A WARNING DEFIED
The brig Adventure, two thousand miles from home, lay now in the
strong, silent current of a great tropical river, which seemed to me
to have an almost human quality. In its depth and strength and
silence, it was like a determined, taciturn man. I felt keenly its
subtle fascination; I delighted to picture in my mind its course all
the way from the mysterious hills far inland, of which Pedro and
Gleazen and Matterson told stories filled with trade and slaves and
stirring incidents, down to the low, marshy shore, which had already
cast a spell upon me.
For months since that fearful night when we five fled from Topham,
Arnold and Gideon North and I had been holding ourselves ready at
every moment to stand up against Gleazen and Matterson and meet them
man to man in behalf of my poor, deluded uncle, who now would go
slinking about the deck, now would make a pitiful show of his old
pompous, dictatorial manner. But when I burst in upon them in the
cabin, there had been that in their manner, even after their anger
spent itself, which told me more plainly than harshest words that
the time for action had come very near.
To Arnold, when we were alone in our stateroom, I said, "What would
you think, were I to load my pistols afresh?"
He looked curiously at me.
"You think," said he, slowly, "that there is already need?"
"I do," I replied.
I felt a new confidence in myself and in my own judgment. I
regarded our situation calmly and with growing assurance. Although I
did not then realize it, I know now that I was crossing the
threshold between youth and manhood.
He gravely nodded.
"It is a wise precaution," he said at last, "although I prophesy
that they will use us further before the time comes when we must
fight for our lives."
So we both slept that night with new charges in the pistols by our
heads, and Arnold, very likely, as well as I, dreamed of the utterly
reckless, lawless men with whom we were associated. I question,
though, if Arnold thought as much as I of the stern man in the cane
house on the riverbank, or if he thought at all of the girl whose
white face and dark eyes I could not forget.
For another day we continued to lie in the river; but the brig, alow
and aloft, bustled with various activities. We sorted out firearms
on the cabin floor, and charts and maps on the cabin table, and on
the spar-deck we piled a large store of provisions. And in the
afternoon Matterson took Captain North in the quarter boat down to
the mouth of the river, and there taught him the bearings of the
channel.
Side by side Arnold and I watched all that went forward, here
lending a hand at whatever task came our way, there noting keenly
how the stores were arranged.
"Well, sir," said Arnold, quietly, when Captain North for a moment
stood beside us in preoccupied silence, "are we about to load a
cargo of Africans?"
"I assure you I'd like to know that," the captain replied, with one
of his quick glances.
Uncle Seth gave me an occasional curt word or sentence--he was in
one of his arrogant moods; Matterson talked to me vaguely and at
length of great times ahead; O'Hara watched me with hostile and
suspicious glances. And still Arnold and I, whenever occasion
offered, put our heads together and made what we could of the
various preparations. Our surmises, time showed, were not far wrong.
And all this while I had watched the clearing ashore and had seen
neither the missionary nor any other white man.
When, in the evening, all hands were ordered aft, we on the quarter
deck looked down and saw the men standing expectantly to hear
whatever was to be said. A thousand rumors had spread throughout the
vessel, and of what was really afoot they knew less, even, than
Arnold and I. There was Abe Guptil with his kindly face upturned,
Pedro with his monkey on his shoulder and what seemed to me a
devilish gleam in his eye, and all the rest. As they gathered close
under us, the light from the lanterns slung in the rigging revealed
every one of them to my curious gaze.
"Men," said Captain North, quietly, "Mr. Gleazen has asked me to
call you together. There are certain things that he wishes to tell
you."
As the grizzled old mariner stepped back, Cornelius Gleazen
advanced.
His beaver, donned for the occasion, was tilted over his eye as of
old; his diamonds flashed from finger and throat; he puffed great
clouds of smoke from his ever-present cigar.
"Lads," he cried in that voice which seemed always so fine and
hearty and honest, "lads, that there's no ordinary purpose in this
voyage, all of you, I make no doubt, have heard. Well, lads, you're
right about that. It is no ordinary purpose that has brought us all
the way from Boston. You've done good work for us so far, and if you
keep up the good work until the end of the voyage has brought us
home again to New England, we ain't going to forget you, lads. No,
sir! Not me and Mr. Matterson and Mr. O'Hara--oh, yes, and Mr.
Upham! We ain't going to forget you."
Reflectively he knocked the ash from his cigar. Leaning over the
rail, he said, as if taking all the men into his confidence, "All
you've got to do now, lads, is stand by. Captain North will take the
brig to sea for one week. There's a reason for that, lads, a good
reason. At the end of the week he will bring the brig up off the
mouth of the river, and some fine morning you'll wake up and find us
back again.
"Meanwhile, lads, we're going to make up a little party to go
exploring. Me and Mr. Matterson, Mr. O'Hara, Mr. Upham, and Pedro
and Sanchez are going. And we are going to take John Laughlin with
us, too. It's going to be a hard trip, lads, and you'll none of you
be sorry to miss it. Now, then, lay to and load this gear into the
boat. Be faithful to your work, and you'll be glad when you see what
we're going to do for you."
As he turned away, proud of his eloquence, there was a low rumble of
voices.
I looked first at Gleazen and Matterson and O'Hara; then I looked at
poor Seth Upham, once as proud and arrogant as any of them.
Remembering how in little ways he had been kind to me,--how, since
my mother died, his dry, hard affection had gone out to me, as if in
spite of him,--I pitied the man from the bottom of my heart. Surely,
I thought, he must not go alone into the wilds of Africa with such
men as were to make up Gleazen's party.
No one had spoken, except in undertones, since Gleazen; some one, I
thought, must speak promptly and firmly.
For a moment, as I looked at the hard faces of the men whom I must
oppose, my courage forsook me utterly; then the new confidence that
had been growing within me once more gave me command of myself.
Whatever should come of my effort, I was determined that my
mother's brother should have at least one honest man beside him. To
reason out all this had taken me the merest fraction of the time
that it takes to read it.
Stepping suddenly forward, I said in a voice so decided that it
surprised me as much as anyone, if not more:--
"Mr. Gleazen, I desire to go with you."
"And I," said Arnold Lamont.
"You young pup," Gleazen bellowed, "who are you to desire this or
desire that?"
"Then," said I, "I _will_ go with you."
"You will not," he retorted.
I saw out of the corner of my eye that Matterson and O'Hara were
looking at me keenly, but I never let my gaze veer from Gleazen's.
"Mr. Gleazen," I said boldly, "Arnold Lamont, Abe Guptil, and I are
going to take the places of Pedro, Sanchez, and John Laughlin."
He swore a round oath and stepped toward me with his fists clenched,
while the men below us fairly held their breath. In a fist fight the
man could have pounded me to a pulp, for he was half as heavy again
as I; but at the thought of poor Uncle Seth with all his property
tied up in that mad venture, with his happiness and his very life in
the absolute power of that band of godless reprobates, something
stronger than myself rose up within me. At that moment I verily
believe I could have faced the fires of hell without flinching.
Thinking of the old days when Uncle Seth and my mother and I had
been so happy together and of how kind he had been to me in his own
testy, abrupt, reserved way, I stepped out and shook my fist in
Gleazen's face.
Before he could say another word, I cried, "So help me, unless we
three go with you and those three stay, we'll keep Seth Upham back
and sail away in the Adventure and leave you here forever."
Never before could I have spoken thus lightly of what my uncle
should, or should not, do. The thought made me feel even more keenly
how helpless the poor man had become, and confirmed me in my
purpose.
It was on the tip of my tongue to add that Gideon North was to come,
too, but I thought of how essential it was that someone whom
we--Arnold and I--could trust should stand guard upon the brig, and
said nothing more, which probably was better, for my words seemed to
have struck home.
When I threatened to sail away with the Adventure, Gleazen glared at
me hard and murmured, with a respect and admiration in his voice
that surprised me, "You young cock, I didn't think you had it in
you."
Throwing overboard the butt of his cigar, which made a bright arc in
its flight through the darkness and fell into the water with a smart
hiss, he smiled to himself.
Matterson whispered to O'Hara, who touched Gleazen's arm. I thought
I heard him say, "Too honest to make trouble," as they drew apart
and conferred together, glancing now and then at my uncle; then
Gleazen nodded and said, "Very well, Joe"; and I knew that for once
I had come off victorious.
At least, I thought, we are strong enough to stand up for our rights
and Uncle Seth's.
The men quietly turned away and went forward, a little disappointed
that the trouble had blown past and the episode had come to naught.
But it had added one more issue to be fought out between Cornelius
Gleazen and myself; and though it was over, it was neither forgotten
nor forgiven.
I had gone into the waist, where I was watching the arms and
provisions that the men were loading into the boat we were to take,
when I heard a voice at my ear, "I guess--ha-ha!--you come back with
plenty nigger, hey?"
It was Pedro with his monkey riding on his shoulder. The beast
leered at me and clicked its teeth.
"No," I replied, "of that I am sure. We are not going after any such
cargo as that."
"I wonder," he responded. "I t'ink, hey, queer way to get nigger--no
barracoon--go in a boat. But dah plenty nigger food below. Plenty
lumber. Plenty chain'. What you get if not nigger?"
I said nothing.
"Maybe so--maybe not," Pedro muttered. His earrings tinkled as he
shook his head and moved away.
I was surprised to observe that for the moment all work had stopped.
Seeing that O'Hara was pointing into the swamp, I stepped over
beside him to ascertain what had caught his attention, but found the
darkness impenetrable.
"I'm telling ye, some one's there," O'Hara muttered with an oath.
I saw that Gleazen and Matterson were on the other side of him.
Now the men were whispering.
"Sh!"
"See there--there--there it goes!"
"What--Oh! There it is!"
I myself saw that something vague and shadowy was moving
indistinctly toward us down one of the long lanes of water.
Suddenly out of the swamp came a piercing wail. It was so utterly
unhuman that to every one of us it brought, I believe, a nameless
terror. Certainly I can answer for myself. It was as if some
creature from another world had suddenly found a voice and were
crying out to us. Then the wail was repeated, and then, as if
revealed by some preparation of phosphorus, I indistinctly saw, in
the dark of the swamp, an uncouth face, black as midnight, on which
were painted white rings and patches.
For the third time the cry came out to us; then a voice shrieked in
a queer, wailing minor:--
"White man, I come 'peak. Long time past white man go up water. Him
t'ief from king spirit. Him go Dead Land.
"White man, I come 'peak. We no sell slave. White man go him country
so him not go Dead Land. White man, I go."
The dim, mysterious face drew away little by little and disappeared.
A single soft splash came from the great marsh, then a yell so wild
and weird that to this very day the memory of it sometimes sets me
to shivering, as if I myself were only a heathen savage and not a
white man and a Christian.
Three times we heard the wild yell; then far off in the fastnesses
of the swamp, we heard an unholy chanting. It was high and shrill
and piercing, and it brought to us across the dark water suggestions
of a thousand terrors.
I felt Bud O'Hara's hand on mine, and it was as cold as death.