of that one who was spared to tell the dreadful tale. A woman of lively imagination and affectionate disposition, she saw friend after friend washed away by the remorseless waves. The pride of manhood!​—​the shrinking delicacy of woman!​—​the helplessness of infancy!​—​all of no avail!​—​a splash​—​a bubble​—​and all was over, and their bodies filled the maw of some rapacious monster, or rested in some coral cave beneath the waters, there to remain until that great day, when sea and earth must give up their dead. Of the ill-fated voyagers, all who remained were, she who was destined to be the sole survivor, her husband, and the master of the vessel. Worn out by mental agony, and unavailing exertions to attract the notice of the many fishing-boats and other vessels which were constantly passing within their sight, but which either did not perceive or would not assist them, the master of the vessel gave