The next crime I have to mention, in this continuation of dark tints, is murder. This dreadful act, however, I am happy to say, is not very common now; in these days they seldom embrue their hands in human blood; but in former years, years of moral darkness, the negroes used frequently to suffer death for the Obeah practice of poisoning, or in some other way taking the lives of their fellow-creatures, particularly those who had authority over them, and who, in the exercise of that authority, made use of harsh measures. Perhaps it may not be uninteresting to some of my readers to narrate a few instances of the most remarkable murders which have been committed in Antigua; for, strange as it may appear, almost every one likes to hear of deeds of blood. In 1701, a dreadful murder occurred, the details of which are as follows:—The speaker of the house of assembly, the Hon. Samuel Martin, the owner of that beautiful and romantic property “Green Castle,” had for some reason or the other refused his slaves their usual Christmas holiday, and compelled them to work throughout the day. This infraction upon what they considered their right so exasperated his negroes, that on the 25th of December, 1701, they with one accord rose upon their master, determined to take sure revenge. Accordingly, at the dead hour of the night, they broke open the doors of his mansion, and rushing to the chamber of Major Martin, fell upon him, and actually hacked him to death, with the hoes they had been using in the cultivation of his sugar-canes. Shocked at the dreadful fate of her husband, and fearing the same terrible death from the infuriated slaves, should they discover her, Mrs. Martin fled from the scene of horror, and with her frightened children, sought safety within the precincts of a neighbouring cane-field. Here she remained throughout the remainder of that awful night; until when the morning came, and the bright sun arose and chased away the clouds of darkness, she summoned courage to leave her place of concealment, and throw herself and children upon the protection of her friends. The body of the unfortunate Major Martin (after an inquest had been held upon it) was interred in the churchyard of St. John’s; and the chief actors in the tragical affair were afterwards brought to condign punishment. Mrs. Martin lived for many years after this sad event, and married for her second husband Governor Byam, (vide Appendix, Byam Lineage.) The father of Major Martin was the first of the name who emigrated to the West Indies, and the ancestor of the present Sir Henry Martin, who traces his descent from thence.[23]