SABA
A Saban sedan chair
SABA
“Going aboard”
SABA
The town of Bottom from Saba Peak
The blow was one from which Statia never recovered. To-day the ruins of the immense warehouses and docks are everywhere in evidence along the waterfront of Orangetown; from hoary old Fort [[129]]Orange quaint cannon point their silent muzzles seaward through a tangle of weeds upon the parapets from which they roared out their welcome to the Doria’s flag so many years ago; the tower of the church wherein Mynheer De Graaf attended services still stands above its ruined walls, and scattered over the island are the remains of princely mansions and vast estates. But the island and its port are almost as dead as the sturdy old Dutchmen sleeping beneath the great carved headstones in the cemetery on the hill.
Seen from the sea, Statia is very beautiful, with its two thousand-foot symmetrical cone rising in a magnificent sweep from the water, and with its northern slopes stretching into hills and plains that once were one vast luxurious garden. Statia’s soil is exceedingly fertile and in the olden days an enormous income was derived from its plantations of cane and indigo, sugar and cotton, and from its orchards of fruit. But to-day there is little cultivation carried on, and the population of nearly one quarter of a million inhabitants has dwindled to a scant two thousand, most of whom are mulattoes or blacks.