But who can look into futurity? who can tell what may be in store for him? The crank vessel reached Antigua in safety; the mail boat and all on board, with the exception of one solitary female, perished in the treacherous waters, almost within sight of their own homes—within hearing of the church bell. I never pass the spot without shuddering, and fancying what must have been the feelings of that one who was spared to tell the dreadful tale. A woman of lively imagination and affectionate disposition, she saw friend after friend washed away by the remorseless waves. The pride of manhood!—the shrinking delicacy of woman!—the helplessness of infancy!—all of no avail!—a splash—a bubble—and all was over, and their bodies filled the maw of some rapacious monster, or rested in some coral cave beneath the waters, there to remain until that great day, when sea and earth must give up their dead. Of the ill-fated voyagers, all who remained were, she who was destined to be the sole survivor, her husband, and the master of the vessel. Worn out by mental agony, and unavailing exertions to attract the notice of the many fishing-boats and other vessels which were constantly passing within their sight, but which either did not perceive or would not assist them, the master of the vessel gave himself up to the dominion of the “giant despair,” and losing his hold of the wreck, was quickly carried away by the waves. One more victim was required—and that was the dearest, the best beloved—her husband died in her arms, and after holding him for many a painful minute, and struggling for mastery with the billows to retain the much-loved corpse, nature became exhausted, and she sank into a state of insensibility. In this state she remained until the crew of some passing vessel raised an alarm upon their gaining shore. A party of gentlemen went in search of the supposed wreck, and finding the inanimate female, quickly conveyed her to the main land, where every care was lavished upon her, and happily not without success.
No one can read the affecting details of the sufferings of this unhappy crew (an account of which Mrs. Jones, the name of the lady, afterwards published) without feeling deep sorrow at the event. At the same time, no one dares to ask “why was it so?” All we can allege is,
“God moves in a mysterious way.”
This melancholy catastrophe was known at St. Kitts as soon as (if not before) it was at Antigua: the dead body of a child (one of the unfortunate passengers) conveyed the first direful tidings.
Sandy Island is by no means the only sentinel which Nature has placed to guard her favourite land from the sudden inroads of the enemy, the whole of the north side of Antigua being surrounded by rocks and breakers, which make it dangerous navigation. On this account ships generally come down the south side of the island, although some masters of vessels, from the impulse of a daring spirit, or from a want of knowledge, pursue the other course, and often have to lament the issue.
On the northern and eastern sides of Antigua a great number of small islands are scattered, and it is from some of these that the smooth yellowish free-stone, of which the Court-house is built, is obtained; this free-stone is proved to be composed of carbonate of lime and oxyde of iron. The principal of these islands are, Pole-cat Isle, Goat’s Isle, Guana[[61]] Isle, Maiden’s Isle, Cochran’s Isle, and Long Island.
In 1700, Long Island, then the property of the Honourable Edward Byam, was sold by him, and it is now in the hands of the Honourable Bertie E. Jarvis. Since the Emancipation Act came into operation, a great part of it has been let out at an annual rent to the negroes, who plant it with provisions. It is noted for a peculiar breed of sheep, its rabbit-warrens, and the number of sea-side grape trees (Coccolobo uvifera) which grow in all directions. In former times, there was a mill and sugar works upon it, (the ruins of which are still to be seen,) and more than a thousand hogsheads of sugar have been known to be shipped from thence in one year. This apparent improbability has been thus accounted for: large quantities of sugars used to be smuggled from Martinique and Guadaloupe, and landed safely and silently upon Long Island, which is particularly favourable for such adventures. These sugars were afterwards shipped to England as the produce of the island, by the following evasion of the law. It was customary at that period, to swear before one of the magistrates, as to the quantity of sugar made and intended to be shipped; and the certificate was then taken to the collector of her majesty’s customs, who, seeing the signature of the magistrate, allowed all was correct. The parties who were possessed of this smuggled sugar, and who were wishful of transporting it to its destined market, would come before a justice and assert that the seven or nine hogsheads which they intended shipping on board such vessel were the real growth of Long Island; the customary oaths were therefore administered, the magistrate signed his name, and the cocket was presented to the shippers to hand over to the collector. On the road to the custom-house, however, with ready pen they added a ty to the seven or nine (or whatever it might be) in the space which was cunningly left for that purpose, making it of course seventy or ninety; and as no questions were asked by the collector, they were in this manner enabled, from 100 hogsheads of the actual growth of the island, to ship from time to time more than the above number of 1000 hogsheads. This practice of evading the law (while they soothed their own consciences) gave rise to these shipments being called the “T. Y. sugar,” as will be remembered by many to this day.
Guiana and Cochran Island also produced sugar at one time; and in 1725, it was enacted by the legislature, that if the proprietors of those islands, as well as Long Island, suffered any loss from the inroads of the enemy, they should be reimbursed from the public treasury as well as any other inhabitant of Antigua.
Following the line of coast from the north, before we once more make the harbour of St. John’s, we meet with, another “guard,” in the shape of a small island, bearing direct west from English Harbour, with a reef running three miles into the sea, and which is known as South Sandy Island. This is also very dangerous to unwary mariners, particularly when the storm king rides the blast, and “warns the devoted wretch of woe and death.”
But, with all its rocks and breakers, beautiful, very beautiful are the scenes which present themselves to your notice, as, seated upon the deck of some vessel, whose graceful sails are filled with a fresh and favourable breeze, you skirt along the sunny shores of lovely little Antigua. It has happened, in some of my frequent trips around the island, that, although the breeze has been fair, it was so light as scarcely to lift the canvas from the mast. But yet, the disappointment of not gaining land so soon as we expected has been amply compensated for by the beauties we have had more time to discover. Overhead is the sweet, clear blue of the sky, here and there dotted with a cloud so fair, that it might serve to pillow a sleeping Juno; and beneath, the crystal waters sparkling like gold in the beams of the blazing sun. In some parts, the green mountains descend to the very shore; while in others a calm and silent glen opens upon your sight, and the zephyr comes laden to you with the scent of its various flowers. Numerous creeks run far inland, and appear amid the surrounding verdure like chains of silver; and here and there a few negro huts lie nestling among a clump of splendid trees, with their neat-looking provision-grounds spread before them. As you pass Grace Bay, the land looks sprinkled over with gold, from the flowers of the aloe, (aloe vulgaris,) which grows there in vast profusion; and the shore is bordered with sand, on which Amphitrite and her train might love to dance, and wreathe their flowery locks with the dropping seaweeds. And thus we while away the day, enjoying an ever-changing panorama, until the glorious sun reaches the west, and throws his rich beams on every cloud which “throngs to pavilion him.” Suddenly he appears to touch the bosom of the flaming waves; and then sending forth one long vivid line of glory, sinks to rest on his golden couch.