The cruise of the Scythian in the West Indies

UC-NRLF

jt

^^ -^m

i

J

3

1

; ' ' 'rife

1 m

' 1

Jtr:^?!?*

■

■

^H

■

1

^1

1

1

1

THE LIBRARY

OF

THE UNIVERSITY

OF CALIFORNIA

PRESENTED BY

PROF. CHARLES A. KOFOID AND

MRS. PRUDENCE W. KOFOID

THE CRUISE OF

^E SCYTHIAN

IN THE WEST INDIES.

BY

SUSAN DE FOREST DAY.

FULLY ILLUSTRATED.

F. TENNYSON NEELY,

PUBLISHER.
LONDON. NEW YORK. CHICAGO.

Copyright, 18W,

by

F. TsKNTsoN Neelv

in

United States

and
Great Britain.

▲U Bighta Resenred.

TO MY TRUSTED FRIEND

WHO HAS BEEN MY COMRADE IN MANY MILES OF TRAVEL,

MY COMPANION IN MANY HOURS OF PEACE.

TO MY STAUNCH AND LOYAL

SCYTHIAN,

WHO HAS GIVEN ME HEALTH, HOME AND HAPPINESS,
I DEDICATE THIS LITTLE BOOK.

Digitized by the Internet Archive

in 2008 with funding from

Microsoft Corporation

http://www.archive.org/details/cruiseofscythianOOdaysrich

CONTENTS,

CHAPTER I. P^GE

The Voyage 7

CHAPTER II.
St. Thomas 28

CHAPTER III.
Santa Cniz 52

CHAPTER IV.

Saba 73

CHAPTER V.
St. Kitts 85

CHAPTER VI.
Dominica 107

CHAPTER Vn.
Guadeloupe 133

CHAPTER VIII.
St. Lucia 158

CHAPTER IX.
Barbadoes • 186

CHAPTER X.
Nevis 214

CHAPTER XI.
Santo Domingo 244

CHAPTER XII.
Jamaica — And Home 273

ILLUSTRATIONS.

PAGE

"Off Hatteras" Frmtispiece.

Sitting-Room 12a

Dining-Room 16a

Bedroom 20a

*' The town looks delightfully quaint and foreign " 34a

" King's Road is lined from beginning to end with Royal palms " 56a

" It is sugar everywhere — the grown people are cutting it in the

fields " 60a

" Covered by all kinds of tropical vegetation " 70a

" If such a mass of rocks can be called a beach " 70b

" Seated on the shoulder of an immensely tall negro " 76a

** Looking down the ravine we see the wide blue water far be-
neath " 76b

" The town lies nestling in the bosom of the great green mount-
ains " 78a

** We have climbed at last to Bottom " 78b

" Square and white with red-tiled roofs " 80a

" From the roadstead where we lie St. Kitts is a thing of beauty " 86a

"The land slopes in graceful curves from the sea to the mount-
ains " 86b

" In an hour we seem as though transported to Darkest Africa" 104a

iLLtSTRATlONS.

PAGE

" Roseau is a nice little town lying on the open roadstead " 130a

"Along the valley of the Roseau River ** 120b

"The harbor of Pointe 4 Pitre " 133a

" Pointe S. Pitre has broad streets " 132b

' ' We round the point of the Island and reach smooth water ". . . 144a

" The beauty of the land-locked harbor " 158a

"There is a continuous stream of these women " ■ •. • • 158b

"White houses almost hidden in a wreath of foliage "... .... 168a

"The street opens into a large public square called Trafalgar ". 192a

" The houses are the picture of neatness " 192b

" The church in which Nelson was married " 234a

"We seat them fo be photographed with the school mistress in

the back" 234b

"The old Spanish fortress hoar and yellow with age " 244a

" Up the shore are the ruins of the palace built by Columbus's

son, Diego " 244b

"Frowning down on sea and shore " 246a

" We make our way through the gateway " 246b

"An old sun dial which has a sad and dreary look " 248a

" An old Spanish convent " 248b

" He is altogether a rather imposing personage " 250a

" The Cathedral is an imposing old structure " 258a

"On the pedestal inscribing to Columbus all manner of eulogies

is the figure of a Carib queen " 258b

THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN
IN THE WEST INDIES.

CHAPTER I.

THE VOYAGE.

One cold afternoon in January, 1897, found
us on board the Scythian, which was lying at
anchor off Tompkinsville, ready to start for the
West Indies.

We consisted of myself (pardon the egotism,
but as captain I must put myself first) and
another woman, my brother-in-law and another
man, making a party of four; that ideal num-
ber where traveling is concerned.

We knew each other well, and liked each
other better, not even fearing the disillusions
to which yachting parties are unfortunately
heir.

The party was completed by the two mas-
cots, bright, white-haired, brown-eyed bull

8 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

terriers, Trilby and her son, Starboard, who
were both capital sea dogs, and well up in
life on shipboard.

We were going to the West Indies, for that
best of all reasons, simply because we wanted
to. We longed to see the palm trees and sugar
cane, to eat the luscious fruits and to float over
summer seas, basking in the warm tropical sun,
while the trade wind softly fanned our brows.

St. Thomas was to be our first port, as we
wished to taste to the full that abrupt change
from the white North to the green South,
which is so exactly like the shifting of scenes
in a theater.

We realized that in our little drama (we
knew not yet if it would prove a tragedy or a
comedy) there would be between the scenes a
long entr'acte of six days, and fifteen hundred
miles of seething ocean.

This entr'acte we regarded according to the
feelings vouchsafed to us individually by a kind
Providence when at sea, one looked forward to
it with resignation, another with apprehension,
and others with the joy of the true lover of the
ocean, who is happiest when on the good salt

IN THE WEST INDIES. 9

sea, with the wild winds lashing the waves into
great, foam -flecked hills, while the salt spray
stings the face like tiny whips.

This was to be our first trip to the tropics,
but our stanch little craft was no such novice.
She knew those waters well, but that was be-
fore she was a *'lady." Then she was one of
**the little cargo boats that's got to load or
die," with a coat of rusty black on her sides,
overworked and uncared for.

Many a time she had plied between those
islands, with her hold piled full of oranges and
bananas, or had toiled up and down the coast,
regardless of wind and weather, dragged back
by huge coal barges thrice her size. But she
had been always stanch and seaworthy, in fair
weather or foul, and loyal as a faithful old bull-
dog. Now she was having her reward, for she
had experienced a complete change of heart..

In place of her deep hold, there were now
delightful little rooms, as dainty as women's
fingers could make them, with white paint,
pretty cretonnes, fireplaces, armchairs, pic-
tures, books and rugs.

Outside she was glistening white, and her

10 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

decks clean and polished, while most surpris-
ing of all, at her mainmast floated the blue
burgee, white starred and red barred, that
showed she had the honor of being a quasi-
member of that best of all good clubs, the New
York Yacht Club.

But she still kejpt her old towing bitts, her
bow was blunt and full, and the look of a bull-
dog had not left her; for her owner was proud
of her record in her seamy days, and she was
to prove herself just as stanch and true in her
fine feathers as in the old days of her rusty
black coat.

Of this we feel sure as we stand on her deck
in a blinding snowstorm, waving oar adieux to
a party of friends, who had come down in a tug
to lunch with us and bid us godspeed.

They had expected to see us off, but the
parting had been so pleasant, and prolonged so
late, that we decided not to put to sea until the
next day. So we saw them off instead, watch-
ing them disappear into the murky atmosphere
of the winter twilight, when we went below to
hug the bright fire in the sitting room and dis-
cuss our plans. This snowstorm was a real

IN THE WEST INDIES. 11

trial to us. In reading of the West Indies, we
had all remarked that the writers invariably
left New York in a "blinding snowstorm," in
order, as we censoriously supposed, to make
more effective the description of their transit
to a warmer clime.

We had intended to show our originality in
choosing a lovely warm day for our departure,
and now, this inevitable storm had overtaken
us, leveling us down to the common herd of
tropic-seeking travelers.

Should we start in the traditional snow-
storm, and brave the fury of the northeast
gale, instead of lying tamely at anchor waiting
for smoother and less conventional weather?

There were many pros, and perhaps more
cons. But when the captain observes that she
cannot see the use of having a good sea boat if
we do not go to sea, the pros carry the day,
and we decide to start on the morrow, snow or
shine.

The next morning the snow is still with us,
and the northeast wind is still blowing a raging
blast. But we are not to be turned from our
purpose, and by ten o'clock Scythian's anchor

12 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

is up, the screw is churning the water under
her stern into a lather, and pushing her bow
through the leaden water down the Swash
Channel, past Komer's Shoal, where the sea is
breaking heavily, out to the open ocean.
There the wind is blowing with a vengeance.
As we pass Sandy Hook Lightship we see her
rolling heavily, while we are none too steady
ourselves.

This is mere child's play compared to what
we get as we turn down the Jersey coast, for
the sea is rising every hour. As w^ watch
Navesink Lighthouse slipping down below the
horizon, behind that waste of greeny -gray,
white-capped water, it crosses the captain's
mind that the North Atlantic in January, with
a northeast gale blowing, is not necessarily the
most comfortable place in the world to be in,
even if one does own a good sea boat.

The decks are coated with ice, the spray is
flying in every direction, giving our smokestack
a fine sheath of salt, and the wind whistling
through the rigging lends to each line and spar
its own particular shriek.

We passed Hatteras with a heavy sea run-

IN THE WEST INDIES- 13

ning; the rollers, breaking on Diamond Shoal,
threw their foam many feet into the air.

We sat in the stern of the boat watching the
great following waves, each seeming higher
than her mast, and coming so fast that we felt
sure each one must swallow us up. But our
little boat knew her business too well; she
would give a big lift into the air, wriggle her-
self with a curious little motion, come down
triumphantly, and we would see the great
watery mountain rolling on ahead, leaving us
in dryness and safety.

We were congratulating ourselves that the
worst w^as over with the passing of the far-
famed Hatteras, but that was a delusion on our
part, for we had still the Gulf Stream to cope
with.

Personally I have always had the most in-
tense respect for the Gulf Stream, but never
before had I been given such a realizing sense
of its power to torment poor mortals who trust
themselves on its tepid bosom.

As soon as we were fairly in the current, the
wind, which had until now been northeast,
backed into the northwest, and blowing dead

14 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

across the stream soon kicked up as nasty a
cross sea as one could ever hope to see even in
that river of the ocean.

The effect on our party was quite instanta-
neous; some thought that they would lie down
for a little while, as they felt slightly **indi-
gested" from eating a rich pudding the day
before.

This indigestion was a complaint from which
my guests frequently suffered, and, strangely
enough, invariably on the roughest days.

Seasickness was never mentioned; no one
was ever ill, only slightly **indigesfced," a harm-
less little sacrifice of truth on the altar of
pride.

In this turbulent sea every inanimate object
found a voice, and rattled, banged or squeaked
vociferously. Articles of all kinds not firmly
lashed held high carnival in the middle of the
floor, and the captain was edified to see her
Bible playing tag most amicably with a pack of
cards, each one **it" at the same time, and
chasing each other up and down the room with
every lurch of the boat.

Eating was performed under difficulties;

IN THE WEST INDIES. 16

soup was given up as impracticable, and table
manners deteriorated to their primitive form of
getting one's food to one's lips as surely and as
quickly as possible, regardless of looks.

The dogs were most amusing to those of us
who were there to see them. Trilby took it all
most philosophically, like a true woman. See-
ing that there was nothing for her to do, she
retired to the most comfortable armchair, there
to await better days, doing credit to her sex.
Starboard was panic-stricken, and for some
reason, never to be explained, chose the cap-
tain's bathtub as the place most calculated to
give him safety and comfort. It must have been
very cold comfort, for there he would lie, hour
after hour, even if the porcelain tub was full of
cold salt water, with his eyes fixed firmly as if
in supplication on one corner of the ceiling.
Perhaps he expected each moment to be his
last, and considered a bathtub the most fitting
place of preparation for a watery grave. Star-
board never quite recovered the mental equilib-
rium he lost in the Gulf Stream, and through-
out the trip at any unusual sound we would
see a white tail disappearing down the cap-

16 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

tain's companionway, hear a little click as the
bathroom door closed behind him, and would
know that his poor heart had found a panacea
for all its woes.

However, the Gulf Stream has its limits,
although I have found it in me to wonder if
they would ever be reached, and as soon as we
had left it well behind our indigestions vanished
with the subsiding waves, and our drooping
spirits rose, for now at last we could expect
good weather.

Father Neptune must have had some special
grudge against us, for during the entire trip so
far he had sent us almost every variety of
weather except good weather. We had gales
from every quarter and of varying magnitude
—high gales, moderate gales and fresh winds;
accompanied by head seas, cross seas and fol-
lowing seas, giving our Scythian exercise for
6very muscle.

To be sure we had some respites when the
sun came out, and the wind went in for a rest,
preparatory to fresh exertions. Then the dogs
would lie basking in the sun. Starboard in par-
ticular strutting up and down the quarter-deck

m THE WEST INDIES. 1^

as though the word "bathtub" were not known
in his vocabulary. We would bask, too,
wrapped in warm rugs and ensconced in
comfortable seachairs.

We would discuss troubles past and pleasures
to come. We would recall how gallantly Scyth-
ian had borne herself during all those trying
times, how she had made her nine knots almost
every hour in head winds and head seas; how
she had kept us dry as a bone in spite of the
great waves that tried to prevail against her,
never once giving us a glimpse of green water,
although the spray often flew high over her
bow. We decided that, although she might
not be a thing of beauty lying at anchor among
her aristocratic sisters, in a gale off Hatteras
her full blunt bow and high freeboard were a
distinct comfort; and we always ended by
agreeing that life on her deck was better worth
living than anywhere else in the world.

The rough weather had been an excuse on
the part of my masculine friends for a most
criminal disregard of their personal appear-
ances. Shaving had completely gone out of
fashion, and ugly gray flannel shirts had come

18 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

in. But when the captain found that cravats
were going to keep company with the discarded
razors, she felt it was time to exercise her au-
thority. Her words were few, but very much
to the point, and as any one disobeying the
captain is liable to be put in irons as a muti-
neer, better things were promised for the mor-
row. But alas! when to-morrow had become
to-day, no one thought of personal appearance,
for all attention was given to keeping on our
feet.

We were in the throes of another gale. This
time it was a **smoky sou'wester," which soon
piled up such a nasty cross sea, that when at
last we had to lay our little craft to, it was a
question how to keep her head to the seas.
They were coming in every direction, striking
now her beam, now her stern, and now her
bow. We seemed in the midst of a huge tide
rip, which, according to my skipper, was for
all the world like a hurricane sea. The waves
would rise straight in the air as if they would
never stop, and then as suddenly drop down
again in the same place.

There we lay hobbling like a tiny piece of

IN THE WEST INDIES. 19

cork in that dreadful sea for twenty-three hours
— hours upon which we none of us look back
with any degree of pleasure. During these
hours the captain was distinctly unhappy —
mentally, not physically, be it understood.

She was learning one of her first lessons as to
the difference between deep-sea yachting and
travel in an ocean ** liner." She had been wont
to find great amusement in a big roll, followed
by a deafening crash ; but the joke perceptibly
diminished when it was her own china which
caused the crash. She found it easier to kiss
the rod when it smashed the Cunard Com-
pany's crockery than when it demolishes her
own household gods.

At last, however, the sea spent itself and
gradually died down, so that we were able to
continue on our course, first at half and before
long at full speed.

Slow as our progress southward had been
signs were not wanting to show that we were
surely reaching lower latitudes.

First of all, we women found ourselves un-
comfortably warm one afternoon, and went be-
low to reappear dressed in thin cotton shirt

20 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

wai its, in which we experienced that delightful
feeling of superiority which always comes of
wearing summer gowns when ordinary stay-at-
home mortals are clad in winter furs.

Soon the sun grew almost too warm, and the
dark blue awnings were brought out and bent
on to their stanchions, making a delightful
shade on the broad white deck. Here we
frittered away many hours, doing nothing more
energetic than to watch the porpoises play in
the smother round the bow, or the flying fish
flash past us like gleams of glittering silver.
The sea had grown warmly, intensely blue.

It is so blue that the prosaic member of our
party said it seemed as if a big bag of bluing
had been dissolved in it.

^ He was at once frowned into silence, for the
<rest of us had become mildly sentimental by
reason of the sudden transition to a warm cli-
mate, and such a simile smacked too much of
the commonplace to please our maudlin fancies.

Che sky as well as the sea had grown deeply
blue, and was thickly fleeced with gleaming
white clouds, shading off" into heavy dark grays
as if in each lurked a baby thunderstorm.

IN THE WEST INDIES. 21

One never-to-be-forgotten morning there
came stealing toward ns from the northeast a
most delicious little breeze, rippling the water
into tiny waves and cooling the overheated air.

It was the trade wind itself, seeming by its
soft advances to welcome us to the latitude
where it reigns supreme.

We could hardly believe it possible, after our
recent experiences, that anything so gentle
could come out of the northeast, and, as we
were to learn, our skepticism was not w^ithout
foundation. But although we were to suffer
much from these same trade winds when
robbed of their surprising gentleness, our first
meeting with them will serve to atone for many
a hard blow they were to inflict on us in the
days to come. Although they had absolutely
no effect on our speed, they seemed in some
way to be wafting us farther south, until one
morning the dogs sniffed the air with unusual
interest, holding their noses well up, and tak-
ing in whiffs as of some delicious perfume.

We did likewise, but could discover nothing
in any degree intoxicating, when suddenly our
attention was attracted by a strange cloud a

22 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

little off our port bow, that had an almost
material look. It did not melt, ana form, and
dissolve again into lovely shapes as its brother
clouds were never tired of doing; but kept its
own noble outlines. As we stood watching it
the sailing master came forward with a broad
grin on his face, and pointing to our supposed
cloud, said:

*'Miss Day, Porto Rico lies directly
ahead."

We were bound for the Mona Passage, and
had made our land fall twenty miles too far to
the eastward, so the first we saw of the is land
was the bold northern shore, with its moun-
tains looming grandly through the mists which
wreathed their summits.

We were most interested in Porto Rico then,
because it was Spanish; our interest would
have increased a hundredfold had we known
how soon it was to be American, and we would
have watched it with even greater curiosity as
we ran along its shore to the westward.

The mountain sides, from being a misty gray
in the distance, take on a tinge of purple which
gradually changes to the loveliest, tenderest

IN THE WEST INDIES. 23

green, as we draw near — the exquisite green of
the sugar-cane.

Soon we make out the little villages of white
houses among their groves of palms and man-
goes, drowsing in the glorious noontide sun,
turning all it touches into gold. And now we
are first struck b}^ a peculiar atmospheric
effect that we see everywhere in the Caribbean
Sea. Although each moment we are nearer to
those brilliant shores, they never seem near.
We see them distinctly, but they never lose
that evasive charm of distance-, the mountains
are ethereal and, as it were, spiritualized.
They seem to float on the purple water as
though made of the most exquisite iridescent
Venetian glass; and the constantly changing
lights and shades impart an almost unearthly
beauty to the already lovely scene.

It is so lovely that we use all our adjectives
in the superlative, like the veriest school-chil-
dren, and then, realizing the absurdity of trying
to express such coloring in any words, we fall
into silence— that truest sign of appreciation.

That afternoon's run through Mona Passage
will be long remembered — ^with the emerald

24 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

shores of Porto Rico on our left and the lofty
mountains of Santo Domingo just visible on our
right, many miles away.

The sea was at last calm, our good ship
steady, and as we watch the sun go down in a
blaze of glory we feel that we have reached in
truth the "land where it is always afternoon."
So we went to our beds, all of us happier in
mind, and some of us in body, than we had been
in many a long day.

Alas! and alack! all our congratulations
were premature! No sooner had we rounded
the southwestern point of the island and turned
eastward into the Caribbean Sea, than the gen-
tle trade wind freshened until it reached the
velocity which in the Atlantic would have been
called a gale; that mild blue sea rose up in its
might and rolled us around most unmercifully ;
the creakings, hangings and groans which we
had thought hushed forever lifted up their
voices anew in wild protest, and we passed as
uncomfortable a night as any we had been
through during the whole trip. But the worst
of it was that we felt so aggrieved and so
foolish.

IN THE WEST INDIES. 25

We had waxed almost, nay quite, poetic over
the balmy zephyr that was now whistling and
shrieking in our deafened ears ; our souls had
been lifted up by the soft beauty of those sum-
mer seas whose angry white-capped waves
were breaking into clouds of foam over our bow,
and when we met each other the next morning
in a clinging, cloying fog which would have
done credit to the Maine coast in August, we
were unfit for publication.

Was this yellowish waste of waters the blue
Caribbean Sea? and could that ugly, murky
commonplace coast line on our left be our
lovely sun-kissed Porto Rico? Alas! the first
of our many little illusions concerning tropical
weather was being dispelled so rapidly that it
left a distinct blank in our minds.

The fog burned off enough, however, to show
us Crab Island, low and sparsely wooded, on
our port side, and directly ahead the goal of all
our journeyings, the Island of St. Thomas,
rising out of the sea with such clear cut lines
that it looks for all the world like a sugar loaf.

If that is St. Thomas', Sail Rock must soon
be in sight — ^that famous stone into which a

2tj THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

French man-of-war lired two broadsides one
misty morning a hundred years ago, mistaking
it for a buccaneer, under full sail, trying
to escape. We strain our eyes and at last
make out a pile which we are told is the fa-
mous rock. If this little tale be true, the Yan-
kee eyes of this century must be far better
than the French of the last, or else the ships
must have greatly changed in fashion, for
under no circumstances could any of us have
mistaken that triangular- looking rock for a ship
under sail, or for anything in the world but a
curiously shaped piece of stone.

Now, we are nearing the island and our jour-
ney's end; the lights and shadows are chasing
each other over the sunburned hills of St. Thom-
as, and presently the habor opens out before us.

The little town of Charlotte Amelia lies
directly opposite its mouth, with white, red-
roofed houses creeping up the three hills near
the water's edge. Back of the town the higher
mountains sweep their finely rounded sides up
ward in a semicircle, throwing two promonto-
ries, like long arms, out to the sea, to form the
almost land-locked harbor. It is a lovely sheet

IN THE WEST INDIES. 27

of water, a real haven, and not a **roadstead" —
that apology for a harbor which we are to find
elsewhere in the West Indies. Here, after eight
days of tossing and rolling, we soon cast anchor,
not far from the American consulate, where
the familiar Stars and Stripes seem to float a
welcome over the blue water to us on our safe
arrival to this foreign land.

38 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

CHAPTER II.

ST. THOMAS.

Without any real reason we at first find St.
Thomas a trifle disappointing.

The island is charming. We see along the
shore sago palms, cocoanut palms, tamarinds
and mangoes — trees whose very names trans-
port you to the equator. The town is delight-
fully quaint and foreign, and we feel that we
have every reason to be enthusiastic ; but, with
true human contrariness, we are not.

Perhaps we were tired after our various ma-
rine athletics, or a bit enervated by the hot noon
sun. Perhaps those bare, barren, rugged
mountains, whose counterparts we had seen
time and again in our own everyday America,
did not come up to the ideal we had formed of
the wealth and luxuriance of tropical vegetation
— an ideal almost unconsciously derived from
the old geographies of our childish days in
which the picture of a dense jungle, with

IN THE WEST INDIES. 29

serpents gracefully festooned from tree to tree
and a monkey in one corner, always was the
symbol of the torrid zone.

But our little disappointment was soon thrust
into a corner, and our attention taken up by
the myriad boats, painted every color and
rowed by black men of every shade, which
soon surround the Scythian. Of course no one
can come within speaking distance until the
doctor has passed us through quarantine.

He comes up the gangway and asks with a
courteous bow and in excellent English to see the
captain. I step forward and present myself to
him, and he says with another low bow that he is
honored to meet me, but that he must first speak
with the captain. When I tell him that I am
the captain he forgets his irreproachable man-
ners and favors me with a prolonged stare;
then, after a moment's pause, he asks me for
our bill of health. It is the captain's turn to
stare, for we never thought of having a bill
made out on leaving home.

When the captain tells him we have no such
thing on board, he looks grave, and says it is a
pity. He had heard some months ago that a

30 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

ship had been quarantined last summer in New
York for smallpox, and asks if the disease has
spread much.

We hasten to reassure him on this point, and
after a little more meditation he tells us that
he thinks it will be all right, and that we can
consider ourselves out of quarantine.

Then we have to reckon with the harbor
master. He had come out very grandly to
pilot us in, rowed by four men, his fiery red hair
well set off by a gorgeous uniform, and the
Danish flag at his stern.

We were so busy watching the shore that we
did not see him making for us, and the first
inkling we had of his presence was an angry
voice from below our stern shouting: **Stop,
stop! Don't you see my flag?" We did not
stop, although when we peered over the stern
we did see his flag. But it conveyed nothing
to us, and thinking he wanted a tow, threw him
a line and brought him with us up to our
anchorage.

It was not until he had stepped on the deck,
in a towering rage, and disclosed his identity,
that we discovered of what a dreadful breach

IN THE WEST INDIES. 31

of etiquette we had been guilty. He feared he
would miss the five dollars which would have
been his fee for piloting us in, and when we pre-
sented that sum to him he was quickly restored
to good humor.

Our sufferings at the hands of the negro boat-
men now began. About thirty of them took
up their stations in a cordon, surrounding the
boat, and there they stayed, chattering in their
unintelligible gibberish like so many monkeys
all night, and watching our every motion all
day.

It was really embarrassing. They would lie
in their boats, quietly sucking pieces of sugar
cane, evidently their only meal, until one of us
came on deck. Then they would stand up the
better to see, stare in utter silence for a time,
and every now and again go off into great
guffaws of laughter, throwing back their heads,
showing their superb white teeth, and rocking
themselves backward and forward in a perfect
ecstasy of joy. We try to make believe we
see the joke and laugh too in a sickly kind
of way, but the captain personally confesses to
several surreptitious trips below to ask of her

32 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

mirror if there was anything unusually amus-
ing in herself or her dress.

We look around the harbor at the vessels
collected there, for St. Thomas is quite a port
of refuge.

Among others is a big Russian man-of-war,
with a name we are sure would have been
unpronounceable even if we had been able to
read it. We found out later that the men were
worked in a way that would have killed any-
thing but a Russian.

Just then their boat races begun, and they
find the Scythian a convenient rounding
place, so we have a good chance to study the
men, as boatload after boatload rowed past.
They are muscular, thick set young fellows,
with stolid faces, straining every muscle and
bending to their oars, as the coxswain in the
stern bends his body, as if to jerk the boat for-
ward.

Surely if Peter the Great could have seen
these young sailors, he would have said of
them what he said of his soldiers, when some
visiting sovereign asked to see his fortifica-
tions. Pointing to the army standing before

IN THE WEST INDIES. 38

him, he answered: "There is my fortress, and
every man is a brick."

Toward the cool of the evening we go on
shore; we women dressed in our thinnest sum-
mer muslins, and the men unrecognizably beau-
tiful in white ducks and yachting caps.

Our launch is followed by a trailing line of
boatmen, eager to see our triumphal entry into
the town.

As we step on the stone wharf we find ap-
parently the entire negro population there to
welcome us, and as we move up the funny little
street, shaded here and there by drooping
palms, the crowd moves with us, courteous and
kindly, but most disconcerting. We grow so
rattled by the great interest we excite that our
ideas as to where we ar^ going take wings, and
we presently find ourselves strolling up the
chief street of the town, with one of our party
proudly and unconsciously carrying in each
hand a quart bottle of Apollinaris. He never
could tell exactly what his idea had been in
buying the bottles, or where he had made the
purchase, but there they were, and his life was
made miserable because of them.

34 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

The town is quaint and foreign, with its glary
streets and white houses. But there is no
green to be seen, and something seems to
have come over the whitewash of the houses,
for they look blotchy and more or less dilapi-
dated, as houses have a way of doing in south-
ern countries. About them seems to hang an
air of decayed gentility, as of those who have
seen very much better if less respectable days.

The streets are thronged with black people
of every varying shade, from a shiny jet to a
delicate cream, coming and going, laughing,
talking and joking, as though life were one
huge delight, and care and worry things un-
known. The absence of white faces is very
strange, but as there are only ten pure-blooded
Danes in the whole island, it is after all not to
be wondered at.

We amuse ourselves by watching the crowd,
and by being stared at by them in turn, but we
are always greeted with a courteous bow, and
sometimes with a few kindly words, which
quite counteract the stare. There was one ex-
ception. -A little black imp, noted chiefly for
the absence of his clothing, had the impudence

IN THE WEST INDIES. 36

to ask the captain, after looking at her critic-
ally, if she had ever known George Washington.

Of course the remark was beneath contempt,
but it was surprising how much amusement
the foolish question afforded her friends. He
of the Apollinaris, especially, was glad to have
the joke turned from his head to the captain's.
Finally a compact was made. He should never
allude to the father of our country if the cap-
tain would give a dinner at the hotel with
which to drink the Apollinaris, thus burying it
forever from our sights and minds.

We asked a friendly, respectful little black,
quite different from the other impertinent
wretch, to show us the best hotel in the place.

He proudly takes us to a fine, solid old build-
ing, on the main street, facing the little square.
It must have been an imposing old place in the
palmy days of the island, when St. Thomas
was so rich that the streets were said to have
been paved with Spanish doubloons. We none
of us knew exactly what Spanish doubloons
were, but the mere words sounded so grand
that the idea was most impressive.

In those days, when every nation was at war

36 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

with its neighbor, St. Thomas enjoyed the pop-
ularity of a neatral port. There French and
iSpanish, English and Dutch, planters and buc-
caneers, smugglers and men-of-war's men, for-
getful for the time of their differences, met to
squander their well-earned or ill-gotten gains.

Perhaps in this same hotel the famous old
pirates, Blackbeard and Bluebeard, St. Thomas'
patron saints, whose stately castles still stand
on the hill, may have dined on state occasions.
Here they may have celebrated the capture of
some particularly rich prize, whose crews had
walked the plank straight down to Davy Jones'
locker, and whose booty was now being brought
up to the town, to be sold to the highest bidder
for a fabulous price. This wicked old Black-
beard once held the whole American coast in
terror. He even went so far as to capture some
scions of Charleston's most aristocratic families
on their way to Europe. Being in need of food
and medicines he ran his forty-gun frigate
boldly into Charleston harbor, flying his black
flag proudly aloft, and holding the defenseless
town at his mercy. He then sent a delegation
of his choicest pirates to Governor Johnston,

IN THE WEST INDIES. 37

saying that if his necessities were not supplied
within forty -eight hours, the heads of all the
prisoners would be sent in to Charleston with
the compliments of the gallant buccaneers.
During these forty-eight hours the pirates
owned the town, and when they left their
boats were loaded deep with all the delicacies
of the season, for we all know Southern
hospitality.

But poor Blackboard overreached himself at
last, and one morning left his beautiful castle
facing the bay and sailed away never to return.
He put his head once too often in the lion's
mouth. While he was lurking round the Vir-
ginia coast, he was overtaken by two good
cruisers sent after him by Governor Spotswood.
After a desperate conflict, all his crew were
hanged, and his own head was placed as a fig-
urehead on the bowsprit of the larger boat. It
was carried into Jamestown harbor in triumph
with a celerity which he would have been the
first to admire. This was the end of the '*Last
of the Pirates," as the bloody old Englishman
was called, who had for so long been a thorn in
the side of our infant shipping. Of course, one

38 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

feels in duty bound to regard these '* Brethren of
the Coast" as most reprehensible and unworthy
persons. But perhaps none of us can quite
smother a sneaking feeling of admiration for
the pluck and dare-devil courage of the wicked
old gentlemen who carried everything before
them by sheer bluff, and by what in a better
cause would be called "Yankee grit."

It is almost sadly that we enter the hotel so
pathetic because of its bygone glories and
piratical memories. All pathos changes to con-
sternation at finding ourselves in a damp, non-
descript apartment, less like a hotel than any-
thing we could imagine, and unpleasantly sug-
gestive of our recent recollections of Black-
beard.

There was a buggy in one corner, and casks
of bay rum piled up in another. But our dusky
cicerone calls to us to *'go on up," so upward
we go, to reach a room, enormous, stone-
floored, and scantily furnished, yet clean, and
above all cool.

A waiter brings us out on a stone piazza, with
large arcades overlooking the square in front.
These arches are hung with white curtains, to

IN THE WEST INDIES. 39

be drawn when the sun strikes too hotly on the
tables, but thrown wide open now to let in the
sweet evening, breeze, fragrant with pungent
perfumes.

Here we sit at a small table, with a lovely-
view of the palm trees waving their snake-like
leaves against the amber sky, and with
glimpses now and again of the amethyst
colored water in the bay beyond.

They serve us a moderately good dinner,
while we dispose at last of our Apollinaris,
most temperately, wondering, meanwhile, at
the astonishing drinking capacity of some
officers from the Kussian man-of-war, who, are
seated at a table near us. They drink glass
after glass of champagne as though the foamy
wine were only water, and as we leave an order
is given to bring in six more quart bottles with-
out delay, as they are still thirsty.

A short walk brings us to the American con-
sulate, a well whitewashed building on the
main street. Here we receive the heartiest of
welcomes from our consul. Captain Stewart, and
his two daughters, that in one moment makes
us feel at home in this strange little town.

40 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

Captain Stewart is one of the most whole-
souled, honorable and upright of men, a fine
type of the old American sea captain. Any
recollection of St. Thomas brings back to us his
hearty hospitality and unlimited kindness.

His daughters take us into a large, airy
room, with curtains well drawn back to let in
whatever breeze is stirring. The board floor is
bare and polished, and the furniture is of cane
and wicker, for upholstery and carpets are but
convenient lurking-places for unpleasant in-
sects, little and big.

Our host soon moves to the balcony over-
looking the street, for it is intensely hot, and
pal^mleaf fans such as we use in our hottest sum-
mer weather are a comfort after our short walk
in the cool of the evening. Time runs quickly,
and through the sweet night air, full of strange
fragrance, the mellow voices of the negroes
singing the evening service in the Moravian
Church opposite, float up to us, and the bril-
liant white stars come out one by one to illu-
mine the purple heavens.

We are much interested to meet the captain
of the big American ship Sintram, which lies

IN THE WEST INDIES. 41

next to us in the harbor. She is leaking hope-
lessly after her battle with the same storm
which mauled the Scythian about so unmerci-
fully.

St. Thomas, which used to be a real hospital
for broken-down ships, is rapidly getting an
unsavory reputation by reason of the impolitic
and arbitrary conduct of the natives toward
those who put in there in distress.

The Sintram was loaded with coal, and al-
though coal was then selling at St. Thomas for
five or six dollars a ton, no dealer would offer
more than two and a half for the Sintram's
cargo. So the captain found it cheaper to tow
his cargo to Baltimore, at a cost of several
thousand dollars, than to part with it at such
a low price.

One of these coal dealers lives at present in
Blackboard's castle, and it is to be feared that,
although the old pirate was long since gathered
to his fathers, his mantle may have fallen upon
some of the present St. Thomases.

So trying have these abuses become that our
government wisely chose a man thoroughly
versed in seafaring matters, as is Captain

42 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

Stewart, to protect the interests of American
seamen against these human sharks.

Speaking of sharks, our friends took occasion
to warn us against the aquatic variety with
which these waters are filled. They especially
dwelt on the danger of letting our dogs by any
chance fall in the water, as the monsters had a
particular fondness for canines, and any slip
would mean a horrible death for our mascots.

After promising to give great care to our
pets, we make our way down to the landing.
There we find our poor Swedish launchman
surrounded by a swarm of black admirers,
watching his every movement, while he, poor
man, is a prey to the most intense embarrass-
ment. He vainly strikes match after match to
light the launch, and as one after the other
flickers and goes out, he is greeted with roars of
approval by the multitude, who consider this
exhibition as especially arranged for their
benefit. When in desperation he lights the
whole box, and the naphtha takes fire with a
big explosion, the enthusiasm is unbounded,
and we leave the landing amidst a storm of
applause.

IN THE WEST INDIES. 43

Our poor boatman is so covered with confu-
sion that we can see his crimson face even in
the starlight. Surely nowhere else can stars
be as white and as brilliant as they are here in
the tropics. They are little moons, so 'bright
that each one makes its own particular golden
track on the dark water, a track which always
reminds us of Jacob's ladder, axid seems to lead
up from this earth to those purple velvet skies
above. There must be angels ascending and
descending that ladder to-night, and among
them Trilby's guarding spirit, for she heard
the talk of the sharks, and woman-like, her
curiosity got the better of her. On reaching
the Scythian she makes a jump, to land, not on
the gangway, but right into those shark-in-
fested waters. A moment of horror ensues.
We recall the warning so lately given, and
see visions of that little white head being
fished out of the sea before our sight, sa7is
body, sans legs, sa7is even tail. A thrill of
gratitude runs through us as we see first Trilby's
forepaws, then her hind legs, and last but not
least, that wagging, affectionate, expressive tail,
rise slowly from the sea, all still firmly fast-

44 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

ened on, and untasted by the monsters of the
deep.

Some of us were inclined to be skeptical
after this in the matter of sharks, and to study
the matter hired the blackest of all our black
attendants, most appropriately named Snow-
ball, to fish for them. He has a hook which
might have been a small anchor, a line like a
hawser, and a piece of pork sufficiently evil-
smelling to attract every shark in the vicinity,
were there any within smelling distance.
Snowball fished and fished day after day, but
never a shark came to investigate that bacon,
and we came to the conclusion that sharks ex-
isted only in the imagination of the St.
Thomases.

The next day we need a new cabin boy, and
decide to tempt fate by taking one of the St.
Thomas boys in that capacity. Shortly our
steward appears with a youth in tow, looking
like one of Murillos pictures, with olive skin,
oval face, and glorious liquid eyes. He is
named Edwin, but we fall into the habit of
calling him St. Thomas, after his birthplace ;
a custom which frequently shocks our visitors

IN THE WEST INDIES- 45

during tho trip. They always look mildly
scandalized when we wonder "why St. Thomas
is so long bringing the lemonade," or "why St.
Thomas has not moved our chairs." He is
courtesy itself, and speaks excellent English in
a delicious soft voice, as do all the other
negroes. Curiously enough they speak no
Danish, although St. Thomas has been Danish
ever since Jorgen Iverson landed on the island,
and took possession of it in the name of Den-
mark, in 1672.

Unlike most of the other islands with which
England, France and Holland played battledore
and shuttlecock during the eighteenth century,
St. Thomas has only once changed hands. For
one year she was in the possession of England.
It is true that some years ago, when there was
one of our periodical demands for a coaling
station in the West Indies, the United States
had almost concluded the annexation of St.
Thomas, which seemed to meet with all our re-
quirements. The affair had gone so far that the
King of Denmark had taken an affectionate
farewell of his West Indian people. He was
probably quite as pleased to get rid of them as

46 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

they were anxious to be absorbed into the vor-
tex of our republic. But the treaty intention
was ignored by our congress, so the disap-
pointed king and his reluctant subjects had the
humiliation of retracting their farewells, and of
affecting delight at being once more yoked
together.

One glorious morning we go on shore to drive
around the country. The most extraordinary
vehicle awaits us, the like of which we had
never seen. It is drawn by two horses about
the size of Newfoundland dogs, and driven by a
smiling Jehu, whose spotless white duck sets
off to the utmost advantage his ebony complex-
ion. He is gifted with great powers of conver-
sation, which he exercises freely during our
drive.

As he takes us through the town he points
out that the houses are seldom more than two
stories high, because of the constant fear of
earthquakes, and that there is no glass in the
windows, as it could not stand the force of the
wind during a hurricane,

These two phenomena, the earthquake and
the hurricane, are the scourges of these islands.

IN THE WEST INDIES. 47

of which the inhabitants stand in deadly terror.
When the premonitory signs of a hurricane
are seen, one shot is fired from the government
cannon down the bay, to warn the people of
the approaching danger, to be followed by two
more when the peril is imminent. At the first
shot the heavy wooden shutters, that are used
instead of windows, are closed and fastened by
iron bars. All perishai3le goods in the shops
are taken to the cellars, and Vliatever can be
moved to a safe place is put there without
delay.

Then, in the breathless stillness that pre-
cedes the storm, the people watch the sky in
dread, listening for the two shots which tell
them that the tempest is about to burst.
Sometimes they are not heard, and the danger
is past. But when the sharp report strikes the
heavy air, they know that their fate has over-
taken them. Every one flies from the streets,
and the houses are filled with cowering
wretches, while the roaring spirit of destruc-
tion runs riot over their helpless heads. It
uproots trees, levels houses, blows ships high
and dry on the shore. It tears, breaks and

4S THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

crashes all that stands up against its might,
until at last, its awful fury having spent itself,
it goes its way, leaving the abomination of
desolation in its wake.

For the earthquake there is no warning. It
hangs like the sword of Damocles over the
heads of the devoted people, who never know
when the earth may open and suck them into a
horrible death.

This is the dark side of a picture of which we
see only the brightness, as we leave the town
and reach the wilder part of the island.

The roads in the interior are so poor that we
do not see as much of the country as we would
wish. But what we do see is charming. The
road is bordered with stately palms, mahog-
anies, calabashes and tamarinds. Among the
thronging people there are no worried looks, no
careworn faces. All of them, young or old,
in frilled muslins or tattered rags, upright as
palms or gnarled as silk cottons, wear kindly
expressions, and nod to us gayly as they pass
by. They seem to find life so well worth living
that only to watch them brings a smile to one's
face. They do not have any visible means of

IN THE WEST INDIES. 49

support except the fruit trees, for although St.
Thomas used to raise more sugar-cane for its
size than any island of the Antilles, there are
now hardly ten acres under cultivation.

Of course this is the fault of the negro ! He
is the black sheep of the West Indies — the
scapegoat, as it were, on whose unheeding back
are laid all the sins and all the shortcomings of
the islands. He is lazy; he is idle; he will not
work for ten hours a day to earn twenty-five
cents; all endeavors to persuade him to be-
come a beast of burden for the benefit of the
whites are unavailing.

He prefers sitting lazily in the glorious sun-
light to toiling all the long day under its burn-
ing beams. He picks his daily manna from the
bread-fruit tree in his garden, warmed and
browned to a T by this same tropical sun;
Wlien thirsty he need only cross the road, and
take a cocoanut from the palm to refresh him-
self with a milk sweeter than that given us by
our best fed cows. The harbor is full of fish,
the wood of yams, plantains and bananas. If
his taste grows fastidious, he has sugar-cane
and guava to make for himself a dessert that is

50 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

a delicacy on our own tables, while nature has
supplied him with most of his clothing. If it
be of rather a funereal hue, it is after all the
only dark thing about him, and therefore
pleasant by contrast.

Of course, from our point of view, it is sad to
see a people so utterly contented with the
station in life to which they are called, that
they have no wish to improve it. Their abso-
lute lack of ambition and the ** divine discon-
tent" which lies at the root of all progress,
seem almost criminal.

But from their point of view — and even the
West Indian negro may have a point of view —
the matter wears another aspect. If these sim-
ple pleasures content him, why, he asks, should
he slave for us in order to gain money, when the
only things on the whole island to buy with it,
when earned, are Florida water and bay rum.

So argues our driver, sitting with his back to
the horses, and dangling his shapely legs care-
lessly over the wheels, while he discourses.
It is hard indeed to gainsay him, for what could
money buy more beautiful than this fragrant
air, this warm sun, which sends a glow to one's

IN THE WEST INDIES. " 51

heart, and that blue sea and sky which delight
one's eyes?

He brings us safely back to the town, where
we go to say good-by to the Stewarts with real
regret, as we leave St. Thomas in the afternoon.

As we turn our stern to the town we pass the
Sin tram, receiving a parting salute from her
captain.

Suddenly we see coming into the harbor a
beautiful white yacht, with dainty lines and
tapering stem and stern, looking a queen
among her rougher sisters lying at anchor. As
we come nearer we recognize in her the Colum-
bia, with the N. Y. Y. C. flag flying at her fore-
mast and the good old American ensign at her
stern.

As we pass the yacht a salute is exchanged
between the aristocratic greyhound and the
stanch little bulldog, and each goes her own
way ; the one to anchor in the harbor we are
so loath to leave, the other to plough her way
across the forty miles of water which divides
St. Thomas from Santa Cruz.

52 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

CHAPTER III.

SANTA CRUZ.

It is late when we turn our stern to St.
Thomas, so we have the sail to Santa Cruz in
the low afternoon sunlight, the shadows of the
masts making long, dark streaks on the bright
blue water. It is by no means smooth water,
for our friend, the trade wind, is out in force,
and has blown numberless saucy whitecaps
over the sea.

As the sun sinks lower and the masts grow
unnaturally long, St. Thomas fades into the
ghost of itself, and the hills of Santa Cruz
materialize visibly.

We had heard so often that there was no twi-
light in these latitudes that we were surprised
not to see the sun go and the darkness come in
the same instant. But there is a twilight, and
a very lovely one too. The moisture-laden at-
mosphere changes into delicate shades of blue,

IN THE WEST INDIES- 53

rose and lilac. The shifting colors die away
not suddenly but gradually, and the moon
comes out like silver, as we feel our way
cautiously into the roadstead of Fredrikstad.
There is no lighthouse, only the twinkling
lamps of the village to guide us in, and an ugly
coral reef stretches far out from the southwest-
ern point of the island. By half after seven we
hear the welcome cry: *'Let go the anchor," as
the mud hook splashes to the bottom, and we
are again lying off one of little Denmark's
colonies.

The next morning we are up bright and early,
ready to go on shore before the heat of the day,
and take the great drive of the island from
Fredrikstad, or West End, to Cliristianstad, or
Bassin, along the King's road.

We spent several days at Santa Cruz, but
all recollections of other things pale before the
memory of that charming drive.

The island did not look impressive from the
roadstead, where we were so exclusive as to be
the only vessel at anchor. The land is quite
low toward the southwest and slopes gradually
to higher land on the northwest, but except for

54 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

the vivid green of the sugar-cane, the scenery
appeared to us as rather tame.

After landing on a sandy beach we walked
into the town, which is hot, dusty and modern,
with no trace of the picturesque, except in the
market place. Here there are dozens of
negresses in gay dresses, laughing, gesticulat-
ing, and chattering in their monkey -like jargon,
their shining faces full of animation, while on
stools before them are displayed their pitiful
little commodities. In front of one stout old
woman is a tray of green oranges, a young negress
formed like a bronze statue has a few bunches
of stunted bananas for sale, and a blue-eyed boy
with woolly flaxen hair begs us to buy some of
his guavas or sapodillas. But no one cares
whether you buy or not, as the market seems
an exchange for words rather than wares.

When our carriage comes we are glad to stow
ourselves into it, and get away from the hot
town. Then our delights begin. A fresh
breeze springs up to cool our faces, and as we
reach the country some new beauty appears
each moment to be exclaimed at and admired.

If we had so far been a trifle disappointed in

IN THE WEST INDIES. ' 55

the tropics and a little skeptical as to their
supposed perfections, Santa Cruz amply repays
us for any such feeling. The charm of that
drive beggars all description; for who can de-
scribe sunlight and perfumes and dusky
shadows and gleaming lights and air that is
languorous even while it exhilarates? Other
islands of the Caribbean may have grander
scenery, higher mountains, more profuse vege-
tation, but there is nothing to equal the warm,
smiling loveliness of Santa Cruz as we see it
that morning. It is called the Garden of the
West Indies and it well deserves its name, for
it has an exquisite daintiness about it which
makes the whole land look well groomed. The
road looks as though it were sanded and
squeegeed every morning, and is as white and
smooth as the deck of a yacht; even the bridges
wear a coat of paint so fresh that it surely
could only have been put on a few hours ago.

On the right the island slopes in an undulat-
ing plain from the sea, of which we catch
glimpses now and again, blue and misty in the
distance, to the violet-colored hills on the left.
All the land is one luxuriant mass of waving

56 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

nodding, graceful sugar-cane, bending and
rustling its drooping leaves as though wishing
us a gracious good-morning. Its intense green
surges like an emerald ocean over all the plain,
and creeps far up the sides of the distant hills,
covering all the land with its plentiful sweet-
ness.

Plantation follows plantation, and every hill
along the roadside is crowned by low, rambling
houses, with great broad verandas. These
are the homes of the planters; and nothing
could be more charming. There is a look of
home and thrift about them, and they are
almost the only houses in the West Indies
which live in the present tense and not in the
past. They are smothered in roses, hibuscus,
palms, and flowering shrubs, of which we do
not even know the names, and around them, at
a respectful distance, cluster the wooden cabins
of the negroes who work on the plantations.

The road running through the center of the
island is called the King's Koad, and is lined
from beginning to end with royal palms, stand-
ing sometimes in double lines on each side of
the way. Now, to tell the truth, we had so

SANTA CRUZ.
King's Road is lined from beginning to end with Royal palms." Page s6.

IN THE WEST INDIES. 57

far been bitterly disappointed in the much-
talked-of palms; to our prosaic minds they had
seemed the most overrated of trees, and sug-
gested strongly large feather dusters tied to the
tops of telegraph poles. But when these royal
palms stood before us in their stately rows,
their gray trunks springing far up into the air,
straight and symmetrical as granite pillars,
capped by that great mass of drooping green
leaves, we had to acknowledge that the palm
could indeed be regal in its stately majesty.
The simile is of course utterly irrelevant, but
the grand upward sweep of those gray trunks,
ending in that burst of green always reminds us
of the upward curve of the skyrocket, which
seems to spurn the earth to dash itself into a
shower of glory against the inaccessible heavens.
They engross all our attention, and we are obliv-
ious to the fact that any other trees exist until
our driver points out to us quantities of cocoa-
nuts here and there along the road. These have
been planted by order of a former King of Den-
mark, who appears to have been a singularly
thoughtful ruler, for the refreshment of
travelers, as with us there would be soda-water

58 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

fountains and beer saloons on the wayside.
The fruit is public property, to be picked and
_ts milk drunk by any one when thirsty. A re-
markable thirst soon overcomes us, and our
driver *' shins" up the tree in a miraculous way
of his own, chooses the biggest cocoanut, and
descends to earth with it. We open the nut and
sip the milk; but it is so sweet and insipid that
a little goes a long way. It tastes like very
thin, very sweet milk, in which a cocoanut has
rested for one instant, leaving a suspicion of its
flavor behind.

Through this smiling country flows a con-
stant stream of people, some busy, and others
enjoying the sweets of idleness.

A handsome negress, with her clean white
dress tucked under her belt, well up to her
knees, passes by. A group of young men,
beautifully gotten up in white ducks, hurry
on, evidently trying to overtake the colored
beauty, who smiles coquettishly to them
over her shoulders. They are not in too
great haste, however, to touch their
broad -brimmed hats to us, nor to show
their straight white teeth in a friendly

IN THE WEST INDIES. 59

smile. A great ox cart, drawn by sleek, well-
fed oxen, yoked in pairs of four or six, conies
creaking on its way, either carrying great loads
of cane from the plantations to the sugar
works, or piled high with hogsheads of sugar
on the way to Christianstad for shipment.

It is sugar, sugar everwhere. The little pick-
aninny in its mother's arms is sucking a piece
of cane in lieu of a rattle. The small boys are
chewing it with the feverish devotion which
with us they expend on chewing gum. The
grown people are cutting it in the fields or
crushing it in the works, and the air is heavy with
the peculiar sweetish smell of the growing plant.

On and on we go through the exquisite coun-
try, entranced by every sight, sound and smell,
until the plantations grow further apart and the
houses nearer together ; and we clatter regret-
fully down the glary white streets of Christian-
stad. We stop in front of a large, comfortable
white house, and go up the stairs to be received
literally with open arms by our landlady, Mrs.
Pentheny.

*'Which of you," she exclaims, "is tlie won-
derful lady who is captain of her own ship?"

60 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

I would fain deny the allegation, but there is
no escape. Discreetly murmuring that 1 am
she, I am immediately drawn in a close em-
brace to the ample bosom of our landlady. I
emerge warm, disheveled and a trifle indignant,
but one glance at her motherly face disarm^s
one, and we become great friends— from a safe

distance.

Her interest and hospitality are unbounded.
After investigating all our family histories, as-
certaining minute detailsof the boat, and among
other things relieving her mind on the point
that, although I am captain, I do not take the
middle watch at sea, she takes us into the next
room for luncheon.

It is served on one of the most superb old
mahogany tables it has ever been our evil for-
tune to envy, with shiny top and great clawed
legs. It had belonged to one of the old-time
planters, and if it could have told its reminis-
cences what tales it would have given us of the
old days in Santa Cruz. Then the planters
feasted and dined and wined in a luxury which
we fear will never be seen in these islands
again. But no more delicious dinner could

IN THE WEST INDIES. 61

ever have been served off it in the days of yore
than the one which Mrs. Pentheny now sets
before our hungry eyes. Course after course
is brought in until even our salt-water appetites
call a halt. For drink she gives us a most
delectable lemonade, sweetened with a big
lump of guava jelly. When she finds it impos-
sible to force anything more down our throats,
she allows us to rest for a time in the shady
drawing room. The West Indian rooms had not
ceased to look bare to our eyes; they always
seem to be undergoing a vigorous spring clean •
ing, but there is one article of furniture which
is never absent — the American rocking chair.
It seems to have a place in the hearts of West
Indian housewives that nothing else can fill,
for no one, rich or poor, is without one.

Mrs. Pentheny offers to show us the sights
of the town, so in her good company we shortly
leave the grateful shade and saunter down the
Kingstrade, Christianstad's main street.

The town is larger and more compactly built
than West End. some of the houses being hand-
some in a spacious, old-fashioned way. The
Koyal Palace especially is a really imposing

62 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

building of three stories, with a fine stairway
leading up on one side to the arcaded portico
above, where the arms of Denmark are very
much in evidence above the doorway. It is al-
most the only outward and visible sign of Dan-
ish supremacy to be seen . English is universally
spoken, and the Stars and Stripes are far more
frequently seen than the red-barred flag of Den-
mark. It would be almost impossible for the
people to have a deep-rooted feeling for any
one country after their checkered career.

The island was originally conjointly French
and English, then became English alone. The
Spanish and French then took turns in it, after
which it enjoyed the distinction of belonging to
the Knights of Malta for a limited period. The
Knights appear to have been overpowering,
for in 1730 the island is reported to be unin-
habited. Then different Companies found
it a fair field for their schemes of coloni-
zation, until at the close of the eighteenth
century Denmark purchased it for thirty
thousand pounds.

The people have formed the habit of
changing nationalities as some persons

IN THE WEST INDIES. 63

change their dwellings, and they are
already contemplating existence under an-
other flag. They are alternating be-
tween the fear of being sold to Germany,
which fate seems imminent, and the hope of
creeping under the protecting wing of the
United States, which to them seems the giver
of all good things. Even the children on the
streets have opinions on this subject, for one
little gamin stepped up to us. and with a really
appealing look begged :

**Please, massa, please, won't you take us?
If you don't, you know Germany will, and I
could not stand that, though I am extract of
German myself — so please, massa, do take us."

We had to refuse the proffered gift, and left
the little fellow wondering meantime over the
possible type of person expressed by the term
**extract of German.'*

The Kingstrade leads directly down to the
land-locked harbor. There lies a schooner,
whose slender masts and beautiful lines at once
catch our eyes and proclaim her a fellow coun-
tryman.

We are not wrong; she is an American

64 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

schooner, the Vigilant, built in Baltimore over
one hundred years ago for the slave trade.
From being a slaver she turned to a pirate, and
having long since abjured piracy, and sown
all her wild oats, she is now an honored
member of the community. As a government
dispatch boat she makes trips twice a week be-
tween St. Thomas and Santa Cruz, and is a
favorite craft because of her speed and sea-
going qualities^ which still do honor to her
native land.

As we stand watching her a lumbering old
stagecoach comes clattering down the street, on
its daily trip from Fredrikstad to Christianstad.
It is a relic of the old times, and looks as though
it must soon drop into small pieces from ex-
treme age. Its day of dissolution is looked for-
ward to by the progressive inhabitants with
impatience, as then they hope to start a trolley
line between the two towns. We are thankful
we have seen Santa Cruz in the days of the
stagecoach, before all of the romance is pushed
aside by the rushing car and clanging bell. It
would grate on our nerves to hear the voice of
the conductor warning us to **hold fast" as we

IN THE WEST INDIES. 65

whisk round the corner of a sugar-cane plan-
tation, or as we come to an abrupt standstill
under the royal palms.

The lengthening shadows warn us that we
must be on our way home, and we say good-by
to our wholesome hostess, bundle ourselves
agam into our little trap, and start off on the
same road by which we had come.

The low sun and long shadows make the
country, if possible, more lovely than it was in
the bright light of the morning. There is a
touch of sadness about the big houses now that
was not there before. Perhaps it is reflected
from our own minds, which are filled with
stories of how difficult it is now for the people
who, fifteen years ago, made and spent
large fortunes each year to make a decent liv-
ing. The same old cry is heard all over the
island— overproduction and the bounty put on
beet-root sugar by European powers. The
smaller planters have been forced out, for al-
though the cost of production has remained
almost the same, the profit to be made is re-
duced fearfully. The Danish government had
a scheme on foot to reduce the cost of produc-

6G THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

tion, by doing away with the old windmills,
by which each planter crushed his sugar cane
on his own estate, and replacing them by a
large central factor, run by the newest ma-
chinery. Here all the cane could be brought
from the different plantations to be crushed,
as wheat to a flour mill. From these works on
the high central ground, pipes were to be
laid to another factory in Christianstad, on
lower ground through which the juice was to
be run, there to be converted into sugar and
made ready for export. This would have saved
the expenses of the individual mills and of the
carting of the sugar. But the plan was too long
delayed. The planters were in desperate
straits, and could neither afford to run their
plantations at a deadly sacrifice, nor to do any-
thing else while the scheme was in abey-
ance. They were obliged to sell, as the only
solution out of their difficulties, and the enter-
prising American capitalist was ready at hand
to help them and to better himself. Bartram
Brothers made a point of buying all the planta-
tions, as one after the other they were put on
the market, through their agent, Mr. Black-

IN THE WEST INDIES. 67

wood, for a fair price, so that at present the
greater part of the island is in the hands of
these gentlemen. Mr. Blackwood, like a true
American, has built a large modern factory,
while the King of Denmark was looking over
the plans. Although the competition is strong,
he has succeeded in making a good profit so far
on the money invested, and is probably the
only man in the West Indies to-day who has
been able to do so.

The old patriarchal idea of a sugar planta-
tion, run by negroes and superintended by the
planter, a man of elegant leisure, has gone
to the clime which shelters so many delightful
but exploded ideas. Its place is taken by a
thoroughly commercial idea, where every re-
source is used to make the sugar business a
paying industry.

We drove to Mr. Blackwood's works at Lower
Love, which are surrounded by some of the
finest estates on the island. It is a busy scene.
The large factory, with its tall white chimney,
the numberless outhouses and machine shops,
and the busy throngs of negroes, make an in-
teresting sight. These negroes work, too, with

68 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

good will and are proud of their positions.
They are all well paid, and there are no com-
plaints here of idleness.

One old woman in particular wo notice, feed-
ing the carrier with cane, whose legs are swollen
to an enormous size from elephantiasis, brought
on from standing so long in the wet cane.
They have tried to persuade her to stop her
work, but she is proud of her place, and keeps
to it day after day. All of which would seem
to show that the negro is not so lazy after
all, when a fair incentive is given him to
work.

It is interesting to see the great oak casters,
full of the cane, being first weighed on the
Fairbank scales. Their contents are then
thrown into the carrier, and conducted to a
series of rollers and crushers, very perplexing
to the eyes of the novice, which roll and crush
until all the juice is extracted. The cane ref-
use, or bagasse, is burned wet for fuel, the
juice, after many processes of purifying and
clarifying, is sent off in hogsheads for ex-
port, and the molasses is run off and barreled
after three grades of sugar have been made.

IN THE WEST INDIES. G9

The burning of the cane instead of coal is a
saving of ten thousand dollars on each crop.

It is late when we have seen all that is to be
seen, and we have just time to hurry back be:
fore the darkness is upon us. It has been a
long, perfect day, and we have enjoyed our-
selves so much that we are thoroughly tired,
mentally and physically.

A couple of days later we go with Mr. Black-
wood and his wife for a drive through the
mountains on the north of the island. One of
our party, who is versed in several dissimilar
branches of knowledge, is left behind to tinker
with a launch belonging to one of the richest
men on the island. He is a negro who has
started a soda-water factory, from which he
supplies all the West Indies with effervescent
drinks and himself with an excellent income.
He imported this launch six months ago from
America to tow his soda-water out to vessels
on lighters. It worked finely for just one
week, and then, with a perversity to which
launches are given, stopped one fine morning
and has not moved since. Seeing our launch
flying so merrily to and fro, the soda-water

70 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN.

maker thought there must be some one on
board skilled in the management of launches,
and asked, if so, that he might come to
assist him. We drove off, waving good- by to
our friend, who had at once volunteered his
services, and left him gorgeous in his white
ducks and broad-brimmed Panama hat, the
center of an admiring group.

Our drive was beautiful and a complete con-
trast to the rest of the island. The road, after
crossing a range of hills with magnificent
scenery on every hand, winds along a deep
ravine that has been worn by a little water-
course. Its sides rise precipitously and are
covered with all kinds of tropical vegetation,
taniers, bread-fruit and bananas; with here and
there the gray, misshapen trunk of the silk
cotton standing out in sharp contrast against
the mass of green. The road is dotted with
negroes, healthy, smiling and courteous, all in
their best clothes, for it is the Sabbath day.
We at last leave the hills behind and come back
by our beloved King's Road to hot little Fredrik-
stad. And very hot it is, too, by contrast with
the cool green country.

p > ■■

Pi '

H -^ ■

5 o =

< xn !

.s '

^ ;

re .

<D ■

> 1

O :

o ■

IN THE WEST INDIES. 71

The first thing we see, in a hiunch tied to
the shore in the broiling sun, is our charit-
able friend. His ducks have not a trace of
their former whiteness, and his hat, the pride
of our party, is now drooping in the brim and
streaky in the crown— he unthinkingly dipped
it in the water to cool his head while he
worked! Suddenly there is a little explosion,
the negroes scatter in every direction, and the
Panama hat waves wildly in the air. At last
the screw is churning, and in a moment the
launch itself is moving up and down the shore.

We say good-by to Santa Cruz in the midst
of a stream of gratitude, which is poured on us
by the grateful soda-water man and his
friends, who think a miracle 'has been worked
in their behalf.

Late on that same afternoon our own screw
churns up the water once more and we are
underway. We pick our way out even more
carefully than we did our way in, for the coral
reef stretches out from the land quite three
miles, and it must be passed before we can
turn to the eastward. On its jagged jaws are
the whitening bones of a fine old bark, the

7^ THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

Fearnaught, which met its death one moonless
night running up from Trinidad with a cargo of
asphalt. She was close hauled on the wind,
trying to cut the southwest point of Santa Cruz
very close so as to fetch Sail Rock Passage,
the great thoroughfare between the West
Indies and North American ports. She cut it
too close, struck on the reef and was aban-
doned to her fate.

We watch the lovely island spread out before
us, with its plantations running down to the sea
in graceful slopes, until it grows blue and violet,
and then fades into the misty gray which soon
hides it from our sight.

IN THE WEST INDIES.

CHAPTER lY.

SABA.

Saba is a mountain which rises straight out
of the sea for two thousand eight hundred feet.
It has no seaport, no harbor, no roadstead, no
anchorage, yet its men are noted as being
among the best sailors in the world. The in-
habitants build the stanchest boats in the
Caribbean up in the mountains, and when
finished slide them down the steep slopes to
the sea.

You climb eight hundred feet up the moun-
tain side to arrive, breathless and panting, at a
town they tell you is called Bottom, and you
wonder if the subjects of good little Queen
Wilhelmina can be making fun of you. So
you can quite understand how impossible it
would be for a woman to pass by an island
possessing such delightful contradictions with-
out stopping to investigate it.

We reached Saba at daylight the next morn-

H THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN.

ing, and most impressive it looked with the
clouds veiling the majestic peak, which rears
its steep, sheer sides grandly out of the
water. We could not quite believe that there
was really no anchorage, and so steamed slowly
toward the land until our bow almost scrapes
the rocky wall of the shore. Our lead line then
gives us fifty fathoms, and we are convinced
of the truth of the story.

Not a soul is in sight, so we give a blow of
the whistle to attract some one's attention, but
with no result. A second and a third blast are
equally in vain, until at last in desperation, we
give a sound so piercing and prolonged as to
wake the dead, even of Saba. This brings to
light a train of people, scrambling down the
mountain side in our direction. We afterward
find that the cause of the delay is that the har-
bor master, that most important personage in
the West Indies, lives high up in the mountains.
Whenever any boat is seen from Bottom to be
approaching the shore, a large horn is blown to
apprise him of the fact, and it naturally takes
him some little time to descend to the level of
his duties. He comes out to us in a strong

IN THE WEST INDIES. 75

boat, rowed by four stalwart negroes, with a
much dilapidated Dutch flag at the stern. After
much parleying and some dickering he consents
to put us on shore — for a consideration, of
course— and we all step into the boat, leaving
the Scythian to steam up and down like a rest-
less spirit until our return.

The rocks rise almost perpendicularly from
the sea, but in one place, about four yards
wide, there is a beach (if such a mass of stones
can be called a beach), where it is possible for
a boat to reach the shore. Fortunately it is a
windless day and the water is smooth as glass,
so that the landing through the surf is not as
alarming as it might be were a heavy sea run-
ning. Even now it is none too pleasant with the
waves breaking into foam on the rocks. Just
before we reach the line of surf the rower^
bend to their oars with a powerful stroke, send-
ing the boat well up on the beach, where other
brawny arms are waiting to drag it out of the
reach of the crawling waves.

As soon as we find ourselves on dry land, the
question arises as to how we will ascend the
narrow footpath which leads up the mountain,

76 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

a path so steep that in places steps are cut in
the rock up which to climb. There are three
ways of going up. The first is, of course, to
use those organs of locomotion supplied to you
by nature, and walk; the second, is to use the
organs supplied to some one else and be car-
ried; the third, is to be taken, like their pro-
visions, in a hammock slung between the shoul-
ders of two men. The others chose the first
course; the captain, the middle, as offering
more novelty. She soon finds herself lifted
from the ground and seated on the shoulders of
an immensely tall negro, feeling miles from the
earth. The negro is so thin that she has no
visible means of support, and although held
securely by the feet, the rest of her anatomy
sways off" into space at every step. Now her
head almost bangs against the rocky wall on
one side of the path, now she seems falling
down the sheer precipice on the other, to the
ocean far below, where, in her mind's eye, she
sees the sharks already gathering in anticipa-
tion of her arrival. She begs and entreats to
be put down, but the rest of the party are so
entranced with the spectacle she pr^^ents th^^t

W^-^H

t !

1^

V

I

a

1

IN THE WEST INDIES. 77

their laughter drowns her screams. The cap-
tain clutches at the nearest object; it is black,
woolly and smelly — the head, in fact, of her
negro. But it is something tangible, something
to be held, and hold on she does with a strength
born of desperation. So hard does she tug at
that poor woolly pate that a cry of pain floats
up from the depths beneath, and she is de-
posited with scant ceremony on terra frma,
with the late beast of burden rubbing his mis-
used head and looking at her ruefully. First of
all the captain tells her friends exactly what
she thinks of them, in words few but forcible,
whereupon she turns her back on them and
marches up the mountain, this time on her own
feet— heaven be praised! They follow in a
crestfallen way, but we soon forget our late
unpleasantness and throw ourselves heart and
soul into enjoying the marvelous scenery. We
wind through a narrow gorge, much like a
Western canon, where the mountains rise
abruptly on each side, here brilliant in the
early morning sunlight, there dark and gloomy
in the shadow. Looking down the ravine
through which we had come, we see the wide

78 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

blue water, with the Scythian floating so far
beneath that she looks like a toy boat. We
almost wish ourselves back on her cool decks
under the dark awning, for the climb is hard;
the sun beats down relentlessly on our toiling
party, and we are yet far from Bottom. We
grow tired and cross, and feel a distinct
grudge against a town with such a situation and
called by such a misnomer; it is so misleading
as to be criminal. But on we go, until, just as
we are inclosed in a ravine which seems to have
no possible exit, we turn a corner, pass a house,
see the valley opening out gloriously before us,
and know that at last we have climbed up to
Bottom.

The little white town lies nestling in the
bosom of the great green mountains, which
guard it jealously on both sides. Through the
ravines can be seen the blue Caribbean Sea,
shimmering and shining in the sunlight like a
mirror of burnished silver. This much we see
as we first enter the village, but we are really
exhausted, and must rest somewhere before
going another step or seeing another sight. We
want to sit quietly in the shade, witliout saying

' ^o^^^lH

IN THE WEST INDIES. 79

a word to any one until our breath comes natur-
ally again, instead of in great gasps and pants.
The harbor master comes to our rescue and asks
us into his house, which is only a step further on.
We accept his offer with as much alacrity as
we are capable of just then, and enter the house
from the trim little garden surrounding it. We
find ourselves in a large square room, cool and
shady, furnished with a table, American rock-
ing chairs (of course), and a grand piano. Tired
as we were, our jaded minds had the energy to
wonder how that piano ever got up that moun-
tain. We were just sinking, with delightful
abandon, into those rocking chairs, there to
rest mind and body, when the door opened and
in walked Mrs. Harbor Master and the Misses
Harbor Master, all dressed in their best and
filled to the brim with cordiality and conversa-
tion. To them a stranger was an almost un-
heard-of event, to be thoroughly enjoyed there-
fore when sent them by a kind Providence.
Consternation reigned among us, our luxurious
visions of rest vanished ; but we pulled our-
selves together, and during that half-hour
passed with the ladies we culled all the choicest

80 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

buds of Sabian gossip. We deplored with them
the fact that in such a small place there should
be two rival churches whose pastors were sadly
at variance in matters of doctrine. We ascer-
tained that Saba had its own little post office,
where the mails now arrive and leave as often
as twice a month, instead of once in two months,
as had been the former custom. This is a
great innovation, and is looked at askance by
some of the more conservative people as a
temptation to worldliness. SalDa also has its
own stamps, and at one time the whole com-
munity wa3 divided into two camps, one wish-
ing the stamps blue and the other red.

The doctor had been educated in Holland,
and his airs were intolerable in consequence.
As though the Sabians could not be educated
at home in their own schools, when in one
of them French and Latin were actually
taught !

The Governor- Lieutenant of the island is not
nearly so vain as the doctor, although the
Governor- General of all the Dutch West Indies,
who lives at Curacoa, thinks the world of him,
and writes to him once every year. And so on.

IN THE WEST INDIES. 81

and so on, until our brains whirl and we are
gorged to repletion with Sabian doings.

After partaking of some bananas and cake
which Mrs. Harbor Master kindly sets before
us, we make our escape, followed by the
younger daughter, who clings to us with such
tenacity that we are morally convinced she has
designs of copying the cut of our skirts.

Bottom itself is simply fascinating, with an
original and exquisite charm all its own. It is
the cleanest, quaintest, primmest, prettiest of
villages, with narrow footpaths for roads, and
with walls on each side made of piled-up rocks in-
closing luxurious little gardens, where bananas,
bamboos, palms, and all manner of sweet smell-
ing flowers grow in profusion. In the middle
of the gardens stand the houses, square and
white, with red-tiled roofs and white-curtained
windows, each one neater than the last. There
are other towns scattered over the island, which
we had not time to see, but one is the counter-
part of the other.

Here in this mountain of the sea, in the crater
of an extinct volcano, and within acircumference
of two and a half miles, lives this little Dutch

82 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN.

population of less than two thousand souls.
They still keep their blue eyes and flaxen
hair, and also much of the Dutch thrift and neat-
ness in this distant island, almost cut off from
the outer world. They have their own interests,
their own pleasures, and their own sorrows.

For all the men are sailors, and at the
doorstep of almost every one of the little
houses sits a woman doing the finest kind of
drawn work, year after year, waiting for some
dear one who went down that ravine one morn-
ing to that cruel, bright sea, never to return.
These poor souls often go blind, whether from
the fineness of their work or from the tears
brought to their eyes by hope deferred, who
can say !

Saba is famous as being the only place in the
West Indies where white potatoes are raised;
but there is no other industry on the island, al-
though a mine of pure sulphur exists. This
will eventually be most valuable, as it is the
only such mine of any extent known of out-
side of Sicily.

We wander for some time round the town,
and then walk back to thank Mrs. Harbor Mas-

IN THE WEST INDIES. 83

ter for her kind hospitality. We receive from
her as a parting gift the remains of the cake
which she gave us earlier in the day, and then
start on our downward way.

This is, if anything, more trying than the
climbing-up process. We develop a new set of
muscles, of which we had no previous knowl-
edge, and which make themselves known in
aches and pains, at every step. When
at last we reach the sea level, step again
into the boat and are rowed off to the Scythian,
we are heartily glad to be home again. We are
tired in mind and worn out in body, but withal
content; for have we not penetrated the mys-
teries of Saba?

It is cool and delicious as we rest from our
labors, watching our progress down the islands.
Anguilla and Sombrero float on the distant hori-
zon, and St. Eustatia, or Statia, is so near
that we can make out the little town on its
shores.

We make a low mental obeisance to the
island. It was here in the early years of the
Revolution that the Brig Andrea Doria, Captain
Isaiah Robinson, received the flrst salute ever

84 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

given our infant flag by a foreign pov/er. The
poor old Dutch governor paid dearly for his
courtesy, for the English did not rest until they
had forced the Dutch to recall him ; but he is
one of those who should hold a rich place in
our national esteem. This same Andrea Doria,
on her homeward trip, fell in, off the western
shore of Porto Kico, with the British brig Race-
horse sent out especially to capture her. The
Racehorse surrendered to the Andrea Doria
after a fight of two hours, and the incident
doubtless was one of many which soon forced
invincible England to open her national eyes to
the fact that Americans could fight on the sea.
St. Kitts soon looms up in front of us, grow-
ing more beautiful each moment, as the colors
become more distinct and we see the details of
those rugged mountains. Shortly we are en-
tering the roadstead of Basse Terre, and are at
anchor off one of England's West Indian
colonies.

IN THE WEST INDIES. 85

CHAPTER V.

ST. KITTS.

All good things were to be expected from
St. Kitts, for it is the oldest English colony in
the West Indies. An old gentleman, named
Warner, tempted Providence in 1623 by settling
there, with fourteen of his comrades. They
were soon disturbed by the French under
d'Estambuc, who came to put their finger in
England's colonial pie, as they have been
known to do since. From that time until St.
Kitts was formally ceded to the English, in the
reign of Queen Anne, the two nations found
amusement and occupation in driving each
other out of the island by turns on every con-
venient occasion.

Its names are as varied as its history.
Columbus, who first discovered the island,
named it after himself, St. Christopher; under
the English this deteriorated into St. Kitts
(imagine the audacity of even thinking of our
great discoverer as **Kit" Columbus). The

86 THE CRUISE OF THE SYTHIAN.

capital city is still called by the French Basse
Terre, and well deserves the name, as the
ground is low indeed.

Every freshet from the mountains finds its
way to the town, and works a watery havoc.
ISo trying did this evil become that once, when
the place had been almost washed away, a
special commission was sent over from England
to inquire into the difficulty, and to suggest a
remedy. The commission was entertained
right royally by the Kittefonians, who regarded
these gentlemen as the saviors of their city.

After a delightful holiday they returned to
London, and in time sent in their report to Par-
liament. In their opinion the best and only ad-
vice to offer the Kittefonians was that they
should abandon their present town, and build
another far out of the reach of the freshets.
Needless to say that the commission now en-
joys the heartiest contempt and ill will of the
people of St. Kitts.

From the roadstead where we lie St. Kitts is
a thing of beauty. It is one of the characteristic
Caribbean Islands, and a lovely specimen of its
type. The land slopes on all sides in regular

IN THE WEST INDIES- 87

and graceful curves from the sea to the moun-
tains, except for a bare, rocky point, which
makes out to sea almost three miles from the
eastern shore, ending-in some ugly dumpy hills
called St. Anthony's Peaks. This sloping belt
is always one unbroken field of sugar cane.
Where the sugar belt ends the mountains begin
to tower one above another, until they culmi-
nate in the majestic peak of Mt. Misery, which
hides its head disdainfully from the vulgar gaze
four thousand three hundred feet above the sea
level. Over all play the ever-shifting lights
and shades which would make even a common-
place scene attractive, and which add the crown-
ing beauty to the lovely island. The words of
the well-worn hymn come to our minds, for it
seems that *' every prospect pleases, and only
man is vile."

How vile he is here we do not realize until we
go on shore, for Basse Terre is like *'a whited
sepulcher, which, indeed, appears beautiful out-
ward, but is within full of dead men's bones,"
or of something productive of an equally bad
smell. Seen from the water the town is hand-
some,with its white houses and public buildings.

S8 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN.

We tell ourselves that here we see the evidence
of English thrift and cleanliness. And yet one
thing strikes us as strange. There seems to be
no lighthouse to mark the roadstead, for surely
no one could take the little red beacon that
shines on the wharf at night as even an apology
for a lighthouse. As we go on shore, the nearer
we come to those white houses the more dilapi-
dated do they look. The plaster is peeling off
in patches, and the best of them have a forlorn
expression which even the pretty gardens can-
not brighten.

But when we turn into the negro quarter, we
are sickened. The huts — one cannot dignify
them by the name of houses — are huddled close
together pellmell, on streets where the mud is
ankle deep. They are dirty, one-roomed
wooden cabins, in every stage of decay, with
often only the muddy ground for a floor. Both
cabins and street teem with a swarming popu-
lation of blacks, who live penned up here with
little regard for decency and none for order.

Filth and vileness are on every hand, pesti-
lence seems to lurk round every corner and dis-
ease to fill the air with germs, while a fresh

IN THE WEST INDIES. 89

smell greets at every turn. And the
harbor master of this hole wished to be
assured that Santa Cruz was healthy before
allowing us to land. As though anything
worse could be imported into Basse Terre than
what had already made it its abiding-place.
We wish to get away as quickly as possible,
for we feel physically contaminated, and ask if
there is any clean hotel in the place. They
tell us that if we want a really **flash" dinner
we must go to the Park Hotel. Fearful of risk-
ing anything the reverse of *' flash," after what
we had seen and smelled, we make our way to
the hotel. It is a nice little house facing the pub-
lic square. Some sickly children are playing in
a tired way under a great banyan tree, which
sends down a perfect cascade of snake-like
branches from its upper boughs to the ground,
where they take root and grow. There are
palms and bananas in the square and here and
there a crimson flamboyant, to give a touch of
color to the dreary gray twilight. We sit on a
broad veranda, waiting for dinner and talking
to some men of St. Kitts, who are most kind on
learning that we come from the American

90 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

boat. Their views of St. Kitts are quite as
depressing as our own impressions. Every-
man who has had money enough has left the
island. Those now there, with the exception
of the English officials and one or two planters,
are of the lowest type of Englishmen, who stay
here drinking themselves to death. The only
man to say a good word for the island was the
doctor. He had recently been promoted to St.
Kitts from the fever-stricken Zanzibar coast,
and finds it a paradise by comparison!

This civil service among the British medical
staff seems an admirable thing for colonial
work. The doctors have a fixed salary from
the government, and are allowed to take no
fees from the poor, but only from the rich.
Who has the power to draw the dividing line
between rich and poor, however, we could not
ascertain.

When we go into the dining room, it is gayly
decorated with Japanese fans and bright paper
shades in honor of Lord Somebody's cricket
team, which arrived yesterday from England.
These cricket matches are the social diversions
of the islands. The inhabitants reorard it as an

IN THE WEST INDIES. 91

immense honor to be beaten, as they invariably
are by the *'home team,'* and they turn out
in force to see the play. The dinner is excel-
lent, and our good little hostess has worked so
hard that she faints dead away before it is
over. But that horrid negro quarter had
quite taken away our appetite, and we are glad to
leave the hotel and make our way through the
narrow streets to the wharf. When we reach
the boat we feel cleaner for having put some
hundred yards of water between ourselves and
Basse Terre.

There is a driving storm the next day, to
which we are grateful, as it puts any trip on
shore out of the question, and gives us a whole
day in which to be thoroughly lazy. We read
various poetic and beautiful effusions about St.
Kitts, by men of known veracity, and wonder
whether the difference of opinion arises from
anything radically wrong with our eyes and
nose, or from something radically changed in
the island itself.

There is a little schooner lying near us in the
storm which is quite interesting. Her swan
bow and overhanging stern proclaim her a

92 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

former yacht, as surely as the docked tail of
the poor old cab horse tells of the days when
he was well groomed and cared for. The boat
is fast falling to pieces, especially the aristo-
cratic stern, which is drooping sadly down be-
hind as though mindful of its fall in the world.
Her anchor will not hold in the gale, and she is
walking up and down the roadstead, with a
man at the wheel steering. He has not much
skill, for soon her bowsprit comes well over our
stern, and the owner jumps on board to help
fend her off.

He tells us that she once belonged to the
Prince of Wales, and gradually descended
in the scale of the nobility until she was
brought over here on a yachting trip by a
baronet. Here she sprung a leak, and her
owner, refusing to cross the ocean in her, sold
her to the government. She was used as a
packet boat to run between the islands until
she was too unsafe even for those trips, and
then fell into the hands of her present owner, a
negro trader. As soon as the sale was con-
cluded and the price paid, the government
promptly proceeded to condemn her. Now the
poor man can get no one to send any goods in

IN THE WEST INDIES. 93

her, and her only use is to afford him the exer-
cise of pumping her out all day to keep her
afloat.

The next day the storm clears, as all storms
have done, and the sun comes out hot and
glorious. There is no longer any excuse for not
going on shore to see the country, especially as
we are leaving the following day. So on shore
we go, and are soon crawling along the road
behind a pair of miserable, patient horses. The
town looks a trifle less depressing in the broad
daylight than it did between the lights, but on
every side are signs of neglect and decay.
The whitewash on the houses is not white, but
a dirty gray. Every gate has a screw loose,
and every wall is tumbling to pieces.

But, where man has been idle, nature has
busied herself. The forlorn houses and
crumbling walls are covered by a wealth of
luxuriant green, which creeps into each nook
and cranny and carpets every inch of ground.
Plants at which we have gazed with awe in our
greenhouses, here disport themselves outside
some miserable shanty with a disregard for the
exalted position they have hitherto occupied

94. THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

in our minds, which borders on the iiumoral.
Roses, ferns of the loveliest varieties, lilies,
orchids and vines growing in the gardens,
make us rub our eyes and ask if this really can
be January. Here and there against a gray
wall or a vine-covered cabin the flamboyant
bursts into a flame of scarlet fire.

When we leave the town we leave every-
thing but the sun, sea, sky and sugar cane.
There are no trees, no flowers, only sugar
cane mile after mile. As we wonder at this
dearth of trees, we see coming toward us in the
sweltering sun two men dressed in thick red
coats, boots, breeches, spurs and white helmets.
The driver stops the carriage to look at them
with admiration till a turn in the road hides
them from his view.

Some years ago it seems the planters found
it so impossible to make the negroes do any
steady work that they cut down all the fruit
trees on the island, hoping that hunger would
drive them to earn their living. But it drove
them instead into a riot, which promised to be
serious. It was checked before much blood
was shed by the arrival of two men-of-war.

IN THE WEST INDIES. 95

But it had warned the whites of their great
numerical weakness. They at once organized
a company of volunteer militia to guard against
future trouble. These beautiful youths were
members of this militia, going from their plan-
tations to the annual drill in Basse Terre.

The negroes seem a dangerous element here.
We miss the kindly smile and greeting we had
met with on the other islands. No hat is lifted
as we pass, and both men and women wear
malicious expressions, which would make them,
unpleasant enemies.

We drive as far as a picturesque negro settle-
ment, called Old Road. It is a quaint collection
of little cabins, where all the cooking is done by
fires burning outside the doors. The family
washing is also in progress, as we pass along
some of the streams, which make their way
down the mountain side in deep gullies or
ravines. Here the negresses stand knee-deep
in the water, pounding and stamping their
clothes most unmercifully between two flat
stones. This treatment may be conducive 'to
cleanliness, but certainly does not agree with
lace and buttons. We follow the road back to

96 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

Basse Terre and then away to the other side of
the town, where it turns to the northward.
Here the surf runs in before the wind, and
there is a superb view of the white line crawl-
ing for miles along the northern shore. Nevis
rears its lonely crest far up into the cloud-
flecked sky, and shadows play hide-and-seek
on its rugged slopes.

The drive would have been longer had not
certain infallible warnings in our inner man
counseled us that it was luncheon time. Far
off in the distance a red pennant is fluttering
from Scythian's mast, and we can almost hear
the stroke of two bells as it is drawn quickly
down. We hurry back, stopping at the doc-
tor's on our way to get a clean bill of health.
They say this is most important in going from
St. Kitts to other islands, a requirement on the
part of the other islands which shows sound
sense.

We had intended to go from St. Kitts to An-
tigua, but had changed our minds on finding that
the place is owned by the cockroaches. They
actually fly out with the prevailing wind from
the shore to take possession of your ship in the

IN THE WEST INDIES. 9?

roadstead. As the channel also is very "wind-
ing and dangerous, we determine to make no
experiments with either cockroaches or rocks,
and shape our course instead for Montserrat, the
home of the Amazons and Montserrat lime juice.
At nine o'clock the windlass is busy fretting up
the anchor, and the men are hoisting the launch.

Soon we are underway. Nevis stands on our
port side, its great peak frowning down on the
smiling sugar cane below, and St. Kitts soon de-
generates into an iridescent soap-bubble. A
great shape takes form on our starboard bow,
which the chart tells us is Rodonda. The full
name is Santa Maria de Kodonda, or St. Mary the
Round. The * 'round" is puzzling, as anything
more angular it would be hard to find. It is
one mass of phosphates, and on its perpendic-
ular sides cling the huts of the laborers, who
are already beginning to work on this lonely
island.

It is so hot that the sides of the island seem
to simmer and seethe in the sun's rays, and we
find the coolesfc possible place on deck on
which to settle ourselves. But it gets cooler
as th« H9orning wears on, for the climate here

98 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

is strange. You wake with a flood of hot yel-
low sanlight pouring in through your windows,
and throw everything open to let in the air.
You take your bath, which comes directly from
the sea at a temperature of 82°, and put on the
thinnest clothes in your wardrobe.

On deck it is breathless ; everything droops
in the hot stillness. The only activity shown
is on the part of the dogs. They are hard at
work trying to lick off great patches of pitch
which have melted in the seams of the deck,
and on which they have sat down — not know-
ing.

It is like the beginning of one of our own
**scorchers," and you order breakfast laid on
deck, so as to corral any breath of air which
may come your way. But soon the breeze
springs up and freshens, until by twelve it is
blowing hard. Heat is never thought of again
until sundown, which usually means wind
down as well. It is undoubtedly hot all the
day, but the heat lacks that vindictive, sun-
striking fierceness which we so much dread.
In the breeze it is always comfortable; out of it
one swelters.

IN THE WEST INDIES. 99

We have a charming sail that morning.
There is just motion enough to be pleasant,
and just wind enough to be fresh and to lie on
deck watching these lovely islands advance
or recede as we near or leave them, is
ideal.

By twelve Montserrat lies before us, and we
go eagerly forward to look at it. As Columbus
took it to be the home of the Amazons, it was
of course of interest to us women, though why
it should have enjoyed such a reputation it is
hard to see. It seems anything but warlike
as we steam into the roadstead and come to
anchor. Indeed nothing could be more peace-
ful than the little town of Plymouth, tak-
ing its afternoon siesta under the dark fringe
of palms on the water's edge, with the green
hills sloping way to the high mountains in-
land.

This is one place in which the English
are trying to raise something beside the in-
evitable sugar cane, and the attempt has so far
proved a complete success. There are large
orchards of limes, and although the soil

100 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

is not considered remarkably fertile, Montser-
rat lime juice is already known as the best in
the market.

As soon as we come to anchor the steward
goes on shore for some necessaries, while we
wait until later in the afternoon. As we sit on
deck with our work and books, watching the
lovely shore, a long train of white-robed people
comes out of a house. They move slowly along
the shore toward the town, apparently follow-
ing a small black object carried by four men.
As we send for the glasses to see what it can
be, another procession of the same kind makes
its way down the other shore, also toward the
town. A quick glance through the glasses
shows that the black objects are hearses and
the white processions funeral trains. Even as
we stand watching, another of the grewsome
funerals appears on the hills back of the shore
making for the town, and shortly all three
reach their objective point — the churchyard.

This is rather overpowering. We had just
been reading that the entire population of Mont-
s'errat numbered 11,000, and three funerals
within five minutes would seem to indicate a

IN THE WEST INDIES. 101

very high death-rate. As we stand passing
some remarks on the strangeness of the sight,
a boat comes up to the gangway with a note
addressed to the captain of the American yacht.
It is from the American consul, who addresses
the captain as "My dear sir," an indignity
which her curiosity constrains her to over-
look. The note goes on to say that there is an
epidemic of fever on the island, and that the
only doctor lies desperately ill, craving above
all else a little ice. There is none within miles,
and his craving must go unsatisfied unless we
will send him some. A great block is at once
brought from the ice chest and wrapped up in
a blanket for the poor man. Meantime the
boatman volunteers a few remarks in answer to
our questions.

*'Fever? Oh, yes, plenty of him! Yellow?
No, worse! Typhus! Lots of funerals every
day."

For the truth of this we could answer from
our own observations. Suddenly it flashes
across us that at St. Thomas there had been a
vessel from Plymouth strictly quarantined
down the bay for typhus. We took for granted

102 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

she was from Plymouth, England. Now we
understood that she was from Plymouth, Mont-
serrat, and that we had been dunces. We
would leave at once, for not only is typhus an
unpleasant neighbor in itself, but no other
island would allow us even to windward if it
were known that we had landed here.

But the steward was on shore, and we could
not abandon him. A boat was sent for him
at once with strict orders not to land, and we
blew the whistle. We blew and blew until
at last the steward came running down to the
wharf, not knowing what could have hap-
pened.

He spoke to the boatman, jumped in with all
haste, and was soon rowed to the side. Now
he was quite safe, but we were not. He and
his clothes must be fumigated, and there were
no disinfectants on board. So the curtains
were let down in the stern, shutting him out of
sight, some clean clothes were thrown down to
him, and we waited a few minutes. He reap-
peared shortly and when, five minutes later,
the anchor came up quicker than ever before in
its history, a nice little bundle of blue clothes

IN THE WEST INDIES. 103

and brass buttons was dragging behind us,
seeking fumigation in the good salt water.

As we pass along the island we are heart-
broken to think that we cannot see more of
it. It certainly looks most attractive. The
great orchards and bushy groves of trees
are a change from the everlasting sugar
cane, and the place seems prosperous and well-
to-do.

This sudden change of plan was very discon-
certing. Guadeloupe comes next in order of the
islands, but all the English islands are at
present quarantined against it, because a case
of yellow fever broke out there fifteen months
ago. Yet if we keep directly on to Dominica
we shall pass Guadeloupe in the night, and be
denied the small pleasure of at least seeing it
from the outside.

After being for some time on the horns of the
dilemma, we leave that uncomfortable seat and
make our decision. We will steam well away
from Montserrat, lay to under staysails all
night, and then pass Guadeloupe the next
morning by daylight. This would have been
an eminently satisfactory arrangement had we

104 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

had control of the weather. But after a most
uncomfortable night, spent in bobbing up and
down in the swell that makes in between the
islands, we wake to find Guadeloupe effect-
ually hidden from our disappointed eyes by a
drenching tropical rain.

We know the island is Just over there on our
port bow, for now and then the clouds will melt
to give us tantalizing glimpses of lofty green
mountains, fertile valleys, and little toy vil-
lages. Then the mist forms again, and all is
shut out from our sight. We wanted to slow
down in passing Basse Terre, for here is one of
the few signal stations in these waters, and our
signals were all ready to break out. But when
we were opposite the town the rain and mist
were so persistent that the opportunity to in-
form our friends at home of our safety and wel-
fare was gone. Some gray shapes are indis-
tinctly visible through the mist, which we sup-
pose must be those satellites of Guadeloupe, the
Saints and Marie Galante, and when all chance
of seeing anything more satisfactory is quite
gone, the sun comes out gloriously as though
to mock us. But we have at least the satisfac-

IN THE WEST iNDiES. 105

tion of seeing the approach to Dominica, which
is considered the most 'beautiful of all the
Caribbees.

Indeed, it would be hard to imagine a scene
more superb than the one that unfolds before
us as we round the great headland of Prince
Rupert's Neck, on the northern end of the
island, and enter the harbor of Portsmouth. All
the elements of beauty which make the other
islands such a feast to the eyes are here inten-
sified a hundredfold. The mountains are
higher, the distances more purple, the sea is
bluer, the green greener, and the clouds more
startling in the sharp contrasts of their grays
and golds.

The magnificent harbor is cresent-shaped,
with the mountains rising high around it on
three sides. In the center of the curve lies
Portsmouth itself, half-hid under the dense
forests which swathe the hills from base to
summit. In front is a lovely sandy beach,
where the waves lap gently in the afternoon
breeze at the foot of the luxuriant palm groves.
But even as we look one of those frowning
black clouds breaks into a petulant little burst

106 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

of rain, which hides the shore completely from
our sight.

It rains during some part of each day in
Dominica, but it clears as quickly as it clouds,
and in five minutes the shower goes its way,
leaving a rainbow as its legacy.

As our anchor dives deep down through the
clear green water we see the inevitable harbor
master on his way to us, carefully holding a
tattered umbrella over the new English flag in
his stern sheets, quite neglecting to cover his
own unprotected head.

IN THE WEST INDIES. 10?

CHAPTER VI.

DOMINICA.

In about an hour we seem as though trans-
ported to Darkest Africa. Under the guidance
of our new harbor master, Mr. Green, who is in
the lead with his umbrella, we are walking
single file along a footpath running parallel to
the beach, which is so narrow that we cannot
go two abreast. By way of explanation, let me
say that this Mr. Green would have been more
fittingly called Mr. Black, for he is as dark as
the traditional ace of spades, but as courteous
as the whitest man living.

Overhead, dank and wet from the recent
rain, is a tangle of tamarinds, palms and
bananas, so thick as to almost shut out the sun.
Through the jungle we catch glimpses of the
yellow beach and blue ocean, on the right; and
away to the left are the purple mountains,
languorous and misty in the distance.

108 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

Along the path are little cabins standing on
funny short legs to raise them from the ground,
and as we listen to the squash, squash of the
natives' bare, black feet sinking deep in the
oozy mud, and look at the jungle of this Afri-
can village, we feel that we are walking in one
of the pictures of Paul du Chaillu's books, so
dear to our childhood days. The only appar-
ent difference is that the grown-up people here
wear more clothing than was the fashion among
Du Chaillu's friends, but the children leave
nothing to be desired in that respect to com-
plete the picture :

Not a white face is in sight nor any trace of
civilization, until we come to a house a trifle
larger than its neighbors, over which the Eng-
lish flag is flying. This, Mr. Green tells us, is
the Government Building, and he kindly asks
us if we will go in and rest. Supposing, of
course, that we had only seen a suburb of the
village, we reply with thanks that we would
prefer walking on to the town proper. A
deadly silence follows, and we dimly realize
that some one has blundered. We are crest-

IN THE WEST INDIES. 100

fallen when our friend tells us that we have
already reached the center of the town, which
point is the site of the Government Building.
This is really amazing.

Is it possible that this collection of negro
huts is the port of one of the finest har-
bors in the West Indies? Is this muddy
trail the one and only thoroughfare? Are
there no roads, no shops, no fields, no gar-
dens, no sugar cane even, in this benighted
spot, under that flag which stands for the
civilizing power of the world? Is there nothing
but this? *' Nothing; nothing, but just what
you see," sighs Mr. Green, looking sadly
around him at the scene, so perfect in physical
beauty, so fearfully stagnant in all else.

He himself is a graduate of the English Col-
lege at Trinidad, and has a remarkable degree
of intelligence and cultivation. He entered the
civil service, and has been sent here to combine
in his own person the offices of port and harbor
master, policeman and tax collector. He has a
hard time to fulfill the latter duty, for the
government, in order to economize, has recently
taken away his horse, and it is impossible to
reach the outlying villages except under saddle.

110 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

Speaking of horses we ask him if he
can tell us where to get a carriage. He
shrugs his shoulders and pointing to the
narrow, muddy path explains that there is
not a carriage of any kind in the place, be-
cause there are no roads for them to drive
on. If we are willing to ride, however, he
can get us some fairly good horses. We are
not to be balked in our object; so if we can-
not drive we will ride, no matter what our
sensations may be later. We chat v>rith our
colored friend until the horses are Teady and
learn a good deal.

The condition of the island is simply deplor-
able. Though the soil is so rich that all tropi-
cal products grow in profusion, there is not one
decent road by which t ) bring the produce to
the seacoast when grown.

Vessels have long since given over stopping
here, as, owing to the lack of transportation,
there is such delay and uncertainty in loading
their cargoes. The road between Portsmouth
and Roseau was washed away some years ago;
now the only communication between Ports-
mouth and the outside world is a native canoe.

IN THE WEST INDIES. Ill

that runs to Roseau twice a week or once in
two weeks, as the spirit may move the boat-
man, and which brings the provisions and
mail — unless overturned en route.

To render the situation more hopeless, the
town is surrounded by a most unhealthy marsh,
which has won such an unsavory reputation for
the place that no stranger can bo persuaded to
pass a night there. Apparatus was sent out
from England some time ago to drain this
marsh; it was landed and dumped on the beach.
No orders were given, no men or money sup-
plied for its working, and there it lies to-day,
rotting to pieces. With this marsh drained and
the town made healthy, Portsmouth would
take the lead of any English port, with one ex-
ception, in the West Indies. '

The soil of Dominica is adapted to any kind
of agriculture, and its strategic position, enter-
ing like a wedge between the French posses-
sions of Guadeloupe and Martinique is unex-
celled. It was fought for and won time after
time by both French and English during the
warlike eighteenth century, for the great Rod-
ney realized the importance of its possession if

11-2 The cruise of the scythian

England would keep France in check. England
has freely shed the blood of her gallant sailors
to make it her own and once won, for good and
all, what has she done for it? With all its re-
sources, all its associations, it is fast relapsing
into a barbarism where English control is
sneered at on every hand and hated for its in-
difference. While St. Lucia is being fortified,
and Barbadoes, with its unprotected roadstead,
is still the great port of call, Dominica, with
greater natural advantages than either, is re-
lapsing to the most primitive form of negro life.

Suddenly we jump up in astonishment, for
there is a white man riding down the street
with a bottle under his arm. The sight of a
white face is so unusual that we question Mr.
Green about the horseman. He is a young Eng-
lishman sent out to learn farming from an Eng-
lish planter living near the town. The planter
has in reality no plantation, and therefore can
teach no farming, but he makes use of the young
apprentice by sending him daily to the village
for rum, with which the planter is drinking
himself to death.

But we should not cavil at anything which

IN THE WEST INDIES. 113

gives US a scene so quaint, picturesque and out
of tne world to enjoy. The whole population of
the place has, of course, come out to do us honor,
and finally a hubbub, rising even above the babel
of voices, announces that our steeds block the
way. A glance from the windows shows a
group of four-footed beasts standing in front of
the door, but it would be hard to say if they
were mules, horses or donkeys. On their aged
backs are four men's saddles, in every degree
of decay. We women look at one another
askance, while the men look at us with unbe-
coming grins on their faces.

The captain pulls herself together and says
to Mr. Green that the women must ask to have
side-saddles, or they will be forced to forego
their ride. He is exceedingly regretful, but as
•no side-saddle has ever been seen in Portsmouth
it is impossible to carry out our wishes.
But we are not to be left behind so easily.
The captain argues that if she rode on a
man's shoulder in Saba, she can surely ride on
a man's saddle in Portsmouth. So we put
the best face we can on the matter, and begin to
flounder, with scant dignity, on to our

114 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

horses' backs. We feel like circus riders
in the center of this ring of black faces, and are
convulsed with a laughter to which we do not
dare give way, for fear of losing the small de-
gree of equilibrium we possess.

The crowd is most civil, and follows our
every awkward movement with a courteous but
painful silence. At last a choking, smothered
laugh is given by some irrepressible. That is
enough ! Peal after peal of laughter echoes up
and down that mud path, in which we perforce
join as heartily as our position will allow. We
had always respected a good horsewoman, but
our respect for a good horseman now grows un-
bounded. To sit on that slippery piece of pig-
skin, with no pummels to keep one from falling
to the right or left, is a feat fit for the gods,
not mortals, to perform.

When we do dare turn our heads we are
amazed at the dense undergrowth through
which we are passing, for we are on our way
across the famous marsh to the hills beyond.
The path is almost under water, no house or
hut is to be seen, and we are in dim twilight,
except where the sun strikes here and there

IN THE WEST INDIES. 115

athwart the tuft of some lofty palm. A slimy
green thing wriggles out of the underbrush
along the path to cross our way with a sicken-
ing, undulating motion. Our ideal tropical
jungle is reached at last, even down to the de-
tail of snakes !

But our ideal is realized too fully for com-
fort. Starboard came on shore with us, and
there is no telling when another green serpent
may come along and fasten his fangs in that
white hide. To keep him out of danger's way
one of the men takes him on the front of his
saddle. Suddenly the dry bones of that horse
seem endowed with active life, and he begins
the most extraordinary gymnastics for an ani-
mal of his advanced years. He rears, bucks,
kicks, bolts, and ends by tumbling in a heap in
the mud. The confused mass of man, dog and
horse writhes on the ground for some time, but
when the man and dog are extricated from the
horse, the cause for this unlooked-for occur-
rence is inquired into.

It seems that Starboard, unused to such an
unaquatic mode of locomotion, and as fearful of
his balance as we women were of ours, took the
precaution of holding on to the horse with the

116 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN.

only member adapted to that service, his teeth.
The horse naturally objected to the feeling of
these teeth fastened in his withers, and tried in
every way to rid himself of them. The harder
he kicked the harder Starboard needed to hold
on, until the final catastrophe came and set
them both free.

Starboard is then led by a small boy who
regards him with unstinted admiration as the
only creature who had ever succeeded in mak-
ing that horse move faster than a walk. We
are now well across the marsh, and climbing
a steep trail up the mountain side, the top of
which seemed to elude us and grow further
away the higher we went. The views grow
more magnificent and the vegetation more
wonderful.

The feathery bamboo and the delicate tree-
fern nod their slender branches to each other,
and we are in the midst of the virgin, unbroken
wilderness. But, alas! the road is as virgin
as the country, and soon loses itself completely
in the forest, so that it would take a practiced
guide to find it again. Our beasts flounder help-
lessly in the greasy adobe mud, and the
lengthening shadows warn U9 that we must be

IN THE WEST INDIES. 117

turning homeward. So, much as we regret leav-
ing the beauty around us, we go down the
mountain and reach the wharf just as the sun
is setting in a bank of lovely green and violet
clouds.

A dear old colored woman comes up to the
captain as she is stepping into the launch and
gives her a great bunch of flowers, which would
have been priceless at home at this season.
Here, however, the old dame had picked them
outside her door, when she heard that some
'^stranger ladies" were in the town.

The morning after, the captain is wakened
by an unusual amount of conversation going on
over her head. She dresses to go on deck, and
sees Scythian surrounded by a horde of boats,
whose occupants are busily engaged in driving
some kind of a bargain with the sailors. The
sailing master soon comes up and says the men
would like a little money, as they all wish to
invest in some bay oil which the negroes have
brought off. A few drops of this oil dissolved
in rum will make the ordinary bay rum, and
Jacky, anxious as a child to try the experiment,
is buying right and left.

Our sailors lay in five pounds of this stuff.

118 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

For a week the smell of bay rum near the
fo'castle is enough to knock one down, and we
are convinced that they bathe in it every
morning. Being Sunday, the sailors later on
emulate our example of yesterday and go for a
ride. We see them urging their weary beasts
along the beach, followed by a trailing swarm
of blacks, on their way up to the old Spanish
fort on Prince Rupert's Neck, a favorite excur-
sion of a Sunday. They come back loaded
with useless curiosities, on which they have
squandered a month's wages, to the intense de-
light of the natives, to whom their visit has been
a gold mine. Such has Jack Tar been, such he
is, and so he will in all probability remain to
the end of time — a great, unthinking baby.

Mr. Green comes off to wish us good-by, with
real regret, as we go to Roseau in the after-
noon. He seldom has the chance of speaking
to any one with any degree of intelligence.
Most of the negroes living here have worked on
the Panama Canal. Over seventy per cent, of
the laborers die, but many of those who are
left return here when they have made enough
money to buy a piece of land from the govcrxi.

IN THE WEST INDIES. 119

ment at twenty-five dollars a lot. Here they
build a hut, and here they spend the rest of
their lives, almost as they would were they
in Africa. Mr. Green looks longingly at the
books in the captain's library ; one in particu-
lar, by Stepniak, catching his attention.
**0h!" he exclaims, "I have so often heard of
that book, but have never seen it before."

Of course, when he left, the book was bulging
out of his pocket and his face wore a happy
grin ; but we could not but be interested to find a
negro in Dominica so interested in the fate of
the Siberian exiles. He had come out not only
to say good-by, but as a committee of one, ap-
pointed by the townspeople, to ask the captain
as a great favor to blow the whistle as we left
Portsmouth. It had been three years since
any whistle had been h^ard here, and it might
be three years before they heard another ! So
at half-past four the whistle blew a merry
greeting to the crowd on the beach, who waved
their bandanas frantically as we steamed out of
the harbor.

We have the most magnificent views of Domi-
nica as we move slowly along to Roseau. The

120 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

towering mountains are deeply gutted by
ravines, and the dense growth which covers
every hill and valley looks like emerald-green
velvet drawn in the most artistic folds over the
undulating land. Here and there a watercourse
comes rushing down the mountain to leap in a
great waterfall into the sea. A few small vil-
lages cluster along the shore, dreaming under
their drooping palms. It is too beautiful for
words, too beautiful almost for true enjoyment.
It is exhausting to have one's powers of admira-
tion keyed to such a high pitch without an oc-
casional descent to the commonplace.

On reaching Koseau we find it hard to get a
good anchorage. The water is deep, and the
Roseau River comes tumbling into the road-
stead, making a strong current and turbulent
water. At last we tie up to a can buoy an-
chored out here for the steamers of the Royal
Mail Company. Roseau, by its contrast to
Portsmouth, looks like a metropolis. In real-
ity it is quite a nice little town, with an air of
comfort and prosperity, built on the open road-
stead, which, in case the wind shifts to the
west, i« really dangerous.

IN THE WEST INDIES. 121

Its inhabitants at once desert the town, crowd
themselves into boats, and surround the Scy-
thian. There are men selling groceries, men
selling shells, fruit and coral. Little ones with
no clothes on row out in catamarans to dive to
the bottom after pennies. If they were little
white boys they would look alarmingly in-
decent; but for some reason their jet-black
skin seems to relieve the situation and makes a
good substitute for clothes.

Th.en one very grand boat, painted a sky-blue,
makes its way toward us. It must surely carry
some high official, who is coming out to pay his
respects to the American boat. The grocer,
fruiterer and naked boys fall back, the noisy
clamor is hushed to a reverential buzz, and a
small black man walks up the gangway with
the air of a prince. The most striking thing
about him at first is his tie of baby blue, but
we gradually make out that he wears also the
most immaculate white clothes.

His card is brought to the captain, who reads
thereon **Monsieur Cockroach." Now, nothing
could be less crawly and more uncockroach-
like than this courtly personage. He receives

122 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIaN

the captain with a low bow, which makes her
for the moment feel that most white- men, and
all Americans, are rustics and upstarts com-
pared with this gallant scion of the African
race. He assures mademoiselle that if mado-
moiselle will allow him to make all the arrange-
ments, he would advise the next day a visit to
the Fresh Water Lake, a ride of thirty miles.
Mademoiselle, who had harbored no intention
of ever riding thirty miles, instantly feels that
anything Monsieur Cockroach thinks well for
her to do it would be foolish to refuse. So, ap-
parently without volition on her part, we are
all booked for the excursion the following day.

There is absolutely no reason why this man
should style himself *'Monsieur," or the cap-
tain ''Mademoiselle," for every one else in
Dominica speaks English. But we feel instinc-
tively that plain **Mr." and "Miss" would be
utterly inadequate to match with that splendid
tie and those courtly manners. The only point
in which we can claim superiority, is in the
matter of shoes, as he wears none.

The next day we breakfast at half-past seven
to make an early start on our long expedition.

IN THE WEST INDIES. 1^^

Monsieur Cockroach meets us on the wharf
with a large bouquet for the captain, which seri-
ously inconveniences her in her equestrian
performances. He leads us to where our
horses are waiting, and we begin to have an
inkling that his name may apply not to him-
self, but to his beasts. They are small and
dark and dejected, and we later find that a
crawl is their highest economic speed. They
are weary and sick and bent with years ; beside
them our own long-suffering stage horses are
gay and prancing yearlings.

The captain suggests to Monsieur Cockroach
that it might be better to feed them a little be-
fore we start. He replies in a suave manner
that they can '*eat no more," which remark
leaves us in doubt as to whether he means that
they will eat nothing more in this world, or
that they are already satisfied; their expres-
sions would lead us to infer the former.

But the sight of two side-saddles shifting
around from side to side on the bony backs of
two of the animals fills the hearts of us women
with joy, although we have been used to some-
thing more stationary in the matter of saddles.

1^4 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

We mount, however, and are soon jogging
merrily down the road — that is, we humans are
merry, for no one could ever apply such a term
to the equines. The progress of each horse is
facilitated by two boys, one of whom drags it in
front, while the other pushes it behind with a
stick. Occasionally one of the beasts sits down
by the roadside to rest, and then the black boy
holds the rider in position until the animal is
ready to proceed.

However, we find that as they leave the town
behind they warm to their work, and we end
by having a great respect— not for their speed
— but for their surefootedn^ss.

The town is pretty and clean ; many of the
houses have quaint boxes of flowers growing on
the window sills, giving a pleasant effect.

When we leave it behind the road as-
cends gradually along the valley of the Roseau
River, which runs roaring and tumbling through
a gorge far below. The land here is rich be-
yond belief, and there are some plantations of
coffee, limes and indigo, all of which grow to
perfection.

But this smiling country is soon passed, as

IN TttE WEST iNDtES. 125

we leave the river and turn into a narrow trail
which zigzags up and up far into the heart of
the mountains. They tower one above another
until, at the highest point, Mt. Diabolin, they
are five thousand four hundred feet above the
level of the sea. The views are grand, superb;
overpowering. Every now and then a deep
gorge rends a great mountain in twain, and we
round a corner to look down a precipice into
the valley, a thousand feet below, while above
the crags still tower to dizzy heights. A cas-
cade falls down the sheer mountain side and
blows gracefully from side to side in the wind,
while far below us we see the ocean, its tur-
quoise blue contrasting vividly with the sur-
rounding green of the forest.

Most wonderful of all is this forest, which
covers every mountain side, every gorge, every
crevice. Bamboos and tree-ferns bend their
delicate branches as we pass, bananas and
mangroves interlace their broad leaves lovingly,
and palms and ceibas, bread-fruit and tama-
rinds are so common as to be almost despised.
Not only the ground, but even the trees them-
selves, are covered with the rank growth

126 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

From the gray trunks and graceful branches
hang all manner of air plants, lichens and
orchids, now of the more delicate hues,
again flaming out in richest crimsons and
golds. It is one waving, rustling, exquisite
mass of color, the like of which we poor
commonplace mortals had never before
dreamed.

As we go higher it grows colder, and before
long we have reached the limit of almost
continual rain. It comes down at first like
mist, but soon grows into solid drops,
which drench us to the skin. This rain
keeps up with few intermissions until we
come down to a lower level, and is most de-
pressing.

The horses show signs of collapse, and we
ourselves being deadly tired, can sympathize
with them. The captain's horse can finally no
longer be urged on, so she walks and brings up
the tail-end of as bedraggled a party of pleas-
ure-seekers as was ever seen. The mist hides
the view, we are cold and wet, and sin-

IN THE WEST INDIES. 127

cerely relieved when a turn in the road brings
us in sight of an ordinary sheet of water, the
Fresh Water Lake only remarkable for being
found so high up in the mountains. We walk a
few steps further to catch a glimpse of the
ocean on the other side of the island, which
the mist allows us to see for an instant, and the
goal of our journey is reached. We stretch our
cramped limbs painfully on the damp ground,
and eat a cold and unappetizing luncheon.
The horses promptly lie down — no one thinks
of offering them food, their looks say elo-
quently that they are too tired to eat.

A little lull comes in the rain, and some one
suggests that we would do well to start down
out of the clouds before it begins again. The
poor horses are picked up and set on their feet,
their riders once more deposited on their backs,
and the downward journey begins.

When we have left the clouds and returned to
the zone of warm sunshine the beauty of it all
comes on us like a fresh revelation. The sun
lights up one side of the yawning ravine with
its golden rays, leaving the other side dim and
purple in the shadow. Hundreds of feet far

128 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

below it changes the rushing torrent into a
thread of gleaming silver, and miles away it
makes the ocean a sea of sapphire. The birds
sing joyously in musical notes, the air is full of
strange perfumes, and the perfect loveliness
seems to knock at the door of all the senses at
once.

But we grow all the time more tired, and by
four o'clock, when we are back to the sea level
and see the Scythian only a little way from us,
we are almost beyond recall. Every muscle
has been stretched and every limb shaken until
when we are half-carried up the gangway we
can neither sit nor stand with any slight de-
gree of comfort. We are as cross as we are
tired, and the only thing on which we can all
agree is that we would willingly undergo twice
the discomfort again if we could only enjoy
half the pleasure that Dominica had given us
this day.

Our American consul in Dominica is a fine-
looking young Englishman, who came out to
Roseau eighteen years ago. He owns various
kinds of plantations and has been most success-
ful, especially in the raising of coffee, indigo

IN THE WEST INDIES. 129

and limes. He married a young mulattress
with creamy skin, wavy brown hair, liquid
eyes, and a voice so sweet that you wished she
would talk forever that you might hear those
delicious tones. The English in the West Indies
have not the same feeling regarding the color
line that we have, and this marriage with a
colored heiress seemed so natural an arrange-
ment to our consul that he sent for his brother
to come out and marry his wife's sister.

Our consul arrived here in the summer with a
clergyman who had been appointed to the care
of Dominica. The clergyman, thinking that
life in the tropics was not conducive to constant
work, brought with him four large boxes of
sermons, which he had bought of some needy
professional brother at home, so that no more
writing need be done by him for many a long
day. They lived in a small stone house upon
the hillside, and that summer Dominica was
devastated by one of the most terrible hurri-
canes in the history of the West Indies. It
took place in the night, and when the day
broke and the consul looked out over the island,
not one single green thing, tree, plant or leaf,

130 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

was left; the whole land was dead and blighted.
His own house was utterly demolished, and his
pig blown out of its sty far away into the
woods.

But man's extremity had been God's op-
portunity. The clergyman's sermons had
been blown away with the pig, and were
scattered broadside over the land, reaching
even the uttermost parts of the island. On
each hillside was found a text, and in every
valley an exhortation, even the natives in
the neighboring islands were found possessed
of some of these words of life. To be sure, the
poor man had to set to work and write more
sermons; but what was that in comparison with
the widespread dissemination of his brother
clergyman's burning words!

Our consul is best known as being the one
man in Dominica who owns a carriage. We
have the honor of taking a short drive in it one
morning, and of seeing all the donkeys shy
away from it into the bushes when we pass
them, while our own pair sidle along trying to
look back and see what it is that impedes their
progress.

IN THE WEST INDIES. 131

Our drive is necessarily short, as a mile from
the town all the roads dwindle into bridle
paths, but we hear some news that makes us
hurry home and get under way. The quaran-
tine against Guadeloupe has been raised. Our
decision is soon taken to retrace our steps
and go back there at once, for who knows
but what a case of measles or whooping cough
might develope before we pass it on our home-
ward way, and all the islands be quarantined
again.

So we give the orders, hoist the boats, up
with our anchor, dip our flag to the consul
watching us from the shore, and turn toward
the north.

Back we go, past Dominica, seeing Ports-
mouth and Prince Rupert's Neck in the dis-
tance, straight across the channel to Point-a-
Pitre. It is blowing hard as we come from
under the lee of the island, and a big sea is
running wliich makes our afternoon anything
but a pleasant one. But we are soon under the
lee of Marie Galante and our discomforts are
over.

We have a beautiful view of the windward

132 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

side of Guadeloupe, whose fertile sloping hill-
sides are rich in vegetation and dotted all over
with pretty white houses and the tall chimneys
of the usines. But we had started too late,
and did not make Point-a-Pitre before night-
fall. A good lighthouse marks the harbor-
quite an innovation after their conspicuous ab-
sence in the English islands— but the channel
is dangerous, and we stop in the Grand Bay
outside the harbor and burn blue lights for a
pilot. We burn them until we fear we shall
run short if we should ever need another pilot.
Then we begin with the New York Yacht Club
night signals, but with no avail. The pilots
are as blind to the green-red -green as they are
to the blue. So we drop our anchor and wait
patiently for the morning.

IN THE WEST INDIES. 133

CHAPTER YII.

GUADELOUPE.

The delinquent pilot makes his appearance
early in the morning, and takes us up the har-
bor to Point-a-Pitre. We had for so long en-
joyed the distinction of being almost the only
vessel at anchor, that we feel quite aggrieved
when he tells us that the harbor is so crowded
it will be hard to get us a good berth. Indeed,
as we come up it is fairly alive with shipping,
French barges, Italian brigs, Norwegian tramps,
English ships and American schooners lie in
lines too close for safety, and further down the
bay is a nondescript vessel of some type un-
known to us, flying the Greek flag.

Little passenger boats ply backward and for-
ward between difl'erent parts of the island like
so many big water spiders. Big tugboats, tow-
ing clumsy barges of sugar cane, come puffing in
their consequential way up to the usine, under
whose walls we had dropped anchor. The

134 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

barges, cargo and all, are there at once hoisted
out of water and weighed. The cane is dumped
into the usine and the barge back to the water,
all ready for the next trip.

This usine, or sugar factory, runs day and
night, turning out all the products of the cane
—sugar, rum and molasses. It also turns out a
fine coat of war-paint for us, for Scythian lies
just to leeward, so that the fumes from the re-
finery blow all over her. On her white paint
these fumes make sugar of lead and turn her
into a gray little gunboat.

As we can see from the harbor, Gaudeloupe
is really divided into two parts. There is the
rugged and mountainous Gaudeloupe proper,
of volcanic origin, lying to the west of the
Salee River, with Basse Terre as its capital,
and the flat, marshy Grande Terre, of coral
formation, to the east of the river, with Point-
a-Pitre as its port.

All around are plantations and busy popula-
tions, but so used had we become to stagnation
that it required a little adjustment of our men-
tal equilibrium to enjoy the change to an active
life. It was pleasant to see for the first time
the French flag flying over French soil on this

IN THE WEST INDIES. 135

continent, and edifying to hear, when we land,
the negroes squabbling with true French viva-
city, in the true French tongue. Somehow
negroes and a French accent had never been
connected together in our mental pictures. We
find after all that they were merely showing off
their accomplishments, like so many children,
for our benefit, as they usually talk the most
atrocious patois that can be conceived.

We land later in the morning at a fine stone
wharf for a stroll round the town. Point-a-
Pitre is quite a compact city, with broad
streets opening out in public squares, and hand-
some buildings. It is not old, for the place
has had many vicissitudes. It was destroyed
once by an earthquake, again by a hurricane,
and lastly by fire ; the present city is therefore
the fourth which has risen from the ashes or
debris of its predecessors, and was built not
many years since. .

The colored women (one sees no others) are a
delight. They are tall and finely made; their
carriage is queenly and their taste and dress
undoubted. Their gowns are made of gayly-
flowered prints, short in the waist, long and

136 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

trailing in the skirt, and held well up to
the shapely knees in front. Around their
necks are bright kerchiefs, and gaudy turbans
adorn their heads, with two ends sticking
straight up, with a jaunty, butterfly effect.
There are also real shops, and counters on
which things are bought and sold. On the way
home we found ourselves carrying nondescript
parcels full of things we did not want in the
least — like rubber dolls and ugly glass vases, in
which we had invested simply for the joy of
shopping once more.

In the afternoon we make our visit to our
consul, Mr. Dart. He lives in a hot, dreary
room, looking out on some sad palm trees and
a glary street. He despises Guadeloupe and
the Guadeloupians. As burning questions of
international diplomacy do not often arise
between the United States and Guadeloupe,
the poor man spends most of his time longing
to be at home and out of this *' God-forsaken
country." He is a big-hearted, genial South-
erner, and his companionship is a real pleasure
to us. He asks as a great favor that we will
allow him to settle any bills we may contract
while in Gaudeloupe.

IN THE WEST INDIES. 137

Gaudeloupe, as it seems, has a paper cur-
rency which is worthless outside the island. It
is so bad that even Martinique refuses to ac-
cept it. About three thousand dollars of this
stuff has been passed off on Mr. Dart, and he
says that if he can pay our creditors out of this
fund, and be repaid by us in good American
gold, it will be a godsend to him.

So wherever we go Mr. Dart is our faith-
ful attendant, much to the disgust of the natives
who do not dare fleece us to the extent
of their capacity in our consul's presence, and
who would also like to have the American
gold, on which there is a high premium, in
their own pockets. After talking a while with
our new-found friend, we send out to engage a
carriage. The messenger shortly returns to say
not a horse or wagon is to be allowed to go out
of the stables to-day.

There is to be an execution to-morrow, for
the first time in fifty years. A colored man
has been convicted of murder and is to be be^
headed. The governor, wishing to have all the
people attend the guillotining as an object les-
son, has ordered the horses to rest to-day, that

138 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

there may be no excuse for them not to take
the thirty-five-mile drive the next day to the
place of execution.

Mr. Dart is furious, and rushes out of the
house to return at once with a vehicle following
him. We never knew what cajoling or threats
he used, but we took the gift the gods pro-
vided, and went our way in our carriage.

The country is low and uninteresting, but
very fertile. The teeming colored population
is omnipresent, for here, as elsewhere, it repre-
sents three-fourths of the entire community.
The negro cabins stretch along the road mile
after mile as far as we can see. The people
seem quiet enough and respectable, but Mr.
Dart tells us that they regard the white
man as a most inferior breed of animal, to be
treated at all times with dislike and dis-
dain.

It was curious to learn that in Guadeloupe
Columbus first discovered the pineapple. His
followers must have disposed of most of them,
for we see none as we drive along the road.
After a few miles of huts and marshes we go
back to the town, and find it much more inter-

IN THE WEST INDIES. 139

eating than the country — a complete reversal of
what we usually find in these places.

Mr. Dart comes out to dine with us, and in
the evening we sit on deck watching the great
golden stars, and listening to a boy with a voice
like an angel who comes out to serenade us.
His songs are anything but angelic, according
to our consul, but as we do not understand a
word, what does it matter? From time to time
black shadows glide smoothly and silently by
in the dark night. They are boats from the
country going to Point-a-Pitre, that their farm
produce may be there at the opening of the
market at dawn.

When we leave Point-a-Pitre for Basse Terre
on the other side of the island Mr. Dart consents
to go with us. We should have liked to take
the drive across the mountains, one of the
grandest roads in the country, but this execu-
tion stood in our way, and we did not care to
stay in Point-a-Pitre two more days.

So one morning we are all ready to start.
The pilot is on board and we are only waiting
for our washing, which has been promisd to us
by eight o'clock. It is now ten, and even the

140 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

strongest glass fail to discover any one re-
motely resembling a washerwoman on shore.
We are fretting and fuming, for the wind is ris-
ing every moment and we want to be off.
At last, about eleven o'clock, a stately form is
seen strolling down the wharf, followed by four
small boys carrying two clothes-baskets. The
stately form steps leisurely into a boat, and is
rowed with great deliberation toward the Scyth-
ian and up to the starboard gangway, when
it resolves itself into a queenly negress
with a superb tigure. Her dress is a white print,
very liberally sprinkled with red carnations.
A green kerchief is arranged round her neck so
as to best display a goodly amount of the ex-
quisite throat, and on her head sits a gorgeous
golden j^ellow turban. She makes white
women look washed-out and commonplace, and
when Mr. Dart has the temerity to reason with
her on her lack of punctuality, she replies in a
voice so delicious that all others seem strident
by contrast.

She takes the money due her without
even glancing at it, as though it were too mun-
dane a matter for her to consider, sweeps down

IN THE WEST INDIES. 141

the gangway, and fades from our admiring
gaze.

Our experiments with washerwomen had so
far been trying. My brother-in-law was most
particular as to the immaculate whiteness and
glossiness of his shirt bosoms. The washer-
woman in St. Thomas assured him that shirt
fronts were her specialty, and he confided his
treasures to her care. She took them away,
pounded them hard between two stones,
sprinkled them with some muddy water, and
brought them back ornamented with some tiny
holes. My brother was in despair.

On reaching St. Kitts, another Madonna of
the Tubs was unearthed, and the evidences of
her predecessor's guilt pointed out to her. She
was amazed that any colored lady could have
the impertinence to call those shirts washed.
It was only to be accounted for by the fact
that the former washerwoman was Danish, and
not English; the Danes knew no better. My
brother, reassured, gave the shirts to her, and
awaited in feverish expectation their sec-
ond arrival. The woman brought them back
and displayed proudly not only the spatters

142 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

and rumples of St. Thomas, but an additional
number made by her own artistic hands, while
the holes had perceptibly widened. The shirts
were laid by again in anguish of spirit.

When my brother saw the beautifully
starched petticoats worn by the women of
Guadeloupe he took fresh courage. Only the
French understand those little niceties. Here
his shirts would at last receive the attention
due them. Just as the grand lady disappeared
down the gangway my brother emerged from
the depths of the clothes-basket with a howl of
rage. In one hand was a linen shirt, twisted
and drawn out of all semblance to that mascu-
line article with gaping holes and drooping
collar, and in the other a flannel shirt shrunk
until it would have fitted a child of ten. This
was tne bitter end, and my brother sent no
more washing during our sojourn in these
waters.

While this little episode was in progress our
anchor was up and we had started down the
harbor en route for Basse Torre, towing the
pilot's boat behind.

It is blowing harder now, and the horizon had

IN THE WEST INDIES. 143

taken on that curious misty look we were learn-
ing to dread. It was a sure sign that the trade
wind meant to make things as unpleasant for
us as it could, and we had come not to doubt its
power in that direction.

The great seas roll us round unmercifully, as
we come from under the lee of Grande Terre
and get the full force of the blast. Chairs slip,
spray flies, and we begin to be indignant
with this never ceasing wind and that never
quiet sea. The poor pilot boat behind is
making bad weather of it. At first only an oc-
casional wave washes over it, but soon the men
are deluged and the boat is half-full of water.
The crew cry frantically for mercy and release
in terms of the wildest French vituperation,
while their gestures are pitiful.

At last the pilot scrambles down the ladder
into the drenched boat, the line is loosed and he
makes his way back to port as best he can,
while we continued on our way amid the raging
waves. The white-caps are out in full force and
the indigo-colored water is thickly streaked with
white foam. The great rollers, driven by the
wind, press through between the islands, and we

144 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

could well imagine ourselves back in the Gulf
Stream. But even in our discomfort we can
appreciate the grandeur of the island as we
skirt its shore. It seems no longer sunny and
gracious, but somber and austere.

Perhaps our position affects us mentally, but
the KSouffriere, or crater of Guadeloupe, seems
to glower down at us wickedly now and then
through its enveloping clouds, as though mak-
ing fun of our attempts at perpetual motion
from the heights of its own stationary superior-
ity. It is craggy and dark and gloomy, and we
are relieved to learn that there has been no
eruption in many years.

We slowly round the point of the island to
reach smooth water and an even keel with a
suddenness which is surprising, and are soon
riding at anchor in the roadstead of Basse Terre.
Even on the water the mountains seem so high
that they are overpowering, and one has the
feeling of shut-in-ness and suffocation which we
have most of us felt in the mountains. But
there are no words that will express the beauty
of the craggy, towering peaks and their curving,
cultivated sides.

IN THE WEST INDIES. 145

Within an hour we are landing on those
lovely shores, and have no trouble in finding
a carriage drawn by four mules. They are har-
nessed, three together, as wheelers, and one lone
mule in front as leader. The poor beasts are so
galled and sore from their harness as to awaken
pity. The captain tries to induce the driver to
change one strap, which is cutting deep into
the flesh of the poor animal with its every
motion. He looks at her in blank astonishment
and refuses to do anything. **What does it
matter? It is nothing but a mule." The worst
of it was that they were American mules,
brought up in a kindly country and used to the
care of men, not the treatment of brutes.

We wanted to see the dungeons in which
Lieutenant Bainbridge and the crew of the Ke-
taliation had been thrown during our quasi-war
with France in 1798. The Eetaliation had been
the French privateer Croyable, captured by the
Americans and renamed. Under Bainbridge,
while cruising in these waters, she was forced
to strike her colors to the French frigate Insur-
gent, and her crew were brought here. So,
strangely enough, she was the first vessel takeii^

146 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

from the French and the first vessel captured
from the Americans.

After suffering great hardships in the dun-
geons of Guadeloupe for many weeks, her crew
were sent back to the United States, while the
loss of the Insurgent did not go unavenged.
She was captured in fair and square fight about
a year later, off Nevis, by the grand old Con-
stellation, under Truxtun.

But no one here seems to have heard of this
little episode in our naval history, so the
dungeons are perforce unvisited, and we are
taken instead to Camp Jacob, five miles
up the mountains. Basse Terre, as we pass
through it, is less compact than Point-a-Pitre,
but far more picturesque. The streets are
clean and well paved and have a very gay ap-
pearance, for it is the fashion here to paint the
shutters and doors in all manner of bright
colors. Gaudy stripes of red and blue, pat-
terns of yellow moons and suns, geometrical
figures and imitations of playing cards, give a
very unusual and striking effect.

We begin the climb up the mountain as soon
as the town is passed, and arc much interested

IN THE WEST INDIES. 147

in the coffee plantations, as the plant does ex-
ceedingly well in this soil. The coffee is
planted between rows of bananas, whose broad
leaves protect the tender bean from the too
fierce rays of the tropical sun. The views are
wonderful, and we at last reach Camp Jacob, one
of the most superb situations we had ever seen.

It is the watering place for the whole of
Guadeloupe.

All who can afford to leave the seacoast dur-
ing the sickly season have cottages up here in
the pure, cool mountain air. A garrison of
French soldiers is also situated here as being
the most healthy camp, and the whole place is
attractive and homelike. The houses are
charming, their whitewashed walls and green
blinds all covered with flowering vines. The
views are unsurpassed, even in the West Indies,
where beauty reaches its highest perfection.
We leave the carriage and walk up the road,
white and level, and perfect, as are all French
roads. On crossing a bridge we look down four
hundred feet to a stream dashing through a
deep gorge in the mountains. Here the ravine
is spanned by a rainbow as well as by a bridge.

148 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

At any moaient the rain may patter down
out of an apparently clear sky. The sun
shines brightl}^ even during the shower, and at
the end of five minutes the little burst goes on
its way to make room for the next. The re-
sults of this constant rain are the most exquis-
ite rainbows ; they are everywhere, playing far
up on the mountain side, shining among the
clouds, or making fairy bridges across the great
ravines. We counted five, showing their beau-
tiful colors at once on our way up the moun-
tain, and they make a distinct feature of the
scenery at Gaudeloupe. We stroll on a little
further to an inclosure called Rollins' Park,
where a delightful little lake is gleaming like a
jewel in its green setting of pampas grass and
palms. The park is tended by an old Indian
coolie, whose aristocratic features and delicate
skin are a joy after the retreating forehead and
flat noses of the dusky African. After sitting
by the lake and drinking in the lovely view, we
go reluctantly back to our carriage, which is
waiting below.

We start off with a resounding snap of the
whip and a great jerk, and are soon dashing

IN THE West indies. 149

down the mountain side at a dead run. We
twist corners, turn sharp zigzags, and just
scrape by wagons, for no remonstrance or
entreaties will persuade our Jehu to check our
mad career. Some kind providence surely
watches over us, for we reach Basse Terre in an
incredibly short time, and what is more, whole
in body and limb.

We arrived home just in time to receive some
friends of Mr. Dart's, among them the Chief
Justice of the island, who had the courage to
send the black man to the guillotine the other
day. He took the greatest interest in the boat
and its belongings. The steam heaters struck
him particularly, although he could hardly
imagine the climatic conditions which would
make them bearable. He tapped the silver
salvers in the dining room inquiringly, and
asked if they were real. The toilet silver in
the captain's room he also approved of, espe-
cially a little alcohol lamp and tongs which
the dampness occasionally made necessary.
**C'est pour /riser,'' he exclaimed, and with
great glee called his son, a child of ten, to
view the novelty. Curly locks are so much a

150 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

mark of degradation here that he could hardly
believe that any one would wish to curl their
hair when they were so fortunate as to have
been born with it straight. He looked at us
with interest, and for one horrible moment we
thought he was going to ask for a practical
illustration of the tongs' usefulness, but the
danger passed. At last he leaves, sighing
because his family could not see the charms of
**ce palais flottant.'^

Mr. Dart brings with him great news; there
was an American circus in town! Of course
we must see it, to miss such an entertainment
would be unpatriotic. But the next morning
comes the further news that the governor
has refused to allow Mr. Gardiner, the circus
man, to give another performance. The people
flocked to the circus in such numbers that too
much money was leaving the island in Mr.
Gardiner's pocket. But on seeing it we were
bent, so Mr. Dart goes on shore to wrestle with
the governor, and he pleaded his case well.
He told him that we were a party of Ameri-
cans who, having heard in our own country
that Gardiner's circus was playing in Guade-

IN THE WEST INDIES. 151

loupe, had come all this distance for the ex-
press purpose of seeing the performance; that
we were terribly disappointed to hear that he
would not allow the circus to go on, and were
returning to America to say all kinds of dis-
agreeable things about Guadeloupe and to
prevent any other Americans coming there.
The governor was touched by this appeal
and not only signed an order allowing Gar-
diner to perform that evening, but secured a
box at once for himself and his family, as a
star performance was promised by the de-
lighted Gardiner.

We of course feel that after this concession
we should go and thank the governor in person
for his kindness. His palace is a handsome,
low white building on the way to Camp Jacob.
Oar cards are taken to him, and he sends word
at once that he will receive us. We are shown
into a salon of almost stately proportions, fur-
nished in true French style, with large gilt-
framed mirrors on the wall. The red satin,
gilt-legged sofas and chairs are arranged vis-a-
vis on the polished floor, in long rows, with a
table here and there to break the monotony.

152 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

The governor soon enters, and is a very plain,
unpretentious Frenchman. He is most cordial,
but the interview is trying. He speaks no Eng-
lish, and we are none of us good linguists. We
make feverish efforts to talk easily and fluently,
but are tongue-tied and awkward. All our
articles came to our lips in the wrong gender,
and the adjectives show a decided disinclina-
tion to agreeing with their respective nouns.
So the interview is not lengthened and we soon
take our leave.

That evening the governor's secretary, a
handsome young Creole, dines with us, to go
later to the circus. He is in deep mourning for
his brother, who was killed a few months
since in a duel, for duelling is still in this
island the method of settling all affaires
d'honneur.

At eight o'clock we go on shore for the great
occasion and drive up to the circus grounds.
The great tent stands in the center of a multi-
tude of excited, chattering blacks, howling and
gesticulating with true negro fervor. Men,
women and children are gathered for the
great event; and the whole scene glows in

IN THE WEST INDIES. 153

the fitful glare of burning torches, whose light
is reflected from the superb white teeth and
shining eyes of the negroes. Now one face will
stand out for a moment in sharp relief against
the darkness, until at a flicker of the torch, the
night swallows it up. The air is full of strange
noises and over all the wild, uncanny scene the
great palm trees sway to and fro in the wind,
looking weird and eerie in the flickering light.
But we drop very quickly to the commonplace
on entering the tent through a flap of the canvas
curtain. There, on a high stool, we find Mrs.
Gardiner, a stout woman, with diamond earrings,
selling tickets to the crowd. Mr. Gardiner him-
self, in a semi-intoxicated condition, escorts
us to our seats, assuring us that this is the
proudest hour of his professional career. The
captain had asked Mr. Dart to engage three
boxes for our party, and to invite any of his
friends who would like to see the show.
When we enter the boxes we find ourselves the
unconscious hosts of apparently the entire
white population of Guadeloupe. Women who
were perfect strangers grasp our hands; men

154 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

we had never seen converse with us like old
friends ; children poke their sticky fingers on
our best gowns, and later in the evening go to
sleep with their dishevelled heads on our
shoulders.

Our appearance is the signal for the perform-
ance to begin. It takes but a moment to real-
ize that our boxes are more the center of attrac-
tion than the circus itself. Hundreds of red-
brown eyes are fixed on us in a prolonged stare,
which is disconcerting. Being the guests of
honor, too, all the choicest parts of the per-
formance are directed at us. The clown makes
all his jokes in execrable French at our box ;
the bespangled circus riders jump through
paper hoops directly in front of us. The jump-
ers jump, the jugglers juggle, the wrestlers
wrestle, and the trained dogs twist themselves
out of shape entirely tor oar beneht, while the
great drawing attraction of the whole company,
Mr. Gardiner's daughter, who is advertised as
''Lajolie^ la petite, la tres jeune Lulu,'" kisses
her hand to us pointedly as she rides past on
the shoulder of a circus rider. Mr. Gardiner
himself, whoso condition is not improved by

IN THE WEST INDIES. 155

plenteous libations, smacks his whip in the ring
and then, with a tremendous slap on the back of
my retiring brother-in-law, sinks into a seat by
his side and serenely buttonholes him for the
rest of the evening.

It is a pathetic little performance, but
the enthusiastic black faces shine with ex-
citement and heat, and every feat is ap-
plauded to the echo. It is a relief to go at
last out of the tobacco-laden atmosphere to the
cool, dark night, and find our way to our quiet
home, away from the din and heat.

The next morning, as we are resting from the
dissipations of the previous night, a boat rows
up to the gangway. Out of it step Mr. Gar-
diner and his child, la tres jewie Lulu, It is to
be feared that her spirit is not as young as her
body, for she at once takes command of the
boat as though it were a circus ring, and makes
herself the center of attraction.

Mr. Gardiner links his arm in that of my
long-suffering brother, and says he has come
to renew the delightful acquaintance of the
night before. We are sorry for the poor souls,
and give them a good meal. From the way in

156 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAIN

which they enjoy it, it must be the first they
have had for many a long day.

On leaving Basse Terre we have to make
an early start for St. Lucia, so Mr. Dart says
good-by to us the night before, and we part
with real regret on both sides. It seems hard
to leave him in a place where he has not one
congenial friend, and touching to see that his
regret at parting from us is not only because
we are friends, but because we are also Ameri-
cans.

Just one year later, as the Scythian was lying
in Charleston harbor, one of those strange co-
incidences which give yachting such a charm
took place. The captain heard a strangely
familiar voice asking for her, and on going on
deck saw before her Mr. Dart. He had that
morning arrived from Guadeloupe, and to his
amazement the first thing to meet his eyes on
going on deck was the old Scythian. We had a
pleasant talk over Guadeloupe and our doings
there, but everything was swallowed up in his
delight at being once more in his native land.

We left Guadeloupe before daybreak, and at
breakfast time found ourselves oft" the coast of

IN THE WEST INDIES. 157

Martinique, in a drizzling rain and high wind.
Martinique is still quarantined by the English
islands, so we can only imagine that we see the
birthplace of Josephine and the statue raised
to her honor in the public square of St. Pierre.
This passing of Martinique was the great dis-
appointment of our trip, for it seemed to us
the best worth seeing of all the islands. But
we did see Diamond Rock, that famous piece
of stone not far from Martinique. Here Lord
Howe sent a midshipman and some gallant
British tars to land with guns and provisions,
and here they kept the ships of France and
Spain at bay for nine long months. At last
starvation conquered where Spain and France
had failed, but the rock was honored by being
christened "His Majesty's Sloop of War, Dia-
mond Rock."

Between Martinique and St. Lucia, the less
said about the weather the better. We had ex-
ercise enough to last the day and were heartily
glad to reach St. Lucia by two in the afternoon,
and take on board the colored pilot, who brings
us safely up to a good anchorage before the
charming town of Castries,

158 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

CHAPTER VIII.

ST. LUCIA.

Our first thought on reaching St. Lucia was
that here at last we could get our letters from
home. We were blind to the beauty of the
almost land-locked harbor, with its fringing
palms; blind to the exquisite color and shapes
of those wonderful mountains; oblivious to all
but the arrival of the news we craved from our
distant friends. Our anchor chains rattled
noisily in the hawse pipes, and almost before
the anchor found bottom a boat, steered by an
unmistakable Englishman, came up to the
gangway. He stepped on deck, introduced him-
self as our American consul, Mr. Peterson, and
gave us great fat packages of mail, covered
with an eruption of postmarks and stamps.
After hurrjed greetings and a few words of
thanks, we excused ourselves to open eagerly
our long-looked-for mail, only to throw it away
M moment later in the deepest disgust. Al-

^

1

J

^^^BlMfrl "^ BF^H^^^H^^H

1

inPl T llB^^^Mr I'ii^^^^^ll^^H

■ ■ ^ 1

9h'» *' bmEi j^^^^^H

%

^1 ^Hljn 1 HI^^^^^H

^■'^'HtiP^ '1#Ih^I^^H

•

91 '^'" i^mijf^v^^ '^.jiKi^^^^i

■

1

IN THE WEST INDIES. 159

though we had been weeks from home, and
had not yet received one mail, the letters
Just given us w^re dated but three days after
we ourselves had sailed. It is certainly pro-
voking, and we are conscious of an unreason-
able feeling of irritation against poor Mr.
Peterson. He soon reassures us however by
saying that another steamer is expected
within the week, and that our later letters
will doubtless come by that mail. So we are
comforted.

He puts his horses and carriage at our dis-
posal for the afternoon, but we are content to
sit on deck and watch the town from a distance,
and the harbor from a good vantage ground.
And a fascinating harbor it is to any one fond
of boats, for St. Lucia, being the great coaling
station of the West Indies, is the port of call for
many steamers. Not a day passes but a thin
line of smoke along the horizon heralds the ar-
rival of some steamer, which pokes its nose
into the harbor, as though searching, as in
truth it is, after food for its inner man. A
grotesque oil-tank, with its engine m its stern
^n^ its jiQse y^aj up iq the air like a giraffe,

160 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

comes stalking up to the wharf to feed on that
big pile of Welsh coal on the shore. A poor old
tramp, so decrepit that a high sea surely must
break her into small pieces, lags into the harbor
in a listless way, with great cascades of rust
running down her dingy sides. We have a
sympathy for the old tramp. Who knows but
what the good Scythian might have spent the
same sad old age had our paths in life not
crossed !

A great American excursion steamer struts
grandly in to disgorge its load of sightseers,
field-glasses on their backs and the inevitable
cameras in their hands. They swarm over the
land like locusts, but fortunately for only a
short time. At the sound of the whistle an-
nouncing the departure of the steamer they
flock back once more and sail away, having
seen everything within an hour. Every steamer
in these parts which can come to St. Lucia
for coal does so, as it is cheaper and more
abundant here than anywhere else in these
waters, Pocahontas coal selling for about $4.50
per ton.

Our friend, Mr. Peterson, the largest dealer

IN THE WEST INDIES. 161

in the island, imports thousands of tons
yearly, not only from England, but also from
America; for Pocahontas coal is now much in
demand, and is even used by English men-
of - war in preference to their own Welsh
coal.

Among the boats which fill their bunkers at
St. Lucia are steamers of the lines of Grace &
Co., of Lamport and Holt, of the Quebec
S. S. Company, and of the Royal Mail,
beside all regular steamers running between
North and South American ports, and the
numberless tramps which are seen on every
hand. They come in light, their great screws
spluttering and splashing half out of water.
They leave in a few hours deep laden, their
sterns well down and their screws in their nor-
mal, submarine positions. Even during the
evening, torches glancing hither and thither on
shore tell us a steamer is coaling by night, to
hurry out by dawn and make up her time lost
owing to the heavy weather.

The next morning we go up to the wharf in
our turn to coal, our eyes well open, and our
camera well adjusted in true tourist fashion.

162 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

At Mr. Peterson's advice we first put our ship
under the care of a policeman, who then be-
comes reponsible for any one trying to come
on board. This is done more to keep liquor
sellers at long range than through fear of losing
any of our belongings. Some of the steamers
put themselves into quarantine instead, and no
one is allowed either to leave or board the ship
until she has left the dock and been released
from her self-imposed isolation.

We had a practical illustration of the foolish-
ness of not taking one of these two precautions
the night before : An old tramp left the dock,
w^here liquor had been sold freely and imbibed
galore. As she passed us there was a free fight
in progress. The steward was pounding the
cook over the head with a chair, and oaths and
blows resounded until the first mate appeared
on the scene. This we supposed would end the
fight. But no. He tore off his coat and fell to
thrashing both the cook and steward, and as
the boat steamed out of sight the fray was still
active, the captain looking down from his pilot
house from time to time to note with interest
the progress of the brush.

IN THE WEST INDIES. l63

Coaling in the West Indies is indeed a strange
sight. The coal is piled in great black hills on
the shore, and around these heaps stand the
women who are to coal the boat. They are
chattering and jabbering like monkeys, with
turbaned heads, grimy skirts well tucked up to
their knees, and baskets in their hands. As
soon as the planks are placed from the deck to
the wharf, a signal is given, and the women
form in line. Each one fills her basket with one
hundred pounds of coal, and swings it to her
head with a skillful motion. With this burden
she climbs the plank, walks to the opening of
the coal bunker, and empties the contents of
her basket on the deck. In a second she is off
down the plank for another load, and repeats
the operation endlessly through the hot, tropical
neon.

There is a continuous stream of these women,
and as their faces grow smutchy with the coal
dust, and the perspiration trickles in unbecom-
ing drops down their noses, it is impossible to
distinguish one from the other. They are like
gnomes bringing their wares from the bowels of
the earth, to return when their work is done.

164 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

It is not in any way a good moral, but it is
none the less true, that the only really degraded
looking people we saw during our trip were
these same hard-working women, with their
grimy features, muscular legs and hard, un-
sexed faces.

Mr. Peterson's father was the first to inaugu-
rate this method of coaling ship, and em-
ployed the women simply because he could not
persuade the men to work. The women only
submitted to it because the money they earned
during the week enabled them to eclipse all
their idle sisters on a Sunday by the gor-
geousness of their purple and fine linen. Not
well repaid them for their hours of toil. Not
that their work is well paid. Each woman,
after emptying her basket, receives from a man
on deck a metal coin, which she puts in her
mouth for safe keeping. When the coaling is
over, these coins are redeemed at the rate of
five cents for every foui' coins. This means
that to earn one dollar a woman must make
eighty rounds up and down those planks, in the
broiling sun, carrying eight thousand pounds,
or four tons of coal on her weary head. Is it

In th£ west indies. 165

any wonder that most of the negroes, with less
vanity in their composition, prefer a well-fed,
sufficiently clothed poverty to an under-paid
work which bends their shapely backs, draws
their features into haggard lines, and saps the
very life from their limbs? They have been
known to put one hundred and fifty -six tons of
coal into a man-of-war within an hour ; but even
Mr. Peterson admitted that this was under
pressure.

The dock is a picture in itself, for a motley
throng has gathered to see the American boat.
Colored soldiers, extremely conscious of the
grandeur of their red coats and little black caps,
strut up and down, ogling the pretty women.
Officers on little polo ponies and Englishmen in
white duck, pugerees, and green-lined um-
brellas, favor us with well-bred stares. Two
very fine ladies of color, holding up their gaudy
skirts after the most approved fashion, saunter
languidly along the wharf, with two maids in
attendance. The one balances a sunshade
over her mistress' head, to preserve her ebony
complexion from the effects of the sun, while
the other carries a large black fan, with which

166 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTMIAN

she fans her dusky employer when the heat
grows oppressive. After staring at us one of
these languid beauties remarks, with a toss of
her head and a glance at her own diaphanous
draperies, that she would not be seen in shirt
waists and linen skirts.

A pair of colored twins come down to super-
intend operations under the charge of a
black nurse, with white apron and a cap with
streaming ribbons. I say the children were
black, but they had flaxen hair tied with
pink ribbons, and their little features were
distinctly and unpleasantly Jewish. But the
flaxen hair had the telltale kink, which is the
infallible sign of negro blood, and their red-
brown eyes, thick lips and slightly hooked
Semitic noses, were sickening evidences of a
mixture of races which cannot but result in
demoralization.

But although the coaling is so interesting, it
is anything but pleasant. The Scythian lies to
leeward of the wharf, and the brisk wind
blows clouds of dirt toward us from those black
hills on shore. It sifts through closed doors
and windows, and turns our white-painted

IN THE WEST INDIES. 167

rooms into coal bunkers. To sit on deck is to
be stifled by the dust and irritated; to sit down-
stairs, all battened down, is to be suffocated
and to completely lose one's temper. So we
desert the ship and go on land to see Castries.

A good carriage is waiting for us on the
street. It has been waiting there ever since we
first arrived yesterday in the hopes of a fare,
and now such patience is rewarded. It is
drawn by two good strong horses, whose fat
sides did our hearts good, for the memory of
the poor Guadeloupian mules is still with us.

Castries, a clean little town, fairly well
paved, has a great reputation for unhealthful-
ness. This seemed to us undeserved, for as
far as we could see the houses are unusually
neat and well kept, as though their owners took
some pride in having them in good condition.

But the sight that brings joy to our hearts
is a great, covered market, where good meats
and poultry, some vegetables and much fruit,
are displayed for sale in clean booths, pre-
sided over by friendly black women. This mar-
ket was really a godsend, for although our ice-
chest had held out wonderfullv, we had been six

168 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

weeks away, and had now only New York mar-
keting enough left to last us three days longer.

The steward and my friends of the mascu-
line gender were in despair. The muscular
chickens and skeleton kids which we had seen
in the other so-called markets had haunted
them, and it was even suggested by one indi-
vidual, who must remain unnamed, that it
would be better to go home than to try to pre-
serve life and ruin your teeth by attacking such
apologies for food. But no more suggestions of
this kind were heard after entering this market,
and the cloud which had been gathering on
their brows was dispelled when they found that
dinner would be something more than a means
of living. It was hard to induce them to leave
the charmed spot, but we women, less de-
pendent on good dinners, wanted to see the
Government House. Finally we put the men
into the carriage with their backs to the horses,
so that they could have a retrospective look at
the market to the last, and went our way.

We cross a little river and then wind up the
hill, on the right of the bay. The country is
lovely, and the white houses are almost hidden

IN THE WEST INDIES. 169

by the wealth of foliage which seems to
smother them. As we zigzag up the mountain
we have superb views, now of the busy harbor,
with its encircling hills, now of the mountains
raising their curious peaks far upward toward
the center of the island.

The mountains of St. Lucia have a distinctive
character all their own. They are sharp and
abrupt, not like those of the other islands, whose
rounded outlines all seem cast in the same mold
and to differ only in height. Just before we
reach the Government House we come to the
tennis courts, where sunburned young officers
are rushing around with the true spirit of sport,
notwithstanding the heat.

The Government House itself is an imposing
modern building. It is not dilapidated, it is
not falling to pieces; it is new and handsome,
well kept and comfortable — the only govern-
ment building so far that has not been a dis-
grace to England. The forest stretches well
away from us on one side, and the panorama of
sea and sky and hills is grand to a degree. As
we turn back, a young officer and his wife ride
up on horseback, and throwing their reins to ^

170 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

groom, go in to make a visit. It was the first
evidence of any social life we had seen in the
English West Indies.

As we drive down the hill we meet people
who are really walking, and not just drag-
ging one foot after the other, as though
they had forgotten how to use their legs.
Squads of colored soldiers in charge of white
officers inarch past, with well-drilled step.
Dirt carts at work on the new fortifications
pass and repass, and everywhere there is
an activity and life which are a delight to see
after the dead-and-alive places which we had
come to associate with the English flag.

Just as we reach Castries we see the streets
filled by a procession, and of course turn to
watch it. It proves to be a wedding. A
colored sergeant is to marry a well-known and
much-admired belle of the town, and they are
now on their way to the church. The black
beauty of the bride is well set ofi' by her pure
white bridal robes, which trail for yards behind
her in the dust. Iler woolly hair is dressed a la
Pompadour, and her tulle veil is artistically
fastened by a wreath of real orange blossoms.

IN THE WEST INDIES. 171

The groom, arrayed in red coat and black trou-
sers, with his cap hanging by the eyelashes to
his left ear, is holding a sunshade over the deli-
cate head of his bride, and they made a ludi-
crous picture. We watch them into the church,
but do not follow, as the church is small and
the gathering of colored friends is large. When
we reach the wharf we find the Scythian has
finished her coaling, and is lying once more out
in the stream.

While we are waiting for the launch a friendly
black comes up to ask if we would like to see
one of the Fer de Lance, the deadly snake for
which St. Lucia is so noted. Thinking from the
familiar tone he used that he might have one
around him, the captain removed herself to a
safe distance, and begged him to go away and
to please go quickly. However, he was not a
snake-charmer, and after all only wished to
show us the head of one of the serpents pro-
served in alcohol.

The island used to be infested with these rep-
tiles, so that walking and even riding were most
dangerous. But some years since the govern-
ment offered a pound for the head of every

172 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

dead Fer de Lance which should be brought
into Castries, and now it is really hard to find
one in the islands. It is curious that of all the
islands of the Antilles, Martinique and 8t. Lucia
should be the only ones to be troubled by this
deadly creature; and in Martinique the inhabi-
tants still stand in terror of them.

That evening as we sit on deck listening to
the singing from a Danish man-of-war not far
from us, and quite carried away by the beauty
of the tropical night, a fearful smell rises to our
nostrils. We search for some cause, but find
none. To sit on deck becomes impossible, and
we have to go below. The smell lasts for half
an hour, during which time we recall all the
tales we had heard of the unhealthfulness of
St. Lucia. By the end of the half-hour the
stench stops as suddenly as it began, and we
rush on deck to see if we cannot change our
anchorage and move farther out to sea. As we
discuss the matter our engineer comes up the
gangway after an evening spent with some of
his friends in town. His usually ruddy Scotch
face is pale and drawn, a handk^rchie| is drawn

IN THE WEST INDIES. 173

tightly round his nose and mouth, and he seems
to have come through some terrible strain.
We cluster around him and ask if he has heard
of the death of any of his family, for only thM
calamity, it seems, could account for his looks.
*' Family ! No. But did ye no smell that fear-
ful smell?"

It seems that there is no system of drainage
in St. Lucia, but at nine o'clock every night the
housewives take all the refuse of the house, to-
gether with the contents of the cesspools, and
carry it in tin cans on their heads to the bay,
there to dump it in the water. Poor Mr. Mac
left his friend's house at nine o'clocl^, and un-
wittingly joined this odoriferous procession
marching to the seashore. He was in a state of
collapse when he reached the boat. We find
later that no one thinks of going out in St. Lucia
between nine and ten, and we ourselves keep
strictly within doors at that hour, jMr. Mac
not even venturing on shore again during our
stay.

The next day the whole town is in a fever of
excitement. The wharfs are seething with

174 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

people, and every negro who owns a boat is out
in it watching anxiously the mouth of the har-
bor. The reason for all this is that the Ameri-
can steamer Ohio is expected each moment,
and every one wants to make hay in the sun-
shine of the tourists' patronage.

At last a great bow is seen rounding the point,
followed by the huge hull of the American
liner. Her smokestack is coated with salt, and
she looks as though the trade winds had not
handled her any too gently, notwithstanding
her size. We grow excited by contagion, and
when we see a boat from her side making for
ours, we are charmed. Our delight and sur-
prise are unbounded when some friends from
home show their familiar faces at the gangway,
and we welcome them on deck. They do not
stay long, for the steamer runs on railroad time,
and her passengers cannot loiter, but they
promise to lunch with us the day after next at
Barbadoes, and leave us refreshed by the sight
of good, brisk, alive American faces and
voices.

The next morning we ourselves leave St. Lucia

IN THE WEST INDIES. 175

for Barbadoes, to keep our luncheon engage-
ment with our friends. As we steam out of the
beautiful harbor, we are very thoughtful, and
on comparing notes, find that St. Lucia has
made a deep impression on us all.

It is not only the physical beauty of St. Lucia
which charms us, but the element of progress
and civilization is cheering. Froude has said
that the colonial policy of England has been to
** leave each part of her empire (except the East
Indies) to take care of itself." She must also
be making an exception in favor of St. Lucia,
and with the most encouraging result.

All the West Indies have a past, some a
present, but St. Lucia is alone in having a
future. England, realizing her need of a depot
in West Indian waters, has chosen St. Lucia as
best fulfilling the necessary conditions, and is
sparing neither effort nor money in making it a
place of importance. The evidence of her foster-
ing hand greets you at the very mouth of the
bay. Castries has a fine lighthouse, the first
we had seen in an English port, in a command-
ing position to mark the entrance of the harbor.

176 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

On one of the hills surrounding the town there
is the Government House, near by are the bar-
racks for the garrisons of white soldiers, and on
the other side of the bay are the quarters of
the black companies.

Not only has England placed at St. Lucia her
coaling station, thus giving to it a commercial
importance, but parliament has just voted a
sum of two hundred thousand pounds to be
used for the fortification of the harbor. These
fortifications when finished, will be of great im-
portance. They even say that some of the
largest guns in the world, similar to those
mounted at Gibraltar, are to be placed here for
the protection of the harbor, and the present
garrison under a colonel is to be enlarged, by
the withdrawal of troops from^ Bermuda and
Barbadoes, until it will be a brigade under a
brigadier-general. Even now, every afternoon
we hear the booming of guns from outside the
harbor, where the soldiers are drilled in target
practice with great regularity.

The government has bought for its own use
every inch of land along the harbor, so that

IN THE WEST INDIES. l*}"?

there is not a lot which is not leased from the
government, the lease to be given up at Eng-
land's will. She has also insisted that the
Koyal Mail Company should move their exten-
sive repair shops from Barbadoes, where they
are now stationed, to St. Lucia. The Company
pleaded that the expense of such an undertaking
would be enormous. The government replied
that unless the shops were moved the subsidy
to the Company would be withdrawn. The
repair shops are soon to be moved !

The admiralty, on its side, is building an
enormous floating dock similar to the one at
Bermuda, capable of docking the largest war-
ships, which is to be towed across the Atlantic
when finished.

Of course it is impossible for the uninitiated
to pretend to understand England's foreign
policy, but from an outsider's point of view it
would seem that these warlike preparations are
being made for two reasons: Germany is more
than likely to buy the Danish West Indies and
to establish a large naval station and coaling
center at St. Thomas, and France has for sev-

178 THE CRUIGE OF THE SCYTHIAN

eral years past been quietly increasing her gar-
risons at Martinique and Guadeloupe, until
there are twenty-five thousand additional
French soldiers in those islands. It would not
do for any foreign power to be stronger at any
given point than England is herself, and prob-
ably hence the fortification of St. Lucia.

As strategical points, owning good harbors,
she had to choose between Dominica and St.
Lucia, and there is just one reason why St.
Lucia is preferred. The position of Dominica,
cutting the French possessions into two parts,
is the stronger, but the harbor of Portsmouth,
although large and deep enough for hundreds
of vessels to ride at anchor, is unprotected from
the force of the westerly seas and winds in case
of a hurricane. At St. Lucia, on the contrary,
two reefs make out, one from either side of the
harbor, about five hundred yards apart. These
reefs, without impairing navigation, form a per-
fect barrier against a westerly sea, so that ves-
sels can lie at anchor and even go on coaling
without danger from the highest seas.

England has before now had reason to realize

IN THEi WEST INDIES. l'J'9

the importance of St. Lucia as a strategic posi-
tion, and Rodney wrested it from the French in
1778. During our struggle for independence,
the West Indies were the scenes of many great
sea fights, almost always centered around St.
Lucia and Dominica, for France helped the
United States to victory by fighting England on
the seas with her powerful navy. It was from
the West Indies that De Grasse sailed to outwit
Hood by reaching the harbor of Yorktown be-
fore the advance of the English fleet. There he
held the English army tightly bottled up, shut-
ting them off from all chance of reinforcement
by water, and leaving them to the mercy of the
American forces besieging them by land.

After Cornwallis surrendered to Washington,
England lost every one of her possessions in the
West Indies with the exception of this one little
island of St. Lucia. Here in this very harbor
of Castries, Rodney massed and drilled the fleet
which was to avenge his country on one of the
victors at Yorktown. From here he watched
and waited for the French fleet, lying at anchor
at Martinique.

180 THE CRUISE OF THE SCVTHIAN

At last the two fleets met near St. Marie
Galente, and the great battle of the 12th of
April, 1782— one of the greatest sea fights of
the world before the time of Nelson — was
fought and won. Five thousand men were
killed and wounded, and De Grasse, in the
famous Ville de Paris, the largest ship then
afloat, surrendered to Rodney.

Nelson is said to have taken his plan for the
battle of Trafalgar from Rodney's attack in
this fight. *'Rodney," he said, **broke the
enemy's line in one place; I will break it in
two."

**0n that memorable day," says Froude,
**was the English Empire saved. She lost her
American colonies, but kept her West Indies."

And what has she done with her West Indies,
and how has she acquitted herself of the re-
sponsibility which comes with conquest? How
has she valued the lands bought for her by the
sacrifice of so many gallant lives? The squalid
negroes of Basse Terre, the blacks in the huts
of Portsmouth, and the ruined planters on the
fertile lands of Dominica, certainly do not rise

IN THE WEST INDIES. 181

up and call her blessed. According to Froude,
from whom we have quoted before, "England
will soon be no more than a name in the An-
tilles. We asume that the honor of being Eng-
lish subjects will suffice to secure their alle-
giance, and we have left our West Indian inter-
ests to sink or swim."

By ten o'clock we are passing the famous
Pitons, two great mountains rising abruptly
from the sea like twin pyramids for over three
thousand feet. They are most curious, and to
be looked at with reverence as being probably
the most symmetrical mountains in the world.
But they are not so impressive as the SoufFriere.
This crater yawns its ghastly sides apart thou-
sands of feet above the sea, and so fearful does
it look when the clouds unveil its summit for
an instant, that we are glad that we had been
dissuaded from trying its ascent.

We have a superb day for our run of eighty
miles between St. Lucia and Barbadoes. The
sea glitters like a sapphire in the brilliant sun-
light, and the purple sky with its woolly gray-
lined clouds is a constant joy. As St. Lucia

182 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

fades to a shadow and St. Vincent slips down
the horizon behind us, we cannot but feel that
it is good to be once more out of sight of even
these beautiful lands, alone between that sky
and sea.

Our course lies to the south of east, so that
we must run almost in the teeth of the trade
winds, and Scythian must needs show some of
her fine seagoing qualities in plowing her way
through those heavy head seas.

And right gallantly she bears herself. She
seems on her mettle to-day, for she is face to
face in even combat with both wind and sea.
Her blunt bow forges steadily onward, as she
plunges up and down on the great billows. She
feels the exhilaration of a fair fight, and flings
her challenge to the battling winds, traced in
hieroglyphics on that azure sky by the points
of her moving masts. It is needless to say that
it is rough. At home it would be a day to con-
gratulate oneself on being snugly tucked away
at anchor in some good harbor, out of reach
of the elements. But here we consider it
mere child's play, and wonder that it is not
worse.

IN THE WEST INDIES 183

Sitting on deck with chairs firmly lashed is
quite possible, and luncheon is served in
courses and with a certain degree of decorum,
so what more could we ask? In fact, to some
of us it is invigorating and life-giving to feel
after so many torrid days and languorous
nights, the salt spray cutting our cheeks again,
and to breathe the fresh salt air deep down into
our lungs. We are taking an ocean trip all over
again, and are keenly alive to all its pleasures
and blind to the small discomforts. When at
sunset we see a thin line of mist, which must
be Barbadoes, on the eastern horizon, it is
really a regret that the trip is so soon ended.

We cannot see much of the island we are
nearing, for it grows dark, and all that we can
make out distinctly is a perfect forest of masts,
pointing their tapering heads upward in the
gray twilight. As the deepening darkness
swallows them in turn, the lights come out one
by one and make a fairy lake of the Bay of
Carlisle. Some move swiftly through the dark
water, and others are quiet and still in the rig-
ging of the innumerable ^bips. Over there on

184 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

the shore twinkling lamps, in long rows,
mark the streets of Bridgetown, or shine in
lonely rays from the isolated houses in the
country.

The great lighthouse winks at us in an in-
sinuating way, as though it would gladly point
out to us the best holding place in the harbor.
But unfortunately we cannot understand its sig-
nals, and have to grope our way slowly, very
slowly, among the ghostly fleet of ships at quar-
ter speed. Just as the quartermaster strikes
two bells a bugle note rings out clearly through
the night air. In an instant we recognize the
familiar nine o'clock taps from one of our men-
of-war, to which we had listened so often on
summer nights when we happened to be near
any of the White Squadron. The last sweet
note dies away in the still air, a bo'sun's
whistle sounds, there is a soft scuffle of feet,
and all is still once more. Then there is noth-
ing to break the silence but the quick, sharp
orders from the bridge: *Tort a little," or
** Starboard,'* and the low echoing answer from
the roan at the wheel: **Starboard, sir." At

IN THE WEST INDIES. 185

last we take a place in that weird fleet. The
bell rings *'stop" to the engine room, the anchor
shoots down, and we have once more reached
in safety the haven where we would be.

186 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

CHAPTER IX.

BARBADOES.

The next morning we come on deck, and look
upward from sheer force of habit to admire the
inevitable mountains. But, wonder of won-
ders, there are no mountains to admire! In
front of us lies a bare, flat, low, little island, for
all the world like our cwn old-fashioned Nan-
tucket. There are no mountains losing their
haughty crests among the sheeny clouds, no
elusive distances, no violet shadows. But our
hearts go straight out to that ugly, homelike
tuft of rocks and sand. We had been for so
long steeped and soaked and swathed in beauty
and loveliness and grandeur, that this com-
monplace island was a positive relief to our
overstrained powers of appreciation. It is an
unspeakable comfort to be able for the first
time in weeks to look at something over which
we cannot possibly fall into raptures.

But if there is little of the beautiful, there is

IN THE WEST INDIES. 187

an abundance of the interesting, and the dearth
of this element until now had whetted our ap-
petites. The harbor itself is enough to keep
one's mind busy for a whole day.

Barbadoes is to sailing vessels what St. Lucia
is to steamers. Being the most easterly and
therefore the most windward of all the islands,
it is the great port of call and redistribution.
All sailing vessels from the eastward and from
South America put in here to receive their
orders by telegram from their owners. All
passengers and freight from England are
brought here to be retransferred to the various
steamers running to the smaller islands, or to
the Gulf ports, Trinidad and Venezuela.

As a result the harbor is always one moving
mass of shipping of all varieties. At one
glance we count forty different vessels, ships,
barks, schooners, men-of-war and training
ships. Among the latter, our own good Essex
shows to the greatest advantage, looking trim
and well groomed as a yacht. We rightly guess
that it was from her deck that we heard the
night before the sweet bugle call which was
like a breath of home.

188 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

There are a great number of Gloucester fish-
ermen in the harbor, and on making inquiries
we are told that they have been bought by the
West Indians for trading purposes between the
islands. As we can well understand, a ship
needs to bean excellent sea boat to run in these
waters, and the natives have recognized the
fact that these fishermen possess all the quali-
ties they need in the highest degree.

It is wonderful to us to see the extraordinary
skill the natives use in handling these boats.

There is a narrow bight which makes up into
the land and forms an inner harbor, which is
only used for loading and unloading, or in time
of hurricanes. Boats drawing fourteen feet can
get in, but the wind blowing directly off the
land against the mouth of the harbor makes it
a hard process for a sailing vessel to enter.
These natives run their schooners right up to
the mouth with all sail set, let go everything
with an amazing quickness, and shoot cleanly
and swiftly up to their wharves, to our un-
stinted admiration.

We do not mind seeing our vessels in such

IN THE WEST INDIES. 189

hands, but it goes against the grain to see the
number of old ships, with English names like
the Union and the Liberty, given over to the
hard usage of the Norwegians. These people
are the Jews of the high seas. They buy up
for almost nothing all the old ships, and then
run them for an absurdly low figure. Natur-
ally they can carry cheaper, and are quickly
crowding every other flag, England's not ex-
cepted, off the seas. For each English or
American vessel we saw during our trip, we
could count half a dozen Swedish or Norwegian.
It seems as though these old vessels, reared
under our flag, raise their masts imploring to
the sky, as though begging some kind provi-
dence of ships to release them from their ill-
merited captivity. They served us well in their
youth; surely they deserve some better fate
than to be thrown aside in their old age.

Circling about around the larger boats like
satellites are any amount of smaller ones.
Captains of the vessels far out in the roadstead
are coming or going in their ships' boats.
Lighters full of goods are rowed by negroes,
whose great oars bend at each stroke; and life

190 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

is made a misery by the bumboats which sur-
round us on every hand. Corals and cocoanuts
are literally forced down your throat; boys en-
treat you to throw pennies that they may dive
to the bottom for them. Laundresses pester
you with their demands for clothes to wash,
and when you refuse, look in a meaning way
at those you are wearing, as though even they
would be improved by a judicious use of soap
and water.

We did not see the laundress of whom we had
heard so many stories. She presents to all
possible customers a letter of recommendation
which she has not the learning to read. This
letter sets forth that if any one wishes to have
their linen irreparably ruined and then to be
fleeced out of money enough to make good
their loss, they cannot do better than to employ
the bearer, Venus Adonis Smith.

So exhausting do these people become that
we end by going on shore to escape them. But
when we land at the wharf, we find we have
jumped out of the frying-pan into the fire. We
had heard that Barbadoes is the most densely
inhabited portion of the world, but we were not

IN THE WEST INDIES. 191

prepared to find apparently every one of those
seventy-five thousand inhabitants confronting
us on the landing, wanting us to buy some-
thing, do something, or go somewhere. The
whole population seems to be gathered together
to prey upon us. Crowds cluster around us
with strange things to sell tied round their
necks. Beggars pursue us with importunity
and cab drivers stand on each other's shoulders
the better to be seen and to extol the quantity
and quality of their horseflesh.

We are utterly bewildered, and this condition
is taken advantage of by a crafty negro driver.
Before we know what is being done to us, we
find ourselves seated in his cab, with the doors
shut, bowling through the streets of Bridge-
town. We gasp for a moment, but soon collect
our scattered wits and give all our attention to
the streets we are passing.

The bustling, busy, active life of the place is
astonishing after the apathetic languor to which
we had grown used. The town is really hand-
some, with closely built blocks of clean, white
houses. Here and there a church steeple rears
itself proudly, and the principal street opens
out into a large public square called Trafalgar,

192 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

which boasts a pretentious statue of Nelson and
a great banyan tree.

There are clubs; shops with big signs in
front; business and storehouses; every evi-
dence, in fact, of a thriving commercial life.
The streets are thronged, but not with the ubi-
quitous black ; there is a large sprinkling of
white faces. English women, in unbecoming
green veils, are out for their morning market-
ing or shopping. Merchants are going to their
business with alert step and brisk look.
Officers, beggars and tourists, to say nothing of
children without number, jostle each other off
the sidewalk or far into the middle of the
street, and good Anglo-Saxon swear words are
heard on every side.

But the most marvelous thing is a real tram-
way, whose cars, running on real rails, with
good mules as motive power, ply between Bar-
badoes and Hastings, a couple of miles away.
This is indeed an unlooked-for evidence of civ-
ilization. We leave the town by the road
through which this tramway runs, and it is
most amusing to watch the negresses, with
their turbaned heads and their bright-eyed chil-

^

IN THE WEST INDIES. 193

dren, hanging on to the back platform and fight-
ing for a seat as naturally as though it were a
cable car on Broadway.

The road passes the barracks where the
colored troops are stationed, with its common,
serving in turn for drill, cricket and polo
grounds. Some of the soldiers are sauntering
around with the lordly air the negro soldier
always assumes toward his less-honored colored
brethren, while the sentry paces solemnly up
and down his track with his musket over his
shoulder. The road is pleasantly shaded and
runs along a white, sandy beach, where the surf
rolls in and breaks in a long line of foam, which
follows the curving shore.

Some of the grotesque banyan trees, whose
hoary, down-hanging boughs suggested the
name Barbadoes, or *' bearded," to the Portu-
guese discoverers of the island, stand by the
roadside or in the gardens. The houses are
pictures of neatness and thrift. Often a high
wall surrounds them, but many of the smaller
ones stand quite by the roadside. Each one of
them has its own charmingly irrelevant name
printed over the front door in large letters.

194 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

**Fairlawn" stands on a plot of ground with not
a blade of grass in sight, and **Bellevue" looks
on the tramway in front and on a gray rock in
the back. But the whole place is essentially
** livable/' There is no overpowering beauty,
but there is a charm of thrift and homeliness,
and wholesome, everyday life that to our minds
far surpasses the merely physical loveliness of
the more beautiful islands.

The great drawback is the climate. It is un-
bearably hot. The wind, which blows a steady
gale day in and day out, is the salvation of the
place, but it makes one nervous and irritable.
Without it, however, the heat and dampness
would be stifling. Before we realize it the
morning is well gone and we must hurry home,
as our friends from the Ohio are lunching with
us.

We reach the wharf just as two bells, our
luncheon hour, is striking. Then the question
is to find the launch. Since we left, four Royal
Mail steamers have come in, and the whole
place is pandemonium. The seventy-five thou-
sand inhabitants who seemed at first to inhabit
the pier, have now transferred themselves into

IN THE WEST INDIES- 195

boats and infest the waters of the deep. They
crowd the pier, fill the roadstead, cloud the
distance. There does not seem a square inch of
water which is not covered by some portion of
a black anatomy. At last we see the launch,
and after much pushing on our parts, we stow
ourselves into the boat and start. But our
launch man is thoroughly flustered. The fire
goes out and is relit. The wheel at last turns,
and we are oft', all looking forward at the mass
of boats in our way.

Suddenly something about our locomotion
strikes us as strange and a quick glance back-
ward shows that we are going, not forward,
but full speed astern. One moment more and
we would have run square into the stone pier,
to the infinite delight of the swarming Barba-
doans, who are holding their breath in eager
anticipation of our smash-up. But a quick
turn of the wheel sends the launch ahead,
leaving the grinning multitude in absolute
disgust at being defrauded of their excite-
ment.

Our friends of the Ohio come to us shortly,
and in honor of the occasion we set before them

196 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

the last of our game and New York delicacies.
There coraes to us a great sadness as we con-
sume the last morsels of duck and celery salad.
Grouse, partridge and quail on toast do not grow
in the West Indies, and we know that, although
our ice chest has held out bravely, we are tak-
ing a fond farewell of such tidbits.

After luncheon we compare notes on our vari-
ous impressions of the West Indies, and there
is one thing in which we all agree. This is
that the idea that the Caribbean can be smooth
or the trade wind balmy is a snare and a delu-
sion to poor ignorant mortals. They have
suffered quite as much from the weather as
have we, without the home comforts to make
the alleviating circumstances. Their trip from
St. Lucia to Barbadoes in the heavy head sea
was especially unpleasant, and the little Scyth-
ian only took an hour more for the run than
did the big Ohio.

When our guests leave, we take the launch
and run over to call on the commander of the
Essex. We find him at the gangway ready to
receive us. Both he and his officers are dresned
in cool white ducks, well buttoned up to the

IN THE WEST INDIES. 197

throat, giving a very military, or rather naval,
look to the stalwart young fellows.

The captain takes us all over the spotless
ship, with its shining guns and snowy decks,
and even opens up to us the mysteries of the
engine room. But not much time is spent there,
for the heat is quite sufficient for comfort with-
out the addition of anything artificial. We are
glad to leave the fire room, and to pass through
the ranks of sunburned, shining faces belong-
ing to our embryo tars, all standing at atten-
tion as the captain passes to his large airy
quarters in the stern. The great gun ports are
thrown wide open; the breeze cools us off most
deliciously. while some capital tea. served in
delicate cups, is the finishing touch to our
pleasure.

As a fit ending to a very gay day we dine at
the Marine Hotel in the evening. We engage
little hacks, and drive out to the hotel just be-
fore sunset. The building with its broad ver-
and as is finely placed on high ground, looking
seaward. Everything is clean and cool, and it can
compare well with many of our own summer
hotels. The Marine Hotel is kept by an Amer-

198 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

ican, and is the only hotel we had thus far seen
in which we would have spent a night for un-
told gold.

The dining room is tastefully arranged, and a
well-cooked dinner is served in the most
approved fashion at little round tables. An
English commission, under the Under Colonial
Secretary, Sir Edward Grey, sitting in Bar-
badoes at present, and as the commissioners and
their wives are stopping at the Marine Hotel, it
is quite a gala night. Englishwomen in low-
cut gowns and Englishmen in dress clothes look
askance at our two men, who refused, in spite
of all our entreaties, to dress in anything but
ducks. English officers, magnificent in scarlet
and gold lace, and Americans, whose gowns
could have come only from Paris, make the
whole room very gay and full of color. It is so
full, in fact, that it almost dazzled our eyes, un
accustomed for so long to any such display.

Curiously enough, among all these strange
faces are some which are familiar, and pres-
ently the owners of the faces come up to us, and
claim us as old friends from Morristown. We
had lost sight of each other for many years,

IN THE WEST INDIES. 199

and this meeting in queer little Barbadoes is as
strange as it is pleasant. They tell us that
many Americans spend their winters here, as
Barbadoes has the reputation of being the
healthiest island in the Antilles. We are also
told in all seriousness that it is so windy that
sufferers from Trinidad and other malarial
countries spend two months of the year here,
to have the malaria blown out of their systems.
Certainly if any wind could perform this feat it
would be the trades !

When we have dined the men smoke
their cigars leisurely on the piazza, while we
watch the lights coming out in the harbor,
one by one, as though they w^ere the reflections
of the stars coming out in the heavens. We
drive back to Bridgetown through the sweet
night air, in our thin muslin dresses, without
thinking of wraps, so soft is the fragrant
breeze.

As none of the houses have shades we peer
in the windows and see the interiors, which
would otherwise have been sealed books to us.
They are very comfortable and very, very Eng-
lish. The light from the single lamp shines on

200 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

the walls, showing innumerable pictures of
Queen Victoria, taken at different ages and
in different crowns. Royal families and
Prime Ministers are much in evidence, while
the monotony is relieved by an occasional
picture from some of the London illustrated
papers.

There are cardboard mottoes requesting that
God will bless this home; large family Bibles
repose in state on little stands, in company with
variegated wax flowers in glass cases. In the
center of the rooms under the lamps are
green-covered tables, around which, notwith-
standing the heat, are seated the families.
They are probably reading with reverential
interest the London Daily News of three weeks
ago.

Everywhere he who runs may read the mark
** English'' set deep on every part of the com-
munity, in overwhelming contrast to the stamp
**Negro" which is written so plainly in letters
of degradation and deterioration on the face of
the other populations. It is with real thanks-
giving that we of kindred blood see these little
British idiosyncrasies, which we so well under-

IN THE WEST INDIES. 201

stand and at which we can laugh so heartily as
at well-beloved family failings, and we only
wish that England would always choose to be
in this hemisphere what she can be when so
minded — one of the great civilizing powers of
the age.

One morning we take the dogs on shore for a
run. They had not been allowed to leave the
ship since Starboard's escapade at Portsmouth,
and they stepped into the launch quivering to
the tips of their white tails with ill-suppressed
excitement. When they land and stand upon
their hind legs, straining at their leash and
pawing the air, so fierce do they look that the
inhabitants parted before them like the Ked Sea
before the Children of Israel, leaving us a clear
passage to the town. A howl of approbation
rose from the crowd as we drive off, a dog's
head stretched far out on each side of the cab.
Starboard insists on standing with his front legs
on the driver's seat, much to the disgust of this
august personage, who regards the great bull
head and open jaws in such close proximity to
him with distinct disappoval. The poor ani-
mals enjoy their morning hugely. They swim

202 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

in the surf, race after sticks on the homelike
sandy beach, and at last, thoroughly tired out,
consent to be driven home, no more with paws
on the driver's seat, but quietly lying down on
the floor of the carriage.

This afternoon still another steamer arrives,
the Caribbee, of New York, and by her still
more friends from home, who come over to
have half an hour's chat over a cup of tea. The
officers of the Essex join our little home
party, and it is with great regret that the
whistle from the Caribbee breaks up all our
good time by summoning her passengers on
board.

We are much annoyed the whole afternoon
by the cool **cheek" (no other word adequately
expresses the meaning) of some excursionists,
many of them, I regret to say, of our own
nationality. They come alongside and say to
the man on watch that they would like to go
over the boat. When the man replies that as it
is a yacht they cannot come on board, it only
adds to their enthusiasm, and one person is
heard to exclaim: ** How nice! I have. never
been on a real yacht in my life." It was very

IN THE WEST INDIES. 203

hard to make them understand that they could
not overhaul a private boat flying the American
flag just as they would have overhauled an
American man-of-war. When they are really
convinced that they cannot board, they retire
to a safe distance, there to stare at us through
their opera glasses. The captain hears herself
apostrophized as '*a mean old maid," and her
wrath waxed hot within her. Perhaps had
they known how absolutely unlike a **real
yacht" the old Scythian was, their disappoint-
ment would have been tempered.

We are so fortunate as to spend Washington's
Birthday at Barbadoes. At color time the
Essex dresses ship in honor of the day, and
the bright bunting makes her look like a pleas-
ure boat. Scythian follows her example, as
does one other little American schooner. Not
another vessel in the harbor does honor to our
great patriot, although we knev/ there were
many American vessels there. At twelve the
Essex fires a salute of twenty-one guns, and
when the last deep boom dies away, we are sur-
prised to hear the guns from another vessel
continue the firing. The salute was from the

204 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

British man-of-war Talbot, lying in the harbor,
and this courtesy was all the more pleasing to
the Americans within sound of the guns be-
cause it is a courtesy which is not obligatory,
but which is given or withheld at the will of
the commander.

We end the day by dining at the Marine
Hotel with the officers of the Essex. There
are many good stories told, and we drink to the
health of the grand old Stars and Stripes, little
thinking how soon our friends would be called
into active service under its colors. One young
officer, who bore himself last summer in a man-
ner to win the admiration of all, laughingly said
that he must learn just two phrases of Spanish
— one **I surrender," the other *'Don't shoot."

As we drive home, a slender young moon
peeps down at us in a roguish way, and we all
agree that she is far too young to be out alone at
that hour of the night, especially in the com-
pany of those brilliant stars. Presently we find
that she has taken our advice, and we watch
her sinking out of sight behind that mass of
purple clouds on the western horizon.

When Sunday comes we take a drive to one of

IN THE WEST INDIES. 205

the suburbs of the place, called Fontabello.
Here the houses are of the better class and
really charming. They are set well back from
the road and inclosed in high walls, over which
peep hibiscus, palms and bananas, like curious
children trying to catch a view of the ouside
world. But we are quite as anxious to see in
as they are to see out, for the glimpses we get
through the gates of roomy, square, flat-roofed,
houses with broad verandas, buried in green
and looking far out to sea, are most attractive.
The country beyond is bare and sunburned,
with rocks scattered plentifully over the sur-
face, and no hills or even high land to be seen.

Barbadoes was once one of the greatest sugar-
raising islands in the Antilles, and was in fact
the last of all the islands to feel the present
universal depression in the sugar trade, for its
inhabitants all came from a sturdy English
stock, used to tilling the soil, and of thrifty
habits.

Although Barbadoes was first discovered by
the Portuguese in 1518, no Latin race has ever
had a foothold on the rugged little island. A
British ship, the Olive Branch, anchored in the

206 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

present Bay of Carlisle in 1605, and her captain
solemnly took possession of the island in the
name of his master, James I. No permanent
settlement was made, however, until 1624,
when a shipload of colonists was sent out by
Sir William Courteen.

From that time until this the English have
been in undisputed possession of the fertile soil
of Barbadoes. It seems amusing to read that
back in 1665 the settlers of tiny Barbadoes
formed a scheme to colonize America, and
selected Cape Fear in our present North
Carolina as the field of their exertions. They
founded here a settlement called Clarendon, but
although John Yeardley, who led the expedi-
tion, later received a commission as governor.
Clarendon did not prosper, and was finally
deserted.

The present merchants are inclined to think
that it IS not alone the bounty on beet sugar
which is the cause of the decline in price of
cane sugar, although that of course is a large
factor. The trouble at the root of the whole
matter is overproduction in the islands them-
selves. Sugar at first was like an inexhaustible
gold mine; every one planted sugar, and

IN THE WEST INDIES. 207

nothing but sugar, in every available nook and
cranny. The natural consequence followed:
prices fell, slowly at first, then with a rush
which sucked in the fortunes of all the planters
in their downward career. Now ruin is staring
in the face those who cannot sell their plan-
tations, and even those who are so fortunate as
to find a buyer, sell at enormous sacrifices.
Why they do not abandon sugar and set to
work on something else, is an unanswered
question. The soil is available for almost any
tropical product — coffee, indigo, and many
other things. But no one seems to have either
the funds or the heart to start on a new ven-
ture, although undoubtedly their salvation
would lie in so doing.

This would be easier, too, in Barbadoes,
owing to the higher class of negroes with
whom the planters have to deal. The
effects of two centuries and a half of un-
broken English rule and intercourse with Eng-
lish people has had its influnce on this entire
population. The negroes speak a pure English,
instead of the usual vile patois ; their pronun-
ciation is an education in itself, and it is de-

208 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

lightful to hear from colored lips the pretty fal-
ling inflection which we had been used to asso-
ciate with the unadulterated sons of John Bull.

As we drive this Sunday afternoon, we meet
whole colored families, evidently of the better
class, walking along the road or driving in hand-
some carriages. One woman of dusky hue de-
lights us all by her sincere imitation of an Eng-
lish matron. Her woolly hair is drawn down
over her ears as smoothly as Nature will allow,
and a purple bonnet, of distinct English type",
is tied by white ribbon bows under her chin.
Her hands are encased in one- button white kid
gloves, and a lace parasol is held over her head.
Her husband, in irreproachable gray trousers,
frock coat and lavender gloves, lifts his tall hat to
the passers with a fine imitation of the courtly
Englishman, and the children, with white stock-
ings and black slippers, have their hair parted
in the middle and braided into demure pigtails.

But the real Englishwomen are here as
well as the imitation. They are driving past
in comfortable victorias, and with that pathetic
adherence of exiled English people to the
manners and customs of Old England, they

IN THE WEST INDIES. 209

are stifling in the thick stuffs and silks they
would have worn *'at home" at the same sea-
son, instead of wearing the thin muslins the
climate would seem to warrant.

Young Englishmen, sunburned and good-
looking, are riding well-groomed horses, and
straight young English girls, with their inimita-
bly fresh complexions, are taking their after-
noon constitutionals. Indeed if it were not for
the heat and the presence of palms and other
incongruous plants, we could well imagine our-
selves in an ordinary English country town in-
stead of in this remote island of the south.

After seeing Government House, a large white
building, in spacious grounds guarded by a
British soldier, we finish our drive reluctantly,
and go home before sundown. That evening
we sit out on deck and discuss our plans.
From Barbadoes we had intended to go direct
to Trinidad to see the pitch lake, the coolies
and the gardens of the governor's palace, of
which we had heard so often. From there we
had anticipated a grand run across the Carib-
bean Sea to Jamaica, with the trade winds
gently favoring our sails.

210 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

We all know that the chief pleasure in
making plans is to break them, but in our
case the cause of the breaking ivas far from
pleasurable. One of my friends had been
ailing for some time and grew so steadily worse
that we were really worried about her. As the
heat even here affected her most unpleasantly
how would she stand Trinidad, which is in-
finitely hotter than Barbadoes? Then our illu-
sions regarding the trade winds and the Carib-
bean Sea were quite dispelled. We no longer
indulged in fond hopes that the next trip must
surely be a smooth one, but made up our minds
to always expect the worst. My friend was not
the best of sailors, and we feared exposing her
to the treatment of the elements for any pro-
longed period.

For some time our party had resolved itself
into two camps. One longed for the invigorat-
ing air and cold breezes of the still frozen
North, the other swore by the depressing heat
and dampness of the torrid zone. Between us
we could have sung part of the Te Deum with
real truth, one side chanting **0h, ye ice and
snows, praise ye the Lord," while the other

IN THE WEST INDIES. 211

would respond with fervor, **0h, ye fire and
heat, praise ye the Lord."

But the desire to reach a cool climate because
of the invalid pointed our course northward, and
we decided to coast up the islands by the same
way we had come, so that in case of heavy
weather we could put into port and so preclude
the possibility of discomfort to her.

So, in the course of a couple of days we made
the arrangements for our first homeward move
by taking on ice enough to last until we reached
America. Ice is manufactured and sold
in Barbadoes at about three and a half
dollars a ton. This is a relief to us. When
at some other ports we had priced the
commodity, it sold at the rate of sixty dol-
lars a ton, or three cents a pound. The ice
comes out in a great lighter, with a dozen
negroes on top to load it. The sun beats
down on it hotly, and we actually see it
melting in the torrid heat. This does not
seem at all to affect the blacks, who, in the
slowest and most deliberate way, hoist piece
by piece on to the deck as though each moment

212 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

were not of importance. It is the clearest and
most beautiful ice we ever saw, and we are
glad to be able to stow nine tons in our ice-
chest.

By four o'clock the next morning all is bustle
and business on the Scythian's decks, and fur-
ther sleep is out of the question. Through the
dim dawn we slowly turn and make our way
out of the fleet, looking at our friend the Essex
as we go by. Surely there at her halyards are
some signals flying, and an officer, unrecogniz-
able in the distance, is waving his hand in fare-
well. What the signals say to us we never
know, for the wind is blowing them in such a
direction that we cannot make them out. But
they say Godspeed to us just as distinctly as
though we read the words in Lloyd's, and it is
a kind and friendly token to take with us on
our journey.

The wind is soon blowing what seems
to a landsman to be almost a gale, but for-
tunately for our comfort both wind and cur-
rent are with us. We set all sails ; by twelve
St. Vincent is in sight, and at three we are
at anchor in the harbor of Old Fort on St.

IN THE WEST INDIES. 213

Lucia. The wind howls in our ears, and the
swell is so great that even here on the lee of
the island we roll around uncomfortably all
night, and the next morning see the spray dash-
ing thirty feet high on the rocky shore. We
weigh anchor at half-past eight and steam up
the coast to Castries, getting wonderful views
of the Pitons. They seem now like old friends,
looking grim and weird through a shower which
half-conceals and half-reveals their strange
shapes. As we come up the harbor of Castries
a squall overtakes us, and both rain and wind de-
scend as though they would engulf us. We can
hardly see, and are indeed thankful when we
find a good berth and know that so much of our
journey is done.

214 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

CHAPTER X.

NEVIS.

None of us will ever forget the experiences of
the next ten days. They were days of utter
wretchedness, each one more miserable than
the last; so the less Said about them in public
the better. No adjective is too damning to
apply to the weather. Heavy rains would
drench us every hour; then we and all our be-
longings would steam in the hot sun until
almost dry, when the heavens would be once
more open on our devoted heads. Through rain
and shine, day and night, the malignant trades
kept up their ceaseless din in our deafened
ears. Mental worry was added to physical dis-
comfort, for the illness of my friend caused us
great anxiety; and under these unfavorable
conditions of heat and dampness she grew con-
stantly worse. Four long weary days, when
our one desire was to get cool and dry, were we
kept wind-bound at St. Lucia, fearing to sub-

IN THE WEST INDIES. 215

ject her to the shaking up which would be in-
evitable did we put to sea in this gale. And we
did wisely to remain.

We had of course hitherto enjoyed the excep-
tional weather which every well - seasoned
traveler expects to find in every quarter of the
globe, but from all reports our present scourge
was exceptionally exceptional.

The steamer Duart Castle had taken thirty
hours to make her trip from Trinidad to Barba-
does, when her longest trip on record hitherto
had been twenty -one. The four - masted
schooner Clara E. Kandall was hove to for ten
hours the day we arrived at St. Lucia, while
the British steamer Capac, from South Ameri-
can ports, had been washed from stem to stern
by the waves. At last, on the fifth day, our
sailing master, being in an optimistic mood,
assured us that as the gale was abating we
could leave in comfort. We could not discover
the smallest sign of this abatement ourselves,
but were glad to take his more experienced
word for it and to get underway. When we poked
our nose from under the lee of St. Lucia the
sight of the Martinique Channel was absolutely

216 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

frightful. The wind had now been blowing
fiercely from the same quarter for a week ; and
in consequence there is a tremendous sea, which
presses with fearful force through the narrow
strait. The sight of the angry, seething waves,
covered with foam as mountains are covered
with snow, is awful in its beauty, but appalling
in its might to any one who must trust them-
selves to its scant mercy. The sun is darkened
by thin, vaporous clouds scudding fast over the
sky, torn and lashed into long strings by the
relentless wind. The air is thick, and the hori-
zon obscure and murky from the dust which,
notwithstanding the constant rain, is caught up
from the land and whirled into the air. The
tops of the combing waves are leveled and the
water is dashed in spray high into the air with
irresistible force. Both wind and sea strike the
Scythian directly abeam. She rolls and
pitches, wriggles and squirms as though she
were a living creature in agony, seeking to es-
cape her tormentor. Whether or not she feels
any pain, it is perfectly certain that her actions
cause us the most excessive discomfort. Mar-
tinique and quiet water seem so very far away.

IN THE WEST INDIES. 217

and those fifteen miles which separate us from
them are interminably long.

When at last we resume our normal hori-
zontal position, we cannot truly enjoy the re-
lief, for thinking of the four other channels like
unto the last which must be crossed before we
can reach St. Kitts. Our progress northward
was much like an attack of intermittent fever.
The crossings of those boisterous channels, with
their raging waters and raging winds, are the
delirium of the recurrent fever fits. Between
the attacks and at regular intervals come the
lee of the islands and the quiet of exhaustion,
during which we can barely ease body and
mind before the fever is on us again.
At Portsmouth we are again detained
three long days by the fierceness of the
storm.

There may have been other compensating cir-
cumstances, but the only mercy of which we
are really conscious is the fact that the islands
are so well arranged for the hours of our meals.
It can be timed so as to reach quiet waters for
dinner and luncheon as regularly as the
transcontinental trains used to stop at way-

ai8 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN.

stations for meals, before the days of dining
cars. This is a distinct blessing, as the only
gleam of brightness in the day is the hour after
dinner, when the men are lulled to forgetf ulness
of their woes by their cigars, and indulge in a
little mild conversation. No one seeing us dur-
ing this trip would ever have suspected us of
being a pleasure party. Extreme misery is
written deep on the faces of all my friends.
One man takes up his position in the most un-
comfortable place he can find, the weather side
of the pilot house. Here he stands hour after
hour, his feet well apart, one hand firmly hold"
ing on the railing for support, the other tightly
clutching his dilapidated yachting cap. The
wind has brought tears to his eyes, which
course in unchecked rivers down his cheeks and
sprinkle the bosom of his gray flannel shirt.
The other man is absolutely unapproachable.
An atmosphere of ill-suppressed swear words
encircles him as a garment, and by common
consent he is let severely alone. The poor in-
valid, for whom we had dreaded a severe sea
trip (save the mark!), has taken to her bed.
The captain finds her weakly holding on to the

IN THE WEST INDIES. 219

bunk-board on each side with feeble hands, and
declaring with ill-assumed cheerfulness that it
is very comfortable and she does not think it is
so very rough. Before she has finished her sen-
tence a tremendous lurch comes, interrupting
her words and throwing her half out of bed. We
hear a scuffle on deck, a fervently uttered **God
bless my soul!" and the person of one of the
men comes floating down the companionway.

I say ** floating" advisedly, for in his tran-
sition he apparently touched nothing, neither
stairs nor railing, but reached the bottom and
was wafted into his stateroom. Here he pro-
ceeded to lock his door, behind which we could
hear ejaculations of ** Horrible! horrible!" from
time to time during the afternoon.

We ceased to give any thought to the beauty
of the islands we were passing; they had be-
come to us now only oases of comfort in the sea
of misery, or milestones to mark our progress
northward and homeward.

The fever attacks increased in intensity, for
the wind rose continually, so that when we find
ourselves between Nevis and St. Kitts it is
blowing a living gale. Never before had we

220 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

been so thankful to hear the anchor chains
rattle in the hawse pipes, nor to catch the order
to the engineer, **A11 through with the engine,
sir," as we come to anchor once more in the
roadstead of Basse Terre.

We feel like caressing the stanch old Scythian
who has brought us through those fearful times
in safety, as we would an animal whose speed
and mettle had carried us away from great dan-
ger. We have a queer little sensation, as
though our hearts were too big for our bodies,
which is probably one way of feeling a great
gratitude at having reached such a happy issue
out of all our difficulties.

As soon as we are anchored, we are surprised
to see a boat rowed by six men make its way
slowly to our side in the tempestuous night.
As they get near they shout to ask if we will
let down the New York papers to them. We
are puzzled until a man cries out that he is the
purser of the training-ship Saratoga, which is at
anchor near-by. His commander, having seen
us come in, and having mistaken us forthe Ori-
noco, which is due from New York to-night, had
sent him over for the papers. We are much de-

IN THE WEST INDIES. 221

lighted to know that we look so imposing even
in the dark, and life begins to look brighter in
the eyes of the captain.

The next morning we see not only the Sara-
toga, but our old friend the Essex at anchor
near-by. Later in the day some or the officers
come over, and after many greetings they cor-
roborate all our accounts of the dreadful
weather. They left Barbadoes and went to the
windward of the islands, getting very heavy
weather all the time. When running off to come
into St. Kitts they were under topsails, and even
these they said they would have had to reef had
they been going any further. Since reaching St.
Kitts, three days ago, they had not been able
to lower their boats until to-day. The sea
making around the island and coming into the
roadstead made the Essex roll so heavily that
they feared the boats would be smashed along-
side.

The wind is indefatigable during the next
forty-eight hours, and we are prisoners on
board, but we take comfort, for our friend is
already improving under the ministrations of
the port doctor. On the third day it lets up

aaft THfi CRUISE OF THE SCVTlilAK.

enough for us to go over, wrapped up in oilskinS,
to take luncheon with our friends of the Essex.

They receive us most delightfully, but
their plans for our entertainment are com-
pletely upset by the arrival on the scene of
three of the volunteer officers of the St. Kitts'
regiment. They take and keep entire posses-
sion of the wardroom, where our luncheon
awaits us, for a full hour, to the intense disgust
of our hosts. They try to interest the St. Kitt-
ites in other parts of the boat; but to the ward-
room they come and in the wardroom they
elect to stay. The captain offers us the hospi-
tality of his quarters until such time as Her
Majesty's servants may see fit to leave, and
then w^e enjoy a charming luncheon at the long
wardroom table. It seems strange to see the
racks on the table while we are lying at anchor,
although the long even roll of the Essex is far
from disagreeable.

Talking over the affairs at home, we remem-
ber that the next day will be the fourth of
March, and as loyal Americans we cannot allow
Mr. McKinley's Inauguration Day to pass un-
heeded. We finally agree that the pleasantest

way to celebrate the event will be to cross to
Nevis in the Scythian, spend the day there, and
picnic in some of the quaint spots which are to
be found on that lovely island. On reaching
home, we find that we can send a sailboat over
to Nevis early in the morning, ordering boats
and carriages to be in waiting, so that all will
run smoothly when we ourselves arrive.

The next day the captain wakes with a
strange sense of something wrong, something
lacking in her surroundings. A moment's
thought reveals to her the startling fact that
the wind has actually gone down, and that
the unusual ** something" which perplexed her
is the unwonted quiet after the din which has
been sounding for days in her ears. In truth
the day is perfect. The tropics, like a coquette
who has succeeded in making us utterly miser-
able, seem trying now to charm us anew. But
we are not to be taken in. We are no longer
credulous Northerners, believing all things good
of these latitudes. We are worn and weary
travelers, who have coped with the Southern
elements and regard any friendly advances
from that quarter with distinct suspicion.

224 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

But we enjoy the present, giving no thought
to the morrow or the yesterday, and revel in
the exquisite sky and water and mountains.
Above all do we admire the plausibility of the
trade wind, which, like a wolf in sheep's
clothing, is now masquerading as a gentle
breeze, which just ripples the dimpling waves.

Ten. o'clock had been fixed as the time to start,
and promptl}' at four bells the captain of the
Essex, with half a dozen of his officers, rows up
to the gangway in the captain's gig. They are
all in holiday humor, and as the bow of the
Scythian turns toward Nevis they give long
sighs of relief at being on board a boat without
having the smallest responsibility in the
matter.

The sail across the straits is charming, and
the great single peak of Nevis seems to bend its
haughty head from the clouds and bid us
welcome as we anchor in the harbor of Charles-
town.

Our messenger had already arrived, so that
we were expected. Boats of all kinds sur-
rounded us, and each negro swears solemnly

IN THE WEST INDIES. 225

his was the one and only boat which had been
ordered to taJie us on shore. At last our fore-
runner himself appears and puts an end to all
discussion.

The steward and the luncheon go off first in a
boat, on which we keep a good watch, remem-
bering the affinity existing between .the black
man and a good chicken. We then step into
our barge of state and are rowed on shore by
four burly negroes, the captain of the Essex
steering.

He makes for a long stone wharf run-
ning far out into the water, but in some way
miscalculates his distance. Instead of swinging
around to the side of the wharf, he hits it
squarely, bow on, with a force which jerks
us all off our seats, and huddles us pellmell
in an ignominious medley in the bottom of the
boat.

Our manners and our respect for a superior
officer do not desert us even in this trying hour.
We pick ourselves up in perfect silence, and
readjust our distracted hats and eyeglasses
without the ghost of a smile. All would have
been well had not the negro at the bow oar, not

M "tat tkmst 01^ tttfi scVfMtAW

recognizing the captain's rank because of his
citizen's clothes, called out: **Now don't
blame me, bo'sun; you know it was you
what was doing the steering. Don't blame me,
bo'sun."

A suppressed snicker pervaded our party, but
did not penetrate to the faces of the officers,
whose self-control never deserted them for a
moment.

Among the motley throng which comes to
study us is a man whose appearance is so re-
pulsive that we unconsciously move farther
away from him. When we are told he is
a leper, of whom there are many on these
islands, we find our instincts have not be-
trayed us.

On shore we find carriages of all sizes and de-
scriptions awaiting us. They are fearfully and
wonderfully dilapidated and drawn by animals,
called by courtesy horses, of ages varying from
twenty to fifty years.

It seems to be an unwritten law in
Nevis that two horses of the same size
must never be harnessed together. One
of the vehicles, a cross between a victoria

m TiiE West tNE>iE§. aat

and a surrey, is drawn by two horses. One is
a large, raw-boned creature, with a long swing-
ing stride; the other a small mule, intimately
resembling a donkey, who takes a hop, skip and
a jump to keep up with his longer-legged mate.
The harness consists of pieces of string and
rope, with an American flag artistically ar-
ranged, we suspect, to divert our attention
from the most glaring deficiencies. Four of us
seat ourselves in this; two others choose a
gig, possessing all the attributes of the **one
hoss shay" half an hour before its final dissolu-
tion, and the steward drives in a pony carriage,
with a rumble behind, which must have seen a
hundred summers. The rumble is evidently
considered the seat of honor, somewhat on the
order of a throne, for the steward is assisted
into it with every mark of distinction, while
the luncheon and the black driver occupy the
two seats in front. At last our little cavalcade is
ready and we move up the quaint, winding street
of Charlestown, with clean, low, white houses
on each side, and nodding palms overhead.

Soon we come to a large building, around
whose open doors is collected a crowd of peo-

n^ rn^ CRUISE OF the scvthian

pie. With a woman's curiosity the captain
wants to know what is going on. On finding
that this is the courthouse, where a trial is in
progress, nothing will satisfy her but to see and
hear that trial. The men all follow her with
apparent reluctance, but in their hearts very
glad of the chance to see a negro courtroom.
And a most amusing sight it is !

The room is crowded, and the only white face
belongs to the judge. Even his is not very white,
but excessively red and warm ; for he is dressed
in wig and gown, according to true English
fashion, which, although very imposing, is not
fitted to tropical climates. When this fashion
is copied by colored lawyers, whose white wigs
half-cover their woolly hair and throw into
strong relief their black skins, the effect is
ludicrous. The utmost courtesy is extended to
us, and the trial is interrupted until seats are
found for our party. Finally we are placed in
the jury box, back of the twelve black jury-
men, and the trial proceeds.

It is in connection with some piece of dis-
puted property, and the colored lawyers deliver
their speeches with excellent manner, using

IN THE WEST INDIES- 229

the purest English. Presently a witness is
called, and an old colored woman of the most
remarkable appearance walks slowly up the
aisle and kisses the Bible. She wears a cotton
gown and a bright yellow turban swathed round
her woolly gray hair. Her headdress is com-
pleted by a jaunty sailor hat perched at a co-
quettish angle on the top of the turban, and she
carries a red sunshade.

The lawyer begins by asking her her name.
She looks at him in dead silence. He repeats
his question in decided tones, but she gazes at
him without a word of reply. When the third
time she treats him with silent contempt, the
judge interposes. In solemn tones he threatens
her with fines, imprisonment, and whatever else
is calculated to strike terror to the negro soul
unless she will tell her name. Her sailor hat
droops a little lower over her ear, but not one
inkling does she give as to what her parents
called her in baptism. A breathless silence
ensues, when suddenly a man who was listen-
ing at the door rushes into the courtroom and
stalks up to the judge. ** Please, your honor,"
he says in a trembling voice, **the witness is

230 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

stone deaf; bat her name is Victoria Mehitable
Jones."

What course his honor now pursues we never
know, for we seize the opportunity to slip out
of the hot, stuffy room and into the fresh air
and our carriages.

After leaving the town the road gradually
rises up the mountain side into a lovely country
of sugar cane and delicious views. A sharp turn
to the right leads into a path which almost loses
itself in a tangle of undergrowth. This runs to
the wonderful sulphur spring for which Nevis
is famed, and which a hundred years ago made
it the watering-place of the West Indies. The
spring is in the middle of a large, bare room,
and looks green and unattractive, although the
water is said to be delicious and most excellent
in cas6s of rheumatism and cutaneous diseases.

Across the path from the spring are the
ruins of the grand hotel of Nevis, over-
grown by all manner of creeping and climbing
plants. Even now in its decay it is quite im-
pressive, with its thick stone walls, terraced
front and arcaded sides. In the days of its
prosperity it must have been a wonder in com-

IN THE WEST INDIES. 231

parison with the ordinary English inn of the
period. It was the rendezvous for all the wit,
wealth and fashion of the West Indies, when
the West Indies was the synonym for all that
was luxurious, beautiful and palatial. The
planters from all the islands would flock there
with their daughters and wives, arrayed in the
latest styles from London and Paris, very much
as the modern father takes his feminine rela-
tions to Newport or Bar Harbor.

Many of the British men-of-war lay in the
roadstead to enjoy the gay doings of Nevis, and
who knows but what Nelson, then a young man
of twenty-six, in command of H. M. S. Boreas,
may have danced with his future wife, the
Widow Nesbit, in these spacious rooms.

The lady was the niece of Mr. Herbert,
president of the council of Nevis, and doubtless
a person of some importance. But she was
older than Nelson, and it is to be feared, in the
light of after events, that the romantic surround-
ings, the tropical moonlight, pungent odors and
lovely flowers may have clothed the fair widow
with a halo that faded in the severer light of
everyday life. For when Nelson, not long bQ-

232 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

fore his marriage to the Widow Nesbit, writing
to a dear friend, says: *'You will surely like
the dear object for her sense and polite man-
ners," it is hardly the language of an ardent
lover.

Leaving some of our party to analyze for
themselves the charms of the sulphur springs,
the rest of us leave the desolate old ruin which
speaks so loudly of by-gone glories, and keep on
our ascent up the hill. At last we come to a
well-built, modern-looking church, the church
in which Nelson was married for better or worse
to his ''dear object." At least so the story goes.

But it is as inaccurate as many other stories
told. For they were not married here at all, but
on an old estate, the ruins of which we can just
see over that clump of green trees across the hill.

We stop, however, at the church, and a hand-
some negress, acting as sexton, opens the door
for us. It is an ordinary little building, re-
cently repaired, so that no look of the past
hangs around it. Only the tombstones which
pave the floor are really old, and they are dated
as far back as 1662. In a little room apart from
the rest of the church we see in a ponderous and

IN THE WEST INDIES. 233

much-fingered registry the entry of the marriage
of '* Horatio Nelson, of His Majesty's ship Boreas
to Frances H. Nesbit, widow, on March 11, 1787."
We linger a few moments under the spell
of the memories that name broguht up, for
if England associates one of her greatest men
with the name of Nevis, how much more
should we Americans look on the island
with reverence. For here, in 1757, was born
Alexander Hamilton, one of the greatest
of our American statesmen. There is little
known of his family or of him in his youth ex-
cept that he sailed for America in 1772. Per-
haps he may have come to this church as a lad,
and have looked out on this lovely view, which
holds us all entranced by its beauty. We
would gladly have stayed longer, but we tear
ourselves away from the Dlace, say good-by to
the negress, and wind slowly lip the road. Our
objective point is a windmill, standing on a high
hill, which has attracted our attention since we
left the town. When we reach it we find it is
superbly situated on a hillside, with a view that
is incomparable. The green hill slopes down to
the ocean, where St. Kitts, Statia, and the dis-

^34 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

tant Saba seem to float in that sky-blue sea like
ethereal creatures from another world.

This windmill is one of the remnants of the
old contrivances for crushing sugar. There is
no steam, no rushing machinery, only four
great fans, that move majestically in the light
air, turning with dignified slowness two
crushers inside the mill. Standing near the
crushers is an antiquated negro putting two or
three canes at a time in a tired way between the
rollers. They disappear, and gradually a few
drops of juice trickle out into a pan put to re-
ceive them. The whole thing is so pathetically
out of date, so left behind, that it is patriarchal.
Its thoughts seem far in the past, when a sugar
mill was like a gold mine, and sugar ruled men
and fortunes in the West Indies.

How many fortunes this same old mill must
have squeezed out, for the owner of this mag-
nificent estate! What luxury and splendor it
must have seen before the days of bounties on
beet-root sugar, overproduction and American
machinery ! And what squalor and retrogres-
sion surround it now ! The sun of its greatness
has long since set, m^ it is the only trace

'^

a.

€iU

^ !

IN THE WEST INDIES. 235

of the palmy days of the island when Nevis
was a garden and not a ruin.

Not quite the only trace. Leading from the
old mill is a grass-grown trail, which was once
a stately avenue. It is bordered by straight
palms, standing out clearly against the high
green mountain behind. This avenue leads
through the estate to the ruins of the old manor
house which we see ahead. They are over-
grown with lemons, tamarinds and all manner
of underbrush. But the fountain of white
marble, the broad flight of stone steps leading
up to what was once the hospitable veranda,
and the large wine cellar below, speak elo-
quently of what the house must have been be-
fore its glory had departed.

The situation is unequaled for beauty. The
mountains are high and commanding; the vege-
tation luxuriant, and under the green boughs
and between the flowering plants are lovely
vistas of the violet ocean unfolding its beauty
far beneath, as though challenging our admira-
tion.

What an estate it must have been, and
what a ruin it still is ! It stands as a constant

236 THE CRUiSfe OF THE SCYTHIAl^

reminder of the days wliich have once been,
but are gone forever from this ruined land.

But nothing can be really sad in that glorious
flood of sunshine, with such a wealth of vegeta-
tion to cover all decay, and with the charming
companionship of our friends, which makes the
present seem so much more delightful than the
past could ever have been.

The steward had been before us, and when
we come we find the rim of the fountain turned
into an improvised table, with our plates and
glasses laid around it in a circle, and a most
appetizing smell of coffee pervading the air.
At last all the sulphur spring bathers arrive on
the scene, with the exception of the two who
are driving in the gig. We wait and wait until,
if the wanderers do not soon join us, hunger
will get the better of good manners. At last,
fearing that some accident may have befallen
them, we send a messenger after them with a
carriage, for we were mindful of the qualities
of the **one hoss shay."

After some delay the two men at last come
to light in the wagon we had sent for them,
safe, but convulsed with laughter. Not long

IN THE WEST INDIES. ^Sl

after leaing the bath house, one of the wheels
of the gig became loose and in a minute came
off altogether, leading the men to roll out at
the roadside, one after the other. Instead of
sending back to the town to get another car-
riage, the negroes who were guiding them sent
around the country in all directions to bring a
new wheel to the gig, on the principle of bring-
ing the mountain to Mahomet. Three wheels
were brought to the field of action. One was
very small, the other absurdly large; the third
was approximately the size of the remaining
wheel of the gig. But this seemed to suit the
Nevites quite well, so the large and small
wheels were fastened on, and our friends com-
menced to climb the hill.

But this was most trying. The big wheel
persisted in going faster than the small one, so
that the gig moved in a mysterious zigzag way
up the hill, like a ship tacking in a head wind.
Just when our messenger reached them, the
horse had come to a standstill, absolutely re-
fusing to move; his equine mind being evidently
upset by the unusual gyrations of the diversified
wheels behind. They at once jumped into the

iJ38 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

carriage sent for them and soon reached us and
their luncheon.

That luncheon under the shade of an enor-
mous old banyan tree will always be one of the
pleasantest of our memories of the West Indies.
The luncheon itself was delicious; the cold
things were cold and those that were meant to
be warm were hot. Every one was in good
humor, and even the smallest pieces of wit were
met with the appreciation worthy of better
things.

We take photographs, of course, and equally,
of course, in our zeal, alwaj^s took two or
three on the same plate. But this did not dis-
turb our joy in the least, as we were delightfully
unconscious of the fact until a month later.
When the men light their cigars and lie around
in attitudes which, if not picturesque, smack
of extreme comfort, there is much pleasant
conversation and moments of pleasanter con-
tented silence.

At last the sun shining on us from beneath
the branches of the big trees warns us that we
must tear ourselves away, if we wish to reach
St. Kitts before dusk. So we bundle ourselves

IN THE WEST INDIES. 239

into our rickety old vehicles, drive down the
stately avenue and pass a queer little village,
built of small wooden cabins shaded by great
overhanging palms.

Suddenly there comes to our ears out of one
of these cabins the strangest sound. It is a
humming and a buzzing, as though a beehive
had taken possession of the hut. Curiosity
gets the better of us for the second time to-
day, and we get out to see the cause of the
noise. As we look into the door of the house
we see lines of tiny colored children ranged in
two rows along the wall. Before them is a
nice-looking colored woman, who is teaching
them to drone the addition table in a monoto-
nous voice. **One and one is two; one and two
is three," and so on endlessly until it sounds
like the hum of insects. At our appearance all
work is suspended, and all the school paraded
and shown off for our benefit. The teacher is
an intelligent woman; she has the chil-
dren well in hand, and no matter what they
may forget during their lives, it surely will not
be the addition table. We get them all outside,
to their intense delight, and seat them to be

240 THE CRUISE OF THE SCVTHIAl^

photographed, with the schoolmistress at the
back ; and a funny sight they make with their
black faces shining in the sun and the perspira-
tion rolling down their cheeks.

We drive down the hill in the mellow evening
light, which makes the sea look like some im-
material element in its spirit-like beauty, get
into our boats, and are rowed quickly out to the
Scythian. Then comes the sail back to St.
Kitts in the gathering twilight, after the setting
sun has made the most exquisite lights and
shades on the bare green slopes.

As the officers leave us for their own quar-
ters, one of them says he had never supposed
the West Indies could have given him so much
pleasure as he had enjoyed to-day, and we all
feel that our picnic to Nevis will stand out as a
red-letter day.

Our last evening in the Leeward Islands is
spent with the captain of the Essex. He sent
his gig over for us and we are rowed to his
ship, where we have a homelike little dinner in
his luxurious quarters. After dinner we make
all kinds of plans as to how we are to meet next
summer in home waters, and at last we get up

IN THE WEST lNt)lfiS. Ml

to go. Just then a sweet tenor voice floats in
to us through the open door, singing: **Say au
revoir, but not farewell," with an expression
which puts new life into the time -honored song.
As we come on deck, all the lads of the train-
ing ship join in the chorus with their fresh
boyish voices. The song voices our own senti-
ments so well that we pause on the deck, with
the white moon lighting the familiar faces
around us. The sweet music and tender light
make a little scene which we will not soon for-
get. As we go down the gangway I fear that
the steps seem indistinct and the kindly faces
of our friends bidding us ''Au revoir,'' a little
blurred, by reason of a queer mist in our
eyes which could only come from tears.

The captain himself takes us home in his
gig, and we sadly watch it disappear in
the darkness, after we have bidden him
good- by, for we know that early in the morn-
ing we shall have left the Essex and our kind
friends for good. As a matter of fact, however,
we have never said a real farewell to the friends
made during those sunny hours in a foreign
land. We meet them constantly, and it is

243 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

always a fresh delight to talk over the
old times, with the true enjoyment of old
friends.

Early the next morning we leave St. Kitts.
Statia and 8aba are far behind before we get on
deck, and St. Croix and Porto Kico are passed
far away in the distance.

Our tide of misfortune seems to be on
the ebb, and everything is more cheerful.
The invalid is growing quite herself again, and
all the bad weather seems to have been left
behind.

During our forty-six hours' run between St.
Kitts and Santo Domingo the weather is a
dream, instead of a nightmare. It was for this
that we had come to the West Indies, and it
seemed hard that almost the only taste we had
of smooth seas and balmy breezes should be
when we were homeward bound. Where the
Mona Passage opens out into the Caribbean
there is a little shaking up, just to show us that
the tiger's claws were still there, but even that
is broken by Mona Island itself, a dreary, bare-
looking stretch of land. But before the port of
Santo Domingo is reached we have to pass what

IN THE WEST INDIES. 243

is probably one of the most dangerous spots in
the West Indian waters. This is a reef
lying about ten miles off Saona Island. There
is no lighthouse or buoy to mark it, and on
every chart its distance from Saona Island is
found to be differently placed. So the chart,
which is supposed to be an infallible guide to
the mariner, as the well-trained conscience is
to the Christian, is of no use whatever in locat-
ing the danger. We steer well to the south-
ward, however, and come to no grief by being
in any unpleasant proximity to land. When
we reach Santo Domingo we find that there was
good cause for anxiety in passing this reef, as
it has wrecked many a good ship.

244 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

CHAPTER XI.

SANTO DOMINGO.

Any wise person going to Santo Domingo will
arrive there by daylight, so as to go at once up
the river to the inner harbor opposite the city.
We are not wise, and come to anchor at two
o'clock that superb moonlight morning in the
outer harbor. There we remain until eight,
rolling backward and forward, now with a
short, decisive roll, now with the long-drawn
out, stately roll which makes you wonder if
yoa are not going all the way around.

When day breaks we derive a little comfort
from seeing a big Swedish bark near us rolling
her bulwarks under at every lurch. But no
rest comes to us until the pilot rows out
to our rescue, clambers up the little rope
ladder let down for his benefit, orders the
anchor up, rings the bell *VEasy ahead,"
starts us on our way to the inner harbor and
gmppther waters,

IN THE WEST INDIES. 24.0

The bar is dangerous and the channel wind-
incTj and narrow, so the captain asks our pilot —
a very magniticent specimen of black humanity,
dressed in the whitest of white clothes — to
please be very careful of the old Scythian.

"Oh, signorita," he exclaims, "have no fear!
I don't want to be shot."

Failing to see any point to his remark, we
say that of course he does not want to be shot
any more than we want to be shipwrecked.
Then, by way of conversation, we ask why los-
ing our boat makes him think of losing his life.

"Why," he answered airily, "you know if I
lost your boat President Heureaux would shoot
me at once. The pilots here used to make
great profits by putting boats ashore and then
getting them off again. But He (with the em.
phasis on the He which can only be expressed
in writing by a capital H) stopped all that. He
published an edict that he would shoot any one
who grounded a vessel, and since then (with a
regretful sigh for the good old days) no ship
has ever gone ashore. That is his shooting
place just over there," he remarks casually,
pointing to a group of palm trees peacefully

246 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

waving their long feather-duster-like leaves in
the gentle breeze-.

A silence falls upon our party, and the captain
asks in a voice which tries to sound indifferent,
if he is very fond of shooting foreigners. For
we had not yet crossed the bar, and there was
still room in the channel to turn round.

** Foreigners! Dios mios! No, he loves
foreigners, especially Americans. Why, he
already knows you are here, and is expecting,
your visit."

We are relieved. It is pleasant to think
that a president is waiting to see you, even if
he be a black president, who shoots pilots with-
out trial. 80 we turn with an almost personal
interest to look at the city we are nearing. It
is well worth looking at that beautiful March
morning, with the sunlight making a glory of
everything it touches.

The city lies on a bluff between the river
Ozaba and the sea. Standing boldly out, as
though to guard the city behind, is the old
Spanish fortress, the Homenage, hoar and yel-
low with age as the rock from which it springs.
The first impression you get of Santo Domingo

1

• i ■

O o '■

SI

< ^

IN THE WEST INDIES. 247

is of this magnificent old castle, frowning down
on sea and shore, dominating the whole scene,
as well as your own thoughts. From the fort-
ress runs the city wall, broken here and there
by stone parapets, and pierced by a gateway,
giving the city the peculiarly mediaeval look
which characterizes it.

Inside the wall the city is clustered, with its
buildings, churches and convents, all a warm
golden brown in the morning light. Farther
up the shore are the ruins of the palace built
by Columbus' son. Diego, who married Doiia
Maria de Toledo, the niece of the great Duke
of Alva. Diego lived here in great magnificence,
and the old pile is still called **Casa de Colon."

The adjective *'old" is the word which comes
most naturally to one's lips in speaking of
Santo Domingo. So it is just as well to vindi-
cate here and now its constant use, by saying
once for all that it really is old— the oldest city,
in fact, of European origin on this continent.
It a founded by Bartholomew Columbus way
back in the fourteen hundreds, when his brother
Christopher thought the world so small that
he believed he had sailed halfway round

^48 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

and had landed in Japan; and when America
was not even dreamed of.

So we have a perfect right to be impressed
with the antiquity of the town, as we steam
slowly across the bar in safety — a great relief to
both the pilot and myself — and come to anchor
opposite his *' shooting place." Coming to
anchor, by the way, means here being tied bow
and stern to a couple of palm trees on the
shore, just as a horse is * 'hitched" to a post
with us.

We go on shore at once, land at a good dock,
and make our way through the beautifully
carved gateway into the city. Walking up a
bill inside the wall, we pass an old sundial,
which has the sad and dreary look of one whose
days of usefulness are over. Here we catch
glimpses of an old Spanish church used as a
butcher's shop, and there of an old Spanish
convent turned into a theater.

The streets are lined with two-storied
houses, whitewashed, pink-washed, or blue-
washed, with walls four feet thick, and balco-
nies running along the windows of the second

o §

O tJ

o ^

O «*

c_, to'

o "-

O g

« 8

o ^

^ 9

< a

C/2 W}

IN THE WEST INDIES. 249

Stories. The doors all open into the street, and
through them we see the patios, filled with
flowers, shrubs, fountains and easy -chairs,
where the signoritas take their afternoon sies-
tas. So cool, green and shady do they look in
comparison to the hot, dusty white street, that
we would fain have tried those armchairs,
under the shade of those palm trees. But the
president is still waiting, so on we trudge — on
to his palace.

The palace is in no way different from the
other houses, except that it is slightly larger,
washed a little whiter, and that at its door sits
a man in dark-blue livery. To him we give our
cards. He disappears for a moment, and re-
turns to bow us, with a well-regulated bow,
through the door into the patio, and up a flight
of stairs which leads to the balcony surround-
ing the upper story.

At the top stands a tall, finely made black
man, of commanding presence and martial bear-
ing, who is grave, dignified and courteous. He
welcomes each of us as we reach the top with a
quiet shake of the hand, which we notice is
slightly paralyzed. He is well dressed in a

250 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

dark-blue suit, with small brass buttons. His
linen is irreproachable, his small feet are en-
cased in shining patent leather shoes, and his
hands are well kept, with almond-shaped nails.
He is altogether a rather imposing personage.
The president leads the way into a drawing
room unostentatiously furnished, gravely offers
us each a chair, and seats himself at the same
time.

Then ensues a moment when we all sit
tongue-tied in a semicircle surrounding his
armchair, our minds a blank. At last some
one (we have all since disavowed the remark)
volunteers to state in a weak voice that we
came to Santo Domingo to see the bones of
Columbus.

The president expresses a mild, very mild
interest; but the ice is broken, and we
soon find ourselves deeply interested in
the conversation of this negro. President
Heureaux's personality is decidedly strik-
ing. He is now a man about fifty, and
his face is distinctly negro in type, with
brown skin, thick lips, and woolly hair. But

** H© is altogether a rather imposing personage." Page s^o^

IN THE WEST INDIES. 25i

his e^^es are keen and intelligent. His feat-
ures, which at first are stolid, light up expres-
sively as a quick smile flashes over his face.
His English, which halts a little, flows more
freely as he becomes interested in the conver-
sation, and we feel ourselves in the presence of
an extraordinary man, black man though he be.

He holds our attention in everything he says,
for he understands himself and his subject
thoroughly, be it American politics or French
literature.

His ideas are often subtile, and always ex-
pressed in well-chosen language, and he is
shrewd and observant to a degree, no detail
being too small to escape his notice. In man-
ner he is courteous and exceedingly suave.
But an occasional flash of his eye, or note of
command in his voice, give an insight into what
the man must be when his potential strength
and fierceness are roused. We can compre-
hend that under this quiet, guarded exterior
there is another man, who loves fighting and
the din of battle as he loves his life. This is
the man who leads his soldiers on to victory,
with an old straw hat tied under his chin.

262 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

swinging his saber, shouting his orders, and in-
spiring his followers with enthusiastic devotion.

We sit talking to him, or rather listening to
him, for an hour, and then rise to go. He begs
us to wait a moment and takes a key from his
pocket, which he gives with a whispered direc-
tion to his servant. The servant returns in a
short time, bringing a tray with a bottle of
champagne and six glasses — large glasses, too.
We view this proceeding with consternation,
for remember, it is but ten o'clock in the morn-
ing, and we are never given to drinking cham-
pagne at the best of times. But the president
pours out the wine, and gives us each a glass;
so drink perforce we must, standing in a circle
around him. He makes a graceful little toast
to the captain of the Scythian, touches his
glass to ours, sips a drop of wine, and puts his
glass down. After this ceremony he escorts us
down to the patio, which is full of flowers, from
which he picks a large bunch, and we take our
departure with his roses in our hands.

He is remarkably fond of flowers, and the
story goes that he once planted a quantity of
them in the Plaza. The citizens also admired

IN THE WEST INDIES. 253

the flowers, and from time to time would cull
lovely bouquets with which to adorn their
houses. This aroused the wrath of the presi-
dent. He issued an edict that any one found
picking the flowers on the Plaza should be shot.
A soldier was stationed at each corner, with his
belt full of cartridges, to carry out the order.
Since then the flowers have bloomed undis-
turbed.

We go out again into the hot streets, and hail
a funny little cab, looking like a burlesque on a
Paris fiacre, drawn by a scraggy broncho,
whose intentions may be good, but whose gait
is of the slowest. The streets, although scrup-
ulously clean and possessed of good gutters, are
execrably paved, or rather not paved at all.
But in spite of the deficiency in pavements, we
feel that we have reached a metropolis, com-
pared with any other West Indian town,
Barbadoesof course excepted.

The better part of the town is imposing, and
remains to-day almost as it was built by the
Spanish. But amid all the old world atmos-
phere which pervades this city of the fifteenth
century, there are certain incongruities which

254 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

are most suggestive of the nineteenth, and that
recall us rather sharply from the town of the
Colons to the ISanto Domingo of to-day. The
jingling bell of the tram car drawn by mules,
and running from the principal streets to the
suburbs, are disturbing to all ideas of Spanish
times. Electric light wires, telegraph poles,
and shops filled with American ** notions" to be
sold at **cut prices" are far from mediaeval.
Black-browed Spanish signoritas, adorned not
by mantilla, rose and fan, but dressed in shirt
waists, and alas! bloomers, whisk by us on
bicycles, and bring us with a start from the
times of romantic adventure to the present
prosiac day.

This change may be regretted from an esthe-
tic point of view. But from a practical stand-
point this clean town with regular streets, and
evidences of modern ideas, point to a real prog-
ress. It is the only town in the West Indies
where the inhabitants were too busy to stare,
and too well-to-do to beg, a condition of affairs
certainly unlooked for in a republic under a
black president.

We have all heard tales of Haiti; tales of

IN THE WEST INDIES. 255

filth and degradation, of bad government and
worse morals, which would seem incredible were
they not vouched for by such men as Froude
and Sir Spencer St. John. The Black Republic,
they say, is gradually relapsing into a barbar-
ism, where cannibalism and African serpent
worship are not unknown. But here, side by
side with Haiti, is another Black Republic
which is surely advancing along the path of
civilization.

Probably one cause for this difference lies
in the fact that Haiti has never found
a hand strong enough to grasp the reins of
government, and hold them tightly until the
spirit of disorder was tamed. Santo Domingo,
on the contrary, has found her man of '* blood
and iron"; he has crushed out revolt and
forced peace on the country. Revolt was
crushed unmercifully, and peace is kept at the
sword's point, it is true. But the tranquillity
thus obtained has laid the foundation of the
future progress of the country. What prosperity
Santo Domingo enjoys to-day, or may enjoy in
the years to come, she owes to the imperious
will of her great autocrat, Ulisis Heureaux.

256 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

Just then he drove past us. There is no
guard or escort; his victoria is well appointed,
drawn by one horse, and driven by a man in
livery. He bows like a plain citizen, and no
demonstration is made by the people in the
street. He is a soldier in the simplicity of his
habits and prides himself on being more demo-
cratic than his people. He walks unattended
through the town, dines with his friends,
always without an escort, and guarded
only by his revolver, which, like all his
countrymen, he always carries in his belt.

In the afternoon we walk up to the old for-
tress which had attracted us so irresistibly in
the morning. Poor disappointed Columbus was
supposed to have been thrown in chains into
this dungeon by his arch enemy, Boabdillo,
before he was sent in disgrace to Spain. But to
be truthful, the whole place was burned down
after Columbus left, so we do not need to sad-
den ourselves by such recollections. The
present condition of the poor prisoners is quite
sad enough.

The fort is used in part as a barracks, and in
front are a number of tall, well-made soldiers,

IN THE WEST INDIES. 257

dressed in uniforms of some dark -blue cotton
stuff, whose belts are full of cartridges. No
one knows how large an army the president
really has. That is one of the little state
secrets he keeps to himself.

Inside the court are the common prisoners,
who cook, eat and sleep on the bare ground,
guarded by soldiers, with loaded pistols in their
hands. Their fate, however, is heavenly com-
pared to that of the political prisoners. These
are confined in small, dark, inner dungeons,
with no light and little air, where probably
nothing but death can release them from their
miseries.

^'Political prisoners,*' be it understood,
means those who in any way oppose the
schemes of the president.

If a man is suspected of not cherishing the
most intense and enthusiastic devotion for the
president and the most unqualified admiration
for all his political acts, he is arrested and
thrown into this dungeon. It is usually only the
first stage of his journey to a better world.
During one of the revolutions which from time
to timQ divert the political world of SantQ

258 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

Domingo, Heureaux's brother-in-law joined
two other generals in a conspiracy against
him. They were all arrested on the battlefield,
and the two generals were at once shot;
but, strangely enough, the brother-in-law was
spared.

The president asked him to dine in his tent,
^ave him a fresh suit of clothes, as his
own were travel-stained, and overwhelmed him
with attentions. Surprise and hope ran high in
the brother-in-law's heart. As the dinner pro-
gressed and he felt his life grow more and more
secure, he became almost gay. Just as he be-
gan to sip his coffee, the president touched him
lovingly on the shoulder and remarked: "Now,
dear brother-in-law, you are to be shot." The
brother-in-law was thunderstruck, and cried
and begged for mercy. But the president up
braidingly reminded him that being his brother
in-law, he must be brave, for that all the Heu
reaux family were noted for their courage
Having joined his brother generals in a revolu
tion, he must not liesitate to follow them fur
ther to the better world where they were await

SANTO DOMINGO.

•• On the pedestal inscribing to Columbus all manner of eulogies is the

figure of a Carib queen." Pa^e ^^"9.

IN THE WEST INDIES. 259

ing him. So while the president toyed with
his fruit, his brother-in'law, having been dined
and wined in this world, went to drink his
coffee in the next.

From the fortress we went to see the
* Bones;" this being the colloquial term by
which the remains of Columbus are spoken of
in Santo Domingo.

We had really come here in the first instance
on purpose to see the bones, but the living per-
sonality of the president, and the quaintness of
his capital had rather side-tracked us for the
time being. Our interest all revived as we
made our way to the old cathedral, through the
city so beloved by Columbus that he
wished his remains to be brought here from
Spain on his death. The cathedral is an impos-
ing old structure, forming one side of the Plaza,
and with a statue in front of the great dis-
coverer. The statue is not bad, but the sculp-
tor must have been the victim of some histor-
ical misunderstanding. On the pedestal, in-
scribing to Columbus all manner of eulogies in
excellent Spanish, is the figure of a Carib
queen, who had first been robbed of all her

260 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

possessions by his followers, and was then
herself tortured to death.

Inside the cathedral we find awaiting us a
high dignitary in the shape of an ex-postmaster-
general, a most dilapidated old negro, whose
clothes seem to have blown out of a ragbag and
to have landed on him by mistake. Se re-
ceives us solemnly, and our voices are uncon-
sciously hushed to a whisper. The vulgar herd
is shut out of the church, and in the half -twi-
light of the old basilica the ceremony begins.
First a table, large and square, is brought out
from some recess and placed in the center of
the church, near the altar. Then a faded red
brocade table-cover is exhumed and laid over
the table with perfect gravity. Next the ex-
postmaster - general walks solemnly toward
the table, bearing aloft a glass case con-
taining an open leaden casket, in which we
see a little dust and a few dry, white, crumb-
ling bones, all that remains of the great dis-
coverer.

We try to summon up some appropriate
thoughts for the occasion, but the absurdity of
it all swallows up every feeling of awe. When

IN THE WEST INDIES. 261

the ex-posfcraaster-general brings out a well-
thumbed book, and asks us to make an affidavit
over our signatures that we have seen the true
and only bones of Columbus, the whole thing
becomes a farce.

For, be it known, that Havana has had the
impudence to set up a rival set of bones, and to
declare in her turn that they are the true re-
mains of Columbus.

When Spanish Santo Domingo was conquered
by the French in 1785 it was surmised that the
great Admiral could never rest in peace with
his coffin lying in French soil. So with much
pomp and ceremony, some bones supposed to
be his were unearthed and carried to Havana.
Shortly after, however, some other crumbling
relics were dug up in the old cathedral, which
the Dominicans, having now expelled the
French, declared emphatically must be the true
and only bones. Was not a leaden bullet
found among them? Had not Columbus once
written to Queen Isabella that his "old wound
was once more troubling him?" And could
that bullet have been any other than the one
which caused that wound?

"ZGH THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

But in that ease whose were the bones sent
to Havana? Why, if not the rose, they had
touched the rose. They must have belonged to
the son of Columbus, Diego, who was also
buried in the cathedral. And so the war has
waged these many years over these poor
crumbling remnants of humanity.

A few days later the president came to dine
with us. We induced our friend, the pilot, to
get us a Dominican flag, which broke out at the
foremast when His Excellency set his foot on
the deck, and we gave him a very hearty wel-
come on board the Scythian.

He went over the boat from stem to stern.
No inducement to drink afternoon tea (for he
came at five instead of half-past seven) would
turn him from his task.

**When I have seen all then will I drink."

And he certainly saw all. He had the anchor
let down to see how it would come up. He rang
every bell ; started the engine ahead and then
stopped her. He even -asked to have the fire
lit in the fireplace to ascertain if the chimney
would draw on a boat. But as the afternoon
was oppressively hot, and we had already on

In the west Indies. 263

our thinnest summer dresses, we managed to
thwart that desire.

At last he came up from the fire room, where
he had been sampling a piece of Pocahontas
coal, threw himself into a comfortable chair,
and said he "would now take his tea." Beck-
oning to his secretary, a sad-faced individual,
whose dignity evidently sat heavily on him —
perhaps because his head rested too lightly on
his shoulders— he w^hispered something in his
ear. The secretary at once stepped up to the
men of our party, who were making themselves
very agreeable to the president, and whispered
in turn something in their ears. The smile
died on their faces, their necks stiffened, and
they stalked forward with outraged dignity
plainly written on their expressive backs, the
little secretary in tow.

We afterward found out, though with much
difficulty, that the president had sent word to
them that **they need not stay in this part of the
boat, as he wanted to talk with the ladies alone."

His talk was well worth listening to, as he
told to our sympathetic ears much of his most
interesting history. ' '

264 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

He was the son of an old cavalry officer in La
Plata, and when he was a lad of seventeen his
country was in the throes of a war against
Spain. Being full of the fire of youth and jeal°
ous for the honor and independence of his coun-
try, he placed himself, unknown to his conser-
vative old father, at the head of two hundred
rash spirits like unto himself, and joined the
insurrection against the Spanish. They began
their warlike operations in his native city, La
Plata. Having by some means gained posses-
sion of some of the government artillery, the
young women of the town provided them with
bullets, made with their own hands of lead and
paper. At nine o'clock this little band of
youthful insurgents sallied forth to begin the
storming of the town. By daybreak, so effec-
tive did the bullets prove, the city was theirs.

So began the military career of Ulisis
Heureaux, which has lasted with but little
interruption until the present — a battle,
being in his own words **his most great
delight." The second Dominican Kepublic
was declared in 1865, Heureaux making
himself constantly more famous, combining

IN THE WEST INDIES. 265

the genius of the military leader with the ex-
ecutive ability of the statesman. At the age
of twenty -one he was made governor of La
Plata, and had to tarn his mind from warlike
operations to the management of men and
affairs. He cultivated himself, learned to
speak French and English, and acquired the
polish which now sits so well upon him.

His country meantime was torn with inces-
sant revolts, equalling, if not excelling, any-
thing which Haiti has seen.

Heureaux himself has seen three presidents
elected, and three inaugural addresses read
within twenty-four hours.

Under these too numerous presidents
he rose higher and higher until, from being
Minister of Interior, he became candidate for
the presidency himself in 1886.

His election methods were, to say the least,
strange. He rented a number of houses in the
city, into which, the night before the election,
he crowded all the men who would vote for
him, and locked the doors so that no one could
tamper with them. At daybreak on the morn-
ing of the election, he unlocked the doors, mar-

266 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

shalled out the men, and marched them to the
polls before any of the opposing party had ar-
rived. Here they cast their votes, and also
spent the rest of the day, so completely
blocking the polls that none but his own
adherents were allowed to reach them.

It is needless to say that he was unanimously
elected! **But since then," he remarked with
unconscious piquancy, '*I have allowed no one
to run against me, for that election cost me
$350,000."

His policy since his election has been one of
stern repression toward rebels. He will give a
man fair and generous treatment so long as he
remains loyal. If he turns traitor, he is shot
down like a dog. His aim has been to bring his
country out of the chaotic state into which
years of civil war had plunged it, and to make
it a modern state with modern improvements.
He considers that the first step toward the
realization of this ideal is to govern the people
by force, like a dictator, until they are so
accustomed to obey the law and to love order
that they will be able to govern themselves.

Toward the end of our visit to Santo Pomingo

IN THE WEST INDIES. 267

the president expressed a wish that we should
see his three gunboats. They are lying just
ahead of us in the river, and we had looked at
them with much curiosity. One of them was
the former English yacht Deerhound, which
had played such an unsavory part in the
minds of Americans in the great Alabama-
Kearsarge fight off Cherbourg. She is now
the flagship of His Excellency's fleet of three
vessels.

Arrangements were made that the president
would call for us at three o'clock and go with us
to the boats. At three promptly he appeared,
with his sad private secretary, his Minister of
the Interior, and two other gentlemen of color,
whose rank we were unable to fathom. He
sends away his own boat and says he wishes to
go over in our launch, in order to see how it
runs.

The launch is brought around, we all get in,
and then he proceeds without asking any one's
permission to take the wheel. First he runs us
into the rope by which we are tied to the shore.
When we are extricated, after some trouble, we
go on without further disaster until we reach

THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

the old Deerhound, now the Presidencio, We
do not come up to the gangway in the usual
method, as he does not understand steering any
too well.

We hit it, and hit it hard, for the launch is
full of people and heavy. There is an ominous
sound of crashing, and the beautiful mahogany
gangway bears the impress of our launch's bow.
However, we walk up and find ourselves in the
midst of a large party. The men are magnifi-
cent in uniforms, consisting for the most part
of gold lace, with a perfect eruption of brass
buttons The ladies are without exception stout
and dark, whether they were dusky Spaniards
or fair negresses we have never been able to
determine.

As the president comes up, they all rise
around him in a circle. He takes the captain
by the hand, and speaking in Spanish, which
he afterward translates into English for our
benefit, says: *' Ladies and gentlemen, let me
present to you the Signorita Suzanne and her
friends." Then we all make low bows to each
other and wonder what will come next. It is
champagne that comes. We again stand in

IN THE WEST INDIES. 269

a circle and glasses are passed and filled. The
Admiral, a full-blooded negro, whose vocation
in life seems to be to laugh at the presi-
dent's jokes, stands directly behind us with his
officers. The president lifts his glass and
solemnly says-. "As America has no queen, let
us drink to the health of America's repre-
sentative who is with us to-day— the Signorita
Suzanne."

They all echo, *'To the Signorita Suzanne,"
and drain their glasses to the last drop. All but
the admiral. When the president began his
speech the admiral evidently thought that he
could drink his wine in peace without having to
laugh. Just as he had taken a large mouthful
of champagne the president made some humor-
ous little remark which called for some notice
on his part. The poor admiral, in his effort to
laugh, became a watering pot, sprinkling cham-
pagne from every part of his face instanta-
neously. He choked, spluttered, and searched
his pockets vainly for a handkerchief. He ap-
pealed by gestures to his brother officers to
help him. They either would not, or more
probably could not, oblige him.

270 THE CRUISE OF TKE SCYTHIAN

At last my brother-in-law, with a courtly air,
stepped forward and with a courteous ** allow
me," handed the poor man a handkerchief, in
which he hid his face and which he never
returned.

On all three of the gunboats the captain's
health was drunk, but as the reward of merit,
we were also taken all over the vessels. The
president takes the utmost pride in his navy.
He has workshops in which much of the work
is done, and for small boats they are very com-
plete. They say that steam is always up in
one of them, so that in case a revolution breaks
out he can take it to a place of safety.

He goes on board at any hour of the day
or night, and if all is not quite to his liking woe
betide the unfortunate offender. He came there
one morning at five o'clock^ and finding that
the engineer had not yet had his coffee, waited
until the cabin boy put in his appearance.
Then quietly putting down his cup, he took up
the cabin boy and gave him as sound a thrash-
ing as he could— and he is a powerful man. As
he took up his cup again he said to the boy that
Jie thought that now he would remember to

IN THE WEST INDIES. 5JT1

have the engineer's coffee at the hour ordered;
and he has always remembered.

When the festivities are over on the gunboats
the president says that he would like the ladies
present to go over and see the Scythian. Be-
fore we realize what it means he has seated ten
of them in the launch, and we are eii route for
the Scythian.

Now each of these ladies weighed at the
least one hundred and eighty pounds, and
what was worse, did not speak a word of Eng-
lish, French or German, while we knew no
Spanish. So we simply carried them over the
boat from place to place, without the pos-
sibility of exchanging an idea or a word.
They talked ver}^ hard, and we laughed.
When something more than laughter seemed
necessary we pointed at various articles of in-
terest, and then they would take their turn at
laughing. They pointed up to the heavens,
and we thought they meant that it was a beau-
tiful evening and we nodded our heads vigor-
ously. But this must have been a wrong sup-
position, for they immediately shook theirs

27^ THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

equally hard and looked rather offended. The
arrival of the president was an infinite relief,
and a load was taken off us when he finally
took them away. The Scythian seemed to
stand higher out of water as they left her side.
This was the last we saw of this most inter-
esting man, and we sat on deck in the evening
and summed up our opinions of him. He was
undoubtedly cruel, rapacious and selfish, but
his will was iron, his judgment keen, and his
head extremely level. He is one of the most
interesting men we had ever met, and prob-
ably one of the most unscrupulous. But he
gave us an idea of what a black republic can be
and of what a black president can do, if he be
a thorough tyrant. We end by dubbing him
the black Napoleon of the West Indies, and left
his country the next day with sincere regret.

IN THE WEST INDIES. ^73

CHAPTER XIL

JAMAICA — AND HOME.

The run of lifty hours between Jamaica and
Santo Domingo is entirely uneventful and alto-
gether delightful. The seas are so smooth and
the breezes so wooing that it requires a certain
strength of character to keep our hearts steeled
against them. If they had only given us a
little more of this kind treatment, how we
should have extolled the pleasures of yachting
in the West Indies to our friends, instead of
holding up our hands in horror when such a
thing was mentioned !

But although we do not give way to our
softer feelings, we do melt sufficiently to ac-
knowledge that when the weather by chance is
good in the Caribbean, it is an ideal sheet of
water for yachting.

It is intensely hot, and we sit in absolute
idleness, glad to rest after our unusual dissipa-
tions in Santo Domingo. But the mercury in

^H THE CkUlSE OF THE SCVTHlAJJ

the pilot house has the energy to climb up to
ninety-two degrees! To what dizzy heights it
soars in the fire room we dare not ask, but only
give orders to slow her down as much as possi-
ble, to ease the poor firemen.

So we loaf along in a happy, lazy way, quite
content to prolong a little longer the pleasure
of the trip.

The only mental effortof which we are guilty
is to wonder vaguely if we shall pass the Island
of Alta Vera in safety during the night. But
even that does not rouse us to serious thought,
although it is a dangerous place, and of course
unlighted. We do go by, however, in safety,
and come on deck the next morning to see the
mountains of Jamaica trying to outdo the
clouds themselves in mistiness, off on the hori-
zon.

But we are too practiced now in making out
mountains to be taken in by any such affecta-
tion of spirituality on their parts, and our skep-
ticism is justified when their noble outlines soon
stand out distinctly, shrouded though they are
in a curious haze. This, we find, is caused by
an atmosphere of dust which constantly circles
round the island during the dry season. The

IN THE WEST INDIES. Z15

whole land is enveloped in this haze, which is
golden in the sunlight, violet in the shadows,
and a dull gray when deprived of its reflected
light by the setting of the sun.

In the morning light the country is a warm,
golden brown, and as we stand watching the
land, half a dozen tiny specks away on the water
arouse our curiosity. We soon see that they are
ships, and as they get nearer we see they are
men-of-war, coming toward us at full speed,
with the English flag fluttering at their sterns.

They dive into the great head seas, part the
water on each side of their bows into great
glassy waves, and throw the spray high into the
air in a glittering shower. With their shining
black sides, and their easy, graceful motions,
they look for all the world like a school of
mammoth porpoises playing lazily round the
smother of some vessel's bow.

But their looks is the only lazy thing about
them, for hardly do we realize that they are
abeam before they are well astern. They carry
such a wake that we roll around like a cockle
shell, and must present an amusing sight to the
Englishmen as we hang on as though for life to

2?6 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

therailings. Later on we find that they
are a part of England's North Atlantic
squadron, which, having received orders to
go at full speed to Bermuda, were undoubt-
edly making all of twenty knots as they passed
us.

By two o'clock the pilot makes for us in his
sailboat, a funny little craft, but stanch and
seaworthy, as any boat must be to live in this
sea of strong currents and rough waves. The
pilot seems undecided in his own mind as to
how he will board us. First he makes for one
side, and we steer around to give him a lee; then
he tacks right round to the other, and ends by
getting directly in front, where we almost hit
him. We back quickly, however, before any
damage is done, and after extricating himself,
he edges round by means of a line thrown him,
reaches the rope ladder, and clambers on deck.

A couple of hours later he has brought us
safely to Port Royal, where the British health
officials take us into their possession.

Never had we passed through such an exami-
nation! No clean bills of health, no assurance
of the perfect well-being of all on board would

IN THE WEST INDIES. 277

satisfy them — we must all stand up and be
counted, one by one.

So all the ship's company is marshalled on
deck, and we make quite a respectable show-
ing when all massed together in rows. There
are four of ourselves, the sailing master, mate
and four sailors. Then comes the engine de-
partment, headed by the ** chief" himself, in his
spotless uniform, casting apologetic glances at
his four smutty-faced firemen, who had not had
time to **wash up," while the second engineer
brings up the rear. The two stewards and two
cooks, who have donned clean white caps for
the occasion, and the maid come next, and last
but not least — the dogs.

The officers then proceed to count us head by
head, pausing to consult the papers, to make
sure that none of us had died and been buried
at sea. They look askance at the dogs, and for
a moment we fear that their canine bills of
health will be inquired for, but that danger
is avoided.

Seeing that we look unequivocally healthy,
they at last release us from our bondage, and
allow Scythian to go on its way up to Kingston.

^78 THE CRUISE OE THE SCVTHlAN

This town lies on a magnificent harbor, with
high mountains surrounding it on three sides.
An old Spanish fort frowns down at us defiantly
as we pass, but we are not to be intimidated,
and go on up to Kingston. The harbor is abso-
lutely dead-and-alive. An English man-of-
war, a schooner yacht, and the American yacht
Sultana, taking on coal preparatory to leaving
to-morrow, are the most conspicuous features
in the harbor of England's largest West Indian
possession. Kingston is a large city, as south-
ern cities go, and one would expect to find the
harbor fairly alive with trade and shipping of
every description. But all is listless and life-
less— a sure indication of the ruin which is
staring Jamaica in the face.

There is one thing of which Jamaica can
boast, and that is of her excellent hotels.
Some years ago a grand exposition was held
here, to which it was thought people would
throng from every quarter of the globe. To
accommodate a fragment of the expected multi-
tude, two large hotels were built, with a guar-
antee from the government — one the Myrtle
Bank in Kingston, the other the Constant

m THfi WfeST INDIES. ^M

Spring, five miles from town. The exhibition
took place, and was a great financial failure.
Prince George, some Englishmen interested in
the colonies, a few people from the other islands,
and a smattering of the Jamaicans themselves,
were the only patrons of the great hotels, and
the scheme, like the exhibition, was a failure.

We decide to dine at the Myrtle Bank the
evening of our arrival, and mindful that
Kingston is a garrison town, and that the mili-
tary band plays in the garden in the evening,
we look forward to it with quite a good deal
of pleasure. Going on shore there is a high sea
running, even in the harbor, and the spray works
havoc with our perishable gowns. Soon the
solid water breaks over the bow, reducing
our poor dresses to strings and our hats to
pulp. But worst of all, just as we were
reaching the landing there was a scrunch,
a lurch, a list, and our launch was aground.
After much tugging, and pulling, we were
afloat again and make for another wharf,
where we land in safety and extreme dilapida-
tion.

However, we dined well at the Myrtle Bank,

2^0 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

listened to the music of a very ordinary band,
saw a few red-headed young officers and their
tired-looking wives and went home, not over-
enamored of the social gayeties of Jamaica.

The next morning we go on shore to find
Kingston a bustling little place, with rows of
good business houses, nice churches, and pass-
able shops, where good English stuffs can be
bought at a ridiculously low figure. But the
heat is intense. Kingston is said to be one of
the three hottest cities in the world, and it cer-
tainly lived up to its reputation that morning.
We drive through the busy streets, with the
glaring sun reflected from every house and every
paving stone, until we can stand it no longer,
and turn into the country, hoping to find relief
from the torrid dampness.

But the country is worse; it is a world made
of the ghosts of living things. It has not
rained since Christmas, and houses, fences,
trees, flowers, and even the negroes' faces are
of a ghastly weird gray color from the dust. It
is so white that it reminds one of a snow scene
at home, if that relentless sun would let us
think of anything so cool. Here and there some

IN THE WEST INDIES. 281

enterprising individual has watered his garden,
which gives one an idea of how beautiful the
place must be after the rains, with the wonder-
ful foliage green and not white, and those
glorious mountains for a background.

There are some fine estates still left, but with
few exceptions these have fallen into the hands
of the Jews, while all the picturesque in these
ruined and neglected houses has long since
failed to charm us. We are overcome with the
sadness of the thought that apparently nothing
now remains to these once wealthy people but
starvation, and that there is no outlook to this
once prosperous island but bankruptcy.

The sugar industry has failed, the fruit trade
is entirely in the hands of the Boston Fruit
Company, and how can the overtaxed, poverty-
stricken inhabitants start out into any new line,
with no capital and no help from the mother
country? We drive through the charming gar-
dens of the Government House, where all is in
perfect order, singularly in contrast to the rest
of the residences, and admire the luxuriance of
the flowers and plants.

But the sun beats down on us relentlessly, and

282 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

we are driven back to town. We drag our weary
bodies and heated faces to the Jamaica Institute,
as a mere matter of duty. There are many fine
portraits in this Institute, one of Rodney, bearing
the most striking resemblance to Washington.

But the most extraordinary relic to be seen
is a bundle of papers which rejoices in a story
intimately resembling that of our biblical
friend Jonah. Many years ago the brig Nancy
was captured at sea by an English cruiser, and
its officers, who were suspected of piracy, were
brought to Port Royal to be tried. Although
there was a moral certainty as to the guilt of
these worthies, still the necessary papers prov-
ing their identity had not been found on the
ship. While the trial was in progress another
English cruiser came into port with an exceed-
ing strange story.

The captain, in cruising off the Haitien coast,
had caught a shark. When the shark was cut
open, in his belly were found intact the very
papers sought for, which the pirates had
thrown overboard during the chase, and
which had been swallowed by the shark.
On the strength of these papers the pirates

IN THE WEST INDIES, 283

were at once convicted and hung. We shook
our heads many times over such *'a fish
story," but there were the papers, and besides
them an account of their adventures accredited
by the English government, which we all know
never indulges in *'fish stories."

This effort at belief had so tired us that we
decided to get back to the ship and less remark-
able incidents. On reaching the wharf the
water, which we had left hot, simmering and
glassy, had risen under the intoxicating influ-
ence of the sea breeze to a dreadful height.
This sea breeze, which possesses all the dis-
agreeable characteristics of the trade wind,
comes up every morning at ten and blows until
six; before and after then there is calm and
smooth water. But during the blowing inter-
val landing is well-nigh out of the question.
One of our party, on seeing the waves lashed
into spray on the stone pier and thrown far inland
decides there was quite enough to interest him in
Jamaica until this evening and stays on shore.

The rest of us hired a good boat and
put out. The brawny negroes pulled their
best, but seemed to make no progress

284 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

against the wind and sea. As each wave broke
over our devoted heads, we could see the face
of our friend watching us from the wharf, dry
and smiling, knowing that he had chosen the
better part. The boat is half-full of water, we
are wet to the skin, and, to be truthful, a little
frightened. When we are near enough they
throw us aline from the deck, and then slowly,
as there is real danger of the boat being
swamped in the great waves running round
Scythian's stern, we are drawn up to the gang
way and reach the deck in safety. It had taken
us just three-quarters of an hour to row three
hundred yards. That drenching was the
turning-point in our career.

Like so many travelers whose faces are once
turned home, all zest is gone out of our jour-
neyings; the bottom seems to have dropped
out, and our dolls are stuffed with sawdust.
That evening, when the sea breeze had gone in
and we had come out to drink our coffee on
deck, some one suggested going home. There
was a burst of delight. It seems that each one
had been thinking, but no one dared to men-
tion the fact, that they were heartily tired of

IN THE WEST INDIES. 285

the tropics, with all their beauties, and that
they were longing for the tonic and vitality and
wholesome everyday life of the North. We
know that we have not seen Jamaica, that we
have not gone to the Bog Walk River, nor to
the Blue Mountains, that we have not taken
this drive nor seen that view. But we had seen
enough; anything more would produce mental
indigestion. So, acknowledging that we saw
little and know less of Jamaica, we make our
arrangements to start at once, taking on coal,
ice and provisions, not forgetting to lay in a
goodly supply of those choicest products of the
island, Jamaica ginger and Jamaica rum.

At five o'clock one afternoon our anchor comes
up for the last time in these waters, and we start
for home gladly, shaking the dust of Jamaica
and all other West Indian islands off our feet.
The waves outside the harbor are dashing about
with their usual activity, but we mind them no
longer— we are going home. The screw itself
seems to sing its monotonous little song, * 'going
home, going home," as each turn sends us fur-
ther on our way. The turn round Point Morant
is made, and then the course lies to the north-

286 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

ward, up through the Windward Passage be-
tween Cuba and Haiti.

Toward morning, when the sea goes down,
there seems every prospect of pleasant weather.
The windows and ventilators are opened wide,
as the spray is no longer flying, to let in the
fresh morning air. At seven o'clock we are all
awakened by a tremendous bang against the
ship. She trembles from stem to stern; and
there is an ominous" sound of rushing water and
strange noises on the deck.

The captain throws on a wrapper to go up and
see what has happened, when a cataract comes
rushing down her companion way, flooding the
floor, and taking her bandbox, with her best hat
inside, for a swim. She stops to rescue the hat
and put it in a place of safety, and then rushes
on deck as fast as the gyrations of the ship will
allow. The first glance shows that we are not
sinking ; the second, that everything is in a most
watery state. Water is dripping from the rig-
ging, falling down on the after-deck in little
cascades, and rushing into the scuppers with
every roll. It seems we had been running along
in a comparatively smooth sea, when suddenly

IN THE WEST INDIES. '^87

the sailing master, standing by the pilot house,
saw a tremendous wave raise itself up to a
height of thirty feet directly before us. It was
evidently a tidal wave, and before he could
reach the telegraph to the engine room to slow
her down, we had dived into this monster at the
rate of ten knots an hour.

It was really a critical moment. Forward she
was almost swamped by the tremendous weight.
Bat she recovered herself in a second, and it was
soon seen that no damage was done, except that
the cabins were flooded. As this the first drop of
water that had penetrated in our sacred precincts
during all the trip we felt rather aggrieved.

The men in the fo'castle naturally suffered
most, their quarters being right in the eyes of the
ship. The oldest fireman, who had pre-empted
the bunk under the ventilator, by virtue of his
superior years, as being the coolest place, was
almost drowned. The water came rushing
down the ventilator in such quantities that he
said he had to take two strokes swimming to get
out of his bunk. We have often wondered if
there were not some connection between this
tidal wave and the terrible earthquakes which

288 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

visited the West Indies about two months later
and worked such dreadful havoc. Fortunately
there was but one, and this was the last adven-
ture of any kind we had in the West Indies.

We half hoped after rounding Cape Maisi and
running along the northern coast of Cuba, that
we should be taken for a filibustering expedi-
tion, and boarded by some Spanish man-of-war.
But no such luck is ours. In fact not a Spanish
boat is to be seen, so had we but been filibusters
indeed, nothing would have been easier than to
run in under cover of night, land our cargo, steal
away, and no Spaniard would have been any
the wiser. The shore of Cuba is low and
thickly wooded along the northern coast, but
slopes to the great mountain range beyond. It
seems the picture of peace. Only some col-
umns of smoke, rising here and there in the in-
terior, look suspiciously like the smoke from
burning villages.

Only one vessel do we see off Cuba. This is a
little trading sloop that evidently suspects us,
with our wide ports, of being a Spanish gun-
boat. Her crew can be seen through the glass,
hurrying and scurrying to unearth a Spanish

IN THE WEST INDIES- 289

flag, which they display with a suspicious eager-
ness, until they make out our nationality. Then
it is hauled down and put away for the next
time of need. This is the only sign of life to be
found, even although we are running inside the
three-mile limit.

When we are off the lighthouse of Point
Lopos the sea is like a great plate of blue glass,
without even a ripple. Up we run through the
Bahama Channel, still keeping this wonderful
weather, and being apparently the only people
in the world. Not a vessel is to be seen in this
great highway between North and South; in-
deed the shipping of the world might be dead,
as far as we are concerned.

But wonderful schools of porpoises follow us
for hours, playing in the foam of our bow. They
leap far out of the water, then dive down quickly
under the blue depths, to come up again with
that rolling motion which seems the essence of
grace. We amuse ourselves by reading the
Scythian's log, which had lately been unearthed,
and was pleasantly quaint with old-fashioned
language. We turned back to the date of to-day,
two years ago, and read the following extract:

290 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

'^The 27th day of March, 1894. Pensacola to
Tampico, Mexico.

**Left wharf at 6 a.m., with barge Alabama
in tow. Got over the bar at 8 :30. Gave large
old hawser, and hooked up bound for Tampico.
Lights and lookouts well attended to. So ends
this day.

**The28thday of March.

**A11 this day strong gale from southeast, and
high cross sea, and ship laboring heavily. At 4
P.M. changed the course to S. W. by S. That
ends this day. Crew keeping the *Sabbit day/
Lights and lookouts well attended to,

**The29thday of March.

. **This day begins cloudy and rainy, with
strong gale from N. E. and high cross sea. 7
A.M. wind and weather much the same. Barge
signaled us she was leaking badly, and pumps
choked. Noon. Barge filling fast, could not
get pumps to work. Got their boat overboard
and came aboard tow boat. 4 p.m., barge level
with water. Crewall on duty except * Sailor Tom *
and second engineer, who complained of being
seasick. Stayed by all night. Lights and
lookouts well attended to. So ends this day.

IN THE WEST INDIES. 291

And SO have ended all such hard days for the
good little Scythian. We reach the Great Salt
Cay about dusk, and pass Aguilla Island well to
the eastward about nine. This is a nasty spot
with no lights on or near it. The Cay is only two
feet out of water, and they say the coast around
is a perfect graveyard by reason of the vessels
which have come to grief on that ragged reef.

On we go until we reach the Florida Straits,
where the sea is like a millpond, quite belying
the reputation the Straits enjoy for heavy cur-
rents and nasty seas. Soon we are only twenty
miles from the Florida coast itself. Hitherto
we had all scorned that part of our country and
had found our sentiments best expressed by
the man who said that Florida was so dreadful
he thought God Almighty must have forgotten
all about it. Now it is a delight to feel it so
near, for at last we are in well-lighted American
waters.

Of course we all trust in Providence, but it is
much easier to trust in Him at sea when shaping
your course by a good lighthouse, than when
running on a dark night with nothing to guide
you until you hit a rock. We no longer reckon

292 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

time by hours, but by the distances between
the lightships as we run up the coast.

At last we begin to meet shipping. We pick
up three barks of different nationalities, be-
calmed in this glassy sea, and can just make
out a steamer of the Morgan line far away to
the eastward. The good spell of weather
seems to have tired of us, for the sky that night
is fleeced with long, stringy light clouds, look-
ing as though a wind somewhere had torn them
into rags and tatters. The next day that wind is
with us, and by twelve o'clock we are getting
a good gale and a strong sea from the southeast.

We are off the Georgia coast and the day
is wet and rainy, but we welcome it because
both sky and sea are essentially North-
ern. The sky frowns down in a lowering way on
a gray and sullen ocean, and they are both in an
unmistakably bad mood. But this whole-
hearted ill-will is much better to cope with
than the shrewish beauty of the Caribbean Sea,
where the shining sun and brilliant sea charm
one's eyes, while the wind makes life a misery.

That day we have our first sensation of cold.
A delicious, long -forgotten little shiver shud-

IN THE WEST INDIES. 293

ders through us as we stand on deck, and we
soon bring out the flannels and serges discarded
with such disdain two and a half months ago
We look at each other with a smile; with what
delight we threw them aside, and with what
joy we make their acquaintance again! The
cool wind seems to brace us mentally and phys-
ically, and to blow away from us that languor
which a sojourn in a tropical climate makes in-
evitable.

Poor St. Thomas, the cabin boy, does not share
unconditionally in our pleasure. Cold having
been but a name to him all his life, his thick-
est clothes were of white duck. The farther
north we went, the more clothes St. Thomas
borrowed and wore, until he was the most re-
markable exhibition of misfit clothing possible.

Off Charleston the wind, which had shown
signs of backing on to the southeast, giving us
a southeaster with a lee shore, hauled into the
northwest, as we had hoped, and blew a fresh
gale. The sea was no longer a blue, but a
bright green, covered with foaming whitecaps, a
real North Atlantic sea. As we pass the Fry-
ingpan Lightship, we dip our flag, and scud

294 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

along through a fleet of vessels, reefed down to
almost nothing. But the little bulldog knows
which way she is going, and her screw churns
the water into a lather of soapsuds as she
travels along as steadily as a judge, although
the wind catches the spoon drift from the tops
of the waves, and hurls it high in the air. Cape
Fear is soon behind, and we haul off for Hat-
teras, which we pass at ten in the morning.

Around the Diamond Shoal Lightship are
many sailing vessels hove to until the westerly
gale shall have blown itself out.

But we go steadily on, until our Scotch en-
gineer, looking over the side at the water slip-
ping away behind us, says, smiling, that *'his
wee lassie at hame must have hold of the tow
line." Another Morgan liner passes and
salutes, and then the big Clyde steamer Co-
manche, with our good friend. Captain Penning-
ton in command, comes in sight. There is
much waving of handkerchiefs, blowing of
whistles and dipping of flags, and then she, too,
slips down the horizon.

The Old Nag Lightship is abeam by six
o'clock, and we can imagine the terrors of the

IN THE WEST INDIES. 295

spot to seamen years ago, when this was a
favorite lurking place for pirates. The pirates
tied a lantern to an old nag's tail, and walked
him up and down the shore to lure unsuspect-
ing sailors on the rocks and plunder their ships.
Then come the Capes of the Chesapeake, with
the wind going down, and the Capes of the
Delaware, where the sea is as still as a lake.

The flat, Jeisey shore, sandy and dreary as
usual, to-day seems to have an aureole playing
over its ugly beach, just because it is home.
We could have waved our hands to the men on
the Sandy Hook Lightship as they ring out three
notes of welcome to us from their old bell.

Before we realize it we are going through the
Narrows, with Staten Island on our port side,
and are on our way through the East River.
This river seems to us absolutely appalling.
We hide our faces, thinking that we have es-
caped the perils of the deep only to meet our
fate among this swarm of boats, which all seem
trying to run us down. We gaze in open-eyed
wonder at the high factory chimneys and the
enormous buildings, which make New York look
like a comb with broken teeth. The acres of

296 THE CRUISE OF THE SCYTHIAN

houses, the teeming life, and signs of com-
merce which make the East Kiver always a
wonder, seem overpowering to us after our visit
to deserted waters. It is a positive relief to
pass the city, and to near Flushing Bay,
where we see the familiar wooded point
which hides Whitestone from our view.

In the woods here and there are willows,
those forerunners of the spring, whose tender
young leaves fling themselves like a green veil
across the bare face of the country. We could
almost bow down and worship these half-blown
willows in their immaturity; they are dearer
to us than all the palms and tree-ferns or bam-
boos which we had seen in their perfect luxuri-
ance.

At last we round the point and Whitestone,
with its dear, ugly little houses and homelike,
lovely shores is before us. As the anchor
drops, the flag in front of the little Park Hotel
is dipped to us in welcome. We look around
us at the familiar details, feel those cool breeze
and sniff that faint woody odor in the air,
and we know that we are at home. Our last

IN THE WEST INDIES- 297

trip of eighteen hundred and fifty miles from
Jamaica is safely made in seven days, and we
realize that the cruise of the Scythian in the
West Indies is over.

THE END.

RETURN TO the circulation desk of any
University of California Library
■ ,: or to the

NORTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY
BIdg. 400, Richmond Field Station
University of California
Richmond, CA 94804-4698

ALL BOOKS MAY BE RECALLED AFTER 7 DAYS

• 2-mionth loans may be renewed by calling
(510)642-6753

• 1 -year loans may be recharged by bringing
books to NRLF

• Renewals and recharges may be made 4
- days prior to due date.

DUE AS STAMPED BELOW

NOV 2 6 2002

LD

12,000(11/95)

'^W^M^&^b:^^

'{■.p.

:!■:

;iv:-':#-

imm

?."♦ ,*98

a

pi

I

■

■DC

■

"

^^H

■

1

1

1

1

■

WR

KH

555

25ihi

■

I

1

t.^

1

Hi

• •1

m

*Hgnj

^^1

H

^^M

^^1

^^1

^^H

^^H

^^^H

^^H

^^H

^^^^H

^^^^^1

■

■

n7^^..,^,»'^l^

1 I.

^^^^d^^^^^H

m

^^M

^H

i

1

;.::??;: pi

■ ■

1

1

■

Inm

^^^^^^^^^^^H

■

■

^^1

:-:-I*:rJ:::H

j?!!!?5:iiiii^jl37J3^B

I

■

■■■i-i^--^ •■ 9

■

1

P

1

1

HHJi

yijjjjjjjij-i

:i-.;:::-.::::T2^:T:.i;f|^m

■

1

E

1

;

■^^■^■flBOl

■

p

■

j^H^HH

!■

1

1

^^^H|

■

1

•

^^^1

1

1

V

I

■

:

■

1

teiiiti

W»?J

1

1

■

i

■

mm

■