“COMRADES!” cried a voice of thunder.
All looked at the spot from whence the sound proceeded: Bug-Jargal was
standing on the edge of the opening, a crimson plume floating on his
head.
“Comrades,” repeated he, “stay your hands!”
The negroes prostrated themselves upon the earth in token of submission.
“I am Bug-Jargal,” continued he.
The negroes struck the earth with their heads, uttering cries the
meaning of which I could not comprehend.
“Unbind the prisoner,” commanded the chief.
But now the dwarf appeared to recover from the stupor into which the
sudden appearance of Bug-Jargal had thrown him, and seized by the arm
the negro who was preparing to cut the cords that bound me.
“What is the meaning of this? What are you doing?” cried he.
Then, raising his voice, he addressed Bug-Jargal: “Chief of
Morne-Rouge,” cried he, “what are you doing here?”
“I have come to command my own men,” was the reply.
“Yes,” answered the dwarf, in tones of concentrated passion, “these
negroes do certainly belong to your band; but,” added he, raising his
voice again, “by what right do you interfere with my prisoner?”
The chief answered, “I am Bug-Jargal;” and again the negroes struck the
ground with their foreheads.
“Bug-Jargal,” continued Habibrah, “cannot contravene the orders of
Biassou; this white man was given to me by Biassou; I desire his death,
and die he shall. Obey me,” he added, turning to the negroes, “and hurl
him into the abyss.”
At the well-known voice of the Obi the negroes rose to their feet and
took a step towards me. I thought all was lost.
“Unbind the prisoner!” cried Bug-Jargal again.
In an instant I was free. My surprise was equalled by the fury of the
Obi. He attempted to throw himself upon me. The negroes interfered; then
he burst out into imprecations and threats.
“‘Demonios! rabia! inferno de mi alma!’ How, wretches, you refuse to
obey me! Do you not recognize my voice! Why did I lose time in talking
to this accursed one? I ought to have had him hurled without delay to
the fishes of the gulf. By wishing to make my vengeance more complete I
have lost it all together. _Orabia de Satan._ Listen to me: if you do
not obey me, and hurl him into the abyss, I will curse you; your hair
shall grow white, the mosquitoes and sandflies shall eat you up alive,
your legs and your arms shall bend like reeds, your breath shall burn
your throat like red hot-sand, you shall die young, and after your death
your spirits shall be compelled to turn a millstone as big as a
mountain, in the moon where it is always cold.”
The scene was a strange one. The only one of my colour, in a damp and
gloomy cavern surrounded by negroes with the aspect of demons, balanced
as it were upon the edge of a bottomless gulf, and every now and then
threatened by a deformed dwarf, by a hideous sorcerer upon whose striped
garments and pointed cap the fading light shone faintly, yet protected
by a tall negro who was standing at the only point from which daylight
could be seen, it appeared to me that I was at the gates of hell,
awaiting the conflict between my good and evil angels, to result in the
salvation or the destruction of my soul. The negroes appeared to be
terrified at the threats of the Obi, and he endeavoured to profit by
their indecision.
“I desire the death of the white man, and he _shall_ die; obey me.”
Bug-Jargal replied solemnly, “He shall live; I am Bug-Jargal, my father
was the King of Kakongo, who dispensed justice at the gate of his
palace.”
Again the negroes cast themselves upon the ground.
The chief continued.
“Brethren, go and tell Biassou not to unfurl the black banner upon the
mountain-top which should announce to the whites the signal of this
man’s death, for he was the saviour of Bug-Jargal’s life, and Bug-Jargal
wills that he should live.”
They rose up. Bug-Jargal threw his red plume on the ground before them.
The chief of the guard picked it up with every show of respect, and they
left the cavern without a word; whilst the Obi, with a glance of rage,
followed them down the subterranean avenue.
I will not attempt to describe my feelings at that moment. I fixed my
eyes, wet with tears, upon Pierrot, who gazed upon me with a singular
expression of love and tenderness. “God be praised,” said he, “you are
saved. Brother, go back by the road by which you entered, you will meet
me again in the valley.”
He waved his hand to me and disappeared from my sight.