Gardens of the Caribbees, v. 1/2: Sketches of a Cruise to the West Indies and the Spanish Main

In Short

This book offers an intimate, impressionistic travelogue documenting a leisurely voyage through the West Indies and the Spanish Main at the turn of the twentieth century. Moving from the Bahamas to Trinidad, the author shares personal vignettes—from the struggle with seasickness and the search for authentic local culture to the observation of historic ruins and vibrant street life. Eschewing the dry utility of a guidebook, the text focuses on human encounters and the atmospheric beauty of the tropics, preserving a transient, romanticized perspective on a region undergoing profound social and political transition.

The Story

The journey begins on a note of physical misery, as the author succumbs to the "pulse of old Atlantic" while the ship navigates toward the tropics. After the initial discomfort of the voyage, the party finds their footing upon reaching the green shores of Haïti. This first landfall sets the tone for the remainder of the trip: a mix of intense curiosity and the inevitable frustration of the tourist. In Port-au-Prince, the group wanders through markets characterized by a chaotic, "barbaric" energy, navigating the tension between their own outsider status and the vivid, often impenetrable reality of the local population. They search for a specific "white umbrella"—a symbol, perhaps, of their desire for a comfortable, recognizable point of reference in an unfamiliar land—while contending with local vendors and the jarring contrasts of extreme poverty and lush, tropical scenery.

As the ship proceeds, the narrative shifts toward a more contemplative engagement with history. In Santo Domingo, the author grapples with the ambiguity of colonial legacies, specifically the disputed remains of Christopher Columbus. The pilgrimage to the cathedral highlights a recurring theme: the desire to touch the past, even when the evidence is muddled by time, "post-mortem wanderings," and conflicting national claims. This search for meaning continues as the party moves through Puerto Rico, noting the impact of American influence—from the introduction of electric trolley cars to the "gee-hawing" of imported American mules—and finding strange, phantom-like echoes of the past within the cloistered, silent corridors of ancient religious sites.

The cruise reaches a sensory peak in Martinique, which the author describes as the "epitome" of the Caribbees. Here, the focus shifts to the landscape and the people. The party explores the mountainous terrain, tastes wild strawberries by the roadside, and observes the "porteuses"—the agile women who carry heavy burdens from the mountains to the market. The author’s fascination with the island’s beauty is tempered by an awareness of its turbulent history and its "conglomerate" population. By the time the voyage touches upon Trinidad, where the party encounters the distinct cultural influence of Hindoo residents and their intricate jewelry, the initial anxieties of the cruise have given way to a sophisticated, if still detached, appreciation for the "fascination of the Orient" nestled within the Caribbean. The journey ends not with a final resolution, but with the author’s lingering desire to return, solidifying the islands as a dreamscape of "sleeping bells and timeless dials."

How It Unfolds

The voyage begins The narrative opens with the physical exhaustion of seasickness, as the party struggles to find their sea legs while leaving the bleak coast of New Jersey behind. This initial phase of the journey is defined by the transition from the "lonely waste of the Atlantic" to the calm, promise-filled waters of the Tropic of Cancer.

Landfall in Haïti The first tropical morning brings a sense of intoxicating discovery as the ship arrives at Port-au-Prince. The author details the sensory overload of the local market, where the interactions between the travelers and the local people are marked by a blend of genuine curiosity, mutual misunderstanding, and the friction of economic exchange.

The search for history In Santo Domingo, the focus shifts to the architectural and spiritual relics of the Spanish conquest. The author explores the cathedral and reflects on the pathos of the disputed leaden casket of Columbus, balancing a romantic reverence for the explorer with the realities of modern local maintenance.

The American influence Arriving in Puerto Rico, the travelers witness the rapid modernization of the island under U.S. administration. They find the cleanliness and administrative order of San Juan a striking contrast to the more chaotic scenes of their previous stops, noting the curious presence of American mules and electric cars.

The beauty of Martinique The journey reaches its emotional core as the group wanders the hills and markets of St. Pierre. Here, the text dwells on the "witchery" of the landscape, the daily lives of the mountain porters, and the anticipation of exploring the dormant volcano, Mount Pelée.

The richness of Trinidad The final leg centers on the cultural diversity of Port of Spain, particularly the sight of Hindoo women adorned in silver. The voyage concludes with a sense of lingering, appreciative observation, leaving the travelers with a desire to return to these "garden isles."

The People

The author serves as the central consciousness, an observant, often self-aware traveler who balances a "fixed idea" of the tropics with the reality of what she finds. She is prone to romanticizing her surroundings but remains honest about her own moments of impatience, cultural confusion, and physical vulnerability.

"Daddy" is the group's facilitator and the most active collector of experiences and physical mementos. He is portrayed as having an "artistic soul" and a "catholicity of taste," especially regarding his interest in local jewelry and the women he encounters. His presence provides the group with a sense of stability, even as his constant searching and purchasing occasionally clash with the author’s more reflective, stationary moods.

"Little Blue Ribbons" and "Sister" act as the younger companions whose perceptions often frame the author’s own. Little Blue Ribbons, in particular, serves as a mirror for the author’s anxieties—such as when they encounter a mysterious, phantom-like figure in a cloister—highlighting the vulnerability of the party in foreign spaces. These figures are not deeply developed as individuals, but rather as extensions of the author’s own experience of the journey.

In Its Own Voice

"I shall always believe that the force of suggestion was the cause of our undoing."

The author reflects on the collective anticipation of the ship’s passengers that led to widespread seasickness at the start of the voyage.

"A little green lizard, with life for a wee bit of awhile; an ancient cannon of curious shape, rusting, but outliving a little longer; a great gray rock underneath, disintegrating piece by piece, going back again into the universe; and an immortal soul in a human body; are we all part and parcel of the same cosmic dust?"

The author contemplates the transience of life while sitting on the ruins of Bluebeard’s Castle in St. Thomas.

What It's Really About

The book is an exploration of the disconnect between the "charming picture" of a destination and the reality of the experience. It examines the nature of the tourist gaze—how visitors attempt to impose structure and narrative on a place they do not fully understand. Underlying the descriptions is a preoccupation with the "deathless tread of time," as the author constantly measures the ruins of colonial and aboriginal history against the vibrant, bustling present of the islands. It asks whether one can ever truly know a place while passing through it as an observer, or if the "force of suggestion" and the romantic imagination ultimately create a barrier between the traveler and the local reality.

Why Read It Today

Readers who enjoy the slow, observational prose of early twentieth-century travelogues will find this book a rewarding, if sometimes demanding, companion. It offers a rare, ground-level perspective on the Caribbean before the advent of mass tourism, capturing the sensory details of a landscape that was simultaneously being "Americanized" and "modernized." To read it today is to step into a time capsule; the writing is steeped in the era’s colonial attitudes, which may prove jarring or problematic for some, yet it remains a valuable primary source for understanding the psychological experience of the traveler at that time. You will find yourself immersed in the author’s romantic longings and the genuine wonder she finds in the "Monarchs of the Caribbees." It is a work of atmosphere rather than hard facts, designed for those who appreciate the poetry of a place. The text can be lengthy and occasionally fragmented, reflecting the nature of a voyage that was as much an internal journey of perception as it was a trip across the sea. It stays with you through its vivid, dreamlike descriptions of tropical light and the haunting, timeless feeling of ruins that seem to whisper of a past that refuses to be fully understood.