Perils of Certain English Prisoners | Page 4

curious place."

We thanked the young lady, and said we didn't wish to be troublesome;
but, she said it could be no trouble to an English soldier's daughter, to
show English soldiers how their countrymen and country-women fared,
so far away from England; and consequently we saluted again, and
went in. Then, as we stood in the shade, she showed us (being as
affable as beautiful), how the different families lived in their separate
houses, and how there was a general house for stores, and a general
reading-room, and a general room for music and dancing, and a room
for Church; and how there were other houses on the rising ground
called the Signal Hill, where they lived in the hotter weather.
"Your officer has been carried up there," she said, "and my brother, too,
for the better air. At present, our few residents are dispersed over both
spots: deducting, that is to say, such of our number as are always going
to, or coming from, or staying at, the Mine."
("He is among one of those parties," I thought, "and I wish somebody
would knock his head off.")
"Some of our married ladies live here," she said, "during at least half
the year, as lonely as widows, with their children."
"Many children here, ma'am?"
"Seventeen. There are thirteen married ladies, and there are eight like
me."
There were not eight like her--there was not one like her--in the world.
She meant single.
"Which, with about thirty Englishmen of various degrees," said the
young lady, "form the little colony now on the Island. I don't count the
sailors, for they don't belong to us. Nor the soldiers," she gave us a
gracious smile when she spoke of the soldiers, "for the same reason."
"Nor the Sambos, ma'am," said I.
"No."
"Under your favour, and with your leave, ma'am," said I, "are they
trustworthy?"
"Perfectly! We are all very kind to them, and they are very grateful to
us."
"Indeed, ma'am? Now--Christian George King?--"
"Very much attached to us all. Would die for us."
She was, as in my uneducated way I have observed, very beautiful
women almost always to be, so composed, that her composure gave

great weight to what she said, and I believed it.
Then, she pointed out to us the building like a powder magazine, and
explained to us in what manner the silver was brought from the mine,
and was brought over from the mainland, and was stored here. The
Christopher Columbus would have a rich lading, she said, for there had
been a great yield that year, a much richer yield than usual, and there
was a chest of jewels besides the silver.
When we had looked about us, and were getting sheepish, through
fearing we were troublesome, she turned us over to a young woman,
English born but West India bred, who served her as her maid. This
young woman was the widow of a non-commissioned officer in a
regiment of the line. She had got married and widowed at St. Vincent,
with only a few months between the two events. She was a little saucy
woman, with a bright pair of eyes, rather a neat little foot and figure,
and rather a neat little turned-up nose. The sort of young woman, I
considered at the time, who appeared to invite you to give her a kiss,
and who would have slapped your face if you accepted the invitation.
I couldn't make out her name at first; for, when she gave it in answer to
my inquiry, it sounded like Beltot, which didn't sound right. But, when
we became better acquainted--which was while Charker and I were
drinking sugar-cane sangaree, which she made in a most excellent
manner--I found that her Christian name was Isabella, which they
shortened into Bell, and that the name of the deceased
non-commissioned officer was Tott. Being the kind of neat little
woman it was natural to make a toy of--I never saw a woman so like a
toy in my life--she had got the plaything name of Belltott. In short, she
had no other name on the island. Even Mr. Commissioner Pordage (and
he was a grave one!) formally addressed her as Mrs. Belltott, but, I
shall come to Mr. Commissioner Pordage presently.
The name of the captain of the sloop was Captain Maryon, and
therefore it was no news to hear from Mrs. Belltott, that his sister, the
beautiful unmarried young English lady, was Miss Maryon. The
novelty was, that her christian-name was Marion too. Marion Maryon.
Many a time I have run off those two names in my thoughts, like a bit
of verse. Oh many, and many, and many a time!
We saw out all the drink that was produced, like good men and true,
and then