I met him in a country road a few miles out of Spanish Town. He was a well-dressed black, and had that air of sanctity about him which immediately suggests the church of Nonconformity. He wished me good morning with cheerful superiority, and I engaged him in conversation. He was not a parson, but he prayed to God that he was a good Christian and a deacon of His holy Church. He would have discussed every dogma known to Christendom had I been in the philosophic mood. But I led the way to politics, and my friend found congenial ground.

He was an Imperialist and a Protectionist, and withal, he added, a staunch democrat. He believed in God and Jamaica and the negro race. Jamaica for the Jamaicans. It must be a government for the people by the people. Not a fantastical caricature of law-making and liberty which always could be vetoed by a despotic Governor and his clique. He hoped he was loyal to the Crown and to the King of Britain, but his heart bled for his own country and his own race. He was prepared to make Jamaica the horizon of his political outlook. His duty to God was to attend to the needs of the people of his own race and blood settled in the country of their birth. “We black people outnumber you whites by at least forty to one; is it rational that we should always submit to your despotic government? Though the British Government is the cleanest and the most enlightened in the world, neither Imperial Parliament nor a Governor four or five years resident in the colony, properly understands the needs of Jamaica. Since the population is black let the Government be black. The British gave their slaves unconditioned freedom; that was an act for which no negro owes any thanks to Britain. Freedom is the natural right of every individual, whether he is white or black; so the black man owes no thanks to the white for having been permitted to claim his natural heritage of freedom. Rather do the whites owe a great debt to the black for the gross injustice of the slave days.” That was a matter he did not wish to press. To-day he and the people of his race are, as individuals, entirely free. His complaint was that politically they were still bound. They are not permitted to govern themselves as they would like to do. The Governor of Jamaica has never been a black man. Yet, for all practical purposes, the population of Jamaica is entirely black.

My friend had scathing criticisms to offer on the questions of the Jamaican Representative Government. The minority—by law it is a permanent minority—of the members of the legislative assembly are elected by the people. The elected members were returned after having pledged themselves to certain measures. These measures were, in the majority of cases, thrown out by the Governors’ permanent legal majority. Government under such conditions was characterised by my friend as being little better than a farce. He repeated his phrase “fantastical caricature of law-making.”

“What would you have?” I asked.

The verbosity of his reply was only equalled by its vehemence.

“I would have Jamaica governed as England is governed. The people of this island have every moral right to govern themselves, to frame their own laws and to administer those laws. We are no longer barbarians; we are an educated people with ambitions, and the strength to attain our ambitions. We recognise that it is a fine thing to be a part of the great Empire of Britain, but we recognise, even more clearly, that it is a finer thing to be a free, unfettered nation. England will always have our heartiest support and affection. When we have become a nation and ceased to be a crown colony, Jamaica will always feel that really she is the child of Britain.”

“So you anticipate that one day Jamaica will be entirely independent of England?” I asked.

“It is inevitable,” he replied. “Already the more educated coloured people feel the bitterness of their semi-dependence. Already the smouldering embers of the fire of absolute freedom are in evidence throughout the land. We are not without our politicians. We are not without our leaders; perhaps we have not yet found one quite strong enough to lead us on to political victory. We have not found our Cromwell. But, some day, soon, a strong man will appear, and Jamaica will become an independent nation.”

“And what about the white men?”

“They will be unaffected. They will always be made welcome in our country; law and order will prevail under the new system just as it prevails to-day. You English have taught us how to become a great people; you have given us the immeasurable benefit of your religion; you have given us a framework for our laws and constitution. When the time comes for us to make full use of that knowledge, you will find that your wisdom was not thrown to waste.”

“But the freedom you aspire to can only come by revolution.”

“Political revolution—yes; armed revolution—no. We natives of Jamaica think we frequently see indications in your English Parliament that your Liberal party would not be averse to granting us that freedom which, one day, we shall be strong enough to demand. I believe that in the end justice must prevail. I know that our independence must come because I know that it is just that it should come.”

“And,” I suggested, “if you cannot obtain it by peaceful methods you will take it by armed force?”

“I do not think, when we are ready, that armed force will be necessary. Jamaica is no longer of great value to England.”

“But England guards the interests of her children, and nearly all the land of Jamaica belongs to English planters.”

“The land of Jamaica belongs by natural right to the people of Jamaica.”

“You believe in the doctrine of land nationalisation?”

“I believe in the doctrine of justice.”

“Would you propose to compensate the planters when you despoil them of their land?”

“That I cannot say. Compensation such as that would be a simple act of grace. Morally it would not be necessary.”

I mentioned to him that I had heard much about the annexation of Jamaica by the United States.

“That will never come about,” he said. “Jamaicans would not stand it, America does not desire it. But it would be better for America if we were entirely independent.”

“Why?” I asked.

“When the Panama Canal is completed Jamaica will be a place of some strategical importance,” he replied.

The conversation drifted to the condition of the people. I mentioned that the intelligence of the majority of the coloured people was not equal to the standard of the white.

“There I disagree,” he said. “So far we have not produced one great man. We have no great statesmen or warriors or divines. But in the mass our people compare favourably with the agricultural labourers of England, Germany or France. They are a clean-living, quiet people, easily led and easily governed.”

“You know Europe?” I asked.

“I lived in England ten years,” he replied. “I have been to many of the continental capitals. But my heart has always been in Jamaica. I like my own people best. We live a happier life than any European people, and we are cleaner in our mode of living.”

“Yet,” I ventured, “the majority of the children born on the island are illegitimate.”

“True,” he admitted, “but have you seen in Kingston, or anywhere else in the island, any traces of an immorality to equal the wickedness of London, Paris, or Berlin?”

I took refuge in the remark. “If you are so happy why change your condition; why attempt to alter your system of Government, why attempt to become an independent nation?”

“Because we have ambition, and because it is good for any nation that its children shall be eligible for the highest honours the nation can give. As a people we cannot be perfectly happy while we know that another race has drawn a chalk circle, as it were, round us, and has said, Thus far you may go, but not beyond. The possibility of maintaining a permanent minority in the legislative council is the chalk mark.”

“How long will it be,” I ventured, “before the chalk mark is erased?”

“That I cannot say and do not care to guess.

Perhaps five years, perhaps less than five years, or perhaps it will be a quarter of a century. Your Liberal party may rub out the chalk for us, or——”

“Or,” I insisted.

“America may suggest to England that it would be a graceful thing to do.”

We walked along together and for some time there was a silence. Then my friend began: “It is the only thing. The only possible solution of the many Jamaican problems. The weakness of the English rule in Jamaica is that the island is governed by those who are paid to govern. The ambition of the majority of the English officials seems to be to earn their money and begone. Jamaica is not their home. Just as I in England always thought of this island as home, and worked in England so that I might return here, so do the English people think of England while living here. It would be foolish to expect anything else. The more ambitious servants of the British Government work hard here, not so much for the good of the place as for the good of themselves. They want to make a noise and distinguish themselves. Their hearts are set on promotion, not on the well-being of the people of the Government. The same applies to some extent to the planters. English planters who have settled in the island feel that they are living in exile. If they cannot make money enough to afford long holidays in England,—if they cannot send their wives to England every year and their children to English schools,—they complain of their poverty. Economically that is wrong; it is not fair to the country that so much money made in Jamaica should be spent in England. I am a planter—a very successful planter. I make quite enough money to live here in the greatest comfort, but I could not afford prolonged holidays in England, neither could I afford to send my wife and children there. If I were an Englishman I should bewail my fate and call myself a pauper. As it is I count myself rich. I want no more than I have.”

“But,” I said, “you have your tourists here. Surely more money comes into the island from the pockets of English and American tourists than goes out by reason of the holidays of the planters.”

“Yes,” he admitted. “But the tourist money goes to the hotel-keepers and retail dealers in the towns. The money the planters take out is taken from the agricultural districts; money which should have been invested in agriculture, spent in improving the sugar plantations and the fruit fields. We cannot hope to become rich because we have rich hotels and flourishing tradesmen. We can hope to become rich if our agricultural resources are developed, if our plantations are improved, and more machinery is imported. The English planters treat the island as though it were a gold mine to be sucked dry and then abandoned. The coloured people know that Jamaica is not that. The three quarters of a million of a people can only be supported in comfort by the commercial advancement of the country. Do not forget that our population is rapidly increasing.”

“I see at least one insurmountable difficulty in your path,” I said. “Even if your dream of freedom came true, how would you deal with the half-breed population?”

“We should absorb them,” he replied. “They are at one with us in our dream of freedom.”

“And you can trust them to be at one with you always?” I asked.

“They will be our Irish,” he replied.