THE MAN FROM THE JUNGLE
Very slowly Matterson whistled that old tune, "The Nightingale," and
very slowly an answer came back to us; then a long silence ensued.
The black water of the marsh rose and fell. We could hear it
whispering softly as it washed against the tangled roots of the
mangroves, and once in a while I could distinguish the long, faint
rasp of some branch or vine that dragged across another. But except
for those small noises, the place was as still as a house of death;
and as we watched and waited, the feeling grew upon me that we must
be in the midst of a dream.
Then something moved and caught my eye, and a canoe silently shot
out upon the river. With a swish and swirl of paddles, she came
alongside us and stayed for a moment, like a dragon-fly pausing in
its flight, then shot silently back the way she had come. I had seen
against the water that there were three men in the canoe when she
came; but when she slipped back into the mangroves, I saw that there
were only two.
Before I had time to question the reason of all this, I saw a man's
head rise above the bulwark and knew that he had sprung from the
canoe to the chains while the little craft so briefly paused.
Climbing over the bulwark and dropping to the deck, the man said in
low, cautious voice, "Is it Neil I've been hearing? And Molly?"
"Here we be, Bud, us two and Seth Upham."
"And sure, do this fine vessel be ours, Neil?"
"Ours she is, along with Seth Upham. Come, Bud, here is Mr. Upham,
who has joined in with us and gets a half-and-half lay, and here--"
"O Neil," the mysterious newcomer drawled, "would he be comin' for
naught short of half shares? And where's Molly? Ah, Molly, you've
been long away."
They all were shaking hands together.
"And now," said Matterson, "what news of Bull?"
"Of Bull, is it?" the man replied. "Sure, he's sitting on the chest
o' treasure. Warnings they give us, that the hill is haunted and all
such. Spirits, you know, Neil; spirits, Molly. Sure the niggers know
more about them things than we do--indeed they do. It's not I would
go agin them rashly. But I fixed 'em, lads."
"How?" asked Matterson softly.
"Bull laughed at them fit to kill,--which is his way, as you'll
remember,--but not I. Says I, 'Laugh if you will; 't is well to be
fearless since you're the one to stay.' But I did for him better
than the stiff-necked rascal would do for himself. That night I
hunted me out an old master wizard and paid him in gold, and didn't
he give me a charm that will keep spirits away?"
To hear a sober white man talk of charms with all the faith of a
credulous child amazed me. I had never dreamed there could be such a
man. Pressing closer, I took a good look at this queer stranger, and
saw him to be a short, broad fellow, with a square jaw and a face so
intelligent that my amazement became even greater.
He, in turn, saw me looking at him, and half in a drawl, half in a
brogue, asked, "Now who'll this one be?"
"He's the young man that came with Mr. Upham," Gleazen replied.
"Is he fearless?" asked the strange Bud. "And is he honest?--Aye,"
he rather testily added, "and is he, too, to share half-and-half?"
To that Gleazen returned no answer, but the man's tone made me think
of Gleazen himself roaring drunk and staggering away from Higgleby's
barn, of Matterson with his voice hardened to a cutting edge, of the
master of the Merry Jack and Eleanor, and of the adventurous night
when we parted from poor Sim Muzzy. I tell you honestly, I would
have given every cent I had in the world and every chance I had of
fortune to have been fifteen hundred leagues away.
Turning to Matterson, the man went on: "'T is not discreet for the
like o' you two to come sailing in by broad daylight with all sail
set. Now why couldn't ye ha' come in a boat, say, and let the brig
lie off the coast. Then we could 'a' met secret-like and 'a' got
away and up the river with no one the wiser. Sure, and there's not a
soul in a thousand miles, now, that ain't heard a tale o' Neil and
Molly."
"The storm was hard upon us," said Matterson.
"And a cruiser lay in the offing," said Gleazen.
"It would be possible, then," the man returned, "that ye're not as
big--not _quite_ as big fools as I took ye to be."
Then, as if all had been arranged beforehand, while Matterson and
the strange man and Uncle Seth went below to the cabin, Gleazen took
me by the arm and led me away from the others.
"Joe," he murmured,--and I saw a new, eager glint in his
eyes,--"Joe, there's great times coming. I've made up my mind I can
trust you, Joe, and I'm going to make you my lieutenant. Yes, sir,
I'm going to make you an officer."
I wondered what kind of story he would tell next, for by this time I
knew him far too intimately to be deceived by his brazen flattery.
It was singularly trying for me, man grown that I was, to be treated
with an air of patronage that a stripling would have resented, and
there were moments when I was like to have turned on Gleazen with a
vengeance. But I waited my time. It was not hard to see that my
patience need not endure interminably.
"You, Joe, are one of us," he continued, "and we're glad to take you
into our confidence. But these others--" he waved his hand
generally--"we can't have 'em know too much. Now we're going
to-night to get things sized up and ready, and what I want to know,
Joe, is this: will you--as my lieutenant, you understand--take
Arnold and Mr. Severance and Captain North ashore to call on Mr.
Parmenter?"
"But who," I asked, "is Mr. Parmenter?"
"He's an Englishman, Joe, and if you can sort of convey to him--you
know what I mean--that we're after hides and ivory, purely a matter
of trade, it'll be a good thing, Joe. Mind you, as my lieutenant,
Joe."
Never had I been so _Joe'd_ in all my life before. When Gleazen had
gone, I fairly snorted at my sudden and easy honors. Evidently he
told much the same story to the others, except Captain North, with
whom Gleazen himself very well knew that such a flimsy yarn was not
likely to prevail, and to whom Uncle Seth, accordingly, entrusted
some genuine business; and half an hour later we gathered at the
rail to go ashore.
"Now, then," Captain North said peremptorily, in such a way that I
knew he was entirely unaware of my recent appointment as Gleazen's
lieutenant, "now then, lads, into the boat all hands together."
"One moment!" I cried. "I forgot something." And with that I ran
back.
In changing my jacket in honor of the call we were to make, I had
left my pistol behind me. Of no mind to put off without it, I
hurried down to my stateroom.
Passing through the cabin, I saw that the four men, Gleazen,
Matterson, the strange Bud, and my uncle, were drawing up around the
great table, on which they had carelessly thrown a pack of cards.
They gave me frowns and hard looks as I passed, and I heard them
muttering among themselves at the interruption; but with scarcely a
thought of what they said, I left them to their game.
No sooner had our boat crunched on the shore than on all sides black
figures appeared from the darkness, and landing, we found ourselves
surrounded by negroes, who pressed upon us until we fairly had to
thrust them back with oars. It was the first time I had set foot on
the continent of Africa, and the place and the people and the
circumstances were all, to my New England apprehension, so
extraordinary and so alarming that I cast a reluctant glance back at
the dim lights of the Adventure. But now a door opened, and I saw in
the bright rectangle a white man in European clothes; and we went up
and shook his hand,--which seemed for some reason to displease him,
although he did not actually refuse it,--and were ushered into a
large room with a board floor and chairs and tables and pictures,
for all the world as if it were a regular house.
"Under some circumstances I should no doubt be glad to meet you,
gentlemen," he said, with cold reserve, "for no ship has visited us
for more than three months. But we hereabouts are not friendly to
slavers."
"Nor are we," Gideon North retorted.
"I think, sir," said Arnold Lamont, soberly and precisely, "that you
mistake our errand."
He looked at us a long time without saying more, then he quietly
remarked, "I hope so."
His cold, measured words repelled us and set us at an infinite
distance from him.
We looked at one another and then at him, and he in turn studied us.
We four--for Mr. Severance had accompanied us, although as usual he
scarcely opened his mouth--saw a man whose iron-gray hair indicated
that he was a little beyond middle age. The lamp that burned beside
him revealed a strong, rather sad face; the book at his elbow was a
Bible. It came to me suddenly that he was a missionary.
"You give us chill welcome, sir," said Gideon North. "What, then,
will you have us do to prove that we are not what you believe us?"
"Your leaders who were here a little while ago," our host replied,
"tried their best to prove it--and failed. Indeed, had I not seen
them, I should more readily believe you. It is not the first time
that I have seen some of them, you must remember."
Gideon North bit his lip. "Have you considered," he asked, "that we
may not be in accord with them?"
"A man must be known by the company he keeps."
"We are in _neither_ sympathy nor accord with them."
"It is a virtue, sir, no matter what your circumstances, to be at
least loyal to your associates. If you so glibly repudiate your
friends, on what grounds should a stranger trust you?"
At that Gideon North got up all hot with temper. "Sir," he cried, "I
will not stay to be insulted."
"Sir," the man returned, "I have insulted, and would insult, no
one."
"Of that, sir," Gideon North responded, "I will be my own judge."
"Captain North," said Arnold, "have patience. One moment and we--"
Turning in the door, which he had reached in two strides, our
captain cried hotly, "Come, men, come! I tell you, come!"
Mr. Severance followed him in silence; Arnold stepped forward as if
to restrain him, and I, left for a moment with the missionary,
turned and faced him with all the dignity of which I was master.
"I am sorry that you think so ill of us," I said.
"I am sorry," he replied, "to see a youth with an honest face in
such a band as that."
I could think of no response and was about to turn and go, when I
suddenly remembered our lost cabin boy.
"Can you, in any case," I asked, "tell me what has become of our
cabin boy, Willie MacDougald?"
"Of whom?"
"Of Willie MacDougald--the little fellow that came ashore to-day?"
"Did he not return to the brig?"
"No."
The man stepped forward.
"No," I repeated, "I have not seen him since."
"Then," he returned, "you are not likely ever to see him again."
"What do you mean?" I demanded. "What has happened? Where is he?"
Getting no answer, I looked around the room at the chairs and tables
and pictures,--they had an air of comfort that made me miserably
homesick,--and at the well-trimmed lamp from which the light fell on
the Bible. Then I turned and went out into the darkness.
What had befallen that hardened little wretch? Where under the
canopy of heaven could he be? I cared little enough for the mere
fate of Willie MacDougald; but as a new indication of the extremes
to which Matterson and Gleazen would go, his disappearance came at a
time that made it singularly ominous.
As I stood, thus pondering, on the rough porch from which I was
about to step down and stride into the darkness, where I could make
out the figures of negroes of all ages moving restlessly just beyond
the light that shone from the windows, I received such a start as
seldom has come to me. A hand touched my arm so quietly that for a
moment I nearly had an illusion that that miserable little sinner,
Willie MacDougald, had returned from the next world to haunt me in
this one; a low voice said in my ear, "Stay here with us."
I turned. Just beside me stood the girl whom I had seen in the
canoe.
"Stay here," she repeated. "They have gone."
I stammered and tried to speak, and for the first time in my life I
found that my tongue was tied.
A step rustled in the grass just under the porch; something touched
the floor beside my foot; then a huge black hand brushed gently over
my shoe and up my leg, and a black, grotesque face, with rolling
eyes and round, slightly parted lips, looked up at me, so close to
my hand that unconsciously I snatched it away lest it be bitten.
Startled nearly out of my wits by this amazing apparition, I gave a
leap backward and crashed against the wall, at which the absurd
negro uttered a shrill whistle of surprise.
The girl tossed her head and stamped her foot, and spoke to the
negro in a low voice, which yet was clear enough and sharp enough to
send him without a sound into the darkness.
For a moment the lights from the window shone full upon her, and I
saw that she was proud as well as comely, and spirited as well as
generous. The toss and the stamp showed it; the quick, precise voice
confirmed it; and withal there was a twinkle of kindliness in her
eyes that would have stormed the heart of a far more sophisticated
youth than I. Such spirit is little, if at all, less fascinating to
a young man than beauty; and when spirit and beauty go hand in hand,
he must be a crabbed old bachelor indeed who can withstand the pair.
Whatever my theories of life, as I had long since revealed them to
Arnold Lamont, I was no Stoic; and though at the time I was too
excited to be fully aware of it, I thereupon fell, to the crown of
my head, in love.
As the negro vanished, she turned on me with that same, queenly lift
of her head.
"Well, sir, will you stay?"
"Why should I stay?" I managed at last to ask.
She looked me straight in the eye, "You're not of their kind," she
replied. "Father himself thinks that."
For the moment I was confused, and thought only of Arnold and Gideon
North.
"You and he are wrong," I stiffly responded. "I _am_ their kind, and
I am proud to be their kind."
"Oh," she said, "oh! I beg your pardon."
A hurt look appeared in her eyes and she stepped back and turned
away.
All at once I remembered that she had never seen Arnold and Gideon
North; that she had not meant them at all; that she had meant
Gleazen and Matterson. It was at the tip of my tongue to cry out to
her, to call her back, to tell her the whole truth about our party
on board the brig Adventure. I had drawn the very breath to speak,
when Gideon North's voice summoned me from the darkness:
"Joe, Joe Woods! Where are you?"
"Here I am," I cried. "I am coming." Then, when I turned to speak to
the girl, I saw that she had gone.
I stepped off the porch, tripped, stumbled to my knees, got up
again, and strode so recklessly down through the dark to the river
that, before I knew I had reached it, I was ankle-deep in water.
"Well, my man," cried Gideon North, "you seem to be in a hurry now,
though you were long enough starting."
Without a word, I got into the boat and took off my shoes and poured
out the water. It irritated me to see Arnold looking at me keenly
and yet with gentle amusement. I had come to have no small respect
for Arnold's unusual insight.
All the way back to the brig my head was in such a whirl that, for
the first time in my waking moments since we left Cuba, I completely
forgot the one fundamental object for which we three were working,
to save as far as possible poor Seth Upham and his property from the
hands of Cornelius Gleazen and his fellows. Instead I kept hearing
the voice that had said, "You're not of their kind," kept seeing the
face that I had seen there in the dim light--not at all clearly, yet
clearly enough to see that it had a sweet dignity and that it was
good to look upon.
The boat bumping against the brig woke me from my dreams. Scrambling
aboard, I left my shoes in the galley to dry by the stove and ran
aft in my stocking feet, and down below. In my eagerness to get dry
shoes and stockings I quite outstripped the others, who were
loitering in the gangway.
It was with no thought or intention of surprising the four men in
the cabin that I burst in upon them on my way to my own stateroom.
They had pushed cards and chips to one side of the table and had
gathered closely round it. In the centre, where their four heads
almost met, was a handful of rough stones, which for all I knew
might have been quartz.
That I had done anything to anger them, when I came down so
unceremoniously, I was entirely unaware; but O'Hara, the newcomer,
sweeping the stones together with a curse, covered them with his
hands; Gleazen faced about and angrily stared at my stockinged feet;
and Matterson, rising in fury, snarled through his teeth, "You
sniveling, sneaking, prying son of a skulking sea-cook, I swear I'll
have your heart's blood!"
Before I could turn, the man dived at me straight across the table.
I raised my hands to fend him off, with the intention of shoving his
head into the floor and planting my feet on the back of his neck;
stepped back, tripped and fell. I saw Gleazen lift a chair to bring
it down on my head--even then I thought of the irony of my being his
"lieutenant"! I saw that wild Irishman, Bud O'Hara, laughing like a
fiend at my plight. Then I flung up my feet to receive the blow, and
seizing the legs of the chair, twisted it over between Matterson and
myself, and got up on my knees. Then in came the others.
Spinning on his heel, Matterson, his jaw out-thrust, stood squarely
in the path of Gideon North.
"You are hasty," I said. "I came in to get my shoes."
"Ah," said Bud O'Hara, in biting sarcasm, "and then 't was in the
eyes of us that you was looking for trouble."
"It was, indeed," I retorted.
"And perhaps you didn't see what was going on," he persisted.
"I did not," I replied, not knowing what he meant.
They looked doubtfully at one another, and then at me, and presently
Gleazen said, "Then we're sorry we used you rough, Joe."
Meanwhile, I now perceived, the handful of stones had disappeared.
All this time my uncle had sat in his chair, looking like a man in a
nightmare, and had raised neither hand nor voice to help me. In a
way, so amazing was his silence, it seemed almost as if he himself
had struck me. I could scarcely believe it of him. When I looked at
him in mingled wonder and grief, his eyes fell and he slightly
moistened his lips.