Continental Drift полностью

No. People from Haiti, going to America. The gros neg is taking money from them.

Vanise grunted. What food have we? They’ll want our food.

Maybe they have their own. We have only biscuits and cheese and some tinned beef.

I’m thirsty, Vanise said in a low voice cut with resignation, as if she expected never to drink again.

Maybe the Haitians will have water with them. Listen, he said. I believe one of them speaks English.

The men were standing almost directly overhead now, and indeed, one of the Haitians was speaking in broken English to the captain, arguing that they should be allowed to stay abovedecks, promising to go below if another boat came in sight and assuring him they’d stay out of the way of the captain and his crew. We pay money, plenty money. We have got wet from the open sea, now we must dry, or a cold will enter us, Captain. No problems for you.

All right den, mon. Stay above if dat what you want.

Ah.

Got sumpin down dere better’n up here, mon.

Yes?

Got a gal. Haiti gal down dere, jus’ waitin’ for a big ol’ black Haiti mon to come down an’ chat wid her.

Yes?

Haiti gal an’ her pickney an’ a pretty bwoy down dere wid her.

Yes? A pretty boy, eh? Massisi?

The fat man laughed. Yas, mon, him a pretty bwoy, all right, but de gal, dat de real beef. Make de journey sweet.

Yes. So we dry and warm ourself in the morning sun, eh? Then we go chat up the Haiti gal and pretty boy, eh?

Eh-eh-eh, the captain said, laughing, walking aft toward the wheelhouse. Eh-eh-eh. Dem Haitians-dem, all over de fuckin’ ocean, worse’n Cubans-dem.

The engine turned over slowly, caught, and resumed its steady, familiar rhythm, and the bow of the boat lifted slightly, and once again Claude and his aunt and her child adjusted their balance and body weights to fit the lapping of the waves and the slow rise and fall of the boat.

We will get to America now, Claude said. Because of the Haitians.

In a short time, it got very hot, still and close, and soon they were taking short, shallow, quick breaths, like dogs sleeping in the noonday sun. Claude stripped off his shirt, rolled it into a ball and stuffed it into the bundle behind his head. He was very thirsty, thirstier than he had ever been before, and he knew Vanise was also, and after a while he pulled himself slowly to his feet and made his way aft, climbed the ladder and pushed the hatch cover up.

The glare of the light hit him in the eyes like a hard slap. All he saw was white, a pure, sourceless field of white. Staggered by the blow, he looked back down into the hold. Then, shading his eyes with one hand, holding up the cover with the other, he squinted and saw through a white cloud that three Haitian men were lounging on the deck a few feet away. They were young men, under thirty, thin and wearing farmers’ clothes, short-sleeved shirts and faded cotton pants and sockless leather shoes. One of them, who looked the oldest of the three, smoked a pipe. He turned slowly and saw Claude.

Hello, boy, he said, speaking Creole. You decide to come up for some air?

The others turned and looked at him with idle curiosity.

This the massisi? one asked.

The man with the pipe laughed.

Will you ask the man for water for us? Claude said. The breeze on his face cooled him and smelled clean and fresh, and he pulled himself halfway out of the hold.

What de hell you doin’ up here! the captain called. He was at the wheel in the aft cabin. Too many fuckin’ Haitians up here already!

Him want water, the man with the pipe said.

The captain nodded and sent the young white man forward to the hatch with an old rum bottle full of water. When the Englishman handed Claude the bottle he smiled, and Claude saw that he was missing most of his front teeth and was very ugly.

Now get yer arse back down there, the white man said. These boys here are travelin’ first class. Tou an’ yer sis are steerage. He laughed, and he shoved Claude back down the ladder and closed the cover over him again.