Remembrance and Pantomime by Derek Walcott Page B

grimy brocade, the old stars faded one by one. The brassy pantomimes! Come from an old music-hall family, you know, Jackson. Me mum had this place she ran for broken-down actors. Had tea with the greats as a tot.
    ( Sings softly, hums )
          Oh, me wife can’t cook …
    ( Silence )
         You married, Jackson?
    JACKSON
         I not too sure, sir.
    HARRY
         You’re not sure?
    JACKSON
         That’s what I said.
    HARRY
         I know what you mean. I wasn’t sure I was when I was. My wife’s remarried.
    JACKSON
         You showed me her photo. And the little boy own.
    HARRY
         But I’m not. Married. So there’s absolutely no hearth for Crusoe to go home to. While you were up there, I rehearsed this thing.
    ( Presents a folded piece of paper )
         Want to read it?
    JACKSON
         What … er … what is it … a poetry?
    HARRY
         No, no, not a poetry. A thing I wrote. Just a speech in the play … that if …
    JACKSON
         Oho, we back in the play again?
    HARRY
         Almost. You want to read it?
    ( He offers the paper )
    JACKSON
         All right.
    HARRY
         I thought—no offense, now. Man to man. If you were doing Robinson Crusoe, this is what you’d read.
    JACKSON
         You want me to read this, right?
    HARRY
         Yeah.
    JACKSON
    ( Reads slowly )
         “O silent sea, O wondrous sunset that I’ve gazed on ten thousand times, who will rescue me from this complete desolation?…”
    ( Breaking )
         All o’ this?
    HARRY
         If you don’t mind. Don’t act it. Just read it.
    ( JACKSON looks at him )
         No offense.
    JACKSON
    ( Reads )
         “Yes, this is paradise, I know. For I see around me the splendors of nature…”
    HARRY
         Don’t act it …
    JACKSON
    ( Pauses; then continues )
         “How I’d like to fuflee this desolate rock.”
    ( Pauses )
         Fuflee? Pardon, but what is a fuflee, Mr. Trewe?
    HARRY
         A fuflee? I’ve got “fuflee” written there?
    JACKSON
    ( Extends paper, points at word )
         So, how you does fuflee, Mr. Harry? Is Anglo-Saxon English?
    ( HARRY kneels down and peers at the word. He rises )
    HARRY
         It’s F … then F-L-E-E—flee to express his hesitation. It’s my own note as an actor. He quivers, he hesitates …
    JACKSON
         He quivers, he hesitates, but he still can’t fuflee?
    HARRY
         Just leave that line out, Jackson.
    JACKSON
         I like it.
    HARRY
          Leave it out!
    JACKSON
         No fuflee?
    HARRY
         I said no.
    JACKSON
         Just because I read it wrong. I know the word “flee,” you know. Like to take off. Flee. Faster than run. Is the extra F you put in there so close to flee that had me saying fuflee like a damn ass, but le’ we leave it in, nuh? One fuflee ain’t go kill anybody. Much less bite them.
    ( Silence )
         Get it?
    HARRY
         Don’t take this personally …
    JACKSON
         No fuflees on old Crusoe, boy …
    HARRY
         But, if you’re going to do professional theater, Jackson, don’t take this personally, more discipline is required. All right?
    JACKSON
         You write it. Why you don’t read it?
    HARRY
         I wanted to hear it. Okay, give it back …
    JACKSON
    ( Loudly, defiantly )
         “The ferns, the palms like silent sentinels, the wide and silent lagoons that briefly hold my passing, solitary reflection. The volcano…”
    ( Stops )
         “The volcano.” What?
    HARRY
         … “wreathed” …
    JACKSON
         Oho, oho … like a wreath? “The volcano wreathed in mist. But what is paradise without a woman? Adam in paradise!”
    HARRY
         Go ahead.
    JACKSON
    ( Restrained )
         “Adam in paradise had his woman to share his loneliness, but I miss the voice of even one consoling creature, the touch of a hand, the look of kind eyes. Where is the wife