I.
The Ex-Heavyweight

The *Palm Queen* slipped quietly into dock at New Orleans.

Presently a host of rousters and dock hands, truck drivers
and loafers crowded along the wharf for a near view of the hand-
some West Indian trading schooner. Three-masted sailing vessels
were no longer common sights in that American port. That's why
work stopped along the waterfront this summer afternoon. Every-
body wanted to see,

Stout black laborers came out of the warehouse sheds with
cotton hooks in their hands. Others, rolling hand trucks loaded
with sacks of sugar, paused to look admiringly at the strange ves-
sel. Banana merchants with their helpers appeared at the rail,
waving red bandana handkerchiefs. A red-headed hobo crawled out
of his hole under a stack of cotton bales and stood blinking in
the sun.

Presently a gang-plank was lowered, and two strange men came
out of the *Palm Queen's* cabin. They were as brown as Indians, and
there was a hardness about them that gave onlookers a shudder.
They were dressed in tropical white and both wore panama hats. One
was tall, more than six feet; the other was much shorter. The tall
one had shiny black hair, worn long enough to cover his neck, and a
villainous mustache to match. What his brown-haired companion lacked
of height was more than made up by width. He had the look of a
gorilla in a starched suit. His hair was shaggy, and he wore a
black patch over his left eye. Large, hoop-like earrings dangled

Bontemps--5

from his ears.

Instead of belts the strangers wore crimson sashes, tied around their waists. Both smoked pipes. The tall man carried a bamboo bird cage and in it a jungle-green parrot. His burly companion held two small monkeys on a leash. Neither of the men paid the slightest attention to the crowds on the wharf. They conversed briefly on the deck then descended the gang-plank and promptly left the waterfront to dispose of their pets.

The *Palm Queen's* crew, a dozen dusky Trinidadians, got her canvas down, cleared her deck and went ashore for a well-earned rest. A few moments passed. The schooner commenced to rock, tugging lightly at her ropes as the tide rose. Then suddenly a door opened and a huge Negro cook, a former prize fighter and a giant of a man, shuffled out of the ship's galley and rested his elbows on the rail.

"New Aw-leens!" he said, smiling a gold-toothed smile.

Swarms of sea gulls circled overhead. Vendors came down to the wharf, selling crisp meat skins and steaming crawfish to the rousters and dock hands. Some of the peddlers carried their wares in baskets, others pushed funny little go-carts. A baked sweet potato with syrup popping out of it was offered for a nickel. A bottle of soda pop, a bag of peanuts or a sandwich could be bought at the same price.

A tiny old hot tamale man, frizzly-whiskered and bent, came alongside the *Palm Queen* and looked up sheepishly.

"Well, bust my buttons if it ain't old Soup Perkins," he cried out merrily.

"He-o, Pap," Big Soup answered, recognizing the vendor.

Bontemps--6

"How about a nice hot tamale today, Soup?"

"Aw, go way, Pap. You don't study about nothing but eating.
Don't talk to me about no hot tamales today--glad as I is to be
home."

The old fellow laughed deeply.

"Is you back to stay?"

"Nah. Just stopping for a little hot minute."

"Well, you ain't got no time for me and my tamales," the old
fellow laughed, strolling away slowly. "I'll pick you up one these
times."

Soup stretched his arms high above his head, yawned. A moment later he untied his apron, tossed it through a window and came down the gang-plank. He was not really at liberty to go ashore. His turn had not come. Still, while he stayed by the ship, Soup saw no reason why he should not stretch his legs a bit on the wharf--so long as he did not get out of sight of the vessel.

He walked back and forth before the warehouses, swinging his
arms to make the muscles bulge like cobblestones, rising on his
toes so as to feel the power and limberness in his legs. The dock
hands who rushed past him with their hand trucks all seemed small
beside Soup. Few of them came within six inches of his height. Soup
enjoyed the activity of the shore, after so many days at sea, so many
months away from home, but most of all he enjoyed the odors of the
warehouses, the smell of barreled molasses, of crated fruit and
sacked coffee.

"New Aw-leens!" he repeated, stuffing his fists deep into his
pockets.

Bontemps--7

Soup was glad to be back--if only for a pop call--and he didn't care who knew it. Later on, when the Trinidadian sailors returned, he intended to get around a bit and pay his respects to the city of his birth. Now, of course, his business was to keep his eye on the Palm Queen. There was always somebody willing to stow away on a fine sailing schooner--even when they didn't know where she was going. And it just happened that the Palm Queen was not interested in passangers at the moment, neither one kind nor another. This reminded Soup of his responsibility. He was as far away as he dared venture. He turned quickly and hurried back to the vessel.

It was lucky indeed that he returned when he did. In fact, Soup was not a second too early. When he reached the deck, he discovered that the hatch was open. A skinny, sad-faced youngster was on the ladder and about to disappear down in the hold.

"Wait a minute there, you ramscallion you," Soup cried, making a bound toward the open hatch.

The boy, ragged and trembling, waited till the ex-heavyweight laid heavy hands on his shoulders. Soup snatched the intruder roughly to the deck. The big fellow was too out of patience to speak. Instead he held the boy's shoulders in a vise-like grip and gave the melancholy kid the shaking of his life. A harmonica fell out of the poor boy's pockets. His teeth chattered. His eyes grew round as silver dollars, and just as big.

"Lawdy me," the boy murmured sadly. "Have mercy, misteh man."

"Have mercy nothing," Soup shouted. "What in the nation you mean climbing down into this here boat?"

The boy blinked.

"Nothing. For true, I didn't mean nothing."

"Don't you make me mad now," Big Soup said. "I'm apt to pitch

Bontemps--9

"Come on, Slumber," the tallest one said. "I don't like these old-timy boats nohow."

"Me neither, Rags. I don't like them much. Come on, Willie."

They hurried down the gang-plank before another outburst could come from the huge cook.

Soup grinned mischievously when they were gone. He was proud of the way in which he had frightened the boys out of a year's growth. In his opinion it was the only way to handle kids like that. You couldn't jump on little fellows and beat them. Soup was not as mean as the youngsters imagined he was. Still it was his job to keep all boys named Slumber and Rags and Willie off the Palm Queen; and if he didn't want to whip them, the next best thing was to scare them out of their wits. Well, he wouldn't be bothered with those three again. He was sure of that much. Soup laughed aloud, went around to the shady side of the schooner and flopped in a deck chair. A moment later he was nodding blissfully, his hands folded across his stomach.

He was awakened sometime later by a banging noise. Soup leaped from his chair and raced to the foredeck. There again stood the same three pesky boys. They had bungled things a second time by knocking the hatch down before any one of them could get down into the hold. Real anger rose in Soup this time, hot, smoking anger.

"Dog scat my skates," he cried, swooping down upon the shy youngsters like a hawk after a flock of chickens. "I'm going to teach you rascals something you won't forget the longest day you live."

He gathered all three of them into his powerful arms at one stroke. Then, before they could so much as catch their breath, he rushed them to the rail overlooking the open river. In one arm he

Bontemps--10

raised Rags, the largest boy, and gave him a toss that kha sent the
long-legged kid splashing into the Mississippi. Next he threw little
Willie, the smallest. Finally, making good his promise, he lifted
Slumber and gave him the mightiest pitch of all.

In the water below, one by one, the brothers came to the surface
and struck out with easy strokes toward the shore. Soup made up his
mind to keep his eyes open in the future.

Bontemps--11

## II
Stowaways

The two strange men returned to their vessel by moonlight.
The crew weighed anchor, and a few moments later the *Palm Queen*
sailed down the Mississippi toward the Gulf of Mexico.

The schooner was two days out, however, when Soup heard noises
down in the hold where the cargo was stored. The big fellow stopped
suddenly and bent his ear. Sure as shooting, there was something
down there beside boxes and barrels. Soup thought at first it must
have been the rats. The *Palm Queen*, like most other old vessels,
had her share of rats. Later Soup began to doubt that rats could
make all that noise. He scratched his head in perplexity.

He was still standing there, trying to puzzle the noises out,
when the long-haired captain and his stumpy, one-eyed companion came
storming out of their cabin.

"Did you hear it?" the tall man shouted.

Soup nodded.

"You don't reckon it could be rats, do you?" he asked.

"Rats! making," the stumpy one sneered. "They're rats all right.
But not the kind you're thinking about. Let's go below and see what
we can find, Zeus."

"Got your flashlight there, Grenny?"

"Yes. Come along, Soup," the one-eyed man ordered.

"You were supposed to watch this vessel while we were in port,
Soup," the captain said, climbing down the ladder.

Big Soup did not answer. He followed the other two through the

Bontemps--12

open hatch and down into the darkness of the hold. Grenny flashed
his torch. The three men stood looking about. The hold was dread-
fully silent, but the crafty old captain discovered something that
convinced him they had not been mistaken in their guess.

"See there," he said. "You forgot to turn those barrels up-side-
down, Soup. Every time we leave them right side up, we catch a stow-
away."

Light began to break for Soup.

"A stowaway, hunh?"

They climbed over the boxes and ballast, and reached the far end
of the boat.

"Hey, you in the barrel. Come on out," Captain Zeus called sud-
denly.

The water barrels, and old canoes stood in a row.

"Make it snappy," Grenny added, stepping up and kicking one of
them.

To Soup's astonishment, it was not one stowaway, but three that
sprang up in those barrels as Grenny roared.

"Lordy, me," Soup said, greatly out-done. "Will you look who's
here?"

Three dusky boys, one middle-sized, one small and one tall, blink-
ed before the strong beam of Grenny's flashlight. The middle one had
a face as sad and woeful as the ages. He was poorly dressed, as were
his brothers, but from his pocket dangled a brass watch chain. Twice
the youngster opened his mouth to speak, but neither time did words
come.

"Soup," Grenny said suspiciously. "Don't you know something
about these kids."

"Yes, indeedy," Soup assured him. "I know plenty. I know I

Bontemps--13

throwed them off this here boat three times whilst we was in New
Orleans. The last time I pitched them in the water."

Captain Zeus looked at the boys sternly.

"Why did you keep coming back?" he asked.

"We just had to," the sad one replied.

"You had to? What do you mean you had to? Talk sense, boy."

The thin, willowy colored boy looked first at his taller brother,
then at the shorter one. He seemed to be begging them to help him
answer the fierce-looking, long-haired man. No help came. After a
long pause, the youngster looked at Captain Zeus very candidly.

"We kept coming back because we wanted to get our guitar and drum," he said seriously.

Soup lost his patience.

"Well, hush my mouth wide open!" he cried. "Why didn't you tell me that was what you wanted?"

"You didn't ask us," the boy murmured shyly. "You just jumped on us and throwed us in the water. We didn't have much time to do a heap of talking."

"That's what I'm going to do again, too. I'm going to throw
you and your two brothers and them patched britches of yours in this
big old ocean. You see if I don't. Come on out of them barrels,
every lasting one of you."

The boys climbed out obediently.

"Bring them on deck," Captain Zeus told Soup.

The captain left the others and turned toward the ladder. Grenny
waited in the hold with Soup and the stowaways. The three brothers
gave their names--Slumber, Rags and Willie. They explained that they
had come all the way from Alabama on freight trains. They assured

Bontemps--14

Big Soup that they had given up the idea of stowing on this sail-
ing vessel. It was only to get their guitar and drum that they had
returned the second and the third times. Having found things so com-
fortable in the hold, however, they had simply decided to stay.

"You just got two instruments between the three of you?" Grenny
growled.

"Oh, no," Slumber said, smiling faintly. "I got mine right
here."

He produced a harmonica from his pocket.

They reached the spot of light at the foot of the ladder.

"How about making them play some music before I throw them to
the sharks?" Soup asked the one-eyed Grenny.

"Sure," Grenny said. "Make them play."

"That's all right about you throwing me to the sharks, big boy,"
Slumber said slowly. "Long as I got my harmonica, I can make friends
with them big old fishes. If you come down there where we is--ten or
fifteen minutes later--you find us having ourselves a ball with them
fishes. What about Jonah? He come out all right, didn't he? Sweet
music is the thing what gets it--all the time."

"Let me see them drums and guitars you talk about," Soup
ordered.

Rags and Willie disappeared into the darkness. A moment later
they returned with their instruments.

"Dog my cats if you ain't the beatingest bunch I ever seen
in all my borned days, you three. What else you got hid away on
this here boat."

"That's all," little Willie said. "There ain't no more. We
always travels light."

"Let's hear some music," Grenny barked, impatient for the

Bontemps--15
tunes.

Slumber limbered up his harmonica, running xx his mouth back
and forth on the tiny instrument. Rags plucked his strings, took a
moment to put them in tune. Willie put his drum in position. A
moment later Slumber was patting his foot to give the others the
tempo. Then suddenly the music broke loose.

Big Soup knew a little about music himself, and he realized at
once that this was the kind you sometimes had to travel many miles to
find. It was music with a flavor like ripe persimmons and sargum
molasses, music that suggested hot biscuits, bacon grease and syrup
enjoyed in a room warmed by a big cabin fire place, music that brought
back the swampy woodland filled with bullfrogs and fireflies at night,
music that aroused hoot owls and stray hound dogs on dusty moonlit
roads. Soup was overjoyed.

He placed his hands on his hips and began to sway. A shuffling
sound came from the deck above, indicating that the Trinidadian crew
was having a cake walk.

"Bring the kids up here," Captain Zeus shouted down the hatch
between numbers.

"Remember you promised to pitch them overboard," Grenny reminded Soup.

They climbed the ladder, Rags and Willie struggling with their
instruments, and came into the blinding glory of sunshine and sails.

"Do you rascals know where this boat's going?" the captain asked
the bewildered trio.

"No, suh. I don't," Slumber answered.

"Me neither," Rags echoed.

Little Willie shook his head sorrowfully.

Bontemps--16

"Well, weren't there other boats you could have picked beside
this one?"

"We heard a lot about pirate ships," Slumber confessed, "and we
saw you all with that long hair and them earrings and that black patch
on one eye, so we wanted to come!"

Grenny and Captain Zeus threw their heads back and roared their
laughter.

"Shucks, boy, we're not pirates," the captain said. "We dress
like this because we operate a carnival show down among the islands
of the West Indies. And this old raft is no pirate ship. It's just
a schooner we use to carry our merry-go-round and ferris wheel and
tents from one island to another. It would cost too much to travel
by steam down ~~among~~ the Caribbees."

The boys became silent for a while, trying to digest Captain Zeus's
remarks.

"So this ain't no pirate ship?" Slumber said finally. "Well,
never mind. We'll try to make out with what it is."

"What difference it make?" Soup asked. "You ain't got long to
stay with us."

"What about your father and mother?" the captain asked.

"We aim to write them a letter."

"They're runaways," Grenny growled. "Do your work, Soup."

"Don't you think we best make them play some more of that sweet
music before I pitch them overboard?" the heavyweight asked.

Slumber limbered up his harmonica again. Rags touched his
strings. Suddenly the sad-faced boy paused.

"Me and Rags and Willie ain't never took up no time with no
sharks and their likes," he said. "But we made a heap of friends
with some monstrous terrapins back home in the creek, and we aims

Bontemps--17

to get along anywhere we go. This here piece we going to play now
is named <u>Back, Back Train and Get Yo' Heavy Load.</u>

They finished that one and turned to more lively melodies. Again
feet shuffled, shoulders swayed happily.

"How about it, Soup? We're wasting time," Grenny said with a
grin.

"Come on, throw me in whilst I'm feeling good," Slumber said
during a brief pause. He did not smile, but Soup detected a deep,
suppressed cheerfulness. He suspected, too, that the skinny Slumber
knew the power of his harmonica and had no real fears of being thrown
into the water. The boy caught the tune again and swung into the beat
with a fine rhythm.

Captain Zeus ran his fingers through his long hair.

"What are we going to do with the scamps, Grenny?" he asked,
perplexed. "Soup doesn't seem anxious to get rid of them."

"Looks to me like we're stuck with them," Grenny answered.

"You said it then," Big Soup laughed. "We's stuck with them."

Bontemps--18

### III

*port-au-Prince*

A number of days later Slumber and his brothers were sitting on the deck in the moonlight. They had spent most of the afternoon leaning over the rail, counting flying fish. Later, when Big Soup had finished serving the captain and Grenny their supper, the boys went into the galley and ate with the cook. Now it was dark. Soup was washing his pots and pans. The crew of black Trinidadians was huddled around a deck stove, eating like savages. Captain Zeus and his short, broad-shouldered companion were smoking their pipes on the foredeck.

"Don't it make you mad to think about it?" Slumber said suddenly.

"To think about what?" Willie asked.

"That big old hippopotamus talking about pitching us in the ocean. He ought to have a beating--talking that way."

"He just say that because he know he's so big," Rags said. "He was trying to get us all scared up."

"I got a mind to go in there and fit one of them skillets over his head," Slumber said humorously.

"Me, too," little Willie laughed. "Let's go whip his bullet head for him, big shorty."

They got up laughing and full of devilment.

"Sure, let's wear him out," Rags agreed.

A lantern burned in the galley. In its dim light Soup was drying his last pans. He whistled merrily as he completed the work.

Bontemps--19

The boys opened the door, broke in on him suddenly.

"Who's that you was going to pitch to the sharks so big?" Slumber asked boldly.

Soup opened his mouth wide, threw out a big laugh.

"You, you little old chipmunk. You and your two brothers there.
I might do it yet. You eat too much around here."

"Mind out you don't get throwed to the sharks," little Willie cried recklessly. "You big--"

Soup rolled his eyes threateningly.

"All I'm going to do to you is blow good and hard," he said, laughing. "Blow you right out of that door."

He didn't blow soon enough, though. At a sign from Slumber the tallest boy made a leap that landed him on the heavyweight's shoulders. Willie and Slumber went after the feet. Soup tripped and fell. The pan he was drying rolled toward the door. The big fellow rolled. With him rolled the Dozier brothers, legs and arms flying.

Their laughter and their loud cries must have been heard on islands and ships miles away. The boys couldn't begin to hold the powerful fellow, but they clung to him like hornets and gave him no end of annoyance. Soup rose to his hands and knees and gradually regained his feet, bringing the kids up with him. Before he could completely straighten his back, however, his head touched something. Instantly a shower of pots and skillets fell from their hangings, pelting the miserable Soup miserably.

"There now, good for you," Slumber cried. "That's what you get for being so mean. Go ahead, frying pans, get all over him. Here, I'll help you." He made a motion as if he intended to toss one of them. But, of course, he was only playing--rough as it was--and he did not throw it.

Bontemps--20

"Come on, now," Soup said, giving up. "Let me get myself together. I can't step for all this stuff under my feet."

The boys knew when to stop. They laughed a good bit, but they didn't try to tussel with Soup any more. Instead they helped him get his cooking gear together.

When they had finished, Soup came out in the moonlight with them and leaned his elbows on the rail.

"I'm getting tired of traveling now," little Willie said. "I want to get somewhere."

"We'll be there soon," Soup told him.

"You ain't never told us where we going to," Slumber said.

"You wouldn't know if I told you," Soup laughed. "We going to Haiti."

"I may not know," Slumber said, "but I bound you I'll find out all about it when I get there."

"You all act like you been around a lot," Soup said.

"Shucks," Rags said. "We been to New York, Harlem--everywhere!"

"You ain't never been to Haiti."

"We going, ain't we?" Willie asked proudly.

"Sure, you're going if I don't take a mind to get rid of you before then."

revealed

Slumber/ revealed a shadow of a smile.

"You ain't forgot about that yet!" he exclaimed. "Guess we didn't whip you enough."

All the rest laughed.

A few more days passed. Nothing much happened on the *Palm Queen*. Now and then they would get a glimpse of a passing ship or an island. The time passed slowly. Several times the boys brought their instruments up on deck and gladdened a few moments for themselves and the

Bontemps--21

others. Then finally they sailed into the smooth waters of a blue-green bay.

They saw no more flying fish after that. Instead there were dolphins flashing in and out of the water, great dark fish with a peculiar habit of rising and dipping as they swam. There were imposing mountains in the distance.

"That's Haiti," Soup told them after they had been in the bay several hours. "How do you like it?"

"Fine," Slumber said. "Why don't we stop and get out?"

"Oh, you don't know nothing about traveling in boats," Rags told his brother impatiently. "That ain't no place to get out."

"Na this is a long old bay," Soup explained. "We go to go all the way to the other end. The city's there--port-au-Prince."

"Oh," Slumber murmured.

They reached port-au-Prince in the afternoon. First they saw the spire of the cathedral. Then the president's palace and the government buildings came into view. Finally they discovered a maze of small shops and grass-roofed houses. The leafy villas of well-to-do Haitians could be seen on the sides of the hills.

A little later the shore line rose. Crude little fishing boats were tied along the water's edge. There was a wharf about big enough to accomodate two ocean-going steamers at a time. Only one was in port when the *Palm Queen* arrived, so the vessel lost no time in landing.

Slumber and his brothers stood at the rail in a state of happy excitement.

"This don't look like Haiti," Slumber said quietly.

"Hush, Slumber," Rags told him. "You don't know what Haiti looks like."

Bontemps--22

"I didn't think it looked like this," the steamer said.

"Of course you didn't. You never been here before."

They became absorbed in what they saw.

A swarm of naked native boys surrounded the steamer ahead, calling to the passagers for pennies. Small coins. After each toss the young swimmers would dive in the direction of the splash. Then one would bring the coin up and hold it in the sun to show the people that he had been successful. He would then deposit the money in the side of his mouth.

"That water's full of sharks," Soup said, joining the Dozier brothers.

"Sharks ain't nothing," Slumber said. "They don't eat them boys."

"They'd eat you, though."

Slumber didn't believe it. But he didn't feel like arguing with Soup just now. Besides, he was too busy looking.

On the dock there were crowds of people down to meet the steamer. Passagers were descending. Flags waved. Great nets of baggage and cargo swung through the air. Bare-foot red caps, whose caps were too big and whose pants and shirts were bright with patches, scampered in and out among the crowd. Fine, saddle-brown officers of the Haitian guard kept the plank clear and opened a way for the hand trucks of the sweating native porters..

The Trinidadian crew leaped ashore, threw their ropes over the uprights and began to tie up the Palm Queen.

Bontemps--23

IV
Carnival

Soup took the boys to the native rooming house where he had stopped in the past. Their legs were unsteady after so many days at sea, so they were glad to go to bed early.

The next day Slumber was awakened by the sound of marching men. He crawled out from under the mosquito netting and ran to the window. It surprised him a little to find that there were no glass panes and no shades, but he pushed the shutters open promptly and leaned across the sill. On the street below his window he saw the Haitian guard out for its morning drill.

Willie and Rags continued to sleep, but the bright sunlight, the soldiers marching under the trees, the women with trays of fruit on their heads, the little donkeys with bags of charcoal on their backs, the funny houses, the clusters of flowers and the humming birds drove the last wink from Slumber's eyes. Soon the man who kept the rooming house tapped lightly on the door and offered Slumber a cup of coffee. Later Soup came in and told the youngster where to take a shower in the back yard.

At breakfast that morning the boys got their hands and faces terribly sticky trying to eat a mango. It was a fruit they had never seen before, and they found it rather awkward business at first. Mangos are powerfully good, however, and the Dozier brothers were not boys to be discouraged by a dirty face occasionally. After the fruit there was bacon and eggs--like the bacon and eggs every place else. But the cocoa was the best cocoa Slumber had ever tasted.

Bontemps--24

After breakfast the boys went walking through the city. They went up one street and down another, passing in front of stores that looked strange because they had no glass show windows, passing the shops of sandal-makers and native cabinet builders. They went through a curious market, walked along the waterfront and finally returned to park called the _Champs de Mars_. This was the park that surrounded the palace and government buildings. Here the boys sat down on a bench in the shade to rest.

The day passed slowly. Most of the people who greeted Slumber and his brothers in the _Champs de Mars_ and on the street could say a few words in English but not enough to carry on a conversation. The Dozier boys could say nothing in French. Slumber saw that this was a handi-cap and set his mind on learning the native language. By supper time he had picked up ten words.

"Listen to me talk French," he said to Big Soup as they sat around the table on the open veranda. "_Bonjour, monsieur. Merci beaucoup._
_Tres bien. Chevrolet coupe._"

His brothers were both impressed with Slumber's learning, but Soup burst out laughing.

"Chevrolet coupe!" he sneered. "Why didn't you say Ford sedan? That ain't no French talk."

"Sounds like French to me," Slumber insisted.

Then for the first time it dawned on Willie and Rags that Slumber had cheated the least bit in his French demonstration.

"The rest of that can stay," Rags said, "but that Chevrolet coupe will have to go. Don't bring us no more of that, bubber."

Slumber had said it for a joke, so he didn't mind the others' laughing at him.

"Well, I got me ten words to count on my fingers tonight," he said.

Bontemps--25

"This time tomorrow night I'm going to have me ten more to count on my toes. Just watch my smoke."

The meal was finished. Soup rose.

"That's all well and good," the heavyweight smiled. "What you got to do this night is to make that harmonica of yours smoke. Come along now. It's about time for the carnival to start."

Rags and Willie went upstairs and got their instruments. Slumber waited on the steps. Presently all three of them followed Big Soup out into the twilight.

The long-haired captain and his one-eyed companion had gone to a hotel, a fine big house with a large yard and an arch over the gate-way. They were on the carnival lot when the Dozier boys arrived, however, and Captain Zeus quickly gave the youngsters their instructions for the evening.

A place had been prepared for the trio between the merry-go-round and the ferris wheel. They were to play when the merry-go-round music was not playing. Big Soup was to go behind a canvass, stick his head through a hole and let people throw baseballs at him, three balls for five cents. It was the captain's business to take up the tickets and operate the merry-go-round and ferris wheel. His partner, the one-eyed Grenny, was to conduct chance games in a tent. Half a dozen Haitians had been hired, young men and women. Some of these were to sell tickets, others to conduct games and one to keep the shooting gallery.

Slumber and his brothers had not been on the lot very long when someone turned on the lights. People started strolling through the entrance gate. The merry-go-round began to play. The Dozier brothers got a chance to ride while the crowd was gathering. Afterwards they

Bontemps--26

went back and threw a few balls at Soup's head, just to give him
a little practice at ducking. One of Rags' throws surprised the
big fellow, caught him on the forehead and raised a lump.

"Whew!" Slumber exclaimed. "I wouldn't let nobody throw these
here balls at my head. Seems like you ought to have better sense
than that, Soup--big as you is."

Soup laughed.

"They don't often hit me like Rags did," he said. "I learned
how to be a good dodger when I used to fight in the ring."

"Well, it's a pity you dodged so good," Slumber murmured slowly.
"If them other prize fighters had of hit you some more, they might
of knocked some sense in you. You sure ain't very bright now--put-
ting your old crazy head through that hole for folks to throw balls
at. Hope I don't never get that dumb."

"Aw, come on," Willie laughed. "He likes it. Let him stay
there."

By now the crowd was big. Slumber was impressed by the mannerly,
soft-voiced people who had come to the carnival. All of them were
dressed in fresh tropical clothes, the men in starched drill, the
women and girls in pretty colors. All of them wore jewelry. They
were a golden, sun-tanned people, remarkably handsome in the soft
evening light under the overhanging trees, but their eyes were melan-
choly.

The Dozier brothers took their place, waited for a lull, then
struck up their music.

Outside hundreds of poor natives, beggars, country people and
ragged children crowded for a glimpse of the magical carnival lights.
Among them went equally poor vendors, selling pastry, bottled kola,
home-made candy and waffers. This crowd reached far down the streets

Bontemps--27

and filled the shadowy road with a lively chatter. They blocked the
way of automobiles so that horns had to be blown. A great noise arose.

Much of this din was silenced however, when the sweet strains of
the harmonica, guitar and drum reached the ears of the people. Here
was something these folks had never heard before; the Dozier boys were
bearing down. The tune came out like a breeze whispering among mag-
nolia blossoms.

Near the little platform that had been prepared for the boys
the press was great. Everyone seemed happy. Slumber, too, was hav-
ing the time of his life. He loved to play when he could see by the
people's faces that they were enjoying his music. The Dozier brothers
were a big success that night, and nobody knew it better than the sad-
faced Slumber.

Meanwhile ball-throwers tried in vain to hit the bright-eyed
head that smiled through the canvass. Soup had spent too many years
dodging boxing gloves to let a baseball hit him. Only by accident,
as in the case of Rags, did he get bruised.

But it was not Big Soup, nor the shooting gallery, nor the
games of chance, nor the rows of fairy lights that the people remem-
bered that night. It was the music of these Alabama boys. Slumber
and his brothers knew that to be a fact, because they heard people
whistling the tunes as they left the carnival. They saw a party of
young people going through the *Champs de Mars*, holding hands and
singing Slumber's songs under the trees.

The boys were happy as they went to their room. But they had
not been in bed long when Slumber heard sounds that sent cold chills
up and down his spine. He held his breath as the mysterious throbs
reached his ears. From somewhere in the distance a rumble of ghostly
drums came through the darkness.

Bontemps--28

At first Slumber took the sounds to be a rumbling in his own ears. Later the sounds seemed to come from far away, perhaps as far away as Africa. In another moment they seemed to Slumber like the throb of the earth itself or like the echoes of old drums that had been silent for ages. These were not like the drum that little Willie beat, when the brothers played together. They were not like any drums Slumber had heard before. They were spooky drums that made the boy think of sorcery and witchcraft, black magic and jungle wonders. Slumber began to tremble.

"What you shivering about, son?" Rags asked.

"Don't you hear it?"

"I hear some monstrous drums," little Willie said.

"Slumber acts like he's afraid them drums will come in here and get him," Rags laughed.

Slumber did not answer. A few moments later Big Soup came to the door. When he found that the boys were still awake, he entered and began to whisper.

"Tom-toms," he said. "Devil drums. They're having a voodoo dance somewhere."

The Dozier brothers didn't understand about voodoo dances and devil drums, so Soup explained.

When the black, jungle folks were first brought to Haiti from Africa, they brought their jungle gods, their magic and their fearful drum-beating. This was their religion. They called it voodoo. Many Haitians, especially the poor ones and the country people, still kept that old religion. They could do wonderful things with those drums.

"They sure can scare the daylights out of you," Slumber said.

"They tell you about a lot of spirits and things," Soup went

Bontemps--29

on. "They think it's sure 'nough hoodoo."

"Stop talking about hants and hoodoo," Willie said suddenly.
"I don't like to hear ghost stories at night. They make me so I
can't sleep."

The others laughed, but not very much. They seemed to agree
that voodoo was something you would rather talk about during the
day time. It was especially dreadful when you were listening to
the tom-toms.

"Shucks, I ain't scared," Slumber said with a trembling voice.

"How come you keep on shivering?" Rags asked.

"I don't know, but just the same I ain't scared. I'm going to
that old voodoo dance next time they have it, too. I want to see
how they beat them drums."

"You'll see more than just drumbeating if you go to a voodoo
dance," Soup laughed. "You'll see the real doings there."

He left them and returned to his room. Slumber tried hard to
stop trembling and shaking the bed.

Bontemps--30

V

Voodoo

It was exactly a week later that Soup led the boys through an opening in an old fence, around a shack and into the midst of a gathering under a thatched shed. There were no walls to the out-door place, and the crowd of saucer-eyed voodoo people overflowed into the surrounding yards. Smoky torches cast a dim light over the dark ceremonies. The boys worked their way to the front of the crowd.

There were three drummers. One had to stand in order to reach the top of his huge, barrel-like instrument--an instrument made of a hollow log with a skin drawn tightly over one end. The other two squatted, beating on smaller drums. All three were tattered and bare-foot. One, however, had a shiny silk hat which he wore with great pride, pausing now and then to set it at a sporty angle on the side of his head. The flashy top-piece looked funny against the rags in which the drummers were clad. Equally funny was the white bow tie which another of the men had fastened around his neck. He had no shirt to wear with the tie, but that did not bother the young fellow. One piece of finery was enough for him. He seemed ready to burst with pride as the Dozier boys and Soup approached the circle.

The eyes of the drummers rolled mysteriously in their sockets. The men rested their large, graceful hands on the edge of the instruments, pounded the tight skins with the tips of their fingers. At the proper time they opened their mouths and raised a savage chant in which a mass of other voices joined them.

More important than the drummers, of course, were the dancers.

Bontemps--32

hants were just something to fool a boy, like Santa Claus; but Slumber
didn't see any reason why he should investigate. Sometimes you got
along better when you didn't know everything.

"How you making it, big shorty," he whispered to his brother.

"Hush," Rags whispered back impatiently. "This ain't no place
to talk. Just keep your eyes open and listen."

Someone placed two stools in front of the drummers. Soup and Rags
were invited to be seated. Slumber and little Willie stood behind
them. Again the slim, dark individual in the cutaway coat leaped in-
to the air. The drummers bore down on their drums with great vim.
An old woman entered, leading a trembling little goat before the
strangers they were trying to welcome. A starry-eyed man came into
the circle with a big hen sitting on his head as neatly as a bonnet.
He spun dizzily to the rhythm of the drums, struck himself on the
chest with his hands and flung his arms out with wild joy.

Then a girl who seemed to be walking in her sleep marched across
the circle, her arms raised before her.

"Look," one of the drummers whispered in Slumber's ear. "A
Zombie. That girl's a Zombie."

"A Zombie? What is a Zombie?"

"Sh!" the drummer cautioned. "Don't say it so loud. A Zombie
is a dead person that the voodoo priest brings up."

"Whew!" Slumber said, loosing his breath. "Is that what she is?
Well, let me out of here. I feel like running."

"Be still," Soup said, taking the boy by the hand. "What's eat-
ing on you?"

"He say it's a Zombie," Slumber whispered tearfully. "A dead
people!"

"Shucks," little Willie said. "She ain't dead. She just crazy."

Bontemps--33

"Sure," Rags said. "She just _think_ she's dead. She just playing possum. Don't pay no attention to it, Slumber."

The drummer with the white tie leaned toward Slumber again.

"Zombies make good workers," he said. "They never get tired. They just work and work. They can't stop. That comes from being bad when they were live."

"Can they eat?" Slumber asked.

"Sure, they can eat. But you mustn't give them any salt. Not one grain. If you do, they'll find out they're dead. They'll go back to their graves and won't work for you any more."

"Can you get rid of them like that?" Slumber cried.

"Who wants to get rid of a Zombie?" the drummer asked, astonished.

Slumber did not answer. He was satisfied, however, that if you could get rid of a Zombie that easily, there was no need being afraid of them. He began to think that what Willie and Rags and Soup said about the Zombie sounded more like the truth than the tale the drummer told. Anyway, Slumber stopped trembling.

A few moments later he leaned over and whispered something in the drummer's ear. The man in the white tie listened, smiled, then nodded. What Slumber wanted was to try his hand at that drum. He had paid strict attention, and he felt sure he was now ready to out-voodoo the voodoo men. The drummer let Slumber slip into his place.

Willie and Rags grinned as their sad-faced brother knelt down, rested his hands on the edge of the tom-tom and began pounding out the dark rhythms. It did not surprise them at all to see Slumber catch the swing like an old-timer. There was nothing in the music line their brother could not master. And these voodoo drums--shucks,

Bontemps--35

VI

Toussaint's Treasure

A few days later a large steamer was docked in the harbor. Scores of passangers crowded its deck, waiting for the gang-plank to be lowered. Throngs of Haitians of all classes and types lined the wharf. The port officials seemed unhurried, however. They were taking all the time they wanted.

Meanwhile, a dozen naked black boys were having the time of their lives in the shark-infested waters immediately surrounding the ship. Floating, treading, darting back and forth, they continued to look upward watchfully, their eyes fixed on the people on deck.

"Meester! Hello, meester! Throw a nickel, please. Hello, American. Throw a nickel, meester!"

Their voices were never still. The cries came first from one direction and then another. Between times, coins were tossed. Each coin would cause two or three native boys to plunge downward in an exciting rush for the prize.

Big Soup, sweating after a walk in the hot sun, pushed his way through the crowd on the wharf and finally reached the railing. He had not come just to watch the boys dive for coins today. He had serious business in mind. He had been sent by Captain Zeus and Grenny to get the Dozier brothers, and he was looking for them from one end of port-au-Prince to the other. They were hard youngsters to find when you wanted them in a hurry.

Soup decided to rest himself a moment in the shade, looking at

Bontemps--36

at the native boys and listening to their funny attempts to speak a
few words of English.

"A neekah, please, meester! One neekel, meester!"

After a while Soup heard voices that sounded strangely familiar.

"Hey, mistah man. Hello, folkses. Don't squeeze them buffalos
so hard, peoples. Have a heart, home folks. Turn loose one of them
bleached pennies. We'll show you some diving what _is_ diving if you
try us a barrel. That's right, mistah man. Ease up on the buffalo.
Thank you. Blup!"

Soup followed the voices. Sure enough, there they were--the Dozier brothers. They treaded and darted in the green water with as much skill and confidence as any of the other boys. Slumber's sad face looked up without a smile. Little Willie twitched and slipped through the water like a young seal. Rags, lean and tall, hovered near the other two with an easy grace that was fine to watch.

A moment later Soup filled his lungs and whistled with all his
strength.

The Dozier boys recognized him after the third or fourth blast.
They were a good distance away. Soup signalled to them to swim to
the shore. He would come around and meet them.

"Hurry," he shouted. "All three of you."

The boys reached the shore and slipped into their pants, shirts
and straw hats. Soup came the long way around and joined them.

"Captain Zeus sent me for you," he said. "Get a move on. Hoist them britches and let's get back to the hotel. Something's going to happen. Something big."

"You broke up our party," Rags complained.

"We just got started good," little Willie agreed, rolling his eyes.

Bontemps--37

Rags finished buttoning his clothes and emptied his mouth of coins. Thirty cents had been stored between his teeth and his cheeks. Slumber spat out forty cents. Little Willie showed three nickels and a dime.

"See there," Slumber commented. "We ain't no chumps, is we, Rags?"

Soup smiled. He was coming to admire the Dozier boys. He liked their ability to hold their own. Why, those Alabama boys were as handy as seals in the water. Shy and round-eyed, ready to fly at the burst of a paper bag, there was still a care-free fearlessness behind those masks, a fearlessness that laughed at sharks. Soup admitted that he was sort of proud of his young buddies.

"Nobody ain't never called you no chumps," he laughed.

They hurried through the town, went around the cluster of white government buildings, crossed the Champs de Mars.

Captain Zeus and Grenny had drawn chairs from the veranda to the ground. They looked more like pirates than pirates looked like themselves as they reclined in the comfortable seats under a blosoming tree that swayed over the stone garden wall. The Dozier boys drew near, following Soup. They stood at attention, waiting for the big news.

"We're leaving here tomorrow," Captain Zeus said bluntly. "The carnival is going fine. It can get along without us a few days--perhaps a couple of weeks. You boys want to come along?"

"Yes, sir. Where're bouts?" Slumber said promptly.

The two brothers nodded agreement, and Grenny and the captain roared with laughter.

"You didn't take much time to think that over," Captain Zeus observed.

Bontemps--38

"Whenever the word is _go_, we're ready, Captain," Slumber said.
"No need to study about it."

"This is no ordinary trip," Grenny said.

"Far from it," the captain added. "We heard about a treasure, a chest full of money buried in the northern part of the island. Grenny and I have decided to make a search for it. We have the maps, and we thought we'd take you boys along for luck."

The brothers looked at one another in surprise. They had never thought of themselves as lucky, and it surprised them to learn that Captain Zeus had such an idea.

"Lucky, hunh?"

"Sure. Why not? I think you'll be good luck to us."

"I hope you right," Slumber smiled.

"If it turns out that I am right, we'll send you home with your pockets jingling--maybe in an airliner. One day here three times a week, you know."

The boys whistled.

"Let it be," Slumber said hopefully. "Aw, let it be. Wish I had a rabbit foot or a black cat bone."

"This money was buried by a black Haitian general, one of the heroes of this country," Captain Zeus explained. "Toussaint l'Over-tour. He buried it when he was taken prisoner by the French about a hundred and fifty years ago. The Haitians have been looking for it ever since. If we find it, we'll have to turn a lot of it over to them, but there'll be enough left to make the search worth our while."

"How do we travel?" Soup asked.

"It would take too long by water," the Captain said. "Grenny and I are going to hire a man to drive us in his car. You and the

Bontemps--39

boys can come by buss. I'll send the *Palm Queen* around to meet us.
It should be there by the time we're ready to return."

Soup and the Dozier boys returned to their rooms. Later Soup went out and found that there would be a buss leaving the next morning at daylight. Then he bought some bread and meat and eggs and fruit and took them to the outdoor kitchen and began making some lunches for the journey.

Slumber and his brothers arranged to leave their drum and guitar with the keeper of the rooming house. Then they went out and treated themselves to soft drinks.

"What you going to do with your money?" Rags asked Slumber.

"Buy me a brand new harmonica and a watch to go with this chain and some new clothes and--"

"Why don't you wait till you get the money before you start spending it?" Willie asked.

"Don't you worry," Slumber told him. "My hand itches and I feel powerful, lucky. We going to dig up that old treasure, ain't we Rags?"

"I hope so," the older brother laughed.

Bontemps--40

VII

The Start

The buss looked like an old-fashioned truck with benches. It
carried only about a dozen people, but when they got their baggage
on, the buss was loaded. Many of the passangers carried such things
as sacks of flour, coops of chickens, baskets of fruit and bundles
of bed covers.

Soup and the boys were on hand while it was still dark. They set-
tled back into their seats and braced themselves for a day of hard
riding on a sorry road. The old buss lost no time getting out of
the city. Presently the dawn came up, full-blown like a tropical
flower. A sugar cane field appeared, glistening with jewels of dew.
Several snow-white cranes stood in a dark green rice swamp, each sup-
porting his weight on a single, spindly leg. Pigs and small goats,
sleeping in the warm, dusty road, scurried before the approaching
car.

The driver kept his horn blowing much of the time. This was
done partly to help wake up the dull-witted animals; but mostly it
was meant to keep the peasants on their toes. For already an end-
less string of native country people could be seen on the road. All
were headed toward the city, and all were walking fast, trying to
reach the market on time. Slumber found them interesting to watch.

There were no men among the peasants. Women, girls and boys by
the thousand--but never a man.

"What about that?" the boy asked Soup. "Where'douts is all the
men folks?"

This brought a smile to Soup's face.

Bontemps--41

"Menfolks?" he said. "Boy, the menfolks live in style back here in this part of the country. They don't do no work. They wouldn't be caught toting stuff the way these women do. No, siree. These menfolks just stay home and pat their feet."

"Shame on them," Willie said, speaking up promptly. "Shame on them for patting their feet while the women and the children work."

"I help you to say shame on them," Slumber agreed.

But Soup didn't take it so seriously. He threw his head back and had a good laugh.

"Some people is just funny," he said. "You see them do funny things everywhere you go. It don't amount to nothing. Some people just have crazy notions--even some good people."

The old buss, feeble from too many journeys on bad roads like this one, now began to have a bad case of the jitters. The ride became rougher and rougher. Slumber didn't care, though. There were too many curious things along the road.

The white stone agricultural college was one, a building surrounded by green lawns, palm trees and iron fences. Another was the funny little railroad track, a track little more than half as wide as ordinary railroad tracks. Then there were roadside creeks and puddles with naked natives standing in the water trying to snare fish. Later the sea was at the left, with tiny broken boats lying along the water, perishing of mold and decay. Islands and mountains rose in the distance. The water itself flashed like a pure gem.

Small villages could be seen in every direction Slumber turned his eyes. Sometimes the road, winding around a hill, would enable him to look down on a cluster of pointed roof-tops. Again he would catch sight of white-washed mud walls in a thicket, their grass gables mingling with the trees and vines. Some of these, from their looks,

Bontemps--44

about not having asked for the job of pushing the stalled buss. He seemed to imagine he had done no wrong. Slumber lost his patience, but the buss was already pulling away and he had no more chance to speak.

"Well, they're poor fellows," the driver explained later. "Very poor. Their plan wasn't exactly straight, but a fellow has to have a heart. Remember they haven't had a chance. They're poor and they're ignorant." He said it because he saw that Soup and the Dozier boys were foreigners and he didn't want them to think badly of his country.

The boys nodded their sympathy. Talk like this went straight to Slumber's heart. All was forgiven. The buss bumped along on its way.

Just before noon they reached the town of Saint Marc and learned that the first third of the journey had been covered. The driver still had hopes of reaching Le Cap, as the northern city was called, by night. The second third of the journey took less time. The road was fairly straight, and there were not so many bumps. During this stretch Soup opened the lunch boxes. Slumber began to feel more cheerful as he filled his empty stomach. Later the buss stopped, and the passangers got out and drank some cool water from a spring.

Next they passed through a steaming hot inland town where the buildings were just little piles of mud masonry and a uniformed police guard stood under big umbrella in the middle of the main street. Just a few miles beyond this unattractive town, however, they approached the mountains and began to see pretty painted bungalows among the green trees.

"What was that last town?" Slumber asked, leaning over the seat so the driver could hear him.

"Gonaives," the man said. They both became silent then, Slumber