British Virgin Islands

On 1 July, the British Virgin Islands celebrate Territory Day—as the name suggests, the islands are still a British overseas territory, part of the Virgin Islands archipelago—the other part of the archipelago is the US Virgin Islands. Apparently the territory’s name is technically just the Virgin Islands, but its pretty much a universal practice to add the “British” to the front, to differentiate from the US Virgin Islands. Got it? The islands have been autonomous since 1967.

Like many other Caribbean islands, the territory was first settled by the Arawak, coming from South America around 100 BCE—but I also read that there is some evidence of prior Amerindian presence going back a thousand or more years before that. The Arawaks stayed on until the 15th century, when, as we all know, Europeans began their foray into the “New World.” Columbus saw the islands in 1493, and for some reason he decided to call them Saint Ursula and her 11,000 Virgins—brilliant name, don’t know they gave it up. It was pretty quickly shortened to Las Virgines, or The Virgins.

So, the Spanish claimed the islands, but didn’t settle them. Then came a game of musical chairs as the English, Dutch, French, Spanish and Danish got in on the act of vying for control. And, of course, (a mandatory mention for this record…) there were pirates.

In 1648 the Dutch set up shop on the island of Tortola. Not liking this state of affairs, the English captured the islands and moved in in 1672, as well as annexing a few other islands in the group. At the same time, the Danish had control of some other islands nearby. (These passed into American hands and became the US Virgin Islands when America bought them from Denmark in 1917. The going rate for an island group, apparently, was $25 million.)

The British Islands were prosperous until the mid-1800s. The abolition of slavery came about—but it coincided with a series of hurricanes and the growth of sugar beet in Europe, so that the sugar cane production that had been a major source of income was significantly reduced.

While the islands were administered with the Leeward Islands or with St. Kitts and Nevis for a long time, they attained the status of a separate colony in 1960, and, as mentioned above, became autonomous in 1967.

For today’s poem I’m taking a slightly different tack. Among the islands that make up the British Virgin Islands is Dead Chest Island. This is where Blackbeard left crew members with nothing except a bottle of rum as punishment. Trying to swim to Peter Island, they died. In 1871 Charles Kingsley published a book called At Last: A Christmas in the West Indies, where he mentioned Dead Chest Island. This in turn was an inspiration for Robert Louis Stevenson, and the famous “Dead Man’s Chest” of Treasure Island. Then the American poet Young E. Allison decided he would fill out Stevenson’s verses and created the poem “Derelict.” Perhaps a little convoluted, but I found this series of connections irresistible. I would like to add, however, that of course there are active poets living in the territory and who have visited the area. There is an anthology of poems published by poets of the British Virgin Islands—I couldn’t get my hands on it. On the other hand, it’s nice to connect a piece of culture that’s familiar to nearly everyone (certainly everyone who was ever interested in pirates) to the place that appears to have been it’s inspiration. I found the full text of “Derelict” online here, along with a score for those who’d like to sing it.


Derelict (Cap’n Billy Bones his song)

Fifteen men on the Dead Man's Chest—

      Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum!

Drink and the devil had done for the rest—
      
Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum!

The mate was fixed by the bos'n's pike,

The bos'n brained with a marlinspike

And Cookey's throat was marked belike,
      
It had been gripped

            By fingers ten;
      
And there they lay,
 
           All good dead men,

Like break-o'-day in a boozing-ken—

      Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum!

Fifteen men of the whole ship's list—

      Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum!

Dead and be damned and the rest gone whist!—

      Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum!

The skipper lay with his nob in gore

Where the scullion's axe his cheek had shore—

And the scullion he was stabbed times four.

      And there they lay,

            And the soggy skies

      Dripped all day long

            In upstaring eyes—

In murk sunset and at foul sunrise—

      Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum!

Fifteen men of 'em stiff and stark—

      Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum!

Ten of the crew had the Murder mark—

      Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum!

'Twas a cutlass swipe, or an ounce of lead,

Or a yawing hole in a battered head—

And the scuppers glut with a rotting red,

      And there they lay—

            Aye, damn my eyes—

      All lookouts clapped

            On paradise—

All souls bound just contrariwise—

      Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum.

Fifteen men of 'em good and true—

      Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum!

Every man jack could ha' sailed with Old Pew—

      Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum!

There was chest on chest full of Spanish gold,

With a ton of plate in the middle hold,

And the cabins riot of stuff untold,

      And they lay there

            That had took the plum,

      With sightless glare

            And their lips struck dumb,

While we shared all by the rule of thumb—

      Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum!

More was seen through the sternlight screen—

      Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum!

Chartings ondoubt where a woman had been!

      Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum!

A flimsy shift on a bunker cot,

With a thin dirk slot through the bosom spot

And the lace stiff-dry in a purplish blot.

      Or was she wench...

            Or some shuddering maid...?

      That dared the knife—

            And took the blade!

By God! she was stuff for a plucky jade—

      Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum!

Fifteen men on the Dead Man's Chest—

      Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum!

Drink and the devil had done for the rest—

      Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum!

We wrapped 'em all in a mains'l tight

With twice ten turns of a hawser's bight

And we heaved 'em over and out of sight—

      With a yo-heave-ho!

            And a fare-you-well!

      And a sullen plunge

            In the sullen swell,

Ten fathoms deep on the road to hell!

      Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum!

—Young E. Allison