# A Study in Colour/Chapter 1

A Study in Colour.
I.
he Missus" was walking along the Port Albert Road one Sunday. The hour was early, for it was six o'clock in the morning, but at that time the Creole climate is simply perfection, for the sun has not as yet asserted his power and become too fierce to enjoy in comfort the luxuriant loveliness that surrounds one on every side. On that particular Sunday the mountains were even more beautiful than usual, and the Missus stopped from time to time to look at them. She knew them by heart, but for her they never lost their charm.
To-day they were amethyst, shot here and there with brilliant golden green, which faded away into the dreamiest and softest of blues on the more distant peaks. They filled ​three sides of the horizon completely; on the fourth, the calm tropical sea lay like a polished shield, fringed here and there with slim and feathery palm-trees.
The long, straight road that led to Port Albert lay like a white streak before her; but from the early hour, and the absence of the usual week-day traffic, was as yet free comparatively from dust. Generally one waded ankle-deep in soft grey sand. Now every green blade of the tall guinea grass was heavy with dew, and the long, murderous-looking spikes of the Pinguin plants and cactus that edged the roadside glistened also with myriads of diamond drops. A little wooden shed stood close to the high way. This was a shop, and the owner, a cheerful-looking brown man, was apparently blessed with numerous relations, for the small "yard" attached to the shed contained several diminutive wooden and wicker-work huts. That he was prosperous might also be inferred
​There was a board affixed to the rudely constructed counter, on which, in rather shaky characters, it was announced that the owner of the shop, "Josiah de Paz" was "authorised deler" in "Agricultural Produse"—a fact that a heap of green cocoa nuts, a large bunch of yellow bananas, and a glowing pile of scarlet akees, assisted to emphasise. The value of the entire stock may, perhaps, have amounted to two shillings; but as far as beauty of colour was concerned, Aladdin's jewels could not have surpassed them in splendour. Josiah also sold the more prosaic molasses, and a few other simple household necessaries.
An edifice built up carelessly of the vivid blue soap that is so prized by Creole washerwomen was particularly noticeable, while a cluster of common tin mugs hanging from a string caught the sunlight most effectively, and kindly flashed it on to the darker corners of the little shop.
Some gaudy checked handkerchiefs were disposed flag-wise from the rafters, while, to complete the little picture, a gorgeous flamboyant tree in full bloom over hung the tiny shingled roof, and with its fern-like leaves of emerald ​green and masses of blazing scarlet blossoms, transformed the homely little scene into a perfect study of gorgeous tropical colour. To a native it would perhaps have conveyed little, but in the English eyes of the Missus it signified a great deal, and she paused again upon her way in order to admire it more closely.
Two or three black women were standing by the store counter, gossiping on their way to early church. The shop was not by way of being kept open on Sunday, but fruit spoils quickly, and Josiah was therefore willing, and even anxious, to part with his last night's stock at a cheap rate. Akees, as all the world knows, become poisonous if kept, and he was always ready to oblige a neighbour; also, but this is an after thought, he had no shutters to put up.
The women accordingly chattered like parrots over the fruit, and made elaborate bargains.
It was a point of religion among them that no money should pass on the Lord's Day, and the transfer, therefore, had to be carried out by the promise of so many sugar-canes and so many mangoes, custard apples, or sweet sops, to be ​produced later on in the future week. To settle these points exactly was a long business, and frequently led to complications, but the Sabbath was observed.
They were all in their best Sunday raiment, and the Missus found herself again regretting the very stiff cassava starched petticoat that invariably marks the full dress of the self-respecting "coloured lady." In their work-a-day clothes they would have looked characteristic, and even picturesque, but in their attire, and absurdly over-trimmed "church hats," they appeared at their worst.
Fortunately, like most of us poor mortals, they were sublimely unconscious of their own deficiencies, for in each other's eyes (which, after all, is where our standard of taste is to be sought for) their faintly coloured flowered prints and white Gainsborough hats, over-burdened feathers and mock pearls, with looked very correct, and what they themselves termed "stylish," even although they surmounted a collection of tightly plaited woolly locks.
​Suddenly she heard a gay "Marning, Missus."
She looked around, and there, on the other side of the red pinquin spears, she saw a flash of crimson.
A tall, well-made brown girl was standing at the door of one of the low palm-thatched huts.
She nodded and smiled again and again. Her white teeth glittered in the morning light.
She was a handsome creature in her own style, and she seemed to know it. A pure blooded Sambo, her soft, smooth skin was of the tint of a well-ripened hazelnut. Her dress was straight and long, and of bright red calico, and her well-poised head was tied with a check handkerchief, in which the same hue predominated. She wore a blue bead necklace round her throat. Taking her as a whole, she matched the tall flamboyant tree very well, and her presence gave the final touch of colour to the picture. "Marning, Missus," she called once more, and the Missus accordingly stopped, and they had some conversation.
On the Missus admiring her red dress, she laughed again, and all the other coloured women, who had paused to listen to their talk, laughed shrilly too. ​"Glad it please you, Missus. Plenty folk laugh when I buy it; but I tink I look berry nice in it, so I no care what dey say;" and she cast a semi-defiant look at the older women.
Evidently the garment in question had been the cause of some discussion among the black élégantes of the district. Clearly also the wearer was a young lady of unusual character, and possessed an original taste of her own.
The acquaintance of the Missus with my heroine might have begun and ended here, but some six weeks afterwards she chanced to stay for a considerable time at the Summerlands Hotel. Now there are hotels in Creolia, but their number is so limited at present, that I may be forgiven if I hint that at the time I speak of they were hardly up to our European standard of comfort. As far as the outer edifices are concerned , little remains to be desired, for in a moment of enthusiasm the Creolians erected various large and lofty buildings for the purpose. The beauty of the scenery of their lovely West Indian island, and the softness of its climate, held out hopes that a perpetual crop of winter tourists would speedily cause them to reap ​a golden harvest for their pains. They were doomed to disappointments. The hotels were there, but beyond the name they were of small use to luxurious and consumptive visitors.
They afforded shelter indeed, and a tolerably clean and habitable room, but for food, attendance, and all the other items that are generally regarded as part of a hotel's duty to provide, the less said the better.
The food was either cruelly deficient in quantity or curiously defective in quality. The attendance, at the best vague, was at the worst non-existent. Complaints were received with stony nonchalance, or looked upon as an unwarranted insult to the hotel management, the result being that after a week or two of more or less patient endurance of the evils, all independent travellers vanished in search of more desirable habitations. The unhappy mortals who by their occupations or necessities were tied to the spot, dragged on from day to day a precarious existence, and con soled themselves for their short commons and numerous small discomforts by incessant but unavailing growls.
How the Missus came to pass ​months in this unsatisfactory abode it is not necessary to inquire. For the Missus it was perhaps less hard than for most people. No management, however defective, could take away one tint of orange from the glowing sunsets. No ill-cooked stew or muddy coffee could rob the glorious mountains of their jewelled peaks. If the negro servants were lazy, they were also eminently picturesque. The Missus heard of their faults on every side, and with much truth, but she found them also, to her own knowledge, affectionate as children, and almost as spontaneous in their conduct. If they were not trusted, they stole—stole, too, with a frank-hearted enjoyment of their cleverness, that almost robbed the crime of its guilt.
If they were scolded, they lied boldly and deliberately, but only because, as they explained, "dey no liked to be 'roughed' or 'cursed.'"
Morals, as generally understood at home, were of the slightest, yet in their irregular domestic arrangements they were often most strangely and touchingly true to each other.
In all, poor black children, a queer compound of infantine vanity and pathetic humility, ready to do ​valuable work in the world with proper care and guidance, but fit material also for deeds with which to match their own dark skins.
In spite of all their shortcomings, the Missus liked them sincerely, and they, with the wonderful instinct of children, found this fact out at once.
Her property was always respected, although it had been instilled into her from the time of her first arrival that all must be kept under lock and key.
She never followed this advice, and yet her ribbons and laces, her toilet soap and her scent bottles, remained untouched.
If any of the servants asked for a bow for their "church hat," or some "essence," wherewith to make a sensation at one of their parties, they knew that their request would be cheerfully granted, and in consequence they never took anything of the kind without leave.
I believe this method of dealing with them is unusual: whether it would answer in all cases is a question; but as the only excuse for the relation of this simple history is its veracity, I mention it here. One exception I am, however, bound to make, and that is with ​regard to food. The Missus did occasionally miss biscuits, white sugar, and other small European luxuries. No amount of teaching can imbue the negro mind with the idea that where food is concerned they are privileged. "Taking no stealing," they will assert," and in their own words, "Food God's gift and b'longs to us all." It must be admitted that this theory is carried out with scrupulous exactitude, to the dire confusion and dismay of thrifty English housewives. In this respect the Missus could not lay claim to being any better off than the rest of her compatriots.