Far Tortuga (26 page)
Authors: Peter Matthiessen
A long silence. Then Raib speaks quietly.
You hear dat rushin out dere, Byrum? De wind and de sea comin together? Dat de sound of
hell
, boy, dat de sound of
hell
! You way out on de edge, boy, you out on de edge of de world. No mon! Ain’t no unions on de turtle banks, I tellin you dat! Ain’t no rights out here! Ain’t nothin out here but de reefs and de wind and de sea, and de mon who know de bleak ocean de best has got to be de coptin, and de men don’t listen to de coptin, dey stand a very good chance of losin dere lifes!
Raib gives an unwilling whimper, then begins to laugh.
Course Copm Steadman Bodden dere, he were an exception to de case. He told dem men dat were abondonin de
Majestic
dat dey had no business tellin him how to do de job. De day he drowned dere at Serrarers, Copm Steadman told dose men dat dey best stay with him on de vessel, bein dat he had fifty-four years of sea experience! Dat right, Will?
The deckhouse lies still: Will does not answer.
And just de day before, dem dat were drowned was settin dere just Like you fellas, just settin dere thinkin about dere belly and scrotchin dere balls. Never had no idea at all what was comin down on dem. No idea at all.
Raib laughs for a long time, staring outboard. The two men watch him wipe the tears out of his eyes.
Daybreak.
Clean black clouds of fair weather chase the gray wind banks of the day before, but still the wind increases, and short waves rush westward in disorderly ranks. The port boat is awash.
The men crouch at the galley door.
Will, I got to keep crew enough aboard to raise dat anchor if need be. So one boat got to do de job.
Dat port boat leakin pretty bad, dass all.
Take my boat, den. Pick de two men dat you want.
I want de two with de most experience of catboats and nets.
Dat Byrum and Vemon. You want Vemon?
Don’t much want’m but I got to take’m.
Shit! What de motter with Speedy?
Well, dass right, Vemon, Speedy de better mon, but he didn’t got de theory of pullin oars and hondlin turtle in no sea like dis. Mon don’t do just right, capsize de boat.
Byrum bangs the
Eden
’s deck with the flat of his big hand.
Well, let’s go den, Vemon. Anybody see my knife?
Speedy and Buddy haul the catboat alongside. It is leaping so that Will and Byrum time their jump to the catboat’s rise. Bailing the boat with a half-shell of coconut, Will is silent and his face is tight. Byrum is noisier than usual; stepping the mast, he nearly capsizes the boat. Vemon has gone into the deckhouse, but when Byrum bellows at him, reappears and perches on the rails, awaiting his chance to jump. His striped cap is pulled down tight against the wind, spreading his ears.
You find your knife, Byrum?
Fuck my goddom knife! Get in here and let’s go!
Almost affectionate, Raib grasps Vemon by the back of the neck.
Get in de boat, Vemon! What you scared of? You lost your life, you still ain’t lost nothin!
Vemon hops neatly into the boat. As Buddy lets go the line and the catboat falls astern, Vemon, gazing upward, answers Raib with a kind of smile.
Will takes the tiller as Byrum and Vemon hoist the sail: the three brown faces gaze back toward the
Eden
. Wind strikes the canvas—
whamp
!—and the blue boat heels over. Then she is gone on gray-green waves. In the early light, the men’s bent silhouettes are high on the catboat’s weather side. The wind buffets her, and she falls off to leeward, then heads up again, moving fast, spray flying.
The men on deck watch their shipmates disappear. They do not speak for a long time. Raib picks up a torn net and begins to mend it, but soon his hands stop; he gazes out to sea.
Dat ocean look so
old
in de mornin time.
He frowns at the uneasy faces.
You see de way Vemon smile dere, Speedy? What de hell he
smilin
at? (
shakes his head
) Dat one thing I got to say about old Vemon—dat fool surprise you. I knowed him since we was children, and every time I think I know de kind of a fool he is, he turn around and give me a surprise.
Vemon ain’t no fool. No, mon. He just
play
de fool, cause for him, dass de way life go de best.
Speedy is restless. He hauls the port boat up under the stern, and jumps down into it. The boat fills with leak and slop almost as fast as he can bail, yet he works furiously, water flying. Like Raib, he keeps one eye out to sea, but from the water line he cannot see the catboat sail; the ocean is too high.
Still seein dem?
I seein dem, darlin.
Okay den, dass very fine. (
stoops and bails
) Pull
best
, Speedy! Dass
you
, Speedy! You okay, Speedy-Boy! You doin fine!
Two miles to the east, where the surf lunges at the reef, the boat sail flutters, disappears. When the mast rises once again, the sail has disappeared.
Athens? Fix dem men a good meal, boy, dey gone be hungry!
Yah, mon, dass what I doin. I gone to give dem dis nice lumpy rice—
What?
some dis old barra dat ain’t got too hard yet in de sun—
You gettin smart with me? If you had butchered dat hox-bill—
Copm Raib, if I was smart I wouldn’t be on dis vessel in de first place.
If you wasn’t on dis vessel, you would be in jail! Cause you a thief!
Athens grins at him.
Dey all kind of thieves, Copm Raib. I only de one kind.
You de worst kind! You steal dis whole domn boat if you could do it!
Dat might be, Copm. Dat might be. (
pause
) Less I had de insurance. Den I might burn her to de water line.
Raib glances at Buddy.
What do dat mean, Athens?
I don’t know, mon. What do dat mean to you?
A glint of oars.
Dey drawin now.
Vemon know he done some work
dis
mornin. Pullin dat boat into dat wind, den losin all dat ground every time dey draw de net—no, mon. Dey get back here by noon, dey doin good.
Wodie is tending to the turtles. He wets them down by splashing buckets of sea water over them, and fixes the wood rests beneath their heads. Over those exposed to the open sky he throws old nets and canvas and dead rope.
Dass de first thing dat one-eye obeah worker done aboard dis ship without bein told to do it. De first thing. (
whistles
) Dey
all
surprisin me
dis
mornin.
One turtle dyin, Papa. Dat one. (
points
) I been watchin him. He keep kind of gaspin; he kept me awake last night, gaspin.
The turtle’s calipee looks sunken in, and a sick squirt of green manure lies lumped over its tail. Still gazing eastward, Raib probes his fingers into the folds of its neck, then under the hind flippers, gauging the turtle’s fat.
It were not dis turtle kept you awake—dat were de wind. I ain’t slept all night.
He straightens, forgetting the turtle, and contemplates the boy.
I bet you glad you ain’t out dere in dat boat dis mornin. (
squints
) Don’t be shamed of it. I glad dat
I
ain’t dere dis mornin, and I domn sorry dat I glad: must be gettin old.
Raib takes up his net again; he cocks his head.
Why you standin dere? Nothin to do? You know dat de bilges ain’t been pumped dis mornin, and you ain’t took Copm Andrew to de rails so he might ease hisself, and you know dere is ropes to splice and ends to whip up and down de ship (
his voice rises
) and you standin dere starin at
me
! (
points
) DEY MEN OUT DERE RISKIN DERE LIVES! You gettin a share of dis voyage just like dey are, and you not a experienced mon; dass why you got to work twice as hard! You got to
jump
, boy! How many times you got to be told: in dis life you got to
jump!
(
quietly
) Should have left you home in school stead of makin a ass of yourself out in de cays, seasick all de time!
The boat returns at midday. Four turtles are hoisted aboard, and the men follow. Five nets have been lost. Will and Vemon do not talk; they go straight to the galley and sit there side by side looking down at their hands as they wait for coffee. At the rail, Byrum, still breathing hard, is pissing. Raib speaks to him politely.
De wind’s moderatin, Byrum. Ain’t blowin fresh as what it was.
Byrum spits toward the reef.
Don’t feel dat way out dere. Rough, mon. Ain’t got no wrists left.
Dass turtlin, boy.
Think so? (
turns toward galley
) I like turtlin as well as any mon, but I don’t like dat mess out dere.
