The pioneer of the system in England was William Paterson, who seems to have been acquainted with Dampier and Wafer, both of whom knew the isthmus of Darien very well. He is also said to have travelled in the West Indies himself, and even to have visited the Porto Bello fair, but this is not quite certain.

Paterson first came into prominence by bringing forward a scheme which ultimately led to the establishment of the Bank of England on the 27th of July, 1694. From this he appears to have derived no actual benefit, however, although he was one of the first directors, upon a qualification of £2,000 stock, which he sold out after the first year, and thus withdrew. Probably he wanted his money to carry out the new project for a settlement on the isthmus of Darien.

In the course of this history we have advisedly used the word "English" instead of "British," in speaking of our nation, because as yet Scotchmen were little concerned in colonisation schemes. In fact, except as transported rebels or convicts, they had hardly any interest in the plantations. This was the result of Navigation Acts, which debarred Scotch merchants and vessels from trading, by ordering that all traffic with the colonies should be carried on in English vessels and from English ports.

Paterson's idea was to take possession of the isthmus of Darien, establish a Scotch colony at a convenient harbour on the Gulf side, and then open up a proper road by which the trade would be so much facilitated that it would become the great highway. Seated between the two vast oceans of the universe, he said, the isthmus is provided with excellent harbours on both sides, between the principal of which lie the more easy and convenient passes. If these ports and passes were fortified, the road could easily be secured and defended, thus affording the readiest and nearest means of gaining and keeping the command of the South Sea—the greatest and by far the richest side of the world. With the passes open, through them would flow at least two-thirds of the produce of both Indies. The time and expense of the voyage to China and Japan would be lessened more than half, and the consumption of European commodities soon doubled, and annually increased.

He contended that Darien possessed great tracts of country up to that time unclaimed by any European, and that the Indians, the original proprietors, would welcome the honest and honourable settler to their fertile shore. The soil was rich to a fault, producing spontaneously the most delicious fruits, and required the hand of labour to chasten rather than stimulate its capabilities. There crystal rivers sparkled over sands of gold—there the traveller might wander for days under a canopy of fruit-laden branches, the trees bearing them being of inestimable value as timber. The waters also abounded in wealth. Innumerable shoals of fish disported themselves among the rocks, and the bottom was strewn with pearls. From the dawn of creation this enchanted country had lain secluded from mortals—now it was revealed and opened to Scottish enterprise. Let them enter and take possession of this promised land, and build a new city—a new Edinburgh, like Alexandria of old, which grew to prodigious wealth and power from its position on another isthmus—to soon become famous as the new emporium of a new world.

The reader who has seen our account of Lionel Wafer's miserable journey will be able to discount these florid statements, but the Scotch people seem to have taken everything for gospel. Now, at last, they would have a colony—a plantation of more value than any of those that the English had begun to boast of. They were enthusiastic, and although poor, did their very best to contribute, actually promising the large sum of £400,000. England also subscribed to the extent of £300,000, and Holland and Hamburg £200,000. Everything looked bright, and at last a concession was obtained for the "Company of Scotland, trading to Africa and the Indies."

Strange to say, Paterson entirely ignored the claims of Spain, although he must have known that she would strenuously object to such a settlement. It was all very well to say the place belonged to the Indians, but the very fact of its vicinity to the great trading centre and channel of communication with the Pacific coast should have made him anticipate trouble. Even if he argued that the buccaneers were practically unmolested along the Mosquito shore, he must also have known that their position was by no means secure, and even had this been the case, that it would have afforded to argument in favour of his project.

To be successful he must also have had the support of the English Government, but unfortunately this was denied. Jealousy and envy between the two countries led to representations adverse to the scheme being made to King William, with the result that the Company was discountenanced, and that most of the promised subscriptions outside of Scotland were withdrawn. Then came dissensions among the leaders themselves, and this lost them half the amount from their own county. Yet with all that Paterson was undaunted, and, notwithstanding the diminished funds at command, he still resolved to go on.

On the 26th of July, 1698, twelve hundred men in five ships sailed for a place near the entrance of the Gulf of Darien, a hundred miles to the east of Porto Bello. It was afterwards stated that the vessels were rotten and ill-found, although gaily decked with flags on the day of departure, which hid some of their deficiencies. The provision supply was bad, and, to crown all, the captains were coarse, brutal, and ignorant, continually quarrelling with each other. Through envy, Paterson had been prevented from having any voice in the arrangements, and although he went with the expedition, he entered the ship as ignorant of her equipment as any other passenger. But he evidently had his doubts, for he asked for an inspection of the stores, only to have his request treated with contempt.

On the 27th of October the fleet came to anchor in a fair sandy bay three leagues west of the Gulf of Darien, now known as the Port D'Escocés. It was an excellent harbour surrounded by high mountains, and capable of holding a thousand sail in security from wind and tempest. The settlers named the district Caledonia, and considered it to be fertile and even healthy. They commenced at once to erect a fort, to which they gave the name of St. Andrews, and a cluster of houses for the town of New Edinburgh. These labours gave them little time for planting, and it naturally followed that they had to live on the provisions brought from Scotland, which, bad at the beginning, were now almost worthless. Paterson sent emissaries to the neighbouring Spanish settlements to ask for their friendship, and went himself into the interior to arrange treaties with the Indians, so that the Scotch might have a good title to the land. In this latter object he was successful, and it was agreed that peace should be kept between the natives and the colonists, "as long as rivers ran and gold was found in Darien."

After six days' absence he returned to find a great change in the settlement. A spirit of mutiny and discontent had broken out, those who worked hard being naturally dissatisfied with others who did nothing. Then the provisions became rotten, and even then were so reduced in quantity that the people suffered from want and its consequent sickness. Four months passed, and nothing but daily discouragements were encountered; not even a little gold to enliven their spirits. Hard work under a tropical sun began to tell upon them, and although the friendly natives brought a little game, it was almost useless among so many. Every day, however, the number was reduced by death, fevers, and dysentery playing sad havoc, until those who remained were utterly dispirited.

To add to their troubles they were refused supplies from Jamaica, King William having sent instructions to the Colonial Governors to discountenance the colony in every way. Paterson sent to Jamaica to get food for the starving people, and instead, his empty vessel brought copies of the Proclamation that had been issued in that island. This stated that as His Majesty knew nothing of the intentions and designs of the Scots at Darien, and as their settling on the isthmus was contrary to the peace of Spain, every one was commanded not to hold any communication with them, and not to supply arms, ammunition, provisions, or anything whatsoever, on their peril.

In this desperate condition they awaited supplies from Scotland, but these did not arrive, for the ship had foundered on her way, and even Paterson began to be discouraged when day after day passed without relief. Even the reduced number could no longer exist, and with heavy hearts they prepared to leave. They had a ship, but no provisions for the voyage, and on account of the prohibition were prevented from victualling at one of the islands. At last, however, they got together as much barbecued fish and game as the Indians could procure, with a few fruits, and sailed away. But even now fate was against them. Hardly had they got out of the harbour before they were becalmed off this deadly shore for many days, their scanty supply of food diminishing when it was so much wanted for the long voyage. However, the remnant of about thirty, survivors of the twelve hundred, at last arrived at Charlestown, Carolina, in a most miserable condition. Paterson was himself so worn out that he lost his senses for a time, becoming quite childish, yet he recovered, to go back to Scotland and ask the Company for another expedition.

This he urged on the ground that the first had failed simply through the want of supplies and the action of the English Government. Some were in favour of still carrying out the project, and these drew up a petition to the king, giving it for presentation to Lord Hamilton. William the Third, however, refused not only to receive the petition, but even to grant an audience to its bearer. Lord Hamilton would not be put off, however, but watched for his opportunity, and found it one day as the king was mounting his horse. He laid the petition on the saddle, which made His Majesty cry out, "Now, by heaven, this young man is too bold," adding in a softer tone, "if a man can be too bold in the service of his country." With that he threw the document from him and rode off, afterwards, when memorial after memorial came from Scotland, issuing a Proclamation against the worry of such petitions.

Notwithstanding this refusal, another expedition was sent out, the management of which was as bad as that of the first. But this time the Spaniards were on the alert, and hardly had the settlers begun to put things in order before the enemy was upon them in force. Famine and sickness again fell upon New Edinburgh, added to the horrors of a siege, which ultimately led to a capitulation on fair terms. But so weak were they as the Spaniards allowed them to embark, that their late enemies out of pity helped to heave their anchors and set their sails.

It was long before the Scotch people forgot or forgave their sister kingdom for her action in thus frustrating their darling project. Besides impeding the Union, it is said to have strengthened the Jacobite feelings in the rebellions of 1715 and 1745. Even as late as the year 1788, when it was proposed to erect a monument in Edinburgh to King William the Third and the "glorious revolution," the affair was remembered, and some one suggested that the pedestal should have on the one side a view of Glencoe, and on the other the Darien colony. Queen Anne, in 1702, tried to pacify her Scotch subjects by an autograph letter, stating that she regretted the Company's losses and disappointments, but this did not kill the ill-feeling. As for Paterson, in 1715 the English House of Commons voted him the sum of £18,241 as some indemnity for his losses, but as the bill was thrown out by the House of Lords, he got nothing.

Thus ended one of the most disastrous of British attempts to colonise the Indies. From beginning to end it was an example of the Dutch caution of William of Orange, as contrasted with the recklessness of Queen Elizabeth's time or the sturdy defiance of Cromwell. The king was not prepared to risk war for an idea, yet at the same time he would not prohibit the expeditions.

From 1702 to 1713 there was war between England and Holland on the one side, and France and Spain on the other. By the treaty of Utrecht, which again brought peace, the English received the concession for the exclusive supply of negro slaves to the Spanish colonies for thirty years. This Assiento contract was given to the Great South Sea Company, which resulted from one of those joint-stock manias, now epidemic in France, England, and even Holland.

The Company was projected by the Earl of Oxford in 1711, and, like the Mississippi scheme in France, was intended to assist the Government, which was virtually bankrupt. As yet there was no funded national debt, but large sums were owing to the army and navy, which had been provisionally settled by debentures, that could be discounted only at a serious loss to the owners. Down to the establishment of the Bank of England in 1693 no public loan existed, but this was commenced by borrowing the capital of that institution. At the peace of Ryswick, in 1697, the public debt amounted to twenty millions, but by the time the South Sea Company was started the arrears of pay made it half as much again. Part of the great scheme was to advance this amount on security of English customs duties amounting to £600,000 per annum, and a monopoly of the Spanish trade in the Indies as far as the Assiento contract would permit.

Whether the whole affair was a fraud from the commencement is doubtful; there were certainly misrepresentations in the prospectus, either wilful or possibly in good faith. Spain was to allow free trade to England in four ports on the Pacific, and three vessels besides slavers were to go to the isthmus every year—concessions never promised nor intended by Philip the Fifth. The slave trade was a fact, and according to the statements it would give fabulous profits.

Visions of boundless wealth now floated before the eyes of the English people, and they at once began to rival the French in their madness, as they had in their colonisation. The English Government was ready to make every possible concession because it wanted to be rid of the incubus of thirty millions, and therefore did nothing to check the Company. As the stock was issued it was at once bought up, and then sold again at a considerable advance. Everybody expected to make fortunes, therefore they must get shares at any price. Rumours of peace with Spain, and great concessions that would bring all the riches of Peru and Mexico into their coffers, roused them still more. Gold would soon be as plentiful as copper, and silver as iron. The shareholders would be the richest people the world ever saw, and every share would give dividends of hundreds per cent. per annum. The bill making the Government concessions was passed in April, 1720, when the stock was quoted at £310 for a hundred pound share. Strange to say, it then began to fall, but the projectors put forth a rumour that England was about to exchange Gibraltar for a port in Peru, and confidence was restored at once. So great was the increased demand that another million was issued at £300 per £100 share, and these were so much run after that the fortunate owners were at once offered double what they had paid. Then another million was offered at £400, and in a few hours applications were received for a million and a half.

People were so eager to invest their money that they swallowed almost any bait thrown to them. Hundreds of bubble companies hovered on the outskirts of the parent, among them one for settling the barren islands of Blanco and Sal Tortugas, another to colonise Santa Cruz, and a third to fit out vessels for the suppression of piracy. But perhaps the most absurd was "a company for carrying on an undertaking of great advantage, but nobody to know what it is."

Near their highest point the South Sea Shares were sold at £890, but so many wanted to sell at that price that they soon fell to £640. This put the directors again upon their mettle, and they set to work with fresh rumours and pushed them up to £1,000, from which they suddenly went down, with a few fluctuations, until utterly worthless. The treasurer of the Company ran away to France when the blow fell, but the directors were arrested and their estates ultimately confiscated. Thousands of people were ruined, and the public credit received a blow from which it took many years to recover.

Meanwhile the South Sea Company had not been altogether idle. Besides the slave vessels they were entitled to send one ship annually to the Carthagena and Porto Bello fairs, this being called the Navio de permisso. It was not to be larger than five hundred tons, yet the Company picked out the biggest they could find and filled it with goods, to the exclusion of food and water, which were carried in small store vessels that waited outside the harbour. This caused a great deal of dissatisfaction, as the English brought so much that they could under-sell the Spanish merchants in their own market. In 1715 the Bedford, nominally of six hundred tons, was seized at Carthagena on the ground that her burden was excessive. By the Spanish measurements the cargo was said to have amounted to 2,117½ tons, and the excess was confiscated and ordered to be sold. However, the English protested, at the same time passing over some valuable presents to the authorities, with the result that a remeasurement was ordered, which made the amount only 460 tons.

In 1716 the Spaniards took Campeachy and sixty English logwood vessels, which occasioned another war. The English claimed that they had an undoubted right to cut logwood at that place, and that former kings had always maintained them in this. For a long time they had quietly possessed a part of Yucatan, uninhabited by Spaniards, and they claimed not only the privilege of wood-cutting, but of settlement as well. Probably the little notice taken of their attack on the Darien colony made the Spanish authorities think England ready to bear any insult, but they soon found out their mistake. War was declared in 1718, and all the property of the South Sea Company, including debts, was confiscated, the whole amounting to £850,000. This would have been a great blow to the Company had it been genuine, but as we have seen, its mercantile transactions were secondary considerations.

Peace was restored by the Treaty of Madrid in June 1721, when the Assiento contract was renewed in favour of the Royal Company instead of that of the South Sea. So much dissatisfaction had been created by the concession for a trading ship, however, that the English did not insist upon its continuance, and therefore only slave vessels were to be permitted to visit the Indies in future. Everything that had been seized from the South Sea Company was to be restored, or its equivalent value paid, but the amount actually received only came to £200,000, which did not go far to help the unfortunate shareholders.

Thus, this small measure of free trade with the Spanish Indies came to an end, and things went on much the same as before. English, Dutch, and French vessels still carried on the contraband traffic, doing all they could to evade the law, often with the assistance of the local authorities. The Spanish settlers got their supplies so much cheaper in this way than through the usual channels, that they were not likely to give up buying as long as the smugglers ran the risk. At last, however, the authorities received very strict orders to enforce the law, with the result that vessels were often captured, their cargoes confiscated, and crews imprisoned. Then the Spanish guarda-costas claimed the right to search vessels of other nationalities, and to confiscate them if they found produce from their colonies on board, or other evidence that they were carrying on illicit trade.

This led to another dispute with England, which claimed compensation for such seizures and the abolition of the right of search. English vessels had always resented this overhauling, and latterly several had fought the guarda-costas rather than submit, with the result that, when captured, their crews were treated with a severity often amounting to cruelty. In 1739 several petitions were presented to the British Parliament, complaining of such outrages, and asking the Government to obtain redress. Among them was one from Captain Jenkins, the master of a Scottish vessel, who was examined by the House. His story was that he had been boarded by a guarda-costa, the Spaniards from which searched his vessel without finding anything contraband. Apparently enraged at their discomfiture, and possibly annoyed by the jeers of the English, they cut off one of Jenkins' ears and told him to carry it to his king with the message that they would do the same to him if he came near the Main. Finally, according to Jenkins' statement, he was further tortured and threatened with death. "What did you think when you found yourself in the hands of those barbarians?" asked a Member of the House; to which the captain replied, "I recommended my soul to God and my cause to my country." The severed ear he exhibited in Parliament as he had done elsewhere whenever he told the story.

It was then stated that the losses from Spanish depredations by plundering and the taking of fifty-two vessels, since 1728, amounted to £340,000. In every case the masters and crews were brutally treated, and in some cases murdered. The English demand for compensation was met by the reply that the king had ordered inquiries to be made, and that if any of his subjects were found guilty they would be punished according to their deserts; also that orders would be given to conform exactly to the treaties. It was, however, claimed that the treaty of 1667 did not contain any clause bearing on the navigation and commerce of the Indies, and that the English had been wrong in supposing they had a right to sail and trade there; they were only permitted to sail to their own islands and plantations, and were therefore subject to confiscation if they changed their course to make for the Spanish possessions without necessity. There were then in Havana fifteen British vessels which had been detained on one pretext or another, and about the same time the Success from London to Virginia was captured off Montserrat, and her captain and crew set adrift in an open boat to find their way ashore as best they could.

In January, 1739, a convention between Great Britain and Spain was arranged, under which the latter agreed to pay £95,000 on account of these demands, less the value of certain vessels which they agreed to restore. This did not satisfy the West India merchants, and they petitioned against it. The indemnity was to be paid on the 10th of July, but that date having passed without a settlement, Great Britain issued letters of marque and ordered all Spanish vessels in her waters to be seized. Spain commenced reprisals the following month, and war was actually declared by Great Britain on the 19th of October. The declaration stated that for several years past unjust seizures and depredations had been carried on, and great cruelties exercised. The British colours had been ignominiously insulted, against the laws of nations and solemn treaties, and Spain had lately ordered British subjects from her dominions within a shorter period than had been covenanted by express stipulation in those treaties.

In July previous a fleet under Admiral Vernon had sailed from Spithead, and after a short cruise off the Spanish coast, went over to the West Indies, arriving at Antigua the 27th of September. Going on to Jamaica, Vernon prepared for a grand raid on the Spanish settlements, leaving for Porto Bello on the 5th of November with six vessels and 2,500 men. They arrived on the 21st, and bombarded the forts, which made a stout resistance; but while this was going on, the British landed and took the town, thus compelling the forts to capitulate. Two warships and several other vessels were captured, as well as specie to the amount of ten thousand dollars, but the town was not pillaged, although the guns were either taken away or rendered useless, and the forts as far as possible demolished. This was virtually the end of that stronghold, as it was afterwards allowed to fall into decay, to be ultimately replaced by Chagres, Grey Town, and Colon. Later, also, the treasure from Peru had much diminished, and the isthmus sunk in importance, especially after the way round Cape Horn and through the Straits of Magellan was adopted more and more.

As the dispute with Spain had arisen from her action in the Indies, so retaliation on the part of Great Britain was greatest on the Main. In February, 1740, Vernon again sailed from Jamaica, and on the 6th of March bombarded Santa Martha, but did not capture it. After repairing damages at Porto Bello he went on to Chagres, took a Spanish man-of-war from under the guns of the fort, captured the place, and demolished it. In January, 1741, Sir Chaloner Ogle came out from England with a fleet, and joined him, making a force of 12,000 men in twenty-nine sail-of-the-line besides smaller vessels.

This great fleet sailed for Hispaniola in hopes of encountering that of Spain and France, but not finding it went on to Carthagena. This, the other great stronghold on the Main, was guarded by two powerful batteries, a boom across the entrance to the port, and four Spanish men-of-war just inside. After a long cannonading the batteries were silenced, a landing accomplished at night, and a passage made by which the fleet entered the harbour. Here, however, further progress was checked by sickness and disagreements among the commanders, with the result that the siege was raised and partial success ended in miserable failure. This was followed by another check at Santiago de Cuba, which virtually terminated all hopes of further great exploits, although attempts were made on La Guayra and Puerto Cabello.

Yet with all this the Spaniards undoubtedly received a great lesson. Their men-of-war were captured from under their fortresses, and small English or colonial vessels performed such deeds of daring as had hardly been equalled since the Elizabethan age. The old spirit still existed although it might lie dormant for a time—the men were there when the hour came. In 1740 Captain Hall in a New England privateer came to an anchor under the fort of Puerto de la Plata, pretending to be a Caracas trader. He wanted to land in the night and surprise the town, but found that the inhabitants kept such a good watch that he had to give up that idea. However, the Governor was sick and sent to ask the loan of Hall's surgeon, and here was the opportunity he wanted. The surgeon, quartermaster, and an interpreter visited the Governor, and at the same time seven of Hall's crew landed and surprised the fort, dismounted the guns, marched into the town and plundered it, finally escaping with the loss of only one man.

Peace was at last concluded on the 7th of October, 1748, but nothing was said in the treaty of the right of search. The Assiento contract was confirmed, and one English trading ship allowed as formerly; free trade with the Indies, however, was still one of those things which could never be conceded.

X

With war almost continuously raging at their very doors the West Indian planters not only risked their fortunes but their lives. During the seventeenth century England spent something like thirty-five years in fighting her enemies, and in the eighteenth, forty-six. As long as the quarrel was with Spain alone the colonists cared but little, but when France turned against them the struggle was much fiercer. The French were always most audacious in their assaults, and the consequences were all the more disastrous because they were such near neighbours. We have already spoken of St. Kitt's and the difficulties produced on that island by its division between the two nationalities. These were only terminated by its entire cession to England, which did not take place until the peace of Utrecht in 1713. Meanwhile, besides the two defeats of the English already mentioned, they were driven out in 1689, to return the following year and expel the enemy, retaining entire control until the peace of Ryswick gave France again her share. Then in 1702 England once more held full possession until the island was assured to her entirely.

Barbados, alone among the British West Indian islands, stands in the proud position of a colony that has never fallen into the hands of another nation. It has never even been seriously attacked beyond the attempt of De Ruyter. And yet the island was poorly fortified, as compared with the great strongholds of the West Indies such as Carthagena and Curaçao. Possibly "the game was not worth the candle," for on the one hand there was little plunder to be had, and on the other a strong force of hardy Englishmen to be encountered. We have seen already how the Parliamentary fleet was kept at bay, and what an amount of trouble the islanders gave before they capitulated. Even then they were not actually conquered, although there could be no question as to the ultimate result.

But not only had the colonists to stand up against the enemy from outside, but there was another danger which lay within their plantations and dwellings from which even Barbados was not free. The slaves had to be kept under subjection, and the planters must always be on the alert to anticipate riots and insurrections. For although the negro in most cases was submissive, at times he recovered that savage nature which had only been suppressed by force and discipline.

When we read of flogging to death and other horrible cruelties of the planters and authorities, we are inclined to sympathise with the African and look upon his masters as worse than brutes. But to appreciate the full significance of these punishments we must judge them by the codes in existence at the time, remembering that nothing was ever done to the blacks that had not also been endured by whites for similar crimes. True, these punishments were retained for slaves after they had become obsolete for Europeans, but then the negro was undoubtedly stubborn and less amenable to persuasion than any other race. Like a mule he had to be broken in and trained, and like that stubborn animal he often gave great trouble in the process. There were differences of opinion as to various ways of teaching the negro, and it was only a long experience that ultimately led to gentle conciliation instead of flogging.

The slaves often ran away, and had to be hunted for and brought back. In the larger islands and on the Main they hid in the forest and swamp, where they formed communities, to which other runaways flocked until they became strong enough to hold their own. From these recesses they often came forth to pillage the plantations, murder the whites, and get the slaves to go off with them in a body. If the buccaneer was ferocious he had at least some method in his madness; the poor ignorant African, on the contrary, let his passions dominate him entirely. In revenge for fancied tyrannies he would commit the most atrocious crimes, torturing his prisoners by cutting them to pieces or even flaying while they still lived.

Is it any wonder that when caught the bush negro or maroon was severely punished, and that the utmost rigour of the law was exercised? As for flogging, every one knows how common that was at the beginning of the present century. Some of us can even look back to a time when the use of the rod and whip on delicate children was a matter of course. Even fine ladies took their little ones to see executions that now horrify us to think of; in a similar way the planter's wife stood at her window to see the punishment of her house-servant.

We could tell of negroes burnt to death, where a downpour of rain put out the fires and left them to linger in torment for hours, of taking pieces of flesh from the unhappy criminals with red-hot pincers, and, most horrible of all, breaking on the wheel. These punishments often took place in the middle of a town, but only on one occasion have we seen any mention of the horror of the scene, and this referred to the smell of burning flesh. Yet the criminals—for it must be remembered that they had been legally convicted and sentenced—showed a stoical indifference to pain almost incredible. As savages they gloried in showing their ability to endure torture, only craving sometimes for a pipe of tobacco to hold between their teeth until it fell.

The maroons or bush negroes began to form communities on the Main and in the larger islands from very early times. In Jamaica they were the remnant of the Spanish slaves who ran away on the arrival of the English, with accessions from deserters at later periods; in Surinam some of those who had been sent into the forest to prevent their capture by French corsairs. In both places they maintained their independence, and ultimately made treaties with the colonial authorities, greatly to their own advantage. In Essequebo and Demerara they were kept down by subsidising Arawak Indian trackers, who hunted them from savannah to forest, and from forest to swamp, killing and capturing them almost as fast as they ran away. In the smaller and more settled islands the runaways were generally recaptured at once and severely punished as a warning to others. There the more daring plotted insurrections which often caused much trouble for a few days until suppressed. They did not last long, for the negroes were wanting in the power of combination, because they all wanted to be leaders. Then there was generally some faithful slave or white man's mistress to give the warning, which sometimes caused such prompt action that the outbreak did not occur at all. Yet with all that the danger was serious, and one that could hardly be coped with by forts and batteries.

As early as the year 1649 a plot for a general rising in Barbados was discovered through the information of a bond-servant. All the whites were to have been murdered, but fortunately the ringleaders were arrested before the time fixed and eight of them condemned to death. Then in 1676, under the leadership of a Coromantee, it was arranged that on a certain fixed day, at a signal to be given by blowing shells, all the cane-fields should be set on fire, the white men killed, and their women retained by the negroes as their wives. This also was frustrated by information received from a house negress. Hearing two men talking of the matter, she made inquiries, and learnt of the plot in time to inform her master. Six of the prisoners were burnt alive and eleven beheaded, while five committed suicide by hanging themselves before the trial. The story was told in a pamphlet entitled, "Great Newes from the Barbados, or a true and faithful account of the great conspiracy." Yet again in 1693, after a fearful epidemic had much reduced the number of the whites, a third conspiracy was set on foot. The Governor was to have been killed, the magazine seized, and the forts surprised and taken. When the plot was nearly ripe two of the leaders were overheard conversing about it and instantly arrested. They were hung in chains for four days without food or drink, promises of pardon being made if they revealed their accomplices, which they did at the end of that time, with the result that some were executed and others cruelly tortured. We might go on to tell also of the abortive insurrection of 1702 and several others, but as there were never any very serious risings in Barbados, we must proceed to other colonies.

In Jamaica several abortive attempts at general insurrections were made, some of them assisted by the maroons, who continually received accessions to their numbers from desertion. These people also made incursions on their own account, which led the Government to offer £5 a head for every one killed, the reward being payable on the production of his ears. In 1734 they destroyed several plantations and killed a hundred and fifty white men, which led to an attempt at suppressing them altogether. Captain Stoddart therefore took a detachment of soldiers into the mountains to the maroon town of Nanny. Arriving at night he planted a battery of swivel guns on a height that commanded the collection of huts, before the negroes were aware of his coming. They were rudely awakened from their sleep to find the place surrounded, and in alarm many flung themselves over precipices in their hurry to escape. Some were killed, a few captured, and the town utterly destroyed. About the same time a party of maroons from another place were so bold as to attack the barracks at Spanish Town.

Two years later, under Captain Cudjo, the maroons became so formidable that two regiments of regular troops besides the island militia were employed to reduce them. The Assembly also ordered a line of block-houses or posts to be erected as near as possible to their haunts, at which packs of dogs were to be kept as part of the garrison. Then they sent to the Main for two hundred Mosquito Indians whom they engaged as trackers. This brought matters to a crisis, and Captain Cudjo was compelled to sue for peace, which was granted. A treaty was therefore made with them in 1738 at Trelawny town, by which they were to be considered as free on condition that they captured runaway slaves, assisted in repelling invasions, and allowed two white residents to remain in their towns. Thus peace was restored for a time, and the Mosquito Indians were allowed to go back to their country.

However, Jamaica was not to be free from slave insurrections apart from the maroons, for in May, 1760, at St. Mary's, the slaves of General Forrest's plantation fell suddenly upon the overseer while he was at supper with some friends, and massacred the whole company. They were immediately joined by others, and commenced a career of plundering and burning all the plantations in the neighbourhood. Business in the island was at once suspended, martial law proclaimed, and every white man called out to assist in putting down the revolt. The negroes, however, tried to avoid an open conflict, trusting to hide in the forest, where, however, a large body was discovered and defeated. The maroons had been sent for, but did not arrive until this action had taken place, when they were sent in pursuit of the flying rebels. This they pretended to do, and in a few days returned with a collection of ears which they said had been taken from those whom they had slain, and for which they were paid. The story was found out afterwards to have been a falsehood, as instead of pursuing the fugitives they had simply cut off the ears of those who had been slain before they arrived. This led the authorities to think the maroons in league with the revolted slaves and afterwards to look upon them with distrust. However, by the aid of a body of free negroes, the rebels were at last captured, to be punished in the cruel manner so characteristic of the time. Some were burnt, some hung alive on gibbets, and about six hundred transported to the Bay of Honduras. Two were hung alive on the parade at Kingston, one to linger for seven days and the other for nine, during which time it was said "they behaved with a degree of hardened insolence and brutal insensibility." In the course of the whole insurrection about sixty whites and four hundred negroes were killed, and damage done to the amount of one hundred thousand pounds.

In 1736 a slave revolt took place at Antigua, or rather it was discovered and anticipated. Five negroes were broken on the wheel, six hung in chains and starved to death, one of whom lived for nine days and eight nights, fifty-eight were burnt at the stake, and about a hundred and thirty imprisoned. These horrible punishments were intended as a warning to the others, and no doubt they had such an effect on that generation.

Few of the early insurrections met with any success, notwithstanding that the negroes largely outnumbered the whites in every colony. At the most the blacks had a few days' liberty to murder, burn, and pillage, after which came the terrible retribution. There was, however, one conspicuous exception: poor Berbice was actually taken over, and every white man driven from the plantations.

The Dutch were noted nigger drivers, and although the English were unable to boast much of their humanity, they stigmatised the Hollander as a cruel master. If a negro was obstinate, the Englishman threatened to sell him to a Dutchman or Jew, but the worst threat of all was to give him to a free negro. Whether this bad character was deserved or not is doubtful, but it is quite certain that the criminal law of the Netherlands permitted "the question" when a prisoner would not admit his guilt. This, however, was applicable to white as well as black, there being no particular slave code in the Dutch colonies.

What was the immediate cause of the great rising of 1763, in Berbice, was never exactly ascertained, but vague complaints were made of ill-treatment by certain planters. It commenced on the 27th of February, on an estate in the river Canje, and from thence spread like wildfire over the whole colony. The population consisted of, besides the free Indians, 346 whites, 244 Indian slaves, and about 4,000 negro slaves. The garrison was supposed to consist of sixty soldiers besides officers, distributed at several forts and posts, but owing to sickness only about twenty were fit for duty when the rising took place.

An epidemic of fever and dysentery had prevailed for two years among both whites and slaves, weakening the former in such a manner that they had no courage to contend with the revolted negroes, but mostly ran away to Fort Nassau when they heard of the rising. Almost out of their senses from fright, they urged Governor Hoogenheim to abandon the fort and colony at once. Only one of the councillors stood by the Governor, and it was as much as these two could accomplish to prevent even the soldiers from running away. As for moving against the rebels, this was impossible, for not one of the colonists would follow Councillor Abbinsetts in his attempt to do something. Their fright even affected the officials and soldiers in such a manner that the Governor could hardly escape their importunities to be allowed to leave.

Four vessels lay in the river, two merchant ships and two slavers, but even their crews were sick, and the captain of one so utterly broken down that he could not attend to his duties. The Governor tried to get them to go up the river and do something, but they were almost as frightened as the colonists. Only in one place were the negroes opposed; a few whites taking refuge in the block-house at Peereboom, some distance above the fort, where their way of escape was cut off. But for want of a little assistance they were compelled to make terms with the negroes. Under the agreement the whites were to be allowed to go down to the fort in their own boats, but as soon as they began to embark the negroes fell upon them, men, women, and children, massacred some and took others prisoners, a few only managing to get across the river.

Among the fugitives was a lad named Jan Abraham Charbon, whose story gives a graphic picture of the alarm and consternation produced by the insurrection, and of its results on himself.

He was the son of a planter, and the alarm was brought to the estate at night by a faithful slave. The plantations below were all in the hands of the rebels, who were burning and murdering on both sides of the river. The whites from several neighbouring estates gathered together and decided to make a stand at Peereboom, hoping for assistance from Fort Nassau. They got to the block-house early in the morning, to the number of thirty whites, with a body of faithful slaves, who had not yet deserted them, although they did so later.

Soon after their arrival the insurgents surrounded the house and attacked it, the whites making a successful defence until seven o'clock in the evening. Then one of Charbon's slaves came forward and asked if they wanted peace. On receiving a favourable reply the leaders on both sides came to the agreement above-mentioned. Next morning the whites were fired upon as they went to embark, and Charbon was wounded. However, he jumped into the river and swam across, hiding himself in the jungle, where he came upon another fugitive named Mittelholzer.

For eight days the two wandered about the forest, losing their way and almost dying from hunger and thirst. They dared not approach the river for fear of the negroes. Once they came upon the back of a plantation and hurriedly gathered a few cobs of Indian corn, immediately afterwards running back into the bush to eat them. While lying down a negro with a sabre passed quite close without seeing them, but presently another with a gun peeped into the bushes and caught sight of them. On this Mittelholzer ran out with his drawn sabre and so furiously attacked the rebel that he cut off one of his hands, captured his gun, and put him to flight. However, this audacity did not save him, for he was captured soon afterwards, Charbon managing to escape into the forest. Alone the boy wandered about for six or seven days, until, again becoming desperate from hunger, he returned to the same plantation, to fall into the hands of the negroes. He was stripped of his clothes, put in the stocks, flogged, and threatened with death, but was finally spared on account of his youth, and because the rebel chief, "King" Coffee, wanted a secretary to write letters to Governor Hoogenheim, proposing terms.

Meanwhile the poor Governor hardly knew what to do. He sent to Surinam and Demerara for assistance, but while awaiting this the military officers informed him that the fort was untenable against even a single assault. The wooden palisades were so rotten that a strong man could pull them down easily, and then the building was of wood and could easily be fired. He was ultimately obliged to destroy it and retire down the river, where he at first took possession of the lowest plantation, Dageraad, hoping to remain there until assistance arrived. But even here the rumours of an attack by the rebels made the people clamorous to be allowed to leave, and Hoogenheim had to retire to the mouth of the river, where there was a small guard-house, or signal station, near the site of what is now New Amsterdam. Thus the last hold on the plantations was given up, and the whole colony abandoned to the negroes.

A month passed before the first arrival from Surinam. All that time the Governor and a few whites waited day after day, sometimes almost in despair. The vessels had, at the request of their captains, been allowed to leave, carrying with them some of the people, while others had gone off to Demerara. This desertion was almost necessary, as the food supply was very limited and of a poor quality—cowards were useless, and therefore no objection was made to their departure. Hoogenheim was at last somewhat relieved by the arrival of the English brigantine Betsy with a hundred soldiers from Surinam, and with this small contingent he at once began to retrace his steps with a view to recover the colony. He went back to Dageraad, and in a day or two after was attacked by seven hundred negroes, who fought from early morning to noon, when they retired after suffering a great loss in killed and wounded. It was after this battle that young Charbon arrived with a letter bringing "greetings from Coffee, Governor of the negroes of Berbice." The rebel chief said that as the negroes did not want war, he would give His Honour half the colony, while he himself would govern the other half and go up the river with his people, who were determined never again to be slaves. No notice was taken of this, and Charbon, who had been warned to bring back an answer at his peril, was too pleased to get back to his white friends to again wish for his post of secretary.

Even now the Governor's situation was not only perilous, but most pitiful. St. Eustatius sent two vessels, but almost as soon as they arrived the men were attacked by sickness, and instead of being a help they had to be nursed, even the Governor himself taking his part in the necessary attendance. At one time there were not enough healthy soldiers to relieve guard, but fortunately Coffee had no means of knowing this, or all would certainly have been over with them.

It was not until December that a fleet arrived from the Netherlands, and then a horrible vengeance overtook the rebels. There was not much difficulty in subduing them, especially when a large contingent of Indians was sent overland from Demerara to drive them from the forest. In March, 1764, the trials began with a hundred ringleaders, fifty of whom were sentenced to death. Fifteen of these were burnt, sixteen broken on the wheel, and twenty-two hanged. The following month they executed in similar ways thirty-four, and later again thirty-two. The chiefs were burnt at slow fires, punishment which they bore with the utmost stoicism. One named Atta, however, told the bystanders that he only suffered what he deserved. Finally, in December a general amnesty was proclaimed, which made the negroes cry out with joy, Dankje! Dankje!

Berbice was of course utterly ruined for a time. The plantations were overrun with weeds, the buildings in ruins, and many of the slaves missing. Of the whites only 116 remained; the rest were dead from sickness, had been killed by the negroes, or had fled from the colony. The loss in killed was small, as the general fright prevented any show of resistance. What would have happened if the whites had fallen into the hands of the rebels was shown in one or two flagrant cases. One of the colony surgeons was said to have been flayed alive on the ground that he had poisoned the slaves by forcing them to take medicine. One poor girl who had been captured at Peereboom was compelled to submit to the embraces of King Coffee and driven mad, while another committed suicide to prevent a similar degradation. About eight hundred slaves were missing, most of whom had been killed, as very few managed to escape to the bush.