Unfortunately, sooner than either of us could have possibly imagined, an opportunity presented itself for the testing of Arnold's theories on negro punishment. We returned to the plantation in the late afternoon, travelling the greater part of our upward journey beneath the dense roof of branches which allowed the penetration of only the occasional dim shaft of sunlight. These rare beams splashed on the thin, dusty track,' forming small circular pools of light whose shimmer provided the illumination by which we picked our slow way home. No sooner had we stepped from the carriage than we were greeted by a young overseer who was anxious to explain how he had caught the huge negro, Cambridge, purloining meat. Some words had been exchanged during which our man accused of theft apparently insulted the overseer. Hearing this account a tight-lipped Arnold departed in search of the black criminal, and returned some minutes later in a rage and claiming loudly for all to hear that he had been the victim of unprovoked aggression. Arnold decided to act immediately and enquired as to whether I wished to observe his court in session. I said I did, and together we retired to the level beneath the piazza where the accused Cambridge and the offended overseer soon presented themselves.
The two issues at stake were, firstly, whether or not Cambridge had stolen the meat and, secondly, whether he had insulted the overseer. That he had committed a further heinous crime of laying hands upon Arnold was beyond doubt, evidenced by my companion's enraged condition. To the second charge the grey-haired black offered no defence. To the first he claimed that he was not stealing, for come Sunday he intended to replace the meat with stock from his own provisions. Arnold asked why permission was not sought to remove the meat if, as he claimed, it would presently be replaced. Cambridge answered, in his polite English, that should permission be sought for every insignificant act then there would be precious little time for work on the plantation. Arnold replied that not everyone was as honest as Cambridge claimed to be, and that only if they were so would such a system be workable. Cambridge then adopted the manner and speech of one familiar with the conventions of the bar and claimed the status of trustee, indicating that it was a much lesser position than that of Head Driver, an office which I was astonished to hear him claim he had twice refused. At this point our junior overseer laughed out loud, remarking that the black's insubordinate nature made him ill-suited to the office of trustee, but not wishing to be seen to be in opposition to his superior, Mr Brown, he essayed no opinion on Cambridge's capacity to perform the elite role of Head Driver. With time passing, and the argument in danger of becoming circular in form, Arnold decreed that he would suspend judgement. He was concerned that he should not be accused of acting in the heat of the moment, and imposing a wrong verdict in so delicately balanced a case. I have to confess that his decision bore strong witness to the efficacy of my influence, for I feared an instant ruling might ruin the pleasantness of the day we had just spent together. I therefore concurred enthusiastically with his decision, and a conclusion, although not altogether satisfactory, and certainly temporary, was achieved.
At this intermission everybody, the presence of Arnold and myself notwithstanding, retired to their respective quarters. I have still not accustomed myself to the alarming speed with which the tropical day gives way to night, ignoring the lingering deepening of the blue to which those of England are familiar. I stood by the window to my bed-chamber and watched the last embers of daylight the out in dusky red streaks along the horizon, and marvelled as the red ball of the sun buried herself in the heart of the ocean. After the great heat of the day the delightful occasion was to be enjoyed. The possession of an expansive view of the ocean adds greatly to the attractions of the scene, but this theatre seems never truly complete until I descry the image of the mist-bedimmed moon atop the watery world. Only then am I ready to drag my weary bones into my cot, and for many an hour surrender to the feverish caprices of an ill-ventilated dreamworld. And to dream of what? England, of course. And a life sacrificed to the prejudices which despise my sex. Of loneliness. Of romance and adventure. Of freedom.
Some ten days later, as promised, Arnold escorted me back into Baytown where I attended a dinner given at a prominent merchant's house. I had been led to understand that the dull expense of formal dinner was being replaced by the latest vogue of the small social community, where ladies might debate freely with gentlemen, and thus conversation might replace cardplay as the main communal resource of a lady's evening. However, I was to be afforded the opportunity of witnessing the traditional West Indian dinner, where the table laboured under a burden of ostentatious and substantial dishes. Gentlemen predominated numerically. Many brought with them their servants, some in livery, some not so, some with shoes, some barefoot, but all truly exemplified the type of the unprepossessing negro. They buzzed and swarmed around us like flies, and the lack of any formal arrangement among them created a vast disorder — excepting, of course, the arrangement whereby they might attempt to steal from beneath our very gaze whatever might be carried off.
I believe our merchant host originated in Portugal, but his table gave no hint of his foreign tastes, laden as it was with familiar local provisions, which not only now sat easily upon my stomach but gave so much pleasure to the palate that I began to wonder if I should ever again adjust to the fare of England. Was I doomed to become an exotic for the rest of my days? This, it now seemed to me, would be no bad thing, for I discovered much at this dinner that warmed my heart towards one class of these creole people. I had heard those engaged in West Indian cultivation spoken of as choleric and unstable, inclined to be imperious, but lacking in polish, who having raised themselves from mediocrity to some form of affluence, now reclined in tropical ease framing excessively elevated notions of their birth. However, these plantation managers are hard-working, up before sunrise, first into the field, and often the last to leave at night. Since their labour is not purely for their own benefit, their application is all the more admirable. Men such as Father, who profit greatly by these managers' labour, would surely expire were they required to perform a fraction of the physical and mental tasks that these fellows undertake daily. At this dinner were two or three planting men who seldom come to Baytown seeking pleasure, for they are usually too busy with their agricultural concerns. Baytown is occupied by, or, rather, abandoned to, those who hold situations under Government, or attorneys, medical men, merchants, and of course the military (including naval officers of such ships as chance to be on station).