VI.
… SO!—She is ready: "Châgé moin, souplè, chè!" She bends to
lift the end of the heavy trait: some one takes the other,—yon!-dé!—toua!—it
is on her head. Perhaps she winces an instant;—
the weight is not perfectly balanced; she settles it with her
hands,—gets it in the exact place. Then, all steady,—lithe,
light, half naked,—away she moves with a long springy step. So
even her walk that the burden never sways; yet so rapid her motion
that however good a walker you may fancy yourself to be you will
tire out after a sustained effort of fifteen minutes to follow
her uphill. Fifteen minutes;—and she can keep up that pace
without slackening—save for a minute to eat and drink at mid-day,—for
at least twelve hours and fifty-six minutes, the
extreme length of a West Indian day. She starts before dawn;
tries to reach her resting-place by sunset: after dark, like all
her people, she is afraid of meeting zombis.
Let me give you some idea of her average speed under an average
weight of one hundred and twenty-five pounds,—estimates based
partly upon my own observations, partly upon the declarations of
the trustworthy merchants who employ her, and partly on the assertion of
habitants of the burghs or cities named—all of which statements
perfectly agree. From St. Pierre to Basse-Pointe, by the
national road, the distance is a trifle less than twenty-seven
kilometres and three-quarters. She makes the transit easily in
three hours and a
half; and returns in the afternoon, after an absence
of scarcely more than eight hours. From St. Pierre to Morne Rouge—
two thousand feet up in the mountains (an ascent so abrupt that no
one able to pay carriage-fare dreams of attempting to walk it)—
the distance is seven kilometres and three-quarters. She makes
it in little more than an hour. But this represents only the
beginning of her journey. She passes on to Grande Anse, twenty-one
and three-quarter kilometres away. But she does not rest
there: she returns at the same pace, and reaches St. Pierre
before dark. From St. Pierre to Gros-Morne the distance to be
twice traversed by her is more than thirty-two kilometres. A
journey of sixty-four kilometres,—daily, perhaps,—forty miles!
And there are many màchannes who make yet longer trips,—trips of
three or four days' duration;—these rest at villages upon their
route.
