(They examine the dead man’s teeth.)
You make some dentures?
ADJUA: Not going to be easy. He got a few left but deep roots.
(Adjua holds the man’s face gently in her hands and wonders as to his story. Dembi watches jealously.)
We seen his face before . . .?
DEMBI: The drowned all look the same. Don’t touch his face like that.
ADJUA: By his look I see he suffer hard. Poor man.
(Adjua loses her hold when Dembi picks up the man’s feet and begins to drag him back to the hole in the dock.)
What you doing?
(Adjua again grabs the body. They both pull at it.)
DEMBI: We got his clothes; we throw him back in the water.
ADJUA: Nee be a sinner, Dembi, or he’ll bring us bad luck.
DEMBI: If we didn’t spy him, he still be in his watery grave!
ADJUA: We got to bury him proper so his spirit be happy and leave us alone.
DEMBI: But if the constable and watch come, they blame us and we’re dead.
(Dembi pulls at the body.)
ADJUA: I won’t let you do it. A dead man is a brother in need.
DEMBI: A brother is a man who look like me.
ADJUA: Don’t go to hell.
(Dembi stops pulling.)
DEMBI: You don’t believe in no hell.
ADJUA: We got to wrap and bury him.
DEMBI: Can’t take the risk. We throw the wretch back in.
(Dembi pulls harder.)
ADJUA: I won’t let you do it, you bastard.
(The curses they throw at one another are sharp but have a playful edge.)
DEMBI: Bastard now, am I? You’re nothing but a saltwater slave, let go.
ADJUA: Least I born in Africa. (Beat) Blackamoor. Mungo.
DEMBI: Coromantee bitch.
ADJUA: Yes. And this Coromantee still a warrior, you slave you. You poor excuse for an Igbo.
DEMBI: The Igbo have no king. That’s what we say.
ADJUA: But I am your queen. Teef. Lieverd. Rot zak. Schofter.
DEMBI: I like it when you curse me in Dutch . . . Let go!
(Dembi and Adjua pull and heave the body, each intent on winning their way, until suddenly the body opens its eyes and screams loud enough to make them drop him. Silence. They each stare at one another.)
ADJUA: Ja. Okay. We throw him back in and quick.
(Cranston retches and throws up water.)
DEMBI: I’m not returning the shoes.
ADJUA: Or the book, nee.
DEMBI: Or the vest.
ADJUA: Maybe he’s dead and just pretending.
DEMBI: Or a spirit’s moving his bones.
ADJUA: Or Papa Legba’s inside him with a trick in his gut.
DEMBI: Thin like a breath, the wall ’tween living and dead. (To Cranston) Are you awake or a spirit?
(Cranston is too bewildered to speak.)
Eyes too stupid to be a spirit.
ADJUA (To Cranston): Can you speak?
(No answer. Dembi and Adjua get a bit closer.)
You want us to throw you in the water again?
(After a moment, Cranston understands and he’s scared.)
CRANSTON: No. No. I’m cold. Please. Cold.
DEMBI (Teasing): Mustn’t go about naked then.
(Cranston feels the bump on his head.)
CRANSTON: My head hurts.
DEMBI: Who are you, man?
CRANSTON: My name is . . . They call me . . .
ADJUA: They call you . . .?
(Cranston doesn’t know. Then something comes to him.)
CRANSTON: The. Hogs.
DEMBI: Thehogs?
CRANSTON: My toes! The hogs picked ’em clean while he slept and then his toes were little stick bones.
(Cranston clutches his toes, but then sees they are intact. He retches again.)
DEMBI: I don’t think the suit’s his. Or the book. Most likely a thief for sure.
CRANSTON: I’m a thief! (Beat) I’m a thief?
ADJUA: What did you steal?
CRANSTON: I stole. I stole.
(He now looks down at his half nakedness and seems to understand it.)
My clothes. Some badger stole my clothes! Help, help me!
(Dembi puts a knife to Cranston’s throat.)
DEMBI: Holler again and I’ll stick you.
(Cranston is too weak to resist. Dembi releases him.)
ADJUA: Just what was you wearing then, Lieverd?
DEMBI: Don’t call him lieverd. You only call me—
CRANSTON: Lieverd?
ADJUA (To Dembi): Ja, Sweetheart. Hush up. (To Cranston) What was you wearing?
CRANSTON: I was wearing. A. Two. Something . . .
ADJUA: If you can’t remember then it can’t be thief’d.
DEMBI: I remember. He was wearing . . . a sail. You were wearing a sail! Adjua, fetch it back.
