Far Tortuga (13 page)
Authors: Peter Matthiessen
Raib sighs.
So de first settlers had to deal with dese wild people speakin a broken tongue. Athens here
still
speakin it: Sponnish, English, African—a little bit of everything.
Well, Copm Raib, in Georgetown dey more civilized, dey understandin me. West Bay is pirates, and de farther east you go from Georgetown, de farther into de back are de people livin. Where Wodie live, now, at East End, dey
still
livin in de bushes. Dat right, Wodie?
Oh, we be hoppy in de bushes, too.
Dem real black people out dere at East End, dey stuck out dere since de slavin days, when de slave ship
Nelly
struck upon de reef. Dem jujumen, dem obeah workers dere, dey gets dere ways from Africa. Still got cannibals out dere, ain’t dat right, Wodie?
Diesel fumes on the wind eddies. Frying lard. The crew sprawls on the deck and catboat. Kingfish steaks, cooked dry and smeared with chili sauce, are dished out with the rice; on each plate, with delicate fingers, Speedy places a crude doughnut.
Will puckers his face and spits tobacco juice in a hard spurt across the rail. He takes his food from Speedy without thanks and holds it uneaten on his lap. Raib watches him.
Will? Don’t bother yourself about dat catboat—we pick her up on de way home.
Will smiles mirthlessly, face cracking.
Ain’t gone to bother fungo, no mon! (
spits again
) What you call dis, Speedy? Dese ain’t bullas?
I hear on de radio about hot doughnuts and coffee makin people hoppy, Mist’ Will, so dat is what you eatin dere, hot doughnuts. I don’t know much about de nut part, but you got plenty dough dere, I tell you dat.
Wodie, singing, goes aft to relieve Vemon at the wheel.
…
of a dove
Fly away! Fly away!
I’d fly a-way-ay, fly a-way-ay
And be-ee-ee-ee at rest
…
Approaching the galley, Vemon sits down on the bilge pump, arms folded on his chest.
Bring me my supper, Honduras!
Speedy leans out of the galley door to gaze at Vemon, who is glaring out to sea.
I done my day’s work, and now I wants my supper!
Speedy is hooked to the galley door top by his fingertips, leaning outward between his forearms. He too gazes out to sea. In time, he pushes himself back inside and prepares a plate of food and a cup of coffee. He comes out quietly and offers it to Vemon, who grabs it with exaggerated rudeness.
Speedy squats down at Vemon’s feet; his expression is calm. Vemon tries to eat, but soon stops chewing.
Speedy’s finger draws a circle on the deck around Vemon’s plate.
Eat your supper, nigger. (
pause
) Dass a very nice supper dat you haves dere, nigger, so I hopes you enjoy it. And you ever talk to me dat way again, and show me dat bad face, I gone to knock you on you black ass.
Speedy looks up at Vemon for the first time.
Dass a promise. Nigger.
Nodding gently, Speedy looks from face to face.
I a very nice boy, but I don’t take no shit. Anybody give me shit, I gone to move. I gone to travel. Fast. And any mon get in my way gone find out why dey calls me Speedy.
Dass okay, mon. Best say what you got in your mind.
I always say de truth—learn dat from school days. If my mother no good, I tell you. Dass right, mon. Say de truth, cause dass de way life go de best.
Raib wipes his mouth.
Well, it time to start thinkin where we gone to set our nets. Start for Cape Gracias maybe three in de mornin we won’t hit no reefs before de light, and den we is a very good way along. Maybe we get done registerin at Cape Gracias time to run back out to Cape Bank Shoal, set a few net dere fore de evenin.
Cape Bank pretty far to de north for dis time of de year.
Well, we see dat big turtle dis evenin. Got good ground over dere.
Copm Allie say de turtle small at Cape Bank. Chicken turtle.
Copm Allie don’t know everything, Byrum!
You know a coptin better’n him?
Well, dey ain’t many proper coptins left. Copm Cadian dere on de
Lydia Wilson
, he was pretty good while he had a boat. Can’t do much without a boat. (
begins to grin
) But I believe I as good as any as dere is today, I believe I can truthfully say dat. Dey talk about Copm Allie, but he don’t sail down to de cays no more. All de coptins of dat time, dey was some very good coptins, but age is took de upper hand. Oh, yes! Dey in de downward way!
Raib laughs unabashedly while the men watch him.
Now Copm Steadman—dat were a
real
turtler. A real first-class turtler. He were a turtler dat could do everything. Hang turtle nets, which is de first step. Go out dere in de daylight and de net is bunched dere and no turtle, den you hung it wrong. Hangin de net, dat is de first thing.
Well, pilotin pretty important, Copm. Sot dat net in de wrong place, don’t motter de way it hung.
I very glad you know dat, Will, you bein de pilot of de port boat.
Raib starts to laugh again, then frowns.
In pilotin, a mon must look and he must
see
. I believe it were somewhere around ’44 when Copm Andrew made dis course with me on de
Clarinda
. He told me to steer her west-half-north and I steered dat course, and he went down and he sot dat place, and give de turtle hell. And den when we come back in ’62, he say, West by north, and I say, Papa, if you goin back to dat same set, you gone to have to steer west-half-north or
eitherwise you not goin dere. So he say,
You
want to steer dat course, boy, den you steer it! So I steered her west-half-north, and even though de bottom was dark, I put her on de point. Cause I ’membered dat dis place were full of barracuda, and by seein barras come up around de vessel, it give me a very good idea dat I was over de white hole.
Raib gazes around the circle.
So I’m tellin you dat a bad memory is a disasterish thing to a person in life. With no remembrance, a mon cannot learn. To me—I’m not makin bragado or anything—but I know every rock out on de banks, like my own dooryard. It were Copm Andrew Avers dat taught me, and come to pilotin, he were de island’s best.
Come to rum-runnin, he were de island’s best. Dat
Clarinda
, she were swift, mon—
Athens winks at Byrum; he clears his throat.
Copm Andrew Avers! Eighty years of age, and still sailin down here to de Cays as pilot!
A clink of tin on tin. Raib lays his fork down.
Who were de fella de other day dat were speakin out for Desmond? Dat you, Byrum? Speakin out for a fella dat would cheat an old mon out of his vessel—
De
Clarinda?
DE CLARINDA! AND DEN TAKE DAT POOR OLD EIGHTY-YEAR-OLD MON OUT OF HIS DAUGHTER’S HOUSE DAT CAN’T STAND STURDY ANYMORE, AND DE SON OF DAT OLD MON OUT OF DE WAY DOWN IN HONDURAS—
Raib stops suddenly, gasping for breath: he tries to eat again.
Your doddy wanted to go bad, Copm Raib. Said every day of idleness was takin ten years off his life—
No! He were cheated! De
Clarinda
were a Avers vessel, and look who stole it—Desmond Eden! It a
good
thing she burned! A
very
good thing! Desmond had no business with dat vessel! Dat one he call de
Davy Jones—dat
de vessel for him! Stole
dat
one from dem poor Cuba refugees dat come in it, dem people were starvin, and he paid dem next to nothin! Put all dat crap on dere, look like a whorehouse!
A cockroach glints by the galley siding, antennae bending in the wind. Raib stamps at it and misses. The insect withdraws under the rotting wood.
Copm
Desmond! A mon dat would call a vessel
Davy Jones
, funnin with de bleak ocean in dat manner, dat mon can’t learn nothin from de sea!
Well, as I was sayin, Copm Allie is de best of de modern time.
Getting his breath, Raib gazes at Athens for some time. Then he nods a little, and turns back toward Byrum.
Copm Allie ain’t sailed down to de cays for several years now. And dat generation of turtlin men dat come before Copm Allie, dey was also very gifted in dis fishery. Copm Andrew and Copm Steadman and Copm Millard Conally, and C. C. Bush and many of de rest was all experts on de turtle banks. But you would have to say dat Copm Steadman were as good as Cayman had, one of Cayman’s best dat ever was. Oh, yes. Dey was not anybody sharper den dat old colored mon before his day and since. Will Parchment settin right dere dat sailed on de
Majestic
—Will can tell you.
Well, Steadman were a domn wonderful old mon! A very fine old mon. A
very
fine old mon. Fished turtle all de days of his life!
Dat old mon were so well gifted in dis fishery, he could sail de coast de way he wanted. Most of de pilots had to climb up to de masthead where de visibility was good for dem. But Steadman sat dere in a chair on deck and got his turtle just de same.
Yah, mon! De
Majestic
! Big boat, mon!
She were not. You old enough to remember her better den dat. But even dem dat remember de
Majestic
think today dat she were big. Will settin dere will tell you dat she were smaller den dis vessel, but she were corryin a pile of rangers, and now she so famous dat dey think she must be big. (
grunts
) Everybody think dat de twenty-seven fellas dat were lost dat year was de most ever on de Miskita Cays: dey were not. In 1876, a big hurricane den, dey was sixty-seven lost, and most of de fleet. De
Majestic
, dat were de biggest loss in de
modern
time, and she were famous because so many fellas died dat day under a coptin dat had lost his sea wits.
… and dat domn half-breed dere, dat call hisself engineer! (
spits
) Goddom it to hell—
Nigger?
A silence.
Nigger? You best not mess with Brown. No, mon.
Speedy warnin you, Vemon, so you heed him.
With Brown dere
ain’t
no warnin, nigger. (
softly
) You look down and see something stickin out de ribs, dat be de first warnin dat you get.
A silence.
How come you partners with a bad fella like dat?
Brown not a bad fella and he not a good fella—he don’t know de difference.
Dass it. More and more like dat dese days, don’t care about nothin cept de next meal, no more den vermin. No ambition. Dey just livin along.
Dass it. Dey just livin along …
Brown’s head, yellow-eyed, has appeared out of the engine hatch. His narrow mustachio hooks down sharply at the corners of his mouth, which hangs half open. He does not climb out. As if sensing danger, he withdraws to listen, descending two steps on the ladder, but the peak of his sombrero is still visible. Hearing the silence, he disappears entirely.
Byrum’s belch makes the others laugh.
Speakin about de
Wilson
, and den also remembrance—dey is
turtle
remembrance. Copm Allie always tell dat tale about dat turtle come home from Caymans to de cays here, to de same rock at Dead Man Bar. Very mysterious.
Dat ain’t so much. Dere was another dat escape from Key West and come home to de cays here and got caught again—had to come all de way round Cuba and down de Yucatán Channel, seem like.
Yah. Well, de way Copm Allie tell it, Copm Raib—
Byrum, I not talkin about Allie! I talkin about C. C. Bush! Dis turtle
I
speakin about were caught twice by Copm C. C. Bush, White Charley Bush! On de old
Annie Greenlaw
! (
more quietly
) I were a boy den. Turtle washed out of de crawls dere in Key West. In a hurricane. Had all dese fish bites on de fins so dey remembered, and dey look on de calipee and found de brand of Charley Bush, cut in dat same season. Now Allie’s turtle come back south from Caymans, but
dis
green turtle come all of de way from Key West, mon, cross de bleak ocean. To de same rock! All de way round Cabo San Antonio dere in Cuba. To de same
rock
! Now dat is a fact, mon, dat has been seen many’s de time, dat when it come to navigation, dey ain’t no bird in de world is in de class with de green turtle!