A HIGH WIND IN JAMAICA By Richard Hughes _Short Stories_ A MOMENT OF TIME _Poems_ CONFESSIO JUVENIS _Drama_ PLAYS: IN ONE VOL. _Also available separately_ Chatto & Windus * _Mr. Hughes has also edited a selection of Skelton’s Poems, published by Wm. Heinemann Ltd._ A HIGH WIND IN JAMAICA RICHARD HUGHES 1929 CHATTO & WINDUS LONDON Printed in Great Britain by T. and A. Constable Ltd. at the University Press, Edinburgh Third Impression All rights reserved Copyright in the U.S.A. by Richard Hughes, 1929, under the title of ‘The Innocent Voyage.’ A HIGH WIND IN JAMAICA _Chapter 1_ One of the fruits of Emancipation in the West Indian islands is the number of the ruins, either attached to the houses that remain or within a stone’s throw of them: ruined slaves’ quarters, ruined sugar-grinding houses, ruined boiling houses; often ruined mansions that were too expensive to maintain. Earthquake, fire, rain, and deadlier vegetation, did their work quickly. One scene is very clear in my mind, in Jamaica. There was a vast stone-built house called Derby Hill (where the Parkers lived). It had been the centre of a very prosperous plantation. With Emancipation, like many others, that went _bung_. The sugar buildings fell down. Bush smothered the cane and guinea-grass. The field negroes left their cottages in a body, to be somewhere less disturbed by even the possibility of work. Then the house negroes’ quarters burned down, and the three remaining faithful servants occupied the mansion. The two heiresses of all this, the Miss Parkers, grew old; and were by education incapable. And the scene is this: coming to Derby Hill on some business or other, and wading waist-deep in bushes up to the front door, now lashed permanently open by a rank plant. The jalousies of the house had been all torn down, and then supplanted as darkeners, by powerful vines: and out of this crumbling half-vegetable gloom an old negress peered, wrapped in filthy brocade. The two old Miss Parkers lived in bed, for the negroes had taken away all their clothes: they were nearly starved. Drinking water was brought in two cracked Worcester cups and three coconut shells on a silver salver. Presently one of the heiresses persuaded her tyrants to lend her an old print dress, and came and pottered about in the mess half-heartedly: tried to wipe the old blood and feathers of slaughtered chickens from a gilt and marble table: tried to talk sensibly: tried to wind an ormolu clock: and then gave it up and mooned away back to bed. Not long after this, I believe, they were both starved altogether to death. Or, if that were hardly possible in so prolific a country, perhaps given ground glass--rumour varied. At any rate, they died.