CHÉRI-BIBI
"Have you left the black hole?" asked the Nut.
"Yes," returned Chéri-Bibi, who held in his hand a peculiarly shaped
piece of hard wood which he was carving with the point of his knife.
It was an appalling face, was Chéri-Bibi's. His amazing adventures, the
long years passed in the convict settlement, broken by innumerable
escapes, his fierce passions and the martyrdom of the flesh even to the
corrosive marks of vitriol, had ravaged that terrible face so that no
one could look upon it without a shudder.
Nevertheless ever and anon--when his gaze rested upon the Nut for
instance--a curious gleam of kindliness would flicker across that
death's head.
His figure in its entirety, moreover, was extraordinary. His huge fists,
his square build, his shoulders which seemed to have been designed for
lifting enormous weights, all combined to convey the impression of
irresistible strength.
When he made an effort the muscles under his convict's jumper stood out
in startling prominence. He invariably wore this jumper. No one had ever
seen him, as they had seen his fellow-convicts, at work or walking about
stripped to the waist. It was said that upon his chest was tattooed the
mystery of his life and that these marks expressed the secret of his
heart. Chéri-Bibi was a man of great reserve in love affairs. This man,
whose crimes were beyond computation, had always possessed, as the
phrase goes, irreproachable morals.
Chéri-Bibi and the Nut imagined that they were alone. They did not
observe the Burglar warily retrace his steps and hide behind a rock in
order to keep an eye on them and overhear their conversation.
Chéri-Bibi sat down beside the Nut and proceeded with the carving of
his piece of wood.
"What's that?" asked the Nut.
"That's the key to freedom," returned Chéri-Bibi.
"What do you say?" exclaimed the Nut, turning pale.
Chéri-Bibi heaved a sigh that might have softened the hardest heart.
"I like you, old chum, and should have been glad of your company," he
said in a voice that failed him somewhat, "but I see clearly enough that
you are worrying yourself to death here. Cheer up. You will soon be
free. You will be able to go back to France, old man."
The Nut knew that when Chéri-Bibi spoke he spoke to some purpose. He
believed in him; and he was buoyed up by an immense hope.
"Back to France," he gasped.
"Twenty-two!" whispered Chéri-Bibi.
Twenty-two signified in convict language: "Look out!"
The Nut turned his head slightly and caught sight of the figure of a
convict guard passing not far away from them, his rifle slung over his
shoulder. The man cast a glance in their direction and disappeared,
strolling along the sea-front. The Burglar still occupied his post of
observation.
"I may tell you that I shall provide you with the papers of an honest
man. You shall have everything necessary to start afresh and be happy."
"Heavens above!" moaned the Nut.
He took a long look at Chéri-Bibi. Chéri-Bibi was weeping. The Nut
felt a thrill pass through him. Tears in the eyes of Chéri-Bibi! It was
a sight to which he was unaccustomed. Chéri-Bibi stuck his fists into
his eyes, as a punishment, doubtless, for that moment of weakness, and
uttered a frightful oath.
"Why don't you get away with me?" asked the Nut.
"Because I should be in your way, old man. You'll soon forget all about
Chéri-Bibi, I assure you."
"Never!" exclaimed the Nut. "You are the only man here who has been
decent to me. You have always stood up for me."
"Stood up for you! You don't need anyone to stand up for you. Under your
somewhat ladylike ways you are as strong as I am. If you had given those
fellows who are always jawing at you a sound thrashing they would have
soon stopped humbugging you. But you are too much of the gentleman to
fight them. For that matter, that's what attracted me to you. I like
people who have been well brought up; and then I like an honest man, and
you are an honest man. I believe you when you tell me that you are
innocent. I remember the time when I hadn't yet used the knife. Oh, it
remains impressed on my memory, does that first blow. I always carried a
knife in my belt. I was a journeyman butcher in Le Pollet. Do you know
Le Pollet? It's near Dieppe. No doubt you've been to the races there in
the summer. You were always a smart chap. . . . Why are you so pale
again?"
"Because I'm thinking of the races at Dieppe," returned the Nut, closing
his eyes.
"Yes, those were jolly days. Believe me, that was the place for smartly
dressed people. The pink of fashion, swagger officials in full fig, and
English swells. And the chorus girls, what brazen hussies! . . . But to
come back to my first affair with a knife, which happened on the cliff
at Dieppe. Some blackguard was about to do in a decent fellow. I arrived
on the scene. I tried to get at the blackguard with my knife, but killed
the honest man instead. And I was sentenced. _Fatalitas!_ That was the
beginning of all my troubles. But I don't want to think about them, nor
about France nor anything else. I have perpetrated more murders than
there are fingers on my hands. But always with the best intentions! You
know what I mean; it was hard luck. _Fatalitas!_ So it's better for me
to remain here forever, don't you think? A penal settlement, you see,
was made for me; it's my hearth and home. You, you are young, and that's
quite another pair of shoes. You can build up a new life. Marry an
honest woman and make her happy. Take my advice, and keep away from the
other sort of women. You've had your lesson in that particular, I dare
say."
"You bet!" returned the Nut smiling, greatly astonished to hear such
moral sentiments from Chéri-Bibi's mouth. "But you haven't yet told me
what you are making."
Chéri-Bibi did not answer immediately, but raising his eyes to the
jetty, the head of which sheltering the small natural harbor, could be
seen, said:
"Take a squint yonder."
The Nut turned his gaze to the harbor. A large motor launch, evidently
from the wood-cutting establishments at St. Laurent-du-Maroni, drew
alongside. An officer landed and was received on the jetty by a number
of officials.
"See what's taking place," went on Chéri-Bibi. "What do you make of
it?"
"Well," returned the Nut, "it's the officer who has just finished his
tour of inspection. They must be asking him for news of the war. It
doesn't seem to be good news. They don't look a bit pleased with
themselves."
"What then?"
"The lieutenant is stooping towards the launch."
"Ah, there you are," said Chéri-Bibi. "Well, what else?"
"The engineer is standing on the deck-house and has handed him something
which he is putting in his pocket."
"Stop! You've seen enough and now have a look at this."
Chéri-Bibi pointed to the piece of wood upon which he was no longer
working.
"This is an exact copy of the thing that the inspecting officer put in
his pocket. Do you know what that thing is? It is an indispensable part
of the motor, and without it the engine won't go. When he has it in his
pocket he is easy in his mind. There's no hope of the convicts making
use of the launch. When I went on fatigue duty to St. Laurent I had the
opportunity of examining that part. I assure you that this one is the
fellow to it, and if anything is missing, I'll make it this evening."
"This evening!" exclaimed the Nut.
"Yes, old man, you shall be free this evening, I give you my word. I've
finished digging a hole in my hut. We shall see some fun this evening.
Look out! . . . Warders coming. They're sounding the fall in."
The two men sprang up. The Nut was behind Chéri-Bibi, quivering with a
new hope. They went off to line up with the other men of their section
in a sunk road which was dominated by a government office. It was here
that they were employed in laying out a new road across the island.
During the whole of that day every movement by the Nut and Chéri-Bibi
was spied upon by the Burglar, and not a word was exchanged by them
which was not either overheard or guessed by him.
The Burglar said, between times, to the Parisian, the Caid and the
Joker:
"Hold yourself in readiness. Something's going to happen to-night when
we're having a game of dice."
After the last muster at six o'clock the convicts turned their steps
towards their prison almost with an air of cheerfulness. The day's work
was done. The men were then locked up in their prison, which consisted
of one large dormitory, and were left to do as they pleased, sleep or
drink or play games, free from the presence of the guards. Chéri-Bibi,
the Nut, the Parisian, the Burglar, the Caid and the Joker shared the
same dormitory with some twenty other men. That evening the officer made
a tour of inspection.
Standing in line in front of a double row of hammocks, they listened to
his remarks. He told them that he would not allow any noise in the
prison. They might consider themselves in their own homes, with doors
closed, but they were there for sleeping purposes, and if any complaint
was made against them, he would send the entire section to the cages in
the main building.
Before leaving he asked:
"Has any man anything to bring to my notice?"
The Nut stepped forward.
"There's a rumor, monsieur, that bad news has been received from
France."
"What interest can that be to you?" returned the officer harshly. "Men
like you have nothing more to do with France."
The Nut grew pale. A threatening murmur swept through the ranks. The
guards enforced silence by drawing their revolvers. Nevertheless one of
the men could not refrain from shouting:
"Give us a rifle and you'd soon see that we know how to die like other
men."
"You are not fit to shoulder a rifle," retorted the officer, and he
walked away.
The door closed after him. The convicts raised their clenched fists in
the air. A tumult of oaths filled the dormitory. The Nut flung himself
into his hammock and covered his face with his hands.
For men like the Nut, who had been laid low by the hand of fate, the
hours spent in the dormitory, however popular they might be with other
men because of the absence of all restraint, were undoubtedly the most
merciless which human justice could inflict. The herding together of
these men was an abominable sight. Every passion and vice, kept alive by
drink and gambling, had full rein. It was a veritable inferno.
Fortunately for the Nut fate, which was so cruel in other respects, had
vouchsafed Chéri-Bibi to him as his comrade. His presence and the
terror which he inspired forced the men to leave the Nut comparatively
undisturbed. As he lay in his hammock, he closed his eyes to shut out
the vision of those hideous faces, but he could not stop his ears. And
it was too awful. Bottles of rum, playing cards, money, appeared from no
one knew where, and the nightly revel began.
Chéri-Bibi lifted one of the slabs with which the floor of the prison
was paved without troubling about what was taking place around him. A
gaping cavity stood revealed before him, and he descended it. For the
last two months he had been digging at that outlet. Once he broke off
his work to get himself sent to solitary confinement for a week in order
quietly to finish carving the piece of wood which would enable him to
make use of the motor launch.
When he was digging at his hole his fellow-convicts helped him in the
morning to remove the earth which had collected during the night, so
that the warders might not perceive anything unusual. He promised them
that when his plan was completed there would be an opportunity for any
of them to escape if they had a mind for it. He did not enter into any
further explanation, and they let him go his own way, wondering what it
was that he was about to attempt.
The Parisian and his gang did not betray him for many reasons, not the
least of which was that Chéri-Bibi had declared that if they gave him
away he would know who did the deed, and, in any case, even if the
Parisian and the Burglar were innocent, he would cook their goose for
them. Another reason was that the Parisian and his friends were
themselves cherishing the idea of flight.
They retained the hope that Cheri-Bibi's scheme, when they knew it in
its entirety, would be useful to them. That evening, seated on their
kit-bags, in a corner, the Parisian, the Burglar, the Caid and the Joker
watched Chéri-Bibi as he slipped into his underground passage.
"Will your hole be ready soon?" asked the Joker.
"Give me another week," returned Chéri-Bibi, as he disappeared from
view.
The four convicts fished out their dice and began to play in the dismal
light of the lanterns hanging from the prison roof. Darkness had fallen,
for night comes quickly in tropical countries. In every part of the
dormitory men began to play games. Some of them were at cards. Bottles
were opened and the pungent odor of rum permeated the air.
The Nut was seemingly asleep in his hammock.
"Chéri-Bibi is lying to you," whispered the Burglar to his three
confederates. "Chéri-Bibi is tricking us. He's going to do the job
to-night. He'll get out through his underground passage, and put off in
the motor launch. He has found some dodge of making the engine go. The
Nut is to follow him in half an hour when he's ready to start the
engine. But our pals will prevent the Nut from getting away, and it's we
who'll do a guy. When Chéri-Bibi finds that the Nut doesn't turn up
he'll come back to fetch him, and we'll take the opportunity of jumping
into the launch, and off we'll go!"
The plot was cleverly contrived. The other "jail-birds" were furious
when they learned that Chéri-Bibi was putting them off, and held
themselves in readiness to act on a signal from the Burglar.
The Nut pretended to be asleep. Nevertheless he was consumed by a
feeling of intense excitement. At that terrible and decisive moment his
thoughts turned to his mother, who had died of grief, and he prayed to
her--his mother! He thought of the golden days of his youth. He lived
the past over again. He beheld the radiant picture of himself when life
smiled at him and he had but to stoop to pluck its most fragrant
flowers.