The Caicos Islands, like most of the Bahamas, are but a series of coral reefs, more extensive in territory and less sterile than this portion of the colony; but their principal products are about the same—salt and shipwrecks. They are at once “the residence and the empire of danger.” An American captain is now here selling the wreck of a cargo lately shipped from Boston to New Orleans—(Captain Elliot, ship Nauset, total wreck on North Caicos reef, July 7, 1860.) The population of the group inclusive is about five thousand, principally colored, who are remarkably industrious, if one is to judge from the rapidity with which they load a vessel with salt; and the essentially limited resources of the island would seem to admit of their being equally virtuous. Churches abound, and schooling may be had at the rate of three cents per week. Every thing is due to the English missionary societies for the healthy tone of morality and religion which prevails in these islands, and I must say, as I believe, chiefly to the Baptists.
But the great characteristic and most amusing peculiarity of these people is their inordinate attachment to the British crown. A captain of a schooner on the coast (black, but thoroughly British) one day overheard some reckless fellow speak disrespectfully of Queen Victoria. About every thing he thought of or said during the rest of the voyage was, “He insult my Queen,” repeating “He insult my Queen” over and over again. They seem to regard Queen Victoria with about the same reverence that the Spanish Catholics bestow upon the Virgin Mary. Nor do I blame them for this, since, if England were crippled to-day, it would be difficult to say what would become of the world’s humanity. It would be like extinguishing the sun!
Every thing is salty. You stand a chance to get some Boston ice here, which is a rara avis in this direction; but before you can get it congealed into cream you are bound to get salt into it, it would seem. A nice saloon, a good hotel, three churches, (English, Wesleyan, and Baptist,) and a first class Masonic lodge—at the head of which is a colored Esquire—together with its excessive salt propensities, are about the best things that can be said for Grand Turk’s Island. Stay! I forget the “Royal Standard,” a weekly journal, to the editor of which I am under obligations, and from which I clip the following
NOTICE.
On the first of August, the “Friendly Society” and the “Benevolent Union Society” of Salt Cay will march in procession from the Society Hall, at 11 o’clock A. M., to the Baptist chapel, where a sermon will be preached by the Rev. W. K. Rycoft on the occasion. By order, etc.,
John L. Williams.
So much for the land of salt, and a farewell to its happy people, the most that can be said of whom is that they worship Queen Victoria.
(Let me tell you a story. In passing around these islands, we are one day with the Spanish, next day with the English, and the third with the French. It is sometimes diverting. I was sitting one warm afternoon before the door of a countryhouse, having a large green sward-yard sloping away to the road. The house was full of children, some of whom were, or pretended to be, studying their books. Well, suddenly there came pouring down a splendid summer shower, when, without a word, half a dozen of these little rogues, of both sexes, dropped their books, stripped off to the skin, and away they went sailing around the yard like so many water nymphs! In five minutes more they were all dressed, sitting down with their books, and looking as demure as if nothing had happened. “So there hadn’t,” except that one plump little girl fell heels over head! That is one way of taking a shower bath I never thought of.)
By the way, an American captain was this day looking at a number of hands, male and female, engaged in loading a vessel with salt. The women were employed holding the sacks, and tying them when filled.
“That’s a smart gal,” said the Yankee captain, pointing to an ebon Venus who was singing, dancing, and tossing the sacks around as merrily as your city girls ever “pawed” the piano.