Far Tortuga (35 page)
Authors: Peter Matthiessen
A silence.
Bragman’s. I been all around dat town. Oh, Speedy well-known
dere
! I used to run dere on a ship. And Bluefields. Used to run to New Orleans and Texas. Mahogany. And gold. Dey got a gold mine here, inland. Bonanza, call dat place. Plenty gold. Oh, yes. I been runnin down dere a very long time.
Got pussy dere?
Might be, Byrum. Prob’ly dey heard about it. (
smiles
) Oh, Bragman’s a very fine town. Lots of fun. I dance. I am a
dancin
mon. I hang around de bar. A few drinks—not many. I not get drunk—just fun. Den I go back to my ship.
Well, you take Bluefields, dat a
big
town, mon, a very big town, and you look and see how sloppy de streets is kept. It de goddom Sponnish, dat is my opinion.
Might be I slip ashore. I got dis condrum I like to use.
I come down to Bragman’s five straight year. I hang around de bar.
Hard to find pussy any more, y’know—get’m older den eight years of age, dey all got something in de oven.
Y’see dat one of Desmond dere? And Desmond tellin me dat his gang of pan-heads had three girls with dem and de whole three pregnant, only one of dem had her baby up dere at Bobel and got infected and died.
Fuck dem dat way.
When the men stare at him, Brown’s lip lifts, baring his upper teeth.
How dat go, Brownie?
Colombia.
Igual
if dey fat—we fuck. Old one, young one. I fuck
una muerta
once;
después
, dey told me she dead by de time I fuck. (
shrugs
)
Igual
. I too drunk to know.
Dey all commonists down dere, ain’t dey? Well, in Cayman we ain’t got people acts like dat. In a democracy—
At Brown’s expression, Vemon falls silent.
Ninguno
tell me what I fuck.
Ninguno
. I fuck anything I want. (
spits at Vemon’s feet
) I fuck
you, señor, hay nada de mejor
.
Brown looks from one man to the other; they stop laughing.
Ustedes
. Tink you better den me? (
spits again
) In jail. In camp.
Claro
? Mon got to fuck,
verdad
?
Brown’s gold teeth appear in a wild grin.
Verdad
? Mon got to fuck,
verdad
?
Arms wrapped around himself, eyes closed, Byrum dances to the sound of his own voice; he makes a quick copulatory movement on each turn.
fun me, soldier mon, fun me
…
Speedy clears his throat.
What Brownie mean—well, in all dese countries now, we gettin quite a problem. Malaria got to be a thing of de past, all dem old kind sickness dere, so we got to de place where
nobody
dyin, and dey ain’t enough of anything to go around. Den people start actin like wild animals. La Violencia. No work, no money, nothin. So all dey carin about is pussy, cause dat all dey got.
Dass it. Dey ain’t even enough of
dat
!
Modern time, mon. Girls gets knocked up before you gets dere. Mon! De young fellas dey haves now, dey go around in gangs in de night time, and dey finds a girl, mon, dey
all
grinds her.
Well, Speedy, dey don’t behave in dat manner in Caymans, I tellin you dat much—!
Cause you in de back time, Doddy, dey plenty of water between you and de world. But you just wait a while, you gone to see. Modern time, mon—dey ain’t no place to hide.
Fun me, oh!
Make me feel nice and cool!
His song finished, Byrum laughs.
Dat one Brown grinded, she were cool already—
Byrum? Don’t mess with him, mon. Brown kind of sensitive, some way.
Bad thing about de
Goldfield
, Copm. Hear dat news?
All de old fleet gone now, save dese ones dat was converted. All de rest been sold away or sunk in storm.
Every one?
Well, let’s see now—keepin it to real turtle boats, de sailin schooners, it was de
Goldfield
, it was de
Adams
, it was de
Wilson
, and it was de
Armistice
—all built by Arches. It was de
R. L. Hustler
built by Roland Bodden, it was de
Rembro
and de
Antarus
, both built by MacTaggarts. It was de
Jemsons
, called dat for some of de Bodden children—de “m” was for Melba, I think. Jim Bodden and Sons. Called her de
Jemsons
. And de
E. L. Banks
and de
Majestic
, dat was built by Boddens, too, and another one from Cayman Brae dat dey calls de
Alsons
, and de
Arbutus
dere dat used to trade over to Turks Island.
Speakin about de
Arbutus
now, dere was dat mystery about de way dat she mashed up.
Dass right. She was launched at Georgetown in 1939, de last of de Cayman sailin schooners dat was ever built, and before
she could put out, down come de hurricane and wash her ashore right where she had come from. Oh, mon. Well, dey got skids and skidded her down, and after dat she sailed for many years, and den she mashed up for de last time, in a nor’wester. She drag her moorin and she come ashore again, for good, right in dat very same place dat she had come from twice before.
Mystery, mon. Dey calls dat mystery.
Copm Raib, you sayin dere dat de
Jemsons
were a schooner. De
Jemsons
were a ketch. Still is.
Dass right, Will. Anyways, de
Antarus
were sold over to Colombia. Old Providence Island. De
Rembro
, she were sold over to Old Providence. De
Banks
were mashed up in West Bay, in a south wind; she went ashore. De
Alsons
were lost up around de Rosalind Bank—sunk in hurricane. Den de
Lydia Ebanks Wilson
burned to de water line. (
pause
) Now, den. De
Goldfield
wrecked dere at Old Providence. And de
Armistice
, sunk down at Miskita Cay.
In hurricane.
No, mon. She just sunk down. (
grins
) One day she just sunk down. It was a plain motter of old age.
Raib laughs quietly by himself. Byrum winks at Vemon.
And de
Clarinda
. Burned to de water line in de North Sound.
Byrum cannot meet Raib’s gaze. The men shift, or pick at themselves. Hands behind his back, Raib rolls with the ship as the Miskito Cavs rise and fall in the sea behind him. He is smiling.
And de
Clarinda
. Dat is correct.
Will say de
Clarinda
were like a wild horse, mon; you had to
hold
her.
Will couldn’t say anything else but dat; dat were public knowledge. Den, continuin: de
Hustler
been sunk. Dat were my friend Copm Laurie Bodden. I was over dere to Verrella Cay in 1940, and he had already made one trip to Cristobal with lobsters. Now dat were late September, so I advised him dat he shouldn’t make a second trip because it were into de hurricane time on dat ocean. But he corried a second load of lobsters down to Cristobal, and on his way home he got caught by a storm and was lost somewhere up around Misteriosa.
No, mon, dere was no storm reported. De
Hustler
just vanished, like de old
Nunoco
dere, in 1936. Dem two vessels lost in mystery.
Dat so, Will? You know better den me about Laurie Bodden? (
sucks his teeth
) Sometimes you a goddom idiot, know dat, Will?
A small boat, overloaded, broadside to the seas. Figures wave thin arms.
Gettin so you see dese boats most every voyage—dey crazy, mon!
The
Eden
circles the small boat. The figures crowding to the side nearest the
Eden
almost capsize her, and voices fly from round black holes in the staring heads.
Where dey come from? Where dey headed for?
Toss dem a line, den; we drag dem over to Bragman’s.
The
Eden
wallows in the seas as a towline is bridled to the stern posts. In the boat, the refugees are yelling. On his fuel drum, Brown yells back, then turns away, disgusted.
Se dice que
—got no gas!
God Almighty! In dat goddom flimsy cheap old thing, on de bleak ocean, in dis wind—dey crazy, mon!
Crazy or desperate, one. Gone to let dem come up? Look like dey wants water.
NO, mon! Let dem aboard, we gots to feed dem, and we ain’t hardly got stores enough for ourselves! (
pause
) Dey get water at Bragman’s!
…
buscandan ambiente!
How dat go?
Dey
come
from Bragman’s! Say dey huntin for a chance!
A solitary porpoise, black in the turquoise water. A sea mist in the west.
Parchin hot, mon.
Dass cause we scuddin with de wind.
Let her fall off to port, Vemon.
FALL OFF TO PORT!
What de hell you shoutin for? Ain’t every mon aboard dis vessel settin right beside you?
I know my duty, Copm Raib!
You don’t know
nothin
! You—DON’T LET HER FALL OFF ANY MORE!
You s’pose to holler, STEADY!
STOP DAT SHOUTIN, VEMON! YOU LETTIN HER FALL INTO DAT LAND TOO MUCH! NOW SAIL DE SAME COURSE DAT I TOLD YOU!
Vemon mutters for a while. When no one pays attention, his voice rises.
Gone to go ashore myself, get me some pussy. Mon want pussy, he got to go
ashore
.
Ain’t pussy
you
after. You ain’t goin.
I goin. I goin, brother. You can’t keep me. I got my papers and I got my rights, ain’t dat so, Byrum? De seaman’s union! Byrum, you know any of dem shippin lines up in New York could use a good mon? Cause I sick of dis shit aboard of here. Should have gone with Athens.
Yo puedo
shit
by de way you hold me, darlin!
Dere de coast—can see it good.
See all dat smoke? New plontations, mon. Dem half-breeds swarmin over
dis
domn place, dat used to be de most Godforsakenist coast in all de world.
