CHAPTER XII

THE ORPHANS OF THE CONQUEST

THE first of the lesser islands, the orphans of the conquest, as I have, I think with justice, called them, which the traveller from the north is likely to see, are the outlying Virgins, and then comes Saint Thomas, and the last of the colonial possessions which remain to the Danish Vikings. Saint Thomas is often called the Gibraltar of America, and the name is not at all inapplicable. Experts consider the island naturally impregnable, irrespective of the artificial assistance of fortifications. The enclosing ridges and the projecting peninsulas, just as they came from the hands of the world's great Sculptor, only slightly modified here and there by volcanic influences, are said to constitute the last word in defensive fortifications as worked out by the great modern masters of Vauban's art, such as Todleben and Brialmont.

The strategic position of Saint Thomas and the two other Danish islands is very strong in relation to the Panama Canal. Our naval strategists have always been in favour of their acquisition by purchase or otherwise. They might well become in the future, as in the past, a safe refuge of our enemies. During the Civil War the Danish islands were the rendezvous and

*Statistics in regard to these islands are given in Appendix F, page 446.

the headquarters of the blockade-runners, who did so much to prolong the struggle. Charlotte Amalia, the port town, and, indeed, the only place of any importance on the island, has about fourteen thousand inhabitants, and its chief industry in these otherwise slack days is purveying to the wants of political refugees from the adjacent islands, and in fitting out filibustering expeditions, at so much an expedition, to redress the chronic wrongs from which the adjacent islands would seem to suffer. It is certain that Saint Thomas has the best of harbours, deep and landlocked on three sides. The port town is surrounded by hills, from which drift down almost continually pleasant breezes. The houses are mainly of stone, with red tile roofs, and are embowered in secretive tropical gardens. Blackbeard's tower, from which so many buccaneers in former days took their bearings, still exists, and even if you do not believe in the length of the pirate's whiskers, or in the number of his wives, whom, legend has it, he kept happy and contented, there is a wonderful view from the top of the tower which well repays the climb. The old Danish fort, with its seventeenthcentury air, its cannon pointing skyward, and its wooden sentinels, also well repays a visit.

Saint Thomas has been almost deserted of recent years by the ocean liners. It has, however, latterly become the headquarters of the Hamburg-American Line, and the good Germans, it cannot be denied, make themselves very much at home here. They have their docks and their depots of coal, and generally assert proprietorship in a way which is evidently very irritating to the Danish colonial officials. However, the appeals for support which they make to Copenhagen are

never sustained. Enthusiastic admirers of Charlotte Amalia, and other annexationists, have always claimed for the port, among its other virtues, that it is practically hurricane-proof. This was probably never true, and certainly has not been true during the last ten years. However, it undoubtedly remains the most desirable existing harbour in the West Indies, with the exception of Mole Saint Nicolas, in northwest Hayti, which our fleet found so useful for coaling purposes in the Spanish War. Should the Germans ever seek land as well as commerce in the West Indies, there are many indications that they would take Saint Thomas and Curaçao. If they were permitted to do so, they would in this way secure strategic positions as strong, if not stronger, than those which the English and we ourselves possess.

Within sight from the hills of Saint Thomas lies Saint John's, another of the Danish islands, and, as seen from the sea, a very beautiful island, rich in forests and in streams. It furnishes also very striking illustration of one, and a certainly very disagreeable, phase of the West Indian situation. The island is healthy and rich in resources. Coffee and bay trees run wild, and its harbour, Coral Bay, is supposed to be hurricane-proof, and certainly has excellent anchorage in about fifteen fathoms of water. The woods are filled with wild pigeons and doves, but, with all these natural advantages, the island has been entirely deserted by its white population, and here, I am told, the black inhabitants, numbering about two thousand, almost entirely shut off from civilising influences, are fast relapsing into African barbarism. This information comes to me from several distinct and very reliable

sources, but it is second-hand, as the opportunity of visiting Saint John's never presented itself to me.

Santa Cruz, by some called the Isle of the Holy Cross, by very earthly people the Isle of Rum and Sugar, is the third and last of the Danish islands, and it is also the largest, possessing, as it does, some seventyfour square miles of fertile soil. Here the atmosphere is rather more American than in any other parts of the West Indies, not even including our own possessions. The planters and the farm managers are for the most part men of Irish birth or descent, who have become Americanised, and there are also quite a number of typical Yankees, generally schooner skippers, who, having wearied of the sea, have cast anchor in this snug harbour. To-day the shadow of an unfortunate real estate speculation hangs over the Island of Rum and Sugar. Fifty years ago these plantations were still practically so many gold mines. They never came on the market. Ten years ago, however, when Sugar was down, most of them could be purchased and, indeed, a great number of them were purchased, at prices that did not cover the cost of the improvements. These purchases were, of course, inspired by a belief that sooner or later the island would fall into the hands of the United States, and so Santa Cruz rum and Santa Cruz sugar would enter the American market under more favourable circumstances than the rival products of the other islands. Plantation prices rose while the annexation treaty was before the Senate, and some of the speculators, as well as the ancient owners, sold out. They were laughed at at the time, but the sequel has shown them to be wise men. To-day most, if not all, the plantations are again for sale at ap