Cheraw chronicle. [volume] (Cheraw, S.C.) 1896-2005, 1921-09-01
CHAPTER XIII.
A Letter.


With a deep sigh, the planter raised
his head from the table where he was
writing, and looked out upon the lands
he had made his own. They lay on
the Thomas river, a few hours horse
back travelling from Spanish Town, the
capital, and they had the advantage
of a plateau formation, with noun
taihs in the far distance and ravines
and valleys everywhere.
. Now his eyes wandered over the
space where were the grandilla, with
its blossom like q passion-fower, the
black Tahiti plum, with its bright pink
tassel-blossom. and the fine mango
trees, loaded half with fruit and half
with bud In the distance, were the
guinea cornfields Of brownish hue, the
cotton fields, the long ranges Of negro
houses like thatched cottages, the pen
guin hedges, with their beautiful red,
blue, and white convolvuluses; the
lime, logwood, and bread-fruit trees,
the avocado-pear, the feathery bam-
hoo, and the jack-fruit tree; and be-
tween the mountains and his own
sugar estates, negro settlements and
pens. He heard the flight Of parrots
chattering, he watched the floating
humming-bird.
It was Dyck Calhoun.
With an impatient air he took up
the sheets that he had been reading.
Christmas day was on his nerves. The
whole town Of Kingston, with It's
twenty to thirty thousand inhabitants,
had but one church. If he entered 1t,
even today, he would have seen no
more than a hundred and fifty to two
hundred people; mostly mulattoes-
"bronze ornaments"-and peasants
in shag trousers, jackets of coarse blue
cloth, and no waistcoats, with one or
two magistrates, dozen gentlemen or
so, and probably twice that number of
ladies. 1t was not an island given over
to piety or to religious habits.
But let Dyck tell his own story. The
papers he held were sheets of a letter
he was writing to one from whom he
had heard nothing since the night he
enlisted in the navy, and that was
nearly three years before.
This was the letter:
"My Dear Friend
"You will see l address you as you
have done me in the two letters have
had from you in the past. You will
never read this letter, but | write il
as if you would. For you must know
| may never hope for personal inter-
coarse with you. was imprisoned for
killing your father, Erris Boyne. and
that separates us like an abyss. 1t
matters little whether killed him or
not; the law says / did, and the law
has taken its toll of ne. | was in
prison for four years, and when freed
| enlisted in the kings navy, quota
man, with my Servant-frend Michael
Clones. That was the beginning of
painful and wonderful days for me. !
was one of the mutineerS Of the More,
and"
Here followed q description of the
DAYS he had spent on the Ariadne and
before, and of all that happened down
TO the time when he was arrested by
the admiral in the West Indian sea.
He told how he was sent over TO the
Aradne with Captain Ivy to read the
admiral's letter to the seamen, and
then, by consent of the admiral, to
leave again with Michael Clones for
jamaica, where he was set ashore
with twenty pounds in his pocket
and not on parole, by the admiral's
demand. Here the letter shall again
take up the story, and be narrative
of Dyck Calhoun's life from that time
until this Christmas day.
"What to do was the question. l
knew no one in Jamaica-no one at
all EXCEPT the governor Lord Mallow,
and him / had fought with swords in
Phoenix park five years before. / had
not known he was governor here.
came to know 1t when ! first saw him
riding over the unpaved street into
Kingston from Spanish Town with h S
suite. ornate with his governorship.
"Lord Mallow did not see me when