I MEET WITH THE TERRIBLE BLACK KING, AND VOLUNTARILY ASSUME A TASK TO
REGAIN MY LIBERTY.
Our captors had spoken truthfully, and I now knew which way we were
going. I was sorry that I could not reassure the others. I wanted to
call out, but I feared what the result would be; so I walked wearily on,
wondering if I was never to feast my eyes upon that lovely sight again,
wondering when we should see the King, wondering how he would treat us,
but wondering more than all when I should have speech of Cynthia.
I now felt that we were walking over a bare and more even flooring, and
then that the sweet tropic breeze had been exchanged for the cool, damp
air of one of those stone interiors to which I had become accustomed. My
guide suddenly stopped. I heard the pushing back of a bolt. I listened
for more sounds of the same kind. I heard none. Oh, joy! only one door
was opened. Then I was not to be parted from Cynthia. My guard removed
the bandage from my eyes. I looked up joyfully to welcome the sight of
Cynthia once again. She was not there! There was no one with me but the
guard himself. I had been separated from my friends, when, I knew not.
Oh, misery! What was I to do? How could I bear this of all troubles the
greatest? The passageway from which I entered from the outer air was a
stone hall rudely made. Along the sides were rough doorways and
battered-looking doors. One of these doors was opened, I was pushed
inside, and the door was closed upon me. I turned and hammered upon it
with my clenched fists.
"Let me out!" I called. "Let me out! You can not mean to leave me here!"
But there was no answer, except the retreating footsteps of him who had
thrust me into this hateful prison. I pounded until I was weary, more
because I was devoured with my rage than because I expected any
response, and when I was exhausted with my futile efforts I threw myself
on the floor, oblivious to everything but my sorrow.
As I lay there, alternately groaning and raging, I did not at first hear
the faint sound which after a long time was made to attract my
attention. Scratch, scratch, scratch, it went, but I did not heed it. It
might be a rat, or some pestilent animal. I had not heard any footsteps
in the corridor. I hoped that I should hear some more footfalls, but
none came. All was as silent as the tomb.
Scratch, scratch, scratch, it came again. At last I awoke to the fact
that this might be meant for me.
"Who is that?" I called.
"It's me," answered the Skipper's voice, grammarless, but, oh, how
welcome!
"Good God!" I said; "it can't be you?"
"But it is me," shouted the Skipper, regardless of other ears, "darned
if it ain't."
For a moment I was too amazed to speak.
"He's bagged the whole of us, hasn't he?" said the Skipper.
I looked to the back of the cell, the place where the sound seemed to
come from. There I saw that the stone had sagged a little, and gave room
for sound, if not for sight.
"God bless you, Captain!" said I. "How glad I am to see you again!"
"You must have better eyes than I have. Say, Mr. Jones, where is
Cynthy?"
"She's somewhere near us," said I. And then in whispers, listening for
every sound, I told the Skipper what had happened as well as I could.
"My poor little Cynthy!" said the Skipper, with a half sob.
"How did they get you, Captain?" I inquired.
"They never would have had me if you had paid any attention to me. They
gathered me up the very day after I waved to you, when you were up there
on that cliff."
"Was that you?" I asked. "I never thought it. Cynthia did suggest it,
too."
"God bless my girl!" said the Skipper, with a wet voice.
"How were we to know it was you?" said I. "You were as black as any of
the blackest here."
"That's so!" said the Skipper in answer. "I forgot that."
"But that man hadn't any clothes on," argued I, as if I must prove that
the Skipper had been somebody else.
"Neither had I," said the Skipper. "Naked as a new-born babe. That's
proper to-day, I suppose, anyway. It's my birthday, sixty-sixth."
Poor old man!
"What did they want with your clothes?" I asked, for the memory that I
carried with me of the Skipper's ancient raiment, worn and soiled with
salt water and earth stains, did not make them seem very valuable, even
to a Haitien.
"They didn't want anything with my clothes," answered the Skipper;
"'twas me they wanted. But they stripped me to a gantlin' all the same.
After that fight I tried to follow you, but three fellows seized me and
took my clothes and threw them into the bush, and began to hurry me off
to the first temple that we saw, where that little shaver was crying."
"Yes, I know," said I; "and then----"
"Well, the battle was going the other way. I wanted to run after you to
the shore, but those men held me between them. In a little while we got
near the temple, and I thought my last moment had come for sure, when
who should pop out of the trees but some of these big black men, who
Christophe has for his body guard."
"Yes, yes," said I, hurrying him on.
"And when they saw me they waved their clubs round their heads, and
those forlorn little Haitiens ran away. Then I gave the black men the
slip, but they caught me again."
"If they were so little----" suggested I.
"Yes, yes, I know what you would say, but they were three to one, and
when they took away my clothes they took my pistol, my knife, and my
machete. I did put a bullet through one fellow. He never kicked, but
when I tried to reload they were upon me."
I reflected also that the Skipper was not so young as once he was, and
that the night had been as tiresome and exciting to him as to the rest
of us.
"My, these stones are cold!" The Skipper sneezed. "Have you got that
ring yet, Jones?"
"I haven't thought of it from that day to this." I slapped my hand to my
throat. "Yes, here it is."
I took the great circle from the cord which held it round my neck and
turned it over and over in my hand. The enormous red eyes shot forth
rays like streams of blood. I have never seen anything before or since
which shed so strange a light or made one feel so eerie.
"You don't say anything," said the Skipper. "I s'pose you're looking at
that devil's ring and feeling all-overish."
"Yes," said I, "that is just exactly what I am doing."
"My, these stones are hard!" The Skipper groaned and sneezed again. "I
wonder if they'll let me see Cynthy. But here! Hold on! I can't see her
without any clothes."
"Perhaps they'll give you something before then," said I.
I now heard footsteps approaching, and held my peace and feigned sleep.
The door was opened and a glass of water and a large piece of cassava
bread were pushed into my cell as far as the man's arms could go. Then
the door was closed and bolted on the outside. The Skipper's door was
then opened, and I heard the same sounds which had heralded the arrival
of my breakfast. I heard the Skipper mumbling some words, something
between Manhattan-Dutch and Susquehanna-Indian, and he must have made
some signs, for he told me that the man nodded his head as if he
understood.
We kept up a desultory conversation, the Skipper and I, for an hour or
more. I could not bear to hear him complain of the cold and hardness of
the stones on which he sat. Northerners imagine, I believe, that one
never feels cold in that tropic clime, but in that supposition they are
quite mistaken. The heat and the constant exudations from the skin thin
the blood, and when one is out of the sun and in the dark interior of
the earth a sudden chill comes trembling over one, creeping, creeping,
creeping, until the whole body is in an ague, which nothing but a little
raiment and plenty of sunshine can relieve.
I judge that I had been in the cell for nearly an hour when I heard some
hurried footsteps coming down the corridor. They stopped at my door. The
bolt was withdrawn with a loud clatter, and two of the King's body guard
stood in the doorway.
"Now I s'pose I'll never see you again," groaned the Skipper. Fearful
that they would understand that we had been communicating and that we
were friends, I made no reply, but looked round the cell, astonished at
the sound of the voice. I addressed myself apparently to the guards in
as fierce a tone as I could command. They thought me scolding at them,
while my words were really addressed to the Skipper.
"Be quiet, for Heaven's sake!" said I. "They must not know that we are
friends." My tone was so sharp and dictatorial, and I looked so squarely
in the guard's eyes, that he began in a rough way to answer me, bowing
slightly and beckoning me to follow. Then I heard the Skipper's voice in
wonder:
"Why, Mr. Jones, are you speaking to me?"
Again I looked above, overhead, and round the walls of my room as if I
were daft, and then fiercely at the guard. Again I spoke to the Skipper
in my roughest way through these men, who could not understand a word.
"Don't be foolish, Captain," I said, glaring at the guard and shaking my
fists in their faces. "They think I am talking to them. I am shaking my
fist almost against their black noses, but they don't know that I am
talking to you. Be careful, and don't, for Heaven's sake, address me
while they are here."
I howled these words and danced up close, and glared at the tallest
guard. "They will find us out surely. I'll tell you all about it when I
get back, if they ever bring me back."
"Can't you lend me a trouser leg?" groaned the Skipper. But I saw that
an answer would be more than foolish, and so turned and followed my
guides where they led.
When I emerged from the corridor I found that I was facing toward the
north. Our captors had brought us a long way round, so that we should go
to the buildings where the offices, prisons, and the like were situated.
To go to the palace itself we must walk northward. I had heard of this
palace of Sans Souci, but no words had been powerful enough to give me
an adequate idea of its wonderful beauty and grandeur. It was situated
at the head of its beautiful and fertile valley, surrounded at the back
and sides by hills, which, from their immediate rise, seemed to attain
to the dignity of great mountains. The grand roads which Christophe had
built and was still building ran down into the beautiful valley on their
way to Le Cap. At the back of the palace there were gardens filled with
rare flowers. Fruits were here, sunny arbours, and shady groves.
Cascades of foaming water dashed downward from the neighbouring cliffs,
and, caught at the base, were turned into irrigating channels or carried
to the palace to supply its various needs. As I walked onward with my
guard, I recalled the many facts that I had heard about the delights of
this famous garden of the gods, and I wondered what manner of man it
could be who could devise all this beauty during one phase of his
existence, and fling helpless mortals to birds of prey at another.
At times these phases were not many minutes apart, so that it seemed
that the man must have a dual nature, and that two occupants--one an
angel and another a devil--must occupy his tenement at one and the same
time.
I was thinking these thoughts as I passed onward with the guard. We
walked along an open terrace, which would have seemed most grand to me,
had not its beauties been effaced at every turn by something still more
beautiful, and those in turn by something more wonderful still. We
descended a broad flight of steps and came out upon another terrace. The
air that blew about that terrace was heavenly. The blue overhead was
deep and clear. Trade-wind clouds flecked the sky in every direction.
They came like a host of white horses over from the east, sailing
steadily along, and disappeared in the west, their places only vacated
to be taken by the myriads of others which came moving rapidly after.
The breeze was sweet with the scent of fruit and flower. It seemed that
with each new breath that came to me, upon its wings was wafted a fresh
and delicious odour. The near hills were clad with vernal beauty. The
marble balustrades which railed the terrace were overgrown with
viridescent plant and flowering vine. Birds sang in the branches of the
camaito tree. Such Paradise a setting fit for the greatest and best
monarch who ever lived and ruled on earth. It seemed as if some fair
queen should inhabit this lovely place, as if even man, no matter how
pure he might be, were not worthy of such exquisite surroundings.
These thoughts came to me as I walked forward to the spot where the
greatest tyrant of modern times sat awaiting me, in common with his
other slaves; for I was a slave, if Christophe chose to consider me as
such--the slave of a man whose brutality was the wonder of those who had
read tales of the Borgias, of the Caesars, of Nero himself. I had heard
of his chaining human beings to his carriage wheels, I had heard of his
throwing his unsuccessful labourers off the great cliff which skirted
the citadel, and I had heard the revolting tale of a certain day when
his dogs, being hungry, he ordered an arm cut from an unoffending
prisoner and thrown to the ravenous beasts. Imagine, if you can, my
feelings when I reflected that this was the wretch to whose mercy fate
had consigned me, and not only me, but Cynthia. If I had fear for my own
safety, imagine, if you can, the horror with which I thought of him as
the jailer of Cynthia. If I could only get speech of Cynthia, I thought,
I could manage to tell her something--to warn her in some way. But then,
after all, what should I tell her other than she knew already? If I
frightened her, it would be worse, perhaps, than to leave her some
confidence in her captors. She was not in Christophe's presence now, at
all events, for I had been told that the King was attending to the
business of the day at that moment.
We passed many windows and openings, where I saw men in uniform,
secretaries, cooks, coachmen, horses, carriages, and everything that the
mind can conceive as necessary to the comfort and well being of a great
ruler. We passed by some round towers, that I thought must be sentry
boxes, and then the terrace widened out, and again we walked past some
very grand and gorgeous apartments. I remember an impression of mirrors
and gilding, and in the most spacious of the rooms I saw a throne of
velvet and gold, a sceptre lying there, a crown, and everything more
splendid than I had ever imagined a white king would have desired with
which to adorn his greatness. I looked along the marble esplanade, and
at the end of the vista which I was approaching I espied some forms.
They were human beings, but they were kneeling upon the ground. The
figure before whom they knelt was seated upon a high dais. Over his head
spread the famous camaito tree, which gave its name to the terrace. The
figure was peculiarly dressed, and on his head he had a strange sort of
military hat with fine gold lace binding the brim. In its front, among a
tuft of ostrich plumes, blazed a diamond as fine as the one that I had
taken from the cave and had unknowingly buried. As we approached, there
were curious looks from the more privileged ones, who still had the
manhood not to bow the knee to this tyrant King. Perhaps they were
favourites, but I noticed that many of those present hid their faces in
their hands as if afraid to look upon the evidence of so much
magnificence and power. As we approached the throne, the King waved a
small gold sceptre which he held. I suppose that he said, "Stand aside!"
for the crowd blew apart in two straight lines, as if they were puppets.
Then my guard and I walked up between the rows, and I stood in the
presence of the redoubtable Christophe himself.
The man was of gigantic stature, and as black as a coal. To see a man
who had been nothing more than an African slave seated there, with all
the pomp and power that the proudest nation of the earth could confer,
caused me to gasp with astonishment.
The King thundered something at my guard, who went down at once upon
his knees and tried to drag me down with him, but I made up my mind on
the spot that as I behaved so would I be treated, and, to preserve my
dignity and make Christophe feel, if possible, that I had a position of
my own, I stood more erect than ever. My clothes were torn and ragged,
my hair had grown long, my appearance was generally unkempt and
wretched, but I stood as straight as would Christophe himself had our
positions been reversed.
Again he thundered some words at me, and the guard endeavoured to pull
me to the ground; but I straightened myself, folded my arms, and looked
proudly at this modern and literal Black Prince.
Then there was a cry for some one, and forty messengers went running.
All the while I stood looking at the crowd and surveying the motley
garments that they wore. There were prisoners from the South, dressed in
rags that scarce covered their nakedness; there was that body guard of
Christophe's, garbed as I have described; there were the officers of the
King's army, gorgeous in all the buttons and straps and gold lace that
could be crowded into the space which their bodies occupied. While I
thus gazed, I was conscious that some one had joined me. I did not turn
until I heard some words whispered in my ear.
"It's rather awkward for me," said the Bo's'n. "I haven't met many
kings."
"Call that nigger a king?" asked the Smith's voice on the other side of
me. Here there was a commotion from the throne.
Christophe had arisen and was pointing excitedly at us, waving his arms
and foaming at the mouth. He motioned with his hands, and said something
which I supposed was intended for "Down! down! kneel before the King! I
am the King!"
[Illustration: I placed my foot on his neck.]
The Smith and the Bo's'n seemed to understand what he intended to
convey. They immediately plumped themselves down upon the hard
pavement, in the hot glare of the sun; but I looked at them
contemptuously, and only moved myself a little nearer to the camaito
tree, and within its shade.
"If you are willing to appear as slaves," said I to the men at my feet,
"you may do so. As for me, I am an American prince, and so I shall
remain."
When the King saw that I stood while the others knelt, he began to look
on me as something nearer equal with himself. The Smith, catching the
situation, turned to me and began to prostrate himself before me. The
Bo's'n, seeing the motions of the Smith, imitated him. I waved my hand
grandly, and walked to the lower step of the dais and asked for a seat.
Meanwhile I placed my foot upon the necks of the Bo's'n and the Smith
alternately, who edged along after me and knelt humbly before me.
Just then a man came hurrying into the King's presence and prostrated
himself before Christophe. Then he arose and looked inquiringly at the
black monarch, as if to ask what was required of him, whether his head
was to pay the forfeit for some transgression of which he was not
conscious. It seemed that his tongue was the member required, and only
that it should wag a little, for this was the court interpreter. The man
turned to me and asked in fairly good English who I was and where I had
come from.
"I represent," said I, "all there is of royal blood in my country. I am
the son of our ruler." When this was repeated to Christophe, he spread
his great lips in a hideous grin and asked what I supposed he cared for
that.
"Tell the King," said I, "that I belong to a country a thousand times as
large as this little Haiti and Santo Domingo put together. We have great
battle ships; we have subdued that immense country, England. What do you
suppose they will do with you if you dare to harm a hair of my head?"
"For Heaven's sake, speak him fair!" groaned the Bo's'n.
"He may not harm a hair of your head," said the Smith, "but the
bloodthirsty old wretch won't care a hang if he chops ours off in the
next half hour."
I looked downward to where the two men knelt, their heads bent to the
floor in abject terror. I could not but laugh to see them.
"You have placed yourself in that ridiculous position," said I. "Now you
will have to bear the consequences."
The King now asked if there was anything I could do to prove the truth
of my statement. The old devil had a cunning leer, and I wondered what
this might mean. I answered that if hating the French and English was
not enough (I felt the Smith wriggle under my foot as I said this), "I
know of little else to recommend me unless it is my knowledge of magic."
"How that fellow's lying!" murmured the Smith. But, I added, that I was
unaccustomed to being without clothes and a bath, and when those were
supplied to me I could better collect my thoughts. The King looked
astounded at this remarkable speech, and well he might. I doubt if any
one had ever spoken with such frankness to Christophe since he was a
little slave on the plantations of St. Kitts. He roared something to
some guards standing near, and they approached me with much more respect
than they had manifested at first, and motioned me with polite, if not
servile bows along the terrace. I saw that the attitude which I had
assumed had raised me at once in the estimation of the King, and I
decided to preserve it. I left the Smith and the Bo's'n still kneeling,
not knowing if they dare rise. I felt certain that I had all that I
could do to take care of myself for the present, and that whatever I
gained in respect from this black villain they would share as a part of
my retinue.
I was led from the terrace along a veranda toward the back of the
palace. Here I came upon a lovely flower garden, where singing birds
swung above my head, and lakes reflected the leafy branches and the
splendid cups of colour which overshadowed them. The bath was situated
some distance back in this garden, and here I disported myself with such
luxurious joy as no one can imagine who has not been a wanderer in the
heated tropics away from fresh water. When I had bathed, I found clean
towels lying on a stool at the door of the little rancho. The water, I
should have said, ran through a sort of stone trough. There was a roof
overhead, with jalousies to screen one from the sun and from too curious
eyes; but, as Nature's dress was at that time the most popular one to be
found, it excited no interest. When I was ready to resume my clothes, I
found a clean white costume awaiting me, and, robed in this, I felt once
more that I was in my right mind, and the peer of any king that ever
came out of Dahomey. I was now led back to the terrace where the King
was still conducting business before he set out to ride among his sugar
plantations, to see that his people toiled, constantly and sufficiently
enough, to keep his revenues up to the proper figure. Upon my return I
went close to the throne, regardless of the suggestion of my guard by
nudges that I keep a little farther away from the august presence. The
King turned upon me with almost a smile. I was certainly altered for the
better. I assumed a very proud air, and looked around inquiringly for a
chair. My guard, thinking that he knew my requirements, ran back into
the crowd, and from the mass of hot and dishevelled prisoners he brought
forth the Smith and the Bo's'n. He made them resume their humble
attitudes at my feet. The Bo's'n was quaking with fear. The men both
knelt before me and placed their necks submissively under my foot.
"Hot isn't no word for it," said the Smith.
"I didn't ship for this," said the trembling Bo's'n.
"You may get a worse billet than this if you don't do as I tell you,"
said I hurriedly. "You must treat me as a great prince, and then perhaps
I can help you. Heaven knows I don't care to rest my foot on your
neck!--it's most uncomfortable." The men subsided without a murmur, and
I took the open cane chair that was brought me, with a contemptuous look
at its humble proportions.
Our asides had not been noticed, for just here some prisoners were
brought to the King for judgment, and every one was turning to see them
approach. Among them I discovered the Skipper. So soon as I caught sight
of him I bounded from my chair and ran and embraced him most
affectionately. The Skipper was very slightly clothed, and looked
extremely uncomfortable.
"What are you doing, Jones?" he said. "Don't make me ridiculous."
"You'll feel much more ridiculous," said I, "if they take you out and
shoot you, or if they copy the French method."
"What's that?" asked the Skipper, with a trembling voice, apparently
oblivious that the court had stopped business and was gazing at us.
"Why, kneeling before a trench with fifty other fellows, and being shot
with such good aim that they don't have to put you in your grave, only
have to shovel the earth in. Now, you're my Uncle----"
"What bosh are you talking! I am in no way related----"
"Very well, then, take your own course. I wanted to do what I can----"
"I'll be anything if they'll take this infernal chain off my wrist; it
blisters like hot coals."
I turned to the interpreter and told him that, with the King's
permission, I should like the chains removed from my uncle's arms--that
he was the brother of the ruler of our country, who was my father. "We
are not very far from your little island," said I. "It will not take my
father many days to come here in one of his powerful war ships to carry
us home." My look and tone seemed to convey much more than my words, as
I intended that they should. The interpreter translated my speech to the
King. He looked at me curiously for a moment, and then ordered the
chains removed from the Skipper's wrists.
The Skipper, now that his worst trouble was removed, began to clamour
for even greater comforts.
He looked about him critically, the condescension of his manner
contrasting curiously with the scantiness of his apparel.
"If the old beggar has another throne handy," said he, "I'll take it."
These words were repeated to the King at my demand, with much halting
and fear of consequences by the interpreter. I have always thought that
Christophe had experienced so much of servility, which is the most
tiresome thing in the world, from his sycophants, that he was glad to
hear some straightforward talk. Possibly he felt that men who spoke so
fearlessly and openly were even greater than they had declared
themselves to be. Whatever his reasons, he spoke hurriedly to the
interpreter, and he in turn to a servant. A chair was brought at once. I
kicked the Smith and the Bo's'n out of the way with all the hauteur that
I could express in my manner. They bowed low and withdrew with smiling
faces, but I noticed a glitter in the eyes of the Bo's'n that was not to
be lightly overlooked.
"We have disturbed the gracious King long enough," said I, with my
politest bow. "We will not interrupt again." Wondering somewhat that we
were not hurried to the citadel, or that our heads did not pay the
forfeit at once, I saw the King settle down to the pursuance of his
business matters.
The next prisoner was a fine-looking young fellow, tall and straight, of
much prouder appearance than any one there.
"Have you finished the crown that I gave you to make?" asked Christophe.
The prisoner, who had fallen upon his face, partly because he was pushed
there by the guard, replied:
"I have not, my Lord King. The time given me was too short."
"Away with him to La Ferriere! Bind him upon the parapet until
nightfall, and when the sun sets behind the citadel cut the cords and
let him fall into the abyss. Thus he will have a day to think over his
failure and what success might have done for him. Bring in the next
prisoner!"
The condemned man fell upon his face on the ground as if lifeless, and
was dragged away.
The next person to step forward was a woman of about forty years. She
trembled in every limb, and threw herself upon the hard stone slabs,
sobbing, crying, and praying for mercy. So it seemed to me, though I
could judge only by her tears and her attitude of supplication.
"Have you finished the robe that I commanded for the Queen?" asked
Christophe, in no gentle tones.
"A little time! A little time, I pray thee, most noble King!"
The interpreter was whispering the translation of these words in my ear.
"You have had a month! To the dungeons with her!" said the King.
The next prisoner who came forward was a middle-aged man. He shook as if
with a palsy, but concealed his fear as well as possible. He knelt
before the throne.
"Can you duplicate my ring?" asked Christophe.
"I think that I can with a little more time, great King," said the man.
"I am working day and night. But if the King will not let me have the
sacred symbol, how shall I duplicate it?"
The words caused something to snap within my ear. I looked up anxiously.
The King was glaring at the man with eyes of fire. He had thrust his
hand into the very face of the prisoner, and on his great thumb I
perceived for the first time a circle of grotesque make. It held a
common likeness to the sacred symbol which Cynthia had found. The moment
that I caught a glimpse of the twisted serpent body I felt that I was
safe. It was the very duplicate of the serpent ring that I had in my
possession.
Christophe held the circle up to the multitude.
"It is the ring that my favourite gave to me," he said, "my favourite
Mauresco, before he disappeared forever."
"That Mauresco fellow seemed to be a fascinating sort of chap," said the
Smith, who had edged near me, in an undertone. "I understand all he
says, but I think it is better to keep that fact quiet."
"I have already given you time enough," said the King. "Remove the
prisoner! Throw him at once off the Grand Boucan!"
I arose. "Stop!" said I, "if it please your Majesty. I come of a family
who deal in magic. To make a ring like that is simple work. I will
promise to make you one if you will in turn deign to pardon the
prisoners who have offended you."
When the interpreter had repeated my speech to Christophe, he turned on
me with an incredulous air.
"That offer has been often made," he said, "but no one has ever
performed it. Mauresco, my prime minister, my counsellor, the Grand
Papaloi of the North, had given me a ring, but I have lost it. The one
that he wore he carried away. I am wearing a poor imitation. It was
cunningly artificed by skilful hands. Can you reproduce it?"
I felt the cold snake ring dangling against my bosom as I spoke.
Christophe gazed at me with curiosity.
"Say to the King," said I, "that a bargain must be made. If I succeed in
pleasing him with the symbol that I shall make, he in turn must promise
to send me with my friends to the coast, where a ship will come for us
to take us back to our good and great country."
The King thought a moment. He smiled his diabolical smile. He nodded his
head several times and spoke to the interpreter.
"Tell him," he said, "that I am quite willing to make the promise. They
have all failed me, but the Grand Boucan never fails me."
"I shall not fail," said I.
I asked leave to take the symbol in my hands. The King beckoned me to
approach. When I was close to the dais he held out the ring to me, but
he did not give it into my hand. I looked at it with much curiosity.
"May I take the circle in my hand?" I asked the interpreter. The
interpreter in turn asked the King. Christophe hesitated; then he gave a
reluctant nod. I took the great ring from the hand of the King. I
examined it curiously, and shook my head with a contemptuous air. The
workmanship was crude. It did not compare in any way with the circle
that thumped against my bosom. I gave the King's ring back to him with a
smile of superiority.
"How is it possible," asked I of the interpreter, "that a great monarch
like King Henry the First is willing to wear a thing of such unskilled
workmanship?"
A look of almost mortification overspread the face of the King as these
words were translated to him.
"Explain!" said he to the interpreter.
"The King's favourite, Mauresco," said the interpreter, "presented the
King with a ring. It was a wonderful circle of magic. Its properties
were supernatural. Mauresco had brought it from the far East. Its
design was that of the serpent and the goat's head, much as you see it
here in the imitation. While Mauresco was here he wore a poor imitation
of the symbol, something like the one which the King wears on his thumb
to-day. The original ring was all-powerful. The King carried all before
him. When he wore that sacred circle he was victorious in battle. The
tribes of the island flocked to his standard, his generals were
faithful. But one day Mauresco was missing and the sacred circle of
magic had changed to what you see it."
Finding that Christophe's fortunes were on the wane, he deserted him,
thought I. Got tired of black royalty, and went to join the pirates.
Took the original and left the poor copy to console the King. Ah!
Mauresco, had I known that you were so clever a villain, perhaps I might
have spared your life just for admiration of you! Perhaps I, too, would
have come under your ban, and have been your willing servant like the
rest of them. So you took the original, did you, Mr. Grand Papaloi
Mauresco, and you dropped it on the seashore, and some one whom I know
found it? And the symbol has supernatural or magic properties, has it?
Very well, then! It is I who possess that original. Now we will see what
this magic symbol will do for me and for her who found it. The King sat
looking inquiringly at me.
"I can reproduce the ring," said I. "Not this parody on the original,
but one so near the original that the King shall not know them apart." I
returned to my seat without further explanation.
"Are there any more prisoners to come before me?" shouted Christophe.
But just here I heard feminine voices, and along the terrace I saw
advancing three women. I saw that one was white, the other two of darker
hue. They were all three dressed in flowing robes of white, and looked
as cool as possible compared with the people surrounding the throne. At
a little distance behind the three came several women who appeared like
serving maids. I wondered who this white maiden could be. Her fair skin
shone out in contrast to that of the dark women with whom she walked.
The two girls had entwined their arms around the white girl, but it
seemed to me that the latter shrank somewhat from their caresses. A few
steps nearer they came, and all at once I discovered that the white girl
was Cynthia. Somehow I had never thought of her in anything but that old
blue dungaree dress. As they approached I saw that she was as well clad
as the maidens with whom she walked, only that the two girls wore
quantities of jewellery, but Cynthia wore only the fine flowing robe,
cool and spotless. I looked for Lacelle, but I did not see her. Just
here, as we were watching their approach, there came an interruption. I
heard from overhead a strange but familiar voice. I arose at once and
approached Cynthia. The voice had given me an idea. I bowed low before
her, and as I did so I contrived to whisper:
"Did you hear that voice? Turn it to use, I will give you the key." And
then as I raised my head there came again the words, "There's no fool
like an old fool." I glanced upward to the low roof, and there sat
Solomon in all his glory. "Damn the Britishers!" said Solomon. I now
took Cynthia by the hand and approached the throne.
"Your Majesty," said I, "let me present to you my sister, who has been
through all the trials and troubles that have overtaken us. She is an
adept in the sort of magic that we know in our northern home. She is a
peculiar favourite with birds and animals." I might have added, "With
the greatest brutes of all, men," but I desisted.
Christophe smiled, as much at his favourite daughter as at what I had
said. The dusky maidens approached and seated themselves on the steps of
the throne and drew Cynthia down beside them. I mumbled a few words so
low that the interpreter could not distinguish them.
"Thank God, you are safe!" said I. "Call the parrot, and pretend you
never saw him before."
And then aloud:
"Let my sister try her power, your Majesty, on some animal here. A dog,
perhaps, or a horse, or, oh!"--perceiving the parrot for the first
time--"there is a strange bird. She may as well take him as an instance.
Call the bird!" said I to Cynthia.
She readily comprehended me. She arose from the low seat and walked a
little way out to the edge of the tree.
She held her fingers out to the bird and called in her peculiarly sweet
cooing voice. Solomon looked at her for a moment with his head on one
side, and then flew straight toward her: But that was not the worst of
it. About six or eight other parrots flew down also from the roof, and
not only Solomon but all of the number were calling and screaming
raucously, "Damn the Britishers!" and "There's no fool like an old
fool!" Solomon, who had flown straight to Cynthia, began to walk over
her shoulder and climb up and down her dress, and, strange to say, the
other birds, seeing the confidence with which Solomon accomplished his
supposed introduction, followed suit, so that Cynthia had them billing
and cooing in her ears, putting up their beaks to be kissed, calling,
"Kiss me!" or declaring that there was no fool like an old fool, until
the clamour was deafening. Cynthia was as much astonished as the rest of
us, but she carried out my project with great cleverness. It is
astonishing what Solomon had taught those birds while he had been among
them. I laughed heartily to hear them say again and again, singly and in
concert, "Damn the Britishers!" Even the King smiled.
"They are most kind to me," said Cynthia to me hurriedly; "only I'm
sorry you said I was your sister."
"Why?" said I.
"Oh, I fear complications. The other would have been better, I think."
The King now arose and motioned us all away. When the Bo's'n passed me I
saw that he had one of those sudden attacks which were unpleasant,
ludicrous, but far from dangerous. He did look absurd with his cheek
sticking out like a hickory nut, in fact, like two or three, and I could
not help laughing. The King was angry at my laughing in his presence,
and, to calm him, I was forced to ask him through the interpreter to
recall the Bo's'n. As soon as his eyes fell upon the man he laughed
harder than I had done. To see Christophe laugh was something worth
living for. His great features twisted into a thousand contortions, and
I felt that not only did he enjoy the absurdity of the spectacle, but
that it was a real pleasure to him to see the sufferings of a
fellow-creature. I was sorry for my part in this performance, but what
else could I do.
"No matter, Bo's'n," said I cheerfully, "you'll laugh at this yourself
some day."
"You'll laugh the other side of your mouth, sir," mumbled the Bo's'n
angrily, looking so comical that I laughed afresh. This seemed to put
Christophe in a very good humour. To find me willing to laugh at
suffering seemed to argue well for me, and he regarded me with some
faint expression of esteem.
"You ought to be satisfied if you are as well off as I can make you.
There are a good many of us, but I intend that we shall share as much
alike as your stupidity will allow," said I to the Bo's'n.
"You'll be sorry if you do," said the Bo's'n gloomily.
I found it difficult to understand him, he spoke so indistinctly, so I
told him that I would send word to the King that I should like some
remedy for my suffering servant. The Bo's'n gave a gloomy shake of the
head.
"Very well, sir," he said threateningly, "you'll be sorry, Mr. Jones,
sir. Now, I tell you, you'll be sorry! You've ruined one good plan, for
Heaven's sake don't put your finger too deep into another pie, sir."
But as I retired from the terrace, and told him that I thought the King
was disposed to treat us kindly unless we offended him in some way, I
added, "I will try to get a change of clothes for each of you."
"Thank you," answered the Smith; "I shall be glad of some."
"Won't have 'em, Mr. Jones, sir!" said the Bo's'n. "Won't have 'em,
don't ask it of me! Not on no account."
"What nonsense!" said I. "Of course, you will have them."
"No, sir, don't ask me, please. You'll be sorry if you do, sir."
"You're a lunatic!" said I. "You must be made comfortable. I shall do
what I think best," and I followed my guard. I found that I was not to
return to the cells below the terrace. I was taken to a garden at the
back of the palace and lodged in a room looking out upon the mountain.
Cynthia, with a lingering glance at me, had disappeared with the two
daughters of Christophe, I knew not where.
I found myself in a plain sort of room, which contained little more than
the furniture needed for absolute use; but when I discerned among the
articles upon the table a primitive sort of arrangement for heating, a
blow pipe, some small tools, and some bits of darkish ore, which had
been rudely twisted into some semblance of the ring, I recognised the
fact that I was in the room of that unhappy workman who had left it that
morning never to return, and that this was the workshop where I was to
try my hand at fashioning a ring like the one that the black King wore
upon his thumb.