Far Tortuga (11 page)
Authors: Peter Matthiessen
Yah, mon, Speedy-Boy can
cut
. Learned dat from school days.
The barracuda is filleted and cut in strips, which are salted and spread on the galley roof to dry.
Brown, motionless on the blue fuel drum, farts.
Starboard!
STARBOARD!
Sou’west and steady!
STEAD-DAY!
Rice and johnnycake.
I never been down Speedy way. Plenty from Caymans dere, dey say, went down in times gone back. All through de islands, down to Old Providence, and all along de Sponnish Coast. Corn Islands, Bluefields. Bragman’s, dat de Sponnish calls Puerto Cabeza. A lot dem Boddens, dey from Coxon’s Old Cay, in de Bay Islands.
Copm Steadman Bodden, dat was coptin of de
Majestic
, I believe he born down dere. Copm Steadman were a colored mon. I mean to say, he were not real dark, but he had bad hair.
Hear dat? Some Raib own chil’ren got bad hair—
Well, I don’t know dat Copm Steadman you speakin about, but we gots black Boddens in Roatán, no doubt about dat—I one of dem. We dere in Roatán since 1836—learn dat from school days.
Yah, mon. We gots black Boddens in Caymans, too, dat don’t admit it. Plenty dem Boddens got bad hair, ain’t dat right, Vemon? Vemon mother dere, she a Bodden. But he go by de
name of Evers. Used to be Avers, but in times gone back de black side of de family took to spellin dereselves Evers, dat right, Vemon? (
grins
) Which color
you
is, Vemon?
Goddom it, Copm Raib, you lookin at me, ain’t you?
Very difficult to make you out—maybe dat just dirt I seein dere.
Shit!
You got a terrible bad mouth on you, Vemon. I very glad we not related.
Speedy bangs the rice pot hard with his wood ladle.
Well, dey ain’t no two ways about Speedy, mon—I nigger to de bone. Give you some rice dere, Buddy?
No, thank you.
Dat boy seasick again, goddom it.
Well, dat wind
cuttin
, Copm Raib—it plenty rough. My first trip, I was so green—
Dis ain’t his first!
He be okay. Dat right, Buddy? How you doin, boy? Nothin to say?
Westering.
Byrum relieves Will.
The
Eden
coasts the northern edge of Half Moon Reef, and the sea color changes from indigo to aquamarine to emerald.
Raib climbs to the crosstrees of the foremast, where he stands upright at the crotch of gaff and mast. He holds the mast with his right hand and the shrouds with his left, spread-eagled on the wind, hair blowing, squinting at long ridges of white surf where the wind drives seas across the coral. He points into the north, lets his arm fall; a moment later he raises his palm. Will cries Raib’s signals to the blind helm; the helmsman echoes them.
Port!
PORT!
Steady!
STEAD-DAY!
Steady, Byrum!
STEAD-DAY!
The ship goes down along Old Pointer Reef to the west end of Half Moon, then heads due south toward Logwood Cay. The shallow banks are roiled by days of wind, but from the crosstrees can be
seen dark smudges of the coral heads below the surface. The banks near Logwood Cay are in the lee of Half Moon, and here the water clears.
Can’t cross to Cape Gracias
dis
afternoon—no, mon.
Den we lost a day’s fishenin.
We lost dat when he lost de longitude at Gorda Bank.
The puffs of green in the hot tropic sky to the southeast are the Savanna Reefs, called by the turtlers Serrarers.
See dere, Speedy? De
Majestic
layin out dere still.
The Captain perches in the crosstrees, bare feet swinging. When four olive-colored porpoise roll up along the hull, he skins down the rigging and runs for the bow, grabbing up a long boat pole as he goes. He bends a light line to the pole, wraps the bitter end around his wrist, and practices harpoon throws at the porpoise.
The creatures return to be tagged over and over. One glides a moment on its side: its eye regards the playing man.
Raib stops short, stops smiling: he does not throw.
The creatures go.
Coiling the line, Raib confronts the empty sea; he blinks as if awakening, then walks slowly toward the stern, where the men are resting. Eyes shadowed by their hat rims, they watch their captain come.
By God, I still pretty handy with de harpoon, I must say dat! I pretty good for an old fella!
You de best mon aboard
dis
ship, ain’t dat right, Copm?
Well, dat ain’t sayin so very much, aboard of here. (
laughs
) I ain’t sayin but what is fair when I announce dat I is de best mon on dis ship: I mean to say, de best, and de quickest, and den de strongest, and den also de smartest, bein I know so much about green turtle and pilotin and de way of de sea!
Byrum lies back, sighing.
We lucky to have you, Copm Raib. Dat right, Vemon? You a very lucky fella, Vemon, to have dat kind of coptin in dis life—might make a seaman out you yet.
Seamanship? By Christ, when it come to seamanship dere ain’t no mon aboard has got me beat! Maybe de mate dere got me when it come to turtle, but talk about
seamanship
, dat is something else!
Will got you beat dere too, you goddom fool.
Will, you got papers? I askin you, you got
papers
?
Will shifts his tobacco bulge from one cheek to the other, but says nothing.
You take dem papers and wipe you ass, mon—we talkin about
seamanship
!
Dat what
I
talkin about, Byrum! Seamanship! Mon with no papers, and he calls hisself a mate!
Green mango? Copm Raib? We gots a bag here of green mango. From dat big mango tree over Pedro way, back of Savanna—know de one? Dat old provision ground?
Dat ain’t de biggest tree. De biggest mango—
Now de biggest
almond
tree, dat de one dere in Georgetown. Dat tree rose from de famous old-time seed dat were cast up on de beach at Bodden Town. Found dere I believe by de great great-aunt of Osley Webster. Dat how come we gots almond trees in Grand Cayman.
Some nice almond tree in West Bay, too, nearby Copm Allie house. You come to de crossin and den you go about thirty, forty fathom down dat road—
Dere he is!
What Byrum pointin at?
Green turtle, mon!
You mean hox-bill? I see two hox-bill from de masthead soon’s we come into de lee—
Green turtle! Dere he head come up again! Sixty, seventy fathom off de bow—dere! You lookin at’m!
The turtle is inset in the green sea, and the broad bay-colored shell, awash, glints in the sinking sun. The ancient head blinks once, then withdraws beneath the surface.
Wild high voices.
Well, Byrum right! Dey a few left anyway dat ain’t gone south!
By God, dat a nice turtle dere!
Big
turtle!
Call dat big? Dat one dey got on de
Cayman Venture
, dat one went better den six hundred pound!
How many you seen in
your
life big as dat? In de back time, yes—dey got dem up to eight, nine hundred pound, were not uncommon. But dese days, dey been harassed so much, a turtle live long enough to reach four hundred pound,
dat
is uncommon!
Where dat black Honduran? Take a good look, boy—you seein
turtle
! You on de only green turtle grounds in de whole
world
!
Hear dat idiot? Why, dey turtle at Aves, over dere toward Guadeloupe, and dey got nice turtle over dere in Yucatán, Isla Mujeres, long dat way. And I got de theory dat in former times, green turtle nested out on Far Tortuga. Eitherwise, why did de back-time coptins give dat cay dat name? Den Far Tortuga wore away in storm, but de turtle kept right on goin dere, circlin round dem empty reefs for a hundred years. And when dat cay formed up again, dey commenced to nestin dere, just like dey done in de centuries before.
A big broad-headed shark. Byrum chunks a piece of wood at it, and it moves off with a dull thrash; in a moment it has turned again, flanking the boat.
Dat son-bitch waitin for me, mon. Dat tiger got my number. (
sighs
) One voyage on de
A.M. Adams
now, I dreamin every
night about my intended dere, Miss Gwen, and dey was turtle in de net every last mornin.
His intended! Byrum told so many girls dat dey was his intended dat he gettin now so he believin it hisself. Dat last time home he got drunk dere and got all slicked up and run down to de church. All right, by Jesus, where in de hell is my intended! But dat day Miss Gwen was over to Northside visitin her people, so de nuptials never took place.
Oh, dat boy a bad drinker! Dat how come he got fired off de
Adams
. Wouldn’t take no orders—he was
givin
dem!
Dass it. Byrum never gone get married! He gone end up just like Vemon.
Oh yes, dreams is sign! If I lay down tonight and dream certain dreams, I can get up in de mornin and say, Well, Wodie, you know something, we got a cotch. And if I lay down and dream
other
dreams, I can say, All right, boys, ain’t no use in goin out dere
dis
mornin. Green things—green trees, green fruit, anything green—or silver money, dat is disappointment. Dreamin bout silver money or colored folks, a black person, anything black, dat is bad luck, too.
White person, dass okay, huh?
Well, Speedy, it’s been marked dat if you dream about a white person, or white sand, white clear water, or white fruit, you can almost count on good luck de next day! Dass right! And
sign
! Dere are turtlers today dat will sit on de vessel deck and tell you when de turtle strike his net. He feel de sign. True. You go out dere at four o’clock dis evenin, and you set ten, fifteen nets. And you don’t feel no sign in your hand or your feet of puttin your hand on a turtle de next day, or you don’t have any nice dream: well, you can go on out dere and you find what dey calls a water set, cause dey nothin in dose nets but water.
Raib turns abruptly from the rail.
