Caryl Phillips - Cambridge

As for information about obeah, he was hardly helpful, seemingly knowing less than I had already discovered. To his mind it was simply a dark African mystery, and mere was little more to say on the matter. It appeared to be the devil's work, in direct opposition to the heavenly goals towards which Mr Rogers had set his face. These were divinely inspired reformation and holy absolution for the planters, overseers, book-keepers and merchants, all of whom he saw as tainted creatures in this tropical paradise abundant in Edenic temptations. I stifled yawn after yawn as I endured this most tedious of afternoons. On the question of slavery (I was thinking now of my pamphlet and lecture tour) Mr Rogers was predictably dull. After all, I wished to go beyond the commonplace memoirs of previous travellers, who, finding nought worthy of record but the most bizarre features of this tropical life, settle complacently to offer their dumb and helpless audience little more than flimsy defences of the system. My purpose being more ambitious, the pious opinions of Mr Rogers proved inconsequential to me.

It was, he claimed, the job of the white man to look after the children in his care, and the white man would do so in a better manner if he were closer to God. It was not the job of the Church to interfere in politics or economics. As to the education of slaves in matters spiritual, there were some missionaries who had attempted such a course, but Mr Rogers was nervous that this might encourage over-bold negro conduct, even insurrection. These spiritually educated negroes would suddenly require themselves to be addressed as Paul, and John, even Jesus, and view themselves as equal with the white man in the eyes of the Lord. My companion of the cloth went further, and insisted that nothing but the inflexible maintenance of the moral and spiritual superiority of the whites could possibly keep in subjection the physical superiority of the blacks. He insisted that should the negroes become as well-informed as the whites, and should thoughts be implanted, the like of which have never before visited their wool-thatched brains, then the combined forces of the militia and the navy would not be able to keep in check rebellion against their natural condition of servitude. Clearly Mr Rogers was a man who would have been happier in an earlier and less enlightened century, for according to him heathenism and devilry seemed destined to sit more firmly upon their black shoulders than the sins of Eden upon the shoulders of white men, and herein lay the true length of his submission.

When Mr Rogers again visited the subject of obeah, this time in fuller detail, he once more informed me that this practice was nothing less than a primitive belief in witchcraft which operated upon the negroes to produce death. He claimed that there was not a single West Indian estate where one or more professors of this obeah do not practise their heathen craft, but he maintained that it is very difficult for the white man to identify these devilish emissaries. However, our churchman soon grew weary of this obeah and returned again to his now familiar sermon. He saved his greatest ire for those injudicious missionary preachers who admitted a few black slaves to sit by night under their roofs and receive the Methodist gospel. From a small beginning this society appears to be spreading far and wide, boasting a vast increase of converts to its Ebeneezer Chapel. According to Mr Rogers, these Methodists admit every variety of shade from the ruddy son of the fair fields of England, to the jettiest offspring of Africa's black jungles. And so Mr Rogers continued with his homily until I longed for the company of Stella, with or without her chessmen.

My mind began to drift to heavier matters, for on this same day a letter had arrived from England, the first I have received since my sojourn began. Clearly, Father had written in some haste, assuming that I would soon be preparing for my return. The nature of his anxiety concerns Mr Wilson, from whom it appears he has received a letter in which Mr Wilson claims that mutiny has occurred and he has been forcibly ousted and banished to a neighbouring island. What Father would like me to acquire is a statement of explanation from Mr Brown, whose continued position at the head of the plantation does not appear to grate unduly on Father's sensibilities. It seems that he simply desires to give audience to Mr Brown's version of events before deciding on a course of action. There was little else in the short communiqué, aside from his wishing me a safe and speedy return to England. No news of England. None of Mr Thomas Lockwood. None of himself, although one might imagine there to be little of interest to Father beyond his new gambling debts. As to my oft-delivered plea that he make the effort to come and visit his own estate, Father studiously avoids any mention of this in his letter, presumably feeling that my presence here has absolved him of this responsibility. I doubt if he has revised his opinions on this subject, but I will raise these questions anew with him when we meet on common soil, and try to allay his old fears that he would never survive the climate and would ultimately expire in tropical America. By this time he will, of course, have received my letters, all of which make passing reference, among other topics, to his continued and wilful absenteeism.

This evening Mr Brown finally returned after six days' absence on our smaller sister-island's soil. He had little to say, for he seemed exhausted and could stomach barely more than a few mouthfuls of his dinner. Clearly his adjudication had proved long and tiresome, but I cared not to enquire after the details. I could not help but reproach him for his going abroad and leaving only the altogether inadequate book-keeper as the single white person in my immediate company. He must already have received some intelligence of the incidents to which I was making reference, for he chose quickly to apologize and confess it to have been an oversight on his part. He promised to make amends next day. With this our conversation faltered, never to recover, and Mr Brown took his weary leave, leaving me to contemplate my main course in isolation. I, in turn, felt guilty for having pressed him so soon upon his return. These past six days have been the most trying and lonely days I have had to endure. I trust Mr Brown will not again abandon me, unchaperoned, to the caprices of plantation life.

Since the fortuitous return of my vitality, I have almost daily grown increasingly curious to learn more about the nature of the island that I inhabit. Our plantation occupies only one small part of this realm, albeit an enchanting and delectable part, but I dearly wish to taste fully each hidden corner of the land. So it was with a light heart and eager anticipation that I accepted Mr Brown's unexpected and generous offer to spend a day touring with him. He further announced that within the fortnight we would dine in Baytown as the guests of some merchants of his acquaintance. I took the liberty of reminding Mr Brown that on my return to England I intended to occupy myself with a little lecturing, and perhaps even a preliminary attempt at some form of publication. He was kind enough to declare that he could foresee no reason why I should not successfully complete such a project, and that he felt sure that observations gleaned on these two days would augment greatly my proposed study.

The morning sky was brushed with high thin clouds which promised a fine day. A most handsomely attired Mr Brown and I journeyed in a carriage drawn by two stout shire-horses, and we gingerly picked our way downhill, scattering dramatically hued bird-life from ground to twig and branch. Our steep and rocky path, whose nature seemed to have grown more treacherous since my earlier ascent, cut a rough-hewn passage through trees whose overhanging boughs formed a most verdant and magnificent arch. This green architecture allowed entrance to a few cheerful patches of sunlight, and afforded myself and Mr Brown the occasional delightful view of the sea through the dense thicket of trunks and foliage. Below us the waves of the ocean rolled in measured cadence onto the beach, and as we encroached closer the musical harmony of rushing water broke upon our ears with ever-swelling amplitude. On reaching the coastal island road the vast expanse of the watery world burst upon our sight and lay spread out before us. Mr Brown kindly informed me that this main highway circumnavigated the whole of this small realm, delicately skirting the watery hem of the island.