The mutual spite between planter and penn-keeper was of old standing--
dating, in fact, from their first acquaintance with each other. Some
sharp practice between them, in the sale and purchase of slaves, had
given origin to it; and circumstances were always occurring to hinder it
from dying out. This was more especially the case since the Jew, by the
purchase of the Happy Valley estate, had become the contiguous
neighbour--and, in point of wealth, almost the rival--of the proprietor
of Mount Welcome.
On the side of the Custos there had been for some time past another
feeling mixed up with his antipathy to his Israelitish neighbour--a
vague sense of fear. This was of modern origin--dating from a period
subsequent to the execution of Chakra, the myal-man--and begotten of
some remarks which, as reported to Mr Vaughan, the Jew had made in
connection with that ugly incident.
If nothing had of late transpired to increase this fear on the part of
the Custos, a circumstance had arisen to strengthen his hostility. The
protection which had been given to his discarded nephew, and the parade
which his neighbour was making of him, had proved to the Custos a
scandal of the most irksome kind; and almost every day was he made aware
of some unpleasant bit of gossip connected with the affair. So
irritated had he become with rumours, constantly reaching him, that his
hatred for the Jew had grown stronger than ever before; and he would
have given a dozen hogsheads of his best _muscovado_ to any one who
would have provided him with the means of humiliating the detested
penn-keeper.
Just at this crisis, chance or fortune stepped in to favour him,
apparently offering the very opportunity he desired; and in a way that,
instead of costing him a dozen hogsheads of sugar, was likely to put far
more than that amount of property into his pocket.
It was the day before that on which Smythje had dropped into the
dead-wood. The Custos was in his kiosk alone, smoking a plantation
cigar, and conning over the statutes of the "black code"--a favourite
study with him. Just at that moment Mr Trusty's shadow was projected
into the summer-house. "Well, Trusty, what is it?"
"There's a man below wants to see your worship."
"On what business, pray?"
"Don't know," answered the laconic overseer; "he won't tell. Says it's
important, and can only communicate to yourself."
"What sort of a man is he? Negro or white?"
"Neither, your worship. He's a clear mulatto. I've seen him about
before. He's one of the Maroons that have their settlement over among
the Trelawney Hills. He calls himself Cubina."
"Ah!" said the Custos, showing a slight emotion as the name was
pronounced; "Cubina! Cubina! I've heard the name. I fancy I've seen
the man--at a distance. A young fellow, isn't he?"
"Very young; though they say he's the captain of the Trelawney band."
"What on earth can the Maroon want with me?" muttered Mr Vaughan, half
to himself. "He hasn't brought in any runaways, has he?"
"No," answered the overseer. "Thanks to your worship's good management,
we haven't any of late--not since that old schemer Chakra was put out of
the way."
"Thanks to _your_ good management, Mr Trusty," said the planter,
returning his overseer's compliment, not without a show of nervous
uneasiness, which the reference to Chakra had called forth. "Then it's
nothing of that kind, you think?" he hastily added, as if desirous of
changing the theme.
"No, your worship. It cannot be: there's not a runaway upon my list;"
replied Trusty, with an air of triumph.
"Gad! I'm glad to hear it," said the Custos, rubbing his hands together
as an expression of his contentment. "Well; I suppose the young fellow
has come to consult me in my magisterial capacity. In some scrape, no
doubt? These Maroons are always getting themselves into trouble with
our planters. I wonder who he's come to complain about?"
"Well, that much I think I can tell you," rejoined the overseer,
evidently knowing more of the Maroon's errand than he had yet admitted--
for Mr Trusty was a true disciple of the secretive school. "If I
should be allowed to make a guess, your worship, I should say it is
something relating to our neighbour of the Happy Valley."
"What! the Jew?"
"Jacob Jessuron, Esquire."
"You think so, Trusty?" inquired Mr Vaughan, with an earnest and
gratified look. "Has the young fellow said anything?"
"No," answered the overseer; "it's not anything _he_ has said. I heard
something a day or two ago about a runaway the Maroons have got among
them--a slave belonging to the Jew. It appears they don't want to give
him up."
"Whom did you hear it from?"
"Why, not exactly from any one, your worship. I should rather say I
_overheard_ it, quite by accident. One of the Trelawney Maroons--a big
fellow that comes down here occasionally after Black Bet--was telling
her something. I was passing Bet's cabin, and heard him talking about
this runaway."
"Don't want to give him up! And for what reason do they refuse?"
"Can't tell, your worship. I could only make out part of the
conversation."
"So you think it's about that the young fellow has come?"
"I think it likely, your worship. He's close, however, and I couldn't
get a word out of him about his business. He says he must see you."
"All right, then! You can show him in here. And hark ye, Mr Trusty!
See Black Bet, and get what you can out of her. This is an interesting
matter. A Maroon refusing to deliver up a runaway! There must be
something in it. Perhaps the mulatto will tell me all about it; but
whether he does or not, you may see Bet. You can promise her a new
gown, or whatever you like. Show the young fellow up at once. I am
ready to receive him."
Mr Trusty bowed, and walked off in the direction of the works, where
the Maroon had remained in waiting; while the Custos, composing himself
into an official attitude, awaited the approach of his visitor.
"I'd give a good round sum," soliloquised he, "to learn that the old
rascal has got into some scrape with these Maroon fellows. I shouldn't
wonder," he added, in gleeful anticipation, "I shouldn't wonder! I know
they don't much like him--less since he's taken the Spaniards into his
pay--and I suspect he's been engaged in some underhand transactions of
late. He's been growing grander every day, and nobody knows where all
the money comes from. Maybe Master Maroon has a tale to tell; and, if
it's against Jessuron, I'll take care he has an opportunity of telling
it. Ah, here he comes! Egad, a fine-looking fellow! So, so! This is
the young man that my daughter jokes Yola about! Well, I don't wonder
the Foolah should have taken a fancy to him; but I must see that he
doesn't make a fool of her. These Maroons are dangerous dogs among the
women of the plantations; and Yola, whether a princess or not in her own
country-princess, ha! ha! Well, at all events the wench is no common
nigger; and it won't do for Master Maroon to be humbugging her. I shall
lecture him about it, now that I've got him here."
By this time the Maroon captain--equipped just as we have seen him in
the forest--had arrived in front of the kiosk; and, making a deferential
bow, though without taking off his hat--which, being the _toqued
kerchief_, could not conveniently be removed--stood waiting for the
Custos to address him.
The planter remained for a considerable time without vouchsafing further
speech than the mechanical salutation, "Good morning."
There was something in the physiognomy of his visitor that had evidently
made an unpleasant impression upon him; and the gaze, with which he
regarded the latter, was one which bespoke some feeling different from
that of mere curiosity or admiration.
Whatever the feeling was, he seemed desirous of suppressing it; and,
making an effort to that effect, appeared to succeed: for the shadow,
that for an instant had shown itself on his countenance, cleared away;
and, with a magisterial but courteous smile, he commenced the
conversation.
Volume Two, Chapter XI.