important part dere dat he don’t know much about, and dat is where to
put
de nets. He not a first-class pilot.
Dass right. Dass—
But come to seamanship, he as good as you will find today. Him and Byrum, dey as good as you will find today.
Well, seamanship, dat is one place dat I got Will beat.
A silence.
I bet you thought dat Will had seaman’s papers, dat right, Copm Raib?
Raib cocks his head.
How soon after we gets home you gone have your money spent on rum? Can you drink it all up in one week?
Huh! Maybe I won’t drink at all!
Dat would be de best thing, darlin. Dat would be de best.
Vemon struggles to look injured.
Once I went two, three months without touchin no rum! I was
workin
! My own provision ground. Over dere north of Salt Creek, between Salt Creek and Batabano. Yams. Papaws. Had a grass piece with a cow in it! Dat time I was workin for myself, de provision ground of Vemon Evers—
Vemon
Dilbert
Evers.
Vemon Dilbert Evers. And during de time dat I was workin for myself, I never touch it once. Not even
once
.
Dass very fine. Have your own ground. Man dat got a cow, he got it made. I plont some young trees now, small plonts. Later on, Speedy got fruit. You know? On my own ground. In de Bay Islands.
Vemon sets his striped cap hard upon his head.
In dem days, over dere north of Salt Creek, I were feelin good. Dat were my chance in dis life, and I lost it.
Buddy, Byrum and Athens are dozing in the stern. Will is mending net, and Wodie sits on the galley roof, bare black legs swinging. Brown is perched on his blue fuel drum, staring at nothing and singing with no expression.
I can’t help
(voice cracks) shit!
I can’t help it
If I still in love with you
Delta. A circle of dark birds over the trees.
Oh, yes. I work a little on de turtlin boat, learn how dey do; den I go home. I givin up de sea, work on de land. I workin my plontation. I can
hoe
, mon.
I tellin you, Speedy, some dese young fellas dat dey got dese days, dey can’t even work a hoe. Dat Conwell dat is son to Will, he one of dem. It like Old Copm Jim dere, what I heard him say to de Tailor from Jamaica. (
laughs
) Copm Jim, he must be close to ninety years of age, and dis day he fightin mad dat de Tailor from Jamaica made so much money from just settin dere and tailorin.
In Jamaica?
No, mon. Tailor
from
Jamaica. He tryin to establish hisself. Come from Jamaica about twenty-five years ago. Dey calls him de Tailor from Jamaica for dat reason.
Got no name, huh?
In Jamaica, prob’ly, dey give him some kind of a name. Anyways, Copm Jim say, You ever tote wood? Mend net? Work a hoe? Copm say, How many grandchildren you got? (
laughs
) Cause dat is de one thing, and de
only
thing dat Copm Jim has got, and dat is grandchildren. And great-grandchildren.
Copm Raib? Copm Jim got grandchildren he don’t even know about!
Dass it. Poor old fella, dass about all he
do
got, and dat ain’t much, in
dat
family. So he say to de Tailor from Jamaica, How many grandchildren you got? And den he say it couple times again, just so he could hear de words.
Brown? Like singin? Cause dere was an old song dat we had down at East End, it were a song we called de Hox-bill Song. Calvert Conally and a guy by de name of Garwin Rankin used a catboat, used a trap net, to cotch turtle, and dey were around on de northeastern part of de island, called Bluff Bay, fishenin and trappin. And dere was dis hox-bill dat were not in de nets, dey claim; dey hook him up with a fish hook from de bottom. But Bonnie Dixon had a net sot, and he claimed de net were tangled, and when he examined de turtle, de turtle had line marks on it. So he took de turtle from dese boys, and Calvert grandmother, she gave Bonnie Dixon de name of Black Cat, and dey made a song off of it. I would have to set back a little to remember all de words, but I remember it because we used to use it as a dance tune.
It was a holiday in de month of May
Calvert and Garwin went Bluff
put
de nets. He not a first-class pilot.
Dass right. Dass—
But come to seamanship, he as good as you will find today. Him and Byrum, dey as good as you will find today.
Well, seamanship, dat is one place dat I got Will beat.
A silence.
I bet you thought dat Will had seaman’s papers, dat right, Copm Raib?
Raib cocks his head.
How soon after we gets home you gone have your money spent on rum? Can you drink it all up in one week?
Huh! Maybe I won’t drink at all!
Dat would be de best thing, darlin. Dat would be de best.
Vemon struggles to look injured.
Once I went two, three months without touchin no rum! I was
workin
! My own provision ground. Over dere north of Salt Creek, between Salt Creek and Batabano. Yams. Papaws. Had a grass piece with a cow in it! Dat time I was workin for myself, de provision ground of Vemon Evers—
Vemon
Dilbert
Evers.
Vemon Dilbert Evers. And during de time dat I was workin for myself, I never touch it once. Not even
once
.
Dass very fine. Have your own ground. Man dat got a cow, he got it made. I plont some young trees now, small plonts. Later on, Speedy got fruit. You know? On my own ground. In de Bay Islands.
Vemon sets his striped cap hard upon his head.
In dem days, over dere north of Salt Creek, I were feelin good. Dat were my chance in dis life, and I lost it.
Buddy, Byrum and Athens are dozing in the stern. Will is mending net, and Wodie sits on the galley roof, bare black legs swinging. Brown is perched on his blue fuel drum, staring at nothing and singing with no expression.
I can’t help
(voice cracks) shit!
I can’t help it
If I still in love with you
Delta. A circle of dark birds over the trees.
Oh, yes. I work a little on de turtlin boat, learn how dey do; den I go home. I givin up de sea, work on de land. I workin my plontation. I can
hoe
, mon.
I tellin you, Speedy, some dese young fellas dat dey got dese days, dey can’t even work a hoe. Dat Conwell dat is son to Will, he one of dem. It like Old Copm Jim dere, what I heard him say to de Tailor from Jamaica. (
laughs
) Copm Jim, he must be close to ninety years of age, and dis day he fightin mad dat de Tailor from Jamaica made so much money from just settin dere and tailorin.
In Jamaica?
No, mon. Tailor
from
Jamaica. He tryin to establish hisself. Come from Jamaica about twenty-five years ago. Dey calls him de Tailor from Jamaica for dat reason.
Got no name, huh?
In Jamaica, prob’ly, dey give him some kind of a name. Anyways, Copm Jim say, You ever tote wood? Mend net? Work a hoe? Copm say, How many grandchildren you got? (
laughs
) Cause dat is de one thing, and de
only
thing dat Copm Jim has got, and dat is grandchildren. And great-grandchildren.
Copm Raib? Copm Jim got grandchildren he don’t even know about!
Dass it. Poor old fella, dass about all he
do
got, and dat ain’t much, in
dat
family. So he say to de Tailor from Jamaica, How many grandchildren you got? And den he say it couple times again, just so he could hear de words.
Brown? Like singin? Cause dere was an old song dat we had down at East End, it were a song we called de Hox-bill Song. Calvert Conally and a guy by de name of Garwin Rankin used a catboat, used a trap net, to cotch turtle, and dey were around on de northeastern part of de island, called Bluff Bay, fishenin and trappin. And dere was dis hox-bill dat were not in de nets, dey claim; dey hook him up with a fish hook from de bottom. But Bonnie Dixon had a net sot, and he claimed de net were tangled, and when he examined de turtle, de turtle had line marks on it. So he took de turtle from dese boys, and Calvert grandmother, she gave Bonnie Dixon de name of Black Cat, and dey made a song off of it. I would have to set back a little to remember all de words, but I remember it because we used to use it as a dance tune.
It was a holiday in de month of May
Calvert and Garwin went Bluff
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