by Ben Hughes
WAS INCHIQUIN’S governorship a success? During his period in office trade had fallen, French attacks on the north coast had caused considerable financial damage, political in-fighting remained rife, and the largest slave rebellion in the island’s history had taken place. Although it is difficult to apportion blame to Inchiquin for such occurrences, especially as the latter happened a mere two months after his arrival, the responsibility was surely his. Judged by Inchiquin’s own priorities, however, the answer to the question above is a resounding yes. In a state of bankruptcy when he took office, Inchiquin made a fortune during the nineteen months he spent in Jamaica. “No Governor had ever so much money in so short a time,—£15,000 is well within compass,—nor strove so earnestly to get it,” opined Samuel Bernard in a letter written three months following Inchiquin’s demise.62 As the earl had always viewed the governorship as little more than an unpleasant yet highly lucrative posting, the profits he passed on to his descendants indicate that his time in Jamaica was most successful indeed.63
Few mourned the Inchiquin’s passing. While Reginald Wilson, Simon Musgrave, and George Reeve wrote glowing accounts of the governor’s time in office and dismissed any dissent as being born of jealousy and personal interest, those with whom the earl had shared the council chamber were considerably less ebullient.64 In two separate letters sent to the Lords of Trade less than two weeks after Inchiquin’s death, each of which was signed by all the councilors remaining, they complained that he had restricted freedom of debate and allowed his own private interests, principally his stake in the asiento, to take precedence over the needs of the colony. The latter bias, so the councilors claimed, not only resulted in Inchiquin’s refusal to pass the Assembly’s bill proposing a tax on the exportation of slaves—thereby starving the plantocracy of the workers essential to maintain their businesses—but it also deprived the island of the use of the two Royal Navy frigates supposedly intended for defense just at the time when the warships were most needed. As James O’Bryan had resigned his post as councilor and commandant of the island’s defenses shortly after his father’s death, the body was unanimous in its condemnation of its former leader. While Inchiquin would no doubt have been entirely unsurprised to find the signatures of those “ambitious . . . [and] insolent . . . incendiaries”—Beckford, Bernard, and Lawes—at the foot of such a damning document, he would probably also have been annoyed to see those of Peter Heywood and that “honest gentleman” John White, the very man whom the earl had recommended as “the fittest” candidate to replace him.65
The new acting governor was an obscure character. Nothing is known of White’s origins aside from the fact that he had been in Jamaica since at least 1670, when he was granted two relatively small parcels of land: 259 acres in St. John’s Parish and thirty in St. David’s. By the following year, however, White appears to have risen considerably in his peers’ esteem: he had been appointed to the twin roles of councilor and chief justice of the colony. Although he later rescinded the latter post, White also served as a judge in Jamaica’s High Court of the Admiralty and remained a near permanent fixture on the Council for the following twenty years, all this despite the occasional whiff of corruption and persistent claims that he was in the pay of the asiento agent Santiago Castillo. It would appear that White was somewhat of a chameleon. Able to be all things to all people, he barely ruffled feathers, maintained a low profile in times of crisis, and chose his enemies wisely, punishing severely those who could not oppose him, such as an attorney named Thomas Bromhall whom White had gagged and pilloried on the parades of Spanish Town and Port Royal for daring to accuse him of bribery, while pandering to those who could. All the while White was busy accumulating power and wealth through occasionally shadowy business dealings. By January 1692, he had risen to the pinnacle of the island’s government. As head of the Council, White suddenly found himself in a position to dictate policy. Whatever his faults, he was undoubtedly an intelligent and able man. Unfortunately for Jamaica, he would not remain in his post for long.66
White’s period as the island’s principal administrator began with an emergency meeting of the Council held at Spanish Town on the morning of January 16, a few hours after Inchiquin’s death. As his first act, White had the final clause of his predecessor’s Royal Commission read aloud, thus placing the governance of the colony solely in the hands of the Council with himself at its head. Warrants were then issued for the appointment of Samuel Bernard, John Towers, Nicholas Lawes, Francis Blackmore, and Andrew Orgill to sit alongside him. Two days later a second meeting was held. In response to rumors suggesting that Hispaniola’s privateers would soon resume their offensive, White instigated a reshuffling of the island militia intended to resolve the “constant disputes as to seniority” and proposed the Council reconvene at Port Royal on January 21, to inspect the town’s fortifications and the colony’s military stores. The results were far from satisfactory: the barrels of eight of Fort Charles’s thirty-eight cannon were “honeycombed with age . . . the walls [were] out of repair owing to the shortness of the guns and some of the carriages [were] decayed”; several of the carriages of Fort James’ twenty-six guns were rotten and the site’s “walls and platforms [were deemed] out of repair”; Fort Rupert was found to be “in good order” with only “one [gun] carriage and some trucks wanting”; while forts Carlisle and Walker were “in good condition” and Fort Morgan had “five [of its twenty-six gun] carriages decayed, but all else in good order.” Most worryingly, the stores were found to be “much diminished. . . . There is little powder and few small arms, most of which are useless.” White’s report continued, “the fort at Point Morant is in a ruinous state . . . [and] we beg that we may be furnished with ordnance and ammunition.”67
The councilors also took advantage of Inchiquin’s demise to relaunch their attack against Jamaica’s Jews. As a wealthy minority in direct competition with the island’s English merchants, the Jewish community attracted considerable resentment. Their skill in working gold and silver led many to accuse them of coin clipping, a common crime of the period punishable by death. Several worked as moneylenders, including the aforementioned Rodriguez de Sousa, a resident of Port Royal whose assets were worth over £9,000, a fact which did little to improve his and his coreligionists’ reputation; while the Jewish practice of presenting newly arrived governors with a barely disguised bribe also raised hackles. The Jews were to some extent victims of their own success. Due to frequent persecutions and expulsions from their adopted homelands, by the turn of the seventeenth century the diaspora had spread across the globe. This, combined with the fact that the community remained relatively close-knit despite its geographical distribution, afforded them considerable advantages in international trade, yet provided another cause for the ire they provoked from their gentile competitors.68
The Council began their attack with a letter addressed to the Lords of Trade on January 28, 1692. “The Jews eat us and our children out of all trade,” they complained. “We did not want them at Port Royal, a place populous and strong without them; and though told that the whole country lay open to them they have made Port Royal their Goshen, and will do nothing but trade. When the Assembly tries to tax them more heavily than Christians, who are subject to public duties from which they are exempt, they contrive to evade it by special favors. This is a great and growing evil, and had we not warning from other Colonies we should see our streets filled and the ships hither crowded with them. This means taking our children’s bread and giving it to Jews.”69
In response, Port Royal’s Jewish community solicited the help of the attorney general Simon Musgrave, who wrote to William Blathwayt in their defense. “The Jews . . . [,] who have always behaved themselves very quietly to the Governmt[,] have reasons to fear some trouble . . . [from] other merchants . . . who Envy their frugality & gaine,” the letter, which was dispatched to London a week after the Council’s complaint, began. “[Their enemies] Intend . . . by some distinct tax . . . to oppress and disco
urage them even to forsaking the Place in this time of Warr . . . & yett I am satisfied . . . that such as have letters of Denization—under the Great Seale of England or Naturalized here According to our law are as well qualified to trade . . . as those that clamour against them. . . . [I] Most humbly pray you to stand their friend & procure a letter or order . . . from their Majesties in their favour.” Musgrave’s motivations were far from high-minded. “I dare undertake the . . . [Jews of Port Royal] will not be wanting in all manner of thankfulness . . . to acknowledge your Paines & friendship,” he assured Blathwayt with his closing line.70
The attorney general was right in his assumption that recent English policy afforded the Jews protection. In 1655 Cromwell had encouraged Jewish immigration into England from the Dutch provinces with which the country was then at war. As well as sharing the admiration felt by some Puritans for the Jews as practitioners of the most ancient form of the worship of God, by overturning the edict by which Edward I had ordered their expulsion from England in 1290, the Lord Protector hoped to strip the Dutch of some of their trade with the Americas, much of which was engendered by Amsterdam’s Jewish community. Although the law remained ill-defined, Charles II, himself a beneficiary of Jewish financial support during his exile on the Continent, continued Cromwell’s policy of encouraging Jewish settlement in both England and the colonies despite the opposition of economic heavyweights such as the East India Company, who painted the Jews as alien infidels and perpetual enemies of the crown. William and Mary continued their predecessors’ policy. Rumored to have been loaned two million guilders on the eve of the Glorious Revolution by two Jewish merchants, Antonio Lopes Suasso and Baron Avernes de Gras, the king was happy to dismiss the Jamaican petition out of hand.71
On February 4, the Jamaican councilors turned their attention back to the French. Following ten months of “a quiet and flourishing condition” in the aftermath of the raid on Hispaniola, the island was once more under threat.72 After swearing in Thomas Sutton as its latest member, the Council held an Assembly of War to which all sixteen of the most senior militia officers were summoned. The points addressed were mainly disciplinary. Commanders were given the power to court-martial their subordinates should they “use any unlawful oath or exercration”; capital punishment was prescribed for deserters, traitors, cowards, looters, and anyone caught uttering “tratorious words against William & Mary”; while those caught killing an enemy who had yielded, would be dealt with by “arbitrary punishment.” Over the next two weeks the Council also awarded several privateering commissions. As well as offering some protection to the settlements of the remote north coast, the policy was intended to discourage the captains and crews of Port Royal’s sloops from accepting similar offers from the French. With the wreck at Point Pedro Cays fished dry of treasure there were plenty of takers. Captain John Griffin of the True Love sloop signed up on February 4, while Robert Scroope of the Diligence took a commission four days later. The following day martial law was declared. All merchant ships were banned from leaving port; fifteen cannon were requisitioned from HMS Drake and Swan to set up shore batteries at Mantinaneal Bay, Withywood, Morant Bay, and Port Maria; payments were authorized for the improvement of the fortifications at Port Morant, the erection of a new battery “behinde the Church on Port Royal,” and the construction of a breastwork at Negroe’s River in St. Mary’s Parish; guards were posted to Three Rivers in St. Andrew’s; and Captain Gaines of the Seahorse was charged with organizing the thirty or so merchantmen interned in Port Royal “in[to] a posture of defence.” Aided by his Council-appointed deputies—Thomas Shirley of the 30-gun RAC slaver East India Merchant and Daniel Updick of the Caesar broad stern—Gaines ordered his charges to anchor their ships in line across the mouth of the bay, thus presenting their broadsides to any Frenchman who dared to approach.73
On March 2, news arrived of the first French attacks on the north coast since mid-1691. The man responsible was Nathaniel Grubbing, an Englishman born in Jamaica who had sided with the French at Petit Guavos following the Glorious Revolution. Whether this was due to religious considerations (Grubbing was rumored to be a Papist) or opportunism is unclear. What is apparent is that his raids were extremely well executed. Captaining a small sloop, Grubbing used his intimate knowledge of Jamaica’s backwaters to make a nighttime descent on the small holdings of Spanish River in St. George’s Parish. Before the militia could react, he made off with twenty-two slaves and a quantity of plunder. Determined to make an example of him lest his success inspire others, the Council commissioned Matthew Want, commander of the Grayhound sloop, and John Harris of the Thomas and Elizabeth to hunt Grubbing down. Want and Harris were ordered to cruise to the windward of Hispaniola and were allocated three barrels of gunpowder, “one seane of match . . . [,] a quire of cartridge paper,” and two dozen “hand granadoes” to aid them in their task. In compensation, as well as being allowed to keep all prize money including the tenth typically awarded to the crown, Want and Harris were promised a reward of £100 should they bring Grubbing back to Port Royal alive.74
On April 4, sixty-four English prisoners ransomed by the French arrived in Port Royal from Petit Guavos. “[They reported] that there is ten or twelve privateers cruising to windward between Cape Altevel and Cape Tiburon,” the Council minutes recorded, “and . . . that six days before their departure . . . Nathaniell Grubbing was sailed for this island in order to attack and doe some mischief on the remote parts thereof.” The Council was swift to react. The sloop Pembroke, then at anchor in Port Royal roads, was requisitioned for government service, crewed with ten pressed men and a detachment of sixty sailors from HMS Guernsey under the command of Lieutenant Edward Moses (the hero of the previous year’s expedition to Petit Guavos), and sent to intercept Grubbing in company with the Grayhound sloop. Moses set sail at 10 A.M. on April 8. Three days later the Council ordered Captain Neville of HMS Swan, recently arrived from Portobelo with the Inchiquin, an English merchantman in service with the asiento, to press yet another of the island’s sloops into service to be dispatched to the north coast to join Moses’s flotilla. Further defensive measures taken included a prohibition on the firing of the morning and evening guns at Port Royal so as to preserve the town’s powder store, and the establishment of beacon fires along the coast “for giving alarms.”75
On April 15, a terrible accident occurred. At 3 P.M., as the crew of HMS Guernsey were unloading their ballast in anticipation of yet another cruise to the Spanish Main, the Inchiquin, the London-built broad stern of one hundred tons and twenty-four men captained by William Martin which had recently returned from Portobelo with HMS Swan, “was blown up all to pieces.” The cause of the explosion was unknown. Twenty of the crew were killed along with the captain. The four survivors were blown clear. Among those most affected by the loss was Joseph Norris, the London-born Quaker who had worked as a merchant in Port Royal since 1678. Along with several unnamed associates, Norris had had a financial interest in the Inchiquin, which had arrived from London in December 1691 laden with beer, Spanish wine, flour, and bread for the Jamaican market and sixty tons of manufactured goods to sell on the Spanish Main. In a letter to his brother and business partner, Isaac, then in Pennsylvania overseeing the delivery of a load of Jamaican dyewood, Joseph explained that the ship’s mate, despite having been back in Port Royal for nearly a week, had failed to unload his cargo prior to the explosion resulting in a loss to the brothers of £50 worth of Spanish pieces of eight.76
The loss of the Inchiquin was not the only bad news suffered by Port Royal’s Quaker community that April. “The measles runs through all the country,” Joseph Norris informed his brother, “seizing both young and old . . . I think Wm Pike is dead . . . [and] we have also lately buried honest Mary Green, who died of a violent flux and fever, leaving behind her a husband void of any sense of his loss, having kept to his old strain of drinking, not only while she was sick, but at the very time of her burial.” The most tragic news of all came in a footnote.
“Since this writing our d[ea]r baby is taken from us,” Norris concluded, “being violently seized and carried off in 24 hours to the great sorrow of my dr. wife, who is deprived of her pretty companion.” Such was the strength of Joseph’s faith that he could take solace in the belief that even this loss was somehow in keeping with the workings of the Almighty.77
At the end of April 1692 a convoy was preparing to sail from Port Royal for London. At its head was the Seahorse under Captain Gaines. Having laden his vessel with over £2,000 worth of currency acquired through a typically Jamaican conglomeration of asiento business, privateering, and wreck fishing, Gaines was heading for home. “She is the richest ship that ever went out of this town,” Simon Musgrave opined. The voyage was not without mishap. “Going out [of the harbor] they run upon Smith Key,” one of a dozen small islets scattered across the bay. With help from the crew of HMS Guernsey, Gaines lightened his ship sufficiently to get off with the land breeze the following day. Among the Seahorse’s passengers was the last of the Inchiquins remaining in Jamaica. Following his mother’s departure and his father’s death, the twenty-six-year-old James O’Bryan had decided to go home.78
As April turned to May the weather took a turn for the worse. The “hot and dry” conditions which had characterized the opening five months of 1692 gave way to strong winds “and much rain.”79 It was an inauspicious portent. Along with “black streaks under the sun, springs and fountains [becoming] trobled and unholsome, a strange calmness of the air, and [when] birds forebear to warble forth their pleasant tones,” such circumstances were held to presage an earthquake. Many residents believed such a disaster was long overdue. Six years previously “a certain astrologer” had arrived in Port Royal, predicting that an earthquake would soon strike the island and “the Point [on which the town was built] should be swallowed up by the sea.” The prediction had caused widespread panic. “Many for fear removed themselves from off the Point, but the . . . time being come, their hap’ned noe such earthquack as was foretold” and “soe it past off,” John Taylor noted. Nevertheless, a residual fear remained. When the rains came that May the doomsayers took to the streets, begging the residents of the wickedest town in the English Empire to ask forgiveness for their sins before God struck the colony from the face of the earth. Such harbingers were commonplace in the seventeenth century. This time, however, their apocalyptic predictions were to come true.80