II.
… IT was five o'clock in the afternoon: the horizon beyond the
harbor was turning lemon-color;—and a thin warm wind began to
come in weak puffs from the south-west,—the first breaths to
break the immobility of the tropical air. Sails of vessels
becalmed at the entrance of the bay commenced to flap lazily:
they might belly after sundown.
The La Guayra was in port, lying well out: her mountainous iron
mass rising high above the modest sailing craft moored in her
vicinity,—barks and brigantines and brigs and schooners and
barkentines. She had lain before the town the whole afternoon,
surrounded by the entire squadron of 'ti canots; and the boys
were still circling about her flanks, although she had got up
steam and was lifting her anchor. They had been very lucky,
indeed, that afternoon,—all the little canotiers;—and even
many yellow lads, not fortunate enough to own canoes, had swum
out to her in hope of sharing the silver shower falling from her
saloon-deck. Some of these, tired out, were resting themselves
by sitting on the slanting cables of neighboring ships. Perched
naked thus,—balancing in the sun, against the blue of sky or
water, their slender bodies took such orange from the mellowing
light as to seem made of some self-luminous substance,—flesh of
sea-fairies. …
Suddenly the La Guayra opened her steam-throat and uttered such
a moo that all the mornes cried out for at least a minute after;
—and the little fellows perched on the cables of the sailing
craft tumbled into the sea at the sound and struck out for shore.
Then the water all at once burst backward in immense frothing
swirls from beneath the stern of the steamer; and there arose
such a heaving as made all the little canoes dance. The La
Guayra was moving. She moved slowly at first, making a great
fuss as she turned round: then she began to settle down to her
journey very majestically,—just making the water pitch a little
behind her, as the hem of a woman's robe tosses lightly at her
heels while she walks.
And, contrary to custom, some of the canoes followed after her.
A dark handsome man, wearing an immense Panama hat, and jewelled
rings upon his hands, was still throwing money; and still the boys
dived for it. But only one of each crew now plunged; for, though the
La
Guayra was yet moving slowly, it was a severe strain to follow
her, and there was no time to be lost.
The captain of the little band—black Maximilien, ten years old, and
his comrade Stéphane—nicknamed Ti Chabin, because of his bright
hair,—a slim little yellow boy of eleven—led the pursuit, crying
always, "Encó, Missié,—encó!" …
The La Guayra had gained fully two hundred yards when the
handsome passenger made his final largess,—proving himself quite
an expert in flinging coin. The piece fell far short of the
boys, but near enough to distinctly betray a yellow shimmer as it
twirled to the water. That was gold!
In another minute the leading canoe had reached the spot, the
other canotiers voluntarily abandoning the quest,—for it was
little use to contend against Maximilien and Stéphane, who had
won all the canoe contests last 14th of July. Stéphane, who was
the better diver, plunged.
He was much longer below than usual, came up at quite a distance,
panted as he regained the canoe, and rested his arms upon it.
The water was so deep there, he could not reach the coin the first
time, though he could see it: he was going to try again,—it was
gold, sure enough.
—"Fouinq! ça fond içitt!" he gasped.
Maximilien felt all at once uneasy. Very deep water, and
perhaps sharks. And sunset not far off! The La Guayra was
diminishing in the offing.
—"Boug-là 'lé fai nou néyé!—laissé y, Stéphane!" he cried.
(The fellow wants to drown us. Laissé—leave it alone.)
But Stéphane had recovered breath, and was evidently resolved to
try again. It was gold!
—"Mais ça c'est ló!"
—"Assez, non!" screamed Maximilien. "Pa plongé 'ncó, moin
ka di ou! Ah! foute!" …
Stéphane had dived again!
… And where were the others? "Bon-Dié, gadé oti yo yé!" They
were almost out of sight,—tiny specks moving shoreward. … The
La Guayra now seemed no bigger than the little packet running
between St. Pierre and Fort-de-France.
Up came Stéphane again, at a still greater distance than
before,—holding high the yellow coin in one hand. He made for
the canoe, and Maximilien paddled towards him and helped him in.
Blood was streaming from the little diver's nostrils, and blood
colored the water he spat from his mouth.
—"Ah! moin té ka di ou laissé y!" cried Maximilien, in anger
and alarm. … "Gàdé, gàdé sang-à ka coulé nans
nez ou,-nans bouche ou! … Mi oti Iézautt!"
Lèzautt, the rest, were no longer visible.
—"Et mi oti nou yé!" cried Maximilien again. They had never
ventured so far from shore.
But Stéphane answered only, "C'est ló!" For the first time in
his life he held a piece of gold in his fingers. He tied it up in
a little rag attached to the string fastened about his waist,—a
purse of his own invention,—and took up his paddles, coughing
the while and spitting crimson.
—"Mi! mi!—mi oti nou yé!" reiterated Maximilien. "Bon-Dié!
look where we are!"
The Place had become indistinct;—the light-house, directly
behind half an hour earlier, now lay well south: the red light
had just been kindled. Seaward, in advance of the sinking orange
disk of the sun, was the La Guayra, passing to the horizon.
There was no sound from the shore: about them a great silence had
gathered,—the Silence of seas, which is a fear. Panic seized
them: they began to paddle furiously.
But St. Pierre did not appear to draw any nearer. Was it only an
effect of the dying light, or were they
actually moving towards
the semicircular cliffs of Fond Corré? … Maximilien began to cry.
The little chabin paddled on,—though the blood was still trickling
over his breast.
Maximilien screamed out to him:—
—"Ou pa ka pagayé,—anh?—ou ni bousoin dómi?" (Thou dost not
paddle, eh?—thou wouldst go to sleep?)
—"Si! moin ka pagayé,—epi fó!" (I am paddling, and hard,
too!) responded Stéphane. …
—"Ou ka pagayé!—ou ka menti!" (Thou art paddling!—thou liest!)
vociferated Maximilien. … "And the fault is all thine. I
cannot, all by myself, make the canoe to go in water like this!
The fault is all thine: I told thee not to dive, thou stupid!"
—"Ou fou!" cried Stéphane, becoming angry. "Moin ka pagayé!" (I
am paddling.)
—"Beast! never may we get home so! Paddle, thou lazy!—paddle,
thou nasty!"
—"Macaque thou!—monkey!"
—"Chabin!—must be chabin, for to be stupid so!"
—"Thou black monkey!—thou species of ouistiti!"
—"Thou tortoise-of-the-land!—thou slothful more than molocoye!"
—"Why, thou cursed monkey, if thou sayest I do not paddle, thou
dost not know how to paddle!" …
… But Maximilien's whole expression changed: he suddenly
stopped paddling, and stared before him and behind him at a great
violet band broadening across the sea northward out of sight; and
his eyes were big with terror as he cried out:—
—"Mais ni qui chose qui douôle içitt! … There is something
queer, Stéphane; there is something queer." …
—"Ah! you begin to see now, Maximilien!-it is the current!"
—"A devil-current, Stéphane. … We are drifting: we will go to
the horizon!" …
To the horizon—"nou kallé lhorizon!"—a phrase of terrible
picturesqueness. … In the creole tongue, "to the horizon"
signifies to the Great Open—into the measureless sea.
—"C'est pa lapeine pagayé atouèlement" (It is no use to paddle
now), sobbed Maximilien, laying down his palettes.
—"Si! si!" said Stéphane, reversing the motion: "paddle with
the current."
—"With the current! It runs to La Dominique!"
—"Pouloss," phlegmatically returned Stéphane,—"ennou!—let us
make for La Dominique!"
—"Thou fool!—it is more than past forty kilometres.
… Stéphane, mi! gadé!—mi quz" gouôs requ'em!"
A long black fin cut the water almost beside them, passed, and
vanished,—a requin indeed! But, in his patois, the boy almost
re-echoed the name as uttered by quaint Père Dutertre, who,
writing of strange fishes more than two hundred years ago, says
it is called REQUIEM, because for the man who findeth himself
alone with it in the midst of the sea, surely a requiem must be
sung.
—"Do not paddle, Stéphane!—do not put thy hand in the water
again!"
