Ordinary People, Extraordinary Times: Living the British Empire in Jamaica, 1756 9780228018520

Table of contents :
Cover
ORDINARY PEOPLE, EXTRAORDINARY TIMES
Title
Copyright
Dedication
Contents
Tables and Figures
Prologue
Acknowledgements
Notes on Conventions within This Text
Abbreviations
1 Ordinary People, Extraordinary Times
2 Jamaica in 1756
3 Making Money
4 War and Politics
5 Love, Family, and Friendship
6 Death, Disease, and Decay
7 Cotton, Candles, and Carriages
8 Tales of the Enslaved People
9 Ordinary People, Ordinary Lives
A Memorial to the Enslaved and Freed People of 1756
Notes
Bibliography
Index

Citation preview

ordinary people, extraordinary times

Ordinary People, Extraordinary Times Living the British Empire in Jamaica, 1756

s h e ry l ly n n e h ag g e rt y

McGill-Queen’s University Press Montreal & Kingston • London • Chicago

© McGill-Queen’s University Press 2023 ISBN 978-0-2280-1851-3 (cloth) ISBN 978-0-2280-1852-0 (ePDF) ISBN 978-0-2280-1853-7 (ePUB) Legal deposit third quarter 2023 Bibliothèque nationale du Québec Printed in Canada on acid-free paper that is 100% ancient forest free (100% post-consumer recycled), processed chlorine free

Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication Title: Ordinary people, extraordinary times : living the British empire in Jamaica, 1756 / Sheryllynne Haggerty. Names: Haggerty, Sheryllynne, author. Description: Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: Canadiana (print) 20230457304 | Canadiana (ebook) 20230457312 | ISBN 9780228018513 (cloth) | ISBN 9780228018520 (ePDF) | ISBN 9780228018537 (ePUB) Subjects: LCSH: Jamaica—History—To 1962. | LCSH: Jamaica—Colonization. | LCSH: British—Jamaica—Correspondence. | LCSH: Jamaica—Social life and customs—18th century. | LCSH: Great Britain—Colonies—America. | LCGFT: Informational works. | LCGFT: Personal correspondence. Classification: LCC F1884 .H34 2023 | DDC 972.92/033—dc23

This book was typeset in 10.5/13 New Baskerville ITC Pro. Copy-editing and composition by T&T Productions Ltd, London.

For Amelia, and for the millions like her, for whom we do not have names and whose individual stories cannot be told Those whose names were identified during the course of this research can be found in the Memorial to the Enslaved and Freed People of 1756 at the end of this book

Contents

Tables and Figures ix Prologue xi Acknowledgements xvii Notes on Conventions within This Text xxi Abbreviations xxiii 1 Ordinary People, Extraordinary Times 3 2 Jamaica in 1756 14 3 Making Money 27 4 War and Politics 51 5 Love, Family, and Friendship 70 6 Death, Disease, and Decay 95 7 Cotton, Candles, and Carriages 119 8 Tales of the Enslaved People 143 9 Ordinary People, Ordinary Lives 179 A Memorial to the Enslaved and Freed People of 1756 187 Notes 205 Bibliography 299 Index 327

Tables and Figures

Tables 6.1

Mortality rates (per 1,000) for white people in the British Empire, eighteenth century. 99

8.1

Enslaved people on the Mesopotamia estate, 1756. 149

Figures 1.1

Ewbank Ogle to Mrs Ogle, Kingston, 9 October 1756. Courtesy The National Archives, ref. HCA 30/259. 4

1.2

Ann Graham to Mrs Littlejohn, Jamaica, n.d. Courtesy The National Archives, ref. HCA 30/259. 7

2.1

Sarah Folkes to her child, Kingston, 1 October 1756. Courtesy The National Archives, ref. HCA 32/189/22. 20

2.2

Elinor Thomas to John Thomas, London, 8 April 1756. Courtesy The National Archives, ref. HCA 30/259. 23

3.1

Leonard Wray Junior to George Wray, Kingston, 10 October 1756. Courtesy The National Archives, ref. HCA 30/259. 29

3.2

Ann Morley to James and Isaac Henckells, Kingston, 2 October 1756. Courtesy The National Archives, ref. HCA 30/259. 44

4.1

William Miller to his Brother, Kingston, 11 September 1756. Courtesy The National Archives, ref. HCA 32/189/22. 52

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Tables and Figures

4.2 Edward Magnar to Mrs Jane Symes, Port Royal, 10 October 1756. Courtesy The National Archives, ref. HCA 30/259. 60 5.1

Patrick Kelly to Christopher Kelly, Jamaica, 8 September 1756. Courtesy The National Archives, ref. HCA 30/259. 71

5.2

Joseph Fraizer to Ann Shuwell, Kingston, 5 October 1756. Courtesy The National Archives, ref. HCA 30/259. 88–9

6.1

George Farmer to Richard Edward Hull, Port Royal (?), n.d. Courtesy The National Archives, ref. HCA 30/259. 104–5

6.2

William Ford to Alice Dunrich, Jamaica, 28 September 1756. Courtesy The National Archives, ref. HCA 30/259. 116

7.1

John Crow to Horlock & Wagstaffe, Kingston, 2 October 1756. Courtesy The National Archives, ref. HCA 30/259. 124–5

8.1

Quaco to Rose Fuller, Spanish Town, 21 June 1757. Courtesy East Sussex Brighton and Hove Record Office, SAS/RF 21/136. 148

8.2

Joe that lived with Mr Peete to Rose Fuller, Spanish Town, 3 October 1758. Courtesy East Sussex Brighton and Hove Record Office, SAS/RF 21/223. 163

8.3

Joe ‘Peete’ to Rose Fuller, Spanish Town, 16 July 1759. Courtesy East Sussex Brighton and Hove Record Office, SAS/RF 21/249. 164

8.4 (Grange) Will to Rose Fuller, Spanish Town, 25 June 1756. Courtesy East Sussex Brighton and Hove Record Office, SAS/RF 21/47. 168 8.5

(Grange) Will to Rose Fuller, Spanish Town, 30 July 1758. Courtesy East Sussex Brighton and Hove Record Office, SAS/RF 21/206. 169

Prologue Found hid and Concealed under one of the Guns in the Cabin, A Bagg Containing a Great Number of Letters or Papers.1

On 26 January 1757, Anthony McClaren was huddled together with several other men at the Royal Standard Inn in Falmouth, Cornwall. The seventeen-year-old mariner from Kirkcudbright, Scotland and the other men were giving evidence to the local commissioners of the High Court of Admiralty (HCA) about their experience of the Europa’s journey across the Atlantic in the months before Christmas.2 McClaren told the commissioners that he had joined the Europa in Jamaica as a ‘Common Sailor’ in early October 1756 along with three others. They had augmented the original crew under Captain James Cooke (McClaren believed they had all sailed from Dublin), who were on their return trip with a cargo of sugar, rum, cotton, coffee, mahogany, and logwood.3 McClaren added that he believed the sole owner of the vessel was a Mr Thomas Blair of Dublin, who lived there with his wife and family, but he did not know who else had freighted cargo on the vessel.4 The crew from Jamaica had consisted of McClaren and eleven others: two were English, three were ‘Welch’, and Captain James Cooke and five others, one of whom had died during the voyage, were Irish.5 In wartime many ships were taken by enemy privateers, but what happened to the Europa was very unusual.6 McClaren explained that on 21 December 1756, at around eight o’clock in the morning, a vessel under French colours had sailed towards the Europa and, about an hour later, had opened fire on them. Several Frenchmen then came on board and took away several of the crew, ‘noe manner of Resistance’ being made.7 McClaren and several of the Frenchmen remained on the Europa and the vessels parted company. Not ‘being Able to keep any Account or Reckoning, or make or take any Observations at Sea’, McClaren had no good idea of the latitude where the

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Prologue

capture occurred. In fact, he seemed more concerned that he had lost £7 in wages and about 45 shillings in clothes and bedding. Two days later, on 23 December, at about four o’clock in the afternoon, another privateer came up to the Europa flying French colours. However, on coming level with the Europa’s stern, the vessel lowered her French colours and raised her true English colours. The ruse worked, and the English vessel, which McClaren later discovered was the Defiance, under one Captain Dyer, took the Europa back into English hands. They in turn put several of the Frenchmen, now prisoners themselves, on board the Defiance. The Englishman Andrew Mitchelson came on board the Europa as prize master, and the vessel was sailed first to Penzance and then on to Falmouth.8 John Elie, one of the thirteen men put on the Europa as part of the French prize crew, confirmed McClaren’s story. Originally from Tourville in Normandy, Elie told the commissioners through an interpreter (one Thomas Grouby  Jr) that he had served on the Le Machaut, the privateer that had taken the Europa, and that he had been made prize captain by Le  Machaut’s captain, Denis Lemengonnet.9 He gave the latitude of where his ship had taken the Europa as 49˚ 20’ (west of Northern France) and said that he had been told, as prize captain, to take the Europa to the ‘first safe port either in France or Spain’.10 Elie was also able to give the latitude of where the Europa was retaken by the Defiance as 48½˚ (northwest of Spain). When the Europa had been retaken, Elie had in turn been taken prisoner and brought to Falmouth, where he and the others had arrived on 12 January 1757 and were now huddled together in the Royal Standard Inn. Mitchelson, an English midshipman, filled in the rest of the story. When the Defiance had retaken the Europa, he had been appointed prize master by Captain Dyer and told to take her to Falmouth. Mitchelson, however, first searched the Europa to find ‘what papers might then be on board her’, and ‘he at Last found hid and Concealed under one of the Guns in the Cabin, A Bagg Containing a Great Number of Letters or Papers, which he immediately took into his Custody’.11 The letters and papers were taken, along with the vessel itself and all the cargo on board, to be used as evidence in the HCA. This was always done to prove the title of the captors or the claims of neutrals as to who owned the profits from the prize.12 The letters remain, in two boxes, at The National Archives (tna) in Kew, where I first came upon them in autumn 2016.

Prologue

xiii

Mitchelson described his finding of the letters and papers under the gun in the Great Cabin as if it were an everyday occurrence. For historians, however, this simple act was anything but commonplace. Due to the fact that the Europa was a British vessel, the ‘Bagg Containing a Great Number of Letters’ contained letters written in English. This is extremely rare as, of course, most prizes taken by the British were taken from the French, Spanish, and Dutch enemy, and not many letters that have been kept as evidence are in English.13 Of the HCA correspondence, there are possibly more than 160,000 letters and associated documents such as accounts, bills of lading, and bills of exchange in French, Spanish, and Dutch, as well as in many other languages, but very few in English.14 Indeed, of the thirteen other British vessels that were retaken as prizes while returning from the British Caribbean during this conflict, only one other (far smaller) set of letters is extant at TNA.15 What is even more rare is that these letters are mostly written by people of the middling and lower orders of Jamaican society, about whom we know very little. On first finding the Europa’s letters, I realized immediately that they were a treasure trove but I was not sure what to do with them. Eventually, I transcribed them – everything: the letters, bills of exchange, bills of lading, sales of enslaved people, prices currents, explanatory or short covering notes, marginalia, and even the envelopes. One lone copy of the Jamaica Courant from September 1756 and one inventory of enslaved people were also among the letters.16 Some of the letters are short one-page items; others run over several pages of dense, tight script. In total there are more than 407 documents, dating from early September to early November 1756.17 They were written by planters, merchants, attorneys, auctioneers, ships’ captains, shopkeepers, rentiers, clerks, lawyers, artisans, merchant and Royal Navy sailors, and the occasional woman.18 These people were husbands and wives, brothers and sisters, daughters and sons, lovers and friends. Some were born in Jamaica, some were permanent residents born elsewhere, and some were ‘looked upon as transient People, or Sojourners’.19 In some respects, these letters come from what Marisa Fuentes calls the ‘traditional archive’; that is, ‘the majority of documents produced during the era of chattel slavery in the British Caribbean by colonial administrators, planters, white men and women, and governing bodies in the metropole’.20 In other respects, they do not; most are not from elites, they are not official letters or papers, nor

xiv

Prologue

are they from a discrete collection of letters and accounts of merchants and planters so often used for histories of Jamaica. They are the letters of those who, like enslaved people, are often occluded from history: poorer men and women, white, Black, and of dual heritage.21 Because the Europa left from Kingston, about 84  per  cent of the letters were sent from that port, but there are also many letters from Port Royal, Spanish Town, and many other places around the island. The Europa’s letters therefore tell us not only about ordinary people, but also about urban life in Jamaica, when the bulk of the historiography concentrates on elite merchants, planters, and on enslaved people. Futhermore, a significant number of the letters are from Irish people, when, at present, it is the Scots in Jamaica about whom we know  more.22 Indeed, the letters were also sent to a variety of places in the British Isles: 53 per cent were sent to London, about 14½ per cent to Bristol, just under 12½ per cent to various places in Ireland, and another 2½ per cent to Liverpool. Nearly 17½ per cent were sent to places such as Plymouth, Winchester, Norfolk, Chippenham, Taunton, Kirkham, Ashby-de-la Zouch, and Leith in Scotland. Just as the Legacies of British Slavery project has done for the early nineteenth century, the variety of addressees demonstrates the extent to which all areas of the British Isles were linked to slavery and the colonial project.23 The Europa’s letters are most significant, however, for what they tell us about everyday life and society in mid-eighteenth-century Jamaica. They reveal that Britain’s wealthiest colony was far more fractured and heterogeneous than has previously been thought: they show a society in which wealth was very unequally distributed, even among white people; where the war and the squabbles of the elite affected the poor and middling orders most viscerally; where patriarchy and control were not as absolute as the elite portrayed; where death and disease were all around, but were experienced very differently by different individuals; and in which all white people constructed their ‘white’ identity, but according to their financial means. The letters reveal the lives of the enslaved to a far lesser extent – their relative silence in the letters is glaring given their overwhelmingly dominant presence in both the urban and plantation landscapes.24 It is clear, however, that for enslaved people the start of the war both highlighted and heightened the precariousness of their lives, especially those enslaved by poor and middling white people.

Prologue

xv

The Europa’s letters therefore provide an extremely rare insight into the mentality and everyday life of ordinary poor and middling white people in Jamaica at a pivotal moment in Jamaican and, indeed, British imperial history. The thoughts and behaviours of everyday free Jamaicans – white or sometimes of colour – come to life through issues that often seem to us quite modern: concerns over money, family squabbles and petty jealousies, spoilt children, poor mental health, and a desire to purchase fashionable consumer goods.25 This is not to detract from the fact that Jamaica was a violent, cruel, deadly, and materialistic place, dominated by slavery, from which all free people benefited. It undoubtedly was, but not everyone experienced it in the same way. Jamaican society was fractured in more ways than along racial lines. It was heterogeneous, deeply divided, and unequal, even for white people. The Europa’s letters are testament to this.

Acknowledgements

It is traditional to start the acknowledgements with the major funders, but this is a pandemic book so I feel, at such an unusual time, that it is fitting to start these thank yous in an unusual way. I started writing this book in February 2020, just as the pandemic began to spread around the world, and I finished the first draft for submission to the press in July 2021. (In between was a hiatus while I was called back to teaching.) The second draft was mostly produced under further lockdowns and restrictions. Therefore, I would first like to thank my family. My husband John was steadfast in adversity, and he was a fantastic lockdown companion, joining me on various virtual world tours. He was continually exasperated by my days of writing when he thought I should be resting; but I loved the characters in this book too much to just leave them and their letters and the journey of discovery on which they took me. He still brought me a glass of wine at the end of the day. Ulysses kept me in my rightful place as a mere human, Hamble kept me warm by demanding cuddles, and Mr Charlie Allnut helped me to get up smiling each morning, got me out of the house, and reminded us all that every day holds a new adventure. Berta, whom we lost in March 2020, watched over us with disdain, of course. Friends have been so wonderful. Thank you to Kat Mycock for emergency shopping and chats through the window, and to Karen Davenport for coffee and G&Ts over zoom. Others also kept in touch and supplied friendship through the ether throughout: Dave Appleby, Sandy Breen, Katherine Friend, David Gehring, Mitch Larson, Helen Paul, and Natalie Zacek. I would particularly like to

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Acknowledgements

thank the ‘Boates Inn’ quizzers: Karen Davenport, Jean Haggerty, Linda Kingston, Helen Morland, Carol Morris, Craig Thurlby, and Roger Welham for regular updates, playing John’s controversial music round and my unfair literature and film rounds. Thank you for the laughter and rants, and for generally caring for each other. I first came across the letters in 2016. At first I just photographed everything, realizing that the corpus of letters was special but not knowing what to do with it. In the end I decided to let the writers speak for themselves. In so doing I have learned a lot, and my protagonists have taken me in new directions. This academic journey has been kindly supported by the Economic History Society by way of a Francesca Carnevali Small Research Grant (2017–18), a small research grant from the Historic Society of Lancashire and Cheshire (2018), and a Leverhulme Research Fellowship (2019–21), which was kindly extended due to the pandemic. I also wish to heartily thank Richard Baggaley at McGill-Queen’s University Press for his interest in, and encouragement for, this project before it even became a book. He has also been extremely patient during the writing and production of it. The Press’s editorial team, including Lisa Aitken and Kathleen Fraser, have also been very knowledgeable and helpful. Sam Clark and Christopher Shrimpton at T&T Productions did a great job of getting the manuscript looking fantastic, with Christopher in particular being very patient with the peculiarities of this text. The journey of discovery the letters in this book took me on included many trips to archives. I would particularly like to thank everyone at the Jamaica Archives in Spanish Town; Amanda Bevan, Randolph Cock, and Oliver Finnegan at The National Archives; Dawn Dyer at Bristol Central Library; Sophie Evans at the Royal Irish Academy; Mary Clark at Dublin City Archives; the archivists at Bristol University Library; all the staff at Liverpool Record Office; and Susan North at the Victoria and Albert Museum. I wish to thank the Earl of Clarendon for permission to cite from the Barham Papers and related items at The National Archives. I must also thank Martin Brett for letting me quote from the journal of his ancestor Curtis Brett, and the East Sussex Record Office for permission to reproduce the letters from enslaved people. This book has been a labour of love during a difficult time, which included me leaving my teaching post and trying to find my way forward. I owe huge thanks to Trevor Burnard for giving me an

Acknowledgements

xix

academic home at the Wilberforce Institute for the Study of Slavery and Emancipation, and for his support, encouragement, and friendship when I most needed it. He has also been generous in sharing his databases with me. Others have been very kind in other ways. Jonathon Abell, Karen Adler, and Nathan Perl-Rosenthal kindly translated items in the letters from French into English; Roberta Cimino translated items from Latin; and Rúben Leitão Serém, Sara Da Costa, Max Menz, and Gustavo Acioli Lopes kindly did the same for the Portuguese letters. I would also like to thank Rossanno Balzaretti for sharing his knowledge of wine and Robert S. Duplessis for email discussions about textiles. I am grateful to Lucas Hassis, Annika Raapke, and Dagmar Freist for their interest in this project; to the British Group for Early American History for enthusiastic feedback at the 2019 conference; and to the participants of the European Early American Studies Association for feedback at conferences in December 2021 and April 2022. A special thank you also to James Dawkins, Cassandra Gooptar, Amanda Samuels, and Dwight Samuels for very honest conversations about the subject matter discussed in this book. Three anonymous reviewers read the manuscript very closely and their comments and suggestions genuinely helped to make this a much better book. What has absolutely astounded me, given the nightmare conditions that universities have given their academic staff this past three years (and more), is the generosity of spirit of fellow historians during the spring and summer of 2021. Many kindly closely read and commented on chapters for me, offered advice, corrected my mistakes, and directed me to further reading. Therefore, my thanks to Anna Brinkman-Schwartz, Trevor Burnard, Barbara Bush, Robert S. DuPlessis, Aaron Graham, Cassandra Gooptar, Anna Greenwood, Doug Hamilton, Gad Heuman, Pat Hudson, Daniel Livesay, John McAleer, Christer Petley, Giorgio Riello, and Natalie Zacek. Their love and care in a time of coronavirus (pun intended: I am a huge Gabriel García Márquez fan) has warmed my heart and given me hope in the human race.

Notes on Conventions within This Text

The term ‘people of colour’ denotes Black people of African descent and those of European-African descent. The term ‘dual heritage’ denotes people of African-European descent. The terms ‘slave trade’ and ‘slave trader’ are occasionally used as shortened forms for the transatlantic trade in enslaved Africans where appropriate. The term ‘slavery’ denotes chattel slavery that was then a type of servitude that legally defined and treated people of African descent as subhuman and as moveable property. The terms ‘plantation’ and ‘pen’ denote estates on which a broad range of economic activity took place, often on an industrial scale, and on which predominantly enslaved people of African descent laboured. The terms ‘planter’ and ‘pen keeper’ denote the legal owner of plantations and pens, and, invariably, the enslavers of people of African descent. The term ‘fugitive’ denotes enslaved people who tried to free themselves through absence from their enslaver(s). Some terms used by contemporaries to denote understandings of race have occasionally been kept in the text where they are necessary for analysis or to make a specific point. Please see Dawkins’s A Glossary of Terminology and P.  Gabrielle Foreman, ‘Writing about Slavery/Teaching About Slavery: This Might Help’, for more detail.

Abbreviations BA

Bristol Archives

BCL

Bristol Central Library

BL

British Library

BoT

Board of Trade

DRO

Derbyshire Record Office

ESRO

East Sussex Record Office

HCA

High Court of Admiralty

JA

Jamaica Archives

JCRFSF

Jamaica Correspondence of Rose Fuller and Stephen Fuller

JHA

Journals of the House of Assembly

LLRRO

Leicestershire, Leicester and Rutland Record Office

LMA

London Metropolitan Archives

LivRO

Liverpool Record Office

SCRO

Staffordshire County Record Office

SMV

Society of Merchant Venturers (Bristol)

TBJPDB

Trevor Burnard’s Jamaica Probate Database

TNA

The National Archives, UK

UBSC

University of Bristol Special Collections

ordinary people, extraordinary times

1

Ordinary People, Extraordinary Times Dear Mamma … I am going to Learn the Carpenters Business.1 … my dr Little Girl is very well thank God.2

In October 1756, Ewbank Ogle wrote home from Kingston to his ‘Dear Mamma’ in London. He and a family member, ‘Brother Cuthbert’, had recently arrived in Jamaica, no doubt hoping to make their fortune. However, Cuthbert had already fallen ill and was recovering in Port Royal when Ewbank wrote to surprise his mother with a career trajectory that was clearly not his initial intention. He was determined to make the best of his opportunity to be a carpenter, however, and he hoped it would ‘turn out very Much to his Advantage’ (see figure 1.1).3 At around the same time, Ann Graham, married and with a young daughter, also wrote home to her mother. Her letter is full of mundane, everyday details: complaints about the postal system, her husband being busy at work, family health, her daughter not wanting to go to school, a cousin’s new child, and a friend who had died (see figure  1.2). Ewbank and Ann may have been living in Britain’s richest colony, but like many other ordinary people living in Jamaica at this time, and despite the onset of a major war (the Seven Years’ War 1756–63), they were simply trying to get on with their lives, care for their families, and make a living. The stories of Ewbank and Ann, and the other writers who posted their mail in the Europa’s mailbag, offer a different perspective to what we think we know of Jamaican society in the mid-eighteenth century. In 1756, Jamaica was Britain’s wealthiest colony.4 It was also Britain’s largest producer of sugar, catering for the increasingly sweet teeth of Britons within a changing consumer culture of food and drink.5 This brought huge wealth for planters and merchants at

4

Ordinary People, Extraordinary Times

Figure 1.1 Ewbank Ogle to Mrs Ogle, Kingston (9 October 1756).

the expense of an enslaved labour force, and arguably helped produce the finance necessary for the Industrial Revolution.6 Indeed, the huge forced immigration of enslaved Africans to work on the

Ordinary People, Extraordinary Times

5

island’s plantations meant that by the mid-eighteenth century the population ratio of white people to Black people was 1:9.9.7 Certainly Jamaica’s importance to the British Empire had become clear by 1756. The Seven Years’ War saw the English government devote ‘more of its naval strength to the West Indies than it had ever consistently done before’, with Jamaica taking precedence over the other colonies.8 The result was that the Seven Years’ War was arguably the first ‘world war’, and with the peace brought by the Treaty of Paris in 1763 ‘Britain emerged as the greatest military and imperial power of the modern age’.9 Peace ushered in thirty years of prolonged prosperity, in which the Jamaican ‘Planters were never more powerful’.10 In 1756, then, Jamaica was at the height of its power as an imperial colony; but it was also vulnerable to the nearby French, and four years later the ‘watershed’ of a major slave uprising, Tacky’s Revolt, was to shake the planter elite to its core and result in a new racial classificatory system in which whiteness became even more important.11 ‘Jamaica was a stunning success in imperial terms’, and the economic power of its elite planters and merchants was enough ‘to make every statesmen pause’.12 Yet Ewbank and Ann disrupt this Jamaican history, dominated as it is by the stories of men such as William Beckford and Edward Long, as well as other elite white planters such as Charles Price, Simon Taylor, and the Lascelles family.13 The lives of successful merchants such as the Bright-Meylers and the Hibberts are also well documented.14 These merchants lived in Kingston, the island’s principal port – an urban space that competed for primacy with the capital, Spanish Town, and through which most of the trade in sugar and enslaved people passed.15 These ‘forward-thinking entrepreneurial’ planters and merchants were part of a modern capitalist plantation machine.16 Of course, Ewbank and Ann were also part of Jamaica’s capitalist machine, but they were not elite or rich, nor, in Ann’s case, male. Ewbank and Ann also lived an urban life, and while their lives were inextricably linked with sugar and slavery, they did not work on the well-documented plantations.17 This is not as surprising as it might seem at first glance. While by the mid-eighteenth century Jamaica was known for its sugar production, only 32.7 per cent of all settlements were based on sugar.18 The sugar plantations were large and may have dominated the economy and the landscape, but Jamaica was far from being monocultural.19 In fact, the majority

6

Ordinary People, Extraordinary Times

of settlements were devoted to minor staples such as ginger, cotton, coffee, and pimento; to livestock pens; and to provisions, which while relatively less profitable were still an essential part of Jamaica’s economy.20 Moreover, while most of the trade in sugar and enslaved people went through the island’s ports, where hundreds of urban dwellers resided, especially in Kingston, urban life in Jamaica has been little studied. Ordinary People, Extraordinary Times demonstrates that while Jamaica’s economy was modern and capitalistic, in which every free person benefited from the system of slavery, not all did so equally. Jamaica was an expensive place to live, and was ‘marked by an extraordinary degree of income inequality even within the free population’ [emphasis in original]; this was especially true of the transient white population of soldiers and sailors, and of ‘ordinary whites living in town’, such as Ewbank and Ann.21 The stories of Ewbank and Ann also contribute to the current historiographical trend of redressing Jamaica’s reputation as a white, ‘hypermasculine’ space dominated by callous drunken debauchery, ‘a culture of impermanence’, and a double standard brought over from England through which white women were stripped of their sexuality while women of colour became overly sexualized.22 Jamaican men, it has been argued, created an identity for themselves that was distinctly masculine but also shaped by race and their relationships with the Black men they enslaved.23 However, Trevor Burnard has since argued that ordinary men and women were important in ‘making possible the transition’ to the large integrated plantation system.24 In particular, Christine Walker has recast white women and free women of colour as ‘powerful agents of slavery’ in Jamaica.25 Not only that, but women were more prominent in urban settings, where they were also more likely to be in charge of enslaved people and their punishment.26 Indeed, Jamaica’s deadly climate and its mercantile focus made free families ‘even more reliant on female members’ such as Ann.27 Slavery, of course, shaped the experiences and thoughts of ordinary people such as Ewbank and Ann, even if contemporaries considered that they took ‘it for granted’.28 As Kathleen Wilson has argued, ‘slave’ and ‘free’ were crucial markers of identity, and freedom, along with rank and gender, was a social performance in which difference was a political strategy rather than a permanent, definite marker.29 As we shall see, however, for enslaved people freedom was not easily obtained, and it meant different things to them

Ordinary People, Extraordinary Times

7

Figure 1.2 Ann Graham to Mrs Littlejohn, Jamaica (n.d.).

once they were nominally ‘free’. Indeed, whether free or enslaved, Edward Long created a whole taxonomy of race for people who were Black or of mixed heritage, with a very clear idea of what he considered to be the different gradations of colour.30 Yet while we have insights into the mentality of men such as Long, William Beckford, and James Knight, we have very few insights into the thoughts and quotidian experiences of ordinary people, about whom ‘the records are virtually’ silent.31 Ewbank and Ann’s stories, and indeed those of the other letter writers who posted their mail in the Europa’s mailbag, also contribute to a small but growing new tradition of the social and cultural history of Jamaica. Centred around material culture, identity, family, sex, and death, much of this, however, concentrates on elites (both white and of colour) and/or enslaved people.32 The Europa’s

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Ordinary People, Extraordinary Times

letters discuss all these themes and more, but, significantly, they also provide us with a fascinating insight into the thoughts, mentality, and quotidian experiences of poor and middling Jamaicans, about whom we know relatively little. Indeed, Ordinary People is the first in-depth study of the everyday lives of ordinary men and women in mid-eighteenth-century Jamaica. Some might question the use of the term ‘ordinary’ within such a horrific social system, but slavery was ‘an essential building block of empire’, and the very absence of slavery in the Europa’s letters is testament to its ‘ordinaryness’.33 Furthermore, as Wilson has noted, such people deserve the critical attention given to elites, because ‘local actions had global consequences’.34 Indeed, the many places in Great Britain to which the letters were sent are a testament to the pervasiveness of the imperial reach beyond just port cities.35 This includes a significant number of letters from and to Irish people, when at present it is the Scots in Jamaica about whom we know more.36 The local stories of people such as Ewbank and Ann therefore provide an excellent prism through which to view the global histories of empire. The Europa’s letters show a colonial society in which wealth was unequally distributed, even among whites; where poor and middling people were the most affected by the war and the squabbles of the elite; where patriarchy and control were not as absolute as the elite would have liked; where perceptions of, and reactions to, pervasive diseases and death varied widely; and where financial means meant that while all whites constructed their ‘white’ identity, they had to do so in different ways. Ordinary People demonstrates that mid-eighteenth-century Jamaica was heterogeneous, fractured, and divided along socioeconomic as well as racial lines.

‘a Great Number of Letters or Papers’37 When Andrew Mitchelson found the ‘Great Number of Letters or Papers’ on the Europa, he secured a treasure trove that helps us tell the history of ordinary (predominantly white) mid-eighteenth-century Jamaicans. The Europa’s letters are rare because they are written in English, when most of the letters in the Prize Papers were, by definition, captured on the vessels of other nations. Letters from the Prize Papers in the High Court of Admiralty (HCA) papers have been used as the main corpus for other studies.

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For example, Xavier Lamikiz used one of the Spanish HCA collections to study eighteenth-century Spanish-Atlantic trade, and Louis Cullen, John Shovlin, and Thomas Truxes produced an edited volume of a transcribed set of letters taken from a Dublin vessel.38 More recently, Annika Raapke used the French Prize Papers in her study of French bodies in the Caribbean, and Lucas Haasis reconstructed the career of a Hamburg merchant.39 However, while the Europa’s letters have been used in studies of privateering and the prices of enslaved people, no one has used them in their entirety, as a discrete collection in their own right.40 Yet they are – as far as it is possible to tell – representative of similar letters sent home across the seas in the mid-eighteenth century.41 They are not, of course, representative of the usual archives mined for Jamaican history, such as the private papers of the elite, merchants’ accounts and letters, or state papers.42 The fact that they were written by poor and middling people is what makes them such a fantastic and rare source. More than 407 letters and associated documents were found on the Europa, and they have been transcribed in full, complete with their idiosyncrasies such as phonetic spelling and misspelling. If you read some of the letters out loud you can hear an Irish brogue or a Bristol burr. I have also tried to use the writers’ own words as much as possible, which has occasionally meant using contemporary words that modern readers may find odious. These have, however, been kept to a minimum. The Europa’s letters were written by planters, merchants, attorneys, auctioneers, ships’ captains, shopkeepers, rentiers, clerks, lawyers, artisans, ordinary merchant and Royal Navy sailors, and the occasional female trader, rentier, wife, or mother. A few of the letter writers were elite planters and merchants, but as their stories have been told elsewhere their letters were only used for the information they contained about the experiences of ordinary free people and enslaved people. While the elite have been mostly ignored here, there are several absences inherent in the Europa’s letters. Two of them are glaringly obvious. Firstly, most of the letters were written by white men. Only about 7 per cent of the letters were written by women, and women were rarely mentioned in the letters written by men. In addition, only about 5½ per cent of the letters were written to women. This is partly because women were less numerous in eighteenth-century Jamaican society, but also because women wrote letters less often than

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men. Despite the image of the letter-writing woman portrayed in eighteenth-century novels such as Clarissa and Pamela, women wrote more infrequently as children through not being sent to boarding school, and those girls who learned to write did so less often.43 Their relative omission is therefore partly due to writing habits not having been formed, but also because men wrote more often through the creation and signing of legal documents – because married women were feme covert they had no separate legal identity.44 Secondly, despite the writers’ explicit and implicit involvement in slavery, enslaved men remain, as Michael Craton noted, ‘invisible’, but so too do enslaved women;45 this despite the fact that several of the correspondents were writing about the trade in enslaved people, or ordering tools and clothes for use on the plantations on which enslaved people toiled. Some of this omission is down to when the letters were written – that is, autumn, when imports of enslaved Africans were not at their height – but another reason is almost certainly the “normality” of slavery in their experience of daily life in Jamaica.46 Enslaved people were simply not deemed worthy of mention. There are other absences too. Free people of colour, despite being about 21  per  cent of the free population, are not well represented, even though some of them were relatively wealthy and had connections to Great Britain.47 Freed women of colour who had achieved respectability and financial security and had become enslavers themselves were not uncommon either.48 Often, of course, their increased status was due to their enforced and/or unequal sexual links with white men. As with freed men, that freedom was never the same as that of a white person. Indeed, most free people of colour were poor and had no reason to write to England – elite women of dual heritage, such as Mary Rose, were extremely rare.49 Another group under-represented in the letters are the Portuguese Jews, of which around 800–900 may have lived on the island, although they do appear as lesser merchants and shopkeepers.50 Religion is also mostly absent from the letters. The white colonists were mostly nominally Christian, the established Anglican Church being well suited to ‘represent the materialist social order’.51 However, one contemporary noted that ‘Religion is not so much thought of … & Morals seem in general to suffer the same fate’.52 Other issues and occurrences may have been deliberately left out, or not thought worth mentioning. Some writers may not have wanted to admit to being afraid, or may have had a desire to present a favourable or positive

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experience to their correspondents at home. This may have been especially true of issues such as failure at work, issues around health, or sexual and other “moralized” activities such as excessive drinking. Last but not least, the very nature of a ship’s mailbag means that the letters are all from September to November. There are none from earlier in the year, except a few that were being forwarded on.53 Most of these absences have been mitigated by cross-referencing with other sources. These were used to further contextualize the letters in the year 1756 and to find out more about the letter writers in other years where possible. In Jamaica these included writs of extent, indexes to judgements, Accounts Produce, and some planters’ correspondence.54 In Britain the following were consulted: Colonial Office correspondence; state papers; Admiralty papers; Board of Trade papers; journals of the Jamaican House of Assembly; cases in Chancery; the 1754 List of Landholders in Jamaica; valuations of plantations; wills, mortgages, deeds, plats and plans of plantations; planters’ and merchants’ accounts and correspondence; national and local newspapers; trade directories; almanacks; and council, guild, and trade association records. My huge thanks also to Trevor Burnard for the use of his database of Kingston Inventories, Register of Births, Deaths, Marriages, and Shipping.55 Particular sources have been used to tell the histories of enslaved people. In addition to the correspondence of enslavers and traders in enslaved Africans these sources include manumissions of the enslaved for 1756, Accounts Produce for 1756, slave inventories for the Mesopotamia estate, and a lone copy of the Jamaica Courant found among the Europa’s letters.56 Three letters from enslaved people, and two from a formerly enslaved person, were also found in a separate archive. They provide a rare opportunity to hear the voices of enslaved people without their being mediated by a white person.57 As far as possible I have tried to let the letter writers speak for themselves. This has facilitated the writing of a cis-Atlantic microhistory, that is, a history of Jamaica’s place within the Atlantic world.58 The Europa’s letters provide a history from below – an insight into the lived experience of ordinary people who do not usually have a voice in Jamaican history. And they do all this at a particularly important juncture in Jamaican, and indeed British, imperial history: the start of the Seven Years’ War. Those who posted their letters in the Europa’s mailbag were ordinary people, but they were living at an extraordinary time. Of course,

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the letter writers did not know what was to come, and very rarely did they express, in writing at least, any sense of living in extraordinary times. Rather, they were ordinary (white) people simply living their daily lives. During the transcription of the letters, several clear themes emerged about which the writers were concerned and on which the substantive chapters of Ordinary People have been formed. Firstly, while all free people benefited implicitly or explicitly from slavery, not all did so equally. Jamaica’s economy was diversified and complex, but also highly stratified. While many elite planters and merchants made huge profits, other men and women struggled to survive financially – some even asked the Assembly for poor relief. Secondly, while the elite argued over who should have power in Jamaica and while elite merchants profited from the war, ships’ captains and lesser traders struggled to conduct their trade and wondered at the elite’s navel-gazing. Some merchant sailors jumped ship to go privateering and fight the French, but many soldiers and sailors lived in extremely poor conditions and bore the brunt of the war. Thirdly, in contrast to the dominant story of hypermasculinity and controlling patriarchy, Ordinary People provides examples of loving families in Jamaica. Where families were separated it is clear that both men and women in Jamaica desperately missed each other as well as their children and friends, and cared for them across the Atlantic. Fourthly, and similarly, the Europa’s letters show that not everyone exhibited a callous disregard for their fellow human beings. Indeed, many experienced cultural shock on arrival in Jamaica due to the rampant death and disease, and others seemed genuinely disturbed and out of tune with the horror all around them. The soldiers and sailors posted to Jamaica suffered the most and died in their thousands. Fifthly, it was not just the elite that fashioned their own identities. Many ordinary men and women had to purchase cheap butter, candles, and clothes, but most were still able to fashion their own whiteness through eating white sugar, drinking English cider and ale if not Madeira wine, and wearing silk ribbons if not dresses. Last, but not least, the Europa’s letters do not, as previously noted, contain any letters from enslaved people. The letters and invoices commodify and obscure them, and so a conscious decision was made to give enslaved people their own chapter, in which their voices

Ordinary People, Extraordinary Times

13

could best be heard by reading against the grain of the traditional archive.59 Their work patterns were much the same as in the years before and after, but the weather of 1756 and the war heightened and highlighted the precariousness of their lives, especially for those enslaved by those of more moderate means. Nonetheless, it seems that enslaved people did what they could to survive, to occasionally free themselves, and to love and be loved in extreme hardship. Letters such as those from Ewbank Ogle and Ann Graham describe lives that were far removed from those of the elite planters and merchants about whom we know the most. They provide an extremely rare insight into the quotidian experiences, thoughts, and mentality of ordinary people in Jamaica at a pivotal moment in Jamaican, and indeed British, imperial history. In sharp contrast to the positivist view of elite men such as Edward Long, William Beckford, and James Knight, Ordinary People provides a human face – a social and cultural history of what it was like to be an ordinary person living in the British Empire at an extraordinary time.60 It shows that not everyone subscribed to the dominant mores of Jamaica’s narrowly conceived commercial culture and calculated callousness. Instead, Ordinary People offers a portrayal of Jamaica as a heterogeneous and fractured society that was divided not only by race, but also by socioeconomics.

2

Jamaica in 1756 … nothing is more agreeable to me in this remote part of the World than the perusing of Letters from my dear Friends & Acquaintance.1

On the afternoon of 10 October 1756, merchant’s clerk John Jackson rushed down Kingston’s rain-sodden streets to post his hastily written letters to his aunt and uncle and a friend.2 His shoes, stockings, and breeches were soaked, as the water was already a foot high and running rapidly through the streets.3 The sea breeze, which was stronger in late afternoon, blew the rain into his face as he ran towards Mrs Rogers’s tavern in Port Royal Street to put his letter in the Europa’s mailbag before it sailed.4 The weather was more temperate at this time of year, but John still found that ‘Every Pore [was] a sluice’.5 By the time he came out of the tavern, having spent time chatting with others about business, the rain had stopped and the streets had cleared of deep water. Yet it was now early evening, and, although the days were slightly shorter and cooler at this time of year, he had to be wary of the night air. As he walked home John found himself attacked by mosquitoes, which were ‘exceedingly fond of rich European blood’ and endemic in Kingston; the empty sugar pots, stagnant water, and dense population made ideal breeding grounds for the little carriers of malaria.6 John made a mental note to himself to put his netting over his bed that night.7 Nor was it only humans that suffered from the moist Jamaican air: iron and steel rusted, brass and copper turned green, and silver quickly tarnished. Dead bodies putrefied rapidly in the heat, meaning that they had to be buried within twenty-four hours, ‘at all times of the day and night’.8 No wonder contemporaries referred to the West Indies as the ‘torrid zone’.9

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The next morning, before the rain started again, John walked through the streets of Kingston in a more leisurely manner, worrying about the effects on trade of the war with France. Working for an elite merchant house, he was protected to some extent from the vagaries of trade at wartime, but there would still be difficulties to negotiate.10 As he walked he took in the sights of the town. The houses on the straight streets of Kingston built after the great earthquake of 1692, though built more densely than originally planned, were newer than many of those in the older port town of Port Royal and in the capital Spanish Town.11 Kingston houses were built variously of timber or brick and some were of stone, and they were generally covered with shingles; the larger ones had piazzas or galleries at the front.12 Kingston also boasted some very grand merchants’ houses that had been built in the early eighteenth century.13 More recently, Thomas Hibbert’s new home had been completed, and John had heard the gossip that it had been grandly outfitted in mahogany throughout.14 Many of the newer houses, however, were not as resilient to hurricanes as the short squat houses built by the Spanish in Port Royal and Spanish Town before the English arrived.15 Yet many merchants still preferred to import bricks from London to build their fashionable new houses – John had heard that Charles Mitchell had ordered thousands of such bricks.16 John passed the Anglican parish church on the corner of Parade Street and King Street and the luxurious ‘Shaar ha Shamaim’ Jewish synagogue built in 1744.17 Like many people in Jamaica, John was not particularly religious, but he understood that the Anglican Church dominated what religious life there was in the country, as well as the social order.18 With the latter in mind, John also noted the few indentured white male and female servants, many of whom came from London and Bristol, scurrying around doing their chores.19 Despite having lived in Kingston for sixteen months, John still felt that he lived in a ‘remote part of the World’;20 but he had been there long enough that he no longer noticed the smell of the town – not even of the dead bodies in their shallow graves. He did, however, recognize the tantalizing smell of someone preparing turtle soup or pepperpot, which made him hungry.21 His ears also pricked up at the sounds of the town: the ‘Maha-a, Maha-a of Goats’ kept for their milk, and, over the sounds of the goats, the cries of enslaved town workers calling each other: ‘Pompey, Scipio, or Yabba, Jubba and Quasheba’.22 They were almost certainly more aware of

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the gibbet they passed, which had been constructed for their punishment, than was John.23 Slaveholding was ubiquitous in Jamaica at this time, and around 170,000 enslaved Africans lived on the island when John sent his letter home.24 Indeed, even most free or freed people were enslavers themselves as a symbol of that freedom.25 The many hawkers and higglers would have been either enslaved Africans or free people of colour, and they clustered in Kingston and Spanish Town in a ‘great variety of shades of Black and Yellow’.26 On a Sunday, John, or possibly his enslaved ‘housekeeper’ (a euphemism for an extremely unequal or forced sexual relationship), would have purchased provisions at the busy market at the bottom of King Street in Kingston, where enslaved and free people of colour sold provisions such as fresh fruit, vegetables, and chickens’ eggs.27 Enslaved people ‘who have anything to sell’ came from up to thirty miles around.28 It being October, there were more white visitors in Kingston than usual, people having come from the surrounding countryside for the county assizes.29 There were therefore more chariots and kittereens in the street than usual, with white men and women dressed in white or light-coloured clothing such as ‘white ruffled Caps’ or hats and ‘Linen Jackets and Breeches [for men] and thread hose’.30 John looked forward to his visit to Spanish Town on business next week: he enjoyed watching the gentlemen and ladies in finer clothes. The forty-one assemblymen and their families also converged on Spanish Town when the assembly met between October and December.31 For balls and assemblies that began at eight in the evening and lasted until four in the morning, the wealthy planters would be dressed in ‘Suits of Silk, Velvet &c.’ and their wives in ‘rich Gold & silver flower’d silks’.32 In Spanish Town’s main square stood the grand assembly building, St Catherine’s Cathedral, which had been rebuilt between 1712 and 1714, and the King’s House, where the governor usually resided.33 The latter boasted a great salon that was seventy-three feet long, thirty feet wide, and thirty-two feet high, complete with Doric columns.34 As John continued down to the waterfront on business, he encountered another range of sights and sounds. Business was picking up again after ‘a most uncommon long series of Rain’ in September and early October.35 In mid-September the merchant Mathew Cleland had written to his brother: ‘The Weather is again broke up. And which we hear has been very Violent to Windward.’36 Writing

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a couple of weeks later, another merchant noted that ‘The heavy Rains we have had for these three Weeks passed put a Stop to all Business’ and that the ‘Badness of the Roads’ had consequently prevented goods getting to Kingston for export.37 Now, however, ships’ captains such as James Cooke of the Europa were trying to load their vessels, and John had asked him when the Europa was due to sail to ensure he posted his letters on time. He also heard the Dublin brogue of Robert Nelson, who wrote home to his brother that a man from Saltcoats had ‘dayed Since We Com heir in fave days Sickness’.38 John noticed the London accent of Captain Andrew Hearsey Wilson, the Bristol burr of Captain William Clutsam, and the Lancashire accent of Robert Jennings, a slave-ship captain. He also bumped into one of the 2,000 or so transient military personnel, either buying provisions for men stationed in Port Royal or recruiting sailors for the Royal Navy.39 John tutted to himself as he saw the British Royal Navy ships safely moored in Kingston harbour because the French force was so superior.40 Like many others, he worried about a French invasion. It was not yet time for the sugar harvest so the wharves were not as full of hogsheads of sugar as they would be a few months later, when sugar to the value of more than £500,000 was exported annually to Britain from Jamaica.41 In 1756, 439.9 cwt of sugar was imported into England and Wales from Jamaica alone.42 However, John saw some remains of the previous harvest being loaded.43 Other goods waiting for export included ginger, rum, cotton, coffee, mahogany, and logwood, which were all being loaded on to the Europa.44 At the same time, a wide variety of goods was being unloaded from vessels that had recently arrived at Kingston.45 John knew that Ireland’s merchants were rarely involved in the trade in enslaved people;46 however, the very fact that the Europa’s owner, Thomas Blair, was from Dublin reminded him of Ireland’s important role in supporting Jamaica’s slave society. John watched barrels of salted beef, fish, and pork and firkins of butter being unloaded from Dublin.47 He also noted the vessels from Cork and Belfast.48 From London, which dominated British trade throughout this period, John noticed an even wider array of goods.49 Apart from fish, currants, corn, salt, coal, and tobacco, there were dry goods such as linen, cotton and woollen textiles, paper, pottery, iron, lead, nails, soap, and medicines, as well as horse whips, saddles, and tobacco pipes.50 John also wondered at the tea and silk from China and

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the wine from Porto and Madeira.51 On the Bristol ships John saw casks of beer and cider, but also soap, tallow candles, saddlery and other leatherware, anvils, bricks, and copper stills.52 He also noted the casks of refined white sugar, re-exported back to Jamaica after having been refined in Bristol.53 On the Liverpool ships John recognized bales of textiles from Manchester, barrels of flour and oats, Lancashire cheeses, boxes of candles, shoes, chests of ironware, and even riding coats.54 Of course, the most infamous import that John saw on the Liverpool ships was enslaved Africans.55 There were 10,072 enslaved people imported into Jamaica during 1756 alone, mostly from the Bight of Biafra, West Central Africa, and the Bight of Benin.56 As he neared the wharves, John smelt the stench of these enslaved Africans imported to grow sugar. Many who had not yet been sold off the Black Prince of Bristol were being housed in warehouses near the docks.57 There would be more enslaved people on the wharves a few weeks later when the sugar harvest was imminent and planter demand increased.58 Sugar had become the profitable crop by the end of the seventeenth century.59 However, although Jamaica was known for sugar production by the mid-eighteenth century, 67.3 per cent of settlements grew other commodities.60 On his trips to Spanish Town John therefore passed the many pens growing ginger, cotton, pimento, and provisions for domestic consumption.61 Coffee was also grown in the less fertile hilly regions of St Andrew parish on the outskirts of Kingston, and as he approached Spanish Town he passed livestock farms among the sugar plantations in the surrounding areas of St Catherine parish.62 He also saw planters going about their business on their horses at ‘a smart trot’, and perhaps a poor enslaved boy ‘with his great coat … holding the horse’s tail being obliged to keep up with him’.63 When on occasion he needed to visit the port of Old Harbour, south-west of Kingston, he admired the threestorey Colbeck Castle on the rise in the distance, with its four corner towers and elegant arcades running between them. It was a fine example of ‘high’ colonial architecture.64 Walking north of Spanish Town he waxed lyrical about Jamaica’s romantic landscape in the same way as did planter–historian William Beckford, who noted that ‘the bay of Port Royal’ had a ‘majestic-sweep’ and the ‘Blue Mountains [were] … covered with a sapphire haze’, while parts of Matlock and Dovedale in the area known as Sixteen Mile Walk resembled the places in Derbyshire after which they were named.65

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By mid-morning, the foggy and hazy weather had dissipated, even inland, but given the recent heavy rains John found it dangerous to cross rivers such as the Rio Grande, between St George and Portland parishes, or the Milk River (so-called after its clay bottom), in the parish of Vere. However, although the rains had been heavy, there had not been a hurricane to uproot trees and tear down mills and sugar houses. Furthermore, while the recent rains may have ‘damaged the Canes’ in some areas, in others the heavy floods would have helped feed the soil with loam.66 Therefore, despite the war, John was hopeful that there would still be a good sugar crop and that the merchant house where he worked would have a profitable year ahead.

‘P.S. I hope you will excuse my bad Writing, as I was much in haste; the Vessell just now departing’67 When John wrote to his friend he asked him to excuse his poor writing because he had written his letter hastily, not wanting to miss the opportunity to send a letter home. He was not the only one rushing to catch the post. In his letter to London, the Portuguese merchant and Kingston rentier Daniel Mendes Pereira wrote that there was ‘little time … to put the letters in the bag … the Captain is almost loaded’.68 Similarly, Alexander Robe, a ship’s captain, wrote home to his wife ‘Dearest Betty’ that he had ‘About an hour agoe’ received her letter, and that ‘tho’ I have lately wrote you so Many letters yet I could not lett slip this opportunity [of the Europa] to inform you of my health’.69 Nor was John Jackson the only one to apologize for his writing. George Farmer, an ordinary seaman serving on HMS Dreadnought, wrote in the margins of his letter to his brother: ‘This I have wrote in a hurry Yt [that] I believe yu won’t be able to read it’ (see figure 6.1).70 Actually, George’s letter was very neatly written, as even the poor knew that letters were supposed to be tidy, which they had learned from homemade copybooks, chapbooks, and balladry if not from formal letter-writing guides.71 Rushing to meet the post was not the only reason that letters were poorly written. John Thomson wrote to his mother in Dublin on 10  October: ‘It is quite Dark therefore must conclude.’72 Portuguese merchant Aaron Lousada was ‘still full of Pains’, and therefore wrote home with difficulty;

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Figure 2.1 Sarah Folkes to her child, Kingston, 1 October 1756.

indeed, much of his letter’s scrawling script is difficult to decipher.73 Others found themselves unable to write at all. In September, elite merchant Matthew Hibbert excused himself for not writing sooner due to the ‘Incapacity I found myself under’.74 The spelling in some of the Europa’s letters was not good, even by eighteenth-century standards, but they all followed the correct conventions, with formal salutations and valedictions, even those by ordinary sailors such as William Nickell and Martin Swords.75 Women did not write letters as often as men but they still knew how to write well-constructed letters that were neatly written and well spelt.76 Sarah Folkes’s letter of 1 October to her child is mostly correctly spelt and extremely neatly written (see figure 2.1). For the poorer sections of society, however, paper was a scarce resource, and so could not be wasted. Sailor George Farmer even used the margins to write on, and he might have accessed paper, ink, and

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pen at a local coffee house or tavern, with or without paying.77 For him, leaving wide margins as a sign of the recipient’s importance was not a luxury he could afford.78 The post was also expensive at 1  shilling 6  pence for a single-page letter and 2  shillings for two pages (approximately £8.90/£11.90 in modern currency), and, as it was usually the recipient that paid, many such as slave-ship captain William Miller avoided sending unnecessary letters.79 Indeed, another sender paid the postage of his letters to his ‘Kinsman’ in advance as he knew that he was ‘in want of money’.80 To completely avoid the labyrinthine postal system, Tom Morgan, a merchant’s apprentice, sent his two letters to his ‘Hond Farther & Mother’ with ‘a young man’ to leave at a Mr Gomms’s.81 Equally, newly established merchant George Hutton was disappointed to read that his wife had not received his letters, as he thought the person he had sent them home with ‘a very Honest Man’.82 At the other end of the scale was John Crow, a lesser merchant who, worried about his reputation, complained to his stationers in London that the paper they had sent was too thick to write accounts and letters on neatly (see figure 7.1).83 While John Jackson was in a hurry to send his letter, many others in Jamaica were impatiently and anxiously awaiting the arrival of letters from Britain. James Short had waited ‘more than a Year since ye date’ of his wife’s last and only letter to him in Jamaica.84 Similarly, Leeson Blackwood ‘had never receiv’d any of the Letters’ his brother John had written from near Belfast.85 Letter writers laid blame or remonstrated against lost or never-written letters in different ways.86 In October, Edward ONeal, a lieutenant on board HMS Dreadnought, wrote to his sister Jean, who lived near Kerry, Ireland, that he had never received an answer to his several letters, and that he ‘should be glad to know how I have disobliged you’.87 Similarly, the lawyer Joseph Stephenson wrote to his mother that unless his repeated letters home had ‘miscarried’, then his ‘Relations are negligent in regard to me’.88 Sailor George Farmer, noted above, wrote to his brother in Cork that his friends had ‘no Excuses’ for not writing, as ‘Ships come here Daily from Corke’.89 Some letters did genuinely go missing or arrived late via the wrong route. John Harriot wrote in July from St Elizabeth that a letter of 26 July 1755 had only just reached him as it had gone via Savanna-la-Mar in Westmoreland parish, to the north of the island.90 This delay may have been because the parish of St Elizabeth was not one

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of the places to which Edward Dissmore, the postmaster general for the island, ‘thought proper’ to deliver to.91 Given that he generally delivered the mail on foot, and had to pay 1 shilling to the ships’ captains who handed over ship letters, he no doubt was sloppy. Others recognized the vagaries of the postal system itself.92 Ann Graham, who wrote home to her mother in London about her little girl, was aware of ‘the inconvenience we Labour under here of haveing our Letter[s] often Miscarry’, but she was, nonetheless, ‘very uneasy in not hearing from you in so Long a time’.93 Similarly, Sarah Folkes gave her young son detailed advice on how to use the postal system. Worried that he was afraid of the cost of sending a letter to her from London, she advised that he could ‘carry it to the General Post Office in Lombard Street to go by the Pacquet, a single letter is 1s. 6d. But if you put it in any of ye bags at ye Jamaica Coffee House it will cost you but one Penny, only the Pacquets are safer.’94 Not only could Sarah and Ann write neat letters, they clearly understood the postal system very well. Some realized that the war caused further problems over and above the normal delays.95 John Penington asked his correspondent to write him a ‘few Lines by every Opportunity, as it is Warr time, & I may not perhaps receive half of the Letters you may send’.96 Mariners in particular used ships to send and receive their letters, but because they were mobile it sometimes took a long time for the letters to catch up with them.97 The sailors on the merchant vessel the Clarendon all had to wait an exceptionally long time for their mail. A number of letters dated April 1756 and addressed to George Scott, George Stoney, George Henry, and Captain John Thomas (from his mother, Elinor: see figure  2.2), were all in the Europa’s mailbag.98 Originally sent to these men in Cork, these letters had followed the Clarendon’s men to Gravesend, then east across the Atlantic to Jamaica, and they were then sent back to Britain.99 Of course, like all the letters on the Europa, these epistles from home never reached their recipients.

‘I’ll write you all the News of this place’100 John Jackson was not the only merchant’s clerk to send letters home on the Europa in the autumn of 1756. There was also Tom Morgan, already noted, who was apprenticed to Lafitte, Brown &

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Figure 2.2 Elinor Thomas to John Thomas, London, 8 April 1756.

Mulholland, also in Kingston. Lesser merchants also sent their mail home. These included John Harriot, who shared his time between Kingston and St Elizabeth parish where his mother lived; John Byrn, who was originally from Dublin; Gerrard Nash, whose main contacts appeared to be in Bristol; and Londoners John Crow, a commission merchant who suffered from gout, and Samuel Jebb, who were both living with their wives in Kingston. Both John Crow and Gerrard Nash were anxious to return to England.

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Others in trade were several Portuguese shopkeepers and lesser merchants. These included Kingston merchant and rentier Daniel Mendes Pereira, whose daughter and possibly his wife were with him in Kingston; Daniel’s friend Jacob Mendes, who had his wife and newborn son with him in Kingston; Rachel and Manoel Mendes, who were busy trying to solve family problems caused by their son-in-law Isaac; and merchant Isaac da Silva, who was unusual in signing his letters from himself and his wife Ribca. Several merchant vessel captains also wrote home, either to their principals or their families. These included Liverpudlians James Clemens and Robert Jennings and Bristolian William Miller, all traders in enslaved people; William Clutsam, from Bristol, who dutifully wrote to his bosses but also lovingly to his wife; and also William Miller and Alexander Robe, both from Bristol, who had wives and children at home whom they missed. Also writing home were ordinary seamen. These included William Nickell from Belfast and Robert Nelson and Joseph Fraizer from Dublin, who were sailors on three different merchant vessels. Joseph Fraizer was worried about his long-lost wife in Liverpool, and Edward Magnar, another Dubliner, was a sailor who jumped off a slave ship and joined HMS  Shoram. Edward ONeal was a lieutenant on HMS Dreadnought, and one of the men serving under him was George Farmer from Cork. Also serving as ordinary seamen on Royal Navy vessels were Patrick Kelly on HMS Greenwich, who desperately missed his family; Martin Swords on HMS  Princess Mary; and John Smith from Somerset, serving on another unidentified Royal Navy vessel. He had survived an initial bout of sickness and was now keen to make enough money for him and his wife to live comfortably in their old age. Other people sending letters home were in Jamaica supporting its slave society in a variety of ways. These included the doctor Joseph Madeiros Alvares, who died in 1756 leaving his pregnant wife to manage on her own. There was also the lawyer Joseph Stephenson, who was upbeat about his prospects if he lived frugally. In sharp contrast was George Hampson, another lawyer splitting his time between Spanish Town and Kingston, but utterly out of tune with Jamaica’s fast-living capitalist society. William Folkes, Sarah’s husband, worked for the Ordnance Office supplying goods to the forts in Jamaica, and William Jenkins was struggling to get his business going as an insurance underwriter. Ewbank Ogle had come with his

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brother to Jamaica, as we have seen, and he was enthusiastic about his prospects as an apprentice carpenter, but William Turten Grear was an unsuccessful vendue master. There was also a host of overseers, accountants, taylors, tutors, and tutoresses, as well as many indentured servants for whom we do not even have names. Several women wrote to Britain from Jamaica in the autumn of 1756. These included Ann Morley, who imported goods directly from London, but who also had a daughter at boarding school in England and another two living with her in Jamaica. Elizabeth Metcalfe worked as a seamstress and loved to share her news from home about her niece and nephews with her friends in Kingston. Ann Graham, who, as we have already seen, was uneasy about not having heard from her mother, lived with her husband and daughter in Kingston, but she also appears to have had a sister living in Jamaica. Sarah Folkes lived with her husband William in Kingston but had three children at school back in England. Both William and Sarah were concerned, in their own way, that one of their sons had died. Mary Rose, a free woman of dual heritage, lived in Spanish Town. She had been in a long-term, if unequal, sexual relationship with elite planter and politician Rose Fuller. She was a rentier, manager, and general go-between for Fuller’s various employees and enslaved people. As is often the case, we mostly see only glimpses of women through the letters of men. These included Judith Akin, who moved her rum-selling business from Kingston to Spanish Town; Mrs Woodcock, who was gossiped about for allegedly marrying imprudently; and the widow Mrs Stopford, who was fighting to continue living in her own home. There was also Mrs Byndloss, allegedly left penniless due to her deceased husband’s extravagance. Many others wrote letters to Britain, and we shall meet some of them as their stories unfold. There were of course thousands of enslaved people. They are hardly mentioned in the letters except for a precious few such as Providence, of St James parish, and Clarissa, of Mesopotamia estate. As usual, we mostly see enslaved people through the white lens of their supposed financial ‘value’ in inventories. John Jackson would have seen many enslaved Africans and free people of colour as he walked through Kingston on his way to the counting house or rode to Spanish Town on his horse. It is doubtful he recognized many of them by name, even as he wrote home about ‘all the News of this place’; like others, he did not write about all the people of this place.101

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A ‘Grand Jubelly’102 As John Jackson made his way back to the counting house in Kingston, he fondly remembered the ‘Grand Jubelly’ that had been held in the summer of 1755 to celebrate the 100-year anniversary of taking the island from the Spanish. He had enjoyed the ‘3  Days’ of ‘Musick … Singing, Fire Works, Publick Dinners[,] a Masquerade Ball & Plays’.103 How different things would be in 1757, when an elite planter commented: The Distress of the Planters were never greater than this Year, high Taxes, low prices of Sugar, high Freight, high Insurances, and Hoops & Staves very Dear. The Merchants calling in their Debts to keep up their Credit at home, & no Money in the Countrey, even for the Common Occurrences of Life. Our Treasury Exhausted & the Publick Credit very Low. When you add to this an Unnecessary War, with a Potent Enemy, I believe you will think our Situation very bad. However, we must not despair but hope for better Times.104 Without the gift of foresight, John Jackson could not know that the war would leave the planters with an ‘unprecedented level of political influence in the island and in London’.105 Nor could he have foreseen that in four years’ time there would be a ‘fatal rebellion’ by enslaved people that would mean martial law once again.106 It would also galvanize ‘white Jamaicans into tightening racial restrictions’ and developing a new stress on racial ideology that would ‘shape power and class relations’ for the remainder of the eighteenth century.107 In October 1756, John Jackson, like the majority of the other letter writers who posted their mail in the Europa’s mailbag, wrote mostly about far more mundane matters: earning a living; negotiating the war; missing family and friends; health or the lack thereof; and what they wanted to eat, drink, and wear. Those who sent their letters home on the Europa may have been living in extraordinary times, but they were still ordinary people living ordinary lives.

3

Making Money This Cont[r]ey is Not as Bad as a Greate Many thinks.1

Leonard Wray was a small-time merchant in Kingston who was struggling to make his fortune. He imported a wide range of goods that supported the island’s economy, but his suppliers often sent him the wrong goods for the market and some were of poor quality. Despite these problems he still wrote home encouraging his brother to come and try his luck in Jamaica: In Regard to Brother Isaac, I Shall Write a Line or two to him what I think If the Dieing [dyeing] Do Not Answer as he is a Singell man he may try his Fortun a Broade if he Chuses it He will Not Looss aney thing By it I Beleve for this Cont[r]ey is Not as Bad as a Greate many thinks it But as You Observe as he Dos not write a Good hand Nor expert at Acct it is Not So well for I find the Los of that My Self you May Advise him to Do Just as he Likes He may happen to Do Well and If Not He Shall Not Loose Much by it as I am here But you may Leve it to his own Cho[ice] if one Year wood not Mack me ane Great Los to him he may try Jamaica if it will Not answer let him Leve as he is Singell and Do Not find it answer at home I wood try a Nother Part of the World it is Wide.2 At first glance, Wray’s letter seems to chime with the dominant literature wherein Jamaica’s planters and merchants were among ‘the most accomplished capitalists of their time’ and were ‘relentless innovators’.3 The island’s mercantile capital, Kingston, was a modern city where everything was ‘a perpetual pursuit of Gain and

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Pleasures’, while the sugar plantations were the ‘precursor of the modern industrial factory’.4 There is no doubt that for some this positivist economic story was true: between the 1740s and the 1770s the average returns on a planter’s capital were more than 10 per cent – similar to returns on the transatlantic trade in enslaved people.5 Yet despite Wray’s encouragement to his brother, his poor spelling and punctuation hint at a lesser education or unsatisfactory apprenticeship. Indeed, as he noted, he felt ‘the Los of that My Self’. This also probably precluded an introduction to good mercantile networks, and while not all of his letter is negative about his trading position, much of it suggests that he had poor supplier networks and problems collecting debts (see figure 3.1).6 Wray’s letter highlights the fact that while Jamaica’s economy was modern and capitalistic and every free person benefited from the system of slavery, not all did so equally. Indeed, this chapter argues that Jamaica’s economy in the middle of the eighteenth century was complex and highly stratified, and one in which even many free people struggled to survive. Following a brief contextual section, the chapter highlights the fortunes of ordinary people through the following themes: becoming a trader, the challenges facing ships’ captains, issues surrounding the pen and plantation, those whose occupations supported slavery, and the contribution of women. As we shall see, Jamaica was a rich colony, but not even all white people got rich. Jamaica’s complex and highly stratified economy meant that economic opportunities were far from equal.

‘this is the Dearest place I ever was in’7 As Trevor Burnard, Laura Panza, and Jeffrey Williamson have shown, Jamaica was an expensive place to live, with extreme income inequality. This was true even among ‘ordinary whites living in town’ and among the transient population of sailors and soldiers, some of whom ‘became beggars on the Kingston docks’.8 As one recent arrival noted in October 1756: ‘this is the Dearest place I ever was in I pay twelve pounds a year for washing.’9 We know that there were many ordinary white people living in Jamaica, including a wide range of lesser merchants and clerks, ships’ captains, artisans, overseers, bookkeepers, shopkeepers, nurses, and some indentured servants who tried to make money with varying

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Figure 3.1 Leonard Wray Junior to George Wray, Kingston, 10 October 1756.

degrees of success. Many of these had arrived relatively recently. As Alan Karras notes about the Scots, ‘All began their careers as Sojourners’, and most wanted to return home as quickly as possible, but this was not always achievable.10 Free people of colour also tried to make a living from Jamaica’s slave economy. Indeed, many pen keepers were free people of colour who aspired to be ‘white’ and were heavily invested in the ‘ranking game’.11 Some had access to a degree of wealth and education by virtue of a rich white father, but free people of colour were, on the whole, usually worse off than white people.12 They could not work in public office, in navigation, as carriage drivers, or in superior positions on plantations, nor could they sell goods outside of public markets.13 There is no doubt, however, that enslaved people were the worst off; in fact, ‘Jamaican slaves were probably the poorest people in the British Empire’.14

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Ordinary People, Extraordinary Times

Women also benefited from Jamaica’s slave society, and they worked in a wide range of occupations. As Walker has recently shown, white women were equally invested in Jamaica’s system of slavery; indeed, ‘colonial advantages mattered more to female inhabitants, whose lives were otherwise legally, economically, and socially restricted in relation to men’.15 Women were subject to patriarchy and a double standard (in that men were given far more latitude to act with impunity than were women), but they still played crucial roles in an economy dependent on enslaved labour, both as single women and as parts of families.16 These ordinary people were less likely to be able to survive, let alone profit from, the vagaries of war.17 By autumn 1756, when the Europa’s mailbag was being filled, a French naval squadron was cruising the Caribbean, credit was tight, and trade was constrained by convoys and closed markets. Making money in 1756 was not easy for everyone, even for those with white privilege.

‘I have struggled hard up the hill’18 John Crow was a commission merchant handling business for people in London. Like many of the other letter writers, he complained about the recent ‘very hard Rains’ and that no business could be done at the wharves (see figure 7.1).19 Having arrived relatively recently, he clearly felt that he still had to prove himself, writing to his London supplier: ‘You may depend my Remittances will be better and better.’20 In order to increase his profits he tried to save money on insurance by covering the first £200 of any cargo. He was therefore annoyed with William Freke, a London ironmonger, who had insured some items without his ‘possitive direction so to do’.21 He was clearly ambitious. He wrote to another correspondent: ‘Pray recommend all Yr Frds to me as an Agent, if they’ll have any Prizes Taken in this Part of Ye World, or any Commission Business.’22 Despite unsuccessful attempts to become a prize agent (a role monopolized by elite merchants), John was already well integrated into Jamaica’s transatlantic credit networks.23 He was paid £50 sterling with a bill written by the planter William Perrin on Thomas Humbersson of London, and £100 by another bill drawn on Thomas and Stephen Fuller.24 Yet John felt that his path had not been easy, complaining

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that ‘I have struggled hard up the hill’.25 Indeed, writing in October, he hoped that his total residence in Jamaica would not be longer than two years (‘For I am quite tired already’), adding that he would be happy to make way for ‘Younger People by that time’.26 Part of that struggle was overcoming the many problems inherent in international trade, such as receiving the correct quality and quantity of goods. Dublin merchant John Byrn complained to his supplier in Dublin that he was ‘surprised thou send me so many Herrings in one Bottom [vessel], they were enough to glut the market … The Butter thou sent me in the James & John was … very bad’, and he threw in some racialism for good measure: ‘The JewBeef is excepted to, as not properly seal’d and made up, have only Sold two Barrells of it.’27 A few weeks later he had another litany of complaints: a satin petticoat was ‘stain’d’; the quilts were ‘neither deep nor wide enough’; the East India silks would not ‘answer here’; and ‘please not to send Hands of Bacon, but Hams’.28 One cask of hams had been ‘destroy’d by the Rats on board’.29 In contrast, he was quick to put his own efforts in the best light: ‘As to my Conduct, I refer thee to the Body of Merchts residing here, & am confident that Neither Negligence nor Inactivity, Prodigality or Foppery, Gaming nor Excesses, as I’ve seen many involv’d in, are to be laid in any measure to my Charge. Thou may rest assur’d I shall regard my Character, consequently, thy Welfare.’30 Such statements were quite common among those still trying to make their way in commerce. They were keen to establish a good reputation in the eyes of their suppliers.31 Another problem was the delay in receiving goods. As we have seen, William Folkes was a merchant who also supplied the Ordnance Office with goods for the forts in Jamaica.32 He told his correspondent that some ‘Stores arrived here in good Time as they were much wanted’.33 Others found their goods had been misdirected. In October, David Beveridge had come across a box on a wharf in Kingston that was directed to a G. Glass and contained ‘4 Pieces Linnin & 23 doz of some off pairs of Stockings’.34 He wrote: ‘I am somewhat surprised that it should have lain here so long unnoticed’ – it had come on a vessel that had arrived in November 1754. Mr Glass had presumably left Jamaica by then, and he had not left clear instructions for the goods to be forwarded. Such misdirected goods might well arrive in poor condition. Leonard Wray complained about some goods that had been sent to him: ‘the Hams was

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Ordinary People, Extraordinary Times

in Bad Order Swetted Vere Much by Being So long in the Case and they lay a Week on the Warf Not Knowing Who they was for.’35 Other goods that had arrived in bad condition in September and October due to misdirection included sugar and mess beef.36 Paying and collecting debts was a permanent issue due to both the high level of indebtedness of planters and the scarcity of money and bills of exchange.37 The start of the war exacerbated this problem, even for well-established traders such as Edward Foord. In October, he complained to his brother in Bristol: ‘these Remittances which [we] are obliged to make in Bills of Exchange puts one so much to my Trumps I hardly know how to Act.’38 Newly established factor Gerrard Nash hoped that one outcome of French prizes being sold would be that bills would be easier to come by and would help him survive the war.39 However, this was naive, as usually it was lesser traders that were the least able to withstand economic shocks such as war.40 The rather ebullient newly established merchant George Hutton brought together the interlinking issues of networks and credit in a letter to his wife in October. He wrote that without money or credit he could make little profit, and that with ‘no Friends at Home to back me, & none here but what my personal behaviour has acquired me, I get forward but very slowly’.41 He encouraged his wife in London to be ‘determined’ and see if their friends would send him a cargo of £400 or £500 sterling. He rather naively thought he would be able to make a remittance in six months and repay his father the £300 he owed him. While six months was often an agreed term of transatlantic credit, payment usually took much longer.42 Trying another angle, and clearly aiming above his present station in life, George also wanted his uncle to try and gain him the post of Collector of Customs, describing the present incumbent derisively as ‘an old Man & in all probability cannot live 6 Months’. To drive the point home he added that ‘the Scotch people no sooner ask favours here, but they are directly granted’.43 By virtue of being successful and clannish, the Scots ‘provoked much resentment’.44 Also in a financially precarious position was George Betney. He had just buried his partner and seemed concerned at the lack of good people to replace him. He begged his father to contact his creditors letting them know about his plight: ‘if ye goods I have Rote for Does not Come it will break my heart as I am shure if thay Come

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by Christmas or Soon after it will please God make me £15 clear but if not I am Ruined.’45 It could take around £1,000 to set up a merchant house, so the £15 that Betney was so desperate for highlights the extreme disparity of mercantile opportunities.46 A few men gained entry into the mercantile community through an apprenticeship. These included Tom Morgan, who wrote home to his honoured mother and father. Having found a position working for Lafitte, Brown & Mulholland in Kingston, he asked his parents to pass on thanks to a family friend, Mr Gomm, for his good advice: ‘I will strive to mind it for I do think it was very good advice to mind my masther for I have no Freands but him at Jamaica.’47 John Jackson, who we saw running through the rain-sodden streets of Kingston in the previous chapter, was another new arrival. With good reason, he boasted to his friend that he was ‘in the best Compting House in the Island which is that of Messrs Hibberts & Millan, where I receive a Salary of £100 P Ann, & have all the encouragement that is possible for so young a beginner here’.48 Jackson would certainly have had access to many good contacts and would have gained invaluable experience through them. Ambitious men might find an opening when elite traders left the trading community. For example, in late 1756 the partnership of Meyler & Hall was due to expire. They advertised that their house, store, and wharf in Port Royal Street, Kingston would be let from 12 July 1757, as Charles Hall intended to return to England.49 Indeed, they had been for some time past ‘Determin’d to wind up and Close all their old affairs as fast as possible’.50 This meant that clerks such as Tom Morgan and John Jackson would occasionally be able to move up the socioeconomic ladder. John Davis, apparently a merchant’s clerk or apprentice, was excited about the prospect of a potential partnership with someone who was considering returning to England early in 1757.51 Another entry point was family networks. Leonard Wray, as we have seen, hoped to help his brother in this way. However, as Isaac Wray did ‘not write a Good hand Nor expert at Acct [accounts]’, he was unlikely to succeed.52 Indeed, family members were often problematic, as this was exactly where trust could be abused.53 To become successful without sufficient capital and good networks was extremely difficult, and it is clear that many who tried their luck in the mercantile way were not as successful as Jamaica’s wealth appeared to promise.

34

Ordinary People, Extraordinary Times

Captain White ‘is a most industrious Man and just the Man for us’54 Given the difficulties that merchants and factors in Jamaica faced, it was imperative to have a good and trusted captain. Working at a distance from their principals in Britain, ships’ captains had to be given some latitude.55 Therefore, the merchants in Dublin employing Henry Brown, captain of the James & John, were no doubt extremely pleased to hear from Kingston merchant John Byrn that ‘Captn Brown deserves my greatest Commendations, & no man, as a Commdr of a merchant Vessel, trading to the West Indies manag’d his men & Vessel better: He merits really a far better Ship than he now commands.’56 Captains also needed to be industrious because of the range of duties they performed: many acted as supercargo, or agent for their principals, as well as ship’s captain. Andrew Hearsey Willson of the Czar of Muscovy wrote to his cousin in London: ‘you will excuse my not writing my self for I am so hurried with Business, that I cannot find time.’57 Writing from the northern port of Annotto Bay in St Mary parish, he had previously been conducting business in Kingston, and he had lost at least one member of his crew.58 Clearly, his was not a one-port stop. The captain of the Hamilton Gally, Manus McShane, was in a similar position. Having arrived in Kingston sometime before 9 August, he was sent from Kingston to Montego Bay on the north-west coast of the island to load his vessel.59 Having unsuccessfully applied to various Kingston merchants for freight home, he tried at Spanish Town, where he had been ‘Making the Strictest Enquiry for a Load … to no purpuis till Lookely this Day Meeting with a gentlemen that I have Bargained With Who Lives in Muntegua Bay’.60 He was also very concerned that his crew might desert him, ‘as this is the Second Port of Delivery the[y] Can Demand thire wages’.61 Robert Jennings, captain of the slave ship the Nicholas was having similar problems. He wrote to his principals in Liverpool that ‘Men are very difficult to begot’, and he ‘had a good deal of Trouble in this respect’.62 Clearly, not all crew members were hardworking. Merchant Richard Watt noted that Captain White ‘is a most industrious Man and just the Man for us … his Mate Simpson is quite Trash have nothing to say to him’.63 Captain William Clutsam of the Hope provides a good example of the difficulties of working in periods of war. He worked for Samuel

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Munckley and had left Bristol for Jamaica around 15 March, passing Barbados on his way.64 His cargo consisted of the usual provisions for Jamaica: loaf sugar, bacon, ‘pease’, grits, cheese, herrings, port, butter, beef, and pork. However, business did not proceed smoothly when he arrived in Jamaica. His contacts John and Edward Foord reported that his crew ‘being a parcell [of] Drunk Fellows have all left him, his Chief Mate Dead & his Second Mate a Worthless Scoundrel’.65 It appears Clutsam’s crew had signed up on a man-of-war, hoping to make some quick money from privateering.66 The Foords continued: ‘this has laid the Capt under some difficulty People being very hard to be gott’ – much the same comment as Jennings had made. Clutsam was not alone in this predicament. Captain James Cooke of the Europa had to borrow money in order to hire enslaved people to load his ship, as ‘some of his People left him & others died’.67 Clutsam eventually managed to get enough crew together, but it is clear that there was some doubt as to whether the crew would actually turn up when the vessel was due to sail. The Foords advised that ‘no Dependence is to be putt on what such Fellows says’.68 Losing some of his crew meant that he was not able to fulfil all of his commitments. Merchants Elliott & Scott were forced to split ‘Three of the hhds Sugar into Four Tierces, otherwise Capt Clutsam wou’d not take them on board’; this was presumably so it would fit in the hold.69 Gerrard Nash was not so understanding.70 On 8 October he complained that Captain Clutsam had ‘shut me out and would take nothing on Board for me tho he Promised to give me the preference’.71 In fact, Nash may have had ulterior motives for his remarks about Captain Clutsam. In several letters he used Clutsam as an excuse not to send payment, so it is possible that in reality he was not able to get hold of bills of exchange or commodities in order to make remittances.72 Despite Nash’s protestations, however, Clutsam was clearly a good captain. He continued to work for the Munckleys throughout the Seven Years’ War, and he was still working for them in 1768 and 1773.73 Of course, there being a French naval squadron stationed at Hispaniola also hindered trade, and especially the trade in enslaved Africans.74 James Clemens later became a major Liverpool merchant, but in 1756 he was still a ship’s captain. He wrote home on 9 October that the trade in ‘Negroes has been very dull here for Some time Past by reason there is no Vent to Hispaniola as formerly’.75 Clemens also noted that ‘were it not for the Contract [with

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Ordinary People, Extraordinary Times

Spain] being Open I know not how a Cargoe could be Disposed of’.76 Even in peacetime, trade with Spanish colonies occurred both legally and illegally, with Cuba, Santo Domingo, and Florida all being popular markets.77 Some of these channels were clearly still open despite the war, as Hibberts & Millan wrote on 1 October that there was at present demand for ‘One Thousand Bite and Angola Negroes for the Spaniards, their agents here give £34 per head for assorted cargoes and pay for them in Silver’.78 Demand was so low that long credit had had to be given for the sale of the enslaved people on the Nicholas. Even the successful merchant house of John & Alexander Harvie had experienced difficulties in making sales of enslaved people, and had ‘not yet reced £50 from the whole of your Sales [of £7608,8,6] nor do we expect to Receive any in less than 12 months’.79 Demand for enslaved people within Jamaica was also low. James Clemens thought that the reason for this was that the war made the planters nervous; they had ‘not the Spirit to Purchase’ as formerly, although according to Captain William Miller prices did not seem to suffer.80 However, Miller’s job was still difficult. He had arrived in Kingston with the Black Prince from Bristol in mid-August with 328 enslaved people.81 Like captains Willson, Clutsam, and McShane, he had lost most of his crew except the officers ‘And two or three boys’.82 His networks were also problematic. Alluding to the political rift between the planters and the merchants, Miller wrote: ‘I have reson to think that party prejudice is the reson of our not selling as Quick as might have been Expected from the Cargoe.’83 Moreover, he had incurred extra costs by keeping himself and the enslaved people not yet sold in food and lodgings. He had not even been able to clean the vessel. He wrote home to his wife Nelly on 9 October that he could not inform her when he might sail home, ‘as Slaves sels is slow but hope for A Happy Meeting Clear of the Enemy’.84 In fact, it seemed he did not make it home, likely because he became ill. The Black Prince did not leave Jamaica until January 1757, and by this time a Pat Holloran had taken over from Miller.85 If he had died in Jamaica, his clothes and personal effects would most likely have been sold at ‘publick vendue’.86 Perhaps a few trinkets were kept aside for any family at home. Captain Miller may have been as industrious as Captain White and as reliable as Captain Clutsam, but this did not protect him from Jamaica’s deadly diseases.

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‘you never saw & [an] Estate so Murder’d in all yr life’87 The war and the political issues that so affected Captain Miller were not the only problems affecting the Jamaican economy. A more perennial issue was that of obtaining and retaining good staff on the pens and plantations. Planter absenteeism was one cause, and while revisions have been made arguing that it did not hurt slavery overall in Jamaica, there is no doubt that it was problematic for individual estates.88 For those estates without a resident planter, a skilled plantation attorney was required.89 His (they were invariably male) duties included the appointment of overseers, regular inspections of the plantations, the sale and purchase of land and enslaved people, negotiating wages and rents with free workers, attending court, financial and planning advice, trading through local merchants and shippers, producing accounts and reports, and providing information on local political developments. The attorney was also expected to see that the directions of his employer were implemented and to ensure the profitability of the proprietor’s investment.90 As Burnard has noted: ‘What planters needed were men prepared to do whatever it took to control enslaved men and women working in dreadful working and living environments.’91 However, even contemporaries acknowledged that many of this group ‘possessed only a slight knowledge of plantership, and others none at all; but being armed with despotic power … [they] presided, with lordly pomp’.92 Planter attorneys were supposed to be paid 6 per cent commission, but the basis on which this was calculated varied: sometimes on production, sometimes on proceeds.93 Many attorneys also invested in pens themselves, and some became moderately prosperous.94 Karras suggests that this was sometimes accomplished by skimming money from the plantation accounts for their own use.95 For example, the deceased Thomas King’s estate was reported to have made only thirty-two hogsheads of ‘very ordinary’ sugar.96 Elite merchant Thomas Hibbert lamented that most of the proceeds would go to Mrs King’s annuity, and that little more would be made of the estate unless it had ‘more strength’ (i.e. enslaved labourers) on it.97 Interestingly, the Accounts Produce for King’s estate does not even note the name of his plantation, and there are no details of the produce of the estate, which is abnormal. The estate was mortgaged to Marmaduke Hilton, and one wonders what Thomas Hibbert,

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John Hibbert, and John Millan, who were the attorneys for Hilton, were up to. Their truncated reports and Hibbert’s sniping about Mrs King’s annuity raise suspicion about their ulterior motives.98 Under the attorney was the overseer, who, according to Thomas Roughley, ought to be ‘a man of settled, sober habits, presenting a gentleman like appearance’ and a man of ‘intelligence, tempered with experience, naturally humane [and] steadfast in well devised pursuits’.99 As with attorneys, it seems the ideal was not always achieved, possibly because the wages and conditions were not high enough to induce good men to come to Jamaica.100 In the middle of the eighteenth century they earned around £50– £100 per annum.101 Another reason for difficulty in recruiting staff may have been the poor conditions in which overseers sometimes lived. Not everyone was as lucky as Thomas Thistlewood, whose house boasted two piazzas in 1754.102 Following his visit to Jamaica in 1756, Bristolian Caleb Dickinson was able to report that a small house had been built for the overseer on Hodge’s Lacovia Plantation consisting of ‘a Stall, a Lodging Room, & a shade Room and its as Small & as plain as could be made’.103 Any new overseer was presumably supposed to be grateful, as before this new build, noted Dickinson, ‘the Overseer Lodged over one of the Curing Houses in a Loft, if I mistake not, and went to it up a Ladder’.104 However, the habitual absenteeism of Hodge and Dickinson might have been the reason why the ‘gang’ was so weak on the estate, and why a friendly neighbour seemed to be advising on the running of it.105 Dickinson also seemed perturbed to have lost the services of a former overseer on his own Pepper Plantation in 1756.106 In November 1757, Dickinson wrote to him saying that if he was interested in another job there, then Dickinson knew he would work for his family’s interests.107 Overseers, bookkeepers, and white artisans were transitory to the point of being nomadic and were clearly difficult to recruit and retain.108 Even if a proprietor was living in Jamaica but not on the estate, problems could still arise. Colonel James Lawrence was absent from his St James estate just before his death and had trusted the estate management to a new overseer. However, he was soon discharged by Lawrence’s executors for misconduct. A bookkeeper was being sent to replace him, and one of Lawrence’s executors was going to give the plantation his ‘Attention’ as he resided nearby.109 Another

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overseer who was deemed unsuitable and was fired was David Campbell. Rose Fuller’s attorney reported that his Mickleton estate in St  Catherine would not make forty hogsheads of sugar this year. Moreover, he added, ‘had I not gone up he wd have kill’d 40 slaves you never saw & [an] Estate so Murder’d in all yr life their was not a Grain of Corn in the house nor a field not a plant[a]in … nor a Morsel of any other provision that a White person could put in his Mouth’.110 It is notable, if unsurprising, that the attorney did not appear concerned for the plight of the enslaved people, who were no doubt suffering far worse from the lack of food. Quite apart from avaricious attorneys and hapless, drunken overseers, it was not always easy to get good lesser staff. Artisans were paid much less than overseers (somewhere between £30 and £50 per annum), and this was probably one reason why they were also difficult to recruit.111 Even wealthy men such as Edmund Hyde struggled to get artisans to work on their plantations.112 He wrote from Liguanea in St Andrew’s parish that he stood in ‘great need’ of ‘A Carpenter, a Cooper & a Wheelwright each good at his profession’, and he left it to his correspondent to pay what he thought would encourage them sufficiently.113 Another reason bookkeepers and artisans of all kinds were difficult to recruit was that they often worked side by side with equally skilled people of African descent.114 For example, some planters hired itinerant white and free Black woodcutters who earned money by chopping down mahogany trees.115 This included on Caleb Dickinson’s Pepper Plantation, which produced at least 123 planks of mahogany in 1756.116 Hyde also needed another clerk on his estate, possibly an indentured servant, which became increasingly difficult to obtain as the land incentive waned with the rise of large sugar estates – ironically, just like those of Hyde.117 He told Chandler that he was pleased with the work of a blue coat boy, Thomas Sowell, on his north side estate, and he begged his correspondent to find him ‘another that is thoroughly Master of his Penn … that bears the Character of an honest Sober Ladd’.118 Nor was it only men that were difficult to recruit. J.  Johnson of Delve Estate in Westmoreland asked his elite cousin to ‘Send me if possible a good Tutor & Tutres for my Children. I will give £50 Sterling to Each if they are good.’119 Poorly skilled or fraudulent attorneys were not the only reason why estates were ‘murder’d’.

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‘the Poverty of the Place makes the Harvest less’120 Outside of the pens and plantations, a vast range of other occupations were required to support Jamaica’s slave society. One such occupation was lawyers (or attorneys), not all of whom had a good reputation. There were possibly around seventy practising lawyers and twenty barristers in mid-eighteenth-century Jamaica.121 Those that came from England condemned what they perceived as loose practices on the island. Lawyers and attorneys ranged from those who had served an apprenticeship in London’s Inns of Court to petty debt collectors who received powers of attorney from creditors in England, so the term encompassed a wide range of abilities and professionalism. In 1756, one newly arrived lawyer was William Goleborn. He was having difficulties getting established, and he shipped rum home to England to supplement his income.122 Joseph Stephenson seemed to be having more luck, or he was at least more upbeat about his prospects. He wrote home to his uncle in October to proudly inform him that he was ‘admitted an Attorney & Sollicitor in the Court of Chancery and other Courts’ in Jamaica, and that he was ‘Determined to go into business upon my own and Solid foundation’.123 Stephenson seemed to believe that with ‘Care and Assiduity’ and ‘frugality’ he would make a living. In contrast, George Hampson was not so upbeat about his prospects, complaining to his friend Mrs Payne in England that ‘the Poverty of the Place makes the Harvest less & there are more Labourers to reap it’, no doubt meaning that there were too many lawyers. However, he told her that he had been keeping himself busy getting to know all ‘ye principal People of the island’, so that he had ‘hardly ever been a Week together in one Place’.124 He had taken advantage of the new governorship of Henry Moore and of the elections to the assembly that were taking place in order to meet potential clients.125 Governor Moore had moved the courts back to Spanish Town on his arrival in Jamaica in July, and Hampson’s most valuable clients were resident there. He was hopeful that in a few years his business would ‘keep me much above any other Dependance’, but this seemed reliant on Mrs Payne’s assistance and favour, without which he considered his coming to Jamaica was ‘likely to be of little Service’ to him.126 He was worried about being obligated

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to others, however. These included a Mr John Daly, despite the fact that he was extremely grateful for his ‘ever constant & generous’ friendship. Hampson was clearly quite anxious about his prospects in Jamaica. Also not very successful was William Turton Grear. He had arrived in Jamaica several years before and had settled on twenty acres of land, where he grew cotton and other provisions with a small enslaved labour force. He told the House of Assembly that he had ‘applied himself industrially’, but several misfortunes, ‘not owing to extravagance or neglect’, meant that he had hardly made a sufficiency for himself or his family.127 By May 1756 he had set himself up as an auctioneer, or vendue master, and had rented a ‘large and commodious store’ on Harbour Street ( just one road back from Port Royal Street). He advertised that he would be ready to start his business from 1 June, and he thanked the many merchants who were encouraging him.128 His auction business was clearly not a great success, though, as in October he petitioned the House of Assembly for relief. He put as evidence of his good character that he had not received the weekly allowance the generality of new settlers had been granted.129 This was worth stressing as the sum spent on white immigration and settlement in recent years had been substantial.130 He needed to sell his land in order to start a new career, but he had no title to it, which was why he was petitioning, without ‘which must sink him in irretrievable ruin and misery’.131 It is noteworthy that he was trying to sell his land, rather than his small enslaved workforce, to pay his debts. Most likely he intended to rent them out to provide an income, which would have meant even harder work for them.132 There were many others who were trying to set themselves up in businesses whom we only gain a small glimpse of. These included William Jenkins, who started an insurance underwriting business. He clearly did not have a lot of capital, as he was working from a rented room above the store of a Mr  John Chalmers, opposite Mrs Rogers’s tavern in Port Royal Street. This was a good location for networking, being the first street back from the wharves that faced the harbour. He promised his future customers his ‘utmost Care and Diligence’.133 An unnamed merchant’s clerk was so ‘dangerously ill [that he] was rendered incapable of doing any thing’,134 but his employer only seemed concerned that his letters would not

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be sent and that it would not be easy to replace the clerk should he die. Similarly, George Betney wrote home to his father to try to get ‘a good Taylor as will come to Jamaica Under an Indenture for two, three or 4 years … a good plain Taylor … you may Agree to give him 30–35 pounds Pr Annum Sterling’ plus ‘meet Drink and Lodging’ and an advance of his wages should he want to buy some small items. This may not have been enough to encourage a good tailor to come to Jamaica, especially as Betney wanted to set the ‘Condishone’ that if he did not like the tailor he could ‘Lett him go free’, but not vice versa.135 There were also some roles that we might not immediately associate with a slave society: the director of the spa at Bath, for example. He was paid a total of £126 14 shillings 19½ pence in January 1756 for his expenses, which may have included the hire of enslaved people who worked there.136 Charles Allen may have been a blacksmith who provided services for the baths, as he was paid 15 shillings in 1754 for a ‘new marking iron for Negroes’.137 Many of those living and working in Jamaica’s ports struggled to make a living. Peter Pickering was a shipwright living in St  Catherine parish, possibly at Old Harbour, a small port to the south of Spanish Town. It would appear he had no family as his sole executor was Michael Heskith, another shipwright who lived in Kingston. In September, his executors threatened his debtors with being sued in the Grand Court if they did not pay their ‘respective balances’.138 He had more than £250 worth of debts when he died – the equivalent of about five years’ wages. Another three men – Henry Livingston, Patrick Lynch, and George Peete – could between them only afford to share a house and store in Port Royal.139 As we saw earlier, Ewbank Ogle was more enthusiastic about his prospects, even though he had clearly had to change his original plans. He wrote home to his mother: ‘I am going to Learn the Carpenters Business[,] or more Properly the Wheelwright Business, which when a Man Understands, turn out very Much to his Advantage.’140 Unfortunately, we do not know whether this actually happened for him, but he seemed keen to take whatever opportunity was given him and learn what he could (see figure 1.1). This may well have been because on arriving in Jamaica he realized his prospects were not as rosy as he had hoped. Alternatively, he may simply have been telling his mother what he thought she wanted to hear.

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‘without any friends, money or other necessary means’141 As, for a variety of reasons, women wrote letters less often than men, we see only glimpses of their working lives. They also appear less often than men in letters written by men, in official documents, and in merchants’ accounts. As elsewhere in the British Empire, women’s access to capital and credit in Jamaica was hampered by primogeniture and their feme covert status when married.142 No separate provision appears to have been made in Jamaica regarding the ability of married women to trade in their own right, possibly because most of the female street and market traders were people of colour, either free or enslaved.143 However, as Walker has recently shown, the high mortality rates in Jamaica meant that ‘Islanders generally sought to shelter, rather than undermine female property claims’.144 Women also made use of separate estates, meaning that they made important contributions to the Jamaican economy as, among other roles, slaveholders and plantation owners.145 Indeed, women – both white women and free women of colour – constituted a third of the ‘proprietors’ in the 1754 List of Landholders.146 One way in which such wealth was acquired was widowhood, although Jamaican men were relatively parsimonious in this regard.147 In 1756, eleven widows were in probate, two of whom were plantation or pen owners.148 These included Margaret Scott of St Ann, who died worth £1,247. She was the enslaver of thirty-three people (eleven men and twenty-two women) and was listed in 1754 as owning forty acres of land in St Ann.149 In sharp contrast, Elizabeth Redman of St Andrew died worth only £154. She was the enslaver of four men, who possibly worked on a small coffee plantation, and she left a small amount of plate and debts. Elizabeth may have been the widow of William Redman, planter of thirty-six acres in St Andrew, who also died in 1756, but he was worth £2,470. Unless the probate on his estate had not yet been finalized, her short widowhood was disastrous.150 Ann Morley was one of the few women who wrote letters found in the Europa’s mailbag (see figure 3.2). The widow of merchant Daniel Morley, who had died in 1751, she dealt with London merchants directly, importing gender-appropriate goods such as textiles, shoes, gloves, and tea.151 She wrote professionally, however, starting her letter in the same way as any male merchant would have done. ‘I recd

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Figure 3.2 Ann Morley to James and Isaac Henckells, Kingston, 2 October 1756.

yr favours P Adventure … the Goods in good order except a few pieces of Cambrick’, which had been damaged through poor packing. She likewise signed her letter ‘Your most hble Servt’.152 Interestingly, Ann was delaying payment of one supplier by stating that she was to remit their mutual friend Nathaniel Lloyd (a London merchant) first. Indeed, a week later, Ann sent Lloyd a

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bill of exchange for £500 sterling and promised to make another payment ‘very shortly’.153 She was therefore well entwined in Jamaica’s international credit networks.154 The bill was drawn by one D. Monro on the major London merchants Hilton & Biscoe, and it was originally payable to a Thomas Crowder. Nathaniel Lloyd clearly thought Ann a capable woman. He had given her the charge and care of his house in Duke Street, which she appeared to be renting out on his behalf. She reported that it was ‘untenantable from the bad condition it is in’.155 When the last tenant had left they had simply left the key under the door. It would appear that Lloyd rented more than one property through Ann. She reported that a Mrs Atkins was leaving in October and she asked him to release her from paying the rent on these two properties. By way of demonstrating that these properties were not easy to rent, and thereby defending her reputation, Ann added that many other houses in Kingston were empty. She did not state why, but this was probably because the courts had been moved back to Spanish Town and people were moving there too. Ann was also the enslaver of several women, but she does not mention their labour or contribution to her household in her letters.156 Several other women were rentiers of property that they owned themselves. These included Mary Augier, a relatively wealthy free woman of dual heritage.157 In 1753, she had rented out thirteen properties in Kingston; no doubt she still owned many if not all of them in 1756.158 Also renting out property in 1753, and so probably in 1756 too, were Elizabeth Watkins, Ann Andrews (who died in 1756), and Mary Crymble, a woman of dual heritage.159 However, Mary may also have been earning income in other ways. Her probate inventory shows that her property contained many goods that were suitable for entertaining, had many well-furnished bedrooms but no parlour, and that she was the enslaver of a number of quite highly valued, enslaved, possibly dual-heritage women.160 Most likely she was running a brothel.161 Others rented out rooms of the houses in which they lived, but in a more reputable manner. Mary Rose, who was in a long-term, if unequal, sexual relationship with Rose Fuller, was resident in Spanish Town.162 Mary was unusual in that she was an elite woman with good social and political connections. She wrote to Fuller, by then back in England, in December informing him that she was letting rooms particularly to cater for the assembly, by then being held back in

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Spanish Town. She reported that she had ‘met with very good Lodgers, Mr Morse & Mr Bayly, & hope Shall do very well in it.’163 Mary also managed her own and Rose Fuller’s enslaved people, for which she received an annual stipend.164 Many other women also rented out enslaved people.165 This was likely because ‘most female property owners … preferred to transfer’ their estate to other women. This was particularly true of enslaved people, who were treated as moveable property.166 Mary Truxton, a widow in Kingston, left £2,524 in her personal estate when she died in 1756. Of this, twenty-five male and twenty-six female enslaved people were valued at £1,824. Although she owned 176 acres of land in St Andrew parish, she may also have rented out some of these enslaved people in Kingston.167 Ann Andrews also died in Kingston in 1756. Her personal estate was valued at £1,011, of which £655 was accounted for by enslaved people: five men, five women, three boys, and three girls. She also had £127 worth of cash and £125 worth of notes and debts, so she was firmly embedded in the Kingston local economy. It is possible that her husband was Matthew Andrews, listed as a merchant who died in 1740 valued at £1,112. Ann would have found it more socially acceptable to work as a rentier of enslaved people than as a merchant. Other women with large enslaved workforces, but apparently without any land, were Mary Smith of Clarendon and Ann Gallimore of St Mary parish. Without land it is likely that they also gained an income from renting out their enslaved workforce.168 Possibly Ann lived in Port Maria, the parish’s small port, and rented out her enslaved people in the small urban environment. Even without land, widows were an integral part of Jamaica’s economy and wealth-holding. Some women purchased their enslaved people from merchant houses in Kingston, which again integrated them into both local and regional credit networks. For example, Mary Sanders purchased one enslaved man and one enslaved woman on 10   January 1756 for £44 and £40, respectively. Case & Southworth charged her for the import duty they paid on her behalf on 3 May.169 She paid them £27 in cash towards her balance on 14 May and another £24 in cash and specie on 31 December.170 Similarly, Mary Stevens purchased one enslaved girl imported on the Swan for £28.171 She paid £11  17  shillings 6  pence in cash on 3 February and the remaining £17 2 shillings 6 pence on 8 April.172 Later in the year, Ann Fletcher purchased one enslaved ‘Woman’ for £48 and one ‘Boy’ for £42,

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and Mary Howell purchased one enslaved woman for £40.173 The latter Africans had all been imported on the Triton. They were 3 of only 287 enslaved Africans who arrived in Jamaica in August out of the 352 who embarked on the Triton.174 Many women were drawn into Jamaica’s local, regional, and transatlantic credit networks.175 Susanna Berry had several entries in the accounts of Case & Southworth of Kingston. In February, she was debited £2 7 shillings 6 pence ‘for Hamlet’, and in April £5 8 shillings 12 pence for ‘Hamblett’s allowance’ from 4 March 1754 to 7 January 1755.176 In May, she was mentioned in another transaction, in which the estate of Henry Berry (possibly her father) was charged £73 10 shillings.177 On the same day Susanna was paid £50 sterling with a draft drawn by Case & Southworth on Sudell & Fell.178 Then in June her account was credited with 1 shilling 10½ pence. She was also charged £54 12 shillings 1 pence in August for work carried out on her house.179 Such accounting, almost barter, was normal when cash was so scarce in the colonies.180 Yet women were more than capable of using a variety of financial instruments. In April, Elizabeth Thoroughgood presented an order on (Thomas?) Pinnock, which was charged to his account, worth £10 17 shillings.181 Other women provided food and drink. They catered possibly to the influx of soldiers and sailors at the start of the war or maybe to others in Kingston’s transient population. For example, Elizabeth Quilliams purchased one firkin of butter on 9 March and another four firkins three days later.182 Ellen Morrison purchased two tierces of sugar on 30 April, but she sold Case & Southworth one bushel of salt and three bushels of corn four days later.183 In contrast, Frances Ramadge huckstered corn on Port Royal street.184 Another woman retailing provisions was Judith Akin, one of the few women mentioned in the Europa’s letters regarding work. She was noted as ‘our old Customer for the Article [Rum] Judith Akin is gon[e] to live in Spanish Town’.185 She must have purchased a lot of rum to be worthy of such a mention; she might therefore have been a tavernkeeper, who, like others, had moved her business to Spanish Town along with the courts and the assembly. The widow Ann Burly was also a tavernkeeper, and she probably took over from her husband when he died in 1755. Ann had one enslaved boy to help her with her business.186 There was also Mrs Rogers who ran the tavern in Port Royal Street, of course.187 It is unlikely that any of these women were wealthy.

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Others, such as Elizabeth Metcalfe, worked in similarly gendered work. She appears to have been a seamstress with a particular skill in sewing ‘Negroe Habits’, which she sold to Case & Southworth in Kingston. Presumably these were roughly made ready-to-wear work clothes for enslaved people living in urban areas. She may also have embroidered silk handkerchiefs for Case & Southworth to sell to their wealthier customers. Elizabeth used the money she earned from sewing and embroidering to purchase items such as Japan waiters and ‘cloaths’ for her household.188 Also working in textiles, but further up the social hierarchy, were Elizabeth Abell and Elizabeth Herring. They rented a store in Harbour Street, Kingston, and having taken over the recently deceased James Barnes’s stock they advertised themselves as upholsterers. They also sold paper for ‘Hanging Rooms’. No doubt their social status was enhanced by their employing ‘two compleat White workmen from London’.189 For other white women working in Jamaica we get even smaller glimpses of their working lives. What life would the girl have had that was to be sent over from London, but only to be given ‘Tenn Guineas’?190 Possibly she was to be a domestic servant or a seamstress. Given that her contract could be exchanged or sold, and that she might have worked alongside enslaved or free persons of colour, her (clearly incorrect) perception may have been that her life was not that different from an enslaved woman.191 Mary Shaw may still have been working as a nurse at the hospital in Port Royal. She had been paid £42 16 shillings 3 pence in September 1754 for twenty-six weeks’ hire as a nurse.192 The poor widow Charity Bates petitioned to be released from giving evidence to the assembly on account of her age and infirmity.193 We do not know what she had to live on. Despite legislation passed in Jamaica in 1711 making probate inventories mandatory in order to clear probate, it has not been possible to locate her probate inventory.194 Indeed, many women were poor. Sarah Jones was a widow with three small children. The youngest child had been born since the family arrived in 1753, and Sarah was pregnant with a fourth. Her husband had set himself up in business as a retailer having brought a small cargo with him, but he was now dead and his creditors were pressing her. He had left several ‘bad debts’ that could not be collected.195 She told the assembly that she was ‘reduced to the lowest extremity … without any friends, money or other necessary means’; she added, as had William Turton Grear, that the family had never

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applied for ‘any assistance from the public funds’. She therefore posited herself as a productive member of Jamaican society.196 She also stressed her motherhood, highlighting that she had completed a white woman’s ‘most crucial task’.197 Her petition was referred to the Committee for Poor White Families for consideration. The very existence of this committee suggests wide-scale poverty in Jamaica. Her framing of herself as a hard-working mother worked to her advantage. On 30 January, just two days after her petition was read, Sarah was awarded £150 ‘for the relief of herself and children’.198 Other poor women included the widow Elizabeth Potter, who died in Kingston leaving just £25, and the widow Mary Ann Tricquet, who left an estate of only £12, including one enslaved woman. The Jewish widow Sarah Carvalho had just under £19, which was perhaps unsurprising seeing as Jewish women were disproportionately poor.199 Mary Wallis lived in St Mary and her estate was larger, at £96, but it was all debts that were owed her, which her estate was no doubt unlikely to receive. Of course, not all women were ‘reduced to the lowest extremity’, and all free women were far better off than enslaved women. However, it is clear that while women were in a wide variety of occupations in ‘a marketplace that was far more diverse than has typically been understood’, like men, not all women benefited equally from Jamaica’s capitalist economy.200

‘I am so chained down by my business to this spot’201 In October, elite planter Gilbert Ford wrote to his correspondent that he was ‘so chained down by my business to this spot’. 202 In so doing, he both invited his correspondent in Britain to pity his predicament in Jamaica and alluded to the enslaved people by which all free Jamaicans, one way or another, made their money.203 Ford continued: ‘I am adscriptus terræ [attached to the land] for some time at least, as much as any of my slaves.’204 Of course, however burdened Ford felt by his business affairs, he clearly was not attached to the land in the same ways as his enslaved people. He was free to leave the island, he made money from his plantation, and he did not have to physically labour upon it. His comment is therefore jarring to the modern reader. His ‘problems’, such as they were, were relative. Ordinary people also benefited from Jamaica’s slave society, but not equally well. There were occasional openings for new merchants

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or clerks, but, as John Crow noted, it could be a hard struggle up the hill. This struggle was complicated by the start of the war. Ships’ captains faced altered demand, closed markets, strife between local elites, or seamen deserting to get drunk or to try their luck as privateers. A whole host of attorneys, overseers, bookkeepers, artisans, and even tutors and tutoresses were required to help run the pens and plantations, but the wages and living conditions were not sufficient to attract enough of them to Jamaica. There were a wide range of alternative occupations for ordinary men on the island: shipwright, auctioneer, apprentice, indentured servant, and even carpenter. It is also clear that women filled many roles and occupations, even if they were often gendered and racialized.205 Many free women benefited directly from slavery by owning pens and plantations, while others rented out their enslaved people for an income. Some rented out property, sometimes even just a room. Women also made and retailed food and ran taverns. However, while all free women were certainly the ‘handmaidens of empire’, they were not all rich maidens – nor rich widows.206 Jamaica was Britain’s richest colony, with the highest per capita income, but that wealth was not equally distributed, even among the white population. Indeed, Jamaica had a highly stratified and complex economy with a wide range of occupations in which many ordinary people did not become rich. Yet, importantly, and unlike the enslaved people from whose labour they all benefited, none of them were truly, as Gilbert Ford suggested, ‘chained down’.

4

War and Politics Partty Prejudice Runs very high although the[y] Expect A Visit from the French.1

As we saw in the last chapter, William Miller was the captain of the Black Prince, a slave ship. He had encountered problems selling his human ‘cargo’, which he attributed at least in part to the political rift between the merchants and the planters. His letter to his brother in September, however, commented on the war more widely: There is Arrived a Snow from Windert Coast [windward coast of Africa]. The Cap[tain] … told Me of A French sconner [schooner] Privateer that came into the bay [at Barbados] and took A English Slo[o]p privateer Close under the fort … and told the peple of the [English] Slo[o]p she was as hard as them fired a Volly of smal arms and boarded [her] Cap Jno Cook was A board of his privateer got under Way and Retook her but his pepol would not go after the sconner as the[y] had no COmmisstion – there is not the least appearance of Warr hear for our Admiral with his [vessel] and the Humber Ships of Warr is up hear [at Kingston] and all the rest of the Ships at Port Royall not one out although the[y] hear Every days of Ships Chase’d of the East End – Partty Prejudice Runs very high although the[y] Expect A Visit from the French.2 [See figure 4.1.] Much of the literature on the Seven Years’ War, especially regarding its origins, concentrates on Europe.3 In some respects, this is understandable, as the action in the early years of the war was in North America and Europe. It may also have been seen as simply

Figure 4.1 William Miller to his brother, Kingston, 11 September 1756.

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part of the ‘second hundred years’ war’ – a conflict in which most Britons did not play an active part.4 Consequently, the Caribbean dimension has been explored less, particularly the extent to which it affected ordinary people. Miller’s letter, however, shows just how real and present the war was in the Caribbean, right from the start. His letter highlights the problems caused by the French privateers, who played havoc with Caribbean trade, were a danger to those on board the ships they took, and required letters of marque in order to be able to profit from these prizes (as did the British).5 William also commented on military strategy, noting that HMS Humber was moored safely at Kingston harbour, as was Admiral Townsend, the commander of the station at Jamaica. This was because the French squadron was cruising the waters and many people were only too aware that the English squadron at Jamaica was ‘inferiour to the French at Hispaniola’ (St Domingue and Santo Domingo).6 William also alluded to the party prejudice between the planters and the merchants, which was a struggle both between themselves for power in Jamaica and between themselves and the metropole. As this chapter demonstrates, this political friction exacerbated the sharp disparities in how the rich and the poor experienced the war. This chapter first provides some context by investigating the perceptions and experiences of ordinary people concerning the war and the political conflict. It then examines the reality of war for ordinary seamen, before highlighting the everyday living conditions of servicemen in Jamaica at this time. Finally, an incident involving French prisoners of war brings these issues into sharp relief. Together these show that the consequences of the political dispute, and of the war more widely, were, for the poorest and for many of the servicemen posted to Jamaica, literally ‘a matter of life and death’.7

‘wee hardly know anything of a French Warr nor indeed as yet are wee likely to receive any oyr [other] benefit from it Than hard knocks’8 As noted above, the Caribbean dimension of the Seven Years’ War has yet to be fully explored.9 In some respects this is not surprising, even with the obvious economic importance of Jamaica to Britain.

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There had been continuous tensions between Britain and France since the end of the War of the Austrian Succession in 1748, and even ‘periods of peace were short and uneasy’.10 Fighting between the two countries had taken place in the Ohio Valley, Virginia, and in the St Lawrence Valley during 1755, well before the formal declaration of war by Britain against France on 17 May 1756. Nor was the war going well for the British.11 In North America, the new French commander, the Marquis of Montcalm, showed himself to be very competent. Indeed, a French landing in Britain itself was feared as French troops at Toulon began to prepare for war early in 1756.12 However, the real objective of the French was Minorca, to which they laid siege in April. Admiral Byng engaged with the French fleet but surrendered in May. The loss of Minorca was a great blow to the British, and was commented on in Jamaica.13 Lesser merchant John Thomson wrote with incredulity on the news that Mahon (the capital of Minorca) was ‘actually in the Possession of the French’.14 In fact, Admiral Byng was accused of cowardice and, after a trial, was executed on board HMS Monarch at Portsmouth on 14 March 1757.15 The start of both the maritime and land wars was therefore disastrous for Britain.16 With the focus of the war on Europe, the ‘avowed object’ of North America, and on the potential invasion of England, the West Indies, despite their wealth and importance to the economy, their strategic imperial significance, and the political lobbying of the ‘West India Interest’, were not considered an important part of the war effort until William Pitt became Britain’s Secretary of State for the Southern Department.17 Although Pitt doubled the fleet in Jamaica when he took office in late 1756, fighting on various fronts meant that he was not able to give the West Indies serious consideration until the conquest of Louisburg in mid-1758.18 Pitt’s political acumen then enabled him to convince parliament that the war could be won, and this confidence secured finance to pursue the war effort with more vigour, especially once he realized that Martinique and Guadaloupe would be important bargaining chips in reclaiming Minorca.19 Eventually, the English government devoted more of its naval strength to the West Indies than it had ever consistently done before.20 Indeed, the conclusion of the Seven Years’ War seriously damaged the French Empire and ‘marked the beginning of a prolonged period of economic prosperity’ for Jamaica.21 While the contemporary English government and historians might have focused on the war in North America and Europe, the

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Europa’s letters tell a different story. As William Miller noted, Admiral Townsend had called in his larger ships and used frigates only to cruise for intelligence. This was normal behaviour when threatened by the French, but it only seemed to create panic, or at least a sense of being beleaguered, on the island.22 Indeed, fears of a French invasion in Jamaica caused it to be put under martial law for this very reason on 6 November.23 One ship’s captain sent extra copies of his letters on various ships home, ‘as we Presume here that the French would usher in the Wavering at last commenced Warr, with great Diligence & Vigour, which we are taught to believe, has given them Success in the Mediterranean’.24 Another correspondent wrote: ‘we have an account here that Mahone is taken, and the windward passage being full of French manawarese [men-of-war] that our menaware think it not prudent to stir out of this harbour.’25 The French force was indeed larger, and, although they did not have a permanent naval base in the Caribbean, they had sent two squadrons to the West Indies even before war had been declared. They were in fact more successful in taking prizes than in protecting their own shipping, but Jamaicans clearly felt the impact of their presence nonetheless.26 In July, there were eight French naval vessels at Hispaniola, with a total of 402 guns and 3,590 men. In contrast, Governor Moore reported that the British squadron at Jamaica was made up of six smaller vessels – HMS Dreadnought, HMS Princess Mary, HMS Greenwich, HMS Sphynx, HMS Rye, and HMS Shoreham (the latter sometimes at Havana)27 – with a total of 230 guns and 1,645 men.28 Admiral Townsend therefore waited nervously in ‘daily expectation of being reinforced’.29 Merchants in Kingston were also concerned about the defence of the island, with one noting that the ‘Admiral finding the French Squadron in these Seas superiour to ours, hath, and doth still detain her [the convoy] untill she is reinforced’.30 Lesser merchant John Byrn noted: ‘[We have] but four or five King’s ships to defend us this critical Conjuncture.’31 In another letter he wrote: ‘We greatly want more Ships of War here, am surprised the Governmt neglect so valuable an Island as this of Jamaica.’ By October, concerns over the safety of the island meant that ‘the [HMS] Weazle Sloop of War was secretly dispatch’d to the board of Admiralty to inform them of our Situation’.32 Others complained that ‘the Ministry have known for some Time, yet they have not sent us any Reinforcements; we cannot help looking upon this as very strange Conduct’, before adding sarcastically: ‘we are greatly obliged to the

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French for we do not yet hear they have taken so much as one of our Vessells … we wish they may not be meditating some more severe Stroke.’33 Even ordinary sailors understood the situation. George Farmer, serving on HMS Dreadnought, wrote home in October that ‘our fleet are Far Inferior to the French (which Obliges us) to keep (in the Harbour)’, and added that there are but ‘two Sixtys, one Fifty, one Forty and Four twentys’ gunned vessels in the British fleet.34 Yet despite this military situation and the complaints to London about the defence of the island, it seemed the attention of the elite was elsewhere. William Miller was not the only person to comment on the party divisions: ‘often I have heard’, wrote lesser merchant David Beveridge in early October, ‘of the great stirr that a Warr would make on this place but be assur’d there is not now the Least Sign of one here unless in Spanish Town (where our Governor again resides) among the body Politick[,] who are satt by the Ease about who shall be the leading man.’35 The Seven Years’ War and its threat to life as well as commerce should have brought the islanders together against the Catholic French enemy, but it did not.36 Rather than concentrating on the war, Jamaica’s elite were focused on a struggle for power both within Jamaica itself and between themselves and the government in London. Perhaps they were used to being surrounded by the French, and to them their navel-gazing seemed less perverse. The political dispute had started in 1753 over colonial finances and embezzlement, but it had developed into a full-scale power struggle between Governor Knowles (the king’s representative in Jamaica), his council, and the Kingston faction supported by the merchants on one side, and the assembly and the Spanish Town faction supported by the planters on the other.37 The argument was over where the governor should reside and where the courts and public records should be held, and it had become increasingly personal and acrimonious.38 Kingston’s merchants were supremely confident and hoped that Kingston would come to dominate politics as it had trade, and this was reflected in their addresses to the king.39 In 1755, the Kingston faction had managed to take control of the assembly and had voted to build a house and offices for the governor in Kingston.40 In fact, Knowles had already moved the government to Kingston in 1754, and he inhabited a house rented for him by the Kingston merchants.41 However, when Knowles was replaced by Henry Moore in July, the governor, the courts, and the public records were all moved back to Spanish Town.42 The importance of this is reflected in the

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fact that it was even reported on in Ireland.43 The dispute rumbled on and further addresses were sent from both the council and the assembly throughout 1756.44 The situation was eventually decided permanently in favour of Spanish Town on 29 June 1758, when the Privy Council disallowed the removal law.45 This political conflict is usually approached as a contest over English liberties, the royal prerogative, constitutional rights, and identity between the planter interest and the metropolitan government.46 However, the dispute both bemused and frustrated the nonelite mercantile community in Jamaica, as the comments by William Miller and David Beveridge above demonstrate.47 John Byrn also commented on the political rift, writing of ‘Great Revolutions in our Assembly, on Acct of party affairs’ and noting that a new government (assembly) had ‘been chosen’ on Henry Moore’s arrival and that the assembly was now meeting in Spanish Town ‘by his order’. Byrn added: ‘I have Friends on both stands & am quite passive on the Occasion yet many Merchts have greatly interfer’d with political matters … I think such should mind their mercantile affairs.’48 A couple of weeks later Byrn summed up the situation succinctly: ‘party Matters run high, with respect to the removal of the Courts from Spanishtown hither; the Council are for this Town, but the Majority of the present Assembly contend in favour of Spanish-Town … Can’t say how things will end.’49 Like other merchants, James Short was firmly for the Kingston faction: ‘formidable Parties are strongly opposing Each other, the ground work for these disputes, is the Kingston Petition to the King, to get the Courts, Records, and Seat of Government removed to, and established there, which in my own Opinion is a very just request.’50 He was clearly well apprised of the various petitions to the king and to the Board of Trade on both sides. Rehearsing the arguments of the various petitions of the Kingston faction he wrote that the removal would be good for the ‘Mother Country’; that it would provide the ‘greatest Safety’ and better ‘Security’ because of the government being nearer to the squadron at Port Royal; and that, in any case, Kingston was ‘where ¾ of all the suits, and Actions’ arise.51 Reprising the planters’ arguments, but turning them on their head, he added that ‘the Contest is for liberty on one side, and power on the other’ – liberty being his idea of what the Kingston faction was fighting for. The endless squabbling among the elite clearly had him exasperated: he told his correspondent that he wanted ‘totally to Detach my Self from this perplexing Country’.52

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John Thomson also felt let down by Moore’s actions following his arrival. He noted in a letter to his mother in Dublin: ‘our Lieutt Governour has Disappointed us much [as] it was strongly imagined he was on our side, but his Behaviour has proved to the Contrary.’53 He added: ‘Since the Departure of the Governor [Knowles] we have Lost most of our Honours which are carried into their Old Habitation, Spanish Town.’54 No doubt the fact that the dispute interfered with business further encouraged animosities in Kingston towards the planter faction. Lesser merchant David La  Pitts complained in September that the present state of affairs was affecting business, and he provided more examples of personal animosities. He commented sarcastically: ‘As for Marshals affairs I can not gett Mr [George?] Paplay to Settle them at any rate. He did once promise me He would lett me See How His affairs Stood but Since that he has been Elected a Member of our Assembly & of Consequence can attend to Nothing but what relates to the Welfare of this Country.’55 At the same time, La Pitts could see that ‘well-situated traders’ were, as was usually the case, profiting from the war.56 The firms of Manning & Paplay and Richards, Gordon & Kennion were both prize commissioners for the navy.57 In September, Manning & Paplay alone advertised the sales of twenty prize vessels.58 Elite merchants such as these could easily outbid lesser merchants and ships’ captains when it came to purchasing foreign ships once they were condemned.59 As factor Gerrard Nash noted: ‘vessels being much wanted here they sell at a Prodigious great Price.’60 Such disparities of wealth meant that lesser merchants and ships’ captains felt the financial impact of the local dispute far more than the elites did. As David Beveridge fatalistically noted: ‘Interesting divisions prevail So much here that wee hardly know anything of a French Warr nor indeed as yet are wee likely to receive any oyr [other] benefit from it Than hard knocks.’61

‘we have taken Soom prises and Expect to Share 50 pounds a man’62 Of course, the privateers that caused problems for those such as William Miller offered opportunities for ordinary sailors. In early October, Edward Magnar wrote home to his wife and her mother in Dublin. He boasted that ‘we have taken Soom prises and Expect

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to Share 50 pounds a man and we hope to Sail for England before Christmas’ (see figure 4.2).63 He also promised that if they were ‘Detained Longer’ he would remit the ‘greatest part’ home, thereby showing that although he was excited by the prospect of earning more than a year’s money in just a few weeks, he also cared about his wife and mother-in-law. Capturing enemy vessels as prizes was one of the few benefits for ordinary sailors in wartime, albeit a very risky one. It was therefore quite common for sailors to jump off one vessel – especially, as in Edward’s case, a slave ship – to join a private or Royal Navy man-ofwar. Many of these men-of-war were commercial vessels working as privateers – an activity in which all European powers participated. In wartime, most ships’ captains would apply for a letter of marque that meant they could not only defend themselves, but also take a foreign trading vessel as a prize if the opportunity presented itself. Having a letter of marque also meant that the crew would keep its share of the profits if they were lucky enough to take a prize. However, there were other captains of commercial vessels who obtained a letter of marque specifically in order to conduct the more aggressive ‘cruise and attack’ voyages. These were known as ‘Private Men of War’ to distinguish them from both Royal Navy vessels and those commercial vessels more interested in trade and simply defending themseves.64 These private men-of-war voyages were considered just as risky as the transatlantic trade in enslaved Africans, if not more so, but British ports such as Liverpool fully engaged in the activity, including by sending vessels to the Caribbean.65 They offered opportunities to both merchants and sailors in Britain when trade was slack or problematic due to war.66 Of course, while merchants and ship owners bore the financial risk, sailors ran the true risk of losing their lives. Edward Magnar was far from the only merchant sailor to take advantage of these opportunities. As we saw in the previous chapter, many of Captain William Clutsam’s crew had deserted him to go on board a man-of-mar. One slave ship’s captain reported in October that two of his crew had left to join a man-of-war.67 Captain William Miller had similar problems. He wrote home to Bristol: ‘My peoples jumping over board to go A Privateering.’ He had drawn part wages for two of them: ‘Willm Bevan five pounds seven shills Sterg [and] Erassmos Ramsey six pounds thirteen shills.’68 In 1755, ordinary seamen sailing on the True Briton from Bristol were paid £1 15 shillings

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Figure 4.2 Edward Magnar to Mrs Jane Symes, Port Royal, 10 October 1756.

a month when they were working.69 With wages such as these, perhaps it is no wonder that sailors jumped ship and tried their luck on privateers. Sailors working on private men-of-war received no wages,

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just their small share of the prize, but as wages for most merchant men were low, the chance of making £50 in just a few weeks must have made the risk seem worth taking.70 No wonder, then, that Edward Magnar jumped from a slave ship to join HMS Shoreham. Despite our modern perspective on the hardships of life on Royal Navy ships, a sailor’s perspective on those conditions and discipline depended on their own starting point.71 Edward’s was that of the ‘vast machine’ of the slave ship.72 The monthly net rate of pay for an able seaman in the Royal Navy was 22 shillings 6 pence, after deductions for Greenwich Hospital and the Chatham Chest, which was 10 shillings 6 pence less than those on the True Briton were paid. However, there were other financial advantages; for instance, volunteers joining the Royal Navy in wartime would often receive a bounty, over and above that offered by the government, from local governments trying to demonstrate their loyalty to the Crown.73 For example, Liverpool offered a bounty of £3 for every ‘able and Expert Seaman’ to encourage them ‘to Act with Vigour against Our inveterate and Perfidious Enemies the ffrench’.74 Bristol Council offered a less generous bounty of one guinea over and above the bounty allowed by His Majesty to ‘every able Bodied Seaman or Soldier Inhabitant of this City’ who volunteered on any ships of war.75 There was also a share of the potential prize money. This might amount to only 0.18 per cent of the total per man, but with good luck and when added to wages this was marginally more than sailors could earn on a private man-of-war.76 In September, Royal Navy sailor John Smith wrote home to his wife and child in Somerset. He had been ill since arriving in Jamaica, but he hoped that they would be able to ‘live with Satisfaction The Remendar years of our Days … have taken a grat maney prises’, and he was ‘expecting to be payed for them Every Day as I am sure that my Sher will bee Dubell and tribell to a privet mans Sher Which I hope Will Come to a hundred pounds Sterling’.77 Some sailors had seen action even before war had been declared, including those on HMS Rye under Captain Forrest.78 On 12 April, near Antigua, they had ‘found three sail in chase of us and gaining’.79 They kept the chase up until sunset and then managed to sail safely back towards Antigua and Barbuda. Such was the interest at home that this event was reported in the Dublin Gazette.80 No doubt the possibility of prize money enthused those such as George Farmer, who, despite his fears about the superiority of the French

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force, wrote to his brother of the French: ‘I hope be Soon able to trash their Jackets well.’81 He wrote similarly to a family friend: ‘I hope in a short time, be Able to Trash um well’ (see figure 6.1).82 Edward ONeal was also serving on HMS Dreadnought. However, as a lieutenant his experiences on board were quite different from those of George Farmer. Edward had sailed from Portsmouth on HMS Wager on 2 July, coming via Madeira and Barbados, before arriving in Jamaica with a convoy of four merchant ships. His preoccupations were more trivial than George Farmer’s. He wrote home asking his sister Jane to make and send him ‘two Dozen Shirts pretty Course’ as clothes were so expensive in Jamaica.83 He also appeared to be having problems with his pay.84 However, things were not all bad for him: he and Captain Preston of HMS Wager had been to dinner with Admiral Townsend, and had ‘spent the Day very Agreeable’.85 On his arrival in Jamaica, Edward, who was in the Royal Marines, had been transferred from HMS Wager to HMS Dreadnought.86 He wrote home that he had been told to take ‘twenty of my Marines … and march them on Board the Dreadnought’.87 He noted that he was sorry to be parting with Captain Preston, but on seeing his disappointment Admiral Townsend had said he would make his ship ‘as agreeable to me as he Could’.88 One wonders whether his twenty marines were made to feel so welcome. Despite his enthusiasm for action against the French, George Farmer had to contend with homesickness. He wrote to this brother: ‘I believe all my Friends have Forgot me For it’s Six Months Since I wrote home and have had noe answer.’89 Another man serving in the Royal Navy was Patrick Kelly, on the ‘Grennige man of War Lyin in Port Royal’.90 He was also missing home. Writing home to his brother in Dublin he complained that he had not received a letter from him. It is just as likely of course that their letters had got lost or were still making their way across the Atlantic. Nor was it only Royal Navy sailors that missed their post. In April, Mary King sent a letter to her brother Thomas who was on board the Clarendon, a merchant ship. When she posted her letter on 14 April the Clarendon was in Cork prior to sailing to Jamaica. Clearly it missed him, because her letter had been sent on to Jamaica and was eventually found in the Europa’s mailbag going back west over the Atlantic in December.91 Others on the Clarendon also never received their mail. George Stoney from Borrisokane in Ireland never received his letter from

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his father, written on the same day as Mary King had written to her brother. A letter from George to his uncle had not made it home, and his disbelieving father wrote to berate him: ‘I fear you did not write … for I cant imagine how your Mother & I cou’d each of us receive a Letter from you & yr Uncle’s miscarry.’92 George’s father entreated his son to be ‘obedient and Never grumble at any thing you are desir’d to doe’. Similarly, George Henry, also from Borrisokane, might have been warmed to hear that his ‘mama’ wanted to know if he liked being aboard and ‘if you drink your sage tea and how the ship fares with you’.93 John Thomas, the captain of the Clarendon, missed two of his mother’s letters.94 We can only wonder at the feelings of Thomas King, George Stoney, and John Thomas, as well as the other sailors missing their families and waiting for letters. With the French cruising nearby they must have wondered if they would ever see their families again.95

‘unto my friend Robert King’96 William French was serving on HMS Weazle at Port Royal. He was obviously worried about the prospects of surviving the war as he wrote his will on 27 April. He apparently had no family, as he left all of his ‘Worldly Estate and Effects’ to Robert King, the captain’s cook, who was also his executor.97 His will is very formulaic, with no detail of what personal possessions he had to leave to his shipmate. Most likely he was poor, or perhaps he had been pressed into service.98 He had plenty to be worried about as the death rates of servicemen in the Caribbean were disastrous.99 The death rates of troops in the West Indies were between 85 and 138 per thousand.100 Sadly, William was right to be worried: he was dead by September.101 William might have been injured in a battle, but it is more likely that he simply died from disease, as living conditions were extremely poor for servicemen in Jamaica. The local barracks were already degraded from long-term underinvestment, and this was made worse by the political infighting between the planters and the merchants. Governor Knowles noted in February that he had experienced much difficulty getting any money for the island’s fortifications, ‘such were the heats & animosity in the House of Assembly’.102 On top of this were arguments about collecting parish taxes.103 The deficiency tax had already become more of a fine than any serious

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attempt at encouraging white settlers, but problems over securing payment of the fines persisted throughout 1756.104 This was no doubt exacerbated by Moore’s arrival, upon which the assembly was disbanded, new elections held, and the new assembly moved back to Spanish Town.105 Despite these issues, a bill to provide land in Port Royal for the building of a hospital for sick and invalid seamen serving in the Royal Navy was read on 8 November and passed on 21 December.106 This was to be in addition to the New Greenwich Hospital at Kingston and the private housing at Port Royal.107 It was sorely needed: being stationed in Jamaica was not a pleasant experience. Additionally, for the benefit of maimed, infirm, or disabled merchant seamen, the assembly discussed collecting money from ships’ captains as an indemnification against the costs of parishes supporting or curing them.108 As the bill was only passed in December, however, it did not help seamen such as William French earlier in 1756.109 Normal living conditions for soldiers were also poor. In October, the assembly heard a report from one of its many subcommittees on the poor state of the upper barracks at Spanish Town.110 There were also lots of repairs required at the lower barracks, which were to be ‘expedited’. The report on the barracks at Port Royal was no better. The old guardroom was ‘useless’; the new guard house needed shutters, hinges, and some new boards; and the magazine wanted ‘flooring and a door better secured against accidents’.111 The kitchen needed repairing and shingles were needed for the roof of the barracks. The committee also reported that a new room for confining disorderly men was to be 20 feet by 30 feet in size. It was to have platforms in it, with air holes all around, a strong door, and no windows.112 One wonders if they got the irony that this description was very close to that of the hold of a slave ship. The soldiers must have wondered how much their service was truly valued.113 The fortifications at Port Royal, Mosquito Point, and Rock Fort (the latter two at Kingston) were likewise in poor repair.114 This situation continued despite the fact that they were large enough to require no less than 3,000 men to defend them in the event of an attack. This was in itself problematic because the local regiment, the ‘49th Regiment of Foot’, was seriously undermanned. It had already been reduced from 1,000 private men to 600 at the end of the last war, and by October it was ‘now 180 short of that’.115 Moreover, one company was stationed at the Mosquito Shore.116 For once, the

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governor, the council, and the assembly were in agreement, telling the Board of Trade: ‘Never have we been in so much need of considerable reinforcement … of this valuable Colony.’117 No wonder, then, that Kingston was proud of its militia complement of 2,000 white men and 500 free men of colour, whose role it was to ‘strengthen and secure ourselves against all attacks foreign and domestic’.118 They were supposed to be uniformed and well disciplined and each company was to have twenty five privates and be ‘well officered’.119 However, given the lack of care taken of the barracks and other provisions, one wonders just how disciplined they really were. Indeed, a small-scale event sheds light on the day-today experiences of soldiers in the 49th Regiment of Foot and their French prisoners of war, as we shall see below.

‘no other intent but escape’120 In September, Bernard Cornelius, a soldier in the 49th Regiment of Foot, heard the alarm that some French prisoners of war were escaping. He and four other soldiers went out and saw two French soldiers running up a field. According to Cornelius, one of the British soldiers had called twice to no avail, so he fired his weapon, aiming to stop them. One of the prisoners, Guillermo Arndaux, was killed while ‘running away’, and the other, Pierre Moquan, was struck by another soldier ‘with his firelock’, which ‘knocked him down’.121 Two other British soldiers confirmed this story. They also added that they had seen some bread in the shirt of the dead Frenchman, and they therefore believed that the French had ‘no other intent but escape’.122 While all this was happening, another French prisoner, Jean Barrie, was found ‘lodged’ in the window of the room in which the French were being held. He said that he was on the lookout for Arndaux and Moquan, who ‘were gone to get wood’.123 On hearing the guard coming, Barrie had attempted to get back into the room, but before he could do so ‘the guard fired twice by which means he was wounded in the fleshy parts of the buttocks with two balls and he fell into the room’. As he was lying there, he claimed, another British soldier ran his bayonet through his thigh. Several other French prisoners gave evidence that Jean Barrie was at the window, with one foot upon a chest and another on the bed, with

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‘his breast even to the window’, suggesting that he was not trying to escape but was, as he said, on the ‘look out’.124 They heard several shots fired in through the window, one of which killed another prisoner, Jean Codrain. The French prisoners attested that the guard had not called out before firing. Pierre Moquan also added that he had been shot through the ear, and that, after Guillermo Arndaux had been shot, he had been beaten by the British guard with the butt of his gun; indeed, the guard had ‘broke one gun about him’.125 Neither Lieutenant Threlfall of the 49th Regiment of Foot nor his men ever mentioned the events within the prisoners’ room in their official correspondence to the Board of Trade.126 The French prisoners all gave evidence explaining that they were not trying to escape, only trying to collect firewood to cook their victuals, which had earlier been refused them.127 They also said that they had gone for several days without victuals, and that when they had been given food it was only ‘¾ lb beef and about ½ lb flour’.128 Lieutenant Threlfall was quick to defend his men, saying that the statements of the French were ‘false and scandalous’ and that they were never two days at a time without food.129 Whatever the truth, whether the French prisoners had gone out for firewood or to escape, the chain of command with regard to their care was lengthy and it was prone to errors and omissions – if not outright fraud. In August, the governor had recommended that the assembly consider that there was no place where French prisoners of war could be kept, or provision made for their subsistence.130 The assembly agreed that it would, in due course, make proper provision for them.131 Indeed, the French prisoners in custody had been taken from their former location in Port Royal to Greenwich Hospital in early September, ‘as a more convenient place’.132 John Cruickshank of Kingston had been put in charge of provisioning the French prisoners.133 However, he in turn ordered John Gilderoy, an illiterate civilian from Kingston, to take care of, and give provisions to, the prisoners.134 Gilderoy gave evidence that he had given the prisoners salt beef, salt fish, herrings, bread, flour, and butter, and that he was sure that they had had all of their allotted provisions. He supported his point about the French prisoners having received plenty of food with the fact that around £50 worth of provisions had been delivered for them that had not been consumed. He also stated, contrary to the French prisoners’ evidence, that firewood had been given to them to cook their food except on

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the days when the weather was too bad – given that this was the rainy season, however, this could have been a long time. Cruickshank had also sent a message to Gaywood Goad, the deputy marshall and keeper of the gaol, to provide them with victuals, but delegation again came into play and it was Goad’s clerk who turned up asking Cruickshank what provisions the French prisoners should receive.135 There were plenty of chances for messages to be misunderstood or ignored. Adding to this confusion, many people of colour were ‘Daily carrying in firewood to the hospital which the soldiers and the prisoners exchange for provisions’.136 These may have been troops or, just as likely, enslaved people.137 Indeed, it would seem that further deaths of the French prisoners caused by the men of the 49th Regiment of Foot had only been prevented by ‘a Mulatto woman’.138 Apart from the general confusion caused by a complicated chain of command that was interspersed with ‘private contractors’, this incident says a lot about the daily lives of soldiers and prisoners of war in Jamaica at the start of the Seven Years’ War.139 Firstly, with so many reports of the French Navy cruising nearby, the guards were understandably nervous and “trigger happy” in their efforts to ‘capture’ the French prisoners of war. Secondly, and just as likely, they were frustrated at being kept in barracks that were in terrible condition and that they were being poorly fed themselves. Thirdly, the silence of the British soldiers regarding the events within the prisoners’ room itself adds to the weight of the prisoners’ evidence of unnecessary violence and brutality. The French prisoners hinted at another reason for all this death and disarray: that ‘all the guard were in Liquor, except the Serjeant’ – another accusation none of the British bothered refuting. The evidence is certainly confused, as Governor Henry Moore noted: ‘The Contrarity of them is so great that I shall not pretend to make any remark on them.’140 Fourthly, the usually invisible people of African descent come to the fore as an integral part of the daily life of the barracks and seemed pivotal in saving lives. None of the English letters comment on this event, but two Portuguese merchants mention the affair. Isaac da  Silva wrote to his father that ‘There is nothing to warn you but that the governor … took them [the French] from Kingston and put them in Spanishtown’.141 There was little sympathy for them. Rachel and Manoel Mendes wrote: ‘There is no news here only that some French sailors

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… rose up in the guards of Grinnich and they killed 2 of the guards who came, and of the French died some 3 and the others were hurt, people say to let them starve here, for all the provisions are very expensive and there is no way to find them.’142 In the official record nothing is said of two British guards dying. Perhaps the rumour mill was working overtime. Just as likely, however, is that Lieutenant Threlfall did not want those in London to know about his failure, so he accounted for the deaths of his own soldiers in other ways. They were no doubt easily added to the numbers who died from disease.

The Politics of War The year concluded with the capital back in Spanish Town and a new governor on the side of the planter elite. Thomas Pinnock, an elite planter and half brother of Philip Pinnock, summed up the situation thus:143 Our journey in this Life is so short that I am astonished to see Men wantonly destroy all happiness; this island is healthy, pleasant, and fruitfull and affords the Industrious Man a genteel and agreeable living for his Labour, he may Live Comfortably & Enjoy his little in great cheerfullness, provided he can curb his Ambition; but as our Government over slaves is allmost Absolute, so it intoxicates the brain, and creates in us a most notorious Desire to Lord it over our Equalls from whence Men can bear no Control, nor have they any bounds to their passions.144 The political war that occurred in mid-eighteenth-century Jamaica has usually been cast as both a battle for power and control among the elite and a battle between the local elite and the metropolitan government; indeed, Pinnock’s reflections centre on these issues. Men such as he were rich, but also drunk with power from their ownership of enslaved people and, no doubt, from their own personal freedoms, being so far from interference by the metropole. Pinnock’s frustration, however, probably had more to do with his family’s direct involvement in the political war than any real wish that his fellow planters would curb their desires. Tellingly, he does

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not mention the war, the reality of which ordinary people in Jamaica had to deal with every day. Quite possibly, permanently resident elites such as the Pinnocks were used to being surrounded by the French. However, most ordinary people would have read Pinnock’s words with bemusement, unable to fathom why an internal political war was being fought when the French were thought ready to attack. Even those who supported the Kingston faction were affected by the political strife that disrupted trade and normal governance of the island. Lesser merchants could not get paid and ships’ captains could not sell their human cargo due to the tensions between the factions. As ever, elite merchants profited from the war, while lesser merchants did not have the capital to buy the goods taken on prizes, let alone the vessels themselves. Ships’ captains also had to contend with their crew jumping overboard to go privateering, as many ordinary sailors saw the war as an opportunity to earn a year’s money in a month. They clearly thought the additional risk worth it. Ordinary Royal Navy sailors might have been enthusiastic to ‘trash’ the French, but they also appear to have been treated interchangeably, swapped from one vessel to another, while at the same time having to deal with their fear of the French and with missing home. For the soldiers stationed on the island, the forts and accommodation were in poor repair. If the soldiers guarding the French were drunk, one could argue that they had many reasons to be so. The elite focused on their internecine battles for power, but on the other side of Jamaica’s divided society, ordinary people were anxious about a French invasion, about money, and about their future. The poorest and the armed forces, along with enslaved people, died in their thousands from poverty and disease. They may have been living on the edge of empire, but they felt the full force of its actions. Like Pinnock, they must have pondered the ambitions and intoxications of the rich, but from a completely different perspective.

5

Love, Family, and Friendship Give me Love to my Brothers and Sisters and to all friends atome.1

In the last chapter we saw the terrible living conditions and the high mortality rate experienced by men serving in the Royal Navy at Port Royal. Many of them were also anxiously waiting for post to arrive from their families. These men included Irishman Patrick Kelly, serving on the fleet’s flagship HMS Greenwich. His letter home to his family in Dublin sums up the longing and homesickness that both Royal Navy and merchant seamen must have felt. It is worth quoting his letter in full: My Dear Brothers this is to lett you [k]now that I am in Good health hoaping that these few Lines will find you in the same blesed be to god for itt[,] I have wrote to you several times but never had the happeness of Receivin one Letter from You – Which gives me a great Deal of concern to think you Should be so ungreatfull nothing in the World would give me a greater happeness than to hear of your Welfare and to hear how you go on in the World give me Love to my Brothers and Sisters and to all friends atome no more at present from your Loven Brother Patrick Kelly Be sure to Send me an Answer by the first Oppertunity and when you Direct Your Letter Derected for the Grennige man of War Lyin in Port Royal Jamaica.2 Patrick’s letter (see figure 5.1) offers a very different portrayal of Jamaica from the dominant one of a hypermasculine, aggressively

Figure 5.1 Patrick Kelly to Christopher Kelly, Jamaica, 8 September 1756.

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entrepreneurial space in which calculating commercial callousness and drunken debauchery were prevalent.3 His letter also raises several of the themes of this chapter. He was clearly desperate for post from home and felt a sense of betrayal when none arrived, thinking his friends and family had not written. He also told his brother that he wanted to ‘hear how you go on in the World’, which was a common refrain among those in Jamaica who wanted news of ordinary life in Britain. Importantly, Patrick’s letter suggests a society that was more than simply ‘an ill-organised system of exploitation’.4 A brutal form of patriarchy and control certainly existed in Jamaica, but the island’s fractured society meant that there was also room for genuine love, family, and friendship. Indeed, this chapter argues that Jamaican society was a complicated one in which real love, family, and friendship were often the experience of ordinary people, despite the high morbidity and mortality. The chapter first investigates the sense of isolation, frustration, and hurt that ordinary people expressed at receiving mail irregularly or not at all from their family and friends, and the desire for news of home.5 It then places in context how people engaged in long-distance courtships, and it demonstrates that loving families did live in Jamaica. Next it illustrates how fathers and mothers missed and worried about their children living apart from them in England. And last but not least it highlights how some men wanted their wives to join them in Jamaica, and how widows tried to make the most of their precarious situations. The sense of family, home, household, and belonging was not always the same in Jamaica as it was in England – and, of course, it was seriously compromised for enslaved people – but not all white people subscribed to the reputed dominant mores of Jamaican society either.6

‘nothing in the World would give me a greater happeness than to … hear how you go on in the World’7 As Patrick’s letter demonstrates, Atlantic letters were extremely important in keeping family and friends connected and apprized of each others’ lives and in maintaining friendships at a distance.8 They were ‘a vital means of maintaining a presence in absence’ and were not only ‘written in between real life; for some, they also became real life’.9 The ‘dimension of distance’, as Susan Whyman

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has noted, had a huge impact on families.10 It is not surprising to find, therefore, that one dominant theme in the letters is that sense of distance, and of missing home, family, and friends. No wonder, then, that Patrick Kelly wanted to hear how his friends and family ‘go on in the World’.11 Nor was it just family that was important, the eighteenth-century meaning of friends was wider than we now understand it to be and ‘could comprise a very broad spectrum of relationships’.12 These might include relations by blood and marriage; someone with whom you had a close intellectual, political, or devotional affinity; a special contact through trade or business; general supporters; or even a landlord. Generally, a friend was someone who was good to you or supported you in one way or another as part of a network of supporters.13 Indeed, the ‘strength of local attachments and belonging were very manifest among the poorer sections of society in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries’.14 Home also had a wider meaning. It could mean the dwelling itself, the parish or township, or possibly even the district. It might even encompass or be coloured by ‘shared memories, reputation, family, ancestry, employment, previous residence’ and so on.15 Patrick Kelly’s letter was not only enquiring about his family, therefore, but also about life in general in the area around Birds Alley in Dublin where his family lived.16 This wider meaning of friends and home may well be why the letter writers sound so hurt about not receiving mail. Merchant’s clerk John Jackson, who boasted of his place at the merchant house of Hibberts & Millan, spent the majority of his letter begging for news of home. He clearly felt a sense of isolation. ‘I shall despair of ever hearing from you’, he wrote, ‘have you entirely forgot one of your Old Currant Tokens?’ He entreated his friend: ‘I have a great Affection for you and the rest of my Friends as ever, so hope you’ll think nothing of the Distance that we are from one another.’ He added that ‘nothing is more agreeable to me in this remote part of the World than the perusing of Letters from my dear Friends and Acquaintance’.17 Being ‘in this remote part of the World’ meant that the post, as we have seen, was slow and unreliable. This exacerbated the sense of distance, and a constant refrain in the letters is the length of time since the last letter was received from a loved one. John Thomson, who was disappointed in the actions of the new governor Henry Moore, wrote home to his ‘Honoured Mother’ that he had not had

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a word from her ‘Since that of the First of April’.18 James Short, who supported the Kingston faction in the political dispute, wrote that ‘it is near 12 Months, since the date of the last Letter’ he had received from his wife, about whom he was very worried.19 Joseph Stephenson, who was upbeat about his prospects as a solicitor, had written ‘repeated letters’ to his mother since last receiving one from her. The last letter he had received from his ‘Uncle Johnson … [was] nigh 12 Months ago’.20 Even allowing for the slow pace of the mail, this was an extraordinarily long time. Stephenson hoped that the letters had miscarried, otherwise he could only deduce that ‘my Relations are negligent in regard to me and think me not worthy of their Notice’. Ann Graham wrote to her mother that she was ‘very uneasy in not hearing from you in so Long a time[,] indeed in your two or three last Letters you write that you have not hea’d from me for a Long Time’.21 She hoped that her mother did not think she had been ‘remiss in my duty’, and reminded her that ‘our Letter[s] often Misscarry’. By entreating her mother to blame the post and not herself for the lack of letters, and promising that she would do likewise, Ann gave them both reason to spare each other recriminations. John Jackson had been even longer without news from home. He complained that ‘I have not had the pleasure of perusing an Epistle from any of my dear Friends since my arrival which is now 16 Months’.22 No wonder merchant captain Alexander Robe wrote to his wife in October that ‘About an hour agoe I receied yours of June 26th with Great Satisfactions’.23 One reason not receiving letters was so painful was that those in Jamaica were worried their friends and family might forget them. Therefore, remembrances were a standard part of the valediction. ‘Remember me to all my frends’ or ‘give my Dear Love’ were constant refrains.24 As we have seen, Patrick Kelly complained that ‘I have wrote to you several times but never had the happeness of Receivin one Letter from You – Which gives me a great Deal of concern to think you Should be so ungreatfull.’25 Patrick clearly felt hurt that his family had not written (or so he believed). Despite his enthusiasm for action against the French, sailor George Farmer was similarly concerned. He wrote to his brother: ‘I believe all my Friends have Forgot me For it’s Six Months Since I wrote home and have had noe answer.’26 Many added a list of all the people to whom they wished to be remembered. Sailor Martin

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Swords on HMS Princess Mary asked his brother to give his kind love ‘to All Absent Friends … My Kin John Lynham And his Family And to Jane … to Cosen Mikel Swords and our friends At hom’.27 Captain Manus McShane, who was having problems with his crew and with obtaining a cargo, wrote: ‘pleas to give my Compliments to Mrs Hamilton and all your femly, and to all the Gentlemen of my Aquentance.’28 The fact that he was writing to his employer and those with an ‘interest’ in him is possibly the reason he dared only after his formal remembrances to write: ‘P.S. Sur pleas to Remember my Love to my Wife and all My frends.’ Not everyone was adept at these remembrances, however. John Smith, who wanted to live with his wife in Somerset with ‘satisfaction’, asked to be remembered to several family members and also ‘your Brother in Law for I have for got his name’.29 Even those more accomplished at letter writing had to correct omissions. Edward ONeal, the lieutenant on HMS Dreadnought, was not unusual in this regard. He wrote to his sister: ‘Give my Complements to Mrs Day and the Childrin Mr & Mrs Day of Tralee, My Mother Miss Catty and Miss Peggy Miss Betty Day and the miss Payns Daniell McCarthy and his wife Giffrey Mahoney and Rickey Conell.’30 After signing off he added: ‘P.S. Remember me to my sister Wilson.’ As a lieutenant, he may well have read one of the many letter-writing advice books, but these valedictions were more than simply a polite and formulaic part of the letter.31 ONeal genuinely wanted to be remembered by all his friends and family – he did not want to be forgotten. For those who had not learned to write or could not find the time to do so, tagging onto another’s letter might suffice. John Fleming asked his friend William Nickell to add to his letter home that Fleming was ‘in Good Halth and Desirs to Be Rembred to his father and mother’.32 No one wanted to be forgotten when they were so far from home. People in Jamaica wanted letters from England so badly not only so they knew that their family members were still alive, but also to hear their news; or, as Patrick Kelly put it, ‘how you go on in the World.’33 Jewish merchant Aaron Lousada demanded: ‘Send me News from the family.’34 Similarly, merchant’s clerk John Jackson wrote to his correspondent: ‘fail not of giving me all the News you can from Bletchingly’, the place where he felt he belonged.35 He added that ‘tho’ the distance we are from each other, is so great, I have you my dear Friend continually in my Thoughts’. John then copied into his letter a love

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poem about ‘Nancy’ who was ‘claimed’ near where a hazelnut tree grew. This may have been a double entendre, but it was also an allusion to what he really wanted, which was for his friend Robert to send him some walnuts, which were not available in Jamaica. James Webb, a lesser merchant or factor in Kingston, also asked his brother ‘Samey’ for ‘a full account of yr Way of Living’.36 Again, we see allusions to home and belonging: ‘Pray Lett me hear a full account of you and all friends and If any Strange news at home or If any of our friends our Dead I hear … that Mrs Millerd is Dead but whether true or not I know not … Give me LikewiSe in yr Letter a full account of My Misfortunate Sister and how She Lives.’37 He also asked about ‘all other friends’ and whether Samey himself had yet finished his apprenticeship or not. Similar to John Jackson, he made reference to romantic love. James particularly wanted to know about a woman called Gatty [Gertrude] Shirecliffe: ‘Lett her Know my Situation att Present … and Likewise Lett me Know Whether She is married or not and how She behaves and how She Lives.’38 James clearly loved and wanted to marry Gatty.39 He continued: ‘I Cannot help Mentioning to you the Regard I have for her I can assure you that I never yett in all the Places I have been See[n] a Person that I have So Great a Regard for as I have for her[.] I Wish it was in my Power to Doe for her Which I hope Please God in a very Short time I will be both able and Willing … Desire her to write to Me.’ James appeared anxious that his sojourn from home might be too long for her to wait for him and wanted his kinsman to intercede on his behalf.40 Perhaps those who had no intention of staying in Jamaica and had no family ties there found it even harder to deal with the sense of isolation they felt in being away from their families than did those who intended to make the island their home. News received from home was not valuable only to the intended recipient. The Kingston seamstress Elizabeth Metcalfe told her ‘Sister Chambers’ that ‘it has given me the greatest pleasure to receive Letters from your Little Family’.41 She had received a note from her nephew ‘little Bill’ (‘a favour I did Not expect’), and she sent a kiss home for him. Clearly people shared happy news of home. Elizabeth was especially pleased with a letter from her niece, writing that ‘Hannah’s Letter … gave me great pleasure, I have Shewn it to Several people and given them pleasure too when I informed them what a little Poppet She was when I came here.’ It did not matter whose news it was: if it was news from home, it was worth sharing.

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How sad, then, must Captain John Thomas and the crew of the Clarendon have been not to receive their letters. Not receiving them meant that John did not find out that one of his letters home had arrived, nor did he receive his mother Elinor’s consolation on the loss of his men.42 Neither did he hear the news that the weather had been too bad for her to visit a Mr Nesbitt as requested, or that ‘Paul Ingram gives his kind Love to you’, even though he had a ‘Swelled Leg’ and might not be able to go to sea. His ‘Affectionate Mother’ also told him that she expected Mr Smith home every day, and that Captain West, who sent ‘his Kinde Love’, had sailed from London on 30 March. His sister and her children were well and there were compliments from several family friends. John’s mother ended by entreating him not to forget to raise a glass to their health on Saturday nights – ‘I ashure you thay [his family and friends] did not’, she emphasized (see figure 1.2).43 One wonders whether John ever received the bill of parcels that she sent him with another letter. In this later letter she also reported that Mr Smith had still not arrived home and that she had sorted out a policy for him (presumably insurance).44 How much would he have been cheered up by these messages of love and relieved to know that his family and friends were all well? Perhaps a wry smile came to his face as his mother admonished her ‘Dear Childe’, now a grown man, to drink their health and to remember those at home.

‘I am such a fond Hen of my one Chicken’45 When Captain Thomas was being reminded of his family in England, it was probably one that was synonymous with the household. This would most likely include a man, his wife, their child or children, and any dependents and servants living in the house. This created a family ‘emanating from relationships of co-residence and authority’.46 The patriarchal household was, however, unstable, and a man’s ‘little republic’ was not achieved by ‘laws’, ‘but out of the habitual practices in which the family engage together, and the physical nature of their house’.47 Households in England were therefore diverse in their composition, and marriage often forged a form of codependency in which roles were not always clearly gendered, even if men had the advantage in law.48 While pressure might be put on a woman to marry for

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financial reasons, it was hoped that a marriage might at least be an affectionate one – a choice being ‘made between age, riches and lust on the one hand, and youth, virility and love on the other’.49 For those from the middling orders, courtship might still be stilted and formal, with input from family and friends, while for those lower down the social scale there might be more freedom of choice.50 The poor, however, also had practical matters to consider. Expectations were made clear; even if these were simply a lowly trade for him and useful household skills for her.51 Once established, this permeable and flexible household/family might, however, at the same time, exclude blood relatives who did not live in the household.52 It was not a household, then, of extended family, but a distinct ‘unit or block of persons’, in which it was not possible to distinguish family from household.53 There were also extended households in Jamaica, but they were definitely not always synonymous with family or, indeed, marriage. This was because early migration across the Atlantic was dominated by men between the ages of twenty-five and fifty-nine.54 While migration to places such as New England and Virginia eventually became something that family groups did, this was not the case in Jamaica, which continued to attract young men trying to make their fortune. The white population was therefore predominately male, with 4.03 men for every woman in 1662 and a ratio of 2.61:1 in 1730. This imbalance was compounded by the relative failure of marriage as an institution. Jamaicans had a ‘weak commitment to marriage’ culturally, and married men, according to Edward Long, could be held in ‘utmost derision’.55 Indeed, it has been argued that in Jamaica masculinity was idealized as a way to live without constraints.56 Therefore, despite the increasing population the number of marriages declined. They were also short lived. Even in the seventeenth century, when people were more likely to get married, the average length of marriage was just eight years and four months, and nearly 40 per cent of marriages had no children at all. By the turn of the eighteenth century the average length of marriage had been reduced to just four years and nine months. The number of couples having large families also declined, and only around 38 per cent of children made it to adulthood.57 The early deaths of parents, low birth rates, and high child mortality meant that there were very few multigenerational families, and little chance of children experiencing all the love and support that they might bring.58

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The relative failure of marriage as an institution was encouraged by the ease with which white men of any level of wealth could take advantage of the unequal balance of power over both enslaved women and free women of colour.59 The ubiquitous enslaved ‘housekeeper’, a euphemism for an enforced sexual relationship, is a well-known trope in Caribbean history.60 The outcome of these rapes – or, at the very least, extremely unequal sexual relationships – was of course an increasing population of mostly enslaved people of dual heritage. Those who were free were illegitimate and became part of Atlantic families that ‘presented challenges to ideas of kinship and belonging’ in Britain, especially after 1760.61 In early eighteenth-century Jamaica these children of dual heritage were seen as a potential seedbed for increasing the white Caribbean population, but as the century wore on it became increasingly difficult to escape one’s racial categorization.62 Only those of the correct class, kinship, and upbringing could claim to be ‘white’ and gain immunity from the laws against free people of colour through private bills.63 The rentier Mary Augier was one such free woman who successfully submitted a ‘privilege petition’ for herself and her children in 1747, but not without causing considerable controversy.64 There were, of course, non-elite white men who fitted the profile of a sexually lascivious single man. Men such as Thomas Thistlewood had their own ‘little republic’, albeit an extremely distorted version of one.65 The gender imbalance among whites meant that there were not many ‘suitable’ white women available to marry, even if men such as Thistlewood had wanted to. George Hampson, who was making the most of the autumn elections to build up his business as a lawyer, outlined his prospects of marrying a rich widow: ‘It may be suggested to you that I can easily make my Fortune here by Marriage; that I can assure you is a great Mistake, for there are very few Women here who have any Fortune at all, those who have tho’ they make a Wife[?] as something very considerable, when examin’d turn out very trifling.’66 He joked that ‘to shew you I have not been wanting in Endeavours that Way, can assure you that I have met with a Denial from a Lady of the most Merit as well as of one of the best Fortunes in the Country’. Marriage was often a less sentimental arrangement in Jamaica than it was in Britain.67 Despite this context, some elites truly wanted Jamaica to be a thriving settler society and believed it could be so. Indeed, the many concerns about the ratio of white people to Black, as evidenced by

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the ‘deficiency’ laws, suggest this.68 The Jamaican deficiency law of 1703 was adapted from a Nevis law of 1701 and regulated the proportion of white persons to Black on plantations. The 1703 law, however, and those that followed, were unsuccessful, and most whites simply chose to pay a fine.69 In 1749, in a further effort to promote white settlement, an act was passed for the ‘better and more effectual Encouragement of White Families to become Settlers’.70 This was the law to which Sarah Jones and William Turton Grear referred when asking the assembly for relief.71 It aimed to provide each white immigrant family with free passage, twenty acres of land, a house valued at £50, and one enslaved person. However, fewer than 200 families settled between 1734 and 1754.72 This was indeed a grim reality, but it was not the only reality. There were families living in Jamaica, both permanent and visiting; perhaps they too hoped that Jamaica could be a successful settler society. Indeed, Lucille Mathurin Mair argued that ‘the Euro-Jamaican family successfully met the basic needs of its members’; it ‘housed, clothed and fed them, even to excess’, and it provided mutual affection and concern.73 At the same time, however, a double standard had clearly been brought from England – one in which women were severely disadvantaged, even if that played out differently in Jamaica.74 Female access to capital and credit was problematic; Jamaican men were not particularly generous to their wives in their wills; and infidelity was prevalent, certainly among the elite.75 Even Edward Long allowed that despite their generous spirits Jamaican men were ‘not always the most chaste and faithful of husbands’.76 As was the case in England, however, Jamaican women resisted posited ideals of patriarchy and female submissiveness, and wives and (especially) widows could wield social, economic, and cultural authority.77 Indeed, white women were ‘powerful agents of slavery’, and this certainly affected how they were perceived back in Britain.78 In fact, ‘Jamaica’s notoriously deadly mortality rates, its mercantile focus, and its involvement in imperial warfare made free families even more reliant on female members’.79 Yet many of the free ‘families’ we already know about were elite mercantile or planter families.80 The middle and upper classes set up marriage contracts, which were used to protect daughters’ interests and husbands’ family inheritances and in which there was little room for sentimentality.81 At the elite level, ‘concentric circles of relatives and friends met each others’ needs’, but we rarely read of the planter Thomas Pinnock’s wife, who was in Jamaica with him, his daughter

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Molly, or his three sons at school in England.82 Colonel Ross arrived in Jamaica in autumn 1756 with his wife and sister-in-law, and Colonel James Lawrence of St James died worth nearly £31,000 in 1756 with his wife, three daughters, and one son still living.83 There are several examples of other families who disrupt the dominant narrative of patriarchal control and the absence of family life in Jamaica. For example, lesser merchant David La Pitts, who complained about George Paplay, had his wife with him in Jamaica.84 Samuel Jebb was also living in Kingston with his wife.85 Kingston merchant and rentier Daniel Mendes Pereira had a daughter with him in Jamaica, as well as his wife, although it is unclear if she was still alive in late 1756. He possibly also had a sister on the island. His friend Jacob Mendes lived with his wife and a newborn son, ‘who was circumcised on the first day of Queper’.86 Of course, these men did not usually mention the names of their wives, and the Jewish merchant Isaac da Silva was unusual in signing his letter from himself and his ‘dear wife’ Ribca.87 It is possible, therefore, to construct small vignettes of loving Jamaican families. Lesser merchant John Crow, who was ready to leave Jamaica and hand over to the next generation as he was ‘not likely to increase my family (I hope)’, was living with his wife Ann in Kingston.88 She asked John to send her compliments to their friend John Thomas, and hoped ‘he has got his Isle of Wt [Isle of Wight] Wife’.89 Indeed, it would appear that Ann may have acted as an intermediary in that romantic relationship.90 John appears to have loved his wife Ann, as he cared for her very well in his will. He left her £12,000  sterling to be paid within one month of his decease, and without any clause against her remarrying, which was unusual.91 Ann was also bequeathed all his enslaved people; all the linen, china, household furniture, horses, and carriages; and some annuities. While John Crow is not well known in the literature on Jamaica, he was clearly relatively successful. At one point, Ann and John appeared to have had their daughter Elizabeth living in Jamaica with them, as she was ‘now in England’ when he wrote his will in June 1762.92 Elizabeth was still under age, and John’s wife Ann was named as one of her guardians. Elizabeth was left £6,000 in public funds, with the interest of 3 per cent to be paid every six months. John also left his widowed sister Sarah £1,000, also in annuities, for her ‘sole and separate use’. Perhaps he did not trust her judgement as much as that of his wife. In addition to the usual mourning rings, John

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left £50 to the poor of the Society of Friends.93 Little did Ann know in 1756 that her husband would die within seven years, leaving her widowed in Jamaica with her child Elizabeth in England. In fact, of course, this marriage lasted quite a long time by Jamaican standards. As we have seen, Ann Graham lived in Jamaica with her husband, her daughter, and her sister. Ann told her mother that her sister had ‘grown thin’ but that she herself was ‘now growing so fatt I cannot tell what to do with my selfe’ (see figure 1.2).94 Ann clearly doted on her little girl. She had been going to school for some time but Ann wrote that ‘the little Soul does not Like it much for she allways make[s] a bargin with me when she goes out that she must not go to School’.95 Ann told her mother that she hoped to send her daughter to school in England in early 1757 under her mother’s care, but added that when that happened her mother would ‘have my very heart and Soul’, and hoped she would ‘prize Her as such’. Ann described her daughter as a sweet soul, but apparently she had a nervous disposition for she fretted about ‘every thing’. She was also clearly indulged: ‘I am such a fond Hen of my one Chicken that I cannot bear to see her uneasy.’96 Ann realized she was being overprotective. She ended her musings on her daughter thus: ‘I do not think I ever shall have another one and so must make the most of my Little prize[,] but believe you are all most tyard of my nonsense about my brat.’ Even when loving parents had their children with them in Jamaica, it was not always a permanent arrangement. Ann Graham’s little chicken had to make the most of her loving hen while she could.

‘let me know how Theodore & honor does’97 Ann Graham’s trepidation about sending her daughter to school in England was a common one. Ann Morley, whom we saw earlier running an import/export business in Kingston and renting out Nathaniel Lloyd’s property, had a daughter at boarding school in England (see figure  3.2). She would have understood how Ann Graham felt about her little chicken. Ann Morley cared for her daughter from afar. She must have thought that some friendly faces and social life training would be of benefit. Ann asked Nathaniel Lloyd if either of the Mr Henckells – her other correspondents – were married. If the answer was yes, then it would be appropriate for her daughter to see them, and they might do her the ‘favour

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of them Sometimes to have her to dine with them’.98 Ann had two other daughters living with her in Jamaica who in turn would probably be sent to boarding school in England. Sadly, it would seem that Ann would come to mourn one of these daughters, as only two were mentioned in her will.99 Delegation of children to others was normal in England, and it was a practice that was transferred to Jamaica, even though families were separated by the Atlantic Ocean rather than simply by a few streets or miles.100 From afar, parents tried to ensure their children had the right education. Planter Alexander Crawford of Westmoreland asked his London supplier to pay a friendly visit to his niece, who was at ‘Boarding School with one Mrs Mott in Bedford Street, Covent Garden’.101 Others asked their contacts to send their daughters to ‘Dancing School as soon as Possible’.102 Ship’s captain Patt Lynch wrote home to London asking about ‘Tomey Bell’, whom Captain Forrest (perhaps of HMS Rye) had put under another’s care.103 However, it was Patt Lynch who wrote that he would ‘take it as a favour if you’ll from time to time give me an acct of him and whatever expenses you are at for his Schooling & maintainance’, which either he or Captain Forrest would pay. Perhaps Tommy Bell was the child of one of their friends who had died. Such arrangements could sometimes create tensions and anxieties, however. If a correspondent did not update people on their children, a difficult balance had to be made between demanding updates on children’s welfare and ‘fear of disobliging’.104 Sometimes anxieties were blamed on, or at least transferred to, the children themselves. On 1 October, Sarah Folkes (whose husband supplied the Board of Ordnance), wrote to her son Frederick, who was staying with a Mr Savage at Doctors Commons, possibly as a clerk learning common law.105 She admonished Frederick for not having written, as she had not heard from him ‘since I left England which in duty to your Parent you ought to have done’.106 She speculated that someone had set him against her, writing that ‘I allways thought you had a great regard for me & more sense than to let anyone alienate your Affection from your Mother’. Probably to try to make Frederick feel guilty, Sarah stressed her own role as a caring mother, telling him that she had half a dozen new shirts to send him ‘& several other things’, but as she had not heard from him she ‘imagined some accident had happened’ and therefore she was not going to send them yet. She continued: ‘[I] desire you will write

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to me & let me know the reason you have not answered my Letter.’ Frederick had a brother called Theodore, also in London, and she promised to send them both some ‘necessaries’; she also reminded him to enquire after his sister Honour, who was apparently also in London. By way of a further hint to write, Sarah then instructed Frederick how to send mail either by packet or by a merchant vessel. On the same day, she wrote to a family friend in London. Sarah asked her to enquire after her Frederick, either by calling on or writing to Mr Savage. Sarah wrote that Frederick had not replied to any of her letters and that she could not ‘imagine the reason without he has been ill or any one has sett him against me’.107 She also asked her friend: ‘At ye same time you write me Word about Frederick let me know how Theodore & honor does.’108 Sarah promised to send them some Jamaica rum in thanks for their civility. What accident Frederick might have had, Sarah Folkes did not seem to want to say, but her husband William was far more forthright. Like others, William Folkes was desperate for news from home, and he first enquired of his friend, a bookseller in London, if they had been ill, which had ‘prevented your writing’.109 He was, however, far more pragmatic about the situation with his own child (possibly from an earlier marriage), Theodore. He asked his friend to write to Mrs Chivers at Woolwich, ‘who has the care of my child, or call yourself to inquire if the child is living or dead, & whether she has been paid for the Time that was due since my departure from England’. He promised to send the balance due along with five guineas that he owed them for money his wife had borrowed. William then enquired after the health of his friend’s family before signing off. The difference in approach between the two parents is poignant.110 It seems at first glance that Sarah had held off from sending Frederick’s shirts as a form of blackmail to compel him to write, but it could also have been because she feared the worst but could not bring herself to put it in writing.

‘Dr Sister I Houp that you Have Been as Good as Your word’111 Unlike residents in Jamaica, ships’ captains such as William Clutsam at least saw their children each time they returned to England. It is likely that so too did slave ship captain William Miller, who asked

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his wife Nelly to ‘kep Billy Close to Schol and hope the Girl Growes well’.112 Of course, ships’ captains often missed their children’s first steps. Miller added that ‘by this time, please god she can Walk about’. Ship’s captain Alexander Robe sent his ‘Blessing to My poor little ones’ and prayed for ‘A happey Meeting’ with his ‘Ever Dearest Girl’, by which he meant his wife.113 With families separated by the Atlantic Ocean, many people in Jamaica missed family milestones such as births, deaths, and marriages. John Penington missed out on the marriage of his sister Sally to George Tyly in London. Having heard that Tyly had ‘enter’d into our Family’, he congratulated him and wished him ‘Joy & many happy Years together, as I doubt not but Sister will make you happy in a wife’.114 Another man missed the marriage of his brother.115 Letters were also used to patch over quarrels within transatlantic families. Manoel and Rachel Mendes wrote to their son-in-law’s father asking him to ‘excuse his passion’.116 The errant son-in-law, Isaac, also wrote to his father: ‘I confess that on my side was passion’, asking his father to continue extending credit to him. It would seem that Isaac had caused offence by not letting a family member into his house in Jamaica. Defending his position he wrote that ‘to receive this lady your cousin in my house I can not do … This lady treats everyone as breeders of pigs’– a particularly Jewish insult.117 It was not only children who were missed. Some husbands living on their own in Jamaica seemed to genuinely love their wives, missed them, and worried about them desperately. James Short wrote to his wife in St Helens (near Liverpool in England) that he had not heard from her for over a year, during which time he had sent her several letters. He was especially worried because he had heard from his correspondent ‘such shocking accounts of your ill state of health and the great dangers you were in’.118 This had led him to such ‘imaginary doubts and fears of instability’ that he feared her dead: ‘my head rambles and my heart sinks fearing I write to that beloved one who is now perhaps no more an inhabitant of this troublesome and perplexing world … for Almighty’s sake write to me immediately and ease me of these tormenting fears,’ he begged. James clearly felt that his business in Jamaica had kept him there longer than he had envisioned, which meant that he had not been with her when she needed him. ‘I wouldn’t under go it again for ye whole island,’ he declared. He sent his love ‘to all our dear Children’, and he signed off as her ‘sincere Friend and most

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Affectionate Husband’. James had also written to a friend the previous day regarding the six letters he had sent to his wife without hearing from her in return: ‘this distresses my Mind greatly’, he told him, ‘and makes me fear what would shock to express.’119 ‘It would give me an excess of joy to receive one Line from her dear hand’, he added, but even if his friend could tell her how she was doing that would be something. ‘My whole life since being here, has been a continued Series of Trouble, anxiety, and Discontent’, James’s letter went on, adding that ‘I shall not be happy till I see’ my wife and children. Another man desperately missing his wife was Edward Magnar, who had left a slave ship to go privateering on board HMS Shoram. He had also not heard from his wife for a long time, having written her six letters without ever receiving an answer. In October, he wrote: ‘Nothing in this world Could doo me a greater pleasure than to hear from you My  Dr.’120 Edward had had quite a time of it. He had nearly died on the Guinea coast, and he had sent his wife his ‘Will and power [of attorney]’. Although he was now better, he said that ‘ill or well you Should have it and all ways will’. He clearly trusted her to act well on his behalf, as it was unusual to give a woman power of attorney given their status as feme covert. He did, however, send the letter via her mother Jane Symes at the Duke of Argyle’s Head in Dublin just in case she was ‘Diseased’, signing himself ‘your true Love Edward Magnar’. Captain William Clutsam was another man who loved and trusted his wife. In October, he wrote to Mary, who was at home with his children in Bristol: ‘I am thank god in Good Health, as hope you & our Children are Likewise, I am your affectionate Husband.’121 He had been given a bill of exchange payable to himself drawn on a Bristol merchant for £140  sterling. However, he countersigned it, thereby making it payable to Mary, and sent it to her in Bristol: ‘keep it to your Self that I have sent [it]’, he told her.122 He clearly wanted to give her money before he had paid off some debt. William just missed seeing his wife for Christmas, as his ship the Hope was reported to have entered Bristol in late December.123 When he died in 1761, despite having worked for the Munckleys for more than seventeen years, he did not have that much to leave his family. Moreover, when he wrote his will his wife Mary was already dead, as was one daughter. He left eleven pieces of framed needlework to his daughter Rachel as well as some ‘needleworked bottoms

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for chairs’ that she had worked herself. Rachel also received all of the clothing of her dead mother and sister, plus ‘a silver whistle and bells and all her said deceased sister’s rings’. His eldest son Thomas received William’s clothes and his gold buttons, rings, watch, and silver shoe buckles. Apart from that, however, he seemed to have had only furniture and plate for his executors to sell, with the proceeds being distributed between four of his living children: George, Samuel, Thomas, and Rachel. A fifth daughter, Elizabeth, who was married, only seemed to get anything if any of the unmarried children died. There did not appear to be any real estate to leave to his family.124 One wonders whether William regretted all the time he had spent apart from his family even if it was the only way he could earn a living – or whether it was simply a case of absence making the heart grow fonder. Joseph Fraizer was also anxious to see his wife (see figure 5.2). In early October, he wrote to his sister, Ann. He dutifully mentioned his good voyage to the Caribbean but quickly moved on to discuss his wife. He had written to her in Liverpool, but was ‘afraid That she will Not Be Left Dubing [Dublin] By It geats there’.125 He reminded his sister of a promise she had made to find his wife in Liverpool if she had indeed left Dublin. ‘Dr Sister I Houp that you Have Been as Good as Your word In Going over to Liverpool Which if That you Have I will Teake it as Very Great fiver [favour] Dr Sister I feeds my Self With the Thoughts of spending Some of my Day[s] In mirth and Plesure In Liverpool Which Please God Will Be Some Time In January.’ He signed off hoping for ‘a happy meeting of my Dr Wife and You Which Is the Constent Prayers of your Ever Loving and Duttifull Brother till Death’.126 Perhaps his wife came from Liverpool and was going back there while he was away, or perhaps she had run off with another man. We shall never know. We can only hope that Joseph eventually got his wish and got happily drunk with his wife, sister, and friends in Liverpool.

‘I do expect my Wife will Comply with coming to Jamaica’127 Marriage may not have been the first thought of all white men resident in Jamaica, but it is clear that some men did live with their wives there. Moreover, others wanted to be married or to have their wives

Figure 5.2 Joseph Fraizer to Ann Shuwell, Kingston, 5 October 1756.

.

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with them. However, like Joseph Fraizer’s wife, many women exerted agency over their own lives.128 J. Ripley was living in Liguanea and seemed to be waiting for his wife, Nell, to join him in Jamaica. He hoped his correspondent would send out with his wife ‘3 skye and 3 wood Larks as they will Come under her Eye’.129 It would seem, however, that his daughter, whom he described as his ‘Great Girl’, stayed in England for her education. George Hutton – who, as we saw earlier, was rather unrealistically ambitious – wrote the only letter in the Europas’s mailbag in what we might deem a ‘sentimental’ style.130 He literally begged his wife to join him: ‘I’ll meet you in any Corner of the World, therefore I beg you’ll be peremptory with me.’131 He declared that he would die ‘to make you easy’. ‘I have twice wrote to you intimating how much I wish to see you here: Whether you will submit to this Request I dare not presume to hope. How little I merit such a condescension.’ ‘Can my dear jewel, who once expressed some Tenderness for me resolve to give me up for ever?’ However, he had not given up hope. He continued: ‘Yet since I have seen this Place, I have found wretches like myself, who after 3 years Absence have rece[ive]d into their Arms the once happy Partners of the Felicity.’ In a complete change of mood he then threatened to join a man-of-war to find ‘an easy Death [that] may put an End to both my Reflections & Afflictions. I cannot bear the indifference of her who is so dear to me.’ Surely, he asked, she was not less humane than the rest of her sex?132 While this letter stands out among those found on the Europa as being particularly hyperbolic, it does not mean that George was insincere. Indeed, as a new arrival in Jamaica, he may have felt the isolation from his wife more keenly. Furthermore, as someone not used to Jamaican culture, it appears he did not want the ‘sexually avaricious, drink-sozzled’ lifestyle so many single males on the island chose.133 It is possible that Mrs Hutton might have been reluctant to travel with a small child, as George signed off: ‘My Love to my Dear little Bou, God Grant I may be speedily able to maintain you both.’134 In George’s mind, possibly still framed by English cultural constructs, marriage marked a man’s passage into adulthood, and living without a wife risked losing the performance of a wide range of domestic tasks and the status that came from a well-kept house.135 Mrs Hutton was not the only reluctant wife. John Byrn, who had a litany of complaints about herrings, sounded as if he was running out of patience with his wife. ‘I do expect my Wife will Comply with

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coming to Jamaica’, he wrote to his correspondent in Dublin.136 Even more than George Hutton, John seemed to feel the lack of a female touch in the household. ‘I am quite at a loss without her’, he continued, ‘in regard to my Diett, &c. I don’t like the public Houses, yet can’t avoid going to them, while I am thus situated.’ John was clearly on friendly enough terms with another Kingston merchant to discuss his marital issues. Lesser merchant John Thomson, also from Dublin, wrote to his mother that John Byrn’s last letter from his wife had shown that she was ‘still averse to comeing here tho he has Enforced all his Rhetorique to persuade her’.137 Clearly, these women had a sense of their own rights within the marriage.138 Perhaps John Byrn, whose sensibilities, like George Hutton’s, were shaped in Britain, felt that his inability to have and run his own household detracted from his ‘manly honour’.139 Certainly John Thomson felt for him, writing that ‘in my Oppinion she’s much in the wrong’. He continued: ‘I am certain if she was here she would not think of home.’ Thomson also thought that coming to Jamaica would be good for her as he believed she had asthma. As marriage was a ‘major hurdle between youth and manhood’ and was synonymous with setting up home, to be without his wife may have ‘branded’ John a ‘bachelor’ in a similar way to George Hutton.140 While this held no social stigma in Jamaica, those men who had recently arrived on the island may have felt that their wives’ absence left them more open to ridicule. Not only do these cases speak to the ability of at least some women to refuse their husbands’ wishes, they also show that not all men wanted to adopt the notoriously hedonistic Jamaican lifestyle and that Jamaica’s heterogeneous society included genuinely loving white families.

‘Mrs Woodcock has married very imprudently’141 Even if George Hutton and John Byrn had managed to get their wives to Jamaica, they may well have found their marriages shortlived. Men usually died first, leaving their widows to fend for themselves.142 One such was Sarah Jones, who, as we saw, was left with three children and pregnant with a fourth and having to petition the assembly for poor relief. When Jose Madeiros Alvares died on 6  October he left his wife pregnant and alone. If he was the doctor Alvares of Kingston whose will was proved in 1757, then he

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left her relatively little: £556 including two enslaved men and two enslaved boys valued at £85.143 Mrs Markham was also left alone in Jamaica, though her husband had left ‘the rest of his fartain’ to her.144 Though she was very well provided for, Mrs Lawrence, wife of Colonel James Lawrence, was also left a widow in St James parish. Some were left poor, however, such as Mrs Byndloss, who was allegedly left ‘almost a beggar’ due to her husband’s extravagance.145 While Mrs  Byndloss was the subject of some sympathy, this was not always the case. Widows were sometimes seen as a ‘nuisance’ by executors who aimed to profit from their executorship. Most appraisers and executors were knowledgeable men, but they were usually leading creditors or legatees with a vested interest in making money from the estate.146 Mrs Stopford of St Ann, who was aged herself, had also been left a widow by October. Her husband Joseph had left no will, so she would only ‘be intitled to her share according to the law’.147 Jamaica followed English law in this respect, which meant that she was due her dower, or a third share in real estate and moveables. It would also seem that Mrs Stopford had ‘houseroom’, which would have meant she could additionally live in the house on the estate, and as she was aged no one objected.148 Moveables, which included enslaved people, did create an issue for Mrs Stopford, however. In Jamaica, while enslaved people were essential to the working of the land and sometimes thought of as ‘real’ property, they were in law treated as personal estate and were used to pay debts.149 This made them an extremely important yet vulnerable form of women’s wealth on the death of their husbands. Two men who had an interest in the estate were applying for a power of attorney to administer Joseph Stopford’s debts and estate.150 One of them described Mrs Stopford as ‘very Willing’, but one wonders how much choice she really had. Stopford’s will was proved in 1757, and his personal estate was valued at £5,534 included six enslaved people. If Mrs Stopford was the Martha Stopford whose will was probated in 1761, then she did rather well to augment her ‘third’ of about £1,845. She died worth £3,790, which included five male and ten female enslaved people.151 Like other Jamaican free women she would have purchased more enslaved people to rent out for an income. Possibly she rented out these enslaved people in St Ann’s largest town, St Ann’s Bay. Some men in charge of the estates of recently deceased men were quick to upbraid widows whom they deemed reckless or lacking

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in judgement, most likely shaped by their own selfish motivations. ‘Mrs Woodcock has married very imprudently’, opined Thomas Hibbert.152 His view was no doubt coloured by the fact that he thought ‘her [new] husband will be making the most of her Interest in the Estate of our late Friends’. Hibbert, however, had worked out ‘a Method to cure him of being troublesome’ [author’s emphasis] by forcing Mrs Woodcock to accept the legacy left her in lieu of her dower.153 Clearly, Hibbert thought that it was Mrs Woodcock’s new husband who was being recalcitrant. In fact, it is quite likely that Mrs Woodcock knew what she was doing and was trying to get funds equal to her dower, which she may have calculated were more than the value of her legacy – a game of brinkmanship, perhaps.154 Her dower would have included ‘houseroom’, as had Mrs Stopford’s, although Hibbert was calculating her ‘third’ based only on ‘Land & Negroes’ in an effort to convince her that her share was lower than her legacy.155 A couple of days later Hibbert reported to a different correspondent that her Delve estate had shipped 133 hogsheads of sugar, and that ‘This encrease will doubtless prompt the Clergyman & his Lady to make high Demands of the Executors in lieu of our late Friends legacy to her.’156 He again posited the idea of trying to convince her that her dower would be less than the legacy as a way to leverage her to accept the legacy and leave the estate. As the estate was growing in value, Hibbert and his cronies no doubt wanted to take control of the whole estate for their own benefit and to the detriment of Mrs Woodcock and her new husband. Women had to know how to play this game of cat and mouse as part of their widowhood.

Love, Family, and Friendship in Jamaica The strong expressions of devotion both for family in Jamaica and for loved ones at home across the Atlantic adds to recent challenges to the notion of hypermasculinity and patriarchal control in Jamaica. Men (and women) clearly missed their loved ones and their homes, whether that was a house, a homestead, or more widely in terms of a town or an area. These feelings were exacerbated by the distance across the Atlantic and the strangeness or remoteness that many felt while in Jamaica. Many were desperate for news from home. They wanted to know what their loved ones were doing, how they were, and what jobs they

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had. Often they just wanted to know that their loved ones were still well enough to write, or even that they were alive. Many expressed frustration about – and appeared traumatized by – not receiving mail from home. When letters were received they were often shared to spread joy or, conversely, to share problems. It is true that in many Jamaican households, love, family, and friendship did not always look the same as they did in England – often the ‘little republic’ of the household was in fact the tyranny of the plantation. Indeed, given the high mortality rate, marriage may have been seen in a practical way by many in Jamaica, even more so than in England. While some unmarried white men may have looked upon married men with derision, it is clear that some men rejected the hedonistic lifestyle of other single men and at least some married men wanted their wives with them in Jamaica.157 Ships’ captains trusted their wives with their money, with powers of attorney, and as executors. Perhaps the distorted Jamaican society made them yearn even more for their wives and children. Joseph Fraizer wanted more than anything to get to Liverpool and celebrate with his wife and sister. No doubt George Farmer would have loved to get back to Cork, get drunk with his brother, and tell tall tales of how he ‘trashed’ the French. Yet many permanent residents in Jamaica were truly attached to their partners and children, even if they were temporarily separated by the Atlantic. Ann Graham’s ‘little chicken’ was clearly loved and spoiled by her mother, and the thought of sending her to England for her education was a stressful prospect for Ann. In Jamaica, loving families existed among the tyranny of plantation patriarchy, and great indifference sat alongside great indulgence.158

6

Death, Disease, and Decay Wagstaffe has put his Mouth on me for true … he wishes I may have the Gout for 6 Mos.1

As we have seen, John Crow lived in Kingston with his wife and was trying to make his way as a commission merchant. He also had gout. John had arrived relatively recently, but had no intention of staying in Jamaica for the long term. Although his sojournism no doubt shaped his perspective on the death and disease in his temporary home, it was also clearly a product of his being in Jamaica. He wrote to his suppliers in London that: I shd think if I was superstitious; that yr J. Wagstaffe has put his Mouth on me for true; In his letter of 21 Apl where he wishes I may have the Gout for 6 Mos& not be able to Sleep for 2 weeks – For I assure you tomorrow it will be three weeks since I was taken, & am now just able to come to the Comptg house. I hope the Prayers of the wicked will not prevail to a Continuance.2 There was clearly some playful banter here, and in a letter to another correspondent written the same day he complained that Wagstaffe had wished him gout for ‘7 weeks & Lay abed & Roar 6 days’ (see figure 7.1).3 Apparently, Wagstaffe had ‘Cursed’ John for not writing and informing him of some event. These men all knew each other and were friends as well as business correspondents, but this quote speaks to many of the ideas surrounding death and disease that were prevalent in Jamaica at this time. In particular, it highlights the gallows humour that is thought to have been ubiquitous at the time.4 This was part of a psychological coping mechanism for dealing with the high morbidity and mortality on the island, which

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especially affected new arrivals such as John. Jamaica was ‘at the far end of high exposure to epidemiological regimes’ in the first British Empire, and John’s flippant remarks about his gout probably hid some deep-seated, if unacknowledged, fears about his life chances.5 Black humour was indeed prevalent, but this chapter argues that not everyone adopted this calculated callousness in order to survive the cultural shock of the death and disease all around them. After outlining Jamaica’s disease environment, this chapter considers the obsession with writing home about health and understandings of ‘seasoning’, that is, becoming accustomed to the climate. It then focuses on responses to fevers and the availability of, and attitudes towards, healthcare. Lastly, there is a brief discussion of mental health. The chapter demonstrates that Jamaica’s lethal environment shaped ordinary people’s responses to health in various ways. It is also clear that among the white population it was the poor and the permanent and visiting servicemen who suffered the most from the disease environment – only enslaved people suffered more.6 Signifcantly, the responses to death and disease reflected the fractured nature of white society in Jamaica.

‘it’s a sweet companion’7 By the mid-eighteenth century gout was conspicuous among the ‘quality’ in England. Horace Walpole was one famous sufferer, who was very proud of his homemade ‘bootikins’ that helped relieve the pain.8 Gout was at that time incorrectly associated with ‘a sedentary, indolent manner of life, full diet, especially of animal food, and the excessive use of weak or light acid wine and spirituous liquors’.9 These misconceptions about gout were easily transferred to the famously hedonistic Jamaica, known for its ‘Generous open Hospitality’.10 Indeed, in January, the then speaker of the Jamaican House of Assembly, Edward Manning, was so ill with gout he could not attend assembly sessions.11 There are two types of gout. Attacks of ‘regular’ gout were painful and debilitating but only lasted for a few weeks. Whereas ‘flying’ gout failed to settle in the extremities (usually the feet) and was deemed far more problematic.12 Aaron Lousada was apparently suffering from flying gout, ‘first in my foot then my Knee, then in the Neck, & all the Same Time’, and he sounded far more concerned

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about it than did John Crow.13 This was because regular gout was deemed by contemporaries, again, incorrectly, to preserve people from other diseases, especially fevers, while flying gout did not.14 Therefore, when Ann Graham’s husband suffered from what appeared to be ‘flying pains of the Gout’, she wished that ‘he had a smart [strong] bout with it in his foot [regular gout]’ as it was thought it would ‘Greatly relieve him of his other Complaint’.15 In the British West Indies, regular gout was therefore seen as a form of health insurance. On an island where mortality was so high this was a useful form of prophylactic and, as Roy Porter and G. S. Rousseau note, a ‘pretty paradox’.16 No wonder that John considered his gout ‘a sweet companion’:17 he inorrectly thought it would protect him against contracting malaria or yellow fever. There were other pertinent associations surrounding gout that linked it with slavery and racialist ideas. As a disease with strong ties to notions of civility, excess, and privilege, gout was a ‘white devil’ – a white disease – whereas fever, along with leprosy and yaws, was a ‘black devil’: linked with enslaved Africans.18 John was therefore claiming his own whiteness, as well as his status, because gout was linked with having enough money to be a glutton. It was also thought to be a man’s disease; women were believed not to suffer from it until after their menses had ceased.19 The humoral medicine relied upon at this time stressed that the body’s humors (blood, phlegm, black bile, and yellow bile) and the four primary physical qualities (hot, cold, dry, and wet) should all be kept in balance.20 Relief from pain was therefore achieved through restoring the disturbed humoral equilibrium. In extreme cases of gout, a hole might open in the foot, through which a chalky crystalline substance (uric acid) might erupt, thereby rebalancing the humors.21 There was no cure. The best natural relief, it was advised, was dysentery. Luckily – or unluckily, depending on your perspective – dysentery was quite common in Jamaica. If such relief did not occur naturally, then the appropriate treatments for gout were, as with almost all ailments at that time, purging with mercury, vomiting, cupping, and bleeding.22 John’s use of the phrase ‘put his Mouth on me’ may also be a reference to the African culture all around him; or, rather, his misunderstanding of aspects of it. The African practices of Obeah, Myal, and herbalism were often conflated, simplified, and likened by European observers to European witchcraft; John may therefore

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have been able to joke about his illness by alluding to the practice of cursing an individual to whom no real harm was meant.23 It was not until Obeah was linked with rebellion during Tacky’s Revolt in 1760 that it was criminalized.24 Until then the spiritual practices of enslaved people were usually thought of as harmless and written off as ‘Hocus Pocus Tricks’.25 Some white people even sought help from Obeah men if it suited their needs. Such appropriation of ideas, and especially of the medicinal knowledge of African people concerning the use of local herbs and roots, was rife in the eighteenth-century Caribbean.26 Clearly, white people had a problem reconciling the elements of medical knowledge they thought could be usefully borrowed from enslaved people with their own ideological resolve to operate in separate racial spheres as part of the colonial project. While gout therefore allowed John to underscore his whiteness, wealth, and manhood, it was not usually fatal. However, John’s humourous anecdote may also have been an unconscious attempt to avoid the medical reality that recent arrivals such as he were the most likely to face. Permanent residents repeatedly told themselves similar things to convince themselves that they were immune.27 They were not, of course – just relatively more so. The biggest killers of white people were malaria and yellow fever, and as they had no immunity to these at all, they died at an even faster rate than their enslaved people.28 This was especially true of new arrivals such as soldiers, sailors, and indentured servants.29 Both diseases were thought to have been carried to the West Indies from Africa. However, Africans had a high degree of natural immunity to the Plasmodium falciparum strain of malaria (the most deadly strain, which is still prevalent in Africa today) and to yellow fever because of their long exposure to them, not because of any innate racial predisposition.30 The conditions that facilitated the endemic forms of malaria (stagnant water and mosquitoes) and yellow fever (the same but with the addition of warm weather and a dense population) also encouraged diarrhoea and dysentery.31 Smallpox was another killer, but its irregular appearance meant that it killed fewer people than it might have – when it did occur, though, it was devastating. Furthermore, smallpox, along with typhoid and cholera, killed more Black people than white, no doubt due to the poor sanitation and water supplies of their huts and settlements.32 This was despite the fact that innoculation – or, more precisely, variolation – had been practised

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Table 6.1 Mortality rates (per 1,000) for white people in the British Empire, eighteenth century. Kingston

St Catherine

St Andrews

Troops in Jamaica

Thirteen Colonies

London

England

(a)

(a)

(a)

(b)

(a)

(a)

(a)

129

88

35

102

28

c.45

25-30

Source: calculated from (a) Burnard, ‘ “The Countrie Continues Sicklie” ’, 48–51 and (b) Harrison, Medicine in an Age of Commerce and Empire, 15.

in Africa well before its adoption by Europeans and Americans, and was possibly introduced to the West Indies by enslaved Africans.33 What we do know is that mortality for white people was highest in urban areas, with Kingston the worst place of all to be (see table 6.1). In fact, while we might expect enslaved people to have a higher death rate, mortality rates in Jamaica were higher for white people, despite the former’s debilitating work regime and food deprivation.34 In St Andrew parish there were consistently more deaths than births right up to 1744.35 Even in the relatively ‘healthier’ St Catherine parish death rates were much higher than in England and the northern colonies. Indeed, contemporaries associated disease, especially yellow fever, with hot climates. The heat and the rapid temperature changes were thought to have grievous effects on the constitutions of those Europeans just arrived from more temperate climates.36 Letter writers, therefore, may not have been surprised to learn that they were three times as likely to die in Kingston as in ‘unhealthy’ London. Troops stationed in Jamaica were especially, and quite rightly, fearful of the tropics.37 No wonder, when around 80  per  cent of the British and American force that besieged Cartagena in Colombia in 1741 died from disease alone.38 When securing Havana in 1762, 88 per cent of the soldiers that died did so from sickness.39 Many people did not live long enough even to make a will. Mr  Worling died worth about £500  sterling and without having made a will, ‘wch is the Misfortune of many in this Country’.40 The war only made this worse. In Kingston alone 348 people died in 1756 and a total of 3,018 died during the course of the war.41 The peak year for mortality in Kingston was 1758, when ‘seamen and sailors flooded Kingston’s streets and filled her cemeteries’.42 Once ill, not many in Jamaica were as lucky as Joseph Stopford, who ‘dyed

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of decay by nature’, although he still died without making a will, which, as we saw earlier, caused problems for his widow.43 Of these deaths, around 60 per cent occurred in the rainy season of September to December, when the Europa’s mailbag was being filled.44 Sarah Folkes, who did not want to believe her child Frederick was dead, noted in October, and in line with contemporary understandings, that ‘We have all been indifferently well but this is ye rainny season which is ye most dangerous’.45 The seamstress Elizabeth Metcalfe wrote home during October: ‘I am sorry to inform you that poor Cuddy has had very Bad health since he Came. I have Sent him for Change of air.’ 46 Another man noted two days later that the rain had ‘lately carry’d a number of people off’.47 Indeed, white people were twice as likely as Black people to die at this time of year, and of recent arrivals who died, 78 per cent of them died in this period, compared with less than 50 per cent of native-born Kingstonians.48 Captain William Clutsam’s chief mate died in Jamaica, despite the briefness of his sojourn.49 Unsurprisingly, those in a less favourable economic position, such as indentured servants, had the poorest survival rates. More than a third of such people died within five years of arrival, and a quarter of them before the end of their contracted service.50 No wonder that William Glover, after noting the death of one acquaintance and the illhealth of another, wrote that ‘this is A very indiferent Country … I do not intend staying here’.51 Satirical prints, such as one from 1800 of Johnny Newcome’s burial in a cramped churchyard, show how this situation did not improve as the century wore on.52 No wonder that John Crow thought of his gout as a sweet companion.53

‘I am got Sesoned’54 The reputation, and indeed the reality, of Jamaica’s mortality rates meant that correspondents were at pains to tell their family and friends when they were in good health.55 Indeed, newcomers were possibly and justifiably obsessed with death.56 Newly arrived factor Gerrard Nash wrote to his sister: ‘I thank God I Enjoy my health as well as I did in England and tho’ its now the most Sickly part of the Year yett I have not had so much as a moment’s reason to Complain.’57 John Penington, who had missed his sister’s wedding, wrote home: ‘I am now & have been, ever since I

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have been in this Island in perfect Health, for which I thank God.’58 Robert Nelson, who was on board the merchant vessel the Birmingham in Kingston, wrote to his friend: ‘this Coms to Let you Know that I am in good halth at Present.’59 He did however tell his friend that a man from Saltcoats had ‘dayed Since We Com heir in fave days Sickness’, suggesting that the man died of yellow fever.60 Mary Rose wrote to Rose Fuller from Spanish Town that her health ‘continues pretty good’.61 Sickness on arrival was often attributed variously to Jamaica’s infamous intemperance, imprudent dress, bad diet, and one’s ‘own folly’ or moral failings.62 Most likely everyone simply sighed knowingly when a bricklayer who had recently arrived ‘Accidently drowned in the River’, assuming that he had imbibed too much rum.63 Another man was condemned for being ‘so addicted to drinking’ that he could not do his job properly.64 When elite merchant Charles Hall was ‘confined to his bed from Sunday eveng by a violent fever’, his friends may well have thought it was his own fault.65 He was known not to be industrious and to have spent too much time ‘with the fair sex’.66 He also left behind a woman who was still breast-feeding one child and was pregnant with another.67 Despite evidence to the contrary, some people believed Jamaica to be healthy in some regards. John Thomson, who wrote home to his mother regarding the reluctance of John Byrn’s wife to come to Jamaica, commented that ‘with Temperance a man Lives as Safe here as in England’.68 He continued: ‘I am sure if she came here she would not think of home this being one of the Best Countreys for any in her constitution. I think she is afflicted as her husband was with an Asthma and Consumption, he was never in such perfect health in his Life as since here it’s a better Country for People of Middling Constitutions than those of Robust Ones.’69 Adding that ‘the Feeble are Cautious and become Naturalized by Degrees’.70 Thomson’s hint about becoming accustomed to the environment is unsurprising given that ideas around seasoning were common by 1700. Indeed, seasoning became a part of the global discourse: a stranger’s affliction when at the periphery of empire, especially in the ‘torrid zone’, as their body becomes ‘fit to live’ in new and ‘othered’ places.71 This also applied to enslaved Africans. The sun could just as easily corrupt and putrefy as it could nurture and cleanse.72 People therefore expected illness on arrival, and many letter writers who mentioned being ill also mentioned getting better. Writing that

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someone had ‘been very ill for 4 or 5 days but is gott better’ or that they were ‘Not well this 4 or five Days but am Now Better’ was common as people sought to reassure loved ones of their good health.73 Acclimatization, or seasoning, was something to be expected, and it was survivable if one was sensible. The solicitor Joseph Stephenson wrote that he had ‘never enjoyed a happier or better state of health, than I have done since my arrival here never having had a head ach Except what we Call a Seasoning in the Country which indeed was Severe, but as that is Customary & what every New Comer must Expect, I can not with any Sort of Reason expect to escape’.74 Similarly, John Smith, serving on a privateer in Port Royal, wrote that he had been in ‘a verrey Bad State of helth Since I have bein in the Cuntry but I have Got the better of it for I think I Am Got Sesoned’.75 To some extent these writers may, like John Crow, have simply been writing what they wanted to believe, or wanted their recipients to hear, but seasoning had become an important part of the language, both moral and medical, surrounding colonialism and slavery.76 It played into ideas about the white man’s adaptability to new climates, while those people that died (such as enslaved people) were deemed not strong enough to survive and/or undeserving of doing so. This important aspect of colonial discourse, often used to justify the taking of land, seemed to be accepted and written about by many ordinary white people in Jamaica.77

‘bad the Yellow Fever has ben’78 More permanent settlers might have wanted to believe that they were free of illness once seasoned, but this was not the case. Indeed, many were unwell with various ill-defined conditions. A common complaint was that someone had suffered from ‘a most severe fit of illness, which confined me to bed a complete month’.79 Merchant and rentier Daniel Mendes Pereira vaguely noted that his daughter was convalescing ‘from a great illness’.80 Kingstonian John Harriott, whose mother lived in St Elizabeth, referred to his three weeks of confinement in his house as ‘a Small fit of illness’.81 Many references to illness were similarly ill-defined. Captain Manus McShane wrote that his ‘people has had all afitt of Sickness But my Self th[a]nk God HaSs None as yet But they are all Recovred and Well again’.82 Rank was no saviour either: in October

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it was reported that ‘The admiral [Cotes] … lays now dangerously ill’ and was ‘Unfit for Business’, while at the same time Ballard Beckford was reported as having ‘lately been ill’.83 Although it is impossible to know definitively what these vague illnesses so often referred to were, they were probably ‘catch-alls’ for fevers – either malaria or yellow fever. Indeed, the ‘nature of fevers probably excited more controversy than any other subject in British medicine in this period’.84 This was linked to debates over the way diseases should be studied and, importantly, whose knowledge was best: learned men in the metropole or those, such as Thomas Trapham and William Hillary, with practical experience in the colonies.85 Fevers were thought to be a product of heat and moisture – an epidemic of the tropics – with the causes of diseases not really racialized until after the mid-eighteenth century. Although Europeans already categorized Africans as inferior, up until about the 1750s disease was thought to be more a consequence of a person’s diet and place of abode than of their race. Indeed, skin colour was often seen as an accident of being born in sunny climates and was not a primary signifier of difference until later in the century.86 If letter writers were vague about the nature of their illnesses, including fevers, this was partly because many of the symptoms were similar and Europeans were used to describing various illnesses as fevers. Malaria was characterized by chills, fever, sweating, nausea, vomiting, and severe headaches. One man who had been taken ‘with a Violent pain in My Head’ at half past six one night in early September hoped it would soon ‘weare of’.87 Yellow fever sufferers also exhibited headaches, high fever, and nausea, though they might also experience backache and weariness along with jaundice from the necrosis of the liver.88 Complaining of a ‘Violent Feaver’ was also common.89 Ewbank Ogle, who was going into the carpentry business, told his mother that ‘Brother Cuthbert’ had lately had a ‘feavor but is now Recover’d & gone to our friends House at Port Royall for the Change of Aire’, it supposedly being cooler there.90 Not everyone was so lucky, of course. Lesser Kingston merchant Robert Brooks died of a fever that was accompanied by a ‘Violent Cold’ – possibly the chills associated with malaria.91 John Byrn simply noted that another man had ‘died of a fever’ on 9 October.92 The doctor Jose Medeiros Alvares contracted a fever and died of it all on the same day, 6 October, leaving behind a pregnant widow.93 George Farmer, who we met earlier hoping to trash the French, no doubt

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Figure 6.1

Ordinary People, Extraordinary Times

George Farmer to Richard Edward Hull, n/g, n.d.

counted himself lucky to be alive. He had had two ‘Feavers the last of which, Everyone tought wou’d have done for me, but thank god I’m now as well in health as Ever’ (see figure 6.1).94 In the six months since George had last written home, he had seen ‘one Hundred men’ buried. If all these fatalities were from the ship on which he served, HMS Dreadnought, this was nearly a quarter of the 415 man crew.95 Some of these deaths would have been caused by yellow fever, which, as noted earlier, was thought at the time to have been brought

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to Jamaica from Africa on slave ships.96 Either way, it thrived in Jamaica’s settler society. Forests that had once housed birds that preyed on mosquitoes had been cut down, and there was standing water everywhere: in the marshy areas surrounding Kingston and even in the discarded clay pots used to refine sugar. Yellow fever was therefore prevalent in towns such as Kingston, where the hygiene was terrible, sewage ran through open drains, and dead bodies lay in the streets before being placed in shallow graves.97 It is therefore no wonder that mortality from yellow fever was high: between 10 per cent and 50 per cent, with most people dying within ten days.98 Such putrefaction came to be linked with corruption in its many forms.99

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Not many of the letter writers gave yellow fever as the exact cause of their ailments, however. William Ford was one of the few that did: ‘I have no News to lett you know but bad the Yellow Fever has ben all throw our Ship Which one half of our peple that Came out of England are Dead.’100 Edward ONeal, the lieutenant on HMS Dreadnought, had also had yellow fever since his arrival in Jamaica, although now he was ‘in perfect health and Spirits thanks God’.101 ONeal was probably better fed and less physically exhausted than the lower ranks, and he therefore had a better chance of survival than the hundred men mentioned by George Farmer that had possibly died on HMS Dreadnought. The sailors were clearly right to be worried about disease in the tropics as it produced a ‘veritable hellhole of mortality’ for them.102 Given that these letters would be read aloud to family and friends in England, many would have been worried that their loved ones were included among the dead. Soldiers and sailors bore the brunt of the disease environment.

‘I beg the lancets may be the very best’103 Being ill-equipped to cope with the disease conditions of their new home, many doctors turned to native herbs, often learning the necessary skills from enslaved people. Indeed, in the early eighteenth century Henry Barham admitted that he had learnt much from such ‘country doctors’ and ‘Obamen’ about local roots and herbs, often described in the vernacular: bellyache weed, pilewort, ague tree, broom weed, and four o’clock flower. These enslaved herbalists, both men and women, used knowledge transferred from Africa to heal people in Jamaica. However, Europeans gave preference to supposedly superior white knowledge, and so, given the state of medical knowledge and facilities at this time, it is not surprising that so many died. As Richard Sheridan notes: ‘Much mischief was done by medical men of bold pretension and little knowledge or skill.’104 Yet while literary debates over knowledge raged in Europe between those such as Hans Sloane and Thomas Trapham, it was William Hillary who recognized that some diseases were endemic to the tropics – especially those experienced by enslaved people, such as elephantiasis, guinea worm, and yaws. Indeed, as noted earlier, many in Jamaica relied on home care and the knowledge of local doctors and healers.105 It was not until later in the eighteenth century that Africans

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were seen less and less as holders of vital knowledge. As racialism increased, the formerly beneficial knowledge of herbalists (many of whom were women) was twisted to portray enslaved people as skilled poisoners who used their herbs to harm white people.106 As for efficacy, the treatment for both fluxes and fevers was unlikely to make any of their sufferers better – and, in any case, medical theory often had little to do with doctors’ prescriptions, even if the rhetoric between doctor and patient did.107 In the eighteenth century, the objective of physicians was to restore humoral balance: a subtly different objective to that of making the patient fully well or curing them. Indeed, expectations for cure were quite different in the eighteenth century, with people seeking comfort and respite rather than expecting a full recovery. In line with contemporary ideas about the importance of localism, indigenous roots sourced in the vicinity were often used as purges, although more specialized chemical remedies, such as mercury, became more common over the course of the eighteenth century.108 Following humoral theory, bleeding was thought to thin the blood, and this was supposed to be particularly beneficial to people in the tropics through helping to control the heat in the body.109 One army surgeon recommended taking 12–13  ounces of blood on the first day and then, ‘if the pulse could bear it’, another 10–12 ounces on a second bleeding. The body was to be ‘held open’ with treatments such as senna (a natural laxative) and Glauber’s salt, with (Peruvian) bark and local roots to be used if the stomach could hold it on the fourth day.110 So, for example, elite merchant and plantation owner Thomas Hibbert wrote in September that he had suffered a second shock of an intermittent fever, but noted that ‘by the help of the Bark am on my Leggs again’.111 He may have been referring to the native cinchona bark (quinine), which was widely used and recognized as helpful.112 However, the generality of care was so bad that one wonders whether the ‘Mulatto Widow Richardson’ who died in childbirth would have done better with or without such so-called professional medical care.113 The lesser merchant Robert Brook’s experience of medical care was probably quite typical. Whether the fever or the physician killed him we shall never know – it could have been a combination of both. When taken down with a cold (possibly chills related to malaria) and fever he went to stay at a friend’s pen, about half a mile from his store, presumably because he thought the air would be

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better. Failing to get better, ‘he sent for his Apothecary, who desir’d a physician might be Calld in’.114 Brooks must have thought he was very ill as he called for his business associate Mark Elliott to draw up a power of attorney so that Elliott could handle his affairs on his behalf. Elliott also suggested to Brooks that he write his will, but Brooks said that ‘he would make One the next Morning’. However, the next morning he was found to be ‘Pretty well, the fever off’. Apparently he had been cupped, as he was ‘a Little uneasy with his Blisters, which had been very troublesome to him in the night, & depriv’d him of rest’. Because of the seeming improvement, Elliott did not press the issue of the will, but that same afternoon Brooks ‘was taken Violently ill, Contrary to every bodys Expectations’ and died between eight and nine o’clock that evening, having been ‘sensible enough’ for only two hours, in which he asked to be buried in a frugal and decent manner. He had been sick for only five days, suggesting that he died of yellow fever.115 Elliott and his partner Robert Scott were keen to let Brooks’s widow know that they had cared for him properly and kindly.116 In reality, they were more concerned with stressing the power of attorney Brooks had allegedly suggested as they wanted to be the ones in charge of his estate to ensure that, as creditors, they got paid.117 They also wrote with the same lurid details, and justification for their actions, to their business correspondents in Bristol.118 Then, as now, money was often on peoples’ minds when someone died, and correspondents often noted how others had been provided for in the wills of the recently deceased. Elizabeth Metcalfe noted that a man who had died in late September had left ‘one hundred pounds to his eldest Sister, and fifty pounds to each of his younger Sisters, the rest of his fartain he has Left to his Wife for Life’.119 She even noted that the reversion (on his wife’s death) would go to his brother. Even this seamstress watched where the money was going. As noted earlier, soldiers and sailors experienced the worst death rates in the Caribbean. Amid the raging intellectual debates about medicine, military surgeons took advantage of their postings in the West Indies to learn about tropical diseases and dissection.120 However, many imperial hospitals continued to be makeshift and insubstantial. A hospital for sailors at New Greenwich was completed in 1745 but it was built near lagoons and marshes, meaning that many of its patients died from fevers rather than being cured of their original ailment.121 A new hospital was eventually planned

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to be built at Port Royal in 1756, but as the bill was not passed until 21 December, it did nothing for the invalid seamen that year.122 Such hospitals did not meet demand, however, and many of the armed forces were placed in private sick quarters.123 These were flexible and cheap arrangements where the landladies had no interest in caring for the sick and where the doctors were reluctant to tramp all over town to find their patients. The sick were obviously not well cared for in these environments. Moreover, many were located in taverns – an arrangement that possibly encouraged many of the sick to drink themselves to death instead.124 In sharp contrast, the wealthy could repair to the hot springs at Bath in St Thomas parish, where the pool was deep enough for swimming.125 The road between the village of Bath and the medicinal hot spring was, according to Beckford, ‘horribly romantic’, even though the path was narrow and precipitous in some parts of the threemile walk.126 The bathhouse itself was said to be a ‘Hovel’.127 The hot springs at Bath were used for a variety of illnesses. These ranged from mild complaints such as the ‘expulsion of flatulencies’ and ulcers to chronic rheumatism and leprosy, and they included gout, of course.128 The baths were also supposed to help women recover following an abortion, as well as with recoveries from cancer, cholera, and venereal disease – one man was said to be cured of the ‘French Disease’ within a month by bathing and drinking the waters.129 Contemporaries also argued that women had been cured of bellyache, a palsy of the limbs, and (with some misogyny) hysterics.130 The advice for drinking the mineral water was that it should be taken in small draughts, and that the hot baths should be used in the afternoon as they promoted sleep. Elite men such as Thomas Hibbert were regular users of the springs. He visited them in September after having ‘sustain’d a second Shock of intermitting Fever’ (possibly malaria seeing as he had taken the ‘bark’).131 He blamed his relapse on the wet weather. He had a second relapse on his return to Kingston but was ‘in a fair way of recovery’ by the end of September.132 He had been free of fever for six days but had then gone up ‘into the Country to stay with an agreeable Companion’.133 The poor did not have access to the hot springs at Bath, and nor could they have afforded them if they did. A clause regarding the deficiency bill was put forward to the House of Assembly in January for the maintenance and accommodation of nonindentured poor people to take the benefit of the waters. It was suggested that they be

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allowed to attend if they had a certificate with the seal of two magistrates from their parish. For this they would be allowed expenses of up to 7 shillings 6 pence per week. The move was rejected.134 This was probably because Bath was not used only for healing purposes. By the mid-eighteenth century it had become a fashionable social space, used for listening to music and playing cards and billiards, although Long argued that this declined with the political divisions of midcentury.135 No doubt the elite wanted to keep the baths culturally exclusive. Another fashionable pursuit for exercise at this time was horse riding. This included chasing hounds ‘in full cry after the timid sheep’.136 In September, plantation owner George Ricketts fell off his horse ‘& a horse fell on him which Hurted his Hips & one of his Ancles very Much’.137 He was lame from the accident but not hurt ‘anyway Else’, so was expected to make a full recovery. This may have been less likely if he had been seen by one of the local physicians, who often did more harm than good. Although British-trained doctors were seen as the ideal, it was difficult to encourage well-qualified doctors to come to Jamaica, despite the increasing opportunities over the eighteenth century. Nevertheless, several physicians, apothecaries, and surgeons had established private practices in the West Indies by the end of the seventeenth century.138 Twenty-eight doctors died in Jamaica between 1771 and 1775, with an average wealth of £1,670.139 While this might suggest inadequate provision, it would seem that there were quite a few doctors on the island, but many were ‘raw unexperienced youths’.140 This was because it was a slow way to get wealthy unless they had private (i.e. free, most likely white) patients. Furthermore, there were plenty of other opportunities for qualified surgeons in the armed forces, and it could cost a lot of money to set up a private practice: as much as £2,000 for a 50 per cent share of a Kingston business with an annual income of £6,000.141 In 1764, Scots physician Alexander Johnston started on an annual wage of £80 before becoming a partner with one Dr Fullerton.142 As doctors in Jamaica primarily served the white elites, they were also expected to dress expensively.143 At the same time, physicians who had ‘care’ of enslaved people on plantations were paid a flat rate – perhaps 5  shillings per  annum – for each enslaved person. Given that some doctors might nominally be in charge of 3,000–4,000 enslaved people, it was often thought that the only way to make a profit was not to visit and treat them.144 Indeed, Alexander Johnston made a point of avoiding

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treating enslaved people because it was not lucrative enough, and possibly because treating whites was also more reputable. Medical practitioners, like others, were in a hurry to make money.145 Expense, combined with the dubious care given by doctors, meant that, as in England, much medical care was given in the home. It was usually the woman of the house who gave such care, even if the role was more about affection than control, and expectations were more palliative than curative. Domestic healthcare was often a mix of homemade potions and commercial products, and some homes had specialist shop-bought equipment or remedies.146 Choices about healthcare were often a family decision in England,147 but Jamaican households were often headed by single men who had to look after themselves, or who had enslaved women looking after them.148 The medicinal uses of plants in Jamaica, such as worm grass and water lilies for fevers and other complaints, were well known to white people as well as to enslaved people.149 Moreover, for those such as Thomas Thistlewood an interest in medicine was part of an ‘enlightened sociability’, and, by extension, it was presumably a way of distancing oneself from those who were not engaged or interested.150 Thistlewood kept detailed medical records about the healthcare he used on his enslaved people, including medical recipes that featured Jamaican plants and herbs.151 He had recipes for the flux, colds, sore throats, bellyache, the passing of blood, and vomiting, among other ailments. Thistlewood also had recipes that included hartshorn, wild liquorice, red guava bark, rhubarb, pine resin, honey, and several other herbs.152 Other ingredients included the ubiquitous lignum vitae, used for syphilis and gonorrhoea. In the case of syphilis, lignum vitae was mixed in a tincture of rum and Edinburgh treacle with corrosive sublimate. Mercury was also used to treat venereal disease as well as acting as a general purgative.153 Such a ‘mercurial Tincture’ was said to cure the patient in about six weeks, although Thistlewood, who suffered from repeated bouts of gonorrhoea, might not have agreed.154 Whatever pain Thistlewood was in from his venereal disease, it was of course nothing compared with the suffering of the enslaved women who might contract it when they were raped by him. On visiting Jamaica in 1756, the planter and merchant Caleb Dickinson was given a similar range of powders and potions to take with him. These included powders for a violent fever, another powder to be taken with gruel for a slight fever, and bark for an intermittent fever.

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A ‘Tincture of Rhubarb’ was for violent pains in the bowels, and, like Thistlewood, Dickinson had hartshorn for lowness or faintness, or for pains in the head and limbs.155 The branded ‘Daffy’s Elixir’ was also added for ‘Collick Complaints’. One wonders whether the camomile tea that Dickinson was recommended to take after his ‘Vomiting Powder’ made him feel any better. He did not seem to suffer too much, however: in October his friend wrote of him that he was ‘quite hearty, & now is with me … nothing hurts him but the Mosquetas’.156 For the island’s doctors, medical instruments and accoutrements were imported, as were some items for home use. Benjamin Allen, a surgeon and apothecary, imported a ‘large Parcel of Drugs, Chymical and Galenical Medicines’ of the very best sort.157 He also had for sale pomatums (pomades), cordial waters, essences, and phials, the latter being used for medical samples or for potions and medicines. Gerrard Nash had imported at least ‘4 Crates of Phials’ on the Hope.158 He sold them retail on 3 August for 16 shillings 3 pence per ‘groce’ with crates at 2 shillings 6 pence, giving him a total of £4 12 shillings 6 pence. His costs included the hiring of enslaved people, presumably to manoeuvre the crates and boxes from the wharves to his store.159 However, it was not always easy to get good-quality medical supplies sent to Jamaica, and often they arrived ‘in extream bad order’.160 Thomas Harvie complained that in one package almost everything was damaged or had leaked where the casks had not been sealed tightly enough. A bottle with ‘Ronsmarin’ (possibly Ronsmarinus Officinalis, which was used to alleviate muscle pain) was ‘quite empty’. Another parcel with red gentian (used to aid digestion) was damaged ‘from the Moisture it has imbibed from the leakeages of the small casks’.161 Worse still, the lancets sent were of poor quality and were simply wrapped in ‘one heap of paper about them’, with ‘every one rusted’. This was particularly problematic because of the frequent use of lancets for bloodletting.162 The problem was made worse by the fact that another parcel from a different supplier had arrived in good order. Harvie wrote: ‘I beg you make the people in the shop more careful for the future’, adding that ‘The rusty lancets I shall send home by the first London vessel.’163 Indeed, two days later he wrote again to his supplier that he had sent the rusty lancets home on the Europa. At the same time, however, Harvie seems to have forgiven his London supplier’s error, or perhaps he did not have an alternative, because he asked him to send him ‘4 Dozen lancets by the first 2 vessels … I beg the lancets may be the

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very best’.164 It was not only the doctors who were problematic: their tools were too. Perhaps in some ways the poor were fortunate that they could not afford their care.

‘Oh what a bubble is this life’165 The terrible life prospects in Jamaica – whether in terms of mortality or the wider quality of life – affected people in different ways. Death was such a constant companion that, as Burnard argues, it heightened the settlers’ fatalism and encouraged ‘a callous disregard for the welfare of their slaves’.166 This disregard also extended to other white people. In many letters from merchants, a death is simply noted in between business matters, and some of the merchants – as was the case with Elliott & Scott – seemed more concerned about the effect the death would have on their business than they were about their fellow human beings. Every death had its own calculation.167 Often a dead merchant was mentioned only in passing because someone had been promised access to his books to see whether or not a bond was noted in the accounts.168 Others saw another’s death simply as a problem, and wanted only ‘to put an end to this tedious affair’.169 One merchant simply hoped that a colleague’s death would ‘be no hindrance to Goods’ being sent out from London.170 Of course, others took advantage of these deaths. One man, on the ‘presumption of being the largest creditor’ of Mr Worling (who we saw had died without a will), had managed to get all Worling’s money into his hands and had absconded to the Bay of Honduras and had ‘never been heard of since’.171 Rarely do we see any sympathy for another’s death in merchants’ letters. This may have been due to the pragmatic nature of the correspondence. Most formal mercantile correspondence did not discuss health after the initial salutation in the way that more personal letters did.172 Comments such as ‘Poor Capt Peard is dead at Morant’ or ‘Poor Tom Pringle had been but a short time settled in Business when he took of a Fever, of which he died’ were therefore rare.173 The news that ‘billy Lamb is dead’ only warranted those four words at the end of a long postcript to Mark Elliott’s letter of 3 October.174 Another correspondent also mentioned Billy Lamb, but only by way of noting that they were ‘in Some fears about’ his bill of exchange.175 At least Mathew Cleland was aware that a Dr Richard Barthurst in England

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might lament Billy Lamb’s death. Cleland wrote that news of Lamb’s death had arrived ‘last night’ and ‘As this Intelligence may Concern him [Barthurst] very considerably, I give him, with repetition of our Loves, this chance of a first knowledge of his Death’.176 On the whole, however, these merchants were more concerned about the financial ramifications of Billy Lamb’s death than they were about his actual demise. Indeed, the way in which Billy Lamb died epitomizes the precariousness of life in Jamaica: his curing house had collapsed on him during one of the ‘Late Hard Squalls of Wind’.177 For merchants, at least, and especially for those that had been in Jamaica for some time, it does seem that the high mortality rate ‘was a seedbed for particular forms of being’.178 However, not everyone in Jamaica was made cynical by their experiences there. Mr Harding, who wrote to his wife fearing that she thought him negligent in writing, was more reflective about life on the island. Of his hopes and fears he wrote: ‘before my eyes party divisions, the GroSsest iniquities in the broad daylight which pass unnoticed & uncensur’d.’179 It is not clear whether he was referring to the political war between the planters and the merchants, to the slavery that surrounded him, or to his economic prospects as a lawyer. He wrote of his fellow colonists: ‘[The] unravelling of frauds & iniquities of my fellow creatures, God amend their hearts … but for 2 or 3 families where outward order & decency is preserved, I shd almost forget to speak.’ Whatever it was that he feared, it caused him to muse that ‘no wonder my soul sickens at the scene’. ‘Doomed as I seem to be to this corner of the Globe I feel myself a very unfit person for that scene of action I am now in, my disposition my desires & my pursuits are so foreign to the conditions of life here, that I almost forget wherein society consists … Oh what a bubble is this life that one shd be for one moment fond of it!’180 In an even worse mental state was William Brown. In May he wrote to Mary Rose in Spanish Town. He had been sent to work in Jamaica on behalf of Rose Fuller, but he was clearly very unhappy and was begging on his ‘knees in Floods of Tears’ to go home. It would appear that he wrote to Mary Rose in the hope that she would intercede on his behalf with Fuller’s agent or attorney in Spanish Town as she had previously ‘been so kind’ to him.181 It is unclear whether his depression was due to the conditions and society in Jamaica, which he found disturbing, or whether he was simply desperately homesick. The whole letter is full of his pleading, with no mention of business

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except to recognize that Rose Fuller ‘did not send me here purely out of his great Goodness to me’. He was clearly tormented with an ‘Afflicted and Dispairing mind’, going on to say that he was ‘Deprived of all reasons and my Brain so Disorderd that I shall and am Incapable of [document torn] any business’. His grief was ‘insupportable’, he added, and would get worse having ‘left a wife and a most Indulgant Father and Mother’. He begged her to realize how sad they would be if they knew how miserable he was, and he told of how his whole family’s happiness would be destroyed if he was forced to remain in Jamaica. If Mary could help, she would ‘preserve a soul from utter ruin’. He even offered to pay for his own passage home. In presenting himself in this way he was playing to prevalent mid-eighteenth-century notions that the nervous system played an important part in overall bodily health.182 Surely, he added, if Mr Fuller knew about the true state of his condition, he would let him return. In his postscript he asked: ‘Excuse me in this my Suppriseing and Disconsolate Condition[,] I have the feaver so Strong on me and I am not able to return from the Ship.’ William was clearly badly affected by his sojourn to Jamaica, but whether Mary was in a position to help him, with Rose Fuller then in England, is another matter. As Vincent Brown notes, ‘we know little about how the meaning of mortality motivated people to act’.183 While the perpetual presence of death may indeed have accentuated ‘whites’ penchant for fast-living, heightening their fatalism, and encouraging a callous disregard for the welfare’ of their enslaved, some truly felt bereft at the death of loved ones.184 George Hampson considered Mr Warren ‘the most disconsolate Widower’ he had ever seen.185 William Ford, who had lost half of his shipmates to yellow fever, was clearly distraught by the loss of his wife (see figure 6.2). He had a cousin, Alice, who was looking after his son in Plymouth, England, and it would appear his wife had died there. How devastating it must have been to have received this news on top of all the death and suffering surrounding him. He wrote of his wife: ‘I Love [her] so well and I Did think She Did Love me as well and so I think it was hard to part Which hast put me in Sickness Since I Recd your first Letter.’186 From 4,500 miles away he tried to distribute his wife’s personal effects. He asked Alice to choose something for his son, ‘that he m[a]y have something in Rememberance of his Mother’. She should also keep something for herself in addition to some ‘puter’ that she was to keep.

Figure 6.2 William Ford to Alice Dunrich, Jamaica, 28 September 1756.

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William then asked Alice to ensure that any items that his wife had bequeathed on her deathbed were duly received. It would seem that a neighbour had also looked after his wife in her last days. He wrote that he was ‘in Duty bound to her for What She hast Done for My Bless’d Wife … it is out of [my] Power Ever to make her amains [amends] for Doing What She hast Done’. Alice was now taking care of his son, and William clearly thought she was taking care of him as if she were the boy’s own mother. ‘I shall allways Lay My Self under obligation to you’, he wrote. He also apologized that he could not come home yet and ‘take Some of the Trouble of your hands’, but he asked if she would please write when she had time and let him know how his ‘Dear Child’ was. ‘I hope you will lett the boy have Larning’, he added, before continuing: ‘I hope I shall live to Return home to make you amains.’187 William was lucky to have such friends and family that he could rely on from afar, but he was obviously left bereft by the death of his wife. Perhaps he felt helpless being at such a distance from his family and friends, and guilty that he was not with his wife in her final hours. It happened more often, of course, that people in Jamaica had to break the news of someone’s death to loved ones in England. Merchant Jacob Fuertado told Alexander Hamilton simply: ‘I Suppose you have heard before this of the Death of your Brother for whom I was heartily Sorry.’188 Isaac Xavier, who as we saw earlier did not want to accept into his house the family member who treated people as ‘breeders of pigs’, simply told his parents that João da Silva’s sister had died of ‘blood strokes’, and that a female friend’s sister had died on 9 September.189 The deaths of close relatives usually merited a more heartfelt delivery of the news, however. Benjamin Mendes Alvares lost his brother Joseph on 6 October. Joseph left behind a pregnant widow and at least one child.190 Benjamin had to write home to his father and tell him the news, but he did not want him to be by himself. Benjamin therefore wrote to his uncle, enclosing the letter to his father, ‘which I beg the favour youl deliver as soon as it Reached your hands’.191 The enclosed letter to his father edged towards the news slowly, starting with the formulaic ‘not having the pleasure of a few Lines from you’.192 He then broke the news: ‘With heart full of Grief and Sorry this Comes to acquaint you that it was pleased the almighty to take to himself your Loving Son my Dear & Beloved Brother ( Joseph)’. He had died that morning between eight and

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nine and was ‘Burryed very deciently at our Nation Burrying Ground in the afternoon of the Same day at 5 OClock’.193 Even at this distance, the son tried to protect his father, when he must have been grieving himself and supporting his sister-in-law and her children. Not everyone experienced death lightly, calculatingly, or callously.

Death, Disease, and Decay in Jamaica In the Caribbean, ‘Death was both expected and unexpected’.194 The Europa’s letters demonstrate that ordinary white people tacitly understood and expressed this, drawing on contemporary concepts of tropical health. This reality affected the way in which people coped with and expressed the cultural shock of the different disease environment, high morbidity, and extreme mortality. Despite much contemporary evidence contradicting their understanding of the phenomenon of seasoning, newcomers often believed what they wanted to believe.195 Many distorted reality to fit their imperial desires and worldview.196 In order to shield themselves, they convinced themselves that they were safe from death if they survived an initial bout of fever, or that gout acted as a prophylactic. A change of air might help, but on the whole the few doctors in Jamaica and their medicines and purges often did as much harm as good. Deaths from malaria or yellow fever left many widows and orphans in their wake, as well as the occasional widower. Even Jamaica’s deadly disease environment was not a complete leveller. While sick sailors died in five days or drunk themselves to death in taverns, the rich could go to the baths to have their humors balanced, if not to be cured. Among Kingston merchants there was certainly a callous disregard not only for their Black human cargo but also for their fellow whites. Yet all this death and disease left some feeling, at the very least, disillusioned. Others seemed completely out of touch with Jamaica’s dominant mores and felt genuine distress over the deaths of those closest to them, as well as others around them. A gallows humour was clearly not enough of a shield for all those visiting and living in Jamaica. While the stereotype of the avaricious merchant no doubt holds true, for many white people, and of course for enslaved people, Jamaica’s fractured society was an ‘abundant garden of power and terror’.197

7

Cotton, Candles, and Carriages This shews thee the Taste of the People.1

The high morbidity and mortality in Jamaica may have been one of several reasons why John Byrn’s wife did not want to join him there, but, in the meantime, Byrn had to continue running his business within an economy that had huge disparities of wealth, even among white people. Yet, while individual incomes affected exactly what goods people at different levels of society consumed, Jamaican consumers clearly had a sense of ‘taste’. As Byrn advised his Dublin supplier: The East India Silks are not the Goods which answer here, especially Such Colour as thine are; to wit, the grave Colours … Damasks from the East Indies are us’d here for Furniture but the good English Silks, Sattins, white, blue & some Green … and Indian Paduasoys & such near Patterns, never want a Sale with us, if not too dear … A good assortment of Cambricks … Osnaburghs, Brittanias 8 Yards each piece, wider than those thou Sent me … Thy Bohea Tea is good, but the Greens are ordinary … India Cotton handkerchiefs sell vastly better than the Silk … India Dimity sells well here … Long Lawns, Plattillas, Silesias, very fine Cotton Stockings for the Ladies & Gentlemen of Fortune are often demanded. London gives thee these Articles far cheaper than Dublin can … Thy Ribbonds are not at all pretty, being of quite dull Colours, no white or pink … all paltry ungenteel Figures.2 John Byrn’s letter shows just how demanding and particular consumers in Jamaica were. Satins and damasks had to be of the right

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colour, linens of specific quality were required for different uses, and even ribbons had to be the correct colours for the market. Silks were wanted, but so to0 were the coarse checks and osnaburgs used for clothing enslaved people. The vast array of goods stocked by Byrn speaks to a consumer culture in Jamaica that was wider than is usually portrayed. While for the elite, ‘good taste’ might mean ‘proper aesthetic judgement’ – itself a heavily loaded term – taste was in fact a process by which people expressed sensibilities within their own socioeconomic contexts.3 Ordinary people at all levels of Jamaican society were involved in actively self-fashioning their whiteness and freedom, which were directly shaped by the slave society in which they lived. Indeed, this chapter argues that self-fashioning was not solely a preoccupation of the elite. Jamaica was an expensive place to live, and wealth was not distributed equally, even among white people. Nevertheless, ordinary people still expected to be able to buy items such as hats, shoes, petticoats, handkerchiefs, stockings, books, tobacco, spoons, knives, and forks – just as the relatively poor in England would have done.4 Concentrating on these mundane items and on the people who consumed them, as Stephan Lenik and Christer Petley have suggested, offers a new way of ‘seeing history from below, of linking localised experiences with global transformations’.5 This chapter therefore first outlines the context of these local quotidian consumption experiences and then analyzes the consumption of food and drink, hardware and dry goods, and textiles. It demonstrates that Jamaican consumers did not simply ‘duplicate the metropolitan’, as Mair suggested.6 Rather, slavery, as well as socioeconomic status, played a pivotal role in shaping how ordinary people consumed in order to literally fashion their own identities. Jamaica’s disparities of wealth meant that such fashioning was of varied quality and quantity, but it was always one of freedom and whiteness.

‘all the provisions are very expensive’7 John Byrn’s store, which may well have been a single large room over which he lived, held a vast array of goods.8 In addition to the items previously listed, he stocked food such as bacon, ham, herrings, and butter, with dry goods such as quills and pens also on his shelves.9 His stock seems to have been a representative range of items for a Kingston merchant. Another storekeeper had a similarly wide range

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of goods for sale at his store in Port Royal Street, Kingston, including stockings, lace for uniforms (presumably for the army, Royal Navy, or militia), petticoats, books, and stationery.10 William Jamison had an extremely long list of items for sale at his Orange Street store (conveniently located on a north–south axis in the centre of Kingston – good for attracting retail customers), including beef, herrings, tea, stockings, and handkerchiefs.11 Cider and bacon were also widely available.12 In addition, the surgeon and apothecary Benjamin Allen stocked ‘Drugs, Chymical, and Galenical Medicines’.13 These mundane items are at odds with the relatively limited literature on consumption in Jamaica, which focuses on the elite, and, in particular, those colonial elites who engaged in the ‘Grand Tour’ and who were aware of the latest ‘high’ culture in terms of architecture.14 The large houses of the elite followed British styles, although over the course of the eighteenth century adaptations were increasingly made to the ‘creole’ style more suited to the Jamaican climate.15 Thomas Hibbert’s town house, completed around 1755, is a good example, as is that of Alexander McFarlane, a Fellow of the Royal Society, whose Kingston house is immortalized in Hay’s 1745 ‘Plan of Kingston’.16 Planters such as John Cunningham adorned their homes with beautiful clocks, liquor cases, silverware, sofas, and mirrors. Simon Taylor’s Lysson Estate house included an escritoire, bedsteads, tables, and chairs – all made from reimported mahogany – alongside silverware and large mirrors.17 It is therefore clear that Jamaican men were engaged in the ‘construction’ of their homes, both inside and out.18 Given the gender ratios among white people in Jamaica, perhaps this is unsurprising. Such ‘material splendour’ fitted in with notions of Jamaican luxury and the reputation of Jamaican men as generous hosts and conspicuous consumers in the mid-eighteenth century.19 The lawyer George Hampson complained that even though money was scarce in late 1756, ‘Luxury is kept to the same Height as it was when Money was plenty … I do not exaggerate when I say the Man who lives in Town at no greater Expence than 500£ Curry Pr An [£58,334.60 in modern currency] must be content to rank almost with the Lowest of the Community.’20 Ships arriving in Jamaica from British and Irish ports carried a wide variety of humdrum items for everyday use. As we have seen, Jamaica was an expensive place to live and not everyone got rich. The poorest white people were malnourished, and free people of colour, who were excluded from poor relief, fared far worse.21

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From a seller’s point of view, merchants such as John Byrn would complain that import prices of provisions were ‘not equal to Expectations’, and consumers had to pay a correspondingly high price.22 Commenting on the uprising of the French prisoners of war, Rachel and Manoel Mendes (who were trying to patch up their family quarrel) suggested they should be left to starve, as ‘all the provisions are very expensive’.23 Sailor George Farmer, who as we saw earlier was so keen to trash the French, also thought that beef, butter, and other provisions were ‘Expensive’.24 Lesser merchant James Webb, who as we saw earlier wanted to know how Gatty Shirecliffe was, gave a more detailed account. His rented yard cost £70 per annum and he paid £200 a year for ‘Negro Coopers’, £60 a year for food, and ‘twelve Pound for My Washing’.25 Even those not at the bottom of the socioeconomic ladder tried to save money. Edward ONeal, the lieutenant on HMS Dreadnought, asked his sister to send him clothes from home as they were too expensive in Jamaica.26 Yet, as Byrn highlighted, there was clearly a sense of ‘taste’ in Jamaica. ‘Taste’ is a system of social and cultural values made visible through architecture, clothes, other artefacts, and even social behaviour, and it functions as a performative language strategically employed in a process of ‘self-identification along lines of affinity and difference’ – in this case, whiteness and freedom.27 While decisions about consumption were made with a nod to the metropole, they were shaped more by local requirements, slavery, and, for ordinary white people, affordability. Thus, while the Caribbean was literally being consumed in the forms of medicine, spices, fruits and vegetables, ornamental woods, and sugar, its inhabitants were also consuming goods from around the world, shipped to them via Britain.28 Furthermore, even where items were necessities, product differentiation was important, and most goods were consumed in ways specific to Jamaica, where enslavement added an extra meaning to certain items, over and above quality and price.

‘6 loaves of ye best treble refind sugar’29 Food and drink are of course essential items as well as luxuries, and Jamaica was far from being monocultural. Pens supplied corn, plantains, milk, fresh beer, and some fish.30 Enslaved people also grew food for themselves and for the local markets on their provision

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grounds, and some worked as fishermen on the coast, but Jamaica was still reliant on imports for the majority of basic foodstuffs, including those for enslaved people.31 As we have seen, many white people and free people of colour did not fit the stereotype of the wealthy planter or elite merchant, and for ordinary people in the eighteenth century ‘basic foodstuffs represented the largest single item’ in their budgets.32 Furthermore, while the pens provided some foodstuffs, they were not enough in terms of quality, quantity, or range of choice. For example, while pens provided milk, there was clearly a preference for imported butter, especially from Ireland, and most merchants sold dairy products.33 Being a daily staple, butter could run out and prices could rise. Butter was sold at 8 pence per pound in July (£3.89 in modern currency), but by September it had reached between 9 pence and 12 pence a pound, and in early October it had ‘taken a Sudent rise to 12dPlb for a quantity & none in Town but what … arrived three days ago from Cork’.34 Butter had reached the top of its range, but it was still only available at this price wholesale and would have cost more retail. The scarcity of butter meant that merchants such as Mark Elliott were missing opportunities to sell it at this increased price. He was therefore cross with his supplier, writing that he was ‘much surprised at his not ordering our Butter to be shipt on the Dutchess of Beaufort’.35 We might not think of butter in the eighteenth century as being ‘branded’, but John Crow wrote from his gouty couch specifically requesting ‘Rose’ and ‘Flower de Luce Butter’, of which he ordered fifty firkins every three months (see figure 7.1).36 There was also a preference for fresh butter, advertised as ‘May Butter’, in September.37 Alongside butter, Mark Elliott wrote that cheese was one of the many items that would ‘not fail of doing very well’.38 Indeed, another lesser merchant considered cheese a precious article; so, like butter, it must have been in short supply and high demand.39 Because Kingston stores could be expensive, some ordered their cheese for their own use directly. Daniel Mendes Pereira’s postscript to his letter home pleaded: ‘Do not forget any cheese or meat for home.’40 Beef was another item commonly mentioned, and it was one that, like butter, was eaten regularly by white people – or at least by those that could afford it. John Crow asked for ‘50 Bls of full Bound new Beef’ along with his butter ‘every 3 mo[nth]s’.41 Lesser merchant William Jamison advertised both beef and ‘mess beef’, the latter

Figure 7.1 John Crow to Horlock & Wagstaffe, Kingston, 2 October 1756.

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being a barrel of assorted salted cuts, which may have been sold to the poor or used to feed enslaved people.42 Similarly, John Byrn ordered beef and pork.43 Wholesale imported barrels of pork cost ‘from 40s @ 45/ P half barrell’.44 Jewish people had particular requests, of course, and they sent home for items that they possibly felt homesick for. Rachel and Manoel Mendes asked for ‘a real kosher beef brisket’ to be sent out to Jamaica.45 Even everyday food such as ham had to be correct. John Byrn chastized his supplier yet again: ‘please do not send Hands of Bacon, but Hams; as the latter sells far better here: All thine were Hands instead of Hams … Tis very requisite to notice this.’46 Being cured, ham probably lasted longer in Jamaica’s heat, but this may also have been a matter of taste. Another Kingston merchant ordered ‘A dozen of ye best Yorkshire Hams’ besides ‘rasons of the best sort … 2 boxes of pickles’ and ‘wine vinegar’.47 While planters enjoyed flavouring their food with black pepper, nuts, cloves, cinnamon, and mace, enslaved people would be lucky to get fresh beef even at Christmas.48 Many merchants, including William Jamison, sold herrings. This was the ubiquitous salted fish for enslaved people, now immortalized as ‘salt fish’ and still a popular dish eaten with ackee fruit.49 Gerrard Nash’s large order for 100 barrels of herrings must have been for onward sale to plantations.50 For the enslaved people of Crescent Estate, ‘40 barrels full bound herrings’ were ordered alongside ‘Oatmeal’ and ‘split pease’, although the six firkins of best butter were no doubt for the white people living on the estate.51 Herrings were given to enslaved people even if they were found to be rotten, when they would have lost most of their nutritional value.52 Enslaved people were also provided with guinea corn and rice to supplement the vegetables they might grow on their own provision grounds.53 Enslaved people also received alcohol as part of their allotted rations, and sometimes as ‘gifts’, often in amounts according to their prestige. For example, the first gang might receive two bottles as a ‘Christmas present’, while the other gangs might get only one.54 In addition, enslaved people purchased alcohol at enslaved-run shops on the plantations. It is difficult to say what preferences enslaved people had for different forms of alcohol, over and above its convivial value. For white people, however, alcohol seemed to be as much about fashion and taste as sociability. In contrast to the locally produced rum, alcohol was imported from many places around the world – there was even arrack from the Indian subcontinent.

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Ale, cider, and perry were common and came predominantly from places in the South West of England such as Bristol and Taunton. At around 12 shillings 6 pence per cask, cider was a little cheaper than ale, which sold for around 15 shillings.55 The fact that letters always noted the place from which ale came, e.g.  Taunton ale, suggests that, like butter, it was ‘branded’ to some extent, at least by region.56 Ale therefore had to be just right, even for poorer consumers, and even elite merchants could not always source the correct flavour. Richards, Gordon & Kennion seemed a little exasperated with their supplier of ale. In September they wrote to him that they had ‘sold hitherto only 30 Casks of all your Ale … We wish we could persuade yo to put Less malt & hopps in what yo may hereafter Brew, as by that means it would be smaller, Paler & milder & be in more equall demand with your Neighbours which hitherto alw[ay]s Commands a preference & a higher price.’57 Ale drinkers were clearly fussy then as now, and perhaps the smaller (lower alcohol) ales were more suited to the Jamaican climate. William Miles wrote that none of the ale ‘by Tanto will sell’ – presumably it also was too malty or hoppy.58 Particular care also had to be taken with other drinks such as ‘Perry[,] taking care of its age’.59 While perry seemed to be reasonably popular, it was not always in demand, possibly because it was both too sweet and more expensive, ranging between 15  shillings and 17 shillings 6 pence.60 It was possible that the sale of cider and perry was seasonal, even in Jamaica, ‘Syder or Vinegar being Articles not very Saleable at Present [in October]’.61 Some of the elite also drank ale or perry, and, along with other items, often ordered them direct for their own consumption because it was cheaper that way and they were able to make such demands. Edmund Hyde ordered both these items alongside his Madeira in September, saying that ‘Ale & Bacon & Perry from Bristol would be very Acceptable to my Family’; however, he was more particular about his ‘two pipes’ of Madeira, which were to be purchased from a particular supplier: ‘Messrs Scott & Comp’.62 Madeira was particularly suited to Jamaica because, unlike other wines, it matured well in the heat. Indeed, it might improve in as many months in Jamaica as it might take years in Madeira.63 Therefore, there were adverts for ‘Choice Madeira Wine’.64 Larger merchant houses imported quite large quantities of Madeira. One firm received forty-five pipes of Madeira alone, at a charge of £582 3 shillings 9½ pence: an average of just under £13 sterling for a pipe

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of about 126 gallons.65 Lesser merchants might manage to sell a reasonable amount, if not as much. One noted that ‘24 or 30 pipes are as many as I can retail in a year and as for whole Pipes I have not yet sold but two these twelve months past’.66 This was possibly because he could not source top-quality Madeira. Indeed, some contemporaries complained that as Madeira became more popular around the Atlantic, the best wine was not always sent to the West Indies. Some considered it now ‘much degenerated’ and ‘thin’.67 Port did not travel as well as Madeira, but it was still drunk in Jamaica – even lesser merchants advertised ‘Red Port Wine’ for sale among a long list of dry goods.68 Elite merchants, however, could afford to buy in bulk, and possibly receive a better wholesale price. John & Edward Foord ordered ‘29 Barrells Port from 70/ 80/ P Bbll’.69 While Madeira may have been very popular, other fortified wines were sought too, and buyers were just as discerning. Wine was the drink of wealthier people in Jamaica, and, as with Madeira and some foodstuffs, elites would order nonfortified wines direct for their own consumption.70 Edmund Hyde asked for some claret, but it was to be sourced from a particular supplier. Hyde’s neighbour (Philip?) Pinnock apparently had ‘very good clarret sent him by Messrs Drake & Long who buy it of a Noted woman called Mother Alleyn’, and Hyde asked him to send him half a hogshead ‘every Six Months without further notice’.71 He specified his best claret to be in ‘quart bottles marked E Hyde’ and he also ordered ‘12 Gross best Velvet Corks’ to stop the bottles – and, of course, to show off his superior ‘taste’.72 The elite were clearly happy to pay any price for the right quality, as no price limit was noted. Claret could be 25 per cent cheaper than Madeira, so Hyde might have compared prices with Pinnock in order that his supplier could not take too much advantage.73 Overall, however, port and French wines were not as popular in Anglo-America as in Britain. David Hancock argues that this may have been due to their higher cost and a misreading of cues from Britain; that is, in Jamaica, feeling surrounded by the French enemy, they deemed it unpatriotic. While the British were often at war with the French, however, it certainly did not stop the elite in Britain from drinking French wine as a matter of status and prestige. It is just as likely, therefore, that in Jamaica this was a localized choice, or ‘taste’. Some contemporaries simply thought French claret and even French white wines ‘too heavy’ to consume in Jamaica’s climate.74 Others would complain if they did

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not like the price. Only ‘10  doz’ (pipes?) of the wine belonging to Thomas Blair, the owner of the Europa, had been sold because ‘some People who have tasted it don’t like it’.75 It would be possible to dispose of it all – but only at a considerably reduced price. Italian wine was also sought after, especially if it was of high quality. For example, John Crow was very particular about the ordering and packing of his ‘fflorence wine’.76 He wrote: ‘When you have any super excellent fflorence Wine; that is not on the fret, quite new & in good Order, please to send me 20 half Chests every 5 or 6 Mos till further Orders: But let it be repacked in England, & if any of the flasks shou’d have lost any of their contents; don’t Send m/y [me them] as they will certainly Sour; when on their passage, for if the Oyl is below the neck of the flask, it incorporates, & all the filling up is ineffectual.’77 There was clearly money to be made from Florentine wine if it was good. Crow continued: ‘when yo send it on board to Order Care in the keepg the Chests upright.’ However, his supplier was not to send any ‘Florence wine under the prime of Vintage, (as I dispose of it only to my particular friends) who are gentn of the first Rank and fortune in this Country, and whose Taste is very nice’. Moreover, he added, they ‘never spare price for what is the best of its Kind’. As wines other than Madeira did not travel well to the Caribbean, it is clear that they had to be packaged very carefully. Wine seals could be quite delicate, as evidenced by Crow’s very careful instructions.78 While in the eighteenth century ‘friends’ meant a wider circle than we would now mean, and while wine was often given as a gift to establish ‘rank and hierarchy’, it would appear that Crow was selling this wine, not gifting it.79 Although he was not in the same rank as Pinnock and Hyde, the wine he was ordering was clearly meant for the elite, who were willing to pay high prices for good quality. Quite possibly, spending more than was necessary added to the prestige of the purchase. Given that packaging was often problematic, less well-off consumers could buy wine at reduced prices if the casks or bottles were damaged in some way. One vendue master sold four puncheons of damaged Burgundy, although it did take a couple of months to sell them all. One man purchased two dozen damaged (presumably pint) bottles in August for a total of 15 shillings, and another unnamed person bought ten dozen for the cheaper price of 5 shillings each because he paid cash, rather than receiving the usual credit.

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Another man purchased four dozen for the same price. He should have waited, however, as another cash buyer purchased three and a half dozen at 3 shillings 9 pence one day later, and the remaining bottles were written off at this price.80 Undamaged Burgundy wine was presumably normally sold for at least 6 shillings. It was not just about quality, however, as people would rather purchase cheaper and lower quality wine than not buy it at all. It also helped if it was exported in small containers. Some Rhenish wine (white wine from the Rhine region) proved to be ‘very good in Quality’ but was unfortunately sent in casks – had the supplier ‘sent it in Pint Bottles it wou’d have sold much Quicker’.81 Alcohol was drunk by everyone in Jamaica and there was clearly a hierarchy of quality and price. Jamaicans had a clear sense of their own ‘taste’. Ironically, one imported food item was refined sugar. Mary Rose asked Rose Fuller to send some to her directly, among other items. She did not specify, but clearly this was loaf sugar, refined in Britain and reimported to Jamaica.82 As with butter, beef, and alcohol, however, there was a hierarchy of sugar that was available to accommodate all socioeconomic levels. For example, Mark Elliott ordered some ‘Single refin’d Sugar 16d to 18d’ and some ‘Double refined at 2s to 2/3d’ (24 pence to 26 pence).83 Also ordered were ‘6 loaves of ye best treble refind sugar’, no doubt at a correspondingly higher price.84 Clearly, for those eating imported sugar, ‘taste’ included an understanding of the various qualities of refined sugar.85 In England, sugar had become a necessity that shaped dietary patterns.86 However, the consumption of sugar in Jamaica said just as much about race and power as it did about culture. White sugar was imported, and, whether it was single, double, or triple refined, it was for ‘whites’ and for elite people of colour such as Mary Rose. Muscovado, or brown sugar, was for ‘Brown’ and ‘Black’ people. Sugar became increasingly linked with bitter drinks such as tea, coffee, and chocolate as part of complex changes in trade, consumption, and social life.87 ‘Intoxicants’ such as tobacco, sugar, tea, coffee, and chocolate were promoted by polemicists of empire in the seventeenth century. By the eighteenth century such ‘drugs’ were part of a more acceptable and ‘modern kind of acquisitiveness’, which helped to promote empire.88 We might think of chocolate as a drink for cold days, but some contemporary Jamaicans considered it both ‘Meat and Drink’ and its tolerance a sign that a person’s ‘Constitution [was] fit for a West Indian Climate’.89 Tobacco was one of the

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many items ordered by Mark Elliott in October and imported via England due to the Navigation Acts, and by the eighteenth century tea had become central to the diet of even the labouring poor.90 It was a problematic import, however, because the East India Company had to pay for it with silver, which went against the spirit of ‘mercantilism’.91 Nevertheless, tea was so intimately intertwined with other global commodities by the mid-eighteenth century that this anomaly was usually conveniently overlooked.92 A fine gradation of teas was also available in Jamaica. This included Hyson (a fine green tea), with one merchant ordering ‘Eight pound of ye best hyson tea’ to go with the six loaves of refined sugar he ordered.93 Lesser merchant William Jamison sold both green tea and bohea tea.94 Among long lists of hardware for the Crescent plantation was hidden ‘4lb green tea’.95 Another lesser merchant ordered ‘Two Tubs of fine hyson Tea every three months’ from his supplier.96 He had already sold two tubs that year.97 Indeed, ‘Good Teas, are much demanded’ advised an elite merchant, ‘but a little quantity is Sufficient at a time … of each sort, Hyson & Comon Green’.98 He continued to complain that some of the tea he had been sold had been badly packed, and that it ‘begins to have little flavour’; he did not know when he would be able to sell it.99 As with wine, it was important to have the right quality at the right price. Jamaicans were clearly as fussy about their tea as they were about their wine. For example, some of the tea chests received by John Byrn had ‘been so damag’d that not one of them is Saleable’.100 He had ordered fine Hyson tea, presumably to sell at a premium, so he was probably disappointed it had not turned out well. He also complained to his London supplier of the ‘Two chests of the common Single Tea P the Rose one very bad’.101 Byrn continued: ‘The fine Single is not the Tea for this market as it shou’d be really fine; Common Single very reasonably purchas’d & the best Hyson are such as answer at this Market.’102 Super fine single might do well, but Byrn advised that Hyson, if ‘cheaper in Proportion, would sell well’. It would appear that there were two markets for tea: very fine green tea, presumably for the elite, and common single and hyson tea for the poorer sections of society. As with wines, people with good connections ordered tea directly for their own personal use. Mary Rose ordered ‘4 pound tea in ½ lb Cannisters’ to go with her refined sugar,103 and Mark Elliott ordered 1 pound of tea to come on every other vessel that his supplier sent

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out to Jamaica. He also ordered accoutrements for his own tea table: ‘12 Teaspoons[,] 1 Tea Tongues[,] 1 Silver Milk Pot’, alongside some table spoons and other household items.104 Such tableware was an extremely important part of the tea table.105 In Jamaica, tea was not simply drunk: it was consumed conspicuously by all free people – just at different prices for different qualities.

‘Cheese, & a few Boxes Castille Soap … are Two Precious Articles’106 Butter and cheese were not the only essentials in high demand in Jamaica. As with food, a wide range of dry goods of varying quality and price was imported. Much of the hardware, such as tools, was used by unwilling consumers – enslaved people – but there were also necessary mundane items for white people. For example, soap and tallow were two of the everyday items required for washing, making candles, and even for home remedies. These items were not seasonal: people needed to wash themselves and light their homes whatever the time of year.107 Supply did not always keep up with demand, however, and by October ‘there was very little’ soap to be had in Kingston; ‘should you send any soap, candles or Tallow’, wrote Gerrard Nash, ‘they’ll fetch a good price’.108 There were different quality soaps for different purposes. Castile soap, a cheap soap commonly used for washing, was £6 10 shillings per hundredweight and was ‘in Great Demand’.109 However, even the lowly Castile soap, if it was in demand, could, like cheese, become a ‘Precious’ item.110 Indeed, the white soap that was thought better for shaving was cheaper, at 70  shillings to 75  shillings per hundredweight.111 Both soaps continued well and Mark Elliott ordered ‘Thirty Teirces or Barrels Castille & Thirty Teirces or bbls White Soap in late September’.112 A week later, he confirmed that soap and tallow ‘will not fail of doing very well’.113 John Crow also ordered ‘20  Firkins Tallow, wh:[ich] I desire may be sent, by the first vessell that touches Cork from London or Bristol’.114 He asked his supplier to repeat the order every three months. Candles also came in a variety of sizes and quality. Mark Elliott ordered thirty tierces or barrels of ready-made ‘Mo[ld] Candles … [and] One Hundred boxes Pursers Cutt [the smallest type of] Candles for our own Accounts’.115

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A busy port city such as Kingston needed a vast array of other goods for building and maintenance. Ships’ supplies such as sail cloth and cordage were among the many items that Mark Elliott ordered in October, though unfortunately he did not list how much he required.116 It may have been a standing order so that his supplier knew how much to send at any one time. Elliott also ordered white, red, black, and sheet lead from Bristol.117 White and red lead were used for paint and cosmetics, whereas sheet lead was used for roofs, guttering, flashes, cisterns, rain and waste pipes, and pumps, among other items.118 All were required for housing, and especially for trying to control the flow of the rains. Black lead was used for pencils and for blacking fireplaces, and iron hoops and nails were required for building barrels and hogsheads. In October, iron hoops and nails were ‘In Great Demand’, and size 11 nails were expected to advance in price in September.119 Gerrard Nash ordered ‘2 Tunes[tons] Iron Ho[o]ps’ alongside his ‘2 Tons Sheet Lead’ in early October.120 Much of the imported hardware was intended for plantations and pens. The artisans and enslaved people on Thomas Pinnock’s estate would have used the materials he ordered for his mill works. These included: ‘4 Mill Cases 26 inches long 17 inches in the clear Diameter[,] Gudgeons[?] for ditto & 2 Spare ones for the Side Rollers.’121 He also ordered some spare rollers and ‘2 dozn steel steps’, chains for mules, and several coils of rope. Additionally, there were ‘5 dozn Crawleys [Crowley’s] best hoes 5 dozn Back Bills 4 Dozn best felling axes’, which would have been used by enslaved people in the fields. Crowley’s was a well-known brand, manufacturing 11,000 hoes per week, and while enslaved people did not ‘choose’ this hoe, there were different hoes for different environments and work practices.122 Hardened or reinforced hoes were made for the Jamaican dry season, and smaller hoes were made for women and children. These hoes were semi-manufactured in England, with the wooden handles manufactured in Jamaica from local wood and added in  situ. The list of goods required for Crescent Estate did not list Crowley’s hoes in particular, but ‘6 dozn high tempered hoes’ were ordered alongside ‘6 dozn backt’ bills’.123 Other metalware ordered for Crescent Estate included hinges, locks, nails, a small gauging rod, rattraps, coopers’ knives, scissors for ‘trimming horses’, hoops for hogsheads, and linseed oil for mixing blacking lead.124 In sharp contrast to these working tools was the metalware that elites ordered directly for their own use. Edmund Hyde seemed to

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be getting ready for a dinner party, and he was very specific about his order of cutlery so his table would look tasteful and fashionable. He ordered ‘3 Doz Large Knives, 3 Doz Large forks. 2 Doz desert Knives; 2 Doz Desert forks, 24 Spoons large & 24 Desert Spoons[,] The Knives & forks London blades & prongs only two with blue or green handles the most fashionable[,] 2 Carving Knives & 2 forks wth 2 prongs same handles[,] 12 Large blades with forks, & 12 Desert Do Do’. He also ordered ‘A Neat & well made Mahogany Knife, Fork & Spoon Case, with brass Furniture well Lackquer’d’ to hold his new cutlery.125 Like sugar, this mahogany cutlery case was another ‘ironic’ consumption item. Harvested in Jamaica – mostly, but not entirely, by enslaved people – mahogany was exported as a raw commodity and then reimported as finished luxury items. Mahogany increasingly came to be seen as desirable and meaningful, and to ‘epitomise the ideal of refinement’.126 Just the sort of ‘taste’ that elites such as Hyde wanted to project. Even pistols had to be the right quality and price. John Crow complained to his supplier about some ‘Prodigious dear pistols’.127 He had seen ones just as good for less – at six guineas. For between five and seven guineas you could get pistols ‘very neat and shewey & inlaid in the handles with Silver’.128 Indeed, the ones Crow had been shipped were so overpriced that he feared he might have to return them, ‘yo  might as well as send me a parcel of Blunderbusses’, he quipped. The ones he had been sent were ‘as Plain and ugly as Any thing of the kind cou’d be’.129 He continued his complaint: the ‘Pockett Pistols are Charged 4 Guineas a Pr & every gentleman who has seen them declare they Can buy better at 2 G[uinea]s.’ Futhermore, Crow’s supplier had added 25 per cent on his prices for longer credit terms, which he thought ‘too much extra to pay for a little longer Cr[edit]’.130 Gentlemen in Jamaica clearly had a very strong idea of not only what a pistol should look like, but also what it should cost. All this was pointless in any case as there was no gunpowder ‘in Town’.131 Another merchant ordered gunpowder from Bristol ‘if to be had’.132 As we saw in the last chapter, men rode for sport and pleasure as well as for business. These gentlemanly pursuits required horses with fashionable accoutrements. Thomas Pinnock ordered ‘6  Coach harnesses with Postillion Sadle [and] rains’.133 Similarly, Edmund Hyde ordered a saddle with ‘Holsters & Gambadoes instead of Stirrops’, as well as several other items for horses.134 All was to be of the best leather.

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Hyde’s order for a new coach must have been one of the most outrageous items ordered from Jamaica in 1756, if not during the entire decade. Hyde gave detailed descriptions to pass on to the coachmaker, which ran to over a page and a quarter of small tight writing. He specified ‘The Body & Carriage to be quite plain’, but that was the only thing that was to be plain: the body was to be close to the front, to hang low for ease of getting in and out; the steps were to be folded into the carriage; blinds were to cover the windows instead of glass (presumably to let in any breeze); and it was to be lined with a ‘Strong deep Blue Cloth, the lace to be agreeable to the Blazon of our Arms, and the Roof Quilted’. There was even to be a box under the coachman’s seat for ‘tools’. The spokes of the wheels were to be ‘in the new way nearer to the Joints’, but the wood was to be well seasoned to prevent shrinking. Every detail was provided for, right down to the ‘Two Spare Braized Caps with Screws’ and ‘a Spare Pr Wheel harness with Reins’.135 No price tag was attached to this order. Such magnificence required deep pockets. Even a smaller open kitterreen could be costly: together with a harness they could cost around £40, or more than most ordinary people’s annual wage.136 However, Gerrard Nash, unlike Edmund Hyde, thought that it was better to send out such vehicles without the wooden wheels and shafts; he asked his supplier to ‘send only the Harness Screws and Body’, as in ‘this Country all likes the shafts and Wheels made wth the wood of this Country growth’.137 This was presumably not only because it was cheaper but also because the wood was better suited to the climate. While this was probably a fashionable kitterreen, it was not bespoke – or, at least, it was not personalized. The original purchaser had reneged on the sale but someone else had bought it just a few days later – for around 30 per cent more than the original price of £30 10 shillings. One wonders whether the new buyer ever found out the original cost. Coachmakers and coach-harness makers in Kingston occasionally sold ‘very neat fashionable’ chariots, but you could also purchase a ‘very good Second Hand four wheel Chaise’.138 While the elite had bespoke carriages, the rest of the free population purchased more standardized or secondhand coaches, kittereens, and chariots, or they simply travelled on horseback. Sellers of such items were still careful, however, to call these less wealthy customers ‘Gentlemen and Ladies’.139 Not only did elite merchants want to own impressive carriages and accoutrements for their horses, but they also built grand buildings

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that served as their store downstairs and their home upstairs. Elite merchant Charles Mitchell was planning to build ‘two Large Stores’ and a ‘handsome Dwelling house’.140 He asked his London suppliers to send him ‘all the Materialls such as Nails, Locks, hinges’, etc. Mitchell wanted a ‘self consciously fashionable’ house based on the latest European and British architecture, writing that ‘I am resolved to build Intirely with English Bricks’.141 His London agents were to keep using the bricks as ballast for ships coming from London to Kingston until they had sent a total of ‘200 hundred thousand’ of them.142 Even types of brick had reputations and could be a matter of ‘taste’: ‘I think your Gray Stockes are reckoned the best Bricks’, Mitchell added down the side of his letter. These grand homes were in sharp contrast to the mostly self-built huts of enslaved people, which were finished with local raw materials.143 Fashionable houses needed fashionable furnishings. When Mark Elliott ordered his spoons, milk pot, and tea tongs for his tea table, he also ordered ‘6 Mahogany Chairs the same as Pr Glover’ and ‘1 Mahogany BookCase the same as H. B. sent over’.144 The listings of furniture in inventories provide further insight into the grandeur of plantation houses. In the Great House belonging to William Perrin at Blew Mountain there were, among other items, six bedsteads, two feather beds, various pillows and sheets, a speaking trumpet, five mahogany tables, two large mahogany chairs, twelve Windsor chairs, ten further chairs with leather seats, five glass decanters, three dozen china plates, sixteen wine glasses, three silver tablespoons, six silver teaspoons, as well as silver sugar tongs and silver tea strainers. Even the ‘close stool chair’ was made of (reimported) mahogany. The white people in residence at Blew Mountain enjoyed coffee and chocolate, as the necessary pots were in the cookroom. A pair of silver-mounted pistols were even kept in the buttery.145 At Perrin’s Grange Hill estate, there were yet more possessions that any poor person would be grateful to own, even if they were not so fine as those at Blew Mountain. This could have been because when Perrin had lived in Jamaica he resided at Blew Mountain, while his managers and overseers mainly lived at Grange Hill. Still, there were many fine items suitable for a middling white person to be found in the ‘Dwelling House’: five bedsteads and mattresses, two cotton counterpanes, another speaking trumpet, five brass candlesticks, half a dozen pewter soup plates, and three pewter shallow dishes.146

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Books were noticeably absent from Perrin’s estate, but plenty of gentlemen had fashionable mahogany bookcases that required books of the right ‘taste’ to be placed in them. These too were sent over from Britain. Eclectic reading requirements for merchants included parliamentary debates, Hooke’s Roman History, Pluche’s Nature Display’d, Fontenelle’s Plurality of Worlds, Hume’s essays and his History of England, Samuel Johnson’s Dictionary (published just the year before), the supplement to Chambers’s Dictionary, Shakespeare’s collected works, books by Swift, and Harrington’s The Commonwealth of Oceana.147 This list clearly shows a man who knew what he should be seen to be reading.148 Merchants often required more commercially minded items among their reading. William Folkes, whom we saw earlier worrying if his son was dead, asked his London bookseller to ‘Supply me with the Universall Morgaginus, & Weekly Papers & any New Books that come over as they would be very entertaining here’.149 However, it was necessary to be careful that they were new books. Merchant Daniel Mendes Pereira told his cousin that the books he had sent out for him to sell had come from ‘a poor person’ who did not know the market, and that the intended purchaser did not want the book, ‘saying they had already read it’.150 Pereira advised him not to send such things needlessly. Others were less discerning. One man simply added to his letter that ‘here new plays or pamphlets would be very acceptable’.151 The business of trading and planting required paper on which to keep records. The memorandum for Crescent Estate included items required for writing letters and keeping accounts. These included ‘½ Reem Supper [super] fine large Dutch post Paper … ½ Reem Supper fine Demy post Gilt … 200 Best Dutch Quills 6 Papers best ink powder – 1lb best Red sealing wax’.152 Even when it came to basic materials, merchants could clearly be discerning. Mark Elliott ordered account books made from Dutch paper along with his sealing wax.153 Similarly, Jacob Fuertado wrote to London for ‘a quire of Printed Single Blank Bonds & another Quire of Double Ditto’.154 He could have purchased these items in Kingston, but he noted that they ‘Costs a trifle in London, & a great deal here’. Even with paper and pens, everything had to be the right price for the right quality for the elite, while as one descended down the social scale, money or necessity meant that consumers could not afford to be so fussy, though they still desired the same types of items.

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‘I am almost out of Oznabrigs’155 The 90  per  cent of the Jamaican population who were enslaved needed clothing. We therefore find many mentions in the letters of the ubiquitous osnaburg (or Oznabrig): a coarse, rough, durable hempen linen that was the quintessential textile for clothing enslaved people.156 Other materials used for clothing enslaved people were baize, kersey, peniston flannel (also known as Peniston Blue), fustians, linsey-woolsey, and other cheap cotton-linen mixtures such as ‘¾ checks’.157 New clothing for enslaved people was handed out annually around Christmas time, and John Crow therefore wrote in October: ‘I am almost out of Oznabrigs, & soon will be the season for their demand, hope some will arrive soon.’158 He told his supplier that he should always send them if he had a ‘cheap parcell’ without orders ‘as I can always dispose of them’. Orders were filled from Bristol, Liverpool, and London, and Elliott & Scott asked their suppliers to send ‘as much as Possibly can’.159 A ¾ check, which could be of linen, cotton, or a combination of both, was another textile used to clothe enslaved people.160 As with osnaburgs, we therefore find them in demand in the autumn. Samuel Jebb noted in late September that ‘There is a Demand for course Checks ¾’, as did Elliott & Scott a few days later.161 Prices were increasing because there were none in town and ‘some Spaniards wanting’, so they were selling for 15 pence per yard.162 In sharp contrast to the scratchy and rough osnaburg was silk, which cost around 55 shillings per yard.163 Despite silk imports into Jamaica declining over the eighteenth century (possibly because sweat stained it and it lost its lustre in the wash), it remained the marker of status and wealth – and clearly, as with wines, the elite thought of themselves as discerning consumers.164 Writing from his gouty couch did not stop John Crow from complaining bitterly about how the silk that he had received was not suitable for the Jamaican market. All ribbons, silks, and clothes were to be ‘fine of their colours; for else how is it possible the sell ym [them] & make such Remitt[ance]s as is expected?’ He continued that some other material had not sold despite being bespoke and ordered ‘on Accot of the Villainous colour call’d Blue ... The Green is abt a shade too dark’.165 Crow wanted an abatement for the ‘Light Grey instead of a Blue Sky Colr’, and he asked his suppliers to check everything before it was packed, adding that ‘if yo had yo coud never have Sent them’.

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Jamaicans were clearly very fashion conscious and wanted particular colours and patterns as well as quality. John Byrn also upbraided his suppliers for not sending the correct colours. As we saw earlier, the ribbons were not the right pink and the satins were not the right colour.166 These errors may have occurred because the suppliers did not consider Crow and Byrn important enough customers, or because they did not know the ‘right’ colours for Jamaican ‘taste’. Many of the imported clothing items were more suitable for Jamaica’s climate, but they were also part of a wider change in fashion around the Atlantic in which ‘lighter fabrics were coming into vogue’.167 These were accompanied by a move towards brighter chintzes, checks, flowers, and stripes, so appearance was as important as function.168 However, not all fashion choices were suitable for the weather in the Caribbean. In Jamaica, women wore brocaded silk gowns, jackets, and coats, while men came to like velvet breeches with laced jackets and ruffled shirts.169 Even more unsuitable was the ‘fine Castor Hatt’ that John Stanton, captain of the Molly, sold to merchants Case & Southworth in February.170 Given its price of £1 5 shillings, this would have been a full beaver hat of good quality. Despite the fact that such hats would have been extremely hot, would ruin quickly, and would get moth eaten, they remained popular for formal functions.171 It is possible that, as occurred with French wine, Jamaicans were out of touch with the latest British fashions. Alternatively, it could be that, yet again, they made their own choices about colours and weight of fabric that they deemed suitable and/or fashionable. If the elite in London thought the colours chosen by Jamaican consumers gaudy and gauche, Jamaicans probably did not care. This did not mean that metropolitan fashion was unimportant in Jamaica. Those who had recently arrived from London were keen to advertise that they understood the latest metropolitan fashions. For example, Robert Hill advertised that he had ‘just arriv’d from London’ and made ‘Men’s Cloaths and Women’s Riding-Habits and Josephs [a riding coat]’ in the ‘most fashionable manner’.172 However, many people ordered clothes or material directly from England because it was cheaper than buying locally in Kingston or other towns in Jamaica. Lieutenant ONeal of HMS Dreadnought complained that ‘A Shirt I could by in Ireland for Eight Shillings would Cost thirthy shillings here’.173 He asked his sister to make him up ‘two Dozen Shirts pritty Course’ and to send him ‘half Dozen waistcoats made of fine linnen’.174 Thomas Harvie ordered ‘six pair pumps &

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six pair shoes, likewise a pair of boots’ to be made by a particular ‘German shoe Maker’ who had made the last ones for him, though this time they were to be a little larger.175 He also ordered a ‘Doz pieces black silk breeches’ and a ‘genteel paper snuff box’. Charles Mitchell ordered a range of items for ‘Mrs Mitchell & House’.176 They included ‘2 Pieces fine Printed Linnen for Gowns … 1 dozen Woms finest cotton hose (long and small in the Leggs) 6 pair Woms Silk Netted Mittins diff[eren]t Collours … Yellow Stone Pebble Buckles & Earrings fashionable … 6 doz Childs thread stockings for Boys 3 & 4 Sizes … 2 doz Black Leather Shoes for do’. These goods were to be chosen by a woman of taste: his supplier’s wife.177 In return for this service Mitchell sent a cask of cashew nuts as a present. Small-time planter Alexander Crawford required ‘a few Trifles’ in August.178 These included fashionable material for suits for him and his wife: ‘1 Doz Mens Large 4 thread Stockings 1 Doz Womens d[itt]o A Diamond Ring about £8 Price for a mans little finger.’ Jacob Fuertado wanted ‘a Scarlett Drap Cloak for my use to keep of the rain in the Rainy Seasons’. He stipulated that the size should be the same as for a friend who was going to bring it out with him, but ‘there must be no Sleeves to it’.179 Mary Rose asked Rose Fuller for a piece of coarse Irish linen, as well as ‘1 ps Chintz for a Gown’, ‘A Woman’s white Beaver Hat’, and ‘6 pr Calimancoe Shoes 2 green 2 red 2 blue of the 6 size laced with Silk’.180 Mary, therefore, had a good range of fashionable shoes. It was certainly important to have the right shoes sent out. John Byrn noted that the calamanco (worsted woven into a glazed pattern) shoes sent him were ‘clumsy & large, & … sharp toed’ – not at all suitable for the Jamaican market.181 He added that good small silk shoes were required as Jamaican ladies’ feet were, he opined, ‘very small in general’.

‘the Taste of the People’ It is clear that, as John Byrn put it, ‘the Taste of the people’ in Jamaica was an important part of colonial self-fashioning. Significantly, this was not limited to the elites and their houses. Ordinary people in Jamaica, both white people and free people of colour, aspired to better food and more possessions just as ordinary people in England did.182 Free people might choose better butter or beef if

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they could afford it, and even the poor wanted a lighter, less malty and hoppy ale or a good cider from Taunton. For the elites, Madeira wine was extremely popular because it matured well in the tropics, but also because they thought of themselves as connoisseurs of wine. The quintessential commodity that highlighted fashionable ‘taste’ over palette ‘taste’ was refined sugar. Triple-refined sugar served with silver tongs was an extremely expensive statement for ‘whites’, when ‘brown’ muscovado sugar was everywhere around them for free or very little. Sugar-sweetened tea was, like refined sugar, a product of global trade and mercantilism, but it was also a self-fashioning of freedom and whiteness. Elite architecture and the humble hoe were not the only items becoming ‘creolized’. English bricks may have been imported to build elite houses, but the exact shape of those houses, the reimported mahogany bookcases within them, and the enslaved workers who worked inside and on the land around them were definitely colonial. Even pistols had to be the right quality and type. Like carriages and kittereens, they could be bespoke or secondhand – but they all spoke of freedom if not always of race. Everyone needed mundane items such as candles and soap, but even these were branded to some extent and differentiated by use. Similarly, household textiles had to be the right quality for their specific purposes. Note, for example, Mrs Mortimer’s horror on discovering the prank played by enslaved people who used a bedsheet for a tablecloth in order to shame her.183 For those at the top of the status tree it was essential to have just the right colour of silk, whether for clothes or ribbons. Even shoes had to be the right colour and style. Those at the other end of the scale purchased cheaper, clumsier shoes and shirts – and, if they could, they ordered them directly from Britain in order to save money. Those who got it wrong faced ridicule. Mary Ricketts, the daughter of an elite planter, was scathing about a Miss Bowles, of whom she noted, ‘the comet was not as glorious as she had in her mind’.184 To add to Miss Bowles’s ignominy, Mary drew a picture of Miss Bowles in her toga costume for the delight of her correspondent in Britain. Possibly the blue hues of her outfit were Crow’s ‘villainous’ blues. For all free people in Jamaica, slavery added an extra racial dimension to their consumption – one that was over and above socioeconomic status.185 The sharp inequalities in wealth, even

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within the white population, meant that many ordinary people had to make choices about the quality of goods they purchased. Purchasing these goods took money, often a lot of it, and that money was gained through the back-breaking work of enslaved people. The free population therefore consumed people as well as the Caribbean itself. When consuming, Jamaicans had an eye towards fashions from the metropole, but ‘The imperial gaze was not necessarily the colonial gaze’.186 Far from simply aping the metropole, or indeed the Jamaican elite, ordinary Jamaicans fashioned their own identities according to their own requirements and pocket books. They consumed their goods as nonenslaved people, and their consumption of white sugar and white soap marked them out as white – or, in the case of people of colour such as Mary Rose, as free.

8

Tales of the Enslaved People In case he behaves him Self well.1

Providence was an enslaved African living on a 4,153 acre sugar estate in St  James parish.2 Before he died in 1756, Colonel James Lawrence, his enslaver, made this entry regarding Providence in his will: I give to my Negroe Providence one barrell of Beef & One barrell of Herrings every year while he lives for his trusty Behaviour, and in case he behaves him Self well after Serving ten Years, My Will is & I do hereby order and direct him to have a House put up in one corner of my rocky Land, and that he may have his freedom from thenceforth, and One barrell of Beef and One of Herrings every Year while he lives & an Acre of Land round his House, and that his place of Residence be upon that Land, but under no Slavery after the Ten Years before mentioned.3 This small excerpt provides an insight into the many hardships enslaved people in Jamaica faced. Providence is given more of the ubiquitous salted herrings as a ‘present’ on his owner’s death than he would normally receive as part of his food allowance. No doubt the barrel of beef was only salted or ‘mess’ beef, too. More importantly, any future freedom was precarious at best. Providence would have to wait ten years and even then he would only be granted his freedom if he ‘behaves him Self well’. Given that Lawrence was dead, who would decide whether he had behaved well? By whose standards would that good behaviour be judged? Providence’s future depended on the caprice of Lawrence’s legatees. And supposing

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that after ten years anyone remembered this item in Lawrence’s will and recognized Providence’s ‘good’ behaviour, he still had to build his own house – and while he was to be given an acre around it, it was not good fertile land. Moreover, if Providence wanted to have that house, then it had to be on Lawrence’s land – he was not to leave the plantation. One wonders how much consolation the continuance of the barrels of herrings and beef would be in Providence’s freedom. Would they just have been a daily reminder of his previous enslavement and that his ‘freedom’ was severely contingent? Or would he simply have been grateful to have more food, whatever its quality, given the extremely high price of provisions in Jamaica? We do not know Providence’s age or why he was singled out in Lawrence’s will, but to be so noted it is likely that he was skilled. Given that skilled enslaved men did not normally attain such positions until in their thirties, it is likely that by 1766 Providence would have been past heavy labour and no longer his most ‘useful’ as an ‘economic input’.4 Even if he was not old and/or disabled by then, how was he to earn a living on the rocky land specified by Lawrence, isolated from his former peers and far from the potential earning possibilities in the parish port of Montego Bay? Would it have been better for Providence to have known he was to supposedly gain this ‘freedom’, or not to have known so that he was not disappointed if – or when – it was not granted? Despite the fact that enslaved people were ‘the primary actors in this institution’ of slavery, it is not easy to tell their histories because their voices are always mediated by white recording.5 With imagination, however, it is possible to do so to some extent.6 Yet while it is good to ‘emphasize the efforts of enslaved people more than the condition of slavery’ in order to tell their rich stories, it is problematic not to recognize that the agency of enslaved people was circumscribed by extreme violence, power de jure and de facto, hunger, and exhaustion.7 With this in mind, Douglas Armstrong’s ‘transformative model’ is useful because it recognizes the dire situation enslaved people were in while also stressing their autonomy and ‘creative solutions’ and acknowledging ‘degrees of resistance’ and ‘apparent accommodation’.8 This chapter, therefore, treads a line between acknowledging the notion of social death and not over-emphasizing the accomplishments of enslaved people.9 In so doing, it highlights their humanity.

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After a brief contextual section this chapter touches on several aspects of the lives of enslaved people: work on the plantation; urban work and jobbing; health and well-being in terms of food, housing, and clothing; illness and accidents; family, children, and separation; and becoming free and the perils of freedom. In covering these topics, the chapter extends our knowledge of the working and living patterns on one particular estate, Mesopotamia, a decade earlier than the previous analysis by Richard Dunn.10 Importantly, it also demonstrates that the war exacerbated the poor living and working conditions of enslaved people and that their lives were extremely precarious – especially when enslaved by people of more moderate means. Even ‘freedom’ meant something very different for a person of colour than it did for a white person.

‘three Thin Men’11 In October, Captain Jennings of the slave ship Nicholas reported on his sales to his principals in Liverpool. Due to slow sales, he had had to reduce the price of two ‘very Sickley’ boys and ‘three Thin Men’ in order to sell them.12 Sales of enslaved people were generally slow in 1756: of the 328 enslaved people that had arrived in Kingston in June on the Jamaica Packet, 135 were still awaiting sale somewhere ‘ashoar’ in September.13 Like the majority of enslaved people forcibly transported to Jamaica, Providence would have arrived at Kingston, been commodified once more, and sold in an open market.14 Men and women like Providence were often held in barracoons or warehouses while awaiting sale, in a similar manner to livestock.15 The experience of nearly half of all these enslaved people was that they were purchased in parcels of fifteen or more, destined for the sugar plantations that dominated the landscape by this time. In contrast, most enslavers purchased fewer than five people at a time.16 Indeed, a glance through the manumission records demonstrates the ubiquity of slaveholding – even relatively poor people were enslavers. It was a marker of freedom, and free people of colour, including those that had been freed themselves, aimed to be enslavers too.17 In the mid-eighteenth century, somewhere in the region of 170,000 enslaved people lived in Jamaica, 10,072 of whom arrived in 1756 alone.18 Around 62  per  cent of these people worked on

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large plantations or pens.19 Indeed, Providence would have been one of around 400 enslaved people on Lawrence’s sugar estate.20 Life for enslaved people in Jamaica was dominated by the plantation: a self-contained unit in which all the elements of production were combined in one place.21 On sugar plantations the annual routine was determined by the crop.22 During the dry season, from January to May or June, enslaved people were busy harvesting canes and processing sugar and rum. During the rainy season, from May to December, enslaved people would have been busy holing, dunging, planting, weeding, growing provisions, and maintaining the buildings and tools. Holing was particularly arduous, working for ten to twelve hours a day in the hottest and wettest weather. Indeed, a plantation’s enslaved labourers were often ‘protected’ from this toil by jobbing gangs that were hired specifically for this task.23 During crop time, however, working in the sugar works was ‘scarcely preferable’, as work continued through the night in intolerable heat and amid an appalling stench.24 Repairs also kept enslaved people busy at a ‘tempo [that] hardly abated’ throughout the year.25 The work on pens was ‘comparatively’ less arduous, as was working on a plantation that grew cotton, coffee, or indigo. In these areas there was generally, but not always, less incidence of gang labour, less night work, lower mortality, and higher fertility – and therefore higher incidence of natural increase. There may also have been more time for enslaved people to work on their provision grounds and provide themselves with a better diet.26 Life chances were therefore better on a pen or nonsugar plantation, but these were not the dominant experience. This was all relative in any case. Working in an urban environment often, but not always, offered opportunities for independent employment and earning some cash. At the same time, however, the hardest work was done by jobbing gangs, many of which were located in Kingston. Indeed, hiring out enslaved people was widespread in Jamaica by the mid-eighteenth century, both in urban areas and on plantations.27 It was one way in which nonelites could use their enslaved workforces to make enough money to move into cotton and coffee – and, perhaps, eventually sugar – and therefore move up the social hierarchy.28 There is no doubt, however, that wherever the location, enslaved people in Jamaica worked much longer hours than their counterparts elsewhere in the Atlantic world.29

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‘Clarissa … is without exception the best working wench on the Estate’30 When John Kinlock wrote to his employer, the owner of the Mesopotamia estate, in September 1756, he noted that an enslaved woman, Clarissa, was ‘without exception the best working wench on the Estate’.31 Although Kinlock considered her to be ‘on the decline … as to her Age’, he still thought that she would be ‘good’ for a few years yet. Clarissa was clearly of large stature and perceived by Kinlock to be a good worker; indeed, she was was still considered a good field hand in 1760. She also lived longer than perhaps even Kinlock surmised and was still living on the estate in 1778, though by then she was not considered fit for work. Women like Clarissa often did the hardest work.32 They cut canes, manured, weeded, cut trees, extracted stones, and carried heavy weights.33 They dominated the sugar fields, while men were more likely to hold skilled jobs such as coopers, boilers, or distillers.34 Such skilled work was highly valued by planters, and an enslaved artisan would receive more clothing and provisions or better housing, meaning that health, housing, and food allocation were all gendered.35 One rare letter from an enslaved man called Quaco provides a good example of how these roles were valued by enslaved people. We do not know who wrote it for him, but it is clear that it is his words we hear (see figure 8.1). In 1756, he was working in the distillery on one of Rose Fuller’s plantations. On Fuller’s return to England later that year, it would appear that Quaco was removed from the role by a new overseer. In 1757, he wrote to Fuller asking for the position back. He wrote that he was ‘Blameless’ and had been ‘Ordered Out of that Charge’ by the new overseer ‘to Oblige one of his friend[s]’. To stress his good nature he added that if he died, God would ‘find me a Christian’.36 Seemingly, Fuller never replied to Quaco, and so it is unlikely that he regained his position. It is clear, however, that these roles were important to enslaved people, and might be passed down through the generations, thereby benefiting their children as well. When John Kinlock wrote to the owner of the Mesopotamia estate, he included an inventory of all the enslaved people living there. Unfortunately, the occupation of each person was not consistently listed until 1762, but this was a sugar estate so around

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Figure 8.1 Quaco to Rose Fuller, Spanish Town, 21 June 1757.

67  per  cent of the enslaved people would have been field hands and around 8 per cent would have been skilled workers.37 Table 8.1 shows the numbers of enslaved people on the estate in 1756; the ratio of men to women is consistent with that for the period 1762– 1831.38 Although the 1756 inventory does not list the occupations of all the enslaved people, we can infer those of some from the ‘value’ assigned to them by white people, from the occasional comment

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Table 8.1 Enslaved people on the Mesopotamia estate, 1756.

Number Percentage

Men

Women

Boys

Girls

Total

97

89

51

31

268

36.2

33.2

19.0

11.6

100

Source: An Inventory of the Negroes and Stock on Mesopotamia Estate Belonging to Joseph Foster Barham Esqr taken on the 11th of September 1756 Before James Dunn & John Rickets Esqrs, HCA 30/259, f.92.

made alongside their names, and by cross-referencing with other slave inventories.39 The most highly ‘valued’ enslaved people on the estate were Matt, Guy, and Primus, each valued at £100.40 These were skilled men of prime working age. Matt was noted as a driver, and was probably in his thirties – men were not usually promoted to this post until that age.41 Guy was a blacksmith and Primus was a mason. However, all three men had died by 1768. Several other men were also highly skilled, inluding Austin, Ammoe, and Essex, who were valued at £90 each. Austin was another mason, Ammoe was a carpenter, and Essex was another smith. Essex may have been chosen to be trained as a smith due to his light skin (he was described as a Creole in 1757). Having been in these occupations since 1744, Austin, Ammoe, and Essex were all dead by 1760. Other men who were highly valued, at £80 each, were Barton, who was a cooper, and Bachus, who was a good field hand. John and Joe were likely also prime field hands working alongside Bachus. Bachus may have been perceived as a particularly good or loyal man as he was assigned to the parson’s house in 1768.42 Thirty-six of the ninety-seven men on Mesopotamia were valued at £75. None of them had an occupation listed beside their names, but it is likely that they were also prime field hands working in the first gang.43 They were joined by new additions to the workforce that year, many of whom were valued at between £45 and £55.44 This suggests that these new men were destined to be field workers too, but in the second gang. Of these new men, only Cletos seems to have escaped the arduous labour of the field. Either he came as a sawyer or he was trained in this skill by 1760. Cletos seems to have rebelled against his situation. By 1778 he was noted as a good sawyer, but sulky and a ‘runaway’. In September, when Mesopotamia’s inventory was being drawn up, these men and women would have been busy digging cane

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holes (unless jobbing gangs were brought in to ‘spare’ them) and cleaning and cutting canes, working hard at a constant rhythmic pace.45 Other enslaved men were ascribed lower values and may have worked in a variety of unskilled or less-skilled work, such as watchmen, barbers, or fence cutters.46 For example, Mingo (who was superannuated in 1756) had been working as a ratcatcher in 1744. Possibly he used rattraps like those imported for Crescent Estate.47 The ironically named Mr  Sam was ascribed a value of only £10, and he was listed as a ropemaker in 1756; however, he seems to have died early the next year. Those new enslaved people purchased by the attorney Mr Pool in 1756 may have been acquired as a ‘job lot’, as another man, Tinker, was also valued at only £10. One wonders how these new arrivals were treated by the enslaved people already living at Mesopotamia. Were they welcomed as new additions who would share the labour and help remember African customs?48 Or were they shunned as another call on scarce resources?49 At least those purchased together had each other to rely on, as they may well have been separated from their loved ones on their former estate. It also seems that some familial relationships were transferred to Mesopotamia, as several women and children arrived at the same time. Unfortunately, Tinker did not have time to integrate into the Mesopotamia workforce: he died of dropsy on 27 November 1756, having already been ill when he arrived. While most women worked in the field, some were ascribed higher value or were noted with a particular occupation. Several women purchased from Dr Paterson, a former attorney, were skilled workers.50 Silvia and Hager, both doctoresses, were valued at £75 and £70, respectively. Cooba was also a doctoress, but perhaps she was older or not as skilled as she was valued at £50. Perhaps Silvia, Hager, and Cooba worked together in the ‘hothouse’, providing herbal remedies of their own making.51 The move was not good for them: Hagar and Cooba were both dead by 1757, and Silvia by 1760. Other women were equally valuable but had no occupation noted. These women were unlikely to be doctoresses as that occupati0n had been specifically noted, but they may have been midwives, seamstresses, housekeepers, cooks, or other skilled domestics.52 Perhaps Mary, noted as a ‘White negro’, worked in the big house as a cook.53 Being ‘elevated’ to the ‘great’ house was, however, a dubious benefit as enslaved domestics were particularly prone to the caprices of the white people living on the estate.54 Mary would have found

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herself more likely to be beaten or raped. Several other women were ascribed higher values but were in fact prime field hands. These included Clarissa, as we have seen, and Clarinder, who was valued at £70 and considered a good field hand. She was still working as a field hand twelve years later but had died by 1778. As with the men, many women were grouped at similar values of between £40 and £50, and they were most likely working in the somewhat less arduous second gang.55 They included Patience, who was still working in the field in 1768 but who was described in 1778 as hardy but old. Another long-suffering field hand was Peggy, who had been purchased by the new attorney Mr Pool. She was described in 1778 as willing but elderly. She may have been old, but she obviously was not considered old enough to be superannuated. Two women called Sarah had the notation ‘Mountain’ after their names. Many plantations had satellite pens, and given that there were 314 breeding cattle at Mesopotamia, it would seem that this was the case here, with ‘Mountain’ designating an area or pen.56 Perhaps the Sarah who was valued at £40 was training the other Sarah, who, valued at £10, was possibly a younger woman. Or perhaps the relationship was the other way around, with the less valuable Sarah being older and with not many years left. The trainer may have taught her trainee the names of the cows they looked after: ‘Beauty’, ‘Faithful’, ‘False Heart’, ‘Brazenface’, or ‘Mangoe Arse’.57 Adopting such African naming practices was one way in which those born in Africa could remember their homeland and express some autonomy. Having slightly less arduous duties did not help the two Sarahs: they were both dead by April 1757. Several other women working on the satellite pen were valued at considerably less than the two Sarahs. These women may have been watching the children, tending the chickens, or possibly working in the third gang or the grass gang.58 None of them seems to have still been alive by 1760. There were fifty-one boys and thirty-one girls living at Mesopotamia. The wide variations in the the boys’ values show that some must have been younger, and some older and in training. Even working on the grass gang would have been seen as training: an economic strategy for moving up through the gangs.59 Some had higher values ascribed to them: Jemmy, Jack, and Julius, for example, were each valued at £45. It would seem that they were being trained as skilled workers. Jemmy was listed as a mule boy in 1760, Jack as a carpenter in 1768, and Julius as a sawyer in 1760. Julius was, like Essex, noted as

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a ‘Mulatto’, so he may have been chosen for this role due to his lighter skin, as such men were considered more suitable for skilled work. The girls were also ascribed a wide variety of values. Most of them would have been destined for field work, but we can discern the stories of a few of the others. Quasheba, purchased from Mr Paterson and ascribed a value of £30, was noted as Cooba’s and may have been her daughter. Perhaps Quasheba was being trained by Cooba to be a doctoress too, spending her days with her mother learning about herbs and traditional cures.60 Sophia was also a new arrival, having been purchased by Mr Pool. Although valued at only £5, she was noted as a ‘Mulatto’. Sophia probably spent her days in the house learning domestic chores, ‘favoured’ due to her skin colour.61 Yet while she escaped field work, and may have received extra clothing, she was also closer to, and at the mercy of, the white people on the estate, just like ‘White Mary’.62 Such ‘promotion’ was a double-edged sword.

‘as we can get him a good Master shall hire him out on the best terms we can’63 On 1 October, an enslaved man called Charles Farnham was in the office of elite merchants Hibberts & Millan. They wrote home to his enslaver in London that Charles was with them, and noted that ‘assoon we can get him a good Master shall hire him out on the best terms we can’.64 Warranting a surname, Charles Farnham may have been a particularly valuable enslaved person, and he was probably highly skilled. In Kingston, free people were particularly likely to own large numbers of enslaved people for hiring out – 46.6  per  cent of all enslaved people in Kingston were held in groups of more than seventy-five, and they could be found in a wide variety of occupations and locations.65 These large groups were usually hired out as ‘jobbers’. Under this system, enslaved people were hired out by the task, the day, or by another specified term. Jobbing gangs were subject to extreme exploitation, and those enslaved working in this way had the most wretched of lives and were likely to die within seven years of working in such conditions.66 Charles Farnham would have the best chances if he were skilled and able to hire himself out directly, which was common in urban areas, whereas in the case of jobbing gangs the enslaver was paid directly.67 Those urban enslaved people

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who rented themselves out received ‘board wages’ and had to seek their own food and accommodation; this gave them some independence and an opportunity to save some money, possibly towards their freedom.68 Many urban jobbers were to be found on the wharves. Captain James Cooke of the Europa had problems with his crew that meant that he had to hire enslaved people to help him load and unload his ship.69 Perhaps Cooke had hired men from William Austin, who had more than 100 enslaved people working for him in Kingston. Most of them were sailors, but there were also wherry men, seamstresses, and domestics.70 Jack was an enslaved man who may well have been working on HMS Rye, perhaps as a personal servant to Henry Archbould; and surely the ‘Negro Man Barber Cato’, who lived in Westmoreland, was named after his occupation.71 Coopers were also required in ports such as Kingston or Savanna-la-Mar to make up barrels for exporting goods or moving them around the island. James Webb spent £200 a year on ‘Negro Coopers’, and another £12 for his washing, which would have been done by enslaved women.72 Enslaved men and women also carried firewood around the barracks, including into the hospital, where they ‘protected’ white soldiers’ bodies from such work.73 Sometimes this firewood was for the sick soldiers to cook food with, but the sick prisoners and the French prisoners of war also exchanged their food rations for firewood. In this way the white men could cook their food and the enslaved people got some extra rations, even if it was yet more mess beef.74 Enslaved people also worked in places we might not expect. For example, several enslaved people worked at the springs at St Thomas.75 Some of them may have been enslaved by one of the directors – Peter Vallete, perhaps – because in 1754 ‘a new branding iron for the Negroes’ was purchased for the baths.76 This cost was listed among the food and other supplies as a commonplace expense. In the years running up to 1756, salt fish, flour, mackerel, and herrings had been purchased for enslaved people working at Bath, as well as ‘15 yards of Oznaburgs’.77 Others worked at the springs too.78 One of the tasks they performed was to secure the sulphur stream at St Thomas from encroaching on nearby Bath.79 More still worked for the postal service. In February, the assembly paid out £202 for the ‘Hire and maintenance’ of enslaved people related to the postal service.80 Perhaps they carried the post to estates or

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between the island’s different mail offices. No doubt Charles Mitchell also hired enslaved people to carry the 3,000 bricks he had ordered with which to build his two new stores and house in Kingston.81 At the start of the year, the planter John Boyd petitioned for payment for the great ‘labour he has now perfected’ in building ‘the Mayday Hills road in the parish of St  Elizabeth’.82 By his great labour he meant, of course, the great labour of his enslaved men and women. He had already received 985 guineas towards the cost of the road – a vast sum – but he was owed the remainder of his total costs of 1,200 guineas. In December, the assembly paid another 400 guineas for building a road from Bagnals in St Mary parish towards the sea, as directed by elite planter Charles Price. A further 205 guineas were to be paid for another road leading from Maiden Hall to the sea, also in St Mary and also under the direction of Price.83 As noted earlier, the hiring out of enslaved people was widespread in plantation management by the mid-eighteenth century. Women, usually assigned to field work, were an integral part of these jobbing gangs.84 Jobbing gangs on plantations had the hardest work because they were often used to ‘protect’ a planter’s main labour force. Because these workers were not part of the planter’s regular workforce, they were likely to receive even poorer rations and living conditions – they were not part of his or her ‘investment’. In any case, enslaved people were seen as interchangeable. When Colonel Lawrence wrote his will, he did not mention only Providence. He also bequeathed twenty-four enslaved people to his four children: six each. Lawrence also specifically noted that any monies received for their hire should be added to the shares given to his sons but deducted from the fortunes of his daughters. Quite apart from the fact of Lawrence’s patriarchal decision to favour his sons, and more importantly, these enslaved were not named, and were clearly, in Lawrence’s mind, interchangeable.85 We can see this interchangeability in the hiring out of enslaved people on the estates of absentee planters. Nearly 16  per  cent of the fifty-one Accounts Produce for 1756 mention income received for the hiring out of enslaved people from estates.86 Many were hired out for significant amounts of time. London and Marma of Luana estate in St Elizabeth were hired out to different people at £15  per  annum each. While London seems to have been working away for a whole year, Marma was absent for six months. Two men and a ‘man boy’ were hired out from Crook’s plantation in Hanover,

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but these unnamed men must have been less skilled than London and Marma because they were all hired out at £10 per annum each.87 Begg Penn’s owner also received £16 for ‘Negroe hire’. If this was for one person, then that person must also have been relatively skilled to command such a high fee. For example, a blacksmith hired out from Humphrey Manning’s estate was charged out at £24 a year. At the same time, Bess and Mirtillah commanded only £19 6  shillings 3 pence for a whole year of their combined labour. At least Yabba and Sally, hired out from Richard Ragg’s plantation, had each other for company (presuming they got on). They must have been skilled to be hired out together at £4 2 shillings 6 pence for two weeks when another unnamed woman was hired out for £12 10 shillings and Phillis was hired out for £14 8 shillings 8 pence, both for a whole year. In sharp contrast, when three carpenters were hired out from Ragg’s plantation he received £70 16 shillings 10½  pence. Women were consistently hired out at lower rates, presumably for field labour. For example, an unnamed woman at Garden River plantation in St Thomas was charged out at £8 per annum. The income from hiring out enslaved people could be quite a substantial part of a smaller plantation’s income. Indeed, rental fees dominated the incomes of some absentees. John Cargill received only £17 3 shillings 7¾ pence from the sales of his guinea corn, but £167 9 shillings 6½ pence from the rental of enslaved people: more than 91 per cent of his income. Similarly, the absentee ‘infant’ Sarah Bonner received nearly half of her income from her Jamaican properties from renting out ‘20 women Negroes’ in 1756.88 As hired labour, these supposedly interchangeable enslaved people were probably placed in jobbing gangs and given the hardest labour and the worst accommodation. They were also absent from their estates for long periods of time, separated from their friends and family. Often enslaved by people further down the social scale, the lives of those who worked as ‘jobbers’ were particularly precarious.

‘its not fitt to feed Negroes’89 When Horlock & Wagstaffe wrote in September about some flour that had been sent to them, ‘we have dayly Complaints its not fitt to feed Negroes’, it must have been very bad indeed, because much of the food given to enslaved people was of poor quality.90 Similarly,

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John Byrn wrote that some cheeses sent to him were in such bad order that ‘none but Negroes wou’d taste [them]’.91 Byrn’s comment about the cheese was of course ironic: enslaved people were not given cheese. In fact, their diets contained very little fat content, which made it difficult for their bodies to absorb vitamins, and the heat from their iron cooking pots oxidized what little vitamin content there was.92 The situation was particularly bad in 1756 because the ‘continuance of dry weather’ in January had destroyed many of the provision grounds where enslaved people grew food to supplement their meagre rations.93 The white petitioners to the assembly felt themselves ‘very great sufferers’, presumably because either enslaved people would not be able to work so well or they were having to pay to supplement their rations. They gave evidence that they were even supplying each others’ enslaved people with provisions. Later in the year, the situation was made worse by extremely bad rains. John Kinlock noted that due to the ‘quantity of Rain in the mountains’ around Mesopotamia, ‘the Negro provisions have likewise suffered’ along with the sugarcanes.94 Even with the food from their provision grounds topping up their meagre rations, enslaved people managed to consume only about 3,000 calories a day, when ‘prime’ adults working on a sugar plantation required around 4,000.95 Indeed, theft of food was common because it was in such short supply.96 New arrivals on Mesopotamia such as Tinker might be given the worst provisions, and they would not yet be able to grow their own. Unless someone took pity on them, they would receive the least nourishment.97 The dominant source of food was the ubiquitous salted herrings. Enslaved people were usually provided with an allotted amount of these (or of salted meat), such as those ordered for Crescent Estate.98 This may have amounted to as little as a quarter or a half a pound per day.99 Indeed, the only time enslaved people might taste fresh meat was at Christmas.100 Edward Long later claimed that enslaved people enjoyed the herrings; but the heat made them smell foul and they went off when the barrels were left open before and during distribution.101 Even when they were edible, the salt and the heat damaged the proteins in the fish, limiting their nutritional value. Moreover, the best herrings may have been eaten by the men, causing the women to suffer even more.102 Among the allotted provisions was rum, of which skilled men such as Primus, Guy, and Matt would have received extra rations.103

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Much of the enslaved people’s nourishment came from food they had grown themselves in the kitchen gardens and provision grounds they had been allocated (on ground not suitable for growing sugar).104 These provision grounds were usually some distance from the slave village – sometimes up to seven miles – and could only be visited at the weekend, so livestock could not be kept on them, except possibly goats, which might be tethered there.105 These grounds were not large: possibly around a third of an acre.106 Perhaps the doctoress Cooba grew yams, plantains, bananas, red peppers, okra, fava beans, or guinea corn, which would provide extra iron.107 In the holing season field hands such as Clarissa no doubt would have been too tired to visit every weekend. Besides the provision grounds, enslaved people often had kitchen gardens to the side or rear of their huts where they could not be seen by white observers, thereby modifying the imposed order and acting as a subtle form of resistance.108 Some were fenced off individually, while others were used collectively.109 In her garden Clarissa may have kept an old flour barrel for land crabs – something different to feed herself some evenings.110 Peggy and Clarinder would have grown okra and yams, or some coconuts and avocado for their fat content. They would also have grown some fruit trees, or kept some chickens or a pig, which could not have been left at the faroff provision grounds. Perhaps Guy and Primus helped them build their hog sties or small buildings for food storage.111 A cooking area where Clarinder could cook her food in a calabash would have been found nearby.112 Perhaps she made calalu, a stew made from green leaves spiced with kaya (possibly cayenne pepper); moasher (mussa?), which was boiled cassava instead of bread; or trawmawly, crab meat cooked with lime juice.113 Using African terms for such meals gave those such as Clarinder a voice, however small. While Clarinder was cooking her food, Matt may have sat nearby smoking tobacco in one of the ‘Negro Pipes’ imported by Gerrard Nash.114 Perhaps Matt spent what little free time he had in the evenings sitting in a communal area outside his hut, playing games with Guy and Primus or telling stories of Anansi the spider-trickster to remind himself of his African heritage.115 Having been laid out around 1700, it is quite likely that Mesopotamia’s slave village was located on ground that could be seen from the main house: so that white people could better observe and control the movements of the enslaved people.116 The layout of the

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huts in which enslaved people lived might therefore have formed a small, tidy village.117 People such as Beckford saw them as idealistic rustic spaces where there was ‘a pleasing bustle … of those picturesque beauties’.118 No doubt enslaved people were not so enamoured with their village, although some were very attached to their small pieces of land.119 Their huts would have been built of wattle and daub, made up around hard wooden posts driven into the ground, and with a palm thatch. Most of them would have been around twenty feet by fourteen feet, with two rooms and an earthen floor beaten hard – though, as a blacksmith, Guy’s hut may well have been larger. Some may have had a bed frame – especially those housing more skilled enslaved people, who could build it themselves – but for most the cold floor would have been the bed, perhaps with a sleeping mat made from plantain leaves to protect against the damp. Most enslaved people had to build their own huts, and poor Tinker may therefore have been housed in a hut with the other new male arrivals or with another family until he had time to build his own.120 He may have been resented for taking up valuable space. Of the two rooms, one was for sleeping and one was for cooking, although many cooked outside in their yard as well.121 Either way, the fire was usually kept alight continually both so that food could be cooked quickly and to provide some warmth during the cooler nights. The huts were unlikely to have had windows but may have had a small oil lamp for light. The doctoress Hager would have hung meat in the rafters to keep it away from the rats. Those, such as seamstresses, that had managed to earn some cash may have purchased a table and chairs, a stool, some crockery, or possibly even books or prints.122 Inside their huts, Bachus, Clarissa, Clarinder, and Peggy would have had the ubiquitous hoe, a cane knife, and an axe, but there would also have been iron cooking pots, maybe a homemade calabash, carved bowls, mortars and pestles, and other pots, or yabbas. There would have been a blanket – or maybe two for Guy, as a skilled enslaved man. As a blacksmith, he may have accumulated some hinges or rivets with which to fashion a cupboard – maybe even a padlock with which to lock it. The quality of such homemade items depended on the skills of the enslaved people making them.123 Enslaved people had few clothes to hang in their huts. Material and sometimes ready-made clothes were given to enslaved people

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at Christmas, but just how much they received was dependent on gender and rank within their occupations.124 In any case, the material would have been the ubiquitous osnaburg, Peniston Blue, or, sometimes, checks. Enslaved people would often have to sew their own clothes. The attorney Mr  Pool’s order for Crescent Estate suggests that the enslaved people there had to make their own clothes: ‘1300 ells’ of best osnaburg ¾  tds (threads?); ‘18  lb[?] Best brown Oznabrigs Thread’; ‘600 needles nos  1 and 2’; 20  yards ‘haire Cloath’; and ‘16  Dozn felt hats’.125 Possibly some of them received clothes ready-made by Elizabeth Metcalfe in Kingston and sold by Case & Southworth.126 Osnaburg may have been cheap but it was not pleasant to wear. It was harsh against the skin, and it took several times of washing to soften and stop it feeling like needles pricking the wearer all over.127 New arrivals such as Tinker and Cletos may have been allocated new clothes on arrival, but it is just as likely they had to wait until Christmas. In this case the estate would have saved the cost of their clothing for a few months. Enslaved people therefore tried to obtain more clothes if they could. If Clarissa had managed to sell some of her provisions at the Sunday market, then she may have bought some material from which to make herself a dress.128 Perhaps Primus carved some buttons out of bone for her, or purchased her an imported buckle with which to finish it.129 At the very least she would have used a piece of rope to hitch up her dress, both to make working in the fields easier and as a form of cultural expression. As a skilled doctoress, Cooba may have been able to use her skills to barter or purchase some colourful material to wear as a headdress, or to make a dress for holiday wear.130 Possibly she purchased a piece of fine white Silesian linen to wear as ‘spirit cloth’ to ward off evil spirits or to protect a baby: a cultural expression drawn from African belief systems.131 A seamstress may have made clothes for her fellow enslaved out of material they had purchased. Those she made in her own time would have earned her some money, and possibly she saved some to literally ‘fashion her freedom’.132 Usually, however, a life’s savings for most enslaved people was unlikely to exceed £20 or £30. Enslaved people spent most of their earnings on extra food, clothing, furniture, tobacco, and other consumer goods.133

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‘her Life Despaird off’134 On 29 September, slave ship captain William Miller noted that one of his enslaved women had ‘got the Smal pox’.135 Sometimes this was brought over from West Africa, where outbreaks of smallpox were common in the barracoons and could cause epidemics if transferred onto a slaving vessel.136 Of those enslaved unlucky enough to live in St Catherine parish around Spanish Town, 40 per cent might die from fevers caused by smallpox and measles.137 Yaws and what white people called leprosy could also have come from Africa, but they might have been wet beriberi or elephantiasis. Two women that had arrived on the Phoenix were ‘in the Yaws have never been fit to show … one of them is thought will die but that the other will do well’.138 Yaws did not usually kill people, so more likely the woman nearer death had another disease or was mourning the other seventy-four of her enslaved shipmates that did not survive the journey.139 In fact, enslaved people were more likely to die of pulmonary diseases, closely followed by dropsy, fevers, yaws, inflammations, and dysentery.140 Ironically, inoculation for yaws, which had been practised by West Africans and brought to Jamaica, was discouraged by white people in Jamaica probably as part of the process of denigrating African knowledge.141 In addition to being the poorest people in the British Empire, Jamaica’s enslaved people had the highest morbidity and mortality rates.142 Death rates were high throughout the year, exceeding births by at least 3 per cent a year, with peaks in January, July, and October.143 Mortality was even higher for newly arrived Africans: about a third died within three years of arriving in Jamaica.144 Working bare foot, enslaved people were also prey to chigoe and sand fleas, which accounted for much lameness.145 Such diseases were not fatal but were seriously disabling. February and March were the ‘healthiest’ seasons, but during the May rains pleurisy and inflammatory diseases became more prevalent, and as the heat increased over the summer malaria increased. July, August, and September were generally relatively ‘healthy’, though diarrhoea was still a common complaint. When the autumn rainy season began, lung and bowel complaints became more common.146 The pattern of sickness therefore roughly mirrored that of death. This was more pronounced for women, however, as they were a large proportion of field labour and more likely to be involved in holing

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and dunging in October and November.147 The health of female field workers was particularly poor, with around 13 per cent likely to be in various stages of disability, and with those over the age of forty more likely to suffer from poor health.148 On top of that, dangerous conditions and exhaustion meant accidents were frequent. Kicks from mules, cuts from edged tools, falls from high places, and burns and scalds were all common.149 On the Mesopotamia estate, four of the women had signs of having spent many long days at the sugar works feeding in the cane. Silvia and Tamar had each lost a hand, and poor Leah and Margaritta had both ‘lost both hands’; they probably watched over the children as a result.150 It is noticeable that none of the men were listed as having lost a limb. Able men were either kept on the first gang or placed in skilled trades. None were listed with the burns they would have received from the boiling house. Such scars escaped the whites’ notice if they did not affect the enslaved’s ability to work.151 Several were noted as old but still capable of work, as they were assigned a ‘value’.152 Others were worn out and past work, noted as ‘Supr Annutd’, and allegedly had no value.153 Charity was also listed as of no value and as ‘Distemperd’, which usually meant weakened or impaired.154 Betty was noted as having ‘no value as Blind’, as was poor Ned. Ned’s disability was made starker as he was listed next to another man, Nero, valued at £70. Perhaps the doctoresses Cooba, Hager, and Silvia looked after Charity, Betty, and Ned, and gave them herbs and poultices.155 But what could Cooba have offered poor Cicily, who was clearly very ill, either work-worn or depressed, and ‘her Life Despaird off’.156 Most likely she despaired of the life she had been forced to live. Possibly she was willing herself to die. Cicily did not die in 1756, although she was no longer listed by 1760.157 However, seven people did die on Mesopotamia in 1756.158 Barham thought of himself as relatively ‘caring’ regarding his enslaved people, but this was obviously not the case.159 Chloe, the only adult woman to die that year, died of the flux.160 Three men died of dropsy: Anthony, who was an invalid, Tony, and Tinker, who had arrived on the estate only that year. Three children died. One of them was Cooba’s unnamed child, who was just a few days old.161 Another child, Betty, died of yaws. What do we make of the death of Abbo, a young child apparently smothered by her mother? This may have been an accident by an exhausted woman rolling over onto her child in her sleep, or it could have been more akin to resistance.162

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Possibly Abbo’s mother wanted to save her child from the life that Cicily so despaired of. These seven people may have been buried in the yard or even under their beds. Perhaps one of the other women put Chloe’s bone buttons in her grave for her to enjoy in the afterlife. A lock could also have been buried with her to keep her duppy (spirit) in the ground.163 African cultural practices were not perceived as problematic until after Tacky’s Revolt in 1760. Indeed, those such as burying the dead facing east therefore persisted, allowing enslaved people to organize and reorganize their spaces, and to pay their respects to their dead in their own way.164

‘he & Clarissa would chuse not to be separated’165 It is rare to be able to read the words of enslaved people and freed people of colour. We are fortunate to have five letters that allow us to do so. We saw above that Quaco had written to Rose Fuller about his position in the distillery; two more refer to a formerly enslaved man called Joe and his family. Joe ‘lived with Mr Peete’ on one of Rose Fuller’s pens, but in 1756 he was in a long-term relationship with an enslaved woman called Lucea. By 1758 Joe had gained his freedom and had moved to live with a Mr Ellis in Spanish Town. He wrote to Fuller asking him to grant him a ‘small piece of Land … at your Penn over the River, in order to Enable me to support my Wife & Children’ (see figure 8.2).166 Joe had sent Fuller some cashew nuts as a present, no doubt to try to curry favour. Fuller did not appear to answer, however, because Joe wrote to him again in 1759, proudly informing him that he was now coachman to the governor (see figure  8.3).167 Someone seems to have written the letters for him, as they are written in different hands, but Joe knew how to use polite letter conventions and how to present himself as a hard-working citizen who could afford to build a ‘Commodious’ house with a garden to provide for his ‘wife’, Lucea, and their children.168 Indeed, he hoped that the children might be able to live on in the house after his death. It is unlikely that Joe’s hopes were fulfilled, however. Fuller was not prompt at dealing with such requests, and marriages of enslaved people were not legally recognized in 1756. However, it is clear that enslaved people cohabited by mutual consent and

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Figure 8.2 Joe that lived with Mr Peete to Rose Fuller, Spanish Town, 3 October 1758.

sustained a family household if they could – only about half the female population remained childless in the mid-eighteenth century.169 Some couples would wear a piece of cloth or bark as a symbol of marriage, others had a cotta: a circular pad made of dried plantain leaves, which was cut in two on ‘divorce’.170 Edward Long suggested that the circle was an African symbol of eternity, and the ring one of perpetual love and fidelity.171

Figure 8.3 Joe ‘Peete’ to Rose Fuller, Spanish Town, 16 July 1759.

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Joe’s family was not the only one trying to be together. Of the fiftynine manumission documents entered in 1756, 41.4 per cent of them make explicit mention of family or fictive kin connections.172 However, only two cases appear to be of Africans purchasing the freedom of family members. In late 1755, Amey Cross was living in Kingston. A free ‘Negro’ woman, she may have previously purchased her own freedom.173 In October 1755, she received £26 from her ‘Negro Woman’ Jubah, who was purchasing her own freedom.174 Six months later, Amey paid Mary Bayley of St Catherine £50 for ‘One certain Negro woman named Frankey’.175 As both Amey and Frankey were Black, we might surmise that they been shipmates on the Middle Passage – sisters, perhaps, or mother and daughter? Possibly they had formed a bond on board a slave vessel and were fictive kin.176 We occasionally see multigenerational families on one settlement. Molly Peters lived in Portland. Described as a ‘Negro’, she purchased her own freedom in June, along with that of her children Jack, William, Molly, Sarah, Dennis, and Ned, for the nominal sum of 10 shillings.177 She also purchased the freedom of four grandchildren: Sarah’s daughters Bessy and Mary, plus John and George, who were the sons of Bessy, another daughter who had died. Given that Molly had six children and four grandchildren, she may well have been past her prime working age. She was also very unusual in having so many children, let alone grandchildren, especially ones who had survived to adulthood.178 More than half of the children born in Jamaica did not survive more than nine days.179 Nicholas Pilsham, who manumitted Molly and her family, acknowledged her ‘many good Services’, a standard phrase, but the low cost of freedom was probably due to the fact that Jack, William, Molly, Sarah, John, and George were all noted as ‘Mulatto’, while the others were noted as ‘other issue’. Pilsham most likely allowed Molly to purchase their freedom because they were his ‘issue’, despite the fact that he had a wife, Ann.180 Ann may have been glad to see the reminder of her husband’s perfidy go, but for these enslaved people, family clearly mattered. In John Kinlock’s letter to the owner of Mesopotamia, Joseph Barham, in September, he mentioned five enslaved people living on the estate who were not listed on the inventory. This was because they were the property of Barham’s mother, who had recently died. Kinlock thought Ambrose and his two younger brothers, Quaco and Tom, ‘so ill disposed in every shape that the Estate will be no worse

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for wanting them’.181 Kinlock also noted that, as we saw earlier, Clarissa was ‘without exception the best working wench on the Estate’. As she was legally the property of Barham’s deceased mother, Kinlock recommended that Barham purchase Clarissa and ‘Tom … a man boy but Middling as to his qualities, but he & Clarissa would chuse not to be separated their being some sort of Relation between them’. Tom may have been Clarissa’s son, or perhaps he was an adoptive son, part of a fictive-kin network that was a coping strategy brought from Africa.182 Possibly Kinlock thought that Clarissa and Tom would both work better if they were kept together: even planters occasionally recognized that enslaved people reacted strongly to separation.183 Nor were Clarissa and Tom the only family on Mesopotamia. As we saw earlier, Cooba the doctoress and her daughter had arrived together at Mesopotamia from another plantation, but other relationships were also noted among enslaved people already living on the estate. Several of the children were listed with names after their own, possibly indicating their parents. Among the boys, George was noted as Beniba’s, Quaco (not the Quaco mentioned above) as Cooba’s, and Jasper had Patience written after his name. Green had Tom listed next to his name, Occana had Jabers(?) next to his, and another Occana was noted as Nancy’s. Of the apparent parents, only Patience, the field hand, was mentioned on the inventory. The others had most likely died, as very few enslaved were sold from Mesopotamia.184 Among the girls, Lucy was noted as Cuffey’s, and another Lucy as Bathsheba’s. Both Lucies seemed to have had one parent living on the estate, although as slave status was usually taken through the mother, it was very unusual to see Lucy’s father, Cuffey, noted next to her name. Hannah’s mother Judy was no longer listed – having probably also died – and Hannah was listed as Matt’s (the driver). Perhaps his high status meant that he would be able to get Hannah out of field labour. Kinlock’s comment about Clarissa and Tom appears to have been quite unusual because not much concern was given to the relationships of enslaved people. Indeed, separation was an ever-present threat. In the same will as Providence was given his precarious freedom, and the twenty-four unnamed enslaved people were ‘willed’ to James Lawrence’s children, we see glimpses of familial relationships. ‘Suckey & her Son named Hannibal’ were both ‘given’ to Lawrence’s wife, Mary, but on Mary’s death they were to go to his eldest daughter.185 Presumably these must have been ‘favoured’

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domestics in order to be named. However, while it was good that they were to stay together, they were also at the whims of the white people living at and visiting the house; furthermore, if Lawrence’s eldest daughter got married, then Suckey and Hannibal would have to go to a new home and leave their friends behind. Like that of Providence, their fate was at the mercy of Lawrence’s heirs.

‘Dear Master … I know that you are a Man of your Word’186 Two other amazing letters that have survived give us an insight into how enslaved people tried to negotiate their freedom. In June, Will, an enslaved Black man, wrote to Rose Fuller from Spanish Town. It would seem that Fuller had promised – in front of his friends and associates Mr Straton, Mr Smith, and Mr Lee (Fuller’s agent) – that Will ‘should Serve Nobody after’ him.187 Will asked for ‘a Line from your hands Conferming’ (see figure  8.4). Fuller may have meant Will’s freedom to be granted on his death, but clearly Will took it as a promise of freedom when Fuller left Jamaica. Will was to be bitterly disappointed. Fuller received another letter from him written in July 1758 in which Will reminded him of ‘your generous Promise to me … as I know you are a Man of your Word’ [emphasis in original].188 Just to be sure he was not seen as impertinent, Will suggested the post was at fault: ‘I have wrote to you before this but am Afraid have miscarried’ (see figure 8.5). Like those of Joe, Will’s letters are not in the same hand. So who wrote these letters on his behalf? Did they think he had a chance of gaining his freedom? Regardless, Will knew how to play up to Fuller’s mores, telling his ‘Master’ and ‘Father’ that he wished him well and would love to hear from him, but it was to no avail. As Joe also discovered, Rose Fuller was in fact not a man of his word. Rose Fuller also received two letters about his enslaved women. Mr Lee wrote in June to inform him that ‘Your two girls Fanny & Kate Strachan are brought to bed of a Boy each’.189 It would also appear that a Mr Almeyda had raped the woman called Fanny at one of Fuller’s estates, and she had given birth to a child called Stephen. Almeyda wanted to purchase Fanny and her child so that he could manumit them. The child must have meant something to Almeyda as Lee added, ‘he Says he will give any Sum for the Freedom of it [Stephen] that you shall desire.’190

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Figure 8.4 (Grange) Will to Rose Fuller, Spanish Town, 25 June 1756.

Mary Rose wrote to Fuller in May 1756 to remind him of yet another unfulfilled obligation, this time to his aunt: ‘of your promise with regard to obtaining the freedoms of [a different] Fanny & Molly the two children you desir’d me to take Care of belonging to Mrs Isted.’191 It would seem, however, that Fuller did send some document for their freedom, as towards the end of the year Mary received ‘a Deed for the two Mulattoes’.192 Possibly their dual heritage and the intervention of Mary persuaded Rose Fuller to keep his word on this occasion. Nor did other white people fulfil the promises of others. Like Providence, Scotland, described as a ‘faithfull Negroe Servant’, was manumitted in the will of Henry Archbould in July. However, it would seem that Archbould’s widow Sarah did not honour this wish and that Scotland had had to ‘intreat [Archbould’s] wife that she would manumit him’.193 She did, but only on the payment of a punitive £200. It would seem that the executor of Archbould’s will, Robert Ashbourne, paid this money to Mrs Archbould, perhaps out of the estate. What games she played with people’s lives just to

Figure 8.5 (Grange) Will to Rose Fuller, Spanish Town, 30 July 1758.

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ensure she got more money than was left her in her husband’s will. Scotland was eventually made free in November, four months after Henry Archbould’s death. Even sadder was Amelia’s path to freedom. Elizabeth Campbell had been empowered in her husband’s will to free ‘the mulatto girl named Amelia’.194 Elizabeth, however, only gave Amelia her freedom three months after her own death in 1756.195 John Campbell, Elizabeth’s husband, had died in 1742. Why did Elizabeth wait fourteen years to give Amelia her freedom? The ‘kindest’ interpretation would be that Amelia was a favoured domestic, whom Elizabeth Campbell felt she could not live without, caring for her every whim. There are, however, two more realistic interpretations. One is that as a woman of dual heritage Amelia was deemed sexually desirable and had been raped by John Campbell and was given her ‘freedom’ as a ‘present’. Another is that, again as a woman of dual heritage, she was his child by an enslaved woman on the estate. Either of these possibilities make it conceivable that Elizabeth Campbell did not ‘honour’ her husband’s will out of malice, to ensure that Amelia suffered for as long as possible. Had John told Amelia of his intention to free her on his death? Perhaps it was better if she had not known: to live for fourteen years close to someone in the knowledge that they hated you and had denied your promised freedom would surely be worse than not knowing? Through the manumission records we get glimpses of how other enslaved people became free. The majority are for children, most likely the result of rape by white men. Sadly, the mothers of these children rarely gained their freedom. Twenty-eight of the fifty-eight manumissions, regarding ninety-two people, appear to be related to enforced or at least very unequal sexual relations and the children that resulted. The ‘mulatto’ children John and Bessy, freed by William Powell in September, may have been brother and sister.196 Jenny and Molly, ‘Two mulatto girls’ manumitted in November, may have been sisters.197 Their mothers were not mentioned. Mary, William, and Jane were all the children of a ‘negro woman slave named Maria’, but Maria was not freed alongside her children when John Nembhart of St Mary paid John Strachan 5 shillings for their freedom.198 Nor was Luenctia freed along with her four children, Billy, John, Ephraim, and Bessy. Jenny and Molly’s mothers were not even named.199 Mary, the ‘mulatto’ daughter of Kate, was freed in March, but her mother was not.200

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Kingston merchant Ezekiel David was the ‘reputed father’ of two ‘quadroon’ children: Johnny, otherwise known as John Godin; and Polly, otherwise known as Ann Godin. David paid £40 to free his two children, but their mother Mary, a ‘Mulatto girl’, was left enslaved in St Andrew.201 John Bird of St Dorothy, a ‘gentleman’, paid £46 for the freedom of a ‘certain mulatto boy named John Bird’, but his Black mother, Candace, remained on Michael Hay’s plantation in St Andrew.202 People of dual heritage were clearly more likely to be manumitted – indeed, 80 per cent of freed people were so.203 However, the mothers who were left behind must have had conflicted feelings as their children gained freedom but they did not. Presumably, being of child-bearing age, these women were still thought of as too useful in the field to be set free. Only a few enslaved women gained their freedom alongside their children. Nancy, who lived in Kingston, was freed at the same time as her daughter Pheba – John Burn paid a nominal 5 shillings for both of them.204 Another was Dolly, otherwise known as Mimba, who, on paying a sum of 10 shillings, was set free along with her ‘Mulatto son named William Kerr otherwise called Billy’.205 It is unclear who paid the fee, but the fact that they were lately the ‘property’ of William Kerr suggests Billy’s parenthood and the source of Dolly’s predation.206 Similarly, Betty was set free in June along with her three ‘mulatto’ children Jenny, Molly, and Samme. She was set free for her ‘faithful behaviour’, another standard formulation.207 Jenny and her two boys were supposedly freed upon the death of John Elletson in 1746, but they only gained their freedom in May 1756 after some legal wrangling.208 The fact that these mothers gained their freedom alongside their children suggests a more complicated relationship. Possibly they were the euphemistically named ‘housekeepers’ that prevailed in the Caribbean, a sort of ‘accommodation’ by which women might gain freedom, or at least certain privileges, for themselves and their children.209 A rarer example is that of Fanny, a ‘mulatto’ who did not appear to have any children. Robert Baker, a bookkeeper in Westmoreland, paid £26 to manumit her.210 Presumably Fanny was to live with, or be supported by, him. Fanny’s enslavers had been the tavern keepers William and Ann Cook. As the manumission document stated that instead of payment Baker could supply another enslaved girl to the same value, Fanny may have been working as a cook, washerwoman, or other domestic. If she was isolated at the tavern and subject to the

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whims of the Cooks, then possibly she thought the ‘price’ of living with Baker worth paying. Another example is that of Priscilla Swail Dickson. She was a ‘quadroon’ and the daughter of Nancy Swail, a ‘free Quadroon woman’.211 She surely must have been the daughter of William Dickson of St Catherine, who paid £10 for Priscilla’s freedom in October. Had Dickson first freed Nancy, the mother? Or had she purchased her own freedom and then Dickson freed their daughter? There were eleven cases where enslaved people managed to manumit themselves. We saw earlier that Jubah had purchased her own freedom from Amey Cross in Kingston at the cost of £26, although we do not know how she acquired that money. Like Jenny, a ‘Negro woman’ who paid £60 in February to free herself from her plantation in St John, she must have had a skill and possibly rented herself out to earn money.212 Hipia and Bessey were the ‘mulatto’ daughters of a Black woman called Patience. They paid £10 to Edward Barrett of St  James. Patience and her daughters had previously been sold to Barrett, but Patience was not made free. Perhaps Barrett wanted her sexually, or she was too ‘valuable a worker’, but he was prepared to let his children buy themselves free. Men bought themselves free too. Joe was a ‘mulatto’ and therefore likely a skilled worker. He managed to save £20 to buy himself free in December – a Christmas present to himself.213 Tom, a ‘Negro’ living in Westmoreland, bought himself free for £30 three months after the widow Rebekah Heath’s death. Like Jenny, as an African, and likely one born in West Africa, it is amazing that he had somehow managed to save that money. Perhaps he hired himself out in the port town of Savanna-la-Mar. Others only had to pay a nominal fee. These may have been older enslaved people that were no longer considered prime workers. For example, Ann Rock freed herself in this way from Governor Charles Knowles in May, and Cooba freed herself from a spinster in St Elizabeth.214 Elenor Vincent and Jack paid for their own freedom from different widows, both in St Catherine.215 In the eyes of their white enslavers, they may have been seen as soon becoming a cost rather than an economic resource, so it was considered cheaper to let them go. Ten other people were freed without any fee being recorded. In these cases, other standard formulations were used: ‘in Consideration of the Care, Fidelity and Good Behaviour’, ‘divers good Causes’,

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and ‘many good Services done and performed’ or ‘many Long & faithfull Services’.216 A number of enslaved people were also manumitted without a cause being given.217 Jack was set free from HMS Rye in August.218 One assumes that the reasons for their freedom were not simply altruistic. There were other cases where it was not possible to impute a reason for their manumission, even though a fee was paid. If we accept that contemporaries used the term ‘Negro’ to refer to an African, it seems strange that James Short paid £80 to free a man called Morall. 219 So too does the fact that John Moore of Kingston, a wharfinger, paid 5 shillings to free ‘Sambo Boy George White’ in July.220 In the same month, Stephen Lost paid 5 shillings to free a ‘Man Slave Named Quaco’.221 Barber Cato was freed in September at the cost of 5 shillings to his enslaver David Wheelen, who had only purchased him in May.222 In these cases, some genuine friendship may have been formed, or perhaps some extraordinary service performed that did not make it into the records.

‘be it at their Peril, who conceals or entertains them’223 Of course, most enslaved people did not have the chance of manumission. Some therefore chose to liberate themselves by other means.224 However, many did not get free, though they did get somewhere else. The Jamaica Courant of 28 September lists twenty-nine fugitives from slavery: one boy, four women, and twenty-four men.225 Some of these were new arrivals from Africa. In June, a ‘Negro Man of the Mandingo Country’ was taken up at Bull Park pen. He was able to say his name was Smith, but only spoke ‘a little English’. His enslaver had still not claimed him in September. Another man supposedly of the ‘Mandingo Country’ was taken up at Yallah’s in St David in May and was living with a Dr Reid.226 He was ‘markd [branded] on his Shoulder IH, a Diamond on Top’. This may have been the mark of his former enslaver. Maybe life with Dr Reid was marginally ‘better’, so he did not help the authorities identify who ‘IH’ was. What of the ‘Negro Boy’ who had a blind mark on his shoulder? He had been taken up at Blue Fields near Savanna-la-Mar in early June. He could not, or would not, give an account of his ‘master’ or country, so he was still there in September. Another ‘New Negro

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Man’ was taken up at Hunt’s Bay Penn in January and was still in gaol in late September. Surely David Thornton of Hunt’s Bay made him work for his food? Many of these fugitives would have been from plantations.227 If so, working on a pen or in a household was potentially preferable. Men far outnumbered women in the notices for fugitives from slavery. Skilled men were more likely to abscond because they might be able to earn a living in the towns, hidden among legally free people of colour.228 However, this did not mean that women did not purposefully perform tasks badly (or not at all), malinger, lie, steal, poison, self-purchase, or temporarily liberate themselves.229 The ‘Negro Woman’ found by Daniel McBean in Kingston may have been such a person. She said that her former enslaver was Captain Nail of the Amelia, which had sailed over a week ago from Savanna-la-Mar. McBean seemed not to believe her story as she was ‘mark’d on the Right Shoulder, “W”, and some other blind Mark’. How had she travelled the nearly 120 miles from the West Coast of Jamaica to Kingston? Having got there she had no doubt thought that her luck was changing; how frustrating, therefore, to have been caught at the end of her journey. How frightened must Hannah have been? Described as ‘A New Negro Girl’, she had no mark, and spoke ‘but very little English’. Found in December 1755, she could say of her enslaver only that he lived near the beef market in Kingston. She was still at Herbart’s Mountain in September 1756. Was she really confused about her former enslaver? Or was he so terrible that she did not want to be found? After nine months at Herbart’s Mountain, perhaps she had come to think her new enslaver was preferable. A ‘Creole Woman, named Mary’ and the ‘Creole’ barber Dick were in hiding together. Mary had been branded, but no mention of one was made for Dick. In contrast to Hannah, who had run from Captain Nail to Kingston, Mary and Dick had run away from Kingston. The notice stated that ‘tis supposed, they are harbour’d at Withywood’, which may have been a pen at Vere or the area generally to the southwest of Kingston.230 The notice continued threateningly: ‘be it at their Peril, who conceals or entertains them’. Indeed, the assembly could be harsh if people were thought to be harbouring a fugitive. This included the prosecution of white people: Thomas Kello, a poor white man, was tried and sentenced to twelve months’ imprisonment for allegedly ‘harbouring and employing a negro boy named Adam’.231

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Also fugitive from Kingston were seven men enslaved by James Ramadge, a merchant of Kingston.232 Some of them had evaded capture for some time. On Ramadge’s death, his executors were clearly trying to get together all of his ‘assets’, including these enslaved men. Surely they were unlikely to find Hampshire, an Angolan, who had been missing for three years? Perhaps he had joined the maroons? Mercury, who was also an Angolan, had possibly tried to find his countryman. Similarly, Robin, described as a ‘Young Fellow’, had been missing for two years, while Jack, a coachman who was apparently well known in Spanish Town and Kingston, had still managed to remain free for nine months. London, a caulker, had been seen around ‘Sinclair’s Hulks’, but surely he was too well known to get employment in Kingston and avoid discovery? Also missing were Harry, ‘a short yellow Eboe Negro’, and Toney, both newly arrived. It was clearly possible to evade recapture if you had the wits, or friends. Others, however, were in gaol awaiting their enslavers to claim them.233 In September, fourteen enslaved people were in the Port Royal gaol, only one of whom was a woman. Of the fourteen, eleven had the names of their enslavers listed, including well-known figures such as William Beckford and Jaspar Hall. Three of them, Frank, Dick, and London, had been there for over a year, despite the fact that their enslavers were known to the authorities. Indeed, Dick and Frank were due to be sold at the Grand Court. Possibly those that had been there several months were regular absentees and their enslavers were not in a hurry to have them returned to the plantation where they may have fomented dissent.234 One wonders, given how unhealthy the gaol was, how Juba, who had been there since March, and Mackrill and Garrick, who had been there since April, were faring.235 More successful self-liberators might make it to the Maroon towns of Trelawny Town, Accompong Town, Crawford Town, and Nanny Town. In 1756, around 664 people were recorded as living in these towns.236 Under the truces of 1739, the Maroons were supposed to return fugitives to plantations.237 However, it seems the situation was more complicated. Plantation owners reported cases of theft and ‘provision-grounds [being] destroyed’, due to which the petitioners’ enslaved ‘were in the greatest distress’ – but, of course, the white people depicted themselves as ‘very great sufferers’.238 In 1754, Yabba, Joan, and Kent had all been on an errand in St David parish for Mason Wyllys when they were seized by the ‘rebellious

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and wild negroes, and afterwards their bodies were found dead’.239 Wyllys was still trying to obtain compensation for their loss in 1756. Cudjoe was still missing but seemingly alive, ‘still in rebellion amongst some rebellious Negroes in Portland’. His fellow fugitives who had been ‘seduced or carried away by the rebellious Negroes of Portland’ had been caught: Quashey had been killed, and Harry and Lewis had been taken prisoner, then tried and sentenced for transportation.240 The threat of the Maroon towns was clearly an issue for the white population.241 Indeed, if Quashey had been captured and killed by a white person, then his killing would have been bloody and brutal, including mutilation such as the removal of limbs and whipping designed to scare enslaved people into submission. It is also likely that Harry and Lewis were mutilated before they were transported.242 However, the Maroons remained an admired example to enslaved people, as no doubt did many fugitives.243 Those such as Cudjoe, who managed to make it to the Maroons, were more likely to be able to stay concealed. Indeed, the eponymous Nanny of Nanny Town remains a popular heroine to this day.

Tales of the Enslaved People The dominant experience of enslaved people was that of work, though it is difficult to assess how much that work dominated their mindset, even if it did their days. Enslaved men were more likely to have some ‘independence’ in labour terms, through acquired skills and the ‘benefits’ that came with being an ‘elite’ worker. Women, however, were far more likely to be found working in the fields, and for them, ‘over work, dietary deficiencies and physical punishment provided a lethal cocktail’.244 Moreover, they were exposed to sexual violence.245 For women especially, a ‘favoured’ position as a domestic was a double-edged sword. Yet a skilled seamstress might be able to earn some money and spend it on more, or different, food, clothes, or ribbons, or maybe even save for their freedom, or for the freedom of their loved ones. It is also difficult to reconstruct the tensions that surely must have arisen, both within each enslaved person that tried to ‘accommodate’ in order to survive and within the ranks of enslaved people, where skills meant a positive reputation and marginally better

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conditions. Enslaved people understood their status value and, most likely, their financial value as well. Yet within this ‘accommodation’, some survivals – or, at least, some syncretisms – likely facilitated a sense of self-fashioning, ‘a life of their own’, and acted as bulwarks against social death.246 Indeed, enslaved people ‘touched, used and acquired’ many items, and helped to ‘shape their meanings’, just as free sailors, clerks, and servants did.247 Enslaved people, toiling on the ultimate industrial complex, worked in order to acquire extra items – purchased or handmade – over and above the food and clothing allotted to them by their enslavers, just as labourers in Britain tried to buy extra items.248 Family, both blood and fictive, was clearly important, yet the possibility of living and working as families was at the whim of white people. Separation, due to perception of white people that the enslaved were interchangeable, was a constant threat. Life was precarious for enslaved people, especially under those of more moderate means. In this case they were more likely to be in jobbing gangs, or living closely in the same house as their enslavers. Even in the few cases where dual-heritage children who were the result of rape by white men were freed, their mothers were not. Indeed, freedom was often promised yet withheld, as Providence, Will, and Amelia discovered. They were all far more ‘chained down’ to the land than was Gilbert Ford.249 At the same time, however, enslaved people, when possible, worked hard to free themselves and their children. Some could not bear either ‘accommodation’ or sustained oppression, and sought to liberate themselves. No doubt they were an inspiration to many. Some of these brave men and women managed to remain free for some time, but most enslaved people never got free; if they did it was often a mixed blessing, and certainly not the same as freedom for a white person. Many were freed when they were already old, or at least older, and less likely to be able to provide for themselves. For many women, freedom meant only legal freedom, as they instead entered into relationships with white men, sometimes ‘willingly’, but surely it was a difficult price to pay even so. For enslaved people, the start of the war meant another year with not enough food, possible starvation, backbreaking work, the threat of separation, another issue of ‘Peniston Blue’, and, for women, yet more rape. Their already-terrible conditions were made worse by drought at the beginning of the year, heavy rains at the end, and

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increased prices of provisions due to the war. Their already-precarious lives were made even more so. One hopes that they found some solace in their family and friends, in their small possessions, and in their African ‘survivals’, but it must have been cold comfort. Cicily’s life may have been ‘Despaird off’, but no doubt most enslaved people despaired of the lives they were forced to live. When Esi Edugyan’s protagonist Washington Black surveyed the Barbadian landscape, a landscape formed by the labour of enslaved people, he noted that it was ‘littered … with broken teeth’.250 The Jamaican landscape was littered not only with broken teeth, but also with severed hands, burned and mutilated flesh, and broken hearts.

9

Ordinary People, Ordinary Lives Captn Cooke … is … a worthy, honest, careful man.1

When John Jackson ran through the streets of Kingston to post his mail home, he was enthusiastic about his prospects. As a clerk in an elite mercantile house in Jamaica’s leading port, he had good reason to be. Similarly, Ewbank Ogle wrote home feeling hopeful about his unexpected opportunity as a carpenter, even though his brother was recovering from a fever: an ailment that was fatal for many. At about the same time, Ann Graham had written a letter home detailing the minutiae of her life with her family in Kingston, particularly her loved, if spoilt, ‘little chicken’. Jamaica clearly had some successful white settlers, even if it was not a successful settler colony. But that was not the point – Jamaica’s purpose was to make money for the British state, and in that regard it was Britain’s most successful ‘mercantilist’ colony. Jamaica therefore provides an excellent case study in how people experienced the British Empire. Indeed, John, Ewbank, and Ann’s letters, and all the others sent home on the Europa in the autumn of 1756, provide an insight into everyday life in Great Britain’s wealthiest colony at a particular moment in its imperial past: the start of the Seven Years’ War. Significantly, these letters provide us with a rare view of Jamaica – one that had previously been hidden. Collectively they demonstrate that Jamaica in 1756 was a complex and highly stratified society. Uncovering the stories of the ordinary people living there has shown that it was not simply a land of the free and the unfree; the white, the Black, and those of colour. Jamaica was an extremely rich, high-consumption society, but one in which wealth was far from equally distributed, even among white people. Jamaica was a heterogeneous and fractured society – fractured along not only racial lines but also socioeconomic ones.

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Ordinary People, Extraordinary Times

In contrast to the positive views of the island provided by those such as Edward Long, James Knight, and William Beckford, the Europa’s letters provide a prism through which to view the mentality of ordinary white people in Jamaica. The letters make it clear that not all white people signed up to the dominant mores of Britain’s most successful capitalistic slave society, even if they all wished to benefit from it (which, of course, they did). Indeed, the fact that the letters hardly ever mention slavery suggests that ordinary people took it for granted. They could not afford large brick houses, opulent carriages, or mahogany furniture, but they still constructed their white identity through their own conspicuous consumption. The epitome of the construction of white identity was the reimporting of triple-refined white sugar and mahogany furniture. Not all white people could afford these luxuries, but single-refined sugar, cheaper soap, candles, pistols, and clothes were all available at the right price for those with smaller budgets. Furthermore, and in contrast to the dominant stories of callous merchants and greedy plantation owners, the Europa’s letters show the experience of urban white people, both men and women, many of whose incomes were not derived directly from sugar plantations, even though they still benefited from living in a slave society. Family groups such as Ann Graham’s also contradict common notions of a hyper-masculine space, a rampant patriarchy, and a culture of impermanence – at the very least they show it was not the only reality. Loving families could and did exist even while death and destruction were all around. The Europa’s letters therefore portray the quotidian experiences of the ordinary people living in Britain’s most important Atlantic colony. One such person was John Crow, who lived in Kingston with a wife he clearly loved and respected. He felt that he had ‘struggled hard up the hill’ to make his living, but he had been in Jamaica long enough to understand what commodities were wanted there. He imported the ubiquitous salt fish and osnaburgs for feeding and clothing enslaved people, but he also knew which colours of textiles were desired by the free, and which blues were considered ‘villainous’. He did not want to stay in Jamaica, however, even though to some extent he had already adopted a mindset that allowed him to think of his gout as a prophylactic against Jamaica’s deadly disease environment. John Byrn also had problems with the goods that he imported, even though he had a good grasp of the ‘taste’ of the people in

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Jamaica, right down to the small silk and calimanco shoes required for white Jamaican women’s supposedly small feet. He was desperate for his wife to join him in Jamaica, and, contrary to the macabre evidence all around him, he thought the climate would be good for her asthma. There was also the struggling lawyer George Hampson, who found that he could not find a wife with a fortune. Yet while he potentially fitted one stereotype regarding marriage, he railed against the poverty of Jamaica in terms of culture and finance, and the outrageous luxury of those who were wealthy. Indeed, the elite bought French wine, mahogany-handled cutlery, and extravagant carriages. Silk clothes, brick houses, silver-handled pistols, and mahogany bookcases sat side by side with, and in sharp contrast to, the poorest population in Britain’s empire: Jamaica’s enslaved people. Women made an important contribution to Jamaica’s economy, particularly within the urban environment. The widow Ann Morley was one of the few women who imported textiles and used bills of exchange, but even she had to act as a rentier on behalf of others in order to secure a good income. She had two children living with her in Jamaica and another at a boarding school in England. The enslaved women who helped her earn her living go unmentioned in her letters – we only hear their echoes through her will. Similarly, Mary Rose rented out rooms to members of the House of Assembly, but she was also unusual, especially so as a free woman of dual heritage, in that she was able to use her relationship with the elite planter Rose Fuller to secure her position to some extent. She also attempted, with varied success, to act as an intermediary for the enslaved women Fanny and Molly and their children. Her relationship with Rose Fuller allowed her to acquire multiple pairs of fashionable shoes and consume the archetypal mercantilist commodity: refined white sugar in her Hyson tea. Further down the social scale was the seamstress Elizabeth Metcalfe, who loved to receive letters from her niece and nephew in England. Like most of the other writers, Elizabeth’s letter does not talk about enslaved people even though she earned her living by sewing clothes for them; indeed, while she was reading her letters from home aloud to her friends, she would almost certainly have had an enslaved woman making and pouring her imported tea. That enslaved woman is silent in Elizabeth’s letters, as much as she was invisible to her in her parlour. Even relatively poor women such

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Ordinary People, Extraordinary Times

as Mary Ann Tricquet, whose personalty on her death was worth only £12, was the enslaver of one woman – a marker of freedom, if not one of financial success. Not all white women were as reduced to the ‘lowest extremity’ as was Sarah Jones, but the very fact that there was a need for a Committee for Poor White Families is testament that while all white people benefited from the slave society of Britain’s wealthiest colony, not everyone did so equally. The onset of the war caused problems for captains such as William Clutsam, over and above those caused by convoys and altered trading patterns. Many of his men deserted in order to try and earn some easy, if dangerous, money by joining privateers. Captains such as Clutsam often missed the births, deaths, and marriages in their families at home, and despite working for the Munckleys for at least seventeen years he had little to show for it by the time of his death. Similarly, slave ship captain William Miller wrote lovingly to his wife Nelly, asking her to ensure that their son Billy went to school, while realizing that he was missing his daughter’s first steps. To the modern reader his love for his family jars with the trade in which he was involved. Like other nonelites, Miller was bemused by the ‘party prejudice’ and infighting of the elite in Jamaica, and was frustrated that it caused problems with the selling of his human ‘cargo’. Perhaps to the permanent elite, used to being surrounded by the French, their internecine quarrels made more sense. Those such as Edward Magnar, who had jumped ship to join HMS Shoreham, were excited by the prospect of earning a year’s money in a few weeks. No doubt he was also pleased to have left the slave ship on which he had nearly died on the coast of Africa. Worried that his wife, whom he clearly loved, was ill, Edward had written her many letters without every receiving a reply. Other sailors such as George Farmer on HMS Dreadnought, the fleet’s flagship in Jamaica, served on a more permanent basis. He was clearly excited about the prospects of trashing the French, despite being aware that the French force was far superior to that of the British. Indeed, both elites and nonelites complained that the English government did not better protect its most valuable colony. Like many others in Jamaica, Farmer was also concerned that his friends had forgotten him, and he would have been pleased to reach home safely and see them. He had survived two fevers himself, and had most likely seen 100 of his shipmates die. Similarly, William Ford had lost half of his shipmates to yellow fever. He was

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also distraught by the death of his wife – the result of which was that his son was being cared for by his cousin in Plymouth. For soldiers and sailors, the war was only too real. Not only were their living conditions very basic, but they also paid an extremely high price for defending Britain’s colonial jewel through morbidity and mortality. One wonders whether they thought the king’s shilling was worth it. Those same high mortality rates left many widows in their wake, even if George Hampson could not find one wealthy enough to marry. Mrs Byndloss was probably not literally left a ‘beggar’; however, widows such as Mrs Stopford and Mrs Woodcock had to fight avaricious merchants acting as executors in order to secure their legacies from their dead husbands’ estates. Indeed, many of these merchants fulfilled the stereotype of men who were callous and calculating with a gallows humour. John Crow’s comments regarding his gout, and the exceedingly brief comments regarding Billy Lamb’s demise, are testament to that. So too were the efforts of Elliott & Scott to claim the executorship of Robert Brook’s estate under the guise of being helpful friends. However, many were truly appalled by their surroundings. Mr Harding felt that life in Jamaica was simply a ‘bubble’, and in sharp contrast to George Hampson’s quips about getting a rich wife to marry, Mr Warren was a bereft widower. Equally, William Brown tried to get Mary Rose to intercede on his behalf with regard to his employment with Rose Fuller. He found Jamaican life so disturbing that he was figuratively begging on his knees to be allowed to return to England. Indeed, the prevalence of a distorted Jamaican household – the brutal regime of the ‘little republics’ – left many feeling homesick, sad, and even depressed. On the surface it might seem that life in 1756 was no different for enslaved people: it was another year of hard work, another issue of ‘Peniston’ blue, and, for women, yet more rape. However, droughts at the beginning of the year and a severe rainy season meant that they were likely suffering from worse food shortages than usual, even before prices rose due to the war. With their extra food and clothing allowance, skilled enslaved men such as Guy, Matt, and Primus probably fared a little better than others, especially those such as London and Marma that were hired out in jobbing gangs. Indeed, the lives of those enslaved by people of more moderate means seem to have been even more precarious. Charles Farnham, if he managed to hire himself out, would also have fared better than

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Ordinary People, Extraordinary Times

poor Patience and Peggy, who toiled hard in the sugar fields. Similarly, the skilled doctoresses Silvia, Tamar, and Cooba, as well as Cooba’s daughter Quasheba, likely found themselves in a position to barter for extra food. The lives of enslaved people were dominated by work, but they developed their own culture through dress, family, marketing, food production and consumption, stories, and faith. They made their huts their home, if not their own; women used rope to hitch up their dresses to make work easier and as a form of cultural expression; and, if they could afford it, they purchased ribbons, extra tobacco, alcohol, and even jewellery. Some family units survived, as is evident from the manumission records, but Molly, along with her six children and grandchildren, was clearly an exception. Having been raped, most Black mothers were left behind in slavery while their dual-heritage children were freed by their white fathers. Freedom was a mixed blessing, however. It was always tainted, contingent, or withheld, and for women, ‘freedom’ often meant a new form of slavery: living within a double hierarchy with their sexual exploiters. Families such as Joe ‘Peete’ and his ‘wife’ Lucea could not be together even though Joe was free. If there was not a consanguineous family to love, then others, such as Clarissa and Tom, created their own fictive family derived from African customs. Clearly a strong woman, Clarissa toiled hard in the sugar fields, most likely in the first gang. We do not know her age, but as she was working in the fields in 1756 and was still alive in 1768, she likely lived well into her thirties. Silvia and Tamar, who had only one hand each, and Leah and Margaritta, who had no hands, had their own brutal evidence of exhausting work at the sugar mill. Some, such as Cicily, did not appear to want to live even as long as Clarissa. Most enslaved people of course never gained their freedom as Molly and her family did. Will found his promise of freedom by Rose Fuller broken, and Providence’s fragile promise of freedom in ten years’ time was completely out of his hands. Amelia had to wait fourteen years for her freedom, delayed by the spite of her female enslaver. Yet, while most enslaved people never became free, some brave souls freed themselves by becoming fugitives from slavery. These included the star-crossed lovers Mary and Dick, who had run away from Kingston; and Jack, Harry, Mercury, and Robin, who had been missing for up to three years. Maybe they joined Cudjoe, who had managed to get to the Maroons in Portland. In contrast,

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Quashee was murdered, and Harry and Lewis were transported as a result of their bids for freedom. Many others who had fled were caught, such as the fourteen enslaved people being held in Port Royal gaol. In both slavery and freedom, the lives of people of colour were extremely precarious – especially those who were enslaved by those of more moderate means. To modern readers, the ordinary people discussed here may not seem so ordinary; it is important, however, not to read their letters through twenty-first-century eyes. They were colonists, they were a long way from home, and they were deeply enmeshed in a slave society, benefiting and profiting from slavery in myriad ways. However, the fact that the Europa’s letter writers rarely mention slavery demonstrates that it was everyday and ordinary to them. Slavery was omnipresent, but mostly unspoken and unwritten. It is clear that when Ewbank Ogle wrote home to his ‘mama’ telling her he was ‘going to Learn the Carpenters Business’, he expected her to be surprised by his choice of profession but not that he was in Jamaica and living in a slave society. Yet all free people must have been only too aware of the enslaved people around them – outnumbering them nine to one – even if they did not, like Thomas Pinnock, contemplate the power they held over them. If we had letters from the autumn of 1760, following Tacky’s Revolt, then there would no doubt be very many that included references to enslaved people. In 1756, however, even ordinary people such as Ewbank took for granted their power over, and abuse of, enslaved people. Yet their very ordinariness deserves attention because Ewbank’s actions, and the actions of all the other letter writers, facilitated this slave society and made the British Empire possible. Jamaica was not on the periphery of empire – it was too financially and strategically important – but it was a long way from Britain. Those sending letters home on the Europa were not only in the ‘torrid zone’, they were thousands of miles from Britain and often separated from close friends and family. Enslaved people in Britain’s most valuable colony were therefore at the mercy of free people who were unchecked by the social mores of British society. For some white people, especially the newly arrived, slavery added another layer to a palimpsest that already contained topography, climate, and disease to further engender a sense of otherness and strangeness. At the same time, many others seem to have normalized the misery and suffering all around them. However, this did

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not stop white Jamaicans being seen as generous if decadent hosts. Only as the eighteenth century wore on did attitudes towards slavery change in Britain, with white Jamaicans recast as cruel ‘masters’ tainted by their involvement with slavery. As historians we are lucky that Captain James Cooke was an ‘honest, careful man’. His attempts to hide the Europa’s mailbag from the French meant that its contents have been preserved for posterity. The letters demonstrate that at the start of the Seven Years’ War ordinary people in Jamaica were just trying to get on with their ordinary lives. Yet these men, women, and children – who were Black, white, and of colour; enslaved and free – were undoubtedly living in extraordinary times. Just four years later the watershed of Tacky’s Revolt would shake the planter elite to their core, leading to an even harsher slave code and even fewer rights for free people of colour. By the end of the Seven Years’ War, arguably the first ‘world war’, Britain had attained hegemony in the Atlantic world, beating her enemies and drastically reducing the French Navy. This left the Jamaican elite with a new level of self-confidence and power. Yet while some of the letter writers occasionally commented on the strangeness or remoteness of Jamaica, its diseases and distorted society, or noted concern about the war with the French, their letters do not show any awareness of living in extraordinary times. They could not know how the world would look in 1763, or even when the war would end. For most of them, living in Jamaica’s slave society was their everyday world. They were too concerned with earning money, surviving the war, raising their children, worrying about their health, and buying mundane or fashionable items. It is also clear that ordinary people experienced all these facets of their lives differently to those at the top of the social scale. Not all free people, even white people, got rich; the war and political infighting interrupted trade and cost soldiers and sailors their lives in harrowing numbers; loving urban families existed in contrast to the ‘little republics’ on the estates of absentee planters; not everyone could afford to recuperate at the baths; and many found Jamaica emotionally and physically distressing. Perhaps the way in which the white Jamaican elite and the ordinary people were most similar was in their construction of a white identity. However, even the precise ways in which that was performed were based on the ability to pay. Jamaica was an extremely stratified and heterogeneous society, fractured by socioeconomics as well as by race.

A Memorial to the Enslaved and Freed People in Jamaica in 1756

What follows is not meant to be a comprehensive list of enslaved people in Jamaica in 1756: it is a list of all the names of the enslaved people that were identified as a result of the research for this book. This includes those mentioned in the text, and those that were not separately named. Please note that contemporary racial categorizations have been kept here. Name (and ethnicity or notation where given)

Occupation, role, or relationship

Location

Status

Abber

Mesopotamia

Enslaved girl

Abigal

Mesopotamia

Enslaved girl

Abraham

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

St Catherine

Manumitted 1756

Affiber

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Affraw

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Agnis

Mesopotamia

Enslaved girl

Ambrose

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Amelia

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Amelia (mulatto)

Not given

Manumitted 1756

Kingston

Manumitted 1756

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Abraham (mulatto)

Amey (mulatto)

Possible brother of Isaac

Daughter of Silvia and sister of Charles

Ammiber Ammoe

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Amy

Carpenter

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Ann Rock (alias Drainton[?])

Kingston(?)

Manumitted 1756

Anthony

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Arabia

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

188

A Memorial to the Enslaved and Freed People in 1756

Name (and ethnicity or notation where given)

Occupation, role, or relationship

Location

Status

Arnoldus

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Ashante

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Augustus

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Austin

Mason

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Bachus

Prime field hand

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Baffy

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Banbary

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Barton

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Bathsheba

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Beckford

Mesopotamia

Enslaved boy

Belinda

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Bella

Mesopotamia

Enslaved girl

Bella (otherwise Sarah Stone)

St Catherine

Manumitted 1756

Benniber

Mesopotamia

Enslaved girl

Benniber

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

From Humphrey Manning’s estate

Enslaved woman

Bess

Kingston

Manumitted 1756

Bess (Capcer[?])

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Bess (Cuffey’s)

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Bess

Cooper

Hired out

Bessey

Daugher of Sarah Peters, sister of Mary, and granddaughter of Molly Peters

Portland

Manumitted 1756

Bessey (mulatto girl)

Possible sister of John

St Thomas in the Vale

Manumitted 1756

Bessey (mulatto)

Daugher of Patience and sister of Hipia

St James

Manumitted 1756

St Thomas

Manumitted 1756

Kingston(?)

Manumitted 1756

Mesopotamia

Enslaved girl

Bessey (mulatto) Bessey (mulatto)

Betty

Son of Luenctia and brother of Billy, John, and Ephraim

A Memorial to the Enslaved and Freed People in 1756 Name (and ethnicity or notation where given)

Occupation, role, or relationship

Location

189

Status

Betty

Possible sister of Sibby and aunt of Jacob

Kingston

Manumitted 1756

Betty

Mother of Jemmy, Molly, and Samme

St Elizabeth

Manumitted 1756

Betty (Black)

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Betty (blind)

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Betty (wimpers)

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Billy

In Port Royal gaol

Captured fugitive from slavery

Billy

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Billy (mulatto)

Son of Luenctia and brother of John, Ephraim, and Bessey

Kingston(?)

Manumitted 1756

Black Belly

Mother of Nelly

Not given

Enslaved woman

Bob

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Bonny

Mesopotamia

Enslaved boy

Bonny

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Bony

Kingston

Enslaved woman

Bristol

Mother of Jemmy

Mesopotamia

Enslaved boy

Broney

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Buaffoy

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Caesar

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Caesar

In Port Royal gaol

Captured fugitive from slavery

Cain

Mesopotamia

Enslaved boy

Cambridge

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Candace

Mother of John Bird

St Andrew

Enslaved woman

Cato

Barber

Westmoreland

Enslaved man

Celia

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Chance

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

St Catherine

Manumitted 1756

Charity Charity

Distempered

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A Memorial to the Enslaved and Freed People in 1756

Name (and ethnicity or notation where given)

Occupation, role, or relationship

Location

Status

Charles

Mesopotamia

Enslaved boy

Charles (Ebo)

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Kingston

Manumitted 1756

Charles (Spring)*

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Charles Farnham

Kingston

Enslaved man

Charles (mulatto)

Son of Silvia and brother of Amey

Chloe

Mother of John

Westmoreland

Enslaved woman

Chloe

Mother of Elizabeth

St Andrew

Enslaved woman

Christmas

Mesopotamia

Enslaved girl

Cicily (her life despaired of)

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Clara

Mesopotamia

Enslaved girl

Clarinder

Good field hand

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Clarissa

Field hand, possible fictive kin of Tom

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Cletos

Sawyer

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Cobber

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Cooba

St Elizabeth

Manumitted 1756

Cooba

Mesopotamia

Enslaved girl

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Cooba (Prues[?])

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Cooba (Wambo’s)

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Corrydon

Mesopotamia

Enslaved boy

Cretia N*

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Cromwell

Mesopotamia

Enslaved boy

Cudjoe

Mesopotamia

Enslaved boy

Cudjoe

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Cudjoe

In Port Royal gaol

Captured fugitive from slavery

Cudjoe

With the Maroons?

Fugitive from slavery

Cuffy

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Cuffy (Spring)

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Cooba P*

Doctoress

A Memorial to the Enslaved and Freed People in 1756 Name (and ethnicity or notation where given)

Occupation, role, or relationship

Location

191

Status

Cuffy (Tipio)

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Cyrus

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Daniel

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Portland

Manumitted 1756

Diana

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Dick

In Port Royal gaol

Captured fugitive from slavery

From Kingston

Fugitive from slavery

Dick (Ebo)

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Dick (Spring)

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Diego (Ebo)

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Diego (Spring)

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Doctor

Mesopotamia

Enslaved boy

Dollo

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Daphne Dennis

Dick (Creole)

Son of Molly Peters and brother of Jack, William, Molly, John, and Ned

Barber, with Mary

Dolly

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Dolly Glenn

Mother of William Kerr

Kingston

Manumitted 1756

Dorothy Elletson

Daughter of Jenny and sister of John Elletson

Kingston

Manumitted 1756

Dorset

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Dublin

Mesopotamia

Enslaved boy

Duke

St Thomas in the Vale

Manumitted 1756

Edward Chaplin (mulatto)

Not given

Manumitted 1756

St Mary

Manumitted 1756

St Catherine

Manumitted 1756

Westmoreland

Manumitted 1756

Edward Pence

Possible father of an infant quadroon

Elenor Vincent Elizabeth (mulatto child)

Daughter of Faustina

192

A Memorial to the Enslaved and Freed People in 1756

Name (and ethnicity or notation where given) Elizabeth (mulatto girl)

Occupation, role, or relationship Daughter of Chloe

Location

Status

St Andrew

Manumitted 1756

Else (mulatto girl)

Vere

Manumitted 1756

Elsey

Mesopotamia

Enslaved girl

Emanuel

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Ephraim (mulatto)

Son of Luenctia and brother of Billy, John, and Bessey

Kingston(?)

Manumitted 1756

Essex

Smith

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Esther

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Fanny (mulatto child)

St Mary

Manumitted 1756

Clarendon

Manumitted 1756

Westmoreland

Manumitted 1756

Fanny (mulatto girl)

Possible sister of Nancy

Fanny (mulatto) Fanny Strachan

Sister of Kate Strachan

Spanish Town?

Enslaved woman

Faustina

Mother of Elizabeth

Westmoreland

Enslaved woman

Fibba

Mesopotamia

Enslaved girl

Fidelia

Mesopotamia

Enslaved girl

Fireside

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Flanders

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Flora

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Flora

Mesopotamia

Enslaved girl

Francisco

Mesopotamia

Enslaved boy

Frank

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Frank

In Port Royal gaol

Captured fugitive from slavery

Frankey

St Catherine

Manumitted 1756

Franky

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Frederick

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Fuller

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Gabriel

Mesopotamia

Enslaved boy

Gammer

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

A Memorial to the Enslaved and Freed People in 1756 Name (and ethnicity or notation where given)

Occupation, role, or relationship

Location

193

Status

Garrick

In Port Royal gaol

Fugitive from slavery

George

St Thomas

Manumitted 1756

George (Beniber’s)

Mesopotamia

Enslaved boy

George (in England)

Normally at Mesopotamia

Enslaved boy

George (mulatto boy)

Vere

Manumitted 1756

Portland

Manumitted 1756

George White (Sambo Boy)

St David

Manumitted 1756

Green (Tom)

Mesopotamia

Enslaved boy

Gustavos N

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

George Peters (mulatto)

Son of Bessy Peters (deceased), brother of John Peters, and grandson of Molly Peters

Guy

Mesopotamia

Enslaved boy

Guy (old)

Superannuated

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Guy (Smith)

Smith

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Hager P

Doctoress

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Hager (unreadable)

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Hamilton

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Hampshire, (Angolan)

From Kingston, with the Maroons?

Fugitive from slavery

Hannah

Fled to Kingston

Fugitive from slavery

Hannah

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Hannah (Judy’s)

Mesopotamia

Enslaved girl

Hannah (Matt’s)

Mesopotamia

Enslaved girl

Hanpky

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

St James

Enslaved boy

Hannah

Hannibal Harry

Superannuated

Son of Suckey

Transported for being a fugitive

194

A Memorial to the Enslaved and Freed People in 1756

Name (and ethnicity or notation where given)

Occupation, role, or relationship

Location

Status

Harry (short yellow Negro)

From Kingston

Fugitive from slavery

Hazard

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Hector

Mesopotamia

Enslaved boy

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

St James

Manumitted 1756

Hodge

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Hope

Mesopotamia

Enslaved girl

Humphrey

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Hercules Hipia (mulatto)

Daughter of Patience and sister of Bessey

(Infant quadroon)

Possible son of Edward Pence

St Mary

Manumitted 1756

Isaac (mulatto)

Possible brother of Abraham

St Catherine

Manumitted 1756

HMS Rye

Manumitted 1756

From Kingston, with the Maroons?

Captured fugitive from slavery

Jack

St Catherine

Manumitted 1756

Jack

In Port Royal gaol

Captured fugitive from slavery

Jack Jack

Coachman

Jack

Later a carpenter

Mesopotamia

Enslaved boy

Jack Peters (mulatto)

Son of Molly Peters and brother of William, Molly, Sarah, Dennis, and Ned

Portland

Manumitted 1756

Jackfarry

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Jacob

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Kingston

Manumitted 1756

Jaffery

In Port Royal gaol

Captured fugitive from slavery

Jamaica

Mesopotamia

Enslaved boy

James

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Jacob (boy)

Son of Sibby and possible nephew of Betty

A Memorial to the Enslaved and Freed People in 1756 Name (and ethnicity or notation where given) Jane (mulatto child)

Occupation, role, or relationship Daughter of Maria and sister of William and Jane

Location

195

Status

St Mary

Manumitted 1756

Jasper (Gados)

Mesopotamia

Enslaved boy

Jasper (Patience)

Mesopotamia

Enslaved boy

Jemmy

Mesopotamia

Enslaved boy

Jemmy

Daugher of Betty and sister of Molly and Samme

St Elizabeth

Manumitted 1756

Jemmy (mulatto boy)

Son of Bony

Kingston

Manumitted 1756

Jenney

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Jenny

St John

Manumitted 1756

Jenny

Mother of John and Dorothy Elletson

Kingston

Manumitted 1756

Jenny (mulatto girl)

Possible sister of Molly

Vere

Manumitted 1756

Jenny (mulatto)

St Catherine

Manumitted 1756

Jenny Brown

St Catherine

Manumitted 1756

Jeoffry

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Jeremy

Mesopotamia

Enslaved boy

Joan

With the Maroons?

Fugitive from slavery

Joan

Mesopotamia

Enslaved girl

Joan N

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Joe

Westmoreland

Manumitted 1756

Joe

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Spanish Town

Formerly enslaved man

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Joe ‘Peete’

Coachman to the governor

John John

Son of Chloe

Westmoreland

Manumitted 1756

John (mulatto boy)

Possible brother of Bessey

St Thomas in the Vale

Manumitted 1756

Mesopotamia

Enslaved boy

John (mulatto)

196

A Memorial to the Enslaved and Freed People in 1756

Name (and ethnicity or notation where given)

Occupation, role, or relationship

Location

Status

John (mulatto)

Son of Luenctia and brother of Billy, Ephraim, and Bessey

Kingston?

Manumitted 1756

John Bird

Son of Candace

St Andrew

Manumitted 1756

John Elletson

Son of Jenny and brother of Dorothy Elletson

Kingston

Manumitted 1756

John Peters (mulatto)

Son of Bessy Peters (deceased), brother of George, Dennis, and Ned, and grandson of Molly Peters,

Portland

Manumitted 1756

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

St Andrew

Manumitted 1756

Jo Mante

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Juba

In Port Royal gaol

Captured fugitive from slavery

Juba (Parry’s[?])

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Juba (Abos)

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Juba (Long)

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Jubah

Kingston

Manumitted 1756

Judy

Mesopotamia

Enslaved girl

Julina

Mesopotamia

Enslaved girl

Julius

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Mesopotamia

Enslaved boy

Mesopotamia

Enslaved boy

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Johney Johnny (quadroon) otherwise John Godin

Reputed son of Mary (mulatto) and Ezekiel David

Julius (Little) Julius M (mulatto[?])

Sawyer

Juno Kate

Mother of Mary

Westmoreland

Enslaved woman

Kate Strachan

Sister of Fanny Strachan

Spanish Town?

Enslaved woman

Katy

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Kendis N

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

A Memorial to the Enslaved and Freed People in 1756 Name (and ethnicity or notation where given)

Occupation, role, or relationship

Location

Status

Kent

With the Maroons?

Fugitive from slavery

Kent N

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Kickery

Mesopotamia

Enslaved girl

Kickery

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Kingston

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Leah (lost both hands)

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Leister

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Lewis

197

Transported for being a fugitive

Lister

Mesopotamia

Enslaved boy

Little Bess

Mother of Nanny

Kingston

Enslaved woman

Little Cloe

Mother of Molly

Not given

Enslaved woman

In Port Royal gaol

Captured fugitive from slavery

London London

Caulker

From Kingston

Fugitive from slavery

London

Hired out

From Luana plantation

Enslaved man

London

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Love

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

On one of Rose Fuller’s plantations

Enslaved woman

Lucy

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Lucy (Bathsheba’s)

Mesopotamia

Enslaved girl

Lucy (Cuffey’s)

Mesopotamia

Enslaved girl

Mesopotamia

Enslaved girl

Kingston?

Enslaved woman

Mackril

In Port Royal gaol

Captured fugitive from slavery

Margaritta (lost both hands)

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Maria

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Lucea

‘Wife’ of Joe ‘Peete’

Lucyen Luenctia

Mother of Billy, John, Ephraim, and Bessey

198

A Memorial to the Enslaved and Freed People in 1756

Name (and ethnicity or notation where given) Maria

Occupation, role, or relationship Mother of Mary, William, and Jane

Marina

Location

Status

St Mary

Enslaved woman

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Marma

Hired out

From Luana plantation

Enslaved woman

Mary

Daugher of Sarah Peters, sister of Bessey, and grandaughter of Molly Peters

Portland

Manumitted 1756

Mary (Creole)

With Dick

From Kingston

Fugitive from slavery

Mary (mulatto child)

Daugher of Maria and sister of William and Jane

St Mary

Manumitted 1756

Mary (mulatto)

Daughter of Kate

Westmoreland

Manumitted 1756

Mary (mulatto)

Mother of Polly and Johnny

St Andrew

Enslaved woman

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Mercury (Angolan)

From Kingston, with the Maroons?

Fugitive from slavery

Mimbah

Portland

Manumitted 1756

Mary (a white Negro) Matt (driver)

Driver

Mingo

Mesopotamia

Enslaved boy

Mingo

Superannuated, formerly a ratcatcher

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Molly

Daughter of Betty, sister of Jemmy and Samme

St Elizabeth

Manumitted 1756

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Molly P Molly (girl)

Daughter of Little Cloe

Not given

Manumitted 1756

Molly (mulatto girl)

Possible sister of Jenny

Vere

Manumitted 1756

Molly Peters

Mother of Jack, William, Molly, Sarah, Dennis, and Ned, grandmother of Bessy and Mary

Portland

Manumitted 1756

A Memorial to the Enslaved and Freed People in 1756 Name (and ethnicity or notation where given) Molly Peters (mulatto)

Occupation, role, or relationship Daughter of Molly and sister of Jack, William, Sarah, Dennis, and Ned

Location

199

Status

Portland

Manumitted 1756

Monkey

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Morall

Kingston

Manumitted 1756

Morratt

In Port Royal gaol

Captured fugitive from slavery

Myrtillah

Hired out

From Humphrey Manning’s estate

Enslaved woman

Nancy

Mother of Pheba

Kingston

Manumitted 1756

Nancy (mulatto girl)

Possible sister of Fanny

Clarendon

Manumitted 1756

Mesopotamia

Enslaved girl

Nanny Nanny

Daughter of Bess

Kingston

Manumitted 1756

Ned

Son of Molly Peters, brother of Jack, William, Molly, John, and Dennis

Portland

Manumitted 1756

Ned

Mesopotamia

Enslaved boy

Ned (blind)

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Nelly

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Not given

Manumitted 1756

Neptune

Mesopotamia

Enslaved boy

Nero

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Occana

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Occana (Jasper’s[?])

Mesopotamia

Enslaved boy

Occana (Nancy’s)

Mesopotamia

Enslaved boy

Oxford

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Panthenia

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Parry

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Nelly

Daughter of Colonel Varney Phelps and Black Belly

Patience

Field hand

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Patience

Mother of Hipia and Bessey

St James

Enslaved woman

200

A Memorial to the Enslaved and Freed People in 1756

Name (and ethnicity or notation where given)

Occupation, role, or relationship

Location

Status

Patty

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Paul

Mesopotamia

Enslaved boy

Pay

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Peg

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Peggy

Kingston?

Manumitted 1756

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Pero

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Peter

In Port Royal gaol

Captured fugitive from slavery

Peter

Mesopotamia

Enslaved boy

Peter (Roe)

Mesopotamia

Enslaved boy

Kingston

Manumitted 1756

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

From Raggland plantation

Enslaved woman

Phillis (old)

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Phillis (young)

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

St Andrew

Manumitted 1756

Pompey

In Port Royal gaol

Captured fugitive from slavery

Pompey

Mesopotamia

Enslaved boy

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Primus

Mesopotamia

Enslaved boy

Prince

Mesopotamia

Enslaved boy

Prince

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Priscilla

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

St Catherine

Manumitted 1756

Providence

St James

Enslaved man

Prue

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Peggy N

Pheba

Field hand

Daughter of Nancy

Philander P Philip Philis

Polly (quadroon), otherwise Ann Godin

Hired out to Joseph Sparkes

Reputed daughter of Mary (mulatto) and Ezekiel David

Port Royal Primus

Priscilla Swail Dickson (quadroon)

Mason

Reputed daughter of Nancy Swail, a free quadroon woman

A Memorial to the Enslaved and Freed People in 1756 Name (and ethnicity or notation where given)

Occupation, role, or relationship

Location

201

Status

Quaco

St Catherine

Manumitted 1756

Quaco

Mesopotamia

Enslaved boy

Quamina P

Mesopotamia

Enslaved boy

Quarry

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Quasheba (Cooba’s) P

Mesopotamia

Enslaved girl

Quasheba (old)

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Quasheba (short)

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Quashee

Murdered for being a fugitive

Quashey

Mesopotamia

Enslaved boy

Quashey (A)

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Quashey (B)

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Quashey (O)

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Queen

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Queen (Spring)

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Rachel

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Ralph

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Robert P

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Robin

From Kingston, with the Maroons?

Fugitive from slavery

Robin (C) P

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Rose

Mesopotamia

Enslaved girl

Rose

Mother of Thomas

St Elizabeth

Manumitted 1756

Rose

Superannuated

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Ruthy N

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Sabia

Mesopotamia

Enslaved girl

Sabina P

Mesopotamia

Enslaved girl

From Raggland plantation

Enslaved woman

Sally (long)

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Sally (short)

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Sam

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Sally

Sam, Mr

Hired out

Ropemaker

202

A Memorial to the Enslaved and Freed People in 1756

Name (and ethnicity or notation where given)

Occupation, role, or relationship

Sambo Samme

Daughter of Betty, sister of Jemmy and Molly

Sarah (Ebo)

Location

Status

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

St Elizabeth

Manumitted 1756

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Sarah (mountain)

Stockkeeper

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Sarah (mountain)

Stockkeeper

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Sarah (Quasheba)

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Sarah (short)

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Sarah (windward)

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Portland

Manumitted 1756

Scipio

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Scipio P

Mesopotamia

Enslaved boy

Scotland

St James

Manumitted 1756

Selvin

Mesopotamia

Enslaved boy

Seraphina

Kingston

Manumitted 1756

Shamboy

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Sharper

Mesopotamia

Enslaved boy

Sharry (N)

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Sharry (O)

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Sarah Peters (mulatto)

Daughter of Molly and sister of Jack, William, and Molly Peters

Sibby

Mother of Jacob and possible sister of Betty

Kingston

Manumitted 1756

Silvia

Doctoress

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Silvia

Mother of Amey and Charles

Kingston

Enslaved woman

Silvia P

Mesopotamia

Enslaved girl

Silvia (lost one hand)

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Smart

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Somerset

Not given

Enslaved man

Æsop

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Sophia (mulatto) N

Mesopotamia

Enslaved girl

A Memorial to the Enslaved and Freed People in 1756 Name (and ethnicity or notation where given)

Occupation, role, or relationship

Sprancer

Location

203

Status

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Stephen

Son of Fanny Strachan and Mr Almeyda

Spanish Town

Enslaved boy, possibly later manumitted

Suckey

Mother of Hannibal

St James

Enslaved woman

Sucky

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Sue

Mesopotamia

Enslaved girl

Susanna

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Tamar (lost one hand)

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

St Elizabeth

Manumitted 1756

Tibby

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

Tim

Mesopotamia

Enslaved boy

Timpo (female)

St Catherine

Manumitted 1756

Tinker N

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Titus

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Toby

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Mesopotamia

Enslaved boy

Tom

Westmoreland

Manumitted 1756

Toney

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Toney

From Kingston

Fugitive from slavery

Towerhill

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Mesopotamia

Enslaved boy

From Garden River plantation

Enslaved woman

Warwick

Mesopotamia

Enslaved boy

Will

Mesopotamia

Enslaved boy

Spanish Town

Enslaved man

St Mary

Manumitted 1756

Mesopotamia

Enslaved boy

Kingston

Manumitted 1756

Thomas (mulatto)

Tom

Son of Rose

Possible fictive kin of Clarissa

Venture Violett

Hired out to Samuel Hertford

Will (Grange) William (mulatto child)

Son of Maria and brother of Mary and Jane

William (mulatto) William Kerr (Billy)

Son of Dolly Glenn

204

A Memorial to the Enslaved and Freed People in 1756

Name (and ethnicity or notation where given) William Peters (mulatto)

Occupation, role, or relationship Son of Molly and brother of Jack, Molly, Sarah, Dennis, and Ned

Location

Status

Portland

Manumitted 1756

Mesopotamia

Enslaved woman

From Raggland plantation

Enslaved woman

Yabba

With the Maroons?

Fugitive from slavery

York

Mesopotamia

Enslaved boy

Yorkshire

Mesopotamia

Enslaved man

Zell

Mesopotamia

Enslaved boy

Yabba Yabba

Hired out

*With regards to Mesopotamia, those purchased from Dr Paterson, the estate’s former attorney, were marked with a ‘P’ by their name, and those purchased by Mr Pool, the new attorney appointed by Joseph Foster Barham in 1751, were marked with an ‘N’, for new. Those with ‘Spring’ next to their name may have been at a satellite pen.

Notes

Prologue 1 2

3

4

Examination of Andrew Mitchelson, HCA 32/189, CP4, TNA. The commissioners were William Pye(?) and Thomas Grouby; Standing Interrogatories, HCA 32/189/22, CP1, TNA. The role of local commissioners was the first in the process of claiming prizes. They took evidence from the crew regarding recent voyages, cargoes, owners, the capture and captors, and the personal lives of those examined; Bevan and Cock, ‘High Court of Admiralty Prize Papers, 1652–1815’, 35. The Europa was a ‘snow’: a two-masted vessel commonly used for ocean trading; McGowan, The Ship, 35. According to McClaren, Captain James Cooke was married and his wife and family lived in Dublin; Examination of Anthony McClaren, HCA 32/189, CP2, TNA. You can see the full list of ‘Standing Interrogations’ at HCA 32/189 CP1. Bills of lading confirm this cargo, HCA 30/259, TNA, passim. The shipping records have the Europa as having given its bond in Kingston, 30 September 1756, with a cargo of 118 hogsheads of sugar, 10(?) puncheons of rum, 21 bags of ginger, 2 bags of cotton, 6 casks of coffee, 1 bag of pimento, and some mahogany planks. Here the owner is listed as Wm Plumstead & Co., rather than Thomas Blair, CO 142/16, f.102a, TNA. My thanks to an anonymous reader for pointing out this reference. The case was brought to the HCA by the claimant, William Snell of Austin Fryars, representing the owner Thomas Blair of Dublin, a merchant. The outcome of the case in the HCA is not known as the Europa’s case does not exist in the Prize Appeal papers at HCA 42 or HCA 45. Confirmed with Amanda Bevan, head of legal records, TNA, and with Randolph Cock, records specialist, Prize Papers, TNA, 13 December 2019. Thomas Blair was listed as a merchant in The Dublin Directory of 1753.

206 5

6

7 8

9

10 11 12 13

14

Notes to pages xi–xiii Jean Elie, a French captive, also gave evidence that the crew of the Europa were British subjects; Examination of Jean Elie, HCA 32/189, CP2. Privateering was usually entered into during periods of war by private citizens of each belligerent nation, and was therefore subject to strict regulation. Letters of marque were issued to legitimize such actions. On British privateering more generally, see Starkey, British Privateering Enterprise. The lines between piracy and privateering became more sharply defined in the early eighteenth century, but Wilson asserts that there ‘was no coordinated war on piracy in the early eighteenth century’; Wilson, Suppressing Piracy (ebook), introduction and conclusion. Examination of Anthony McClaren, HCA 32/189, CP2. Rodger has La Machaut as a fourteen-gun privateer taken by Captain Bray of the Adventure in 1757; The Wooden World, 295. La Machaut was possibly named after the fourteenth-century composer and poet Guillaume de Machaut; http://machaut.exeter.ac.uk/, accessed 29 January 2020. The French Commission for War issued to Captain Denis Francois Lemengonnet can be seen translated into English by John Grenet, a notary public in London, at HCA, 32/189, CP6. It was delivered to the British by Jean Elie. The original in French can be seen at HCA 32/189, SP2. I would like to thank Karen Adler, Jonathon Abell, and Nathan Perl-Rosenthal for their generous help in translating the list of French men put in charge of the Europa; see HCA 32/189, SP1, TNA. Examination of Jean Elie, TNA, HCA, 32/189, CP2. Examination of Andrew Mitchelson, HCA 32/189, CP4. Bevan and Cock, ‘High Court of Admiralty’, 35. The extremely rare nature of this collection in English was confirmed by Amanda Bevan, personal discussion, 8 January 2020. There are, no doubt, many English letters in the archives of other nations who took English vessels as prizes. There are some, for example, in the St Malo archives. My thanks to S.L.W. van Eeton for this information. For a discussion of the HCA collection’s amazing research potential and curatorial peculiarities, see Bevan and Cock, ‘High Court of Admiralty’; other languages identified as at January 2020 include Portuguese, German, Italian, Danish, Swedish, Russian, Basque, Yiddish, Ladino, Latin, Hebrew, Arabic, Persian, and Armenian, 35–6.

Notes to pages xiii–xv 15

16

17 18

19 20

21 22

23 24

25

207

We do not know if all merchant vessels carried mail or if some mailbags might have been thrown overboard. All we know is that there would have been more letters than have survived in the Prize Papers at TNA; email correspondence with Amanda Bevan and Randolph Cock, 9 July 2021. There are only thirty-four letters plus associated documents extant from the Fortune of Bristol from 1757, at HCA 32/191/25. A brief analysis suggested that there was no material that would change any of the argument presented here. The others are at HCA 32/165/1, HCA 32/170/2, HCA32/243/24, HCA 32/167/16, HCA 32/207/23, HCA 32/244/23, HCA 32/212/10, HCA 32/241/19, HCA 32/307/22, HCA 32/166/1, HCA 32/256/11, and HCA 32/176A/20. There may be other letters in colonial Vice Admiralty Courts, but it has not been possible to locate any at the time of going to press. This appears to be the only extant newspaper for Jamaica for this year. They are very patchy for the eighteenth century. The Readex Caribbean Newspapers, 1718–1876, does not appear to have any. See also Proctor, Colonial British Caribbean Newspapers. Many have subdivisions such as 107a, for example. The terms ‘planter’ and ‘pen keeper’ denote the legal owner of plantations and pens: invariably, the enslavers of people of African descent. See the notes on conventions in the front matter of this book. Knight, Natural, Moral, and Political History, 471. Fuentes, Dispossessed Lives, 1, fn. 1. Hereafter the term ‘slavery’ denotes chattel slavery, which was then a type of servitude that legally defined and treated people of African descent as subhuman moveable property. See notes on conventions in the front matter of this book. The term ‘dual heritage’ denotes people of African-European descent; please see the notes on conventions in the front matter. See Karras, Sojourners in the Sun; Hamilton, Scotland, the Caribbean. On Ireland’s links with the Atlantic, see Cullen, An Economic History of Ireland; Nash, ‘Irish Atlantic Trade’; Rodgers, ‘Ireland and the Black Atlantic’; Wright, An Ulster Slave Owner. https://www.ucl.ac.uk/lbs/, accessed 9 July 2021. The terms ‘plantation’ and ‘pen’ denote estates on which a broad range of economic activity took place, often on an industrial scale, and on which predominantly enslaved people of African descent laboured. Please see the notes on conventions in the front matter of this book. I use ‘people of colour’ throughout to include people of African descent and of dual heritage.

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Notes to pages 3–5

Chapter One 1 2 3 4 5

6

7 8

9 10

11

Ewbank Ogle to Mrs Ogle, Kingston, 9 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.18, TNA. Ann Graham to Mrs Littlejohn, Jamaica, n.d., HCA 30/259, f.156. Ewbank Ogle to Mrs Ogle, Kingston, 9 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.18. Burnard, ‘“Prodigious Riches”’. Dunn, Sugar and Slaves; Sheridan, Sugar and Slavery; Craton and Walvin, A Jamaican Plantation; Higman, Plantation Jamaica; Dunn, A Tale of Two Plantations; Mintz, Sweetness and Power. On the smaller pens, see Shepherd, Livestock, Sugar and Slavery; Hall, ‘Planters, Farmers and Gardeners’; Burnard, Mastery, Tyranny, and Desire. Burnard, ‘“Prodigious Riches”’; Williams, Capitalism and Slavery; Inikori, Africans and the Industrial Revolution; Inikori, ‘Slavery and the Development of Industrial Capitalism’; Solow and Engerman, ed., British Capitalism and Caribbean Slavery; Richardson, ‘Market Structure and Profits’; Thomas and Bean, ‘The Fishers of Men’; Behrendt, ‘The Annual Volume and Distribution’; Eltis and Engerman, ‘The Importance of Slavery and the Slave Trade’; Richardson, ‘Profits in the Liverpool Slave Trade’; Hyde, Parkinson, and Marriner, ‘The Nature and Profitability of the Liverpool Slave Trade’. Burnard, ‘“Not a Place for Whites?”’, 82. Pares, War and Trade, 265–6. Nevertheless, the West Indies continues to play second fiddle to Europe in the historiography of the Seven Years’ War. Pares aside, the West Indies receives relatively little attention in military historians’ accounts of the early years of the war. Jamaica first appears in Anderson’s Crucible of War in his analysis of increasing success in 1758, 308. Jamaica does not appear, except for a brief mention, until chapter 11 of Baugh’s magisterial Global Seven Years’ War. Jamaica and the West Indies come under more consideration in his discussion on securing the peace in chapter 15: ‘Peacemaking, 1762: Concessions before Conquests’, 559–619. Charters, Disease, War, and the Imperial State, 9, 1–2. Burnard and Garrigus, Plantation Machine, 82. Karras argues that the Seven Years’ War ‘was perhaps the single most important contribution’ in furthering Jamaica’s economic growth; Sojourners in the Sun, 47. Brown, Tacky’s Revolt, 244; Burnard and Garrigus, Plantation Machine, 18.

Notes to pages 5–6 12 13

14 15

16

17

18

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20 21

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Burnard, Planters, Merchants, and Slaves, 157; Williams, Capitalism and Slavery, 92–6, quotation at 96. Gauci, William Beckford: First Prime Minister of the London Empire; Burnard, Jamaica in the Age of Revolution, chapter 2, ‘Edward Long’s Vision of Jamaica and the Virtues of a Planned Society’, 42–69; Craton and Walvin, A Jamaican Plantation; Sheridan, ‘Simon Taylor, Sugar Tycoon’; Petley, White Fury; Smith, Slavery, Family, and Gentry Capitalism. Morgan, ed., The Bright–Meyler Papers; Donington, The Bonds of Family. Robertson, Gone is the Ancient Glory. On Kingston’s trade, see Burnard, ‘Kingston, Jamaica: Crucible of Modernity’, 123. See also Burnard and Morgan, ‘Dynamics of the Slave Market’; Haggerty, ‘Liverpool, the Slave Trade’; Haggerty, ‘I “could do for the Dickmans”’; Radburn, ‘Guinea Factors, Slave Sales’. Burnard, Planters, Merchants, and Slaves, 5. Much of the ‘new’ Harvard History of Capitalism conveniently ignores this earlier link of slavery to capitalism. See, for example, Beckert, Empire of Cotton; Baptist, Slavery and the Making of American Capitalism; Beckert and Seth Rothman, ed., Slavery’s Capitalism; Beckert and Desan, ed., American Capitalism. For critiques of this ‘school’, see Vries, ‘Cotton, Capitalism, and Coercion’; Wright, ‘Slavery and Anglo-American Capitalism Revisited’; the very thoughtful Neptune, ‘Throwin’ Scholarly Shade’; and Burnard and Riello, ‘Slavery, Capitalism, the Great Divergence and British Industrialization’. See, for example, Sheridan, Sugar and Slavery; Dunn, Sugar and Slaves; Craton and Walvin, A Jamaican Plantation; Dunn, A Tale of Two Plantations; Craton, Slaves and Plantation Life; McDonald, The Economy and Material Culture; Roberts, Slavery and the Enlightenment; Burnard, Planters, Merchants, and Slaves. ‘Settlements’ is Greene’s term, in which he includes sugar, ginger, cotton, coffee, and pimento plantations, as well as pens and provision farms. Out of 1,868 settlements, only 605 were sugar based; Greene, Settler Jamaica, 51–2. Shepherd, Livestock, Sugar and Slavery, xxiii; Burnard, Planters, Merchants, and Slaves, 174. By 1784, 78 per cent of land was held in tracts of more than 1,000 acres; Burnard, Planters, Merchants, and Slaves, 78. Greene, Settler Jamaica, 51–2. Burnard et al., ‘Living Costs’, 56.

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23 24 25 26

27 28 29 30 31 32

33 34 35 36

37 38 39

Notes to pages 6–9 Greene, ‘Introduction’, xxxviii. See, for example, Burnard, Mastery, Tyranny, and Desire; Beckles, Centering Woman; Burnard, ‘“Rioting in Goatish Embraces”’; Yeh, ‘“A Sink of All Filthiness”’; Burnard, ‘A Matron in Rank, A Prostitute in Manners’. Burnard, ‘“Impatient of Subordination”’, 134. See also Newman, ‘Contesting “Black” Liberty and Subjecthood’. Burnard, Planters, Merchants, and Slaves, 5. Walker, Jamaica Ladies, 7. Burnard and Coleman, ‘Savage Slave Mistress’; Yeh, ‘“A Sink of All Filthiness”’; Zacek, ‘Holding the Whip-Hand’. This included Jewish women, who appear in the tax records of Kingston; Mirvis, The Jews of Eighteenth-Century Jamaica, 138–9. Walker, Jamaica Ladies, 9, 5. Knight, Natural, Moral, and Political History, liv; Beckford, A Descriptive Account. Wilson, A New Imperial History, 4–6. Long, History of Jamaica, Vol. I, 260–1. I have used ‘mixed heritage’ here because Long also refers to people of Native American descent. Burnard, Planters, Merchants, and Slaves, 75. Petley, ‘Plantations and Homes’; Petley, ‘“Home” and “This Country”’; Livesay, Children of Uncertain Fortune; Burnard and Follett, ‘The Cultural Politics of Venereal Disease’; Newman, A Dark Inheritance; Brown, The Reaper’s Garden; Ogborn, The Freedom of Speech; McDonald, The Economy and Material Culture; Paton, The Cultural Politics of Obeah. Greene, ‘Introduction’, xlix. Wilson, New Imperial History, 18; Walker, Jamaica Ladies, 23. See https://www.ucl.ac.uk/lbs/ for the early nineteenth century, accessed 9 July 2021. Karras, Sojourners in the Sun; Hamilton, Scotland, the Caribbean. On Ireland’s links with the Atlantic, see Cullen, An Economic History of Ireland; Nash, ‘Irish Atlantic Trade’; Rodgers, ‘Ireland and the Black Atlantic’; Wright, An Ulster Slave Owner. Examination of Andrew Mitchelson, HCA 32/189, CP4. Lamikiz, Trade and Trust; Cullen, Shovlin, and Truxes, ed., The Bordeaux–Dublin Letters. The letters written by the French appear to be more open about issues such as touch, kisses, sensuality, and ‘colonial debauchery’ more generally; Raapke, ‘The Realm Beyond the Line’, 16; Haasis, The Power of Persuasion. The potential of the letters in the Prize

Notes to pages 9–10

40

41

42

43 44

45 46

47

48 49 50

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Papers is recognized in the ten-year project led by Professor Dagmar Freist in conjunction with TNA. See https://www.prizepapers.de/ the-project/the-prize-papers-collection, accessed 29 September 2022. There are English letters in the prize papers of other nations (e.g. France) but they have not been used here; email correspondence with Siem V.L. Eeten, 19 November 2021. Thomas M. Truxes had viewed and preliminarily catalogued them but they have since been recatalogued in full by Sheryllynne Haggerty and Randolph Cock, 13 December 2019 and 8 January 2020. Dierks, In My Power; Powers, A Parcel of Ribbons; Imbarrato, Sarah Gray Cary. On letters in England, see Whyman, The Pen and the People; Daybell, The Material Letter; Hannan, Women of Letters; King, Writing the Lives of the English Poor. For studies using merchants’ letters, see Hancock, Citizens of the World; Morgan, The Bright–Meyler Papers; Haggerty, ‘Merely for Money’? For the format, style, and ‘hidden language’ of commercial letters, see Hudson, ‘Correspondence and Commitment’. Richardson, Clarissa; Richardson, Pamela. On women’s legal status in England, see Staves, Married Women’s Separate Property in England. For adaptations within the colonial context, see Salmon, Women and the Law of Property. No separate provision appears to have been made in Jamaica regarding the ability of married women to trade in their own right. This could have been because many of the female traders were not white; Haggerty, ‘“Miss Fan can tun her han!”’, 31. Craton, Searching for the Invisible Man. On the transatlantic trade in enslaved Africans and the timings of demand for imported enslaved Africans, see Behrendt, ‘Markets, Transaction Cycles, and Profits’; Haggerty, ‘Risk and Risk Management’. In 1764, there were about 4,000 free people of colour, compared with 15,000 whites, or 21 per cent of the whole island; Livesay, Children of Uncertain Fortune, 24. Here I use the term ‘free people of colour’ to denote Black people of African descent and those of European-African descent. Please see notes on conventions in the front matter of this book. Walker, Jamaica Ladies, 3–4. Walker, Jamaica Ladies, 290–300. Knight, Natural, Moral, and Political History, 477.

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57 58

Notes to pages 10–11 There was not a bishop in Jamaica until 1824; other protestant congregations included Moravians, Methodists, and Baptists; Brown, The Reaper’s Garden, 83, 203–4. Pestana notes that the early Jamaican state welcomed Quakers and Jews, but she does not specifically mention Catholics; English Conquest of Jamaica, 236–7. However, Mirvis argues that in Port Royal at least they were ‘conspicuously different’; Mirvis, The Jews of Eighteenth-Century Jamaica, 32. Curtis Brett, Journal, 15. Note that this item was transferred from private hands to the Tate Archive in late September 2022. A number of letters dated April 1756 for sailors on the Clarendon, a merchant ship, had been forwarded on to Jamaica from Cork, and in December they were being sent back across the Atlantic trying to catch up with the crew; Elinor Thomas to John Thomas, London, 8 April 1756 and 17 April 1756, HCA 30/259, ff.81, 28; John Millner(?) to George Scott, Newry, 18 April 1756, HCA 30/259, f.190; Thomas Stoney to George Stoney, Borrisokane, 14 April 1756, HCA, 30/259, f.23; Isaac Henry to George Henry, Borrisokane, 14 April 1756, HCA 30/259, f.26. Grand Court Hurry Books could not be produced for 1756 due to their poor condition. Records not extant for 1756 include Grand Court Order Books; Court of Ordinary; Court of Error or Appeals; Proceedings; Citations; and Vestry Minutes. For a good overview of sources in Jamaica, see Robertson, ‘Jamaican Archival Resources’. Note that Burnard’s database of Jamaican Probate inventories is now available through the Legacies of British Slavery database at https:// www.ucl.ac.uk/lbs/project/invdesc, accessed 14 September 2022. This appears to be the only extant newspaper for Jamaica for this year. They are very patchy for the eighteenth century. The Readex Caribbean Newspapers, 1718–1876, does not appear to have any. See also Proctor, comp., Colonial British Caribbean Newspapers. I wish to thank the Earl of Clarendon for permission to cite from the Barham Papers and related items at TNA. Burnard, Hearing Slaves Speak, ix. I am using David Armitage’s term from ‘Three Concepts of Atlantic History’ here to mean one place looking out towards the Atlantic. For the new global microhistory, see Freist, ‘A Global Microhistory of the Early Modern Period’. See also Colley, The Ordeal of Elizabeth Marsh; Trivellato, The Familiarity of Strangers; Aslanian, The Global Trade Networks of Armenian Merchants; Ghobrial, ‘Introduction: Seeing the World Like a Microhistorian’; Riello, ‘The World in a Book’; Fuentes, Dispossessed Lives.

Notes to pages 13–15

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59

That is, ‘the majority of documents produced during the era of slavery in the British Caribbean by colonial administrators, planters, white men and women, and governing bodies in the metropole’; Fuentes, Dispossessed Lives, 1, fn. 1. Fuentes is of course referring specifically to enslaved Africans, but the silence is also true of poor whites and free people of colour. 60 Long, History of Jamaica; Beckford, A Descriptive Account; Knight, Natural, Moral, and Political History. See also Burnard, Jamaica in the Age of Revolution, chapter 2, ‘Edward Long’s Vision of Jamaica and the Virtues of a Planned Society’, 42–69.

Chapter Two 1

2

3

4 5 6 7 8 9 10

11 12 13

John Jackson to William Davies, Kingston, 10 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.194. I could not ascertain where the Europa’s mailbag hung, but it was usually in a tavern or coffee house. He worked in the counting house of Hibberts & Millan; John Jackson to (?), Kingston, 10 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.194. The Gazetteer and London Daily Advertiser reported the Europa as having left Jamaica on 12 October, but the many letters dated November attest that it did not; Gazetteer and London Daily Advertiser, 22 December 1756. Jackson is not listed in TBJPDB. Unless otherwise noted, the description of the weather and topography in this chapter is taken from Knight, Natural, Moral, and Political History, 437–53. Jamaica Courant and Weekly Advertiser, 28 September 1756. Brett, Journal, 8. Although Curtis Brett wrote his journal in 1775, he was in Jamaica in 1756. Burnard, ‘“The Countrie Continues Sicklie”’, 61–2; Kiple, The Caribbean Slave, 18; Sheridan, Doctors and Slaves, 10. Brett, Journal, 8. Brown, The Reaper’s Garden, 89. Knight, Natural, Moral, and Political History, 438, 441. See Haggerty, ‘Merely for Money’?, chapter 7, ‘Crises’, 198–234; Buchnea, ‘Transatlantic Transformations’; Matson, Merchants and Empire, 265–311; Haggerty, ‘What’s in a Price?’. Clarke, Kingston, 8–10; Zahediah, ‘The Merchants of Port Royal’. Brett, Journal, 14. Most of these were north of the parade, which was less densely populated than the south; Clarke, Kingston, 10.

214 14 15

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18 19

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Notes to page 15 Thomas Pinnock’s grand house was built on the outskirts of Kingston; Nelson, Architecture and Empire, 142–4. Robertson, ‘Jamaican Architectures before Georgian’. Hurricanes were a disconcerting and fearful part of Caribbean life; Raapke, ‘The Realm Beyond the Line’, 196; Mulcahy, Hurricanes and Society. Many hurricanes have hit Jamaica over the centuries, including several in the twenty-first century; https://www.nlj.gov.jm/history-notes/ History%20of%20Hurricanes%20and%20Floods%20in%20Jamaica, pdf, accessed 20 May 2021. See, for example, Charles Mitchell to Innes & Clark, Kingston, 9 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.20; Nelson, Architecture and Empire, 192. Kingston parish church was built before 1702; Clarke, Kingston, 16. There were several synagogues in Jamaica, including in Kingston and Spanish Town; Arbell, The Portuguese Jews of Jamaica. See also Mirvis, The Jews of Eighteenth-Century Jamaica, 70–1, where it is argued that by 1750 the Jewish community was mostly Creole and that it was about 8 per cent of the population by 1774. Clarke notes that a synagogue for the Sephardim Jews was built on Princes Street in 1750 and for the Ashkenazi on Orange Street in 1789; Clarke, Kingston, 18. Few Catholics seem to have gone to Jamaica, although this is difficult to assess. However, immigrants from Ireland accounted for only 1.9 per cent of all migrants to Jamaica and less than 4 per cent of the population between 1680 and 1700; Burnard, ‘European Migration’, 782, 785. Brown, The Reaper’s Garden, 83. The majority of these immigrants came from England, and of them 52 per cent were servants from London and Bristol, about onethird of which were indentured; Burnard, ‘European Migration’, 774. This included many women who were poor and so left little record; Higman, ‘Domestic Service in Jamaica’, 117. Scots also came temporarily, and may have represented about 10 per cent of the landowners in 1754, but ‘All began their careers as sojourners’. Karras identified 267 Scottish sojourners between 1740 and 1800, many living in Kingston; Karras, Sojourners in the Sun, 53, 122, 49. On English migration to the Americas more generally, see Games, Migration and the Origins of the English Atlantic World. John Jackson to (?), Kingston, 10 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.194. He was not alone in finding Jamaica strange. James Short described it as ‘a perplexing country’; James Short to Charles Dingley,

Notes to pages 15–16

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Kingston, 5 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.103. Similarly, Richard Antonie told his brother, ‘I am tyr’d of Jamaica I shall be glad to See my Friends in Old England’; Richard Antonie to John Antonie, Kingston, 10 May 1755, Correspondence of Richard Antonie, DM 84/20, UBSC. Brett, Journal, 16; Bickham, ‘Eating the Empire’. Brett, Journal, 12. Burnard and Coleman, ‘Savage Slave Mistress’, 53. A glance through the manumission records demonstrates the ubiquity of slaveholding even by relatively poor people; Manumission of Slaves, 1B/11/6, 1755–1760; Greene, Settler Society, 30. More than 70 per cent of the nonlanded property of free people of colour was comprised of enslaved people, which ‘unsettles our notions of how slavery is meant to work’; Burnard, ‘Crucible of Modernity’, 141. Burnard, Planters, Merchants, and Slaves, 173; Brett, Journal, 12. By 1764 there were 3,000 free people of mixed heritage and 1,000 free Black people, compared with 15,000 white people; Livesay, Children of Uncertain Fortune, 24. Most of these people of colour lived in Kingston, yet they only formed around 1.5 per cent of heads of household; Greene, Settler Society, 160. Clarke, Kingston, 16. On ‘housekeepers’, see Beckles, Centering Woman; Burnard, Mastery, Tyranny, and Desire, 228–40. On the weekly market, see McDonald, The Economy and Material Culture, 26–37; Haggerty, ‘“Miss Fan can tun her han”’, 35–7. James White to Bishop Gibson, Vere, 23 April 1724, Fulham Papers, Vol. XVII(i), ff.185–88, Lambeth Palace Library. County assizes in Kingston were held in January, April, July, and October; Beckford, A Descriptive Account, xxii. Brett, Journal, 12. On fashions in the Atlantic world, see DuPlessis, The Material Atlantic. The elected assembly had two representatives from most parishes and three from St Catherine, Kingston, and Port Royal; Petley, Slaveholders in Jamaica, 8–9, 60–1. The Supreme Court was also held in Spanish Town, but, like Kingston, each parish had its own courts of assizes and common pleas. For Jamaica’s institutions more widely, see Petley, Slaveholders in Jamaica, chapter 3, ‘Public Life and Institutions’, 53–84. Brett, Journal, 14, 12. Robertson, Gone is the Ancient Glory, 71.

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Notes to pages 16–17

Nelson, Architecture and Empire, 149. Lancelot Grave to Matthew Grave, Kingston, 11 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.43. 36 Mathew Cleland to Charles Cleland, Kingston, 17 September 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.1. 37 John & Edward Foord to Hilton & Biscoe, Kingston, 3 October 1756, TNA, HCA 32/189/22, f.159. 38 Robert Nelson to Robert Smith, Kingston, 2 November 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.142. 39 In 1756, 2,010 sailors were supposed to be stationed in Jamaica on eight Royal Navy ships. My thanks to Douglas Hamilton for this information. 40 Hibberts & Millan to Lawrence Spencer & Co., Kingston, 2 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.38. 41 These figures are the average annual value for 1749–1751. The annual value of produce exported from Jamaica to Britain was £579,610, of which sugar was £509,261, or 88 per cent. Next was rum at 6.7 per cent, followed by cotton at 1.9 per cent. Pimento, molasses, mahogany, ginger, fustic, logwood, lignum vitae, and ebony constituted the remainder of exports. Of these, £558,744 went to the British Isles and £20,866 to North America; Greene, Settler Jamaica, 14. 42 Sheridan, Sugar and Slavery, 88. For a lovely piece on the consumption of sugar, see Mintz, Sweetness and Power, chapter 3, ‘Consumption’, 74–150. 43 Following the ‘Sugar Revolution’ in Jamaica, increasing demand in Britain had percolated ‘downward from the nobility’ to make it so central to the British diet that it was part of workhouse fare by the mid-eighteenth century; Higman, ‘The Sugar Revolution’; Mintz, Sweetness and Power, 87; Shammas, The Pre-Industrial Consumer. In 1660, Britain imported only 1,000 hogsheads of sugar, but by 1753 this had increased to 111,000, worth around £1,270,000; Mintz, Sweetness and Power, 39; Mitchell and Deane, Abstract of Historical Statistics, 285–90 (England and Wales). 44 Examination of Anthony McClaren, HCA 32/189, CP2; TNA, CO 142/16, f.102a. 45 This included clothing, medical supplies, tools, food, interest on loans, and purchases of enslaved people. Of this, £505,662 came from Britain and the remainder from North America in the form of food, candles, naval produce, horses, and wood. Greene, Settler 34 35

Notes to pages 17–18

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Jamaica, 16. On the trade from North America, see Pelizzarri, ‘Supplying Slavery’. 46 Indeed, until 1780 direct trade between Ireland and West Africa was forbidden. Only ten slave voyages are listed as having left Ireland, and only one from Dublin, the Sophia in 1716 (voyage ID 21807, accessed 8 March 2020); Rodgers, ‘Ireland and the Black Atlantic’. This has led to an ‘obscurity of Ireland’s role in the Atlantic economy’; Nash, ‘Irish Atlantic Trade’, 329. 47 Nash, ‘Irish Atlantic Trade’, 330. 48 Belfast had been supplying beef and herrings to the British West Indies since the 1660s; Wright, ed., An Ulster Slave Owner, 13. During 1753–57, exports worth £140,000 in Irish currency went to the West Indies, compared with £23,000 over the same period to the mainland (86 per cent). However, much of this trade went via Irish merchant houses in London, and so much of the invisible earnings remained in English hands; Nash, ‘Irish Atlantic Trade’, 354. Dublin was by far the most important port and collected the most duties in the seventeenth century: £33,137 in customs and excise in 1668; Cullen, Anglo-Irish Trade, 1660–1800, 11–14. 49 The Royal Exchange at Cornhill, completed in 1668 at a cost of £50,000, had separate ‘walks’ for each major trade including the Baltic, Continental Europe, the Americas, the ‘Orient’, Ireland, and Scotland. New England, Carolina, and Virginia had their own special walks; Gauci, Emporium of the World, chapter 3, ‘The Royal Exchange’, 39–56. Although London supposedly held a monopoly on the transatlantic trade in enslaved Africans via the Royal African Company from the late seventeenth century, it lost its leading position in this trade to Bristol in the 1730s. In fact, The Royal African Company never really had a monopoly on the African trade, as was recognized in 1698 when the trade was thrown open to all English subjects; Griffiths, A Licence to Trade, 69. 50 Gauci, Emporium of the World, 130, 9, 64–5. 51 Gauci, Emporium of the World, 12, 26–7, 54, 43–4; Zahediah, Capital and the Colonies, 263. See also Hancock, Citizens of the World. On Madeira wine, see Hancock, Oceans of Wine. 52 Bristol’s links with Jamaica – and, indeed, with the wider Caribbean – were also of long standing, and although Bristol’s position as a port was declining in relative terms, its trade was still increasing in real terms. On Bristol and the Cabot voyages, see Little, The City and County of Bristol, 94–8. The average tonnage of vessels clearing

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Notes to page 18 Bristol for the West Indies in 1729–38 was 183, but this had risen to 217 in 1756–63 and to 465 in 1784–97, and Bristol’s trade to the West Indies was valued at £250,000–£300,000 per annum; Morgan, Bristol and the Atlantic Trade, 43, 91. Morgan also notes that Jamaica was Bristol’s jewel in the crown; Morgan, Bristol and the Atlantic Trade, 22. The reasons for this decline and for Bristol’s merchants’ relative withdrawal from the transatlantic trade in enslaved Africans have been much debated; see Morgan, ‘The Economic Development of Bristol’, esp. 48–55. Its decline was notable in the transatlantic trade in enslaved Africans, although Bristol remained important in the sugar trade. By 1750–59, Bristol still had twenty ships involved in the transatlantic trade in enslaved Africans, but this formed only a quarter of the total trade of the three ports; Lamb, ‘Volume and Tonnage of the Liverpool Slave Trade’, 91. On copper stills, see Zahedieh, ‘Colonies, Copper, and the Market’. Morgan, Bristol and the Atlantic Trade, 95–8. Haggerty, ‘Liverpool, the Slave Trade’, 22. For more on Liverpool’s Atlantic trade more generally, see Haggerty, ‘Merely for Money’? By 1756 Liverpool was Britain’s leading slave trade port. The first mention of Liverpool’s Atlantic trade is the Antelope, which returned with sugar from Barbados in 1667; Ascott, Lewis, and Power, Liverpool, 1660–1750, 16. In 1710, there had only been two clearances from Liverpool for West Africa (just over 4 per cent of the combined trade of Liverpool, London, and Bristol), but by 1750–59 Liverpool’s fortynine slave ships represented 60 per cent of the combined slaving voyages of those three ports; Lamb, ‘Volume and Tonnage of the Liverpool Slave Trade’, 91. On Liverpool’s dominance, see Morgan, ‘Liverpool’s Dominance in the British Slave Trade’. Of these, 69.6 per cent were male and 45.5 per cent were children, which was a normal distribution in the British slave trade; https:// www.slavevoyages.org/, accessed 20 February 2020. There were 2,336 enslaved people from the Bight of Biafra, 2,335 from West Central Africa, and 1,676 from the Bight of Benin; calculation on slavevoyages.org, accessed 27 February 2020. The number 10,072 is derived from a query of all voyages with Jamaica as principal place of landing in 1756. The numbers given for place of embarkation do not add up to the total of those who disembarked in Jamaica. This is no doubt due to the high mortality rates and imputed figures for the database. On this and other issues, see Ryden, ‘Running the Numbers’. For an antidote to the ‘numbers game’, see Rediker, The Slave Ship.

Notes to pages 18–19 57 58

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63 64 65

66

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William Miller to James Laroche & Co., Kingston, 29 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.121. The sugar harvest was from November to May, and it was then that demand for enslaved people would be the highest; Behrendt, ‘Markets, Transaction Cycles, and Profits’, 192. Shepherd, Livestock, Sugar and Slavery, 22. Greene, Settler Jamaica, 51–2. Jamaica was thus far from being monocultural, but sugar dominated, drastically changing the landscape, and large plantations dominated from the second quarter of the eighteenth century; Shepherd, Livestock, Sugar and Slavery, xxiii; Burnard, Planters, Merchants, and Slaves, 174; Greene, Settler Jamaica, 51–2. Greene, Settler Jamaica, 51–2. Pens were also important in the provision of livestock such as steers, mules, and heifers for working mills as well as for their manure. Pens also supplied corn, plantains, grass, milk, bricks, white limes, shingles, fresh beer, fish, timber, and staves. In addition to looking after the crops, the enslaved people on pens, mostly men, provided services such as jobbing, pasturage, and cartage; Shepherd, Livestock, Sugar and Slavery, 22, 53. Brett, Journal, 9. Lambert argues that this was a particular, but normalized, West Indian practice; Lambert, ‘Master–Horse–Slave’. Nelson, Architecture and Empire, 131. The sixteen-mile walk is also known as River Road in St Catherine parish, north of Spanish Town. For a wider description of the topography of Jamaica, see Beckford, A Descriptive Account, 1–47, quotations from 21–2. On Beckford and aesthetics, see Senior, ‘The Colonial Picturesque’. John Kinlock to Joseph Foster Barham, Westmoreland, 1 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.91; George Alpress to Rose Fuller, Spanish Town, 24 June 1757, JCRFSF, f.138. John Jackson to William Davies, Kingston, 10 October 1756, HCA 32/259, f.152; John Jackson to (?), Kingston, 10 October 1756. HCA 30/259, f.194. Daniel Mendes Pereira to Raphael Vas de Silva, Kingston, 7 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.217. This letter was in Portuguese. My immense thanks to Max Menz and Gustavo Acioli for kindly translating it for me. Alexander Robe to Betty Robe, Ann Gally, Kingston, 12 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.39. George Farmer to Jeremiah Farmer, Dreadnought, Port Royal, 12 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.63.

220 71

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78

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Notes to pages 19–21 This informal education regarding letters began to wane from the 1790s; King, Writing the Lives of the English Poor, 137, see also 134–225 on ‘Rhetorical Structures’. People also realized that letter writing was important to family advancement; Whyman, The Pen and the People, 14, 43. For a letter-writing guide, see The Complete LetterWriter. Only one of the letters conformed to what might be called an ‘enlightenment style’: G. Hutton to Mrs Hutton, Kingston, 5 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.50a; Barker-Benfield, The Culture of Sensibility, xix. John Thomson to Mrs Jane Thomson, Kingston, 10 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.2. Aaron Lousada to Isaac Mendes Da Costa Senr, Jamaica, 5 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.106. Matthew Hibbert to George Maynard, Kingston, 25 September 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.67. William Nickell to James Nickell, Kingston, 8 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.159; Martin Swords to James Swords, Port Royal, 8 October 1755, HCA 30/259, f.192. On sailors writing home from the Caribbean, see Haggerty, ‘I “never had the happeness of Receivin one Letter from You”’. Women wrote more infrequently while they were children because they were less likely to be sent to boarding school, and those girls who did learn to write wrote less often. Men also wrote more often through the creation and signing of legal documents, because married women were feme covert and had no separate legal identity. On women’s legal status in England, see Staves, Married Women’s Separate Property. For adaptations within the colonial context, see Salmon, Women and the Law of Property in Early America. More generally, women’s letters may not have been deemed worth keeping; Whyman, The Pen and the People, 8, 42. George Farmer to Richard Edward Hull, n/g, n.d., HCA 30/259, f.158. On the accessing of paper, ink, and pen by the poor, see King, Writing the Lives, 56–65. The quality of paper might denote the status of the sender, along with the neatness of the writing, spacing between lines, and the width of margins; Whyman, The Pen and the People, 23. William Miller to his brother, 11 September 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.79. (Currency converted at https://www.nationalarchives.gov.uk/ currency–converter/, accessed 7 January 2022.) In 1755, sending a letter within England not more than 80 miles from London cost

Notes to pages 21–2

221

3 pence for a single-sheet letter, 6 pence for two sheets, and 9 pence for three sheets. Bulk senders could post an ounce of letters for 2 shillings; Bath and Bristol Guide, 57–59. 80 Charles Debaufre(?) to Joseph Page, 17 April 1756, HCA 30/259, f.24. 81 Thomas Morgan to Elizabeth Morgan, Kingston, 2(?) September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.205a. People might send post via friends, servants, porters, hawkers, itinerants, newsmen, or carriers. People at all levels were well acquainted with the postal system; Whyman, The Pen and the People, 3–4. 82 G. Hutton to Mrs Hutton, Kingston, 5 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.50a. 83 John Crow to Robert Wilsonn & Son, Kingston, 2 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.87. 84 James Short to Mrs Short, Kingston, 6 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.14. 85 Leeson Blackwood to John Blackwood, Jamaica, 10 March 1756, HCA 30/259, f.124. It is uncertain how this letter came to be on the Europa so long after it was written. Leeson Blackwood was still in Jamaica in August: bill of exchange, Leeson Blackwood on John Bourke in favour of John Stratton, 25 August 1756, HCA 30/259, f.56. 86 People in turn might use not having received a letter as an excuse for not writing; Whyman, The Pen and the People, 18. 87 Edward ONeal to Jean ONeal, Jamaica, 4 October 1756. HCA 30/259, f.127. 88 Joseph Stephenson to Mrs Stephenson, Kingston, 8 October 1756, HCA 32/89/22, f.49. 89 George Farmer to Jeremiah Farmer, HMS Dreadnought, Port Royal, 12 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.63. 90 John Harriot to Mrs Crutcher, St Elizabeth, 11 July 1756, HCA 30/259, f.185. 91 The places he ‘thought proper’ were St Ann, St Mary, St George, Portland, St Thomas in the east, St Thomas in the Vale, St John, and Vere. Dissmore received 7½ pence in Jamaican currency for each single letter, 1 shilling 3 pence for a double-sheet letter sent 100 miles, and 2 shillings 6 pence per ounce for parcels within 100 miles and 5 shillings beyond. This was considerably more than the inland postage rates in England, even allowing for the 140 per cent exchange rate of Jamaican currency to sterling; JHA, CSF 150, Vol. IV, f.596, BL. For the postal roads and rates in the 1790s, see Beckford, A Descriptive Account, xxxvii–xxxix.

222 92 93 94 95

96 97

98

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100 101

Notes to pages 22–5 In general, ‘imperial places’ were not well served, including the Caribbean; Dierks, In My Power, 48–51. Ann Graham to Mrs Littlejohn, Jamaica, n.d., HCA 30/259, f.156. Sarah Folkes to her child, 1 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.127. The colonial packets always made a loss, and until 1763 were only maintained during wartime for military and political reasons. Packets to the West Indies resumed in 1755. The packets may have been unprofitable, but they were very important; Ellis, The Post Office, 43–5. John Penington to George Tyly, Kingston, 9 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.78. Sailors and their wives depended on this service, for which the post office paid 1 pence for each ‘ship letter’ turned over by the captain. These letters were to be handed over to the nearest post office immediately on landing; Whyman, The Pen and the People, 60; Robinson, The British Post Office, 98. John Millner(?) to George Scott, Newry, 18 April 1756, HCA 30/259, f.190; Thomas Stoney to George Stoney, Borrisokane, 14 April 1756, HCA 30/259, f.23; Isaac Henry to George Henry, Borrisokane, 14 April 1756, HCA 30/259, f.26; Elinor Thomas to John Thomas, London, 8 April 1756 and 17 April 1756, HCA 30/259, ff.81, 28. The Clarendon was reported at Gravesend on 9 August, having sailed under convoy from Jamaica with HMS Rye on 29 September, and was back in Gravesend by 12 November; Gazetteer and London Daily Advertiser, 9 August 1756, 29 September 1756, and 12 November 1756. HMS Rye was also listed in the plantation news of the Dublin Gazette, 19 June 1756. The Clarendon must have left Jamaica before 22 September, as a letter for the same John Thomas was sent from Jamaica on that date to him at the Jamaica Coffee House in London; John Scott to John Thomas, Jamaica, 22 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.30. Letters found in sailors’ pockets were often taken as evidence, but these four letters were all dated April and sent to sailors ‘on board’ the Clarendon at Cork, suggesting that these letters were really being forwarded around the Atlantic to reach the recipients; conversation with Randolph Cock, 13 December 2019. See also Mary King to Thomas King, n/g, 14 April 1756, HCA 30/259, f.187. See also the envelope at HCA 30/259, f.188. John Jackson to James Lowe, Kingston, n.d., HCA 30/259, f.195. John Jackson to James Lowe, Kingston, n.d., HCA 30/259, f.195. A full list of the named enslaved and freed people in 1756 found during the course of this research can be found in the appendix of this

Notes to pages 26–8

102 103 104

105 106 107

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book: ‘A Memorial to some of the Enslaved and Freed in Jamaica in 1756’. Richard Antonie to John Antonie, Kingston, 10 May 1755; correspondence of Richard Antonie, DM 84/20–21, UBSC. Richard Antonie to John Antonie, Kingston, 10 May 1755. Thomas Fearon to (Rose) Fuller, Jamaica, 25 June 1757, JCRFSF, f.139, ESRO. Fearon was appointed to the Grand Court in 1746, to the House of Assembly in 1755, and as Chief Justice in 1756, from which he was dismissed in 1765; Metcalfe, Royal Government, 97, 132, 144, 164. He owned 8,941 acres of land in Jamaica; Greene, Settler Jamaica, 223. Burnard, ‘Harvest Years?’, 533. James Prevost to Rose Fuller, Jamaica, 12 June 1760, JCRFSF. Burnard, ‘Harvest Years?’, 534. See also Newman, Dark Inheritance.

Chapter Three 1 2

3 4 5 6

7 8 9

Leonard Wray Junior to George Wray, Kingston, 10 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.135. Leonard Wray Junior to George Wray, Kingston, 10 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.135. It was not possible to ascertain exactly when Wray arrived in Jamaica. He does not appear in TBJPDB. Burnard and Garrigus, Plantation Machine, 37, 40. Burnard, quoting Crèvecœur, ‘Kingston, Jamaica’, 123; Higman, Plantation Jamaica, 5, 8. Ward, ‘The Profitability of Sugar Planting’, 204, 207–8; Haggerty, ‘Risk and Risk Management’, 817. Leonard Wray Junior to George Wray, Kingston, 10 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.135. On mercantile networks in the eighteenth-century Atlantic, see Hancock, Citizens of the World; Hamilton, Scotland, the Caribbean; Smith, Slavery, Family, and Gentry Capitalism; Morgan, The Bright–Meyler Papers; Haggerty, ‘Merely for Money’?; Donington, The Bonds of Family. Edward ONeal to John Day, Jamaica, 4 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.145. Burnard, Panza, and Williamson, ‘Living Costs’, 56; Burnard, Planters, Merchants, and Slaves, 76. Edward ONeal to John Day, Jamaica, 4 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.145.

224 10 11

12 13

14 15 16 17

18

19 20 21 22

Notes to pages 29–30 Karras, Sojourners in the Sun, 49. Ranking is a metaphor for social ordering in Jamaica; Shepherd, Livestock, Sugar and Slavery, 104, 100; Hall, ‘Planters, Farmers and Gardeners’. Many pen keepers were socially aspirational and keen to invest in sugar, if they could raise enough capital, so as to raise their prestige. Others may have thought the risks and worries too high. Coffee farmers were more likely to be resident than pen keepers and had a slightly higher social status because they produced goods for export; Shepherd, ‘Land, Labour and Social Status’. Pen keepers and coffee farmers formed part of a nonsugar elite in Jamaica, which was not found in Barbados, St Kitts, or Montserrat; Shepherd, Livestock, Sugar and Slavery, 77. Inheritance to free people of colour was capped at £2,000 in 1761; Livesay, Children of Uncertain Fortune, 21. People of colour were also barred from giving evidence in court against white people; Livesay, Children of Uncertain Fortune, 31, 34. See, however, Joe’s letter to Rose Fuller in which he claims he was coachman to the governor in 1750; Joe that lived with Mr Peete, Spanish Town, 3 October 1756, JCRFSF, f.249. Burnard, Panza, and Williamson, ‘Living Costs’, 61. Walker, Jamaica Ladies, 23. Beckles, ‘White Women and Slavery’; Burnard, ‘A Matron in Rank’; Walker, Jamaica Ladies; Burnard, ‘Inheritance and Independence’. Haggerty, ‘Merely for Money’?, 206–14; Hancock, Citizens of the World, esp. chapter 8, ‘Financing: “Turning the Great Wheel of Unfathomable Commerce Round”’, 240–75. Even Simon Taylor described 1756 as purgatory because of the worries of his business; Petley, White Fury, 76. John Crow to Horlock & Wagstaffe, Kingston, 2 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.148. For more on the career trajectory of a merchant, see Gauci, Emporium of the World, chapter 6, ‘Making It in the City’, 109–40. For the counting house itself, see Hancock, Citizens of the World, chapter 3, ‘A Merchant’s Public Counting House’, 85–114. John Crow to Horlock & Wagstaffe, Kingston, 2 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.148. John Crow to Horlock & Wagstaffe, Kingston, 2 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.148. John Crow to William Freke, Kingston, 2 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.40. John Crow to Leonard Bowles, Kingston, 2(?) October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.196.

Notes to pages 30–1 23

24

25 26

27 28 29 30 31

32

225

See, for example, Richards, Gordon & Kennion to the commissioners for prizes, Kingston, 24 May 1757, T1/378/47, Treasury Board Papers, TNA. Bill of exchange, William Perrin on Thomas Humbersson, 6 October 1765, HCA 30/259, f.182; bill of exchange, Samuel Baldwin Cross on Thomas and Stephen Fuller, 27 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.197. On Perrin, see Greene, Settler Jamaica, 82–5, 99, 108, 238–9, 241, 243. Perrin had a wife, Frances, one son, and two daughters in 1748, D239/M/.E.16377, DRO. Fuller was an influential planter and an agent in London for Jamaica; Metcalfe, Royal Government, 22. The Fuller papers are at ESRO, SAS/RF 21. John Crow to Horlock & Wagstaffe, Kingston, 2 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.148. He seemed to be referring to one of Horlock & Wagstaffe’s brothers; John Crow to Horlock & Wagstaffe, Kingston, 2 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.148. John Byrn to James Dunn, Kingston, 21 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.113. John Byrn to James Dunn, Kingston, 10 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.111. John Byrn to James Dunn, Kingston, 10 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.111. John Byrn to James Dunn, Kingston, 21 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.113. Haggerty, ‘Merely for Money’?, chapter 4, ‘Reputation’, 97–131. Regular letter writing was also expected behaviour. Thomas Crowder complained that Messrs Touchets had failed to write to him since June 1755 to acknowledge all the bills and accounts he had sent; ‘certainly this is not acting like Merchants’, Thomas Crowder to Hilton & Biscoe, Jamaica, 30 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.164. Samuel Touchet was a leading London cotton and linen merchant; Gauci, Emporium of the World, 124. Even elites did not always follow good business protocol. Mathew Byndloss was said to have been ‘letterproof’, having shut himself up on his estate to avoid his debtors; Gilbert Ford to John Taylor, Kingston, 9 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.41. The Board of Ordnance supplied arms and ammunition to the British Army and Navy from the seventeenth century to the nineteenth century: see https://www.nationalarchives.gov.uk/helpwith-your-research/research-guides/board-ordnance/, accessed 4 August 2020. On the relationship of the West Indies with the

226

Notes to pages 31–2

Board of Ordnance, see Pares, War and Trade, 244–45, 261. By the 1750s, contracting for the Royal Navy was lucrative but mostly in the hands of major merchants; Hamilton, ‘Private Enterprise and Public Service’. Jamaica was one of the largest of several smaller overseas ordnance yards where goods usually had to be paid for in local currency; Knight and Wilcox, Sustaining the Fleet, 136, 4, 96. 33 He was also still waiting for replies to his letters to the Board of Ordnance; William Folkes to William Bogdani, Kingston, 2 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.176. 34 David Beveridge to George Glass, Kingston, 5 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.112. 35 Leonard Wray Junior to George Wray, Kingston, 10 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.135. 36 Patt Lynch told his correspondents that some hogsheads of sugar had been misnumbered on board the Birmingham (Stewart Archibald master); Patt Lynch to John Seton, Kingston, 19 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.10; Nathaniel Butler to Richard Crutcher, St Anns, 2 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.173. 37 On indebtedness and the planter class, see Ragatz, The Fall of the Planter Class; Williams, Capitalism and Slavery; Drescher, Econocide; Ryden, West Indian Slavery and Abolition; and the articles in Petley, ed., Atlantic Studies, Special Issue. On bills of exchange, see Haggerty, British-Atlantic Trading Community, 153–9. 38 Edward Foord to John Foord, Kingston, 11 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.154. 39 That is, money and bills would be circulating more due to the sales; Gerrard Nash to George & Robert Bush, Kingston, 8 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.29. 40 Haggerty, ‘Merely for Money’?, chapter 6, ‘Networks’, 161–97, and chapter 7, ‘Crises’, 198–234; Buchnea, ‘Transatlantic Transformations’. See also Matson, Merchants and Empire, 265–311; Pares, War and Trade, 469–516; Haggerty, ‘What’s in a Price?’. 41 G. Hutton to Mrs Hutton, Kingston, 5 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.50a. 42 Haggerty, The British-Atlantic Trading Community, chapter 5, ‘Finance and Failure’, 142–82. Sales of enslaved people were particularly problematic; Morgan, ‘Remittance Procedures’; Morgan, ‘Merchant Networks’. 43 G. Hutton to Mrs Hutton, Kingston, 5 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.50A.

Notes to pages 32–4

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44 Thistlewood disliked the Scots more than Jewish people; Burnard, Mastery, Tyranny, and Desire, 89. 45 George Betney to George Betney, Kingston, 7 October 1756, f.84. 46 Campbell, The London Tradesman, 336. 47 Tom Morgan to Elizabeth Morgan, Kingston, 2(?) September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.205a. 48 John Jackson to (?), Kingston, 10 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.194. On the Hibberts’ dynasty and various partnerships, see Donington, The Bonds of Family. 49 Jamaica Courant, 28 September 1756. In fact, the partnership lasted until 1759, possibly due to debt collection. It was one partnership of many for this Bristol dynasty, Morgan, The Bright–Meyler Papers, 28, 43–5. 50 Richards, Gordon & Kennion to Camplin & Smith, Kingston, 10 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.19. 51 John Davis to Theophilus Ogden, Kingston, 4 October 1756. HCA 32/189/22, f.74 52 Leonard Wray Junior to George Wray, Kingston, 10 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.135. 53 For case studies of unsuccessful family networks, see Morgan, The Bright–Meyler Papers, 38–47; Haggerty, ‘Merely for Money’?, chapter 3, ‘Trust’, 66–96; Haggerty, ‘“You promise well and perform as badly”’; Haggerty, ‘I “could do for the Dickmans”’. 54 Richard Watt to Richard Savage, Kingston, 10 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.115. Richard Savage was a Liverpool slave trader. He also invested in privateering during the Seven Years’ War; Haggerty, ‘Risk, Networks, and Privateering’, 37. 55 On ships’ captains and principal–agent issues, see Haggerty, ‘Risk and Risk Management’; Haggerty, ‘Structural Holes and Bad Ideas’; Behrendt, ‘Human Capital in the British Slave Trade’. 56 John Byrn to James Dunn, Kingston, 10 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.111. The James and John was reported as having arrived back in Dublin by 28 October 1756; Gazetteer and London Daily Advertiser. 57 Andrew Hearsey Willson to Andrew Hearsey, Annotto Bay, 8 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.17. 58 Henry Nedham to George Chandler, Kingston, 12 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.125; Peter Ingram to John Gray, Kingston, 12 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.130. William Glover left the Czar of Muscovy hoping to become captain of another vessel; William Glover to Jonathon Glover, Kingston, 10 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.99.

228 59

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62 63

64

65 66

67 68 69

Notes to pages 34–5 Manus McShane to William Hamilton, Kingston, 15 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.59; S(?) Palmer to Hilton & Biscoe, Kingston, 1 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.204. Manus McShane to William Hamilton, Kingston, 15 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.59. Rediker, Slave Ship, 251–3. On desertion from the African coast, which ranged from individuals to a substantial number of the crew and during which one of the ship’s longboats was often used, see Christopher, Slave Trade Sailors, 127–33. McManus may have had trouble getting freight due to a lack of networks in Jamaica. His principal, William Hamilton, lived in Londonderry, and the Hamilton Gally seemed to be the only vessel going to Jamaica from that port in 1756. From the author’s database of the letters and from the Gazetteer and London Daily Advertiser. John & Alexander Harvie to Richard Nicholas & Co., Kingston, 9 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.3a. Richard Watt to Richard Savage, Kingston, 10 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.115. White is probably Captain Arthur White of the snow Ellis owned by Watt, Savage, and George Nelson of Manchester; Wardle, ‘The Early Liverpool Privateers’, 97. On Watt, see Tibbles, ‘My Interest Be Your Guide’. The Bath Journal, 15 March 1756, 30 August 1756. The Bristol newspapers did not routinely list the cargo. The Hope was reported as having left Jamaica on 12 October; Gazetteer and London Daily Advertiser, 22 December 1756. Munckley was a leading Bristol sugar merchant who traded mostly with Jamaica and Barbados, he also became master of the Society of Merchant Venturers; Morgan, Bristol and the Atlantic Trade, 37, 191, 194, 186–7. John and Edward Foord to Messrs Munckley, 11 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.37. It was unclear whether this was a private man-of-war or a Royal Navy vessel. On privateering during the Seven Years’ War, see Starkey, British Privatering Enterprise, chapter 7, ‘1756–1762, “Small Ships, Vessels, or Boats, being, or Pretending to be, English Privateers”’, 161–92. John and Alexander Harvie to Thomas Blair, Kingston, 4 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.169b. John & Edward Foord to Messrs Munckley, Kingston, 11 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.37. Elliott & Scott to Samuel Munckley, Kingston, 10 October 1756, HCA  30/259, f.143. They paid for Clutsam’s cargo with Spanish

Notes to pages 35–6

70

71

72

73

74 75 76

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silver worth £51 3 shillings 9 pence; invoice of 1 Bag Spanish Silver, HCA 32/189/22, f.97. Nash was noted as ‘in the Factorage way’ by John and Edward Foord; John and Edward Foord to Hilton & Biscoe, Kingston, 11 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.45. Nash wrote home that he would stay until May [1757]. Gerrard Nash to John Clark, Kingston, 8 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.18; Gerrard Nash to John Read, Kingston, 8 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.22. At the same time, planter James Barclay complained that ‘Ships for London are so scarce at present that those who have goods to ship are oblig’d to submit, in a manner, to any terms the Captains are pleas’d to demand, for as there has been no regular establishment for the freight all this year they are left at a very great Latitude in this point’; James Barclay to Anna Williams and Anna Knight, Jamaica, 10 September 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.52. Barclay died worth £77,708 with 476 enslaved people in Westmoreland in 1765, TBJPDB. Gerrard Nash to George & Robert Bush, Kingston, 8 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.29. Nash also wrote to his sister on 8 October, complaining that ‘Capt Clutsam has not behaved so Genteely as I expected’; Gerrard Nash to Phillipa Palmer, Kingston, 8 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.72. Nash also consigned goods to his sister, HCA 30/259, f.72c. Fowler & Walker to Samuel Munckley, Kingston, 22 January 1760, AC/ MU 1(11)a, Papers of Samuel Munckley, BA; receipt for dues in Bristol, 14 November 1768, Papers of Samuel Munckley, AC/MU 1(12)e; Foord & Delpratt to Samuel Munckley and George Champion, 9 June 1773, AC/MU/1/13, Papers of Samuel Munckley. John Fowler was involved in seventy-seven slave trade voyages between 1758 and 1777; Dresser, Slavery Obscured, 26. Santo Domingo was the eastern and Spanish side of Hispaniola; St Domingue, later Haiti, was the French and western portion. James Clemens to Messrs Lawrence Spencer, Kingston, 9 October 1756, HCA 30 259, f.13. James Clemens to Messrs Lawrence Spencer, Kingston, 9 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.137. The Asiento was not renewed in a treaty of 1750. However, English traders in Jamaica could supply enslaved people to the Spanish by virtue of special licenses granted to Spaniards who entered into contract or partnership with merchants of Jamaica; Pares, War and Trade, 532–3. On the Asiento, see Pearce,

230

Notes to page 36

British Trade with Spanish America, 18–25; Shovlin, Trading with the Enemy, passim. 77 On the trade between the British and the Spanish before 1763, see Pearce, British Trade, chapter 1, ‘The Origins of British Trade with the Spanish Colonies, Sixteenth Century to 1763’, 1–40. 78 Hibberts & Millan to Benjamin Titley, 1 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.151. John & Alexander Harvie confirmed this assessment, noting that ‘Bite Negroes’ were wanted for exportation. John & Alexander Harvie to William Wansey & Co., Kingston, 8 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.116. The Spanish also purchased textiles and metalware. Return cargoes from Spain consisted mainly of bullion, dyes and dyewoods, drugs, and livestock; Pearce, British Trade, 26–7. Trelawney estimated in the mid-eighteenth century that £100,000 worth of goods had been sent to Jamaica to be smuggled to South America; Fortune, Merchants and Jews, 148. Mirvis examines Jewish people as plantation owners; Mirvis, The Jews of Eighteenth-Century Jamaica, chapter 3, ‘The Jews of Plantation Jamaica (1740–70)’, 65–88. 79 The invoice for the sales of the first 202 enslaved people from the Nicholas can be found at HCA 30/259, f.114. For more on the demand for enslaved people from certain parts of Africa, see John & Alexander Harvie to William Wansey & Co., Kingston, 8 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.116. William Wansey was also involved in the trade to Portugal with Joseph Horlock of London; Articles of CoPartnership, 25 June 1753, 10D72/312, LLRRO. 80 James Clemens to Messrs Lawrence Spencer, Kingston, 9 October 1756, HCA 39/259, f.137. William Miller wrote to his brother on 11 September that although the sales of enslaved people were slow, they kept at a good price; William Miller to his brother, Kingston, 11 September 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.80. For prices of enslaved people, see Burnard, Planters, Merchants, and Slaves, 188–98. John Byrn also noted that prices for other commodities had not been driven up by the war at this point; John Byrn to James Dunn, Kingston, 10 October 1756, HCA 30.259, f.111. 81 The Black Prince started the ‘Middle Passage’ with 383 enslaved people, so fifty-five people died; www.slavevoyages.org, voyage ID 17386, accessed 31 March 2020. 82 It was unclear whether this was due to desertion or mortality; William Miller to James Laroche & Co., Kingston, 29 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.121.

Notes to pages 36–7 83 84

85 86

87 88

89

90

91 92 93

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William Miller to James Laroche & Co., Kingston, 29 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.121. William Miller to Nelly Miller, Kingston, 9 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.80. He was probably from Bristol as he also wrote to James Laroche & Co.; William Miller to James Laroche & Co., Kingston, 25 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.121. See www.slavevoyages.org, voyage ID 17386, accessed 31 March 2020. See, for example, the sales of Captain John Trevor’s effects; ‘Inventory of Clothes & Household Items & Other Effects of Captain John Trevor’, 16 September 1742, DE2827.14, LLRRO. George Alpress to Rose Fuller, Spanish Town, 24 June 1757, JCRFSF, f.138. On this debate, see Ragatz, ‘Absentee Landlordism’; Petley, ‘Rethinking the Fall of the Planter Class’; Burnard, ‘Et in Arcadia’. On colonial agents and the ‘West India Interest’, see Penson, ‘The London West India Interest’; O’Shaughnessy, ‘The Formation of a Commercial Lobby’; Ryden, West Indian Slavery, chapter 3, ‘Jamaican Planters and the London West India Interest’, 40–82. We do not know exactly how many there were (as opposed to lawyers and others with powers of attorney), as some managed more than one estate; Higman, Plantation Jamaica, 57. Higman, Plantation Jamaica, 50. Simon Taylor, though a large-scale planter himself, also worked as an attorney for many absentee proprietors; Sheridan, ‘Simon Taylor, Sugar Tycoon’. Burnard, Planters, Merchants, and Slaves, 27. Roughley, The Jamaica Planter’s Guide, 4. This was reduced to 5 per cent by the 1790s and many were paid a wage instead; Higman, Plantation Jamaica, 81. Overseer wages were a major topic of concern in the North American colonies too; Sandy, The Overseers of Early American Slavery, chapter 4, ‘“Respecting Wages & Privileges”: Contracts, Terms and Conditions’, 142–92. Shepherd, Livestock, Sugar and Slavery, 79, 91. Higman suggests that towards the end of the eighteenth century it was possible for some planter attorneys to become very wealthy; Higman, Plantation Jamaica, 82. Karras, Sojourners in the Sun, 69. See also Pares, West India Fortune, 19–22, 141–9. Thomas Hibbert to Marmaduke Hilton, Kingston, 28 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.1.

232 97 98

99 100

101

102 103

104 105 106

107 108 109

110 111

112

Notes to pages 37–9 Land in Jamaica was worthless without enslaved people to work it; Haggerty and Seymour, ‘Imperial Careering’, 648. Roughley argued that merchants were too keen to get payment for their credit or goods quickly rather than act for the long-term interest of the estate; Roughley, The Jamaica Planter’s Guide, 16. Roughley, The Jamaica Planter’s Guide, 40, 49. Similar issues were encountered in the American South; Sandy, Overseers of Early America, chapter 2, ‘But Where Shall We Find a Careful Overseer?: Recruitment and Duties’, 61–97. Burnard, Mastery, Tyranny, and Desire, 45–6. Wages improved later in the eighteenth century. An overseer at Worthy Park was paid £200 per annum between 1783 and 1791; Craton and Walvin, A Jamaican Plantation, 145. Nelson, Architecture and Empire, 122, 128. Caleb Dickinson to John Hodges, Kingweston, 10 November 1757, Caleb Dickinson’s Copy Book, 30 August 1757 to 27 September 1758, 319718, BCL. See the image of a small wooden house in Burnard and Coleman, ‘Savage Slave Mistress’, 50. Caleb Dickinson to John Hodges, Kingweston, 10 November 1757, Caleb Dickinson’s Copy Book, 30 August 1757 to 27 September 1758. On gang labour (a team of enslaved labourers), see Roberts, Slavery and the Enlightenment. Produce of Pepper Plantation for 1756, Accounts Produce. See early eighteenth-century accounts for Pepper Plantation at DX/2328 MMM. The Dickinsons also owned Barton Isles Plantation in 1756; Produce of Barton Isles Plantation for 1756, Accounts Produce. Caleb Dickinson to Mr (James) Campbell, Bristol, 15 November 1757, Caleb Dickinson’s Copy Book, 30 August 1757 to 27 September 1758. Craton and Walvin, A Jamaican Plantation, 145. This was Charles Bernard; Thomas Hibbert to Marmaduke Hilton, Kingston, 28 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.1. Of course, this was just the sort of relationship Roughley argued against. George Alpress to Rose Fuller, Spanish Town, 24 June 1757, JCRFSF, f.138. Artisans on Worthy Park estate were paid no more than £50 per annum in the late 1700s; Craton and Walvin, A Jamaican Plantation, 145. His 410 acres in St Andrew had 184 enslaved people listed in 1754, with twelve acres in ginger production and 101 cattle. He also had a cotton plantation where he employed four servants; Greene, Settler

Notes to pages 39–40

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117

118 119

120 121

122

123 124

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Jamaica, 241, 184, 239, 85, 93, 103, 108, 256. Greene could not find the name of his estate in St Andrews either; Greene, Settler Jamaica, 108. He was chief magistrate in 1754; Burnard, Planters, Merchants, and Slaves, 178. Edmund Hyde to George Chandler, Liguanea, 24 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.46a. Craton and Walvin, A Jamaican Plantation, 145. Anderson, Mahogany, 71–3. Thomas Thistlewood also hired out logging gangs; Ibid., 80. Receipt for Mahogany from Pepper Plantation, 19 November 1756, DD/DN/6/4/12; Account of Stock at Pepper Plantation, 1756, DD/ DN/6/4/13, Dickinson Family Papers, Jamaican Estate Papers, Somerset Archives and Local Studies Service. The Dickinsons also owned Barton Isles Plantation in 1756; Produce of Barton Isles Plantation for 1756, Accounts Produce. Shepherd, Livestock, Sugar and Slavery, xxiv. Indentured servants declined rapidly after the 1690s; in 7,152 inventories between 1722 and 1784, only twenty-four are listed. This decline caused a myriad of problems, increasing concerns over the deficiency of white people on the island; Burnard, Planters, Merchants, and Slaves, 71. Edmund Hyde to George Chandler, Liguanea, 24 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.46a. J. Johnson to William Henry Ricketts, Jamaica, 17 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.220. The Ricketts were an elite planter family. See some of their correspondence at ‘Correspondence Relating to Family Property in Jamaica’, Add MS 30001, BL. G. Hampson to Mrs Payne, Kingston, 25 September 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.141. Karras, Sojourners in the Sun, 63. The Scots preferred the professions, but many Scots were not prepared to retrain for the English law in Jamaica; Ibid., 61. In September 1756, he shipped twenty puncheons of rum to Messrs Danby Thompsons & Co. at Hull; William Goleborn to Danby Thompsons & Co., Kingston, 14 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.16. Joseph Stephenson to Uncle Johnson, Kingston, 8 October 1756, HCA 32/189, f.48. George Hampson to Mrs Payne, Kingston, 25 September 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.141. Interestingly, he wrote to Mrs Payne and sent his compliments to her husband. Sheridan wrote of attorneys that

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130 131 132 133 134 135

136 137 138 139 140 141 142

143 144

Notes to pages 40–3 it was a closed shop, but Hampson’s experience was the opposite; Sheridan, Sugar and Slavery, 371–2. Henry Moore was governor between July 1756 and April 1759; Metcalfe, Royal Government, 140. G. Hampson to Mrs Payne, Kingston, 25 September 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.141. JHA, f.638. Jamaica Courant, 28 September 1756. From 1749, new arrivals in Jamaica could receive twenty acres of land, and while waiting to settle that land they could receive ‘meat, drink, washing and lodging’ as well as other benefits; Long, History of Jamaica, Vol. I, 427–8. On the deficiency question, see Hall, ‘Some Aspects of the “Deficiency” Question’. An earlier pattern of land allocation had been started by Thomas Modyford in the late seventeenth century; Dunn, Sugar and Slaves, 153–5. £12,045 between 1745 and 1754; Burnard and Graham, ‘Security, Taxation’, 480. JHA, f.639. See the chapter ‘Tales of the Enslaved People’ for more on the work patterns of enslaved Africans. Jamaica Courant, 28 September 1756. Edmund Hyde to James Gibbon, Liguanea, 17 September 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.83. George Betney to George Betney, Kingston, 7 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.84. It is unclear why this small-time merchant wanted to hire a tailor, unless he exported goods to supplement his income as a tailor. JHA, f.563. JHA, f.564. Jamaica Courant, 28 September 1756; TBJPDB. Johan Wiese & al V Levien Hodson, Grand Court, August 1757, writs of extent 1755–1769, 1B/11/19/1, JA. Ewbank Ogle to Mrs Ogle, Kingston, 9 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.18. Her husband died in late 1755; JHA, f.559. Walker, Jamaica Ladies, chapter 4, ‘Inheritance Requests’, 166–210. For England, see Erickson, Women and Property, 3, 26, and chapter 4, ‘Inheritance’, 61–97. For colonial adaptations in North America, see Salmon, Women and the Law of Property. Haggerty, ‘“Miss Fan can tun her han!”’, 31. Walker, Jamaica Ladies, 181.

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145 Walker, Jamaica Ladies, 181–6. By using a different range of sources, I differ from Walker in that I stress the poverty of many women (and men) in Jamaica. 146 Free women owned a considerable proportion of land in Spanish Town; see, for example, Walker, ‘Pursuing Her Profits’, 484. Some were also absentees, such as Rebecca Woolnough and her Spring Plantation, which in 1754 had 123 enslaved people and three white employees on its 600 acres, 120 of whom grew sugar; Burnard, Planters, Merchants, and Slaves, 174. 147 Salmon, Women and the Law of Property, chapter 5, ‘Separate Estates’, 81–119, and chapter 7, ‘Provisions for Widows’, 141–84; Shammas, ‘Early American Women and Control Over Capital’. It is worth noting, however, that of those that bequeathed to their wives, the majority also named them as executors; Walker, Jamaica Ladies, 186. 148 All references to Probate Inventories for 1756 and potential male relatives are taken from Trevor Burnard’s database. I am very grateful for his generosity in sharing this with me. The eleven women were Ann Burley, Ann Andrews, Ann Gallimore, Elizabeth Redman, Elizabeth Potter, Margaret Scott, Mary Smith, Mary Wallis, Mary Truxton, May Ann Tricquet, and Sarah Carvallo. On issues with using Probate Inventories, see Shammas, The Pre-Industrial Consumer; Cox and Cox, ‘Probate 1500–1800’; Spaeth, ‘“Orderly Made”’; Lucas and Campbell, ‘Unwritten Rules and Gendered Frames’. 149 List of Landholders and their Holdings, 1754. 150 List of Landholders and their Holdings, 1754. 151 Will of Ann Morley, 17 June 1765, PROB 11.959/408, TNA. Thomas and John Hibbert were executors. Her will seems to have been challenged. She had two daughters: Sarah Forbes and Elizabeth Ann. A son, Samuel, had died in 1748. See the affadavits at Morley & Morley, Jan–Mar 1757, D157/MT/72, 74 and 75, DRO. 152 Ann Morley to James and Isaac Henckells, Kingston, 2 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.177. It is possible that the partnership of Hanly and Shillen, of whom Mary Hanly was the surviving partner, was also concerned with commerce; Jamaica Courant, 28 September 1756. However, an ironmonger, James Shillen, also died in Kingston in 1756 worth £2,260.69; TBJPDB. 153 Ann Morley to Nathaniel Lloyd, Kingston, 10 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.211. 154 She died in 1765 worth £4,521, of which £260 was the value of four enslaved people; TBJPDB. On women’s credit networks in Jamaica, see Burnard and Haggerty, ‘Capitalism and Credit’.

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Notes to pages 45–6

155 Ann Morley to Nathaniel Lloyd, Kingston, 10 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.211. 156 Will of Ann Morley, PROB 11/959/408, TNA. 157 Rentals in Kingston in this section are taken from Greene, Settler Jamaica, 258–9. 158 Mary Augier died in 1764 worth £3294.93 and was listed as a spinster; TBJPDB. 159 Elizabeth Watkins died in 1762 worth £1,954, and Ann Andrews died worth £1,011 in 1756; TBJPDB. Mary Crymble, a free ‘Mulatto’ woman, was worth £911 when she died in 1764. Mary is not mentioned in Murray Crymble’s will; email correspondence with Trevor Burnard, 25 May 2021. 160 Mixed-heritage women were highly valued as sexual partners. Augier also had several highly valued enslaved men that she may have rented out; Probate Inventory of Mary Augier, Probate Inventories, 1B/11/3/45, f.28, JRO. 161 See the case of Rachel Polgreen in Fuentes, Dispossessed Lives, 46–69. 162 Sturtz writes that Mary Rose may have been born on Fuller’s land as she already had the surname Rose before meeting Rose Fuller. Fuller was probably the father of her son William. She applied for ‘as if white’ status in 1745; Sturtz, ‘Mary Rose’, esp. 64–6. However, Walker says that she adopted the name Rose, Fuller’s mother’s maiden surname, to stress her ‘whiteness’ and status; Jamaica Ladies, 293–4. Powers notes that Mary Johnstone Rose (her full name) ‘was a wife in all but name’ and had ‘nursed Rose Fuller through a number of serious illnesses’; Powers, A Parcel of Ribbons, 10. 163 Mary Rose to Rose Fuller, Spanish Town, 21 December 1756, JCRFSF, f.90. John(?) Morse and Zachary Bayly (St Catherine) were both members of the assembly; JHA, ff.572, 611. 164 There was tension between her and George Alpress, one of Fuller’s estate managers; see Walker, Jamaica Ladies, 296–8. She earned around £800 per annum; Walker, Jamaica Ladies, 291, fn. 2. However, she did not own any property at this point; see Greene, Settler Jamaica, passim. She is not listed in TBJPDB. Sturtz notes that Mary also worked as a healer; Sturtz, ‘Mary Rose’, 71. 165 On the renting of enslaved people, see Cateau, ‘The New “Negro” Business’; Radburn and Roberts, ‘Gold Versus Life’. 166 Walker, Jamaica Ladies, 170. Women enslaved an average of fifteen people each in the 1750s; Ibid., 201.

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167 If she is the Truxton of unknown gender who owned five properties in Kingston, she may also have rented them out; Greene, Settler Jamaica, 257. 168 Mary Smith was noted with a personal estate valued at £9,466. Of this, £3,851 was the value of 106 enslaved people. She may have been the widow of Samuel Smith Esq. of Clarendon, who died in 1742 holding 115 enslaved people worth £9,568 in personal estate, despite owning only twenty-five acres of land. Ann Gallimore of St Mary parish was listed with twelve male and seventeen female enslaved people, valued at £1,400 of her total personal estate of £1,732. It was not possible to locate either of these women in the 1754 List of Landholders. It was also not possible to find a potential former husband for Ann Gallimore. 169 Case & Southworth Journal 1754–1757, 380 MD 33, ff.256–7, LivRO. For more on Case & Southworth, see Haggerty, ‘Liverpool, the Slave Trade’. 170 Case & Southworth Journal, ff.251, 356. 171 Only 386 of the 473 enslaved people who embarked on the Swan made it to Jamaica; Slavevoyages.org, voyage ID 90462, accessed 26 March 2020. 172 Case & Southworth Journal, ff.256, 275. 173 Case & Southworth Journal, ff.313, 322. 174 See Slavevoyages.org, voyage ID 90315, accessed 26 March 2020. Women would also occasionally sell enslaved people to slave traders in Kingston. See, for example, Mary Atkins’s sale of four enslaved people to Richard Watt in 1768; Bill of Sale of 4 Negroes, Papers Relating to the Sales of Slaves, 920 WAT/1/2/2/9, LivRO. 175 Burnard and Haggerty, ‘Capitalism and Credit’. 176 Case & Southworth Journal, ff.260, 276. I was not able to identify Hamblett. 177 His estate was worth £596. Only one Henry Berry is noted in the Probate Inventories in 1704, but no occupation or parish was given; TBJPDB. 178 Case & Southworth Journal, f.289. 179 Case & Southworth Journal, f.316. 180 Haggerty, The British-Atlantic Trading Community, 142–50. 181 Case & Southworth Journal, f.276. 182 Case & Southworth Journal, f.268. 183 These were only for small amounts – £29 2 shillings 1¼ pence and £1 3 shillings 9 pence, respectively – but she was still drawn into

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186 187 188 189 190 191 192 193 194

195

196 197 198 199

200 201 202

Notes to pages 47–9 the local credit networks. Her account was also credited with £27 5 shillings on 4 June through an order in favour of a Robert Sinclair; Case & Southworth Journal, ff.282, 284, 297. Jamaica Courant, 28 September 1756. William Miles to Maurice Ceely, Kingston, 4 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.22. This was possibly the Mrs Atkins that Ann Morley mentioned was leaving Kingston. He was valued at £20; TBJPDB. Jamaica Courant, 28 September 1756. Case & Southworth Journal, ff.243, 246, 247, 271. Jamaica Courant, 28 September 1756. J(?) Ripley to Nathan Sprigg, Liguanea, 30 September 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.85. Shepherd, Women in Caribbean History, 28–9; Higman, ‘Domestic Service’; Burnard, ‘“Little Better than Slaves”’. JHA, f.615. JHA, ff.592, 585. Legislation passed in Jamaica in 1711, The Laws of Jamaica, 118–19: 10 Anne, xviii, 3 November 1711, ‘An act for the better securing the estates and interests of orphans and creditors …’. This is in comparison to England, where those with estates worth under £5 were not legally obliged to be probated; Shammas, The Pre-Industrial Consumer, 19. Her husband died in late 1755; JHA, f.559. Her deceased husband was probably William Jones, noted as a huckster in the probate inventories, with £68 of his personal estate of £183 listed as bad debts. Burnard, ‘“Little Better than Slaves”’, 19. Newman, A Dark Inheritance, 100. JHA, ff.565, 592, 585. Jewish widows accounted for 22 per cent of tax-paying Jews in Kingston, but more than 50 per cent of those were identified as poor; Mirvis, The Jews of Eighteenth-Century Jamaica, 138. Walker, ‘Pursuing Her Profits’, 484. Gilbert Ford to John Taylor, Kingston, 9 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.41. Gilbert Ford to John Taylor, Kingston, 9 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.41. John Taylor was a Bristol merchant who was later connected to John Pinney’s Nevis–Bristol network and would have been well aware of Jamaica’s slave society; Buckles, ‘John Pinney’s Nevis–Bristol Network’, 16.

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203 Gilbert Ford of St Catherine died in 1768 worth £33,965, the enslaver of 309 people; TBJPDB. However, he is not listed in the 1754 List of Landholdings. 204 My thanks to Roberta Cimino for helping me with this transcription and translation. 205 This was also true in another slave society, Charleston, but not in Philadelphia; Haggerty, ‘“Miss Fan can tun her han!”’. For women working in port cities around the Atlantic, see Catterall and Campbell, ed., Women in Port. For gendered work in Britain, see, for example, Davidoff and Hall, Family Fortunes; Sharpe, ed., Women’s Work; Phillips, Women in Business; Humphries, Childhood and Child Labour. 206 Walker, Jamaica Ladies, 5.

Chapter Four 1 2 3 4 5

6 7 8 9

William Miller to his Brother, Kingston, 11 September 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.79. William Miller to his Brother, Kingston, 11 September 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.79. Pares’s War and Trade is a significant exception. Baugh, ‘Withdrawing From Europe’, 1. Privateers caused a huge problem for the British; Baugh, Global Seven Years’ War, 170. The exploits of privateers in the Caribbean were of great interest to the British public, and were widely reported in the British press. See, for example, Williamson’s Liverpool Advertiser and Mercantile Register, 29 October 1756; Gazetteer and London Daily Advertiser, 23 September 1756; Felix Farley’s Bristol Journal, 13 April 1756; Dublin Gazette, 31 August 1756. Hibberts & Millan to Francis Wightwick, Kingston, 1 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.129. Pares, War and Trade, 181. David Beveridge to Elias Bland, Kingston, 25 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.109. Pares, War and Trade, and Conway, War, State, and Society, are notable exceptions. More recently, Bolletino, ‘“Of Equal or of More Service”’; Charters, Disease, War, and the Imperial State; and Foy, ‘The Royal Navy’s Employment of Black Mariners’, have taken new approaches to the Seven Years’ War. Jamaica first appears in Anderson’s analysis

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16 17

18 19 20 21 22

23

Notes to pages 53–5 of increasing success in 1758 as part of the campaign to capture Martinique; Anderson, Crucible of War, 308. It does not appear except for a brief mention in chapter 11 in Baugh’s magisterial Global Seven Years’ War, although Jamaica and the West Indies come under more consideration in his discussion on securing the peace in chapter 15, ‘Peacemaking, 1762: Concessions before Conquests’, 559–619. Hamilton, ‘Rivalry, War, and Imperial Reform’. The Royal Navy was seriously undermanned in 1755 and 29,278 seamen were recruited by the end of the year, many of them pressed; Taylor, Sons of the Waves, 21–2. Baugh, Global Seven Years’ War, 16. Baugh, Global Seven Years’ War, chapter 7, ‘French Triumphs, British Blunders, 1756’, 169–212. John Thomson to Jane Thomson, Kingston, 10 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.2. London’s Common Council discussed the loss of Mahon and a formal address was sent to the King; Journal of the Common Council, X109/096, 1755–1759, LMA, ff.79–81. For the trial, see Baugh, Global Seven Years’ War, chapter 8, ‘France’s New War Plan, 1756–57’, 213–270, esp. 229–35. There were even popular street songs calling to hang Byng; ibid., 214. Conway, War, State, and Society, 22–6. Pares, War and Trade, 185; Harding, Seapower and Naval Warfare, 207; O’Shaughnessy, ‘The Formation of a Commercial Lobby’; Hamilton, ‘Rivalry, War, and Imperial Reform’, 261, 264. India also became important as the war progressed; Shovlin, Trading with the Enemy, 56. Baugh, Global Seven Years’ War, 377. Harding, Seapower and Naval Warfare, 211; Pares, War and Trade, 185. Pares, War and Trade, 265. Burnard and Garrigus, Plantation Machine, 82. In fact, Jamaica was not really threatened until the last year of the war. The Admiralty decided in May 1757 to keep eight ships of the line and eleven smaller vessels regularly stationed at Jamaica, but it could not always fulfil this objective; Pares, War and Trade, 267. A bill was passed in November for providing and maintaining an ‘island sloop’ in November, but this failed; JHA, f.721. My thanks to Aaron Graham for bringing this to my attention. Henry Moore to (?), Spanish Town, 8 November 1756, Original Correspondence, Secretary of State, CO 137/60, TNA, f.243. The council supported this not because of the war, but because they

Notes to page 55

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27

28

29 30

31 32

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thought it would stop the assembly meeting. However, Moore refused to prorogue the assembly; Metcalfe, Royal Government, 140, 143. Mathew Cleland to Charles Cleland, Kingston, 17 September 1756, HCA 32/289/22, f.1. Alexander Mitchell to Barton & Smith, Kingston, 10 October 1756, HCA 32/289/22, f.146. Baugh, Global Seven Years’ War, 170. Wilson argues that there was no coordinated war on piracy in the eighteenth century; Wilson, Suppressing Piracy, ‘Conclusion’, online. Henry Moore to n/g, Kingston, 26 July 1756, Original Correspondence, Secretary of State, CO 137/60, f.239. HMS Weazle had been in Jamaica since at least April; Will of William French, PROB 11/825/396, TNA. It would appear that HMS Shoreham was back in Jamaica by October, as was HMS Wager; Edward Magnar to Mrs Jane Symes, Port Royal, 10 October 1756; Edward ONeal to John Day, Jamaica, 4 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.145. Henry Moore to Henry Fox(?), Kingston, 26 July 1756, Original Correspondence, Secretary of State, CO 137/60, TNA, f.239. The official complement was 1,615, but given the disease environment the actual manpower would have been considerably fewer; ADM 8/30; ADM 8/31. In July 1756 there were eight Royal Navy vessels officially stationed at Jamaica: HMS Shoreham, HMS Weazle, HMS Greenwich, HMS Princess Mary, HMS Sphinx, HMS Dreadnought, HMS Humber, and HMS Rye. Earlier in the year, HMS Severn, HMS Falcon, and HMS Hind were at Jamaica but were sent home in April. By September, HMS Bristol and HMS Wager replaced HMS Weazle, making nine vessels and 2,355 men; ADM 8/30; ADM 8/31, TNA. Only in 1757, when there were supposed to be 4,595 men on sixteen ships, did the complement start rising; by 1758 there were supposed to be 4,990 men on nineteen ships. My thanks to Doug Hamilton for this information. Dublin Gazette, 7 September 1756. Hibberts & Millan to Lawrence Spencer & Co., Kingston, 2 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.38. Jamaica had asked to be defended with ten or twelve ships during Queen Anne’s reign, ‘but had seldom obtained them’; Pares, War and Trade, 265. John Byrn to James Dunn, Kingston, 21 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.113. Hibberts & Millan to Lawrence Spencer & Co., Kingston, 2 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.38.

242 33 34

35 36

37

38

39

Notes to page 56 John & Alexander Harvie to James Laroche & Co., Kingston, 3 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.70. George Farmer to Jeremiah Farmer, On Board the Dreadnought, Port Royal, 12 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.63; George Farmer to Richard Hull, n/g, n/d, HCA 30/259, f.158. David Beveridge to George Glass, Kingston, 5 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.112. Commerce, war, and Protestantism were three central tenets of British identity in the mid-eighteenth century. See Armitage, The Ideological Origins, 8; Colley, ‘Britishness and Otherness’; Conway, ‘War and National Identity’. The British government also made many attempts to keep the peace during the eighteenth century; Shovlin, Trading with the Enemy. The governor could recommend men to council but occasionally they were appointed over his head, which could cause friction; Metcalfe, Royal Government, 24. For more detailed studies of this dispute, see Metcalfe, Royal Government, 24 and chapter 5, ‘The Administration of Admiral Knowles – The Governor Against Himself, 1752–1756’, 109–38; Greene, Creating the British Atlantic, chapter 8, ‘“Of Liberty and of the Colonies”: A Case Study of Constitutional Conflict in the Mid Eighteenth-Century British American Empire’, 140–207. In 1755, the pen keepers joined with the planters against the removal of the courts to Kingston; Shepherd, Livestock, Sugar and Slavery, 111–45. ‘The Humble Address and Representation of the Assembly of Jamaica’, 13 November 1756, reveals much about the personal and acrimonious nature of the dispute; Colonial Office and Predecessors: Jamaica, Original Correspondence, BoT, CO 137/29, ff.170–4, 176–86. Robertson, Gone is the Ancient Glory, 89. The Kingston faction’s address to the king put forward ‘modern’ notions of commerce, war, and Protestantism in contrast to the planter elite who focussed on older notions of liberties and constitutional rights; ‘The Humble Representation of the Council of the Island of Jamaica’, 7 September 1756, Colonial Office and Predecessors: Jamaica, Original Correspondence, BoT, CO 137/29, ff.149–61. See the case for Spanish Town at ‘To the King’s Most Excellent Majesty, the Humble Representation and Address of the Assembly of the Island of Jamaica’, 3 September 1756, CO 137/29, ff.122–7. The importance of the West India Trade is demonstrated by the way in which the merchant faction tried to harness support from merchants in British

Notes to pages 56–7

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ports. See, for example, the ‘State of the Case between St Iago de la Vega and Kingston, 1754’, SMV/7/2/1/17, BA. This document considered the actual costs of people having to go to Spanish Town from Kingston for Suits at Law and Equity; Attendance on Council and Assembly; Probates of Wills and Administrations; Juries and Subpoenas; Courts of Error and Appeals; Consulting the Records; and Entering and Clearing Ships – an estimated total cost of 24,000 guineas per annum. Jamaica’s merchants eventually set up their own Chamber of Commerce in 1778; Bennett, ‘Collective Action when Needed’. 40 Metcalfe, Royal Government, 126. 41 Knowles had to support the Kingston faction because he owed money to the merchant firm Manning & Ord and had also loaned Philip Pinnock large amounts of money; Metcalfe, Royal Government, 123. There are addresses from the council to Governor Moore regarding Chief Justice Pinnock; see, for example, ‘To Henry Moore from Mr Speaker & Gentlemen of the Assembly’, 9 October 1756, Original Correspondence, Secretary of State, CO 137/60, f.245. 42 Knowles was increasingly losing power and popularity and begged to leave his post in late 1755 and early 1756. He was granted his request, and his replacement, Henry Moore, eventually succeeded him as lieutenant governor in July 1756; Charles Knowles to Rt Honble Sir Thomas Robinson, 10 December 1755, f.233, Original Correspondence, Secretary of State, CO 137/60; Charles Knowles to the Rt Hon the Lords Commissioners for Trade and Plantations, 2 January 1756, Colonial Office and Predecessors: Jamaica, Original Correspondence, BoT, CO 137/29, f.107. Henry Moore was governor until April 1759; Metcalfe, Royal Government, 140. 43 Dublin Gazette, 14 August 1756. 44 See, for example, ‘The Humble Representation of the Council of the Island of Jamaica’, 7 September 1756, Colonial Office and Predecessors: Jamaica, Original Correspondence, BoT, CO 137/29, ff.149–61; ‘The Humble Address of the Council of the Island of Jamaica’, 26 November 1767, CO 137/29, ff.206–9; ‘The Humble Representation of the Council of the Island of Jamaica’, 7 September 1756, CO 137/29, ff.149–60; ‘The Humble Address of the Assembly’, 9 October 1767, CO 137/29, ff.210–12. See also Henry Moore to the Rt Hon the Lords Commissioners of Trade and Plantations, Spanish Town, 4 November 1756, CO 137/29, ff.186–91. Charles Dawes, a council member, sent a complete transcript of the Representations

244

Notes to pages 57–8

of the Assembly and the Council and Minutes of the Council, dated 7 September 1756. See Charles Dawes to Samuel Dicker, Jamaica, 13 September 1756, HCA 32/289/22, f.107a. He complains about the move back to Spanish Town in this letter. 45 Greene, ‘Of Liberty and of the Colonies’, 188–97. 46 Metcalfe, Royal Government; Greene, ‘Of Liberty and of the Colonies’; Burnard, ‘Harvest Years’; Gauci, ‘The Attack of the Creolian Powers’. Burnard and Graham have recently argued for a more harmonious relationship between the state and the Jamaican elite in the long term; Burnard and Graham, ‘Security, Taxation and the Imperial System’. 47 John Byrn to James Digges La Touche, Kingston, 23 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.89. 48 John Byrn to James Digges La Touche, Kingston, 23 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.89. 49 John Byrn to James Dunn, Kingston, 10 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.111. 50 James Short to Charles Dingley, Kingston, 5 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.105. 51 James Short to Charles Dingley, Kingston, 5 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.105. 52 James Short to Charles Dingley, Kingston, 5 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.105. 53 John Thomson to Jane Thomson, 10 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.2. 54 John Thomson to Jane Thomson, 10 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.2. The fact that Moore supported the planters should have been no surprise as he was the son of Samuel Moore, a planter of Vere parish, and in December 1751 he had married Catherine Long, the sister of Edward; Tiedemann, ‘Moore, Sir Henry, First Baronet’. 55 David La Pitts to Richard Gomm, Kingston, 27 September 1756, HCA 32/289/22, f.139. Probably George Paplay, who lent money to other Jamaicans; Burnard, Planters, Merchants, and Slaves, 199. He was also a member of the House of Assembly for St Thomas in the East, JHA, f.573. 56 See, for example, Doerflinger, A Vigorous Spirit, 236; Matson, ‘Accounting for War and Revolution’; Haggerty, ‘Merely for Money’?, 206–14. 57 Extract of a letter from Richards, Gordon & Kennion, n/g, 19 March 1757, T1 376/66; Thomas (Admiral?) Coles (Cotes?) to Samuel

Notes to pages 58–9

245

Touchet, Jamaica, 22 May 1757, T1/378/46; Richards, Gordon & Kennion to the Commissioners for Prizes, Kingston, 24 May 1757, T1/378/47; Extract from George Paplay to the Commissioners of Prizes, n/g, 24 May 1757, T1 378/48, Treasury Board Papers, TNA. 58 Jamaica Courant, 29 September 1756. 59 Captain Michael Dalton had hoped to buy the Young Joseph, but lesser merchant Thomas Bond complained to him that it had sold for ‘£700, which is two hundred more than you expected’; the Mars sold for £2,000; Thomas Bond to Michael Dalton, Kingston, 10 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.40. 60 Gerrard Nash to Stephen Denroach, Kingston, 8 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.132. The prizes were sold in early October, John Byrn reported that they were condemned but not yet sold on 21 September 1756; John Byrn to James Dunn, 21 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.113. Gerrard Nash reported they were sold the first week in October; Gerrard Nash to George & Robert Bush, Kingston, 8 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.29. 61 David Beveridge to Elias Bland, Kingston, 25 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.109. 62 Edward Magnar to Mrs Jane Symes, Port Royal, 10 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.48. 63 Edward Magnar to Mrs Jane Symes, Port Royal, 10 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.48. 64 The classic text on eighteenth-century privateering is Starkey, British Privateering Enterprise. The line between the two was sometimes blurred as ‘letters of marque’ vessels might engage in active privateering if the opportunity presented itself. 65 Haggerty, ‘Risk, Networks and Privateering’. 66 Black, Trade, Empire and British Foreign Policy, 12, 34. They were also seen as a patriotic endeavour similar to investing in the East India Company, and their exploits were widely reported in the press; Haggerty, ‘Risk, Networks and Privateering’, 32. 67 The surnames of the crew members that left were Reader and Garner; Mr Bragg had also died of a fever; Richard Millerson to John Heathcote, Jamaica, 11 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.153. This vessel may have been the Barlborough, owned by Millerson, John Heathcote, and Dodgson Foster. The captain was John Tallon; Voyage ID 24924, slavevoyages.org, accessed 17 March 2021. 68 William Miller to James Laroche & Co., Kingston, 25 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.121.

246

Notes to pages 60–1

69 Statement of Wages Paid to Seamen, 18 March 1755, B19679, BCL. Thirteen years later, John Watson, who sailed from Bristol with Captain Clutsam on the Hope, still received only £1 5 shillings per month, and William Balch, who sailed on the same vessel, received £2 5 shillings per month in 1768. This amount was to be paid to them after they left Bristol, presumably to be collected by their wives. Promise to Pay John Watson, 15 February 1768, AC/MU 1(12) b; Promise to Pay William Balch, 15 February 1768, AC/MU 1 (12)c, Papers of Samuel Munckley, AC/MU, BA. 70 Starkey, British Privateering Enterprise, 66. See also Rodger, The Wooden World, 128–130. 71 Rodger also argues that the violent discipline of popular conception was not widespread and actually the cause of indiscipline; Rodger, The Wooden World, 210–15. See also Rogers, ‘British Impressment and Its Discontents’. Impressed men could be more unruly in stressful conditions; see Taylor, Sons of the Waves, 34–6. 72 On the sailors’ experiences, see Rediker, The Slave Ship, chapter 8, ‘The Sailor’s Vast Machine’, 222–62. 73 By 1759 volunteers could expect more than £7 in cash; Rodger, The Wooden World, 126–9. The gross rate of pay for an ordinary seaman was 19 shillings; Taylor, Sons of Waves, 24. 74 Liverpool Council Minutes, 10 March 1756, 352/MIN/COU/1/1/11, f.10, LIVRO. What Daniel Baugh calls a ‘calculating commercialism’ no doubt accounts for why merchants in these port cities were so quick to support the war in 1756 and to support the Jamaican merchants more specifically; Baugh, ‘Britain’s Blue Water Policy’. 75 Bristol Common Council Minutes, 5 April 1756, M/BCC/CCP/2/2, 1748–1758, BA. Dublin Council offered something similar for the army. In August, the Dublin Gazette noted that ‘fifty shillings a Man Levy Money shall be paid to every one, that shall enlist himself in Lieut General Handsford’s Regiment of Foot’. They also promised to pay 20 shillings for every deserter from the regiment that was apprehended – perhaps the soldiers themselves were not so keen on the war; Dublin Gazette, 10 August 1756. While the London Common Council wanted to discuss the state of the militia forces in England, it did not seem to offer a bounty to either soldiers or sailors in 1756; Journal of the Common Council, X109/096, 2 April 1756, f.57 and passim, LMA. See also the patriotric declarations from London (Journal of the Common Council, X109/096, 7 March 1756, ff.55–6, LMA), from Liverpool (Council Minutes, 9 April 1756, 352/MIN/

Notes to pages 61–2

247

COU/1/1/11, ff.11–12, LivRO), and from Bristol (Bristol Common Council Minutes, 5 April 1756, M/BCC/CCP/2/2, 1748–1758, BA). Unfortunately, the full address from Bristol was not copied into the minutes. 76 Rodger, The Wooden World, 129. 77 John Smith to His Wife, Port Royal, 3 September 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.171. Rodger argues that Royal Navy vessels shared all the prize money with the crew. One quarter went to the ordinary seamen; Rodger, The Wooden World, 128–9. 78 Captain Forrest owned Masemure Estate in Westmoreland, which Burnard argues was central to Tacky’s Revolt in 1760; Jamaica in the Age of Revolution, 105. Forrest owned 650 acres of land in Westmoreland and 941 in St Elizabeth; List of Landholders, 1754. 79 Intelligence Received by Captain Forrest of HMS Ship Rye, Original Correspondence, Secretary of State, CO 137/60, 12 April 1756, f.231. Caleb Dickinson returned home from Jamaica on HMS Rye as a passenger; Caleb Dickinson to Florentius Vassall, George’s Coffee House, 1 September 1757, Copy Book of Caleb Dickinson, 1757–1758, 319718, BCL. 80 Dublin Gazette, 19 June 1756. Captain Forrest was in Jamaica again in 1759. He was left senior officer in Jamaica on the death of Admiral Holmes; Rodger, The Wooden World, 139, 159, 308. 81 George Farmer to Jeremiah Farmer, On Board the Dreadnought, Port Royal, 12 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.63. 82 George Farmer to Richard Hull, n/g, n/d, HCA 30/259, f.158. Taylor speaks of the similar pride of an impressed man; Taylor, Sons of the Waves, 19. 83 Edward ONeal to Jane ONeal, Jamaica, 4 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.150. 84 Edward ONeal to John Guilt, Jamaica, 3 September 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.77. 85 Edward ONeal to John Day, Jamaica, 4 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.145; ADM 8/31. The boatswain of HMS Wager was apparently illiterate; Rodger, The Wooden World, 23. 86 Muster Book for HMS Wager, ADM 36/7052, TNA. 87 Edward ONeal to John Day, Jamaica, 4 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.145. In fact twenty-two marines, including ONeal, were transferred to the Dreadnought, but George Farmer was not one of them, so he must have been serving on HMS Dreadnought all along; Muster Book for HMS Wager, ADM 36/7052.

248 88

89

90 91 92 93 94

95 96 97

98

99 100 101 102

Notes to pages 62–3 Edward ONeal to John Day, Jamaica, 4 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.145. All ONeal’s letters direct the recipient to write to him on HMS Dreadnought. George Farmer to Jeremiah Farmer, On Board the Dreadnought, Port Royal, 12 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.63. Martin Swords was another man serving on one of these Royal Navy vessels. He made a point of asking his brother to send his mail to him ‘on bord the Prinses Mary Captin Craven Commander in Jamaica’; Martin Swords to James Swords, Port Royal, 8 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.192. Patrick Kelly to Christopher Kelly, Jamaica, 8 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.68. Mary King to Thomas King, n/g, 14 April 1756, HCA 30/259, f.187. Thomas Stoney to George Stoney, Borrisokane, 14 April 1756, HCA 30/259, f.23. Isaac Henry to George Henry, Borrisokane, 14 April 1756, HCA 30/259, f.26. Elinor Thomas to John Thomas, London, 8 April 1756, HCA 30/259, f.191; Elinor Thomas to John Thomas, London, 17 April 1756, HCA 30/259, f.28. Charles Debause(?) to Joseph Page, London, 17 April 1756, HCA 30/259, f.24. Will of William French, PROB 11/826/396, TNA. Will of William French, PROB 11/826/396, TNA. None of the captains’ letters to the admiralty mention the high death rates, ADM 1/1605, 1700, 1784, 1833, 2045, 2293, and 2460, TNA. However, Captain Gascoigne, who had served in Jamaica for four years, did note that he had contracted rheumatic fever during his service; Edward Gascoigne to John Cleveland, 10 November 1756; 6 December 1756, ADM 1 1833. For a reappraisal of how onerous and contested impressment was in the eighteenth century, see Rogers, ‘British Impressment and Its Discontents’. This subject is dealt with in more detail in the chapter titled ‘Death, Disease, and Decay’. Harrison, Medicine in an Age of Commerce and Empire, 16. His will was proved on 3 September 1756; Will of William French, PROB 11/826/396, TNA. Charles Knowles to the Rt Hon the Lords Commissioners for Trade and Plantations, Jamaica, 16 February 1756, Original Correspondence, BoT, f.109.

Notes to pages 63–4

249

103 See, for example, JHA, ff.593, 631. 104 Hall, ‘Some Aspects of the “Deficiency” Question’. See also Livesay, Children of Uncertain Fortune, 26–35, 64, 93, 200, 239, 379–81. 105 Lesser merchant Samuel Jebb wrote on 2 October that ‘Tis well your Quit Rents are Discharg’d in Time, because the Necessities of the Publick Credit of this Island, have Oblig’d the Receiver to advertise that Writs of Distringuas [attachment] will issue against all Persons immediately’; Samuel Jebb to Thomas Foster, Kingston, 2 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.163. 106 JHA, f.688. 107 Admiral Vernon had recommended a hospital be built at Kingston in 1740, but the main military effort was over before it was completed in 1744; Crewe, Yellow Jack and the Worm, 30–51. 108 The bill was couched as being for the better relief and regulation of the poor; JHA, f.606. 109 JHA, f.721. Legislation was eventually passed in 1759 dealing with maimed and disabled seamen. It was noted in 1791 that a great many of them were formerly ‘Guinea Men’; Rediker, The Slave Ship, 253. 110 There were several barracks around the island, with manpower ranging from twenty men at Luidas to 300 men at Fort Charles. There were supposed to be 200 men at Spanish Town and 100 at Kingston; Egerton Mss 3490, BL. My thanks to Aaron Graham for bringing this to my attention. 111 JHA, f.687. 112 JHA, f.640. 113 Serving in the army at Jamaica could be seen as a punishment, and male convicts might be pardoned if they joined the army. In 1760, John Baker, Jeremiah Smith, Charles Dailey, and Thomas Elliot – all found guilty of highway robbery – escaped their death sentence by joining the 49th Regiment of Foot, then in Jamaica; in 1761 the same option was given to thirty-four men; Conway, War, State, and Society, 69. 114 JHA, f.559. The state of repairs seems to have been a perennial problem, despite the huge amount of money spent on defence and policing; Burnard and Graham, ‘Security, Taxation’, 480; Burnard, Jamaica in the Age of Revolution, 67. 115 ‘The Humble Address of the Lieut Governor, Council and Assembly of the Island of Jamaica’, 14 October 1756, Colonial Office and Predecessors: Jamaica, Original Correspondence, CO 137/29, ff.164–7, f.165. The 49th Regiment of Foot was set up

250

116

117

118

119

120 121 122 123 124

125 126

Notes to pages 64–6 by Edward Trelawney in 1743 from volunteer companies left there in 1714; Swinson, A Register of the Regiments and Corps, 148. See also Braithwaite, Development of Creole Society, 9–59. ‘The Humble Address of the Lieut Governor, Council and Assembly of the Island of Jamaica’, 14 October 1756, Colonial Office and Predecessors: Jamaica, Original Correspondence, CO 137/29, ff.164–7, f.165. Governor Trelawney was influential in starting interference in the Mosquito Shore in 1741 and sent a company there in 1745. This began what was a virtual protectorate for the next fortyfive years; Metcalfe, Royal Government, 70–5. Governor Knowles was not happy with the situation on the Mosquito Shore; ibid., 115–17. ‘The Humble Address of the Lieut Governor, Council and Assembly of the Island of Jamaica’, 14 October 1756, Colonial Office and Predecessors: Jamaica, Original Correspondence, CO 137/29, ff.166–7. The elite in Jamaica expected the government to intervene and support the island; Burnard, Jamaica in the Age of Revolution, 67. Metcalfe, Royal Government, 18. Jewish people also served in the militia; Mirvis, The Jews of Eighteenth-Century Jamaica, 75. Men of colour were not allowed to be officers; Petley, Slaveholders in Jamaica. By 1813 there were 2,700 free men of colour in the militia, ibid., 59; Long, History of Jamaica, Vol. I, 136. Long, History of Jamaica, Vol. I, 143. See ‘An Act for Settling the Militia’, discussed 6 November 1756 and passed 21 December 1767, JHA, ff.633, 721. Examination of Isaac Willis and Roger Popley, private soldiers …, 29 September 1756, Original Correspondence, BoT, CO 137/29, f.143. Examination of Bernard Cornelius …, 29 September 1756, Original Correspondence, BoT, CO 137/29, f.142. Examination of Isaac Willis and Roger Popley, private soldiers …, 29 September 1756, Original Correspondence, BoT, CO 137/29, f.143. Examination of Jean Barrie, Sailmaker …, 18 September 1756, Original Correspondence, BoT, CO 137/29, f.136. Examination of Isaac Jouzdeaou(?), Antonio Paul, Jean Gouzand, and Jean Noncent, 18 September 1756, Original Correspondence, BoT, CO 137/29, f.134. Evidence of Pierre Moquan, mariner …, 18 September 1756, Original Correspondence, BoT, CO 137/29, f.132. Interestingly, the French said that ‘Mr Threlfall’, lieutenant of the 49th of Foot, was not to blame; Examination of Rene Chesneaux …, 18 September 1756, Original Correspondence, BoT, CO 137/29, f.133.

Notes to pages 66–7

251

127 Chesneaux had been taken from the Mars, which had been taken as a prize and of which Manning & Paplay were the prize commissioners; Examination of Rene Chesneaux, 18 September 1756, Original Correspondence, BoT, CO 137/29, f.133. 128 Examination of Rene Chesneaux, 18 September 1756, Original Correspondence, BoT, CO 137/29, f.133. 129 Examination of Lieut Henry Threlfall …, 29 September 1756, Original Correspondence, BoT, CO 137/29, f.138. 130 The problem of where to house prisoners of war continued into the late eighteenth century, and in 1779 Governor Dalling reported that Greenwich Hospital had burned down and that the barracks at Kingston were no longer an option; Morieux, Society of Prisoners, 148. 131 JHA, ff.579–80. 132 Examination of John Cruickshank of the Parish of Kingston and Adam Hay of the same Parish, 3 October 1756; Henry Moore to Rt Honourable the Lords Commissioners for Trade and Plantations, Spanish Town, 1 October 1756, Original Correspondence, BoT, CO 137/29, ff.130, 146. 133 Examination of John Cruickshank of the Parish of Kingston …, 3 October 1756, Original Correspondence, BoT, CO 137/29, f.146. 134 John Gilderoy of the Parish of Kingston …, date n/g, Original Correspondence, BoT, CO 137/29, f.144. 135 Gaywood Goad, the Kingston gaolor, died in 1759 worth £2,621; TBJPDB. 136 Examination of Bernard Cornelius, 29 September 1756, Original Correspondence, BoT, CO 137/29, f.142. 137 Enslaved people were used as troops in the War of Jenkins’ Ear and the Seven Years’ War more than historians have usually allowed for; Bolletino, ‘“Of Equal or of More Service”’. The Royal Navy’s employment practices were also often shaped by regional practices rather than policy; Foy, ‘The Royal Navy’s Employment of Black Mariners’. The British government in Jamaica (and Antigua) purchased its own enslaved people to careen, caulk, and repair ships in small companies of around thirty people; Rogers, Blood Waters, 74. 138 Examination of Isaac Jouzdeaou(?), Antonio Paul, Jean Gouzand, and Jean Noncent, 18 September 1756, Original Correspondence, BoT, CO 137/29, f.134. 139 The victualling board preferred to pay private contractors at a fixed rate per man per day, with the risk passed on to the merchants. No doubt costs were cut in providing food for prisoners; Hamilton,

252

140

141 142

143 144

Notes to pages 67–72 ‘Private Enterprise and Public Service’. Delays were always an issue despite the fact that the victualling board knew the numbers of men stationed in each place; Crewe, Yellow Jack and the Worm, chapter 4, ‘Victualling’, 145–212. A list of their supposed diet can be found at ibid., 146. Henry Moore to the Rt Hon Lords Commissioners for Trade and Plantations, Spanish Town, 1 October 1756, Original Correspondence, BoT, CO 137/29, ff.130, 146. Isaac da Silva to his father, Kingston, 11 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.199a. Rachel and Manoel Mendes to Jacob Rodrigues Silva, 17 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.198. The issue of who paid for prisoners of war was a perennial issue; Morieux, Society of Prisoners, 13–41. See https://www.geni.com/people/ThomasPinnock/6000000015833222021, last updated 21 February 2015. Thomas Pinnock to his employer (?), Jamaica, 26 June 1756, MSS 490, NLJ. Thomas Pinnock was one of those ordered into custody as part of the political dispute in September, along with George Paplay, Zachary Bayly, Roger Hope Elletson, and others; JHA, f.596.

Chapter Five 1 2

3

4

5 6

Patrick Kelly to Christopher Kelly, Jamaica, 8 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.68. Patrick Kelly to Christopher Kelly, Jamaica, 8 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.68. The superscript ‘a’ was a correction made by Kelly. The Dreadnought, with 415 men and 60 guns, under Admiral Townsend, sailed from England on 30 January 1756. It was assumed by the Admiralty that it was at Jamaica by April 1756; ADM 8 30. Burnard, ‘“Impatient of Subordination”’; Burnard, ‘“Rioting in Goatish Embraces”’; Zacek, ‘Banes of Society’; Burnard, Jamaica in the Age of Revolution, 91. Patterson, The Sociology of Slavery, 70. Kamau Braithwaite is one of the few historians to praise Jamaica’s institutions as the body of an articulate upper class and of committed settlers; Braithwaite, Development of a Creole Society in Jamaica, 1770–1820, see, particularly, the statements on xiii and 306–8. Whyman, The Pen and the People, 61. The family lives of enslaved people are dealt with in more detail in the chapter titled ‘Tales of the Enslaved People’.

Notes to pages 72–4 7 8 9 10 11

12 13 14 15 16

17 18

19 20 21 22 23

253

Patrick Kelly to Christopher Kelly, Jamaica, 8 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.68. Pearsall, Atlantic Families, 5. Gust, ‘“The Perilous Territory of Not Belonging”’, 26; Pearsall, Atlantic Families, 19. Whyman, The Pen and the People, 13. A similar process occurred in commercial correspondence; McCusker, ‘The Demise of Distance’. Patrick Kelly to Christopher Kelly, Jamaica, 8 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.68. Even elite merchants wrote similar comments: ‘It is so long since I have heard from my friends in England, that one almost might doubt, whether you are not all taken by the French’; Gilbert Ford to John Taylor, Kingston, 9 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.44. See also Gerrard Nash, who told his sister ‘alas, how great was the Disapointment’ that a letter had not arrived from her with his brother on his arrival in Jamaica; Gerrard Nash to Alice Dunrich, Kingston, 8 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.72. Tadmor, Family and Friends, 171. Tadmor, Family and Friends, 174; Snell, ‘Belonging and Community’. Snell, ‘Belonging and Community’, 6. Snell, ‘Belonging and Community’, 6, 9. Possibly this was near Dublin’s bird market, which was off Canon Street near St Patrick’s Cathedral, but I was unable to locate it on https://iiif.lib.harvard.edu/manifests/view/ids:10135320, accessed 22 April 2021. John Jackson to (unreadable), Kingston, 10 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.194. John Thomson to Jane Thomson, Kingston, 10 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.2. Mr Harding complained to his wife that ‘Tis near 5 months since the date of my last letter from England … my friends seem to forget me’; (?) Harding to Mrs Harding, 5 (?) 1756, n/g, HCA 30/259, f.126. James Short to Charles Dingley, Kingston 5 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.103. Joseph Stephenson to Mrs Stephenson, Kingston, 8 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.49. Ann Graham to Mrs Littlejohn, n/g, n.d., HCA 30/259, f.156. John Jackson to William Davies, Kingston, 10 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.152. Alexander Robe to Betty Robe, Ann Gally, Kingston, 12 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.39.

254 24

Notes to pages 74–6

William Glover to Jonathon Glover, Kingston, 10 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.99; John Harriott to Martha Lowther(?), Kingston, 30 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.174. William Mormane likewise asked his acquaintance to ‘Remember me to Father & Mother’, even though he intended to be in Jamaica only a short time; William Mormane to Michael Barry, Kingston, 22 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.145. 25 Patrick Kelly to Christopher Kelly, Jamaica, 8 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.68. 26 George Farmer to Jeremiah Farmer, On Board the Dreadnought, Port Royal, 12 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.63. 27 Martin Swords to James Swords, Port Royal, 8 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.192. 28 Manus McShane to William Hamilton, Kingston, 15 September 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.152. 29 John Smith to Robert(?) Wood, Port Royal, 3 September 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.171. 30 Edward ONeal to Jean ONeal, Jamaica, 4 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.127. 31 See, for example, The Complete Letter-Writer. 32 William Nickell to James Nickell, Kingston, 8 October(?) 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.159. 33 Patrick Kelly to Christopher Kelly, Jamaica, 8 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.68. 34 Aaron Lousada to Isaac Mendes Da Costa Sr, Jamaica, 5 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.10. 35 John Jackson to Robert Evain, Kingston, 6 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.92. 36 James Webb to Samuel Webb, Kingston, 6 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.144. 37 He did not say why he categorized her as ‘unfortunate’. 38 James Webb to Samuel Webb, Kingston, 6 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.144. 39 ‘Given names’: see http://homepages.rootsweb.com/~oel/ givennames.html#G, Judith Werner, 1999–2009, accessed 7 May 2020. 40 On men being more ready to openly declare their intentions with regard to marriage, see Eustace, ‘Love and Power’. Consciously missing a lover could be used as a means of building a stronger attachment; Holloway, The Game of Love, 86. 41 Elizabeth Metcalfe to Sister Chambers, Kingston, 9 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.103.

Notes to pages 77–9 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57

58

59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66

255

Elinor Thomas to John Thomas, London, 8 April 1756, HCA 30/259, f.191. Elinor Thomas to John Thomas, London, 8 April 1756, HCA 30/259, f.191. Elinor Thomas to John Thomas, London, 17 April 1756, HCA 30/259, f.28. Ann Graham to Mrs Littlejohn, n.d., n/g, HCA 30/259, f.156. Tadmor, ‘The Concept of the Household-Family’, 113. Harvey, The Little Republic, 1. Bailey, Unquiet Lives, 62, 193–6. Hufton, The Prospect Before Her, 99. See also Holloway, The Game of Love, 10. Stone, Uncertain Unions, 7–12. In Ireland, a cow and a bed might constitute a dowry for the poorest in society; Hufton, The Prospect Before Her, 120–5. Tadmor, ‘The Concept of the Household-Family’. Laslett, ‘Size and Structure of the Household’, 202. Some 82.4 per cent of migrants were men; Games, Migration and the Origins, 24. Cited in Burnard, ‘“Rioting in Goatish Embraces”’, 190. Burnard, ‘“Impatient of Subordination”’, 134. In England, 69.7 per cent of households were headed by a married couple and the mean household size was 4.768. Children were 42.6 per cent of the population; Laslett, ‘Size and Structure’, 216, 207, 217. Only 46 per cent of marriages resulted in children within the first two years and had one parent still alive when the child reached sixteen years of age; Burnard, ‘A Failed Settler Society’, 66–71. See the reappraisal of Rachael Polgreen; Fuentes, Dispossessed Lives, 448–61. See Phibbah’s story in Burnard, Mastery, Tyranny, and Desire, 209–40; and Beckles, Centering Women. Livesay, Children of Uncertain Fortune, 3. Livesay, Children of Uncertain Fortune, 4, 9. Livesay, Children of Uncertain Fortune, 42. See chapter 1, ‘Inheritance, Family, and Mixed-Race Jamaicans’, 20–89. Livesay, Children of Uncertain Fortune, 49–50. Much has already been written on Thistlewood. See, for example, Burnard, Mastery, Tyranny, and Desire. George Hampson to Mrs Payne, Kingston, 28 September 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.141.

256

Notes to pages 79–81

Mair, A Historical Study of Women, 153. Livesay argues that up until midcentury, at least, Jamaica’s officials were still hopeful of a more successful settler society; Children of Uncertain Fortune, ‘Introduction’, 1–19, and chapter 1, ‘Inheritance, Family and Mixed-Race Jamaicans, 1700–1761’, 20–89. 69 Livesay, Children of Uncertain Fortune, 26–27. They were still being hotly debated in 1756, however; see JHA, passim. 70 Mair, A Historical Study of Women, 33. Another act was passed in 1757; Livesay, Children of Uncertain Fortune, 26–35, 64. 71 In the late eighteenth century the assembly realized these policies were too expensive. It had cost around £30,000 by the early 1750s; Burnard, ‘“Rioting in Goatish Embraces”’, 193. 72 Mair, A Historical Study of Women, 33. 73 Mair, A Historical Study of Women, 156. 74 Walker, Jamaica Ladies, 8–9. Such ideas were not always successfully enforced; Burnard, ‘A Matron in Rank’; Pearsall, ‘The Late Flagrant Instance of Depravity’. 75 Burnard, ‘Inheritance and Independence’; Burnard, ‘“Rioting in Goatish Embraces”’, 194. 76 Long, History of Jamaica, Vol. II, 265. 77 Harvey, The Little Republic, 3; Walker, Jamaica Ladies, 9. 78 Walker, Jamaica Ladies, 9; Yeh, ‘“A Sink of All Filthiness”’; Burnard, ‘“Rioting in Goatish Embraces”’; Zacek, ‘Holding the Whip-Hand’. 79 Walker, Jamaica Ladies, 5. 80 See, for example, Hamilton, Scotland, the Caribbean; Smith, Slavery, Family, and Gentry Capitalism; Donington, The Bonds of Family; Petley, White Fury. 81 Mair, A Historical Study of Women in Jamaica, 152–3. 82 Mair, A Historical Study of Women in Jamaica, 159. Philip and George were soon to be sent to Westminster School in London, under the supervision of London merchant Samuel Vaughan; Thomas Pinnock to Samuel Vaughan, Jamaica, 14 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.136. Thomas Pinnock concentrated on raising cattle in his large pen in St Andrew; Greene, Settler Jamaica, 99. 83 Edward ONeal to Jean ONeal, Jamaica, 4 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.127; a Copy of the Last Will & Testament of James Lawrence deceased, HCA 30/259, f.1a. His will was probated in 1757; TBJPDB. 84 David La Pitts to Richard Gomm, Kingston, 27 September 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.139. Charles Mitchell also had his wife with him, and possibly a young son or sons. He ordered stockings and 67 68

Notes to pages 81–2

257

shoes for boys; Charles Mitchell to Innes & Clark, (page missing), HCA 32/189/22, f.15. John Harriott had his mother, sisters, and brothers all with him; John Harriott to Mrs Crutcher, St Elizabeth, 11 June 1756, HCA 30/259, f.185; John Harriott to Avery Jebb, Kingston, 27 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.159. 85 Samuel Jebb to Thomas Foster, Kingston, 2 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.163. 86 Daniel Mendes Pereira to Raphael Vas de Silva, Kingston, 7 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.217. There were several synagogues in Jamaica, including in Kingston where these families would have worshipped; Arbell, The Portuguese Jews of Jamaica, 27–9. 87 Isaac da Silva to Jacob Rodrigues Silva, Kingston, 11 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.199. The da Silvas were actively involved in trade to South America for good profit margins; Fortune, Merchants and Jews, 148. 88 John Crow to Robert Wilson & Son, Kingston, 2 October 1756, HCA 32/1289/22, f.87; John Crow to Horlock and Wagstaffe, Kingston, 2 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.148. 89 John Crow to John & James Thomas, Kingston, 2 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.17. The Isle of Wight is a small island off the south coast of England. 90 For intermediaries, see Eustace, ‘“Cornerstone of a Copious Work”’. 91 Widows losing their dower or jointure on remarrying was seen as a way of protecting the estate for the husband’s own children. However, restrictions were more common in the American colonies than in England; Erickson, Women & Property, 166–7. 92 Will of John Crow, 18 June 1762, PROB 11/890/392, TNA. Ann, Elizabeth, and other family members also received various other bequests. Crow’s will was proved on 8 August 1763; his personal estate was worth £11,334; TBJPDB. 93 Crow did not appear to be a Quaker. There are no references to it in his letters, which do not follow the Friends’ date style at the header. 94 Ann Graham to Mrs Littlejohn, n/g, n.d., HCA 30/259, f.156. 95 Edward Long bemoaned both the lack of good schools in Jamaica and the practice of parents sending their children to school in England, ‘like a bale of goods’; Long, History of Jamaica, Vol. II, 250–60, 246. The practice continued nonetheless, see Livesay, Uncertain Fortunes, esp. 104–7, 231, 291. 96 The phrase ‘ma chére petite poule’ was also used by French women; Raapke, ‘Touch me if you can’.

258 97 98 99 100 101

102

103 104

105 106

107

Notes to pages 82–4 Sarah Folkes to Frederick Reinhold, Kingston, 1 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.127. Ann Morley to Nathaniel Lloyd, Kingston, 10 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.211. They were Elizabeth Ann and Sarah fforbes; Will of Ann Morley, 25 July 1760, PROB 11/959/408, TNA. Mair, A Historical Study of Women, 160; Finn, ‘The Female World of Love and Empire’, esp. 11–14. Alexander Crawford to Andrew Moffat, Westmoreland, 20 August 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.94. He owned 650 acres of land in Westmoreland and 474 in St Elizabeth; List of Landholders, 1754. William Rose to Stephen Blankett, St Ann’s, 28 September 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.23. The rise of girls’ schools in the seventeenth century meant that they could be educated out of the home. Classes were given in reading, writing, and arithmetic, and in ‘polite’ accomplishments such as French, drawing, dancing, and music; Skedd, ‘Women Teachers’, 101. Patt Lynch to John Seton, Kingston, 19 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.105. Lesser merchant John Irving had sent his wife and children home with Mr Kennion, where his children were to be ‘under the Direction of My worthy Friend & School fellow Doctor Fothergill’, possibly of Richards, Gordon & Kennion; John Irving to Richard Shubrick, Kingston, 22 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.77. Richard Shubrick also owned land in Jamaica; see Lease and Release, 25 August 1793, ACC/037/013–014, LMA. Irving had arranged for their expenses to be paid through Samuel Touchett & Co., but he did not know how they had managed because he had ‘Wrote so Often Without Acknowledgement’. He added, ‘I am really at a Loss how to Conduct myself, or who to write to About them’. Possibly Samuel Touchet of Manchester; see Kidd, ‘Samuel Touchet’, Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, accessed 30 June 2021. See https://www.britannica.com/topic/Doctors-Commons, accessed 22 April 2021. Sarah Folkes to Frederick Reinhold, Kingston, 1 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.127. Some thought London a bad place to send children because they might succumb to the ‘Capital’s supposed moral hazards’; Livesay, Uncertain Fortune, 106. Sarah Folkes to Mrs Eatley, Kingston, 1 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.207.

Notes to pages 84–6

259

108 It would appear that another family member called Sally, possibly another daughter, was also with William and Sarah Folkes in Jamaica; Sarah Folkes to Frederick Reinhold, Kingston, 1 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.127. 109 William Folkes to Mr Wilcox, Kingston, 1 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.116. 110 As Frederick’s surname was Reinhold and William’s child was at Woolwich in the care of a Mrs Chivers, both may have had children by former marriages. 111 Joseph Fraizer to Ann Shuwell, Kingston, 5 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.64. 112 William Miller to Nelly Miller, Kingston, 9 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.80. 113 Alexander Robe to Betty Robe, Ann Gally, Kingston, 12 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.39. 114 John Penington to George Tyly, Kingston, 9 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.78. 115 Leeson Blackwood to John Blackwood, Jamaica, 10 March 1756, HCA 30/259, f.124. Blackwood’s relationship with his father was strained. He had sustained great losses from a storm in 1751, but he wrote that his father would ‘not give me any more assistance’. 116 Rachel and Manuel Mendes to Jacob Rodrigues Silva, Jamaica, 17 July 1756, HCA 30/259, f.198. 117 Isaac and Ribcah de Silva to his father, Kingston, 19 September(?) 1756, HCA 30/259, ff.199; 199a. This ‘lady’ may have been Mrs Isaac Alvares as Mr Alvares is also mentioned in the letter. My thanks to Max Menz and Gustavo Acioli Lopes for kindly translating these letters from Portuguese into English. 118 James Short to Mrs Short, Kingston, 6 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.14. 119 James Short to Charles Dingley, Kingston, 5 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.105. It was not possible to locate a probated will for James Short. 120 Edward Magnar to his wife, Port Royal, 10 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.48. 121 William Clutsam to his wife, off the Calardos, 22 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.136. 122 Bill of Exchange, 11 October 1756, Copy Book of Letters of Caleb Dickinson, August 1757–September 1758, 319718, BCL;

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123 124 125

126

127 128 129 130 131 132

133 134 135

136 137 138 139 140 141

142

Notes to pages 86–91 William Clutsam to his wife, off the Calardos, 22 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.136. The Bath Journal, 27 December 1756. Will of William Clutsam, 23 January 1778, PROB 11/1040/167, TNA. Joseph Fraizer to Ann Shuwell, 5 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.64. Unfortunately, Joseph Fraizer did not mention the name of the vessel on which he sailed. Joseph Fraizer to Ann Shuwell, Kingston, 5 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.64. It was not possible to locate a will for Joseph Fraizer or Ann Shuwell. John Byrn to James Dunn, Kingston, 21 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.113. Bailey argues that women often had a sense of their rights within a marriage and no real sense of obedience; Bailey, Unquiet Lives, 198–9. J. Ripley to Nathan Sprigg, Liguanea, 30 September 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.85. Barker-Benfield, The Culture of Sensibility, xix. G. Hutton to Mrs Hutton, Kingston, 5 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.50a. Women were forced to capitalize on their ‘naturalized’ gender characteristics – especially moral authority; Barker-Benfield, The Culture of Sensibility, xxvii. Burnard. ‘“Rioting in Goatish Embraces”’, 90. G. Hutton to Mrs Hutton, Kingston, 5 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.50a. Holloway, The Game of Love, 10. Keeping house was an important part of masculinity; Harvey, The Little Republic, 17. Even when formally separated from their wives, men in England often had female family members who performed the role of ‘wife’; Bailey, Unquiet Lives, 179. John Byrn to James Dunn, Kingston, 21 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.113. John Thomson to Mrs Thomson, Kingston, 10 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.2. Bailey, Unquiet Lives, 198. Harvey, The Little Republic, 4. Eustace, ‘“Cornerstone of a Copious Work”’, 520, 522. Thomas Hibbert to Marmaduke Hilton, Kingston, 28 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.1. Hilton’s will with several codicils, the last dated 14 January 1768, is at PROB 11/935/150, TNA. Many widows chose not to remarry, especially in urban areas; Burnard, ‘“Rioting in Goatish Embraces”’, 195.

Notes to pages 92–4

261

143 Daniel Mendes Pereira to Raphael Vas de Silva, Kingston, 7 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.217. There was no entry for Mrs Alvares in TBJPDB. It would appear Jose also had a child or children already born but not mentioned in this letter; Benjamin Mendes Alvares to his father, Kingston, 6 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.12a. 144 Elizabeth Metcalfe to Sister Chambers, Kingston, 9 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.103. 145 Gilbert Ford wrote of Byndloss, whose widow had brought him £4,000, ‘there were no bounds to his luxury & extravagance’; Gilbert Ford to John Taylor, Kingston, 9 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.41. It was not possible to trace Byndloss’s probate inventory in TBJPDB. 146 Cox and Cox, ‘Probate 1500–1800’, 28–9; Petley, ‘“Managing Property”’. 147 Nathaniel Butler to Mrs Lowther, St Ann, 2 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.173. 148 A widow was entitled to a dower under common law and ‘thirds’ of moveables under ecclesiastical law; Erickson, Women & Property, 24–25, 164. 149 Haggerty and Seymour, ‘Imperial Careering’; Mair, A Historical Study of Women, 154. Mair suggests that enslaved people were ‘awkward property’ for women to manage, but recent analysis suggests otherwise; see Walker, Jamaica Ladies, 198. 150 The two men were Nathaniel Butler and Samuel Fouace. Butler shamelessly tried to convince his correspondent that their taking over Stopford’s affairs was at Mrs Stopford’s behest; Nathaniel Butler to Mrs Lowther, St Ann, 2 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.173. 151 TBJPDB. 152 Thomas Hibbert to Marmaduke Hilton, Kingston, 28 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.1. 153 Walker notes that given the high death rates of children, such monies ‘in lieu of dower’ were common in Jamaica, as opposed to following strictly the principal of primogeniture; Jamaica Ladies, 189. 154 Walker argues that widows were especially careful to protect their wealth if they remarried; Walker, Jamaica Ladies, 55. 155 That is, the right to live within the family home and other benefits such as clothes, bedding, and washing; Erickson, Women & Property, 164. 156 Thomas Hibbert to Nathan Sprigg, Kingston, 30 September 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.64. 157 Zacek, ‘“Banes of Society”’; Burnard, ‘“Impatient of Subordination”’. 158 My thanks to Trevor Burnard for this latter turn of phrase.

262

Notes to pages 95–7

Chapter Six 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

9

10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18

19

John Crow to Horlock & Wagstaffe, Kingston, 2 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.148. John Crow to Horlock & Wagstaffe, Kingston, 2 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.148. John Crow to Robert Wilsonn & Son, Kingston, 2 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.87. Burnard, ‘“The Countrie Continues Sicklie”’ Burnard, ‘“The Countrie Continues Sicklie”’, 51. The experiences of the enslaved with regard to health or lack thereof are dealt with in more detail in chapter 8. John Crow to Robert Wilsonn & Son, Kingston, 2 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.87. Walpole was temperate and not overweight, underlining that gout’s true cause is not gluttony. Benjamin Franklin also had gout; Porter and Rousseau, Gout, 76–9, 83. An image of bootikins can be found at ibid., 266. Scientists only identified uric acid as a cause of gout in the last quarter of the eighteenth century. This quote comes from 1803 and is cited in Porter and Rousseau, Gout, 136–7. Knight, Natural, Moral, and Political History, 463. JHA, f.551. Porter and Rousseau, Gout, 50. Aaron Lousada to Isaac Mendes da Costa Senior, Jamaica, 5 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.10. Porter and Rousseau, Gout, 74–5. Ann Graham to her mother, n/g, n.d., HCA 30/259, f.156. She did not say what his ‘other complaint’ was. Porter and Rousseau, Gout, 52. John Crow to Robert Wilsonn & Son, Kingston, 2 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.87. Porter and Rousseau, Gout, 74; Bloch, ‘Slavery and Inter-Imperial Discourse’, 249; later in the century gout came to be portrayed as a black devil. See Gilray’s The Gout, 1799, at https://www. britishmuseum.org/collection/object/P_1851-0901-980, accessed 27 May 2020. Porter and Rousseau, Gout, 15. A man’s body should ‘flow’, not ‘leak’, hence William Musgrave’s embarrassment at having a periodical bleed from his thumb; Smith, ‘The Body Embarrassed?’, 26.

Notes to pages 97–9 20

21 22 23 24

25 26

27 28 29 30

31 32

33 34 35 36 37 38

263

Smith, ‘The Body Embarrassed?’, 29. For a good overview of humoral medicine before 1700, see Harrison, Medicine in an Age of Commerce & Empire, 29–46. Porter and Rousseau, Gout, 54–5, 136. Porter and Rousseau, Gout, 17, 56. Ogborn, The Freedom of Speech, 119; Brown, The Reaper’s Garden, 146. Paton argues that during the Maroon wars of the 1730s Obeah was linked only with the ‘rebellious negroes’ (the Maroons), and that the 1760 ‘Act to remedy the evils arising from irregular assemblies of slaves’ criminalized Obeah in response to the ritual oaths that the rebels on the plantations took. Prosecution was irregular, however; Paton, The Cultural Politics of Obeah, chapter 3, ‘Creole Slave Society, Obeah, and the Law’, 76–118. Ogborn, The Freedom of Speech, 119. Bloch, ‘Slavery and Inter-Imperial Leprosy’, 249; Ogborn, The Freedom of Speech, 120, but, see chapter 3, ‘Master I Can Cure You: Talking Plants in the Sugar Islands’, 109–42. Burnard, ‘“The Countrie Continues Sicklie”’, 67. Brown, The Reaper’s Garden, 17. Black people rarely died from yellow fever; Sheridan, Doctors and Slaves, 9–11. Kiple, The Caribbean Slave, 18. Unfortunately, one side effect of this immunity to malaria is sickle cell anaemia. However, people of West African ancestry do seem to have developed a racial resistance to the Plasmodium vivax strain. Black people also have a nonracial tolerance for yellow fever through hosting the disease in Africa and usually contract only a mild form; Kiple, The Caribbean Slave, 14. Burnard, ‘“The Countrie Continues Sicklie”’, 61–2; Kiple, The Caribbean Slave, 18; Sheridan, Doctors and Slaves, 10. Kiple, The Caribbean Slave, 144–6. White children also died of whooping cough; Burnard, ‘“The Countrie Continues Sicklie”’, 61. Sheridan, Doctors and Slaves, 118, 250–8. Burnard, ‘“The Countrie Continues Sicklie”’, 46. Burnard, ‘Failed Settler Society’, 66. Charters, Disease, War, and the Imperial State, 56–61; Arnold, ‘Introduction’, 7. Harrison, Medicine in an Age of Commerce & Empire, 87. Even in peacetime around 10 per cent of the British regiments were sick at any one time; Harrison, Medicine in an Age of Commerce &

264

39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49

50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57

Notes to pages 99–100 Empire, 15; 2,200 troops were left out of 11,000; Charters, Disease, War, and the Imperial State, 53. Out of a total of 4,295 deaths, 3,788 were from disease; Charters, ‘Making Bodies Modern’, 227. Leeson Blackwood to John Blackwood, Jamaica, 10 March 1756, HCA 30/259, f.124. Out of a total of 17,918 deaths between 1717 and 1774, as recorded in Trevor Burnard’s database of Kingston deaths. Burnard, ‘“The Countrie Continues Sicklie”’, 54–5. Nathaniel Butler to Martha Lowther, St Ann, 2 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.173. Burnard, ‘“The Countrie Continues Sicklie”’, 58. Sarah Folkes to Mrs Eatley, Kingston, 1 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.207. Elizabeth Metcalfe to Sister Chambers, Kingston, 9 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.103. Lancelot Grave to Matthew Grave, Kingston, 11 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.43. Burnard, ‘“The Countrie Continues Sicklie”’, 58. John & Edward Foord to Messrs Munckley, Kingston, 11 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.37. The captain of the Nancy, Maddox, had been in a ‘bad state of health’, no doubt caused by the cramped, unhygienic, and highly contagious conditions of ship life; William Miles to Maurice Ceely, Kingston, 4 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.22a. Captain John Sutcliffe also died in early autumn 1756, a ‘particular Frend’ of Samuel Lindsay of Kingston; Samuel Lindsay to Ann Delap, Kingston, 15 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.59. Thirty-six per cent to be exact; Burnard, ‘“Not a Place for Whites’”, 80; Burnard, ‘“The Countrie Continues Sicklie”’, 62–3. William Glover to Jonathon Glover, Kingston, 10 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.99. Brown, The Reaper’s Garden, 61. It only ‘protected’ him for seven years. As noted earlier, he was dead by 1763. John Smith to Robert(?) Wood, Port Royal, 3 September 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.171. Rhetoric about health was an important part of the patient’s experience; Wayne Wild, Medicine by Post, 8. Burnard, ‘“The Countrie Continues Sicklie”’, 68. Gerrard Nash to Philippa Palmer, Kingston, 8 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.72.

Notes to page 101 58

59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66

67

68

69 70

71

265

John Penington to George Tyly, Kingston, 9 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.78. On attitudes towards risk and God, see Bernstein, Against the Gods. Robert Nelson to Robert Smith, Kingston, 2 November 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.142. Robert Nelson to Robert Smith, Kingston, 2 November 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.142. Mary Rose to Rose Fuller, Spanish Town, 20 June 1757, JCRFSF, f.135. Seth, Disease and Difference, 95; Burnard, ‘“The Countrie Continues Sicklie”’, 67; Arnold, ‘Introduction’, 7. John Kinlock to Joseph Foster Barham, Westmoreland, 1 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.91. John Cutterham to John Gray, Kingston, 20 September 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.73. Gilbert Ford to Edward Whatley, Kingston, 9 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.33. Jeremiah Meyler to Richard Meyler, Kingston, 26 November 1752, The Bright–Meyler Papers. Charles Hall clearly got better as he was married by 1771; Jeremiah Meyler to Henry Bright, Savanna-la-Mar, 26 April 1771, The Bright–Meyler Papers. Hall’s firm did not have much luck in Jamaica. His former partner Francis Bright had died in 1754 and was buried at Halfway Tree churchyard just outside Kingston; Jeremiah Meyler to Richard Meyler, Kingston, 21 July 1754, The Bright–Meyler Papers. Another partner, Robert Whatley, had died in October 1755, The Bright–Meyler Papers, 43. William Miles to Henry Bright, Kingston, 7 July 1754, The Bright– Meyler Papers. This is an unusually compassionate letter regarding an unmarried woman in which Miles pleads for help for her and her children. She was probably white as Miles calls the children Bright’s ‘brothers’. John Thomson to Jane Thomson, Kingston, 10 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.2. Temperance was also highly recommended in the French West Indies; Raapke, ‘The Realm Beyond the Line’, 120–30. John Thomson to Jane Thomson, Kingston, 10 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.2. John Thomson to Jane Thomson, Kingston, 10 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.2. On acclimatization and seasoning, see Harrison, “‘The Tender Frame of Man”’, 70. The term dates back to at least the fifteenth century and comes from the French saisonner – to ripen or render fruit by the influence of the

266

Notes to pages 101–3

seasons; Seth, Disease and Difference, chapter 3, ‘Seasoning Sickness and Imaginative Geography’, 91–111. The quotation is Seth quoting Hans Sloane; ibid., 93; Arnold, ‘Introduction’. Ideas of seasoning with regard to enslaved Africans were used by both proslavers and abolitionists. It became a malleable concept; Smith, ‘Seasoning and Abolition’. Knight also uses the term; Knight, Natural, Moral, and Political History, 438. 72 Kupperman, ‘Fear of Hot Climates’, 217–220. 73 Thomas Capstack to John Sill, Kingston, 6 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.98; Leonard Wray Jr to George Wray, Kingston, 10 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.135. 74 Joseph Stephenson to Uncle Johnson, Kingston, 8 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.48. 75 John Smith to Robert(?) Wood, Port Royal, 3 September 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.171. 76 Seth, Difference and Disease, 99. Writers in the French Caribbean also wrote about being ill on arrival and about their recovery; Raapke, ‘The Realm Beyond the Line’, 29. 77 In the case of Native Americans, see, for example, Chaplin, ‘Natural Philosophy’. 78 William Ford to Alice Dunrich, Jamaica, 28 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.76, 79 Peter Ingram to John Gray, Kingston, 12 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.130. 80 Daniel Mendes Pereira to Raphael Vas de Silva, Kingston, 7 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.217. 81 John Harriott to Martha Lowther, Kingston, 30 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.174. 82 Manus McShane to William Hamilton, Kingston, 15 September 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.152. 83 Lancelot Grave to Matthew Grave, Kingston, 11 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.42; David Milner to Stephen Ancell, Jamaica, 11 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.146; Hibberts & Millan to Francis Wightwick, Kingston, 1 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.129. 84 Harrison, Medicine in an Age of Commerce, 27. 85 On the debate between Sloane and Trapham, see Seth, Difference and Disease, 49–55. On Hillary, see chapter 2, ‘Changes in the Air: William Hillary and English Medicine in the West Indies, 1720–1760’, 57–87. 86 Seth, Difference and Disease, 171, 174, 191–2; Wheeler, The Complexion of Race, 7. See also Delbourgo, ‘The Newtonian Slave Body’.

Notes to pages 103–7 87 88

89 90 91

92 93 94 95 96

97 98 99

100 101 102 103 104 105 106

107

267

John Russell to William Burden, Kingston, 8 September 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.168. Sheridan, Doctors and Slaves, 9–11. The liver became central to the debates regarding tropical diseases in the eighteenth century; Harrison, Medicine in an Age of Commerce, 48. James Lane to Hilton & Biscoe, Kingston, 5 October 756, HCA 30/259, f.120. Ewbank Ogle to Mrs Ogle, Kingston, 9 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.18. Elliott & Scott to Madam Brooks, 10 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.6a. Robert Scott traveled from Jamaica to Bristol in late 1756; Mark Elliott to Robert Scott, Kingston, 11 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.6. Richard Millerson to John Heathcote, Jamaica, 11 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.153. Daniel Mendes Pereira to Raphael Vas de Silva, Kingston, 7 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.217. George Farmer to Richard Edward Hull, n/g, n.d., HCA 30/259, f.158. ADM 8/30, TNA. Not all contemporaries realized what caused yellow fever. As late as 1802, a French naval officer thought a bumpy ride in a coach had caused him to contract it; Raapke, ‘The Realm Byond the Line’, 51. Sheridan, Doctors and Slaves, 10, 17, fn. 97; Burnard, ‘“The Countrie Continues Sicklie”’, 66. Burnard, ‘“The Countrie Continues Sicklie”’, 54. Seth, Difference and Disease, 114. More widely, see chapter 4, ‘Imperial Medicine and the Putrefactive Paradigm, 1720–1800’, 112–63. William Ford to Alice Dunrich, Jamaica, 28 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.76. Edward ONeal to John Day, Jamaica, 4 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.145. Rogers, Blood Waters, 2. Thomas Harvie to James Staton, 9 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.208. Sheridan, Doctors and Slaves, 42–3. See also the case of the Virginian John Mitchell in Delbourgo, ‘The Newtonian Slave Body’. Seth, Difference and Disease, 80–81. The knowledge of Asians and Amerindians was similarly denigrated; see Ogborn, The Freedom of Speech, 111–19. Wild, Medicine-by-Post, 8.

268

Notes to pages 107–9

108 Harrison, Medicine in an Age of Commerce, 122; Arnold, ‘Introduction’, 6. 109 Only in the 1760s was there a move away from bloodletting in the Indies; Harrison, Medicine in an Age of Commerce, 38, 122, 126. Cupping was also used; Smith, ‘Seasoning and Abolition’, 687. 110 Peruvian bark, or cinchona, was already well known; Harrison, Medicine in an Age of Commerce, 126, 58. 111 Thomas Hibbert to Nathan Sprigg, Kingston, 30 September 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.64. 112 Harrison, Medicine in an Age of Commerce, 133. Its efficacy had been known since the seventeenth century; Seth, Difference and Disease, 28. 113 Lancelot Grave to Matthew Grave, Kingston, 11 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.43. 114 He stayed at a Mr Barrat’s; Elliott & Scott to Madam Brooks, Kingston, 10 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.6a. 115 Elliott & Scott to Joseph Tryssiam, Kingston, 3 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.11. 116 Elliott & Scott to Madam Brooks, Kingston, 10 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.6a. 117 Cox and Cox, ‘Probate 1500–1800’. 118 Mark Elliott to Robert Scott, Kingston, 27 September 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.68. In 1757, Brooks’s estate was valued at £2,482 and he was the enslaver of three people; TBJPDB. Brooks also did business with Maurice Ceely of Bristol. In his letter to Ceely, William Miles noted that Brooks was dead and buried; William Miles to Maurice Ceely, Kingston, 4 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.22a. 119 Elizabeth Metcalfe to Sister Chambers, Kingston, 9 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.103. 120 Towards the end of the Seven Years’ War, a Dr Huck was performing autopsies on the bodies of soldiers that had died from yellow fever. He found their stomachs full of a black humor (bile) similar to that vomited before their death. The gall bladder and livers were also distressed or damaged. This of course fitted with humoral theory; Harrison, Medicine in an Age of Commerce, 103, 84, 68. 121 Edward Long bemoaned the deaths from yellow fever at this hospital; History of Jamaica, Vol. II, 107. 122 Harrison, Medicine in an Age of Commerce, 19; JHA, f.688. 123 Harrison notes that they were not all badly run; Harrison, Medicine in an Age of Commerce, 19. 124 Rodger, The Wooden World, 109.

Notes to pages 109–10

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125 Nelson, Architecture and Empire, 140. 126 Beckford, A Descriptive Account, 27–9. 127 Beckford, A Descriptive Account, 28. You can see a picture of the houses at Bath in Knight, Natural, Moral, and Political History, 455. 128 Thomas Pinnock wrote that ‘Mrs Pinnock has continued ill a long while and is so inflicted with Ruematic pains that she is unable to Walk. Ventured to send her home with the fleet but she said she would be “unsatisfied without me”’; Thomas Pinnock to Samuel Vaughan, Jamaica, 14 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.136. 129 Dancer, A Short Dissertation, 90–1; Knight, Natural, Moral, and Political History, 547. 130 Dancer, A Short Dissertation, 73–94. The springs were also supposed to help yaws; ibid., 81. 131 Thomas Hibbert to Nathan Sprigg, Kingston, 30 September 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.64. 132 Thomas Hibbert to Marmaduke Hilton, 28 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.1. 133 John Hibbert to Robert Hibbert, Kingston, 2 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.69. This may have been Charity Harry, with whom he was in a long-term, if very unequal, sexual relationship in Jamaica, and by whom he had three daughters, Jane, Margaret, and Charlotte; Donington, Bonds of Family, 158–68. 134 JHA, ff.555–6. 135 Long, History of Jamaica, Vol. II, 165–6. 136 Other popular sports included coursing and fishing; Beckford, A Descriptive Account, Vol. I, 336–41. 137 J. Johnson to William Henry Ricketts, Jamaica, 17 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.220. William Henry married into another prominent planter family in London in 1757 but they mostly lived separately; Mair, A Historical Study of Women, 167–9. The Ricketts family owned various estates in Jamaica and in 1757 transferred the ownership of more than forty-eight enslaved men, women, and children to Thomas Hall to pay off a debt Ricketts owed him. Correspondence Relating to Family Property in the Island of Jamaica, 1757–1799, Add. MS30001, BL; Feoffment: Thomas Hall/William Henry Ricketts, D1798/663/190, SCRO. George Ricketts died in 1762 worth £43,892; TBJPDB. 138 Karras, Sojourners in the Sun, 56. 139 Sheridan, Sugar and Slavery, 372. 140 Karras, ‘The World of Alexander Johnston’, 57.

270 141 142 143 144

145 146 147 148 149 150

151 152 153 154 155 156 157 158 159 160 161 162 163 164 165

Notes to pages 110–13 Karras, Sojourners in the Sun, 58. Karras, ‘The World of Alexander Johnston’, 58. Sheridan, Doctors and Slaves, 43. Seth, Disease and Difference, 9; Karras, Sojourners in the Sun, 57. In the 1770s, Walter Tullideph charged 3 shillings 9 pence sterling for each enslaved person he treated, plus charges for emergency calls; Sheridan, Sugar and Slavery, 372. Karras, ‘The World of Alexander Johnston’, 59, 57. Leong, ‘Making Medicines’. Smith, ‘Reassessing the Role of the Family’. Phibbah used to look after Thomas Thistlewood when he was ill, for example; Burnard, Mastery, Tyranny, and Desire, 228–39. See Browne, The Civil and Natural History of Jamaica, 140–57, 201–202. Ogborn, The Freedom of Speech, 123. Such interests later developed into botanical gardens being built at Bath in the 1770s; ibid., 131. See also Hall, ‘Planters, Farmers, and Gardeners’. Thornton, ‘Coerced Care’. Sheridan, ‘Slave Medicine in Jamaica’, 10–13. Burnard and Follet, ‘The Cultural Politics of Venereal Disease’, 428. Ogborn, ‘The Freedom of Speech’, 109–110. See also Burnard and Follett, ‘Caribbean Slavery, British Anti-Slavery’. Papers Relating Mainly to Jamaican Estates, 1719–1757, Dickinson Family Papers, DD/DN/6/5, f.14. Gilbert Ford to John Taylor, Kingston, 9 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.44. Jamaica Courant, 28 September 1756. Gerrard Nash to Little & Longman, 8 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.89. Sales of 4 Crates of Flint Phials Imported in the Snow Hope, 30 September 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.89. Thomas Harvie to James Staton, Kingston, 7 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.5. Gentian was part of the ‘Pharmacopoeia’ quoted in Sheridan, ‘Slave Medicine in Jamaica’, 14. Harrison, Medicine in an Age of Commerce, 122. Thomas Harvie to James Staton, Kingston, 7 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.5. Thomas Harvie to James Staton, 9 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.208. Mr Harding to Mrs Harding, Isigoi(?), S … (?) 1756, HCA 30/259, f.126.

Notes to pages 113–15

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166 Burnard, ‘“The Countrie Continues Sicklie”’, 47. 167 Mair, A Historical Study of Women, 164. 168 Hibberts & Millan to Herman Berens, Kingston, 1 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.150; J. Ripley to Nathan Sprigg, Liguanea, 30 September 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.85. 169 Hibberts & Millan to Richard Fenton, Kingston, HCA 32/189/22, f.34. 170 John Henderson to William Cowan, Kingston, 7 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.51. 171 Creditors were often made executors; Cox and Cox, ‘Probate 1500–1800’. 172 This was true on both sides of the Atlantic; Hudson, ‘Correspondence and Commitment’, 530, 533. 173 Mark Elliott to Robert Scott, Kingston, 3 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.69; John Byrn to James Dunn, Kingston, 21 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.113. Pringle’s inventory is not in TBJPDB. 174 Mark Elliott to Robert Scott, Kingston, 3 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.69. 175 Little Brown & Mulholland to William Gomm & Son, Jamaica, 4 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.57. 176 Mathew Cleland to Charles Cleland, Kingston, 17 September 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.1. 177 John Miles to Maurice Ceely, Kingston, 4 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.22a. Hurricanes were a disconcerting and fearful part of Caribbean life; Raapke, ‘The Realm Beyond the Line’, 196. See also Mulcahy, Hurricanes and Society. 178 Brown, Reaper’s Garden, 58–9. 179 Mr Harding to Mrs Harding, Isigoi(?), S … (?) 1756, HCA 30/259, f.126. 180 Mr Harding to Mrs Harding, Isigoi(?), S … (?) 1756, HCA 30/259, f.126. 181 Fuller’s agent was John Lee; William Brown to Mary Rose, Albinia(?), 5 May 1756, f.54; John Lee to Rose Fuller, Kingston, 13 September 1755, f.30; John Lee to Rose Fuller, Spanish Town, 30 June 1756, f.49, JCRFSF. John Lee was apparently sent to Jamaica by his father in 1746; Powers, Parcel of Ribbons, 5. 182 Persons of great ‘sensibility’ were ‘entitled’ to intense feelings; Wild, Medicine-by-Post, 10–12. 183 Brown, The Reaper’s Garden, 6. 184 Burnard, ‘“The Countrie Continues Sicklie”’, 47.

272

Notes to pages 115–19

185 A lonely person was thought unable to truly experience pleasure or to cope with grief; or perhaps he suffered from melancholy or a ‘sinking heart’; Rublack, ‘Fluxes’, 3, 7. 186 William Ford to Alice Dunrich, Jamaica, 28 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.76. 187 William Ford to Alice Dunrich, Jamaica, 28 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.76. 188 Jacob Fuertado to Alexander Hamilton, Kingston, 5 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.225. 189 Isaac and Ribca Xavier to his father, Kingston, 11 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.199. 190 Benjamin Mendes Alvares to his father, Kingston, 6 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.12a. 191 Benjamin Mendes Alvares to his uncle, Kingston, 6 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.12. 192 Benjamin Mendes Alvares to his father, Kingston, 6 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.12a. 193 Benjamin Mendes Alvares to his father, Kingston, 6 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.12a. There were several Jewish cemeteries, and both Sephardic and Ashkenazi Jews, in Jamaica. The ‘Shaar ha Shamayain’ synagogue was significantly expanded between 1744 and 1750 to include a second floor; Mirvis, The Eighteenth-Century Jews, 73. 194 Raapke, ‘The Realm Beyond the Line’, 187. 195 Burnard, ‘“The Countrie Continues Sicklie”’, 63. 196 Seth, Difference and Disease, 55. 197 Brown, The Reaper’s Garden, 59.

Chapter Seven 1 2

John Byrn to James Dunn, Kingston, 10 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.111. John Byrn to James Dunn, Kingston, 10 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.111. On English silk manufacture, see Marsh, Unravelled Dreams. Paduasoy was a strong corded silk; cambric was a lightweight linen often used for underwear and handkerchiefs; brittania was used for shirts and blouses; three-quarter checks and osnaburgs were used for clothing the enslaved; French bazin was a fine lightweight cotton; long lawns were a high-quality lightweight linen with a tight weave; platilla was a French copy of Silesia; Silesia was a white linen

Notes to pages 119–21

3 4 5 6 7 8

9

10 11 12 13 14 15

16 17 18 19

20

273

originally made in Silesia, but possibly from France or Ireland by this time; bazin sometimes came via Holland; DuPlessis, The Material Atlantic, 171. Styles and Vickery, ‘Introduction’, 14–15; Herman, ‘Tabletop Conversations’, 49. Styles, ‘Custom or Consumption?’. Lenik and Petley, ‘The Material Cultures of Slavery’, 396. Mair, A Historical Study of Women, 166. Rachel and Manoel Mendes to Jacob Rodrigues Silva, n/g, 17 July 1756, HCA 30/259, f.198. On the style and space of merchant stores in Jamaica, see Nelson, Architecture and Empire, chapter 6, ‘Merchant Stores and the Empire’, 158–86. John Byrn to James Dunn, Kingston, 10 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.111; John Byrn to James Dunn, Kingston, 21 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.113. Jamaica Courant, 28 September 1756. Orange Street was a couple of blocks back from Gordon’s Wharf on the more convenient Port Royal Street. Jamaica Courant, 28 September 1756. Jamaica Courant, 28 September 1756. Nelson, Architecture and Empire, 134–9. Charles Price was the first Jamaican recorded on the ‘Grand Tour’; ibid., 139. Nelson, Architecture and Empire, chapter 7, ‘The Jamaican Creole House’, 187–217. For the layout of ‘ordinary’ houses in Philadelphia and Deptford, London, see Herman, ‘Tabletop Conversations’, 45–9. Nelson, Architecture and Empire, 32–5, 143. Petley, ‘Plantations and Homes’, 444. Harvey, The Little Republic, 100. Lenik and Petley, ‘The Material Cultures of Slavery’, 390. Later in the century, attitudes in Britain hardened more generally towards Jamaicans as such aristocratic generosity became recast as ‘dissipation’; Sheller, Consuming the Caribbean, 16–18; Withington, ‘Intoxicants and the Invention of “Consumption”’. See also Burnard, Jamaica in the Age of Revolution, chapter 7, ‘The Zong, Jamaican Commerce, and the American Revolution’, 174–93. G. Hampson to Mrs Payne, Kingston, 25 September 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.141; https://www.nationalarchives.gov.uk/currencyconverter, accessed 10 October 2022.

274 21 22 23 24

25 26 27 28

29 30 31 32 33 34

35

36

Notes to pages 121–3 Burnard, Panza, and Williamson, ‘Living Costs, Real Incomes and Inequality’. John Byrn to James Digges La Touche, Kingston, 23 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.89. Rachel and Manoel Mendes to Jacob Rodrigues Silva, n/g, 17 July 1756, HCA 30/259, f.198. George Farmer to Jeremiah Farmer, on board the Dreadnought, Port Royal, 12 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.63. Elizabeth Quilliams was charged £1 5 shillings 6 pence for a firkin (c. eight gallons) of butter in March; Case and Southworth Journal, f.268; Zupco, Dictionary of English Weights and Measures. £1 5 shillings 6 pence is equivalent to £148.75 in modern currency; https://www.nationalarchives.gov.uk/ currency-converter, accessed 22 September 2022. James Webb to Samuel Webb, Kingston, 6 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.144. Edward ONeal to Jean ONeal, Jamaica, 4 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.127. Herman, ‘Tabletop Conversations’, 43. See also Styles and Vickery, ‘Introduction’, 1–34. The plantation economy brought about ‘biological devastation’; Sheller, Consuming the Caribbean, 38. See also Burnard, Jamaica in the Age of Revolution, 99. D. Monro to Hilton & Biscoe, Jamaica, 27 September 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.50a. On pens, see Shepherd, Livestock, Sugar and Slavery. Craton and Walvin, A Jamaican Plantation, 135. Styles, ‘Custom or Consumption’, 103. Even elite merchants John and Edward Foord carried humble butter; Jamaica Courant, 28 September 1756. Sales of Sundrys Imported in the Snow Hope, 8 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.132; Mark Elliott to Robert Scott, Kingston, 27 September 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.68. See also Elliott & Webb to Joseph Tryssiam, Kingston, 3 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.11; https://www.nationalarchives.gov.uk/currency-converter/, accessed 22 September 2022. Mark Elliott to Robert Scott, Kingston, 27 September 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.68; Mark Elliott to Robert Scott, Kingston, 3 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.68. John Crow to Horlock & Wagstaffe, Kingston, 2 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.148.

Notes to pages 123–6 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44

45 46 47 48

49

50

51 52

275

Advert of John and Edward Foord, Jamaica Courant, 28 September 1756. Mark Elliott to Robert Scott, Kingston, 3 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.68. William Miles to Maurice Ceely, Kingston, 4 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.22a. Daniel Mendes Pereira to Raphael Vas de Silva, Kingston, 7 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.217. John Crow to Horlock & Wagstaffe, Kingston, 2 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.148. Jamaica Courant, 28 September 1756. John Byrn to James Dunn, Kingston, 10 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.111. John & Edward Foord to Messrs Munckley, Kingston, 11 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.37. Beef might fetch 57–60 shillings a barrel in 1756; Sales of Sundrys Imported in the Snow Hope, 8 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.132. Rachel and Manoel Mendes to Jacob Rodrigues Silva, n/g, 17 July 1756, HCA 30/259, f.198. John Byrn to James Dunn, Kingston, 10 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.111. D. Monro to Hilton & Biscoe, Jamaica, 27 September 1756, HCA 21/189/22, f.50a. Memorandum of Goods Wanting for the use of Crescent Estate, HCA 32/189/22, f.51; Craton and Walvin, A Jamaican Plantation, 136. Elite merchants John and Edward Foord ordered 92 barrels of herrings in October 1756 from one supplier alone; John & Edward Foord to Messrs Munckley, Kingston, 11 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.37. Ackee fruit tastes similar to duck egg and is very rich. Gerrard Nash to John Read, Kingston, 8 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.21. He also ordered some herrings from Stephen Denroach of Cork; Gerrard Nash to Stephen Denroach, Kingston, 8 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.132. Memorandum of Goods Wanting for the use of Crescent Estate, HCA 32/189/22, f.51. Craton and Walvin, A Jamaican Plantation, 135. Herrings that had rotted in the sun lost most of their nutritional value, especially vitamin A; Kiple, The Caribbean Slave, 82.

276 53

54 55

56

57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65

66 67 68 69 70

71

Notes to pages 126–8 Not all planters allowed time for their enslaved to work provision grounds, in which case they purchased these items; Craton and Walvin, A Jamaican Plantation, 135. Hancock, Oceans of Wine, 311. Prices Current, 9 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.70. The quantity was not given, but I have assumed a cask as that is what is given elsewhere. See also Zupko, Dictionary of English Weights and Measures. Edward Foord had sold Taunton ale for his supplier, Mr Ceely; Edward Foord to John Foord, Kingston, 11 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.154. Richards, Gordon & Kennion to George Skinner, Kingston, 11 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.213. William Miles to Maurice Ceely, Kingston, 4 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.22a. Prices Current for European Goods, 4 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.22a. Prices Current, 9 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.70. Elliott & Scott to Corsely Rogers Jr, Kingston, 10 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.122. Edmund Hyde to George Chandler, Liguanea, 24 September 1756, 30/259, f46a. Hancock, Oceans of Wine, 91–2; Madeira wine dominated the wine market in Anglo-America from 1648–1815; ibid., xxv. Jamaica Courant, 28 September 1756. John and Edward Foord to John Curtis, Kingston, 3 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.100; Zupco, Dictionary of English Weights and Measures, 129. GL to George Spencer, Kingston, 3 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.131. Knight, Natural, Moral, and Political History, 461. Jamaica Courant, 28 September 1756. John & Edward Foord to Messrs Munckley, Kingston, 11 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.37. Hancock found that Jamaican decedents with wine in their inventories were wealthier than decedents as a whole; Hancock, Oceans of Wine, 282. Edmund Hyde to George Chandler, Liguanea, 4 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.46. Hyde and Philip and Thomas Pinnock all held land in St Andrew parish; Greene, Settler Jamaica, 239. However, Thomas Pinnock was out of favour with the planters during the various elections in 1756; JHA, ff.573, 585, 600.

Notes to pages 128–30 72

277

Edmund Hyde to George Chandler, Liguanea, 4 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.46. 73 The duty on Madeira made it particularly expensive; Hancock, Oceans of Wine, 392. Philip Pinnock also purchased wine from Newton & Gordon during the 1750s, ibid., 151. 74 Knight, Natural, Moral, and Political History, 461; Americans favoured the richer, full-bodied island wines; Hancock, Oceans of Wine, 284–5. 75 John & Alexander Harvie to Thomas Blair, Kingston, 4 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.169b. 76 John Crow to John and James Thomas, Kingston, 2 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.17. This may have been what we now know as Chianti, or possibly a sweeter wine that worked well in the tropics. My thanks to Rossano Balzaretti and Charles Watkins for this information. 77 John Crow to John and James Thomas, Kingston, 2 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.17. 78 See the wine bottle seal at https://www.daacs.org/sites/mona-greathouse/#images, accessed 12 December 2022. 79 Hancock, Oceans of Wine, 392. 80 Sales of Four Puncheons of Damag’d Burgundy at Vendue, August– September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.33. The Burgundy was imported in puncheons but the exact measures of the sales are not given. 81 Charles Mitchell to David Murray, Kingston, 9 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.10. Bottles could be problematic because they often broke; Hancock, Oceans of Wine, 112. 82 Memorandum for Mrs Mary Rose, 9 May 1756, JCRFSF, f.45. She ordered some more loaf sugar in 1757; Memo for Mrs Rose, 20 June 1757, JCRFSF, f.135. 83 Mark Elliott to Robert Scott, Kingston, 3 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.68. 84 D. Monro to Hilton & Biscoe, Jamaica, 27 September 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.50a. 85 Meyler & Hall paid 12 shillings 2 pence for a loaf of sugar in August; Case & Southworth Journal, f.321. 86 Mintz, Sweetness and Power, 6; Shammas, ‘The Revolutionary Impact’. Ideas about food travelled both ways: in the second half of the eighteenth century, British cookery books contained recipes for turtle dressed the ‘West India way’ and ‘West Indian Pepper Pot’; quoted in Bickham, ‘Eating the Empire’. 87 Austen and Smith, ‘Private Tooth Decay’. See also Cowan, The Social Life of Coffee.

278 88 89 90

91 92 93

94 95 96

97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105

Notes to pages 130–2 Withington, ‘Intoxicants’, 404. On tea, see Mui and Mui, ‘The Commutation Act’. Knight, Natural, Moral, and Political History, 462. Mark Elliott to Robert Scott, Kingston, 27 September 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.68; Mark Elliott to Robert Scott, Kingston, 3 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.68. On the Navigation Acts, see Engerman, ‘Mercantilism and Overseas Trade’. Sugar was even part of the diet in workhouses by the late eighteenth century, despite its lack of nutritional calories; Shammas, ‘The Eighteenth-Century Diet’. See Stern, ‘Companies, Monopoly, Sovereignty’. Flynn and Giráldez, ‘Cycles of Silver’; Haggerty, ‘Merely for Money’?, 181, 220. D. Monro to Hilton & Biscoe, Jamaica, 27 September 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.50a. Meyler & Hall paid 8 shillings 1½ pence for 6lbs of green tea in August; Case & Southworth Journal, f.319. Jamaica Courant, 28 September 1756. Memorandum of Goods Wanting for the Use of Crescent Estate, HCA 32/189/22, f.51. Thomas Gray to R. Rust, Kingston, 12 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.58. Zupco does not list the quantity held in a ‘tub’; Zupco, Dictionary of English Weights and Measures. From Captain Elphington, possibly Elphinston, of the Duncannon; Gazetteer and London Daily Advertiser, 29 September 1756. David Rieusset to Mathew Blakiston & Son, Kingston, 28 September 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.147. David Rieusset to Mathew Blakiston & Son, Kingston, 28 September 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.147. John Byrn to James Dunn, Kingston, 10 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.111. John Byrn to James Digges La Touche, Kingston, 23 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.89. John Byrn to James Digges La Touche, Kingston, 23 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.89. Memorandum for Mrs Mary Rose, Spanish Town, 9 May 1756, JCRFSF, f.45. Mark Elliott to Robert Scott, Kingston, 11 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.6. Other important items were Wedgwood’s black basalt ware to complement ladies’ hands whitened by arsenic; McKendrick,

Notes to pages 132–3

106 107

108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117

118

119

120

279

‘The Commercialisation of Fashion’, 76. Wedgwood was skilled at market differentiation; McKendrick, ‘Josiah Wedgewood and the Commercialisation of the Potteries’, 116. John Miles to Maurice Ceely, Kingston, 4 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.22a. See https://www.open.edu/openlearn/history-the-arts/history/ history-science-technology-and-medicine/history-science/the-historysoapmaking, last updated 30 August 2019. Gerrard Nash to Stephen Denroach, Kingston, 8 October 1756, HCA 30/159, f.132. Prices Current for European Goods, 4 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.22a. John Miles to Maurice Ceely, Kingston, 4 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.22a. Prices Current for European Goods, 4 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.22a. Mark Elliott to Robert Scott, Kingston, 27 September 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.69. Mark Elliott to Robert Scott, Kingston, 3 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.68. John Crow to Horlock & Wagstaffe, Kingston, 2 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.148. Mark Elliott to Robert Scott, Kingston, 27 September 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.69; All Hands, issues 696–707. Mark Elliott to Robert Scott, Kingston, 3 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.68. Elliott & Scott to Joseph Tryssiam, Kingston, 3 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.11. John & Edward Foord listed sheet lead among their other items for sale in the Jamaica Courant, 28 September 1756. Burt, ‘Lead Production in England and Wales’, 259. Red and white lead were used for face makeup and powder; https://www.ucl. ac.uk/museums-static/objectretrieval/node/111, accessed 4 May 2021. D. Monro noted that in a few days there would be a demand for ‘White Lead & Oyl’; D. Monro to Hilton & Biscoe, Jamaica, 27 September 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.50a. William Miles to Maurice Ceely, Kingston, 4 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.22a; Samuel Jebb to Robert Jebb, Kingston, 29 September 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.8. Gerrard Nash to John Read, Kingston, 8 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.22.

280

Notes to pages 133–5

121 Thomas Pinnock to Samuel Vaughan, Jamaica, 14 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.136. 122 Evans argues that the plantation hoe was an ‘invented’ Atlantic commodity; Evans, ‘The Plantation Hoe’, 73, 79, 90–1. 123 Memorandum of Goods Wanting for the Use of Crescent Estate, HCA 32/189/22, f.51. 124 Memorandum of Goods Wanting for the Use of Crescent Estate, HCA 32/189/22, f.51. 125 Edmund Hyde to George Chandler, Liguanea, 4 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.46. 126 Anderson, Mahogany, 19. For a good outline of the context in which mahogany became both affordable and fashionable, see, ibid., Mahogany, chapter 2, ‘The Gold Standard of Jamaican Mahogany’, 64–88. 127 He did not list the price he paid for his pistols; John Crow to Thomas Henshaw, Kingston, 2 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.157. 128 John Crow to Thomas Henshaw, Kingston, 2 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.157. 129 John Crow to Thomas Henshaw, Kingston, 2 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.157. 130 John Crow to William Freke, Kingston, 2 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.40. 131 Mark Elliott to Robert Scott, Kingston, 3 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.68. 132 William Miles to Maurice Ceely, Kingston, 4 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.22a. 133 Sundries to be got for Thomas Pinnock, HCA 30/259, f.136. 134 Edmund Hyde to George Chandler, Liguanea, 4 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.46. The holster would have been part of the saddle, ready for a firearm, and gambadoes were horsemen’s leggings; https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/gambado, accessed 1 June 2022. 135 Edmund Hyde to George Chandler, Liguanea, 4 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.46. 136 Richard Quinn paid this amount in July, Sale of a Kittereen & Harness Imported on the Snow Hope on Account of Jno Clark, 30 September 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.18. 137 Gerrard Nash to John Clark, Kingston, 8 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.18. 138 Jamaica Courant, 28 September 1756.

Notes to pages 135–7

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139 Jamaica Courant, 28 September 1756. 140 Charles Mitchell to Innes & Clark, Kingston, 9 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.20. 141 Nelson, Architecture and Empire, 192. 142 Charles Mitchell to Innes & Clark, Kingston, 9 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.20. New buildings must also have been planned at Crescent Estate as 3,000 bricks were ordered in 1756; Memorandum of Goods Wanting for the Use of Crescent Estate, HCA 32/189/22, f.51. 143 Sometimes craftsmen on the estate were allotted time to help new arrivals build their homes; McDonald, The Economy and Material Culture, 94. 144 Mark Elliott to Robert Scott, Kingston, 11 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.6. 145 An Inventory and Appraisement of Blew Mountain Estate, Fitzherbert Papers, Executorship, D239/M/E/16386, February 1759. William Perrin returned to England in 1739 and died there in 1759. His son inherited five plantations: Retrieve, Vere, Forrest, Blew Mountain, and Grange Hill; Introduction to the Fitzherbert Papers, DRO. 146 An Inventory and Appraisement of Grange Hill Estate, Fitzherbert Papers, Executorship, D239/M/E/16387, February 1759. 147 D. Monro to n/g, Jamaica, 27 September 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.51a. D. Monro wrote for a supplement to Chambers’s Dictionary, but it is more likely to be Scott’s supplement to Chambers’s Cyclopædia published in 1753. 148 In England, many towns had subscription libraries by this time. See, for example, the Lyceum in Liverpool; Liverpool Lyceum, 027 OCM, LivRO; Stobart, ‘Culture versus Commerce’. 149 William Folkes to Mr Wilcox, Kingston, 1 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.116. Possibly Giovanni Battista Morgagni (1682– 1771); https://www.britannica.com/biography/Giovanni-BattistaMorgagni, accessed 12 May 2021. 150 Daniel Mendes Pereira to Raphael Vas de Silva, Kingston, 7 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.217. 151 Alexander Crawford to Andrew Moffat, Westmoreland, 20 August 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.94. 152 Memorandum of Goods Wanting for the Use of Crescent Estate, HCA 32/189/22, f.51. 153 Mark Elliott to Robert Scott, Kingston, 11 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.6.

282

Notes to pages 137–9

154 Jacob Feurtado to Alexander Hamilton, Kingston, 5 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.225. 155 John Crow to Henry Voght, Kingston, 2 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.61. 156 It was also used for bagging and baling; Buckridge, The Language of Dress, 238. 157 McDonald, The Economy and Material Culture, 112; DuPlessis, The Material Atlantic, 68. 158 John Crow to Henry Voght, Kingston, 2 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.61; Buckridge, The Language of Dress, 32. 159 William Miles to Maurice Ceely, Kingston, 4 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.22a; Elliott & Scott to Robert Scott, Kingston, 27 September 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.69. 160 As DuPlessis notes, they are usually listed simply as ‘checks’; DuPlessis, The Material Atlantic, 9. 161 Samuel Jebb to Robert Jebb, Kingston, 29 September 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.8; Elliott & Scott to Joseph Tryssiam, Kingston, 3 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.11. 162 John Hibbert to Robert Hibbert, Kingston, 2 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.69. White people in Latin America liked floral motifs in chintz and calico. Cotton production in the Caribbean only really took off in the 1760s and 1770s; Riello, Cotton, 144, 200–1. 163 John Byrn to James Dunn, Kingston, 10 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.111. 164 DuPlessis, ‘Cotton Consumption’, 229–31; Buckridge, The Language of Dress, 31. Many efforts were made to bring sericulture to the Americas, including to Jamaica, but the expansion of production and more efficient sailing routes in the Old World precluded it, along with a sense that it was somehow ‘antithetical’ to American settlement; Marsh, Unravelled Dreams, 36–8, 214, 354, 438; DuPlessis, The Material Atlantic, 194. 165 John Crow to Horlock & Wagstaffe, Kingston, 2 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.148. 166 John Byrn to James Dunn, Kingston, 10 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.111. 167 DuPlessis, The Material Atlantic, 172. 168 DuPlessis, ‘Cotton Consumption’; Styles, ‘What Were Cottons For’, 312. 169 DuPlessis, The Material Atlantic, 174.

Notes to pages 139–42

283

170 John Stanton Waste Book 1756, D157 M/T 3367, f.12, DRO. 171 Mixed fibre hats made of beaver and rabbit were known as ‘demi-Castors’. My thanks to Susan North, Curator of Fashion 1550–1800 at the Victoria and Albert Museum, for confirming this, and to Robert DuPlessis for his email correspondence regarding clothing. 172 Jamaica Courant, 28 September 1756. 173 Edward ONeal to Jean ONeal, Jamaica, 4 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.127. 174 Edward ONeal to Jean ONeal, Jamaica, 4 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.127. The shirt was probably also made of linen, just a coarser type. Styles argues that in the eighteenth century cotton was not used for shirts and shifts as often as linen; Styles, ‘What Were Cottons For’, 316. 175 Thomas Harvie to James Staton, Kingston, 7(?) October 1756, HCA 20/259, f.5. 176 Charles Mitchell to Innes & Clark, (missing), HCA 32/189/22, f.15. 177 As Hartigan-O’Connor notes, shopping by ‘proxy’ and ‘collaboratively’ in this manner was common around the Atlantic; Hartigan-O’Connor, ‘Collaborative Consumption’, 125–6. 178 Alexander Crawford to Andrew Moffat, Westmoreland, 20 August 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.94. 179 Jacob Fuertado to Alexander Hamilton, Kingston, 7 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.225. Thomas Pinnock also asked for ‘2 doz 4 thd men Stockings 1 of which one for Self [and] 2 doz Women do for Mrs Pinnock & my Daughter Molly’; Thomas Pinnock to Samuel Vaughan, Jamaica, 14 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.136. 180 Memorandum for Mrs Mary Rose, 9 May 1756, JCRFSF, f.45. 181 Calimanco shoes were expensive at 35 shillings a pair; John Byrn to James Dunn, Kingston, 21 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.113; DuPlessis, The Material Atlantic, 170. 182 De Vries, ‘The Industrial Revolution and the Industrious Revolution’. 183 Levy, The Long Song, 82–9, 100. 184 Mary Ricketts to Rev. Tindal, Midgham, Jamaica, 6 May 1759, Correspondence Relating to Family Property in Jamaica, 1738–1799, Add MSS 30001, BL. 185 ‘Taste’ was constructed ‘according to gender, race, and rank’; Hartigan-O’Connor, ‘Collaborative Consumption’, 145. 186 Email from Robert DuPlessis, 27 May 2020.

284

Notes to pages 143–5

Chapter Eight 1 2

3 4 5 6 7 8 9

10

11 12 13

14

Copy of the Last Will & Testament of James Lawrence, n.d. (May/ June 1756), HCA 30/259, f.1a. Lawrence’s heirs, his sons James and Richard, are listed as having produced 440 hogsheads of sugar in 1774; A List of Sugar Plantations in the Parish of St James, 1774, Papers on the Statistics of Jamaica 1739–1770, Long Papers, Add. MS 12435, BL. Unfortunately, the name of the plantation is not given. At that time eleven white men and a total of five women and children also lived on the estate. Copy of the Last Will & Testament of James Lawrence, n.d. (May/ June 1756), HCA 30/259, f.1a. Roberts, Slavery and the Enlightenment, 213. Burnard, Planters, Merchants, and Slaves, 3, ix. This is true of poor white people as well of course. I have tried to emulate Fuentes’s Dispossessed Lives here. Brown, ‘Social Death and Political Life’, 1249. Armstrong and Kelly, ‘Settlement Patterns’, 369; Craton, Testing the Chains, 13, 28. Patterson, Sociology of Slavery, 145. For an argument against Patterson’s concept of social death, see Brown, ‘Social Death and Political Life’. Dunn’s detailed analysis of Mesopotamia starts in 1762 when occupations of the enslaved were listed more consistently; Dunn, ‘The Story of Two Jamaican Slaves’; Dunn, A Tale of Two Plantations; Dunn, ‘“Dreadful Idlers”’. The Barhams had six estates in Jamaica earning them around £20,000 per annum, and they had been absentees since 1736; Dunn, ‘A Tale of Two Plantations’, 35. The family had had land holdings in Jamaica since the 1670s; Dunn, ‘The Story of Two Jamaican Slaves’. I wish to thank the Earl of Clarendon for permission to cite from the Barham Papers and related items at The National Archives. Richards, Gordon & Kennion to Lawrence Spencer, Kingston, 3 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.34. Richards, Gordon & Kennion to Lawrence Spencer, Kingston, 3 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.34. Gazetteer and London Daily Advertiser, 21 June 1756; William Miller to James Laroche & Co., Kingston, 29 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.121. Burnard, ‘Kingston, Jamaica’, 127.

Notes to pages 145–7 15 16

17 18 19 20

21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30

285

Olaudah Equiano cited in Burnard, ‘Crucible of Modernity’, 129. Burnard and Morgan, ‘The Dynamics of the Slave Market’, 214; Sugar plantations were 62 per cent of the acreage; Greene, Settler Jamaica, 30. Manumission of Slaves, 1B/11/6, 1755–1760, passim. Calculation on slavevoyages.org, accessed 27 February 2020. Burnard, Planters, Merchants, and Slaves, 174; Greene, Settler Jamaica, 30. The estate was listed as having 422 enslaved people in 1774; A List of Sugar Plantations in the Parish of St James, 1774, Papers on the Statistics of Jamaica, 1739–1770. Burnard, Planters, Merchants, and Slaves, 3; Sheridan, Sugar and Slavery, 105. On the growing of sugar, see Sheridan, Sugar and Slavery, 107–112. On jobbing gangs hired specifically for this purpose, see Radburn and Roberts, ‘Gold Versus Life’. Craton and Walvin, A Jamaican Plantation, 105. Sheridan, Sugar and Slavery, 109. See also Craton and Walvin, A Jamaican Plantation, 95–112. Shepherd, Livestock, Sugar and Slavery, xxxvi. As early as 1744, seventeen estates in St James had specialized in hiring out enslaved people; Cateau, ‘The New “Negro” Business’. Cateau, ‘The New “Negro” Business’, 107–9. And particularly in Barbados and Virginia; Roberts, Slavery and the Enlightenment, 86. The analysis in this section is based on the following inventories except where noted: An Inventory of the Negroes and Stock on Mesopotamia Estate Belonging to Joseph Foster Barham Esqr taken on the 11th of September 1756 Before James Dunn & John Rickets Esqrs, HCA 30/259, f.92; A List of All the Negroes that remain alive on the Mesopotamia Plantation inclusive of Those on Spring Plantation, Taken by My Attorney Dr James Paterson on the 1st June 1744, With a Particular Account of their Several Qualifications; Deaths of Negroes, Mesopotamia Lists & Accounts 1756; A List of Negroes & Cattle on the Island Estate, 5 April 1757; A List of all ye Island Estate Negroes from July 4th 1759 till to May 22nd 1760; Inventory of Sundrys On the Island Estate Taken on the 16th of June 1768 and delivered to Mr Lewis Robertson; Inventory & valuation of the Island Estate January 1st 1778; MS Clar., Dep. B. 37/2; Clarendon Manuscripts, Barham Papers, Bodleian Library, Oxford.

286 31

Notes to pages 147–9

John Kinlock to Joseph Foster Barham, Westmoreland, 1 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.91. 32 In 1768, there were forty-five women working in the field on Mesopotamia estate compared with twenty-eight men. 33 Bush, Slave Women in Caribbean Society, 37. 34 On skilled occupations, see Roberts, Slavery and the Enlightenment, chapter 5, ‘Labour and Industry’, 202–37. 35 Roberts, ‘The “Better Sort” and the “Poorer Sort”’, 462–6. 36 Quaco to Rose Fuller, Spanish Town, 21 June 1757, JCRFSF, f.136. See also Roberts, ‘The “Better Sort” and the “Poorer Sort”’, 458. 37 Dunn, ‘“Dreadful Idlers”’, 174. Age and occupation are listed from 1762, but there are inventories for 1736–1831. MS Clar., Dep. B.36, and B.37, Clarendon Mancuscripts, Barham Papers. For more on the estate and Joseph Foster Barham, see Dunn, ‘“Dreadful Idlers”’. Despite the fact that Joseph Barham was an absentee, it was not possible to locate an Account Produce for his estates in 1756. 38 There were 236 enslaved people on Mesopotamia in 1744; Dunn, ‘The Story of Two Jamaican Slaves’, 188. By 1762 there were two more enslaved people on the estate; Dunn, ‘“Dreadful Idlers”’, 165. 39 In addition to the Mesopotamia inventories, I also cross-referenced with the inventories for the Forrest, Vere, Blew Mountain, and Grange estates of William Perrin, which are extant for 1759, to infer occupations from values and genders; Inventories and Appraisements … 16388–16389, DRO. 40 Please note that I have not conducted a quantitative analysis of these people and their occupations. This was partly because it is clear they conformed to the pattern laid out by Dunn and others, but also because I wanted to avoid a reductionist approach. One person who was listed on the inventory was not listed with a value. This was George, who was noted as ‘in England’. George may have been considered a reliable house servant whom Barham had taken with him, or possibly, although not noted as a ‘Mulatto’, he was one of Barham’s children from the rape of an enslaved woman. On mixedheritage children of white people taken to England, see Livesay, Children of Uncertain Fortune. 41 Roberts, Slavery and the Enlightenment, 213. 42 Barham was one of the few in Jamaica who tried to encourage Christianity among his enslaved people, and a Moravian chapel was established on the estate in 1758; see Dunn, A Tale of Two Plantations, chapter 5, ‘The Moravian Christian Community at Mesopotamia’, 224–70.

Notes to pages 149–51

287

On gang labour and hierarchies, see Roberts, Slavery and the Enlightenment, chapter 3, ‘Lockstep and Line: Gang Work and the Division of Labour’, 131–60. Bonny, Bob, Bitty, Chance, Charles, Dick, and Diego were all noted as Ebo. Ebo people from the Bight of Biafra were often considered by planters to be unhealthy and unreliable as labourers, or so despondent as to be likely to commit suicide. Coromantees had a reputation for intransigence. Enslaved people from the Congo and Angola were thought to be the least troublesome, though their plentiful supply kept their prices down despite the demand for them. The Kru from modern-day Liberia were thought to be the most ‘civilized’ and were seldom enslaved; Lovejoy, Transformations in Slavery, 25–6. 44 Those purchased from Dr Paterson, the estate’s former attorney, were marked with a ‘P’ by their name, and those purchased by Mr Pool, the new attorney appointed by Joseph Foster Barham in 1751, were marked with an ‘N’ for new; John Kinlock to Joseph Foster Barham, Westmoreland, 1 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.91; Dunn, A Tale of Two Plantations, 31. 45 Roberts, Slavery and the Enlightenment, 300, 131. 46 Watchmen had a reputation for being brutal; Burnard, Jamaica in the Age of Revolution, 79. 47 Memorandum of Goods Wanting for the Use of Crescent Estate, HCA 32/189/22, f.51. 48 Craton, Testing the Chains, 48. 49 Older enslaved people might force new arrivals to work for them, or pay ‘tribute’; Beckford, cited in Burnard, Jamaica in the Age of Revolution, 79. 50 Later in the century, only about 7 per cent of all artisans were women; Roberts, Slavery and the Enlightenment, 219. 51 Women acted as midwives, doctoresses, and field nurses; Mair, ‘Women Field Workers’, 186–7. To discourage the feigning of illness, slave hospitals were more like prisons, with barred windows and padlocked doors; Sheridan, Doctors and Slaves, 270. 52 Bush, Slave Women in Caribbean Society, 187. On seamstresses, see Weaver, ‘Fashioning Freedom’. 53 She was noted as such in 1757, 1760, and 1768. 54 Bush, Slave Women in Caribbean Society, 44. 55 These included several women with African day names, such as Quaco, Beneba, Mimba, and Cuffee. Many common names for the enslaved were name days; see Craton, The Invisible Man, 59, for a list by gender. 43

288 56

57

58 59

60 61 62

63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73

Notes to pages 151–3 Pens and satellite pens were often placed in the mountains; Morgan, ‘Slaves and Livestock’, 48–9. Two women, Shantee Mimba and Franky, were noted as stockkeepers on the Blew Mountain estate in 1759; An Inventory and Appraisement of all and Singular the Goods & Chattels Rights and Credits of Blew Mountain, 1759. On Vineyard Pen many of the enslaved shared names with the stock that had been named by white people; Morgan, ‘Slaves and Livestock’, 53. Dunn, ‘“Dreadful Idlers”’, 171. Turner, Contested Bodies, 229. Burnard argues that slave management was perfected after the Seven Years’ War, at which time a form of ‘just-in-time’management was developed; Burnard, Jamaica in the Age of Revolution, 72–3. On herbal remedies, see Ogborn, The Freedom of Speech, chapter 3, ‘Master, I Can Cure You: Talking Plants in the Sugar Islands’, 109–42. Those with lighter skin were sometimes deemed not strong enough for field work; Mair, ‘Women Field Workers’, 186. Extra clothing might be given as a present to an entrusted woman who had recently given birth, or for sexual ‘favours’; McDonald, The Economy and Material Culture, 114–120; Buckridge, The Language of Dress, 43. In Britain, female slaveholders were considered especially cruel; Yeh, ‘“A Sink of All Filthiness”’; Burnard and Coleman, ‘Savage Slave Mistress’. Hibberts & Millan to Francis Wightwick, Kingston, 1 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.129. Hibberts & Millan to Francis Wightwick, Kingston, 1 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.129. Burnard, ‘Crucible of Modernity’, 142. Patterson, Sociology of Slavery, 66. Cateau, ‘The New “Negro” Business’. Higman, ‘Domestic Service in Jamaica’, 130. John & Alexander Harvie to Thomas Blair, Kingston, 4 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.169b. Jamaica Courant, 28 September 1756. Jack entered 19 January 1757; Cato entered 4 September 1756; Manumissions of Slaves, 1756. James Webb to Samuel Webb, Kingston, 6 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.144. Charters, ‘Making Bodies Modern’. Indeed, enslaved people were used as troops in the War of Jenkins’ Ear and the Seven Years’ War

Notes to pages 153–5

289

more than historians have usually allowed for; Bolletino, ‘“Of Equal or of More Service”’. The Royal Navy’s employment practices were also often shaped by regional practices rather than by policy; Foy, ‘The Royal Navy’s Employment of Black Mariners’. 74 Examination of Bernard Cornelius, 29 September 1756; Examination of Isaac Willis and Roger Popley, 29 September 1756, Original Correspondence, BoT, 1755–1757, ff.142–43. 75 £784 8 shillings 4 pence was awarded to the directors of the bath regarding enslaved people in 1836; https://www.ucl.ac.uk/lbs/ claim/view/23693, accessed 7 June 2022. 76 JHA, ff.563–64. 77 JHA, ff. 563–64. 78 JHA, f.563. 79 JHA, f.564. 80 JHA, f.563. 81 Charles Mitchell to Innes & Clark, Kingston, 9 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.12. 82 JHA, f.566. 83 JHA, f.721. These roads of course benefited Price. On Charles Price’s avaricious nature, see Craton and Walvin, A Jamaican Plantation, 71–94. 84 Bush, Slave Women in Caribbean Society, 39. 85 A Copy of the Last Will & Testament of James Lawrence, n.d., HCA 30/259, f.1a. 86 Eight out of fifty-one equates to 15.78 per cent. Unfortunately, these accounts do not list expenses for hiring jobbing gangs into the estate; Accounts Produce, 1756. All of the figures for rental income are calculated from accounts produce, 1756, unless stated otherwise. 87 An average fee per annum was between £10 and £16, but a skilled person could command much more; Cateau, ‘The New “Negro” Business’, 105. 88 £83 4 shillings plus £7 from a total of £188 7 shillings 1½ pence. The remainder of her income came from leasing land. The infant Sarah Bonner lived in England and her parents would have died. Her estate would have been held in trust until she reached twenty-one years of age. 89 William & Thomas Bond to Horlock & Wagstaffe, Kingston, 25 September 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.90. 90 William &Thomas Bond to Horlock & Wagstaffe, Kingston, 25 September 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.90.

290 91 92 93 94

95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102

103 104 105 106 107

108 109 110 111 112 113 114

Notes to pages 156–7 John Byrn to James Dunn, Kingston, 21 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.113. At least using those pots injected some iron into their bodies; Kiple, The Caribbean Slave, 81, 85. JHA, f.554. Their petition for relief was referred to the Committee of Accounts. John Kinlock to Joseph Foster Barham, Westmoreland, 1 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.91. Enslaved people would complain when their rations were too bad or too few; Burnard, Jamaica in the Age of Revolution, 81. Heavy floods could help feed the soil with loam; George Alpress to Rose Fuller, Spanish Town, 24 June 1757, JCRFSF, f.138. Kiple, The Caribbean Slave, 78. Burnard states calorific intake was only 1,995 by 1774; Burnard, Jamaica in the Age of Revolution, 91. McDonald, Economy and Material Culture, 40–5. Morgan, ‘Slaves and Livestock’, 66. Memorandum of Goods Wanting for the Use of Crescent Estate, HCA 32/189/22, f.51. Kiple, The Caribbean Slave, 76–7. Craton and Walvin, A Jamaican Plantation, 136. Long cited in Craton and Walvin, A Jamaican Plantation, 135. Kiple, The Caribbean Slave, 84. Women who worked in the field had the lowest standard of living among the enslaved; Mair, ‘Women Field Workers’, 190. Craton and Walvin, A Jamaican Plantation, 136, 141. Craton and Walvin, A Jamaican Plantation, 135; McDonald, Economy and Material Culture, 23–24. McDonald, Economy and Material Culture, 19–20. Morgan, ‘Slaves and Livestock’, 68. Cassava was also grown but had low protein content. Akee was brought to the West Indies in the late eighteenth century to add variety; Kiple, The Caribbean Slave, 79, 86–7. Shepherd, ‘“Petticoat Rebellion”’. McDonald, Economy and Material Culture, 47 McDonald, Economy and Material Culture, 20–1. McDonald, Economy and Material Culture, 106. McDonald, Economy and Material Culture, 107–9. Morgan, ‘Slaves and Livestock’, 70. Gerrard Nash to John Read, Kingston, 8 October 1756, HCA 32/189/22, f.21. See, for example, the clay pipe found in the slave village at Seville Plantation at https://www.daacs.org/sites/

Notes to pages 157–9

115

116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126

127 128 129

130

131 132 133

291

seville-house-15/#images, accessed 12 December 2022, part of the Digital Archaeological Archive of Comparative Slavery at daacs.org. Craton, Testing the Chains, 16. See the gaming piece found at Mona Village at https://www.daacs.org/sites/mona-village/#images, accessed 12 December 2022. Dunn, ‘“Dreadful Idlers”’, 165. See the layout of the early village at Seville Plantation in Armstrong and Kelly, ‘Settlement Patterns’. Beckford, A Descriptive Account, 227. Craton, ‘Proto-Peasant Revolts?’ McDonald, Economy and Material Culture, 103–4, 94–5. For great images, see Armstrong and Kelly, ‘Settlement Patterns’, 384; and Nelson, Architecture and Empire, 74. McDonald, Economy and Material Culture, 103–4. McDonald, Economy and Material Culture, 104–9. The enslaved would complain if they perceived their allocation was lacking or late; Buckridge, The Language of Dress, 32, 36. Memorandum of Goods Wanting for the Use of Crescent Estate, HCA 32/189/22, f.51. Case & Southworth Journal, ff.243, 246, 247, 271. It was in fact far cheaper to order direct from England than to purchase readymade clothes in Jamaica; Buckridge, The Language of Dress, 33. See chapter 7 ‘Cotton, Candles, and Carriages’. Buckridge, The Language of Dress, 36. On the weekly market, see McDonald, The Economy and Material Culture, 26–37; and Haggerty, ‘“Miss Fan can tun her han!”’, 36–7. They also made lace from bark; Buckridge, The Language of Dress, 34–42, 53, 56, 159. See also Armstrong & Fleischman, ‘HouseYard Burials’, 9. Those lucky enough to be in such a supportive relationship or part of a small family might have gained a little piece of independence from such money; McDonald, The Economy and Material Culture, 18. See McDonald, The Economy and Material Culture, 113. There were no sumptuary laws in Jamaica, which meant that the enslaved could adapt their dress and adorn themselves with Africanized accessories; Buckridge, The Language of Dress, 36, 85. Steffan, ‘“Used for clothing the slave trade”’. Weaver, ‘Fashioning Freedom’. Collectively, the 90 per cent of the population that was enslaved may have held around one-quarter of the coinage; McDonald, The Economy and Material Culture, 31; citing Long re. £20–£30, ibid., 49.

292

Notes to pages 160–1

134 An Inventory of the Negroes and Stock on Mesopotamia 1756. 135 William Miller to James Laroche & Co., Kingston, 29 September 1756, f.121. 136 Sheridan, Doctors and Slaves, 118; Mitchel, ‘Morbid Crossings’. 137 Dysentery and influenza could be epidemic; Sheridan, Doctors and Slaves, 208. Inoculation against smallpox began later in the eighteenth century (ibid., 254–8), but variolation had been practised in Africa well before the Europeans adopted it (ibid., 118). 138 John & Alexander Harvie to William Wansey & Co., Kingston, 9 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.116. 139 Slave.voyages.org, voyage ID 17399, accessed 26 August 2020. 140 They were far less likely to die of malaria and yellow fever than the white population of the island. On the various causes of morbidity and mortality, see Kiple, The Caribbean Slave, 89–103. 141 Paugh, ‘Yaws, Syphilis, Sexuality’. Warwick, who worked at the baths, had had the yaws and was given a bushel of ‘guinea corn’ to help boost the amount of iron in his diet; JHA, f.564; Kiple, The Caribbean Slave, 87. 142 Burnard, Panza, and Wiliamson, ‘Living Costs’, 61–2. 143 Craton, The Invisible Man, 55; Higman, Slave Population and Economy in Jamaica, 129. The death rate on Mesopotamia at the end of the eighteenth century was around 3.5 per cent; Dunn, ‘A Tale of Two Plantations’, 41. Roberts has the general death rate as higher, at between 7.5 and 8.5 per cent, but this is for 1779–1809; Roberts, Slavery and the Enlightenment, 176. 144 Sheridan, Doctors and Slaves, 186–77. 145 Kiple, The Caribbean Slave, 136–140. 146 Sheridan, Doctors and Slaves, 191. 147 Roberts, Slavery and the Enlightenment, 178. 148 Mair, ‘Women Field Workers’, 190. 149 Sheridan, Doctors and Slaves, 189. 150 Women were often assigned to ‘feeding’ the mill, which Bush suggests was a symbolic gesture; Bush, Women in Caribbean Society, 7. See also Roberts, Slavery and the Enlightenment, 156. 151 Hunt-Kennedy notes how the disfigured body became ‘routine, ordinary and unremarkable’; Hunt-Kennedy, ‘“Had his nose cropt for being formerly runaway”’, 213. 152 Guy (not the blacksmith) was noted as old but was clearly able to work as he was valued at £35. Similarly, Quasheba was also noted as old but valued at £30. 153 Hannah and Rose were so noted.

Notes to pages 161–5

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154 Oxford English Dictionary online, accessed 26 August 2020. 155 Morgan, ‘Slaves and Livestock’, 69. See also Ogborn, The Freedom of Speech, 120. 156 An Inventory of the Negroes and Stock on Mesopotamia 1756. 157 A List of all ye Island Estate Negroes from July 4th 1759 till to May 22nd 1760. 158 Deaths of Negroes, Mesopotamia Lists & Accounts 1756. 159 Dunn, ‘A Tale of Two Plantations’. 160 Deaths were poorly recorded on plantations. On Breadnut Pen in 1756, for example, deaths were highest in March, June, and July; Thornton, ‘Coerced Care’, 549–51. 161 Children were not considered ‘of this world’ by West Africans until they had lived nine days. Until that time they were a ‘wandering ghost’; Bush, Slave Women in Caribbean Society, 146. 162 This was usually thought to have been done within nine days of a child’s birth; Bush, ‘Hard Labor’. 163 Here I have taken complete license from Armstrong & Fleishchman, ‘House-Yard Burials’, 47. See the tobacco pipes, keys, and beads found at one of the Seville houses at https://www.daacs.org/sites/ seville-house-15/#background, accessed 12 December 2022. 164 Armstrong and Kelly, ‘Settlement Patterns’, 382. See also Brown, The Reaper’s Garden, 244–46. 165 John Kinlock to Joseph Foster Barham, Westmoreland, 1 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.91. 166 Joe that lived with Mr Peete to Rose Fuller, Spanish Town, 3 October 1758, JCRFSF, f.223. 167 People of colour were not supposed to be coachmen by law, but clearly exceptions were made. 168 Joe ‘Peete’ to Rose Fuller, Spanish Town, 16 July 1759, JCRFSF, f.249. 169 Morgan, ‘Slave Women and Reproduction’, 231. 170 Mair, A Historical Study, 252–5. Christian marriages did not really occur until the 1820s, when they became a dubious blessing for women who were then subject to a ‘dual patriarchy’; Bush, Slave Women in the Caribbean, 98–105. 171 Long, History of Jamaica, Vol. II, 413. 172 Inferences can be made regarding the rape of an enslaved woman by a white man; these are dealt with below. 173 Manumissions of Slaves, entered 4 November 1755. I am using ‘Negro’ here under the assumption that she was Black as per Long’s taxonomy; Long, History of Jamaica, Vol. I, 260–1. 174 Manumissions of Slaves, entered 7 November 1755.

294

Notes to pages 165–8

175 Manumissions of Slaves, entered 4 November 1756. 176 Enslaved people might ‘adopt’ an infant to replace a lost child, or team up with another person as an adopted sibling or parent. This was a practice brought from Africa; Bush, Slave Women in Caribbean Society, 105–7. 177 Many paid only a symbolic amount of a few shillings; Petley, ‘Manumission in Late-Eighteenth-Century Jamaica’. 178 On Tharp’s three pens, only one woman between 1708 and 1808 had a family of more than six children. On his Chippenham Park pen, only two women bore four children; Turner, Contested Bodies, 72. 179 Turner, ‘The Nameless and the Forgotten’, 235–6. 180 Manumissions of Slaves, entered 18 June 1756. 181 John Kinlock to Joseph Foster Barham, Westmoreland, 1 September 1756, HCA 30/259, f.91. 182 Bush, Slave Women in Caribbean Society, 105. 183 Bush, Slave Women in Caribbean Society, 108–9. 184 Four were sold, ten were manumitted, and five ran away between 1751 and 1818; Dunn, ‘A Tale of Two Plantations’, 43. 185 Copy of the Last Will & Testament of James Lawrence, n.d., HCA 30/259, f.1a. It was not clear which was the eldest daughter, Susanna, Elizabeth, or Mary. 186 (Grange) Will to Rose Fuller, Spanish Town, 30 July 1758, JCRFSF, f.206. 187 (Grange) Will to Rose Fuller, Spanish Town, 25 June 1756, JCRFSF, f.47. 188 (Grange) Will to Rose Fuller, Spanish Town, 30 July 1758, JCRFSF, f.206. Will appears to have been part of Mary Rose’s household. 189 John Lee to Rose Fuller, Spanish Town, 30 June 1756, JCRFSF, f.49. 190 Lee also added that Mrs Rose desired to be remembered to Fuller; John Lee to Rose Fuller, Spanish Town, 30 June 1756, JCRFSF, f.49. Fuller was also asked to fulfil another promise to help the overseer Thomas Duncan gain the freedom of a mixed-heritage woman called Ann and her son John in mid-1755; Walter Grant, James Barclay, Samuel Johnston, and Thomas Straton to Rose Fuller, Liguanea, 1 June 1755, JCRFSF, f.9. 191 Walker, Jamaica Ladies, 294, fn. 6; Mary Rose to Rose Fuller, Spanish Town, 9 May 1756, JCRFSF, f.44. Mrs Isted co-owned a warehouse in Spanish Town with Fuller; Greene, Settler Jamaica, 117. 192 Mary Rose to Rose Fuller, Spanish Town, 21 December 1756, JCRFSF, f.90.

Notes to pages 168–72

295

193 Manumissions of Slaves, entered 31 December 1756. I have inferred the date of his death from his will. The only Henry Archbould I could find for St Andrew was a probate inventory for 1761; TBJPDB. 194 Manumissions of Slaves, entered 12 July 1756. 195 Petley notes in ‘Manumission in Late-Eighteenth-Century Jamaica’ that there were delays in entering the records, but the text here genuinely suggests that Elizabeth Campbell seriously delayed his wishes. 196 Manumissions of Slaves, entered 19 August 1756. 197 Manumissions of Slaves, entered 20 November 1756. 198 Manumissions of Slaves, entered 20 January 1757. 199 Manumissions of Slaves, entered 25 March 1756. 200 Manumissions of Slaves, entered 12 April 1756. 201 Manumissions of Slaves, entered 30 July 1756. 202 Manumissions of Slaves, entered 28 April 1756. 203 Heuman, ‘The Free Coloured in Jamaican Slave Society’. 204 Manumissions of Slaves, entered 14 April 1756. 205 Manumissions of Slaves, entered 2 April 1756. 206 It is worth noting, however, that 80 per cent of fathers offered no support to their mixed-heritage children; Livesay, Children of Uncertain Fortune, 2. See also Hurwitz and Hurwitz, ‘A Token of Freedom’. 207 Manumissions of Slaves, entered 29 June 1756. 208 John Elletson, Esq. of St Thomas in the East died in 1746, worth £6,764 including 101 enslaved people, TBJPDB; Manumissions of Slaves, entered 25 May 1756. This would confirm Livesay’s assertion that John Elletson was white, Jenny a ‘mulatto’, and his children ‘quadroons’. The children later applied to be recognized as ‘white’; Livesay, Children of Uncertain Fortune, 21–2. 209 Beckles, Centering Woman; Burnard, Mastery, Tyranny, and Desire, 228–40. 210 Manumissions of Slaves, entered 26 June 1756. 211 Manumissions of Slaves, entered 21 December 1756. 212 Manumissions of Slaves, entered 4 February 1756. 213 Manumissions of Slaves, entered 20 January 1757. 214 Manumissions of Slaves, entered 1 May 1756; 1 June 1756. It is possible that Governor Knowles let Ann Rock go because he was soon to leave Jamaica. 215 Manumissions of Slaves, entered 19 January 1757.

296

Notes to pages 173–4

216 Manumissions of Slaves, Seraphina, entered 22 November 1756, Bess, entered 2 January 1756, and Edward Chaplin, entered 22 November 1756, were all freed in this manner. 217 Manumissions of Slaves, George entered 6 May 1756; Duke entered 29 April 1756; Abraham and Isaac entered 20 January 1756; Mimba entered 3 September 1756; Polly entered 15 May 1757. 218 Manumissions of Slaves, entered 4 August 1756. 219 Manumissions of Slaves, entered 13 January 1756. 220 Manumissions of Slaves, entered 14 July 1756. Long does not list ‘Sambo’ as part of his racial taxonomy, but it is implied that he was the product of relations between someone of African descent and an American–Indian; Long, History of Jamaica, Vol. II, 260–1. 221 Manumissions of Slaves, entered 28 July 1756. Stephen Lost had mixed-heritage children of his own for whom he petitioned for white privilege in 1756; Livesay, Uncertain Fortunes, 64–5. 222 Manumissions of Slaves, entered 4 September 1756. 223 Jamaica Courant, 28 September 1756. 224 On resistance and runaways in the British Caribbean, see Craton, Testing the Chains; Matthews, Caribbean Slave Revolts; Gott, Britain’s Empire, chapter 3, “Slave Rebellions in the Caribbean”, 30–35; Brown, Tacky’s Revolt. 225 The examples in this section are all taken from the Jamaica Courant, 28 September 1756. By 1678 Jamaican slave law mandated that descriptions of fugitives were to be advertised in public spaces; Hunt-Kennedy, ‘“Had his nose cropt”’, 213. The term ‘fugitive’ denotes enslaved people that tried to free themselves through absence from their enslaver(s); please see notes on conventions in the front matter of this book. 226 Yallah was the name of a large Spanish ranch; https://liberalarts. tamu.edu/nautarch/port-royal-archives/port-royal-maps/parishes-ofjamaica/, accessed 12 December 2022. 227 One or two enslaved people per hundred might be absent from a plantation at any one time; Craton, Testing the Chains, 53. On female resistance, see Bush, ‘Hard Labor’; Shepherd, ‘“Petticoat Rebellion?”’; Hunt-Kennedy, ‘“Had his nose cropt”’. 228 Bush, Slave Women in the Caribbean, 64. 229 Shepherd, ‘“Petticoat Rebellion?”’, 23; Bush, Slave Women in the Caribbean, chapter 5, ‘The Woman Slave and Slave Resistance’, 51–82. 230 See https://liberalarts.tamu.edu/nautarch/port-royal-archives/portroyal-maps/parishes-of-jamaica/, accessed 12 December 2020.

Notes to pages 174–6

297

231 He was also ordered to pay £526 and a £100 penalty, which was extremely punitive; JHA, ff.601, 657, 660. He was only released in December 1756. 232 Jamaica Courant, 28 September 1756. 233 Planters rarely prosecuted runaways, only doing so once they had been absent for at least six months, or were deemed rebellious (i.e. armed). Paton says that there was only one gaol in 1756, in Spanish Town; Paton, ‘Punishment, Crime, and the Bodies of Slaves’, 929, 936. But the advert clearly says that the gaol was in Port Royal. Workhouses were established in 1791, chiefly to confine ‘runaways’; Sheridan, Doctors and Slaves, 269. 234 It is worth noting, however, that in all these adverts, branding marks that might identify the enslaver were often given, although the marks from punishments such as nose cropping or amputation were not mentioned; see Hunt-Kennedy, ‘“Had his nose cropt”’. 235 The other enslaved people listed were Pompey, Jeffery, Caesar, Peter, Billy, Cudjoe, Moratt, and Jack. 236 There were 211, 85, 233, and 70, respectively, in 1738–39; Volume of Statistics Relating Mainly to Trade and Slavery in Jamaica, c. 1752, Dickinson Family Papers, Papers of the Fuller Family, DD/DN/6/82/4. Nanny Town was a complex of three villages named after the formidable priestess and Maroon leader who was inspirational in the resistance; Craton, Testing the Chains, 81. There is surprisingly little in the letters about the threat from the enslaved, possibly because they were written before Tacky’s Revolt. 237 Craton, Testing the Chains, 90. See also McKee, ‘From Violence to Alliance’. 238 JHA, f.554. 239 Wyllys was claiming compensation for their loss. He received 60 guineas compensation for Yabba, 40 guineas for Joan, 50 guineas for Kent, 25 guineas for a mule, and 8 guineas for a bull; JHA, ff.554, 558. The term ‘maroon’ was possibly not adopted until Edward Long used it in 1774; until then they were known as the ‘wild negroes’; Craton, Testing the Chains, 61, fn. 1. 240 William Trower was asking for compensation. Quashey was valued at 40 guineas and Harry, Lewis, and Cudjoe at 51 guineas each. Trower had already received 60 guineas compensation for the two transported men; JHA, ff.555–6. Trower would have had to arrange the transportation of Harry and Lewis himself; Paton, ‘Crime, Punishment’, 937.

298

Notes to pages 176–9

241 In September, the assembly was concerned about the boundaries of Trelawny Town, and also about the ‘Negro Towns’ purchasing enslaved people; JHA, ff.601, 603. In October 1755, Mark Hall wrote to Rose Fuller about the ‘Arch Rebel Acampung’ and noted with glee that he had been brought in by the ‘Wild Negroes’ with a ‘Crown of Gold’ on his head; Mark Hall to Rose Fuller, Liguanea, 21 October 1755, JCRFSF, f.36; James Provost to Rose Fuller, Jamaica, 12 June 1760, JCRFSF, f.298. William Clutsam also noted with regard to Tacky’s Revolt: ‘Negroes being troublesome’; William Clutsam to Samuel Munckley, Kingston, 8 June 1760, AC/MU 1 (11)e, Papers of Samuel Munckley. 242 Paton, ‘Crime, Punishment’, 940. 243 Craton, Testing the Chains, 15. 244 Morgan, ‘Slave Women and Reproduction’, 251. 245 Shepherd, ‘“Petticoat Rebellion?”’, 21. 246 Craton, Testing the Chains, 33; Bush, Slave Women in the Caribbean, 102. 247 Lemire, Global Trade, 10, 22. 248 Shammas, ‘The Revolutionary Impact’, 178; Burnard and Garrigus, Plantation Machine; De Vries, ‘The Industrial Revolution and the Industrious Revolution’. Many of these items were of organic materials that have not survived; Higman, ‘Survival and Silence in the Material Record’. 249 Gilbert Ford to John Taylor, Kingston, 9 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.41. 250 Edugyan, Washington Black, 60.

Chapter Nine 1

John Byrn to James Dunn, Kingston, 10 October 1756, HCA 30/259, f.111.

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Index

Enslaved people are listed by their only or first name. Abbo, 161, 162 Abell, Elizabeth, 48 absenteeism, 37, 38, 154, 155, 186 accidents, 110 acclimatization. See seasoning Accompong Town, 174 Adam, 174 Africa: Bight of Benin, 18; Bight of Biafra, 18; Guinea coast, 18, 86; West-Central Africa, 18; Windward coast, 18, 51 African customs, 150: Anansi, 157; burial, 162; fictive kinship, 165, 166, 177, 184; herbalism, 97; Myalism, 97; naming animals, 151; Obeah, 97–8, 106. See also marriage Akin, Judith, 25 Allen, Benjamin, 112, 121 Allen, Charles, 42, 121 Almeyda, Mr, 167 Alvares, Benjamin Mendes, 117–18 Alvares, Joseph Madeiros, 24, 91, 103, 117–18 Alvares, Mrs Joseph Madeiros, 91 Ambrose, 165 Amelia, 170, 177 Ammoe, 149 amputations, 161 Andrews, Ann, 45, 46 Andrews, Matthew, 46 Annato Bay, 34 Ann Rock, 172

Anthony, 161 Antigua, 61 Archbould, Henry, 153, 168–9 Archbould, Mrs Sarah, 168–9 architecture, 121, 135–6, 141, 180 Armstrong, Douglas, 144 Arndaux, Guillermo, 65. See also French prisoners of war Ashbourne, Robert, 168 Atkins, Mrs (Akin?), 45 Augier, Mary, 45, 79 Austin, 149 Austin, William, 153 Bachus, 149, 158 Baker, Robert, 171–2 Barbados, 35, 51, 62 Barber Cato, 153, 173 Barbuda, 61 Barham, Henry, 106, 161, 165, 166 Barnes, James, 48 barracks, 63 Barrett, Edward, 172 Barrie, Jean, 65. See also French prisoners of war Barton, 149 Bates, Charity, 48 Bath spa: 109–10, 153; enslaved people working at, 42, 153 Bayley, Mary, 165 Bayly, Mr, 46 Beckford, Ballard, 103

328

Index

Beckford, William, 5, 7, 12, 18, 109, 174, 180 Begg, Pen, 155 Belfast, 17 Berry, Henry, 47 Berry, Susanna, 47 Bess, 155 Bessey (daughter of Patience), 172 Bessy (mother of John and George), 165, 170 Bessy (Luenctia’s), 170 Betney, George, 32–3, 42 Betty (blind), 161 Betty (mother of Jenny, Molly, and Samme), 171 Betty (child), 161 Bevan, William, 59 Beveridge, David, 31, 56, 57, 58 Bight of Benin. See Africa Bight of Biafra. See Africa bills of exchange, 30, 32, 35, 47, 86 Billy, 170 Blackwood, Leeson, 21 Blair, Thomas, 17 Bletchingly, 75 Blew Mountain estate, 136 Blue Mountains, 18 Bonner, Sarah, 155 Borrisokane (Ireland), 62, 63 Bowles, Miss, 141 Boyd, John, 154 Bristol, 15, 17–18, 23, 24, 36, 59, 61, 86, 108, 132 Brooks, Robert, 103, 107–8 Brown, Captain Henry, 34 Brown, Vincent, 115 Brown, William, 114–15 Burly, Ann, 47 Burn, John, 171 Burnard, Trevor, 6, 11, 28, 37, 113 Byndloss, Widow, 25, 92 Byng, Admiral, 54 Byrn, John, 23, 31, 34, 55, 57, 90–1, 101, 103, 119–22, 126, 131, 139, 140, 156

Campbell, David, 39 Campbell, Elizabeth, 170 Campbell, John, 170 Candace, 171 capitalism, 5, 24, 49 Cargill, John, 155 Carvalho, Sarah, 49 Case & Southworth, 46–8, 139, 159 Catholics, 56 Chalmers, John, 41 Chandler, George, 39 Charity, 161 Charles Farnham, 152 children, 94: bequests to, 81–2; in Britain, 82–4, 86–7, 117; childlessness, 163; in Jamaica, 80–3. See also education Chloe, 161, 162 Church of England (Anglican), 10, 15 Cicily, 161, 162, 178 Clarinder, 151, 157, 158 Clarissa, 25, 147, 151, 157, 158, 159, 162, 166, 184 class. See ranking Cleland, Mathew, 16, 111–14 Clemens, Captain James, 24, 35–6 Cletos, 149, 159 clothes: breeches, 16, 139, 140; buckles, 87, 140, 159; buttons, 87, 159, 162; coats or cloaks, 18, 139, 140; dresses, 159, 184; of enslaved people, 12, 16, 48; gloves, 43; hats, 16, 120, 139, 140, 159; petticoats, 31, 120, 121; ribbons, 138, 139, 141, 176, 184; shirts, 62, 84; shoes, 18, 43; stockings, 31. See also textiles Clutsam, Captain William, 17, 24, 34–5, 36, 59, 84, 86, 100, 182 Codrain, Jean, 66. See also French prisoners of war Colbeck Castle, 18 Commodities. See hardware; metalware; food; drinks; textiles consumerism. See identity

Index consumption: luxuries, 122–3, 135, 180. See also food; drinks; dry goods; metalware; textiles convoys, 30, 55, 72, 182 Cooba (Mesopotamia), 150, 152, 157, 159, 161, 166 Cooba (St Elizabeth), 172 Cook, Ann, 171–2 Cook, Captain John, 51 Cook, William, 171–2 Cooke, James, 35, 153 Cork, 17, 21, 22, 24, 62, 94, 123, 132 Cornelius, Bernard, 65 Cotes, Admiral, 103 cotton. See textiles Council of Jamaica, 57, 65 Court of Chancery (Jamaica). See courts courts, 45, 47, 56–7; Chancery, 11, 40; county assizes, 16; Grand Court, 42, 175 Crawford Town, 174 Crawford, Alexander, 83, 140 credit, 30, 45, 46, 47. See also bills of exchange Crescent Estate, 126, 131, 133, 137, 156 Cross, Amey, 165, 172 Crow, Ann, 81 Crow, Elizabeth, 81 Crow, John, 21, 23, 30–1, 50, 81, 95, 97, 100, 102, 121, 123–4, 129, 132, 134, 138, 180 Crowder, Thomas (London?), 45 Cruickshank, John, 66–7 Crymble, Mary, 45 Cuba, 36 Cuddy, 100 Cudjoe, 175 Cullen, Louis, 9 Cunningham, John, 121 Daly, John, 41 David, Ezekiel, 171 Davis, John, 33

329

death: attitudes towards, 12, 94–6, 113, 117, 118, 180, 181; as a writing practice, 9–10, 19–20. See also mortality debts and indebtedness, 32, 48: payment of 32. See also bills of exchange; credit deficiency laws, 63–4, 80, 109 Delve Estate, 39, 93 Dennis Peters, 165 Dick (barber), 174, 184 Dick (in gaol), 174 Dickinson, Caleb, 38, 39, 111–12 Dickson, William, 172 diseases and ailments, 19, 24, 63, 95–118, 182–3: accidents, 161; asthma, 101; attitudes towards, 12, 95–9, 106, 118, 180; bellyache, 111; beriberi, 160; burns, 161; cancer, 109; chigoes, 160; cholera, 98, 109; colds and sore throats, 111; consumption, 101; dropsy, 150, 160, 161; dysentery, 97, 98, 160; elephantiasis, 106, 160; fevers (general), 97, 101, 103, 107, 108, 109, 111, 113, 118, 179; flux, 111; guinea worm, 106; gout, 23, 95–8, 100, 109, 118, 180, 183; ‘hysterics’, 109; lameness, 160; leprosy, 97, 109, 160; malaria, 14, 97, 98, 103, 107, 109, 118, 160; measles, 160; pleurisy, 160; rheumatism, 109; smallpox, 98, 160; typhoid, 98; ulcers, 109; venereal disease, 109, 111; vomiting, 111; yaws, 97, 106, 160, 161; yellow fever, 97, 98, 99, 101, 102, 103–6, 108, 115, 118, 182. See also health; home remedies; medical care; seasoning Dissmore, Edward, 22 docks and wharves, 18, 30, 32 doctors, care by, 106–11: bleeding, 97, 107; cupping, 97; quinine (bark), 107, 109, 111. See also diseases and ailments; medical care

330

Index

Dolly (aka Mimba), 171 double standard, 6, 30, 80 Dovedale (Jamaica), 18 drinks, alcoholic, 126, 130, 184; ale, 12, 127, 141; cider, 12, 18, 121, 127, 141; perry, 127; rum, 17, 40, 47, 84, 101, 126, 146, 156; wine (including Madeira and port), 12, 18, 96, 127–30 drinks, non-alcoholic: chocolate, 130, 136; coffee, 6, 17, 18, 43, 130, 136, 146; milk, 17, 43, 63, 112, 119, 121, 122, 123, 130, 131–2; tea, 17, 43, 63, 112, 119, 121, 130–2, 136, 141, 181 drunkeness, 91, 101 dry goods: barrels and staves, 133, 153; books, 75, 120, 121, 137, 158; bricks, 15, 18, 136, 141, 154; candles, 12, 18, 132, 141, 180; coals, 17; cordage, 153; gunpowder, 134; iron hoops, 26, 133; Japan waiters, 48; paper (including wallpaper), 17, 48, 137; pens and quills, 120, 137; pottery, 17; saddlery, 17–18, 134; sail cloth, 133; snuff box, 140; soap, 17–18, 132, 141, 142, 180; staves, 26; tallow, 18, 132; tobacco pipes, 17, 157; whips, 17. See also medicines dual heritage, 10, 25, 45, 79, 168, 170–1, 177, 184 Dublin, 17, 19, 23, 58, 62, 73, 86, 87, 91 Dublin Gazette, 61 Dunn, Richard, 145 education and schooling, 3, 10, 25, 28, 29, 81, 82–3, 90, 94, 181, 182 Edugyan, Esi, 178 Elenor Vincent, 172 Elletson, John, 171 Elliott & Scott, 35, 113, 138. See also Elliott, Mark; Scott, Robert Elliott, Mark, 108, 113, 123, 130, 131–3, 136, 137. See also Elliott & Scott Ellis, Mr, 162

empire, 8, 42, 50, 101, 185 enslaved people, 3, 10, 11, 12–13, 15, 25, 29, 46, 50, 68, 92: ‘accommodation’, 144, 171–3, 177; clothing, 138, 159–40; diet of, 126, 142–4, 155–8, 184; family of, 162–7, 170–2, 177–8; fugitive(s), 173–6, 184; health of, 96, 97, 98, 106, 160–2; injuries, 161; living conditions, 142–4, 158–9; population of, 18, 145–52; growing provisions, 122; punishment of, 16, 176; resistance of, 144, 161; work in the big house, 150; work on pens, 146; work on plantations, 133, 144–6; work in urban environment, 146, 153–4. See also African customs; death; diseases and ailments; freedom; manumission; occupations; transatlantic trade in Ephraim, 170 Essex, 149, 151 family, 7, 12, 70–94, 180, 182. See also enslaved people (fictive kinship) Fanny (sister of Molly), 168 Fanny Strachan, 167 Fanny (Westmoreland), 171–2 Farmer, George, 19, 20, 21, 56, 61–2, 74, 94, 103–4, 106, 122 feme covert, 10, 43, 86 Fleming, John, 75 Fletcher, Ann, 46 Florida, 36 Folkes, Sarah, 20, 22, 24, 25, 83–4, 100 Folkes, William, 24, 25, 31, 84, 137 food, 14–16, 180: bacon, 31, 35, 120, 121, 126, 127; bananas, 157; beef (including salt beef), 17, 31, 32, 35, 66, 121, 122, 123, 126, 130, 140, 143, 144, 153; beer, 18, 122; bread, 65, 66, 157; butter, 12, 17, 31, 35, 47, 66, 120, 122, 123, 126, 127, 130, 132, 140; cassava, 157; cheese, 18, 35, 123, 132, 156; corn (including guinea corn), 17, 39, 47, 122, 126,

Index 155, 157; crab, 157; currants, 17; fish (including herrings and salt fish), 17, 35, 66, 122, 126, 153, 156, 180; flour, 18, 66, 153, 155; ginger, 6, 17, 18; goat, 15, 157; grits, 35; oats, 18; okra, 157; pepper, 126; pepperpot soup, 15; pickles, 126; pimento, 18; plantains, 122, 157; pork (including ham), 17, 31, 35, 120, 126; raisins, 126; salt, 17, 47; spices, 122; vinegar, 127 Foord, Edward, 32, 35, 127 Foord, John, 35, 127 Ford, Gilbert, 49–50, 177 Ford, William, 106, 115–17 Forrest, Captain Arthur, 61, 83 fortifications, 146 Fraizer, Joseph, 24, 87–90, 94 France, 15, 54 Frank, 174 Frankey, 165 free and freed people of colour, 6, 10, 16, 25, 28, 79, 121, 123, 140, 145, 174, 186: size of population, 10; restrictions on, 29 freedom, 68, 183: as cultural marker, 6, 16, 120, 122, 141, 145; obtaining, 6, 144, 153, 159, 162; as tainted/ withheld, 7, 10, 143–4, 145, 162–70, 183. See also enslaved people; free and freed people of colour; identity; manumission Freke, William (London), 30 French: as enemy, 36, 51–6, 128, 186; fear of invasion, 55, 68; squadron, 30, 35; as superior force, 5, 17, 55. See also prisoners of war; privateers French, William, 63, 64 friends, 62, 70–7: being forgotten by, 62. See also networks; merchants friendship, 72 Fuertado, Jacob, 117, 137 Fuller, Rose, 25, 39, 45–6, 101, 114–15, 130, 140, 145, 162, 167, 168, 181, 183, 184 Fuller, Stephen, 31 Fuller, Thomas, 30

331

Fullerton, Doctor, 110 furniture: beds and bedding, 121, 136, 158; bookcase(s), 136, 137, 141, 181; clocks, 121; chairs and sofas, 86–7, 121, 136, 158; cutlery, 120, 134, 136, 181; liquor case, 121; mirrors, 121; tables, 132, 134, 136, 158 Gallimore, Ann, 46 gang work. See enslaved people; occupations Garden River plantation, 155 Garrick, 174 gender, 6, 48–50, 121 George (son of Bessy), 165 George (Beniba’s), 166 George White, 173 Gilderoy, John, 66 Glass, G., 31 Goad, Gaywood, 66–7 Goleborn, William, 40 Gomm, Mr (London?), 33 governor. See Moore, Henry; Knowles, Charles Graham, Ann, 3–8, 13, 22, 25, 74, 82, 94, 97, 179 Grand Court. See courts Grange Hill estate, 136 Gravesend, 22 Grear, William Turten, 25, 41, 48, 79 Green (Tom’s), 166 Guinea coast. See Africa Guy, 149, 156, 157, 158, 183 Haasis, Lucas, 9 Hager, 150, 161 Hall, Charles, 33, 101 Hall, Jaspar, 174 Hamblett, 47 Hampshire, 174 Hampson, George, 24, 40–1, 79, 115, 121 Hancock, David, 128 Hannah (Judy’s), 166 Hannah (Kingston), 174 Hannah (Matt’s), 166

332

Index

Hannibal (Suckey’s), 166, 167 Harding, Mr, 113 Hardware. See dry goods Harriot, John, 21, 23, 102 Harry (newly arrived), 175 Harry (Portland), 176, 185 Harvie, Alexander, 36 Harvie, John, 36 Harvie, Thomas, 139–40 Havana, 55, 99 Hay, Michael, 171 health: writing home about, 94–5, 100–2; attitudes towards, 95, 98, 180; of enslaved people, 110–11. See also death; diseases and ailments Heath, Rebekah, 172 Henckells, Isaac (London), 44, 45, 82 Henry, George, 22, 63 Herbalism. See medical care Herring, Elizabeth, 48 Heskith, Michael, 42 Hibbert, John, 38 Hibbert, Matthew, 20 Hibbert, Thomas, 15, 37–8, 93, 107, 109, 121 Hibberts & Millan, 33, 73, 152 High Court of Admiralty, 8 Hill, Robert, 139 Hillary, William, 103, 106 Hilton & Biscoe (London), 45 Hilton, Marmaduke, 37 Hipia, 172 Hispaniola, 35, 53, 55. See also St Dominge; Santo Domingo Holloran, Pat, 36 home: meaning of, 72–5, 93; missing, 62; afraid of being forgotten at, 75, 182; news from, 72–7, 84, 93 homesickness, 70 Horlock & Wagstaffe, 155 hospitals, 48, 61, 63, 66, 108–9: private sick quarters, 108. See also diseases and ailments; health House of Assembly, 11, 16, 41, 45–6, 47, 48, 57–8, 63, 64, 66, 109 household, 77–8, 94. See also marriage

‘housekeeper’ (euphemism), 16, 79, 150, 171 Howell, Mary, 47 Humbersson, Thomas (London), 31 humoral medicine, 97, 107. See also medical care Hutton, George, 21, 32, 90, 91 Hyde, Edmund, 39, 127, 128, 129, 133–5 identity, 6–7, 186: self-fashioning as, 12, 119–22, 140–2, 180. See also taste illness. See diseases and ailments; health Industrial Revolution, 4 Ireland, 17, 62, 123 Irish, 8 Isted, Mrs, 168 Jack (coachman), 174 Jack (HMS Rye), 153, 173 Jack (Mesopotamia), 151 Jack Peters, 165 Jack (Portland), 165 Jack (St Catherine), 172 Jackson, John, 14–15, 19, 21, 22, 25–6, 33, 73, 74, 75, 76, 179 Jamaica: in 1756, 3, 14–26; as expensive place to live, 6, 28, 120–2, 180; as hypermasculine space, 6, 11, 70–1, 90, 180; neglect of by Britain, 55–6; as remote place, 14, 15, 73, 90, 93, 185–6; as stratified society, 8, 11, 13, 28, 50, 120, 141–2, 179, 181, 182, 185, 186; as settler society, 80, 179; trade of, 11, 30 Jamaicans: as conspicuous consumers, 121; as debauched, 6, 72; as generous hosts, 121, 186 Jamison, William, 121, 123–4, 126, 131 Jane (daughter of Maria), 170 Jasper (Patience’s), 166 Jebb, Samuel, 23, 81, 138 Jemmy, 151 Jenkins, William, 41

Index Jennings, Captain Robert, 17, 24, 34, 35, 145 Jenny (manumitted with Molly), 170 Jenny (Betty’s), 171 Jenny (Elletson), 171 Jenny (St John), 172 jewellery, 87, 184 Jewish people, 85, 117: population of 10; burial of, 117–18; Yom Kippur, 81; food of, 125–6; synagogue, 15; women, 49 Joan (St David), 174–5 Joe (Mesopotamia), 149 Joe ‘Peete’, 162–5, 167 John Bird, 171 John (brother of Bessy), 170 John Godin, 171 John (Luenctia’s), 170 John (son of Bessy), 165 Johnston, Alexander, 110–11 Jones, Sarah, 48, 79, 91 Juba, 174 Jubah, 165, 172 Julius, 151 Karras, Alan, 29, 37 Kate (mother of Mary), 170 Kate Strachan, 167 Kello, Thomas, 174 Kelly, Patrick, 24, 62, 70–2, 74 Kent (St David), 174–5 Kerry (Ireland), 21 King, Mary (England), 62–3 King, Robert, 63 King, Thomas, 37, 62, 63 King, Mrs (widow), 37–8 Kingston, 6, 14–18, 23, 24, 25: buildings, 15; docks, 29; market, 16; death rates, 99; trade, 5, 17–18, 27–8 Kinlock, John, 147, 156, 165, 166 kinship, 78. See also enslaved people (fictive kinship) Knight, James, 7, 12, 180 Knowles, Governor Charles, 56, 63, 172

333

LaPitts, David, 58, 81 Lacovia plantation, 38 Lafitte, Brown & Mulholland, 22, 33 Lamb, Billy, 113–14 Lamikiz, Xavier, 9 Lascelles family, 5 Lawrence, Colonel James, 38, 81, 92, 143, 154, 166, 167 Lawrence, Mrs Colonel James (Mary), 91, 166 Leah, 161 Lee, Mr John, 167 Lenik, Stephan, 120 letters: of enslaved people, 11–12, 147–8, 162–5, 167–9; importance of receiving, 72–5; miscarriage of, 62–3, 74; phonetic and misspelling, 9; as a source, 8–11; written by women, 9, 20, 25, 43. See also postal system Lewis, 175 Liverpool, 18, 23–4, 34, 35, 59, 61, 87, 94, 145 Livingston, Henry, 42 Lloyd, Nathaniel (London), 44–5, 82 logwood, 17 London, 15, 17, 19, 22, 23, 40, 99, 113, 132, 137 London (caulker), 174 London (in gaol), 174 London (St Elizabeth), 154 Long, Edward, 5, 7, 13, 78, 110, 156, 163, 180 Lost, Stephen, 173 Lousada, Aaron, 19, 75, 96–7 love, 72, 81, 85, 115 Lucea, 162 Lucy (Bathsheba’s), 166 Lucy (Cuffee’s), 166 Luenctia, 170 Lynch, Captain Patt (Patrick?), 42, 83 Lysson Estate, 121 Mackrill, 174 Madeira, 18, 62 Magnar, Edward, 24, 58–61, 86

334

Index

mahogany: consumed in Jamaica, 15, 121, 134, 136, 137, 141, 180, 181; export of, 17; production of, 39. See also furniture Mair, Lucille-Mathurin, 79, 120 man of war. See privateering Manning & Paplay, 58 Manning, Edward, 96 Manning, Humphrey, 155 manumission, 11, 145, 165–73, 184 Margaritta, 161 Maria, 170 market(s), 122, 174 Markham, Mrs, 92 Marma, 154–5 maroon(s), 174–5, 184–5 marriage, 73, 76, 77–85, 87, 90, 91, 94, 181; of enslaved people, 162–3. See also family martial law, 26, 55 Mary (creole), 174 Mary (daughter of Maria), 170 Mary (daughter of Sarah), 165 Mary (Kate’s), 170 Mary (mother of John and Ann Godin), 171 Mary Peters, 165 Mary (‘white’), 150–1, 152 masculinity, 78, 91 Matlock (Jamaica), 18 Matt, 149, 156, 166 McBean, Daniel, 174 McFarlane, Alexander, 121 McShane, Captain Manus, 34, 36, 75, 102 medical care, 98: herbalism, 97–8, 107; home remedies, 111–13; innoculation, 99; medical instruments, 112–13; of troops, 108–9; variolation, 98–9. See also diseases and ailments; doctors; enslaved people medicine, 97, 118, 121. See also medical care; diseases and ailments; doctors men-of-war. See privateers

Mendes, Jacob, 24, 81 Mendes, Rachel and Manoel, 24, 67, 85, 122, 126 mental health, 96, 113–18, 183, 186 mentality, 7–8, 13, 180, 186 mercantile networks, 28, 31, 32, 45, 46 mercantilsm, 131, 141, 179, 181 Mercury, 174 Mesopotamia estate, 10, 25, 147–52, 155, 157, 161–7 metalware: anvils, 18; brassware, 14, 134, 136; copper and copper stills, 14, 18; iron and iron hoops, 17, 18, 26, 133; lead, 17, 133; nails, locks, and hinges, 17, 133, 136, 158; paint, 133; pistols, 134, 136, 141, 180, 181; tools including axes, hoes, and bills, 10, 113, 132, 133, 135, 141, 146, 158, 161 Metcalfe, Elizabeth, 25, 48, 76, 100, 108, 159, 181 Meyler & Hall, 33: Bright-Meylers of Bristol, 5 Mickleton estate, 39 Miles, William, 127 militia, 65 Milk River, 19 Millan, John, 38 Miller, Captain William, 21, 24, 36, 37, 51–3, 55, 56, 57–9, 84–5, 160, 182 Mingo, 150 Minorca, 54 Mirtillah, 155 Mitchell, Charles, 15, 136, 140, 154 Mitchelson, Andrew, 8 Molly (a child), 168 Molly (manumitted with Jenny), 170 Molly (Betty’s), 171 Molly Peters, 165 Monro, D. (London), 45 Montcalm, Marquis of, 54 Montego Bay, 34, 144 Moore, Governor Henry, 40, 56, 57–8, 63, 67, 73

Index Moore, John, 173 Moquan, Pierre, 65. See also French prisoners of war Morall, 173 Morbidity, 72, 95, 118: of enslaved people, 160–1; seasonality, 100–1. See also diseases and ailments; health Morgan, Thomas (Tom), 21, 22, 33 Morley, Ann, 25, 43–5, 82, 181 Morley, Daniel, 43 Morrison, Ellen, 47 Morse, Mr, 46 mortality, 43, 70, 72, 78, 80, 94, 95, 97, 99, 105, 106, 113, 114, 115, 118: of children, 78; of enslaved people, 146, 160; seasonality, 100; of troops, 63, 99, 100, 103–6, 108, 114–15, 118, 183 Mosquito Shore, 64 Mr Sam, 150 Munckley, Samuel (Bristol), 34–5, 86 Myalism. See African customs Nail, Captain, 174 Nancy (Kingston), 171 Nancy Swail, 172 Nanny Town, 175 Nash, Gerrard, 23, 32, 35, 58, 100, 126, 132, 133 Ned, 161 Ned Peters, 165 Nelson, Robert, 17, 101 Nembhart, John, 170 networks. See friends; mercantile networks New England, 78 Nickell, William, 20, 24 Obeah. See African customs Occana (Jaber’s), 166 occupations, 9: apprentice, 21, 25, 33, 50; artisan, 28, 39, 147; attorney, 9, 37–9, 40, 114, 150, 151, 159; auctioneer (or vendue, master), 41, 50; blacksmith, 42, 149, 155,

335

158; bookeeper, 28, 38–9, 50, 171; bricklayer, 101; carpenter, 3, 25, 39, 42, 50, 149, 151, 179; carriage driver, 29; clerk, 9, 14, 22, 33, 39, 41–2, 67, 73, 75, 83, 179; cooper, 39, 122, 147, 149, 153; distiller, 147; doctor, 24, 91, 103, 106–7, 109–13, 188; doctoress, 150, 152, 157, 158, 159, 161, 166, 184; domestic servant, 48, 170, 171, 176; factor, 32, 58, 76, 100; fisherman, 123; gang work (including jobbing gangs), 38, 126, 146, 149, 151, 152–5, 161, 177, 183, 184; hawkers, 16; higglers, 16; hiring out enslaved people, 46, 112, 146, 152, 154–5; huckster, 47; indentured servant, 15, 25, 28, 39, 50, 98, 100; insurance underwriter, 24, 41; lawyer, 9, 21, 24, 40–1, 114, 121, 181; merchant, 3, 5, 9, 10, 12, 13, 21, 23, 24, 27–33; nurse, 28, 48; overseer, 25, 28, 37–9; pen keeper, 29; prostitute, 45; ratcatcher, 150; rentier, 9, 19, 24, 25, 45–6, 79, 81, 102, 181; rumseller, 25, 47; sailor, 6, 9, 17, 20–1, 22, 24, 28, 47, 56–63, 69, 74, 98–9, 106, 108, 118, 122, 153, 177, 182, 183, 186; sawyer, 149; seamstress, 25, 48, 76, 100, 108, 159, 176, 181; ship’s captain, 9, 17, 19, 21, 22, 24, 28, 33–6, 37, 51, 55, 59, 61, 63, 74, 75, 77, 83, 84, 85, 86, 100, 102, 139, 145, 153, 160, 174, 182, 186; shipwright, 42, 50; shopkeeper, 9, 10, 24, 28; soldier, 61, 65; tavernkeeper, 41, 47, 171; taylor, 42; tutor/tutoress, 39; upholsterer, 48; wheelwright, 39, 42; woodcutter, 39. See also healthcare; sailors; soldiers Ogle[?], Cuthbert, 3, 25, 103 Ogle, Ewbank, 3–6, 8, 13, 24, 42, 103 Old Harbour, 19, 42 ONeal, Lieutenant Edward, 21, 62, 75, 106, 121, 139

336

Index

Ordnance Office, 24, 31 osnaburg (Oznabrig). See textiles Panza, Laura, 28 Paplay, George, 58, 81 Paterson, Dr, 150, 151 Patience, 151, 166 Patience (mother of Hipia and Bessey), 172 patriarchy, 8, 30, 72, 77, 80, 94, 180 Payne, Mrs (England), 40 Peace of Paris, 4 Peard, Captain, 113 Peete, George, 42 Peggy, 151, 157, 158 Penington, John, 22, 85, 100 pens (livestock), 6, 29, 43, 50, 123: working on, 151, 174; life expectancy on, 146 Pepper Plantation, 38, 39 Pereira, Daniel Mendes, 19, 23, 81, 102, 123, 137 Perrin, William, 31, 136-137 Petley, Christer, 120 Pheba, 171 Phillis, 155 Pickering, Peter, 42 Pilsham, Ann, 165 Pilsham, Nicholas, 165 Pinnock, Molly, 80–1 Pinnock, Mrs Thomas, 80 Pinnock, Philip, 68, 128, 129 Pinnock, Thomas, 47, 68–9, 80, 133 Pitt, William, 54 plantations: as plantation machine, 5. See also settlements; sugar Plymouth, 115 politics, 12: political rift, 36, 51–69, 182; effect on trade, 12 Polly (aka Ann) Godin, 171 Pool, Mr, 150, 151, 159 poor relief, 48–9. See also poverty population, 5, 10, 28, 47, 78, 79, 138. See also enslaved people Port Maria, 46 Port Royal, 3, 15, 17, 18, 42, 48, 51, 63, 66, 103, 109

Porter, Roy, 97 Portland parish, 19 Porto, 18 postal system, 21–2, 73–4 Potter, Elizabeth, 49 poverty, 41, 48–9, 69, 121, 181 Powell, William, 170 Preston, Captain, 62 Price, Charles, 5, 154 primogeniture, 43 Primus, 149, 156, 157, 159 Pringle, Tom, 113 Priscilla Swail Dickson, 172 prisoners of war, 53, 65–8, 122 privateers, 9, 182: British, 51–3; French, 51, 53, 55; private menof-war, 59–60; sales of, 58. See also sailors privilege petition, 79 prizes (of war), 53: agents for, 31, 58; French, 32; share of money, 58–61 probate inventories, 43–8. See also widows Providence, 25, 143–4, 145, 146, 154, 166, 167, 168, 177 provision grounds (of enslaved, people), 122–3, 126, 146, 156–8, 175 provisions, 6, 16, 18. See also drinks; food Quaco (adult at Mesopotamia), 166 Quaco (brother of Tom), 165–6 Quaco (Cooba’s), 166 Quaco (manumitted by Stephen Lost), 173 Quaco (on Fuller’s plantation), 147–8, 162 Quasheba, 152 Quashey (Portland), 175 Quilliams, Elizabeth, 47 Raapke, Annika, 9 race, 7, 8, 13, 26, 50, 97, 98, 103, 106, 120, 122, 141, 186 Ragg, Richard, 155 Ramadge, Frances, 47

Index Ramadge, James, 174 Ramsey, Erasmus, 59 ranking (social status), 6, 26, 29, 146 rape, 79, 111, 167, 170, 177, 184 Redman, Elizabeth, 43 Redman, William, 43 Regiment, 49th of Foot, 64–7 Reid, Dr, 173 Richards, Gordon & Kennion, 58, 127 Richardson, Mrs (widow), 107 Ricketts, George, 110 Ricketts, Mary, 141 Rio Grande, 19 Ripley, J., 90 Robe, Alexander, 19, 24, 74, 85 Robin, 174 Rogers, Mrs, 14, 41, 47 Rose, Mary, 10, 25, 45–6, 101, 114–15, 130, 131, 140, 142 Ross, Colonel, 81 Roughley, Thomas, 38 Rousseau, G.S., 97 Royal Marines, 62–3. See also sailors Royal Navy, 24, 51–6, 59–62: squadron at Jamaica, 55. See also sailors sailors, 9, 12, 70, 96: deaths of, 103–5, 118; going privateering, 12, 35, 58–61, 182; sick and injured, 63–4; wages of sailors, 58–62. See also diseases and ailments; hospitals; prizes Sally, 155 Saltcoats, 17, 101 Samme (Betty’s), 171 Sanders, Mary, 46 Santo Domingo, 36, 53 Sarah (first on mountain), 161 Sarah Peters, 165 Sarah (second on mountain), 151 Savannah-La-Mar, 21, 153, 172, 173, 174 Scotland, 168–9 Scots, 8, 29, 32

337

Scott, George, 22 Scott, Margaret, 43 Scott, Robert, 108 seasoning, 96, 100–2, 118. See also diseases and ailments separate estates (for women), 43 servicemen. See sailors; soldiers settlements, 5, 18. See also pens, plantations Seven Years’ War, 3–4, 15, 35, 51–69, 182, 186: declaration of, 54; effect on Jamaica, 26, 30, 32, 50, 186; trading during, 30–3, 34–7, 47. See also privateers sexuality, 6, 7 Shaw, Mary, 48 Sheridan, Richard, 106 ships. See vessels shoes. See clothes Short, James, 21, 57, 74, 85–6, 173 Shovlin, John, 9 da Silva, Isaac and Ribca, 24, 67, 81 da Silva, João, 117 Silvia, 150, 161 Simpson (ship’s mate), 34 Sixteen Mile Walk, 18 Sloane, Hans, 106 Smith, 173 Smith, John, 24, 61, 74, 102 Smith, Mary, 46 Smith, Mr, 167 social death, 144 soldiers: death of, 96; health of, 98; living conditions, 64, 65, 67, 153. See also Regiment, 49th of Foot; diseases and ailments Somerset (England), 24, 61, 75 Sophia, 152 Sowell, Thomas, 39 Spain, trade with, 35–6 Spanish Town, 5, 16, 18, 24, 25, 26, 34, 40, 42, 45–6, 56, 57, 58, 67, 101, 114, 160; buildings of, 15–16. See also courts; population St Andrew parish, 18, 39, 43, 46, 99, 171 St Ann parish, 43, 92

338

Index

St Catherine parish, 18, 39, 42, 99, 160, 172 St Domingue, 53 St Elizabeth parish, 21, 23, 102, 154, 172 St George parish, 19 St Helens (England), 85 St James parish, 25, 38, 81, 143, 172 St Mary parish, 34, 49, 154, 170 St Thomas parish, 109, 155 Stanton, Captain John, 139 Stephen (Strachan), 167 Stephenson, Joseph, 21, 40, 74, 102 Stevens, Mary, 46 Stoney, George, 22, 62–3 Stopford, Joseph, 92, 99–100 Stopford, Mrs (Martha?), 25, 92, 93 Strachan, John, 170 Straton, Mr Thomas, 167 Suckey, 166, 167 Sudell & Fell, 47 sugar: consumption in Britain, 3, 130; consumption in Jamaica, 12, 35, 47, 122, 130, 131, 141, 142, 180, 181; export of, 6, 17, 35, 93, 131; harvest, 17, 18, 146; import of, 18, 32, 35, 122, 130; muscovado, 130; plantations, 5, 18, 28, 143, 145, 145–7, 156, 180; production of, 3, 5, 17, 18, 37, 39, 105, 146, 149–50, 184 surgeons (and physicians), 108, 110. See also doctors; diseases and ailments; medical care Swords, Martin, 20, 24, 74–5 tableware, 136: china, 81, 136; crockery, 158; glasses, 136; plate, 43, 87; silverware, 136, 132, 136; candlesticks, 136 Tacky’s Revolt, 5, 98, 185, 186 Tamar, 161 taste (consumption), 119–20, 122, 126, 128, 129, 130, 134, 136, 137, 138, 139, 140–1, 180–1 Taunton, 127, 141 tavern(s), 14, 21, 41, 109

Taylor, Simon, 5, 121 textiles, 17, 18, 43, 48, 120, 141, 180, 181; Brittanias, 119; calimanco, 181; cambrick, 44; checks, 120, 138, 138, 139, 159; chintz, 140; cotton, 6, 17, 18, 41, 119, 136, 138, 140, 146; damask, 119; dimity, 119; fustian, 138; kersey, 138; lawns, 119; linen, 16, 17, 81, 120, 138, 140; linseywoolsey, 138; osnaburg (Oznabrig), 138, 159, 180; paduasoys, 119; Peniston Blue, 138, 159, 177, 183; satin, 31, 119, 139; silesias, 119, 159; silk, 12, 16, 17, 31, 48, 181; velvet, 16, 128, 139; wool (woollen), 17. See also clothes Thistlewood, Thomas, 38, 79, 111, 112 Thomas, Captain John, 22–3, 63, 77 Thomas, Elinor, 22, 23 Thomson, John, 19, 58, 73–4, 91, 101 Thornton, David, 174 Thoroughgood, Elizabeth, 47 Threlfall, Lieutenant, 66, 68 Tinker, 150, 158, 159, 161 tobacco, 17, 120, 130–1, 157, 159, 184 Tom (brother of Quaco), 165–6 Tom (kinship with Clarissa), 166, 184 Tom (Westmoreland), 172 Toney, 174 Tony, 161 Townsend, Admiral, 51, 43, 55, 62 transatlantic trade in enslaved people, 4, 10, 11, 17, 18, 34, 35–6, 51, 59, 145–6, 182 transport: carriages, 81, 135, 141, 180, 181; chariots, 16, 135; horses, 25, 110, 134, 135; kitterreens, 135; rivers, 19, 101; roads, 17, 109, 154 Trapham, Thomas, 103, 106 Trelawny Town, 175 Triquet, Mary Ann, 49 Truxes, Thomas, 9 Truxton, Mary, 46

Index Valette, Peter, 153 Vere parish, 19 vessels, merchant: Adventure, 44; Birmingham, 101; Black Prince, 18, 36, 51; Clarendon, 22, 62–3, 67; Czar of Muscovy, 34; Dutchess of Beaufort, 123; Europa, 3, 7–9, 11–12, 14, 17, 19, 20, 22, 26, 30, 35, 43, 47, 55, 62, 90, 100, 112, 118, 129, 153, 179, 180, 185, 186; Hamilton Galley, 34; Hope, 34–5, 86, 112; Jamaica Packet, 145; James & John, 31, 34; Nicholas, 34, 36, 145; Phoenix, 160; Swan, 46; Triton, 47; True Briton, 59–60, 61 vessels, Royal Navy: HMS Dreadnought, 19, 21, 24, 55, 56, 62, 75, 104, 106, 122, 139, 182; HMS Greenwich, 24, 55, 62, 70; HMS Humber, 51, 53; HMS Princess Mary, 24, 55, 75; HMS Monarch, 54; HMS Rye, 55, 61, 83, 153, 173; HMS Shoreham, 24, 55, 61, 182; HMS Sphynx, 55; HMS Wager, 62; HMS Weazle, 55, 63 Virginia, 78 Walker, Christine, 6, 30, 42 Wallis, Mary, 49 Warren, Mr, 115 Watkins, Elizabeth, 45 Watt, Richard, 34 weather, 19: hurricanes, 19; drought, 117; dry season, 146; earthquake, 15; flood, 19; ‘healthy season’, 160; rain, 16–17, 19, 30; rainy season, 146, 160, 183 Webb, James, 76, 122, 153 West Indies, strategic importance of 53–4

339

West-Central Africa. See Africa Westmoreland parish, 21, 39, 83, 153, 171, 172 Wheelan, David, 173 white women, 6, 9: as beneficiaries of enslavement, 30, 80; as enslavers, 43, 46, 47, 181–2; poverty of, 47–8; wealth of, 43–6; work of, 39–43, 181. See also double standard; feme covert; occupations White, Captain, 34, 36 Whyman, Susan, 72 widows, 25, 43–7, 48, 49, 72, 79, 80, 91–3, 100, 103, 107, 108, 117, 118, 168, 172, 181, 183: dower, 92, 93; houseroom, 92, 93 Will (Grange), 167–9, 177 William Peters, 165 William (son of Maria), 170 William Kerr (aka Billy; Dolly’s), 171 Williamson, Jeffrey, 28 Willson, Captain Andrew Hearsay, 17, 34, 36 Wilson, Kathleen, 6, 8 Windward coast. See Africa wine. See alcohol witchcraft, 97 wives: in England, 84–91; in Jamaica, 80–2 Woodcock, Mrs, 25, 93 Worling, Mr, 99, 113 Wray, Leonard, 27–9, 31–3 Wray[?], Isaac, 27, 33 Wyllys, Mason, 174–5 Xavier, Isaac, 117 Yabba, 155 Yabbah (St David), 174–5