mornin.
One of dese days de
Eden
gone to rot dere at de barcadere, cause no mon go crew with him, he be dat disagreeable. Every day de mon blast you de way he do, den one day you say, Kiss my ass!
Mind you don’t say it too loud, mon—he might throw you to de sharks.
The
Eden
beats across the Main Cape Channel toward the coast. Over her wake, stars fail; the horizon swells. The men take their coffee to the stern and watch the sky fill with pale light. A rim of fire, a great fire flow where the corona clings to the horizon. Then a livid sun escapes into the sky.
Domn wind again today. Y’see de sky color?
Dis wind got no business with us in de fair-weather months; dis be de wind of June!
We ain’t gone to set no net
dis
evenin, I tell you dat. And de season gettin away from us. Prob’ly de
Adams
at Miskita Cay, gettin set to clear for home.
Dat Brown should had dat engine oiled, dass right enough.
Dat ain’t no reason, Will! De reason is, we set sail in dis half-ass fashion, with no cook, no proper engineer, no rangers—
Dere weren’t time. (
sighs
) Copm Raib say de world gainin on him.
Dass it, so now we hurryin, only we runnin de engines at half speed!
He breakin dem in.
You come all de way up from Honduras—dey ain’t broken in?
Well, dere’s dat shaft on de port engine.
Mon, dat vibration mostly in his head! He don’t know nothin about engines! You see de way we work like donkeys on dat windlass dere, and dat wind blowin? With dem engines, he could had ride forward over de hook, and slack dat chain—save ten minutes when de wind blowin!
I don’t know, mon. As a coptin, he okay. Got to give de mon dat much; he know de sea. It only de way he treat de men—dat de back-time way.
He a wind coptin, dass de trouble. He a sailin mon, and he used to de old-time way. All his life he been ziggin and zaggin, he don’t know how to go straight.
With sunrise, the wind freshens. Iron seas rise in the
Eden
’s wake, picking up her stern so high that her propellers churn the surface, then sliding her down the sea’s back, to wallow in the trough. The swells pass on beneath the bow, unrolling in broad ranks toward the mainland.
How de boy doin, Doddy? He kind of quiet.
He seasick, dat de motter with
him
. I should had left him home into de school, but he like to hang around with me some way.
Raib opens his jackknife and shuts it again, using one hand.
He a good child, never give me trouble. (
laughs
) Maybe
dass
what de motter is—lack of spirit.
Buddy very nice. He got nice manners.
Oh, I seen to
dat
! De manners dat dey is dese days … well, some things he do very good. De way he prog dem lobster, dat is very clever. Rum Point Channel. Swim right among de reef, mon.
Well, dass very fine.
Speedy, I believe dat he lack nerve. You remember de other day when de ocean was so high, he look kind of coward dere.
He only seventeen, mon.
When I were seventeen, I were sailin to de cays as pilot!
Well, dass fine too.
Went rangin when I was fourteen! Den I sail one trip in de crew, and I spent dat trip up on de masthead
lookin
, and
seein
, and
rememberin
! And de next voyage, dey had no choice but to put me dere in de port boat as pilot!
De boy somebody else, got to remember dat.
De manner dat he stand dere lookin at me …
Maybe he stand dere lookin at you cause he hopin dat one day you look at
him
.
Foreign vessels intending to engage in the turtle fishery on the Miskito Banks must register with the customs officials of the Republic of Nicaragua, and go to port to clear again upon departure from these waters. In addition to port fees, foreign vessels must pay a tax on every head of turtle to be transported from the territorial waters of the Republic of Nicaragua
.
Toward noon, the
Eden
comes in under Cape Gracias. Because of the heavy surge, the ship drops anchor well offshore.
A coast of giant mangrove backed by low hills, heavy sky: there is no smoke nor sign of human presence. A low bar
One of dese days de
Eden
gone to rot dere at de barcadere, cause no mon go crew with him, he be dat disagreeable. Every day de mon blast you de way he do, den one day you say, Kiss my ass!
Mind you don’t say it too loud, mon—he might throw you to de sharks.
The
Eden
beats across the Main Cape Channel toward the coast. Over her wake, stars fail; the horizon swells. The men take their coffee to the stern and watch the sky fill with pale light. A rim of fire, a great fire flow where the corona clings to the horizon. Then a livid sun escapes into the sky.
Domn wind again today. Y’see de sky color?
Dis wind got no business with us in de fair-weather months; dis be de wind of June!
We ain’t gone to set no net
dis
evenin, I tell you dat. And de season gettin away from us. Prob’ly de
Adams
at Miskita Cay, gettin set to clear for home.
Dat Brown should had dat engine oiled, dass right enough.
Dat ain’t no reason, Will! De reason is, we set sail in dis half-ass fashion, with no cook, no proper engineer, no rangers—
Dere weren’t time. (
sighs
) Copm Raib say de world gainin on him.
Dass it, so now we hurryin, only we runnin de engines at half speed!
He breakin dem in.
You come all de way up from Honduras—dey ain’t broken in?
Well, dere’s dat shaft on de port engine.
Mon, dat vibration mostly in his head! He don’t know nothin about engines! You see de way we work like donkeys on dat windlass dere, and dat wind blowin? With dem engines, he could had ride forward over de hook, and slack dat chain—save ten minutes when de wind blowin!
I don’t know, mon. As a coptin, he okay. Got to give de mon dat much; he know de sea. It only de way he treat de men—dat de back-time way.
He a wind coptin, dass de trouble. He a sailin mon, and he used to de old-time way. All his life he been ziggin and zaggin, he don’t know how to go straight.
With sunrise, the wind freshens. Iron seas rise in the
Eden
’s wake, picking up her stern so high that her propellers churn the surface, then sliding her down the sea’s back, to wallow in the trough. The swells pass on beneath the bow, unrolling in broad ranks toward the mainland.
How de boy doin, Doddy? He kind of quiet.
He seasick, dat de motter with
him
. I should had left him home into de school, but he like to hang around with me some way.
Raib opens his jackknife and shuts it again, using one hand.
He a good child, never give me trouble. (
laughs
) Maybe
dass
what de motter is—lack of spirit.
Buddy very nice. He got nice manners.
Oh, I seen to
dat
! De manners dat dey is dese days … well, some things he do very good. De way he prog dem lobster, dat is very clever. Rum Point Channel. Swim right among de reef, mon.
Well, dass very fine.
Speedy, I believe dat he lack nerve. You remember de other day when de ocean was so high, he look kind of coward dere.
He only seventeen, mon.
When I were seventeen, I were sailin to de cays as pilot!
Well, dass fine too.
Went rangin when I was fourteen! Den I sail one trip in de crew, and I spent dat trip up on de masthead
lookin
, and
seein
, and
rememberin
! And de next voyage, dey had no choice but to put me dere in de port boat as pilot!
De boy somebody else, got to remember dat.
De manner dat he stand dere lookin at me …
Maybe he stand dere lookin at you cause he hopin dat one day you look at
him
.
Foreign vessels intending to engage in the turtle fishery on the Miskito Banks must register with the customs officials of the Republic of Nicaragua, and go to port to clear again upon departure from these waters. In addition to port fees, foreign vessels must pay a tax on every head of turtle to be transported from the territorial waters of the Republic of Nicaragua
.
Toward noon, the
Eden
comes in under Cape Gracias. Because of the heavy surge, the ship drops anchor well offshore.
A coast of giant mangrove backed by low hills, heavy sky: there is no smoke nor sign of human presence. A low bar
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