Search for a New Land: Imperial Power and Afro-Creole Resistance in the British Leeward Islands 1624-1745
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Search for a New Land: Imperial Power and Afro-Creole Resistance in the British Leeward Islands 1624-1745 by James F. Dator A dissertation submitted in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy (History) in The University of Michigan 2011 Doctoral Committee: Professor Susan M. Juster, Co-Chair Lecturer Julius S. Scott III, Co-Chair Professor Paul Christopher Johnson Professor Elisha P. Renne © 2011 James F. Dator for Ayanna ii Contents Dedication ii List of Figures iv Introduction: “Either I’m Nobody, or I’m a Nation” 1 Part One: Inventing Empire in an Archipelago Chapter I: Fountain of Empire 23 Chapter II: His Majesty’s Leeward Caribees 70 Chapter III: A Contradiction of Very Pernicious Consequence 130 Part Two: Inventing an Afro-Archipelago Chapter IV: A Very Ungrateful Rogue 188 Chapter V: On the Verge of Some Terrible Happening 249 Chapter VI: A Country Play 311 Conclusion: In Search of Will 354 Bibliography 364 iii List of Figures Figure 1: Satellite Image of the Lesser Antilles 30 Figure 2: Map Showing the French and English Quarters of St. Kitts 39 Figure 3: Comparison of Enslaved Population vs. Number of Enslaved Folk Disembarked Nevis, 1676-1735 184 Figure 4: Comparison of Enslaved Population vs. Number of Enslaved Folk Disembarked Montserrat, 1676-1735 185 Figure 5: Comparison of Enslaved Population vs. Number of Enslaved Folk Disembarked St. Kitts, 1676-1735 186 Figure 6: Comparison of Enslaved Population vs. Number of Enslaved Folk Disembarked Antigua, 1676-1735 187 Figure 7: “A General View of the English Falmouth Harbour,” Antigua, by William Brasier, 1757. 217 Figure 8: “An Hyrdrographical Chart of the Virgin Islands,” C. Mortimer, 1739. 255 Figure 9: Excerpt of “A List of the Inhabitants of Spanish Town,” November 18, 1717. 265 Figure 10: Account of Ships Damaged in the Hurricane near St. Kitts 282 Figure 11: “The Island of Antego,” by Herman Moll, c. 1736 320 iv Introduction “Either I’m Nobody, or I’m a Nation” “Either I’m nobody, or I’m a nation.”1 These are the last words in the opening stanza of Derek Walcott’s magical poem “The Schooner Flight,” which details the emotions, dreams, and dynamic imagination of a sailor who plies the trading routes of the eastern Caribbean. The storyteller is Shabine, an experienced mariner born of Dutch, English, and African heritage who has a “rusty head” and “sea-green eyes.” As he sails the ship Flight from Trinidad to the Bahamas, Shabine’s crisscrossing between the islands becomes a portrait about identity and belonging in an archipelago where the contradictions of modernity clash with the legacies of empire, colonialism, and the slave trade. The Flight darts between the islands as Shabine relates his memories of the past and visions of the future. Readers experience the filth and disease of the middle passage as Shabine approaches Barbados. We inhale the smoke-filled memories of Carib extirpation as he stares at the shores of green Dominica. As we do, Shabine’s voyage on the Flight becomes a journey of self-discovery, a search for who he is and where he belongs in an archipelago that seems both fragmented and connected at the same time. Shabine tells us that in an archipelago, each island has its own history and character—qualities that shape the collective imagination and influence personal identity. 1 Derek Walcott, ed. Derek Walcott: Collected Poems, 1948-1984 (New York: Farrar, Straus, & Giroux, 1998), 346. 1 Yet just as the “earth is one island in the archipelagos of stars,” together the islands of the Lesser Antilles “are one,” part of a larger story fused together by the sea.2 As readers, we experience this story firsthand as the Flight keeps sailing, moving onward, darting from shore to shore while the rusty-headed sailor reveals his inner thoughts. Through his travels, Shabine considers that he has “only one theme” in his life: a “flight to a target whose aim we’ll never know,” a “vain search for one island that heals with its harbour and a guiltless horizon.”3 Thus his poem ends. The sailor fades into the crystal blue horizon, the mast of the Flight piercing the sky. Walcott’s readers are left with the sense of a stanza yet written. Shabine’s search for a new land remains unfinished; he is a figure caught between being nobody and a nation. I first came across “The Schooner Flight” while I was struggling to develop an optic for framing colonial life in the Leeward Islands during the seventeenth and early eighteenth century. Having read thousands of pages of manuscript material, Walcott’s poem touched upon an aspect of life in the eastern Caribbean that was proving difficult for me to articulate even though it seemed to call out from the aging sources. Comprised of Montserrat, Nevis, St. Kitts, Antigua, and part of the Virgin Islands, the “British Leewards” was in many respects an imaginary construct, like a constellation in an ocean of stars. Imperial governors and metropolitan officials invented “His Majesty’s Leewards” as a category for framing British control over the islands in the 1670s, even though the most important of the islands—St. Kitts—was divided between England and France and the Virgin Islands were disputed territories. Shabine’s story reminded me that reflexively calling this group of islands the “British Leewards” privileged the British 2 Ibid., 361. 3 Ibid. 2 imperial narrative over local realities of transnational settlement, migration and movement, and common ecology that not only linked the British-controlled islands to each other, but also to non-British-controlled islands like Dominica, Guadeloupe, and St. Thomas. Furthermore, Shabine’s story—especially the phrase “Either I’m nobody, or I’m a nation”—not only encouraged me to question what exactly was “British” about the British Leewards, but also to rethink the ways in which scholars have typically approached issues of slave culture and slave resistance in the seventeenth and early eighteenth century. Although the history of slavery in the eastern Caribbean looms large in Shabine’s imagination as he travels northward toward the Leewards aboard the Flight, he is not a slave himself. However, the poem immediately made me think of the hundreds of enslaved men and women whose stories appeared in the archival record. As I continued to page through private letters and government correspondence, a key dynamic about slave life in the Leewards appeared again and again. The labor regime certainly influenced the ways in which slaves understood power relations between them and their white masters, but so did the visual of archipelagic space and the experience of living within it. Although they were engaged predominately in agricultural labor on tobacco farms and later on sugar plantations, enslaved Leeward Islanders displayed a remarkable degree of regional activity that stretched beyond the shores of a single island, oftentimes in ways that flew in the face of imperial efforts to define their boundaries. Not only were men, women, and children sold between the islands; they also actively traveled between them, sometimes for leisure, but often in search of a better way of life on a different island or 3 even in a different empire. Slaves could observe islands on the horizon and imagine what life might be like on a colony where their master’s competitor might welcome their arrival. They could contemplate how to stowaway as they watched smoothly sailing ships head for the Virgins, Jamaica, North America, Dominica, and the French territories. Even if hiding aboard a merchant ship was not an option, men and women could steal canoes and row between islands as far apart as Antigua and Guadeloupe. Inspired by these acts, I came to envision “Search for a New Land” as a hybrid work of social and intellectual history, focused primarily but not exclusively on what the British Leeward Islands meant for enslaved folk, poor white settlers, and aspiring plantation owners who lived in region. The accounts of white and black colonists crisscrossing the Leewards informed me that the archipelagic arrangement of the islands encouraged alternative ideas about what it meant to be an islander and colonial subject, ideas that sometimes ran counter to elite efforts to impose imperial hegemony over the region. In turn, this study explores two interrelated processes in tandem: how empire makers struggled to turn the Leeward Islands into a distinctively British place against the tide of local political creolization, and how, in the face of these efforts, enslaved folk imagined oppositional or different ways of collective belonging in the archipelago. By exploring the ways empire makers sought to carve the “British Leewards” out of the polyglot Lesser Antilles, “Search for a New Land” situates the making of the Leeward colony within the broader context of the making of the British Atlantic Empire by placing a series of seemingly marginal islands at the center of the discussion. In Montserrat, Nevis, St. Kitts, Antigua, and the surrounding smaller island colonies, interisland movement was a constitutive element of local political culture and identity. Rather than 4 bounded places, the islands were distinct yet dynamic places linked together by the sea. Their boundaries were fuzzy and islanders’ livelihoods (black and white) were interwoven. Although some were marginalized legally, colonists—including enslaved men and women—exploited these regional connections and the imaginary boundaries that imperialists used to manipulate power relations. Regional movement of enslaved folk, poor white