WE PICK UP THE TRAIL
In the morning all but Rufe went to shore. Rufe would have none of it.
"Say," he said, when Ray offered to remain aboard in his place, "say,
you-all, you ain't guine git dis niggah in dat town to be voodooed by
dem heathen niggahs. Hum-n! An' I ain't got no rabbit-fut, nor nuthing."
Julian, Ray, and Norris went sight-seeing, while Marat, Robert, and I
made our way to the apothecary shop.
Jules Sevier greeted us.
"I ver' sorry I have no news for you," he said. "There is one, I could
not find, who have a son who carry the mail, and know ver' much of thees
country. Maybe tomorrow she weel be home, and we can learn sometheeng."
He ushered us into the shop, where there awaited us a black woman of
middle age, who, Sevier said, would tell us a tale that we would travel
far to find a match for. She could speak only in the French; so Jean
Marat got her tale, which he interpreted for Robert and myself.
Her husband had been a voodoo devotee; but twelve years ago he had been
induced to renounce the worship, and turn to one of the Christian
denominations. One of his old associates contrived to introduce into his
food one of the poisons so well known to the voodoo.
The man died.
The authorities insisted on his immediate burial. The poor widow had
gone to visit his grave on the following day, only to find his empty
coffin, beside the opened grave. The body was gone. The remains were
found, however, hours later, with the heart and lungs removed. She said
she then was convinced poison had been given him to put him in a trance,
and that the voodoo worshipers had exhumed him a few hours after burial,
and resuscitated him, to obtain the living blood for admixture with the
rum, and to take the heart for a voodoo feast.
When the woman had gone, Jules Sevier told us that he was prepared to
escort some one of us to witness an actual voodoo ceremonial that very
night. He assured us that by reason of the nearness of the locality to
the city, our sensibilities would be subjected to no greater shock than
to witness the sacrifice of fowls. We none of us confessed to over much
curiosity, even for so mild a show; but in this quest we were on, some
more actual knowledge of these practices might stand us in good stead.
It fell to me to be Sevier's companion on the excursion; and I returned
alone, at dusk, to take supper with him, and prepare for the show. The
apothecary assured me that if we were to go as white men, we should see
little to our purpose, since it would then be necessary to depart before
any important part of the ceremonial should begin. So he brought into a
back-room certain grease-paints, and a pair of black, woolly wigs, and
two outfits--jackets, trousers, and hats,--of the same nondescript style
that I had seen on the streets of the city.
He set to work to help me to smear and rig myself first; and when the
operation was complete he set a glass before me. I was shocked at the
spectacle, and I set to, to rubbing my wrist, to see if this black stain
might not be permanent, so natural did it appear. It refused to rub off.
Sevier saw my embarrassment, and laughingly assured me that any tallow
would take it off.
We passed out at the back, into the dark, and made our way through the
streets. The rows of unattractive buildings with their second story
balconies, shallow and overhanging, were like the pictures I'd seen of
the Chinatown of a great city. The stench from the gutters was
nauseating, the heat stifling. We had presently passed the outskirts of
the city, and were treading a rough road.
For some time I had been cocking my ear to a distant sound. It began as
a scarcely discernible rumble; then it would swell to a roar, as of an
approaching storm, and die away, and then swell again, and then fall
away again, in a most improper and bewildering fashion. The blackened
apothecary at my side informed me that it was the _Ka_--the voodoo drum,
and that I should presently see the drummer. When we had covered some
above a mile of this road, the drummer seemed to have taken his
instrument and gone some considerable distance away, for the rumble had
now become scarce audible. But my conductor informed me it was a
peculiarity of the thing that it was heard with greater distinctness at
a distance than when near by; and so the lesser sound was evidence that
we were drawing near our goal. The skin over my spine was becoming a bit
creepy. The ghostly palms looked down on us, and seemed to whisper
things. If I had been alone I am quite sure I should have turned back.
In an interval between the rumblings of the drum I heard a cricket, and
that familiar sound gave me some comfort.
Then at last we made out a great fire ahead, and between us and the
leaping flames were many dusky figures, grotesquely capering. As we
approached we saw that one or two were already in a frenzy of
excitement, and there was constant drinking. Then I made out the
drummer. He was sitting astride of what appeared to be a cask, his
fingers playing upon the end. The dancers seemed as if they would fly
into the tree-tops with ecstacy, at each swelling of the sound.
We two kept well out in the shadows, till all of that hundred or more of
blacks seemed to have reached the height of intoxication; then we moved
in. Finally the dancing ceased, and an old crone in a red robe mounted a
rude platform, taking her place beside the snake-box.
She first addressed the mob; and then each worshiper in turn came
forward, spoke words, and lay some offering before the box. My companion
whispered me the explanation that they were asking favors. The old
crone--the _mamaloi_--set her ear to the box, and gave out the answers,
one by one.
All now crowded close, as the _mamaloi_ seized a white rooster by the
head in the one hand, flashing a knife in the other. A sweep of the
blade, and the black devotees directly were mixing blood with the rum in
their cups, which they drank. Fowl after fowl followed the first, and
all presently found their way into pots for cooking. And the wild
caperings recommenced with the drinking, and the shouting, and all.
I began to sicken of the spectacle; and then I noted suspicious eyes
taking us in. It was then Jules Sevier whispered me--"Come, it is time
we go now." And so we slipped off in the shadows.
The drum ceased its rumble, and the tree-frogs began their warble; to
which music I trod the dark road with a lighter step. "They will keep
on," said Sevier, "till they be exhaust', or ver' drunk, and then they
fall, and sleep all the day."
Certain odors of the dank vegetation filled my nostrils; similar odors
ever after have served to recall the spectacle I had witnessed that
night.
The city was quiet; the populace seemed all to be sleeping. The howling
of some cats was all the sound we heard as we threaded the streets.
Soon we were busied with removing the black stain from our skins. The
operation consumed nearly an hour--with the fats, the soap, and the
rubbing. And then I was lighted to my bed by Sevier.
We were at breakfast, when there arrived at the back door the mother of
the mail carrier, that Sevier had told us of. The apothecary had her in,
and questioned her while we ate. She had no knowledge of any Monsieur
Mordaunt, but her son had often made mention of one Duran, a white man,
of the north coast, who was much abroad in his schooner yacht, and who
had, many years back, come suddenly into untold wealth. It was said the
source was wealthy connections in France.
"Ah, thad is your man!" said Jules Sevier, when he had repeated to me
what the woman told. "Thad is your man. Duran he is on this island,
Mordaunt w'en he is in Jamaica, or where not."
In an hour, appeared Captain Marat and Robert. While they were not a
little entertained by the account of my last night's experiences, they
found greater interest in the news of the morning.
"We're on his trail now," declared Robert.
"Yes," agreed Marat. "Now it weel not be hard to find heem, I theenk."
But Jules Sevier had a word to say. He spoke rapidly in French with Jean
Marat for some minutes; then he turned to Robert and myself.
"I have explain' to Captain Marat," he said, "thad eet will not do to
spik weeth the authorities about thees matter. The authorities are too
much in the voodoo themselv'. You weel have to keep quiet about thees
business, except w'en you know with whom you spik. The voodoo are ver'
strong in thee government here."
Sevier left his shop in the care of an assistant, and accompanied us to
the shore. He gave us much valuable information about the region to
which we were going, and advice as to our dealing with the natives.
Before we stepped into the boat he held out a small parcel to me.
"Here is some supply of the paint," he said, "and the two black wigs.
They may be of use to you, if you go back in the country. Remember these
people ver' suspicious of white men."
It was with some relish that we up anchor and away from that city of
stenches. The heat was oppressive, of which we got some relief when well
out to sea.
What with squalls, followed by dead calms, which in turn flung us about,
and then held us much off our course, it was some days before the
_Pearl_ finally approached the land again, this time on the north coast
of this island of towering peaks.
We delayed the noon meal until we had cast our anchor within the
sheltering reefs. Our first care was to search the harbor for some
vessel answering the description of the _Josephine_, owner M. Duran. And
we were in no doubt that Duran and Mordaunt were one and the same. Both
our boats were lowered, and manned by two parties of searchers: Captain
Marat, Ray, and Robert went in one, Grant Norris, Julian Lamartine, and
myself set off in the other. There were sailing vessels a plenty in the
harbor, but not one whose appearance touched our present interest. But
when our boat returned to the _Pearl_, the three of us a bit dejected
over our non-success, we found the others awaiting us, and having a
different story. They had not found the schooner we sought, but they had
at any rate come across news of her. Captain Marat had chanced to speak
with the first officer of a steamer in from Kingston on the day before.
"This man say," exclaimed Captain Marat, "thad w'en the steamer come in,
he see the _Josephine_, which he recognize to have seen in Kingston
harbor, and she have a new name painted on--_Orion_. An' ver' soon
after, he see the _Orion_ sail away out of the harbor."
At this last bit I felt my heart fall.
"Don't cry yet, Wayne," said Ray, "wait till you hear the rest."
And then Jean Marat went on to relate how he had continued his
inquiries, with the result that he had found a sailor whose vessel had
lain near the _Orion_ and who told of seeing a white man of the _Orion_
go to shore in a boat, into which had been put a basket of unusual
proportions. This sailor had been quite sure that the white man had not
returned aboard when the schooner _Orion_ had sailed away.
We were all now in a flutter of excitement; it was the recollection of
the story of the big basket that had been taken aboard the boat,
together with the two blacks, beyond Portland Point, in Jamaica.
Whatever doubts we had held of our being on the right track were thus
dispelled.
Night had fallen quickly while we talked, all squatting in a circle on
the deck. I could hear Rufe mumbling to himself, and rattling pans in
the galley. The sailors, leaning on the rail, forward, were watching the
lights of the city.
"We have now only to find Mordaunt--or Duran--and the big basket," said
Julian. "It looks like everybody notices that basket."
"Yes, that is the first step," agreed Norris. "But that city over there
is big, and there's no telling when this Duran will throw the basket
aside."
"Yes," said Robert, "when he gets the little one among the voodoo folks
he won't have any more use for the basket."
"Say!" broke in Ray, "I don't believe a man can turn over a little kid
to the voodoos to be killed that way, unless he's a voodoo himself. This
Mordaunt--Duran, or whatever his name is--is just bluffing, to make the
Cambons give in to him. All he wants is to set up housekeeping, with
Miss Josephine Cambon as Mrs. Duran."
"Ah, no," said Captain Jean Marat, "this man have mix' blood; ver' many
of the mulatto' are ver' cruel; and mos' of these men who have ver' near
all white blood are the mos' cruel. They like best of anything to have
vengeance. The more exquisite they can make the suffering of others, the
more exquisite the pleasure they feel."
I had been very late dropping off to sleep, troubled as I was with
thoughts of little Marie and her danger. It seemed I had barely closed
my eyes, when Rufe came beating a pan about our ears. "De sun soon up,"
he said. "Dey ain' no mo' sleep foh de weary."
The light was already on the mountain peaks; and soon the sun leaped
into view. Cool breezes came from the hills, carrying the heavy vegetal
odors from the forests.
Early the _Pearl_ was abandoned by all except Rufe (who refused to go
ashore) and two black sailors. We separated into parties of two, to
search the city. It was Robert Murtry who paired with me this day.
We passed up one street and down another, hour after hour, in this
search for one whom we had never set eyes on. It was much as if we were
dependent on instinct to spot our man, should we meet up with him.
Unfortunately we were a good deal conspicuous because of our color.
At noon Robert and I munched the lunch we carried, and so continued
along street after street of this large but unattractive city, with its
uncouth, wooden structures.
At last, far up the street we glimpsed a white man. We hurried after
him, but lost him at a second turning.
The afternoon was better than half gone, when there stepped out from a
house, almost treading on our toes, a white man who seemed startled at
the sight of us. He passed on down the way we had come. We moved on a
few steps and looked back, to see that our man had also turned, and was
observing us. A few yards more brought us to a tight-board fence. When
the man's head was turned, I pulled Robert through a gap and so got us
behind the board screen. We contrived to get a peep down the street, and
soon observed our man retracing his steps. We were each at a knot-hole
when he came near.
And then it was I experienced a thrill of conquest. The man had stopped
in an attitude of wonder. At once his hand went to his ear, and he
pulled gently and intermittently at the lobe of it, while he continued
to puzzle over the thing that was in his mind.
Here was our man at last. How fortunate that he had possessed that
mannerism! It was rather a well-formed, swarthy face he had, clear-cut
features, and hair that curled. I do not know if it was what I knew of
him, but I seemed to see something sinister in his aspect.
He stepped toward that opening in our fence. For the moment I was in
panic; there was no time to dodge into the shed at the back. Then I
whipped out my pocket-knife, and Robert and I were at a game of "mumble
the peg," when we felt the man's eyes upon us. We were careful not to
look up. He must have stood there observing us for about the space of a
minute, and then we heard his step as he went his way. We sprang to the
break in the fence and cautiously peeked. He looked back at frequent
intervals as he walked down the street.
"Well, he's spotted us," said Robert. "How can we follow him?"
"We'll just have to do it anyway," I answered. "It's our only chance."
We stepped out boldly, making some effort to reduce the space between
the man Duran and ourselves, all the while, endeavoring by playful
punches at one another to make it appear that we had no more serious
purpose than to pass the time of a holiday.
Presently the man turned off the street, disappearing from our sight.
"There he goes!" said we both together; and we darted off, one after the
other. When we reached the place where our quarry had made his turn, we
looked in vain down the side street. He was nowhere in view. On each of
the two corners stood a two-story house with the usual shallow balcony
above the walk.
"He may have gone into one of these houses," suggested Robert.
"Yes," I agreed, "and he may be watching us now."
From a point of vantage we watched for above an hour; but our man did
not again appear.
"Well," I finally began, "he's given us the slip. We can't do better
than go hunt up the others."
We were anything but dejected, for we had discovered the region of one
of Duran's haunts.
We had not long to wait at the wharf, and our friends were much
interested in the tale we spun them.
"It's plain enough that fellow suspected you were looking for him,"
declared Norris. "It wasn't just ordinary curiosity made him go back to
see what you were up to."
"We must loose no time," pressed Captain Marat. "Some of us who' he have
not see' can watch for thees Duran."
And now came the return of Robert and myself to the street of our
adventure, accompanied by Jean Marat and Ray, to whom we pointed out the
place where we had last seen Duran, by which name I shall now call him.
Then, leaving Marat and Ray on the watch, we returned to join the
others, and go aboard the schooner. It was considered needful to make
some provision for a possible sojourn ashore for some part of our
company.
"I sho' is glad you-all is come back," Rufe greeted us, as we climbed
aboard. "Some o' dem heathen voodoo niggars has been a' circumvallatin'
aroun' dis heah ship."
"What do you mean by that?" demanded Norris.
"Jes' what I say," returned Rufe. "Less'n two hours ago Neb come to me
an' says dey's a boat a comin'. I goes out, an' I see four o' dem
niggars a rowin' dis way, jes' like dey fixed to come on board. I goes
in afte' mah shot-gun, and I lays it on de roof, so's dey kin see it;
an' when dey is close, I says: 'I reckon you-all better not come too
close to dis heah ship.' Dey seems kin' o' s'prised, an' eyein' dat gun,
and hol'n back wid dere oars. Den one o' dem niggars up an' says: 'Whar
is you-all from?' And I says--'We's from de good ole U. S., I reckon.'
He says--'Ain' you been in Kingston?'
"I begin to smell dat rat, an' I say to myself dat dese here niggars is
from dat schooner we is lookin' foh, an' dey's come to git wisdom.
"I scratch my head, an' say--'Kickston--Kickston--if dey is a town in de
U. S. by dat name, I ain' heered of it.' He says, 'No, Kickston, dat's
in Jamaica.' I say, 'Oh, I reckon you mean de kick dat's in de rum. No
we ain' got no Jamaica rum wid no kicks by de ton in it--we ain' got no
rum at all; dis here ship is strictly temperance.'"
"Well, did that satisfy him?" laughed Norris.
"Not 'zactly," returned Rufe, "He wanted to know whar we-all was a
goin', and I tol' him dat depend on de wind an' how de 'maggot bite'--we
ain't got no sailin' orders, 'zactly. And den he seem plumb disgusted,
an' dey rows away widout no t'anks foh all de wisdom I give um."
"Well, did you see what way their boat went?" I asked.
"Yes, sah," said Rufe, "I got de glasses, an' I wach um row way up de
shore to de east, I reckon way outside de town."
"It's plain enough," began Norris. "That man, Duran, has had his eyes on
us, and sent those blacks out to confirm his suspicions that we had
followed from Kingston."
"And I'll bet," offered Robert, "that he sent them since Wayne and I saw
him, and that he is now a long way from that place where we left Captain
Marat and Ray on watch."
Night had come on while we talked. Rufe set a meal before us, and while
we supped we had new meat for discussion. It was part of the information
we got of Jules Sevier that criminal voodooism was practiced only back
in the hills. It was plain, then, that the trail must finally lead us
somewhere beyond the city. And what more reasonable than to conclude
that Duran's blacks had gone that way in their boat? It was there then,
we must seek little Marie Cambon. And it was then I made the suggestion
that Robert and I should follow that trail alone, if we found that it
pointed inland.
As expected, Marat and Ray had got no news of the man, Duran. Captain
Marat, however, had got into talk with a mulatto, of whom he drew the
information that the part of the city in which we had come upon Duran
was a hot-bed of the city voodoo, whose practices were said to be of a
moderate nature. It was well back in the hills that voodooism went full
swing.
Captain Marat fell in with Robert's and my plan to take up the trail on
land, alone, if occasion should come; and he helped us with our
equipment. We would have with us our little rifles and some fishing
tackle. If the trail should lead us into the country a dove or two, and
some fish, now and then, might prove welcome additions to our
grub-sacks.