And one of the sad untold stories of the book lies behind the entry on the 24th January 1791: “By Hang'd himself in the woods, one of the new negro men bought of Bainford.” He had been bought on the 5th of the same month, and he waited hopelessly, or perhaps hoping, nineteen days, and then he ended it, because for a slave there was no future to which it was worth looking forward. He is entered in the book as remorselessly and as carefully as the steer Hymen who “broke his neck in the Penn.”
Very occasionally does the decrease of the slaves come from the slaves being freed. But once or twice it does. In the year 1787 Mulatto Nelly and Quadroon Kitty and Quadroon Bessy were “manu-mized,” and Mulatto Nelly is sent away. Perhaps the father desired to cut off from his little daughters all slave influence, even that of their mother; for I presume Nelly was their mother. And I wonder were the little girls the daughters of Mr Doubt, for really it does not look as if the other men could afford to free their children.
They do not give us an inventory of the furniture of the Great House, but in the overseer's house most things are set down when the book opens. In the hall, in addition to tables and chairs and a “Beaufett,” they had six silver tablespoons and five silver teaspoons, five cups and saucers, fifteen wine-glasses, four tumblers, and one wine decanter. In the overseer's room he had a mahogany bed and a small mahogany bed, and, of course, a feather bed—every room except the hall had one of these luxuries. In August in Jamaica! With the shutters close for fear of the slaves!! In the Great House at the Hyde the bedrooms were strangely small and confined when compared with the hall out of which they opened, and I said so once to the doctor. He laughed. He knew his old-time Jamaica.
“The men who built in those times,” said he, “didn't worry about bedrooms. The dining-hall was the thing! They sat there and drank rum punch till—well, till it didn't matter whether they slept under the table or were bundled out into the garden!”
But even if they were, shall we say “merry,” at Worthy Park, I think the feather beds must have been aggravating things.
The overseer kept in his room, too, the brands with which they marked the slaves—at least such, I suppose, were one silver mark L.P. and one silver stamp L.P. He had a “Sett of Gold Weights and Scales”—I presume for weighing gold, and not made of the precious metal, though where they got the gold to weigh I do not know; and there was a keg of gunpowder and thirty-three gun flints, kept there, I suppose, to be under his eye.
The doctor was not of much consequence, if we may judge of the furnishing of the “Doctor's Chamber.” It had only a “common bed” and little else except the linen chest, in which there were fifteen pairs of fine sheets which strikes me as lavish in contrast to the paucity of everything else. There were eleven fine pillow-cases, one pair of Osnaburg sheets, two pillow-cases of the same stuff, two fine tablecloths, to be used on gala days I expect, and seven Osnaburg tablecloths. But there were only three Osnaburg towels, so that I am not surprised at the next entry, “1 Jack towel & the other cut for hand towels.” Seven glass cloths might be managed with, I suppose, but why enter “1 do. useless and 2 useless sideboard cloths”?
It is evident that in July 1791 something happened to the ruling power on Worthy Park, for another inventory is taken of the household goods and slaves, and one, Arthur McKenzie, who is not otherwise mentioned, remarks in a thin straggling hand: “N.B.—By the sundries found in and about the works, the written account is very eroneous,” (so he is pleased to spell the word), “in particular speaking Table linen, Glass, Mugs, Cups, Musquito Netts, &c., &c.—Arthur McKenzie.”
Then underneath, “Was obliged to purchase Sheeting” (oh, how careless they must have been with those sheets), “Tablecloaths & Butter, Candles, and send 3/4 of the Soap sent to the Great House for the Works; buy also knives, forks, spoons & send 6 silver spoons from the 18 at the Great House.—1st August '91.”
I don't wonder at his having to purchase knives, for the “Boy's Pantry” was certainly scantily furnished except in the matter of “Wash hand basons” of which there were ten, but four were sent to the Great House. There were “9 Earthen Dishes and 6 shallow plates, 1 Tureen, 8 Pewter dishes and only 3 new knives and 3 new forks, 3 old knives and four useless,” so it rather looks as if once the overseer and a couple of book-keepers had been provided with a knife and fork apiece, the rest of the company, and there must have been some occasionally, had to eat their food with their fingers.