WE START OUT TO LAY A SNARE AND FALL INTO A TRAP.
And now began a period of experiences which was perhaps the most trying
of the three chapters which make up the story of this part of our lives.
I have divided the time of our stay on the island into three portions.
The second chapter begins with the page that I am now writing.
For some days I had been reflecting upon the extreme seriousness of our
situation. We should do perfectly well if left quite to ourselves, but
how long would that state of affairs continue? Even if the pirates did
not return, which I felt that they might do at any time, some band of
marauders might discover us. There was no reason that I knew of why the
place might not be well known to others, and, if it were, they might
prove this later to our discomfort. It seemed to me that in any case we
ought to possess two places of retreat. Our second home need not be far
from the cave, and near enough the coast that we might see an American
ship should one appear. Indeed, we might continue to live in the cave if
we so chose, but that we should construct a place of shelter to which we
might flee if danger threatened us there, I considered absolutely
necessary on our part. I think, however, that what first caused this
plan to awake in my mind was the pallor of Cynthia's look. Sleeping in
that close cavern, in the bowels of the earth, was not good for any of
us, and if not beneficial to strong men who slept near the outer air,
how much the worse for her in that inclosed and damp interior. After
thinking over this idea of mine for several days, I broached the
subject to the Skipper. It seemed to strike an answering chord in his
mind, and, as there was no one else to consult, we decided to begin at
once.
After breakfast we went prospecting. Our little family accompanied us,
with the exception of the Minion. His movements none of us cared to
control, for it made but little difference to us how he came or went.
The Bo's'n trailed along behind us, but he was limp and sad and so
dejected that Cynthia asked him several times if it would not be better
to go back and lie down a while. He agreed with me, speaking in sad and
reproachful tones, that the Admiral of the Red might return when he
found Mauresco missing, and a more thorough search of the caverns might
reveal our presence. Certainly if we continued to live there, having
provided no place to which we could flee, we might suddenly be made to
feel the weakness of such failure to reckon with the future.
It was at this time that the Bo's'n began to suffer from attacks of
toothache. Perhaps I should say face-ache. His cheek would suddenly
swell up to the size of a large nut, and at such times he rolled upon
the ground in an agony of pain. At these moments the poor man could not
articulate distinctly. The attack would come on at the most inconvenient
times. Usually when the Bo's'n was needed to aid in anything like an
apprehended surprise, he was at the last moment found writhing in
misery, his hand held to his face.
The morning after my marriage, then, we started back into the forest
with the determination to select a site for a house. Cynthia had not
looked at or spoken to me since she upbraided me in the cave, and I,
having some spirit of my own, acted as if she did not exist.
We carried with us the knives and machetes we had found. These had been
well sharpened, and we hacked at the branches as we went along. Our
chief reward was the cabbage of the young palm, which grows beneath the
tuft at the top of the tree, and is sweet and tender as a ripe chestnut
from the Belleville woods.
As we walked that day there were constant rumblings and groanings
beneath our feet, and there were cracklings and mutterings which made
the deep wood seem an uncanny and eerie place.
"_Le bruit du gouffre!_" said Lacelle, looking at the Bo's'n. "_Le bruit
du gouffre!_"
"How can I tell what she means?" said the Bo's'n piteously. "I wish,
Mrs. Jones, ma'm, you'd try to teach that savage a Christian tongue."
After looking about for some time, we at last pitched upon a little
plateau or terrace with a gentle rise toward the eastward. This would
hide our house from the sight of the cave. Below us ran a tiny brook of
clear water. We were far enough from the cave to feel quite secluded,
and yet so near that we could easily know what was going on there.
And now began the work of building our house. We cut young trees and
saplings, we drove poles into the ground, and made what in this modern
day we should call piles, and on this we laid our floor. We thatched our
roof with branches--in short, we made a house much as the wild men of
the forest have done from time immemorial, and the methods pursued need
not be recounted here. We cleared a space about twelve feet each way
round our house for better protection against insects. We built two
rooms, one for Cynthia and Lacelle and the other for the rest of our
party. A partition ran across the centre of this floor, and that some
one might be able to get quickly to the next room, if one of its
occupants called, we made a doorway between, and hung the opening
thickly with leafy vines, so that a curtain impenetrable to the eye was
thus formed.
We were tired when the day's work was done. I felt sorry to see my poor
girl working as she did, aiding in gathering leaves for her bed and
Lacelle's. But she laughed when her Uncle protested, and said that she
should not be happy unless she gave what help she could.
We returned home over a way more direct than that by which we had come,
and it was in a little hollow that Cynthia discovered that which gave an
additional horror to our stay in the island. She and Lacelle had been
walking ahead. Suddenly she stopped and dropped to her knees. She gave a
strange sort of cry and called to her Uncle. Her tones expressed such a
mixture of feelings that I wondered what further could have happened.
There was horror in the sound of her voice, and I thought that some
terrible insect or beast was in her path. But with that note was
intermingled one of pity and tenderness. We ran to her assistance. We
found her bending over something upon the ground. As I came close to the
Bo's'n's heels I saw him leap aside, as if he had been stung, and strike
into the wood with a howl as if in anguish. I came next, and there I
saw, lying bound with ribbons of various colours and decorated as if for
a festival, a little child of the same light shade as Lacelle herself.
Lacelle had shrieked, and was holding her hands over her eyes one
moment, looking fearfully over her shoulder the next, and pulling
Cynthia by the wrist, as if imploring her to flee. Cynthia, however,
refused to be hurried away from this novel and sad sight. Novel, because
finding a baby decked with ribbons in the depths of the forest is not a
common occurrence. Sad, because the tiny thing did not open its eyes and
smile at us, nor did it move its hands and feet. Cynthia laid her
fingers upon the little creature. She shook her head. The child was
stone cold. She felt round the heart, but there was no sign of life.
The Skipper looked at the little thing and then shook his head sadly.
"The loup garou has been about," he whispered in my ear. I asked no
questions. I knew all that I wanted to know of the loup garou with
which the little children in Haiti have been frightened from time
immemorial. This time the threat had come true. I wondered why the child
had been dropped among the leaves in this way, and could only argue that
either its mother had discovered the horrible theft and had restolen the
child, and was afraid to take it home for fear of vengeance, or else
that the murderers had been surprised and had sent some trusty person as
bad as themselves to hide the body deep in the woods and away from
discovery.
"What a strange thing," said Cynthia, "that a mother should leave her
baby decked for burial alone in this deep forest!"
I knelt down and examined the babe, and now I discovered that it was so
bound that it could not move. The contrast was so remarkable, the tiny
corpse cold and stiff, bound with gay-coloured knots and bows, that I
was struck dumb. The Bo's'n's behaviour had perplexed me, but I was
beginning to think the Bo's'n somewhat out of his mind. I had also
thought this of the Skipper, though for quite a different cause. I
expected each moment to hear him express the wish to give the poor babe
a Christian burial, so I took the child up in my arms and carried it
hurriedly through the woods. I walked fast, the rest following at almost
a running pace.
There were now continued mutterings, and suddenly, as is sometimes the
case in the island, a thunderbolt shot from a clear sky and split a
great tree near.
"Run!" called the Skipper, "run, the tempest is upon us!"
The rumblings underground increased. The whole earth seemed to shake. I
ran with the child to the great hall, the Skipper going with the others
to our own cave. When I reached the pirates' entrance I dashed in and
along to the familiar apartment. One idea possessed me. I remembered the
hole in the rock where the Minion had found the jewels, and it seemed to
me to be a fitting place of burial for the dead babe, besides which I
wished to prevent the conducting of any more ceremonies by the Skipper.
I ran to the small passage which the Bo's'n had discovered, placed the
child in the square receptacle, and raised the stone and leaned it
against the opening. I turned to flee from this place of horrors.
Running out, I met the Minion in the passageway.
"Where are you going?" asked I. I heard something about "look" and
"jools."
"Come out!" said I. "There is a tremendous storm brewing. No one knows
what may happen." But the Minion, intent, I knew, upon finding the
fortune of which we had robbed him, pulled away from me and hurried into
the cave. As I emerged from the entrance, there was a tremendous rush of
wind. It whirled round and round, and then the entire Globe seemed to be
cracking open. Such a crash I hope I may never hear until the Day of
Judgment. The top of the cave seemed to break off and slide down. The
dust and earth arose in a blinding cloud and nearly choked me. Great
splashes of rain fell like blows upon my face, and then there was
another fearful gust of wind, and the water poured from the clouds like
an ocean. It deluged me. It threw me upon the ground. The branches of
the trees waved and shook and swashed up and down, and thrashed the
grass and bushes beneath them. Some of them were split off and were
strewn upon the earth. Some were carried straight over the bank and out
to sea. Some were whirled up in the air and came tumbling down upon
other treetops. Some were uprooted and laid low. I feared to move. I
also feared to remain lying there. I knew not where the Minion was. The
thunder was bellowing beneath, above, around me. The lightning, it
seemed to me, was playing among the very treetops over my head. I raised
myself as well as I could. I advanced one step at a time. I clung to the
branches and roots and vines. I was buffeted and blown about and slapped
in the face and thrown again to the ground. Sometimes a branch to which
I clung for safety was wrenched from its parent stem as I held it, and
before I could let go I was lifted from my footing. I crawled and crept
and struggled on up one side of the hill, then down the other. The fury
of the hurricane was greatest on the summit, and I wondered as I fought
with the elements if I should ever see Cynthia's face again. But
perseverance and a strong clutch will sometimes overcome even a
hurricane, and after a long bout I came off conqueror, and found myself
within the welcome entrance to our side of the cave. Here I sank down
exhausted.
Fortunately the storm did not last long, but wore itself out like a mad
person in a foaming rage. Its passion exhausted, there was a sudden
lull, and the setting sun shone placidly upon the wrack and devastation
it had made. I had not been able to look at the water during the
progress of the hurricane, but those who had reached the cave before me
said that the ocean was swept with great masses and waves of foam. Its
direction being outward, the swells were not tossed upon the shore,
which was an excellent thing perhaps for us. As I stood in the window
where the vines were hung with a thousand sparkling diamonds, I looked
in vain for the wreck. The Yankee Blade had at last found her resting
place. She had slid off into the sea and had gone down to join her
sailor lads.
The hurricane had cut a path of about an eighth of a mile in width, and
there devastation had been rampant. On either side of this trail of the
fury of destruction, there was little evidence of the warring of the
more passionate child of Nature against his quiet and gentle brother.
Although our house stood not more than a half mile from the track of the
tempest, beyond a severe tropic downpour from the eyes of Mother Nature
over the violence of her wayward son, there was little evidence that the
god of the wind had passed that way.
When I lay down to sleep that night the Minion was missing, but no one
thought much about it. He always turned up again to the discomfort of
every one, and much too soon.
We decided to remove into our new house as soon as the forest had lost
the dampness which the hurricane left behind. It does not take long in
that tropic land for the sun to dry up the water left on the grass and
leaves, and by afternoon we were ready to start for our new home. The
Bo's'n came to me before we left the cave and said that we were to be
treated exactly as other shipwrecked mariners had been from time
immemorial, for he said that some of the cargo of the vessel had come
ashore, and that he had seen boxes and barrels floating in the water. We
had no need to take the boat and pull out to meet this fresh supply of
food, for the tide and regular wind of the trades washed them up
anywhere from half a mile to a mile along the beach. When we had a spare
moment we went down and rescued a box or a barrel. The boxes were for
the most part water-soaked, but when they contained salt provisions it
made little difference to us.
A description of the food that came to us in this way, like manna from
Heaven, would only prove tiresome to all concerned. Few shipwrecked
people have died for want of food, and we were not an exception. We had
enough and to spare, but husbanded our resources carefully, and thus we
were never in absolute want.
The first night that we spent in our new home was full of excitement in
a pleasant way. The freshness of our beds of green, the odours of the
sweet woods which had been so recently washed by the flood, the feeling
that our abode was clean, that there were no horrors connected with it,
and, above all, that in this secluded nook we should not be discovered,
made the night a peaceful one to me. Every one seemed refreshed when
daylight broke, and each set himself to accomplish greater tasks than
heretofore, during the coming day. The rainy season would soon be here,
and we had no notion of being flooded out of our new home. So each one
occupied his spare hours in bringing branches and leaves to add to the
thatch. The fallen palms of which there were many, were of the greatest
service, as the dried leaf of this royal tree is the thatch most used to
roof the native houses. The Bo's'n told us that in Santo Domingo they
called it _yagua_. We made seats in and around the house for Cynthia and
Lacelle, and the tough and strong vines made excellent hammocks when
woven together.
I heard Cynthia asking for the Minion as I left my bed. I did not go to
meet and answer her, as I preferred my bath first, beside which, her
treatment of me had been so cold and ungracious that I decided to let
her make the first advances.
I ran, then, through the wood and toward the cave. Our constant journeys
back and forth seemed to have created a path, so that we easily found
our way. As I neared the cavern I saw that at the spot of my greatest
danger the day before, the ground was uptorn as if a giant ploughshare
had passed that way. Great trees with enormous roots sticking high in
air were lying strewn about. I had not seen this on my way to the new
house, as we had gone to it in a more westwardly direction along the
slope of the hill. I struggled through the debris and down along the
pirates' side of the cavern. When I came to the entrance which led to
the great hall, or the place where it should be, it had disappeared. A
stupendous mass of rock and earth had fallen and blocked it entirely.
And then suddenly I bethought me of emerging from the cavern yesterday
and my meeting the Minion at the entrance. Yes, he had gone in, as I
left the cavern, to look for his treasure, and there he must have been
when the earthquake, or whatever it was, split off that great mass of
rock. In that case, the lad must be imprisoned. I went close to the
place and called, but there was no answer. I called louder. All was
silence. Then I bethought me of the gallery, and, though I was as tired
of the cave as you must be by this, I ran quickly up the hill, crossed
the grassy slope at the top, and flew down the other side. I entered our
passageway, and, running through by feeling my way along the wall, I
soon reached the gallery. I parted the vines in front of me and looked
down at the interior. There I saw a surprising sight. Instead of
finding, as I expected, the Minion alone, two figures were there--one a
tall, light-coloured man, whom I at once recognised as the Haitien who
had held Lacelle captive by the rope on the day that our sailors
attacked the party of natives. This, then, was the fourth man. His
likeness to Lacelle was very striking, and I at once made up my mind
that he was her brother. What he had been intending to do with her I
could not determine at the time. I watched to see if he offered the
Minion any violence, but, so far from anything of the kind, he seemed to
be urging him to get up on the table, the former throne of the Admiral.
The Minion, never noted for good manners, roared "No!" while the gentle
Haitien urged him by mounting on the rock himself and holding out his
hand encouragingly. He spoke to the Minion in words which I could not
understand, but their tone was so kind and gentle that I should have
translated them to mean "Come, now! Get up here! I will save you. I
shall not hurt you. Do not be afraid!" I have, of course, no idea what
the Haitien really said, but his manner showed that it was something of
that kind, for finally the Minion was persuaded to raise one foot to the
table and allow the Haitien to aid him to stand upright upon it. I then
saw that the Haitien had released the great lamp from the vines which
hung from the opening in the central top of the cave. He took them in
his hand and busied himself in tying them round the Minion's waist. I
watched, curious as to what the man intended, ready to call out and
frighten him if he were to do the Minion any injury--this from a sense
of duty, as the Minion was nothing but a very dead weight on the party.
The Haitien gathered the vines in his hand and wound them round the
boy's body. He twisted some of them like a seat and passed them between
the Minion's legs. Yes, I appreciated now that he meant to provide for
the Minion's being hauled up from above. But who did he think would
perform this act, when to all intents and purposes our party knew
nothing as to what had befallen the Minion? Now, I reasoned, I can go to
the top of the cavern, call the Bo's'n or the Skipper, and together we
can draw the Minion to the top. But I had no reason to do this, for as I
watched I saw that the Haitien, having securely fastened the boy, had
sprung with a great leap at the rope of vines, and, seizing it some
inches above the Minion's head, he began to raise himself hand over hand
to the circular hole in the roof. I thought it now time for me to run to
his assistance. I gave one look in the direction where I had laid the
dead child. I saw that the stone was laid upon the ground, and I caught
a glimpse of some bright ribbons protruding from the cavity. I turned
and ran out through the passage and up the slope of the hill. The
Haitien heard me coming. He turned and surveyed me with a frightened
look, but he could not drop the Minion, who was suspended like Mahomet's
coffin, and so perforce he must continue pulling the rope of vines out
through the hole. I laid my hand on the rope, and together we drew the
loblolly boy upward and out under the blue of heaven. I had my eye fixed
on the Haitien, for I feared that he would try to escape me, and just as
we had given the Minion a secure foothold I slipped my hand suddenly
over his fingers. He struggled to get free, but I smiled at him and made
the same sort of sounds that I heard him make when urging the Minion to
let him rescue him, and after a while he ceased struggling and sat quiet
beside me. The Minion untied himself and walked off as if nothing had
happened. If he felt at all grateful, he did not express this feeling in
words. I wondered that the boy had not starved, as he had been alone in
the cave, as far as I knew, for nearly two days; but when I perceived
sticking from his pocket a large piece of well-browned fish, I felt sure
that the Haitien had attended to his physical wants.
And now the mystery about the strange presence was accounted for, and
Lacelle, who had learned to express herself in our language, though most
brokenly, told us how she had come to be where we saw her at first.
She had been captured by a party of blacks, for what purpose I will not
now say. There were two of these blacks, and they had left her tied to a
tree in the woods. Her brother Zalee and three other Haitiens had come
to her rescue, had cut the rope, and were about to carry her away when a
party of white men approached and gave battle. These were our wretched
sailors, who had killed three of the Haitiens and returned to our camp
with their prisoner. How their nefarious schemes were frustrated has
already been told. Zalee had not had the time to release Lacelle when
our sailors attacked him, and he retreated with his comrades, firing and
running until the three were shot, and two of our sailors, the ones we
buried in the sea, also were laid low. Zalee had witnessed all that we
had done for Lacelle, as well as Cynthia's kindness to her that first
night when he buried the Haitiens.
He communicated with Lacelle and begged her to escape with him, but
Lacelle had fallen so desperately in love with Cynthia that she would
not leave her, and she persuaded Zalee to remain near as a guardian
spirit, he in his turn willing to do any menial service for the white
people who had rescued his beloved sister, but also ready at a moment's
notice to save her from danger.
Explanations are hateful both to him who writes and to him who reads. If
you wonder why things were so, I will say only that I can not explain
the motives which actuated people in that far-off land and time, and I
can repeat only that I am setting down what happened with fidelity and
to the best of my belief. And though some occurrences may seem
unaccountable, I can only answer that they are facts, and there let all
doubt end.
We found Zalee a most useful and friendly creature, and, after we knew
him as a living personality, we were all much easier in our minds, for
we felt sure that he knew the country and the methods of the people
better than we, and that he would bring much valuable knowledge to our
aid. We found that he had lived a few miles nearer Le Cap than the place
where we first saw him; that he and his sister possessed a little hut in
the forest; that they had often made an outing to the cave, and that was
the cause of their familiarity with its construction.
I found upon touching Zalee's hands that they were moist and cold, a
condition caused probably by his imperfect circulation, which was aided
by his always keeping hidden in the damps of the cave. This condition of
the young Haitien, while testifying to a highly nervous organization,
aided, without intention on his part, the mystery of his touch and
guidance through the cave. Even after we discovered that Zalee was a
real personality he shrank from the light of day. His enemies had been
many and his sorrows not few, so that he preferred to keep secreted,
that should an enemy appear he could in some secret way, himself unseen,
devise a mode of escape for his sister, if not for those of the rest of
us, with whom he had so generously burdened himself.
The Skipper came to me that evening.
"What's all this about rubies and diamonds and precious stones
generally?" he asked of me.
"Who is talking about such absurd things?" said I.
"Why, that damn loblolly boy!" said the Skipper. "He says he found a
fortune in the cave, and that when he woke you said it was all nonsense;
that then he went back to the place where he left them, and that some
one had stuffed a dead baby in on top of 'em. But he says they are all
there, and he calls me and God to witness that they are his."
"I don't see what good they will do him," said I. "Supposing they are
there, the place is closed to us forever; but, Captain, I am positive
that there is nothing of the kind concealed in the cave. So let that end
this nonsense."
"Dream, I suppose," ejaculated the Skipper.
I nodded my head. The Minion was standing near, and heard the last part
of our conversation. He jumped up and down with rage, he rolled on the
ground, he bit the earth. We stood laughing at him for a few moments,
and then went about some of the business that every camp has for workers
at any moment.
The Minion was constantly stealing our lights, or flint and steel, our
candles, which we had had in use for some time, a few of which we found
among the pirates' stores. Cynthia thought that there was some good in
the boy, and insisted that if we were all of us somewhat kinder to the
little wretch that he would respond to our teachings. She, with her
unselfish generosity, began to teach the lad an hour each day, but I
never saw that it improved him in the very least. On the contrary, it
taught him a little more of the ways of people and things, and showed
him how he could annoy us more frequently than before.
Thus we lived for some weeks. Nothing unforeseen happened, and we were
fairly comfortable. Lacelle and Zalee also were beginning to pick up a
few words of English, and thus we could learn much from them that we
found it impossible to know before. They seemed to have attached
themselves to us permanently. But we had the best of the bargain. They
ate little or nothing of our food, subsisting, as far as I could
discover, upon the wild fruits, which Zalee brought to us in abundance.
Added to this, they performed most of the menial services, so that the
Bo's'n said that he felt "like a gentleman onct more."
When you were a little boy, Adoniah, I remember that you asked your
mother if she used thorns for pins when she was a little girl. Children
usually look upon their parents as having lived in past ages, and being
of the antediluvian period. When you asked the question, I remember that
I laughed heartily, if a little sadly, for it reminded me of the morning
that I came down the hill to the brook and saw Cynthia pinning up her
gown.
"I thought," said I, "that I heard a young woman complaining last
evening that she had not one pin to her name."
"That is very true," said Cynthia, "but the Bo's'n has kindly cut these
for me from that young palm up there on the hill. It stands just by the
smaller palm that I intend to take to Aunt Mary 'Zekel."
"Oh, you intend to take her a present of a plant, do you?"
"Yes," said Cynthia. "I wonder where I could get a pot."
This conversation shows two things--one being the readiness with which
Cynthia fitted her wants to her circumstances, and the other the
confidence she had in our soon being able to return to Belleville.
There came a night when we started out to lay snares for the cooing
dove. These are a delicacy, and, cooked as Lacelle could cook them, were
always a delightful surprise for Cynthia. We left her with Lacelle,
Zalee, and the Minion behind, and started, three of us, at about eleven
o'clock at night. We struck to the eastward, hitherto a region
unexplored by us. We did not fear to lose our way, as the shore line was
always a guide, and when once we found the cave we could naturally find
the new house. How sweet was the dying trade wind as it fanned our
faces, for it was nearly on the turn. Soon the land breeze would arise
and blow gently all night from shore out to sea, until the boisterous
trade of the morning reasserted its supremacy. We walked a long way
without seeing or hearing anything, setting our snares in what seemed
the most likely spots for capture, and then going ahead again. After we
had been gone about an hour from camp, and as we sat resting under a
tree, I thought that I heard a faint wail. I listened, and again it
came.
"Do you hear it?" I whispered to the Skipper. "What is that?"
The Skipper put one hand to his ear, as was his fashion, and turned as
my finger pointed.
"Yes," he said, "I do hear something."
The Bo's'n seemed much perturbed.
"Perhaps it's a night owl, Mr. Jones, sir."
"No," said I, "I should say it was a cooing dove, but they do not coo at
this time of the night, rather toward morning."
We sat there, listening breathlessly. One grows cautious in the forest
of an inhospitable land, and we did not speak above our breath. What if
it were some murderous natives calling thus to lure us on under cover of
the night? Perhaps they had discovered our whereabouts, and while we
were drawing near them some of the party would skirt the forest and
capture those we had left behind. My heart stood still at the thought,
for, though Cynthia and I exchanged no more than the merest
commonplaces, still she was then, as she has ever been, the one woman in
the world for me. Again that wail, but louder than before.
"It is a human being in distress," whispered the Skipper. I nodded. The
Bo's'n's eyes were starting out of his head.
We arose and crept cautiously in the direction of the sound, and, after
walking a minute or so, a dark structure loomed up before us. It seemed
a rude copy of a church. It had doors larger than those of an ordinary
dwelling, and in front there were some hieroglyphics cut roughly in the
wood and painted in various fantastic colours. Upon the top of the roof,
which was a few feet above our heads, there was an attempt at a cross.
It looked altogether like a savage copy of a Catholic church; and that
it was, for the French brought the Catholic religion to the island with
them, and the Africans had compounded it with their own savage worship.
As we approached the edifice--if I may dignify it by a word used for
much grander buildings--the wailing grew more distinct. Just here I
heard a stealthy step in the bushes, and, cautioning the others by a
jerk of the sleeve and a "Hist!" we stood silent. I saw a form emerging
from the underbrush. My heart thumped loudly, for I recognised Zalee;
but as now he could speak a little in a very broken way, we found from
him that all was quiet at the camp, and that he had only come to make
sure that we had not lost our way.
"What is that?" whispered the Skipper, as the wail broke again upon his
ear.
Zalee raised his hand, commanding silence. Then he stooped and laid his
lips to the crack between the palm board uprights. He called something
in a sweet, low voice. It sounded like "Kala?" The Bo's'n asserted that
it was intended for "Qui est la?" We listened intently for an answer.
There was a long, sobbing sigh and a thick muttering in answer.
Zalee gave a subdued and joyful cry and ran around to the back of the
building. We followed him. Here he found a place where some of the
boards seemed loose. In fact, they had been purposely loosened, and, the
building being so remote from all habitation, it had not been thought
necessary to replace them. He pulled away the boards and crawled quietly
through. I followed him, the Skipper came next, and finally the Bo's'n.
We found ourselves in a sort of church. There was a fairly
well-constructed desk on one side of the chamber, and an altar on the
other. There were some rude seats behind the altar, some metal crosses
standing about, with one or two wooden cages which looked like an
attempted reproduction of the places where the Catholics keep the holy
sacrament. Masses of red and yellow flowers festooned the pillars, and
gave a barbaric strangeness to the scene. Upon the walls was reproduced
at small intervals a sort of copy of the ring which Cynthia had found on
the beach. Sometimes it was the serpent, sometimes the goat's head,
sometimes they were combined, the serpent body coiling round to meet the
head of the goat, in so strange and natural though rude a resemblance to
the symbol, that I could not but feel that the owner of the ring had had
something more than a little to do with these barbarous people. Zalee
had produced and lighted the end of a candle. He hoarded these candle
ends, and as I know that he got them from the great hall of the cave, so
I have always suspected that he knew where the pirates kept their secret
store. Zalee seemed never to be without one when emergency demanded a
permanent light. Again that wailing cry and a restless movement
somewhere in the interior.
Zalee was not at a loss. He at once approached the altar and raised a
sort of hanging lid at the bottom. From thence he drew forth a boy of
about eight years. The child had been so crushed and pushed into the
receptacle that it was with difficulty that Zalee pulled him from the
place. The boy could not stand. His knees gave way, and he fell to the
ground. His face was bathed with tears, and he moaned as if in pain. He
clutched with his fingers at his rescuer, saying over and over, "Zalee!
Zalee! Sui bo," which the Bo's'n told us that he thought was intended
for "Je suis bon," though how he knew I can not tell. The words seemed
so unlike.
Zalee took the little one up in his arms. He was also decked with
ribbons and flowers, the latter not fresh, which was proof that he had
been there for some time.
The Bo's'n had fallen on his face upon the palm board flooring at the
first sight of the child, and he muttered as before, "_The goat without
horns!_"
"That young one's trussed just like the baby we found," said the
Captain.
Trussed! The word brought before my mind's eye the times immemorial that
I had watched the young ducks and turkeys bound in this way and ready
for the spit, and I turned away sick and faint.
Zalee quickly cut the ribbons which bound the child and took him up in
his arms. The boy clung to him with every sign of affection, which
proved to the onlookers that the two were not strangers to each other.
Probably, I thought, he is some child who lives in the neighbourhood of
Zalee and whose family he knows well. Zalee picked up all the ribbons
and flowers that he had stripped from the child, and, going to the
altar, he laid them upon it. Then Zalee lifted the boy in his arms. At
that moment there was a pounding at the great doors which gave upon the
forest glade.
"Le Papaloi!" whispered the Haitien in a terrified voice, and rushed to
the opening at the back of the building. Through this he began to
squeeze, holding the child in his arms. The sounds outside grew louder,
there were shouts and howls and continued knockings. The child clung to
Zalee in terror, and Zalee, no less terrified, hurriedly got himself
through the opening.
"We can't all get through," said the Skipper. "Look to your priming."
I had heard queer tales of these people, and I feared what would befall
us; but, knowing the weakness of the Bo's'n, I pushed him through the
open space. At that moment the door was burst asunder, and the Skipper
and I turned to confront an angry mob of about twenty men.