The Tally-Man
Nov. 27th, 2011 11:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hwrnmnbsolGuess what song I can't get out of my head.
The banana boat lay close by the quay, the lines creaking, and the vessel sometimes bumping against the old tires. The gangplank was still down, and the last line of men was hauling the crates onto deck and down into the hold. Most of the laders on the night shift were resting, though, sitting on the sides of the truckbed with their shoulders slumped and their heads down. Hauling bananas, Ritter knew, was hard work. The men would want to be getting home. The sun was coming up, and they would want some bed-rest before starting the cycle of loading bananas into the truck this evening.
But they couldn't go yet, Ritter added. He approached Deeko Savage, the truck driver and a foreman at the Hello Girl plantation. "How's it looking?" he asked.
Deeko handed Ritter a clipboard. "Eight hunnerd twenny-tree cases, boss," said Deeko, grinning. "Each one fair feel like a ton, zeen?" He laughed nervously. The other men didn't laugh; they just looked at Ritter, eyes gleaming in the pre-dawn.
Ritter shone a penlight on the clipboard, nodded and handed it back. "I'll need to go down and confirm the count," he said. The moan of the banana men was instant and universal.
"F'reals, Tally-man?" said one, shaking his head in disgust.
"Level!" warned Deeko, scowling at the others. When he turned back to Ritter he was beaming again. Beaming, but sweating.
"Lookit, Paadie," said Deeko, "We all straight bushed out. It super late. How about only a wee quick peek, ya?"
"I dunno, Deeko," said Ritter drily. "When you put it like that, it makes a guy wonder if you're hiding something." Deeko's grin was gone. Ritter nodded to himself and walked up the gangplank. The banana-men watched him.
The last of the laders stared at Ritter as he crossed the deck towards the port hold. "Hey, that light burn out, captain," called one of the men.
"I'll manage," growled Ritter, ducking his head and sliding down the ships-ladder.
The light, as it turned out, really was out. Ritter shone his flashlight down the rows of banana boxes stacked eight high in the stuffy hold. He did a quick count on each row and walked down the aisle making a running tally.
On the last aisle, things looked a little sloppy down at the end; the top boxes were turned on their sides, and banana bunches were heaped in the row. As Ritter played his flashlight over them, something moved. Stowaways and worse were not uncommon on banana boats, but Ritter was prepared. He drew his pistol. "All right," he barked, "come on out of there. Show me your hands. Quick, now!"
Something crawled over the bananas. It was black, with many eyes, and many dark bristled legs.
"Easy now!" it rasped in a dry voice, its mouth-parts working. "Mi a forward; don't shoot I!"
Ritter backed up a step and bumped against the back row of banana boxes. "Don’t move!" he barked at the enormous spider.
"Aw, now," grumbled the arachnid. "Stop, go; stop, go; I-and-I all turn around!" But it stopped and squatted down right in the middle of the floor, its myriad legs gathered under it.
Ritter stared at the thing. It was huge; it could only have fit inside a banana box if all the bananas had been removed first. The spider was black with tawny highlights, and its eyes were glossy and bright. Its mouth parts and legs were as furry as a Chow dog.
The creature's mouth worked again. "Eh, ya," it said tentatively. "If it about da cheddar, mon, we can do da deal. Let's sort out…"
"Shaddap!" Ritter was sweating, thinking furiously. He leaned against the boxes and took a deep breath. The hold smelled of sawdust and rat bait and ripe bananas. The spider closed its mouth and stayed quiet. Ritter had to phrase his next few words carefully, out of fear that if he heard himself saying something overly crazy, it might drive his sanity over a precipice.
"You can speak," he said.
"Sure dat," said the spider. "God word."
"But," said Ritter, his eyes bulging, "you're a spider. The biggest damned spider I've ever seen."
The thing waved a forelimb dismissively. "Aw, don't say a word," it said modestly. "Not so big as all dat, t'anks. I-and-I name of Charles." It pronounced its name with a 'sh-' sound.
Ritter's mouth worked. "Ritter," he said.
"God love, Uncle!" said Charles. "Hey, now; how 'bout you put 'way dat bucky so's nobody get a hole proper, ya?"
"You must think I'm mad," said Ritter, his finger tightening on the trigger. He sounded mad to himself, Ritter thought, just as soon as he said it.
"Why you gotta roust a salt boy, hah?" whined Charles. "Ain't nobody harm a body, not never, no!"
"I want to know," Ritter grated, "how come you're so big, and how come you can talk."
The spider looked puzzled. "Backfoot!" it said, outraged. "Sir, I say! I-and-I and my peoples, we all just alike! I learn my letters from my Auntie when I's just a pickney. And I got nothing a-size on my brah; he big-a-house, God word!"
Ritter tried to think about a house-sized spider, then shut down the process before it damaged his sanity. "Well," he said awkwardly, "how come you're on a banana boat, huh?"
Charles twisted a leg on the floor, a perfect spidery picture of human abashment. "Mercy my God!" he said. "I fair say, every fellah want go t'America. Land of Opportunity, I say!"
"Opportunity, sure," growled Ritter. "Opportunity for what?"
"For what, same for ever'body!" exclaimed Charles. "Get on wi' da cheddar; make out like kings; maybe start a family!" The big spider sighed. "Oh, t'see little childs all runnin' about in America, spinnin' and jumpin' – such a joy, God word!"
"Start a family, eh?" said Ritter. "So that's what it's about. An invasion, eh?"
"Rahtid!" exclaimed Charles in disgust. "No invasion! Just a soldier want to get along inna world."
"So you're gonna just sail off to Miami, find a girl and settle down, eh?" said Ritter sarcastically.
"Lord no," said Charles. "I already got me a Hottaz."
"Yeah?" said Ritter, suddenly alarmed. "She on board too?"
"Oh sure," said Charles. "An' a few otters."
Webbing enmeshed Ritter's flashlight-arm from above, and the light was yanked from his hand. It landed atop the stack of boxes behind Ritter. There was a rustle up there – a thousand legs, and a thousand bright eyes reflecting in the white beam.
"T'anks," said a voice thickly. Then the light switched off.
**
The last of the banana-men came down the gangplank. He looked scared. Deeko frowned.
"Where da Tally-Man?" he asked. The worker's face looked drained and grey in the dawn light.
"Tally-Man say he not coming," said the lader. "He say, sign off the sheet for him. And he give me dis." The worker put a wad of bills into Deeko's hand.
Deeko looked at the money. There were a number of bills, Jamaican dollars, of all denominations. Some of the bills were quite large. They were also somewhat sticky.
The banana men gathered around Deeko. They looked at the money too. "What we do?" one of them asked.
Deeko looked up at the banana boat. "Daylight come," he said, parceling out the smaller bills to his fellow workers. "Me wanna go home. Come on, soldiers; on da truck."
The banana men rolled back to the Hello Girl plantation. Some slept in the bed as the sun rose. It wouldn't be long before they would be loading banana boxes again.
Some of them would even have bananas in them.
The banana boat lay close by the quay, the lines creaking, and the vessel sometimes bumping against the old tires. The gangplank was still down, and the last line of men was hauling the crates onto deck and down into the hold. Most of the laders on the night shift were resting, though, sitting on the sides of the truckbed with their shoulders slumped and their heads down. Hauling bananas, Ritter knew, was hard work. The men would want to be getting home. The sun was coming up, and they would want some bed-rest before starting the cycle of loading bananas into the truck this evening.
But they couldn't go yet, Ritter added. He approached Deeko Savage, the truck driver and a foreman at the Hello Girl plantation. "How's it looking?" he asked.
Deeko handed Ritter a clipboard. "Eight hunnerd twenny-tree cases, boss," said Deeko, grinning. "Each one fair feel like a ton, zeen?" He laughed nervously. The other men didn't laugh; they just looked at Ritter, eyes gleaming in the pre-dawn.
Ritter shone a penlight on the clipboard, nodded and handed it back. "I'll need to go down and confirm the count," he said. The moan of the banana men was instant and universal.
"F'reals, Tally-man?" said one, shaking his head in disgust.
"Level!" warned Deeko, scowling at the others. When he turned back to Ritter he was beaming again. Beaming, but sweating.
"Lookit, Paadie," said Deeko, "We all straight bushed out. It super late. How about only a wee quick peek, ya?"
"I dunno, Deeko," said Ritter drily. "When you put it like that, it makes a guy wonder if you're hiding something." Deeko's grin was gone. Ritter nodded to himself and walked up the gangplank. The banana-men watched him.
The last of the laders stared at Ritter as he crossed the deck towards the port hold. "Hey, that light burn out, captain," called one of the men.
"I'll manage," growled Ritter, ducking his head and sliding down the ships-ladder.
The light, as it turned out, really was out. Ritter shone his flashlight down the rows of banana boxes stacked eight high in the stuffy hold. He did a quick count on each row and walked down the aisle making a running tally.
On the last aisle, things looked a little sloppy down at the end; the top boxes were turned on their sides, and banana bunches were heaped in the row. As Ritter played his flashlight over them, something moved. Stowaways and worse were not uncommon on banana boats, but Ritter was prepared. He drew his pistol. "All right," he barked, "come on out of there. Show me your hands. Quick, now!"
Something crawled over the bananas. It was black, with many eyes, and many dark bristled legs.
"Easy now!" it rasped in a dry voice, its mouth-parts working. "Mi a forward; don't shoot I!"
Ritter backed up a step and bumped against the back row of banana boxes. "Don’t move!" he barked at the enormous spider.
"Aw, now," grumbled the arachnid. "Stop, go; stop, go; I-and-I all turn around!" But it stopped and squatted down right in the middle of the floor, its myriad legs gathered under it.
Ritter stared at the thing. It was huge; it could only have fit inside a banana box if all the bananas had been removed first. The spider was black with tawny highlights, and its eyes were glossy and bright. Its mouth parts and legs were as furry as a Chow dog.
The creature's mouth worked again. "Eh, ya," it said tentatively. "If it about da cheddar, mon, we can do da deal. Let's sort out…"
"Shaddap!" Ritter was sweating, thinking furiously. He leaned against the boxes and took a deep breath. The hold smelled of sawdust and rat bait and ripe bananas. The spider closed its mouth and stayed quiet. Ritter had to phrase his next few words carefully, out of fear that if he heard himself saying something overly crazy, it might drive his sanity over a precipice.
"You can speak," he said.
"Sure dat," said the spider. "God word."
"But," said Ritter, his eyes bulging, "you're a spider. The biggest damned spider I've ever seen."
The thing waved a forelimb dismissively. "Aw, don't say a word," it said modestly. "Not so big as all dat, t'anks. I-and-I name of Charles." It pronounced its name with a 'sh-' sound.
Ritter's mouth worked. "Ritter," he said.
"God love, Uncle!" said Charles. "Hey, now; how 'bout you put 'way dat bucky so's nobody get a hole proper, ya?"
"You must think I'm mad," said Ritter, his finger tightening on the trigger. He sounded mad to himself, Ritter thought, just as soon as he said it.
"Why you gotta roust a salt boy, hah?" whined Charles. "Ain't nobody harm a body, not never, no!"
"I want to know," Ritter grated, "how come you're so big, and how come you can talk."
The spider looked puzzled. "Backfoot!" it said, outraged. "Sir, I say! I-and-I and my peoples, we all just alike! I learn my letters from my Auntie when I's just a pickney. And I got nothing a-size on my brah; he big-a-house, God word!"
Ritter tried to think about a house-sized spider, then shut down the process before it damaged his sanity. "Well," he said awkwardly, "how come you're on a banana boat, huh?"
Charles twisted a leg on the floor, a perfect spidery picture of human abashment. "Mercy my God!" he said. "I fair say, every fellah want go t'America. Land of Opportunity, I say!"
"Opportunity, sure," growled Ritter. "Opportunity for what?"
"For what, same for ever'body!" exclaimed Charles. "Get on wi' da cheddar; make out like kings; maybe start a family!" The big spider sighed. "Oh, t'see little childs all runnin' about in America, spinnin' and jumpin' – such a joy, God word!"
"Start a family, eh?" said Ritter. "So that's what it's about. An invasion, eh?"
"Rahtid!" exclaimed Charles in disgust. "No invasion! Just a soldier want to get along inna world."
"So you're gonna just sail off to Miami, find a girl and settle down, eh?" said Ritter sarcastically.
"Lord no," said Charles. "I already got me a Hottaz."
"Yeah?" said Ritter, suddenly alarmed. "She on board too?"
"Oh sure," said Charles. "An' a few otters."
Webbing enmeshed Ritter's flashlight-arm from above, and the light was yanked from his hand. It landed atop the stack of boxes behind Ritter. There was a rustle up there – a thousand legs, and a thousand bright eyes reflecting in the white beam.
"T'anks," said a voice thickly. Then the light switched off.
**
The last of the banana-men came down the gangplank. He looked scared. Deeko frowned.
"Where da Tally-Man?" he asked. The worker's face looked drained and grey in the dawn light.
"Tally-Man say he not coming," said the lader. "He say, sign off the sheet for him. And he give me dis." The worker put a wad of bills into Deeko's hand.
Deeko looked at the money. There were a number of bills, Jamaican dollars, of all denominations. Some of the bills were quite large. They were also somewhat sticky.
The banana men gathered around Deeko. They looked at the money too. "What we do?" one of them asked.
Deeko looked up at the banana boat. "Daylight come," he said, parceling out the smaller bills to his fellow workers. "Me wanna go home. Come on, soldiers; on da truck."
The banana men rolled back to the Hello Girl plantation. Some slept in the bed as the sun rose. It wouldn't be long before they would be loading banana boxes again.
Some of them would even have bananas in them.
