I.
ONE might almost say that commercial time in St. Pierre is
measured by cannon-shots,—by the signal-guns of steamers. Every
such report announces an event of extreme importance to the whole
population. To the merchant it is a notification that mails,
money, and goods have arrived;—to consuls and Government
officials it gives notice of fees and dues to be collected;—for
the host of lightermen, longshoremen, port laborers of all
classes, it promises work and pay;—for all it signifies the
arrival of food. The island does not feed itself: cattle, salt
meats, hams, lard, flour, cheese, dried fish, all come from
abroad,—particularly from America. And in the minds of the
colored population the American steamer is so intimately
associated with the idea of those great tin cans in which food-stuffs
are brought from the United States, that the onomatope
applied to the can, because of the sound outgiven by it when
tapped,—bom!—is also applied to the ship itself. The English
or French or Belgian steamer, however large, is only known as
packett-à, batiment-là; but the American steamer is always the
"bom-ship"—batiment-bom-à, or, the "food-ship"—batiment-mangé-à. …
You hear women and men asking each other, as the
shock of the gun flaps through all the town, "Mi! gadé ça qui là,
chè?" And if the answer be, "Mais c'est bom-là, chè,—bom-mangé-à
ka rivé" (Why, it is the bom, dear,—the food-bom that
has come), great is the exultation.
Again, because of the sound of her whistle, we find a steamer
called in this same picturesque idiom, batiment-cône,—"the
horn-ship." There is even a song, of which the refrain is:—
"Bom-là rivé, chè.-Batiment-cône-là
rivé."
… But of all the various classes of citizens, those most
joyously excited by the coming of a great steamer, whether she be
a "bom" or not,—are the 'ti canotié, who swarm out immediately
in little canoes of their own manufacture to dive for coins which
passengers gladly throw into the water for the pleasure of
witnessing the graceful spectacle. No sooner does a steamer drop
anchor—unless the water be very rough indeed—than she is
surrounded by a fleet of the funniest little boats imaginable,
full of naked urchins screaming creole.
These 'ti canotié—these little canoe-boys and professional
divers—are, for the most part, sons of boatmen of color, the
real canotiers. I cannot find who first invented the 'ti
canot: the shape and dimensions of the little canoe are fixed
according to a tradition several generations old; and no
improvements upon the original model seem to have ever been
attempted, with the sole exception of a tiny water-tight box
contrived sometimes at one end, in which the palettes, or
miniature paddles, and various other trifles may be stowed away.
The actual cost of material for a canoe of this kind seldom
exceeds twenty-five or thirty cents; and, nevertheless, the
number of canoes is not very large—I doubt if there be more than
fifteen in the harbor;—as the families of Martinique boatmen are
all so poor that twenty-five sous are difficult to spare, in
spite of the certainty that the little son can earn fifty times
the amount within a month after owning a canoe.
For the manufacture of a Canoe an American lard-box
or kerosene-oil box is preferred by reason of its shape; but any
well-constructed shipping-case of small size would serve the
purpose. The top is removed; the sides and the corners of the
bottom are sawn out at certain angles; and the pieces removed are
utilized for the sides of the bow and stern,—sometimes also in
making the little box for the paddles, or palettes, which are
simply thin pieces of tough wood about the form and size of a
cigar-box lid. Then the little boat is tarred and varnished: it
cannot sink,—though it is quite easily upset. There are no
seats. The boys (there are usually two to each canot) simply
squat down in the bottom,—facing each other, they can paddle
with surprising swiftness over a smooth sea; and it is a very
pretty sight to witness one of their prize contests in racing,—
which take place every 14th of July. …