By James Milnes Gaskell

It was a familiar face that looked out at me from the front page of the Observer.  It was a friendly cheerful lovely face. Jessica Cornelius had been murdered in Florida, the caption and story told us. I was shocked. Amid all the death and destruction which a few of our unfortunate youth inflict upon themselves, the same tragic fate had imposed itself upon Jessica.

For a number of years in the 1990’s Jessica was the Kantour’s representative who would come to Montpelier Plantation Inn to brief British Tour Operator guests at the beginning of their stay. She was such a lively charming person that repeat guests would be so glad to see again. “Jessica should be here at 9.00 a.m.,” we might say.  “Oh good, and how is she?” would be the response. Not only was she charming, but also sensible and sensitive in dealing with our guests. She settled any concern they had, and became not only the best representative a guest could have but an ally and supporter of the Inn. Her death is a tragedy. My sympathy and condolences to the family.

I first met the late Sam Hunkins in 1964 when I had formed the intention to construct a small hotel. There were just two contractors on the island, a Mr. Donovan from America, and Samuel Hunkins of Nevis. I chose Sam Hunkins and never regretted it.  Mr. Donovan had a yacht, and one day, without notice, he sailed away. What a mess I should have been in had I made the wrong choice.

It was an unusual alliance, a young (26-year-old) adventurer from England not long out of National Service and University, and a 49-year-old builder/contractor who had left school at 13 and through intelligence, hard work and application levered himself up from a start at the bottom. Such an experienced man could have taken advantage of the novice. Sam would not have considered it. He was a person of integrity and class, what the English would describe as one of nature’s gentlemen. I enjoyed Sam’s company and our working association. On one occasion he reflected without admiration on my physique, and then said, “But mentally you are a giant.” Perhaps that was just his famed sense of humour. I shall never know.

The construction of Montpelier between 1964 and 1966 was a formidable challenge for both of us. It must have been by far the largest and most complicated series of constructions yet undertaken by the Hunkins building firm. I had luck and youthful enthusiasm to carry me through. Sam had a thorough grounding in building as practised in Nevis and an awareness of who could do what. We needed all his knowledge of men and materials.

I remember many evenings spent at Sam’s office planning it out. He would sketch out the possibilities. On one occasion I brought along a book which carried some pictures of Norman arches. The invaders of England in 1066, they carried with them their skill in stonework. If you look at the verandah arches at Montpelier you will see that they have a certain kind of flat curve. They are grand but not boastful. From a simple drawing of a Norman church doorway, Sam developed his own sketches and was able to instruct Nevisian craftsmen to execute our island’s version of those pleasing Norman arches.

Not everything went as well as the arches. Sam and I had our differences and difficulties. Each of us, I am sure, was severely stretched financially. Our contract stated that the work would be completed in one year. It took two. The lesson to be learned from this is that all building takes twice as long as you expect and costs twice as much. If you accept that, you will not be disappointed. The water level of Montpelier’s beautiful pool when filled for the first time, began to drop. The floor at the deep end had to be broken up so that a more solid foundation could be effected. I was in despair about this and perhaps Sam was too, but the remedial work was enough, and upon refilling the water stayed in place.

A builder in Nevis during the 1960’s had no electric power tools, no ready mixed concrete to send for, no TDC or Horsford in Nevis, poor communications to the outside world, no computers, internet, Google, or fax and extreme difficulty in making an overseas telephone call. There were said to be just two lines out. One of them was reserved for the Government. If, as a private person, you attempted to call overseas, usually you would get no further than the telephone operator who was installed, I believe, above the Post Office. I can still hear her voice saying, “The line is busy, I call you back.” That rarely happened.

What Nevis did have was a quantity of skilled stone masons, who could chip and shape rough stone to the required form, using nothing but their mason’s hammer. An especially renowned foreman stonemason, who in my mind’s eye I can still see sitting on the steps at Montpelier’s front entrance shaping up a stone, was Mr. Rawlins, the father of our present Chief Justice. Go and look at the stonework at Montpelier. How did they do it? It is the quality work of master craftsmen as organised by Sam Hunkins. It was slow. Sam told me that a good mason could only do five stones in a day. Long may Montpelier stand. What we could do forty-five years ago we could not do in 2009.

My part in the construction was to go to England to find, purchase and ship the materials required. This was still a time when British goods were solid and dependable. I would come back from time to time to see how things were going.

Apart from no ready mix concrete truck with delivery pump, there was no stone crusher, so all concrete stone had to be pounded by hand. It was best to have this done on site. At one stage the area now the car park was almost covered by individual piles of pound stone. Sam bought a small dumper to move the stone around. The only other major piece of equipment was a compressor which could run one or two breakers.  Pneumatic drills they were sometimes called. This one bore the sign “Broomwade. British made”. It did not live up to British reputation for reliability. Boston Browne operated a breaker. I recall him so doing in what is now the Great Room which then was the sugar boiling room.

Although Montpelier had substantial ruins, they were ruins, and virtually everything except the mill had to come down, even the small chimney. “Unsafe,” said Sam.

It was not easy to keep together, working to maximum efficiency, a team of over eighty persons. One of Sam’s exasperations he told me was that some workers, on receipt of a generous pay packet, would stay away until the money ran out. Another was to find those who would accept responsibility. “If I could get a chap,” was one of his cries. This may have referred to Edward Walters who did come in as a foreman, and who many years later did sterling work in renovations and improvements at the Inn.

Electrics by Fred Liburd and Joseph Gajor. Plumbing by Benjamin Grant. Stalwarts of building in Nevis.

In prime position over all was Sam Hunkins, master builder. I owe him, as I am sure, do many others. A patrician figure, a true Nevis hero! My sympathy to the family, as they look back upon and celebrate the life of their father and grandfather.