Savannah Page #6

That's in the paper.

Judge Harden lend you his old boat.

Said keep it...

long as you promise

to bring him a Sunday bird

every once in a while.

Mr. Homer say to post your

mail to the hardware store.

Well...

I'll pick up your mail at Homer's.

Evenin', Mr. Ward.

ROY McCLAIN:

Jack, I just gotta confirm,

you got Christmas off the land.

Listen, Roy, I've been

thinking about this.

Christmas is 95 years old.

Probably gonna see 105.

He was born on Mulberry

on Christmas day.

He is the last surviving

member of that plantation.

He's not family.

Well, not blood,

but freed slaves have rights.

John Eliot Ward wrote

that deed himself.

That ain't the point, Jack.

Besides, Christmas can't

even take care of himself.

He'd probably starve to death

if you weren't feeding him.

Thought you were gonna save that

for a special occasion?

Well, there's... There's

nothing as special

as the present, Roy.

Let me ask you something.

You ever stop and listen to the

words of the old Negro songs?

Can't understand a word they say.

Let me sing one for you.

I'm gonna sit in the humble chair

I'm gonna rock from side to side

Until I die

I'm gonna sit in the humble chair

Till I die

You're a good man, Jack...

but mark my word,

what you said is exactly

what you're going to find one day.

You can't hold back time.

Holding back the tide

with that fountain

pen Lucy gave him.

You've nothing left to prove

with guns and bluster, Ward.

Try a different weapon.

I've written dozens of

articles on shooting

and twice more than that

lambasting the damn fool game laws.

I probably know more quotes

from English letters

than any man, save an Oxford don.

I can tell you the name,

color, use, and disposition

of a dozen type of feathers,

and at least that many

species of waterfowl.

I have a collection

of Confederate money

I saved myself,

beginning before the war ended...

and a lifetime of

practical experience

having virtually no value

in the world today.

50 years on the river I love,

and the damn thing has washed me up

on the bank of a city I

no longer recognize,

inhabited by people I don't

remember inviting here.

All those arguments won,

and now it seems I've

misplaced my winnings.

So be it.

This is where I pulled my skiff.

Christmas, you too lazy to

poke at a fire once in awhile?

I brought you a piece

of Babs' pecan pie.

Johnny made her make

a pie for school.

I said only on condition

Christmas gets a slice.

Oh, hey, Christmas,

I read Ward's last

article in the paper.

Christmas?

Well, Little Jack,

Ward Allen fell to sleep

in the barber chair,

but not before he

laid down the law.

He say don't lay a finger

upon his mustache.

"And the Ambassador

told Ward Allen,

"'You ever come back to Russia,

I will deliver you to the

Tsar myself in shackles.'"

"Christmas Moultrie knew Ward Allen

"better than any other

person that lived,

"and although one to the manor born

"and the other born to slavery,

"they were kindred spirits.

"As a child, I hunted

with Christmas.

"After a long day on the river,

"Christmas would sit in his

rocker before the fireplace,

"gazing up at the picture of Ward,

and with delicate slowness..."

"talk of his white friend."

Now, Christmas told a story,

he told it exactly

the same every time,

not a word out of place.

But there was one story

he would never tell me.

I must have asked a hundred times,

how did Ward Allen die?

I figured he'd go to his

grave without me knowin'.

But I didn't see

that he's been tellin'

me my whole life.

And now, well...

I think he was just holdin' on

till I figured it out.

Well, did you?

Yes, son.

I think I did.

I should have brought

you here before.

Hey, look here.

Look what I got.

Look right here.

He looks like Buffalo Bill.

Yeah, he does.

Yeah, Ward was the best

shot on the Savannah River.

Did I tell you about the time

he shot the eyes out

of Lucy's portrait?

Clean out, just popped them out.

Oh, hey, look.

Look, right back in there.

See it?

Is that a crane?

Dad, how do you think

Ward Allen died?

Son, the important thing

about a man's death

is how it reflects his life...

if it was on his own terms and...

if there was some meaning in it.

There's some meaning

in it, I think.

I feel as if I'm up there,

pulling toward them.

Pulling toward some...

distant purpose.

Oh, bring me a gator

Girl, when you come off the island

A ringtail 'ator

Girl, when you come off the island

A Darien gator

Girl, when you come off the island

A ringtail 'ator

Girl, when you come off the island

A Darien gator

Girl, when you come off the island

A ringtail 'ator

Girl, when you come off the island

A Darien gator

Girl, when you come off the island

Ohh, when you come off the island

Wade in the water

Wade in the water, children

Wade in the water

God's gonna trouble the water

If you don't believe

I've been redeemed

God's gonna trouble the water

Follow me down to Jordan's stream

God's gonna trouble the water

Who that yonder dressed in white?

God's gonna trouble the water

Must be the children

of the Israelites

God's gonna trouble the water

Wade in the water

Wade in the water, children

Wade in the water

God's gonna trouble the water

If you don't believe

I've been redeemed

God's gonna trouble the water

Follow me down to Jordan's stream

God's gonna trouble the water

Who that yonder dressed in white?

God's gonna trouble the water

Must be the children

of the Israelites

God's gonna trouble the water

Wade in the water

Wade in the water, children

Wade in the water

God's gonna trouble the water

Wade in the water

Everybody wade in

the water, children

Wade in the water

God's gonna trouble the water

God's gonna trouble the water

Wade in the water

Everybody wade in

the water, children

Wade in the water

God's gonna trouble the water

Wade in the water

Everybody wade in

the water, children

Wade in the water

God's gonna trouble the water

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