The Hero of Pegwell Boggs

by Grace Allman Burke                

Cecil Braithwaite, a tall, skinny kid, was nicknamed

‘Beanpole’ by his classmates. He didn’t like the name and was

always getting into fights because of it. Time after time he

came home with a black eye or a bloody nose after slugging it

out on the playground.

“Can’t you just walk away without fighting?” his father

asked. “Try to hear them but be deaf to what they’re

saying.”

“I can’t. I must defend the Braithwaite name.”

Cecil knew though that the crux of the matter was jealousy.

He was the smartest boy in the class and the others weren’t

pleased. He was determined to stand his ground, however.

Cecil was born on a Caribbean island in the late 1940’s in

a tiny rural hamlet called Pegwell Boggs. No one is quite sure

how Pegwell Boggs got its name. Rumor has it that it was named

after Pegwell Bay, a shallow inlet on the coast of Kent in

England. After all, the Brits left their names all over the

Caribbean.

Only two roads led out of Pegwell Boggs when Cecil was

growing up. One was Enterprise Main Road which the villagers

took after walking, bicycling or even riding a donkey cart to

reach it. The other, an unnamed road at the far end of the

village, led up the steep and jagged Thornbury Hill.  Footpaths,

known as cart roads, afforded the only means of travel from one

part of the village to the other.

  Everyone lived simply back then in “The Boggs” as the

villagers affectionately called their little corner of the

world. Neighbors knew each other well and most attended church

together. Cecil, dark and handsome with thick bushy eyebrows and

a ready smile, was at age twelve a choir boy at St.Bartholomew’s

Anglican Church.

At the local primary school that he attended, he often

heard the mocking whispers, “We all know who will be named Head

Boy again this year: Cecil of course.”

Sure enough at the end of the term, the Headmaster called

his name and he proudly stepped forward to receive the coveted

title again.

Cecil made an unexpected announcement as he sat at

breakfast with his family one morning. “I really want to be a

doctor one day. I want to find cures for diseases and help

sick people get well. If I study hard, I know I can make it.”

Cecil’s parents, Maisie and Seibert Braithwaite, smiled

with understanding. They had great plans for their only son.

“You will make it,” they encouraged. “We know we’ll be very

proud of you one day.”

  By the time Cecil reached his teen years, the island was

firmly established as an agricultural society with sugar cane

its dominant crop. The cane plants, often growing as high as

thirteen feet tall, grew on acres and acres of land, dotting

almost the entire landscape.  They dwarfed the small wooden

houses and buildings that surrounded them. Imported originally

from Brazil by the Dutch, sugar cane gradually became the main

wealth generator of the island.

During cane harvesting season, which occurred from February

to June each year, Pegwell Boggs literally came to life.

Everyone participated in some way to the rush of activities. Men

did the back-breaking work of cutting the canes in the fields by

hand. Women stripped and loaded them onto carts for transport to

the factory. Once there, the canes underwent several grueling

processes until the final product emerged—SUGAR!   

Traditionally, a grand celebration known as “Crop Over”

erupted spontaneously at the end of the season. People danced in

the streets to the lively music of steel bands.  Food and

merriment was the norm in thanksgiving for the harvest.

The Braithwaites, sugar cane growers themselves, owned a

small plot of land not far from Gibbons Plantation, the site of

a large sugar factory.  During harvesting, Cecil took time off

from school to help with the cane cutting.

“I’m glad that we can sell our canes to the factory,” he

told his parents.

Though young, he realized that these sales contributed much

to his family’s income.

Cecil learned early on that, in addition to sugar, the

factory produced molasses and rum from the canes. Though nearly

all of these products were exported to countries abroad, some

were kept on the island for local consumption. Indeed there were

those in The Boggs that looked forward to cane season when rum

was in abundance. Miss Lottie, Cecil’s godmother, was a case in

point. Having a special taste for this pungent beverage, she

often imbibed a tad too much. On several such occasions, Cecil

helped her find her way home. Father Fenty, the priest at St.

Bartholomew’s, chided her gently whenever this happened.

By his mid-teens, Cecil’s parents suggested he take a job

at Gibbons sugar factory. He applied and was hired to assist the

men that operated the huge grinding machines. He quickly learned

that these machines worked tirelessly to crush and grind the

canes to extract the cane juice—the first step in sugar

production.

“Remember to stand away from the machines,” his foreman

warned. “Keep your eyes on the wheels and grinders and always

watch me.”

Fascinated by the factory operations, Cecil stared open-

mouthed while trying to keep pace with his job. He’d never seen

anything like it. The whirring and grinding sounds were

deafening. He watched as tons of cane juice rushed endlessly

into vats at the bottom of the machines. He mopped perspiration

constantly from his face because of the hot humid air.

Back home, he chattered incessantly to his parents. “I feel

like a midget next to those machines. I’m so excited. I enjoy

working there.”

“I’m glad,” Maisie replied. “Remember what your boss told

you, however. Stay alert and keep your eyes and ears open.”

One day Cecil was sent to help out in the factory’s Boiler

Room. Here the next step in refining the cane juice took place.

Boiler machines, set at extremely high temperatures, removed

impurities from the juice. A worker showed Cecil how to

carefully open the valves on the machines to enable the juice to

flow out slowly. Pans attached to the ends of the machines

received the juice and held it there to be cooled.

Due to his inexperience, Cecil opened the valves too

quickly, causing the scalding cane juice to rush out, splashing

directly into his face and onto his upper body. He uttered a

blood-curdling scream, then fell unconsciously to the floor.

Panic broke out as several workers ran to his aid. Wrapping

him in towels, they lifted him onto a stretcher then onto a

truck. Rushing down Enterprise Main Road, they arrived at the

island’s main hospital. Cecil’s life was changed forever. For

several days, he floated in and out of consciousness, hanging

between life and death.  It seemed certain that he wouldn’t

survive the awful third degree burns that he suffered. His

parents kept hoping for a miracle and anxiously sat vigil with

him throughout the ordeal.  The entire village of Pegwell Boggs

offered prayers to God for his recovery.

Mercifully, young Cecil made it. After months of surgeries

and treatments, he finally went home from the hospital. Sadly,

however, he bore no resemblance to the attractive young man he

was before the accident. Grotesque scars lined his face and were

difficult for anyone to look at. As he entered The Boggs that

day, villagers lined the cart road that led to his house.

Grateful that their prayers for him were answered, they

enthusiastically welcomed him home.

Cecil’s convalescence was long, tedious and very emotional.

He could hardly look in the mirror without bursting into tears.

“I don’t think I can live like this,” he anguished.

Father Fenty and even the boys in his class came around to

help keep his spirits up.

About a year after returning home, Cecil made a surprising

announcement. “I still want to go to medical school to become a

doctor. It’s something I know I must do.”

No one believed that he could. It seemed so impossible.

Nevertheless, with dogged determination, he finished high school

and gained entrance to the island’s university. It was clear

that his spirit was alive and well despite the scars that he

carried. He was resolved to become somebody in life and not just

a statistic.

Outside of his village, ignorant people stared and made

unkind remarks. However, exceedingly grateful to be alive, he

somehow managed to stay focused. His brain was still intact

and his intellect got him through.

Five years after the accident, Cecil completed his

university studies, graduating with Honors. As he walked across

the stage to receive his medical degree, his parents wept while

the villagers that attended cheered with respect and pride. He

finished just in time to take over the practice of their elderly

doctor who was retiring. From that day onward, Cecil was dubbed          

“The Hero of Pegwell Boggs.”

THE END