... And this red race is disappearing from St. Pierre —doubtless also from other plague-striken centres.
[26]I may cite in this relation one stanza of a creole song—very popular in St. Pierre—celebrating the charms of a little capresse:—
"Moin toutt jeine,
Goufa, gouàs, vaillant,
Peau di chapoti
Ka fai plaisi;—
Lapeau moin
Li bien poli;
Et moin ka plai
Mêmn toutt nhomme grave!"
—Which might be freely rendered thus:—
"I am dimpled, young,
Round-limbed, and strong,
With sapota-skin
That is good to see:
All glossy-smooth
Is this skin of mine;
And the gravest men
Like to look to me!"
XXIX
April 10th.
... Manm-Robert is much annoyed and puzzled because the American steamer—the bom-mangé, as she calls it—does not come. It used to bring regularly so many barrels of potatoes and beans, so much lard and cheese and garlic and dried pease—everything, almost of which she keeps a stock. It is now nearly eight weeks since the cannon of a New York steamer aroused the echoes of the harbor. Every morning Manm-Robert has been sending out her little servant Louis to see if there is any sign of the American packet:—"Allé ouè Batterie d'Esnotz si bom-mangé-à pas vini." But Louis always returns with the same rueful answer:—
—"Manm-Robert, pa ni piess bom-mangé" (there is not so much as a bit of a bom-mangé).
... "No more American steamers for Martinique:" that is the news received by telegraph! The disease has broken out among the shipping; the harbors have been declared infected. United States mail-packets drop their Martinique mails at St. Kitt's or Dominica, and pass us by. There will be suffering now among the canotiers, the caboteurs, all those who live by stowing or unloading cargo;—great warehouses are being closed up, and strong men discharged, because there will be nothing for them to do.