The jury had no doubt (though it shocks one very much) that the Case of Slaves was the same as if Horses had been thrown overboard. The Question was, whether there was not an Absolute Necessity for throwing them overboard to save the rest. The Jury were of opinion there was.

Drownload! Let the ship liberate itself from drag, from all other Perils, Losses, and Misfortunes, and sail.

Did it rain?

We had no water for them they’d have died anyway so we gave them plenty of it

The slave-captain knew

We left it to him

Did it rain? When will it rain

on the Noah-boat the Jonah-boat?

When the time comes.

*

Everything will be used against you.

Beginning with nine knotted thongs of cotton cord.

The captain’s daughter, the cat with nine claws.

Such welts.

You are the cost and the profit, the goods and the risk.

Horse latitudes, broken compass, crooked crew, stench from below decks, all worth it when we get you off this boat in one piece and on the block.

When the time comes.

*

Everything will be used against you.

Beginning with the abyss.

thing of breath and muscle

you swing

from the belly of the slave ship

to the violet belly of the ocean

you did not weave this sail you did not stitch this shroud

on this Noah-boat this Jonah-boat this giant stickleback

no anchor no anchorage

pray for the life to come

after the convoy of sharks

When the time comes.

*

Everything will be used against you.

Beginning with chalk, sulphur, ochre earth, jagged bamboo, ratooned cane, and the blades and axle shafts of words that were javelined at you and that you turned into birdcalls, passwords, anthems, spells.

original victim floating towards the sea’s abysses you call to the spirits of so many who never came up from the hold from the stomach of the ocean to breathe the heavy air of Black River

you hear their voices echo in the voices of these islands

You wear betrayal like a matted skin. You wear betrayal like an armour. You wear betrayal like a brocade doublet. Our boats are open, you sing, and we sail them for everyone.

When the time comes.

Baldachin

i. m. Bruce Conner (1933–2008)