Walkingback


WithWill jackson

The UnknownStruggles To Build A Country By Iron Men In Wooden Boats

Once upon a time the CaymanIslands, unknown to me, moved at it's own speed, knowing onlyits own code of rules and ways of living.

Life was lived primitively, and on a slow basis. The men rearedlarge families on the produce of the land and the yields of thesea.
Until Columbus time was not aware of any where such as the CaymanIslands. In fact, those three little islands had no place to fillin the making of the new world. Never-the-less , in time theydid provide sustenance to some weather-beaten under-nourishedseamen who stopped by to whet their appetite with some fresh turtlemeat, quite a change from the daily diet of slat beef and saltpork with boiled dry beans. In the process, however, of enteringinto unmarked water, into unknown territories, many of their shipsgrounded, leaving the crews with no choice other than a RobinsonCrusoe type of existence ashore in a strange place.

There were no wireless radios, or telephones with which to communicatewith the inhabited world such as London , Paris or Spain to reporttheir plight.

It was sometime early in the 17th century when Grand Cayman becameknown as a place to hide for what ever reason, whether fleeingfrom the law or from war. Here they could safely blend into thewilds and survive.

It is said that runaway soldiers from Cromwell's army in Jamaicawere among those who found shelter in this uninhabited land, awayfrom the war and slaughter in Jamaica that raged between Englandand Spain indefinitely.

There is no published record of there ever being any part of awar fought here, of an uprising , or a revolution. Public EnemyNo. One has always been the weathers that beat down solidly onthe islands. They being situated in the storm belt. Surely thoseearly settlers must have been men of courage and strong enduranceto have endured such want and privation as they must have experiencedin those early years. Plus losing that little which they accumulatedfrom time to time, more so their little houses which they workedso hard to build without means or resources, and kept on losingthem to the storms that so frequently beat down on them.

They set up their habitation close to the beaches, taking advantageof the Trade Winds that blew along the shore line driving backthe swarms of mosquitoes that were always dodging in the background.The mosquitoes, you will want to know, didn't come with the settlers,they were here first, and were not about to be driven away byman's habitations.

As I listened to the weather reports, and saw all the preparationsbeing made to fight back at Hurricane Iris in October, my mindwandered back to the old days of guessing what to expect nextwhen between the months of June and November the clouds grew blackand low-hanging over the islands. In those days when there wereno weather reports coming from the US, one had to be a sourceof determining for himself the next event. Yet, there were someof those old salts who in themselves were living barometers, andcould foretell what to expect.

Lack of communication gave no warning to the ships on the ocean,which were chiefly sailing ships of those early days and causedthe loss of many poor seamen and ships. In more modern times,however, when large steam ships ply the seas not much mind ispaid to weather conditions. The ships, captains say, are builtto master the ocean, and so they do nothing to avoid the oncomingstorms.

I can tell of such personal experiences during my sea days. Uppermostin my mind is a voyage from California to the Persian Gulf andreturn, a trip of about 80 days on what was then the world's largestand newest tank ship. During that voyage we endured two severetyphoons which could have been avoided either way.

The captain's vision was that the 'Universe Leaded' was youngand able, and so held on his course all the way through. Thosetyphoons, I thought, were the worse weathers I had ever been into.That was until a couple of years later, in 1965, I was caughtin a cyclone on the north side of France, this again on the thenlargest ship afloat, the 'Universe Defiance'. The ship, deeplyladen with crude oil, sailing to Holland from Kuwait. In a coupleof hours in that weather the main deck of that great ship wasalmost stripped of pipe lines.

O What A Mess To Behold!

One lifeboat bottom was mashed up right on deck, and worse yet,one dear man from St Vincent was washed overboard, gone forever.

A ten thousand ton freighter within just a few miles of the Defianceput out distress signals but could not be helped; that ship wentdown with no survivors.

I keep on thinking, how terrible can that great sea really besometimes! All of those past experiences keep renewing the eventsto my mind when I sit on my porch and watch those breakers, sometimesin their fury while the wind whistles shrillingly in the wiresoverhead. When I see a ship battling the waves out there, I amled to pray for those seamen's protection.

Cayman men of 70 years old and older who still survive the stormsof life can join me in telling such stories as will cause thehearers to be glad that they didn't live in those days of ironmen and wooden ships. We who have won the battles on the sea,now lift our hearts in thankfulness to him who reigns above forpast and present deliverance. Remember Mitch of 1998 and Irisof October 2001.

Blessed the name of the Lord. Truly God is good.

Will Jackson,
Seafarerand noted
Caymanian Historian

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