Chapter 22: The Wilsons in British Honduras

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The third page of Katie Wilson Meade’s narrative of her family’s experiences in Toledo Settlement, British Honduras continues.

In yesterday’s post, the Wilson boys, Frank Jr. and Percy, went on an illicit Sabbath fishing trip:

Katie Wilson Meade’s narrative of the Wilson family in British Honduras. Source: Elizabeth Wilson Howard. Used with permission.

Father quietly turned to Percy and got the truth!

Frank got a good whipping for his lie. Percy didn’t because of his truth. Alas, it came later in the day — from Frank!

Father practiced medicine on horse-back, day and night riding through the jungle on trails cut through. There was only one real road, and that was up to Belize [the city]. It was a rugged business but he was rugged too! The four years of war did that! He (and others, of course) carried a conch shell and when they were uncertain where they were on a dark night they would blow into the shell and get an answer from the nearest home.

I can remember my brothers answering him on the kind of shell they kept for that purpose. In this way he kept on the trail and always got home safely, even on the darkest night.

Occasionally, in the day he would see monkeys playing in the trees over his trail. One day he saw them swinging across the trail from tree to tree holding the tails of those in front. Once one of them jumped down on the back of his horse and scared the poor thing nearly to death.

Another time he was returning home and saw a red mountain lion coming down from the mountain to his place. His cattle had been disturbed lately and now he knew what  had been after them. He called to one of his sons to bring his rifle. When the lion got close enough he shot him.

Another time he came home and found a big snake curled up in a large pit in the back yard. Again he used his rifle and killed him. The snake measured nine feet and was as big around as father’s thigh. We were never allowed out in the yard without an older member of the family with us because of the jungle. My mother heard wild animals scratching themselves against the house at night while she sat alone waiting for the “Doctor” to get home. The jungle grew very fast and had to be cut back at least once each week or it would have been up to our very doors.

The moon and stars seemed very close and they were larger and brighter then than they are in this country. Once, I recall my father waking me in the night and carrying me to the window and showing me a big gleaming light with a flaming tail — a comet. He said I would probably never have a chance to see another; which I haven’t!

This happened in the 1880s, so you may be able to place the comet. John Kieren could tell you.

This page has great information!

First, Katie gives us an image of the Wilson home truly in the middle of a wild, untamed, dangerous jungle. I can only imagine what it was like for Elizabeth Maxwell Wilson to raise children in this environment, and that Katie’s family found it preferable to living in post-Civil War America. There were some amenities, I have the feeling it would be similar to long-term camping.

Second, when Katie talks about the house being a plantation, one has the image of a huge white mansion similar to what the Wilsons knew during pre-Civil War days. The plantation house in Toledo Settlement had a thatched leaf roof — a clue that the building was not Tara from Gone With the Wind. (The Bocawina National Park in Belize has a photo of a modern thatched roof which is similar to what it would have looked like in the 1880s.) True, the house could have been large, but it definitely was not a mansion.

Another thought — if Elizabeth Wilson could hear animals rubbing up against the outside walls of the house at night while she waited up for Dr. Wilson to return home, the house could not have been a huge building with thick, insulated walls. This plantation was likely a modest house.

Third, the red mountain lion shot by Dr. Wilson might have either been one of the two lions mentioned in this overview of big cats in Belize: A puma or a jaguarundi.

Fourth, the comet! It was probably the Great Comet of 1882, which was reportedly easily visible to the naked eye.

Great Comet of 1882 as photographed by David Gill, Cape Town. Source: Wikipedia

Finally — John Kieren! I have no idea who this gentleman is, although I am looking for the connection to Katie. Likely this was not someone who knew the Wilsons when they lived in British Honduras, but rather a colleague of Katie’s.

The Wilson family saga in British Honduras continues tomorrow!

(N.B.: Katie’s granddaughter, Elizabeth Meade Howard, graciously shared the typed narrative, and has given me permission to share the information. Please note that the original contents and information belongs to Elizabeth Meade Howard.)

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Chapter 21: Katie’s Memories of British Honduras

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We continue with the second page of Katie’s narrative of her family’s years in British Honduras. There’s a lot of good information on this page, specifically related to the Wilsons  settlement in Punta Gorda.

The second page from Katie’s narrative. Source: Elizabeth Meade Howard; used with permission.

This place was situated on a creek named after some Englishman — Joe Taylor! There was a great building called the “Mill House”  and I can remember dozens of big barrels of brown sugar standing under that shed. They were there waiting to be hauled to Belize and shipped to the U.S.A.

An early recollection is of the sugar cane being cut down with machetes (a sword-like knife that every man carried all the time on account of wild animals). The cane was rolled in to bundles and carried by the native workmen to the “Mill-house” to be ground. These Caribs were a mixture of American, and Spanish and spoke a sort of “pidgeon” (stet) Spanish.

Their women-folk were the house servants. One of them dropped me from her arms down a flight of steps and broke my collar-bone.

The Caribs fed the sugar-cane in between large metal rollers which squeezed out the juice, and was kept rolling by being hitched to a pair of oxen that walked round and round all day long. This juice ran down into a metal basin and was boiled until it thickened into syrup, then it was run through an evaporator– starting as syrup and coming out as brown sugar.

With the aid of Julious (stet) Payne, an Englishman from the old country, and two brothers, Beers, from Montreal, Canada, our parents started a little Episcopal Church on the edge of the Plantation. Mr. Payne, who was my Godfather, was also the lay leader, Organist, and general handy-man around the Church. A very fine fellow and friend of all the “Big” boys. He later married the lady who was my Godmother, a native of British Honduras.

We were supposed to keep the Sabbath holy, but sometimes slipped a bit, as the following incident will show.

My brother, Frank, loved to fish. So one Sunday he persuaded Percy, the angelic one, to go fishing with him. They went down to the creek and had marvelous luck! When time came to go home they were afraid to take the fish home, it being Sunday. Old Frank was not going to throw back his good fish, so he strung them on a line which he tied to a tree and let them float in the stream.

Monday morning came and the boys asked permission to go fishing. They went but did not stay nearly long enough. Father knew they had not stayed long enough to have caught that many fish, so he accused Frank of catching the Sunday, which Frank stoutly denied!

Stay tuned for the continuing saga of Frank, Percy, and the Illegal Fishing Expedition, which continues tomorrow!

 

(N.B.: Katie’s granddaughter, Elizabeth Meade Howard, graciously shared the typed narrative, and has given me permission to share the information. Please note that the original contents and information belongs to Elizabeth Meade Howard.)