Arrived at the cotton-tree hut, the myal-man--for such was the negro--
dived at once into the open door, his broad and hunched shoulders scarce
clearing the aperture.
In a tone rather of command than request he directed the woman to enter.
The mulatta appeared to hesitate. Inside, the place was dark as Erebus:
though without it was not very different. The shadow of the _ceiba_,
with its dense shrouding of moss, interrupted every ray of the moonlight
now glistening among the tops of the trees.
The negro noticed her hesitation.
"Come in!" cried he, repeating his command in the same gruff voice.
"You me sabbey--what fo' you fear?"
"I'se not afraid, Chakra," replied the woman, though the trembling of
her voice contradicted the assertion; "only," she added, still
hesitating, "it's so dark in there."
"Well, den--you 'tay outside," said the other, relenting; "you 'tay dar
wha you is; a soon 'trike a light."
A fumbling was heard, and then the chink of steel against flint,
followed by fiery sparks.
A piece of punk was set a-blaze, and from this the flame was
communicated to a sort of lamp, composed of the _carapace_ of a turtle,
filled with wild-hog's lard, and having a wick twisted out of the down
of the cotton-tree.
"Now you come in, Cynthy," resumed the negro, placing the lamp upon the
floor. "Wha! you 'till afeard! You de dauter ob Juno Vagh'n--you
modder no fear ole Chakra. Whugh! she no fear de Debbil!"
Cynthia, thus addressed, might have thought that between the dread of
these two personages there was not much to choose: for the Devil himself
could hardly have appeared in more hideous guise than the human being
who stood before her.
"O Chakra!" said she, as she stepped inside the door, and caught sight
of the weird-looking garniture of the walls; "woman may well be 'fraid.
Dis am a fearful place!"
"Not so fearful as de Jumbe Rock," was the reply of the myal-man,
accompanied by a significant glance, and something between a smile and a
grin.
"True!" said the mulatta, gradually recovering her self-possession;
"true: you hab cause say so, Chakra."
"Das a fac', Cynthy."
"But tell me, good Chakra," continued the mulatta, giving way to a
woman's feeling--curiosity, "how did you ebber 'scape from the Jumbe
Rock? The folks said it was your skeleton dat was up there--chain to de
palm-tree!"
"De folk 'peek da troof. My 'keleton it was, jess as dey say."
The woman turned upon the speaker a glance in which astonishment was
mingled with fear, the latter predominating.
"_Your_ skeleton?" she muttered, interrogatively.
"Dem same old bones--de 'kull, de ribs, de jeints, drumticks, an' all.
Golly, gal Cynthy! dat ere 'pears 'stonish you. Wha fo'? Nuffin in
daat. You sabbey ole Chakra? You know he _myal-man_? Doan care who
know _now_--so long dey b'lieve um dead. Wha for myal-man, ef he no
bring de dead to life 'gain? Be shoo Chakra no die hisseff, so long he
knows how bring dead body to de life. Ole Chakra know all dat. Dey no
kill _him_, nebber! Neider de white folk nor de brack folk. Dey may
shoot 'im wid gun--dey may hang 'im by de neck--dey may cut off 'im
head--he come to life 'gain, like de blue lizard and de glass snake.
Dey _did_ try kill 'im, you know. Dey 'tarve him till he die ob hunger
and thuss. De John Crow pick out him eyes, and tear de flesh from de
old nigga's body--leab nuffin but de bare bones! Ha! Chakra 'lib yet--
he hab new bones, new flesh! Golly! you him see? he 'trong--he fat as
ebber he wa'! Ha! ha! ha!"
And as the hideous negro uttered his exulting laugh, he threw up his
arms and turned his eyes towards his own person, as if appealing to it
for proof of the resurrection he professed to have accomplished!
The woman looked as if petrified by the recital; every word of which she
appeared implicitly to believe. She was too much terrified to speak,
and remained silent, apparently cowering under the influence of a
supernatural awe.
The myal-man perceived the advantage he had gained; and seeing that the
curiosity of his listener was satisfied--for she had not the slightest
desire to hear more about that matter--he adroitly changed the subject
to one of a more natural character.
"You've brought de basket ob wittle, Cynthy?"
"Yes, Chakra--there."
"Golly! um's berry good--guinea-hen an' plenty ob vegable fo' de
pepperpot. Anything fo' drink, gal? Habent forgot daat, a hope? De
drink am da mose partickla ob all."
"I have not forgotten it, Chakra. There's a bottle of rum. You'll find
it in the bottom of the basket. I had a deal trouble steal it."
"Who you 'teal 'im from?"
"Why, master: who else? He have grown berry partickler of late--carries
all de keys himself; and won't let us coloured folk go near de
storeroom, as if we were all teevin' cats!"
"Nebba mind--nebba you mind, Cynthy--maybe Chakra watch _him_ by'm-bye.
Wa, now!" added he, drawing the bottle of rum out of the basket, and
holding it up to the light. "De buckra preacher he say dat 'tolen water
am sweet. A 'pose dat 'tolen rum folla de same excepshun. A see ef um
do."
So saying, the negro drew out the stopper; raised the bottle to his
lips; and buried the neck up to the swell between his capacious jaws.
A series of "clucks" proclaimed the passage of the liquor over his
palate; and not until he had swallowed half a pint of the fiery fluid,
did he withdraw the neck of the bottle from between his teeth.
"Whugh!" he exclaimed, with an aspirate that resembled the snort of a
startled hog. "Whugh!" he repeated, stroking his abdomen with his huge
paw. "De buckra preacher may talk 'bout him 'tolen water, but gib me de
'tolen rum. You good gal, Cynthy--you berry good gal, fo' fetch ole
Chakra dis nice basket o' wittle--he sometime berry hungry--he need um
all."
"I promise to bring more--whenebber I can get away from the Buff."
"Das right, my piccaninny! An' now, gal," continued he, changing his
tone, and regarding the mulatta with a look of interrogation, "wha fo'
you want see me dis night? You hab some puppos partickla? Dat so--eh,
gal?"
The mulatta stood hesitating. There are certain secrets which woman
avows with reluctance--often with repugnance. Her love is one; and of
this she cares to make confession only to him who has the right to hear
it. Hence Cynthia's silent and hesitating attitude.
"Wha fo' you no 'peak?" asked the grim confessor. "Shoo' you no hah
fear ob ole Chakra? You no need fo' tell 'im--he know you secret
a'ready--you lub Cubina, de capen ob Maroon? Dat troof, eh?"
"It is true, Chakra. I shall conceal nothing from you."
"Better not, 'cause you can't 'ceal nuffin from ole Chakra--he know
ebbery ting--little bird tell um. Wa now, wha nex'? You tink Cubina no
lub you?"
"Ah! I am sure of it," replied the mulatta, her bold countenance
relaxing into an anguished expression. "I once thought he love me. Now
I no think so."
"You tink him lub some odder gal?"
"I am sure of it--Oh, I have reason!"
"Who am dis odder?"
"Yola."
"Yola? Dat ere name sound new to me. Whar d's she 'long to?"
"She belongs to Mount Welcome--she Missa Kate's maid."
"Lilly Quasheba, _I_ call dat young lady," muttered the myal-man, with a
knowing grin. "But dis Yola?" he added; "whar she come from? A nebber
hear de name afo'."
"Oh, true, Chakra! I did not think of tellin' you. She was bought from
the Jew, and fetched home since you--that is, after you left the
plantation."
"Arter I lef' de plantation to die on de Jumbe Rock; ha! ha! ha! Dat's
wha you mean, Cynthy?"
"Yes--she came soon after."
"So you tink Cubina lub _her_?"
"I do."
"An' she 'ciprocate de fekshun?"
"Ah, surely! How could she help do that?"
The interrogatory betrayed the speaker's belief that the Maroon captain
was irresistible.
"Wa, then--wha you want me do, gal? You want rebbenge on Cubina, 'cause
he hab 'trayed you? You want me put de _death-pell_ on him?"
"Oh! no--no! not that, Chakra, for the love of Heaven!--not that!"
"Den you want de _lub-spell_?"
"Ah! if he could be make love me 'gain--he did once. That is--I thought
he did. Is it possible, good Chakra, to make him love me again?"
"All ting possble to old Chakra; an' to prove dat," continued he, with a
determined air, "he promise put de lub-spell on Cubina."
"Oh, thanks! thanks!" cried the woman, stretching out her hands, and
speaking in a tone of fervent gratitude. "What can I do for you,
Chakra? I bring you everything you ask. I steal rum--I steal wine--I
come every night with something you like eat."
"Wa, Cynthy--dat berry kind ob you; but you muss do more dan all dat."
"Anything you ask me--what more?"
"You must yourseff help in de spell. It take bof you an' me to bring
dat 'bout."
"Only me tell what to do; and trust me, Chakra, I shall follow your
advice."
"Wa, den--lissen--I tell you all 'bout it. But sit down on da bedsed
dar. It take some time."
The woman, thus directed, took her seat upon the bamboo couch, and
remained silent and attentive--watching every movement of her hideous
companion, and not without some misgivings as to the compact which was
about to be entered into between them.
Volume Two, Chapter XXII.