Since recovering my senses I have had the opportunity to speak with the physician, Mr McDonald, a Scotchman, who has the good fortune to practise one of the two professions, the other being the law, which offer great opportunities for those who would seek to amass a fortune in this remaining part of our American empire. An intelligent and humane man, he held my interest with his account of the qualities of tropical life, and the characteristics of both the slaves and the whites, as he had observed and experienced them. He informed me that an important branch of his duties involves caring for the blacks of various estates. There is upon every estate a hospital (or sick-house as the negroes sometimes term it) for the treatment of ailing blacks. The most common diseases of the negro are slight in comparison with those that daily threaten the unseasoned white population. Disorders of the stomach are often caused by the consumption of unripe cane which, though full of sweet juice and palatable enough, is not to be relished by those who must of necessity retain their power to stand. The negro child is easy prey for the disorders of the small-pox, measles, and whooping cough. The earlier a child takes these disorders after it is weaned, then the sooner it can grow tall and straight having passed the principal diseases attendant to its youth. Perhaps the most disturbing of all the diseases related to me by Mr McDonald was that occasioned by the discomforting attentions of a small insect known as a chegoe, or jigger as the negroes express it. This creature buries itself in their feet, and if not extracted in time nests and breeds in the flesh. Some indolent beings allow these insects to attain such a size that it is impossible for them to be taken out. They feed upon the flesh, sometimes with mortal consequences. The more fortunate are obliged to suffer amputation, often as far as the knee.
Mr McDonald is required to visit each estate once a week, for which he receives an annual stipend depending upon the number of blacks in his charge. Should he have to perform additional services, such as amputation, then he is free to make extra charges. Naturally, he serves several proprietors, so that many hundreds of blacks are under his stewardship. And, of course, he will make heavier charges for the servicing of whites, which demands closer attention. Unfortunately, the greater part of a tropical doctor's life is squandered on the bizarre imaginary diseases with which the negro claims to be suffering. Monday morning is a great time for the lazy or ill-disposed negroes to gather together at the sick-house, with heads tied up, groaning as though in terminal agony, eyes barely open, one leg dragging after the other. 'Massa, me bones do hurt me bad – me eyes turning in me head so.' Such sentiments are terminated by a long and mournful howl, as the black strives to effect his lazy deceitful purpose, which is to lie at ease in the sick-house. Most will happily irritate and keep alive old sores, inflict fresh ones, take nostrums of their own making, anything to excuse idleness. The most foolish cure to prescribe is the offer of castor oil, for most blacks so enjoy its texture and taste that they will happily fry fish and plantains in it. Mr McDonald sighed with exasperation as he recalled the woes of his profession, for it appears that far from being a sickly race, the negroes are in general muscular and robust, never fearful of the heat (although a chilly day renders them miserable and much desirous of a glass of massa's rum). Erect and well-formed, their quality is attributed by Mr McDonald directly to their lack of tight clothing, which in infancy and childhood can lead to deformities among white and civilized people.
The prospect of such easy wealth has attracted many quacks and under-qualified physicians to these islands, but as yet there is no thorough means of checking a man's credentials should he step from a ship and claim the title of Doctor. Mr McDonald, however, seems ably fitted for the office, and to be acquainted not only with the frontiers of his profession, but with the personal business of this populous island, both black and white. His medical conclusion was that a book of medical treatment, especially of such diseases as are incidental to tropical climes, should be kept on every West Indian property. His recipe for white survival was as follows: to avoid exposure to the sun, eat sparingly, avoid mixing wines and fruits, take no coconut water, malt liquor or cider, eat a fair proportion of animal food or fish, and take at least two to three glasses of Madeira every day. Fear is the greatest dispatcher, but after the first rainy season the Englishman is seasoned, although some beneficial exercise beyond the sun's rays is to be recommended. According to Mr McDonald the climate of the West Indies is still spoken of with dread by those who have never crossed the Atlantic, and by others who have lost relatives through imprudence. There is in this grave talk much exaggeration and a good deal of ignorance. Mr McDonald's conversations were warmly welcome as I lay prostrate and panting on my bed, unable to find sleep, yet not so enervated that I was unable to pay attention to his finely chosen words. Clearly this was a man of impartial mind who would neither herd with the unprincipled whites, nor rally the blacks for their self-evident inferiority.
Stella is yet another who seems extraordinarily well qualified for the role of dutiful and patient attendant to the infirm. Of her pedigree there appears to be nothing that one might term unusual. Her mother was born a slave in these parts, but of her father she claims to know little, believing him to have been sold off to another estate. Perhaps this is her black way of disguising some greater embarrassment? A fine breeder, her three surviving children have long since been scattered to distant plantations. When she speaks of her lost children, Stella adopts the familiar doting tones of a mother, wishing to see them grown into strong and responsible men, but sadly having little notion of their present whereabouts or their moral or physical well-being. The father of these children remains a mystery, but I suspect strongly that the three siblings do not share the same paternal blood. According to Mr McDonald negro relations would appear to have much in common with those practised by animals of the field, for they seem to find nothing unnatural in breeding with whomsoever they should stumble upon.
An indication of the looseness of negro morals might be derived from an examination of how easily they appropriate titles which in our world have a deep and proper meaning, but in theirs appear to be little more than mere sport. For instance, among negroes it is almost an affront to address those with whom one is familiar by their name without first affixing some prefix of relationship. So it was, even before the onset of my tremulous condition, that Stella asked me if I might address her as Aunt Stella. Well, you might imagine my surprise at this request! I had no hesitation in refusing. After all, my aunts Mabel and Victoria bore no relation, physical or otherwise, to this ebony matriarch, so how could I bind them together with the same word? For a few moments Stella fell into a melancholy, and men, understanding that I was unlikely to change my mind, she reclaimed her humour.
It was Mr McDonald who informed me that during my illness, when comprehension of the world about me was beyond my powers, dear Stella would always be the first to volunteer to sit with me, often right through the night and to the detriment of whatever duties she might have back at her hut. Hers was the voice that first greeted me as I returned to consciousness. She whispered in hushed joy, 'Me misses, me hope you live long, very long; me hope you live to bury all your pickaninnies.' Friendship is a plant of slow growth in every climate, but it would appear that Stella and I are flying in the face of mother nature. These days we often engage in close conversation for anything up to an hour's duration. One of her favourite subjects is the retelling of the joys of her life, lest I should be in any confusion as to her desire to remain a slave upon this estate. 'For yam [eatables], misses, me got rice, me got salt-fish and fresh meat – and misses, now and den, me get ripe plantain and banana . . . Misses, Buckra very good, plenty for yam [to eat], plenty for wear; Buckra-man rise early, but me no like de morning; and nigger no like cold.' My veneration for this dusky maiden ever deepens, and by the day I grow increasingly respectful of her honesty with a frail visitor such as myself.
Stella's loyalty is, I am led to understand, typical of her people. It would appear that Mr Wilberforce and his like have
been volleying well wide of the mark, for the greatest fear of the black is not having a master whom they know they can turn to in times of strife. The knowledge of whom and where one's master is affords the black status. 'You belong no massa' is a contemptuous reproach of the highest order. I have been constantly subjected to the glozing of these dark helots on this very same subject. 'What for me want free? Me have good good massa, and when me sick, massa doctor come and physic me. Me no want to leave massa.' 'Free, misses! What for me wish to be free? Me work till me die for misses and massa. Lord have mercy, I no want to leave massa!' Such sentiments are delivered with considerable affection, and more than one imploring dark clasp has been laid upon my dress to solicit my attention to the misery that would ensue should they be spurned. The blacks are so well aware of the comforts that are to be enjoyed under massa's rule, that many, particularly those beyond the prime of life, will never accept manumission. That Stella is able to wait hand and foot upon the absent massa's daughter gives her additional status, although I would imagine it difficult to augment her already high rank on the estate.
I am not yet more than superficially familiar with the negro stock, but from my observations of those blacks who flit in and out of my chambers, from my talks with Mr McDonald, and from my close acquaintance with Stella, I am able to set down a few preliminary truths about the origins and subsequent behaviour of these creatures. Before the abolition the Africans arrived in these parts in a state of complete nudity. This cargo of livestock could be as large as two hundred and upwards. Merchants gathered by the dockside and purchased the negroes as they would horses or mules. Some owners had a fancy for maiming their African slaves, some branded them, pulled out some teeth, or wounded them a little with shot, while others wished them whole in order that they might stud the stock. The ending of the trade means that there are littered about these shores fewer and fewer Africans. Those that remain are daily wearing out and dropping to the ground, so that today the great majority of the negroes are Creoles. In England the term creole is generally meant to describe those of mongrelized origins, but here the term refers to any, black or white, who is either well-seasoned, and thus deemed to have safely entered this new tropical life, or has been born in this zone and is therefore a full participant in the day-to-day commerce that surrounds the production of American sugar. One important advantage of this creolization of the negro is that the pure African has a far greater tendency towards madness and eventual suicide.
Clearly the negroes cannot be silent, for they talk indefatigably, and in spite of themselves, and in all seasons. Whether joyful or grieving, they find full employment for the tongue. They often choose to speak with themselves, answering their own questions and maintaining different characters, rather than fall victims to silence. The loquacious tongue of the creole negro boasts much bad dialect, but that of the African is almost unintelligible and requires abundant patience if it is to be understood. Although it originates in English and displays many striking expressions, it is so uncouth a jargon to those unaccustomed to it, that it is almost as if they were to speak in one of their divers native tongues. They talk long, loud, and rapidly, but seldom deliver anything of import. Every passion known to man acts upon the negroes with the strangest intensity; their anger is sudden and ferocious, their mirth noisy and excessive, their curiosity audacious.
Unfortunately, I have heard several reports, some indeed furnished by negro servants themselves, that the black is addicted to theft and deceit at every opportunity. The average negro would not feel out of place in London's infamous thieves' kitchen of Seven Dials. His thievishness is more than a match for all the laws that can emanate from any parliament, and even when apprehended in the act the black will invariably fly into a passion if you refuse him the honour of being able to take up the book and swear to the truth of what he knows to be false. This prevalent knavery is considered by many negroes to be no crime so long as it passes undiscovered. So adroit are they in this that the shame lies in their being apprehended rather than in the act itself. Sad to say, this pilfering habit is apparently engrafted onto them by elder negroes, who consider the teaching of ingenious theft a most necessary part of their parental duties.
I have already commented upon their love, which is no more than brutish gratification of animal desire. The negro father, having been deprived of authority and power over his children, and wielding no responsibility for their welfare, is the least attached to his offspring. The mother, upon whom the child is dependent for nourishment during its first year, is by natural law party to a deeper involvement, but none of the sacred responsibilities which ennoble the relation of child to parent is present in this world. Unfettered by requirements of support and education, the grace of the parental affections is lost to both father and mother, and it becomes mere breeding, bearing, and suckling, and nought beside. Without wishing to gloss over their errors, I must acknowledge that negroes appear to be generally good-humoured in the highest degree, though untempered to the civilized ways of man.
This evening I took a recuperative walk in the company of my faithful Stella. The air had been cooled by the constant breeze, and we were not in the least incommoded. I had the opportunity to admire at close quarters the lofty cedars which surround the Great House and relieve it somewhat from the intense heat. I was also fortunate enough to be able to witness the negroes at work and play, their behaviour being interpreted with a suitable commentary by Stella. The first negroes I met were those returning from the mountains, some riding donkeys, some on foot, all laden with hampers of provisions. By law they are allowed only every other Saturday for the purpose of cultivating their mountain-grounds. By allowing them more time, especially during the slack season which we have now entered, they grow fond of their cultivation and are likely to raise more food for themselves and their offspring, thus relieving the estate a little from the heavy burden of feeding as well as clothing them. Also, if they are encouraged to visit more man the permitted once a fortnight, they bring back smaller quantities of goods and are much less likely to be cajoled into selling their surplus to passing free blacks, thus depleting their own stocks, weakening their constitutions, and in consequence reducing production on the estate.
The negroes in the field, including two batches of small black fry, were fast approaching the end of their day's labour and readying themselves for the short march back to the negro village. Each group of ten negroes is supervised by a driver, who walks behind, bearing both a short and a long whip. Above them all is the Head Driver, who carries with him the emblem of his rank and dignity, a polished staff upon which he can lean. He is the most important personage in the slave population of an estate, and it is he who takes daily charge of the great gang, which is comprised of the most powerful of the field-negroes. Ideally, he should be an athletic man of respected character, clean in his person and habits; if possible a creole long used to field-work, one marked out for his sobriety, patience and general civility. Most important, he should always show respect towards white people, and suffer no undue freedom of conversation or indulgence in trivial humour from those beneath him. A negro-man such as this must indeed be difficult to acquire. As they began to march I made note that male and female were naked down to the waist, and I could often observe where the application of the lash had sculpted a hideous pattern of weals upon their broad black backs. The children of the sun are mortals, and accordingly possess their share of failings and must endure the crack of the inhuman whip. But its use must be judicious, for there can be little more offensive to the human spirit than to observe the cattle-whip being inflicted with all the severity of vindictive malice. This, I must admit, I was unfortunate enough to witness, the villain bestowing the rope's-end being none other than Mr Brown.
This coarse man had before him a black Hercules of a brute who far outweighed and outspanned him. They stared at each other, their hatred undiluted, but the grey-haired blackie displayed no hint of trepidation at what might follow. In the distance his fellow
field-workers trudged on towards the village, reluctant to turn their heads for fear of what they might witness. However, not for one moment did I doubt that their pounding hearts were not with their refractory fellow negro, and if I am to be honest I would have to add that theirs were not the only hearts whose sympathies leapt instinctively to this poor unfortunate. And so Mr Brown raised and cracked his cattle-whip, and in a moment down dropped the aged black upon his knees. But still he stared up in defiance, his dark eyes bright in the sun. Stella shook her head and seemed loath to answer my questions as to the cause of this brutality. All I could obtain from her was the intelligence that the black has a history of insubordination, and that massa foolishly seeks to make him more ruly by inflicting stripes. Again the crack as the whip struck the poor wretch, whose very posture made plain that he would sink no further unless the very sky should tumble down upon him. Once again Mr Brown raised the whip in his hand, but the negro, although well acquainted with its weight, steadfastly refused to flinch away. I asked Stella if it was common for Mr Brown to administer such flagellation. Could not one of his white assistants do this with more propriety? Stella answered that, 'Massa like to punish bad niggers himself, den dey know who Buckra be.' I could do no more than nod my head.
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