WE CHANGE OUR CAMP, AND CYNTHIA DISCOVERS A DISTURBING ELEMENT.
The attacking party seemed to remember the little camp where they had
remained for so short a time. As they advanced upon the Haitiens, they
gazed around, as if the place were familiar to them, but at the same
time they continued to come forward, and to fire as fast as they could
load their pistols. They outnumbered the Haitiens, as they were thirteen
and the Haitiens only four. As the Haitiens backed toward the shore and
to the eastward of our shelter, we lost sight of them entirely. I took
the Skipper by the shoulders and drew him away from his position. I
opened my knife and tried to pierce a hole through the tree on the side
toward the water, so that I could follow the men with my eyes, but the
wood was more firm than at the place where we had entered the cavity,
and I could not manage it. We heard the sound of bullets rattling among
the leaves, and fierce cries and oaths, mingled with long sobbing wails
from the young captive, but we could now see nothing of the battle.
It was exasperating to be obliged to remain in seclusion. We might have
joined the attacking party, but, though no one enjoyed a scrimmage more
than I, I reflected that if the Captain or I should be killed the
chances were that Cynthia would be left at the mercy of the sailors or
the Haitiens, and I could not decide in my own mind which would be the
worst. The sailors were all very well so long as they had the eye and
nerve of two men to oppose them, but if either one of us should be
killed, the girl would be left with only one protector, and should
anything befall him she might better be dead than to fall into the hands
of the Haitiens or of that drunken crew of sailors.
Thinking of the Haitiens brought to my mind the keg of rum. I turned to
the Skipper--rather, to the place where I knew him to be--and said:
"Captain, we do not know what may happen. These brutes may return and
find the cask, and we ought to have a little of that liquor."
"No danger of their finding it," whispered the Skipper.
"Well, perhaps not," said I. "But I think I had better steal out, now
that they have passed by, and get what I can. Where did the Bo's'n put
the cup?"
"No need to look for that, Jones; here's my flat bottle. I didn't fill
it last time I used it. Knew I had plenty on board. Take this."
I groped in the dark and my hand met the Skipper's. I took the bottle
from him and went to the opening in the tree. I put my head out
cautiously and listened. Shots were still being exchanged, though they
sounded much farther away. I withdrew inside the tree again.
"I think," said I, speaking aloud, "that if you and Miss Archer will lie
close I can manage it."
"I don't want any rum, of course," said Cynthia, "but I am dying of
thirst. Do you think that you could manage to get to the breaker, Mr.
Jones, and bring me a little water?"
"Where did they put the breaker?" I asked.
"Just up along the bed of that little dry creek. Not more than a hundred
feet away. Directly back from the shore."
"If it is a possibility, you shall have it," I answered.
I advanced with caution from my hiding place. The trees were so thick to
the eastward that I was now completely concealed from the two parties.
I wanted much to follow them and discover, if possible, how the battle
had waged, but Cynthia wanted the water. That was enough for me. They
might take it into their heads to return, and then we should again be
imprisoned. Without more ado I hastened back through the glade, and
found the water breaker just where Cynthia had told me it was. I found
and filled one of our two cups and returned, carrying the water
carefully, so that it would not spill. When I reached the place where
the rum keg lay, I uncovered it. To my surprise, I found that the bung
had fallen out. In the haste with which we had moved it we had not
noticed this. I saw that much of the precious liquid had been lost.
There was, however, enough and to spare. I placed my bottle upon the
ground, raised the cask, and tipped it so that the bottle would fill.
The position of the keg was awkward, and I lost much of the liquor. Some
large bees flew near and settled on the stones wet with the rum. The air
was filled with the odour which they had noticed almost as soon as I
had. I laid the keg down, bringing the bung right side up, and, having
no stopper, I proceeded to fill the opening with leaves. These I
gathered in handfuls, and stuffed them into the orifice. The mass that I
squeezed together in my hand was not large enough to fill the hole, and
the leaves fell inside the keg. This happened twice or more, but finally
I seized a double handful and forced them into the bunghole, and pressed
them compactly down. This time I was successful; then I took up the cup
of water, and proceeded upon my way back to our refuge.
I still heard distant shouts, and the sound of an occasional shot from a
gun. There were voices from the water, as well as from the land. I
wondered what new danger threatened us. When I got opposite the tree
where Cynthia and her Uncle were concealed, I set the cup and the bottle
upon the ground, and, crouching down, I stole toward the line of the
beach. I passed from tree to tree with great care. Finally I reached a
vantage point where I could survey all the actors in the drama.
The first thing I discovered was that our two boats were a hundred yards
or so out on the waters of the bay, and that the foremost one only was
occupied. The dinghy was being towed behind the long boat. There were
two persons in the boat, and, as I shaded my eyes from the rays of the
setting sun, which struck obliquely down the long beach, I managed to
make out the Bo's'n and the Minion. The Bo's'n was paddling slowly along
with an easy motion, which did not seem to argue at all that he had any
intention of leaving the island, and the Minion was standing up in the
stern sheets and executing what we should call nowadays a double shuffle
or a breakdown. He made derisive motions toward those on shore, whistled
and laughed unrestrainedly, patted his legs as we would if calling a
dog, and, in fact, was so outrageous in his insults that he had worked
the men into a perfect frenzy. I truly think that his life would not
have been worth a moment's purchase had the sailors on shore been able
to lay hands on him. The Haitiens were nowhere to be seen, and of the
sailors there remained but nine. Whether some of the men had pursued the
Haitiens or whether they had been killed, I could not determine. I saw
that Bill Tomkins, the acknowledged leader of the men, had the young
girl in his possession. The cords were still around her wrists; the
other ends he had twisted round his hand, as one holds the reins in
driving a frisky horse. The girl had her hands over her eyes, and was
weaving back and forth, as if in great agony of mind. If we had had the
Bo's'n and Minion on our side, we might have attacked the sailors and
rescued the girl. But the men were just enough inflamed with liquor to
care nothing for the authority of either Captain Schuyler or myself, and
I thought it more prudent to wait a little and see what resulted. For,
terrible as it was to see that young girl in the clutches of those rough
men, it would be death to us three to have them obtain possession of
Cynthia.
I now saw that the men, with fists shaking in air, and uttering bitter
and profane imprecations at the Bo's'n and the Minion, had turned their
heads our way again. I retreated hastily, and picked up my bottle and
the cup of water. I had hardly reached the hollow tree when I heard the
sound of running footsteps, and just as I got safely inside they rushed
past us, Bill Tomkins pulling the young captive after him. The poor
child was forced to run with him, or to be dragged along the beach.
The sailors ran straight for the mango tree, whooping and hallooing as
they came. Tomkins tied the cords which he held in his hand to a stout
limb, thus fettering his captive, and then, with his comrades, proceeded
to search the thicket. I knew at once for what they were searching.
I heard some reference to "the old man," which I understood, of course.
When they spoke of "the popinjay," I was at a loss to comprehend to whom
they referred. Bill Tomkins seemed to take charge and give orders. He
remained close to the tree and near his captive. There was blood upon
his hands and clothes, and upon the young girl's skirt. The girl leaned
against the tree in the most abject state of misery and fear. Each time
that Tomkins moved she raised her large eyes to his in a frightened,
imploring manner, as if begging for mercy.
"I _must_ go and rescue that child!" whispered Cynthia to me in fierce
tones. I seized her wrists and held her in a viselike grasp.
"You will do nothing of the kind," I whispered back. "We should be at
the mercy of those ruffians. Wait until the case gets desperate. They
may mean to liberate her themselves."
The men had always been fairly good sailors on board ship, and had been
respectful to the officers during the voyage, but the enemy that a man
takes into his mouth to steal away his brains had made them fiends. They
ran about in a sort of frenzy, looking for the keg, uttering wild oaths
and imprecations against the Skipper and that "blanked popinjay," whom I
was finally forced to mentally acknowledge was myself. I could see no
way out of the difficulty. I hoped that they would resume their march
along the coast, and yet I did not purpose that they should take the
young girl with them. I thought that should they discover the keg, no
bounds would be placed upon the excesses which they might commit.
We watched them with anxiety through our vantage holes, and at last,
just when we hoped that they had missed the keg, some one stumbled
exactly upon it. My heart fell with a thump like lead as I heard
Hummocks's foot strike against the hoop. A shout of joy went up from the
men which made me heartsick. Even Tomkins left his captive and joined
the others. They threw themselves upon the ground one and all, and
struggled like wild men for the first draught of the madly desired
liquor. Blows began to rain down, and pistols and machetes were drawn. I
began to hope that they would kill, or at least maim each other
sufficiently to allow of our capturing them with the aid of the Bo's'n
and the Minion. But Tomkins, seeing how things were going, interposed.
He called a halt in an authoritative tone of voice.
"Belay there, boys!" he cried; "let's be fair. What do you say to
drawing lots?" He stooped and picked some blades of grass, and broke
them in different lengths.
"Somebody's got to drink first. You can't all drink to onct." As he
spoke he arranged the blades between his fingers so that they appeared
the same length. The men stopped quarrelling and faced Tomkins.
"Shortest drinks first," said he. "Step up, Growls, and take a chance."
Growls drew a short blade, Hummocks a shorter, Bill Ware a very short
one, and, at last, the longest of all was left in Tomkins's hand. The
men crowded close together with an eagerness which should have been
inspired by a more worthy motive.
"It's Bill Ware," said Tomkins; and, without wasting time unnecessarily,
Bill Ware plumped himself upon the ground, his mouth to the bunghole.
Tomkins held a battered old watch in his hand, and kept his eyes fixed
upon the second hand.
"Ten seconds apiece," said Tomkins. "Time!" he cried suddenly. Bill Ware
had almost to be dragged from the keg by sheer force.
"You, Hummocks!" said Tomkins and the scene was repeated. The thirsty
crew had even a harder tussle to pull Hummocks from the keg than they
had with Bill Ware, Ware himself tugging at Hummocks's legs, while the
rest endeavoured to unclasp his arms from the keg.
"My turn," muttered Growls, in that tone which had procured him his
name. "Time me, boys, but time me fair."
"That cask's gettin' light," remarked Tomkins in an anxious tone of
voice.
"It's just like a play," whispered Cynthia. "I never saw a play but
once. Aunt Mary 'Zekel thinks it's wicked. It was a more refined play
than this, but I consider this all very interesting."
"What about the girl?" asked I.
"I have not forgotten her," said Cynthia. "I am hoping that those brutes
will fall asleep; then I can go out and rescue her."
"What, from those honest sailors?" I asked. I could not resist it.
For some time I had been conscious of a distinct burning sensation in
the palms of my hands. I could not account for it except that I had had
my hands in salt water a great deal during the day, and, as we had been
unprotected from the sun much of the time, I thought that the
combination had affected them unpleasantly. However, no one had
complained, and Cynthia's skin was certainly much more tender than mine.
My palms itched incessantly, and when I rubbed them to quiet this
unpleasant sensation, the skin suddenly puffed up and my wrists pained
me intensely. My fingers swelled, and the pains shot up to my shoulders.
I bore it without a word, hoping that it would soon abate. I would not
have had Cynthia hear me complain for the entire world. I had been
obliged to play the part of coward in her estimation too often during
the last few hours to wish her to see another exhibition of that
attribute from me. So when she whispered to me to pick up the blanket
which had been trodden under foot, I seized the rough thing and handed
it to her, though its contact seemed to scorch my flesh like living
coals.
I had fancied that the men might drink themselves into a state of
insensibility, but I did not dream that this condition would overcome
them so speedily. In a very few moments after they had taken each one
his allotted amount of the rum, each man had rolled over on the grass
and laid there like a log--all but Tomkins, who was the last, according
to lot, to be served. When he found that there was very little of the
liquor remaining for him, he swore frightful oaths, and used such
language as would have precipitated a general quarrel had not the rum
taken an almost immediate effect upon those who had drank of it. His
vile epithets fell upon unheeding ears so far as his mates were
concerned, and, in fact, in a very few moments he, too, was breathing
heavily.
"I never did a kind action in my whole blamed life," snarled Tomkins,
"but what I got my come-uppance," and I must say that, painful as is
the reflection, I have noticed much the same circumstance in my dealings
with my fellow-men.
Before Tomkins had ended his grumblings his utterance became thick, and
he followed his comrades to the borderland of death.
"Do you think they're asleep?" whispered Cynthia softly in my ear.
Eleven distinct and stertorous snores answered her more plainly than any
assurances of mine could have done, and a twelfth, from the interior of
our tree, chorussed them and made the round dozen.
"Poor dear Uncle Tony! I had forgotten all about him. I remember now
that he has not spoken for some time," said Cynthia in her gentlest
voice.
She felt for her pillow and then for the old man's head. "Strike a
light, Mr. Jones," she added, more kindly than she had spoken hitherto.
I did as she requested, repeatedly striking my fire until she had made
the unconscious Skipper comfortable. When this was accomplished we
stepped outside. Although the sun was getting low, I found it difficult
to face the glare and the heat after the darkness and cool seclusion of
our hiding place.
The young captive was still endeavouring to pull her hands loose from
the cords. They were black and swollen. I say black, for, though the
girl was a Haitien, she evidently had a mixture of French blood in her
veins, being much lighter coloured than the men in whose custody we
first discovered her. I thought that should she smile and her face
recover from the storm of grief which had swept across it for the last
half hour, she would be very pretty. She had soft, large eyes like a
deer's, but they were swollen with crying, and her face was drawn with
pain.
Cynthia emerged from the tree just after me. The girl, hearing the roll
of a stone upon which I stepped, turned in a terrified way and
confronted us. It was not to be wondered at that she should be
horrified at seeing two persons whom she had not seen before, appear
upon the now quiet scene. She raised her manacled arms to heaven and
shrieked as if for aid, then threw herself upon the beach, and screamed
and beat her head against the ground.
The education of this child had taught her to fear the mysterious, and
when the beautiful white girl emerged like a hamadryad from a tree in
the depths of the forest, the child imagined her an avenging angel. What
vengeance she intended to take upon a young girl of such tender years
the girl herself had not knowledge enough to imagine. Later developments
taught us what she had feared.
The poor child continued to wail and beat her head against the ground. I
glanced at Cynthia. Her lovely eyes were dimmed with tears. At once she
became all gentleness, all tenderness. She approached the girl slowly,
as she would a frightened bird, holding out her hand and making soft,
cooing noises. As she drew near, the girl shrank behind the tree,
peering out with terrified eyes at this strange apparition. Cynthia
continued to advance, still making those sweet sounds. The prisoner
trembled in every limb, and drew away as far as the cords would allow.
She looked wildly over her shoulder, as if longing to escape. Cynthia
came nearer, and put out her hand. She laid it gently on the girl's
shoulder, when the young savage twisted her head suddenly and with a
snap like that of a wild beast buried her teeth in the tender flesh. A
blow from my hand laid her sprawling. Cynthia turned angrily on me,
forgetful of her own pain.
"Don't you dare to interfere with me!" she said angrily. "I shall never
get her confidence now."
The Haitienne lay where I had thrown her, and watched our movements with
glittering eyes. Cynthia took me by the shoulder and marched me off to
the hollow trunk, where the Skipper lay snoring his antiphonal response
to the louder snores of the sailors. Then Cynthia returned to the attack
of kindness and humanity.
The prisoner, seeing that I was quite gone, and that it was Cynthia's
wish that I should be gone, lay looking at her as she again approached
her. This time Cynthia knelt upon the ground, and, seemingly without
fear, she stretched out her hand and gently stroked the captive's head.
The girl did not renew her attack upon Cynthia, but suffered her to
stroke her head and coo and murmur over her.
"Bring me some water, Mr. Jones!" Cynthia ordered.
I stretched my hand inside the tree and felt for the cup; then I ran to
the place where we had left the breaker of water. I drew some and
carried it to Cynthia. She took it from me, saying at the same time:
"What is the matter with your hand?"
"Don't mind me!" I said shortly. By this time my fingers were puffed out
of all semblance to their original shape, and when I endeavoured to move
them the pain was intense.
Cynthia put the cup to the girl's lips. She shook her head and closed
her lips tightly together. Then Cynthia drank a little of the water, and
again held it toward the girl. This time she drained the water eagerly
and to the last drop.
"Some more!" demanded Cynthia, holding out the cup to me. When I had
replenished it, Cynthia took her handkerchief from her pocket, dipped it
in the water, and bathed the girl's face and hands, whereupon the
prisoner drew a long sigh of satisfaction.
"Bring me your knife, Mr. Jones," ordered Cynthia.
"If you free her, she will run away," protested I.
"Bring it at once!" responded Cynthia.
It was with difficulty that I opened the blade with my swollen fingers,
but, after slipping the lanyard over my head, I managed to do so. Then
I walked with the open knife toward the pair. When the captive saw me
coming she began to cry and scream and roll on the ground in an agony of
terror.
Bill Tomkins heard the cry, and turned over in his sleep, opened his
eyes a crack or so, asked how the weather was, and went off again into a
profound slumber. I argued that if he who had drank so little of the rum
was thus stupefied, the others would not awake for many hours.
"Lay your knife within reach and go away again, Mr. Jones," said
Cynthia.
I obeyed, as I was willing to obey her every word and gesture.
As Cynthia took the knife up from the stone where I had laid it, the
girl sobbed and wailed and clutched at the grass.
"Go away," said Cynthia; "quite away."
I did as I was bid, and sat again at the foot of our sheltering tree.
Then Cynthia, with motions and signs that she did not intend to injure
her, drew near the captive, and, taking her unawares and with dexterous
movement, inserted the point of the knife under first one and then the
other of the cords, and the captive was free. The girl looked up in a
dazed sort of surprise. Cynthia smiled down on her as only the angels in
heaven smile. Then she again dipped the handkerchief in water and again
cared for the swollen hands. The girl ceased her crying, knelt down and
laid a caressing cheek on Cynthia's feet, then sprang up and ran into
the forest.
"You have seen the last of her," said I.
Perhaps I was a little jealous of this new favourite.
"If I have, you are to blame," said Cynthia, "and I shall never forgive
you."
But I had prophesied falsely, for the child came back to us in a moment
with her hands full of leaves. She gave them to Cynthia, and by signs
persuaded her to bind them on her own hands and wrists.
The girl then stood up and beckoned to Cynthia to follow her into the
wood. They walked together a few steps. Then she stopped and pointed to
a strange arrow-shaped leaf. She shook her head and held up her hands as
if in horror, and displayed various signs of fear. I noticed from where
I stood the leaves to which she pointed. They were the same kind with
which I stopped the bunghole in the keg.
"The Skipper did not need the arsenic," I muttered to myself as I
surveyed the sleeping men.
I went inside the tree and awoke the Skipper. He turned over drowsily at
first, and asked how we were heading, and if she was off her course. I
shook him pretty roughly then, and he asked me how many bells.
I answered, and truly, that it was four bells, and the dog watch. Dog's
watch, I might have said; I had certainly had one. I then hurriedly
explained the situation to the Skipper.
"Captain Schuyler," I said, "I think we had better get away from here
before these wretches wake up. There is no knowing what they may do.
They may wake up sober and they may wake up drunk. They may possibly
awake in a pleasant and friendly state of mind, but it's my opinion that
they will be pretty vicious when they find the rum all gone and also
that I have liberated that young girl."
"What young girl?" asked the Skipper.
"The young girl they rescued from the Haitiens."
"What Haitiens?" asked the Skipper.
I saw that it was no use to consult the Skipper; he was hardly awake,
and could not yet comprehend what had happened during the last hour. I
left him with Cynthia, to do what he could toward gathering up the
articles hidden in the bushes, and ran down to the beach. I saw that the
two boats were farther out than they had been, and, when I put my hands
to my mouth and shouted my loudest to the Bo's'n, I could but just make
him hear. He and the boy laid to their oars with a will, but I soon
perceived that they were making little progress. I saw the Bo's'n drop
his oars, stand up in the boat and gaze around him, and, as there was no
one but the Minion to help him row, it was plain that he could not
overcome the current, which I now saw was taking the boats out to sea. I
saw the Bo's'n take a sight on shore and watch it for a moment, like a
true sailor; then he shook his head, stepped to the stern, and, drawing
the boats close together, he cut the painter short off at the bows and
set the dinghy adrift. I was sorry to see this, but I knew that unless
it was done we should lose both boats, and the Bo's'n and boy as well.
Then the Bo's'n sat down and began to pull with vigorous strokes, and
soon the boat was quite near the shore.
"Beg your pardon, sir, Mr. Jones, but where's them crew?"
I pointed over my shoulder, and made him understand that they were
incapable of injuring us. He did not ask how this had come about, but
pulled up to the beach. I saw that the boy was rowing with one hand; the
other was bound up with a piece of cloth, and was bleeding a little, the
result, probably, of the defiance which I had witnessed. The Bo's'n had
torn away a part of his shirt sleeve to bind up the boy's hand. This, I
thought, argued well for us. I had fancied that I could trust the other
men, and how mistaken I had been! This kind trait, however, in a man on
whom we must depend more or less, gave me courage.
"Where are those Haitiens?" I asked.
"Dead, sir, as far's I know."
"Where is Wilson?"
"Saw him fall--and Tanby, too. Guess they're all down the beach there
together."
I did not investigate. We had no time. It was growing late, and I
wished to get away before the men should awaken. I hurried my little
party together. They ran into the bushes, one and all, picking up and
carrying what they could. Captain Schuyler and the Bo's'n rolled the keg
of pork and the breaker down to the water's edge; the boy held the boat
while we deposited our few belongings therein.
"If you'll take the bag, I'll carry the parrot," said Cynthia.
I lifted the mortuary receptacle from its hiding place among the leaves.
"Why, just look at that crab!" said Cynthia. "That's a very good
discovery. If we can find crabs, we'll----"
I seized her by the arm, with horror, no doubt, in my look. I pushed her
roughly toward the beach.
"Run," I said, "for God's sake!"
"How rough you are!" said Cynthia; but she ran a little way, as I
impelled and commanded. I hastily set the parrot's cage on the ground
and drew my pistol, and, difficult as it was, I pulled the trigger. I
aimed straight at the black, hairy thing; but my bullet missed, and I
seized up the cage, preparing for flight, when I saw the animal turn to
crawl sluggishly away. I looked with astonishment at this movement of
the tarantula, for it was that dread scourge of the tropic forest that
Cynthia had taken for a crab. I saw that it was moving from the spot
where the rum had been spilled, and found in its low and halting pace
additional reason to believe that the liquor which I had sought to
protect with the leaves from evaporation I had unconsciously drugged,
perhaps poisoned. There was nothing to do. I had no remedies, and such
men, I argued, are better off, or rather we are better off with them
dead than alive. I took a second shot at the tarantula, and this time I
was successful. I had shot it through the body. The body was as large as
an egg, the legs long and hairy, and the proboscis curved, pointed, and
vicious-looking. Cynthia's hurried departure had left me to carry the
bag and the parrot. My hands were extremely sore, and, somehow or other,
as I lifted the cage I swung it against a rock. The catch was loosened,
the bottom fell out. In my nervousness I dropped the cage, and before I
knew it I heard a voice over my head, saying, "There's no fool like an
old fool!"
Here was a nice mess! Cynthia's parrot gone! The pride of her heart
sitting over my head in a tropic wood, where he could fly away, if he
wanted to, hundreds of miles, and always find a resting place.
"Why don't you come, Mr. Jones?" It was Cynthia's voice.
I hastily picked up the cloth which always went with the cage, and which
had covered the bird on its voyage ashore, threw it over the wire top,
and covered the cage. I refastened the catch, and came stumbling down to
the beach with my two burdens.
"Miss Archer, you had better sit in the stern," said I, as I proceeded
to place the cage in the bow.
"I prefer the bow, thank you," said Cynthia.
I waded out in the water and set the cage in the stern sheets. At this
Cynthia began to climb over the seats. She reached the stern just as I
removed the cage and waded with it back to the bow. At this Cynthia
stood up, preparing to move again.
"Sit down, Cynthy; you can't crawl over me."
"But, Uncle Tony, I want to hold Solomon," said Cynthia. "He gets so
frightened without me."
"He won't this time," I said. "Besides, the yellow girl will have to
come in here." We had left the stranger on the beach purposely until the
last. She watched our preparations with interest, crouching on the
beach, staring at every movement of Cynthia's, and occasionally turning
a look of horror in the direction of the men. When she was sure that
Cynthia was seated in the boat, and that she had no intention of
returning, the girl stretched out her arms and said something which we
could not understand. Without more ado I took her up from the beach and
placed her beside Cynthia. A flock of parrots had settled in the mango
tree, and Cynthia looked at them with interest. I pushed the boat from
shore and jumped in. As I did so I heard from the tree the words, "Damn
those Britishers!"
"How far off that sounds, Mr. Jones! Was that Solomon?"
"I think it was, undoubtedly," said I.
"It sounded up in that tree. Do you think that perhaps while we were in
hiding some wild parrots have come around and learned to speak as he
does?"
"It is barely possible," said I. "Now, Bo's'n, look out there; what are
you doing? We don't want to run ashore too soon."
"Are we putting out to sea in an open boat, Uncle?"
"Ask Jones," growled the Skipper. "He seems to be the captain of this
expedition."
I saw that the old man's feelings were hurt because I had not consulted
him, but there had not been time. I felt that the party must obey my
orders first and protest afterward.
"I only want to run back along the beach a mile or so," I said, "to get
away from the crew. The chances are that they'll think that we have
tried to get to Cap Haitien and follow along the coast; but from what I
heard at Santo Domingo of Christophe's latest didos, I don't believe we
want to go to Cap Haitien just now."
"Why, Mr. Jones! And you let the men go! They might all have been
killed!"
"Just what I was hoping for," said I. "A little more lively with those
oars, Bo's'n; it's growing dark."
"How quiet Solomon is!" said Cynthia. Just then there came the distant
words, "No fool like an old fool."
"It certainly is among those parrots there," said the Skipper.
"Yes, I think it is," said I.
"I never heard of wild birds learning to talk so soon," said Cynthia. "I
don't believe you will get any one to believe it at home."
"Neither do I," said I.
The night had come down upon us suddenly, but there was a fine line of
light in the east, which betokened an early moonrise. As we looked out
to sea, we could still perceive a faint glow round the wreck through the
haze which overspread the water in that direction, but of other ships we
saw none. We had forgotten about the fight between the pirate and the
American while watching the fight on shore, and whatever had happened
there was no one to tell us. I had hoped that the American would have
sunk the pirate, and then we could have pushed out to him in our boats
and gone home in one of our own bottoms, but the two vessels had
vanished as completely as if they had never existed. It has seemed to me
since that the privateer, as we called him, had tried to run away, and
the American in chasing him had been led either very far out to sea or
else round some point which hid them both from view. And now the moon,
which had arisen many hours earlier, flooded the world. Its light came
across the water a beam of silver. Our boat seemed always in its rays.
This worried me somewhat, as I felt that we must be silhouetted against
the eastern glow, and that any one on shore with hostile intent could
follow us to our hiding place by simply walking along the beach. We kept
rather close in shore on this account. When we had rowed about a mile
and a half, we came to a little indentation, which I thought betokened
the presence of a stream or rivulet from the hills.
"What do you think of this place for a landing, Captain?" asked I.
"This isn't my expedition," said the Skipper surlily. I wasted no words
in explanation. I ordered the Bo's'n to pull for the beach, and we were
soon ashore.
It was a pretty place, this, at which we had landed; an ideal one, I
have thought since, for a modern picnic, but God forbid that any of the
young women of the present day should have to go through what we had
suffered, and what was to come, for the sake of finding so pleasant a
picnic ground. We rowed the boat directly into the small inlet, and the
Bo's'n, the Skipper, and I hauled her up a little way on the shelving
beach. It was hard to know just what was best to do--whether to prepare
for a land flight or for a sea flight. We took the stores out of the
boat, but laid them near it, so that we could replace them at a moment's
notice. We dared not build a fire, as the strange vessel might return,
so eating some hard bread and drinking some water had to content us. We
laid the blanket upon the ground and the pillow at its head. I motioned
to Cynthia to take her position there. She beckoned to the girl, who
laid down by her. The Skipper stretched himself at Cynthia's feet, and
the Bo's'n, the Minion, and I removed ourselves to a spot at a little
distance.
I laid awake the early part of the night, partly because I was anxious
and worried, and partly because I was suffering a good deal from what I
now felt sure was poison. If my simply touching those leaves had had
that effect, I wondered what would be the result to the men of the
Yankee's crew. I laid on my back, looking up into the sky. The moon had
set, the heavens were deep and dark, but studded with stars. The
Southern Cross stood out beautiful and brilliant. I had seen it so many
times when cruising in these waters, and here it was again to welcome me
as an old friend. Strange how one feels a personal right to, almost
ownership of, these splendid works of God when again one meets them
after a long or short separation. A swelling comes up in the heart and
a pride in seeing again the thing which one has known for years, but
which, so sad and persistent is fate, ignores us in return, unknown
atoms that we are!
It must have been much after midnight. I had dropped off into an uneasy
slumber, when suddenly I was awakened by the sound of a stealthy
footstep. A pebble rattled against another pebble; I raised myself upon
my elbow. The stars were obscured by heavy black clouds, which had
arisen after we had settled ourselves for the night. I saw nothing
unusual among us. I could dimly distinguish some recumbent forms, and
could trace the spot where Cynthia and the stranger had laid themselves
down. The Skipper, if one could judge from the sounds, was enjoying his
first sleep hugely. I have never seen a being with such a capacity for
sleep. I did not disturb the old man, but turned quietly and raised
myself to my feet. I looked in all directions, but there was nothing to
be seen. I walked on tiptoe to where the Skipper snored and dreamed
probably of his lost Yankee Blade. I could dimly see one sleeping form,
and from the position in which it lay I felt sure that it was Cynthia.
The rescued girl was nowhere to be seen. I returned to my sleeping place
and laid myself down again and watched, lifting my head occasionally and
scanning the edge of the wood and the near hill. Finally my search was
rewarded by seeing two forms come out from behind a clump of trees and
stand a moment in earnest conversation. Then one of the figures vanished
from sight, and the other came without noise toward the camp. As it
passed me by, I recognised the form and height of the young Haitien
girl. She stepped lightly and quickly, making no noise as she went, and
laid down again by Cynthia without disturbing her.
We were all awake early. When I opened my eyes I found that both Cynthia
and the girl were absent. In a few moments, however, they came toward
us, Cynthia fresh and smiling from her bath in the stream. One could
follow this stream a hundred yards up toward the hills, and the bushes
drooped, so that they made for the bather a perfect screen. The Haitien
girl followed in Cynthia's footsteps, like a devoted and faithful
animal. The rest which she had obtained made her look almost handsome,
and she had evidently imitated Cynthia in bathing and in arranging her
hair.
Cynthia had in her hand a large bunch of stems and flowers, behind which
her head was nearly hidden.
"Do I look like Birnam Wood?" she called as she came toward us.
"Throw those down, I beg of you, Miss Archer," I shouted, "if you don't
want your hands to look as mine do. It is most dangerous to pick flowers
in any woods, and here----"
Cynthia continued arranging her flowers.
"You should let Lacelle show you where to get that remedy which she
gathered for herself yesterday," said she.
Lacelle seemed to understand, for the moment that Cynthia called her
attention to my swollen hands she ran hastily toward the bank. Again I
urged, "Do throw away those flowers." Cynthia at my request flung them
on the beach. As they fell, a strange metallic sound struck upon our
ears.
"I have thrown something away with them," said Cynthia. "What can it be?
I have no rings or jewellery. Can it be my scissors or my thimble?" But
a search of the interior of the little bag depending from her belt
disclosed the fact that she was still in possession of those useful
articles. I stooped over the weeds and, as well as I could, pulled the
bunch apart. I searched among its leaves. Upon the very central
branch--a branch of thin wood with heavy green stems jutting out from
either side--I discovered the cause of the strange sound. I found a
large twisted circle of some dark metal, dull in some places, in others
so bright that it hurt my eyes. The circle was made by the curving of
the tail of a serpent, whose body formed the ring. Where the seal is
usually placed there was the head of an animal. It looked like the head
of a sheep or a lamb. There were no horns, but ears were there, and laid
back viciously close to the head. The eyes were formed of strange red
gems, which glittered wonderfully in the morning sun. They seemed to
shoot forth rays of light, and as I looked into them I fancied that they
gave back an answering gleam of intelligence. There was a barbaric
splendour about the trinket which attracted while it repelled. I wonder
how Cynthia could have broken the stem and not have seen the ring; but
she said she was trying to keep her eye on the harbour, as she was
convinced that shortly some ship would heave in sight, and she wished to
be the first to see it. The strange trinket had evidently been dropped
by its owner, and it had fallen circling just over the tender shoot of
green. This sprout had grown into a stem, and the stem into a strong
plant, and in growing had carried the bauble with it into the air.
Cynthia put it jokingly over her thumb.
"You could almost get it over your hand," said the Skipper. "It would
make a splendid bracelet."
"What a curious find!" I exclaimed.
"How long do you suppose it has been there?" asked Cynthia.
"I can't say; since this stem began to sprout, anyway. This is May. Say
since March, or even earlier; you see that the stem is very well grown."
"Then the person who dropped it was here, on this very spot, in March,"
said Cynthia.
"Oh, that does not follow at all," said the Skipper, who had drawn near,
much interested. "The ring might have laid there a long time before the
stem decided to grow through it."
"No," said I, "I don't agree with you. I think the ring was dropped by
its owner exactly over the young and tender shoot, and it has had the
strength----"
"Of mind----" interpolated Cynthia.
"Or of purpose----" chimed in the Skipper.
A shriek interrupted our nonsensical parleying. The Haitienne had come
shyly up to us, wondering doubtless what we had found to so interest us
all. She had thrust her head forward into the circle close to Cynthia's
arm. The shriek that she gave utterance to was blood-curdling. It was
between a howl and a wail. It chilled me through and through. The girl
put her hand quickly to her heart, looked at each of us as if in great
terror, and, turning, fled to the near woods. The Bo's'n joined the
group, and stood respectfully on the edge, waiting to ask if he should
build a fire and prepare breakfast. He craned his long neck forward and
looked over my shoulder at the curious bauble. When his eye lighted upon
its barbaric strangeness, he drew a short, sharp breath and turned away,
running in a different direction from that which the girl had taken; but
before he started I heard his horrified voice mutter in distinct tones:
"THE GOAT WITHOUT HORNS!"