Colonial History in the Caribbean: St. Croix Part 3 (another unexpected connection!)

by Shannon McNear

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Some things are just too strange to be coincidence.

So this past summer, my husband's Air Guard unit took part in a joint exercise using St. Croix, part of the United States Virgin Islands, as its base. Someone came up with the idea of inviting spouses and/or family along, and thus I found myself flying out of country for the first time ever to a little island I didn't know I needed to visit.

I'll admit, I don't really have a formal bucket list. But if I did, traveling out of country and then horseback riding on the beach would be two items on that list--and I was blessed to get to do both on this trip.

I've already covered two aspects of interesting colonial history associated with St. Croix, one connected with Denmark and one with our own Hamilton, but the one which got me most excited, and felt the most personal, was something I noticed while on that ride through the tropical forest on the island's west side.

It was my first chance to go trail riding in years, and I was already geeking out over getting to be on horseback on a Caribbean island. Then, at a bend in the trail, I looked down and saw these little green apple-like fruits, growing on a small tree that had fallen alongside the trail.

A memory tickled, of an incident I'd read in John White's account of the Roanoke Colony's passage through the Caribbean.

And why were they passing through the Caribbean, you might wonder? I'm glad you asked. It's because during the Age of Exploration, seafaring men knew it was better to take advantage of ocean currents that swirl in a great, clockwise motion from the coast of Europe, southward past Spain and Africa, sweeping around to the Caribbean, and then northward again along the coast of the New World.

Ships often stopped at the various islands for provisioning. And so John White reports an incident that I allude to in my recently released novel Elinor:

The 22 [of June] we came to an anchor at an Island called Santa Cruz, where all the planters were set on land, staying there till the 25 of the same month. At our first landing on this Island, some of our women, and men, by eating a small fruit like green Apples, were fearfully troubled with a sudden burning in their mouths, and swelling of their tongues so big, that some of them could not speak. Also a child by sucking one of those women's breasts, had at that instant his mouth set on such a burning, that it was strange to see how the infant was tormented for the time: but after 24 hours it ware away of it self.

... In this Island we found no watering place, but a standing pond, the water whereof was so evil, that many of our company fell sick with drinking thereof: and as many as did but wash their faces with water, in the morning before the sun had drawn away the corruption, their faces did so burn and swell, that their eyes were shut up, and could see in five or six days, or longer. [They did later find a spring high on a rocky hill.]

A small fruit like green apples ... ? I piped up and asked the girl leading our ride what the fruits were, and she said, "Oh, that's manchineel, and they're poisonous!"

Read more about it:  The Manchineel, or 'Death Apple," Is the World's Most Dangerous Tree

(Interestingly enough, the experience reported in this article mirrors John White's!)

Our guide went on to chat at little bit about this fruit you definitely want to avoid, and then went on to tell us that there was something else called a "ganip" that looked a bit like a small lime but was absolutely delicious. And before long, we ran across some.

At our guide's urging, we all collected a few. I hesitated--here I was, an adult of somewhat older persuasion and uncertain digestive sensitivity; would sampling this out in the wild be a mistake? But then I decided to take the risk. The skin was tender and popped easily when I bit the tiny fruit--about the size of a Scuppernong grape--and when I squeezed the juicy pulp into my mouth, it reminded me in texture and taste of something between a mango and a peach. There wasn't a lot of pulp surrounding the pit, but our guide was right about how good they tasted. I had several.

And fortunately, I never suffered any digestive distress, either.

A few articles about ganips:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Melicoccus_bijugatus

https://www.vinow.com/blog/nature/local-fruit-genips/

https://www.plantsandhealers.org/tropical-fruits-of-the-caribbean/

I wonder whether the English colonists thought they were getting ganips when they tried the manchineel?

But here was the thing. I'd completely forgotten whether John White had specified on which island this particular misadventure took place. But do you see it--Santa Cruz? That's the older name for St. Croix, the Spanish version of the name--and the people of the island still call themselves "Cruzan" after that name.

How cool to find that I'd walked shores where my Lost Colonists might have walked, ridden through a forest where they might have wandered.

Colonial History in the Caribbean: St. Croix Part 2 (an unexpected connection!)

 That time I got to take a trip I didn't know I needed, to a slightly obscure little island out on the Caribbean and toured a Danish colonial fort . . .

"What's your name, man?"

"Alexander Hamilton. My name is Alexander Hamilton! And there's a million things I haven't done, but just you wait--just you wait..."

 (Genius.com lyrics to the infamous song by Lin Manuel Miranda about the infamous Hamilton)

So yes, I rounded a corner at the fort and came face to face with these:

(You should be able to click on each photo and enlarge)

 

These four informational placards sketch out the story behind the story--of Hamilton's mother's early marriage, of her imprisonment right there in Fort Christiansvaern, and her relationship with Hamilton's father and return to St. Croix. The lyrics to the song "Alexander Hamilton" are actually pretty accurate. But something I caught from the display at the fort that the musical "Hamilton" doesn't really mention is the passionate faith young Alexander seemed to possess, heightened by the terrifying experience of living through a Category 5 hurricane there on St. Croix. (Lower sections of the fourth photo.) Can you imagine?

And this would not be the only unexpected connection with the American colonial era I would encounter on this beautiful island! Come back next month to read about the snippet of Lost Colony history I did not become aware of until later . . . 

Colonial History in the Caribbean: St. Croix

This summer, the opportunity arose for me to accompany my husband on a military trip to St. Croix, US Virgin Islands--my first time ever out of the country! Although St. Croix was never on my wishlist of places to visit, I am so glad I went!

Beyond the expected tourist vibe, this Caribbean island boasts an interesting slice of colonial history. It was, in fact, a colony of Denmark during the 1700's. St. Croix's two towns, Christiansted and Frederiksted, were named after Danish kings. We stayed in Christiansted, just steps away from the first Lutheran church built on the island (unfortunately not open to the public), and about a block further lay the Danish outpost of Fort Christiansvaern. Of course I went exploring ...

The old church is now called, simply, "The Steeple Building." A bronze plaque reports that construction began in 1750 and that this first Danish Lutheran Church was consecrated in 1753 as the Church of Our Lord of Sabaoth and served until the move to a new sanctuary in 1831. (Which I also saw and admired--and is still in use!) The church building was then used as a military bakery, storehouse, town hall, hospital, and school. It still, says the inscription, bears the aspect of 1796.

Coming from drought-stricken North Dakota, which usually has a vivid beauty of its own even in August, I found myself continually amazed at the fresh greens and striking blues of the island and the waters around it. There's a reason why "Caribbean blue" is a thing!

It's funny, too, how a history nerd like myself gets excited just over an 8th century fort and cannons. I mean, really, how many can you see before they all start looking alike? But there was something about the cheerful yellow of Fort Christianvaern, and the weight of history lurking in its halls ...

There were too many rooms of the fort to share, but some of the more interesting ones included the aresenal, still containing various artillery equipment, gear, and firearms:

Of course, like so many other places, the 18th century history of St. Croix was entangled with the practice of slavery. Sugar plantations comprised a large portion of the island's industry, and old sugar mills still stand scattered about--like this one on the boardwalk in Christiansted, now converted to a shop and restaurant by day.

In all, it felt a little like being on a "Pirates of the Caribbean" set, except for reminders that we remained firmly in the 21st century. (Among other things, the sanitizer dispensers literally in every nook and cranny!)

I also discovered two connections to American colonial history, right there on St. Croix ... but those will have to wait until next time!

(If you think you know at least one of them, do go ahead and post in the comments!)