Based loosely on the life of John Bryce Girvan 1798-1878
***
Thomas Ingarvan: 28 year old man from Maybole, Scotland
John Ingarvan: 26 year old man, brother to Thomas and main character in this project
Thomas Clarkson: Evangelist, Abolitionist, Pamphleteer
Lord Kennedy of Culzean
Scipio Kennedy: Enslaved African boy become naturalized Scot
Narrator: Jack: Reputed son of a Reputed son of a Reputed son of Ingarvan!
Brother Cecil, Church Deacon in Kirkoswald
Catherine McGhee, Scottish Nanny to Ingarvan’s children, who stayed with him, became caregiver for Ingarvan, the old man, and his sometimes bedfellow.
Episode 1
*
Narrator Intones:
The light ‘o day rolls back as the tide rolls in,
The moon shines wan, ’tis a night for sin,
‘Best watch out for the highwaymen’,
Says Thomas to his younger kin,
The carriage is in good repair,
We breathe the salty ocean air,
Off we go to the Poet’s lair,
Situated in the
Town of
Ayr
***
Horse whinnies
(Sound track of Horse hoof and swinging and scraping chains and harness, hoof beats continuing
Thomas and John Ingarvan, young brothers from Maybole, in the County of Ayrshire, Scotland, are traveling to the town of Ayr to celebrate Robert Burns’ day in his birth place, an adjacent community called Alloway. Robbie’s ascendancy from obscure local farm life in 1786 to becoming eventually National Poet of Scotland has excited the local youth in the communities in South Ayrshire. A dashing young idol has been created! A myth was born! The brothers leave late afternoon on Robbie Burns day, January, 25, 1823, 25 years after the poet’s death. Let’s follow the brothers to find the poet behind the myth and the man behind the poet.
Narrator disappears: gives way to the action…
To while away the early evening, Thomas and John recite poems by Robert Burns as tandem horses pulling their carriage keep time. Thomas hums a continuing drone, the pole metal chains on the harness scrape and jangle. This mobile percussion section has marked the rhythm during the 2 hours of travel from the town of Maybole to Ayr.
(Thomas and John recite poems by Robbie Burns to the acoustic accompaniment of horse and carriage)
(ASpokenWord Recitation with the RhythmicAccompaniment of the horse hoof beats
John recites: A Fond Kiss by Robbie Burns:
*
Aefond kiss, and then we sever;
Ae fareweel, alas, for ever!
Deep in heart-wrung tears I’ll pledge thee,
Warring sighs and groans I’ll wage thee
Who shall say that Fortune grieves him
While the star of hope she leaves him?
Me, nae cheerfu’ twinkle lights me,
Dark despair around benights me
I’ll ne’er blame my partial fancy;
Naething could resist my Nancy;
For to see her was to love her,
Love but her, and love for ever.
Had we never loved sae kindly,
Had we never loved sae blindly,
Never met or never parted,
We had ne’er been brokenhearted.
Fare thee weel, thou first and fairest!
Fare thee weel, thou best and dearest!
Thine be ilka joy and treasure,
Peace, enjoyment, love and pleasure!
Ae fond kiss, and then we sever!
Ae fareweel, alas, for ever!
Deep in heart-wrung tears I’ll pledge thee,
Warring sighs and groans I’ll wage thee.
***
RobbieBurns
(1759-1796),
Written for and sent to
Agnes Maclehose in 1791, just before she
Departed for Jamaica to rejoin her estranged husband.
*
Thecarriage percussion continues, builds progressively to a crescendo, then fades, gradually in Doppler effect, as time squeezes a shrinking space between a lurking observer and the passing carriage. Then space expands to fill the hole left by sound as it evaporates. The carriage passes a masked figure in the shadows, at the edge of a nearby forest…
The passing carriage bound for Ayr
Excites a brigand waiting there
Behind a thicket.
*
(Hoof beats get faster)
Thehighwayman dons a mask and spurs his mount into spirited gallop. The animal explodes in a sudden burst and flattening leaves on the low growing underbrush, it weaves between trees. Then in a series of hurdles, in leaps, in bounds, clearing low shrubs, horse and rider join in chase for the advancing carriage, rapidly gaining ground on the travelers…
*
Thebrothers, soon aware
Of growing perils coming near,
Incite their steeds to desperate flight…
*
Theirhorses stumble forward on uneven terrain and thus begins a pursuit in failing daylight: a pursuit which must result in blood on the roadway and loss of life. The rampaging marauder pulls abreast of the carriage:
*
‘Stand!
And Deliver!”
Yells the brigand,
Brandishing his pistol.
Fear and frenzy then ensue,
Asthe highwayman does pursue
Thevictims, now confused, in a game,
Which neither party dares to lose
For life itself is on the line,
Whose life will it be? yours or mine?
Each must decide.
The brigand then with malign intent
Whips his horse without relent.
Through savage force
And blind ambition,
Fueled by headstrong, stiff volition,
He strikes again, the angry horse:
Acts for which there’s no remorse
And no time to repent….
*
His mount issues a warning of its decision to rebel against the tyranny of its rider, snorts, bucks, then at full gallop stops abrupt: (rim shots) propelling its villainous master now become a missile, air-borne, flung over the animal, the body catapulting in air twice before it hits the front wheel of the carriage and then to earth, there to lay immobile in an inglorious heap. The highwayman’s neck snaps on contact when his head hits the ground. Death is swift it does not wait.
(End of Horse and Carriage Accompaniment)
The young men halt to view the remains of the interloper. They dismount from the carriage and watch the newly liberated horse disappear on the gallop, into deepening night.
The lifeless corpse laying there reveals nothing of the past of the young man whose energy and bold ambition held a hope for his kin, until desperation and impatience took him from apprenticeship as wheelwright to the path of larceny on the many byroads of Ayrshire.
Bent over the body of the highwayman, Thomas the elder brother pulls back the makeshift mask and announces:
*
Iknow this man!
‘T’is Jacob, bastard son of Kentish
Of Culzean’ Castle, in adulterous union with Karen Kilcully,
Irish washerwoman in his employ, a very strange bewildered boy,
A n’eer-do-well if e’er I saw, who now has gone
Beyond the law.
But no time to stay in sad reflection,
Since night descends in all directions.
Afew more leagues,
We’ll cross the bridge
And find us lodgings for the night.
No doubt there’ll be much sorrow
Among the brigand’s kin
When his empty horse arrives tomorrow
Without him.
*
(Horse and Carriage Rhythmic Accompaniment Resumes)
Thomas and John remount the carriage and without a second thought, they resume their journey. With night fast approaching, what could they do? Perhaps the highwayman had confederates in the vicinity; best leave the scene without delay! In mere minutes they see flickering lights from lamps and smoke rising from a clearing on the horizon on the other side of a water course.
*Narrator reappears:
Emotionally shaken and in some despair,
They cross the river at the
New Brig’
O‘ Ayr
***
(End of Horse and Carriage Accompaniment)
Thomas and John reach their destination at a Carriage Inn at the edge of the Town of Ayr and spend an agitated night recalling the recent fright, their frenzied flight and the awful destiny of the highwayman.
*
Younger brother John will long recall this scene in
Some as yet far-off, unanticipated tomorrow;
The scene, a riderless horse returning home.
At another time and in warmer climes,
This scene will ever haunt his
Constant, fevered
Dreams
***
Ingarvan
Episode 2
*
A special celebration at the
Carriage
Inn
Narrator begins:
*
A raucous, joyous throng of revelers, fifty or more,
Are gathered there in high spirits.
A woman elegantly attired,
Greets the brothers
At the door.
*
(Banquet Hall Setting with Appropriate Sounds for a Social Gathering)
Narrator disappears:
*
“Good evening, young men
May I inquire
The reason for your presence here
Tonight?”
*
“Good evening to you Madam, Thomas replies,
We come to celebrate the Poet of
Alloway:
This certificate will attest to my bona fides…(Shows his papers)
I am, Madam, Thomas Ingarvan, Engineer
Certified by Royal Charter and
This, younger brother, John, duly certified
Millwright and Wheelwright,
Is my companion here tonight.
We hold the Bard of Ayr
In very high
Regard”.
*
“Enter lads”,
She does reply, and points to an area
Designated for the
Hoi poloi.
*
Well armed, whiskey in hand, Thomas and John seat themselves and await the proceedings of the Robbie Burns encomium. The banquet room fills to the 50 seat capacity with eminent personnages, rich and renowned, from Ayrshire to Glasgow.
Amost memorable evening begins…
The master of ceremony then steps to the dais and reads the names of prominent families in attendance. Some of the benefactors of the Poet, are known also for their association with the traffic of enslaved people from Africa to the Caribbean. The roll call, funereal, solemn as in a dirge, intones the names of underwriters, promoters and supporters in a commerce to create and propagate human misery on a grand and inglorious scale, for the profit, the vanity and the glory of a few; a brutally cynical and barbaric industry of nation-building fueled by greed and by demented economic logic.
The reading of the list of families supporting the slave trade commences: Graham, James: Douglas, Dr. Patrick and Jane : Kennedy, Quintin, Thomas and William: Fergusson, Charles and Sir Adam: Montgomery, Charles: Hamilton, Robert and John: Hunter, William and James: Paterson, John: Rozelle! Each name receives the warm acknowledgement of the assembly.
Fifteen of Robert Burns’ poems then are put in a basket and guests invited to reach into the basket and pick a poem at random, step to a podium at the front of the room and read it to the assembled Burns-ophiles. The reader then reaches for a bottle of whiskey, pours himself a shot and bolts the whiskey down in one single gulp to great applause from the assembly. The reader then regains his seat to continuing applause:
John Ingarvan steps up to the dais, picks a poem and reads To A Kiss\, and gulps a shot of whiskey. John recites:
To a Parting Kiss
Humid seal of soft affections, Tend’rest pledge of future bliss, Dearest tie of young connections, Love’s first snow-drop, virgin kiss.
Speaking silence, dumb confession, Passion’s birth, and infants’ play, Dove-like fondness, chaste concession, Glowing dawn of brighter day.
Sorrowing joy, adieu’s last action, Ling’ring lips, no more to join! What words can ever speak affection Thrilling and sincere as thine!
*
His rendition meets with the approval of the gathering so well that that he is invited to read a second poem. He reaches in and picks, Will Ye Go To The Indies, My Mary: Reads the poem: Will Ye Go To The Indies, My Mary: He recites:
*
Will ye go to the Indies, my Mary,
And leave auld Scotia’s shore;
Will ye go to the Indies, my Mary,
Across th’ Atlantic roar.
O sweet grows the lime and the orange,
And the apple on the pine;
But a’ the charms o’ the Indies
Can never equal thine.
I hae sworn by the Heavens to my Mary,
I hae sworn by the Heavens to be true;
And sae may the Heavens forget me,
When I forget my vow!
O plight me your faith, my Mary,
And plight me your lily-white hand;
O plight me your faith, my Mary,
Before I leave Scotia’s strand.
We hae plighted our troth, my Mary,
In mutual affection to join:
And curst be the cause that shall part us,
The hour and the moment o’ time!!!
The eyes of all the guests turn to a reader now coming to the dais. He stands out from other celebrants by the vestments that he wears. Thomas Clarkson, evangelist and abolitionist, is among the notables here tonight, visiting churches in a crusade across the County to spread the Word of God into the community.
Narrator Reappears briefly :
*
Thomas Clarkson,
Visiting Vicar, is last to read
And demonstrates his ability to lead
His flock along the lesser traveled paths of righteousness.
He reads tonight The Slave’s Lament
With such a powerful intent,
His voice quivering
With fervour.
*
He reads:
The Slave’s Lament
*
It was in sweet Senegal that my foes did me enthrall
For the Lands of Virginia-ginia O;
Torn from that lovely shore, and must never see it more,
And alas I am weary, weary O!
Torn from that lovely shore, and must never see it more,
And alas! I am wery, weary O!
*
All on that charming coast is no botter snow and frost
Like the lands of Virginia-gini O!
There streams forever flow, and there flowers forever blow
And Alas! I am weary, weary O!
There streams forever flow, and there flowers forever blow
And Alas! I am weary O!
*
The burden I must bear, while the cruel scourge I bear.
In the lands of Virginia-ginia O!
And I think on friends, most dear with a bitter, bitter tear
And alas! I am weary, weary O!
And I think on friends, most dear with a bitter, bitter tear
And alas! I am weary, weary O!
***
A smattering of polite applause follows.
Showing some wisdom in the ways of the world, the preacher and pamphleteer then introduces his audience to some materials that he publishes; religious tracts through which he engages the curiosity of the Burns-ophile celebrants. Drumming up his audience tonight for his sermon tomorrow, January 25, at the local church, he says:
“This is not the time,
Nor indeed is it the place, to probe in much detail
The shame and great disgrace of Robbie Burns In the
Tear-filled eyes of
God…
*
He continues:
…At the Kirk,
On the morrow, many will
Come to hear the dictates of the Lord,
Come to feel the passion He affords those
Who accept His words and direct
Their actions to correct
Their errors.”
*
Clarkson regains his seat. Confusion spreads among the assembly. The brotherhood of Burns is perplexed. To quell the disarray, one of the distinguished guests, one of the organizers of the Burns evening reintroduces a semblance of order, initiating a chorus of Auld Lang Syne. The celebrants pick up the song, at first tentatively, then with increasing gusto.
Clarkson exits the building amid a smattering of grumbles and jeers.
The evangelist now departed, the Burns Night agenda continues with the Selkirk Grace.
A skirl of bagpipes followed by bevy of young beauties skirted in a Kennedy Tartan, announce the arrival of the haggis:
***
Selkirk Grace:
Some Folk hae meat that canna eat,
And some can eat that want it;
But we hae meat, and we can eat,
So let the Lord be Thanket!
*
TheAddress to the Haggis is the final flourish to an evening with the Poet.
Fair fa’ your honest, sonsie face, Great Chieftain o’ the Puddin-race! Aboon them a’ ye tak your place, Painch, tripe, or thairm: Weel are ye wordy of a grace As lang’s my arm.
The groaning trencher there ye fill, Your hurdies like a distant hill, Your pin wad help to mend a mill In time o’ need, While thro’ your pores the dews distil Like amber bead.
His knife see Rustic-labour dight, An’ cut ye up wi’ ready slight, Trenching your gushing entrails bright, Like onie ditch; And then, O what a glorious sight, Warm-reekin, rich!
Then, horn for horn, they stretch an’ strive: Deil tak the hindmost, on they drive, Till a’ their weel-swall’d kytes belyve Are bent like drums; Then auld Guidman, maist like to rive, Bethankit hums.
Is there that owre his French ragout, Or olio that wad staw a sow, Or fricassee wad mak her spew Wi’ perfect sconner, Looks down wi’ sneering, scornfu’ view On sic a dinner?
Poor devil! see him owre his trash, As feckless as a wither’d rash, His spindle shank a guid whip-lash, His nieve a nit; Thro’ bluidy flood or field to dash, O how unfit!
But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed, The trembling earth resounds his tread, Clap in his walie nieve a blade, He’ll make it whissle; An’ legs, an’ arms, an’ heads will sned, Like taps o’ thrissle.
Ye Pow’rs wha mak mankind your care, And dish them out their bill o’ fare, Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware That jaups in luggies;
But, if ye wish her gratefu’ prayer
Gie her a Haggis!
*
“Auld Lang Syne” is the parting greeting to the accompaniment of lusty voices and skirling bagpipes.
“Until we meet again next year,” is exchanged as the celebrants leave the Inn. Some recriminations about the vetting of the guest list and the party pooping evangelist’s presence at the encomium emerge from the banter.
A small group of local residents greet the departing guests outside the door. Each of the revelers receives an invitation in the form of a pamphlet, a religious tract inviting the revelers to come to church tomorrow, January 25, to celebrate the Poet’s birthday in a more appropriately pious manner. The pamphlet is entitled:“Behold, ye have sinned against the Lord: be sure your sin will find you out, (Numbers 32:23).
The text of the tract elaborates the themes to be discussed in church on the anniversary of Robert Burns:
1)Emancipation of enslaved Africans and 2) Fornication in Our Nation. The guest vicar will be Thomas Clarkson, eminent abolitionist and pamphleteer visiting churches in Ayrshire County, bringing glad tidings and stern warnings of God’s mandate to spread the Gospel of salvation to regions where there is demonstrable need to heed His Word. And Ayrshire does indeed show the need.
The brothers accept the pamphlet and greet other revelers on their way to their carriages.
Says one of the revelers:
‘Young lad, you show by your finesse,
Great promise:
You express with such great tenderness
The poems that
You read.’
*
Narrator reappears:
Their exchanges with parting guest indicate that the brothers have left an indelible impression this night for their contribution to the function. Many describe John’s reading as a veritable tour de force. His star is in its ascendancy.
End of Burns’ Encomium
***
Ingarvan!
Episode 3
***
Robbie Burns Day,
At
Church
(Church Organ Sacred Background Music)
*
Narrator begins:
Sunday morning service January 25th, 1823. begins under grey skies. The local pastor addresses the congregation, this Sunday much more numerous than usual. The pamphlets distributing notice of this meeting by the visiting prelate have reaped rich rewards. The local pastor introduces Thomas Clarkson saying:
Narrator disappears:
“We have the distinct pleasure to welcome Pastor Thomas Clarkson to our church today. We ask the Lord to bless His servant, Thomas, and grant to him the wisdom to reach new hearts in His service; a service especially needed in these troubled times where greed and hedonism, where lust for money and lust for carnal pleasure abound in all corners of the earth.”
*
Sunday
Morn’ at the Kirk,
The abolitionist’s point of view
Pulls a fulsome congregation in the pew
To hear Thomas Clarkson
Bear witness to moral decay
In the nation.
Today he will pronounce on matters of great import:
Slavery and fornication.
*
Organ music
A muted organ whispers, distributing soothing tremolo waves throughout the house of God, opening the minds of the congregation, preparing the psychological terrain for the appeal to clear the mind of things mundane and lift their spirits to lofty heights of Salvation, through Jesus Christ, our Lord:
“Amen,” replies the congregation.
The pastor moving to the podium, raises his right hand with the Bible over his balding head and with a steady, confident air asserts:
“The Lord Almighty is my sword. As I go into battle here today in bonny Ayr,I will not yield,Since His Word is my bucklerAnd this Bible isMy shield.”
The pastor continues:
“Nary an empty pew today;
God’s blessings today unto you,
I bestow.
Many faces
That I here recognize,
Still in agonies from an excess of strong
Drink and debauchery from the function for the fornicator,
Robert Burns.
Although a local lad
And prideful are we, still we must not
Condone the errors he has shown
To all
Humanity.
His conduct we must
Deplore from Ayr to every distant shore,
And caution we must bring to temper the desire
To satisfy every appetite, and quench each burning fire
Of perfidious passion and
Stubborn, craven
Lechery…
The evidence below will very clearly show
What everyone should know
About our late lamented Poet, our dear departed
Beau.”
*
He continues:
“Brother Cecil,
Long term Deacon of this church
For lo these many years,
Has more than a passing knowledge of
Robert Burns.
He will now recount for us
The sorry tale of the late poet’s travails,
His amorous entanglements
And his early demise.”
*
The Deacon (!) steps to the lectern and addresses the congregation:
“Iknew Robert Burns when he was a young lad in Alloway. His parents were tenant farmers working on several properties in the area. He studied under the tutelage of his father while working as a labourer with him from the age of 12. His father passed away leaving the family of 7 children with no resources. Robert was then 24 years old. He tried with little success to keep farming and moved to Mossgiel, a nearby community.”
“A handsome young man he was, and fond of the women. His attraction to women drove him to write songs and poems for the many objects of his infatuations. He soon found himself hopelessly entangled with several of local women at a time. His continuing loose, immoral behavior earned him a rebuke from the church.”
“He had a child with his mother’s servant and soon learned that his future wife, Jean Armour was pregnant with twins. With no economic prospects and growing responsibilities, he was offered and accepted a job of ‘Book Keeper and Assistant Slave Master’ from an Ayrshire doctor who owned a sugar plantation in Port Antonio, Jamaica. Shortly before leaving for Jamaica, Burns got word that the poetry that had been sent to a publisher had been accepted, and his collection of poems, Poems, Chiefely in the Scottish Dialect, launched his literary career. Robbie Burns canceled his trip to Jamaica. He wrote of this decision saying:
I had taken the last farewell of my few friends, my chest was on the road to Greenock, I had composed my last song I should measure in Scotland: “The Gloomy Night is Gathering Fast“: (Farewell to the Banks of Ayr)
The Deacon continues:
“Robbie Burns died of rheumatic fever at the age of thirty six leaving many a lass heart-broken, having sired 13 children in his short life.”
The Deacon walks from the lectern and regains his seat. Charles Clarkson resumes his sermon saying:
“BrotherCecil, has mentioned the Rebuke imposed on Robbie Burns by the Church of Scotland, I now read from the article of Rebuke from A Compendium of the Laws of the Church of Scotland:
By the act of Assembly, Aug 10, 1648, fornicators are to make profession of their repentance three several Sundays; who are guilty of a relapse, therein, six Sabbaths; who are guilty of a tri-lapse therein, twenty six Sabbaths; who are guilty of a quadri-lapse, three quarters of a year all in sackcloth, and are first to appear before the presbytery before confessing their sins there….
Thomas Clarkson walks away from the pulpit and continues his sermon, looking directly out into the church while slowly, deliberately leaning forward, scanning the congregation with a penetrating sweep from left to right. Pointing and wagging the index finger of his right hand he pronounces:
“Of libido,
Robert Burnswas suffused;
Of fornication
Justly he was accused,
And found in contravention of
Church law.”
*
A collective murmur consisting of indistinct mumbles spreads among the congregation. Clarkson calls the congregation to attention. He continues to hector his captive flock:
*
“Now…
On the matter
Of enslaved Africans,
Their capture, their sequestration
And the savagery of their oppression;
To that, I must recount a story which on all accounts
Bestows no glory on he who would exercise
Tyrannical control over another life…
To chronicle this sad event
Is to make the human heart lament
The moral state of any true
Christian
Soul!”
*
He redoubles his litany…
“If the unrepentant fornicator is by
God and Church condemned to the Antechambers
Of everlasting fire,
The deepest hole with the hottest coals
Is the destiny reserved for enslavers
Who give their souls
To the devil.”
*
Thomas Clarkson reaches for one of his pamphlets, steps back to the pulpit and reads an account of a tragedy at sea in 1781:
(Account below from BlackFacts.com:)
The slave ship Zong departed the coast of Africa on 6 September 1781 with 470 slaves. Since this human chattel was such a valuable commodity at that time, many captains took on more enslaved people than their ships could accommodate in order to maximize profits. The Zong‘s captain, Luke Collingwood, overloaded his ship with slaves and by 29 November many of them had begun to die from disease and malnutrition. The Zong then sailed in an area in the mid-Atlantic known as “the Doldrums” because of periods of little or no wind. As the ship sat stranded, sickness caused the deaths of seven of the 17 crew members and over 50 slaves.
Increasingly desperate, Collingwood decided to “jettison” some of the cargo in order to save the ship and provide the ship owners the opportunity to claim for the loss on their insurance. Over the next week the remaining crew members threw 132 slaves who were sick and dying over the side. Another 10 slaves threw themselves overboard in what Collingwood later described as an “Act of Defiance.”
Upon the Zong’s arrival in Jamaica, James Gregson, the ship’s owner, filed an insurance claim for their loss. Gregson argued that the Zong did not have enough water to sustain both crew and the human commodities. The insurance underwriter, Thomas Gilbert, disputed the claim citing that the Zong had 420 gallons of water aboard when she was inventoried in Jamaica. Despite this, the Jamaican court in 1782 found in favour of the owners. Publicity surrounding the Zong Massacre and the first case led William Murray, the Earl of Mansfield and the Lord Chief Justice of the King’s Bench, the highest court in Great Britain, to order a second trial. Mansfield presided and ruled in favour of the insurers. He also held that the cargo had been poorly managed as the captain should have made a suitable allowance of water for each slave.
Later attempts to have criminal charges brought against the Captain, crew, and the owners were unsuccessful. Great Britain’s The Solicitor General, Justice John Lee, however, refused to take up the criminal charges claiming: “What is this claim that human people have been thrown overboard? This is a case of chattels or goods. Blacks are goods and property; it is madness to accuse these well-serving honourable men of murder…
Those who were responsible for the Zong massacre were never brought to justice.
***
***
Reading this sad account
Indignity begins to mount in the Abolitionist.
“Zong!,” he moans …Zong!! accursed vessel”, he intones,
“Vessel governed by vassals of the devil: Zong!!! Epitome of evil,
Zong!”
*
Overwrought
With such great emotion,
And so devout
In his devotion to his Lord,
The prelate’s knees buckle,
He wobbles briefly,
Then faints on the
Spot
***
Congregation sings this Hymn:
Eternal Father, strong to save
Whose arm does bind the restless wave
Who bids the mighty ocean deep
Its own appointed limits keep
Oh hear us when we cry to Thee
For those in peril on the sea
William Whiting
***
Episode 4
A Business Proposition:
Two medical doctors among the congregants respond to the fallen preacher and quickly diagnose his condition.(Spoken as a duet by the 2 doctors for comedic effect: they pronounce together):
“Neurasthenia,
We suppose,
Brought on by excessive nervous
Perturbation, we propose;
There’s anxiety and vexatious scruples
In his soul.”
*
“Laudanum,
We prescribe,
Tincture of opium he must imbibe
To reestablish equilibrium
In his soul.”
*
Amid general confusion and concern, the service comes to a close as the resident pastor gives thanks to the visiting prelate, reassuring the congregation that God’s servant, Charles Clarkson, has regained all his faculties and is now comfortably seated in the vestry and under the care of 2 local doctors.
The organist then induces calm continuing to play “Eternal Father Strong To Save: “Oh Hear Us When We Cry to Thee, For Those in Peril On The Sea,” as ushers lead the congregation to the exit, restoring order to the untimely closure of the Evangelist’s crusade to win souls in support of the abolition of slavery.
The congregation disperses slowly, little clutches gathering outside to discuss the matters that they have recently witnessed: unease about a past moral rebuke by Church authorities merited by a local poet, crimes at sea on a ship named ‘zong‘ and an abolitionist overcome by intense and excessive emotion.
Three men from the table of dignitaries at last night’s tribute to Robbie Burns approach the brothers outside the church:
One of the men initiates a conversation: Archibald, Kennedy of Culzean says:
“Young men, what do you make of the
Sad turn of events to which we
Were witness?
The Abolitionist
Has surely lost his mind.
He must be non compos mentis!”
He continues:
“The Holy Bible shows ample evidence that
The Good Lord accepts and defends
The subjugation of lesser mortals.
And doth our nation’s laws not
Allow and approve the use
Of human labourfor the
Betterment of all
Mankind, and to
The greater glory
Of our Nation
And of our
God?”
He continues:
“As for the sanctions the Church imposes on the Poet;
Better to send posies composed of red, red roses
To the victims,
Than to try to check the inordinate,
Amorous trances
When the lecher advances
Under the hypnotic drive of carnal
Appetites.”
He continues:
“We are here to extend an invitation to you to consider using your skills, your technical abilities and your youth in the service of the nation and to your own material advantage. The path not taken by Robbie Burns remains available to young men like you. Last night you had an endearing presence at the Carriage Inn. Your poise, your intelligence, your social skills and your excellent credentials point to your potential to succeed at whatever you undertake. All these elements make of you, attractive candidates for employment in an exciting area of the world, the Caribbean, where many of our neighbours in the County of Ayrshire have invested and have gained enormous returns from their investments in the past century.”
“Robbie Burns was destined for Jamaica before literary success interrupted his journey. Unless you have some hidden skills, your youth promises you no such alternative for rapid escape from the mediocrity of hard work with little financial gain.”
Thomas replies:
“My Lord: ‘The path not taken by Robbie Burns
Remains available to young men like you?’
How should we understand
These words?”
Lord Kennedy of Culzean replies:
“Young lad,
When adventure calls
And good fortune falls in your path,
It is best to heed the call lest misfortune
Should befall you in some far-off ‘morrow
And find you in greater
Need.”
He continues:
“For a century,
Even more, men have left
Old Scotia’s shore to initiate then sustain
The economic reign of Mighty Sugar Cane.
Conditions now dictate that the
Market accommodate to these facts:
In the age of slavery, it is late.
Plantations soon will fail,
Abolitionists will prevail.
For sugar to survive,
Labour must be free,
And Afric-people
We must deprive
Of liberty.
What says the young poet, your brother beside you?”
John Ingarvan now replies:
“IfSugar,
The Reigning King declines,
What then defines the grandeur
Of Britain’s claims to profit from the vast domains
Of Empire in the
Indies?”
Laird Kennedy replies:
“The young
Poet indeed displays
A precocious flair beyond his age,
And shows a power of prescience to assay on
Matters of consequence in the economic destinies
Of empires and
Of nations.”
*
“Young poet:
Soon King Sugar will be dead:
Who will lead us in his stead?
Queen Coffee.
The sugar lands exhausted,
We now cultivate Queen Coffee
On lands of higher elevation.
Few workers she requires,
We warm her over fires
To generate then penetrate
Her subtle warm
Desires.
King sugar is dead,
Long live the
Queen!”
*
He continues:
“I reiterate
And elaborate;
The path not taken by Robbie Burns
Remains open wide for young men such
As you.”
He continues:
“As we speak I can project vacancies for posts in the Parishes of Clarendon, St. Ann and St. Thomas in the Island of Jamaica in a near future, as we diversify from sugar plantations to coffee production.”
“We plantation owners in Scotland, are in constant need of overseers, attorneys and skilled tradesmen to manage the daily affairs of our properties overseas. I am sure that we can reach an accommodation to assure you lucrative employment in one of our businesses on that Island.”
“Should you choose to cast your fate towards a career in the Indies, we can arrange the appropriate training to refine your combined skills as civil engineer, metallurgical fabricator and carpenter for the applications of this new industrial based agriculture in the West Indies.”
“Finally, we would strongly advise that you combine all your impressive skills and talents and incorporate to consolidate your strengths. Together, you are one formidable force with much potential.”
Thomas Ingarvan replies:
“My Lord, your
Counsel has been duly noted,
We will heed your sage
Advice.”
The group of three plantation owners take leave of the brothers. John says to Thomas:
“That was rather rich!
Why this full-scale,
Fervent pitch
For our services?
What could their motives be
To display such generosity towards
Such humble folk as
You and
Me?”
Thomas replies:
“If we remain
In contact with the
Slave owning Colonial planters of South Ayrshire,
Going forward, ulterior motives
They may reveal. Until then
We accept with grace
Their flattery.”
Thomas continues:
“But brother;
We must soon be on our way,
No later do we dare delay.
We made commitments for the morrow in Maybole.
Night comes fast this time o’ year
And of Highwaymen we do have
Justifiable fear.
Don’t we?”
Says John:
“Brother,
You are right.
We did run afoul of Jacob,
Young brigand of your acquaintance.
And might we not have suffered his fate
Had Providence not intervened
Mercifully on our
Behalf?
Let us leave immediately!”
***
Return Home
(The Horse and Carriage Accompaniment Resumes)
Narrator begins:
Early afternoon, the low cloud ceiling announces probable precipitation. A chill north wind picks up and sweeps dry leaves from the forest floor and deposits debris generously over the narrow carriage road, that ribbon of unencumbered access through the forest. The brothers harness the horses and mount the carriage and begin the return to Maybole. The horses need little direction, no encouragement. They engage instinctively and enthusiastically with the road. The return home is underway.
(Reprise of Horse and Carriage Accompaniment and Recitation of Ae fond Kiss)
Narrator disappears:
To avoid the reminder of the scene of the previous attack from the Highwayman, the brothers take the road from Ayr by the New Bridge Of Doon at Greenan, Dunduff, Thomaston and Drumbegs where it merges into the great road from Maybole to Girvan. They will take the branch leading to Maybole, through the farm of Enoch.
(Thomas Intones his Continuous Drone, John Recites…)
Fare thee weel, thou first and fairest!
Fare thee weel, thou best and dearest!
Thine be ilka joy and treasure,
Peace, enjoyment, love and pleasure!
Aefond kiss, and then we sever!
Ae fareweel, alas, for ever!
Deep in heart-wrung tears I’ll pledge thee,
Warring sighs and groans I’ll wage thee.
***
(End of Horse and Carriage Accompaniment)
Episode 5
***
The Culzean Experience
*
Narrator begins:
Life in rural Ayrshire resumes its normal village tedium for the Ingarvan brothers. The family business of carriage construction and repairs and general construction has been struggling as Glasgow comes increasingly to dominate all areas of manufacture, all but eliminating small local workshops serving the farm community. Looking over the records of the business for the first six months of the year, Thomas remarks to John:
Narrator disappears:
“We may have to leave Ayrshire and find employment in Glasgow in the near future, unless we can reverse the losses we are experiencing so far this year; or we could change our approach to find business beyond the area that we are now serving.”
Noting an air of discouragement in Thomas, John attempts to introduce some optimism:
“We may have done ourselves a favour going to the function for Robbie Burns. The big shots of South Ayrshire were well represented at the Carrick Carriage Inn. Deep pockets from plantations in the West Indies are financing many projects in the county. How do we get access in our business to some of the profits from the trade of enslaved people?” John wonders.
The visit to Ayr for the encomium for Bobbie Burns has indeed exposed the brothers to a world beyond the confines of rural Scotland. A curiosity begins to grow about the power, prestige and wealth at the disposal of the absentee Ayrshire owners of plantations in the West Indies.
The curiosity becomes a contagion and in April the contagion becomes a fever when they receive an invitation from Lord Kennedy of Culzean for a commission to design and fabricate a pumping system composed of a pond, a stream, fountains and waterfalls for the decorative walled water gardens being developed at Culzean Castle. John will go to Culzean to assess the feasibility of the project, and give a cost estimate to the managers of the Castle. John takes leave of Thomas, mounts his carriage and at break of day begins his journey to Culzean.
Narrator reappears:
“The fog rolls back
As the light rolls in
The sun shines bright as his trip begins
“‘Best watch out for the highwayman”‘,
Says Thomas to his younger kin,
“And take good care
O‘ your trusty mare.
They say there’s
Angry spirits
Over there, in
Kirkoswald!”‘
John laughs at his brother’s tease. He leans forward and taps his horse’s rump with his whip. The carriage leaves for Culzean.
(Horse and Carriage Accompaniment Resumes, Narrator disappears)
***
John sings while traveling the road from Maybole to Girvan. An invigorating ambiance early this July morning breathes radiance, freshness and warmth: a hint of a far off, tropically indolent afternoon to come: a suggestion of brief, unsustainable physical comfort in blustery, coastal North Atlantic: a promise impossible to realize in coastal Scotland where a brief summer soon will give way to a perennially enduring chill.
His spirits high, John sings praises to this morning while in transit through these South Ayrshire landscapes. But is he fully aware of the fragility of summer and the transitory, fickle nature of life and of love?
(Map/images of the regionshowing road from Maybole to Maidens and Culzean)
John sings: Weslin Winds by Robert Burns:
(Sung by Gabriel Girvan Macdonald)
***
*
Now westlin winds and slaughtering guns Bring autumn’s pleasant weather The moorcock springs on whirring wings Among the blooming heather Now waving grain, wild o’er the plain Delights the weary farmer And the moon shines bright as I rove at night To muse upon my charmer. The partridge loves the fruitful fells The plover loves the mountains The woodcock haunts the lonely dells The soaring hern the fountains Through lofty groves the cushat roves The path of man to shun it The hazel bush o’erhangs the thrush The spreading thorn the linnet Thus every kind their pleasure find The savage and the tender Some social join and leagues combine Some solitary wander Avaunt away! The cruel sway Tyrannic man’s dominion The sportsman’s joy, the murdering cry The fluttering gory pinion But Peggy dear, the evening’s clear Thick files the skimming swallow The sky is blue, the field’s in view All fading green and yellow Come let us stray our gladsome way And view the charms of nature The rustling corn, the fruited thorn And every happy creature We’ll gently walk and sweetly talk Till the silent moon shines clearly I‘ll grasp thy waiste and, fondly pressed Swear how I love thee dearly Not vernal showers to budding flowers Not autumn to the farmer So dear can be as thou to me My fair, and lovely charmer.
Robert Burns
(1775)
*
Narrator begins:
Absorbed in his serenade, John is startled out of his musical trance and forced to re-engage actively with his carriage journey to Culzean when his horse breaks stride and momentarily veers off the roadway. John pulls sharply on the reins to regain command of the animal and stops the carriage.
Horse hoof beats stop.
They are in the village of Kirkoswald. The suddenly recalcitrant horse remains quite agitated. John dismounts and strokes its neck, speaks gently to the animal. Coaxing while stroking it, he walks a short distance alongside the animal while it becomes increasingly more compliant. A hundred metres later, the horse regains its composure. John continues his journey: Kirkoswald to Maidens, Maidens to Culzean.
Hoof beats resume.
*
Culzean sparkles in morning sunshine as John’s carriage makes a gradual descent and passes in front of a grand mansion perched imperiously on a cliff over the Firth of Clyde.
Hoof beats stop.
Culzean Castle: (From Wikipedia Commons)
***
Episode 6
Scipio!
*
At the gated entrance, a boy walks a short distance to tell the gatekeeper that a carriage has just arrived. A Mr. John Ingarvan of Ingarvan Brothers in Maybole is here by appointment.
The gatekeeper addresses Ingarvan:
“Goodmorning Mr. Ingarvan, Welcome to Culzean. I am given to understand
That you are here in response to a commission from Lord Kennedy.
Your punctuality this early morn is remarkable.
You must have risen with the dawn….
How was your journey
From Maybole?”
John replies:
“Sire, it was indeed a beautiful morn for travel.
At break of day,
A spreading mist with shafts of light
Infused and bathed the land
With aradiant glow.
All went well until the passage
Through Kirkoswald.
My faithful horse, as gentle a mount as can be found,
Taken by a sudden urge to rebel
Against my wishes,
Left the roadway, and without my stern command
Would have taken the carriage to ground and done me in.
A frightful end to a pleasant beginning
Was the prospect for
My journey.”
The gatekeeper replies:
“Some say there’s angry spirits over there
In Kirkoswald.
One of the servants of Culzean,
A woman descended from the line of an enslaved African
Will tell you of her ancestor who lived and served fifty
Years ago as faithful servant
In this selfsame
Castle.”
He continues:
“Follow the road behind the Castle.
The liveryman will take your carriage and
Show you to the servants’ hall.
There you will find Grace, granddaughter of Scipio Kennedy
The African, who spent his life in service to the Kennedys of Culzean.
Grace lives in Kirkoswald and knows the story of Scipio, the
Displaced Phantom of
Culzean.”
Inside the Castle John is led to the servants’ hall and interrupts the busy daily kitchen routine. The Butler greets him:
“Young man, we have a tight schedule in this facility. We can ill afford to interrupt the staff at this time. Grace Kennedy will be able to see you very briefly, for a few moments at 10:00 o’clock after the breakfast has been served and the dining hall put back in order. Thereafter, preparation will be underway for lunch service. Did you hear me say ‘very’ briefly, young man?”
“Yes sir, I understand!” John replies sheepishly.
At 10:00 am. precisely, a brown skinned woman of a certain age emerges from the servants’ hall. Her tight curly brown hair visible from under a blue bonnet shows streaks of grey. She addresses John:
“Good morning sir, I was informed that you wish to speak to me. Who are you and what do you want of me?”
“My name is John Ingarvan of Maybole. I was told that you are a descendant of an African man who lived and served in this Castle some time ago.”
“Of what possible importance is my ancestry to you sir?” Grace answers defensively.
“Iapologize to you ma’am and understand that what I say may appear foolish, but on my way from Maybole to Culzean early this morning, my carriage was nearly upended by the behavior of my horse. It seemed to have become suddenly deranged on my passage through Kirkoswald. As if possessed and inhabited by some unseen force, it refused to proceed until I walked beside it and guided it some distance from the churchyard.”
“Oh that nonsense again! The Phantom of Culzean!” the chamber maid says impatiently. And for that poppycock you interrupt my morning’s work!? Let me tell you sir, she says indignantly, my grandfather Scipio Africanus was a man of extraordinary quality. He was trained and worked in the textile industry, was an accomplished butler in the Castle and was respected and admired by the Kennedy family; so much so that he was given the Kennedy name and included in the will of the wife of the Marquess of Cassilis. My grandfather Scipio Kennedy had his own residence on the grounds of Culzean Castle. He died and was buried there. The fact that he is now interred in the cemetery in Kirkoswald put there by his son, my uncle Duglass after my grandfather’s residence was demolished, gives some people the idiotic idea that he is still trying to get back to his home there! Utter nonsense! Superstition I say! My dead grandfather is not now a restless ghost bothering horses on the roadway, let him be, let him rest in peace! Now Mr Ingarvan, I will take my leave of you to get back to my duties!”
Narrator continues: Hoof beats resume.
Having already spent 2 hours surveying the terrain around Culzean, taking notes and making measurements for the garden project while waiting for Grace, John leaves to return to Maybole, somewhat chastened by Scipio’s granddaughter. One last look back from his carriage discloses the grandeur of Culzean on display above the vast, blue expanse of the Firth of Clyde, where shifting spikes of light, sparkle and dance over the water, under the noonday sun.
Hoof beats stop.
On the road back to Maybole, Ingarvan stops at a good distance from the cemetery at Kirkoswald, leaves his horse tethered to a tree and walks among the stone markers of graves. While reading the inscription on Scipio Kennedy’s headstone, the Displaced Phantom of Culzean appears from behind the monument to relate his story. In rapt attention, John is witness to the Displaced Phantom. standing behind the headstone. The Phantom of Culzean addresses Ingarvan in the guise of and with the voice of a child, but with wisdom gained from his 80 years of life.
***
Click on Headstone to Read the Inscription
***
The Phantom of Culzean in the Cemetery at Kirkoswald:
The Soliloquy of Scipio of
Culzean:
1.
Captured!
*
*
Drone begins:
“Taken was I,
An innocentlittle child, and mild of manners,
Seized from a fenced yard at the edge of my village home.
While the adults were tending to our nearby field crops,
Carried was I to another village, and sold to people without colour.
Days of walking took me to a place where the earth
Beneath my naked feet turned to water.
Ignorant of life at six years old, this left me
Wondering at my
Destiny…
I spent many days and many nights
In a moving building
Tossed about
On an angry river,
Tormented by incessant winds,
Accompanied by the voices of other captured villagers chained together,
Expressing a sorrowful symphony of lamentations: a constant chorus:
Voices in many diverse languages, registers and tones,
Cursing their captors in mournful harmonies,
While traversing endlessly, beyond
A vanishing and unattainable
Horizon towards a
New World”.
*
“The New World
Provided me a most pleasant surprise!
While the multitude of captives in my floating prison
Were unloaded, still bound onto land,
I was taken to meet a man without colour in white uniform.
I was later to learn that this man was called Captain Andrew Douglas
And that he was of some importance:
Commander of a gunship accompanying a group of ships with enslaved people
From the lands of my birth in Africa to this place that
They called
Jamaica.”
*
2.
Purchased:
*
“Purchased, was I, and
Transferred onto another floating building…
More endless days, endless nights tossing on big waters.
At last we arrived at a distant land, cold and damp,
Inhabited by strange people without colour;
A land they call ‘Scotland’.
To this man, Douglas, I owe all the comforts that I now possess,
For I learned long after his fortuitous intervention in my life,
That the destiny that I now enjoy in Scotland
Would have been greatly altered,
Had I the misfortune to remain with the company of shackled men;
Company which I had shared across the troubled waters
After my capture and long sequestration
In the floating prison.
“For as much as in my infancy I was bought and redeemed by Captain Douglas .. and was in a certaine way of being in perpetual servitude in the West Indies had it not been my happiness to fall into his hands and purchased by his money with whom I remained for three years or thereabouts.” (Scipio Kennedy’s words on the occasion of his manumission in 1725)
Scipio was bound for the West Indian plantations when he was bought by Captain Andrew Douglas of Mains in Dunbartonshire.
In 1705, Captain Douglas’ daughter, Jean, married John Kennedy and Scipio went with her, eventually moving to Culzean, in Ayrshire.
He took the family surname of Kennedy, learned to read and write and was instructed in textile manufacture.
In 1725, Scipio was given his freedom and a home in the grounds of Culzean Castle. He married a local woman Margaret Gray three years later, with whom he had eight children.
The Phantom of Culzean continues:
“As a child I lived with Miss Jean Douglas, the daughter of Captain Douglas. When Captain Douglas’ daughter married John Kennedy, eldest son of Sir Archibald Kennedy of Culzean Castle, I was part of her dowry, and was given the Kennedy name. Sir John Kennedy inherited Culzean castle, where I was to spend my life in service to that family. I was granted manumission from slavery in 1725, but continued to work for the Kennedy family and was given land on the Culzean estate on which to build my house.”
“I regret that I ran afoul of the dictates of the church and was severely reprimanded by rebuke for fornication with another servant at Culzean. Margaret Gray, bore my child, Elizabeth. We were married in 1728, and had seven more children. I learned to read and to write and practiced the trade of textile manufacture and functioned as butler to the Kennedy family at Culzean Castle…”
Hoof beats resume.
The specter then vanishes, dissolving with the dew in late morning: evaporating under the impact of the sun, leaving John with a heart full of wonder. Mindful of the difficulties to understand the strange encounter in the cemetery. John returns to Maybole.
***
Episode 7
The Decision
*
Says John to Thomas:
Brother,
The Castle is grand indeed.
My journey to Culzean was most pleasant, though in truth,
I must report a most uncanny encounter
With a spectre they call the
Displaced Phantom of
Culzean.
After my initial shock at this apparition in broad daylight, I was moved to take note of the story that the Displaced Phantom told of his life in our region; the essence of which I will now recount.”
John relates Scipio’s tale to his brothers, Thomas and young brother William.
*
“You forewarned about the strange behavior of horses in Kirkoswald:
I was subject to the apparition of an African,
Dead now nearly 50 years:
A man called Scipio,
Abducted from Africa as a child and taken to Jamaica,
Bought from slavers by an Ayrshire man, Douglas of Garralian,
Brought to Ayrshire and given to his daughter as dowry on her marriage
To Lord John Kennedy of
Culzean.
Scipio served the Culzean Estate for over 60 years
Before his death.”
***
“His home on the Culzean estate was demolished after his death and replaced by a walled garden. Some say that he has been seeking to return to his abode at Culzean ever since his remains were disturbed and removed from their resting place and placed in the cemetery at Kirkoswald. Although his granddaughter, a strange, abrasive woman, wanted nothing to do with the story of Scipio’s ghost, I experienced its presence and was witness to the specter at his grave site in Kirkoswald.”
“Ihad heard rumours of strange incidents in that district but never gave much credence to the rumours. What are we to make of your encounter with the apparition of an African man, dead nearly 50 years, who returns as an eighty year old child?!” Thomas asks rhetorically.
“The inexplicable will have to remain unexplained,” John concludes. “However, I can report on the results of my consultation with the manager of Culzean about the landscaping work that they requested.
“The commission from Culzean for our services will require that we design a system to irrigate the kitchen gardens from water in the existing Swan Pond and add a decorative fountain near an orchard. The management of the Castle appears to have plans for a fairly important addition to the Castle grounds in the near future to complement a recent addition to the gardens at Culzean, a Pheasantry. The fountain addition to the ornate gardens will require wind driven pumping machines to move water from the Swan Pond. To design and implement the elements of the project, your abilities as civil engineer will come into play, brother.
“A final surprise for you brother; listen to this: A consortium of absentee planters under the auspices of the Earl of Cassilis has offered us employment on a few plantations in Jamaica. We will be hired to maintain machinery for several plantations in the central and north part of the Parish of Clarendon. We must also supervise road maintenance in the area between Clarendon and St Ann and explore the possibility of purchasing or developing a coffee plantation in the Parish of St. Thomas. This latter task will appeal to you Thomas, being declared already a saint without even having to die to merit the title, John laughs.”
“We have also been offered the cost of passage, 30 guineas, wines included! The annual salary is already attractive enough but the inclusion of the cost of travel certainly should tip the balance in favour of giving it a try. We will be expanding our networks of future contacts as we go into this venture, and if all else fails, we will elevate our status and have many stories to tell our neighbours if and when we return to Ayrshire.”
***
January 25, 1825, Robbie Burns Day, Thomas and John decide to travel to break the news of their decision to leave Ayrshire and take employment in Jamaica to his mother, to their young brother William, cousins in the area of the coastal town of Girvan and to John’s lover, Ann Grey. At the family home, Thomas addresses his widowed mother, Mary, younger brother William and cousins:
“We are happy to announce that John and I have offers for employment in the West Indies from a consortium of Plantation owners in our District. We will use our training to supervise the maintenance of roads and machinery already in use on two existing sugar plantations and design and build structures for a coffee plantations in Jamaica. The prospects at this time seem to favour coffee since sugar production has peaked and is now in decline.”
“We anticipate that we will leave Scotland in early May to begin this exciting adventure. We have only 3 months to wrap up business in Maybole and prepare for a new life in the West Indies. The decision to leave is taken not without regrets. We take this decision knowing that we are leaving the people, the scenes, the landscapes and the habits of our youth and childhood, and yet the temptation to pursue the potential rewards of a lucrative and prosperous future seems compelling enough to risk going beyond the familiar. “
“We have sold our place in Maybole along with the workshop and machinery. The proceeds of this sale give us enough money to set up a business in Jamaica in an area where there are many plantations which need services which John and I possess: engineering and trades needed for the manufacture and maintenance of the machinery for the production of sugar and rum and coffee.”
“John will keep his place,The Manse in Maybole, which we could develop further if and when we return to Ayrshire.”
At a going away party Thomas, John and relatives sing Auld Lang Syne…
***
Episode 8
Atlantic Crossing
(Ocean sounds accompany this section)
*
Thomas and John depart May 20, 1825 from Greenock on the Kalypso, bound for Jamaica.
Narrator begins:
The Kalypso slips silently into daybreak, leaving the dock at Greenock under full sails. Morning sun is revealing progressively a brightening landscape rolling away the shadows of dawn, spreading light while spreading a May time spring onto the wakening city.
Thomas and John watch together as the distance between their past and their now evolving future widens behind billowing sails: trying to hold back the fears of departure by envisioning the promise of their new life.
Narrator disappears:
“What are you feeling right now brother?” Thomas says, his arm over his brother’s shoulder.
“Not quite sure, a bit of regret, a bit of excitement and maybe a few fears, I suppose.”
“I can understand the regret and the excitement but what are your fears?”
“Well, for one, the language; How are we going to communicate with the people in Jamaica? And…over 60 days at sea, away from terra firma does seem a bit risky: How do we deal with mal de mer? There’s no turning back, is there?
“Listen, as technical service people looking after the machinery, the buildings and the roads, we will communicate almost always with White people and if we have to address the slaves, we can go through the more experienced senior White employees, Bookeepers and Attorneys until we learn the lingo. As for seasickness, we will cross that bridge when we get there, if we get there, Thomas replies reassuringly.”
As the boat loses sight of land, Thomas and John descend to their cramped, communal living quarters where they will pass the next 2 months of their lives.
“If you want to learn how to pray, go to sea”, says a Portuguese dictum. Leaving Britain, the first week of the 6,000 nautical mile Trans Atlantic voyage from Britain to Jamaica is relatively easy sailing. The next 2 weeks present variable conditions, a few days of squalls and gusty winds when progress is relatively slow. Hours of boredom follow, punctuated by moments of sheer terror where wind and water conspire to tear the boat apart.
John continues to express his fears and insecurities to Thomas:
“Nearing a month on the ocean, we seem at times to be drifting aimlessly, as if lost, unsure of our destination. Despite the crowded living quarters we now have on board, I hadn’t really imagined the sensation of isolation from the earth and especially from vegetation; those things that used to anchor our daily life. I am now discovering that I am a hopeless landlubber!”
“‘Nearing a month on the ocean’ means that we are close to halfway to our destination. Take heart brother”, Thomas reassures John, “sailing ships have been navigating these waters for more than a thousand years!”
Despite Thomas’ optimism, John comes increasingly to the realization that he has crossed his Rubicon. Unable to sleep, John leaves his bunk and moves silently to the upper deck to escape the ever present odours from humans wastes and the disinfectant used to neutralize the smell of human wastes.
Narrator reappears:
Sailing under a starless sky, the world outside on the deck assumes the shape of a suffocating, black dome covering the moving vessel. With no point of reference John experiences a subtle sensation of claustrophobia in an environment of open air. He returns to his sleeping quarters. There, he falls asleep with his fears unresolved; and he muses as he dreams:
Narrator disappears:
Dark Night: No Turnin’ Back:
(Accompanied with Kieran’s beat)
***
Words to accompany
Kieran’s beat
*
No turnin’ back,
There’s no turnin’ back…
*
Dark night,
This is such a dark night
The time to let hallucination
Bring frights,
The time to banish lights,
Take the sparkle
From the dark night,
Leave just a twinkle to penetrate the dark night.
*
Deep night:
This is such a deep night.
Shed a tear for the years left behind,
Save some tears for the fears of the years yet to come.
Let the vacant brain dwell in dark night…deep night,
Bring to the top of the mind the great uncertain zone into which you are now descending,
Venture into an unknown future unfurling as we move through dark night, over deep ocean.
*
Dark night:
Such a dark night.
Traversing a deep ocean as we traverse the universe of night.
There’s no turning back!
Where you goin’ young man?
What you gonna be?
Why you goin’ there lad?
What’s your
Destiny?
*
Dark journey,
Into blind horizons:
Gliding over deep ocean.
Deep in thought, try to plumb the unfathomable depths of the human mind.
Deep mind, deep, deep ocean under a dark night.
There’s no turning back!
Where you goin’ young man?
What you gonna be?
Why you goin’ there lad?
What’s your
Destiny?
…No turnin’ back,
There is no turnin’ back!
No…turnin’…back!
*
Six weeks into the adventure, the discomforts of a continuing claustrophobia in the living quarters below deck kicks in. Thomas and John have a continuing discussion about the journey, the elements of which involve the deteriorating quality of the food and the discomforts from the the smells rising from the lavatory and the incessant noises.
In the midst of discussion, a solitary voice cries: “Dolphins off the starboard bow! “
“Dolphins off the starboard bow, “repeats another voice. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7VTWA0ofzZo) (this YouTube video of a super pod of dolphins anticipates the possibility of adapting this narrative to the technique of animation)
Passengers and crew emerge from below and assemble on the deck to witness a school of divine aquatic creatures flying, dipping, gliding in unison, skimming through and atop the water. Over 50 dolphins frolic beside the vessel bringing all the passengers out to marvel at the spectacle. The fish are visible for a few glorious minutes then leave the boat in their wake, their absence highlighted by a vanishing area of frothy water disappearing into the horizon.
“In a great hurry, aren’t they,” says a young man among the passengers gathered to see the dolphin display from the main deck. He is accompanied by a very attractive, dark skinned young woman. “I am James, James Thom from Ayrshire, Scotland.”
“In a hurry indeed!” John replies,”there must be some celebration of the Summer Solstice in Dolphin Land to mark June 21st. Mustn’t be late or you’ll miss all the fun! A pleasure to meet you James, I am John Ingarvan and my brother here, is Thomas. What a coincidence! We also hail from Ayrshire, South Ayrshire, Maybole! Where does your family reside?
“Tarbolten, I have had a long and happy association with that community! Let me introduce you to my wife,” James says to Thomas and John.”We were married six months ago in Jamaica. Elizabeth expressed an interest in seeing my birthplace, so this trip is our belated honeymoon to introduce my new wife to the charms of South Ayrshire while engaging in some business affairs for the owners of the plantation where I work as Attorney.”
“Apleasure to meet you ma’am,” Thomas addresses Elizabeth, “how are you enjoying your honeymoon voyage? I must say that your honeymoon trip reverses the normal flow of travel, where we people of the chilly North go to regions of warm weather for leisure and enjoyment.”
“I have indeed enjoyed my time in South Ayrshire,” Elisabeth replies: for James, no leisure, just necessary work. I relied on his many siblings and cousins to show me the charms of South Ayrshire while he was busy with the affairs of the plantation.”
Sargasso Sea
Seven weeks into the Atlantic crossing, they reach the vicinity of the Horse Latitudes, the Sargasso Sea and Bermuda Triangle. The weather becomes increasingly erratic. A prolonged 2 day period of calm finds the boat surrounded by floating masses of seaweed. A period of squalls follows: blustery winds and pelting rain. Calm returns to the Doldrums: a deeper, more silent calm: an ominous, alarming calm. The Kalypso is disabled for lack of wind. The British Ensign hangs limp on its mast. A series of floating masses of seaweed surround the ship. At sunset, passengers emerge muttering from their cabins. Night falls. Apprehension mounts.
“Goodnight John’, Thomas says to his brother. “By morning we’ll be on our way again.”
John’s Nightmare:
Zong!
John’s sleep is at first fitful, the deep, abiding calm, difficult to process after five weeks of incessant noise from wind, rain and ocean and from the wooden structural members of the boat. He falls into a troubled sleep, punctuated by moans and mumbles. Thomas is awakened by John’s distress and tries to calm his brother. Among the confused groans, Thomas thinks that he hears the word ‘song’. He rests his hand on John’s head, moist with sweat. John becomes calm and falls back into a deeper sleep of peace.
The Kalypso is now passing the Atlantic Gyre: zone of absolute calm in the North Atlantic Ocean where a massive growth of Sargassum circulates continuously. The mass of seaweed is trapped in the area of the gyre: a great pubic zone in the ocean circulating around a mysterious vaginal entrance way to a promise but also a peril of unfathomable but extraordinary submarine pleasures.
In a lucid erotic dream, John populates the zone of the Atlantic Gyre with lithe, brown scaled mermaids, striped longitudinally with 3 golden scaled strips. The Sirens try to reassure him that he is on the right path to his destiny. They sing their serenade:
Sargasso Siren Serenade:
In Your Mind
***
(Sirens sing,whispering)…in your mind,
We’re in your mind
(Repeat, this time more audibly)
…in your mind,
We’re in your mind
*
We’re in the Ocean and We surround you
You have been lost but We have found you
Don’t seek to find us,
We’re in your
Mind
*
We exist outside of Time and space
We can’t be found in a Specific place
Don’t seek to find us
We’re in your mind.
In your mind,
We’re in your
Mind
***
Narrator reappears:
During the night the pilot adjusts the ship’s bearing in an effort to avoid being further becalmed. He directs the sails in a more south easterly direction. The manoeuvre is successful and at dawn passengers are comforted by the sight of sails bulging with winds, southerly at first then westerly and with increasing warmth. They have found the North Atlantic Equatorial Current: westerly conveyor belt from the mid-Atlantic to the Caribbean.
Narrator disappears:
“Good morning brother” Thomas greets his brother, “the spell is broken”. “The wicked wizard of the Doldrums has lost his powers to suspend the ocean currents and block circulation in the atmosphere. Until this morning I feared that we might have been stuck there in the Atlantic Gyre, circling endlessly until our supplies exhausted, we set upon each other, in a desperate struggle to survive. You had a fitful sleep last night brother: a few episodes of nightmares.”
“I had a recurring dream, says John, I was aware that mercifully, you interrupted one of my nightmares. My mind must have revisited that wretched Sunday morning service where Thomas Clarkson, the abolitionist, had a seizure and lost consciousness in front of the congregation in Ayr after the function for Robbie Burns”.
“Aha, the Zong”, Thomas says. “The slave ship!”
“Let it be, please,” says John, “the nightmare is over. What a glorious morning!”
“Can you imagine this morning in Maybole?” Thomas counters as they walk together up the ramp to the main deck.
Several small groups are already on the deck chatting. John engages with the young man he met on deck when the school of dolphins were passing the ship.
“Good morning James, what a relief to be making headway towards Jamaica after wasting time, treading water in the ‘Horse Latitudes’ for close to a week.”
“Good morning John, relief indeed! Until this morning, I had been seriously thinking about canceling our passage to Jamaica in mid sailing and waiting at the carriage stop for the next carriage heading for Ayr,” James says, tongue in cheek. “The Ayrshire countryside will be in full bloom by now, wild daisies in abundance, heather, corn marigold, wild marjoram, yarrow, clover: a riot of colour and pollen for happy insects to harvest!”
“We seem to have survived the worst part of the trans Atlantic journey and here we are in what promises to be paradise. If today is any indication of what lies ahead, I can say ‘adieu’ without hesitation to the banks of Ayr and an enthusiastic ‘bonjour’ to the Bank of England,” John quips. “Later today, we can drink a toast to our promising future in Jamaica, if the reserves of spirits are not yet exhausted from our passage, wines included.'”
“Looking forward to that, compatriot!” John replies.
***
Narrator reappears:
The relaxed social encounter and the spirits in a bottle relieve the passengers of the prolonged tensions from over 7 weeks of concerns in a frail vessel against the mighty elements of wind and ocean. The passengers are expansive in their outlook: some inebriated and giddy in conversation, others in small groups praying silently in thanks for the protection of the Almighty and deliverance from the crushing anxiety of trans oceanic travel. On the horizon, off the starboard side of the boat they pass a large land mass which the crew identify as the Island of Puerto Rico.
Narrator disappears:
“Five days to go,” John announces to the others in his group, his speech slurred from rum which has now replaced the dwindling stock of wines included in the price of passage.
Late afternoon sun gives way, at first, to a layer of high thin twisted, ribbon-like clouds stretching away from the stern of the boat. A grey overcast sky darkens the area at the wake of the boat. The revelers disperse from the upper deck to the living quarters anticipating turbulence. Taking his leave of James and Elizabeth, John remarks sarcastically: “It appears that even Paradise has its moments of disturbance”.
One ear-splitting crack of thunder, followed by cascading peals of thunder, prolonged rumblings rolling away across a darkening sky: a repeating and sustained tympani percussion, punctuated by a kaleidoscope of refracting and rotating rainbows, water droplets being split and reconstructed, release their latent energy while filtering the rays of the sun. A few violent gusts of wind whip the British Ensign attached to the mizzen mast and tug against the fabric of the flag, shredding its edges then ripping the flag into 3 pieces. A few small holes in the thickening cloud cover reveal the Ensign tattered and torn, as the Kalypso, pushed by gusting winds, races into a setting sun.
Torn, tattered,
Ragged, bruised and battered,
‘Brittania rules the
Waves’!?
Tail winds generated by fast approaching Santa Ana Hurricane push the Kalypso westward from Puerto Rico. The five days to arrival estimated by the crew is reduced considerably and the transatlantic crossing reaches its destination, Kingston, Jamaica July 26, 1825.
The Kalypso pulls alongside the dock, passengers emerge from below and touch land for the first time in over 60 days.
From the deck the assembled passengers hear a dock worker shouting an address to them. The dock worker says:
Narrator reappears:
“Unnu lucky, yu know. Mi no know if unnu ‘ear dat di ‘urricane mash up lickle Puerto Rico!” Bans a peeple dem dead! An it bruk up all di people dem ‘ouse!”
Another worker interrupts:
“Look-ya no masta, dem naw go-annastan what you seh. Yu haffi taak slow an try fi open up yu mout.”
“Even Paradise has its inconvenience,” John repeats to Thomas. What language were those dock workers speaking? What did they say?”
“They were speaking in Patois, Jamaica’s evolving language.” James’ wife Elizabeth says. “One of the workers said that we were lucky to have escaped a hurricane which struck Puerto Rico yesterday killing thousands of people and leveling most of the structures on the Island. The other told his co-worker to speak more slowly to make us understand what he was saying.”
“Even Paradise has its inconveniences,” John remarks. “It appears that we have some work to do to make ourselves understood in this new Paradise.”
***
Episode 9
John Ingarvan’s Jamaica Journey
***
***
Thomas Ingarvan, 29 year old Scottish Immigrant to Jamaica
John Ingarvan, 27 year old Scottish immigrant to Jamaica
Stylo, Young Labourer on Ingarvan’s estate at Tanarchy, North Hall, Jamaica
***
Narrator reappears briefly:
Episode 9
John Ingarvan Begins his Jamaica Journey
1825-1840
Thomas and John at the dock in Kingston:
(Meeting with Fimmy, carriage driver, and Sully his 15 year old son and helper at Kingston Harbour) Dialogue at first strained but soon gets better. Fimmy initiates and sustains communications.
“Ingarvan from Maybole, Scotland:” reads the sign that Thomas had fashioned before the boat landed at Kingston Harbour.
“Not sure with all the passengers and officials milling about the harbour that we will be able to contact the agent assigned to take us to Central Clarendon,” Thomas says to John, showing some anxiety.
“Ello Mr Ingarvan,” a voice emerges from the throng of dock workers. A big brown man and a tall, lanky, brown young man approach.
“Mi name is Fimmy, Fimmy Maëka and dis is mi son, Sully.”
Fimmy, at first quite reticent, becomes more communicative, breaking the uncomfortable silence of strangers beginning a relationship which has no common past and an uncertain future. He speaks to his passengers with a carefully modified accent and slows his speech knowing that his passengers, new immigrants from Scotland, will have some difficulty understanding the patois of the Island. He has been the first to welcome new Scots off the boats to plantations in Jamaica’s interior for close to a decade. The brothers are pleasantly surprised that they are able to recognize many words and understand his speech.
“Yu must ‘av ‘ad a ruf laas day on di boat wen di ‘urricane pass yestaday’, nuh?” Fimmy begins.
“We were lucky, we just got the edge of the system as we were passing south of Puerto Rico. But we heard that there was a lot of damage to that Island.”
“Yeah sah, dere was much devastation in Puerto Rico. From what I andastan, you are going to the north part of di Parish of Clarendon, to a town called Kellits.”
“Yes, we have some accommodations there for a week,” Thomas replies.
Horse and carriage accompaniment starts:
As the carriage departs, weaving through a gauntlet of dray carts pulled by donkeys over a narrow road way, brothers Thomas and John, under the direction of carriage driver Fimmy, begin a new life far from the familiar landscapes of South Ayrshire. The brothers surrender themselves to the care of a brown giant of a man, the trusted agent of the absentee plantation owners of South Ayrshire. Fimmy takes the reins of tandem horses and the carriage rolls past a congested area of settlement from Kingston Harbour out into the countryside, lush with low shrubs, bushes and vines interspersed with slender, towering palms, bending, waving, greeting the travelers. The carriage heads in a westerly, north westerly direction from the harbour into the interior towards Jamaica’s capital, Spanish Town.
“How long will it take to get to Kellits?” Thomas asks Fimmy.
“About 5 hours,” Fimmy replies. “When I last pass that lickle town, di road was good. We ‘ave a few short cuts crossing di Rio Minho to shawt’n di time but di trip will be approximately 5 hours. We cyan buy some food from street vendors in Spanish Town when we pass through dere.”
Thomas falls asleep to the steady, reassuring rhythm of the horses while John stares vacantly but anxiously out at the passing landscapes: rolling hills in the distance, bushy, creeping vine covered foreground near the carriage roadway.
At Spanish Town, Thomas and John decide to spend the night to make contact with suppliers of the equipment that they will need to establish their company to supply services to the plantations in the North Clarendon region.
On the way to Kellits, Thomas addresses Fimmy: “We will need some help setting up our business, clearing land and constructing buildings on a small 10 acre parcel of land at Shooters, just outside of Kellits. We will need 4 reliable, able bodied men in this area. Do you know any young men in your community who would like that kind of work?”
“Yeah man, we cyan fine you some ‘ard workin’ reliable people to do dat kina’ work! Dere are a few small communities of our Taino people scattered across di Blue Mountain region. I ‘ave 2 bways who are strong and a few nephews who would be ‘appy to do dat kina work!”
“How did your people get to be in the Blue Mountain region of the Island?” Thomas asks Fimmy
“Well to be frank sah, dis whole Islan’ has been the ancestral ‘ome of the Taino people faw a long, long time. Den Europeans arrive in big ships and bring violence into our area. Dem enslave mi people and kill off almost all of us. Some of us run an’ hide in the most remote parts of di Islan where we have been staying in small numbas faw over a century. Next di Europeans kidnap Africans and bring dem to our Islans as slaves to enrich demselves with free labour from di Africans. Our community accepted a few Africans dat escape from di plantations. Some of dese runaway slaves took women of our people as their partners. My madda was di daughta of a White man who raped a Taino woman. Mi madda was very fair skinned. I was hired by some absentee planters from di same part of Scotlan’ where you come from, Ayrshire nuh? I learn English and patois playing wid di children af runaway slaves who took Taino women for dere partners. Wid dis ability to speak di language and my nalege af di country, I was hired to take your people by carriage from di docks in Kingston to dese parts of di Islan’.”
“If you can find us 4 reliable young men to work with us, we will give them some of the knowledge that we have so that they can get skills to make their own carts and carriages and produce enough food crops to feed their community.” Thomas promises Fimmy.
Horse and carriage accompaniment ends:
With Fimmy’s help, the Ingarvan brothers hire 4 young workers and within one year they construct a small residence and 2 out buildings, one for tools and equipment and the other for a shelter inside a pen for animals.
The brothers soon realize that Fimmy Maëka’s comfort in and knowledge of the region could be an invaluable asset to them. They make an offer to Fimmy to join them as head man of the expanding Ingarvan operations in the North Clarendon region. He will use his connections to secure a small cadre of workers who operate outside the enslaved population on the nearby plantations.
At Kellits, carriage and dray cart repairs and construction constitute a major part of the services of Ingarvan Brothers Industries, but consulting engineer services for bridge constructing, road repairs and millwrighting, tool fabrication, and repairs for a few nearby plantations also keep Ingarvan industries busy and prospering.
Musical snippet 3 seconds long
***
A residence built and a business in full production, John Ingravan sends for his former Ayrshire lover to join him in Jamaica. Ann Grey arrives in June 1830. The reunion with Ann after a 5 year separation is difficult. Now 30 years old, Ingarvan’s experiences in Jamaica have enriched his views in a variety of ways. Ann’s tolerance, by contrast, is limited by the closed society in which she has moved for the 28 years of her life, sheltered as she has been by Scotland’s Ayrshire social environments.
“John,” Ann says, “I cannot understand what any of the helpers are saying. How can you be sure that they understand what you tell them to do?”
“In a short time you will be able to understand what they are saying and you will feel more comfortable in their presence.” John tries to reassure her. “I needed only a few months to understand the patois and make myself understood.”
“But what if they get an effective leader to unite them throughout the Island. We could end up with a full blown revolution and slaughter like the one which happened in Haiti 30 years ago!”
“Unlikely!”, John says dissmissing Ann’s fears.
Musical snippet 3 seconds long
***
On the road to Chapelton on Robbie Burns day 1832 for a reunion of Scots in Clarendon, Thomas and John discuss the news of a significant uprising of enslaved Black workers led by a charismatic Baptist preacher Samuel Sharpe who withheld their labour demanding wages and better working conditions.
“Brother,” John says to Thomas, “what do you make of the violence near Montego Bay last Christmas? It has been credibly reported that as many as 60,000 enslaved revolted, burning properties and destroying plantations, demanding wages and more free time.”
Showing much concern, Thomas answers:
“The Colonial authorities seem to have been able, with the help of the Maroons*, to put the lid on the uprising, but there is no doubt that the movement for abolition of slavery in Britain as well as on the ground in the West Indies is gaining momentum. We must be vigilant and make accommodations, fostering good will and creating relationships with leaders and spokesmen for the slaves or risk being victims of a general, violent slaughter of Whites and mulattoes on this and other Islands in the near future!
“But brother, how reliable are the Maroons as allies against a massive uprising of 60,000 angry slaves? What if the Maroons change loyalties and break the treaty with the colonial government and fight on the side of the rebels? Fimmy reported from his family ties in the Windward Maroons, that 3 representatives from the Haitian Republic had been seen near Trelawny last year consulting with leaders of the Maroon settlement at Accompong. The Haitians were apparently recruiting enslaved persons who had fled plantations in Jamaica seeking shelter among the Maroons, to go to Haiti. Haitians as well have been recruiting runaway Africans from plantations in the United States for some time. Will the next revolt succeed with help from Haitian leadership and have us all victims of a general slaughter. Shifting allegiances and genocidal internecine slaughter seems to have been a pattern happening with some regularity in the last 2 decades on the Island of Haiti?”
“I have been thinking for some time about joining the Militia for the Parish of Clarendon and with concerns about the prospects of future violence, I certainly will do so,” John replies.
“Brother, if we have to keep calling on the militia to put down the natural desire of Black people to be free and control their own destinies, we will not long survive. There are just too many enslaved Africans and too few of us on this Island” Thomas says. “I have been informed by an old military man living in May Pen that there have been continuing riots and revolts by the enslaved people dating back a century or more. Putting down this rebellion and hanging Samuel Sharp will only postpone the inevitable since the abolitionist sentiment is increasing in Britain even if the plantation owners in Jamaica through the National Assembly keep resisting abolition.”
Emancipation does come to pass. August 1, 1834, emancipation is declared by the British Colonial Government: emancipation with conditions. Freedom will come after a 6 year period of ‘apprenticeship’ where the emancipated slaves will work 40 hours per week with no salary on the estates of their former plantations in exchange for food and lodgings and medical attention.
The period of apprenticeship lasts 4 years before the contradiction between the notion of freedom and the continuing constraints imposed by the restrictions placed on the newly emancipated people by the terms of apprenticeship become intolerable. August 1, 1838 apprenticeship is eradicated.
Thomas, John and Fimmy travel to Spanish Town, along with thousands of other celebrants, among them students, to witness the celebration and wonder at the manifestations of the joy of freedom.
***
Episode 10
Musical snippet 3 seconds long
Decade of the 1840s
*
At the annual 25th of January in 1840 Robbie Burns get together of expatriates from Ayrshire, Thomas takes John aside and in private says:
“Look brother, I have some growing concerns about my health so I have decided that I must move from Clarendon to St Ann’s Bay where the cool breezes from the Caribbean Sea take the edge off the hot inland Clarendon climate. I have secured a good job with my civil engineer credentials. In that area there is a need for road improvement and construction along the North Coast between Ocho Rios and Port Antonio. I have bought a property of 140 acres in the Parish of St Ann’s. We can perhaps once again combine our resources in that Parish in the near future. Now that you are once again with Ann Grey, you will have companionship, and with Fimmy, your trusted head man by your side, your success seems virtually guaranteed where you now are.”
A mere 6 months after this conversation, Thomas dies of typhus.
At Thomas’ funeral. Fimmy’s finds John by himself in a small room adjoining the funeral parlour. Head buried in his hand, John is silent, disconsolate, holding back tears. John smells of rum.
“Hedid not seem to be sick in any way, when I saw him a mont’ ago,” Fimmy says to John.
“Well… he did seem concerned about his health before he moved to St Ann’s Bay last year. His wife Sarah, is a respected nurse and the move to St. Ann’s Bay seems to have been done at her recommendation. She must have had some inkling of Thomas’ health issues. I relied on Thomas so thoroughly to make the right judgement when it comes to important decisions. I now feel so alone, deprived of his advice,” John whimpers, his voice breaking.
Fimmy counters: ” I am slightly older dan di age of Thomas an’ although I do not hold di education and qualifications of your bradda, Thomas, I have lived in dis country mi whole life an’ when it comes to solid judgement about dis worl’, you cyan rely on di wisdom dat I ‘av gained about humanity. I know dat I cyannat replace Thomas in your life, but I, Fimmy, will be here if you need me.”
Fimmy throws his arms over John’s shoulder and they both enter the funeral parlour together.
John disconsolate, and with a heavy heart, writes to his young brother William in Maybole:
My dearest brother William,
I am at a loss for words to report to you and to the extended family in South Ayrshire, the tragic news of the death of our beloved Thomas. Thomas died after a brief illness called ‘Typhus’, consisting of fever and respiratory discomfort followed by a rash over almost all of his body. Towards the end of his life he became delirious and was even unable to recognize his 2 children.
Between you and me William, I think that Thomas was the favourite son of our mother. He certainly was a quiet but wise brother, and more than that, he was a friend, a mentor and a guide to me. At 45 years of age, he still had many more hills to climb, but fate intervened to shorten his life’s journey. He will be sorely missed in Ayrshire and in Jamaica by his wife Sarah, his children John and Agnes and by the many people who were in daily contact with this gentle brother of ours.
I am feeling the loss of Thomas, our brother, but I must now go on without Thomas to bring his vision of success into the world.
Please give my best regards to all of our former acquaintances in the South Ayrshire region.
Your Fellow Brother in Mourning,
John
***
In the absence of Thomas John’s confidence in Fimmy, his Taino head man, is reassuring. John has mentored Fimmy’s 2 sons and one of Fimmy’s nephews in metallurgy, welding and carpentry in his workshop. Fimmy arrives at the Ingarvan workshop one mornng with his 2 sons, Sully and Vinny, and a niece.
Fimmy addresses John Ingarvan: “Maas John, dis is mi niece Jane Ann Maëka, daughta of mi late bradda. She is a good lickle worka and cyan help yu wife in di preparation of meals and di cleanin’ af di house.”
“Pleased to meet you Jane,” John addesses Jane.
“Iam pleased to meet you sah,” Jane AnnMaëka replies.
In the presence of Jane Ann, Ingarvan immediately recalls the Sirens of the Sargasso Sea who appeared in his Atlantic crossing to soothe his fears and concerns. No scales, no stripes of the Sargasso Sirens but Jane Ann has found a little space where she will stay for some time: In his mind; she’s in his mind!
Amidst general mutual and continuing misunderstanding, the relationship between John Ingarvan and his spouse Ann, alreaady precarious, deteriorates. The conjugal bed marks the only real measure of unity. In a span of 12 years, Ann Grey is mother to John (Jack) 1832, Jane, 1837, Mary Ann 1841, Robert 1842.
Jane Ann Maëka becomes a frequent helper at Tanarchy and Ingarvan’s interest in her becomes increasingly obvious. A year later she has a child and declares that the child is Ingarvan’s child. Fimmy’s affection for John takes a hit.
“Itreated you as a son and you turn ’round and cause grief to mi niece! I thought dat I could truss you,” Fimmy says with disappointment in his voice.
“Fimmy, my friend, I am sorry. You have been so important to every success that I have had on this Island. I should have confided in you about these matters before. My wife Ann and I have been alienated since the birth of Robert, our youngest child two years ago. She is leaving to return to Scotland in 6 weeks. She has never been confortable in Jamaica and has expressed those feelings from the start of our relatioship fiteen years ago. Your niece and I have had a relationship for close to 2 years now.”
“Very well, she is a grown woman and should know what she want,” Fimmy concedes.
After Robert’s birth, Ann Grey leaves for Scotland in 1844, abandoning her 4 children, citing John’s philandering with Jane Ann and the fear of Black reprisal and revenge of the emancipated peasantry now struggling to survive under difficult economic conditions after the Baptist War. Jane Ann Maëka moves into a small, newly constructed house on part of a recently large property at North Hall, with a residence Clarendon Estate.
Stylo, one of the young labourers, the yard boy at North Hall, helps to install Jane Ann Maëka into her new home at North Hall. Stylo has had his eye on Jane Ann Maëka for some time, but defers to Ingarvan because of the obvious power difference. Flamboyant, well dressed Stylo is a patient young man; he will wait for the opportune moment. He bides his time…
Musical snippet of 5 seconds
***
After Ann Grey leaves, Ingarvan, unable to care for his children, educate them and keep the business going, writes to his younger brother William in Maybole, Ayrshire:
Dear Brother William,
You are frequently in my thoughts, as is Ayrshire these early days of May. Although it has been now nearly twenty years since Thomas and I left the blessed bosom of family to venture into an uncertain future in the West Indies, my thoughts turn frequently to the region of my birth, when Spring revives and refreshes the earth with a soft, new, more vivid green. A youthful, more playful, more colourful landscape is reborn every year in this month.
In 2 weeks it will be three years since our brother, Thomas, died in Jamaica and in 3 weeks it will be 5 years since our mother died in Kirkoswald. Thomas and I were both very sad not to be able to come to Scotland to mother’s funeral. He expressed that sorrow on many occasions when we were together. Such are the regrets of expatriates everywhere. To leave home is to leave a portion of the heart in the area where the metronome of the heart started its life cadence: the beginning of the song of our existence. Leaving, we must learn a new song: a song more suitable to our new existence. However, we never forget the rhythms of our heart’s beat in the sacred places of our birth.
Please forgive my little nostalgic detour from the real reason for this letter.
As you are no doubt aware, Ann Grey left Jamaica last year, abandoning our 4 children. She is a worthy individual nonetheless. She does however, display a rather strong narrowmindedness and expressed a great deal of fear in and around people who do not physically ressemble us. The possible incidence of violence in Jamaica remained an intolerable prospect for her. Moreover, to be frank and honest with you, William, I was not without blame in Ann’s decision to leave. I have a young mistress who has informed me that I am the father of the child she had last year. I do not challenge her assertions of my paternity, since I have been very frequently in her bed and she has expressed her fidelity to my affection, and to none other but me.
Since Ann’s parting I have had a series of local women to care for my 4 children, feed them, care for them in sickness and teach them the fundamentals of the English language. Needless to say, to find help adequate to the needs of children aged, 14, 9, 5 and 3 years of age is virtually impossible in the rural parts of this Island.
My request to you dear brother, is to find a well educated single woman who would accept the charge of nanny to my children, a woman of fairly low social status with few expectations or prospects to elevate herself beyond her current state. Of course, she will have to agree to travel from Ayrshire to Jamaica. I will pay the costs of travel and give her a monthly salary well beyond that which she could expect in local communities in Ayrshire. She will also have all the comforts of Tanarchy, our residence at North Hall, Clarendon which we purchased shortly after Thomas died.
Please addesss this matter at your earliest convenience. There are very few other possibilities for your 2 nieces, Jane and Mary Ann and your 2 nephews, John (Jack) and Robert.
With Brotherly Affection,
John Bryce
***
William’s reply to John Bryce:
Dear Brother,
Iwrite to report a successful search for help in rearing your 4 children abandoned by their mother. A promising student, a local young woman of doubtful parentage, gave birth to a child recently. The father of the child is reputed to be a priest in the community of Girvan. All the parties implicated in the affair would like to make the embarassement go away. The child has been given up for adoption in another nearby community, the priest has been reassigned to a community near Glasgow, and now the young woman, Catherine McGhee by name, has accepted your invitation to make something of herself, caring for my 2 nieces and my 2 nephews in Jamaica.
Catherine will arrive in Port Antonio by special arrangement with a Packet Ship early next month. Details to follow about the date of arrival.
You’re welcome (smile)
Love,
William (The Conquerer)
Catherine McGhee comes in 1844 and stays with Ingarvan until he dies in 1878. After Ingarvan’s death, she stays at Tanarchy in North Hall until she dies.
Episode 11
Musical snippet 3 seconds long
A Decade of Delight
1850-1860
***
Ingarvan misses his brother Thomas. When the absence of Thomas becomes difficult, he turns to his revitalizing tonic, rum and coconut water. To renew his family connections, he writes to his younger brother William in Ayrshire:
Dearest brother William,
Isimply have to write to you to express my gratitude for finding Catherine McGhee to care for my children. Her presence at Tanarchy has proven beneficial to all 4 of my children, but especially to Jane, who adores her.
She is a indeed a godsend! She is an effective and caring teacher and a model of good comportment for Jane and Mary Ann. John Thomas (Jack) and Robert are a bit more fractious in her presence but seem to respect her.
To fill you in on my progress in establishing a home in Jamaica, I must mention how lucky I have been in finding trustworthy individuals to help me build and maintain facilities at North Hall, part of a rather large plantation before the abolition of slavery nearly 15 years ago.
I bought a 54 acre property nearly ten years ago with a residence on it called ‘Tanarchy’. Fimmy, my headman has been a reliable source of workers. In fact Fimmy is now a de facto grandfather to my 4 children. From a landing on top of the stairs at Tanarchy, I watch him tell Ananci and Duppy stories to them in the evenings, at twilight: stories of an African origin about a mischievous spider called ‘Ananci’ and ghost sories, called ‘Duppy stories’. Vinny, Fimmy’s youngest child, is frequently in the audience of youngsters as his father reads to the children at Tanarchy.
Dear brother I wish that you were able to be with me to experience the delights of life at North Hall. Let me attempt to paint a picture of what I have witnessed recently at Tanachy:
In the evenings I hear from afar, a Pocomania church service..the breezes carrying unevenly, the sounds of voices in harmony singing hymns of praise unto the Lord. Fimmy, my headman, attends this church and has invited me to a service.
Recently I witnessed a group of women, about 30, dressed in white, walking single file into the waters of the Rio Minho to be baptised. I marvel at the faith of born again Christians. How joyous are their celebrations! How powerful is their appreciation of freedom and how modest their material expectations! I declined Fimmy’s invitation to go to the church service because I admit that I would not feel comfortable as a single White person among 30 or so members of the Pocomania Church: nor do I feel the passion, the mystical ecstacy and spontaneous vocal outbursts which characterise Pocomania, as I have been told.
Mass Baptism in River: From Victorian Jamaica
In closing William, life is good overall. I am content. I get along well within my social base of Scottish expariates and I provide a valued resource in the wider community of Black workers and their families for the many jobs that I create for sillled and unskilled workers in the nearby communities. I am happy to be able to transfer job skills to the local young people. I lost Thomas, our eldest brother ten years ago, but through Catherine McGhee, I have been able to reconnect to you, William. For that I am grateful.
With Great Affection,
John
***
Musical snippet 3 seconds long;
Snapshots of Ingarvan, the Buckra, the Country Gentleman at
North Hall Estate,
Clarendon,
Jamaica
***
Spoken to the accompaniment of a chorus of chirping crickets and church harmonies passing unevenly on the breezes.
*
Early morning mists the breathing waters of Rio Minho,
Sun, suspended over the morning horizons,
Broadcasting a radiating energy generously
Throughout the
Landscape.
Sprays of water tumbling down from high places,
Quenching the thirsty skin,
Midday swelter, a throbbing sun balancing
Abundantly overhead,
Blistering the tissues of the mind,
Golden evening sunsets,
The distant swell of voices in harmony, echoing across canyon walls,
Devout worshippers, affirming freedom,
Asserting thanksgiving praises onto the Lord,
Pocmania fervour permeating the breezes,
Donkeys braying, children playing,
Catching and releasing butterflies by day, peenie wallies at night.
Until another river, a river of time, washes over you,
Transforming the image that once upon a time you saw in a mirror…
A new you is emerging, unrecognizable,
Though familiar.
*
Musical snippet 3 seconds long
No reply from William to John’s letter for over 4 months until Ingarvan receives a reply from William’s 14 year old son Thomas:
Dear Uncle John,
My mother asked me to reply to the letter that you sent to my father many weeks ago. I am sorry to tell you that my father is dead. He died after a long sickness a few weeks ago. My mother seems always upset and cries a lot since my father’s death. She says that I should say that he was proud that you are making your way in the world and doing well where you are now living.
Iwould like to see your house called ‘Tanarchy’ and be there when the fireflies come out at night. Maybe some day I will see all that you can see at your place at North Hall.
I miss my father a lot and cry often when I remember him and can’t see him. I have to leave now because I am starting to cry.
Good Bye Uncle John,
Your nephew,
Thomas
***
Ingarvan brooded. William only 48 years old has died leaving him the sole survivor of the 3 brothers of Bryce John and Mary Girvan. He spends a period of 3 months dazed from the realization that he is increasingly isolated from his origins in Scotland. He must cultivate his social base in his adopted country as well. To that end he imagines a social function at Tanarchy to expand his social base at the local level.
Musical snippet 3 seconds long
*
Episode 12
Commemorating Two Decades of Freedom at Tanarchy
*
Over 20 years in touch with the population of emancipated Black people and their families, Ingarvan has been slowly morphing, evolving inadvertently out of his European arrogance. He has continuing daily contact with Black workers as employer and as co-worker and increasingly as partner with women, in the game of reproduction. He finds himself increasingly using the language he hears spoken by his workers. His Scottish brogue frequently gives way to a few patois phrases reflecting his wish to be a part of the communities surrounding North Hall, Clarendon. His turns of phrase in the evolving Jamaican Patois sometimes surprise the locals. They accept his clumsy use of Patois with good humour. He sometimes laughs at himself as well.
Through his contacts with the Parish of Clarendon as member in good standing of the Clarendon Militia, Ingarvan gets wind in 1858 of a celebration of the two decades of freedom from slavery after Apprenticeship. Local communities are commemorating freedom in a variety of ways. There will be performances from artists visiting from other parts of the Caribbean. He shares this information with Fimmy who suggests that his niece Jane Ann’s opinion on entertainment for the people in the village in the vicinity of Tanarchy would be most appopriate. Together, Jane Ann Maëka and Ingarvan prepare for a function to be held at Tanarchy.
A visiting group of Caribbean dancers from St.Vincent will be the principal attraction. Their charming adaptation of a European dance, their energy and the overall Scottish flavour in their costumes are sure to be pleasing to all. Other elements of the social gathering will be done by local contributors: Firstly, Vinny Maëka will express passionate and moving sentiments of thanks to the Almighty for 20 years of Freedom from slavery and bondage: Next, Jane Ann Maëka delivers a humourous demonstation of Ingarvan’s attempts to dance, his annual habit of wearing a kilt the week of January 25 to celebrate Scotland’s national poet, Robert Burns: Next, Stylo sings his love song to Jane Ann Maëka, whom he call JaMaëka Girl: Lastly, St. Vincent Dance Ensemble bring a Caribbean ‘flavour’ to the Quadrille, a dance then popular in Europe.
Musical snippet 3 seconds long
***
Concert Held at Tanarchy, Ingarvan’s Estate, North Hall, Clarendon, Jamaica August 1, 1858: Commemorating 20 Years of Freedom:
*
Concert Performances:
Thirty local people in attendance:
Master of Ceremonies: Fimmy Maëka
*
Fimmy greets the guests:
Good evenin’ ladies and gentlemen. I have di pleasure af being di announcer fa dis lickle concert dis evenin’. We ‘ave to tank Maas John fa di use of Tanarchy for dis presentation. We also have to tank ‘im for using his influence to get our special guests to come here while dey are performing in May Pen. Di Vincy Ensemble from St. Vincent and the Grenadines, are a talented group of dancers tourin’ di Caribbean area bringin’ dere energy and enthusiasm while demonstratin’ dere adaptations of popular European danse styles.
Adda performas tonight are mi son, Vinny, mi niece Jane Ann Maëka, Maas John Ingarvan and Stylo, dat good lookin’ young man who likes to dance while doin’ his work around di yard on dis estate. Stylo will be accompanied by the ‘Tanarchists’, a few church women from mi church who will also do some back ground vocals to help Vinny wid his ‘Praya far Redemshan.’
Wi start tonight, as wi should always start: start wid di end in mind: start wid a praya an’ end wid a praya. So… here is mi son Vinny wid a few women from our church singing about di ‘uman need far salvashan an’ far redemshan and tankin’ di Lawd far 20 years af freedom from slavery. Here he is mi son Vinny…
Item # 1 on the programme:Vinny’s Redemption Song of Thanksgiving for Freedom (A Prayer: Riffing on Scriptures and Rap: (‘A Rapture’)
The following prayer delivered by Vinny to be done with a Reggae adjacent rhythm to foreshadow the existence of Bob Marley in the twentieth century.
Accompaniment by background singers of the church. They sing.
We need Salvashan—We seek Redemshan
We seek Redemshan—We need Salvashan
We celebrate our Freedom
Interspersed with drum and maracas:
*
Vinny’s Prayer of Thanksgiving for Freedom
Vinny Prays for the Salvation and Redemption of the audience and of the World:
*
Fada God, Jah, JaHWeH,
Today, in great humility, we tank dee
For delivering us from di tyranny
of Babylan,
For removin’ di bondage imposed on us
By di states af Europe.
Too long ‘ave we suffered,
Too far as captives, ‘ave we traveled,
On stinking ships,
Too much cruelty ‘ave we endured, Oh Lawd.
Today we celebrate 20 years widout di chains and di whips,
Dough in truth we are still bound,
Existing as we do outside a di collective security a di tribe.
We are now fragments of a fragmented collective conshusness,
Left to recanstruct di ideal af community.
Isolated are we, and now so vulnerable an’
More susceptible to failure.
In di desperate and unequal compitishan far survival,
Our journey has to start
Widin di mind an’ widin di ‘eart.
Lawd God ‘ear us when we cry to Dee
Grant us Salvashan, Grant us Redemshan,
Deliver Dye mercy onto us, Oh Lawd,
Amen.
Acollective ‘Amen’ from the participantsis the reply.
Item # 2 on the programme: Ja MaëKa Girl,composed by Stylo, labourer at Tanarchy.
*
–Stylo’s and the Tanarchists Sing: Ja Maëka Girl
*
Ja MaëKa Girl
***
JaMaëKa Girl,
She’s a lickle bit a Black, an’ a lickle bit a White ‘an a lickle bit a Taino (rep)
Jah create my girl
‘Im mix a lickle bit a Black and a lickle bit a White an’ a lickle bit a Taino (rep)
Go anywhere, none can compare, she tek your bret away.
Yu go to Old Harbour Bay
Den to Runaway Bay,
To Montego Bay
Den to Sandy Bay,
To Annotto Bay
To St. Ann’s Bay
So ‘ear mi when I say…
Mi seh, mi seh, mi seh…mi
Ja MaëKa girl she’s a lickle bit a Black ‘an a lickle bit a White ‘an a lckle bit a China (rep)
Jah create my girl,
‘Im mix a lickle bit a White ‘an a lickle bit a Black ‘an a lickle bit a China (rep)
No matter where, none can compare,
She tek your bret away.
From Mandeville to Chapelton
From Morant Bay to Accompong
From Sav-la-Mar to Easington
From St. Ann’s Bay to Ewarton
Go anywhere, none can compare,
She tek your bret away
Mi seh, mi seh, mi seh. mi..
Ja MaëKa girl
She’s a lickle bit a Black ‘an a lickle bit a White ‘an a lickle bit a India (rep)
Jah create my girl,
‘Im mix a lickle bit a White wid a lickle bit a Black ‘an a lickle bit a India, (rep)
Go anywhere where, none can compare,
She tek your bret away.
Mi seh, mi seh…mi seh
Mi JaMaëKa girl,
She’s a lickle bit a Black ‘an a lickle bit a White ‘an a lickle bit a Taino (rep)
Jah create my girl,
‘Im mix a lickle bit a White wid a lickle bit a Black ‘an a lickle bit a Taino, (rep)
Go anywhere, none can compare,
She tek your bret away…
Now back to de first verse
She’s my Girl
***
Narrated version should pick up from here
Musical snippet of 5 seconds
Item #3 on the programme:
Dance off between Ingarvan and JaMëKa Girl with related tensions.
Ingarvan, now 60 years old, is dressed in a Kennedy Tartan kilt. He stands in the middle of a large room. Jane Ann MaëKa emerges from among the audience. He beckons to her. The music starts. (A traditional Highland Dance song) JaMaëKa Girl walks slowly, alluringly to the centre of the room beating a tambourine, ready to dance. Ingarvan says to her, instructing her:
“I bow… you curtsy… you twirl around and hop…bow… curtsy… twirl… hop…bow… curtsy… twirl…hop…”
“Stop!…” interrupts JaMaëKa Girl.
He continues…”Bow, Curtsy”...
..JaMaëKa Girl says “stop curtsy!!” With annoyance evident in her interruption, she steps back and sings at him:
‘Wha mek yu de weel ‘an tun mi’
Wha mek yu de weel ‘an tun mi’
Yu mussa waa mi fi go fall dung
An buss mi belly pon di tamborina?…
‘Wha mek yu de weel ‘an tun mi’
Wha mek yu de weel ‘an tun mi’
Yu mussa waa mi fi go fall dung
An buss mi belly pon di tamborina?
*
Mix the 2 approaches to dance, that of Ingarvan and that of JaMaëKa Girl to find the absurd, a plump 60 year old transplanted Scot and a lithe, athletic 25 year old hybrid TainEurafro woman!
They smile and wink to each other, and leave the room hand in hand.
General applause from the audience.
*
Tight Segue to the St. Vincent Dance Ensemble which starts without introduction…
*
–Vincy Dance Ensemble: Quadrille
Continuous applause from the guests after the Quadrille.
Fimmy steps from his seat and initiates a prayer:
He prays:
Dear Lord we tank You for dis evening of fellowship together in dis place. We know that You are among us for You have told us that whereever two or three are gathered together in Your name, there shall You be. We ask You to bless the people gathered here tonight and keep us in Your service. Respect is due to each and every one who participated in dis evening of entertainment and especially to the dancers, our Caribbean neighbours who came from afar to celebrate 20 years of freedom from enslavement, in solidarity wid us. Tanks also to Maas John for his contribution to dis evening of celebration. Good night!
Narrated Version Picks up from Here
***
Episode 10
Gathering Storms
*
Decade of
1860-1870:
Ingarvan: Family Man:
Sow the Wind, Reap the Whirlwind:
***
Musical snippet 5 seconds long
***
Episode 13
Pater Familias
Narrated Version Picks up from Here
Ingarvan at sixty years, father ostensibly of 4 children, repeatedly resists the claims of several women in the district that he has fathered a dozen more. His eldest child, his son John, called “Jack” to avoid confusion, has assumed much of the day to day management of the operations at North Hall. By now Ingarvan is becoming less able to move about and supervise the many tasks necessary to keep his businesses viable: field crops, animal husbandry and dray cart fabrication and carriage repairs.
Ingarvan increasingly needs his afternoon nap. The siesta also frequently includes a drink of rum and coconut water; his ‘revitalizing tonic’, as he calls it.
The new, more irascible Ingarvan will not accept that his elder daughter Jane, still unmarried at 27 years old, should marry the father of her child.
“Good for nothing,” he says to Jane. “The man is crude, his hygiene leaves much to be desired and he displays no ambition, as far as I am concerned.”
“James is a gentle man. In your eyes his family has no status and you underestimate his intelligence. You don’t appreciate the many other qualities that he has. Jane says,” defending her decision to marry the man who has impregnated her.
“If you marry that man, you will leave this house. I cannot tolerate his presence at Tanarchy!” Ingarvan replies.
“Very well father, I will leave this narrow minded home, You have chosen to treat me as a child. I am no longer a child. Alhough you are my father, I am no longer bound by duty to follow your advice!”
Jane leaves Tanarchy and soon after migrates to the USA with her baby, Otalee.
Mary Ann, Ingarvan’s remaining daughter, becomes a concern for him. His knowledge of the potential pool of male candidates in the vicinity is not comforting. After all, he moves about in these social circles and knows the kind of young men available to her. Since he has some self awareness about his own casual approach to the institution of marriage, he would need to devise a strategy to help her avoid men who would behave like he has been behaving.
He would contact Thomas, his nephew in Ayrshire. Thomas, his late brother William’s only son, is a recently accredited Engineer. He writes:
“Dear Thomas,
Congratulations on your recent successes! You must indeed be happy with your academic achievements. Your 3 sisters, all already happily married and integrated into the Ayrshire community, you must now be thinking about your future prospects.
I have been informed that in the near future there are openings for recent graduates in Engineering here in Jamaica. One particular post, at Plantain Garden River Estates is situated in a very attractive area in eastern Jamaica, in the Parish of St. Thomas. The coffee industry is still viable in that part of this country, nearly 30 years after the abolition of slavery. I am sure that it will not be lost on you that you could be working in a part of this Island called St. Thomas.
The climate in this part of the Island of Jamaica is very pleasant. Abundant water and elevated terrain create some very attractive water features, racing rivers, cascades, water falls: an engineer’s delight! Needless to say, the salary here would exceed your expectations for remunerations in Ayrshire.
Finally Thomas, I would be delighted to see my nephew and to oversee the start of his career.
With Family Affections,
Uncle John Bryce
Thomas weighs his prospects in rural Ayrshire against the well beaten paths taken by his uncles Thomas and John Bryce 30 years before, to go to Jamaica. He allows his sense of adventure to prevail. He will go to Jamaica, to the Parish of St. Thomas. Destiny is calling his name. He answers destiny’s call. He writes to Ingarvan:
My dear Uncle John,
Iwrite to tell you that thanks to your advice, I am accepting a job as engineer at a coffee plantation, Plantain Garden Estate, in St. Thomas. You had recommended this particular position for its geological location in your letter. I will keep this correspondance brief because in a few short weeks I will be joining you in Jamaica.
I am excited to join you to discover the beauties of the tropical island which attracted my two uncles who left Scotland over 30 years ago. I am sure that my late father, your brother William, would have shared my enthusiasm to add another exciting chapter to the family adventures in the West Indies!…Fire flies at Tanarchy, at twilight…can’t wait!
Thanks again for the information that has led to my decision to join you there!
With Great Affection,
Thomas
***
Thomas arrives and distinguishes himself as a competent technical advisor at Plantain Gardens Estate. Through the grapevine network of communication of information among White expatriates, John Ingarvan hears that his nephew has become an invaluable asset to the management of the Coffee plantation at Plantain Gardens Estate, not only for his professional competence, but also for his diplomatic approach to the labourers, who are the backbone of the day to day operations of the coffee plantation.
***
At North Hall, Sully, Fimmy’s elder son is a growing presence. He has mastered the skills of his mentor, Ingarvan, to such effect that new customers for dray carts request his supervision during the construction of their carts. In addition to the service and construction and repairs of carts, Sully has a growing stable of donkeys and horses to power the carts that he makes. His business acumen and his energy soon take him into his own business with his younger brother, Vinny: Sully’s Carts and Horses.
Vinny, a fervent Christian like his father, shows some promise as a musician, composing songs for his frequent performances at his church. His music celebrates Jesus Christ, the Redeemer, who paid the price of His life to redeem humanity from our sins. His Songs of Freedom:Redemption Songs are universally admired by the congregation. He has become a much sought after figure in that part of the Parish of Clarendon.
The aged Fimmy appears increasingly frail. Sully’s concern is obvious as he approaches Ingarvan: “Maas John, mi fadda ‘as ‘ad symptoms ressembling dose of di recent outbreak of Cholera in di area. He is very weak and cyaan keep food in his stomach. I am afraid dat he will nat survive much langa.”
“Your father has lived a long and a full life and his strong faith will take him to the reward that he so richly deserves,” Ingarvan says, consoling Sully.
Jane Ann, watching intently and hearing the conversation between her cousin and Ingarvan, sobs softly and leaves the room. Ingarvan follows.
Musical snippet 5 seconds long
***
Ingarvan’s Eulogy at Fimmy’s Funeral in Chapelton, Clarendon.
“Your respected elder, Fimmy, is directly resposible for many of the successes that my late brother and I have had in Jamaica. He was our first contact on this Island. His gentle approach to life has been an inspiration to me. He has been my instructor in the patois language and a model of the small bits of strategies and behaviour that are necessary for the newcomer to adopt in order to lose the label of outsider and to be considered a part of the community, as much as that is possible, given the obvious physical differences among and between us. In short I consider Fimmy my Jamaican father.”
Addressing Fimmy’s corpse, Ingarvan puts his hand on the coffin: “Rest in Peace, my friend; You have taught me a lot about the world and about myself!,” he says.
Asmall gathering of men after the funeral talk about of an outbreak of violence in the Parish of St. Thomas at Morant Bay. John overhears one man say to another: “It was a strike of workers which turned violent.”
“And some fear that this skirmish is just the start of something bigger, an Island wide overthrow of the Colonial government,” another man adds.
Musical snippet 5 seconds long
***
Ingarvan!
Episode 14
Morant Bay Rebellion
***
John leaves the North Hall area with Sully, to check on his nephew, Thomas, who has been working at Plantain Gardens Estate near Morant Bay.
At Morant Bay, Ingarvan greets his nephew: “Thomas, it is such a relief to see you hale and hearty! There is so much apprehension about the safety of White and coloured people these days. I regret that this apprehension has become paranoia.”
“Uncle John, this was more than paranoia. I was eyewitness to the start of this event. It was frightening and it is still ongoing.”
Ingarvan, a long standing member of the Clarendon Militia describes the event as it relates to Clarendon: the unrest and reports of the activities which may indicate that the event was Island wide and could have led to a “Haiti style” overthrow of the Colonial Government.
John says to Thomas: “Some people in Clarendon feared that the disturbance in Morant Bay was the beginning of an Island wide revolution, In fact, he continues: (Excerpted from the Eyre Commission Report, 1866)
“W. Fletcher, inspector of police for Clarendon and Vere, reported that about the time of the outbreak in St.Thomas-in-the-East an attempt was made to burn down the court house at Chapelton, by the aid of Kerosine oil; he also gives instances of black people being heard to say they would ”soon be free, and that the lands would soon be divided,” that the ”people of Clarendon ought to break out,” and the speaker ”knew whose head “would first be taken off.” He spoke also of the general assertion and belief in the parish that “an intended slaughter of the whites and coloured inhabitants of the Island ” was to have been carried out on Christmas Eve.”
Thomas relates his participation in the Morant Bay Rebellion to John: He says: (Excerpted from the Eyre Commission, 1866)
Iwas at Plantain Garden River Estate on the 12th of October last, the day following the outbreak of the rebellion at Morant Bay. On the forenoon of that day I requested the manager of the estate to send me some hands to lift and put in to position a heavy piece of machinery. “He told me he did not think ” he could get them as all the people had struck work owing to a report of an outbreak at Morant Bay, “where it’s said they have killed all the whites.” I did not believe it at that time, but shortly after I went down to the work yard to try and procure as many hands as I required.
Ifound a large number of the labourers on the estate surrounding the grindstone in noisy groups grinding their cutlasses. I saw little prospect of getting any work done that day, therefore prepared to return home ; but before I had left the people were using very threatening language to the manager and book-keepers. All that night I heard the blowing of shells all round about where I live. The following morning I started away down the river, but on the way was met by a black man, who told me not to go down the river, for the people had killed Mr. Hire and a lot more of the white people, and all the others had run away. However, I did not believe him and went on, when, about a quarter of a mile from Plantain Garden works, I heard a fearful noise and pulled up. They were then breaking down the great house at Winchester. I then rode on to a hill close tothe works. The people were then rushing down in bands, some armed with guns, others with sticks, but most of them with cutlasses, and each party was headed by one blowing a shell ; some of them taunted me from the road, crying, “Buckra, why you no come down the river this morning, you head no cut off yet;” others cried, ”For wi time come now, colour for colour.”
I stayed till I saw them rush in and sack Mr. S. Shortridge’s house, then I thought of my own house and started for it. On my way I passed a few people armed with sticks, who threatened to beat me, but after some talk among themselves allowed me to pass. When I got near home I came off the horse and was standing on a fallen tree, when another band passed ; one of their number rushed up to me with his cutlass and swore he would have my head off, but an old man called out, ” No kill that buckra, we hear charges about him already,” so I escaped. A steamer came into Port Morant that evening and fired off some guns, which changed at once the conduct of the people in my neighbourhood. They dispersed,and the carrying of plunder ceased during the day; few or no lights did I see in their houses that night.
On the following day a number of them came to my house shouting their war-cry, which was ” Hell” and “Lion,””Colour for colour.” When they came into the house they had no fire-arms,nothing but cutlasses. They told me if I had come out to them with gun or cutlass they would have killed me, or if I had been a planter they would have cut off my head. One said,we want all them “cotch buckra “for kill.” I said I am a Scotchman, but they said,”You no a planter.” They then went in to my store-room and took all the liquor they could find and a few other articles, such as knives, and then went away.
From what I saw of the rebellion I am of opinion that if it had not been so promptly headed and hemmed in there would have been few, if any,”whites”who would have seen 1866; and I consider that the heart felt thanks of every loyal citizen in Jamaica is due to Governor Eyre for the able and energetic manner in which he stopped the black fanatics.”
John’s voice displays considerable emotion. He turns to Thomas and says: “My God Thomas, to think that I may have been responsible for your death, that I recommended that you come to Jamaica, and that you could have been decapitated…
Thomas puts his arm around his uncle and they walk silently together to the banks of a small, energetic mountain stream.
“Thomas,” John says,” in that report that you gave in front of the Eyre Commission you display a great deal of courage and composure. Tell me how you were really feeling as this frightful event was unfolding around you.”
“Uncle, I would be lying if I did not admit to fearing that this was my last day in the land of the living. I hoped that the blow from the sharpened machete to my neck would be swift and decisive, such that I would have no sensation and feel no pain. There was a general feeling that there would be a massacre of all Whites and Coloureds. They seemed to have it out especially for Scots. ‘Scotch Buckra’ they call us.'”
“Thomas, I admire your courage and must say that I now think of you in a different light, having thought the worse when I learned that the area of violence was very close to your residence at Plantain Gardens Estate. My affection for you has grown because of the fear that I had that I may have been responsible for your death.”
Ingarvan continues: “I learned a lesson from your Uncle Thomas, my eldest brother. He once told me that we should, as civilised ‘civil’ engineers, learn how to build bridges: social bridges between and among groups of humans or risk being flooded by torrents, rivers of hate, injustice and incomprehention.”
Ingarvan continues:
“Thomas, my son, there is more to the Morant Bay Rebellion than the simple narrative that meets the eye. The population of peasants created after the abolition of slavery over 25 years ago are struggling to survive. Wages for day workers for ex-slaves have been dropping for the last decade and the cost of living and taxation have been rising. Some of the peasantry even fear that the Colonial authorities would contemplate a returnto slavery!Appeals to the Colonial government and to Queen Victoria to release unused land for the peasantry seem to fall on deaf ears. These workers have no power to change their lives except by striking: by withdawing their labour. The British goverment, however, has been heavy handed in response to the legitimate grievances of the peasant class. What started as a few peasant workers protesting their poverty with sticks, ended with murder of some of the protesters by the volunteer militia. As a member of the milita for Clarendon, I would have been put into the same position as the militia men in St. David-In-the-East and may have acted as they did. The execution of Paul Bogle and George Gordon has put an end to the uprising, but has it not increased the injustice that set the Rebellion in motion in the first place?”
“But Thomas, let us turn over a new leaf, you and I, and start to work together for the common good, building social bridges. In so doing we will honour the memory of your Uncle Thomas for whom you were named.”
“Ihave signed a contract with the Parish of St. Ann’s to construct a Court House in St Ann’s Bay. I would like you to be by my side along with my 2 sons, your cousins, Jack and Robert in the construction of the building. We start in one month. My head man and trusted councelor, Fimmy Maëka died recently and your skills would be invaluable to the construction project. I have asked your employers at Plantain Garden Estates to allow you a leave of absence of one year to work on the Court House project. Let that building be a lasting monument to the Ingarvan family!
John and Thomas share an embrace. Ingarvan and Sully return to Tanarchy.
***
Court House in St. Ann’s Bay, Jamaica, 1866
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Musical snippet 5 seconds long
***
Ingarvan
Episode 15:
***
The Unravelling:
Decade of the 1870s
*
No sounds of wedding bells originating at Tanarchy this late Sunday morning: only the weekly Lord’s day ceremonies at the distant church of Pocomania. But with the mariage of Mary Ann to her first cousin Thomas, the profane and the sacred were wedded. Ingarvan had found a partner for his daughter: a partner meeting his approval: a partnership at best questionnable!
After the Morant Bay Rebellion Ingarvan had spent a prolonged bout of depression, brooding about the events which had led to the near demise of his nephew, Thomas. He had come to the realization that the chain of events that he had been carefully orchestrating, courting his nephew, finding him a job in Jamaica, had almost resulted in Thomas’ death: a death by decapitation with a razor shap cutlass administered by an angry mob could have been his legacy to his descendants. That unfortunate possible outcome would have been the result of his recommendation.
Feeling an intuition that he was nearing the end of his life, Ingarvan did not oppose the evidence that his daughter and his nephew were increasingly drawn to each other. They were together frequently and stayed too long together during their encounters.
Ingarvan thought about how much philandering had been the norm of males among his cronies both in Ayrshire and in Jamaica. He thought that the steady devotion to Mary Ann that Thomas demonstrated was more likely to lead to long term contentment for Mary Ann. Besides, Thomas had displayed the instincts that had led to the successes that John himself had experienced.
He was happy with the union of his daughter with his nephew, although he did not express his happiness overtly, maintaning in public, a stoic demenour.
Soon after the marriage, the fates took a turn against the aging patriarch. His long term relationship with Jane Ann Maëka came to a bitter end when JaMaëka Girl confronted him with the evidence of his long term philandering outside of the North Hall district, in and around the areas of Croft Hill, Kellits and Ewarton.
JaMaëKa Girl confronts Ingarvan:
“You would tink dat after all dese nearly 30 years and di 4 children that we ‘ave together, dat you would be content with all that you ‘ave. But no, you ‘ave to go fine anadda woman. Wha’ mek you waan go do ‘dat? Weh mek unno people from Europe waan collek more an’ more all di time. Enuf is sufficient! enuf is enuf! Unno waan more an more all di time! An den, dis ting bout compitishan; yu waan get more dan yu nayba all di time. Donkey seh di worl’ nuh level an’ yu waan mek prophet outa donkey, so yu start to collect to get more dan yu nayba!
An anadda ting: If yu plant peas yu no get cawn, a peas yu get! So in di Caribbean yu plant shuga cane an a shuga yu get! But ‘ear mi nuh masta, yu also get more dan shuga; yu get ribelyan, revalushan, genocide, greed, an wid fermentashan yu mek rum, and wid di rum yu mek addikshan an’ create more an’ more disease an’ patalagie. Unnu drink too much rum an’ it cloud up yu judgement. Lawd ‘av mercy! Sow di wind, reap di whirlwind! Plant di wind, reap di urricane! Maybe it is di dyam rum which talks dis nonsense to you! Mi cyaan tek dis any more! Mi gaan and mi tekkin’ mi pickney dem wid me!
No words come to Ingarvan. He remains silent: the silence of culpability. He leaves Tanarchy; goes to Chapelton. It is January 20th 1874. He will stay at Chapelton for a few days, untilJaneAnn Maëka has cleared out her possessions and left with her 2 youngest children, the other 2, now adults having left Tanarchy.
Ingarvan will celebrate Robbie Burns day with his ageing Ayrshire cronie expatriates. He is wering his Kennedy Tartan kilt The familiar rituals of Robert Burns day will be sufficent to console him. Catherine McGhee will supervise the routines of the Estate in his absence. Catherine reports later to Ingarvan that Stylo, the flamboyant young labourer who used to work 20 years ago at Tanarchy, has helped Jane Ann Maëkamove her possessions from Tanarchy.
Jack and Robert, Ingarvan’s 2 sons working at Canoe Valley, another of Ingarvan’s Clarendon properties, will be also come to Chapelton to celebrate Robbie Burns day with a few Ayrshire expatriates.
Ingarvan entertains the Burnsophiles with his heart warming rendition of NowWestlin’ Winds:
At the Burns party, Ingarvan discloses that his long term mistress, Jane Ann Maëka, the one known asJaMaëka Girl has left him. The small assembly of Ayrshire expatriates express their regrets.
Ingarvan’s younger son Robert puts his arm over his father’s shoulder and whispers discretely:
“Father I know that Jane Ann means a lot to you and that her loss will be difficult to process. I have decided to return to North Hall to be with you for a while, to soften the impact of her loss. Your revitalzing tonic will probably be the way you will try to compensate for her absence, but nearing 80 years of age, you are still a fortunate man to have a companion in your life: the faithful, the long suffering Catherine McGhee. How long has she been in your employ?”
“She came to take care of you and your 3 siblings, 28 years ago!I admit thatI owe her a great debt of gratitude for her loyalty. She is a good woman. In my will I have left her the use of Tanarchy as her home for the rest of her life.”
“Iwill come back home to be with you at Tanarchy later this evening.” Robert replies.
Ingarvan’s return to Tanarchy is not without foreboding. At eighty years old, exhausted after the trip to Chapelton, he falls asleep with the help of rum and coconut water. His sleep is fitful. He has a panic attack which leaves him in a cold sweat, mumbling. He is awakened by Sully Maëka whose voice is expressing some anxiety.
“Maas John, yu ‘ear mi maas John, Sully says, ‘Charmer‘, Maas Robert’s horse is in di stall but we cyaan find Maas Robert anywhere. Mi gwein tek two workers and go on di road to Chapelton to see if wi cyan fine out what ‘appen to ‘im.”
*
Younger brother John will long recall this scene in
Robert Ingarvan’s death: accident, thrown from his horse or attack on the roadway from Chapelton to Tanarchy at North Hall, Clarendon, Jamaica? Blunt force trauma to the head, but what was the origin of the blunt force that took his life?
***
Sow the Wind: Reap the Whirlwind
QuiSèmeleVentRécolte laTempête
***
After Robert’s death, Ingarvan settles softly, slowly into a steady decline. Depression, aided and abbeted by senescence and his revitalizing tonic are the agents of decay for his last four years.
Flash forward…Ingarvan is on his death bed. (1878)
Catherine McGhee spooned the last spoonful of soup into Ingarvan’s mouth, wiped his bearded chin clean and removed the bib from around his neck. She carefully tucked the sheets around him and left the room. John groaned, grumbled, slumped back down into the bed and resumed the fetal position. He slipped easily into a dreamless unconsciousness and gave permission to his life to escape from his grasp. Good night Ingarvan!
Ae last breath and then you sever,
Your lease on life, alas forever.
Deep in heart wrung tears
We pledge thee,
Warring sighs and groans
We wage thee.
***
Begin drone:
Obituary:
John Ingarvan
(1798-1878)
John Ingarvan, born in Maybole, South Ayrshire Scotland, died peacefully in his sleep last evening. Januafy 25, 1878 at his home, Tanarchy, North Hall, Clarendon, Jamaica. He leaves to mourn him, his son John (Jack), his daughters Jane, from whom he was unfortunately estranged, and Mary Ann. John is predeseased by his son Robert.
Ingarvan’s genetic legacy is vast and still growing. Widely scattered across the globe, his seeds will long endure. Ayrshire, Scotland, Sydney, Australia, New Zealand, the Philippines, Hong Kong, England, Canada, USA, Panama, Trinidad and Tobago and Jamaica all have snippets of his DNA.
Long may his tribe survive! Long may they prosper!
***
Underwritten and Undergirded by SOCA:
SocietyOfCreative Anachronism,
And Premised on the Idea that History is, (among other things),
AContinuingDialogueBetween thePast and the Present
(Edward Hallett Carr)
We seek Answers from the Past to the Questions Posed in thePresent
(Tim Keown)
Narrator and Author: Jack,Reputed Son of aReputed Son of a Reputed Son ofIngarvan!
Reading this sad account
“Yes, we have some accommodations there for a week,” Thomas replies.
***
Ingarvan
Episode 15:
***
The Unravelling: