The Diving Boys of the Caribbees
A. Hyatt Verrill
From Everyland
magazine, Feb. 1916 (V7#3). Digitized by Doug Frizzle, Mar. 2012.
HOW would the boy readers of Everyland
like to spend all their days
diving into the sea? It would be
lots of fun in summer, but how about winter? you say.
Winter doesn't trouble the boys about whom I'm going to tell you, however,
as their winters are just as warm as
their summers, for these boys live in the
West Indies where it's always warm.
Whenever a steamer arrives in
a West Indian port the diving boys
swarm about the ship, begging the passengers to toss over pennies or small coins.
No sooner does a coin touch the
water than splash! splash! splash! the
brown bodies flash into the blue
sea, and the water is so clear and
transparent that one can watch the
boys as they swim down. It's very funny
to see their brown legs kicking like
so many big frogs, and the white
soles of their feet twinkling like
queer fish, as their owners scramble
for the coins at the bottom of the
sea.
Seldom indeed does a coin
touch bottom before a boy grasps it, and, tucking it into his mouth, the lucky rascal bobs up, shaking the water from his woolly head and grinning from ear
to ear. Black, brown, and yellow, the
diving boys are the happiest chaps
in the world, and between dives they amuse the
laughing passengers on the ships by
cracking jokes, cutting funny capers, and singing the
latest ragtime and popular songs in the
quaintest, queerest of Creole dialects.
In every port one sees the diving boys, and whether
Danish, English, French, or Dutch subjects, they
are one and all care-free, happy-go-lucky, grinning youngsters who find diving
for coins the easiest way of earning
the few pennies necessary to provide
for all their wants.
Clothing troubles them not at all, for a few rags are all they need where it's always summer; food costs
almost nothing, and enough mangos, bananas, and sugar-cane to fill their stomachs can be purchased for half a cent, and
for a penny or two they can buy
enough fish, beans, and yams to furnish full meals for a day. Even houses are
unnecessary luxuries for these boys,
for shelter is only needed to keep off the
rain, and the diving boys are just
as comfortable and sleep just as soundly when curled up on bales or barrels
under the waterside sheds as if
sleeping in the daintiest of beds.
Their sole possessions are their boats, and these
are as interesting and amusing as the
boys themselves. In some of the islands the
boats are quite excellent craft, and two or three hoys own one boat in common
and work together, but in other islands the
boats are the funniest, quaintest
looking home-made affairs you could imagine.
Sometimes they are three-cornered things made by nailing three
boards together with other boards nailed across for a bottom, while in other places the
boats look more like coffins than anything else. These are built by the boys themselves
and are made from old boxes and packing-cases begged from the merchants. Of course they
leak like sieves, but the boys
manage to keep them from sinking by
bailing every few moments with a calabash or coconut-shell, and as the owners are in the
water quite as much as they're out of
it they don't mind if their craft are wet.
But rude as the boats are they
are often brightly painted and are sometimes elaborately fitted up, and the boys frequently show wonderful skill and
ingenuity in doing this work. In St. Lucia one often sees the tiny craft equipped to imitate men-o'-war or
battleships. Dried palm buds serve as life-boats, pieces of bamboo do duty as
funnels and masts, guns are whittled from sticks of wood, and tin cans serve as
turrets. Even anchors, windlasses, semaphores, davits, and all the other
fittings of a real battleship are counterfeited by means of odds and ends
picked up along the water-front or
docks, and the miniature war-ships
have quite a realistic appearance. They are all named after famous British or
American men-o'-war.
As one watches the boys paddling about in their
queer craft it seems marvelous that they
don't upset, but the boys are as
good sailors as swimmers and row or even sail their
boats about without the least
trouble and never tip over. Of course it wouldn't hurt them
if they did capsize, for they are just as much at home in the water as on the
land. All the West Indian colored
folks are fond of the water and swim
splendidly, but the diving boys are the most expert of all. It doesn't trouble them in the
least to swim down and walk about on the
bottom, or to tie a rope around an anchor or some other
object far beneath the waves; and
it's a common feat for them to dive
down on one side of a ship, swim under the
keel, and catch a coin thrown from the
opposite side before it touches bottom. Before the
eruption of Mt. Pelee
in 1902 the diving boys of
Martinique were famous throughout the
West Indies, but the same awful
blast that destroyed St. Pierre
killed all the diving boys who had
gathered about the ships in the
harbor of the doomed town.
To-day there
are few diving boys at Martinique, but there
are plenty of them at all the other
islands, and as long as passengers and tourists visit the
West Indies and there
are pennies to be thrown over, the
diving boys will be on hand to ply their
queer trade in their funny boats.
No comments:
Post a Comment