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influenced by your conduct; you should treat a native just as you would treat a white boy whose respect and affection you desired to retain, always remembering that a black man holds his women folk in great respect.
It is unnecessary that you should remind every coloured person that he or she is coloured. Half-breeds prefer to pass as whites. On the other hand be chary of believing that a person is pure white solely because you have his assurance that such is his condition. It may be that it is a matter of no moment to you whether he is black or white or yellow, in which case give him the benefit and call him the colour of his choice. Jamaican plantations are not waste lands, and should not receive the treatment meted out to virgin territories. All fruit trees are not planted for the convenience of curious tourists. It is not a polite thing to pull down a banana-tree in order to discover the secrets of its growth, nor is it kind to shake a ripe orange-tree in order to see how many fruit will fall. Even the most luxuriant pine-apple field should not be trampled through with a golf club, and that place which looks like a private garden may really be one in fact. In such a case it is not the thing for a stranger to pluck flowers or uproot rare ferns. A country planter does not regard his private bungalow as a public museum for the use of tourists, and as a rule he will resent any question as to his ancestry. It is not good for a new arrival to accept all the spirituous liqueurs proffered him, and Jamaicans will not admire a man merely because he is a dissolute, dissipated dog. Do not offeremphatic judgment on the qualities of a Jamaican horse until you have been on his back for more than seven hours, and do not gamble at the three-card trick on Jamaican race-courses.
Chasten your feeling of ultra superiority and do not put down every untidy-looking white man you meet in remote country districts for a tramp bent on gaining possession of your valuables. Important planters in country districts, away from busy centres, sometimes pay but little attention to outward appearances. Individual planters tire of much reiteration of advice from young and enthusiastic tourists; likewise they are not pleased to hear that you cannot understand how it is that in such a wonderful climate all the planters are not the richest men in the world. The Jamaican does not like the Englishman who imagines that Britain keeps Jamaica going by charitable bequests; it is not pleasant for a hard-working man to come across an individual who tells him to his face that he is little better than a pauper. Above all, let it be remembered that the inhabitants of Jamaica did not brew their 1903 cyclone with the idea of giving Englishmen a little shock in order that British philanthropists might send cheques to the West Indies. Everyday ideas on the politics of the island, on means by which the island’s finances might be put on a better plane, on new industries, and better conditions of labour, will occur to the bright young tripper. It is better for a young man not to give emphasis to these ideas until he has been in the country for several weeks.
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BecauseI have exhausted so much space on a description of Jamaica, and the people of Jamaica, it must not be imagined that the shadow of the Queen of the Antilles clouds all the other West Indian islands into insignificance. Trinidad, St. Lucia, Dominica, and the rest of the Caribbean group, have much to say in the history of the West Indies. The Jamaica I have described, the Jamaicans I have mentioned, may be taken as being typical of West India. The natives of the other islands are the brothers and sisters of Jamaicans; the roads, and plantations, and mountains of the other islands differ from those of Jamaica only in the matter of proper names. In the West Indies there are many Rio Cobra rivers, though only one of them is known by that name. The bamboos, the pine-trees, and the banana clumps are of the same species in all the different islands. So for the purposes of this book I thought it more convenient to describe Jamaica and mention the other places.
Barbadoes, the most windward of the group, is adensely populated island only twenty-one miles long. It is an important place and does a good trade in sugar. The West Indian Imperial Department of Agriculture has its headquarters in Bridgetown, the Barbadian capital, and the climate of the island is most salubrious. Barbadoes has been under the unbroken rule of the British for three centuries. Its history, in common with most West Indian histories, opens with long chapters containing the records of great prosperity, of a little island overflowing with riches; of millionaire planters, West Indian luxury, sumptuous mansions filled with gold and silver plate, rare carvings, European art treasures, and the choicest wines. Until very recently Barbadoes was the central market of all the West Indian islands. It was the shipping centre of the West. All the wealth of the Indies had to be landed on the Barbadian quays for transhipment to England, and much of the dust of the wealth remained. Sugar plantations flourished in the island; the planters had no grievances. Even when the decree of emancipation came, and all the slaves were freed, Barbadoes did not suffer. The country was too small to allow any of the freed negroes to cultivate food-plots on their own account; every acre of the island was tenanted and firmly held. So there was no industrial upheaval. The negro had to work or starve, and naturally he chose the former alternative. The prosperity of the planters continued, and the blacks easily settled down to their new condition of free labour. But the introduction of bounty-fed beet sugar completely altered the
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story. Ruin swept over the island like a tainted wind. The planters, always improvident, fell one by one, and Barbadoes sank to the bankrupt condition of Jamaica.
Nowadays it has recovered somewhat; the introduction of efficient machinery and modern methods of cultivation have resuscitated the industry to some extent. But even to-day Barbadoes does not present the gilded appearance of sumptuous wealth that it must have had less than a century back.
Barbadoes is an island of coral formation, and its dusty roads are always of a blinding whiteness. Some of the buildings in and about Bridgetown are remarkably handsome, and, as in Kingston, Jamaica, a tramway system connects the capital with its suburbs.
Seen from the sea Barbadoes presents a remarkably flat appearance; there are no great mountains or wooded heights in this little isle of rest. One sees nothing but a flat stretch of luxuriant greenery dotted with white hamlets, and streaked with snow-white roads. The harbour of the capital is always crowded with shipping, the quays and dockyards are filled with merchandise, and among the wharf sheds a brilliant crowd of natives cheerfully assumes an air of indolent exertion.
St. Lucia is larger than Barbadoes, and its thickly-wooded hills and sugar-loaf mountains offer greater attraction to the artistic visitor. But commercially it has not the value of its smaller neighbour. Though much larger, the population of St. Lucia is only about one quarter that of Barbadoes. The revenue and theimports and exports are considerably less valuable. Castries, the capital, is the principal coaling station for the English in the West Indies. The island has a romantic history. More frequently than any other West Indian isle has its nationality been changed. First French, then British, French again, and then, finally won from France by Abercromby, it has remained British ever since. It was in the harbour of Castries that Rodney collected the scattered British Fleet before attacking De Grasse, and establishing the absolute supremacy of Britain in the Indies.
The island is of volcanic and not coral formation, and it is famous for its sulphur springs at Souffriere. The French King Louis XVI. caused several fine baths to be erected at these springs for the use of his troops when the island was part of his domain; though the baths are now in ruins, they remain as one of the showplaces of the island—one of the links of the romantic chain of West Indian history.
The French island of Martinique is mainly associated with its famous volcano, Mont Pelee, which gave fearful evidence of its activity two years ago by destroying the prosperous town of St. Pierre. Before the annihilation of this city, which was one of the largest and richest ports in the West Indies, Martinique was counted one of the fairest and richest islands in the West. Coffee, sugar, and the richest fruits were largely cultivated, and the colony was generally in a most prosperous condition. But the disaster has cast a gloom over the colony; many of the planters and merchants have left its
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shores and found new homes in places less obviously treacherous. Probably many years will elapse before Martinique once more regains the prosperity which was buried beneath the lava streams of Mont Pelee.
The appearance of the place to-day is not attractive. The blackened ruin of a rich city lies on the surface of the land like an unwholesome scar. The people have not yet recovered from the shock of that terrible visitation. And at the summit of the dread volcano the gathering mists always suggest new disaster. The colonists have lost faith in a land in which life is held at the mercy of a live volcano. They seem to feel that they are sitting at the feet of a fearful death. Martinique is a land of high mountains; it is a rugged, picturesque, wild country, menacing rather than alluring—a fit resting-place for the giant Mont Pelee. So the island appears to-day, as you view it from the deck of an ocean liner. Two years ago the place was a laughing, wooded, sunlit isle; St. Pierre was the capital of West Indian gaiety. The French trained natives, gayer and more brilliant than the British blacks, laughed in the little shaded paths about the foot of Pelee. And the reflection of the twinkling lights of St. Pierre danced on the surface of the captive waters of the bay.
It should not be understood that I suggest that Pelee’s lava-cascade destroyed the whole of Martinique. Pierre was but a corner of the island. Fort de France and the other towns remain. The few thousand souls that perished left behind a population which stillnumbers over one hundred and fifty thousand people. The fruit trees and the plantations, the factories and nutmeg groves, remain. But the ashes of St. Pierre remain also, and above the ashes the giant crater of Mont Pelee still frowns beneath her crown of lowering mists.
Dominica is British. Though of volcanic formation the island is not possessed of a Mont Pelee. A marvellously productive country is Dominica, happy in the possession of plantations richly productive of limes, cocoa, sugar, and coffee.
It is another land of wood and water. Hundreds of tiny, rushing streams flow down from the mountains through the rich valleys into the sea. And all the mountain sides and deep ravines are clothed in verdant forest trees.
Roseau is the capital—a picturesque if somewhat dilapidated city bearing unmistakable evidence of its French foundation. The roofed market-place is near the sea-shore, and the cool sea breeze makes the place endurable even in the hottest hour of a crowded day. Among the bush-land of the interior a few Carib families still remain—shy, inoffensive people, who do not readily mix with the more vigorous negroes.
The climate of the island is rather humid but most salubrious. If there is one island in the rich West Indian group of fertile countries whose soil is worthy of the title richest, that isle is Dominica. As a fruit-producing country the little land of high mountains and hot springs is destined to become pre-eminent.
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Even Barbadoes in its palmiest days was not richer than Dominica is certain some day to be. Acres of the most fertile country in the world lie fallow within the confines of this island, whose name is written large in Britain’s naval history. Virgin forests of wild fruit trees still cover vast tracts of a country which one day will be claimed by English husbandmen. Like Jamaica, Dominica cries out for men—new men, new energy, new enterprise. In England we associate our West Indian islands with only a dead prosperity. In the West Indies one encounters ample evidence of present wealth and great promise of future riches.
Antigua is a British sugar island—a hundred square miles of gently undulating country, which in appearance is more English than West Indian. From a tourist standpoint it is famous for the beauty of its white-sanded bays, and for the old naval dockyards at Elizabeth Harbour.
St. Kitts, or St. Christopher, to give the oldest West Indian Colony its full and dignified title, is an island of an area of only sixty-eight square miles. Almost every acre of the land is well planted with flourishing sugar cane. Adjoining St. Kitts is its sister colony, Nevis. Only a strait three miles in width separates the two islands. Nevis is chiefly interesting by reason of the fact that in a once-stately mansion known as Montpelier, Nelson was married to a rich widow of the island.
Trinidad, the most southernly and the second largest island of the British group is, in a way, the most remarkable of all. Port of Spain, the capital, rankswith Kingstown, Jamaica, as an extraordinary example of the actual wealth of the Indies. Only a few cities on the mainland, capitals of gigantic South American States, exceed Port of Spain in size and importance and wealth. Yet this chief town of Trinidad is the capital of an island only fifty-five miles in length—the capital of a sea-girt country which might easily be pocketed by many of the Southern republics. In many ways Port of Spain is vastly superior to all the towns of its neighbouring continent. Life there is safer; in Port of Spain there are no cut-throats—no quick-fingered rascals of the revolver-shooting fraternity. The climate of Trinidad is more salubrious than that of any of the inland countries; and in its towns more attention is paid to the comfort, health, and convenience of residents and visitors. Yet, for our purpose, Trinidad may be counted as a South America in miniature.
One notices, in the tangled undergrowth in the forests, in the ever-brilliant foliage of the wooded heights and green valleys, a something that one had not noticed in the other islands. The place is indescribably foreign. It is not like the countries we have already seen, yet it is not unlike them. Trinidad is a West Indian island, but in appearance it more closely resembles the South American mainland than any of its sister-lands in the Caribbean group. Naturally so, since the salt-water isthmus that separates the land from Venezuela at one point only measures seven miles. Save for that seven miles of blue sea, Trinidad would be a part of the romantic continent whose imprint and
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nature is written in vivid colours throughout the island’s tangled forests and deep, still lakes.
The enchanting island has a history brimming with romance. Its story contains the names of Columbus, its discoverer; Raleigh, who visited the place in search of a gold mine, and many of our famous old British sea-dogs. Trinidad started of course by being annexed to Spain; then France took the place and held it until just over one hundred years ago, when England claimed it as her own. The white inhabitants to-day are members of these three European races. The coloured people are pure negroes, Indian coolies, and Spanish, French and English half-breeds. The latter element is particularly strong. Consequently, in Trinidad there are many political agitators.
Visitors will land from their mail steamer at Port of Spain and find themselves in a foreign-looking British West Indian capital, in an atmosphere of tramways, telephones, suffocating heat, negroes, and spasmodic bustle and noise. It is a town containing buildings reminiscent of its Spanish, French, and British periods of Government. Houses in all the styles of each nationality will be found on every side. Each particular style of architecture has of course been West-Indianised—altered for comfort’s sake, and so stage-managed, as it were, that it is converted into style suitable for a living place in the fearful heat of the hottest island in the Indies. The tourist will find the market-place and a few interesting churches. He will feel that he has been landed into a hothouse. The atmosphere of Trinidadis like that of an English hothouse on a scorching summer-day. The brilliant foliage and the constant banks of gaudy blossoms will help to support the illusion. He will pant for breath and speedily seek the cool shelter of a heavy verandah. It may be that at first he will wish that he had not landed. But after an hour or two he will have become accustomed to the curiously-suffocating heat, and the beauty of the place will evidence to him the wisdom of his coming.
He will remain for a day or two in Port of Spain, and then in the course of many excursions he will visit the chief places of interest. The pitch lake is an inexhaustible sea of most valuable asphalt. Nearly two hundred thousand tons of this asphalt were exported last year: it is a most valuable commercial commodity, and one of the wonders of the island. Though it cannot be described as being beautiful, or even picturesque, this hundred-and-ten acre patch of fathomless bitumen is worth seeing. Commercially it is of the utmost value to the island, since the annual value of the pitch exported is something like one hundred and fifty thousand pounds. The waterfall at blue basin should be seen by all who land in Trinidad. Nothing could be more fascinating than the heavy fall of this mass of water, which, emerging from a wooded tunnel, tumbles into a pool filled with rocks and walled by the heavy foliage of the greenest trees. It is a fairy glen filled with the gorgeous beauty of wildest tropical loveliness, and always echoing the strong music of falling water. You find the place by way of winding slippery paths;you approach it through a light haze of tinted mists, and when you stand face to face with the broad white streak of falling water you are half stunned by the noise and the heavy splashing. The beauty of the place is overpowering. The heavy noise of falling water is so out of place in that brilliant valley of languorous silence that it produces something in the nature of a discord—an entrancing, intoxicating discord.
There are other towns beside Port of Spain to visit. San Fernando, Arima, and Princestown should be seen if one’s visit is likely to be a long one. True, they are typical of all other little West Indian towns, but each contains an individuality—a something not held in common with other towns, so, if you can spare the time, see them all. Then there are the Maraval Reservoirs and the Five Islands.
Tobago is a little island attached to the Government of Trinidad. It is a healthy West Indian colony supporting a population of 20,000 souls, only about one hundred of whom are white. The industries of Tobago are purely agricultural: coffee, cocoa, and india-rubber are extensively cultivated. From the tourist’s point of view the little place is chiefly famous for its beautiful birds and butterflies. The angler can find many varieties of fish in its rushing streams, and fruits and vegetables grow in the richest profusion all the year round.
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Haytiis a black republic—a place where the negro race is predominant. No white man may claim any plantation or even an acre of land in the Haytian republic as his own. The negroes refuse to grant land tenures to any “white trash.” Europeans exist in the island only on sufferance, and they are subjected to much the same treatment as in the days of old was meted out to negro slaves. It is the least desirable country in the world for the white man to select as his home.
The republic spreads about halfway across the island of San Domingo, whose history is rich in tales of bloodshed, piracy, and worse. The first of the West Indian islands to be annexed by Europe, San Domingo, or Española as Columbus named it, was the earliest Spanish settlement in the western world. As in Jamaica the Spaniards introduced religion so effectually that the original inhabitants, the gentle Caribs, were crushed out of existence. The Africans were introduced to do the work of the plantations. The Haytian portion of the island was afterwards wrested from Spain by the Frenchbuccaneers, who presented it without reserve to the Crown of France. The French did much to improve the island; plantations were established, cities were formed, churches were built, and the planters found that their country was, naturally, the richest of all the Caribbean group.
When the revolution broke out in France the new Government decided against the slave labour, and so the negroes obtained their freedom. The freed slaves promptly turned against their late masters, slaughtered every white man, woman, and child in the island, and proclaimed the independence of Hayti as a black republic. Napoleon despatched an army corps to avenge their murdered countrymen, but yellow fever made the ultimate conquest of the island impossible. And so, mainly because of the insalubrity of its climate, Hayti remains a free republic. The language and religion, and some of the customs, of France remain. But the Government is practically under the sway of a despotic President, who exercises all the power of an Emperor, while pandering to the vanity of his people by calling them free, and his government representative. Though nominally elected by a popular assembly he really governs by right of might, and he is as a rule dethroned after much bloodshed by a rival Haytian giant. The President sees to it that he secures the affection and loyalty of the trained soldiery, and all his friends and most powerful supporters are given gaudy uniforms and high-faluting titles in the Haytian army. It is a Gilbertian style of government and might be
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counted entirely humorous were it not for the constant bloodshed.
Morally the Haytians are impossible people. Snake worship and cannibalism, and all the old superstitions of barbaric Africa, still prevail in the gilded republic. Their religion is frequently but a thin veneer of polish, worn to cover the arts of fetish worship and human sacrifice. The lives of the citizens are not respected so much by the prevailing government as are the political rights of the electorate. The whole republic is one festering mass of corruption. The officials are as a rule entirely corrupt, the European church has practically no real existence, sober “home life” is almost unknown. The men of the place are as a rule entirely vicious, unlicensed and unprincipled; the women are unmoral and entirely without culture.
It is a curious place to look upon, this Hayti; but it is a most unsafe place to travel in. The people of the capital, Port-au-Prince, live in the midst of a city of fine buildings and garbage-littered streets; the women parade the white squares in European costumes of Parisian silks and high-heeled, patent-leather shoes. The men swagger in gaudy, tinselled uniforms of extravagant design and indifferent workmanship, trailing tailor-made swords, and jingling heavy South American spurs. Their manners are entirely without polish, though they swagger with the air of a crack German cavalry colonel mixed with the braggadocio of a half-bred Spanish Mexican. The children of the reigning officials and the sons of the richest merchants are sent toParis to be educated. These young people return to Hayti with a deep knowledge of all the vices of the gay capital, and many trunks filled with gaudy finery which, probably, have been obtained on credit. The condition of the people of the black republic is similar to that of any Gold Coast tribe of negroes with a rich country and a knowledge of the vices of Europe,—similar, except that whereas the Haytians are all powerful and independent, the Gold Coast tribe is watched by a strong white government and kept within the bounds of decency.
It will be gathered that Hayti is not a pretty place. I would not have troubled to mention it at all had it not been that the black republic has a profound significance to all British people who take their Empire seriously. Hayti is the world’s object lesson of what a country must become so soon as the negro obtains fairly within his grasp the reins of government. In discussing the West Indian problems it would be well if Britain always kept in mind the condition of this one black republic in the west. Why? Because it is estimated that Jamaica has a population of seven hundred and fifty thousand people, ninety-five per cent of whom are coloured. Education is spreading rapidly among the people of our largest West Indian colony, and in the market-places and among the huts of the native villages one constantly hears the phrase “political freedom” and “Government of Jamaica by Jamaicans.” In a government elected entirely by the people of the island, Jamaica will be ruled by black men—just asHayti is. And the real nature of a negro can never be discovered until he is placed in a position of unfettered power. Hayti is a very few hours sailing distance from Jamaica, and Kingston is the resting-place and recruiting-ground for all the deposed or temporarily overshadowed Haytian presidents. President Salomon, one of the most powerful rulers Hayti ever had, was at one period a refugee of Jamaica, and there he became the intimate friend of Gordon. The Gordon riot was crushed by the Jamaican Government (though the strong man who dealt summarily with the rioters was disgraced in consequence), and Salomon returned to rule in Port-au-Prince. But in Jamaica to-day there is evidence that intrigue and disaffection have not been entirely banished from the hearts of all her coloured citizens.
Image unavailable: PASSENGERS EMBARKING FROM A QUAY, ST. ANN’S BAY, JAMAICAPASSENGERS EMBARKING FROM A QUAY, ST. ANN’S BAY, JAMAICA
Itmay be that I am entirely unfitted to deal at any great length with that most complicated, most difficult of all problems, the negro question. The problem is a matter which must be left to the consideration of statesmen who, guided by the experience of years of personal contact with black men, are entitled to be considered as experts. But the negro question is one which forces itself upon the notice of all people who visit any country where, numerically, the black man is predominant. The British West Indian islands each and all are at once both British Colonies and black man’s countries. Where black people are so pre-eminently strong, it is impossible for the white men, no matter what their race, to undertake the work of government unless by the express desire of the black men, or because of the crass ignorance and weakness of the negro race. How comes it that less than twenty thousand white men rule three quarters of a million coloured people in Jamaica? That is the question—pregnant with possibilities—that confronts one after a stay in thatfascinating island of the west. The cause must inevitably be found in the weakness, the ignorance, of the blacks. The negro is not fit to govern—therefore he must not govern; so say the English, and in accordance with the dictates of that creed have the English framed their West Indian laws. And undoubtedly it is good that it should be so. The negro is not fit to rule; he is not capable of efficient self-government. But how long will the negro himself believe that he is incompetent? Will he, or will he not, in the future—the near or distant future—ever come to think that home rule is his birthright. Already many negroes hold that opinion as individuals. Will the coloured race ever think so collectively? Will the coloured class ever call for freedom in tones of absolute, organised unison. If so, what will happen?
I have already recorded the opinions of a coloured man in this direction; I have also shown the ideas on the subject common to the majority of white men. The one, thoroughly representative of his class, appealed for greater freedom. In cool argument he suggested that absolute political freedom was the birthright of man, black or white. He claimed Jamaica as his own country, the fatherland of his race. He was convincingly in earnest. His country was as dear to him—just as much his very own—as England ever was to Englishman. He was absolutely serious. The other man, the Englishman, seemed more forceful, but less convincing. The white man’s argument was more desperate. He even suggested bayonets as a hedge for
Image unavailable: EVENING AFTER RAIN, JAMAICAEVENING AFTER RAIN, JAMAICA
enclosing the ambition of a people whom we are, by religion and by science and by common sentiment, taught to regard as our very equals. By the law of the West Indies the black man is the equal of the white. Yet my friend suggested that rifle-shots would be necessary should that race demand a practical exhibition of that absolute liberty which is reckoned by the English to be part of the heritage of all British-born subjects, black or white.
Surely it is a curious condition of affairs? Under British rule, the black man is, theoretically, the equal of the white. Practically he is nothing of the sort. Practically it is not even admitted that he is. Or why is it necessary to continue the West Indian system of Government by the Crown?
Now this is all very well. No doubt it is a convenient thing for us and for the peoples of all European countries to theorise about the brotherhood of man. In England and in all countries where the negro population is insignificant, such a question is only a matter of abstract principle; it is a pleasant sop to one’s inherent quality of benevolence to so decide,—to generously overlook obvious shortcomings and proclaim it abroad that Britain accepts her black people as equals—brothers in spirit and in fact. No doubt, in Britain, this is a very comforting creed to absorb in its entirety, and then forget. But not so in any West Indian island. There the fatuity, the impossibility, the impracticability of the scheme is immediately obvious. The farce of the whole thing is at once evident. The average whiteman cannot count the average negro as being his absolute equal. By reason of the dictum of the homeland he must pretend to do so. Officially he must, with his lips, proclaim the actuality of this impossible equality, but he must do it with his tongue in his cheek. He must see to it that the black man is convinced of the honesty of his protestations—that the blacks believe. And yet he must see that the black man does not attain any of the natural results such a condition would inevitably bring into existence. It is like the old tree in the garden of Eden. The tree of liberty is put before the eyes of the black man who is told that the fruit and the blossom is his very own—but that he must not touch it. That is the condition of affairs. Nominally the equal, the black man is actually not the equal. And this he is beginning to realise. The spread of education among the coloured race in the West Indies is bringing into existence a generation of dissatisfied agitators. The negro is becoming ambitious; he is beginning to become ambitious for his race. As soon as the race feels its strength it will use it for its own ends. It will demand political freedom. The creed of my coloured friend of the Spanish Town highroad may be allowed to stand as the creed of the present, or at any rate the next, generation of the blacks in the British West Indies.
What will be its effect on the several islands? The present unsatisfactory system of semi “make-believe” is impossible. It cannot last for ever. The question Britain has to consider is, Shall it be a black or a whitegovernment in the West Indies? If this country is reconciled to the eventual existence of a black government then the existing system is good enough. If not, something ought to be done immediately,—though exactly what could be done I cannot pretend to know. I leave that matter to the consideration of people more qualified to make suggestions. I believe that the negro is, and at any rate for many generations will continue to be, incapable of self-government; I know that no white people could live in a country ruled by black men. And I firmly believe our West Indian possessions are in danger of falling under the government of their black people.
That, in my opinion, is the greatest of all the West Indian problems. Commercial difficulties will solve themselves. The natural riches of the beautiful islands of the West must sooner or later bring a great harvest of gain to their owners. The sugar industry will revive, the West Indian fruit trade is to-day only in its infancy. The Caribbean islands are destined to become the fruit gardens of the world. And many smaller industries will spring into existence. There can be no doubt as to the richness of the industrial future of the Indies. The one difficulty is this political difficulty: the inevitable struggle for supremacy between the white man and the black.
A,B,C,D,E,F,G,H,I,J,K,L,M,N,O,P,R,S,T,W,Y.
Alligator, West Indian,174ca, intervention of,158Animal life,140Antigua,251Arima,255Barbadoes,245Beet bounties,183Belle Vue,215Blackbeard,6Black children,217Blue Mountains,15Bog Walk,137Buccaneers,6Caribs,9Cassava starch,191Cathedral, the old,229Chamberlain, Mr.,190Children, black,217Cromwell, the Protector,9Cuba,14Dignity dance,85Dominica,250Emancipation Act,21Filibusters,6Fort Augustine,174Fruit trade, the,189Gordon,263Government, representative,146Grand Cayman,76Hayti,259Hope Garden,231Hunts Bay,175Imperial line of steamers,190Intervention of America,158Jamaica, gradual decay of,185want of men in,188Jamaican buggy,51freedom,158police,95revivalist meetings,70Jockey, the coloured,209Jones, Sir Alfred,190Kidd,6Kingston, the market-place,34Labour question,186Liberation Act,187Malarial fever,24Mandeville,214Martinique,248Montego Bay,229Mont Pelée,248Morant Point,15Morgan,6Nevis,251Newcastle,109Octoroon, the cultured,221Pitch lake, the,254Political agitators,160Political revolution,148Politics,145Port Antonio,229Royal,6,15of Spain,251,253Princestown,255Railway,165Revivalist meetings, Jamaican,70Rio Cobra,137Roseau,250Rose Hall,230St. Kitts,251St. Lucia,247Salomon, President,263San Domingo,259San Fernando,255Settlements, native,216Settlers, absolute,161Soda-water compartment,165Spanish Town,137,229Tobago,255Tortoise, the,139Trinidad,251Turk’s Island,13West India alligator,174West Indian regiments,91West Indian sugar,183Yellow fever,23
Printed byR. & R. Clark, Limited,Edinburgh.