WE ENGAGE IN BATTLE, MURDER, SUDDEN DEATH, AND--FREEDOM.
You may be led to think, son Adoniah, that events followed each other in
a succession more rapid than natural, and that my story is what might be
called by people of moderation a very sensational one, but that would be
a mild term to apply to the experiences of our stay in the island. Those
were troublous times, and I can but give you a sketch of the crowded
events of those terrible weeks. If ever any one whom you allow to peruse
these memoirs, should pretend to doubt your father's word, take the book
from him and close it, and let not his curiosity as to the "yarns" that
I am spinning prevail upon you to deliver these pages again to his
scrutiny. My sufferings and those of my companions were too great for me
to tolerate for a moment that my word should be doubted.
The end of the last page left me in a cell of the citadel alone with a
strange man, upon whom I had been unwillingly thrust. My situation was
not a cheerful one, especially as I heard the stranger muttering to
himself in unintelligible jargon. It sounded like an attempt at English,
and rather familiar to me. The place was dark, except for a slight ray
of reflected light that came from some angle where the moonlight struck,
and then glanced in at the one small embrasure, making a narrow line
across the floor of the cell. I could see, silhouetted against the
opening, a human figure, and that was all. I watched it, spellbound. It
stooped and began to crawl slowly toward me. Now I crouched and backed
to a corner to elude it. It turned and came on again steadily toward my
corner. As it reached the middle of the room, I saw the moonlight glance
for a moment on the glittering blade. I shrank into myself with horror.
The figure arose and stood as if to make a fresh start. There were more
mutterings and the preparation for a dash at the intruder, but in the
second that the head was raised to its natural height and the moonlight
fell upon it I recognised a profile that I knew. It was the swollen
cheek of the Bo's'n!
I called to him: "Bo's'n! Bo's'n! don't strike! It is I, the Mate!"
The Bo's'n stood for a moment in astonishment, and then dropped upon his
knees. He gave a gasp and a gurgle. I saw something roll, a ball of
light, along the ray-swept floor. I was on my knees also before he could
rise. I seized upon the brilliant thing. It was so large that my fingers
would hardly close over it. It was wet and cold, and I turned my eyes
toward the spot where the Bo's'n stood again in the revealing ray. I saw
that his toothache had left him as suddenly as it always had arisen.
"So this is the swelling from which you have suffered so long and so
continuously," said I, with, I must confess, a sneer in my voice. I
opened my fingers, and together we looked down upon the great diamond
which he had found among the pirates' jewels, and which would have made
two of the famous Koh-i-noor.
"You ridiculous old fool!" said I, "you might have killed me, do you
know that?"
"You wouldn't have had my secret if I had, Mr. Jones, sir," snarled the
Bo's'n.
"No, I shouldn't, and I suppose you think that you would have had an
easy life of it. I should have haunted you as certainly as my name is
Hiram Jones." The Bo's'n snatched the gem quickly from my hand and
backed into the corner of the cell.
"I don't mean that you shall have it, Mr. Jones, sir. It's me that's
carried it through all our troubles, pretending to have toothache and
all. Sometimes it was in my mouth and sometimes under my armpit, and do
you think, sir, that I intends to share and share alike after all the
trouble I have had, Mr. Jones, sir?"
I was convinced that the Bo's'n must be subdued again. The time had
come. I raised my hands and began in an incantatory manner:
"There was a serpent god," I said, in a dreamy tone, "with gleaming
eyes. He twined and wound himself around in a slow, slow moving circle.
He thrust out his forked red tongue. The head which he held within his
own was the head of a goat! _A goat without horns!_ He half swallowed
the goat. He squirmed and stretched and pressed his body round it, he
squeezed its bones, crushed them--crushed them----" I gazed fixedly at
the Bo's'n. He was already shaking with horror. His eyes were glued to
the wall behind me, he stood paralyzed and stiff. The diamond rolled
from his hand and bounded to the corner of the cell. He shook as if in
an ague, the cold drops stood upon his forehead, and then he fell to the
floor, and his knife dropped from his hand. I seized upon the knife and
turned to search for the jewel, when, to my horror, I beheld a real
serpent gliding up the wall behind me. It had appeared to aid me at this
critical moment. Having been assured by the Smith that most of the
serpents in the island were harmless, I made a dash for it, and soon
despatched it. I threw the hateful pieces out of the embrasure. The
Bo's'n still lay limp and white.
"It's only what you deserve," said I to his deaf ears, "but I will
provide myself with something now which will insure me safety while I
sleep at least." I took the knife, and, kneeling on the floor, I pressed
the point to the hem of my nether garment. I would rip the hem and
disclose the symbol, but fate had been there before me. For the second
time the ring had played me false. Cynthia's sewing had not been of the
surest, hampered as she was by the want of light. I felt sick at heart
when I discovered my loss. My only chance of getting at Christophe had
flown. I tried to think where I could have lost the ring. Remembering my
struggles under the mahogany tree with the body guard, my frantic kicks
and wild slashing at my foes, I could only imagine that I had dropped it
there in my violent efforts to tear myself from the grasp of the black
men.
The Bo's'n still lay dazed and helpless on the floor. He had not spoken
a word, and did not seem to see me. I went at once to the corner where
the jewel had rolled. There seemed to be a small hole of about four
inches in diameter close to the floor. It ran under the thick partition
wall; I thought that it was meant for a drain in case that water should
get into the cell, or if the floor should be washed, which, I am sure,
is a thing which as yet had never happened. I took the knife and poked
and pried within the hole. It seemed to be a long hole and far-reaching.
It was close to the level of the floor, so that I could not get my eyes
far enough down to see if the diamond were hidden there. I first drove
the knife into the cavity very nervously, I realize now, and anxiously.
I seemed to hear a faint click, and I thought that the point of the
knife touched something; but the article, whatever it was, had retreated
to a greater distance, and, as I tried again and again to secure the
treasure, I pushed it only farther away. I finally relinquished the
search in great despair. I looked up at the wall. I saw some slight
cracks in the rough masonry. I felt sure when the Bo's'n came to he
would not only demand the diamond, and accuse me of stealing it, but
that he would again attack me with the knife. Being a much taller man
than he, I jumped up against the wall and drove the knife into a crack
as far as I could push it. When I landed again upon my feet, the Bo's'n
was regarding me with glittering eye. I saw that the man was near
losing his mind, and I feared that when he discovered that his jewel and
his knife both were gone that I should find myself in a cell with a mad
man. I retreated to a farthest corner of the room, and, with eyes that
were dropping to with sleep, I sat myself down to watch the Bo's'n.
After a long sigh he winked violently several times, and then opened his
eyes in a natural manner. The faint morning light was finding its way in
through the port or small window. It would grow lighter now with every
succeeding moment.
"Come, now, Bo's'n," I said, "there is no use in our having any quarrel.
I am as sorry for what has happened as you can be. I have managed to put
myself out of danger from you." I pointed to where the knife stuck
firmly between the two great stones. "I did not take your jewel. You
dropped it yourself. It was when the serp----" I saw the Bo's'n begin to
tremble again and his eyes to quiver. "I shall not revert to anything
painful. The diamond rolled just in there." I pointed to the hole which
I had unsuccessfully probed. "We may be able to get something later with
which to secure it--the diamond, I mean. But just at present there is no
hope at all of such a result. Now, wouldn't it be better for you and I
to be friends? We are here alone together. We do not know where the
Skipper and the Smith may be. I can not tell what will be the fate
of----" I hesitated, and then boldly plumped out the words, "'my wife.'
We are in about as doleful a plight as any two men in this world ever
were, but I have often heard it said that 'while there's life there's
hope.' Now listen to me, Bo's'n. You and I may as well be friends, for I
can't see that at present we have any one else to depend on. I had no
intention of taking your diamond, but it belongs to me as much as to
you."
"As to that, Mr. Jones, sir, it belongs to the Minion as much as to
either of us."
"Well, I don't know about that, but the Captain and the others have an
interest in it equal with ours. Now, Bo's'n, we may save the lives of
all the party if we can get at that gem and offer it to Christophe."
"I'd rather trust to keeping it in my cheek, sir," said the Bo's'n.
"Very well, that's your lookout, if you can get it."
So saying, I lay upon the floor and slept. When I awoke I saw the Bo's'n
was sitting on the floor in the corner of the cell eating some coarse
fare from a platter of metal which stood before him. I immediately
demanded my share, and together we despatched all that the plate
contained.
The day dragged slowly, oh, so slowly! The only thing in the cell beside
the Bo's'n and myself was the knife. I had some slight thought of
getting the knife down and playing a game by throwing the point at the
cracks in the wall, but, after a scrutinizing look at the surly Bo's'n,
I decided to let well enough alone. I was his superior as to strength,
but, should he once succeed in obtaining that weapon, I was not at all
sure what would follow. The prospect of wealth, or else the loss of it,
had changed the Bo's'n's nature, and where once I had considered this
man strange and queer, I had now come to the belief that he was really
mad.
I raised my eyes to the small opening in the wall, and began to wonder
how I could reach it. As it was, I could see only the deep blue, and the
trade-wind clouds drifting, drifting, drifting across my vision. One
sees that which he longs for in the clouds brought by the trade wind,
and as I watched there passed before my eyes a long procession of ships,
full-rigged ships, with swelling sails; ships, high up on whose stern
and prow stood, marked against the background of blue, guns of enormous
calibre. The bows of these vessels were all pointed toward the north.
They meant life and freedom.
"Bo's'n," said I, "you will see that there is no furniture of any kind
in this cell. I should like very much to look from that little window up
there. I can reach it very well with my hands, but I can't see out.
Would you mind letting me have the use of your back for a few minutes,
Bo's'n?"
"Certainly not, sir," said the Bo's'n with the greatest politeness.
Whereupon he crouched down upon the floor and I stood upon his back.
From the open port I had a splendid and extensive view. It was quite
large enough for me to put my head out and look all about me, but I
found, with regret, that my shoulders would not go through the opening.
Of course, my jailers knew this before I was placed in the casemate. I
looked abroad, I looked to right, to left, and then I looked downward. I
found that we were in a sort of square tower or bastion, and that we
were, so to speak, in the second story. And as I gazed beneath me I saw
a hand protrude from another port, perhaps, or some other opening. It
was a woman's hand, and on the wedding finger I saw the ring that I had
given to Cynthia. The hand grasped a handkerchief, which it waved as if
to attract attention. The hand, I saw, was Cynthia's own. So she was
incarcerated below me! I called softly, "Cynthia! Cynthia!" and then
getting no response, I called louder. There was no one near. Indeed,
there was no esplanade or terrace surrounding our side of the fortress;
only a sheer wall, which fell away to the depth of a hundred feet or
more, until it reached the slope of the mountain where its foundation
had been built. The fortress had been begun by the French upon the
mountain-top called the "Bishop's Hat," and for the erection of the
citadel they had selected the very crown and apex of the summit, where
the land slopes steeply away on every side.
"Cynthia!" again I called. "Do speak to me. It is I--Hiram."
Whereupon the hand was withdrawn and Cynthia's head emerged from the
opening below. She turned her face to me as well as she could, and
looked upward.
"Oh, is that you? How glad I am!" she exclaimed. "How strange that we
should be so near each other!"
"Are you alone?" I asked anxiously.
"Yes, and likely to be. It seems that we were overheard last evening,
and when I went back to speak to you for a moment I was seized upon. I
did not dream that you were here. I thought that I was alone. Your
presence gives me hope, Hiram."
"Dearest," said I, "it all seems rather hopeless to me, but there must
be some way out of this."
"Zalee has returned," said Cynthia. "Lacelle told me after I left you.
An American ship has started for Manzanillo Bay. It seems that is the
name of the place where we were shipwrecked. It will wait there as long
as possible, perhaps until we can make our escape."
"Our escape!" I echoed, "our escape from such walls as these!"
"It seems that Christophe takes the ground that we have come to start a
revolution," said Cynthia.
"He is full of those excuses," said I. "Start a revolution! Three men, a
young girl, and a boy!" I had wondered how he had dared throw Americans,
natives of so powerful a country as ours, into prison. I knew that he
was very little informed with regard to our country, but I had thought
that our representative at Le Cap would have rescued us in a very short
time.
"Zalee found great disturbances down at the coast," said Cynthia. "Some
of the mobs are shouting 'A bas Christophe!' Others are crying, 'Vi'
Boyer!' General Boyer is in town, and they are flocking to his standard.
Zalee tried to find the 'consite,' as he calls him, but he was at Port
au Prince. But he saw an American bark in the harbour, and he swam off
to her. Her captain--Bartlett is his name--seemed very kind and much
interested in us. He told Zalee that we could come down from the
plateau to the shore when we saw the sails coming into the harbour, and
that he would train his guns on the beach to protect his long boat,
which he would send in for us. He thinks we are down there at the
plateau now. He does not dream that we are up here on this terrible
height, imprisoned by Christophe. When Zalee returned and found us gone,
he understood at once what had happened, and came up to the palace,
trusting to the torch bearer and the kitchen maid to protect him. Zalee
happened to know the cook on board the Jenny Bartlett. He is a Haitien,
and through him Zalee told the captain about our being secreted at the
plateau. He is getting a cargo of sugar on board--the captain, I
mean--and as soon as he is ready he will sail for the bay. He says that
we must come as soon as we sight his vessel. He may be there in a day or
two. O Hiram! do you suppose that we can get away, and that if we do
that we can get to the coast in time?"
"You have given me a new hope," said I. "There must be some way found."
"And, O Hiram! I have such a strange thing to tell you----"
Bump! I fell to the floor of my cell.
"You're getting pretty heavy, Mr. Jones, sir," said the Bo's'n; "besides
which, I hear footsteps coming along the corridor." I heard them myself,
and arose and stood straight against the wall as the door was rudely
opened and a small parcel was flung into the room. I recognised my
handkerchief, and felt, as I picked the parcel up from the floor, that
the lamp, blowpipe, and materials for making the ring had been sent
after me. The soldier who looked in at the door said something in his
mongrel tongue which I did not comprehend. Then some food, consisting of
cassava bread and coffee, was pushed in at the crack which was made by
the opening, the door was closed, and we were alone again.
I can not tell you how the days passed. Suspense and misery were my
portion. I wondered each day what the next would have in store for me,
and each night what another night would bring. I feared, above all, for
Cynthia, and dreaded that those brutal soldiers would force some insult
upon her or cause her some injury. My only happiness was in talking with
her, and, as often as I could persuade him to do so, I stood upon the
Bo's'n's shoulders and conversed with her. I paid for this privilege by
making over to the Bo's'n each time a small share of my part in the
great diamond. And I paid also in many a bump and bruise, for just as
Cynthia and I had come to the most interesting part of our conversation,
and she had said to me, "O Hiram! I always forget to tell you----" the
Bo's'n would let me fall, and would under no persuasion whatsoever allow
me to remount his unwilling back. This, however, I took as a matter of
course, and I would have gone through with much more than that to get
speech, even once a day, with Cynthia. You can imagine what a welcome
diversion it made in the monotonous hours which comprised the days of
our wretched existence.
After some days of imprisonment, I asked to be allowed to take a bath.
To a man who has had his plunge in the lovely rivers of the North or the
salt waves of the sea every day of his life, the close confinement, with
but a teacupful of water to bathe in, becomes unendurable. My jailer
looked at me with surprise when I asked this favour, and, as he could
speak a little English, he informed me that he could not understand my
wishing to put my whole body into water; that for him it made him ill!
However, he went off to proffer my request to the proper authorities,
and, to my great joy, I was allowed the privilege that I asked--probably
because it was thought that such an unusual method of procedure would
end my life, and that they might as well get rid of me in that way as
any other. Imagine my joy when my guide informed me that I was to be
allowed to bathe myself in the horse trough! He looked upon me as quite
insane, but seemed to think that such mental failure was common to all
English-speaking people, which I assured him was true. In his broken
English he informed me that once an English admiral had come up from the
coast to the palace to remain over night, and that he had brought his
bath-tub with him. This was looked upon as a strange piece of
infatuation. Imagine my delight and pleasure when the guide opened my
cell door and conducted me to the stable yard! I can not describe the
numberless passages, corridors, apartments, and barracks through and by
which we passed. It seemed to me to be the journey of a half hour. It
would have been most interesting had I not been brimming over all the
time with my plans for escape and wondering how we could manage to get
to the sea. How often I regretted the leaving of the cave. The American
captain could have taken us off in a half hour's time, and now, perhaps,
when we reached the shore, he would have gone away. I suppose that I was
ten minutes walking through the different hallways, but at last we came
out into a rough, uneven yard, where there were mules, horses, hay in
abundance under cover and in the open, and in the centre of the
inclosure was a great trough of water, where I saw that the horses were
allowed to drink. The stable yard was some distance below the crest of
the hill, and I recalled that we had descended several flights of steps.
I threw off my slight clothing and plunged into the trough, the soldiers
looking on with astonishment, as much, perhaps, at my white skin as at
my evident enjoyment of the delicious bath. They were, for the most
part, dirty and ill dressed in soiled white linen, and I recommended to
them in choice English not only a bath for themselves, but for their
clothes as well. I dried myself in the sun, and then dressed again. As
we mounted a flight of steps in the wall, before entering the
fortress--or perhaps, I should say, its inclosed portion--I turned for
a moment to look once again down into the smiling valley which stretched
between me and liberty. Below me, almost embowered in trees, lay the
palace of Sans Souci, and winding along, with curves and turnings, ran
the white and dusty road which led to Le Cap. As I stopped for a moment
to breathe God's air, for perhaps the last time, I was surprised to see
flames far below there in the fields, and now I found that the plains
were ablaze, cotton as well as sugar fields. The cane sent up a thick
smoke, and there came to us on a desultory breeze the rich, odourous
smell of the burning sugar. I pointed this out to the guard who had
brought me down to the stable yard. He nodded his head, and told me, as
well as I could understand, that the fields had been burning for some
days, that the rebels were encroaching from the coast, and that if they
succeeded in reaching the citadel we should all be burned or shot. So
this was the death reserved for us. Capture by rebels no better than
Christophe himself! I took my last look at the melancholy but beautiful
sight, and turned again toward what I now felt was to be my tomb. I had
kept up my courage until that moment, but now, alas! it had flown in a
breath. We walked again through many dark corridors, and I saw that we
took this time a different turning. I was about to remonstrate with my
guard as to this, when there was a sudden beating of a drum and a call
to arms. He quickly opened a door and pushed me hurriedly into a room,
the door slammed, and I looked up to find that I was confronting
Cynthia. I met her with a most disheartening sentence.
"We can at least die together," said I.
"Why should we die at all?" asked Cynthia, running to me with a little
cry of joy.
"The rebels are attacking Christophe, and they will treat us even worse
than he has."
"How do you know?" asked Cynthia.
"I have just heard so from the guard who put me in here. Of course, my
being here is a mistake. He has brought me a story too low, but it is
all the same now. We can die together."
"I don't believe we shall die at all," said Cynthia. "I'm dreadfully
sorry now that I sent that diamond to the King."
"What diamond?" asked I, almost knowing what she would say.
"Why, the morning that they brought me here I was kneeling there in the
corner, praying that we might be saved if it was God's will. I had
prayed long and earnestly, and was just rising from my knees, when I
heard a curious little chick and rattle, and the most wonderful jewel
that I ever imagined rolled out from that crack in the ceiling. It
dropped almost into my hands. I have wanted to tell you every day, but
you have always gone away so suddenly----"
"So the Bo's'n is doubly paid for his weak, unwilling back!" said I.
Cynthia, of course, did not understand these words, but continued:
"I looked upon this as a special interposition of Providence in my
behalf, and when the young Prince Geffroy came up here two days ago I
sent the diamond to the King, hoping that he would save us in exchange
for it."
I gasped in distress.
"I don't believe he would keep his written pledge," said I, "and
certainly if he had not promised you he would not save your life on
account of the jewel if he wished to take it. Why did Geffroy come up
here?"
"He came to collect all the troops that could be spared. There has been
an uprising----"
"Yes, yes, I know," said I. While I had been talking I heard distant
sounds of firing, the sounds of shouts were borne upon the breeze, and
then suddenly the boom of one of the guns of the citadel itself spoke
out to remind those in the valley below, perhaps, that the stupendous
fortress was still there, still faithful, still impregnable. I climbed
up on the low seat which had been given Cynthia, and found that I could
just look over the ledge of the port.
"How did you get up so high as to put your head out of the window?"
asked I.
"Turned the bench on one end, of course," said Cynthia. Woman's wit
again! I set the bench on end and looked out with ease. The valley was
all aflame now. I should not have thought that the fires would spread so
rapidly. At that very moment, had I but known it, Christophe was seated
under the great camaito tree, and as all the troops who remained
faithful defiled before him he gave to each one a piece of money, and
told them to go and fight the rebels for God and for King Henry of the
North. We spent the day thus and the long watches of the night. I
watched while Cynthia slept, and she watched while I took some rest.
It was early morning when our cell door was thrown open and we were told
to come out at once. We ran along the black and dingy halls, and,
following the faint light which showed itself, as well as the sound of
voices, we at last found ourselves upon the great esplanade. Even though
all was excitement and anxiety, I could not help taking in the wondrous
beauty of the view. I seemed all at once to be perched in midair. I know
now that I saw that grand body of water, Manzanillo Bay, stretching to
the northward. To the right, in the dim distance, were La Grange and
Monte Cristo in their infancy; to the left, the stretch of land that led
toward Le Cap. Below us the fires were raging, and beyond the gate I saw
a body of men advancing, not by the perilous path over which I had come,
but along a fine road, which led winding down through the woods to Sans
Souci itself. These soldiers had just emerged from the forest. They were
of the rebel party. They swarmed up the hill and began their attack on
the great gates of the fortress. It seemed hopeless to me, but I had no
time to surmise anything, for I was there to aid, and I asked for
instructions at once. All was excitement on the terrace. All the great
cannon which could be moved had been wheeled across the esplanade, and
their muzzles turned downward upon the advancing enemy. I now understood
why we had been released. Many of the soldiery had been called away to
protect Sans Souci and the towns of the valley, so that every man
in the fortress was needed to load and fire those eighteen- and
twenty-four-pounders. They stood upon their mahogany carriages as firmly
as if those carriages were made of iron. And here, among the defenders
of the place, I came upon the Skipper, the Smith, and the Bo's'n.
Cynthia rushed to her Uncle's arms, and for a moment the two could not
speak. Then the old man said:
"You must hide yourself, Cynthy, girl."
"No, Uncle," she answered, "I can bring fire, or do anything that a man
can, and so save you the time of a soldier. Perhaps if we fight for
Christophe he will let us go."
Poor girl! The cry of the captive since the days of Pharaoh, no greater
tyrant than Christophe himself!
How shall I describe the confusion which reigned in the fortress? The
wheeling of the guns into place, the belching forth of their loads of
shot and shell, the shrieks of the wounded below the gate and under the
walls, the hammering upon the masonry from the outside, the shouts of
"They are here!" or, "They are attacking that sally port!" The rush of
our handful of men to aid in the repulse, then the surging back as the
attack came from another quarter. Can you imagine anything so strange as
the sight of a young girl among those rough soldiers of all shades,
running here and there, bringing water to the overheated gunners,
carrying fire to light the powder at the vent, encouraging her friends
by words of cheer, even jumping upon the parapet in sight of all on
both sides, and calling in her clear voice, "They are making a rush
toward the southern gate, Uncle!" or, "Hiram, they are falling back!
Fire down the hill, and you will have them on this side!"
All day long the sound of battle came to us. It rose from those plains
of Paradise which were being turned from gardens into shambles. Gardens
where in the past, the rose and the Sangre de Cristo lily had borrowed
from the soil, watered with the blood of Christophe's enemies, a colour
as vivid as that of the streams which ran again to-day in crimson rivers
adown the plain.
Sometimes the shriek of the great cannon ball sounded near to us, then
again farther away; sometimes the clouds of smoke arose so that we could
not see the plain, and anon the sweet trade wind, made only to send the
good ship flying on her course, or in its baby breeze to caress the
cheek of a gentle maid, parted the columns of smoke, and we saw flames
bursting through the roofs of the dwellings of the valley, and caught a
glimpse of contending armies as they advanced or retreated, won victory
or succumbed to defeat.
We fought there all the morning, but at last we found ourselves the
victors, although with some loss on our side. Our victory was owing to
the small numbers of the attacking force, as well as to the
impregnability of the fortress. The Smith had been killed. He did not
die at once, and Cynthia sat with his head in her lap and gave him water
until his lips stiffened, so that he could speak no more. He gave her
messages for "the misses," and you have heard, son Adoniah, how well she
delivered them, going to England herself in '29, and to Cornwall, where
she saw young Trevelyan again. But I am getting ahead of my story. The
Bo's'n, too, was wounded, and Cynthia was bending toward him when
suddenly he rolled over, helpless as he was, and away as far as he could
get from his kind nurse.
"Is the Bo's'n mad?" asked Cynthia of me. I had gone to get them both
some water, and was returning along the esplanade when I saw this motion
of the Bo's'n.
"Yes, on a certain subject," said I, and I laid my finger on the magic
symbol, which I saw dangling from the opening at the throat of her
dress. It was hanging upon the baby chain in company again with my
portrait. But the eyes, those wondrous orbs of flame, were gone! It was
upon that eyeless bit of mystery that you cut your teeth, Adoniah, and
all of your children after you.
"I found it," said Cynthia, "when I went back to the mahogany tree that
evening. It was lying in the gravel. My foot struck something, and I
stooped to pick it up, and found that it was that serpent ring."
"That ring has had a strange history," said I. "Hide it now, or the
Bo's'n will let you do nothing for him."
"We can escape now, Jones," said the Skipper. "At least the enemy are
dying or running away, and our captors seem to have followed suit. Let
us start at once."
"We can't leave this poor man, Uncle," said Cynthia, pointing to the
Bo's'n. Of course, we could not leave him! The dear girl was, as ever,
right.
I saw the disappointment of the Skipper's face.
"Staying may imperil all our lives," he said; "but I suppose it's human
to stay."
"I think he'll be able to walk after a night's rest," said Cynthia.
"It's getting late now to make a start," said I. "The early morning will
be better."
"I shall have to start quite early," said Cynthia. "I want to stop at
the beach and get that palm for Aunt Mary 'Zekel."
We were almost alone on the esplanade. The soldiers had disappeared with
their officers into the interior of the building. They seemed to have
forgotten us, and we were left free to follow our own devices.
It seemed so strange to be free once again, for habits are quickly
formed, and not so quickly broken. I could not get accustomed to the
fact that I was free as God's air, and that there was none to molest or
to make me afraid.
Cynthia had not mentioned William Brown to me now for some time, and I
felt quite sure that whether he was glued to the dock in anticipation of
her coming, or whether he had given up all hope, that the latter course
would be wisest and best for William himself.
"You mustn't forget the palm tree for Aunt Mary 'Zekel," said Cynthia.
"There is the dearest little one down by the cave. I wonder if we shall
go that way?"
"Whichever way we go, we must be cautious," said I. "I think that
General Boyer would protect us if we could find him, but the opposing
parties will fight to-morrow as they did to-day, and they are between us
and him. Fortunately for us, the battle is waged at a distance back from
the coast, and in front of Sans Souci."
"Mr. Jones, sir," said the Bo's'n, "Zalee says we'll have to slip down
to the right, sir. All the natives have rushed up to the different
palaces for their share of the plunder, and the coast line is left
almost deserted."
"Then I can certainly get the palm," said Cynthia, sticking persistently
to her point, as women will.
"Well, well, Cynthy, girl," said the Skipper impatiently, "if you want
to try it, I'll see what we can do for you, but I reely can't see how
you can bear to look at anything from this damn black kingdom ever
again. If Mary 'Zekel so much as carries a palm-leaf fan to church along
with her bunch of fennel, darn me if I don't throw it into the aisle!"
As we were thus talking, some of the soldiers came hurrying from the
interior of the fortress. Their arms were heaped with loads of treasure.
So greedy had they been that gold, silver, jewels, and glittering
napoleons spilled from their clutches as they ran.
Following them came officers, themselves laden with booty. They fired
upon the soldiers as they ran in front of them, calling to them to drop
these treasures of Christophe's, which they themselves were taking only
to restore to the King. Some of the plunderers dropped dead at our very
feet. Some turned and fired on their officers, saying that the game was
over, and that they might as well have the spoil as Boyer's men. They
ran to the stable yard, and, mounting mules and horses, rode away, many
of them with hands and sashes full of treasure. The officers returned
again and again, each one carrying all that he could hold in his arms.
They made bundles of the stuff and piled it upon the mules in the
courtyard. They seemed to have forgotten us, and when they had seized
all that they could find by breaking in, they, too, rode away down the
mountain side, leaving us the sole inhabitants of that impregnable
fortress, which, properly invested with men and munitions of war, would
have withstood siege for a lifetime.
We moved the Bo's'n into the shade, and searched the place for food and
drink. This we found in plenty. We washed our faces and hands clean from
the grime of battle, and retreated to a far corner of the esplanade,
which overlooked the palace, but where we were out of sight of the
dreadful results of the carnage. There we rested in the cool, sweet air
of evening. Far, far away I could see a little fleck of white on the
waters of the bay, which I thought might be the American ship waiting to
take us back to Belleville. But we could not go to-night. We could only
watch and wait. The sun was sinking fast in the west, the night coming
on apace.
And now a strange and distant sound like the wail of the mourner broke
the stillness of this peaceful evening hour. What new event this
betokened I could not forecast. So much had come and gone that nothing
out of heaven or hell would have caused me surprise. The moaning
continued, and I went to the edge of the parapet to see what more there
was of the unexpected. Cynthia trembled and begged me not to go. The
poor girl, so brave when courage was needed, was now nervous and
anxious, and said many times, "Oh, if we were only at the coast!"
I stood at the edge of the parapet and looked downward. There came,
winding along up through the forest, a funeral procession. So I could
not help but judge, for four persons were carrying a hammock containing
a heavy load between them, and several others walked behind. Of those
who followed, four were women and one was a man. There was an
incongruousness about the procession, for behind the mourners lounged a
small figure, who apparently was not at all interested in the sad group
which preceded him. He halted and looked upward at the trees, and threw
stones at the birds. I could but smile. It was total depravity
exemplified in the person of the Minion. I could not but feel a
disappointment that he had not been captured, or slaughtered, or left
behind in some way, but here he was, and we must make the best of him,
which, indeed, was very little.
The Skipper had joined me, and was gazing curiously at the small
procession as it wound upward toward the summit.
"You might know it," said the Skipper, looking wearily at the ubiquitous
Minion. "As usual, in everybody's mess and nobody's watch."
As the mourners approached the great gates, which had been left open by
the retreating soldiery, the wailing became louder, the women moaned and
beat their bodies, raised their hands to Heaven, as if calling
maledictions down upon an enemy, and then again beat their breasts and
wailed in long and solemn cadence, as if for a loved one gone. The
procession entered the courtyard at a slow pace. The bearers rested
their load, as if they must have a breathing spell; but almost at once,
at an imperious signal from the foremost figure of the group, they again
lifted their burden and walked upward until they came out upon the open
esplanade. I saw now that Zalee was among the carriers, and I also
perceived that the burden which he aided in carrying was a very
ponderous one. When the bearers had reached the centre of the esplanade,
she who led, one of tall stature and graceful mien, ordered them with a
gesture that was regal in its command, to rest their burden upon the
ground. When this was done, and the bearers had withdrawn to a little
distance, the four mourners surrounded the giant form and, bending low
above it, wailed in despairing monotony. So he had come to this! That
great King! For it was our enemy Christophe himself thus come to an end
of all his power! I saw Lacelle among the few faithful who surrounded
the family of the King, and as they withdrew at a respectful distance
she and Zalee caught sight of us. They came eagerly forward to greet us.
They told us how Christophe, finding that his enemies were upon him, had
retired to his chamber, and almost within sight of the valley of dry
bones, where thirty thousand of his victims lay, he had had the courage
to take his own life, as ruthlessly as he had taken the lives of
thousands.
The interpreter was there, as well as Lacelle's relatives--a poor little
remnant of those who had served Christophe while he was all-powerful.
Lacelle ran to Cynthia and begged her not to leave her here; if she were
going away, to take her with her. Zalee pointed to the distant bay, and
told us, through the interpreter, that the ship would be there, he
thought, on the morrow; that the Captain dared not tarry long for fear
of a dash at his vessel by some of the pirates who infested the Isle of
Pines.
It was growing quite dark now. I had been conscious for some time that a
figure was lingering in one of the angles of the wall looking our way. I
spoke to Cynthia.
"I think that is your friend," said I. I motioned toward the shadow.
Cynthia uttered an exclamation and started toward the place. The girl
stepped forth to meet her, and I recognised at once the young daughter
of the King.
"I wanted to see you once more," she whispered. "Our lives are finished,
but I wanted to say good-bye. Oh, if I could but live in a country such
as yours, where you are a princess, where there is no killing, no
bloodshed! I remember nothing else in all my life!" And now the other
sister approached. She opened her hand, and disclosed to Cynthia's
astonished eyes the diamond which she had sent as a gift to Christophe
but a few days before.
"His last gift to my dear mother," she said. "He was a King, a great,
great King, a powerful warrior, but his last thought was of her."
Cynthia closed the girl's fingers over the glittering gem.
"It was God-given, after all," she said to me, "since it will be the
fortune of those who would have saved us."
The Bo's'n, overhearing part of our conversation, expressed it as his
opinion that we should at once demand the jewel from the daughter of the
dead King.
"O Bo's'n!" said Cynthia, "don't talk about money! That has brought much
of this trouble upon us. Let us once get home, and I care not if I live
on a crust a day. Let us get home, to free, God-fearing America!"
"I'll see how I feel to-morrow, Mrs. Jones, ma'm," said the Bo's'n
stubbornly.
The citadel was ours! The grand, great fortress, with its multitude of
apartments and secret interiors, was as absolutely given over to us as
if we had fought for its possession with the army who held it, and had
vanquished its occupants.
After the last one of the guard had disappeared, with all the booty that
he could carry, we left the little band of mourners upon the terrace and
went with the Skipper in search of a comfortable shelter for Cynthia. I
found one apartment well secluded from the others, which seemed as if
provided to withstand a siege--something which Christophe had always
apprehended. These rooms were designated as "the Queen's chambers," and
here we brought Cynthia and Lacelle, and for the first time in many long
weeks the two were together in absolute comfort and safety, wrapped, I
hoped, in dreamless sleep. The Skipper ensconced himself in the sacred
bed of the King, and the others of our party found lodgment both
commodious and magnificent. As for me, the excitement of the day had
told upon me. I felt smothered inside the walls, and could not forget so
soon the hurried march of events. Nor could I prevent myself from
dwelling on the thought that we at last were free to go as we listed. It
had all come about in a moment, as it were, by means which no man could
have foreseen, and I mused upon this fact, and the evolving of what I
had considered my wise and wily plans, and their defeat and overthrow by
that Providence who had but to say, "Go! thou art bound no more." I sat
myself down outside upon the terrace and leaned against the great stone
wall, where from an angle I could overlook the palace of Sans Souci and
the little town of Millot, now black and smoke-stained, or charred and
burned by fire. My eyes endeavoured to penetrate the cloud of war that
overhung that valley, which smiled but yesterday, but beyond an
occasional flame which shot upward from a still burning sugar house or
the villa of some one of Christophe's court, all was still. There was no
clash of arms. The opposing warriors were resting from their days of
slaughter, to begin afresh on the morrow.
To me, as I sat, came Zalee, and with many halting words, broken speech,
and explanatory signs, he conveyed to me an astounding piece of news.
If you will go back with me to the night of the burial of the skeletons,
you will recall that the Skipper had said to me, as we were carrying our
grewsome burdens down the hillside, that there was a tall figure
walking between us. I had felt unpleasantly over his words, but I found
from what Zalee told me that the Skipper's eyesight had not been so
uncertain as at the time I hoped it was. There had been a third person
present with us, and that person was Zalee himself. From a coign of
vantage in the cavern, of which we were ignorant, he had observed the
secreting of the jewels by the Bo's'n. And surmising from the Skipper's
actions what his intentions were, he had joined us in the dark to render
us another of those remarkable and generous services of which he had
ever been so prodigal. As we left each poor bundle of bones upon the
shore to return after another, Zalee had busied himself in extricating
the parcels of jewels from the interiors of the skeletons. Three of
these he rifled. The fourth naturally, as it was the last, and we did
not return to the cavern, he could not secure. But, after all, there was
a large part of the treasure--three quarters, at the very least--intact,
and in some place of safe keeping, of which Zalee knew. But to say that
I scarce listened, is to tell the exact and unvarnished truth. Our
troubles and sorrows had been so great, our fears so overwhelming, that
the one great possession of freedom was the only thing for which I
cared. We were going home, safe as when we started, all but the poor
Smith, who, though not of our kith, kin, or people, had shared our
hardships and had aided us with his knowledge and advice.
I shook my head sadly, but with a well spring of hope rising in my
breast.
"Let us talk no more of riches, or wealth, or gems, or jewels," I said.
"All that we desire now is to get away from this savage land, to tread
once more the deck of an American ship, to breathe the air of our free
country, and see Belleville once again."
I lay all night out under the stars, scarce sleeping, scarce waking, in
that strange, glad state which the sudden certainty of relief from
anxiety brings. The morning was yet dark when I called the others. They
came out one by one, with strange, dazed faces, but looking refreshed
from their long hours' sleep. As we sat there waiting for day, we talked
of home and the prospect of our soon seeing Aunt Mary 'Zekel and
Belleville.
Zalee had said that he would guide us by a near way; he had begged that
he and Lacelle might accompany us to our country. They had found us
better than their own country folk; he hoped to find our native land the
same, and make it his. You know how they did accompany us, Adoniah, and
what faithful creatures they have proved themselves to us and to our
children and our children's children.
THE END.
The grey was in the east when we arose and started for the coast. As we
came out upon the esplanade, one was there before us--one whose devoted
watch had not ceased the long night through. Her tall and regal figure
was draped in sombre weeds. Her face was covered, her hands were clasped
upon her breast, her whole attitude an embodiment of uttermost despair.
Our faces, set toward home and happiness and love and life, were turned
for one backward pitying glance, then faced our joy again. As we
descended those shining slopes of verdure, which owned her Queen but
yesterday, we left her in the grandeur of that solitary mountain top to
mourn over him who, in erecting his citadel, had, all-unknowing, builded
for himself, tyrant though he was, a splendid and a lasting sepulchre.
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"Virile and vivid. It has distinction and grace."--_San Francisco
Call._
"Sure to be widely read."--_Brooklyn Standard-Union._
"Fascinatingly written."--_Cleveland Plain Dealer._
_KRONSTADT._ A Romance. By MAX PEMBERTON. Illustrated. 12mo. Cloth,
$1.50.
"'Kronstadt' is beyond measure superior in all respects to
anything Mr. Pemberton has hitherto done. Singularly original in
its conception, the story is most cunningly and cleverly told. It
grips the attention in the first paragraph, and whirls one
irresistibly along through all the stirring incidents of its
skillfully devised plot, giving one not an instant's rest until
the splendid dramatic climax gives sudden relief."--_London Daily
Mail._
"It is a profoundly interesting and exciting story.... The book
has no dull pages in it."--_Chicago Inter-Ocean._
"An exceedingly well-written story of adventure, original in
plot, skillful in character drawing, and full of movement and
color."--_Washington Times._
"There is a breathless interest about the tale which will not
permit you to lay it aside until the whole adventure is
mastered."--_Brooklyn Eagle._
FELIX GRAS'S ROMANCES.
_THE TERROR._ A Romance of the French Revolution. By FELIX GRAS, author
of "The Reds of the Midi." Uniform with "The Reds of the Midi."
Translated by Mrs. Catharine A. Janvier, 16mo. Cloth, $1.50.
"If Felix Gras had never done any other work than this novel, it
would at once give him a place in the front rank of the writers
of to day.... 'The Terror' is a story that deserves to be widely
read, for, while it is of thrilling interest, holding the
reader's attention closely, there is about it a literary quality
that makes it worthy of something more than a careless
perusal."--_Brooklyn Eagle._
"Romantic conditions could hardly be better presented than in a
book of this kind, and above all, in a book by Felix Gras.... The
romance is replete with interest."--_New York Times._
"There is genius in the book. The narrative throbs with a
palpitation of virile force and nervous vigor. Read it as a mere
story, and it is absorbing beyond description. Consider it as a
historical picture, ... and its extraordinary power and
significance are apparent."--_Philadelphia Press._
"The book may be recommended to those who like strong, artistic,
and exciting romances."--_Boston Saturday Evening Gazette._
"Many as have been the novels which have the Revolution as their
scene, not one surpasses, if equals, in thrilling
interest."--_Cleveland Plain Dealer._
_THE REDS OF THE MIDI._ An Episode of the French Revolution. By FELIX
GRAS. Translated from the Provencal by Mrs. Catharine A. Janvier. With
an Introduction by Thomas A. Janvier. With Frontispiece, 16mo. Cloth,
$1.50.
"I have read with great and sustained interest 'The Reds of the
South,' which you were good enough to present to me. Though a
work of fiction, it aims at painting the historical features, and
such works if faithfully executed throw more light than many so
called histories on the true roots and causes of the Revolution,
which are so widely and so gravely misunderstood. As a novel it
seems to me to be written with great skill."--_William E.
Gladstone._
"Patriotism, a profound and sympathetic insight into the history
of a great epoch, and a poet's delicate sensitiveness to the
beauties of form and expression have combined to make M Felix
Gras's 'The Reds of the Midi' a work of real literary value. It
is as far as possible removed from sensationalism; it is, on the
contrary, subdued, simple, unassuming, profoundly sincere. Such
artifice as the author has found it necessary to employ has been
carefully concealed, and if we feel its presence, it is only
because experience has taught that the quality is indispensable
to a work which affects the imagination so promptly and with such
force as does this quiet narrative of the French
Revolution."--_New York Tribune._
"It is doubtful whether in the English language we have had a
more powerful, impressive, artistic picture of the French
Revolution, from the revolutionist's point of view, than that
presented in Felix Gras's 'The Reds of the Midi.'... Adventures
follow one another rapidly; splendid, brilliant pictures are
frequent, and the thread of a tender, beautiful love story winds
in and out of its pages."--_New York Mail and Express._
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK.
* * * * *
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES:
Punctuation has been corrected without note.
Archaic and alternate spellings have been retained with the exception of
those noted below:
page 50: "way" changed to "away" (to steal away his brains).
page 120: "wobbed" changed to "wobbled" (A head wobbled
languidly here).
page 209: "millenium" changed to "millennium" (until the
millennium).
page 280: "Skiper's" changed to "Skipper's" (the monotonous
remark of the Skipper's).
page 357: "plantatations" changed to "plantations" (to ride
among his sugar plantations)
End of Project Gutenberg's Latitude 19 degree, by Mrs. Schuyler Crowninshield