Captain Winslow and those with him in the yawl at the time of the
sinking of the barge, intent on their work of landing and of managing
the cordelle, did not witness the rescue of Miss Hale and her
companion. The place where the yawl came to shore, was overhung by
bushes, and shut from view in the direction of the mouth of the bayou
by trees and branches just blown down. Throughout the disastrous
half-hour, only Dr. Deville thought less of self-preservation than of
the safety of others. Constantly he tried not to lose sight of his
daughter and of Evaleen, and he felt sure he had seen the girls going
ashore in a skiff, rowed by two men. The boatman, who escaped by
swimming when his fellows went down in the whirl of the eddy, could
not believe but that the women were drowned.
Winslow and his drenched crew followed Dr. Deville down to the angle
formed by the river and the bayou, where stood those of the wreckers
not employed with oar or boat-hook. And now the conclusion of the
sailor who swam to shore was confirmed by other testimony. These
fellows swore they had seen the lost women struggling in the water.
Another declared he saw them sink while he was making a desperate
effort, against wave and gale, to reach them in his boat.
Notwithstanding the assertions of the watermen, Deville did not
relinquish faith in his own eyes. He suspected foul play. So did
Winslow, who began to discover the spurious quality of the pretended
salvage corps. The vigilant exertions of these hookers-in of flotsam
could be accounted for only on the supposition that here, at the
outlet of Cypress Bayou, Captain Winslow had fallen into the hands of
a gang such as he had described to his passengers.
Palafox and his confederate made haste to return from their thieves'
den to the scene of the wreck. Deville's pleading inquiry concerning
the missing girls drew from the abductors feigned expressions of
surprise and regret. Turning to Winslow, Palafox said:
"I'm 'stonished, captain, that you risked takin' women on board a
freight boat."
"Yes," added Sheldrake. "You'll blame y'rself 's long 's you live.
Them bodies will come up as floaters, down about Baton Rouge."
Doctor Deville groaned.
"No, no! Say not that. My dear daughter shall not be lost! Ah! Mon
dieu!"
"Daughter? Was one of 'em your daughter, grand-daddy?" exclaimed
Sheldrake. "Think of that, Burke! His daughter drownded!"
"_Je suis fachè de votre malheur, père_," said Palafox, in a tone of
affected commiseration. Then turning to Sheldrake with a grin, "Better
not devil the old man any more, Shel; he's gone crazy. Hello, there
comes another boat!"
The craft sighted was a transport, flying the Stripes and Stars, and
bearing a detachment of soldiers from St. Louis to Natchez. On being
vociferously hailed by Winslow and his men, the batteau headed for the
shore. During the slow and laborious process of landing, the wreckers,
observing uniformed soldiers, with guns, furtively slipped away, one
by one, disappearing in the bush; all excepting Palafox, who, with
brazen audacity, still held his ground, acting his part as succorer of
the unfortunate.
"I mean to join the army myself," said he to Winslow, as a lieutenant
and several men came ashore. "I'd enlist now if it wasn't for my
family at home--two sick babies."
A yell of delight from Dr. Deville startled all on shore and on the
boat. His vigilant eye, ever enfilading the tangled copse to the
eastward, had caught through an opening in the bushes the flutter of a
blue gown, which he recognized as the kirtle of his idolized Lucrèce.
She presently emerged from the thicket, accompanied by Arlington and
Evaleen. Palafox was much disconcerted. He forgot his role of public
benefactor, and was casting about to slip away as his fellows had
done, when Arlington, rushing forward, pistol in hand, savagely
confronted him.
"Stop!" thundered the Virginian, covering the desperado with his
pistol, and glaring upon him with determined eye. Palafox, unable to
escape, nonchalantly bit a chew of tobacco and nodded insolently.
"Take this man prisoner!" demanded the Virginian, keeping his eye and
his pistol on the boatman.
"You've no warrant to take me," sneered Palafox.
"No warrant is required. Seize him, soldiers--he is a robber, an
outlaw!"
To the accusation of Arlington, Miss Hale added her entreaties in
terms so urgent that Palafox was arrested with little ceremony.
While the soldiers were hustling the kidnapper aboard the boat, the
officer in command, Captain Warren Danvers, hastened to the shore,
having recognized the voice of Evaleen. Neither Lucrèce, who loved
Danvers, nor Chester, who loved Evaleen, could hear what passed, in
rapid speech, between the affectionate couple. The story of the
voyage, the wreck, the abduction, Evaleen imparted in a breath. She
told as briefly the circumstances of the rescue.
"Oh, Warren, is it really you? A divine Providence guards us. Such a
coincidence is not blind chance. Who could guess when we parted that
we should come together under these circumstances. The hand of Heaven
saved us."
"My dear girl, will you give no credit to human saviors? It appears
you owe special gratitude to a mortal. I can't claim any merit for
saving you, but I am extremely happy that we are once more together.
Who is your travelling companion? We must look after her."
"Are you tired of me already," she playfully chided, "and curious to
make a new friend? They are French people from Gallipolis."
"French? Is she French?" asked Danvers, gazing toward Lucrèce.
"French? Is she French?" tenderly mocked Evaleen. "I told you they
were French. Now I _am_ jealous. Do you know any French girl in
Gallipolis?"
"Nonsense, Evaleen! I am not a woman's man. Pardon, I don't mean that
I don't like _you_, of course--"
"Like--don't you love me? I love you with all my heart, you dear
fellow! But I love Lucrèce also, and maybe I'll let you love her just
a little."
Danvers seemed embarrassed. Evaleen went on:
"We are forgetting our friends. Come, you must thank the man who saved
us."
The pair hurried to where Arlington stood.
"Mr. Arlington, this is Captain Danvers."
"I have met Captain Danvers."
"How, what? Have you, Warren, formed the acquaintance of--?"
"I have seen Mr. Arlington once before."
"Where?"
"In Marietta."
"When?"
"A good while ago. On the day I left for St. Louis."
"You never told me." Danvers looked hard at Arlington, who felt called
upon to explain.
"Madam, I challenged Captain Danvers to fight."
Evaleen's blue eyes opened wide.
"Challenged Warren!"
"Yes."
"And you accepted the challenge?"
"Yes."
"Why, brother!"
Arlington's heart leapt within him. "Brother?" he stammered. "Captain
Danvers your brother?"
"He is my half brother."
Danvers laughed out. Putting his arm around Evaleen, he said, "Mr.
Arlington, if you are still disposed to fight me, we may meet when you
please. But I am of the opinion you will learn from Evaleen that you
have more cause to cherish hard feelings against the man you champion
than against me."
"At any rate," said Arlington, as the two shook hands, "whatever you
may think concerning Colonel Burr, this is not the place nor time for
quarrelling. You have the Spaniards to fight--I must fight a rash
temper."
Lucrèce, pale and sad-eyed, was leaning upon her father's shoulder.
Evaleen hastened to her, and the doctor went up to Arlington to pour
out endless thanks.
"Are you sick, Lucrèce? Shall we go to the boat?"
"Sick, sick at heart."
"There is a way to cure that."
"No, my Evaleen, there is no cure. But you shall it all forgive. How
could I know? You say you sometime tell me the story I read, alas, too
late."
"Story? What story?"
"Ah, my sweet friend--pardon me--pity Lucrèce. _Mon soldat--mon
capitaine_, you love heem--he love you--how shall we not hate us?"
The captain made bold to approach the ladies. When his eyes met those
of Lucrèce, Evaleen interpreted the silent language exchanged.
"Lucrèce, your soldier is my brother, you jealous little tigress!
But," she added in a whisper, "don't let him kiss you again."
Danvers, without delay, gave directions for all to embark, and himself
conducted Lucrèce and her jubilant father on board.
Arlington, escorting the Lady of the Violets, asked her, in an
undertone, "Did you get my last letter from Virginia?"
"Yes," answered Evaleen. "Did you receive mine, in which I explained
the mistakes of Byle?"
"No; I did not get such a letter. Tell me all the contents."
"That will require time."
"Did you answer my--my question?"
"Wait until you see the letter."
"I don't think I can wait."
"Then until we can talk on the boat."
Danvers proposed to take the crew and passengers of the wrecked barge
Buckeye aboard his transport and carry them as far south as Natchez,
where a family boat could be procured for the continuance of their
voyage to New Orleans. Arlington, of course, was accommodated; also
his faithful horse, Jetty, which had followed him down the margin of
the bayou. The understanding was that Winslow should conduct the
doctor and the ladies from Natchez to New Orleans, leaving Danvers
free to march his troops to Natchitoches, while Arlington remained in
Natchez to transact the business intrusted to him by Burr.
The transport was soon afloat. Monsieur Deville, quickly recovering
his habitual gaiety, chirruped:
"Have I not said, Mees Hale, to your father that hees gairl sall be
safe as ze baby in ze cradle? Have I not keep my word? Ze leetle blow
of ze wind, it is all ovair. What we care now for ze boat-wreckair, ze
bad robbair? _Voila!_ have we not brush away ze mosquito? But say to
me, my daughter's dear friend, am I myself Eloy Deville? Ze Captain
Danvers, is he a lunatic?"
"No, doctor, not a lunatic, but a lover. My brother and your daughter
have been sweethearts for many moons."
"Now I am sure you also, Mees Hale, have lost your head. You also are
in ze delirium."
Danvers, attempting to ingratiate himself with père Eloy, was called
away by an occurrence which caused him chagrin. The sentinel to whom
was assigned the duty of keeping watch over Palafox was not
sufficiently vigilant to foil his cunning. The amphibious athlete
managing deftly to loosen the cords which bound his wrists, slipped
like an eel from the boat into the river, and, diving deep, swam
awhile under water, then on the surface, and finally reached the
eastern shore of the Mississippi, a few miles south of the point at
which the boat had landed. Long, toilsome, exhausting, was his return
tramp toward the sole haunt in which he could expect sympathy or
command protection. He did not rely on honor among thieves, but he had
confidence in Mex, who was bound to him, he believed, by two strong
ties, love and fear.
Night had fallen before Palafox reached the southern edge of the bayou
at the point opposite his only house and home, and it was pitchy dark,
when, having swam across the stagnant channel, he trudged, wet and
weary, to the barred door of Cacosotte's Tavern, and knocked. Mex
undid the bolts and let her master in, her sagacious eyes swiftly
taking note of his bodily plight and desperate mood. To her
demonstration of savage tenderness he returned a ferocious growl, and
shoved her from him roughly.
"Fetch me the brandy, quick! Don't you see I'm drowned?"
He swallowed at a gulp the potation she poured out, and stepping into
a dark recess christened "The Captain's Corner," where hung various
stolen articles of men's apparel, he exchanged his soaked garments for
dry ones.
Meanwhile, Mex sullenly placed upon a table such food as her cupboard
could supply. Palafox emerged, mollified in temper, but still
irascible. In his hand he held the long leathern pocket-book
containing the alleged evidence of Wilkinson's complicity with the
Spanish government. It was creased and dripping, and before eating he
opened it, carefully took out the papers, and spread them on the
counter of the bar to dry.
"You wouldn't guess there might be a fortune in these, would you,
Blackey?"
"_Not_ Blackey! No negar-wool!" She shook her long black hair, and her
blacker eyes glittered. "No Mexicano, no red squaw--your woman."
Palafox was wont to amuse himself by provoking the pride and jealousy
of this caged creature of untamed affections.
"Where is Sott? Did he come home? He ought to be burnt alive for
letting my game escape. Where is he?"
Mex, standing behind her lord and watching him as he ate and drank,
explained that Nine Eyes had been badly hurt in a fight with one of
the band; a bullet had shivered the bones of his arm; the sufferer had
groaned and howled, but she soothed him, she said, by a charm, and he
at last slept.
Sott's nondescript nurse had in fact, administered an opiate. In
addition to the arts of the hoodoo and medicine man, she possessed
unusual knowledge of the virtue of wild plants, including those of
dangerous quality. There was never race or tribe so primitive as to be
ignorant of deadly herbs. This scarcely half-civilized daughter of
miscegenation was a Hecate in the skilful decoction of potent leaves,
roots and berries.
"You _charmed_ him to sleep?" sneered Palafox, glancing back
threateningly, and speaking in Spanish. "Be careful who you charm.
Best not be coddling Nine Eyes, or any other man, while I'm livin'.
Bring another bottle. You could have kept those girls here for me, if
you'd tried. You allowed that strutting dandy to carry them off before
your eyes. This makes the second time he got away from me. The third
time is the charm. Not your kind of charm, Mex, but one that acts
quicker."
"What charm?" asked Mex, who had gone behind the bar, and was busy
with bottles and cups. She decanted some drops into a flask.
"What charm! Copper-cheeks! You don't recollect how I dosed Pepillo
that night!"
"Yes, that night me save your life. Me your wife then! Me kill dandy?"
Palafox chuckled at the question.
"No, señora, no. I'll do that part of the business, and you see after
the charming. You might have captivated the dandy for all I care, and
kept him to yourself. It isn't him I want. I want her. And I'll have
her yet. I've set my heart on getting ahold of that woman."
The hand of Mex could not have been steady; she let fall something
that broke like glass.
"What are you spilling, there? Don't break my bottles. Bring me more
drink."
Mex started up confusedly from behind the bar, brought a flagon, sat
down on the bench beside Palafox, and looked into his face. A furious
resentment was raging in her heart.
Palafox enjoyed his temporary wife's manifestations of jealousy. He
laughed, took a deep draught from the flagon, and said:
"You are infernal particular, Mex. I never heard of another woman of
your pedigree who was opposed to polygamy."
She did not understand all the words he used, but gathered the chief
import, and replied with impetuous wrath:
"No Mex--not Choctaw--me Castiliano--me Señora Palafox." The
desperado sat still several minutes, drank again from a bowl which Mex
had mixed.
"You're all right, señora--I couldn't keep house without you. Look
ye here, bring all those papers and I'll put 'em safe back in the
pocket book." The papers were folded up and enclosed carefully into
the leathern wallet. Palafox, with trembling hand, thrust the package
in his pocket, and then staggered to his feet.
"There's a queer pain in the back of my neck and in my chest, Mex; I
can't stand up--help me." He leaned on the bar, and the woman hastily
drew to the middle of the floor the great buffalo robe which was her
usual bed. She also brought a panther's hide rolled up to serve as a
pillow. The horribly staring eyes of Palafox followed her motions.
"There's something ails my heart, I tell you."
He stumbled upon the bed of pelts and lay sprawling.
"More drink! water! brandy! quick!"
With difficulty Mex turned the man upon his back. A while he lay
still. His breathing was labored and he twitched convulsively. The
entire nervous system was suddenly depressed. Mex stood motionless
beside the pallet, her eyes riveted upon him. Presently his livid lips
opened, and he spoke gaspingly, "I'm done for."
His hand fumbled about his heart. He was falling into syncope. He did
not feel the sweep and tickle of downfalling hair which, for a moment,
enmeshed and covered his face, when Mex knelt at his side and took
from his bosom the pocket-book he had told her contained a fortune.
Having secured this treasure, the slighted mistress of a dying robber
slid noiseless as a shadow to her accustomed covert behind the bar.
When she came thence her feet and ankles were encased in high buckskin
moccasins adorned in bright colors. About her shoulders she drew an
Indian blanket decorated in richest style of barbaric elegance. She
paused to bestow a parting look on the distorted face of him she had
loved and poisoned. A feeble moan came from his lips. She knew it
meant death, for wolf's-bane was mixed with the last draughts he had
taken.
Like a shadow Mex passed from the cabin into the darkness of the
woods. She had prevented the man from pursuing any other woman.
The hours of night wore slowly away, and Cacosotte, returning to
consciousness after his anæsthetic sleep, felt renewed pain in his
disabled arm. As soon as he realized his condition, he sat up in bed
and shouted for his nurse. "Mex!" No answer.
"Mex, for God's sake come and fix my arm."
No answer. No sound whatever was to be heard in the lonely cabin.
"Mex, O Mex!"
No response. Cacosotte waited half an hour and again called out.
Finally he got up, and in the gray light of a cloudy November dawn
made his way from his remote couch in "Heaven" to the glimmering
twilight of "Hell." Mex was not in her lair, nor was the couch itself
in the usual place.
Cacosotte bent over Palafox and saw a corpse.