Far Tortuga (42 page)
Authors: Peter Matthiessen
Drifting.
Far Tortuga, in the east, is a shimmering black burning in the sunrise.
The catboats bump together in the seas.
In the starboard boat, Byrum grips the tiller, his big face shocked by pain. Wodie hunches on the seat amidships, Speedy is in the bow. In the port boat, the Captain lies eyes wide to the fired sky, his head in his son’s lap. Will Parchment bails doggedly with a half coconut. In the bilges of each boat lies a green turtle.
Will? Goddom it, Will, it’s a pity you never changed dat boat for de one dat Conwell left at Half Moon Cay!
Will looks up at Byrum, then resumes bailing.
How de Coptin, Will?
He breathin peaceful, Speedy, dass about it.
Know something? With de high old masts dat was on dat vessel when she come dere to French Harbour, he would have cleared dat rail!
Yah, mon! See him strike? Back must be broke, de way he lie so still.
Between the boats a dark-haired face swims round and round in the gray sea; salt water slops across hard bright black eyes.
Look dere! A rat!
Just de one? Old hulk like dat, I s’prise de sea ain’t littered with’m.
From Buddy rises a low whine of dread; Will pats his knee.
Well now, Jim Eden, your doddy done what he said he would do; he could not have known about dat one wild rock. We de first ones ever sailed out of Misteriosa Reefs in de night time and lived to tell de tale.
Jumping up, Byrum drives the rat down with an oar blade, scattering water across the other boat.
Tell de tale to
who
? Goddom wild mon! He never cared if he sailed us straight to hell!
With his shirttail, Buddy mops his father’s face.
Wodie straightens; the new sun glints on the mirror shard on his black chest.
I hearin dem wonderin at East End! Dey wonderin what was de fate of Wodie Greaves!
Hush up, Wodie.
Oh my! It seem like de thing for me to do was to sail away down to de cays, and now I dyin!
Ain’t nothin de motter with you, Wodie.
Nothin de motter, no! Just crazy!
Hush up, Byrum.
The boats drift steadily downwind. The sea increases.
Well, den, best take advantage of dis wind, start for de coast.
Dis all de water, boy?
Each boat got dis one big bottle, Byrum. One bottle and one turtle and one box of breads, and fishhooks.
Shit! I a big mon, and I needs water!
Dere weren’t no kegs!
No kegs, no! And no fire equipment, no life jackets, no
nothin
!
The rat swims back and forth between the boats.
Will? Call dat fair? Dey three men in dis boat!
Water laps around Will’s ankles. He stops bailing.
Three here, too.
Can’t count dat old mon dere! He dyin!
Raib’s iron hair strays on his forehead. His mouth is gaunt.
Not … yet!
The brief choked laugh turns to a cough of pain, and the eyes water.
Lie easy, Copm Raib, mon—you gone hurt youself.
Raib’s voice comes in a series of harsh breaths.
We best sail back to Bragman’s, pick Up Vemon.
Papa?
Dat you, Sonny?
Raib’s hand gropes in the air, and Buddy takes it.
No, Papa, dis is Buddy. Dis is Jim Eden.
Sonny and dem other boys would never sail no more down to de cays … Jim Eden? Best pick up Vemon, den, Jim Eden, and set sail for home, cause de season has got away from us, and de turtles have all gone to Turtle Bogue.
A silence. Raib looks straight up at the sun. Tears glisten in his eyes.
Too late now, ain’t it. It’s too late.
Papa? Lie easy, Papa.
Oh, dat sun wild. Oh, dat sun wild.
Far Tortuga sinks beneath the sea.
We got de good boat, Byrum. Dass enough.
The two boats drift apart. Speedy steps the mast.
Now don’t be fearful, Buddy! We be lookin out for you! Good luck, Mist’ Will! Take care of dat old wind coptin you got dere!
Will nods. The soot on Buddy’s face is streaked.
The starboard boat falls rapidly downwind. In the port boat, the two stiff figures are black sticks on the white sky.
Late afternoon.
On the horizon, the sail of the port boat rises and falls, tilting and luffing in the gathering seas.
Ain’t ridin right. She wallerin.
She shippin too much water, Byrum. Best take dem fellas with us in dis boat, before de night fall.
Never heard what de mate said? Long’s dat old log’red still alive, dem two never leave him, and dey ain’t no room here for de three.
Best take dem in before de sea do.
You de one in charge of dis boat boat now? (
grunts
) Dat mon be dead before de mornin, maybe we take dem fellas with us den. (
groans
) Christ! Dis shoulder killin me!
Sundown.
Never took time to set dem turtles free. Never took time.
Domn one-eye Jonah! Just when we needin every hand we got, you runnin around cuttin de lashins on dem turtle—!
Sea turtle must go back into de sea …
De most of dem went down with de vessel! Dem turtles
drowned
!
Searching the rough seas to the eastward, Speedy speaks across his tattered shoulder.
Byrum? Easy, mon. You fellas help me look for dat port boat.
Captain Raib Avers.
night rain
the wind rises
the wind dies
squall
In sleep, Wodie whimpers once and sleeps again.
Jim Eden Avers.
William Parchment.
Daybreak.
The sea is still. In the starboard boat two figures hunch, awaiting sun; the third is curled under the seats.
No sign of dem.
We should have took dem in with us—dat what you sayin?
Easy, mon. Maybe dey off dere to de sout’ward.
Wodie rises and, in singsong, speaks.
Copm Raib die in de twilight time, de boy and de mate drown in de night.
SHUT UP DAT FUCKIN MOUTH!
Chin rested on the silvered splinters of the gunwale, Wodie stares sightlessly into the east.
Last night I dreamin dat I see Will Parchment’s grave. And in de dream I smellin graveyard jasmie. Not de wild jasmie dat grow so sweet—
SHUT UP DAT MOUTH, OR YOU GOIN OVER DE SIDE!
Nemmine now, Byrum—he just wanderin. Wanderin and wonderin.
horizon
Noon.
The catboat lifts and falls on long smooth swells.
Resting on his oars, Byrum glares around the mute horizon.
See dat? Empty! Howlin dis last fortnight like de winds of hell, and now when we needs dat wind to make de coast, dere is dead calm!
Wodie giggles.
Oh, wind die, too. De wind die, too. De sun just a pure ball of light, and dat mean dry dry weather.
Speedy pours one mouthful from the bottle.
