Oh it’s perfect Becky. You and Martha must come and visit very soon. There is plenty of room in the house, lots to see, and so much I want to show you. Are you and Martha working on persuading Pa and Ma to let you come for a holiday?
Your loving sister Lucy
******
Telegram from Martha and Becky Ross, London
to
Lucy Sinclair, Jamaica
SUCCESS AT LAST!. MARTHA AND I LEAVING AVONMOUTH AT 4.45 PM ON 16TH JULY FOR KINGSTON ON “S. S. PORT MORANT”. ALL BEING WELL SHOULD ARRIVE ON 28TH . VERY EXCITED. LONGING TO SEE YOU. LOVE BECKY.
******
Chapter Two
Becky’s Diary
On Board Port Morant: My goodness, Pa took a lot of persuading to let me go. He said I was too young to travel such a distance on my own and only agreed because suddenly Martha announced she wanted to see Jamaica too. For the longest time Martha said she didn’t want to go. I know the reason; a man. Alfred Trotter’s his name. He’s a private in the army. Maybe because he was used to taking orders in the army he didn’t mind being bossed around by Martha. If she’d told him to jump off Tower Bridge I think he would have done. No mind of his own. You need one when you’re around Martha otherwise she walks all over you, doesn’t she Private Trotter. Anyway, Trotter lasted a few months and now he’s gone and Martha and I are going to see Lucy and John.
Ma gave me this lovely leather bound book to keep an account of my holiday. The Port Morant is a beautiful boat and as well as passengers she carries fruit and the Royal Mail. Our cabin is comfortable, spacious and well ventilated and with, of all things, an electric light.
The dining room is decorated with light coloured woods and carved panels and has been divided into a number of recesses, each with a separate dining table with seating for up to six people. The seats are upholstered in royal blue and, this I thought wonderful, the glass in the doors have been hand painted with views of Jamaican scenery.
Our departure from Avonmouth was delayed because of dense fog and it was not until it cleared some hours later that we were able to proceed on our way. No sooner had we cleared the fog than we sailed straight into rough weather and the Captain confined all passengers to their cabins for safety.
Martha and I have discovered we have no sea legs. I’ve been ill for days now and am convinced there is nothing more miserable than seasickness. Except perhaps listening to the wailing through the cabin walls of others as miserable as we are. It’s all very distressing, I don’t think I shall ever forget these last few days.
Martha said she anticipated that there might be rough weather and brought some linctus which she keeps in a silver flask. She says it is good for keeping the contents of her stomach in place. It also appears to be good as a sleeping draught since she sleeps so soundly at night and is oblivious to the pitching and rolling of the boat. I tried it myself but didn’t like it. Martha says it is an acquired taste.
7th day at sea: The weather has cleared and is glorious now, calm seas and lots of sunshine. It was a shock to get on the deck and see the chaos that the storm had caused. Deck chairs were lying broken in pieces and wooden benches were on their sides but it wasn’t long before the crew got everything shipshape. There is plenty of space on the deck for walking and it is wonderful to finally be able to stroll and get lots of lovely fresh air.
There was a “get together dinner” so we could all get acquainted with each other. The dining salon was ablaze with little coloured lights, paper streamers and balloons. Paper hats were provided for everybody and on the table were whistles and wooden things you twirl which make a bit of a racket.
At our dining table were Dr and Mrs Turton who are planning to retire to Jamaica permanently as they do not like the cold and damp winters in England. Many of the passengers are tourists, some are parents taking their children home from boarding school for the holidays and there are a couple of army officers who are going to be stationed on the island, one of whom I think Martha has already taken a shine to; she does seem to like a man in uniform.
After dinner, music sheets were handed out to us all containing verses of several well known songs and the ship’s orchestra started playing. At first we all started timidly singing, but it wasn’t long before everyone was participating with great gusto.
The closer we get to Jamaica the brighter the sun and the air becomes balmy. It’s lovely at night to walk round the deck looking at the stars which are so clear and twinkle in the night sky and feel the softness in the air and a warm breeze that wraps itself around you.
Our last night: Tomorrow night there is to be a last dinner with a special menu and we are going to put on our best frocks, although Martha says we should be wearing evening dresses, but we don’t have any.
Diner d’Adieu Menu
HORS D’ŒUVERS
Croutes au Parmesan
Cockie Leekie Soup
FISH
Boned Halibut, Sauce Hollandaise
ENTREE
Coteletes d’Agneau, Sauce Soubice, Asperges eu branches
Roast Fillet Veal, Lemon Sauce
Perdreaux á la Anglaise
Jamaican Goat
Roast and Boiled Potatoes, Haricot Verts
DESSERT
Banana Pudding, Pineapple Jellies, Iced Pears
According to the new, soon to be Manager of the Constant Spring Hotel, Mr James McTavis, we drank French champagne, German white wine and Italian dessert wine. He didn’t believe me when I told him I’d never drunk either wine or champagne before and then he and Martha seemed to be in competition as to who could drink the most. My money was on Martha.
After dinner Lord Walsingham, who is a well known famous traveller, but not to me, thanked the Captain on behalf of the passengers for his “watchfulness and never ceasing supervision of the ship, particularly during those difficult early days in our journey”.
The Captain replied that the success of the voyage was not only his doing but also that of the officers and crew under his command. If he had not got such an able crew the ship could not have done so well.
Then Lord Walsingham called for three cheers for the Captain and his crew and then the Captain called for three cheers for Lord Walsingham and the passengers. All very friendly.
These last wonderful days have been the most enjoyable I have ever spent. Martha has enjoyed herself too and she has been a good travelling companion. She and I are not as close as Lucy and I are, and I don’t really know why. I have tried in the past to get close to her but she discourages me. Sometimes I don’t think she even likes me.
As the steamer nears Jamaica I can see in the distance the mangroves and waving palm leafs and huge mountain ridges that are thick with acres and acres of vegetation. A blue haze wafts lazily over the top of the mountains like a long pale blue-grey chiffon scarf. These are the Blue Mountains, the back drop to Kingston.
While we waited to disembark from the boat I watched the men tie the steamer to its berth in Kingston Harbour. On the dockside black men, women and children are working at a furious pace loading the boats with bananas for their return journey to England. Great piles of green bananas carefully stacked in sizes are being loaded onto the steamer I’m waiting to disembark from. I watched in fascination as the dirty, ragged figures of women and young girls ran up and down the gangplanks, in and out of the hatches in the sides of the boat below carrying the bananas on their heads with such consummate ease.
Some of the men have cutlasses and are using them to slice the stalks off the bananas if they are too long. I’ve never seen black men before and can’t stop staring at them. When they’ve finished loading the bananas the women and girls are handed a piece of paper from the negro foreman and take it to the paymaster to collect their wages, I think. Watching the hustle and bustle of the Negroes going about their work remind me of armies of ants soldiering away.
******
Chapter Three
Becky’s Diary
“Mon Repose”: I still can’
t quite believe the news that greeted Martha and me when we got off the boat at Kingston. There was Lucy standing on the dockside heavily pregnant. It came as such a shock because she hadn’t mentioned it in any of her letters.
“I wanted it to be a surprise” she said. It was certainly that.
The long journey to “Mon Repose” was in a horse drawn buggy, very uncomfortable because of the rough roads, but scenically beautiful and at times a frightening experience up steep hills, past towering coca palms with their feathery plumes waving in the breeze, around sudden sharp bends with waterfalls cascading down the side of the mountain.
The house is wonderful, spacious and cool with mahogany wood panelling in most rooms and windows that go from the highly polished floor to the ceiling and left open all day to let the mountain breeze run through the house.
Lucy has been busy sketching and the house is full of pencil drawings and watercolours of exotic flowers, and ferns, as well as brightly coloured parrots, hummingbirds and the mockingbird. Coming from Paddington, it’s taking me some time to get used to seeing such a richness of scenery that thrives under a sun that shines constantly in a cloudless clear blue sky.
John and Lucy are a popular couple on Kingston’s social circuit and Lucy tells us that new arrivals, even if they are only staying a short time, always attract interest, curiosity and lots of invitations to different social and sporting occasions abound. A garden party at Winchester Park, a concert at Port Antonio, a picnic on the beach, the theatre and an invitation to Kingston Races, are just a few of the invitations we’ve received. I haven’t the stamina to accept all the invitations but Martha is making the most of the social life here which is why she sleeps late every morning.
But in spite of all that is new to us, there are some things that are very familiar about this island. Britain’s habit of colonising a country in its own image has not escaped here. Jamaica, the exotic “land of wood and water” is divided into three counties of Middlesex, Surrey and Cornwall. The English settlers brought with them their recreations and pastimes. Horseracing is very popular with everyone and race meetings are held in several parts of the island. John says there’s a cricket club in virtually every major town for the well off Jamaican, and just about every open space has become a cricket pitch for poor blacks who seem to have developed a passion for the game and would use an oil tin for the wickets and the rib of a palm leaf for a bat. All the best hotels have tennis courts and fallow fields have been turned into polo fields.
Yesterday was one of the strangest days I’ve experienced. It started innocently enough with Lucy and I having breakfast on the veranda overlooking their plantain field. A plantain is almost exactly like a banana and grows in enormous bunches just the way bananas do, but they are bigger and green, not yellow.
From the verandah I could see John at the entrance to a field listening intently to a wizened old man. Standing next to the old man was a small black boy who carried a large basket.
“Who is the old man” I asked Lucy
“He’s an Obeah man and he’s going to dress the garden”
“What on earth are you talking about, Lucy?”
Then she explained Obeah was a form of witchcraft and that an Obeah man or woman is the person, or practitioner, as they like to be called, who controls the supernatural world using spirits to harm people with techniques passed down in secret from one generation to another. I was fascinated and wanted to hear more.
“There could be many reasons why someone might want the services of an Obeah man. It may be for a medical reason, if someone is ill in which case the patient would be given a bottle of something to take or they would have to follow certain instructions. But often it’s to do with getting revenge on someone who has caused you harm in some way; maybe you wanted to discover a thief or sometimes it’s for more romantic reasons - you want to make a particular person fall in love with you or you might want to win at gambling.”
“But do you and John believe in it, Lucy?”
“We don’t, but many white Jamaicans do and John is certainly prepared to indulge in it if it is to his advantage.”
“We’re being robbed of six or seven bunches of plantain every week in spite of employing extra men to watch the fields and that’s why we’ve arranged for an Obeah man to solve the problem for us” she said.
“There could be something in it, Becky, if for no other reason than the Obeah man’s knowledge of poisons is far beyond that of the European druggists. Most practitioners learned how to use herbs for cures. The practitioners knowledge of the roots and herbs brought over from Africa remained with them since most of the same plants grew in the tropical climate of Jamaica and so the customs and practices were passed down from generation to generation.”
The old man took the basket from the boy and went into the field where there were rows and rows of plantain trees. He took out from his basket different sized bottles, which had some sort of liquid inside them. Then, he walked up and down the rows of plantains and tied a bottle on to some of the fruit, at the same time muttering some sort of incantation. When he had done that he would wave his arms over the plantain and genuflect. Once that was done he would move on to another row of plantain and perform the whole ceremony over again and continue to do that until he’d done the whole field.
After that he produced, from his basket, a tiny little black wooden coffin which, with great pomp and circumstance, he placed in the branches of a big old cotton tree. Then he took a saucer from his basket and put some water in it and dropped some egg shells in the water and then put the saucer on top of the coffin in the cotton tree. The old man walked right round the field again waving his arms all over the place, still muttering and went over to John who gave the old man some money and he and the boy then left the field.
“And that little exhibition is known as “dressing the garden” and, hopefully, that will be the end of the thieving now” Lucy said .
She continued, “Once word gets around that the Obeah man has been in the field people will believe he has put a curse on anyone entering it. They will be convinced that terrible things will happen to them if they do.”
According to John the Government made Obeah illegal and it was hoped that after emancipation, with the missionaries bringing Christianity to the freed slaves, Obeah would be wiped out – but it just continued in secret, pretty much the same as now. It’s deep rooted in the black and coloured Jamaican’s heritage and culture and even though you might come across a family that is both Christian and well educated, the likelihood is that someone in it will be dabbling in Obeah.
It strikes me that emancipation hasn’t changed much in Jamaica, her present is still very much tied to her past.
******
Chapter Four
Lucy’s Diary
Becky and Martha spend a lot of time in Kingston doing different things. Becky likes to go to the many markets there are around the city where women and children come down from the hillside, virtually every day, sometimes with donkeys and mules but more often, carrying baskets on their heads, laden with vegetables, sugar, tobacco, coffee, cocoa, pimento, annatto, honey, bananas, ackee, spices, ropes of tobacco and whatever else they have grown and set themselves up with a stall and sell their provisions to the local people. Martha likes to go to the Constant Spring Hotel where I suspect she’s taken a fancy to James McTavis, the manager.
It has been good to have them both here. Martha’s demeanour has changed since she has been in Jamaica probably because she is happy and has been enjoying herself. I think she is considering settling here and it is understandable, Martha has seen that she can have a standard of living and a way of life she cannot equal in London and her skills with a needle will help her find employment on the island so, who knows, it may work well for her.
Last night: News reached me that Becky and Martha were returning to “Mon Repose” after visiting friends at Mount James and involved in an accident with the horse and buggy they were travelling in. One of
the horses slipped under the trace whilst going down the hill and the hind legs of the horse, nearest to the edge of a precipice, slid down the descent and pulled the other horse and buggy down the precipice also. Neither Becky, Martha or the driver had any time to get out of the buggy and they too went, about 36 feet, down the cliff.
Some people, who lived nearby, saw the accident occur and gave the alarm with the result that help was soon on the scene and the girls and driver were rescued. The two horses were uninjured but the buggy was completely smashed up. Becky and Martha and the driver were taken to a house nearby which was owned by a Mrs Nutall and who very kindly arranged for her buggy to bring the girls back to “Mon Repose”. Although they have not sustained any life threatening injuries, they were severely battered, bruised and are in a state of shock. Our doctor will visit them this evening.
******
Telegram from Lucy Sinclair, “Mon Repose”, Jamaica
to
Samuel and Harriet Ross, Droop Street, Paddington, London
BECKY AND MARTHA INVOLVED IN BUGGY ACCIDENT. NO LIFE THREATENING INJURIES. DOCTOR ADVISES GIRLS DO NOT UNDERTAKE JOURNEY BACK TO ENGLAND UNTIL THEY ARE FEELING BETTER. PLEASE ADVISE THEATRE ROYAL, DRURY LANE, MARTHA’S RETURN DELAYED. LOVE LUCY.
Olga - A Daughter's Tale Page 2