Antigua

"The beach with an island in the middle" is perhaps the prettiest of the Caribbean islands that I visited on this trip with brilliant turquoise waters lapping gently onto sparkling white sandy beaches.

I headed off on a half day jeep tour and bumped along unmade, deeply rutted roads and through little villages which bore the names of long dead plantation owners. Goats and sheep grazed contentedly at the roadside under the mango and papaya trees as our jeep sped along and the wind rushed through our hair. We stopped on a hill overlooking English Harbour and Nelsons Dockyard and I marvelled at the kalaidoscope of blues in the waters below. Then it was on to a beach that could have dropped straight out of paradise. I kicked off my shoes, slid out of trousers and blouse and wandered along that beach without a care in the world. The water was crystal clear and inviting but I contented myself with a paddle. I could see that the beach fell away steeply and that within a metre I would have been waist deep - far too deep for me!!!!! Refreshments were served and then we were whisked back to the ship.

Antigua had been colonised by a group of refugee English planters from St. Kitts back in 1632. In 1666 it was raided by the French, assisted by Irish malcontents and Caribs, but was soon recaptured and formally restored to England in 1667. By this time slaves had been imported from Africa to work the sugar plantations. In the 18th. & 19th. centuries, during the Napoleonic Wars, Antigua was the principal British naval base in the Eastern Caribbean. Admirals Nelson, Rodney, Hood and Jervis all made the dockyard at English Harbour their headquarters. It was here that Nelson re-fitted his ships during his chase of the French which ended at Trafgalgar.

As much as I would have loved to have explored English Harbour and its old cemetery Artemis was berthed on the other side of the island at St. Johns so I had to make do with exploring locally in the afternoon. The twin towers of the Anglican cathedral of St. John rose majestically from the hillside overlooking the harbour and it was not difficult to find my way there. I was delighted to find that it had a churchyard filled with ancient old British graves. As normal, most of the brick built edifaces had eroded and fallen apart leaving the graves as the habitat for lizards large and small. Those graves that were lower to the ground and topped with thick granite slabs were seen by the locals as the ideal place to have a picnic or to lie for a siesta under the shade of an old knarled mahogany tree. The cathedral was built in 1845 to replace an earlier building destroyed by an earthquake in 1843. I had read that it has a complete inner shell of pitch pine designed to protect it against the possibility of future earthquakes. I made my way up to the entrance eager to see inside but as with the Scots Kirk in Grenada I found it locked and barred. A notice on the door informed me that an accident had occurred quite recently and it was now considered unsafe to enter. Donations towards restoration were called for. I wandered around the outside, stood on tiptoe and peered through shattered windows. The interior looked magnificant - how I wish I could have entered. I had to content myself with exploring the churchyard instead - which was absolutely no hardship !!

I ignored the locals who were chatting in small groups and lazing on the graves. I did not care what they thought of me. I had spent many years in Hong Kong happily transcribing 12,000 memorial inscriptions in the old Colonial Cemetery there and being described by the Chinese cemetery groundsmen as "The strange English lady in the straw hat". The Antiguan locals would probably think me just as strange but I had to make good use of my time. Some of the inscriptions were still easily readable and I took many photographs. My main problem turned out to be the brightness of the sun for I could see absolutely nothing on the screen of my digital camera and had to trust to good fortune that I was pointing the lens in the right direction and that I was getting the whole inscription. Once downloaded to my computer a few days later I realised that I had been a bit off course with one or two of the shots! However, many others have come out and I realise that I have photographs of graves dating back to the 1700s.

At one point during my meanderings through the graves I heard a voice calling to me - "Madam, Madam" - I looked up to find that one of the local ladies perched on a tomb was trying to catch my attention. I walked over and found that she was curious as to why and what I was doing. When I told her that I hoped to research the stories behind some of the people who lay in the churchyard she was fascinated and pointed me in the direction of a grave near the far wall - "just near the tomb where that chap in the green shirt is lying ". She told me it was a very old grave and one that had caught her attention on a number of occasions. This lady's companion was a very old gentleman whose face was as gnarled as the mahogany trees. When he smiled his face broke into a wide toothless grin but he nodded in agreement when I told of the sad lives of these early settlers who died so young from yellow fever. The lady told me of a small English cemetery near her home in Jamaica. She said it was far from the tourist trail and she wondered what stories that had to tell. Oh if only I could spend a couple of months in these tropical islands! She wished me good luck with my research and I wandered off to the graves by the far wall. I easily found the grave she had directed me to and to my astonishment found that it was for a young man who had been born in 1685 and who had died in 1710 at the age of 25. His inscription was followed by that of his wife who had died shortly after. How I hope that I can find the story behind this grave.

I bade the churchyard at St. John's a fond farewell and headed back to the ship through the duty free tourist malls. I spotted tropical cotton skirts and wraps that were identical to those which I had bought in Malaya and Thailand last year but the prices were astronomical - ten or twenty times more expensive. I did not part with my money. I found a Bodyshop with lovely tropical bubble baths at £15 per bottle. I did not part with my money. Then I found a small local pharmacy where I was able to buy some wonderful cocoanut hair conditioner and styling mousse for a very reasonable price. I did buy these. I had the equivalent of £8 left in East Caribbean dollars but there seemed to be nothing that cheap on view and I was resigned to returning to England with what would then be useless currency. As I neared the edge of the shopping mall I noticed a lady all dressed up in her Sunday best standing quietly in a corner with a collecting box in her hand. She was very dignified and made no attempt to rattle her tin. She had an old fashioned straw boater on her head and my heart warmed to her. As I got nearer I could see that the collection was to raise funds for the local Adventist Church and its community. I found my EC dollars and placed them one by one in her collecting tin. She smiled broadly, gave me a huge hug and thanked me with such sincerity that I almost cried. The few dollars which had been useless to me were at least going to a good cause.

I climbed the gangplank of the Artemis with a happy heart and bid farewell to Antigua and the Caribbean. I have no way of knowing whether I will ever return. But a new adventure awaits for I am about to make my very first crossing of the Atlantic Ocean in a very grand lady of the sea.