The Haitian Trilogy: Plays: Henri Christophe, Drums and Colours, and The Haytian Earth

by Derek Walcott

  Tells of a golden city in the green heart of Guiana,

  And these two words, they mean the gilded king.

  But it’ll take another coin to unlock my tongue.

  RALEIGH

  Then if this legend is so certain,

  Why haven’t the Spanish found the city, sir?

  (They draw near him.)

  PACO (Sits.)

  Because out of the deep beliefs of their religion

  The cunning Indians kept the secret from them,

  For the Spanish, you know, destroyed my people.

  There’s many Spanish expeditions looked for it.

  They’re rusting in the emerald jungles now.

  It’s a far voyage.

  RALEIGH

  How far is it, old man?

  PACO

  Far as I am from home, and the warm islands.

  It’s a perilous voyage, farther than Columbus,

  And farther than the great conquistadors have found,

  Men of the stamp of Cortés and Quesada.

  Resilient men, formed in the Spanish temper,

  Who conquered Mexico and Montezuma,

  But this gold legend on this worm-riddled wood

  They’ll never find.

  GILBERT

  The English will.

  PACO

  Well, when you do, remember your old friend Paco.

  Look, mates, I’ll tell you a dying secret, but

  Would your cousin lend me the price of a jug?

  GILBERT

  Give him a coin, cousin. Now, will you show us where?

  (RALEIGH complies.)

  PACO (Drawing on the sand.)

  Thanks, little Christian. Well, this here’s the whale’s bath,

  The great Atlantic, where a great city drowned.

  Here’s a dead wealth of yellow weed, Sargasso,

  And these moss-covered pebbles at my old boots,

  These are the emeralds which Columbus christened

  Salvador, Cuba, Jamaica, Hispaniola,

  Innumerable islands, then the Isle of Trinity,

  And there, among the tangle of this seaweed,

  Where I put down a gold coin in its tangle,

  There is the city of Manoa, El Dorado.

  (He starts, leaps back.)

  Do you hear the barking of dogs? They’re hunting me.

  They hunted us with dogs once. Go back from me.

  There’s a wolf’s cry on the wind, they’re coming.

  GILBERT

  There are no wolves in this country. Do you fear dogs?

  PACO

  I’ve seen them tear men to pieces, all my flesh,

  For gold. Christian dogs besides. Go back from me.

  RALEIGH (Drawing GILBERT aside.)

  He is mad, cousin. Are you sick, sir?

  PACO

  Dying on two worn feet, son, weary from walking

  Thousands of miles, all over the map of Europe.

  Tamoussi, Tamoussi, my own gods call me back.

  (Staring wildly.)

  Would you do me a favour in return, my sons?

  GILBERT

  So, you frighten us.

  RALEIGH

  So, we’ll do what you ask us, if we can.

  PACO

  There is an old wisdom which my tribe possessed.

  To tell the season of their coming death, the Tainos,

  By some scent in the wind, the altering of a feather,

  Or the warm scent of the autumn-coloured fox.

  This wind carries the stench of rotting flesh.

  GILBERT

  It’s nothing but the old smell of the sea.

  PACO

  It is the sea that separates me from my gods,

  And brought destruction to my simple people.

  Come, do you know some high place in this country?

  And leave me there, before the first snow comes?

  RALEIGH

  I know a height, barren with sea rocks, where

  You can sit quietly and watch the sinking west;

  There’s nothing there.

  (PACO removes a crucifix.)

  PACO

  Then take the crucifix and the coins I gathered,

  And lead me to it, for the time of the dog is here.

  RALEIGH

  If you look there, then climb the cleft in the rocks,

  It winds its narrow path up from the sea.

  There you shall find a place just as you wished.

  (He leads PACO to the steps.)

  PACO

  Is it there? Yes, I think I see the track.

  And so it goes, whatever track we take

  It leads us all to the cold height of death.

  I have strength enough to climb to it alone,

  That is the fashion in which my people die.

  Go, go back. I hear the wolf howling again.

  If you go to Manoa, death will find you there.

  Good night, you Christian boys, Paco is gone.

  RALEIGH

  Come, cousin, and take up the fragment of the vessel.

  (They go off reluctantly.)

  PACO (Climbing.)

  So the grey wolf of death trots after me.

  O Quadrado, in all this I have learnt nothing.

  (Exit. Blackout.)

  (The CHORUS enters.)

  CHORUS

  Those ribs which bulwarked Spain’s imperial pride

  Lie wrecked and bone-white down the English coast,

  Wrenched by ungovernable winds that scattered wide

  Ships, masts, and soldiers, which the Armada cost.

  After twelve years’ imprisonment in the Tower,

  With two great factions at an unstable peace,

  The Stuart monarch, England’s James the First,

  Grants Walter Raleigh conditional release

  To find that fable, turreted with gold

  That, like a coin, gathers the dark around it.

  It is 1617 now, Guiana, night.

  (Lute music softly.)

  Stillness, a lonely lute plucks at the nerves.

  The idling lanterns with their yellow light

  Gild every mind from captain to mere sailor,

  And now we peer into the unmapped night

  Whose stars ride quietly from the anchored fleet,

  The ships: the Jason, under Captain John Pennington;

  The Confidence, Commander, Captain Wallastons;

  The Flying Hart, Commander, Sir John Ferne;

  The Golden Fleece, the ship of war; Corentyne,

  Under Commander Captain Laurence Keymis;

  The Destiny, under Sir Walter Raleigh.

  (Exit.)

  Scene 6

  1617. The search for El Dorado. The deck of the Destiny. Enter RALEIGH and KEYMIS.

  RALEIGH

  I have sent for you particularly, Captain Keymis,

  Not only as my officer but a friend,

  To tell you my decision concerning tomorrow.

  KEYMIS

  I can guess it.

  RALEIGH

  Come to the rail, Laurence, and try to think my thoughts.

  For a good friend, here, let me lean on your shoulder;

  A good friend’s mind should be chameleon-like

  And take its colours from opposite affections.

  KEYMIS

  I find that somewhat parasitical, Sir Walter.

  RALEIGH

  Imagine yourself placed in my own position,

  Beyond these fireflies of the anchored fleet.

  You can discern the black leaves of a forest,

  So far translated into no civilized tongue.

  So once another admiral years ago

  Saw a prone country, still with its maidenhead,

  The virgin sea, through which no prow had entered,

  And sealed its nuptials in the name of Spain.

  Like me, his own impetuous, rebellious nature

  Offended monarchs; he died disdained, obscurely.
r />   Above my own head hangs a thirsty axe;

  The King, with his limp and lily-sinewed wrist,

  Can write my vein out, with a flick of the pen.

  (He starts down the steps, followed by KEYMIS.)

  KEYMIS

  The King is more concerned with bargaining with the Spaniard

  Than with your nature; you are of a breed, sir,

  Against his policy. Who’s left in England now?

  The admirals, earls, and boisterous captains

  Who shivered all the strength of Spain, her provinces,

  They are buried now, some in strange parts of the sea.

  RALEIGH

  And do you know by what he weighs us? Gold.

  He spared me for that purpose. What time is it?

  KEYMIS (Moving towards table.)

  It must be almost eight o’clock. And so I take it,

  Since we have burnt the town at Trinidad,

  An act that certainly should incense the King,

  And since we stand outside Guiana, full of doubts,

  That tomorrow we attack the fort at San Thome?

  RALEIGH

  We must not fail this time to find Manoa.

  I want my son to come with us tomorrow, Keymis.

  I feel a dewy sweat, I have caught the fever.

  If I should be too weak to go, you will command.

  But it should pass. First let us study the map.

  (KEYMIS unrolls a map on the table.)

  KEYMIS

  It’s not changed much since the last time, my lord.

  RALEIGH

  Wait.

  (Pause.)

  KEYMIS

  What is it, Sir Walter?

  RALEIGH

  No. As I stood here and you unrolled the map,

  With my life in the balances tomorrow,

  I remembered my boyhood and an old dim sailor,

  An old man with two worlds mixed in his blood,

  And a strange prophecy which he made to me.

  How sovereign death controls Guiana’s green,

  And that my voyages there would bring me death.

  (Enter RALEIGH’S SON, unobserved, with a lute.)

  I saw in my condition of this giddy fever

  How the sea’s jaws swallowed Sir Humphrey Gilbert,

  And bones of Spanish conquerors mixed with vines.

  SON

  Think of your reputation, Father.

  RALEIGH (Turns.)

  Welcome. I heard you on the lute.

  (To KEYMIS)

  Some days my mind is clear and crystal green,

  And perfect as a summer of the sea, and then

  A cloud of my uncertainty mantles it.

  SON

  It’s nothing but the fever, Father.

  RALEIGH

  Yes, but the gilding fever known as greed.

  Come, study the map, boy, you go with Captain Keymis.

  When I am absent, consider him your father.

  KEYMIS (Showing RALEIGH’S SON.)

  This lake here is the Rupununi, lying between

  The river Essequibo and the Rio Branco.

  There is Canelos, a land of cinnamon trees.

  These are the tributaries which I charted,

  And this is the fort which we assault tomorrow.

  We are sure our prisoner, Governor de Berrio,

  Knows something of the site of this great city.

  (The clock strikes eight.)

  It has struck eight, shall I bring in the governor?

  RALEIGH

  Yes, bring in the hypocrite.

  (Exit KEYMIS.)

  You see the sad trade of conquest, study it well.

  SON

  Father, are you afraid?

  RALEIGH

  I feel so hollow, boy. Yes, I am afraid,

  But for you, too; long memories disturb me.

  Know that I would not give your life, my son,

  For a roomful of all the jewels in Manoa.

  SON

  Why should I die, my lord? Am I a bad soldier?

  RALEIGH

  No, you do well, you do well. And here’s the governor.

  (Enter BERRIO, KEYMIS.)

  Señor de Berrio, my son who carries my name;

  My friend and captain Laurence Keymis.

  Be seated, sir, and have some Spanish wine.

  BERRIO

  Gracias.

  (He sits.)

  RALEIGH (Pacing.)

  Excellency, we will get down to business straight.

  Your Excellency has for some years been governor of Trinidad,

  Which is the door and gateway to the west.

  It is my confirmed impression, contradict me,

  That despite the pressing duties of your office

  On occasions you have conducted expeditions

  To find the legend that hides in the darkness there.

  BERRIO (Smiles.)

  This is good Spanish claret, Señor Admiral.

  RALEIGH

  Do you recall a Captain Whiddon, Excellency?

  BERRIO

  Yes, I know this English soldier Whiddon.

  I also know our countries are at peace,

  And that he broke our compact; that English ships

  Attack our provinces in these islands, against the peace.

  Yes, I know Whiddon, and why you ask me that,

  To explain your sacking of the town of San José

  And justify the death of my own nephew.

  RALEIGH

  Perhaps Your Excellency might find it awkward

  To recall your treacherous—pardon me—surprising

  Entertainment of this English officer.

  BERRIO (Rises.)

  Is this why I am brought before Your Excellency?

  To exchange memoirs? A week ago my men were massacred,

  The city I administered sacked and burnt.

  RALEIGH

  Much like your treatment of the Indians, señor.

  BERRIO (Sits.)

  We all did it once. Now they do it with Negroes.

  Unfortunately, that is how one starts an empire.

  RALEIGH

  You still consider Spain a power, señor?

  BERRIO

  There is no Spain here now.

  It is a different thing to Europe, these are the Indies,

  With a different climate and a policy that must change.

  I think that despite Whiddon, whose death I sanctioned,

  That I was compensated, as you might say, enough.

  All that I built was burnt. We are at peace.

  RALEIGH

  Perhaps. But then why should I savour of an ass,

  With your honourable Spanish army at my back,

  When I must force my passage through Guiana?

  BERRIO

  Why must, señor?

  RALEIGH

  What?

  BERRIO

  Why must you pursue this fable of Guiana?

  Will that not mean a slaughtering of Indians?

  RALEIGH (Shouts.)

  I am not a Spaniard, man.

  KEYMIS

  Sir Walter.

  BERRIO (Rising.)

  No, I am a Spaniard and responsible to my country.

  And, you are English, your star in the ascendant.

  But to me you are a finished phenomenon, my friend,

  In that this pursuit of wealth, of personal glory,

  Is of a finished age, the age of conquest, cruelty.

  The gold is veining out.

  KEYMIS

  Is that why you preach?

  BERRIO

  As governor I pursued my Catholic precepts,

  Brought here by our first admiral and Las Casas,

  That what men take away out of a country

  They must restore by something else.

  Our mines are finishing, and the more profitable pursuits

  Of growing cities, establishing Christian culture,

  Is now the
general concern, not avarice.

  The individual reputation must be dimmed,

  For the establishment of commerce, justice.

  I am the proconsul of a new empire, señor.

  KEYMIS

  Now will Your Excellency look at this map?

  RALEIGH (To BERRIO)

  You tell me not to pursue my search for El Dorado.

  Must I presume, before the discoveries,

  Before Cortés, Pizarro, Bilbão, Alcázar

  There was no Montezuma, nor Peru; in fact no gold.

  No massacre of natives, no Spanish imperialism

  Under you Christian conquerors? Let us be honest.

  I’m ageing. I believe in the existence of this city,

  And so do you, I know, and Keymis, but you,

  Exhibiting that familiar Spanish arrogance …

  BERRIO

  Señor, I am too tired to bear arrogance.

  (Rises.)

  RALEIGH (Enraged)

  If you please!

  Think all the world the property of Spain.

  But Spain is shattered, her wealth will be ours,

  I am not an even-tempered man, señor.

  SON

  Father, there is no need to be so angry with him.

  RALEIGH (Turning on SON.)

  I am your admiral, not your father now.

  (Pause.)

  KEYMIS

  Señor Berrio, do you recognise certain names here?

  BERRIO (Amused)

  I see a map whose drawings are as haphazard

  As any I have done concerning this fable.

  KEYMIS

  And where is the best direction to this fable?

  BERRIO

  I have a fatal statement for you gentlemen.

  RALEIGH

  Which is?

  (He sits.)

  BERRIO

  There is no El Dorado.

  There is a story devised for malice by the Indians.

  It is a vicious fable, it is like Atlantis, it is like

  Columbus’s Cipango, like your own John Mandeville.

  The more you pierce Guiana and explore it,

  Pages of pages part before you, volumes of forest;

  But El Dorado has no meaning, there are the bones

  Of ruined Spanish expeditions, and nothing else.

  KEYMIS

  Yet you yourself have made cynical expeditions

  Of this nature.

  BERRIO

  That is why I speak.

  I cannot warn you of the terrible expense

  When men or nations turn to beasts for gold.