Although Andy had paid no attention to the departure of the boys and
the mate, he was watching eagerly for their return, and Gil said,
laughingly, as he saw the old darky’s woolly pate just outside the
forward companionway hatch:
“I suppose he thought we would never come back; that the voudoos were
sure to catch us. We must ask him how it is he feels secure now, when a
short time ago he was confident we should not live to get home again.”
“He has probably conjured up some kind of a charm,” the mate replied,
as he leaped aboard the yacht, painter in hand, and at that instant the
cook disappeared very suddenly.
Captain Mansfield was taking his ease under the awning aft when the
boys came over the rail, and from the expression on their faces he knew
the forenoon’s work had produced no satisfactory results.
“Treasure-hunting in such a climate isn’t what it is cracked up to be,
eh?” he cried.
“We haven’t found what we wanted yet, but we may be more successful
to-morrow,” Gil said, just a trifle sheepishly.
“Take your time about it, but let me know when you begin to grow
discouraged, for this isn’t the safest anchorage I have seen, in case
the wind comes from any northerly quarter.”
It really seemed as if Mr. Jenkins had been seized with an attack of
the treasure-hunting fever, for, without waiting to eat dinner, which
was already prepared, he produced his glass and began searching the
thicket.
“Are you looking for an old tree?” Nelse asked.
“Yes; we may as well get our bearings at once, and save just so much
time to-morrow morning.”
“Do you see any?”
“No less than three. I’ll mark out a course to each, and neither of
them are so far from the shore but that we can visit all in half a day.”
At this moment Andy came from the galley on his way to the after
pantry, and, motioning to Gil to do the same, Nelse followed him.
“Well, you see we went on shore and escaped being devoured by the
voudoos,” he said, when all three entered the cabin.
“Don’t say nuffin ’bout it, honey,” the cook whispered, imploringly.
“Dis yere schooner ain’t outer de reach ob dem debbils till she’s boun’
home.”
“Tell us what you did to protect yourself?” Gil asked. “We tried to get
into the galley last night in order to learn the same thing, but you
wouldn’t open the door.”
“You’se crazy, chile, ter tork so loud when we’se in dis yere place.
I couldn’t tole yer nuffin ’bout it, kase den de charm would spile.
Ef yer don’ go ashore ag’in there’s er chance ob gittin’ off wid our
lives.”
“Then it is a charm you’ve got!” Nelse cried, gleefully. “Let us see
it, Andy.”
“I’se done gone ’bliged to keep cl’ar ob you chillun ef dar’s any mo’
said ’bout it,” the cook replied, angrily. “We’se in a mighty bad
scrape, an’ I’se got my han’s full takin’ keer ob Andy Storts widout
tryin’ fur ter bring mo’ trubble by torkin’.”
This ended the conversation, so far as the old darky was concerned,
for, after placing certain additional dishes on the table, he betook
himself to the seclusion of his galley.
Mr. Jenkins could apparently think of nothing but the supposed
treasure, and during a greater portion of the remainder of the day he
pored over the rude chart, discussing with the boys the possibility
that it might refer to some other island.
Andy took great pains to stay out of the way all this time, and they
saw nothing of him until supper was served; but even then he refused to
speak.
That evening Gil and Nelse slung hammocks under the awning, intending
to sleep on deck because of the excessive heat which rendered the cabin
suffocatingly close, and the mate ensconced himself in a folding-chair
which could be stretched out in the semblance of a bed.
It was nine o’clock. Save for the low, musical murmur of the sea on the
sandy beach, not a sound could be heard, and the boys were fast sinking
into the arms of the dream-god when Mr. Jenkins whispered, excitedly:
“Look there! I reckon there’s considerable in Andy’s yarn about
voudoos.”
This was sufficient to cause the boys to leap from their hammocks very
suddenly, and, gazing in the direction pointed out by the mate they saw
nothing more remarkable than the glow of a fire about half a mile to
the eastward of where they had landed during the forenoon.
“There’s not much startling about that,” Gil said, in a tone of
disappointment.
“It shows there are human beings ashore near here, although we failed
to find any traces of them.”
“But it doesn’t prove that they are other than honest fishermen or
planters,” Nelse added.
“I’m not so sure,” Mr. Jenkins replied, in a musing tone. “If there was
nothing out of the ordinary run going on over there why should a fire
have been built?”
“It won’t take us long to learn,” Gil cried, for his last remark had
aroused his curiosity. “What is to prevent our rowing over that way?
The tender hasn’t been taken out of the water, and, although we’ve had
plenty of exercise to-day, a little more won’t do us any harm.”
“I’m with you if the captain makes no objection,” the mate said,
as he sprang to his feet, and Gil’s father, who had overheard the
conversation, replied:
“Do as you please, but don’t stay away too long, for at this season
of the year it is impossible to say when a breeze may spring up which
would make our anchorage a dangerous one.”
“It isn’t likely we shall want to land,” Gil said as he went to the
cabin for his and Nelse’s revolvers, and five minutes later the little
party were rowing toward the reflection of the fire, Gil and Nelse at
the oars, and Mr. Jenkins steering.
“Be careful,” the mate had said, in a low tone, as they left the side
of the yacht. “On such a night as this sound travels a long distance
over the water, and you don’t want to splash about much.”
This admonition was unnecessary. The thought that they might be on the
brink of some wonderful discovery rendered both the boys cautious, and
he who could hear anything as the little craft glided toward the shore
would need to have a very acute sense of hearing.
Perhaps half-an-hour elapsed before they were near that portion of the
shore from which the light had been reflected, and then it was learned
that the blaze was some distance inland.
It was possible to distinguish voices in an unmusical song or chant,
but nothing could be seen, and Mr. Jenkins whispered:
“We might just as well have stayed on the schooner, so far as learning
anything is concerned. Shall we go back, or do you boys want to creep
up on those fellows?”
It was evident that the mate wished to land, but preferred to have it
appear as if he was doing so simply to oblige his companions.
“I would like to see what is going on in there,” Nelse said, and Gil
added, after a moment’s thought:
“There can be no harm in trying it. Those who are making that noise
would hardly dare to raise a row in case we betrayed our whereabouts,
and, besides, armed as we are, it should be possible to hold our own
against quite a crowd.”
The boat’s bow was run gently on the sand, and Mr. Jenkins stepped
softly over the side to hold her while the boys got out, after which
she was carried a full length up on the shore.
“I’ll go ahead,” the mate whispered, “and you take good care to keep
close to me, for it would make a bad mess if we should get separated in
the darkness.”
“Go on; we’ll take care of that part,” Gil whispered, and the advance
was begun slowly, for it was no easy matter to make one’s way among the
dense foliage with the necessary degree of silence.
As the party advanced the sound of voices became more distinct, and
finally it became positive that some odd sort of a performance was
being given in this wild place.
When about three hundred yards had been traversed the mate came to a
sudden halt, and, as he pulled aside a cluster of saw palmettos the
boys had a full view.
Instinctively they had crouched to the ground when Mr. Jenkins’
movements told that the journey was ended, and, screened by the
underbrush, it seemed positive they were hidden from that strange party.
The fire had been built in a small cleared space at the foot of a huge
palm tree, and over the flames was suspended an iron pot, from which a
most disagreeable odor arose.
For the time being, however, the spectators had no thought for anything
save the actors in this strange spectacle.
No less than twenty coal-black men, naked, save for a cloth about the
loins were dancing to and fro near the blaze, bending their bodies in
every possible position, and making the hideous noise with greatest
energy. Now and then one would circle around the pot several times in
succession, howling yet louder, while his companions remained silent,
and at the end of the dismal song would throw something into the
boiling mass, after which the uproar increased until another member of
the party performed the same ceremony.
Gil was very positive he saw first a snake and then a toad thrown into
the pot, and it hardly seemed possible the cooking would be followed by
eating.
The faces of the dancers were painted with vivid red lines, as if the
coloring matter was blood, and two of the eldest members had the same
kind of ornamentation covering their entire bodies.
When the crowd had apparently exhausted themselves by this sort of
exercise, they crouched around the fire, looking more like gigantic
frogs than human beings, and the old fellows stirred the contents of
the pot, making the most uncouth gestures meanwhile.
Then it appeared as if the “broth” was done.
The performers began to dance and sing once more, and Gil had just
thought that it was time for them to retrace their steps, when the two
highly-decorated performers set about ladling the disgusting-looking
stuff into cocoanut shells.
A dozen portions were taken from the pot, and handed to as many men,
each of whom immediately started through the thicket in a different
direction, one passing so near Nelse that it seemed as if he leaped
directly over the boy, and the remainder of the crowd redoubled their
howls and contortions.
Mr. Jenkins pressed the hands of his companions to intimate that it was
time for them to leave, and the boys rose to their feet, following him
at a comparatively swift pace, to the spot where the boat had been left.
“We must have missed our way somehow,” the mate whispered, when they
finally emerged from the thicket, and saw no signs of the craft. “I
could almost swear that this is the place where we landed.”
“So it is,” Gil replied, in dismay. “Here is the imprint of her keel
in the sand. Some of those fellows who left with the soup have stolen
her.”