From the spot where he had seated himself, the mansion of Mount Welcome
was in view--that is, it would have been, had it been daytime, or even a
moonlight night. As it was, however, darkness veiled the whole valley
under its opaque shadows; and the situation of the house could only have
been guessed at, had it not been for the light streaming through the
jalousied windows. These revealed its position to the eyes of the
Coromantee.
More than one window showed light--several that were side by side giving
out a strong glare. These Chakra knew to be the side windows of the
great hall, or drawing-room. Its front windows could not be seen from
the Jumbe Rock: since they faced towards the valley and not to the
mountain.
The myal-man knew all this. A forty years' residence on the estate of
Mount Welcome had rendered perfectly accurate his knowledge of the
topography of the place.
So much light shining out suggested the idea of cheerfulness, as if
company were entertained within.
"Whugh!" ejaculated Chakra, as his eye caught the lights. "Doan look
berry much like dey war grievin'. Dey can't hab heer'd o' dat 'fair
yet. P'raps de hab take de body to de plantashun ob Content? Leetle
dey know down dar wha's been done. Leetle dey dream dat de proud masser
ob dat ere Buff am jess at dis minnit a cold corpus. Da's no house ob
mournin'. Dar's feas'in a-gwine on da', a be boun'? Nebba mind! Nebba
mind! Patience, ole nigga! maybe you come in fo' share ob dem wittle
'fore he gits cold; and maybe you hab share of the dishes on which de
wittle am sa'v'd up--de forks, an' de 'poons, and de silber plate
generumly. Daat _will_ be a haul. Whugh!
"But wha' care I fo' de forks an' de 'poons? Nuffin! Dar's but one
ting a care fo', an' dat am more dan silber, more na gold, more na Moun'
Wele'm, itseff! Dat am de Lilly Quasheba. Whugh! A hab lub her fo'
many long year--lub her more'n ebba; yes, a lub her wi' de whole
'trength ob my soul. Once a git dat bewfu' gal in dese arms, a no care
for de forks and de 'poons. Ole Adam be welc'm take all dem rubbish.
"No," continued he, after a pause, apparently relenting of his
liberality; "dat no do, neider. A soon need boaf de forks and de
'poons. A'll want him fo' de housekeepin'. A'll want de silber an' de
gold to buy odder ting. Muss hab m' share 'long wi' de ress.
"Wha am de bess place take my wife to?" muttered the intended husband,
continuing the same strain of reflections. "Muss leab de Duppy Hole.
Dat place no longer safe. Too near de ole plantashun. Boun' to be a
debbil ob a rumpus atter she carried 'way--daat are ef dey b'lieve she
_am_ carried away. Guess a know de way make um b'lieve diff'rent.
Nebba mind. A know how manage dat!"
At this moment the reflections of the Coromantee were interrupted by a
sound that caused him to draw his legs up on the rock, and assume an
attitude as if about to spring to his feet.
At the repetition of the sound, he started up, and rapidly re-crossed to
the opposite side.
At the point where the upward path debouched upon the platform, he
stopped to listen.
For the third time the sound was repeated.
There was nothing strange in it--at least, to ears familiar with the
voices of a Jamaica forest. It was the call of a common yet peculiar
bird--the _solitaire_. The only thing strange was to hear it at that
hour of the night. It was not the time when the soft and flute-like
note of the _solitaire_ should fall upon the ear of the forest wanderer.
Hearing it at that hour was by no means strange to Chakra. It was not
that which had startled him from his seat, and caused him to cross
quickly to the other side of the platform. On the contrary, it was
because he knew that what he had heard was _not_ the note of the
_solitaire_, but a counterfeit call from his confederate, Adam!
Chakra's private slogan was different--more mournful and less musical.
It was an imitation of that melancholy utterance heard at night from the
sedgy shores of the dark lagoon--the cry of the wailing bittern.
With a small reed applied to his lips, the Coromantee produced an exact
imitation of this cry, and then remained silent, awaiting the result.
At the bottom of the ravine could be heard a murmur of voices, as if
several men were together, talking in guarded tones. Following this
came a sound of scratching against the stones, and a rustling of
branches, each moment becoming more distinct. Shortly after, the form
of a man emerged out of the shadowy cleft, stepping cautiously upon the
platform. Another followed, and another, until six in all stood upon
the summit of the rock.
"Dat you, brodder Adam?" said Chakra, stepping forward to receive the
first who presented himself at the head of the sloping path.
"Ya--ya! Am it Chakra?"
"Dat same ole nigga."
"All right, kommarade. We've see yar signal as soon as it war hoisted.
We wan't long a comin', war we?"
"Berry quick. A didn't 'speck ye fo' half an hour mo'."
"Well, now we're hya, what's the game? I hope dar's a good big stake to
play for! Our stock of stuff wants remplenishin' berry badly. We
haven't had de chance of a job fo' more dan a month. We're a'most in
want o' wittles!"
"Wittles!" exclaimed the myal-man, laying a scornful emphasis on the
word. "Dar's a ting for ye do dis night dat'll gib ye mo' dan wittle--
it gib you wealth--ebbery one ob ye. Whugh!"
"Good!" ejaculated Adam, simultaneously with a chorus of like
exclamations; "glad to hear dat ere bit o' intelligence. Am it dat ere
little job you speak me 'bout last time I see you? Dat it, ole humpy?"
"Dat same," laconically answered Chakra, "only wi' dis diffurence,"
added he; "dat a call um de big job in'tead of de little un."
"Big or little," rejoined the other, "we've come ready to do it--you see
we hab?"
The speaker, who appeared to be the leader of the party who accompanied
him, pointed to the others as he made this remark.
The hint was scarce regarded by Chakra. Notwithstanding the murky gloom
that enveloped the forms of Adam and his companions, the myal-man could
see that they were all armed and equipped, though in the most varied and
uncouth fashions. The weapons of no two were alike. One carried an old
musket, red with rust; another a fowling-piece, in like condition.
Others were provided with pistols, and nearly all had long knives, or
_machetes_. Thus provided, it was scarce probable that the job for
whose execution Chakra had summoned them could be one of a pacific
character.
Had a light been thrown upon the group that surrounded Chakra, it would
have revealed a collection of faces, each provided with a set of
features but little less sinister than those of Chakra himself. In not
one of them would have been found a line indicative of either peace or
mercy--for it was the band of the black robber Adam, celebrated as the
most notorious cut-throats in the Island.
Chakra expressed no surprise at seeing them armed, nor felt any. He had
expected it; and the flourish which their leader had made of this fact
was only intended to make manifest that they were ready for the ordinary
requirements of their vocation.
Eagerly willing were they for the extremest action; but, in order to
make more certain of their compliance, Chakra thought it prudent to ply
them with a little rum.
"Ma frien's," said he, in an affectionate tone, "you hab had de fatigue
ob a long walk troo de darkness ob de night. A hab got hya a leetle
drop ob someting dat's berry good fo' keep de cold out ob you. 'Pose we
all take a wet from dis bottle?"
To this proposition there was a general assent, expressed in varied
phraseology. There was no teetotaller in that crowd of worthies.
Chakra had not thought of providing himself with either drinking-cup or
calabash; but the want was scarcely felt. The robbers each in turn
refreshed himself directly from the neck of the bottle, until the rum
ran out.
"Well, ole humpy," said Adam, drawing Chakra aside, and speaking in that
familiar phrase that betokened a thickness of thieves between them. "I
suppose the chance you spoke 'bout hab come round at las'?"
"Da's a fack, brodder Adam. It hab come now."
"De great buckra gone from home?"
"He gone from home, and gone _to_ home, ha! ha!"
"Come, dat's a riddle. What you mean by gone _to_ home?"
"To 'im long home. Da's wha' I mean."
"Ha!" exclaimed Adam; "you don't say the Cussos--"
"Nebber mind 'bout the Cussus now, brodder Adam. Dat you know all 'bout
atter wards. It am the Cussus' silber plate dat consarn you now; and
dar's no time to was'e in p'laverin'. By de time we gets down da, an'
puts on de masks, dey'll be a-gwine to bed. Better dey wa' gone to bed;
but by dat time, you see, de moon 'ud be up, an' fo' all dese clouds
mout shine out. Dat, as you know, won't nebba do. We must 'ticipate de
risin' ob de moon."
"True enuf. All right! I'm ready, and so are de rest."
"Den foller me, all ob you. We can plan de mode ob 'tack as we trabbel
'long. Plenty ob time fo' dat, when we find out how de land lie down
below. Foller me!"
And with this injunction, the Coromantee commenced descending the
ravine, followed by Adam and his band of burglars.
Volume Three, Chapter XXX.