Antigua and the Antiguans (Vol. 1&2). Mrs. Lanaghan
namely:—“Whereas, it has been represented to us, that the salary of 1200l. sterling per annum, which we have hitherto thought fit to allow out of the duty of four-and-a-half per cent., arising in our Leeward Islands, for our governor-in-chief of these islands, is not at present sufficient for his support and the dignity of that our government, we have taken the same into our consideration, and are graciously pleased to permit and allow that the respective assemblies of our said islands may, by any act or acts, settle upon you such sum or sums, in addition to your salary of 1200l. per annum, as they shall think proper; and you are hereby allowed to give your assent to any act or acts of assembly to that purpose. Provided, such sum or sums be settled on you and your successors in that government; at least on you during the whole time of your government there, and that the same be done by the first respective assemblies of our said island after your arrival there.”
In accordance with this new arrangement, the council and assembly readily granted an annual sum of 1000l. Antigua currency.
In 1734, copper coins were imported from England, and passed at about the same rate they do at this day. Bayonets were also introduced this year into Antigua, for the use of the militia, they having been found to answer so well in the late wars in Flanders. These weapons obtained their name from being first manufactured at Bayonne, in France.
The events of the year 1736 were such as to strike horror into the hearts of all the white inhabitants of Antigua. The negroes, who, as we have before seen, attempted an insurrection in 1728, attributed their want of success to the fact of their having no regular plan; and accordingly they chose one of their tribe, a very powerful black man, to be their king; and vowed to render to him the strictest homage, and follow his every order. This man, whose real name was “Klaas,” although his master called him Count, was a person of undaunted courage and strong resolve; and, was it not on account of the demise of Governor Mathew’s son, which frustrated their original plan of blowing up government house (or at least the house which was hired for the governor at Clark’s Hill) with gunpowder, the night a grand ball was to be given in honour of the anniversary of the king’s coronation, no doubt Antigua would have been another “Hayti,” and “Klaas” another “Christophe.”
There is still an old tradition, which relates to this melancholy subject; and as it may not prove uninteresting to some of my readers, I will give it in a newer dress.
The Fate of Klaas.
A LEGEND OF THE RAVINE.
At a late period in the evening of the 3rd of October, 1736, two horsemen might be seen riding slowly along the high road which leads from the capital to English Harbour. The eldest of these travellers was probably past the meridian of life; but his round florid face bore not a mark of care, nor could a single wrinkle be detected upon his open forehead. Age, indeed, had tinged his hair with grey, and, perhaps, slightly bent his form; but had neither depressed his spirits nor robbed his laughing blue eye of its lustre. In person he was tall and robust; and although jollity was written upon every feature, he possessed at the same time that air of determination which would make few wish to thwart him in his views, or offer an insult that was sure to be resented. The animal he bestrode was of a coal-black, and, like his master, bore his years well. Logo, as he was called, had often followed the hounds in “merrie England;” and, when his master came to take possession of a property in Antigua, his faithful steed, the sharer of many a long day’s sport, was not to be left behind.
The companion of this first-mentioned traveller was, in every respect, far different. Scarcely had seventeen summers passed over his head; and his slight, but well-formed person, was in direct contrast to the large and heavy make of his friend. His rich brown locks clustered around his lofty brow unspoiled by powder; but in his large dark eye, consumption had lit its fire, and flushed, at times, his naturally pale cheek.
“Come, Edward,” said the elder traveller, addressing the youth; “we must mend our pace, lad: here’s Logo champing his bit with every mark of anger at being kept with tightened reign: the old fellow has too much mettle still left to like this hippopotamus trot, when he has an hungry stomach, and the prospect of a well-stored stable before him.”
“Ay, uncle; and one there is at home, who must be as anxiously looking for us, as Logo is for his stable.”
“What, Marien? Well, I dare say the girl feels the loss of her cousin Edward from the side of her spinet, if she don’t her old father from his settle in the gallery. Women love those little attentions you know so well to offer; and Marien would miss you from tuning her lute, or turning the pages of her music book, as I should old Logo, were anything to happen to him. Dame Nature has made you, boy, to shine in lady’s bower, more, I think, than in tented field.”
The deepest hectic sprang to the face of the youth, as his uncle uttered these words, and a half-smothered sigh broke from his lips, which, catching the attention of his companion, caused him to turn and look ardently at him.
“Nay, dearest Edward, I meant not to distress you; I hope your trip to these sunny shores may restore you to stronger health; and then you may follow the steps of your brave father, and fight your country’s battles. But we must not loiter any longer upon the road; for, in truth, I like not the appearance of the night, and we have no shelter near. I care not for myself, for I have weathered too many a storm to shrink from a sprinkling; but you are still delicate; and your cousin Marien will scold me for having already kept you out in the heavy night dew of this climate.”
So saying, they gave their steeds the rein, and dashed on, throwing the loose pebbles with which the road was strewed, on every side.
The night, indeed, was far from promising; the wind blew in sudden gusts, and whirled the dead leaves on every side. A low moaning sound came from the distant mountains, the sure forerunner of a storm; while peals of thunder broke upon the ear. The black clouds drifted rapidly along the sky, and several meteors gilded the night with their evanescent glories. Suddenly a deep silence prevailed, broken only by the sound of the horses’ feet upon the flinty road, as the benighted travellers struck their rowels into the sides of the animals, to urge them to greater speed. But this boding silence did not last long; the wind again rose with redoubled violence—the thunder rolled in awful peals—and a sheet of vivid lightning covered the whole face of the heavens; clap followed clap in rapid succession, shaking the very earth to its centre; the rain came down in torrents, yet still the red-winged lightning struggled through it, and kept up its terrific fire.
A moment’s pause in the storm gave the elder traveller time to exclaim—“Well, Edward, my prognostications have proved true, have they not? Poor Marien must indeed feel anxious;” when, just at this instant, a dark object issued out of a kind of ravine which appeared on one side of the road, and darted across the path close to the horses’ heads. “What was that?” continued the speaker. “Was it man or animal? My glance was so momentary, that indeed I know not.” “A boy,” returned his companion, “an’ my eyes deceived me, or it was Marien’s dumb page.” “What! Julio? Impossible! What could the boy do abroad in such a night? unless”—and the speaker paused; “unless, indeed, Marien sent him forth to gain some tidings of us; for although the poor little fellow was born deaf and dumb, he has the brightest intellect and swiftest foot of any negro I ever knew. I have often promised to tell you his story; and as the tempest seems to have worn away a little, I may as well give it now, which will tend to make the road seem the shorter.
“Julio’s mother was the foster-parent of my own Marien, although at that period she did not belong to me. But she was a great favourite of my wife’s, and for that reason we hired her to nurse our child; and after my wife’s death, I purchased her from her old master, who was a friend of mine. Nuno was a very superior negress; and was it not on account of her husband, ‘Count,’ whom I pointed out to you the other day as the reputed king of the negroes, I do really think she might have been living now. She never would say what he did to her, or indeed make any complaint against him; but I am certain there was something mysterious about it; for when afterwards she was confined with Julio, she made it her dying request to me that Count might never know the child was his, or the boy be told who his father was. This ‘Count,’ as he is called, although I believe he bears another name,