This penchant for eating among the negro sailors is universally known. I have heard it remarked, by a gentleman of Antigua, (in answer to some query upon the subject,)—“Oh! have nothing to do with small vessels; or, if you have, on no account provision them, but rather pay them so much a week to find themselves; for those black sailors are never satisfied—they will be eating eleven hours in the day, and on the twelfth they are, or rather pretend to be, hungry. This, I am sure, is the fault of their mothers during infancy; for their common cry to them is—‘Eat, me pic’nee, eat; fill youself, an den go sleep;’ so that the custom grows upon them to that degree, that when they become men, they cannot break themselves of it.” So much for the remark; those who are acquainted with the subject will, I think, readily assent to the truth of it.
In times of slavery, it was customary, among some owners or managers of slaves, to allow such negroes as were not employed in the cane-field the privilege of hiring themselves out to strangers, providing they regularly paid to their masters a certain sum weekly from the wages they received. Many of them acquired a good sum by this permission; while others, again, although they earned high wages, had to pay so large a proportion to their proprietors, that they were not so well off in pecuniary matters as those negroes who remained upon the property. Still, they were comparatively more their own masters; and so dear to every breast is freedom, that they preferred doing so, and gaining less.
Another large body of negroes are to be met with as domestic servants. That there are some good servants among them none can deny; but I am sorry to say, they are seldom met with. In general, the men make better domestics than the females. Some of those who hire themselves as cooks are very clever in their profession, and will dress turtle in various delectable forms, equal, if not superior, to the vaunted cooks at “Cornhill,” or the celebrated “M. de Barre” (late cook to Louis XVIII.) himself. This is to be the more wondered at, as they have not half the conveniences in the culinary departments as their brother cooks on the other side of the water; on the contrary, many an invention has to issue from their teeming brain, before they can arrange these matters to their satisfaction. But one precaution must be carefully observed, in order to insure success: in cookery, they must be left entirely to their own discretion—no improvement proposed; for either they are obstinately bent on following their own plan, and will not adopt any other, or else they do not fully understand their instructions; and what was intended as an improvement will result in failure.
It is the practice in Antiguan cookery, when “melted butter” is used, merely to oil it, and send it to table in that state, which to many strangers proves disagreeable. Soon after my arrival in this country, I begged the cook to adopt some other plan, explaining at the same time, to the best of my abilities, how it was commonly done in England. The next day, at dinner, there was something “in such a” very “questionable shape” upon the table, that I was fain to summon Mr. Cook from his tenement, to ask what it might be. “Melted butter, missis,” quoth the knight of pots and kettles. “Melted butter!—impossible! it has more the appearance of pudding, boiled like the French cook’s, without a cloth.” “Eh, eh, missis, war for you go call him pudding? you no tell me put flower in de butter—it dat make him ’top so!” I was confounded. After my learned dissertation upon melted butter the day before, (which, by-the-bye, I borrowed from the worthy Dr. Kitchener himself,) to be served in this manner was too bad; however, it taught me never for the future to interfere with his department.
They have some peculiarities in dressing different meats in Antigua which I have never heard of being practised in other countries, although it must be owned my knowledge in such matters is very limited, not having devoted much of my time to studying the “Cook’s Oracle;” indeed, (the truth must be spoken,) I am better pleased to form an acquaintance with ragouts, or any other dainties, when they are upon the table, than I am to inspect their various formations, or become versed in their different modes of cookery. But as some of my readers may, with Peter Pindar, be fond of peeping into pots and pans, I will, for their benefit, try to elucidate kitchen mysteries for once in my life, and expound to them the method of doving meat, as the Antiguan cooks term such process. The first point to be achieved is, of course, to procure the meat, and then to see that the “igneous element,” as Mr. Dryden learnedly calls fire, has attained a sufficient degree of heat. These preliminary matters being adjusted, an iron pot is made thoroughly hot, the meat placed in it without the aid of water, and the utensil carefully covered over. In this fiery durance it is allowed to remain until one side becomes of an approved brown; it is then turned to another, until at length it arrives at that state of superexcellence, that, like “Sancho Panza’s cow’s heel,” it has only to cry “Come eat me, come eat me!”
The greatest fault to be found with these kitchen gentry, these black cooks of Antigua, is, that while from various meats and spices they are compounding ambrosial food for their masters, they forget the rules of equity, and, like the lordly lion of the forest, keep the largest share for themselves. This is done with impunity by all the class; they dread not even the “strong arm of the law,” nor exempt the lawyers themselves from this exaction, if report speaks true. When discovered in these petty thefts, they use the greatest art to make you believe it is a mistake, a slip of (not the tongue, but) the fingers, and, consequently, not their fault; or else, that “somebody” did the deed, and laid the blame at their door.
A gentleman proprietor of this island had a servant living with him who was famed for practising this particular species of depredation, quite an adept in the art, and who at the same time possessed a tongue well versed in the doctrine of excuses. Many and oft have been the occasions when this sable offender has appropriated to his own share the eatables which ought to have graced his master’s table, and yet escaped without reproof. But one day, (for so the Fates had willed it,) being pressed for time, “Lemon” was obliged to transfer to his pocket, instead of a place of more approved security, a fish he had adroitly managed to purloin, and hurry into the dining-room, (in his double capacity of cook and footman,) with the remainder properly dished up. “Truth,” says the old proverb, “will pop out its head;” and although the stubborn fish did not exactly do that, it made amends by popping out its tail, and proved to the master’s eye the undeniable fact of his servant’s deviation. Unconscious that his silent but no less true accuser had betrayed him, the faulty cook kept his stand, until, at length, his master, pointing at the same time to the purloined luxury, inquired, “Lemon, what is that you have in your pocket?” His blushes, if he knew how to blush, were effectually concealed by the blackness of his skin, while, with the counterfeit surprise of innocence, he replied to this question by asking another: “Pocket, massa? war pocket?” And then, turning his eye to that particular part of his garment, and perceiving in a moment that the presence of the obtruding fish could not be denied, with ready cunning, he continued, “You see dat, massa? you see dat, missis? you eber see how ‘de ebil’ (witchcraft) follow me! Ebil come quite in me pocket, come put fish dere, so make you aw tink me go tief it!” Oh, worthy Lemon! oh, noble son of Ham! hadst thou lived in the days when Jupiter and his train peopled bright Olympus, undoubtedly thou wouldst have been turned into a constellation as a reward for thy ingenuity!
Among the grooms and “house-boys” (as the Antiguans call their domestic men-servants) there are also some to be met with who have a fair character for general good behaviour, but they are rare instances—seldom found. The greater part of the grooms are too fond of galloping their masters’ horses, (a practice common with most negroes, who will ride almost as soon as they can walk;) and with respect to the latter-mentioned class, indolence and prevarication form (as we have already seen) too often the predominant traits in their character.
Another peculiarity among this tribe is the freedom with which they address their employers. This has even increased, if anything, since emancipation; for now they are free, they appear to think themselves upon an equality with the highest in the land. They condescend, it is true, to take your money, but at the same time seem to think it a degradation to do your work. If it is necessary to find fault with any part of their conduct, they generally return a saucy answer, or else make this rejoinder—“Bery well, as we can’t agree, we best part; me no care to hire meself out again;” and immediately collecting their different articles together, (including, perhaps, some belonging to their master or mistress, of course by mistake!) away they go, and the only plan you can adopt is, to procure another domestic in their place, who, perhaps, acts even worse.
I would not wish to be thought unreasonably prepossessed in favour of my own country-people, but, conscientiously speaking, I have never met with one black domestic who acts with the same degree of propriety as most of the English servants do. If you keep them at their proper distance, they become dissatisfied, and complain of your being harsh to them; if, on the contrary, you shew them any degree of attention, and try to make their situation as comfortable as possible, they then assume too much, and entirely forget the difference of rank. Try to serve them, and it is ten chances to one you make them your enemy; do them ninety-nine favours, and refuse the hundredth, and you are reviled and blamed as if you had injured them.