Chapter 5 | Upside Down

Her Britannic Majesty's Principal Secretary of State for Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs Requests and requires in the Name of Her Majesty all those whom it may concern to allow the bearer to pass freely without let or hindrance, and to afford the bearer such assistance and protection as may be necessary.

The SS Auriga crept slowly and inexorably north-eastwards towards Spain. Built on the Clyde and named the Ruahine, it had been refurbished and renamed seven years ago was now in its last gasps of life as an Italian owned passenger cargo ship.

Its journey had started in April in La Guaira in Venezuela, from which it had island-hopped to Curaçao, Trinidad, Grenada and Martinique, before finally stopping at Roseau, Dominica. From there it was on to Antigua, Monserrat and finally its largest embarkation at Kingston, Jamaica. By then, there would be eleven hundred souls on board, finally setting off across the mighty Atlantic, first stop Vigo after approximately twenty days at sea, then on to Le Havre and finally disembarkation scheduled for May 13 at Southampton.

It had not been possible for anyone other than Olivia to wave Tio off, given that the Auriga anchored off Roseau, several hours from Portsmouth and the North. She bade him a tearful goodbye and gave his cousin and travelling companion, Manuel LeBlanc, strict instructions to take care of her younger brother.

Tio and Manuel boarded one of the small boats that ferried passengers from shore to the Auriga and had been astounded to see hundreds of fellow passengers also leaving.

Embarkation - tedious and chaotic in equal measures – required that each passenger state his or her line of work and their eventual destination upon arrival in England for entry into the ship’s manifest. The Italian ship’s clerk entered Tio’s name as Benjamin Mourillon rather than Benoit, throwing Tio into a minor panic, thinking it may complicate his onward travel. The queue was too large and the clerk’s English too poor to rectify the error, so the mistake stood. Tio was on board, that would have to do for now.

Labourers, seamstresses, housemaids, mechanics, carpenters, agricultural workers, masons, tailors, painters, clerks and planters such as Tio were all thrown into the melee. How, he wondered, would his tiny island that had almost been his whole world manage with all of these people leaving at once?

Tio had been required to visit his former head-teacher, Clive Sorhaindo, before setting off to Roseau. Despite now being an adult, Tio still held his former this sternest and most circumspect of men in some considerable awe.

Clive Sorhaindo, for his part, seemed genuinely pleased to see his former pupil. Although never effusive, he gladly conversed with Tio for some time about his thoughts and aspirations, and silently welled with pride as Tio regaled him with an account of his ambition to own a truck, how by way of venturing overseas he intended to fund it, how he was prepared to dig ditches if necessary, to work hard, to do anything to earn money and improve his station in life.

Mr. Sorhaindo’s seeming omniscience was a source of both reassurance and foreboding for Tio.

Reassurance came in the form of encouragement that he was journeying to one of the world’s great cultural epicentres. Throughout the entirety of his education, Tio had been raised on a daily scholarly diet of all that appertained to the heart of the Empire, the United Kingdom of England, Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland. Every part of the kingdom was held in equal importance, but naturally, size, population, and sheer practicality dictated that the main concentration of power and prestige lay in England, the heart of which is London. There was an order of things and this, of course, was the right order.

And Tio must never forget that all of the sons and daughters of the Empire were equally loved. As such, they were to be allowed without let or hindrance into its bosom of the mother country, but naturally, their place within the family must reflect their aptitude, breeding, and station in life.

For sure, the world in which Tio Mourillon grew had seemed on the outskirts of the world. Now, finally, he would be journeying to the centre of it - or at least one of the centres. Where indeed was the centre, now he came to think about it? Some said Great Britain, some said France, some said the United States. Who cared? It was not here in Roseau, nor in Portsmouth, nor in any place where he heard daily ‘mwen mal’ - life is hard for me, that was for sure.

“Young men such as yourself are in many ways pioneers, Benoit. In past years, pioneers were always thought to venture from east to west, but you are heading in the opposite direction.”

A gentle pride rose up in Tio as his former teacher spoke. Praise from Mr. Sorhaindo was praise indeed. A simple but profound choice made, people seemingly held Tio in very different esteem. Yes, it was true that some took an altogether negative view of him leaving – quite why he could not say. Perhaps it was envy. Perhaps they thought Tio not so much to be enhancing himself, but deserting his compatriots.

Let them think what they want, thought Tio. Would any of them pay for, or even contribute to his upkeep in these hardest of times?

After all, according to a man whose standing and reputation was unimpeachable, whose opinion Tio truly respected, he was a pioneer.

As for foreboding, that came in the form of Mr. Sorhaindo’s sage advice on how Tio must conduct himself, how he must be diligent, hard-working, how he must seek the company of the industrious, not the dissolute. He must not only be law-abiding but only ever seek the company of likeminded souls.

And yet, it seemed, there was something he was not saying, something he was distinctly reticent about. Perhaps this was because it contradicted the narrative he had fed Tio and his fellow pupils throughout their school years.

But now Tio was an adult, he had already been exposed to it. In this account of history, England had been an inattentive lover who had once thought Dominica worth fighting for against another suitor, France, only to neglect her once that fight had been won and everything of virtue taken.

France, by contrast, had bestowed marriage, wealth, and adoration upon Dominica’s sisters, Martinique and Guadeloupe. Now, years later, it was as if some of Dominica’s children were coming home to visit, perhaps even to stay, like the offspring of a long-forgotten mistress, unsure of their familial legitimacy.

Perhaps Mr. Sorhaindo wanted to say something to that effect. If so, he chose not to. Ever one for an apt quotation from classic literature, This most erudite of men waxed lyrical as in days of old.

“To travel hopefully is a better thing than to arrive, Benoit.”

Tio felt a sudden momentary surge of panic as he searched his mind for the meaning, lest suddenly corporal punishment be dispensed. Then he stopped searching. It was quite obvious, really.
He may not like England when he got there.

Tio’s father, Ton Pierre, by contrast, opted to dispense advice as if writing a telegram.

“Vaplé ou ka Mourillon.”

Remember you are a Mourillon.

It made no sense. What else could he be?

Tio’s father had never really been one for extended speeches. The only one he could ever recall was when he was a child, Pierre had spoken to him about the importance of the land Tio was to inherit, how he needed to tend it well, ensure it remained in the family, and respect its borders. No, his speeches were rare, but his father clearly inspected his instruction to be heard once but heeded forever.
He was to remember he was a Mourillon. What did that even mean?

Tio gained at least a hint of what it meant when his name was being entered into the passenger manifest. It had bothered Tio that his name was entered incorrectly. He did not know why. It just did. What, after all, did he have that was more important than his name? Wherever he went he would take it, all that it meant, who he was, whose he was.

Pain and discomfort from the wound from Tio’s machete mishap had dominated the first few days of the journey. What made things worse was the constant overwhelming aroma of fish and chips emanating from the ship’s galley so that combined with pain-induced nausea made it impossible for him to find his sea legs. Consequently, the contents of his stomach were poured daily into the Atlantic for eight consecutive days.
It was a mystery why the Italian crew should choose to make fish and chips the sole gastronomic offering to the captive passengers. All of the Caribbean islanders were used to a very different and far more varied diet. Perhaps the galley staff thought it would be helpful to acquaint West Indian palates with English food.

“We are preparing you for what you will eat in England,” was the most they would offer when quizzed.

Whatever their thinking, the end effect was to give Tio a distaste for fish and chips and its smell for several years to come.

Now, as the low, dull throb that had coursed through Tio’s hand gradually subsided, his consciousness could finally divert from the searing pain of the last few days to the journey ahead and what it may hold, as he and his travelling companion gazed out to sea from the taffrail at the stern of the SS Auriga.

“Who would have guessed that so much sea existed in this world?” asked Manuel.

“Not me.”

Tio was dressed in white shorts, a calypso patterned shirt and robust leather sandals, Manuel more formally in beige cotton trousers, white shirt, and smart shoes.

“Days of sea. Weeks of sea!” exclaimed Manuel.

Tio was glad to simply be able to see the sea instead of the bottom of a vomit filled bucket.

“Why are we always here near the back of the boat?”

“The back of the boat is called the stern.”

“Why are we always at the stern?”

“There are some people at the front of the… at the bow I don’t want to meet right now.”

“Tell me, now. Who is he?”

“It is that big Antiguan fellow. I owe mister some money at cards.”

“Will he be troublesome?”

“Not if he nah see me. Anyway, there are plenty Dominicans if there is trouble.”

Manuel gestured towards two men, Joseph and Ernest, within earshot, a small distance away. Tio did not mind Ernest, but he had little patience for Joseph and desperately hoped Manuel would not call them over.
Joseph Baptiste could never simply converse, he always had to dominate a conversation, if indeed a conversation was what it was – monologue might be a more appropriate word, dispersed with the occasional opening for anyone who was the butt of his jokes to grunt a response.

“We can’t be fighting. The captain says we won’t be allowed in England if there is trouble. He says they will take us to Jamaica and leave us there,” said Tio.

“Bwoy, you really are a Penville goat. You think they will turn the ship around? Hah! Nobody is going anywhere.”

“I may be a goat, but this goat knows how to keep his money in his pocket. Do you see me hiding from anyone?”

“True,” Manuel laughed. “So, my friend, where are you going when you get to England? Is he London?”

“No, Lincoln.”

“Lincoln? Is he big like London?”

“I don’t know. My brothers are there working in a steel factory. I am joining them.”

“So how did they know to get the job in the steel factory?”

Tio was about to speak, but evidently, his blank expression was sufficient answer for Manuel.

“Did they already know how to make steel?”

“Manuel, what are you talking about? Who in Dominica knows about making steel?”

“But that is my question, boy. How can they know to find work there if they don’t already have the knowledge and the skill?”

“I don’t know! They must teach you when you get there.”

By now, the conversation had aroused the interest of the two Dominicans close by, Ernest and Joseph.

“What skill do your brother have?” asked Joseph.

“Gabriel is a carpenter. They are both carpenters.”

“That make no sense,” added Manuel, “how can you use wood in a steel factory?”

“I didn’t say they are doing carpenter thing in the factory. Maybe that is just how they get the job first.”

Tio was feeling quite defensive now. It seemed quite apparent that none of them actually knew how things worked in their destination country, but somehow all the conjecture was directed at him as if somehow he was the authority simply on the basis of having siblings already there.

“I don’t think you can go and work in the steel factory, Tio. You must have skills like engineer to work there.”

Joseph’s quite vocal speculation was in danger of drawing Tio into a full-blown argument. He found the whole idea of sailing across the world and living thousands of miles from home precarious enough. His ‘friends’ were just heaping worry upon worry, as they were ever prone.

“England,” pontificated Joseph, oblivious to Tio’s irritation, “England have some of the most skilled engineer in the world. They invent the train and electricity and lots of tings.”

“So what?” protested Tio, “my father is the most skilled carpenter in Dominica. People come from Guadeloupe and Martinique so he work for them.”

Joseph knew better than to insult a friend’s father. They could, by all means, show disregard for the offspring, but the parent was never to be disrespected.

“Look at this ship,” continued Joseph regardless, “they build it in England. The officer tell me yesterday.”

“He said they build the ship in Scotland,” interjected Ernest.

“That’s what I say.”

“But Scotland isn’t England! That is like saying Dominica is Antigua.”

“Ernest, hear me, now! Why you vex me so when I’m telling a story about the ship?”

“Boy, tell the story. But Scotland isn’t England.”

“The officer tell me this ship is in New Zealand all the time before now.”

“So?” Tio was distinctly unimpressed.

“So, I tell you they good engineer. They make a ship that sail upside down.”

Everyone but Tio burst into laughter, but even he cracked a reluctant smile.

“You think I’m bloody stupid.”

“Nah, boy. We think you Penvillian goat-la. Up in the north, in the mountain, where the air too thin.”

“So Tio, your brothers,” enquired Ernest, “they write to you about England?”

“Sometimes. Not much.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“What do they say about England? Do they like it there?”

“They say the weather is very cold. Not like Dominica.”

“Yes? And what else?”

“They say West Indians are not treated with respect there.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Anyway, why are you asking me these things? How should I know?”

Nothing further was said. Each of the men gazed seawards into the distance, each consumed in his own private thoughts.

“Everything is upside down,” said Joseph, “We supposed to go to a better country, but the food is worse, the weather is worse. How do we know if everything is not worse?”

Footsteps approached from their rear. For a moment, Manuel worried they may belong to Antiguan feet.

“Mi scusi, fiammiferi?”

The four men stared absently at the Italian deck hand now before them.

“Matches?”

Ernest handed him a box of matches.

“Grazie.”

The man lit his cigarette stub, nodded his thanks and went back to swabbing the deck as the four bemused passengers took their ease and looked on.

Manuel broke the silence.

“Maybe it is like you say, Joseph. The world is become upside down.”