White feet climb from the bay,
taking a tourist trail to explore this outpost.
In well-groomed lawn the officers’ quarters
stand, restored to Georgian elegance.
Memory is a plaque:
On this spot the mutiny of the 8th
West India Regiment broke out.
Under a mango’s shade, there’s more to learn.
***
Cane bills were the trigger.
A broad iron blade, with hooked tip heavy
on long handle, to strip and lift the stems.
Familiar enough – like erratic food
and clothing – yet unforeseen,
as the swindling of due allowances had been.
Cane bills. Plantation’s badge:
handed out, like shame, for clearing swamp of bush.
Did the Colonial Office weigh up the risk
of putting arms in reach,
as manpower short, they bought a regiment?
For Redcoats fell to more than yellow jack.
Where they hanged the rebels, history doesn’t say.
We imagine them dangling
from Fort Shirley’s ramparts, overlooking
black sands and blue, contested Caribbean.
***
Black hands built these dark walls:
carried the cut boulders, hauled cannon
to the heart of a volcano, long dead.
The garrison track heads inland, stumbles
on empty magazines, barracks half-swallowed
by forest. Windows choked with Strangler Fig.
Imperial footing undermined
by spreading Bloodwood root.
v. 2018
