I found Trinidad the most trying place of any in the West Indies. The mosquitoes are positively unbearable; no part of your person is sacred from their nomadic and predatory excursions. Kickshaws, in the way of lace-trimmed parasols, will not suffice you for the sun, however festive the occasion may be to call forth dainty sunshades. Be advised in time: fling appearances to the four winds of heaven, sally forth in the largest of shady hats, carry the largest umbrella you can find, but go not into the streets shopping, or otherwise, without a waterproof, for the rains are characterised by a ferocity in their down-pouring unknown in other climes. Take also a fan to withstand the heat, which is ever present, and a never-ceasing hindrance to personal enjoyment.
Everybody drives the smallest distances, but there are times when, encumbered with these three indispensable articles in overpowering heat (you may perhaps have to traverse a hundred yards, as from the landing-quay to the Royal Mail Company’s Offices) when life is not worth living, unless you are a person of exceptionable amiability.
Most of the visitors to Port of Spain contented themselves with lolling round on “rockers” on the verandah of the largest hotel, called Queen’s Park Hotel, where the rooms are airy and spacious, but the food is not always to be trusted. It looks out on to the savannah, a circular, fairly level tract of grass, round which an electric tram whirls the inhabitants of an evening for a breath of fresh air.
What really interested me was the beautiful Botanical Garden, containing a library and fine herbarium. Here, indeed, the wonderful parasitical growth on leviathan trees is simply astounding. If you wish to obtain orchids and other rare botanical plants apply to the Superintendent. I went twice with friends to these gardens; each time I was quite fascinated in watching the “parasol” ants hurrying to and fro in countless well-worn tracks, sometimes crossing our path, sometimes alongside of us carrying pieces of green leaf, frequently as large as a shilling. It was quite a green procession; they each kept to their appointed side of the path, those who had deposited their green burdens returning on the other side in search of fresh “parasols.” Policemen regulating traffic in our London streets could not have done the thing in better style. If the hot, moist heat made us resemble the sluggard, we had not far to go to learn industry from these skurrying little insects, whose ways are past finding out. We were cautioned not to try to pursue their tracks, which wind incredibly long distances among the undergrowth on either side of the paths, scorpions being not infrequently met with.
On the voyage to Trinidad I met some Cambridge acquaintances, people who had been on the Para throughout the voyage from England. They had landed both at Cartagena and at Colon, on the coast of Central America, and gave graphic accounts of the horrors of the civil war which has raged in Columbia these three years past. They were at Colon before peace was concluded, and it was pitiable to hear of the condition of the soldiers, mostly boys of enfeebled physique and stunted growth, scarcely strong enough to carry the old-fashioned guns given them. All looked starved, with an expression of utter despair imprinted on their woebegone countenances. A lady told me she collected bread from the ships and handed it to them on the quay. The wretched youths fought over it as dogs for a bone; but a frozen sheep was given to them from one of the vessels lying alongside, which they tore into pieces amongst themselves, eating it raw.
Their women followed them to war; without their inciting them to fight, I am told, the Columbians would scarcely attempt to defend themselves. But when once roused, they fight like diminutive devils! The women too, on one occasion, rushed a bridge, and took it during the last war. The most horrible thing I heard about them was that they had no ambulance, and no doctors!
Whilst I was in the Caribbean Sea, Hayti was in a disturbed state, Cuba in a transitional condition, erupting volcanoes destroying whole cities, as at Martinique and in Guatemala. The Columbian Republic was resting out of sheer exhaustion from further civil warfare, whilst her neighbour Venezuela was in the throes of political revolution, figuratively torn in pieces by her rival presidents and her offended European debtors. Possibly times in the West Indies are bad for those who have put their trust in sugar, but life and property are safe under British rule. No one need starve unless he be irredeemably idle. If big fortunes are no longer attainable, still there is no need for the “mumpish melancholy,” so well described by the Hon. S. Ollivier, Acting-Governor of Jamaica. He says: “I have observed that, as a people, we have a habit of being rather sorry for ourselves. We have not the cheerfulness of the Barbadian. On the other hand, our depression makes us mumpish and melancholy rather than vicious and violent. We overdo our talk of depression, we overdo our talk of the extravagancies of the Government, of the superfluity of our public officials. Our visitors take for public gospel what we promulgate for private consumption.”
To return to my journey to Trinidad on the Para. About thirty-five persons belonging to an English Opera Company were journeying to Trinidad. They had previously been playing in Kingston, and had been not only to all our colonies, but recently had been touring up the western coast of South America. I gathered they had had splendid houses in most of the large towns, such as Valparaiso, Santiago, and Lima, though the artistes with whom I conversed declared that the heat and the indifferent food they had had put before them, though taken to the best hotels, had been most trying to their health. The poor things looked terribly worn, and evidently made the most of the rest of the three days’ sea-voyage before performing again at Port of Spain. They had about thirty plays in their repertoire, which included all the best known pieces and the most popular, such as The Geisha, The Shop Girl, etc. I met them on the return journey a fortnight later, returning viâ Kingston en route for Bermuda, Halifax, Nova Scotia, and St John’s, Newfoundland. I mention having met these strolling players, because I think that many of one’s friends in the British Isles would have no notion that the inhabitants of such distant countries had an opportunity of ever becoming acquainted with the well-known airs of Sullivan and other popular composers. Without belittling or depreciating our well-meaning but somewhat ignorant dwellers at home, it is well for us to wake up from insular habits of thinking, and to discover that outside our particular zone of influence civilised life is throbbing. In every sphere of labour men are searching for better methods, and, as in America, are not satisfied until they get them. We need to keep our eyes open if we would not lose our place in the world’s history! Conservatism such as ours does not reign in regions where dollars are plentiful, and where men are not fettered by the traditions of the past.
It was late on Friday night, 5th December, when we were trans-shipped into the inter-colonial boat, the E——.
I have previously stated that Barbadoes has hitherto been the meeting-place of the outcoming steamer and of the three smaller ships, whose mission it is to distribute the mails on three distinct routes.