448 



FOREST Af D STREAM. 



are all Yankees in those islands). "Wo met boys and boys- 

 boys by dozens and boys by scores, and some girls j but the 

 very first group that drew our attention and provoked an out- 

 burst of the Doctor's ever ready wit, was of boys. 



" I say, young man, pull down your vest 1" 



This was addressed to a ragged little darkey 'with beaming 

 lace and bright eyes, the centre of a bunch of the raggedest 

 and uakedest gamins we had ever beheld. There was not a 

 whole article o£ clothing furniture among them. If one had 

 a shirt be hadn't any pantaloons, and the fellow that boasted 

 the latter had the least of the former. There was not even 

 the apology for a single whole garment in the crowd, yet every 

 member o£ it was as blissfully unconscious of the grotesque 

 appearance he made as were the Doctor and myself aware of 

 iL But the most glaringly conspicuous feature of the collec- 

 tion was a huge vest worn by the brightest and sauciest of 

 the five — a very grandfather among vests, which, descending 

 to the urchin's thighs, left but a scanty drapery of shirt for 

 the rest of his belongings. 



You, reader, will now appreciate the keenness of the Doc- 

 tor's thrust at these airy costumes, and be able to enjoy^vith 

 him the exceedingly loud merriment in which the astonish- 

 ment of the e unsophisticated natives caused him to indulge. 

 The successful termination of this sally of wit encouraged the 

 Doctor to hope for more fun of the same nature, and to the 

 next urchin we met he propounded that question which has 

 vexed the brains of the talented of all ages, and for I don't 

 know how many ages: "What time does the half-past six 

 train leave?" 



Now the Doctor had reckoned upon this boy being like 

 ninety-nine out of every hundred we met, of French extrac- 

 tion and incapable of uttering one word in English. Imagine, 

 then, his discomfiture when the perfectly c:rrect answer, in 

 equally correct English, wasj hurled immediately full in his 

 face — a reply that silenced him for the rest of the day, and 

 njt all the wonders of the enchanted garden could bring him 

 again into tune : 



" At ten o'clock to morrow morning, sir." 



Upon our return to the shore we went on board and made 

 preparations for departure. The Doctor had contracted with 

 the genial captain of a Down-East schooner for a passage to 

 St. Thomas (he subsequently left captain and crew in a tooth- 

 less condition), and I entered into negotiation with the owner 

 of a crazy sloop for passage to an adjacent island. 



Along the entire group of the Caribbee Isles, sweeping their 

 western shores, flows a strange, mysterious current. Not sub- 

 ject, apparently, to the laws that govern the winds and tides 

 of this region, it for years puzzled and baffled the ablest navi- 

 gators and oldest sailors. Among the northernmost of 

 these islands large ships were often sunk, carried by the force 

 of this unseen and unsuspected stream upon sunken reefs or 

 barren rocks. Even so long ago as when Columbus was 

 making his voyages, we have on record that he was detained 

 by this very current among these same islands. 



It was not known until a comparatively recent period that 

 it was the overflow of a mighty river, no less than the great 

 Orinoco, that caused all this disturbance of waters, and that, 

 dependent upon its different stages, was the force of this river 

 through the sea. Though my first experience with this cur- 

 rent was in January, when the Orinoco was at its lowest and 

 the consequent marine flowhtjits weakest stage, Iyethad suffi- 

 cient proof of its strength to understand how it was that ves- 

 sels of all sizes were sometimes' many days in making ports 

 but few miles apart. 



We left the port of St. Pierre, Martinique, for that of 

 Roseau, Dominica, the distance being less than thirty-five 

 miles and the channel separating the islands but twenty in 

 width. Late in the afternoon we hoisted sail, taking a fair 

 land breeze fron the mountains and getting a fresh blow from 

 the trade winds drawing through the channel, and at mid- 

 night were close under the southern point of Dominica, with 

 a fair prospect when I went below of landing early in the 

 morning. 



The captain was a good fellow ; he had given up to me, as 

 the only white man on board the sloop, the only berth the 

 oabin afforded. Into that I crawled, with a lurking fear of 

 centipedes and scorp'.ons, and fell asleep. Soon the wheezy 

 pumps awoke me, and a stream of water tric k l in g through 

 the uncaulked deck-planks gave sweet assurance that the 

 water in the hold was being abstracted. As this process was 

 repeated every half hour my sleep was not so sound that I did 

 not visit the deck frequently, and at each succeeding visit 

 note with alarm that the laud grew dimmer and more dim. 

 Daylight revealed that we were much further away from 

 shore than at midnight, surely drifting to the northwest with 

 sail napping idly and rudder useless. 



The sun is late in showing himself, for he has to climb well 

 up he h'-avens ere he can look over the crest of the moun- 

 tain ridge that shows in the distance cool and misty. But as 

 day advances and the hour of noon arrives, the cool hours of 

 morning are more than compensated for by the intensity of 

 the heat radiated from the glassy sea, a heat that makes itself 

 felt and a glare that causes every one on board to seek earn- 

 estly a shady spot. 



And this is the " tropic sea," on which we are drifting ; 

 the sea so often sung by the poet, the sea we have often con- 

 templated in our fanciful dreaming in more northern climes. 

 Like many an object of the poet's adoration, it is far pleas- 

 anter to look upon through his eyes than through visual 

 organs of your own. Though the suu and sea make it pain- 

 ful to look abroad, theie is noihing offensively new and glar- 

 ing about the little sloop that wearies the eye with bright 



colors. The prevailing color, in fact, is that of the wood of 

 which it was built, the native wood of the island. The knees 

 are of the natural twist and bend of the native trees ; the deck 

 planking and sheathing arc likewise of the native wood ; the 

 mast, the boom and the bowsprit are of the native woods of 

 the island; and captain and crew are, doubtless, also fresh 

 from the woods — natives fresh from the native woods— of 

 Dominica. There are more than twenty people of color 

 lounging in various attitudes about the deck. They seem 

 wholly indifferent to the fact that the vessel is drifting with 

 them away from the island, and when I suggest to the captain 

 that he utilize this material at the oars there is a general howl 

 of indignation. The captain also gazes at me like one who 

 has heard information of a character novel and startling, and 

 informs me that what I propose is not only useless, but im- 

 possible. 



Struggle against the current of the mighty Orinoco ! At- 

 tempt to baffle the wiles of a power unseen, that always had 

 acted in just such a manner and had carried him over the 

 same course every voyage he had made! It would be pre- 

 posterous. At night, the land breeze would come down from 

 the mountains and he would claw inshore without any trouble 

 whatever. 



Late in the afternoon, however, we descried a speck danc- 

 ing on the waves, which speck was, of course, a boat ; and in 

 that boat, when it reached us, I engaged passage for the shore, 

 my unhappy companions drifting about until the next after- 

 noon, sometimes in sight, sometimes lost to view for a long 

 time. As we neared shore I had time to examine the charac- 

 ter of the^scenery of the western coast, as one object after 

 another was unfolded, and the mass of green and blue re- 

 solved itself into wooded hills, narrow valleys and misty 

 mountain tops that reached the clouds. A planter's house 

 gleamed white in a valley ; a pebbly beach stretched between 

 high bluffs, with a grove of cocoa palms half hiding a village 

 of rude cabins along its border. 



I was approaching an island of historic interest and scenic 

 beauty, of which the events of one and the elements of the 

 other are little known to the world at large, It is the first 

 island upon which Columbus landed on his second voyage. 

 Having been first seen on Sunday, it was called by him Do- 

 minica, and this event dates from the 3d of November, 1493. 

 Blest isle of the Sabbath Day ! Many changes hast thou known 

 since the great Navigator first saw thy blue mountains and 

 landed upon thy fragrant strand. 



Does it not read like a fairy tale, this second voyage of 

 Columbus ? With three ships and fourteen caravels, contain- 

 ing ,1,600 persons, he set sail from Cadiz, touched at the 

 Canary Isles, and then shaped his course for the islands of the 

 Caribs— of whose prowess and fierce nature he had heard many 

 stories from the mild people of Hispaniola. "At the dawn 

 of day, Nov. 3, a lofty island was descried to the west, to 

 which he gave the name of Dominica, from having discovered 

 it on Sunday. As the ships moved gently onward, other 

 islands roso to sight, one after another, covered with forests 

 and enlivened by flights of parrots and other tropical birds, 

 while the whole air was sweetened by the fragrance of the 

 breezes which passed over them. They were a part of that 

 beautiful cluster of islands called the Lesser Antilles, which 

 sweep almost in a semi-circle from the eastern end of Porto 

 Rico io the coast of Paria, on the Southern Continent, form- 

 ing a kind of barrier between the main ocean and the Carib- 

 bean Sea." 



Dominica is but thirty miles in length by eleven in breadth, 

 yet presents a greater surface and more obstacles to travel to 

 the square mile than any island of similar size in the West 

 Indies. Well did Columbus illustrate its crumpled and uneven 

 surface when, in answer to his Queen's inquiry to its appear- 

 ance, he crushed a sheet of paper in his hand and threw it 

 upon the table. 



In no other way could he better convey an idea of the fur- 

 rowed hills and mountains, deeply cut and rent into ravines 

 and hollowed into valleys. 



"To my mind," says Anthony Trollope, " Dominica, as 

 seen from the sea, is by far the most picturesque of all these 

 islands, Indeed, it would be hard to beat it either in color or 

 grouping. It fills one with an ardent desire to be off and 

 rambling among these mountains— as if one could ramble 

 through such wild bush country, or ramble at all with the 

 thermometer at 85 deg. But when one has only to think 

 of such things, without any idea of doing them, neither the 

 bushes nor the thermometer are considered." In this, as in 

 all his sketches, Mr. Trollope is right so far as he goes ; but he 

 does not go iac enough. "Pilled with an ardent desire," he 

 should have given those woods and mountains the months of 

 camp life that I did; then would the world be richer in 

 pictures of forest life and mountain scenery that my poor pen 

 so feebly tries to portray. 



And of Roseau, the principal town in which I land, the 

 same author speaks disparagingly. " It is impossible to con- 

 ceive a more distressing sight. Every house is in a state of 

 decadence. There are no shops that can properly be called 

 so; the people wander about chattering, idle and listless. 

 The streets are covered with rank grass." 



AJasl poor Anthony Trollope. Alas: poor Roseau. Didst 

 thou not consider, oh, Anthony, the many times this poor 

 town bus been sacked and burned ? that it has passed from 

 French to English; from English to French; and just as it 

 began to recover from the evil rule of war it was again pros- 

 trated by the flood of blacks let loose by the emancipation ? 

 Didst thou think to describe the features of a place in an hour's 

 Btay? 



The island has, unfortunately, few white residents, and, to 

 many, this lovely isle is fast approaching Uayti in the black- 

 ness of its population ; but oh, Anthony, if you had hut met 

 some of those few white men ! 



In the language of your western cousin, Anthony, they are. 

 white. Had you but tarried among them but a little while 

 you would have reversed your verdict upon the people. The 

 people of a place, Anthony, are not represented truly by the 

 scum that settles in the market-place and wanders about the 

 streets. Had you strayed into one of those unprepossessing 

 Shops you would have found it crowded with the wares of 

 England, "Old England," of which you are proud to be called 

 a son, as am I to be known as one of its grandchildren. 



Those white people, those people so few in number that it 

 almost makes the heart bleed to think of it, they and their 

 virtues shine forth from the cloud that envelops them like a 

 light in a dark place. Did they not take you, as they did mo, 

 by the hand, and did they not say to you as they said to me, 

 " Come to my house and make it your home ?" If they did 

 not, it was only because you didn't give them time to do so. 



A WEST INDIA TOWN. 



At five o'clock the gun in the fort sets off the bell 

 in the cathedral spire. It is an hour before daylight, 

 good, and even at six the mists of the valleys cover all, 

 even to the mountain-tops. The sun climbs steadily, 

 though it is eight o'clock before he has shown his face 

 to Roseau, and darts over the mountain tops to windward his 

 scorching rays. It is interesting to watch the changes that 

 come over the mountain sides and valleys as the sun dissi- 

 pates the morning mists. The Lake Mountain, 4,000 feet in 

 height, towers black against the sky ; five miles it is from 

 town, yet seems so close as to overshadow it. Its head is 

 veiled more than half the time in mist. Stretching away 

 north and south is a long hue of hills, au isolated peak jutting 

 up at intervals. Their summits are blue and purple in the 

 distance. Within this hue is a cordon of hills, with valleys 

 deep and dark behind, half encircling the town. These hills 

 ai e broken and ragged, seamed and furrowed and scarred, yet 

 are covered with a vegetation luxuriant, of every shade of 

 green ; purple of mango and cacao ; golden of cane and lime, 

 orange and citron. Palms oiown their ridges, cultivated 

 grounds infrequently gleam golden brown on their slopes, 

 and dense clouds come pouring over their crests from the 

 Atlantic. North and south this bulwark of hills ends in huge 

 cliffs plunged into the sea. Roseau is seated at the mouth of 

 a valley formed by a river. From the centre of this valley is 

 shot up a hill— a mountain it is called here— Morne Bruce. 



From its smoothly-turfed crown the view ot town and sea 

 is superb, especially at sunset, when the sun sinks beyond 

 the Caribbean Sea, and the cool evening breeze plays through 

 the trees, La Morne becomes an attractive spot. From it we 

 look upon the town ; many palm trees, few houses, a rushing, 

 roaring river that meets the sea in a surf line like a northern 

 snowdrift; a picturesque fort, the jail, ins Government 

 House, and the Catholic Cathedral— a building of stone, with 

 arched windows and doorways, short, though shapely spire, 

 with a palm tall and slender, a priceless gem, to lend grace 

 and beauty ; westward, beyond the shore line, the Caribbean 

 Sea, its bosom, which glowed so fierily in the sunlight, now 

 cool and inviting in its stillness. 



Looking eastward one can see far into the Roseau Valley, 

 to the wall of mountains from which dashes out a great water- 

 fall, dwindled to a mere silver thread in the distance. The 

 Roseau River emerges into a plain beneath, a valley filled 

 with cane, containing in its centre aplauter's house and build- 

 ings, palm-surrounded, and the river— dashing over its 

 rocky bed with a roar that reaches our ears even at this height 

 of several hundred feet— runs at the foot of a high white 

 cliff across another plantation into the sea, peaceful enough 

 at the end. The streets of Roseau are straight, paved with 

 rough stone, and they never eolio lo the sound of wheel?. 

 They cross at right angles and dwindle clown to three bridle- 

 paths leading out of the town, one north and one south, along 

 the coast, and one, narrow and tortuous, over the mountains to 

 the eastward. Most of the houses are one-storied boxes of 

 wood, with bonnet roots, 1G by 20 feet ; many in a state of 

 decay, with tattered sides, bald spaces without shingles, and 

 dragging doors and shutters. Every street, however, is highly 

 picturesque with this rough architecture, [and cocoa palms 

 lining and terminating the vistas. The town is green with 

 fruit trees, and over broken roofs andgarden wallsof roughest 

 masonry hang many strange fruits. Conspicuous are the 

 mango, orange, lime, pawpaw, plantain, banana and tamarind. 

 Over all tower the cocoa palms, their long leaves quiveringj 

 their dense clusters of gold-green nuts drooping with their 

 weight. 



From the mountains, from the "Sweet River," comes the 

 purest of water, led in pipes through all the streets, and gush- 

 ing out. in never-ceasing flow from the sea wall on the shore. 

 The market, near the south-end of the town, a small square 

 surrounded by stores, is the centre of attraction on Saturdays, 

 when it is densely packed with country people, black and 

 yellow, who come, some of them, from points a dozen miles 

 distant, each with his bunch of plantains, ayam or Iray of 

 bread- fruit. All are chattering, so that there is a very babel 

 of sounds. Little stalls, temporarily erected, contain nost 

 villainous salt fish for sale, ancient and vile smelling, and 

 every few feet is a table, presided over by a conleuted wench, 

 who has for sale cakes andsweetmeats of her own manufacture. 



Near the market is the fort, a low stone structure, pierced 

 with loopholes, commanding from its high bluff toe road- 

 stead, in which, sive the trading vejsels and the weekly 



