As Flies to Whatless Boys Read online

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to real events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental

  Published by Akashic Books

  ©2013 by Robert Antoni

  Hardcover ISBN-13: 978-1-61775-155-4

  Paperback ISBN-13: 978-1-61775-156-1

  eISBN: 9781617752001

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2013938528

  All Rights Reserved.

  Akashic Books

  PO Box 1456

  New York, NY 10009

  [email protected]

  www.akashicbooks.com

  for Ali

  As flies to wanton boys are we to the gods

  They kill us for their sport

  —William Shakespeare, King Lear

  I met History once, but he ain’t recognize me

  —Derek Walcott, “The Schooner Flight”

  Contents

  ___________________

  First Message

  3 Letters

  Preamble: Awaiting the Tide

  I. AT SEA

  1. Aboard the Rosalind

  2. Night Prowling

  3. 27 Flickering Churchcandles

  4. Minstrel Passage

  5. The Captain’s Ball

  6. 7 Apples

  II. ON LAND

  7. Arrival

  8. Disembarkation

  9. A Second Departure

  10. Chaguabarriga

  11. Pepperpot

  12. Black Vomit

  13. Flies

  14. Captain Taylor’s Schooner

  15. An Ancient Arawak Trace

  III. HOME

  16. Flow

  17. When Bazil Call

  Postscript: Busting a Leave

  3 Letters

  Final Message

  Appendix (e-book extras)

  Etzler's Play

  Etzler's Machines

  Thoreau's Review of Etzler

  First Message

  3/7/10

  Dear Mr Robert W Antoni:

  Thank you for your generous offer to donate the letters and maps and personal writings—a notebook from 1845 you say?!—of your great-great-grandfather on your mother’s side, WILLIAM SANGER TUCKER, to the Permanent Collection of the Trinidad & Tobago National Archives. Please excuse the informality of this email, but as your own message came to us via electronic format without postal address, I can only respond in like manner.

  I am of course familiar with the surname Tucker in relation to the shipping industry here in Trinidad since longtime. In answer to your various other queries, however, I must inform you that I have never before heard of any man named ETZLER in connection to the history of THIS island, nor am I acquainted with any such organisation called the TROPICAL EMIGRATION SOCIETY, so I don’t know anything more about this business than you do, which is to say nothing much at all (though I think it was Barbarossa who brought out a Carnival band last year called TROPICAL INEBRIATION ASSOCIATION or something so). Furthermore, I have looked good on the map and there is NO place called CHAGUABARRIGA nowhere near the south coast of THIS island, not that I could see, Mr Robert, so I suggest you check your references again and make sure you got all your spellings down correct. Of course, everybody living here in T’dad knows the STOLLMEYER surname good enough, he being the man who built that big fancy fallingdown house beside the Queens Park Savannah known as KILLARNEY CASTLE, a documented historical relic erected sometime around 1904-or-5 I think it is. And you will be pleased to hear that all of HIS own personal papers and writings were donated by the family to the Archives a good while ago, and you will find them when you visit us right here in the C F Stollmeyer Esq Collection just beside my office at the back with the photocopy machine.

  So maybe STOLLMEYER is the famous German inventor who bring your family here to T’dad from London in 1845 as you say? In any case, my suggestion to you Mr Robert is that you get all your pekings in line and doublecheck your spellings before you embark on any such project as this book you say you looking to write. And please be assured that my assistant Miss Samlalsingh and me will be happy to offer you any kind of assistance we could in this regard, and we look forward to making your acquaintance and showing you little something of the hotspots in Port of Spain as you suggest.

  Cordial,

  Miss Ramsol

  Director, T&T National Archives

  PS in answer to your final query I recommend the Hilton Hotel up on the hill above the Savannah with a nice view of p-o-s right down to the La Basse beyond Beetham Highway, very romantic with the lights at night, & you might even see Stollmeyer’s own house from the terrace 2 in case you decide to write out your book on HIM instead, because that seems to me a much better idea since I could assure you sure-as-Shiva he DID exist, which is more than I can say 4 this man Etzler, & I have 2 tell u my OWN personal preference in dining is curry crabbacks at Ganeshhouse & fresh seamoss drink, with my #1 choice 4 bars down the hill from the Hilton very convenient by the name of Pelican, but please please Mr Robot dont let nobody hear u calling it that as they would all know straightway u is nothing but a yankee tourist just-pass-through-Piarco as we does call it PELO

  3 Letters

  19 July 1881

  Dear Mr. William Tucker,

  You may be surprised to hear that your fame as a taxidermist, and illustrator of hummingbirds native to your island of Trinidad, has reached our shores. But this is so. Indeed, for some time now I have heard of your achievements from acquaintances that have travelled to the West Indies, and recently I was privileged to examine one of your exhibits myself. It was shown to me by a colleague, Dr. Lance Parks, who purchased at your workshop ‘Male purple-throated Carib hummingbird on heliconia in flower.’ I was fascinated. I daresay enchanted. I have since had the opportunity to study this handsome little gentleman at length. And I have demonstrated him to several members of our scientific community.

  Dr. Parks has encouraged me to contact you, and he has provided your postal address in Port-Spain. Hence this letter. It is my pleasure, therefore, under the auspices of Director of the Natural History Museum, as Professor of Biology at Christ Church College, and as Chairman of the Ornithological Society of London, to invite you to visit us and offer a cycle of lectures on your techniques for preserving and displaying hummingbirds. It would be expedient if you could bring along some of your exhibits for illustration purposes. I am further informed that you are the first to capture images of living hummingbirds in talbotypes. It would be an added treat if you could bring some of these plates to show us as well. Whilst here you would be welcomed to share my laboratory at the Museum. In addition my wife and I would be happy to offer you modest accommodation in our home, located adjacent to the Museum grounds.

  Unfortunately the Museum is not in a position to fund your passage out from Trinidad. But Dr. Parks tells me that aside from being an accomplished taxidermist, you are the owner of an expansive shipping line in the West Indies. So I imagine the possibility exists of coming out to visit us on one of your own vessels.

  I do hope so! And I anxiously await your reply.

  Sincerely,

  Dr. Francis M. Evans

  Director, Natural History Museum

  PS It occurs to me that you may have heard mention of a certain A.J. Etzler, a German inventor and scientist who some years ago established the Tropical Emigration Society here in London. He led his first group of ‘pioneers’ to Trinidad with the intention of forming an experimental community there, his followers meeting only disaster, Etzler himself fleeing to America with the remains of his investors’ money. As it turned out my father lost the entirety of our modest family fortune i
n Etzler’s scheme, and he and my mother and myself narrowly escaped the fate of those unfortunate emigrants in Trinidad. I would be interested to hear anything you may know on this subject.

  DRAFT

  27 August 1881

  Dear Professor Evans,

  Thank you for your invitation to visit the Museum & ‘lecture’ as you say on my techniques for preserving and exibiting hummingbirds. I am certainly surprised to hear that my modest hobby should attract the interest of a scientific mind such as youself, & I must inform you with some embarrassement straight-off-the-bat that my own education ended abrupt at age 15—in truth I will have to ask my eldest son to writeover this draft before the letter can be sent! None-the-less if you are willing to hear a ‘lecture’ from a man with little or no formal education, but greatly enthusiastic about wildlife & nature & my little birds, then I am happy to come & bring along some of my exibits & the talbotypes. All of my own ships are of the lighterage capacity only & opperate local exclusive amongst the islands. But on receipt of your invitation I made enquiries with a close friend just in port who is Captain of the Condor, & he has kindly offered me passage as well as transport of my exibits.

  Due to the demands of my business activities here in Trinidad & especially considering the length of the passage (4 weeks out approx. & same back) I will not be able to stay long in London. I would guess the Condor will remain at port a fortnight or so before she must turn round to make her return voyage, but that should be adequate for a few ‘lectures’ at least. In addition I would not want to take overadvantage of your generous offer of accommodation in your home. Please expect me then to arrive with the Condor & upon landing I will make my way direct to the Museum.

  I look forward to meeting you & your wife & thank you again for your invitation.

  Sincerely,

  William Sanger Tucker

  Director, Trinidad Transport Co Ltd

  PS It is interesting you ask about Etzler & the Tropical Emigration Society as my family came out from London in 1845 as part of that very venture. My father & I being two of the pioneers you speak of who went off to Etzlers settlement on our north coast. Equally coincidental is that only the other day my son asked me to give him this tale of how the Tuckers came here to Trinidad. But I put him off as I wanted to search the attic first for a old cigar box containing my fathers notebook from that trip, plus a handful of maps & letters & other artifacts to coincide with the storytelling. In any case I have now retrieved the box, & I will be sure to bring it along & eager to tell you of my & my fathers experiences with Etzlers TES.

  PPS I wonder if I could trouble you with another matter in some ways related to this subject. Counted amongst our group was a Miss Marguerite Whitechurch who came to Trinidad with her aunt & uncle a prominent gentleman in the business circles of London of those times. One of Etzlers principle supporters. Miss Whitechurch may well have given up her sirname by now. None-the-less I wonder if you could make some inquiares & perhaps locate her postal address & forward the attached letter to her? Her uncle was amongst the first to succumb to the misfortune of Etzlers plan, after which Miss W. returned with her aunt direct to London. I have not heard of her since.

  DRAFT

  c/o Dr. Francis M. Evans

  27 August 1881

  Dear Marguerite,

  You will no doubt be surprised to hear from the boy you once knew many years ago as ‘Willy.’ I have requested Professor Evans of the Natural History Museum to enquire into your postal address, & he will hopefully forward this letter. I am sure you’ll recall my giving to you as a keepsake my first bumbling attempt at what has since become a modest but enthusiastic hobby—that female blue-chinned sapphire in her little wooden box labeled ‘buttons.’ As it turns out Dr. Evans has invited me to visit the Museum & offer a few ‘lectures’ as he calls them & demonstrations of my techniques for preserving hummingbirds. The point then of this communication is to inform you of my empending trip, & to request a reunion while I am visiting in London.

  I have on my desk before me the letter you wrote on the eve of your departure from Trinidad. Only fate kept me from reading it before you were already aboard ship, otherwise I would no doubt have returned to England with you. Indeed I tried my hardest to get to the Caroline before she sailed, & very nearly managed. Fate as I say had other plans for us. That was 36 years ago. I imagine you are now married youself, & I am happy to say that in addition to being married we have six children of our own, one son already three years older then I was at the time of our story together! I understand perfectly well if you choose not to meet again. For as you wrote to me in your letter— ‘who is to say we are not better off left with our memories? if those memories are not better off left intact? untouched by further sadness? another farewell & another departure?’

  Whichever way you choose I am prepared to accept. Know then that you can find me in the home of Dr. Evans & his wife who have kindly offered me accommodation while I remain in London. They home as I understand it is adjacent to the Museum grounds. No doubt you can also contact me through Dr. Evans heself. And now I must return your letter to the safety of its pasteboard box.

  Sincerely,

  William Tucker

  Preamble

  7 September 1881

  Awaiting the Tide

  I couldn’t tell you, my father said, and I knew I was in trouble. I had a long night of listening ahead of me.

  I couldn’t tell you how this Etzler managed to mongoose everybody. He wasn’t nothing to look at. A funny little man with a big beard & piercing eyes & a face consisting of 50% brooding forehead. Shaped like a sucked mango seed. A squeaky voice that whistled when he got excited—which was most of the time—and the more excited the harder he was to decipher with the German accent. But he had the gift: boldface bamboozlement. Shameless mongooseeocity. Some would say ‘amongst others’—that he was a genius & prophet & saviour & all the rest—but son, I couldn’t tell you about none of that bubball neither. It wasn’t the Etzler I saw. Despite that in his own way he had me mongoosed good as everybody else. Mind you, that was thirty-six years ago. I was only a boy of fifteen. Three years younger than you are youself—not so, R-W?

  There weren’t any furnishings on this back deck. Not even a railing round the side. Only some enormous coils of weathered rope my father and I reclined against while he smoked his cigar. It was the highest part of the ship, and so isolated we could have been the only two people aboard. We couldn’t even hear the noise below of the other passengers getting settled for the night, sailors still preparing to go to sea in the morning. Everything quiet. The sea quiet too without scarcely a ripple, the ship having swung round with her stern facing the shore. The two lights at the end of Kings Wharf had come on in the distance, reflecting at us in wavering lines across the flat water. With a few other lights already tinkling round the curve of the bay, a handful more in town and higher up in the hills. The mountains behind them had turned to such a dark green they were almost black, sky smoky gray without a cloud or a star yet. Flat and still as the sea. Whatever lights there were below on the ship you couldn’t see them. Here on deck there was only the glow of my father’s cigar.

  First one he mongoosed was another German inventor named Roebling. His friend longsince childhood. As young men, these two left on the same ship bound for New York. But that was still a good while before the start of this story. Etzler was on the run because the authorities were taking a lag on he tail over something-or-the-other—they’d jailed him once already—and he was running from his creditors too. Etzler never went nowhere that he wasn’t running from creditors. But he had he friend Roebling bamboozled, as I was telling you, and together they led a group of working-class emigrants on this ship. Yet by the time the ship disembarked the two leaders had fought. Half the group went with Etzler, other half with Roebling. They went they separate ways, despite remaining friends. Roebling to start a cultivation in Pennsylvania, Etzler to begin a expedition exploring the western frontier, looking f
or the suitable place to establish he own experimental community. But as it turned out Roebling would be the one to leave he mark in the history book. Not Etzler. Understand, Etzler’s public life occupies only a few years, before and after which everything looks hazy like you seeing it through a gauze. Roebling, on the other hand, wasted little time deciding he wasn’t no kinda weed-puller a-tall. He converted his farm to a factory to mass produce his newest invention: steel rope. He became obsessed with this thing. And he remained obsessed with it the rest of his life. Same steel rope that eventually enabled him to design and erect the grandest, most magnificent madman-monstrosity ever imagined to we present day: the Brooklyn Bridge.

  Son, I couldn’t tell you because I never been there. Since I arrived here in Trinidad at the age of fifteen I’ve never set foot from it, except to travel to a fistful of other islands. I never seen this bridge. All I can tell you is that even Roebling kowtowed heself before Etzler’s genius. Yet even Roebling couldn’t sit in the same room with he childhood friend five-minutes-together without busting-out in a row with him neither.

  ___________________

  My father had asked me to help him load his things aboard the Condor, a newly built steamer under charge of his friend, Captain Vincent. He’d had one of his own TTC lighters ferry us out to the ship at anchor in the harbour. His luggage a half-dozen crates containing his hummingbird exhibits, a small grip with clothes, and three clumsy thatched baskets filled with every kind of still-green fruits and vegetables. Because my father’s the only West Indian non-flesh-eater I’ve ever heard of aside from the Hindus. We got his crates onto the deck and down into the hold, his other things up into his cabin, there beside Captain Vincent’s quarters just behind the wheelhouse. By now it was dusk. We were just about to go down again for me to catch the ferry ashore, my father taking up a cigar to smoke while we waited. Then we discovered the door at the back of his bathroom, opening onto the ship’s aft deck.