THE BURIAL.
Captain Mason would not leave that delicate creature to his men, but
folding his cloak carefully around her, supported her head as she was
lifted from the boat. Under the bending trees and through the fragrant
shrubs they carried her, with hushed voices and cautious steps; for
wrapped in the stillness of the morning there was something awful in
that hastily prepared burial which penetrated to the hearts of those New
England sailors as no ceremony could have done. But the vines, that
fell in garlands from the trees, and the flowering branches which they
were compelled to sweep aside, made the passage difficult. Once a
patriarch aloe, which had shot up its great spikes of yellow blossoms
for the first time in that year of blood, caught an ornament of the
cloak on one of its sharp leaves and tore it from the dead, leaving the
beautiful face and the long, sweeping hair exposed.
That instant there arose a fierce, rustling sound in the chaparral,
followed by a cry that made the sailors pause in their holy work. The
captain, pained by this sudden exposure of the dead, stooped, and with
one hand strove to gather up the cloak which was now drawn entirely
away, and trailed like a pall along the path they had taken. But at that
instant a powerful negro tore a passage through the chaparral, and
throwing himself on the ground, seized upon the garments of the dead
lady, and broke into a passion of grief so wild and poignant that the
sailors looked at each other awe-stricken.
"Is she dead--is she dead?" cried the negro, in wild, broken French,
which the captain could hardly understand. "My mistress--my
beautiful--beautiful mistress. They have killed her--why did she send
Jube away?--where is the little master?--where is monsieur? All dead,
all murdered, burned, trampled in the ashes."
"Did you know this lady?" said the captain, in his broken French. "Did
you know her?"
The man looked up; tears rained down his face, and he sobbed out an
incoherent answer amid plaintive moans over his mistress, for such
evidently the lady had been.
"Me know her--me that swung her first hammock on the mango trees--me!
ah, strange master, tell me, is she dead? gone forever and ever? no more
smiles, no more sweet words for Jube when he brings her fruit."
"Get up, poor fellow, get up, and let us pass," said the captain, in a
kindly voice. "She is dead, and it is dangerous to wait."
The man drew back, but still kept on his knees. "And the master," he
said piteously.
"I can tell you nothing of him," said the captain; "but the boy, the
little one, is safe in my ship yonder."
The negro sprang to his feet, searched for the ship with eager glances,
and began to clasp and wring his hands in alternate paroxysms of grief
and joy.
"The little master! The poor, poor mistress!" he kept exclaiming.
"Come, let us pass," said the captain, a little impatiently, for the
morning had dawned, and rays of soft, rosy light flushed the sky, and
fell trembling on the water. "Let us pass, we are not safe a minute
here."
The negro stood aside, shaking with grief, and when the funereal group
had passed him half a dozen paces, he followed it with his head bowed
down, and his clasped hands falling heavily before him. Thus he stood
till the body was placed in its shallow grave, but when the first
shovelful of earth was lifted, he came forward with both hands extended
imploringly, and pushed the spade back. An orange tree stood near, on
which the yellow fruit and white blossoms hung clustering together among
the fragrant leaves; the negro went to this tree, seized one of the most
richly laden boughs, and tore the blossoming branches away with both
hands. Then he gathered them eagerly up, carried them to the grave, and
over the body of his mistress he scattered the flowers till the turf
all around was flooded with fragrance, like an altar at some holy
festival.
When this was done the poor fellow drew back, and covering his face with
his hands, stood trembling in all his limbs till the sailors had done
their work, and dragged some shrubs and vines over the earth under which
his murdered lady--more fortunate than thousands massacred that fatal
night--had found a death shelter.
The sailors moved away from the grave they had made, but the negro did
not look up, and they started for the boat, leaving him behind. Then the
stillness aroused him, and as the party neared the shore, he followed
with a look of painful entreaty in his face, begging to go with them to
the ship.
The captain made a prompt motion for him to come on; but gesticulating
energetically for them to wait, he ran back to the spot where they had
first seen him, stooping downward, he began to tear up the earth with
both hands, flinging the leaves and sods on one side in wild haste, only
pausing to entreat their patience, with a pitiful glance of the eyes. At
last he dropped on his knees, lifted something from the hole he had dug,
and came forward with the moist soil dropping from his hands, which were
clutched tightly around a bronze box. He followed the men into the boat,
and sat down hugging the box to his bosom, and muttering to himself in
hurried, eager words, which no one present understood.
When they reached the ship the negro climbed up the sides like a cat.
Once on the deck, he ran back and forth, searching every corner. Then,
with a despairing cry, he sprang upon the bulwarks, lifted the box over
his head, and poised himself for a plunge.
The captain saw this desperate attempt, threw both arms around the
negro, and dragged him back upon the deck.
The poor fellow scrambled to his knees, and looking up with pitiful
abjectness, said:
"He is not here--the young master is not here; you said he was."
"Get up and come this way, my poor fellow!" said the captain, touched by
the humble pathos of his disappointment.
The negro sprang up and seized the box, which had fallen with a crash on
the deck.
"I come, master, I come."
"Hush!" said the kind-hearted sailor, pointing to his berth as they
entered the cabin. "Hush! and tell me if that is your young master."
The negro drew in his breath with a sob, and scarcely seemed to respire
after that. He crept close up to the berth, and looked down upon the boy
with a glow in his black face that it is impossible to describe, for
every ugly feature quivered with tenderness, while his eyes filled with
light, like those of a Newfoundland dog when he has done brave work for
his master.
"What will you do with us, strange master?" he said at last, addressing
the captain in a humble whisper. "Not send us back yonder?"
He made a motion toward the town with his hand, and a slow horror crept
over his face.
"No, my poor fellow, I will take the child to my own thrice-blessed
land, if there is no one left to claim him."
"And Jube--let him go too. If the strange master wants a slave, Jube is
strong, like a lion, and honest as a dog."
"Poor fellow!"
"See if Jube is not honest," he added, pressing the bronze box between
his hands, and forcing some secret spring to recoil. "They told Jube to
keep them, and he did. The master went back after mis--went after them.
Jube wanted to go with him, but the master said, 'No, stay on the
island, and guard that;' so Jube staid, waiting--waiting--waiting for
master to come with mistress and the little boy. He never
come--never--never will come again. The mistress sleeps! but where shall
Jube go to find him, and give back the box?"
"My poor fellow, I fear your master is dead, from some words I gathered
from the boy; I am almost sure of it."
"You will take the little boy and Jube away?" said the negro, anxiously,
still holding the box half-shut between his hands.
"If no one comes to claim him or you, I will."
The lid of the box flew open, and a ray of sunshine from the cabin
window flashed upon the jewels with which it was filled--diamond
necklaces, bracelets flaming with rubies and emeralds, ropes of oriental
pearls, and armlets flashing like rainbows, broke the sunshine into
sparkles of fire.
Mason looked wonderingly on the eager face of the negro.
"And this treasure--did it belong to your master?" he questioned. "Was
it to guard this, you hid in the chaparral at White Island?"
"All his; more, more, much more in the great house out there; but heavy
gold--too heavy--we had to leave it and go back. He went--wouldn't take
Jube--master went, but never he comes to see if Jube is faithful!"
"And all this belongs to the little fellow yonder. God help him!"
"You take little boy--take the box, and take Jube; he gives you all!"
Jube closed the box, dropped on both knees, and held it up.
Captain Mason hesitated, looked at the sleeping child and its strange
guardian, shrinking from the trust which chance had imposed upon him.
But he felt that a sacred duty was placed before him, from which no
honest man should wish to retreat.
He took the box, but as his hands touched the metal a cold chill crept
to his heart, and a mist floated before his eyes--an unstable, reddish
mist, such as floods a room when the light is filtered through crimson
drapery.
Perhaps the red curtain had fluttered before the cabin window; but if
so, he felt the startling effect without knowing its cause, and the box
shook in his hands, till the jewels within gave forth a faint sound.
"You will take us," pleaded the negro, frightened by the change in
Captain Mason's countenance.
"Yes," answered the brave man, casting off the feeling that had seized
upon him; "I accept the trust; God has placed it in my hands. As I
discharge it, may he prove merciful to me and mine."
The captain spoke to himself, and from the feelings that filled his
heart, rather than in reply to the negro; but the expression of his face
was full of grand resolve, which the slave could read better than
language. So he looked on with a glow of satisfaction while the box was
packed up among the most valuable property the captain possessed.
All this time the cabin door had been ajar, and but for the excitement
consequent to the scene, Captain Mason might have heard cautious steps
creeping down the stairs, and the suppressed breathing of a man who
skulked on the lowest steps, with his greedy eyes fixed on the jewels,
as they flashed that one minute in the negro's hands. The listener
waited until he saw the treasure put safely away, and heard the
captain's promise. Then he went up the steps, two at a time, with soft,
cautious leaps, like those of a fox, and when the captain came on deck,
his mate was busy superintending the boat, as it was hauled to its
fastenings.