West Indies -- Description and travel; West Indies -- Pictorial works
in the proper crown and cushion fashion. The helmet is the police
inspector’s shield and guard, and badge of office. It is an inflexible
example of the power and nobility of the law; it is an object on which
the prisoners may fasten their eyes, should they be unable to gaze for
ever into the inscrutable depths of the spectacles of the presiding
magistrate. Compared with the magistrate, the clerk and the inspector of
police, the other whites and yellow-whites are unimportant. Planters and
tradesmen, and commission agents, they lounge gracelessly round the
table, fingering their riding whips or pulling at the ends of their
scrubby beards. The table marks the boundary line of the charmed circle,
into which only the whites, and the not very yellow-whites, may enter
with impunity. Beyond, in the public benches, grouped carelessly in
picturesque disorder, are the natives. A sweltering crowd it is,
throbbing with silence, just as the tropical midday throbs with heat.
The prisoner at the bar, a ragged, unkempt negro, whose cleaner father
must have come from the malarial swamps behind the Gold Coast, is
answering to a charge of stealing, feloniously and with malicious
intent, one and a half pairs of meat known and described (in Jamaica and
elsewhere) as pig’s trotters. As we entered, the prisoner at the bar was
tearing at the mangy patches of his mud-coloured hair, and pleading “I
no took them master, sir, yer honor, I no took them; I ask to be set
free. I no see them, I no eat them, ’fore God in ’eaven.”
It was interesting to watch the varied emotions playing over the
expressive faces of the watching crowd of the man’s enemies and friends.
Enemies first, because the natives seemed as cruelly thoughtless, and
quite as vicious, as the ladies in any balcony at a Spanish bull-ring.
When the monotonous mumble of the magistrate has finished, only the
pleased smile of the prisoner told us the news of his acquittal. To the
unexperienced ear, the magistrate’s mumble was just as incomprehensible
as any of the jargon of the witnesses themselves.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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