Wild brush and the thick
undergrowth of forest reappeared on the hill-sides which had been
rich with produce. And the evil re-created and exaggerated itself.
Negroes squatted on the abandoned property; and being able to live
with abundance from their stolen gardens, were less willing than ever
to work in the cane pieces.
And thus things went from bad to worse. In the good old times Mr.
Cumming's sugar produce had spread itself annually over some three
hundred acres; but by degrees this dwindle down to half that extent
of land. And then in those old golden days they had always taken a
full hogshead from the acre;--very often more. The estate had
sometimes given four hundred hogsheads in the year. But in the days
of which we now speak the crop had fallen below fifty.
At this time Maurice Cumming was eight-and-twenty, and it is hardly
too much to say that misfortune had nearly crushed him. But
nevertheless it had not crushed him. He, and some few like him, had
still hoped against hope; had still persisted in looking forward to a
future for the island which once was so generous with its gifts.
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