CRUSOES FOR A NIGHT
As the three companions, Johnny, Doris and Nieta sat upon the mossy bank
beneath the palms waiting for the dawn on that mysterious island. Johnny
was not the only one to indulge in long, long thoughts. Doris came in for
her full share.
"It's strange," she told herself, as a little thrill ran through her, "to
be camping here on an island we have never seen. Who can say what wild
creatures may roam these forests? Time was when whole herds of wild
cattle wandered peacefully over our own dry plains or went charging madly
up the steep slopes to escape some pursuer."
As she sat there amid the silence, she fancied all manner of strange and
unusual things, yet a stout heart held her nerves steady. Fortunately her
mind was fresh. Sleep on the boat had done much for her. She was ready
for another day and whatever it might bring. So she sat there listening
to the voice of the jungle.
Night brings its changes to a tropical island. At night a thousand
creatures, too torpid or too timid to face the light of day, fare forth
in search of food. Strange mouselike rodents, and those resembling
rabbits, sport in the spots where moonlight falls. The short-nosed wild
pig comes forth from his dark retreat to root around among the ferns and
shrubs. More fearsome creatures there are too: yellow snakes and great,
brown lizards.
All this Doris knew, yet, strangely enough, she experienced no tremor of
fear. Not so strange after all perhaps: for was not Johnny Thompson close
at hand? It is strange this confidence of a girl in the strength of a
boy; her utter confidence in his power to defend her from the beasts of
the jungle, from a hidden enemy, yes, from the very lightning bolts that
shoot from the sky.
Perhaps, as she sat there, eyes half closed, part asleep, part awake, the
girl dreamed of the time when she should have a man who was all her own,
and a home. For, long ago she had learned that the best of life's good
things come to those who have a roof, a kitchen, a hearthfire they can
call their own.
She thought for the hundredth time of the jeweled monkey and of the
treasure supposed to be hidden away in the now ruined castle. She thought
of Johnny's 'Rope of Gold' and wondered if it had really existed, existed
still to-day or were made of the stuff that dreams are woven from.
She thrilled as she recalled Johnny's story of the copper-colored natives
and his battle with the wild boar.
Most of all she wondered about the island which they had reached in such
a strange manner. Was it a small island? Was it large? Were there many
natives? Were they wild natives? Was it true that some of these natives
were cannibals? It had been true long ago in the days of Columbus. Had
they changed or had they clung to their primitive customs down the long
centuries? She thought of Nieta and her snake-tooth charm.
"If she who has lived among white people all her life still believes in
this Voodoo charm," she thought with a shudder, "what is one to expect
from the inhabitants of some small island where the white man is seldom
seen?"
So she wondered and thought, and wondered again until the first flush of
dawn came sifting down among the trees. Then Johnny Thompson rose to
shake himself and peer into the dawn. After that they started, the three
of them, through that faint but beautiful light that is a tropical
morning, toward the beach, fortified with brave hearts, strong bodies and
clean minds against that which the day might bring forth.
* * * * * * * *
At that very hour Curlie and Dot were leaving the garden of the chateau.
They were going in search of Doris and Nieta. Dot's father was away.
There remained at their home only two aged servants. Because of the
threatened revolution it was necessary that the servants remain and keep
a sharp watch out for trouble.
"Father should be told of the revolution," said Dot. "He should know,
too, that Doris has disappeared. But who will find him? He is to be gone
for a week. He will travel from place to place and has no definite route.
"So," she sighed. "I guess it's up to us to do what is to be done."
"Count on me," said Curlie. "Mike and I will help you."
"Mike?" The girl threw him a curious glance.
"Why yes,--Mike." Curlie spoke slowly as if reluctant to say more.
With a girl's quick perception, she read his thoughts and asked no other
questions.
So in the half darkness of early morning, they left the beautiful chateau
to lose themselves on the jungle trail that leads up to the ancient
fortress where Dorn, after a restless night full of dire forebodings, was
doing his bit helping old Pompee kindle a fire.
They walked along in silence, Curlie and the girl. Curlie was thinking.
He had always thought of Haiti as a quiet place, sleepy and hot where
nothing truly exciting ever happened, yet after being here only part of a
very short summer, he found himself facing many mysteries and, as far as
he could tell, in for more than one adventure.
"If only people wouldn't be forever getting themselves lost," he thought
to himself.
His mind at that moment was busy with thoughts of his little laboratory
at the ancient Citadel. "If only they'd leave me alone I'd get the thing
completed. And it is important that I should complete it; especially if
there is to be a revolution. With these superstitious natives----
"Man! Oh Man!" He unconsciously spoke out loud. "How they would run!"
"Who would run?" said Dot.
"The--why the natives, of course. They're always running, aren't they?"
Again the girl understood and said no more.
"She's a peach of a girl. Don't insist on prying into everything," he
thought. "Someday I'll tell her my secrets."
"If this Midas were only a dog," he said a moment later, speaking of
Dot's donkey, "he could lead us back over the trail to his mistress. But
being only a donkey--"
"Midas has donkey's ears because he is a donkey." The girl laughed a
merry laugh. "Since he is a donkey you can't expect too much of him. But
we'll find Doris all right."
"I'm sure of it," said Curlie.
* * * * * * * *
In the meantime Johnny, Doris and Nieta had reached the beach and were
revelling in a tropical sunrise over the sea.
Dawn on a tropical sea! How can one describe it? Great, dark clouds that
appear to threaten sudden disaster. The sea a sheet of gray steel. Then,
slowly comes the change. The dull, threatening clouds are tinted with the
pink of rose petals. The sea loses its dull foreboding and like the sky
becomes a thing of beauty. Brighter colors follow, red, orange, yellow,
and after that, with a low whisper of wavelets the day is ushered in.
And such a day as it promised to be for the three of them, Johnny, Doris
and Nieta.
The first fact that Johnny's practiced eye noted was that the boat that
had carried them to these strange shores was gone.
"What if this should prove to be a small, abandoned island," he said
aloud, "like Robinson Crusoe's?"
"What if it should?" Doris breathed.
What indeed? They were young, romantic. The sea lay before them. Behind
them was the island. The thrilling possibilities of it all set their
blood racing. Animal trails no human foot has trod. Jungles no man has
explored. Strange butterflies and flowers of a species no man has known.
Ruins perhaps of a long forgotten race or of some ancient pirate's hiding
place. All these possibilities and more lay before them.
There was food. Wild bananas, cocoanuts, bread fruit, fish in the streams
and the sea, and birds so tame they might almost be caught with the naked
hand.
As they stood there day-dreaming, the sea, the air, the very palm tops
appeared to listen to their thoughts; so calm and still it was; such a
Sabbath hush there was over all.
And then, crashing into their thoughts, wrecking the silence, came a
laugh, the loud, prolonged laugh of a black man. There could be no
mistaking it. No white man, certainly no Oriental, could laugh like that.
The boy and girl started, then stood for ten seconds looking into one
another's eyes. After that, because the laugh was contagious, they too
burst forth into merry peals of laughter.
"There are people on the island," said Johnny. "A man seldom laughs when
he is alone. Never like that."
"Johnny," said Doris, "do cannibals and pirates laugh?"
"I doubt it," said Johnny. "Surely not that way."
"How strange it is," he said after a moment of silence. "Men may read
your character, your mood, your very attitude toward life and your fellow
men by your laugh. A boy torments a smaller boy by burning his bare foot
with a hot stick. He laughs. How different is that laugh from a heart so
full of pure joy that it needs must overflow with laughter."
"There are people over there," he repeated. "There's no use prolonging
the suspense. Either they are friendly natives or vicious savages. In
either case there is nothing gained by delay. Humanity is very much the
same everywhere. We are usurpers in their land. The best we can do is to
march right up and say, 'Howdy'. Let's go."
And away they marched.