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Discovering Diverse Content Through
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OUTHOUSES NEAR KINGSTON, JAMAICA
CERTAIN THINGS THE WEST INDIAN TOURIST
MUST NOT DO
 CHAPTER XXV

CERTAIN THINGS THE WEST INDIAN TOURIST MUST NOT DO

Do not believe every story you hear which makes against the character of
the Governor or his wife. It is difficult for a high official, for the direct
representative of H.M. the King, to always please every half-white woman
and her husband. The jealousy of the half-white for the pure white is very
bitter. Do not utterly believe in the alligator stories as told by the junior
subalterns of West Indian regiments, or yet the shooting yarns of medical
officers of health. All white Jamaicans do not spend all their time in
following the festive alligator or in spearing frisky sharks in Kingston
Harbour. Do not trouble to drive in any hackney-carriage if your destination
is within easy walking distance. The argument with the buggy driver is
more exhausting work even than a walk of two hundred yards. Do not go
out in the sun without a hat or with only a small cap. Do not drink too much
either of the cool, iced lemon squash, or the more-alluring whisky and
mineral water. Gin is not a particularly wholesome stimulant, but it is better
for the white man in Jamaica than the finest whisky. Water that is not
filtered should be avoided, and it is well always to sleep beneath your
mosquito covering. Iced drinks taken in large quantities are the best means
of securing a really bad digestion, especially if they are taken when one is
very hot. India-rubber shoes are easy to put on, but in the tropics they are
occasionally very difficult to discard. A qualified chemist should be
requisitioned to remove any half-melted rubber that may have stuck to the
soles of your inflamed feet. Panama hats which are loosely plaited are
excellent things for wearing on the suburban parades of cool countries; in
the tropics head-gear made of felt or pith is better. It is not a good thing to
wear heavy clothes, neither is it good to wear too little. The wise man does
not plunge into a cold bath when he is very hot, neither does he bathe in the
harbour among hungry sharks. Inquiries should be made into the habits and
customs of alligators before the tourist takes a dip in some of the up-country
rivers, and he should avoid hunting the gaudy butterfly in malarious
swamps noted for the propagation of high fevers. It is never a good thing
for a new arrival to take risks, but if he insists, let him leave a written
document exonerating the climate from all blame of causing his death.
A Jamaican nigger should not be treated as though he were a dangerous
wild beast, and the tourist should remember that the blackest negro tries to
live up to a code of morals common to white men. All the blacks who come
in contact with you will be strongly

THE CAPITAL OF ST. THOMAS

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 offer emphatic 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.
BLACK RIVER, JAMAICA
THE CARIBBEAN GROUP
 CHAPTER XXVI

THE CARIBBEAN GROUP

Because I 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 a densely 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

ROSEAU, THE CAPITAL OF DOMINICA

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 the imports 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

MONT PELÉE, MARTINIQUE

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 still numbers 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.
 AN OLD MAN, ST. THOMAS

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,
ranks with 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
 NEVIS

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 Trinidad is 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.
A GUADELOUPE LADY
HAYTI
 CHAPTER XXVII

HAYTI

Hayti is 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 French buccaneers, 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

HUTS ON A COUNTRY ROAD, JAMAICA

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 to Paris 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 as Hayti 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.

PASSENGERS EMBARKING FROM A QUAY, ST. ANN’S BAY, JAMAICA

IN CONCLUSION
 CHAPTER XXVIII

IN CONCLUSION

It may 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 that fascinating 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

EVENING 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
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