Neighbours in Salvador denounce Paulo Gomes and Ignacia

In October 1749 several residents of a Salvador neighbourhood complained to the Inquisition about deaths they blamed on Paulo Gomes and Ignacia, a well known free couple of African descent who could both inflict and lift illnesses caused by charms. Witnesses called Ignacia the greater of the two, a master of the calundu dance and a queen, and stressed her African origin. A neighbour who had worked beside Gomes as a stonecutter for decades described him attending the calundus of other people before he ran his own, travelling every Sunday and holy day to Rio Vermelho and Itapagipe, and going as far as Pernambuco to visit the houses of other practitioners. He saved money, bought Ignacia's freedom, then bought a farm where they could work. Reputation was built by learning from rivals, and the network of clients and teachers that made a practitioner successful was the same thing that made him easy to accuse.

Between 1750 and 1791 the slave owners of Saint-Domingue lived in fear. A great many of them died of poisoning, and the colonial police could make nothing of it. Selling or preparing suspicious drugs was banned, African magic was banned, and neither prohibition touched the problem. Out of the maroon camps came leaders with reputations for power who announced that the whites would be exterminated and the enslaved set free. Some of them were politicians in every practical sense, working out how independence might actually be won. Their means were the ones available: knowledge of poisonous plants, prepared potions, and charms called garde-corps, body guards, given to rebellious slaves and said to make them proof against weapons and free of any fear of white people. What frightened the planters was that the two things came together. The pharmacology worked and the political programme was serious, and the colony had no answer to either.

Between 1750 and 1775 the sources of Saint Domingue's captive population shifted decisively. Of 218,800 people recorded as landed in the colony in those years, 122,586 came from West Central Africa and Saint Helena, fifty six per cent of the total. The Bight of Benin supplied 52,911 and Senegambia and the offshore Atlantic 8,991, which no longer even made it the third largest source. Earlier in the century the balance had run the other way, with Senegambia a leading supplier and West Central Africa a distant third. Two developments explain the reversal. Governments in the Senegambia region grew stronger and more centralised and shut down the raiding that had fed the market there. In the Kongo region kingship stayed fractured and armed force remained the ordinary way of settling political disputes, so the flow of captives grew as the region came apart.

Coffee reached the Caribbean in the second quarter of the eighteenth century and suited land the sugar planters had left alone. It grew on slopes and it took heavy rain. In Dominica the number of coffee trees went from 684,700 in 1743 to 1,367,700 in 1749 and 1,585,400 in 1753. Over the same decade the enslaved population tripled and the number of white residents doubled. By 1763, when France gave the island up at the Peace of Paris, annual output stood at 1,690,360 pounds, so what France ceded to Britain was in effect a coffee colony. The consequence held for seventy years. In the early 1800s Dominica was the only British Caribbean possession where a majority of enslaved people worked coffee, and it had the lowest share working in sugar anywhere in that empire. At the abolition of slavery in 1833 coffee still brought in about half of the island's export earnings.