Having satiated our appetites for seeing and tasting, we retraced our way to the city; and I sat down in the coziest corner I could find, to make some observations on the general aspect of the city, and character of the inhabitants.
The part of the city adjoining the wharves is laid out with little attention to regularity—the streets describing most tortuous courses. At the outskirts the avenues are at right angles, and that part of the city presents a better appearance. All the streets are macadamized; but few of them are named, or rather they have no names at the corners to direct the stranger. I remember seeing but a single signboard, and that was in French, having on it Rue de Rivoli. On the other avenues the signboards only displayed the number and the first and last letters of the name.
The tenements and business-places are generally two stories in height, and built of stone, bricks, or wood. On the wharves are iron-framed warehouses, built in the most substantial manner, so as to withstand the violence of the typhoon. They are not enclosed, but resemble our market-sheds. The market-house, situated in the centre of the town, is built in the same manner, and divided into four departments, one of which is the meat-market, where I saw nothing but beef and fish exposed for sale; the latter not of the description admitted to our tables, as on the shambles of one victualler I saw two monstrous sharks, from twelve to sixteen feet in length, which he was cutting up, and selling to the dusky portion of the inhabitants. Another department is devoted to the coffee venders, where any person can get a cup of excellent hot coffee for a penny; and to judge from the number of their customers, these petty merchants are driving a lucrative business. The third department is occupied by the sellers of vegetables, birds, &c. The fourth, known as the bazaar, is apportioned into stalls, each under the supervision of a brown clerk, who uses his utmost endeavors to attract customers. These stalls are furnished with fancy articles, perfumery, cutlery, hosiery, cambrics, and a variety of Eastern articles quite unknown on our shores. Each of the merchants is adorned by a streak of India ink, running from the center of the scalp-lock to the bridge of the nose, which is said to be a mark of distinguished caste—the wearers of it being known as Parsees. They display considerable acumen in conducting business, and offer inducements to purchasers scarcely inferior to those presented by salesmen in our clothing establishments on Market street. One miserable practice prevails, which is general amongst all classes of merchants throughout the city; that is, the abominable custom of asking three prices for an article, with the expectation of being beat down to a reasonable one: doctors, lawyers, merchants (wholesale and retail), druggists, and other dealers, all persisting in it. I had occasion to go to a first-class drug-store to purchase some articles for the ship’s medicine-chest. Here I confidently expected to see a rational method of doing business; but, to my utter surprise, I was asked twenty-one dollars for a package that I could purchase at home for five. After considerable chaffering, I succeeded in obtaining it for twelve dollars. Under this phase of bargaining, it was a matter of time to make the most trifling purchase; and, whenever at a loss for occupation, it was customary with us to resort to the bazaar, and inquire for an article which they, from their inadequate knowledge of English, could not comprehend, and then watch their anxiety in displaying every article they had for sale, in hopes of hitting upon the right one. No sooner had you been given up in despair by the occupant of one stall than you were seized on by his neighbor; and if, attracted by the quaintness of any particular article, you should make a purchase, however small, your former attendant would show his chagrin in a garrulous and amusing manner.
One day whilst thus perambulating in Yankee fashion, with our hands deep in our pockets, as a protection from the wonderful sleight-of-hand possessed by this people, one of these merchants, attracted by a whalebone stick our steward carried, offered a pound sterling for it. The steward agreed to take it, but then the native would not purchase, without a bill and receipt. Being penman and amanuensis for all hands, I was desired to make out the necessary document. After writing it, I was requested by the steward to sign his name; but it was no go. The native, albeit he could not read a single word of English, knew that this was not the proper mode of doing business, and obliged the steward to sign his name himself; when, after calling an English policeman, and submitting it to his inspection, he was satisfied of its validity, and paid down the dust.
The Governor’s House has no pretensions to beauty. It looks like an old-fashioned farmer’s homestead, and no one would think it had a claim to aristocracy, were it not for the presence of the red-coated sentry, who continually paces in front of it. The only building which I saw that presented any real pretension to beauty was a mosque, built in the Egyptian style, with mimic towers. Strangers were not admitted within it on the days when I was ashore; so I had to be satisfied with a glance, that revealed to me the handsome decorations of a very small part of it, and a massive chandelier, pendant from the dome which formed the roof.
The Hospital is a large, commodious, well-ventilated building, surrounded by verandas, healthily situated, and close by the water’s side. It comprises three separate departments. One building is devoted to the military, and is known as the Military Hospital. A second building is known as the Civil Hospital, where the citizens are admitted at a charge of a shilling, and seamen of other nations at two shillings, per diem. The ground-floor of this building is set apart for the use of the black Asiatic population—French, English, and American negroes being admitted to the same apartment as the whites. At the time we were there the dysentery was so prevalent amongst the Asiatics, that it was found necessary to extend their apartments, and for this purpose a part of the upper portion of the building was devoted to their use.
Having sent two of our men to this hospital for treatment for stricture of the urethra, I visited it, and found it clean, orderly, and well conducted. The resident and visiting physicians are all Englishmen, and, from their mode of operation, I should judge them to be scientific and skilful surgeons. The Malabars are attended to by creole physicians, who have received thorough medical educations; two-thirds of the patients were under treatment for dysentery, which, from the symptoms and treatment, I am certain is nothing more nor less than Asiatic cholera; the remaining varieties are mostly venereal affections, which, in this hot climate, assume their most violent and disgusting forms.
There are a number of Americans here; some resident ashore, and others from the American vessels in the harbor; those from the vessels being discharged sick on the consul’s hands, who provides for them at the hospital until recovered; he then finds them ships and sends them to the United States.
Neither of the men who were sent from our ship to the hospital recovered so as to be able to go out with us. One of them, a New Yorker, the former steward of the Europa, anticipates remaining on the island some time; the other, John Cunningham, of New Bedford, one of our original crew, is left in charge of the consul, to be sent home as soon as the state of his health will permit. Our captain was very desirous to take this young man home with him for the sake of his widowed mother; but as the invalid objected to going before he was perfectly recovered, and the doctor’s authority was paramount to the captain’s, we were forced to leave him in a foreign land, in a foreign hospital, amongst strangers, to look out for himself, with the assistance of the consul: a fearful responsibility for a boy of eighteen, unacquainted with the world.
There is also another institution for the reception and relief of destitute seamen, known as the Sailor’s Home: its accommodations are said to be excellent. At this house were part of the crew of the whaleship Nauticon, of Nantucket, which ship was lost a few months previous at, or near, the Seychelle Islands. All seamen’s boarding-houses in Port Louis are bound by law to afford a seaman two weeks’ board, at the expiration of which time they can expel him from the house, if they feel so inclined; but it generally happens that they ship before the fortnight expires, and pay their board with part of the advance money they receive from their new employers. The usual charge for board is a guinea a week.