This was the only mention made of their famous regulation; we never enquired whether it was a printed one, or an unwritten tradition of the Company.
From the accounts I have since heard from people coming out to the West Indies by the Royal Mail Company’s tickets, advertised in the daily papers at £65 for sixty-five days, I am sure it is not generally understood that in these inter-colonial mail-boats passengers, whether tourists or persons having tickets with “tourist privileges” inscribed on them, like myself and Mr. and Mrs. S——, endure all the discomforts of cargo-boats, and, in addition, suffer from the restrictions of a mail service bound by contract to deliver and collect mails at certain times at certain places.
We never knew at what hour we should land at the different West Indian towns. It would have been an impossibility to order saddle horses, or carriages, to be in readiness for us had we desired them, nor could we ever ascertain with any degree of reliability how long we should stay at any given place until we got there; all was uncertain, indefinite. The mails, naturally, were the first consideration; what cargo to discharge, or to ship, was the next; and last of all, the convenience of the passengers. I give this as my own personal experience—I only hope other people have fared better! If there was any place like Martinique, for instance, which we particularly wanted to see, we invariably arrived when it was dark. Fortunately, on the return journey one was in some cases able to see towns one had missed in this way.
At the Royal Mail Company’s office at Kingston, when I made my arrangements to travel by their ships, I was informed in flowing language what a beautiful cruise it was to the islands, and that I should never regret it! It was beautiful, and if I shall never regret having made it, I certainly shall never forget it. I consider the journey from Trinidad up to St. Thomas a bad one if business compels one to make it; as a tourist trip, and therefore a pleasure trip, it is quite unworthy of the name, especially in these days when the latter are so skilfully and so ably arranged and conducted by people who really consider their clientèle. Having had the experience, I have not failed to warn people, especially those who are not strong, of its discomfort and disadvantages!
The best way for those who have time and leisure to see the northern group of islands is to stay at Dominica, where there are frequently very fair opportunities of visiting the contiguous islands. It is a lovely, mountainous, and picturesque island. There are, I was told by a gentleman who had stayed in them, very comfortable lodgings to be had, kept by an Englishwoman; and this, he said, was better than putting up at the small hotel, where the food was not so reliable. I have also met people who have stayed for weeks in this island and have never found it dull. For men there is shooting and fishing in the rivers. An introduction by a member of the club should be obtained, for there are golf links, and, as in all hot countries, plenty of tennis.
The chief charm of life in Dominica consists in the exquisite rides amongst the mountains where there are sulphur springs, a boiling lake, and waterfalls to be visited. I have on a previous page alluded to the very promising condition of things in Dominica, and I have also mentioned that limes and cocoa are its principal exports. I had time to take a lovely walk in the valley of the Roseau, just at the back of the town, and was much impressed by the loveliness of the scenery, as well as with the prosperous-looking plantations on either side of the road. At the end of the valley a turn in the road exposed the peak called Morne Diablotin to view; it is 4750 feet, and the mountains are the highest in the Lesser Antilles.
On my return journey from St. Thomas no less a person than the Roman Catholic Bishop of Dominica, with two or three attendant priests, came on board at St Kitts. He was introduced to me, and told me quite a number of interesting things about the islanders. Some few Caribs, he said, remained still. I asked if his Church had many adherents in Dominica. “Ninety per cent.,” he told me, adding that it had been a French possession longer than an English one.
The Bishop, who is a Belgian and not long consecrated, was a very chatty and amusing person; I admired his skilful tactics. Naturally he was somewhat prejudiced in favour of our late enemies, the Boers; but politics and religion he very wisely eschewed. I was amused at his ways. If he wanted his deck chair removed from one side of the deck to the other he always called his servant, or secretary—I could not tell in what capacity the man stood—to do it for him. Brother Boniface was the oddest-looking creature I ever saw. He was short, fair, and very much freckled, scant locks of sandy hair peeped out from under a very broad-brimmed black felt hat. His habit was black, and came to his boot tops, being confined round the middle of his shapeless body with a black shining belt. Between its irregular folds and the top of his boots, white stockings, which probably were knitted by a Belgian grandmother many years gone by, showed at intervals, their pristine whiteness being somewhat the worse for wear. A very large black stuff umbrella completed Brother Boniface’s toilet. He was continually smiling, and his very large mouth looked always ready for a good meal. As we approached Dominica the mountains were veiled in mists, and everything had to give way for the drenching torrential rain which poured on to the deck. I was standing close by the Bishop, and admired the artistic effects of the mist-wreathed mountainous coast.
“I prefer to have them so,” I said, pointing to the mountains. “There are some things which are best left undefined, indefinite, mysterious. Don’t you think so, Monseigneur?” I looked round at him.
He looked meaningly at me—I fancy he knew I was secretly thinking of the very definite statements of the Romish Church—and then said: “Do as you suggested the other day. Come and spend a month on the island.”