Sugar in the Blood

by Andrea Stuart

  The following day those who refused to give up their wealth were “put to the rack and tortured.” All resistance was quelled, and Morgan demanded—and received—a levy of 100,000 pieces of eight to save the city from being torched. His booty from the raid was swelled by vast amounts of jewels and silver, as well as linen, silk and other goods that were stolen from the populace. Astounded that 400 men could have conquered such a strong fortress, the president of Panama sent a messenger to Morgan requesting to see the weapon that gave him such power. Morgan acquiesced, sending him his French musket, with a message that he would be back to collect the weapon in a year or two. In response, the president thanked him for the firearm and sent a present to Morgan: a golden ring with a rosette of emeralds. In his letter he begged Morgan “not to call on him in the manner he had visited Portobelo, because he might not have such a good reception” as he had found at that place.

  But as the seventeenth century grew old, the political mosaic shifted and attitudes towards piracy began to change. Spain was no longer the great collective enemy against which the rest of Europe united. “Suddenly,” according to Arciniegas, “the gang began to break up.” As another historian explained: “England or France might be found in alliance with Spain against each other, or against the Dutch. It no longer suited the European powers to let loose a band of adventurers against the Spanish Empire.” The rise of sugar also played an important part. Once this lucrative enterprise was firmly established, the planters—and the importers back home—realized that their business did not benefit from the presence of a thousand unruly buccaneers in the colony. As long as there was “no peace beyond the line,” trade was upset. The region needed to be policed by more conventional means: national navies or regular army troops.

  The ambivalence that had always existed around the buccaneers was now openly expressed. The French Royal Navy officer Jean Baptiste Ducasse lamented the terrible example they set for the young men of the colonies: “They are very bad subjects who believe they have not been put in the world except to practise brigandage and piracy. Enemies of subordination and authority, their example ruins the colonies, all the young people having no other wish than to embrace this profession for its libertinage and ability to gain booty.” The pirates were no longer seen as the solution to the problems of the region but were seen as the problem itself. By 1671 the English government’s official policy was to curb their activity. And men like Morgan, already enriched by buccaneering, started to give up the brotherhood.

  Alongside the perpetual threats from the sea during this period, the Barbadians also had home-grown difficulties to deal with, when in the summer of 1675 the harried settlers uncovered a major slave plot. Originating in the Speightstown area to the west of the island, the plot, three years in the planning, was an island-wide conspiracy forged largely by African-born slaves who wanted to instigate a general uprising. To the chagrin of the colonists, despite the length of its gestation and the large number of conspirators involved, this “damnable design” was not discovered by their own formidable intelligence and policing efforts; instead it came to light through a female slave called Fortuna, eight days before it was due to commence. Apparently, she had overheard a young male slave discussing the details with another conspirator, in which he had expressed grave reservations about the plotters’ intention to kill the “white folks.” She persuaded him to tell a local judge, who in turn mobilized the militia.

  In a later report Governor Atkins related that the uprising was to begin with the sound of trumpets and gourds to be sounded on various hills. Then the cane fields were to be torched, and slaves were to descend on their masters and slit their throats. A respected elder called Cuffee, a slave born on the Gold Coast on the Gulf of Guinea, was to be crowned king and an exquisitely wrought and carved chair was prepared for the ceremony. Scores of slaves were arrested and tried. Some were flogged, others deported or hanged. Those more deeply implicated were beheaded and their bodies were dragged through the streets of Speightstown and burned as a warning to other slaves. The ringleaders were roasted alive by slow fire. The defiance displayed by some of them shook the islanders. One of the condemned men, a sturdy rogue called Tony, is said to have crowed to his tormentors: “If you roast me today, you cannot roast me tomorrow.”

  Fortuna, the slave who brought the planned rebellion to light, was given her freedom. The Crown also reimbursed the planters for damages and loss, but the entire episode caused great disquiet among them as they had believed up until then that their draconian discipline made such a conspiracy impossible. Afterwards they went back to the law, curbing the slaves’ movements even further and banning the “drums” and other African instruments that were used to communicate between the plantations. But nothing could prevent the resurgence of rebellion, and the slaves revolted again in 1683 and 1692.

  A couple of months after Fortuna’s revelation of the original plot, on 31 August 1675, the most devastating hurricane since the beginning of colonization battered the island. In an age before meteorological reports provided storm warnings and government agencies provided advice and shelters, the arrival of one of these great tempests was a truly apocalyptic event. On that terrible day, the island was enveloped by black clouds and lashed by rain. The wind rose sharply and blustered with such ferocity that it seemed to be coming from all points of the compass. The air, usually so fragrant, stank of sulphur and bitumen produced by the combination of electricity and moisture in the atmosphere. That night the storm grew even more violent and continued to blow till the morning. The Ashby family must have been terrified. When they emerged from their shelter it was to scenes of complete devastation. Over 200 Barbadians were killed, as were many more slaves who did not count in the official numbers. The leeward side of the island was the most affected—only a few buildings there were left standing—while on the windward side many of the houses and sugar works were also obliterated, and the canes uprooted and flattened. The strength of the hurricane winds washed ashore the ships on the coast and all the houses in the bay were blown down, along with most of the churches; and across the island many planters were forced to live in temporary huts. The hurricane induced such terror in the heart of the colonists that for some time no one would invest any capital in land and building, fearing a similar catastrophe.

  Not long after this terrible hurricane, my great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather died. We do not know if his passing was directly connected to the tempest, but many islanders did perish during these months, traumatized by the calamity (and perhaps rendered more vulnerable by the other shocks that had preceded it), weakened by injuries, malnourished by lack of food or despairing at the loss of all they had built.

  George Ashby’s will was entered on 13 July 1676, a few days after his death. It provides such a fascinating insight into the Ashby clan at this time, their social standing, their relationships, and their attitudes towards their property, including slaves, that it is worth quoting in full:

  In the name of God Amen—this third day of October in ye yeare of our Lord god one thousand six hundred seventy and two in ye four and twentieth of ye Reigne of our Sovereigne Lord King Charles the Second—I George Ashby of the Parish of St. Philips and Island of Barbados being very sicke and weak in body but of perfect mind and remembrance praised be to the Lord Almighty therefore doe by God’s permission make and declare this my last will and testament in manner and forme following right:

  1st:—First and principally with all awful reverence and humility I consign my soule unto the hands of Almighty God my maker hoping and assuredly believing through the merits and bloody passion of my Lord and Saviour Christ Jesus I shall receive a blessed and glorious resurrection to life everlasting. My body I commit to ye earth from whence it was taken to be decently interred at the discretion of my executrix herafter appointed. And as for and concerning such worldly estate whereth it has pleased the Lord in my lifetime of his great mercy and goodnesse to send me or blesse me with all I doe give
Bequeath and dispose of the same in manner forme following, that is to say.

  2nd Item:—I doe give and bequeath my loving sone George Ashby six acres of land part of ye plantation wheron I doe now live … to be signed to him and his heirs for ever. Together with ye negro boy called Punch and the dwelling house wherein John Jarman now liveth.

  3th Item:—I doe give and bequeath unto my loving son William … and his heirs for ever ye quantity of three acres of land or thereabouts together with the dwelling house thereupon standing now in the occupation of Thomas Neale.

  4th Item:—I doe give and bequeath unto my daughter Deborah Ashby the quantity of three acres of land and the house theron now in the occupation of Henry Sellman to her and her heirs forever provided that if she the said Deborah my daughter shall or doe happen to marry with one Edward Joloffe that then my will is and I doe hereby give and bequeath unto her the sum of twelve pence sterling and no more but in case she does not marry the said Edward Joloffe then I doe furthe give unto her my negroe girle named Mame.

  5th Item:—I doe give and bequeath unto my dear and loveing wife Deborah Ashby whom I doe hereby nominate and appoint to be sole executrix of this last will and testament (my debts and funeral charges being first paid and satisfied.) All and every the rest residue and remainder of my estate whatsoever both real and personal with my dwelling house outhouses and stock of what ever kind or nature so ever during her natural life and afterwards for her to dispose of amongst my children according as she shall think fit. And I doe hereby nominate and appoint and desire my loveing friends Rowland Hutton and John Taylor to be overseers in trust and to be aiding and assisting with my said wife and executrix in the due execution and performance of this my will according to the true intent and meaning thereof to whome and to each for them I doe give and bequeath the sum of twenty shillings sterling a piece and I doe hereby revoke disannull and utterly make voide all former wills gifts legatees and bequests at any time heretofore by me made or given and doe pronounce this to stand and bee for as my last will and testament.

  In witness whereof I the said George Ashby to this my last will and Testament have set my hand and seale the day and year first above written.

  The will paints a picture of a humble family that, despite its challenges, had managed not just to secure a decent life but to expand its wealth in trying circumstances, and to maintain strong ties of affection and loyalty.

  It also reveals a great deal about George Ashby himself. The devout tone of the will implies that George Ashby had always been or had become a religious man. More specifically there are tantalizing indications that he had become a Quaker. Not only did his will make reference to his “friends” Rowland Hutton and John Taylor, the term used by the Quakers to describe themselves and their brethren; his wife, Deborah, would later remarry the aforementioned Hutton, a planter who had also converted to the religion. In Hutton’s own will, lodged a few years later, he mentions his wife Deborah Hutton, “formerly the wife of George Ashby, & her son William Ashby; poor people called Quakers.” As an inhabitant of St. Philip, George was particularly susceptible to the movement, because the parish was an exceptionally active Quaker hub, with two vibrant meeting houses. Indeed, one of their “large burying places” can still be seen across from St. Philip’s parish church.

  The first Quakers had arrived in Barbados in the middle of the 1650s. Some had arrived willingly, in flight from religious persecution, but a substantial number of this “malignant source” were forcibly expelled from Britain on the orders of the Crown. Some of these new arrivals planned to settle on the island permanently, but many others came for a few months to promulgate their philosophy, and then left for other colonies in the region. As a result Barbados became the cradle of the Quaker religion in the region. By 1671 there was a flourishing community of Quakers on the island. It was so significant that George Fox, the founder of the sect, visited the island for three months that year to rally his American troops. By 1676 there were more Quakers in Barbados than in any other colony in the English Americas.

  The Quakers, otherwise known as the Religious Society of Friends or simply “the Friends,” held doctrines that attracted the colonists, and they gained many converts in the colony. In contrast to the Church of England, Quakers argued that everyone had “inward light” and that all were assured salvation. But these transgressive ideas, combined with a philosophy that stressed peace, simplicity and equality, were profoundly antithetical to the strife-ridden, materialistic and exploitative society that was early colonial Barbados. As a result the Quakers were in constant conflict with the authorities. So it was unsurprising that George Fox felt compelled to write a letter to the island’s governor to contest the “scandalous lies and slanders that have been put upon us.” The Quaker stand on slavery only heightened the island government’s antipathy to the sect; they were the first group to include slaves in their religious worship. In 1676 the island’s Assembly passed a law that made it illegal for slaves to attend Quaker meetings. Hostility to the sect continued to grow, and in the 1680s there was a mass collective flight of Quakers from the island to settle Pennsylvania on the mainland. (That George Ashby’s eldest son, George Jr., also took flight for Pennsylvania during this period is another clue that the family were indeed Quakers.) Certainly my ancestor, George Ashby’s second son, William, my grandfather seven times removed, was a fervent Quaker. A mason by trade, William ended up in the stocks, spent a couple of months in jail and was fined 500 pounds of sugar for building a wall in a Quaker burial area on Christmas Day in 1676.

  Other revelations provided by the will are concrete ones: it is signed by my forebear, so he was clearly a literate man. His decision to make his wife his executor was characteristic of many planters on the island, and suggests that he trusted her to carry out his wishes and respected her competence, for together they had carved companionship out of struggle and worked assiduously as a team for the betterment of their family. George Ashby was also typical of many of his contemporaries in other crucial ways. Clearly a loving and concerned parent, his overwhelming priority was the transfer of wealth to his children, and he sought to divide his holdings in a way that would enable them all to survive and thrive on the island.

  In other ways George was unusual among his peers, in that he managed to father four children who survived to adulthood. (His eldest daughter Elizabeth predeceased him, dying at the age of twenty-two.) In Christ Church, the parish with the most complete surviving records, the average was a mere 1.8 children per family. Many of those who peopled the mainland colonies, particularly the New England Puritans, had six or seven offspring, but the islands were different. Barbados fared a little better than its neighbours, but across the Caribbean islands, the quality of life tended to be lower than in their American counterparts as they lacked the structure provided by Christian principles and strong family units that anchored society back in Europe and on mainland America.

  There are hints too of an intriguing family squabble when George Ashby decrees that if his daughter marries “one Edward Joloffe” she will receive only a paltry twelve pence, instead of the three acres, house and slave that she would otherwise be entitled to. Perhaps George’s hostility to Joloffe was because he was a backsliding Quaker or, even worse, an Anglican. Quaker marriages were serious affairs. The Quaker Meeting to which a man or woman belonged decided on whether the marriage was suitable or not, so to reject that choice had repercussions for the whole community. (For the record, Deborah, apparently a pragmatic girl, married a man called Peacock and duly inherited her rightful portion; this is the piece of land that is still planted with cane today.)

  The will makes no mention of his country of origin, or any family or friends that he may have left behind there. Like many of those who came to “make” the New World, George seems to have effectively cut all ties with his old life on his departure. From the moment he took ship, he probably realized that his migration was an irreversible decision; after all, he had risked his money, his
reputation, his very life in the undertaking.

  In 1680 Barbados held a census, which demonstrated just how comprehensively sugar had reshaped the island. Its sugar planters were now the wealthiest men in English America. Their fortunes dwarfed those of the Chesapeake tobacco planters and those of the New York and Boston merchants, as well as their counterparts in Jamaica and the other Leeward Islands. Indeed, the Barbadians produced more sugar and employed more shipping than the other islands combined. As one historian concluded: “Almost certainly the exports to England from this small island of less than 100,000 arable acres were more valuable in the 1680s than the total exports to England from all the North American colonies.”

  During George Ashby’s time on the island, Barbados had been transformed from an anarchic frontier settlement to a rigorously ordered and stratified society, which was completely dominated by the big planters. Despite making up only 6.9 per cent of the population, the planters owned 53.4 per cent of the island’s acreage, and had 53.9 per cent of its servants and 54.3 per cent of its slaves. These men dominated the island politically as well as economically, holding key government posts as well as important posts in the militia and the Vestry. As the historian Richard Dunn has said, the island had a distinctive hierarchy:

  Like the terraced cane fields of the island, Barbados society rose level by level from the roughly 40,000 slaves occupying the lowest tier to the 2,300 servants at the next tier, ascending past the 1,200 freemen, the 1,000 small planters, the 400 Bridgetown householders, and the 200 middling planters, to the 175 big planters at the summit who held the best land, sold the most sugar, and monopolized the most important offices.