THE GOAT WITHOUT HORNS.
"I can't find it!" whispered the Skipper. "The Bo's'n said it would
bring bad luck, and it has by not being here when it's wanted."
I went close to the old man and began to pull and twitch his clothes
about in my desperate desire to find the ring.
"It's gone!" said the Skipper. "No use looking! See there! There's where
it must have slipped out of my pocket--that hole. Wouldn't let poor
little Cynthy mend it. Didn't know it was so big. Suz! suz! suz! What a
pity!"
I am sure that I turned the colour of ashes, for the Skipper said:
"Don't lose heart, Jones, my boy! Perhaps that black fellow who speaks
English can get us out of it in some way. Put a bold front on it, and
act the American prince."
_The American prince!_ I! With my ragged clothes and generally
dishevelled air! I could have laughed had not our case seemed so utterly
hopeless.
The interpreter, who was standing by the curtain, looked inquiringly at
me, and asked rather anxiously, I thought:
"Well, what have you got?"
I shook my head sadly and despondently.
"Nothing!" said I.
"Good Heavens! Nothing, after all this fuss? I'm afraid you'll be worse
off than before. Can't you make love to the she-devil, or something?
You'd better, Mr. Jones, for, let me tell you, your case is pretty
serious."
"Who are you?" whispered I hastily, "and why do you take an interest in
us? I see plainly that you know who we are."
"I will tell you later," said our guard. "That is, if you haven't had
your ears pickled by that time."
"What can we do?" asked I anxiously.
"Don't worry, Jones; it'll all come out right," said the Skipper.
This remark evinced a most cheerful spirit on the Skipper's part, but I
felt that it was one thing to make such an assertion and another thing
to believe that it would come true.
Here the curtains were parted, and the extra guard came in to say that
the priest and priestess were waiting impatiently for our proof, if we
had any. Alas! I shook my head miserably.
"The prince has mislaid his credentials," said our black friend, "but I
am quite sure that he will find them in some miraculous way."
I personally had no such hope, and I followed the guard dejectedly back
to the large chamber.
We returned between the carefully drawn curtains, and I remember that
even that foetid atmosphere, with the flaming torches and the shining
black and dripping bodies, seemed sweet as a May morning compared with
the horrible air of the banqueting hall.
Our interpreter explained our dilemma to the Papaloi and his companion,
but it was received with scorn and a horrible look of triumph. The
Mamanloi, I fancied, seemed somewhat disappointed, but, if this were so,
she dare not show such feeling.
"These are impostors," said the Papaloi sternly. "Let them stand aside
until the holy dance is ended, and then we will decide upon their fate."
We were then led to the side of the hall, but not far from the throne.
I thought that possibly our captors feared that during the excitement of
the dance we might burst through the crowd and escape. Indeed, our guard
advised us to try it, but he told us also that it had been attempted
before, though unsuccessfully, and that the sentries would certainly be
on the watch. It was curious to hear our interpreter roaring out the
most secret messages. Things that would naturally have been whispered,
he shouted, which robbed them of their appearance of secrecy, and seemed
to be, as he assured the Papaloi that they were, orders from himself to
us.
For instance, when I heard his stentorian tones telling me that the old
idiot on the red hawse block was blind in one eye, and that if I got on
that side I would have a better chance to escape, I was really
frightened.
"Oh, you needn't look so scared!" added the guard. "The old nigger
doesn't know a word of anything but Dahomey, mixed with a little French,
and none of these rascals knows anything about a Christian tongue."
He then turned and made low obeisance to the Papaloi.
"I have asked the prince, as you told me, to stand farther back from the
door. Meanwhile, O most gracious Papaloi, some miracle may happen to
show you that he is a prince and no liar."
Now seeing that we were on the blacklist, the crowd gathered round and
jostled us fiercely.
"You tell them," said I to the guard, "that they'll be sorry for this a
little later," at which our friend harangued the crowd, which for an
answer laughed and made obscene gestures.
"How dare these strangers intrude upon our sacred rites?" thundered the
Papaloi.
"That nigger says," said the guard, turning to us, "that he wonders how
you had the cheek to come in here."
"Tell him we didn't want to come," said I. "We came quite against our
will."
The Papaloi said something more to our friend with superior voice and
gesture.
"He asks how you got into the temple."
"By magic," answered I, wishing not to betray the very commonplace
method by which we had entered, or by which our companions, who were not
any too far away, had left.
"He says he does not believe you," said the guard, "and that you must
suffer the fate of the spy. But, first, the old monkey tells me that you
shall witness a sacrifice which will only postpone your own for a
little. You can be preparing, he says."
"I told you we'd be a short time living," whispered the Skipper
mournfully in my ear. "What a pity you insisted on our hoarding up that
rum so! I wish I had a little of it now."
This monotonous remark of the Skipper's set my nerves on edge. I had
been conscious during this conversation and before it of a vicious
hissing sound, and, though I had gazed earnestly about me whenever I
heard it, there was no solution of its mysterious recurrence. I was now
to know the cause.
The priest arose and waved us aside, as if too much time had been given
to our affairs. The only reason that I could imagine why he allowed us
to remain as witnesses to his dreadful rites was that we should never go
forth to tell the tale. This was not encouraging. He raised his hand and
thundered forth to the waiting multitude the order:
"Release the god!"
Two men from the back of the hall now came forward and stopped at the
foot of the throne. They opened the lid of a box that stood beneath it
and made part of the lower step. For a moment the watching crowd saw no
sign. And then as we looked there came slowly forth a green flat head,
protruding eyes, and a darting tongue, which played back and forth in
desperate wildness.
The serpent crawled languidly from the box up the robe of the Mamanloi.
He left a slimy trail behind, which shone in the flare of the torches.
The dreadful creature was about four feet in length and very large in
circumference. It seemed lazy and sluggish, and, after climbing up to
the Mamanloi's neck, it wreathed itself round and hung there in flabby
folds, occasionally laying its flat head against her cheek and letting
its red tongue dart against her face, as if in affection. The sight made
my flesh to creep.
Then the Papaloi, still standing, raised himself to his extreme height
and harangued the multitude. He told them that the serpent worship was
the only true worship, and condemned all those who did not believe in
its holy teachings to be stung by the fangs of the poisonous python. He
raved and screamed for the space of a quarter hour. Occasionally he
shouted, "Will you obey?"
"As the Papaloi has said! As the holy Papaloi has said!" shouted the
crowd in answer, bowing to the ground.
Then he began to intone the same weird chant that I had heard in the
forest, the people joining in. And then began the dance.
How shall I describe that dance? How call up before your imagination the
murky interior, the reddish flare of the smoking torches, the shining
black bodies, the glittering eyes, the look on every face which spoke
not of the lofty aspirations of the human being, but of the low nature
of the brute? If there was ever any ceremony that combined as a whole
the horrible, the soul-sickening, the disgusting, and the fascinating,
it was that dance of the serpent. The whole community joined in the
fiendish movement, each and all trying as best he or she could to
imitate the movements of the reptile. They wound themselves about, in
and out, and round each other. They twisted, they squirmed, they
wriggled, they crawled, and all the time the Mamanloi sat gazing
stolidly on like a sphynx. The serpent hissed and alternately caressed
her cheek and bosom. Sometimes it disappeared entirely within the folds
of her dress, and then again its great head would protrude from the open
front of her robe, and we heard the hissing repeated, and saw the tongue
dart its flamelike points against the flesh of her throat. Some of the
dancers, the women especially, seemed to be overtaken by a wild state of
frenzy. They circled themselves round the other dancers, regardless of
sex. They even climbed with a snakelike motion up the posts which
supported the roof. There they wriggled along the rafters or hung,
glaring down on those below. Their tongues protruded and played back and
forth like a serpent's; their mouths emitted a hissing noise, which was
deafening. I feared that with these awful sights and sounds I should
lose my senses. Of so bold an exhibition of the beastliness that still
dwells in the earthly tenement I had never dreamed, and I hope that I
may never be called upon to witness its like again. With much of it I
will not soil these pages. Suffice it to say that the worst passions
were depicted, if not actually represented. I turned toward the Skipper.
The heavy drops were pouring from his brows.
"By Gad! Jones, I'm sick," said he.
When the dancers had worked themselves up to a state of insanity that
was almost unbelievable, the Papaloi suddenly called a halt. The noise
did not stop at once. It seemed that the serpent habit had become
chronic with the votaries. Some of the women still clung to the rafters
and refused to descend, sending forth an occasional hiss. But when the
Papaloi started a subdued and minor chant, they began to quiet down, and
gradually dropped, limp and lifeless, to the ground. They reminded me,
each one as he fell, of the leech as he drops heavy and clogged from
overrepletion.
That, however, was a phase of these diabolical orgies which was yet to
come.
Far be it from me, Adoniah, to wish to shock or horrify any one,
especially those dear to me. You have asked for a truthful description
of what I saw, and, though I can not give it all to you in these pages,
I can come as near it as decency permits. Perhaps you will say, nearer,
and accuse me in your heart of having over-stepped the bounds of
propriety and decency. If such be your feeling, do not let this cover
fall into the hands of your children. It would unnecessarily shock and
terrify them. There are many things happening in this world which they
need not know. Perhaps you had better decide when you read to them these
remembrances that you will skip some portions, saying to them at certain
pages, which you shall mark upon its first perusal by you, "Your
grandfather is not very clear at this stage, and I think that I had
better relate to you what follows," or, "We will close the book for
to-night, my child; I will tell you more to-morrow." On the morrow you
may skip the obnoxious paragraphs. But for you, Adoniah, I am setting
down these things as they occurred, and what I promised, I am in duty
bound to do. When you feel that I have described with too much realism
that which I was forced to witness, you may also close the book. But my
task is to finish to the bitter end, that perhaps at some not far
distant day some earnest votary of our holy religion of Christ may feel
it his privilege to go as a missionary to this island of the western
main, and with labour which shall not fail try to bring some soul from
out the darkness and lead it into light, and show these benighted
creatures what is really meant by that symbol to which they are
accustomed, the cross of Christ. You may say, however, "Why should we
succeed, where other Christians have failed?" But I digress.
"Bring in the white cock!" shouted the Papaloi.
Two men disappeared behind the curtain of red and returned with a
handsome white cock, the one, probably, which I had heard crowing in
homelike confidence. The priest seized the cock in his strong grasp. He
now descended the steps of the throne. The Mamanloi followed in his
footsteps. Their sandalled feet called back no answering sound from the
earthen floor. The Papaloi stalked majestically toward the central post
which up-held the roof tree, and mounting upon a low step, he stood
facing the multitude. He waved the helpless animal round and round his
head, repeating rapidly, and with fierceness of demeanour, some species
of incantation which I could not follow. He then began to beat the body
of the unfortunate cock against the post.
Now, any man who has lived upon a farm, as I have at Belleville, does
not squirm at the killing of a fowl if necessity demands, but we perform
the operation humanely and as quickly as time and dexterity will permit.
To see that poor animal battered and hammered against the resisting
wood, which was already stained red and black with previous ceremonies
of the kind, made me shudder. I closed my eyes, but there was still that
fearful thud in my ears. I can give no idea of the vengeful fury of the
blows. Just before the Papaloi gave the animal what our black friend
called the "final kew," it was struggling, though faintly, and when the
Papaloi raised a glittering knife on high I saw one poor leg thrust
weakly outward, as if the helpless thing hoped even then to elude its
slayer. The throat was slashed through with a clean cut, and the torture
was over.
[Illustration: The Pythoness circled slowly around.]
During this scene the Pythoness had been moving, circling slowly, with a
flat shuffle of the feet, around the central post. Her limbs and head
were rigid, but the trunk moved in a thousand strange undulations. Her
body protruded in folds and wrinkles, as if the serpent were still
concealed beneath the transparency of her gown. Then, as the Papaloi
threw the head of the cock far from him, the priestess slowly glided
beneath the uplifted body. She seemed in an ecstasy of religious
fervour, and I saw that the serpent hung trailing down her back, its
extremity reaching nearly to the floor. His upper part clung tenaciously
round her neck; its loathsome mouth lay close to her ear. The Pythoness
threw her head backward, and came to a stand just underneath the body of
the cock. Her movements were so timed that the first drop of the warm
blood fell within her open lips. It streamed down over her throat and
breast and the spotless robe which she wore. The serpent gave a hiss of
delight, then raised its flat head, opened its horrid jaws, and drank
also. The people crowded up and ran close, and rubbed their hands and
their heads against the red-stained gown. They thrust out their tongues
in imitation of the serpent, and licked the colour from the white robe
as fast as it fell. As fresh votaries took their places, the pioneers
danced again in imitation of the movements of the Pythoness herself.
Keeping head erect and limbs motionless, they forced the trunk to roll
in waves and folds from chest to abdomen.
How long this terrible scene continued I can not tell. I have given as
little in words as will describe its awful character, and have omitted
much which is important as to detail, which decency forbids me to set
down.
The Papaloi and Mamanloi had returned to the throne. She looked as if
she had been in battle. There was a discussion, and finally an order was
given. Our guide, who had listened intently, told us that the
sacrificial lamb was now to be brought. Presently two enormous men,
armed with long knives, entered from the banqueting hall. They led by
the hands a little boy of tender years. He was clothed in white. He
turned terrified eyes upon his jailors. Our guide repeated to us the
conversation which ensued.
The Papaloi leaned down toward the child, and, with a gloating smile on
his hideous features, he asked:
"What dost thou desire more than anything else in all the world?"
The child's reply had evidently been taught to him, for he said in a low
and trembling voice:
"I desire a little virgin more than anything that the world affords."[C]
[C] See Sir Spenser St. John.
Then appeared two other brutal-looking giants, and between them they led
a little girl. She was also robed in white.
"Behold thy virgin!" shouted the Papaloi. The two little ones were then
seized and thrown upon their backs. We saw the knives descend. If
shrieks there were, they were drowned by the noise of the drums and the
enthusiastic shouts of the sectaries. I close the scene. It will remain
with me until life ends.
Recalling these happenings across the space of many intervening years, I
wonder at myself, as you are probably wondering at me, that I did not
drop down and die with very horror of such sights. There was but one
thing which sustained me. Self-preservation is man's first law; all
things become subservient to that end. The one thought that permeated
every fibre of my being--and I doubt not that of the Skipper also--was
the hope of escape. These dark and dreadful scenes showed us not only
what might be our fate, but in so doing urged us on to more strenuous
efforts to prevent the ending of our lives as had ended the lives of the
wretched little victims. There is sometimes more virtue in telling than
in withholding. We send missionaries to Africa. In God's name, let's
send them nearer home, where iniquity of the vilest flourishes, and at
our very doors!
When the executioners had disappeared with their inanimate victims, the
Papaloi raised his hand, commanding silence.
"Say your prayers," said the Skipper; "it's our turn now."
"I'll never believe it," said I. "At least, I'll shoot off the old
villain's head first, if you'll take the woman."
"If we but had our pistols!" said the Skipper. And then I, too,
remembered that we had been stripped of our weapons in the banqueting
hall.
The Papaloi then made an address which I will not repeat. It was
concerning us, and spoke of us as imposters and spies. I felt that I had
not long to live, and I commended myself to God. Two of the executioners
started toward us. I shrank as I saw them approaching. I, watching every
movement, with nerves strung to the highest tension, saw that the
Mamanloi leaned over and whispered to the Papaloi, whereupon he raised
his hand again, and his voice rang through the bare interior.
"The high priestess suggests that these spies shall see one more
sacrifice to the serpent god before they, too, die for our faith."
I know that it is not conceit which leads me to assert that I was
confident that I caught a significant glance from the eyes of the
priestess directed at me. It seemed to me that she wanted to gain time,
and certainly every minute gained was a minute in our favour. The
Captain turned to me and said in a voice of bravado, which trembled as
he spoke:
"I hope you're tender, Jones. Now I fear I'm a little stringy or so. I
certainly hope that I'll stick in that old villain's crop and choke
him."
I turned away impatiently. I was trembling as if with an ague, which I
tried my best to conceal. I felt that this was not the time for
lightness of speech. I looked about me to discover, if possible, an
avenue of escape. But there was no break in the ranks of dark bodies
which hemmed us in on every side. There was a stir about the throne.
The Mamanloi had again arisen. She stretched out her graceful arm and
waved her hand toward the fateful curtain.
She wreathed the serpent round her waist as a Northern girl would have
twisted a ribbon, and said in her sweet and dreadful voice:
"Bring in the final sacrifice--_the goat without horns_!"
Then I heard to begin a faint tapping of the drum. As it grew louder and
louder, taking upon itself the weird and gloomy "tum-tum-_tum_,
tum-tum-_tum_," the music of the savage, many voices caught up the
refrain, and sang not unmusically, and shouted until the rafters rang:
"_The goat without horns! The goat without horns!_" Then we heard the
shuffling of many feet, and a crowd came pushing in from the back of the
throne. The mass of people which surrounded this latest victim was so
impenetrable that I could not discover what manner of person they had
brought with them. The crowd approached the throne and lifted to a
standing posture on the cover of the serpent box, a form. It stood, its
feet dabbled in the blood of the recent victims, and faced us. My breath
was taken away. I absolutely could not believe my eyes.
"Is it?" I asked of the Skipper.
"It is," said he.
It was the Minion, as cool apparently as ever he had been. He turned to
his jailors and uttered two words:
"I'm tough!" said he.
The Captain looked at the Minion critically. He was grimy to a degree,
and more unkempt than even I had ever seen him.
"I should hope they'd wash him first," said the Captain, "if I was to
have any of the pie."
I could only adjudge the Skipper's seeming lightness of vein to the fact
that he had escaped death often just by the breadth of a hair, and I was
convinced that he would never believe that his final hour had come
until he was no longer conscious of the beating of his heart.
Our guard was called upon to translate the Minion's words. The lad had
not caught sight of us at first, but when the Skipper gave an
exclamation of horror at the probable fate of this poor boy, preceding
ours by but a short time, he looked toward us with a grin upon his face.
The Skipper had apparently given up all thought of trying to please our
captors.
"Boy," called he, "say a prayer, do, for the Lord's sake! Those devils
are going to kill you. Shall I pray for you?"
The Minion glared at his persecutors. Consistent to his well-known
character, he called across the heads beneath him, "I'll ha'nt 'em!" And
then again, with a loquacity of which he was seldom guilty, he repeated,
"I'll ha'nt 'em to the last!"
The Papaloi looked angry at this interruption, but the Skipper thought
it now of little use to temporize with the wretches.
"Boy," he shouted, "you have but a moment to live, and I s'pose you're
human. Is there any sin that you've committed that you want to confess?
Any whom you have wronged? Any----"
But the Skipper stopped short, for as he spoke the Minion put his hand
into the pocket of his ragged old trousers, slowly drew it forth, and
held up in the face of the astounded Skipper the lost ring. I saw my
advantage at once. I think that I heard the now loquacious Minion
declaring truthfully, "'Tain't no use to me;" but I had broken through
the crowd and was close to the step of the throne before the Papaloi had
realized what was happening. I had mounted to the very platform of the
throne itself, regardless of the outraged looks of the Papaloi, and,
standing there, I held up the ring before the eyes of the dazed
multitude.
"_Look and believe_," shouted I, "_the ring of the Grand Papaloi!_"
My unknown friend echoed my words with a tone which left little doubt in
the minds of his hearers. He shouted in African-French the words which
fell upon astonished ears:
"_La ba' du gran' Papaloi! La ba' du gran' Papaloi!_"
I leaped from the throne. I held the symbolic circle high in the air.
The eyes shot forth baleful gleams, which impressed even us men of the
North with their wonderful brilliancy and power. To the ignorantly
superstitious how much more convincing! I turned the dread symbol this
way and that. I threw its red beams into the watching eyes of the crowds
which surrounded us. They closed their trembling lids, and shook as if
with a palsy. In as stern a voice as I could command I shouted again:
"_Behold the ring of the Grand Papaloi! Behold! Behold the ring of the
Grand Papaloi!_"
No one was more astonished than I myself at the effect which this ruse
of mine produced. As I passed down the long space between the rows of
sombre faces, I was surprised to see the bronzelike bodies waver and
fall on the ground, as summer grain is blown over by a sudden storm of
wind. The two upon the throne looked with amazement upon me. Shouts were
going up around us as I advanced of "_La ba' du gran' Papaloi! La ba' du
gran' Papaloi!_" The sectaries covered their eyes with their hands and
fell before me. The tide had turned.
"It's working wonderful well, my boy," said the Skipper, who had joined
me. He began to shout in the same breath, "The ring of the great
Papaloi!"
As we neared the throne again I saw that great terror, humility and
consternation combined were shadowed forth from the faces of the priest
and priestess. On that of the Papaloi himself I perceived, creeping
through the submission that fear develops, a look of the most malignant
hate, but as I came nearer they both trembled, wavered, then arose,
and, screaming with the rest, "_La ba' du gran' Papaloi!_" they sank
down at our feet. The excitement had been so much for me that I almost
lost my hold for a time on consciousness; but I controlled myself, and
stood erect and commanding, though trembling in every limb. This was the
best thing that could have happened, for such fits of excitement are
common among the sect, and show religious fervour. The Skipper's
apposite remarks aided me in keeping my senses. He drawled:
"You've fetched 'em this time, Jones," and then the absurd side of the
whole performance came over me and helped me to keep from giving way to
weakness.
Finding that the priest and priestess were overwhelmed by the sight of
the ring, I turned to my black guide and roared out in stentorian tones:
"What the devil's the matter with those savages?"
"The Lord knows," said he, bowing low with every sign of servility, "but
you've got 'em jolly well scared this time. Crash all hurricanes! but
you're a smart one."
Here the Captain turned to me and said:
"S'pose we condescend to let those devils get up?"
I waved my hand.
"Arise," said I, "noble priest and priestess, and resume your throne."
This was translated to the Papaloi and Mamanloi by my guide, whereupon
they arose and stood looking at us as if waiting permission to reseat
themselves.
"Tell them," said I, turning to the guide, "that they may seat
themselves upon the throne, but they must prepare one for us also."
While the guard was repeating this to the great people, I said hurriedly
to the Skipper: "What a pity the Bo's'n isn't here! The ring is some
use, after all. What do you really think it is, Captain, that makes them
so servile?"
"I think the Grand Papaloi, who lost it probably where Cynthy found it,
was a very great man, and that they tremble at the very sound of his
name. He was protected, they say, by Christophe."
"Perhaps, like some kings I have heard of," said I, "they think that he
gave us the symbol as a safeguard. Something like a signet ring."
"But where is the Grand Papaloi himself?" asked the Skipper.
"Thank you for reminding me," said I. "That's just what they may ask, so
I must fix up a story." I then turned to the guard. "I have something to
tell the priest and priestess," said I, "when our throne is prepared."
It was not long before the followers of these vaudoux leaders had
constructed a high seat for us. They brought some red cloth from the
banqueting hall and began to cover it like the other; but I told the
guide to say that in the higher vaudoux worship only white was used.
Strange to say, some one soon appeared with a large piece of cotton like
a sheet. This was draped over our throne, and upon this we seated
ourselves. I then turned to the guard who had interpreted for us, and
said with all seriousness:
"I suppose you do not belong to the sect in reality?"
"Belong!" said he. "I only did it as you do, to save my life."
I did not intend to divulge our secret to this stranger, as I was not
sure at what moment he might become unfriendly, and so I determined that
he should believe us what we had pretended to be.
"You seem to think that we are not really members of the vaudoux in
North America," said I, "but there is where you are wrong, my friend."
"And the Captain?" broke in the guard.
I looked at him in astonishment.
"How do you know he is a captain?" asked I.
"Haven't I heard you call him so?" asked the guard.
"I think not," answered I, wondering. "I want these people to know,"
said I, "that we are what we say; that the Papaloi, the Grand Papaloi,
has gone to North America. That there he has established his sect, and
that in reality we were coming to visit Christophe when we were cast
away, as well as to inspect the temples here and discover if the rites
are observed with all due formalities."
"What bosh!" remarked our guide.
"It is the truth," said I, "and whether you believe it or not it makes
no difference to us, so you had better jump into our boat while you have
the chance."
"I fancy you've hit on the right thing," returned the guard. "I don't
believe a word you say, but these idiots do, so I can do nothing now but
follow and let you lead."
This conversation was carried on openly.
"The coke's comin' off your face," said the Skipper. "Hadn't you better
go out and put some more on?"
"It isn't coke," said the guard. "It is really a dye that I know of, to
be found under the bark of a tree; but I do rub coke over it, and I'll
just go into the kitchen, if I can, before they begin to cook the supper
and repair damages."
My soul turned sick at his reference, but I felt that there must be some
way of our getting free before that last awful rite began.
"Am I much lighter?" asked our guide.
"Not much," said the Skipper, "but if I was you I'd fix up a little."
The guide turned to the priest and priestess, who were awaiting with
curious looks the result of our conversation.
"O great Papaloi and you, gracious Mamanloi, the high priest and prince,
surnamed Jo-nes, orders me to procure for him a glass of pure water from
the holy spring."
The Mamanloi, whose affection for me had apparently increased so soon as
she saw that I was an even greater man than the priest at her side, at
once begged the guard to say that anything that we wished we had but to
ask for. She begged him to hasten, as the ceremonies must be finished
before morning cock crow. When she said those words the whole assemblage
took up the words, "Cock crow!" "Cock crow!" and repeated them over and
over again to the accompaniment of the drum. I have forgotten the words
that they used, though I knew them at the time.
I spoke to the Minion hurriedly:
"You stole that ring from the Captain! Confess at once, that they may
know that it is ours."
Our interpreter was near.
"If you want proof that the ring belongs to me," I said, "ask that young
devil how he came possessed of it."
"Stole it!" said the Minion, evidently no more averse to living than the
rest of us.
"From whom?" I demanded, with death in my eye.
The Minion nodded over my head toward the Skipper, and, with a comical
glance of the eye at me, said, "Old man! Me father!"
Our guard then turned to the priest and priestess.
"O most gracious ones," he said, "these people are without doubt that
which they claim to be. The sacrifice declares that he is the son of the
servant of this grand young prince; that he stole the ring of the Grand
Papaloi from his father, to whom the prince gave it for safe keeping."
The guard turned to the Skipper.
"You'll have to admit he's your son," said he. "It's all very well to
let you go, but they see that he's stolen the ring and----"
"I'm everlastingly darned if I will!" blurted out the indignant Skipper.
Forced to own paternity to the Minion was beyond the elastic limit to
which charity and devotion should be called upon to go.
Our guard now disappeared, the crowd making way for him because of
reflected glory. He soon reappeared, however, with a skin much improved
backward and a flagon of water. Not to expose his little ruse, the
Skipper and I shared this between us.
I thanked the guard with every expression of dignity and graciousness.
"You can tell these devils," said I, "that now there is something
required of _them_. They can see that we are what we declared ourselves
to be. My servant's son has confessed his theft, which is proof enough
for them. Now comes our turn. They must prove to our satisfaction that
they belong to the true vaudoux sect. This they can not do unless they
are able to repeat to us the name of the Grand Papaloi who gave to me
the ring. If they tell me this to my satisfaction, the Grand Papaloi,
should he return, will hold them still in his favour; if not, they know,
perhaps, the doom that awaits them."
The guard translated these words to the priest and priestess, not, I
believe, without some fear, but the communication seemed to have the
desired effect. The Mamanloi turned and looked at the Papaloi, and he at
her. There was a hurried consultation, and finally a sign of assent from
the Papaloi.
The Mamanloi beckoned the guard to draw near. She leaned over and put
her lips to his ear. I saw him wince as the snake thrust his head in
between, and was thankful that I was not in his place. The guard said
the word over once or twice to the Mamanloi to make sure that he
understood it, and then with a look of recognition, which I thought
strange at the time, he whispered the name in my ear. With a start of
astonishment I in turn whispered it to the Skipper. He, too, gave a look
of surprise.
"Suz! suz! suz!" said he, "'s that so?"
I arose with all the dignity that these surprising events left at my
disposal, and said with a grand wave of the hand:
"Tell the priest and priestess that they are correct. That they have
named the Grand Papaloi who is head of all the sects in Amerique. But,
alas! my faithful people, he is gone for a time. The great serpent god
carried him away to the depths of the deepest wood. There he sits upon a
golden throne, and will so sit until the day of reckoning for all. His
mantle has fallen upon me. He left to me this sacred symbol. Behold and
adore!" and again I held the ring on high. The multitude fell upon their
faces, and there were murmurs of "_Le gran' Papaloi! Le gran' Papaloi!_"
But upon the lips of the pythoness I saw the muttering of another name
and a look of regret in the eyes, and it was not strange to me, for the
word which my sable guard had whispered in my ear was the name of
MAURESCO!
NOTE.--Papaloi and Mamanloi are the Haitien corruption of the French
words Papa-Roi and Maman-Roi.