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.
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.
The Haitian Trilogy: Plays: Henri Christophe, Drums and Colours, and The Haytian Earth Page 11