Life at the Salty Edge of Empire: The Maritime Cultural Landscape at the Orange Saltpan on Bonaire, 1821–1960

Abstract

The early modern history of the Dutch Caribbean island of Bonaire has to a large extent been influenced by its most valuable resource: solar salt. Through a multidisciplinary approach combining a landscape study, underwater and terrestrial archaeological surveys, and documentary research, the maritime cultural landscape of Bonaire’s southernmost saltpan is analyzed holistically, revealing new aspects of the lives of the people who lived and toiled there.

Introduction

Salt, a vital food preservative and formidable flavor enhancer, has been an extremely important commodity since prehistoric times. In the Caribbean region, the presence of numerous natural salt-producing lagoons or salinas on different islands has had profound impacts on pre-colonial Indigenous peoples and early modern economies. It has been demonstrated that in the northwestern Caribbean the Indigenous people were already vying for solar sea salt long before the first Europeans set foot on the islands (Morsink 2012). Then, during the Age of European expansion, the precious white commodity became hotly contested as fisheries in Europe increased, long sea voyages became more common, and competition between expanding colonial empires intensified. While the history and archaeology of salt has received much less attention than the study of sugar — the main Caribbean export product throughout the colonial period — various sea salt production sites in the region have been studied in recent years (Morsink 2012; Kepecs 2015; McKillop 2018; Antczak 2019).

The Dutch islands of Bonaire, Klein Bonaire, Curaçao, Aruba, and St. Maarten all contain natural salinas that have been modified by humans into solar salt ponds and saltpans and harvested to varying degrees in the past. Of particular interest are the saltpans on Bonaire or Boneiru in Bonairean Papiamentu, a 288 km² arid island located in the southern Caribbean, approximately 80 km north of the Venezuelan coast and 50 km east of Curaçao. Bonaire was a colonial backwater since the Spanish colonized the island in the early sixteenth century. The Dutch forcibly took possession in 1636, and with the exception of a short period of time in the early nineteenth century when it was in British hands, the island has been a Dutch colony ever since. Throughout this time, Bonaire’s economy largely relied on solar salt production. Salinas, known as saliñas in Papiamentu, are found in various parts of the island’s coastline, but most notably in the southern end. This area, located at the periphery of an island that was itself at the periphery of the Dutch colonial empire, is a unique place at which to study the everyday life and struggles of an enslaved population that had limited access to the outside world.

Historical archaeological research on Bonaire has been limited. Test excavations have been carried out at the island’s eighteenth- to nineteenth-century Fort Oranje (Haviser and Sealy 1999) and three underwater surveys were undertaken between 1987 and 2000 at the historical anchorage of Kralendijk (Nagelkerken and Hayes 2002). In recent years, Jay Haviser, with the help of local youth from BONAI (Bonaire Archaeological Institute), excavated test pits at Gotomeer and Slagbaai Saliña in the north of the island and performed a survey of adjacent bays and also conducted limited test excavations at the World War II US military camp of Tanki Maraka (Haviser 2011, 2015). More recently, in 2020, Konrad Antczak (2021) undertook excavations at the eighteenth-century transshipment campsite of Pos Kangreu on Klein Bonaire as part of the ArCarib (Archaeology of Informal Maritime Commerce in the Colonial Caribbean) project, funded by the EU. Historical studies, with a few notable exceptions, are also few and far between (Antoin and Luckhardt 2012; Hartog 1957, 1997). What is still lacking in the study of the island’s early modern past are multidisciplinary approaches that tightly integrate various lines of evidence. The current research provides the first study of this kind on Bonaire, dovetailing documentary evidence and terrestrial and underwater archaeological data in the investigation of the island’s southernmost saltpan.

Historical Background

The first evidence of human presence on Bonaire dates to ca. 3600 BP (Haviser and Hofman 2015:209). The island was inhabited until Spanish arrival by Indigenous people, later known as the Caquetío, from the adjacent mainland (today Venezuela) (Haviser 1991). In 1499, Bonaire was first encountered by the expedition of Alonso de Ojeda, among whom were the navigator Amerigo Vespucci and cartographer Juan de la Cosa (Hartog 1957:16–17). In the first two decades of the sixteenth century, indieros or Indian slavers captured, enslaved, and forcibly exported hundreds of Amerindian slaves from Bonaire, some of whom were sold in Spain and most of whom were forced to labor in the copper mines on Hispaniola (Arcaya 1920:138–139; Hartog 1957:29; Goslinga 1979:13). It was probably only in the 1520s that the Spanish settled on Bonaire, possibly in the vicinity of the current town of Rincón, in the north of the island. Here, a few Spanish colonists lived with a small number of repatriated Indigenous people whom they employed to look after the livestock which they had introduced, and which multiplied quickly on the island (Antczak 2018:34). As the sixteenth century progressed, the island became a salted meat supply station for ships and neighboring islands (Hartog 1957:30–34).

It did not take long before other European empires started to show an interest in the newly “discovered” islands, which were considered useless (islas inútiles) by the Spanish and were largely unpopulated — by 1620 only 40 people inhabited Bonaire (Felice Cardot 1982:11, 59, 390). The Dutch, forced to find sources of salt other than Portugal during the Eighty Years’ War (1568–1648), started making regular voyages to the Southern Caribbean in the late sixteenth century in search of the precious mineral which was used to preserve their valuable catches of Baltic herring (Goslinga 1971:55–56). In the Venezuelan Caribbean they made inroads at the great salinas of Araya from 1595 to 1623 when they were violently expelled by the Spanish; they then erected forts, built saltworks, and harvested solar salt for short stints in the 1630s at the mouth of the Unare River and on the island of La Tortuga, until the Spanish attacked and ousted them once more (Antczak et al. 2015). On Bonaire they also found large natural salinas and Dutch corsairs harassed the Spanish there by stealing their livestock (Hartog 1957:36). Two years after the Dutch took possession of Curaçao from the Spanish, in 1636 they took control of Bonaire, and the island became the property of the Dutch West India Company (WIC) until its dissolution in 1792.

Until this time, it was extremely difficult for people other than WIC employees or company slaves to settle the island, as the WIC was highly protective of its natural resources and the profits derived from them. Saltworks were built on the southern salina of Bonaire at some point before 1643 and manned by enslaved Africans (Gehring 2011:4, 7–8, 18, 23–24; Schiltkamp and de Smit 1978:10, 24, 25, 43). Salt production was increased in the eighteenth century, and additional enslaved Africans were brought from Curaçao as convicts to labor on the saltpans as punishment (Goslinga 1979:113; Langemeyer 1934:176; Schiltkamp and de Smit 1978:164, 209). The island’s small main settlement near the roadstead on the leeward side grew in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth century, and around 1830 was given the name Kralendijk (it is called Playa in Papiamentu) (Hartog 1957:162–163). In the mid-nineteenth century, there were three saltpans on the island’s southern end: the Blauwe Pan (Blue Pan), the Witte Pan (White Pan), and the Oranje Pan (Orange Pan) (Het Eiland Bonaire 1867:10–12). Throughout the nineteenth century, population numbers on the island increased from 945 people in 1806 to 2,647 in 1857. The enslaved population increased steadily as well, from 290 in 1817 to 769 in 1853 ― in the latter year, 464 of whom were salt laborers (Hartog 1957:179). In the early nineteenth century, a number of Indigenous people and free persons also worked at the pans (Meeteren 1949a:84). The majority of the enslaved on Bonaire were owned by the island government and, in 1863 when slavery was abolished on the Dutch islands, of the 758 enslaved who received their freedom on the island, 607 had belonged to the government (Sypesteyn 1866:53).

As time progressed, the island’s economy diversified and other commodities, such as aloe vera, lime, cochineal, salted meat, and dyewood were exported as well. After the abolition of slavery in 1863, many Bonairean industries ceased to be profitable. Five years later, large parts of the island were auctioned off and most dyewood and hardwood trees cut down for export (Hartog 1957:79). Paid laborers remained working at the saltpans after emancipation until well into the twentieth century, when the salt operation was expanded and modernized, and manual labor was replaced by heavy machinery.

Orange Pan (Oranje Pan)

In January 1825, Casper Lodewijk van Uytrecht arrived on Bonaire. Sent to the island as an inspector by Curaçaoan Governor Paulus Roelof Cantz’laar, it was his task to report on the local conditions of Curaçao’s sister island. In Van Uytrecht’s report we find the first mention of salt production at Bonaire’s southernmost saltpan: “The saltpan at Pedro Kelie […] has previously never provided any salt, but for an as of yet unknown coincidence, it started producing salt in June of 1821” (Meeteren 1949b:223). Pedro Kelly was probably the first person to manage this saltpan, and at the time it was known locally as “Pedikeli” and “Pietiké” or the “Nieuwe Pan.” In 1838 this saltpan was given the name Oranje Pan (Orange Pan), and the other two pans were renamed to the colors blue and white to prevent confusion with previous toponyms (Hartog 1957:202). Due to a lack of laborers, only a third of the Orange Pan’s 30,000-barrel capacity could be harvested. According to Van Uytrecht, the pan’s proximity to the sea caused a notable effect on the water level inside the pan. Therefore, he deemed it wise not to make any alterations to the pan as this might affect the productive state it had been in for the past four years (Meeteren 1949b:224).

The exact reason for the change in the saltpan’s state remains unknown, but it was most likely a result of a change in the flow of water from the sea into the pan. Despite the fact that Bonaire lies below the Atlantic hurricane belt, the island occasionally suffers the effects of hurricanes. Even without a direct hit, a hurricane that passes many kilometers north of the island can still impact the island in the form of strong wave action and heavy rainfall. Examples in recent years include hurricanes Omar (2008) and Matthew (2016). In late September 1820, nine months before the pan at Pedro Kelie produced its first harvest of salt, a hurricane was reported on Dominica and Haiti (Chenoweth 2006:226). Bonaire could have experienced rough seas from the 1820 hurricane, and it is not unlikely that the resulting wave action blocked an inlet into the saltpan, thereby restricting the flow of water and causing the pan to start producing salt. Whatever the cause, the pan was still in a productive state when Van Uytrecht paid it a visit four years later.

It should be noted that in the early nineteenth century the southernmost saltpans of Bonaire were probably largely unmodified salt lagoons or salinas. It was not until 1833 that dikes were constructed here to enclose the brine (Hartog 1957:202). When Van Uytrecht visited, the salt lagoons had probably not yet been subjected to much human alterations. The earliest known map of Bonaire, dating to 1794 and of Spanish origin, shows an unmodified salina at the southern end of the island (Fig. 1). A slightly later map from 1825, also depicts no saltpans here (Fig. 2). The only saltpans depicted on this map are the one just north of Kralendijk in the area known as Nort di Saliña, and the oldest anthropogenic saltpan on the island, the Blue Pan (earlier known as the Oude Pan), situated 7 km north of the Orange Pan at the location of the modern salt pier of the Cargill saltworks. The reason the cartographer did not feel the need to include Pedro Kelie (Orange Pan) on the map may be because at this time it had only been productive for a few years. Furthermore, its omission from the map is probably indicative of the fact that it was not yet a well-established salt production site with the requisite infrastructural modifications in the lagoon such as walkways, dikes, sluices and/or pumps, and proper facilities such as storehouses and quarters for the manager and the laborers.

Fig. 1

The earliest known map of Bonaire, dating to 1794. Source: Archivo Museo Naval de Madrid, PMNM, MN-25-C-5

Fig. 2

Map of Bonaire dating to 1825. Source: National Archives, The Hague, 4.STS-178

Besides the construction of dikes and walkways inside the saltpan, various other additions and improvements to the Orange Pan were made in the 1830s. Immediately after his appointment as Governor of Curaçao, Bonaire, and Aruba in January 1836, Reinier Frederik baron Van Raders focused his attention on increasing Bonaire’s salt production. He noted that the loading of ships with salt was a slow and tedious task on Bonaire. To improve efficiency, among other things he ordered new boats and bags for the transport of salt. Captain Gerard van Lennep Coster, who visited Bonaire in May 1837 and made an excursion to the Orange Pan, mentions that following Van Raders’ orders, in late 1836 or early 1837 two orange obelisks were constructed to mark the anchorage area for incoming ships. Later that year, the Old or Blue Pan and the newly constructed White Pan were also fitted with obelisks. On the beach, six stone bollards were erected so that ships could tie down in case they started dragging their anchors (Van Lennep Coster 1842:82). The production of the Orange Pan at this time was estimated at 50,000–70,000 barrels per year (Van Lennep Coster 1842:81). Salt prices fluctuated, and during most of the nineteenth century, until the early 1880s, salt exports from Bonaire primarily went to the United States, since The Netherlands considered the quality inferior (Hartog 1957:201–202). Smaller exports occasionally went to Cuba, Puerto Rico, Curaçao, Suriname, and other ports in the West Indies (De Curaçaosche Courant, March 2, 1844, November 1, 1845, 24 January 1846). The earliest advertisement for Bonaire salt in a US newspaper is from 1787, being sold in Newport, Rhode Island, as “old Bonaire salt” — probably referring to the fact it was from the Old Pan (Newport Herald, December 13, 1787). Although sporadic advertisements exist for 1808 and 1812, the greatest number begins in 1822 and continues nearly every year until 1875 in newspapers in US port cities such as New York, Boston, Salem, New Orleans, Baltimore, Concord, Portsmouth, Philadelphia, and Portland (Maine) (New-York Evening Post, June 17, 1808; New-York Gazette, October 6, 1812; National Advocate [New York], March 2, 1822; Providence Evening Press, June 30, 1875). Moreover, various advertisements were also posted by the managers of the Bonaire saltpans and their US agents, encouraging vessels to sail and load salt at Bonaire itself (Boston Courier, July 25, 1844; Boston Daily Atlas, March 10, 1846; Charleston Courier, August 30, 1858).

The first cartographic evidence of the Orange Pan is found on a map made in 1866 for the auction of large parts of the island including the southern saltpans (Fig. 3). The description accompanying this map, dating to 1867, lists a house, storehouses, and workers houses (the slave cabins described further below) at the Orange Pan (Het Eiland Bonaire 1867:10). In preparation for the sale of the saltpans in September 1868, a new building was constructed on the shore beside the saltpan to house the pilot and the officer charged with the supervision of the loading and offloading of ships. This is the last available documentary evidence of construction at the Orange Pan.

Fig. 3

Map of Bonaire dating to 1866. Source: Leiden University Library, Special Collections, 678062

It was not until 1876 that the first salt was harvested from the pan following its sale (Antoin and Luckhardt 2012:103). Because of high taxes and export duties charged by the Bonairean government at this time, and the lack of free labor following abolition, salt production was no longer a profitable enterprise. Production and sale fluctuated heavily during the early twentieth century. At times, salt was exported to the British islands in the Caribbean when production in Anguilla dwindled due to damaged saltpans. Export was particularly high during the Second World War, after which it decreased drastically due to high transportation costs on Bonaire itself. Much salt was exported to Venezuela in the early 1950s, whose saltpans were in an unproductive state due to heavy rainfall. In the 1960s, the Bonairean government finally realized the need to modernize the salt production process in order to stay competitive (Hartog 1957:279–280). The Orange and White pans fell out of use, but beginning in 1967, under the tenure of the Antilles International Salt Company the Blue Pan was enlarged with the use of explosives and the first pumps were installed in 1969, capable of submerging large areas of the seasonally dried-out southern lagoon under sea water (Hartog 1978:45). In 1970, a conveyor belt and a large pier were constructed at the Blue Pan to facilitate quick loading of ships. The first salt produced in this way was exported in 1972 (Antoin and Luckhardt 2012:107).

In February 2016, an archaeological survey was conducted inside the Orange Pan in order to assess its state of preservation, mode of construction, and determine which other activities besides salt harvesting might have occurred there. Charles Nordhoff, who would later become a famous American journalist, visited Bonaire around 1850 on one of his voyages. In his book The Merchant Vessel: A Sailor Boy’s Voyage to see the World he describes various aspects of the maritime operations and life at Bonaire’s saltpans. Regarding the saltpans themselves, he notes that “each large pan communicates with the water by a trough or pipe, which being opened, it flows until it finds its level. It is then shut off, and the evaporation begins” (Nordhoff 1856:281). The obvious starting point for the archaeological inspection was thus to find the inlet through which sea water flowed into the pans as described by Nordhoff. Several historic maps of the island were consulted to determine its location. The 1866 map depicts the triangular outline of the Orange Pan, the inlet to the sea, and two additional structures. The inlet is again depicted on the first topographic map of Bonaire, the Werbata map published in 1915. Both maps show the inlet to be on the pan’s southern side, between the slave cabins (not depicted) and the Willemstoren lighthouse (Fig. 4).

Fig. 4

Part of the first topographic map of Bonaire. It was published in 1915, but survey data for it was collected in 1910. The water inlet is clearly visible to the left of the name Lacre Punt. The nearest wells where fresh water could be obtained are depicted in the center and top right. Source: Leiden University Library, Digital Collections, KK 110-08-01/11

The Orange Pan inlet is still a conspicuous feature in the landscape (Fig. 5). A road now cuts through the channel where sea water originally flowed into the pan. On the sea-side of the road, the inlet is completely closed off by a storm terrace composed of coral rubble, while on the land side, the inlet channel is clearly visible and well preserved. Six wooden beams positioned over the channel were probably used as a small bridge prior to the construction of the paved road. The channel — positioned between two walkway dikes delimiting the ponds and pans — probably first distributed the sea water to concentrating ponds on the saltpan, from where the brine was then passed on through sluices and other channels into further ponds and onto the final crystallizing pans. The channels, as well as all the dikes, are made of unmodified coral stones readily available on the adjacent storm terrace. The walkways, ranging in width from approximately one to four meters, were used by the workers to transport the raked salt to the shore and the packing and loading area. Other notable features include three rectangular coral stone platforms, two of which are located in the northwestern part of the pan and one in the central part. Measuring 13 × 11 m, 13 × 10 m, and 16 × 8 m, they may have been used to store salt prior to transporting it to the shore. The Orange Pan, consisting of 78 ponds and pans with a total area of 27 ha (0.27 km²) (De Curaçaosche Courant, August 29, 1868), was found to be in an exceptionally good state of preservation (Fig. 6). It seems that the saltpan has not seen any modification in recent times and is now largely submerged due to a new inlet that was made in the 1960s on the eastern coast for the contemporary solar saltworks.

Fig. 5

The inlet of the Orange Pan, looking south. Photo by the authors

Fig. 6

Oblique aerial image of the Orange Pan, looking northwest. Its original outline, including all basins, can clearly be seen. The light blue strip in the sea in front of the saltpan is the historic anchorage. Photo by WeShareBonaire

Competition with Neighboring Cayo Sal

Even though Bonaire was a colonial backwater that occupied a relatively unassuming role in the West Indies, salt production on the island was heavily reliant on developments in the wider Caribbean region and on salt supply and demand in the US ― its major salt buyer during much of the nineteenth century. In 1834, the saltpans on the island of Cayo Sal in the neighboring Venezuelan archipelago of Los Roques, approximately 140 km east of Bonaire, were leased to the American entrepreneur Jeremiah Morrell for a period of eight years (Antczak 2019:115). Morrell made significant infrastructural investment in the saltpans at Cayo Sal, a narrow and long island in the southwestern part of the archipelago, by employing 120 “free coloreds” from Bonaire and Curaçao who were clearly experienced in such tasks and improved the saltworks and worked at cultivating and harvesting the solar salt (Bosch 1836:307). Cayo Sal thus swiftly became a competitor, as US ships that would normally call at Bonaire were now taking in salt at Los Roques. There were two reasons for this: firstly, Cayo Sal’s anchorage was probably better situated relative to currents and winds (Teenstra 1837:220); and secondly, and more importantly, the salt at Cayo Sal was sold for 37 cents a barrel compared to 94 cents on Bonaire and no freight duties had to be paid on the island (Bosch 1836:307; Goslinga 1990:122; Hartog 1957:201). As a result of this, unsold salt accumulated on Bonaire during 1834, 1835 and 1836 (Goslinga 1990:122‑123; Renkema 1981:59). At the time, Dutch engineer M. D. Teenstra (1837:220) bitingly noted, “He [Jeremiah Morrell] had the salt pans improved and worked by 120 people from Curaçao and Bonaire, who had themselves being used for that, like they were digging their own graves.” Clearly, the fact that, in a time of rampant slavery, Bonairean freedpeople were contributing to their own island’s economic slump by working on neighboring Cayo Sal was not well received by the island’s colonial administrators — the competition between the two southeastern Caribbean saltpans caused much bad blood.

Something had to be done by Bonairean colonial authorities to ward off the competition. In November 1836, the same year various additions and improvements were made to the Orange Pan, Van Raders made an agreement with merchant house Eldridge, Ramsay & Co. on St. Thomas to buy 100,000 barrels of salt from Bonaire at the reduced rate of 50 cents per barrel. The following year, 67 ships took in a total of 103,602 barrels of salt, amounting to 14,500,000 Dutch pounds. Apparently pleased with their arrangement, the merchant house on St. Thomas teamed up with a Curaçaoan merchant to secure a contract to buy another 50,000 barrels for 1838 (Renkema 2009:302, 1981:59). Furthermore, in 1837 the White Pan was built in the Chogogo lagoon to the northwest of the Orange Pan (Renkema 2009:303). The idea behind the contracts with St. Thomas and the large infrastructural investment was that the increased salt trade and saltworks on Bonaire would prompt the freedpeople at Cayo Sal to move back to Bonaire. As a result, salt production on Los Roques would decrease as Venezuelans preferred not to work their own saltpans. The plan worked ― in early 1837, the first eight workers returned to Bonaire from Cayo Sal, after which salt production apparently decreased on the Venezuelan island (Renkema 2009:302). Morrell’s contract probably ended in 1842 and, at some point in the 1840s, Cayo Sal’s saltpan was abandoned until the second half of the 1860s (Antczak 2019:119). Meanwhile, on Bonaire, salt production seems to have decreased in the 1840s, while in 1850 a total of 68,449 barrels of salt were harvested at 90 cents per barrel and that same year 295 ships were cleared with salt (Witkamp 1854:610).

The return of the salt workers from Cayo Sal did not mark the end of relations between the Venezuelan island and Bonaire. In 1866, Lodewijk Christoffel “Cris” Boyé, eldest son of Bonaire’s Lieutenant-Governor and saltpan administrator Cornelis “Nene” Boyé, signed a contract with the Venezuelan government to construct a masonry lighthouse on the main island of Gran Roque in the Los Roques Archipelago (Ministerio de Fomento 1866). He was also given the right to rake salt and burn lime, as well as exploit other natural resources in the large and bountiful archipelago. It is possible that once again the salt output of Bonaire was affected by Cayo Sal, as in 1868, 79,851 barrels of salt were produced on Bonaire, of which only a mere 13,785 were exported in 17 ships (Zitting 1869–70:11). It is, however, more probable that the salt from L. C. Boyé’s saltworks did not go to Venezuelan ports (where he would have been charged import tariffs) but was rather shipped back to Bonaire or even Curaçao to be then sold on. Furthermore, perhaps part of the salt was employed by Boyé in the archipelago itself to salt fish that was then sold on Bonaire (Antczak 2019:121).

In 1871, English adventurer and chemist James Mudie Spence met L. C. Boyé in his house on Gran Roque and visited the saltworks on Cayo Sal. He noted that on the island, “Several acres are covered with large flat tanks, into which a little windmill pumps sea water” (Spence 1878:198). He furthermore noted that only three people worked the saltpan at the time of his visit, all of whom were plausibly Bonaireans — by far the most seasoned and experienced salt workers in the region. It is of note that drinking water was generally brought to Cayo Sal from Bonaire or La Guaira, and Spence mentions that L. C. Boyé had two or three small vessels constantly engaged in the salt trade (Spence 1878:202–203). Having not finished the lighthouse on Gran Roque, L. C. Boyé’s contract was rescinded, and in 1875 the Venezuelan government declared Los Roques salt a national property. After a few more years of salt production, the saltpan was finally flooded and rendered useless in 1880, probably because it became too competitive for mainland saltpans at Cumaná (Antczak 2019:122–125).

Much as they had done in previous centuries, Bonairean seafarers continued to rove the neighboring Venezuelan Caribbean throughout the nineteenth century, catching turtles, collecting conch, fishing, gathering grass, burning lime and ash, and cutting mangrove wood and bark. No one in the region could rival their intimate knowledge of the Venezuelan islands and their natural resources, and Bonaireans such as L. C. Boyé effectively became the first settlers of the Los Roques Archipelago (Antczak 2019:101–014, 119– 120; Antoin 1999a:1–3). Bonaireans were not only employed at Cayo Sal under Morrell and L. C. Boyé, but in the 1870s they also worked gathering guano at the Philadelphia Guano Company installations on the Venezuelan islands of Ave Grande, in the Las Aves de Sotavento Archipelago, and the island of La Orchila where Spence noted “the Guano Company’s little schooner ‘Bouquet,’ en route for Bonaire, with a cargo of negroes, it being the custom every six months to change the set of labourers employed on the works” (Spence 1878:278). Clearly, in the wake of abolition on the Dutch islands, Bonaireans who had formerly been enslaved were expanding their horizons and diversifying their trades, actively engaging with the maritime world around them. More than anyone else in the region, Bonaireans knew the difficulties of life and work in the inclement sun.

Life at the Edge of the Dutch Empire

For most people living on Bonaire today, it is hard to imagine what life on the saltpans was like in the nineteenth century. Nowadays, tour buses bring tourists to the former slave cabins where they have a few minutes to explore the landmarks before moving on to the next stop. While a few minutes or even a few hours at this remote location can be a welcome escape from the 'hustle and bustle" of Kralendijk, living and laboring here day in and day out was a different matter altogether. Several eyewitness accounts from the early and mid-nineteenth century provide a detailed glimpse of everyday life at Bonaire’s saltpans.

The first nineteenth-century record of the living and laboring conditions of the enslaved at Bonaire’s saltpans dates to 1835, when apostolic vicar Martinus Niewindt wrote a letter to the Dutch government detailing his observations:

It is true that nowadays they receive a little more to eat, some more dried corn but that is all. Also a little more Osnabrück cotton for clothing. The government-owned slaves, men, women, and children over 12 years of age have to work in the saltpans from Monday morning to Saturday afternoon, from sunrise to sunset, with the exception of one hour at midday. […] The work in the saltpans, on bare feet and in the excruciating heat, is terrible. At night the workers sleep under the stars, sometimes under an open lean-to or some branches. There are no opportunities for bathing, and people sleep in clothes drenched in brine. It is understandable that these conditions are very bad for one’s health and promote immoral behavior, as the family cannot stay together but is spread out over different locations. […] On Saturday afternoons, they [the enslaved workers] have to walk to Rincón where they receive their weekly rations of corn. On Sundays the slaves hardly have an opportunity to visit the church as they have to start their walk back to the saltpans […] The poor slaves, whether they like it or not, are forced to work and have to witness their women and children succumb to alcohol or heavy work (Antoin and Luckhardt 2012:84).

Labor in the saltpans must have been merciless and punishing. When seawater in the pans evaporates, a rock-hard layer of sea salt is left behind. This layer had to be chopped loose with pickaxes or other tools, after which it was transported to the beach in wheelbarrows, heavy sisal or linen bags, or other types of containers. A government-issued report about the living and laboring conditions of slaves in 1854 describes that those laboring in the saltpans frequently suffered from “salt wounds” and scurvy (Tweede Rapport 1856:163). Labor in the saltpans was deemed the most detrimental activity to one’s health because of the intense heat in the baking Caribbean sun, the severe insolation, the corrosive brine, and the blinding reflection of the sun’s rays on the surface of the water and the white salt causing many enslaved to suffer from salt blindness (Antoin 1999b:37). This brutal experience was not unlike that of other enslaved salt laborers in the nineteenth-century Caribbean as vividly described by Mary Prince (1831:10), an enslaved woman who toiled on the saltpans of Grand Turk, in the northwestern Caribbean, between 1802 and 1812:

I was given a half barrel and a shovel, and had to stand up to my knees in the water, from four o’clock in the morning till nine […] We… worked through the heat of the day; the sun flaming upon our heads like fire, and raising salt blisters in those parts which were not completely covered. Our feet and legs, from standing in the salt water for so many hours, soon became full of dreadful boils, which eat down in some cases to the very bone, afflicting the sufferers with great torment.

The dehumanizing forced labor and the violence of the natural elements at the Orange Pan must have been experienced similarly by the enslaved toiling there to cultivate, harvest, pack, and transport its salt.

According to Van Lennep Coster (1842:81), people laboring in the saltpans consisted of government-owned slaves and free people of color, the latter of whom were paid 10 cents per barrel. He also noted there was a large shed for the laborers that contained a water cistern, which seems to be a significant improvement compared to the abominable conditions which Niewindt described two years earlier (Van Lennep Coster 1842:82). However, it is unlikely the shed was ever used for people to sleep in, as an entry in the governor’s journal dating to November 14, 1850, describes that the enslaved laborers were living and slee** in makeshift shelters composed of a few posts covered by straw, which sounds very similar to Niewindt’s observations. In these huts they slept in pairs, and stored their food, cooking equipment, and clothes (Hartog 1957:172). The number of people laboring in the saltpans fluctuated throughout the year, depending on the salt cultivation cycle — rains probably diluted the brine during the rainy season between December and February — and foreign demand for salt (Antczak 2018; Focke 1973:124). In October 1846, 72 people, of which two were overseers, were laboring in the saltpans, while 186 slaves were performing other jobs in different parts of the island (Antoin and Luckhardt 2012:87).

Niewindt’s complaints about the inhumane living and laboring conditions of Bonairean slaves, however, did not have an immediate effect; it was not until 1851 that improvements were made. In late 1850 and early 1851, the living conditions of the enslaved at the White and Orange pans improved when small coral-stone and lime-mortar cabins (kasnan di katibu, or slave houses, in Papiamentu) were constructed, in which they could sleep and store their belongings. These were built relatively small at their request so that they did not have to share a cabin with many others but could sleep alone or in pairs like they were used to (Hartog 1957:172). Other improvements included the following conditions: women and children under 12 years of age could not be separated; there was a mandatory break from saltwork between noon and 2 pm; twice a year the laborers received new clothes (and in 1857 that included shoes for the first time as well); and that male slaves could receive no more than 15 lashes, female slaves no more than ten (Antoin and Luckhardt 2012:86).

Another development took place in 1850, which at first sight seemed like a significant improvement to the lives of the salt laborers. Up to this year, as Niewindt describes, every Saturday the enslaved had to walk from the saltpans in the south, northward to Rincón, where they received their weekly rations and had an opportunity to visit friends and family. This was a demanding six- to seven-hour trek across the island, which they had to repeat every Monday morning before starting another week of backbreaking labor. In August 1850, it was decided to move the “stronger part of the enslaved workforce” to a location closer to the saltpans. A new settlement was founded just south of Kralendijk, which was named Mundo Nobo. By no means was this a social initiative, it was for purely economic reasons ― the time the enslaved saved from walking, they now had to spend laboring in the saltpans (Hartog 1957:158).

The account of Charles Nordhoff, who visited Bonaire around this time, matches the new regulations reasonably well. It seems that the living and working conditions of the enslaved had indeed improved, but their everyday lives could still only be characterized as utterly miserable:

When a pan is ready for working, the slaves are turned in, and gather the salt into sacks, which they transport on their backs to a convenient place near shore, where it is piled until quite a little mountain is built up. [...] The slaves work from six to six (which is here from daylight to dark), having an intermission of two hours, from twelve till two, wherein to eat the only meal they get during the day. [...] The daily allowance of food to each working person is one quart of unground corn, and nothing besides. This allowance I saw measured out to them myself. […] When their day’s work is finished, they retire to their camp, where for a full hour they are engaged in pounding their corn in rude stone mortars, to reduce it to the consistence of very coarse meal. This is the work of the women. The men, meanwhile, gather a small quantity of wood, and when ready the meal is mixed with water, and boiled in a pot provided for the purpose, until it is a quite solid mass. This mess is the next day’s allowance. Part of it is swallowed on rising in the morning, the balance at noon. Supper they dare not indulge in, as their portion would not hold out. The slaves are allowed by the king, their owner, two suits – shirts and trousers for the men, and gowns for the females – per annum, but no hat to keep off the sun, no shoes to protect the feet while carrying their loads over the sharp coral of the beach. When a woman has a child, she is allowed three months to nurse and take care of it. At the expiration of that time, the little one is consigned to the care of other, larger children, while the mother goes to work in the gang, and is expected to do as hard a day’s work as any of the rest (Nordhoff 1856:284).

As if the scant rations of food were not bad enough, obtaining fresh water in this part of the island was not an easy feat. The enslaved had to walk approximately 1.6 km inland to the nearest source of potable water, located to the northeast of Orange Pan. The 1915 Werbata map depicts five wells in this area (see Fig. 4), which were called the Lansberg Putten. During a survey of the area by the first author in June 2017, three wells were located and documented. One well is composed of a hole in the ground of ca. 70 cm in depth with an oval structure ca. 40 cm high surrounding it. The structure is composed of coral rubble and lime mortar, plastered with lime on all sides, and features eight elongated holes which a wooden cover could slide into. The inner diameter of the well is ca. 110 cm and the thickness of the structure ca. 20 cm (Fig. 7). The other two wells comprised holes in the ground, measuring ca. 40 cm deep and 1 m in diameter. These were created by hacking away chunks of the limestone bedrock, which were left in place around the holes. Thousands of sherds, belonging mainly to glass case gin bottles and stoneware gin and mineral water bottles, are scattered around the wells. Since the case gin bottles are mold blown and have characteristic “pointed” base corners (Lindsey 2020), the wells seem to have been used most extensively in the decades leading up to 1870.

Fig. 7

One of the Lansberg wells, the nearest source of fresh or brackish water to the Orange Pan. Photo by the authors

As time progressed and abolition on the Dutch islands loomed ever closer, additional measures were taken to improve the living and laboring conditions of the enslaved. The government report describing the conditions in 1854 mirrors the measures taken a few years before as described by Nordhoff, but includes several improvements. Government slaves over 18 years of age received six jars of maize, while children received less. In addition, every week they received a small ration of coffee and rum, and occasionally some fresh beef. The report also describes the cabins built in 1850. The enslaved were given two sets of clothes per year, but those laboring in the saltpans received an extra set. Working hours were still from 6 am to 6 pm, with a two-hour break from noon to 2 pm and Sundays and holidays were days off. Perhaps the most significant improvement was that the enslaved were paid two cents for each barrel of salt they produced (Tweede Rapport 1856:160). This measure was particularly important, both practically as well as symbolically because, for the first time, the enslaved were provided with a small income with which they could choose to do as they pleased and, in this way, could have a new, albeit limited, measure of control over their lives. Moreover, in the long run the modest salary could be used toward the ultimate goal for many enslaved — buying their own freedom. Despite these small improvements, in the early 1850s government-owned slaves on the saltpans continued to live brutal lives — life expectancy among the enslaved population was dramatically low. This was particularly true for males, the majority of whom were less than 30 years of age (Fig. 8).

Fig. 8

Age demographics among Bonairean slaves in 1853. Source: Tweede Rapport 1856:156

After emancipation in 1863, paid laborers remained working in the saltpans. Several photos dating to the mid twentieth century provide a glimpse of what life at the saltpan was like at this time, depicting people working manually, breaking the salt crust with pickaxes, scoo** up the salt with shovels, carting it to the shore in wheelbarrows, and then packing it into bags, in much the same way their enslaved predecessors had done a century earlier (Fig. 9). The cabins remained in use, probably as midday bivouacs, until the early 1950s or 60s when manual salt production came to an end, and the cabins were abandoned (Antoin 1999b:35).

Fig. 9

Photo taken in 1947, showing people gathering salt into bags. In the background, the former slave cabins (kasnan di katibu) can be seen. Source: National Archives, The Hague, 2.24.14.02

Archaeological Survey at the Orange Pan

Because the material remains of activities carried out at the Orange Pan could provide more insights into the lives of the enslaved laborers, an extensive fieldwalking survey was carried out in 2016 in the area where the former slave cabins are located. After a quick inspection, it became clear that the area between the cabins and the sea houses a midden containing numerous artifacts left behind by the people that once inhabited these structures. The fieldwalking survey was carried out in three distinct zones in and around the slave cabins. The first is the midden area (A) where the laborers discarded their refuse. The second is the inner zone (B), the rectangular area between the cabins which is nowadays used as a parking lot for tour buses, cars, and divers’ pickup trucks. The third is the zone between the cabins and the saltpan (C) (Fig. 10). During the survey it became clear that surface artifacts had been subjected to extensive trampling from visitors to the site, therefore, only artifacts on the surface larger than a thumbnail were collected.

Fig. 10

Site plan showing terrestrial and marine features. The white dots at the drop-off are the locations of the anchors. Structures in red are intact, structures in yellow are destroyed. A, B, and C mark the survey zones. 1. Building whose function is undetermined; 2. Obelisk; 3. Jetty of which only one post remains; 4. Stone bollard; 5. Building whose function is undetermined; 6. Largely demolished building with a cistern, most likely the shed described by Van Lennep Coster in 1837; 7. Stone bollard; 8. Obelisk; 9. Slave cabins

The three zones each contained specific collections of artifacts. In Zone A, 135 artifacts were collected. These consist predominantly of criollo-ware (Afro-Amerindian ware), of which 77 fragments belonging to at least four different vessels were found (Fig. 11). With the exception of four rim fragments, all criollo-ware fragments are undiagnostic. Eleven refined white earthenware fragments were found in this zone, belonging to at least seven different vessels. These include fragments of a whiteware cup and bowl painted in polychrome floral patterns, a blue shell-edged whiteware plate, and a cut-sponge decorated bowl. Stoneware finds comprised eighteen bottle fragments belonging to at least five different vessels, one of which features the mark of the Blankenheym & Nolet distillery from the Dutch town of Schiedam, dating to the nineteenth century. Additional finds include eighteen glass case gin bottle fragments belonging to at least three different vessels, three fragments of red brick, and one undetermined piece of iron. Further, six fragments of West Indian top shell (Cittarium pica, known as kiwa in Papiamentu) and 44 pieces of queen conch (Aliger gigas, known as karkó) were found in this zone, with the minimum number of individuals calculated for this zone being four West Indian top shells and twelve queen conchs.

Fig. 11

A sample of criollo-ware ceramic sherds, including rim fragments (center left and center right), larger body fragments (top), and a decorated fragment (center). Note also the very coarse temper used in some of the fragments. Photo by the authors

A total of 87 artifacts were collected in Zone B. Criollo-ware comprised 17 fragments belonging to at least four different vessels. Two of these are rim fragments, while the others are undiagnostic. This zone contained 13 refined white earthenware fragments belonging to at least nine different vessels, including a willow-pattern plate, a whiteware cup painted in polychrome floral patterns, an industrial slip cup and bowl with annular decoration, a transfer-printed cup, and a whiteware bowl. Twenty-eight fragments of stoneware bottles were found, belonging to at least seven different vessels and all dating to the nineteenth century. One fragment features the mark of Georg Kreuzberg, a German mineral water manufacturer. Other finds include 18 glass bottle fragments — 17 case gin and one cylindrical — belong to at least three different vessels, and one piece of yellow brick. Faunal remains include two pieces of West Indian top shell and 52 pieces of queen conch, with the minimum number of individuals in this zone being one West Indian top shell and 16 queen conchs.

Zone C contained 88 artifacts and no shell remains. These included 27 stoneware fragments belonging to at least eight different vessels. One nineteenth-century fragment features the mark of the Dutch Blankenheym & Nolet gin distillery. Refined white earthenware comprised 21 fragments belonging to at least fourteen different vessels. Among these are a cut-sponge decorated whiteware bowl, a whiteware plate, a polychrome handpainted cup, shell-edged and feather-edged plates, an industrial slip cup and bowl with annular decoration, and a transfer-printed whiteware cup. Zone C contained 40 bottle fragments, of which five were cylindrical and 35 case gin, belonging to at least 12 different containers.

The majority of finds can be dated to the 1850s and 60s. The polychrome designs painted on the whitewares exhibit rather crudely applied thin-line floral elements in chrome colors, suggesting a date range from 1840 to 1860+ (Majewski and O’Brien 1987:159). However, since the fragments are small, and have no touchmarks, we cannot say with certainty if they are of British or Dutch manufacture, since after 1834 Petrus Regout started producing imitations of British hand-painted whiteware in Maastricht. The shell-edged plate fragments date to after 1860, since the edge is no longer press-molded but only painted (Miller 2013:489), and the cut-sponge decoration on the whiteware bowls was introduced after 1845 (Samford 2013:501). None of the glass case gin bottle bases have pontil scars since they are mold blown, and most have characteristic “pointed” base corners, which means they predate 1870 (Lindsey 2020). Of the stoneware fragments, the mark of Georg Kreuzberg is also indicative of a mid-nineteenth-century date, as his enterprise was only in operation from 1852 to 1878 (Leavitt 2013:330). Furthermore, the 1850s and 60s painted, cut-sponge decorated and shell-edged whiteware found at the Orange Pan is stylistically (and thus temporally) different from that found at the site of Los Escombros, where Morrell set up his saltworks on Cayo Sal, and which have been dated to the 1830s and 40s (Antczak 2019:317–332). Based on these dates and comparisons it can be concluded that the majority of these artifacts were used by the salt laborers in the decade before and after emancipation.

There is a clear division between the three zones with regards to the quantity of certain types of artifacts. Zone A contained many criollo-ware fragments, Zone B contained some, but Zone C contained none. It should be noted that all criollo-ware fragments from zones A and B were found in the northwestern part of the zones. This coincides with the concentration of shell fragments. The criollo-ware fragments are part of large low-fired, hand-made coarse earthenware cooking vessels. These were most likely used to prepare the corn meal described by Nordhoff. Based on these findings it can be concluded that the northwestern part of the site is associated with activities related to food preparation, while the eastern part of the settlement contained a very different artifact collection. In Zone C and the eastern part of Zone B, no shell remains or fragments of cooking vessels were found. This area only contained refined white earthenwares, stoneware bottles, and case gin bottles. These findings suggest that this area was perhaps used for food consumption. This could be related to the local topography, since Zone C exhibits a depression in the landscape which, combined with the shade from the cabins, could have provided a cooler place to consume meals after a hard day’s labor in the sun. This is also the area of the settlement that is most out of sight from the structures in the north where the overseers lived. The enslaved might have, thus, preferred to spend their free time here, eating and drinking alcohol in a more secluded place beyond the overseer’s surveillance.

The artifacts found in our surface survey provide preliminary glimpses into the lives of the people toiling at the saltpan in the decade before and after emancipation. Despite their relative isolation, the workforce at the Orange Pan clearly had access to European manufactured goods such as whiteware cups, bowls, and plates and Dutch case gin and stoneware gin bottles. As noted in the documentary record, alcohol consumption must have been widespread among the enslaved, and the numerous glass and stoneware bottles perhaps contained the slaves’ rations of rum. It is important to note that given the widespread reuse of such containers documented in the oral histories of the ABC islands, it is also possible that especially the stoneware bottles were reused for storing water as they were more durable and had a reputation for kee** their contents cool (Haviser 1999:254–256). Some could have also been filled with queen triggerfish (Balistes vetula) oil and used as torches, as has been noted on Saba (Espersen 2018:790).

Given that most of the tablewares can thus far only be dated to the decade of the 1850s and 60s, it is still unclear if emancipation brought about changes in the purchasing power and consumption strategies of the enslaved at the saltpan. Before emancipation, the ceramics and glass could have been given to them by the overseer, they could have been purchased by the laborers themselves, or some could have even been stolen. It is, however, more likely that after 1854 — when the enslaved were earning two cents per barrel of salt they produced — they decided to spend some of their hard-won earnings on refined white tablewares. It can be suggested that perhaps the ability of the enslaved to drink and eat from similar decorated cups and plates as a free person, and even an overseer, might have been a strategy of costly signaling documented at other sites of enslaved habitation (Galle 2010) or even reflective of their Du Boisian double consciousness and their ongoing struggle to preserve their identity (Odewale 2019). Whether emancipation is actually reflected in an increase of refined tablewares, as has been observed, for example, on Antigua in one of the few excavated post-emancipation contexts in the Caribbean (Bardoe 2019:142–146), remains to be seen in more detailed future excavations and analysis of materials from the site.

Besides these “fancier” things, the salt laborers were also using large low-fired, hand-made coarse earthenware cooking vessels. The cooking vessels are dissimilar to Afro-Caribbean wares from Dutch islands in the northeastern Caribbean, as the rims of the vessels and bowls found there usually flare outwards (Heath 1988; Gilmore 2004:142). In contrast, some criollo-ware vessels from Curaçao, for example, feature rims that are slightly turned inwards (Haviser 1999:257–258). Some of the diagnostic rim sherds of criollo-ware from the Orange Pan, however, were probably sharply turned inwards, a feature that might suggest they were more akin to Indigenous Caquetío vessels forms found in the Venezuelan state of Falcón and on the Las Aves archipelagoes (Antczak and Antczak 2015). In fact, criollo-wares have received little archaeological attention in the southeastern Caribbean and Venezuela, and it is difficult to say more from these small fragments. A broad variety of more refined and decorated criollo-wares was found at Los Escombros on Cayo Sal, and these were possibly of Venezuelan manufacture and brought there by the Bonaireans working the saltpan (Antczak 2019:314–317). Unlike Afro-Caribbean wares of the northeastern Caribbean, these criollo-wares were probably produced by Amerindian artisans in Venezuela, with a yet-unknown degree of African influences, and then traded to Bonaire.

It is also clear that the enslaved laborers were not completely dependent on the meager rations provided by the government. They were in fact actively collecting marine resources to supplement their deficient diets, as is evidenced by the many fragments of shell found at the site. West Indian top shell could be found in and among the corals of the long storm terrace running along the shore, while queen conch could be collected in the shallow waters on the narrow sandy plateau in the anchorage. Mollusks such as queen conch contain high levels of protein and would have provided an essential supplement to an otherwise monotonous diet of cornmeal. Similar patterns of consumption of mollusks were observed at the eighteenth-century Anglo-American saltpan campsites of Punta Salinas on the Venezuelan island of La Tortuga and, to a lesser degree, at the nineteenth-century site of Los Escombros on Cayo Sal (Antczak 2019:221–224). Consumption of mollusks by the enslaved has also been widely reported in excavations of slave quarters and villages throughout the Lesser Antilles (Ohman 2020; Tomadini et al. 2014:80; Wallman 2019:327) as well as in post-emancipation contexts (Bardoe 2011:287). The stone cabins themselves were also studied. The interior areas of the cabins measure ca. 180 × 220 cm, or 4 m². Originally there were 20 cabins, but only 19 remain as the southwestern most cabin was most likely destroyed during a tropical storm or hurricane, since it was closest to the shoreline (its foundations are still visible). The cabins are made of coral rubble held together with lime mortar. They all exhibit a small window on the windward side and a doorway on the leeward side (Fig. 12). The cabins feature a pitched roof, the ridge of which is approximately 180 cm high. Most cabins are quite cool inside, except for two that are located close to the mangroves surrounding the saltpans, which block the wind. As was similarly noted on the saltpan of La Tortuga (Antczak 2019:182–183), it is probable, however, that these mangroves only began growing here once the saltpan was abandoned and became perennially flooded by the much larger contemporary saltworks. It is hoped that future excavations at the Orange Pan, undertaken in concert with the local Bonairean community whose cultural heritage this is, can help to build further interpretations and reveal new and more detailed aspects of everyday life at this peripheral saltpan.

Fig. 12

The row of slave cabins closest to shore, with part of the midden area in the foreground. Photo by the authors

Maritime Activities

The story of Bonairean salt did not end at the shoreline; it comprised a significant maritime component as well. Moreover, maritime activities had a significant material reflection in the marine environment. Van Lennep Coster (1842:82) provides a detailed description of maritime activities at Orange Pan. Upon arrival, a rope was tied to the ship’s anchor line and then attached to a chain on the bollard (Fig. 13). Salt was transported from shore to ship by row boats, six of which could fill a medium-sized ship in a day. The row boats were stored under a lean-to on the beach when not in use (Fig. 14). The officer charged with the sale of salt had his own residence on site. Another person working at Orange Pan was the pilot, whose job it was to ensure that incoming ships would anchor safely.

Fig. 13

One of the stone bollards used as a mooring post for ships. To the left is one of the buildings whose function is still undetermined (No. 5 in Fig. 10). Photo by the authors

Fig. 14

Reconstruction drawing of the salt works and slave cabins in the 1850s, made by Andy Gammon

Upon Nordhoff’s arrival, the ship’s crew first needed to dump their ballast stones to make room in the hold for salt, which took three days. Ballast was simply thrown overboard, but once in a while the anchor cable was slacked out so that the stones would not all fall in one place, which would create a small shoal and ruin the anchorage area (Nordhoff 1856:281). An extensive SCUBA-diving survey was conducted from the slave cabins in the south to the northernmost building on the site in order to determine the extent of the historic anchorage. The size and extent of the historic anchorage can be determined by two lines of evidence: ballast stones that were dumped overboard and anchors that were lost on the reef slope. It quickly became clear that the area between the two obelisks was completely littered with ballast stones — which explains why there are almost no hard corals in this area anymore. The shallow plateau is very sandy, and the sand continues at the shoulder of the plateau where the drop-off starts, which is not typical for most of Bonaire’s underwater topography. No ballast stones are present on the shallow plateau, so the captains were probably given clear instructions by the pilots to not drop ballast in the shallows.

With obelisks to mark suitable anchorage zones and a pilot who ensured safe anchoring, one would expect that not many ships lost their anchors. This is, however, not the case. In six dives, 11 anchors were found and documented (see Fig. 10). When a ship dropped anchor in the shallow sandy anchorage and the wind blew the vessel away from the island towards deeper water, the anchor was dragged over a certain distance and buried itself in the sand. If the anchor had not been able to bury itself before reaching the drop-off, or if the buried anchor did not hold when the wind picked up, it would fall down the drop-off. If the anchor got stuck on a rock or piece of coral reef and could not be weighed, the rope or cable was cut, and the anchor left in place.

The survey was carried out by two teams. When the dive team found an anchor, a surface marker buoy (SMB) was deployed of which the GPS coordinates were recorded by a kayak team on the surface. Sketches, basic measurements, and photos were taken of all anchors (Fig. 15). Eight were located in the area in front of the southernmost obelisk, while the other three were found closer to the northernmost obelisk (see Fig. 10). This may indicate that the southern part of the anchorage area was more frequently used. The southern part, however, is more exposed to wave action, which could cause ships to drag their anchors and lose them. Therefore, the environment might have influenced anchor distribution as well.

Fig. 15

A diver exploring one of the anchors at Orange Pan, at a depth of 43 m. Photo by René Lipmann

The depth of the anchors, all found along the steep drop-off and the sandy area beneath, ranges from 27 to 69 m. The length of the anchors’ shanks ranges from 150 to 244 cm, suggesting these are all stream anchors, used in relatively calm conditions. Eight anchors exhibit iron stocks, suggesting a slightly younger date than the three anchors whose wooden stocks are missing. On most anchors, the iron stock was introduced in small types at the end of the eighteenth and throughout the first half of the nineteenth century (Stelten 2010:34). This fits well with the time the saltpan was most productive.

It should be noted that more anchors are present at the Orange Pan anchorage. In the past, divers have reported several anchors down to depths of 90 m in this area, however, these depths were not accessible to the survey team. Moreover, many anchors were found to be partly buried, so it is possible that anchors in the shallow part of the anchorage might be covered by a layer of sand. It is therefore estimated that at least twenty anchors are present in the area.

Even though ballast stones and anchors provide valuable information on the maritime operations at the Orange Pan, there were many activities that did not leave behind any tangible evidence. Nordhoff provides a raw and detailed description of the salt’s journey once it was harvested, and the hardships that came with the maritime labor in which the enslaved were engaged:

The ballast out and the hold swept clean, the salt came alongside. It was brought from shore in large surf boats by the slaves. When a boat came alongside, the bags were thrown upon a stage, from the stage to the deck, then a toss to the main hatchway, where stood one with a jackknife, to cut the string, empty the contents into the hold, and fling the sack back into the boat. The salt intended for our ship was measured into sacks, each holding a bushel. In these sacks it was carried on the shoulders of men and women, from the depository to the beach, where each in turn laid his or her load into the boat, brought up beyond the reach of the surf for that purpose. When a boat was laden, all hands took hold and ran her into the water, when her regular crew hauled her alongside. A white overseer superintended the operations of the shore gang. He carried a long and heavy rawhide whip, which he applied with no sparing or light hand to the naked backs of women and men, if they did not trot off fast enough with their heavy burdens.

Sometime after emancipation, a small jetty was built in the area between the two obelisks. Judging by two early twentieth-century photos, it was approximately 15 m long and composed of metal posts with wooden planking on top (Fig. 16). Nowadays, just one single post of this structure remains. With the exception of the whip, the maritime operation seems not to have changed significantly in the early twentieth century. Salt was still gathered on the beach, put into sacks, and with the use of wheelbarrows transported to the jetty where it was loaded into small row boats that commuted between ship and shore. It was only with the construction of the salt pier in 1970 that the maritime operations were modernized.

Fig. 16

Undated photo showing bags of salt being transported from shore to a ship, with the use of a small jetty. Source: photo collection Fraters van Tilburg

Concluding Remarks

The multidisciplinary approach adopted for this study has resulted in a more comprehensive and materially informed understanding of the history of Bonaire’s southernmost saltpan and the lives of the people laboring and living there. Documentary sources, particularly traveler’s accounts, paint a vivid picture of the lives of the enslaved on Bonaire’s southern tip. Preliminary archaeological findings reflect these hardships and add new dimensions to our understanding of the activities carried out in and around the slave cabins. The saltpan itself, as well as the buildings surrounding it, remain in a good state of preservation and are vivid visual reminders of Bonaire’s main industry prior to tourism. Unfortunately, the exact functions of several buildings at Orange Pan could not be determined due to limited documentary data and the scarcity of archaeological finds on the surface.

Labor on a saltpan was exceedingly brutal for the enslaved. Even though living and labor conditions gradually improved as the nineteenth century progressed, demographic data indicates that life expectancy among the Bonairean enslaved was very low. However, despite their extremely difficult lives, enslaved Bonairean salt laborers tried to actively improve their everyday existence, and perhaps even their social and economic standing. They had some access to European ceramics and supplemented their meager rations by collecting conchs and top shells. Accumulation of wealth by the enslaved was also noted in the excavation of eighteenth-century slave settlements on St. Eustatius (Stelten 2015, 2018) and Antigua (Fox 2020). Here, the enslaved used few Afro-Caribbean wares and much finer and costlier European ceramics instead. Other artifacts found on St. Eustatius that signify wealth were shoe buckles, wine glasses, and folding knives; any such similarly expensive nineteenth-century items are absent at Orange Pan. It is, moreover, curious that the slave quarters on St. Eustatius contained numerous clay tobacco pipe fragments, but the slave quarters by the Orange Pan on Bonaire contained none, suggesting that the Bonairean enslaved might not have had access to tobacco, or could not purchase clay pipes and fabricated them from perishable materials such as wood.

Because Bonaire never developed into a trading entrepôt like Dutch Curaçao or St. Eustatius, the Bonairean enslaved were relatively restricted in their upward mobility compared to those on other islands. Most importantly, commercial activities were simply not present on Bonaire at the scale seen on some other Caribbean islands. Even if they had been, it would have been very difficult for the enslaved to play an active part in trade since most of them on Bonaire were owned by the Dutch West India Company and after 1792 by the government, while few were private property. Enslaved people belonging to merchants had the best chances of improving their economic and social positions. These would often trade more or less independently for their masters and had the opportunity to conduct their own business on the side, as occurred frequently in the eighteenth century on the Dutch islands of Curaçao and St. Eustatius (Rupert 2012:141–142), and in the nineteenth century on Danish St. Thomas (Espersen 2017:131). Perhaps the most famous example is that of Olaudah Equiano, who made his first money by trading between Montserrat and St. Eustatius on his master’s ship (Equiano 1794:154). In addition, the enslaved laboring in the saltpans or those living in Rincón were far from Kralendijk, where most commercial activities were carried out. On Bonaire there was no link between trade in town and the production of salt at the island’s southern periphery — the enslaved were simply too far removed from the commercial area.

Nevertheless, some Bonairean enslaved did manage to buy their own freedom. One person did so in exchange for 45 goats, indicating the rural circumstances that characterized bondspeople’s lives on Bonaire (Hartog 1957:176). Moreover, not all enslaved labored in the saltpans or in the countryside; some were engaged in maritime trades as well. In 1853, ten male slaves labored on Bonairean ships as sailors (Tweede Rapport 1856:10). These enslaved were held by individuals rather than the government or businesses, which offered them options not given to those enslaved laborers who toiled away in the saltpans. In sum, due to physical, sociopolitical, and economic factors, the enslaved on Bonaire were never provided with significant chances to increase their social and economic status, yet, from the preliminary evidence presented here, we suggest they did so in a number of modest ways, nonetheless.

Bonaire’s maritime cultural landscape was not just shaped by internal forces. The island also needed to react to developments overseas, such as weather affecting salt production on other islands or growing competition and declining prices. Staying competitive in the nineteenth-century salt business meant improving the maritime operation at the saltpans. Despite all the enhancements such as obelisks and bollards, there was only so much that could be done to improve the anchoring grounds themselves. These were far from ideal and caused many ships to lose their anchors.

Nowadays the saltpans and slave cabins are popular sights for the tens of thousands of tourists who visit Bonaire each year. The mountains of salt, awaiting shipment, are among the most frequently photographed features on the island and the adjacent saltpans provide a safe haven for nesting flamingos, Bonaire’s emblematic birds. Moreover, the modern salt pier is one of the most popular dive sites on the island, and in town people sell Bonairean sea salt souvenirs. Salt continues to play an important role on Bonaire, ensuring that the history of those who toiled on the saltpans in the inclement sun will not be forgotten.