WE SAIL ON A DIFFERENT QUEST
There were none among us who had not heard stories of the voodoo, of
that strange snake worship of the negroes; how at night the devotees
came together secretly in the forest; and how they got themselves into a
frenzy of excitement with the music of the drum and the drinking of rum,
which they mixed with the blood of fowls, or better that of a goat; how
at times they were not satisfied with anything less than the blood of a
human (_the goat without horns_). It was more often a child, black or
white, which was sacrificed to the voodoo god, which was incarnate in
the form of a small green snake, kept in a basket on a platform, on
which appeared the _papaloi_ or _mamaloi_ who presided at the horrid
ceremony. Then it became an orgie--dancing--cannibalism, for after the
warm blood had been drunk, the flesh was boiled and eaten.
Thus you can imagine our horror at the thought of sweet little Marie
Cambon falling into such hands; and so too you will understand our easy
abandonment of every other ambition that we might turn our zeal toward
the rescue of this poor innocent.
Monsieur Cambon's suspicions, too, had turned to this Mordaunt, when the
report of the schooner's flight in the dark had come to him, and
particularly so when the news came of the mysterious landing of a boat
to take off the black men with the great basket. But we of the _Pearl_
were very careful not to repeat to Cambon anything of Amos's mention of
the voodoo. Such a blow to let strike a parent, we felt, would serve no
purpose.
Let us pass over those hours of preparation for the sailing in pursuit
of the schooner _Josephine_.
Monsieur Cambon, accompanied by his daughter, Josephine, came with us to
the boat, to give last expression of gratitude and God speed. Miss
Josephine pulled me aside for a word. Her face was pale, and a wild look
was in her eyes as they gazed into mine.
"You go after him!" She meant it for a question, though she gave it the
form of an accusation.
I made no denial.
"He did not steal Marie!" she said, her tone expressing a wish rather
than a conviction. I could see that she, even, now had begun to doubt,
for she knew, too, that Mordaunt had stolen away under cover of night.
"I am convinced he did," I asserted.
Her face became more pale. "Oh, tell me!" she said.
I considered a moment; then decided that it would be a kindness, if I
could cure her of her belief in this man. Pledging her to secrecy I then
told her Rufe's story of Amos, though carefully omitting any mention of
the voodoo. I believe she matched other circumstances with what I had to
say, to the end that conviction was stealing into her heart. Finally she
spoke.
"Oh, I didn't want to believe!" she said. "Oh, I hope he will die!"
And she turned away.
It was at four bells of the morning watch (ten o'clock) that we sailed
out of Kingston harbor. We set our course to the east in spite of the
fact that the mysterious boat had landed to the west, beyond Portland
Point; the home of the voodoo was to the east, not to the west. He who
was our guide living, was still our guide, though dead. Indeed there
seemed almost ground for believing that his spirit continued to direct
us, on a number of occasions, when we were completely at a loss.
Madame Marat had remained in Kingston; so the _Pearl_ company consisted
of Grant Norris, Jean Marat, Julian Lamartine, Rufe, Ray Reid, Robert
Murtry, and myself, not to mention the sailors, forward.
When we had passed Morant Point, Captain Marat set the course east
northeast. We aimed for the home of the voodoo. It was the only clue we
had. At midnight we sighted the white flash of an island light; it was
day when we passed the towering rock. Then at last the peaks of the
great island we sought began to creep up out of the sea. The great
jumbled mass of rocks came even nearer, spreading out as if to engulf
us, till, on the following day we dropped anchor off the city.
It was not a cheerful passage, this from island to island. Even Ray had
been caught in the general gloom. We had time, each severally, during
these two days, to come, by reflection, to a realization of the apparent
hopelessness of our task. Beyond the almost haphazard selection of this
one large port as our first point of contact, we had no plan. While the
query,--what next? was uppermost in the minds of each, he dreaded to
hear another--every other--confess that he did not know. For of
necessity he _could_ not know. And so, when we moved in,
in that late afternoon, seeking a suitable anchorage, every
eye--independently--sought out every sail within view, only half daring
to hope for a sight of a vessel that should appear to be the
_Josephine_.
When everything had been made snug above deck, and the harbor officials
had made their visit, dusk was on. No move could be made until morning.
And then came supper. All lingered at the table, knowing that the time
had come for a council of war. It was Norris who volunteered to open the
ball.
"Well comrades," he began, seeking to be cheerful, "I suppose we'll now
have to decide on a fresh start. How are we going to find out if the
_Josephine_ is here?"
"Well," said Captain Marat, "If she have not change her name, that will
be easy."
Captain Marat had hit on the thing that was troubling us all. The man
Mordaunt, we knew, had at one time changed the name of his vessel to
honor her whom he had hoped to make his wife, and now he might have two
reasons for making another change in name: He had been disappointed in
his hope, and there was the criminal reason--for concealment. None had
taken any note of the schooner, and Monsieur Cambon's description of the
vessel made a picture that answered for almost any schooner yacht of
dimensions a little greater than the _Pearl_.
It was also unfortunate that none of us had set eyes on this man
Mordaunt. But Monsieur Cambon had been able to give us one
characteristic of the man that might go far toward identifying him,
should we be fortunate enough to encounter him under favorable
conditions. Cambon described him as of medium though strong build; of
finely chiseled, rather handsome features; black eyes, black hair, which
he wore a little long and which was disposed to curl. His manners Cambon
described as studiously polished, if self-assertive. But the single
characteristic that interested me most was a certain mannerism.
"Sometimes," M. Cambon had said, "when he is unconscious of his
surroundings, deeply cogitating on something, he will take the lobe of
his ear between thumb and finger, pulling or stroking--like when others
scratch the head when they are puzzled."
It took us but a short time to determine on a course. Some were to go in
a small boat among the many ships of the harbor, while others should
visit the city. We spent an hour on deck, breathing the balmy air, and
watching the many lights of the ships and the city. There, too, was the
revolving red light on Point Lomentin, and the green light, set in by
the city.
We were early astir, all eager to be doing. Ray and Julian went with
Grant Norris to sail about the harbor, to seek news of the _Josephine_;
Robert and myself, with Captain Marat, rowed to a wharf of the city. It
was verily a city of blacks. Mulattoes were few, and we walked up and
down numerous streets before we found a white man whose appearance
encouraged us. He was a Frenchman, seated before an apothecary shop. The
smile on his thin smooth-shaven face invited us to stop. He and Captain
Marat were directly in conversation, in the tongue they knew best.
The Frenchman gave us his name--Jules Sevier--and had us into his shop,
with its many bottles of patent medicines, in rows. He and Marat sipped
French wine while they continued their talk. At last the apothecary
turned to Robert and myself.
"Ah," he said, "I am 'fraid you have one ver' deeficult task. But I am
glad you fin' your way to me. I will help you all I can."
It developed that he knew nothing of either the schooner _Josephine_ or
M. Mordaunt, or anyone to fit the description Marat was able to give
him. But after listening to the recital of the circumstances (set about
the disappearance of little Marie Cambon) he said,--"Oui, oui! it was
thad man. Such things like thad have happen more times than the world
think. You have come to the right place."
Jules Sevier at the last told us that he would make some private
inquiries, and advised that we come back on the following day to learn
the results.
We were soon in our boat, somewhat cheered by the bit of encouragement
we'd got, alloyed as it was.
"I think it's a good sign," declared Robert, "that we went so straight
to that man. He can help us if anybody can."
Robert was something of a fatalist you see.
"Yes, he know ver' much about the voodoo," said Jean Marat.
We boarded the _Pearl_, to wait several hours before the others showed
up. When they drew near we could see that they had been unsuccessful.
They had found no schooner of the name sought, nor any with a newly
painted name.
"Of course," said Norris, "she might be lying hid behind some small
island, or point, miles away, and it will take anyway a week to find
out."