‘COME HELL OR HIGH WATER’

In 1725, the vestry of St Peter's Anglican Church in Port Royal, Jamaica, began the fourth church erected by that parish in the course of only 50 years. The three earlier structures on the site had all suffered under a regular battery of natural disasters, including a devastating 1692 earthquake, a fire in 1702, and hurricanes in 1712 and 1722. In an effort to erect a church that would better withstand the natural disasters that had beset their earlier buildings the parish erected a compact church on the plan of an extended Greek Cross measuring 80ft east–west and 72ft north–south (Fig. 3.1). With both an interior and exterior water table, the walls of the 1725 cruciform building are over 4½ft thick at ground level – far more than necessary to support the roof of a fairly small cruciform church that spans only 26ft. The thickness of the walls approximates to that used by builders of powder magazines rather than churches; in this, their fourth church, the vestry was determined to erect a structure that could withstand natural catastrophe. This vestry was not alone. Ten years before their counterparts in Port Royal, the vestry of the nearly adjacent parish of St Catherine's installed a plaque over their newly completed church:

INTRODUCTION

In 2004 and 2005 a field survey was undertaken in two parishes on the north-east coast of St Christopher (St Kitts) by archaeologists led by Professor Roger Leech of the Department of Archaeology, University of Southampton, UK. The survey covered the northern part of St Mary Cayon and all the neighbouring parish of Christ Church Nichola Town with an overall study area of 2,600 hectares (Fig. 7.1). The survey formed part of the research project funded by the British Academy to assess the archaeological evidence for the early colonial settlement and landscape of the two Eastern Caribbean islands of Nevis and St Kitts described above (p. xix–xxii).

The project as undertaken on St Kitts had three main research objectives within the strategic objectives set out in the Preface (p. xxi–xxii), specifically here: -

• 1 To undertake a reconnaissance survey of the 17th-and 18th-century colonial landscape of an area in the two parishes.

• 2 To identify the extent to which plantation centres have been abandoned or have changed through time, from the 17th to the 20th centuries.

• 3 To determine the archaeological and above ground remains of the slave villages for the plantations. -

The survey area was defined by the major landscape features of the Cayon River to the south-east and St George's Ghut on the north-west. Historically, the Cayon River formed the boundary between the central, English, and the southern, French, divisions of the island. Chronologically, the survey concentrated on the period after the introduction of sugar to St Kitts in the mid 17th century up to the introduction of steam technology for sugar processing in the 19th century.

The Brimstone Hill Fortress sits atop a volcanic extrusion that towers over 230m above the Caribbean Sea on the north-west coast of St Kitts (Fig. 6.1). The British first fortified the hill with cannons in 1690 and continued to develop its military potential with numerous barracks, buildings, structures, and walls until its abandonment in 1853–4. The only major military engagement at the fortress was the French siege and occupation of 1782–3. Brimstone Hill was maintained as a place of refuge for the island's population during times of foreign invasion until the mid 18th century after which its primary purpose shifted to military defense and a deterrent to slave revolts. British military engineers designed the fort, with virtually all construction, renovation, and maintenance accomplished by enslaved Africans before emancipation and black as well as white laborers after 1834. At various times throughout its history, British army officers and enlisted men, members of the St Kitts militia, soldiers of the First, Second, Third, and Fourth West India Regiments, Africans from the ‘Corps of Black Military Artificers and Pioneers’ and from the ‘Corps of Embodied Slaves,’ as well as small numbers of civilians, military wives, and children occupied the Brimstone Hill Fortress.

The archaeological potential of Brimstone Hill was recognized in the 1960s and clearing rubble from buildings and occasional small excavations were made through the 1980s. In 1996 specific archaeological research goals were identified and the University of Tennessee initiated a long-term excavation program at the site. The research design conceptualizes Brimstone Hill as once being a highly structured and frequently oppressive multi-ethnic and multi-racial community where the number, organization, and relationship of people differed with changing social, political, economic, environmental, and cultural circumstances.

INTRODUCTION

Bearing in mind J.B. Harley's proposition that ‘maps are a discourse of the acquisition and dispossession that lie at the heart of colonialism’, this paper will consider cartography's limitations as an objective record of landscape, given that all maps were (and are) drawn to fulfil a particular purpose or agenda, explicit or implicit. I also want to draw attention to the role that cartography had in the creation of colonial landscape, how lines drawn on paper became physical features on the ground, and how the use of maps influenced estate acquisition.

CONTEXT AND COMMUNICATIONS

It is an obvious truth but so fundamentally important that it is worth restating, that the Caribbean was essentially a maritime landscape, consisting of dispersed colonies whose reason for existence was the production of sugar for export, completely dependent on sea transport. Transport by sea was hampered by wind patterns and by currents, which make departure from the Caribbean far more problematic than arrival, and by the great distances involved. As Jamaica is 1,000 nautical miles downwind of Barbados, export voyages to Britain took several weeks longer. In consequence, shipping charges from Jamaica were higher and agricultural and refining processes had to be completed earlier in the year to enable the ships to beat the hurricane deadline. Because of the importance of shipping, the centres of population were the port towns, despite their inevitable location in the unhealthiest places. Bridgetown in Barbados, the capital of Britain's richest island colony, was built beside a pestilential swamp.

The map (Fig. 1.1) published by Speer in 1774 and endorsed by the Plantation Office, shows this geographical situation and adds the political dimension. The islands are coloured according to the nationality of their colonial masters. International rivalry ensured that the Caribbean was a fortified landscape and that some islands would have their settlement records complicated by sequential occupation by different European cultural groups.

INTRODUCTION

Fortifications are among the earliest structures built by the English in the New World, beginning with Guayanilla Bay Fort in Puerto Rico, May 1585, Lanes Fort near Cape Rojo in Puerto Rico, late May 1585, and Fort Raleigh, Roanoke Island, North Carolina, August 1585. The plans of the first two forts were recorded by John Smith and were roughly square with timber curtain walls and bastions, wet ditches, and a water entrance. These sea coast forts were large enough to defend the passengers and crew of their ship. In Puerto Rico the English defended themselves against the Spanish, but Native Americans were added to their defense plan at Roanoke Island.

Although the next attempt, Fort St George in Maine, August 1607, was abandoned in 1608. James Fort or the Southern Colony, also established in 1607, and became the first permanent English settlement in the Americas. It was a triangular fort with corner bastions built of timber to protect the entire encampment. The colony quickly outgrew the protection of its walls and Jamestown was established outside the walls.

From the beginning of sugar production in the West Indies into the 20th century, work in the cane fields relied largely on the hoe for planting (Fig. 5.1) and the machete (‘cutlass’) or the bill hook (‘cane knife’) for harvesting (Fig. 5.2). The cut cane was loaded onto carts or wagons (Fig. 5.3) and taken to the mill to be crushed, or ‘ground’.

These mills employed one of three sources of power: animals, water, or wind. Animal, or ‘cattle’ powered mills were the simplest to construct (Fig. 5.4). Mules or horned cattle were harnessed to a central drive shaft which turned a set of vertical rollers to crush the cane. Although the initial capital outlay was less than required for other power sources, there was considerable expense involved in maintaining the necessary livestock. Water power (Fig. 5.5) was popular on islands where streams were plentiful and reliable, such as Jamaica and St Lucia. The initial investment in equipment was substantial, but upkeep was lower.

Wind power (Fig. 5.6) was common on many islands where breezes were fairly constant. Construction of a windmill required a bigger outlay of money than setting up either a cattle-or water-powered mill. However, in locations where water power was not available, wind was more efficient than cattle power. The major drawback to the windmill was that, even if breezes were reliable, they could not be guaranteed. Period books and articles on sugar production recommended that a windmill be augmented with a cattle mill in case the wind died.

The Black Lives Matter movement and protests, the challenging of the continued presence of statues to commemorate oppressive and exploitative individuals and practices from the recent past, and serious attempts to decolonize university curricula are all part of a dramatic and much-needed shake up to thinking about history and associated subjects, and how they have been dominated by western, white, often male and elite views. For those of us who are western, white and elite in terms of education, yet have research interests in regions outside Europe (and North America), there are major questions and challenges around how we undertake this research working in collaboration with local colleagues and communities. The 21st century has seen a growth in collaborative research projects between academic archaeologists, and in projects that work with different local communities. Being inclusive is a major driver for new archaeological projects, and we recognize that the 20th century model of western, white experts helicoptering into exotic locations to carry out research (supported by local infrastructure), and then taking the results back to western universities, and writing them up for the benefit of western scholars and academia is no longer fit for purpose, and is actively detrimental to local colleagues, communities and the archaeology itself.

This volume is based on original research in the Caribbean, focusing on the islands of Nevis and St Kitts. As the editor notes in his preface, it brings together work begun in 2001 and from a conference in 2005, organized in collaboration with the historical societies for St Kitts and Nevis, and it has taken many years to come to fruition. The monograph contains papers resulting from a project funded by the British Academy looking at the historical archaeology of the Atlantic rim, undertaken by the University of Southampton in collaboration principally with National Museums Liverpool and Bristol City Museum and Art Gallery. The Liverpool involvement was directly linked to its International Slavery Museum, devoted to relating untold stories of enslaved people, both historical and contemporary. The Bristol element was devoted to recruiting five young people of African or Caribbean heritage to be involved both in the archaeological project and in working alongside young people from Nevis, the results and their experiences being disseminated more widely through BBC Bristol Online’s Black Echo (BBC 2001).

FOREWORD

By Nigel Jeffries

The efforts and achievements of Geoff Egan (19 October 1951–24 December 2010), a leading UK specialist in medieval and later finds have been well documented. Geoff was a well-travelled and popular figure. In 1976 he joined the Museum of London's Department of Urban Archaeology (DUA) and for 34 years played a central role in researching, cataloguing, and contextualizing the vast quantities of medieval and later ‘small things’ recovered either from archaeological excavations in London by the DUA and its successors the Museum of London Archaeology Service (1991–2008) and MoLA (2008–) or those which formed part of the collections of the Museum of London. In July 2010 he was appointed finds adviser for the Portable Antiquities Scheme based at the British Museum, a position he filled for only a short period until his untimely death.

For my part, my role in shaping this article began in late 2018 when Professor Roger Leech contacted me to ask, in my capacity as a former colleague of Geoff's at MoLA and having just completed work on the glass from the Nevis Heritage Project sites of Charlestown and Mountravers, if I might review the paper and suggest a pathway for its publication. Upon reading it I felt little point in revising or significantly rewriting it and so what you read below remains largely true to the first completed draft submitted by Geoff to Roger Leech in February 2010. Any subsequent changes by me or the monograph editor were largely to format the text to the SPMA style and amend the bibliography and footnotes to provide (for example) updated references for the cited articles and books which have been published since Geoff's article was submitted. The remaining part of this paper is substantially as written by Geoff.

INTRODUCTION

Broad historical patterns are often most visible, and frequently most active, in peripheries of social systems, which suggests that investigating cases of development in peripheries can lead to a more nuanced understanding of the forces structuring social systems. Caribbean frontiers are historic peripheries of the European economic and political sphere yet served as crucibles for processes stimulating the evolution of European expansion and political/economic domination in the New World. From c. 1600 through the mid 1800s the Caribbean was a microcosm of the socio-political transformations gripping competing imperial powers and the emerging global market. The islands were the scenes of capitalist and agro-industrial experimentation – critical arenas wherein the social relations of the modern world were forged. At the center of this tumultuous and momentous historical development was the colony of Nevis.

Archaeological research on this small yet surprisingly influential colony casts light on social dynamics in the periphery during the period of inchoate capitalism and nascent globalization. The internalization of capitalist consumer ideology can also be interpreted from archaeological remains of material culture, architecture, and use of space. The processes of socio-economic development playing out on Nevis, and subsequent landscape evolution, did so, not merely against the backdrop of capitalism's ascendancy but integrated and in resonance with its rise to dominance, perhaps contributing fundamentally to its ascendance.