Remembrance and Pantomime (15 page)

Authors: Derek Walcott

BOOK: Remembrance and Pantomime

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Okay. “Fee fi fo fum,

I smell the blood of an Englishman…”

(
JACKSON
exits quickly.
HARRY
waits a while, then crawls from under the table, straightens up, and places the ice pick gently on the tabletop. He goes to the drinks tray and has a sip from the Scotch; then replaces the bottle and takes up a position behind the table.
JACKSON
returns dressed as Crusoe—goatskin hat, open umbrella, the hammer stuck in the waistband of his rolled-up trousers. He throws something across the room to
HARRY
’s feet. The dead parrot, in a carry-away box.
HARRY
opens it
)

One parrot, to go! Or you eating it here?

HARRY

You son of a bitch.

JACKSON

Sure.

(
HARRY
picks up the parrot and hurls it into the sea
)

First bath in five years.

(
JACKSON
moves toward the table, very calmly
)

HARRY

You’re a bloody savage. Why’d you strangle him?

JACKSON

(
As Friday
)

Me na strangle him, bwana. Him choke from prejudice.

HARRY

Prejudice? A bloody parrot. The bloody thing can’t reason.

(
Pause. They stare at each other.
HARRY
crouches, tilts his head, shifts on his perch, flutters his wings like the parrot, squawks
)

Heinegger. Heinegger.

(
JACKSON
stands over the table and folds the umbrella
)

You people create nothing. You imitate everything. It’s all been done before, you see, Jackson. The parrot. Think that’s something? It’s from
The Seagull.
It’s from
Miss Julie.
You can’t ever be original, boy. That’s the trouble with shadows, right? They can’t think for themselves.

(
JACKSON
shrugs, looking away from him
)

So you take it out on a parrot. Is that one of your African sacrifices, eh?

JACKSON

Run your mouth, Harry, run your mouth.

HARRY

(
Squawks
)

Heinegger … Heinegger …

(
JACKSON
folds the parasol and moves to enter the upturned table
)

I wouldn’t go under there if I were you, Jackson.

(
JACKSON
reaches into the back of his waistband and removes a hammer
)

JACKSON

The first English cowboy.

(
He turns and faces
HARRY
)

HARRY

It’s my property. Don’t get in there.

JACKSON

The hut. That was my idea.

HARRY

The table’s mine.

JACKSON

What else is yours, Harry?

(
Gestures
)

This whole fucking island? Dem days gone, boy.

HARRY

The costume’s mine, too.

(
He crosses over, almost nudging
JACKSON
,
and picks up the ice pick
)

I’d like them back.

JACKSON

Suit yourself.

(
HARRY
crosses to the other side, sits on the edge of the wall or leans against a post.
JACKSON
removes the hat and throws it into the arena, then the parasol
)

HARRY

The hammer’s mine.

JACKSON

I feel I go need it.

HARRY

If you keep it, you’re a bloody thief.

(
JACKSON
suddenly drops to the floor on his knees, letting go of the hammer, weeping and cringing, and advancing on his knees toward
HARRY
)

JACKSON

Pardon, master, pardon! Friday bad boy! Friday wicked nigger. Sorry. Friday nah t’ief again. Mercy, master. Mercy.

(
He rolls around on the floor, laughing
)

Oh, Jesus, I go dead! I go dead. Ay-ay.

(
Silence.
JACKSON
on the floor, gasping, lying on his back.
HARRY
crosses over, picks up the parasol, opens it, after a little difficulty, then puts on the goatskin hat.
JACKSON
lies on the floor, silent
)

HARRY

I never hit any goddamned maintenance sergeant on the head in the service. I’ve never hit anybody in my life. Violence makes me sick. I don’t believe in ownership. If I’d been more possessive, more authoritative, I don’t think she’d have left me. I don’t think you ever drove an ice pick through anybody’s hand, either. That was just the two of us acting.

JACKSON

Creole acting?

(
He is still lying on the floor
)

Don’t be too sure about the ice pick.

HARRY

I’m sure. You’re a fake. You’re a kind man and you think you have to hide it. A lot of other people could have used that to their own advantage. That’s the difference between master and servant.

JACKSON

That master-and-servant shit finish. Bring a beer for me.

(
He is still on his back
)

HARRY

There’s no more beer. You want a sip of Scotch?

JACKSON

Anything.

(
HARRY
goes to the Scotch, brings over the bottle, stands over
JACKSON
)

HARRY

Here. To me bloody wife!

(
JACKSON
sits up, begins to move off
)

What’s wrong, you forget to flush it?

JACKSON

I don’t think you should bad-talk her behind her back.

(
He exits
)

HARRY

Behind her back? She’s in England. She’s a star. Star? She’s a bloody planet.

(
JACKSON
returns, holding the photograph of
HARRY
’s wife
)

JACKSON

If you going bad-talk, I think she should hear what you going to say, you don’t think so, darling?

(
Addressing the photograph, which he puts down
)

If you have to tell somebody something, tell them to their face.

(
Addressing the photograph
)

Now, you know all you women, eh? Let the man talk his talk and don’t interrupt.

HARRY

You’re fucking bonkers, you know that? Before I hired you, I should have asked for a medical report.

JACKSON

Please tell your ex-wife good afternoon or something. The dame in the pantomime is always played by a man, right?

HARRY

Bullshit.

(
JACKSON
sits close to the photograph, wiggling as he ventriloquizes
)

JACKSON

(
In an Englishwoman’s voice
)

Is not bullshit at all, Harold. Everything I say you always saying bullshit, bullshit. How can we conduct a civilized conversation if you don’t give me a chance? What have I done, Harold, oh, Harold, for you to treat me so?

HARRY

Because you’re a silly selfish bitch and you
killed our son!

JACKSON

(
Crying
)

There, there, you see…?

(
He wipes the eyes of the photograph
)

You’re calling me names, it wasn’t my fault, and you’re calling me names. Can’t you ever forgive me for that, Harold?

HARRY

Ha! You never told him that, did you? You neglected to mention that little matter, didn’t you, love?

JACKSON

(
Weeping
)

I love you, Harold. I love you, and I loved him, too. Forgive me, O God, please, please forgive me …

(
As himself
)

So how it happen? Murder? A accident?

HARRY

(
To the photograph
)

Love me? You loved me so much you get drunk and you … ah, ah, what’s the use? What’s the bloody use?

(
Wipes his eyes. Pause
)

JACKSON

(
As wife
)

I’m crying too, Harold. Let bygones be bygones …

(
HARRY
lunges for the photograph, but
JACKSON
whips it away
)

(
As himself
)

You miss, Harold.

(
Pause; as wife
)

Harold …

(
Silence
)

Harold … speak to me … please.

(
Silence
)

What do you plan to do next?

(
Sniffs
)

What’ll you do now?

HARRY

What difference does it make?… All right. I’ll tell you what I’m going to do next, Ellen: you’re such a big star, you’re such a luminary, I’m going to leave you to shine by yourself. I’m giving up this bloody rat race and I’m going to take up Mike’s offer. I’m leaving “the theatuh,” which destroyed my confidence, screwed up my marriage, and made you a star. I’m going somewhere where I can get pissed every day and watch the sun set, like Robinson bloody Crusoe. That’s what I’m going to bloody do. You always said it’s the only part I could play.

JACKSON

(
As wife
)

Take me with you, then. Let’s get away together. I always wanted to see the tropics, the palm trees, the lagoons …

(
HARRY
grabs the photograph from
JACKSON
;
he picks up the ice pick and puts the photograph on the table, pressing it down with one palm
)

HARRY

All right, Ellen, I’m going to … You can scream all you like, but I’m going to …

(
He raises the ice pick
)

JACKSON

(
As wife
)

My face is my fortune.

(
He sneaks up behind
HARRY
,
whips the photograph away while
HARRY
is poised with the ice pick
)

HARRY

Your face is your fortune, eh? I’ll kill her, Jackson, I’ll maim that smirking bitch …

(
He lunges toward
JACKSON
,
who leaps away, holding the photograph before his face, and runs around the gazebo, shrieking
)

JACKSON

(
As wife
)

Help! Help! British police! My husband trying to kill me!

Help, somebody, help!

(
HARRY
chases
JACKSON
with the ice pick, but
JACKSON
nimbly avoids him
)

(
As wife
)

Harry! Have you gone mad?

(
He scrambles onto the ledge of the gazebo. He no longer holds the photograph to his face, but his voice is the wife’s
)

HARRY

Get down off there, you melodramatic bitch. You’re too bloody conceited to kill yourself. Get down from there, Ellen! Ellen, it’s a straight drop to the sea!

JACKSON

(
As wife
)

Push me, then! Push me, Harry! You hate me so much, why you don’t come and push me?

HARRY

Push yourself, then. You never needed my help. Jump!

JACKSON

(
As wife
)

Will you forgive me now, or after I jump?

HARRY

Forgive you?…

JACKSON

(
As wife
)

All right, then. Goodbye!

(
He turns, teetering, about to jump
)

HARRY

(
Shouts
)

Ellen! Stop! I forgive you!

(
JACKSON
turns on the ledge. Silence.
HARRY
is now sitting on the floor
)

That’s the real reason I wanted to do the panto. To do it better than you ever did. You played Crusoe in the panto, Ellen. I was Friday. Black bloody greasepaint that made you howl. You wiped the stage with me … Ellen … well. Why not? I was no bloody good.

JACKSON

(
As himself
)

Come back to the play, Mr. Trewe. Is Jackson. We was playing Robinson Crusoe, remember?

(
Silence
)

Master, Friday here …

(
Silence
)

You finish with the play? The panto? Crusoe must get up, he must make himself get up. He have to face a next day again.

(
Shouts
)

I tell you: man must live!
Then, after many years, he see this naked footprint that is the mark of his salvation …

HARRY

(
Recites
)

“The self-same moment I could pray;