During the period that Sir James Leith was residing in Antigua, as governor of the Leeward Islands, he was very indefatigable in his geological researches, for which Antigua affords an ample field. Upon one occasion, his excellency had been labouring very hard to collect from the bosom of “Mother Earth” specimens which only a geologist can properly appreciate; and with a well-filled bag of them, entrusted to the care of a negro servant, he left the scene of his toils to refresh his animal spirits with some of the good things of this life. To ensure the safety of his favourite specimens, the negro was despatched with them to “Dows Hill,” (the place where the governor then resided,) with strict injunctions to make the best of his way, and carefully deposit his load in his excellency’s study until they could be properly arranged.
After receiving his orders, and well poising his load upon his back, the man started upon his journey. The weather was very sultry, and the way was very long; the bag was very heavy, and poor blacky was very tired. Still he plodded on “his weary way,” stopping only now and then to dash the flowing perspiration from his brow, and had arrived within a mile of his home, when he was suddenly joined by a friend. “Eh, buddy! (brother) why you loaded true! War you got in that great big bag?” “’Tornes, (stones,) me friend.” “’Tornes! why war you go do wid dem all, eh?” “Me no no. Massa gubbunor gib me dem to fetch home, but me no no war he go do wid dem; me no dem well heaby though.” “Well, if eber me hear de like! for one somebody to go haul all dem ’tornes sich a long way, when dere plenty ob dem all ’bout ‘Dows Hill.’ I tell you war me go do if deys gib me dem to carry, me go heabe dem ebery bit away, an when me get to de ‘Hill,’ fill me bag wid some of dem big ’tornes as stop all ’bout dere—sure one ’torne as good as anoder.” “’Tank’e, me friend, me neber think ob dat me sure; but if you just help me down wid dem, me soon do war you tell me.”
No sooner said than done; the splendid specimens were thrown away without compunction, and the negro, who found it much easier to march with an empty bag than with his former load, sped on his way joyfully. At the bottom of “Dows Hill” he stopped, and once more replenished his bag with the rough stones, which liberally bestrewed the pathway, choosing the largest for the purpose. These he safely conveyed to his master’s study, carefully shut the door, and left them. The surprise and consternation of the governor when, upon inspecting, as he thought, his hard-earned specimens, he found only a heap of useless rubbish—the interrogations he addressed to his servant, and the ludicrous answers of the negro,—are matters for the imagination to dwell upon.
It is customary with many store-keepers in this island to wash the outside of their stores or shops, yellow, or some other colour. Should this take the fancy of a negro as he passes, he immediately exclaims—“Ah, me like dat, massa’s ’tore really look gran; he whitewash he yellow, an make he stop quite good, de trute!”
With regard to the negro tongue, much cannot be said for its purity; the Creole negroes speak a dialect bad enough, but the Africans’ is almost unintelligible. There is one peculiarity in their mode of speech very remarkable—the making use of only one gender. For example:—if they speak of a female, or any inanimate object, they invariably say he; thus, if a woman is speaking of her sister, she says, “he, my sissy;” or of something that particularly attracts their notice, they exclaim—“he one handsome house,” or “he one gran’ carriage.”
They have also particular ways to designate persons of all ages among themselves; their old women they call “grandy,” those of a middle age “aunté,” while the younger women are nominated “see,” or “sissy.” In the same manner, the old men go by the title of “daddy,” the middle-aged “uncle,” and the young men “buddy.” In conversation they seldom pronounce the “s,” “th,” or “y;” thus, if they want to say “story,” it is “’tory,” or “the,” it is “de,” “young,” it is “noung.”
They are particularly polite whenever they meet, addressing each other as “Sir,” and “Ma’am.” Many a dialogue have I heard pass between the gossips on their way from the Moravian Chapel, sufficient to excite the risible faculties of a stoic. “How d’ye, ma’am?” said a dirty-looking man just now, to a woman of a similar grade; “how you do?—I’se hope you well to-day.” “Well, I tankee, sir—how you do?” “Oh, so so, ma’am, it one long time since me see you; war you no come up our side?” “Oh, my dear sir, me no forget you togedder, but me pic’nee been quite sick.”[[37]] “Me sorry to hear dat, but me hopes he soon get well; me just been to see de new gubbernor land.” “Yes, me here he cum, but me not able to go; war kind of a gentleman is he?” “Oh, one noble-looking buckra, an he lady on gran lady; it do you heart good to see he; me dont tink we eber hab gubbenor like he afore.” “War he named?” “Gubbernor Sir Charles Gustus Fitzoy.” “Eh, eh, one big name true.” “Well, good morning, sir.” “Good morning, ma’am,” and so they separated.
To a stranger, the negro tongue is as difficult to write as it is to speak. In the different conversations given in that dialect, indulgence must be craved from my kind readers, both English and Creole, if they are not correctly written, observing at the same time that I write them as it seems proper to me, and in such a manner as they may be understood by those who read, not always the case when garnished by so many accentual marks. Perhaps sufficient examples of their mode of talking has been given, and that by adding more, the reader may be tired, and myself involved in a maze; I will therefore conclude this subject by remarking, that it requires more than a moderate stock of patience to deal with them, for they talk so long, so loud, and so fast, that if not blest with that virtue to an eminent degree, you will be sure to lose your temper without avail.
In my lengthened descriptions of the negro tribe, among the darker shades of their character inebriation has not been mentioned, as it is not a general vice among them. Still it cannot be altogether passed over, for alas! too many have to deplore the consequences of excessive drinking. In a country where his actual wants are sooner supplied than in a colder clime, the labourer has a larger portion to spend upon that deleterious poison, new rum. A few sticks, collected by himself or his wife, serves to cook his daily meal, a mat forms his couch, while a coarse garment of cloth is the dress of his children, and their little feet seldom know the confinement of a shoe. Their smart dresses (if they have any) are reserved for a Sunday, or any particular occasion; but the generality of negroes who are addicted to the vice of drunkenness, seldom pay any regard to their personal appearance.
Their excuse for indulging in this habit of drinking is, that after working all day they require something to strengthen them and allay their thirst. But the question is, will ardent spirits do this? or will they not rather, from their heating qualities, augment the craving? Now, most negroes have a sweet tooth, and a beverage composed of sugar and water would tend to alleviate their thirst, and at the same time nourish and enrich their blood.