Майн Рид
The Maroon
He moved down the mountain road, slowly, and with some degree of circumspection. He went slowly, because there was no need for haste. It would be several hours before the young Englishman should be abroad. As already stated, a little after sunrise was the time agreed upon, through the messenger Quaco. There was no particular reason for Cubina’s being in a hurry to get to the glade – unless he wished to have more time for his nap under the tree.
For sleep, however, he had but little relish just then. Wild thoughts, consequent on the strange disclosures he had listened to, were passing through his mind; and these were sufficient to deprive him even of the power of sleep.
He moved onward with circumspection from a different motive. He knew that Jessuron, in returning to his penn, must have taken the same path. Should the latter be loitering – since he had only started but a few minutes before – Cubina might overtake him; and he had no wish to see any more of the Jew for that night – or, at all events, to be himself seen by the latter. To avoid all chance of an encounter, he stopped at intervals, and reconnoitred the wood ahead of him.
He arrived in the glade without seeing either Jew, Christian, or living being of any kind. The penn-keeper had passed through a good while before. Cubina could tell this by an observation which he made on coming out into the open ground. A mock-bird, perched on a low tree that stood directly by the path, was singing with all its might. The Maroon had heard its melody long before entering the glade. Had any one passed recently, the bird would have forsaken its perch – as it did on the approach of Cubina himself.
On reaching the rendezvous, his first concern was to kindle a fire. Sleep in a wet shirt was not to be thought of; and every stitch upon his body had been soaked in swimming the lagoon. Otherwise, it would not have mattered about a fire. He had nothing to cook upon it; nor was he hungry – having already eaten his supper.
Kindled by a woodman’s skill, a fire soon blazed up; and the hunter stood erect beside it, turning himself at intervals to dry his garments, still dripping with water.
He was soon smoking all over, like freshly-slaked lime; and, in order to pass the time more pleasantly, he commenced smoking in another sense – the nicotian– his pipe and tobacco-pouch affording him an opportunity for this indulgence.
Possibly the nicotine may have stimulated his reflective powers: for he had not taken more than a dozen puffs at his pipe, when a sudden and somewhat uneasy movement seemed to say that some new reflection had occurred to him. Simultaneous with the movement, a muttered soliloquy escaped from his lips.
“Crambo!” exclaimed he, giving utterance to his favourite shibboleth; “say he should come an hour after sunrise – at least another we should be in getting to Mount Welcome. Por Dios! it may be too late then! Who knows what time the Custos may fancy to set out?” he added, after a pause; “I did not think of that. How stupid of me not to have asked Yola!
“Crambo!” he again exclaimed, after another interval passed in silent reflection. “It won’t do to leave things to chance, where a man’s life is in danger. Who knows what scheme these John Crows have contrived? I couldn’t hear the whole of their palaver. If Master Vaughan was only here, we might go to Mount Welcome at once. Whatever quarrel he may have with the uncle, he won’t wish to let him be murdered – no likelihood of that. Besides, the young fellow’s interference in this matter, if I mistake not, would be likely to make all right between them – I’d like that, both for his sake and hers – ah! hers especially, after what Yola’s told me. Santa Virgen! wouldn’t that be a disappointment to the old dog of a Jew! Never mind! I’ll put a spark in his powder before he’s many days older! The young Englishman must know all. I’ll tell him all; and after that, if he consents to become the son-in-law of Jacob Jessuron, he would deserve a dog’s – . Bah! it cannot be! I won’t believe it till he tells me so himself; and then – .
“Por Dios!” exclaimed he, suddenly interrupting the above train of reflections and passing to another. “It won’t do for me to stay here till he comes. Two hours after sunrise, and the Custos might be cold. I’ll go down to the Jew’s penn at once, and hang about till I see young Vaughan. He’ll be stirring about daybreak, and that’ll save an hour, anyhow. A word with him, and we can soon cross to Mount Welcome.”
In obedience to the thought, and without staying to complete the drying of his habiliments, the Maroon stepped out from the glade; and turning into the track – little used – that led towards the Happy Valley, proceeded in that direction.
Volume Two – Chapter Thirty Four
A Dark Compact
On closing so abruptly the stormy dialogue with his daughter, Jessuron proceeded to his own sleeping apartment – like the others, opening upon the verandah.
Before entering the room, he glanced along the gallery, towards the suspended hammock.
In that hammock slept Herbert Vaughan. His long sea-voyage had accustomed him to the use of a swing couch – even to a liking for it; and as the night was warm, he had preferred the hammock to his bed in the contiguous chamber.
Jessuron had a fear that the angry conversation might have been overheard by the occupant of the hammock; for, in the excitement of temper, neither he nor Judith had observed the precaution of speaking low.
The hammock hung motionless, oscillating scarce an inch; and this only under the influence of the night breeze that blew gently along the verandah. Its occupant appeared to be in the middle of a profound slumber.
Satisfied of this, the Jew returned to his own chamber. There was no light, and on entering, he sat down in the darkness. The moon shining in through the window gave him light enough to discover a chair; and into that he had flung himself, instead of seeking his couch.
For a time he displayed no intention either of undressing or betaking himself to bed; but remained in the high-backed chair in which he had seated himself, buried in some reflection, silent as profound. We are permitted to know his thoughts.
“S’help me, she’ll marry him!” was that which came uppermost. “She will, s’help me!” continued he, repeating the reflection in an altered form, “shpite of all I can shay or do to prevent her! She ish a very deffil when raished – and she’ll have her own way, she will. Ach! what ish to be done? – what ish to be done?”
Here a pause occurred in the reflections, while the Jew, with puzzled brain, was groping for an answer to his mental interrogatory.
“It ish of no ushe!” he continued, after a time, the expression on his face showing that he had not yet received a definite reply. “It’sh no ushe to opposhe her. She’d run away with thish young man to a certainty!”
“I might lock her up, but that ish no good. She’d contrive to escape some time. I couldn’t alwaysh keep her under lock and key? No – no, it ish imposhible!
“And if she marriesh him without the monish – without the great shugar eshtate! Blesh me! that ish ruin!
“It musht not be. If she marriesh him, she musht marry Mount Welcome. She musht! she musht!
“But how ish it to be? How ish he to be made the heir?”
Again the Jew appeared to puzzle his brains for an answer to this last interrogatory.
“Ha!” he exclaimed aloud, at the same time starting from his chair, as if the solution had discovered itself; “I hash it! I hash it! – the Spaniards! I hash it!
“Yesh,” he continued, striking the ferrule of his umbrella against the floor, “theesh are the very fellows for the shob – worth a shcore of Shakra’s shpells, and hish bottles to boot! There ish no fear that their medishin will fail. S’help me, no! Now, ash I think of it,” continued he, “that ish the plan – the very besht. There ish no other safe and sure, like that ish. Ha! Cushtos! you shan’t eshcape yet. Ha! Shoodith, mine girl, you ish welcome to your way; you shall have the young man after all!”
On giving utterance to these ambiguous speeches, the Jew dropped back into his chair, and sat for some minutes in silent but earnest meditation.
The matter of his meditation may be known by the act that followed.
“There ishn’t an hour to be losht!” muttered he, starting to his feet, and hurriedly making for the door; “no, not ash much ash a minute. I musht see them now. The Cushtos ish to shtart at sunrishe. The wench hash said it. They’ll joosht have time to get upon hish track. S’help me,” he added, opening the door, and glancing up at the sky, “ash I live, it’sh mosht sunrishe now!”
Sticking his beaver firmly upon his head, and taking a fresh clutch of the everlasting umbrella, he rushed rapidly out of the verandah, crossed the courtyard, re-passed the porter at his own gate, and then traversing the little enclosure outside, stood in the open fields.
He did not stand long – only to look around him, and see that the ground was clear of stragglers.
Satisfied on this head, he proceeded onward.
At the distance of some three or four hundred yards from the outside stockade stood a detached cabin, more than half hidden among the trees.
Towards this he directed his steps.
Five minutes sufficed for him to reach it; and, on arriving at the door, he knocked upon it with the butt of his umbrella.
“Quien es?” spoke a voice from within.
“It’sh me, Manuel – me – Shessuron!” replied the Jew.
“It’s the Dueno,” (master), was heard muttering one of the Spaniards to the other – for the cabin was the dwelling of these notable negro-hunters.
“Carajo! what does the old ladron want at this hour?” interrogated the first speaker, in his own tongue, which he knew was not understood by the Jew. “Maldito!” added he, in a grumbling voice; “it’s not very pleasant to be waked up in this fashion. Besides, I was dreaming of that yellow-skin that killed my dogs. I thought I had my macheté up to the hilt in his carcase. What a pity I was only dreaming it!”
“Ta-ta!” interrupted the other; “be silent, Andres. The old ganadero is impatient. Vamos! I’m coming, Señor Don Jacob!”
“Make hashte, then!” answered the Jew from without. “I hash important bishness with both of yoush.”
At this moment the door opened; and he who answered to the name of Manuel appeared in the doorway.
Without waiting for an invitation, Jessuron stepped inside the cabin.
“Does your business require a candle, señor?” inquired the Spaniard.
“No – no!” answered the Jew, quickly and impressively, as if to prevent the striking of a light. “It ish only talk; we can do it in the darknesh.”
And darkness, black and profound, was most appropriate to the conversation that followed. Its theme was murder– the murder of Loftus Vaughan!
The plan proposed was for the two Spaniards – fit instruments for such purpose – to waylay the Custos upon the road – in some dark defile of the forest – anywhere – it mattered not, so long as it was on this side of Spanish Town.
“Fifty poundsh apeesh; goot Island currenshy,” was the reward promised – offered and accepted.
Jessuron instructed his brace of entrepreneurs in all the details of the plan. He had learnt from Cynthia that the Custos intended to take the southern road, calling at Savanna-le-Mer. It was a roundabout way to the capital; but Jessuron had his suspicions why that route had been chosen. He knew that Savanna was the assize town of Cornwall; and the Custos might have business there relating to himself, Prince Cingües, and his two dozen Mandingoes!
It was not necessary to instruct the caçadores in these multifarious matters. There was no time to spend on any other than the details of their murderous plan; and these were made known to them with the rapidity of rapine itself.
In less than twenty minutes from the time he had entered the cabin the Jew issued out again, and walked back, with joyous mien and agile step, towards his dark dwelling.
Volume Two – Chapter Thirty Five
Stalking the Sleeper
Cubina, on arriving near the precincts of the penn, moved forward with increased caution. He knew that the penn-keeper was accustomed to keep dogs and night-watchers around his enclosure, not only to prevent the cattle and other quadrupeds from straying, but also the black bipeds that filled his baracoons.
The Maroon was conscious, moreover, that his own attitude towards the slave-merchant was, at this time, one of extreme hostility. His refusal to restore the runaway had been a declaration of open war between them; and the steps he had since taken in conjunction with the Custos – which he now knew to be no longer a secret to the slave-stealer – could not otherwise than render him an object of the Jew’s most bitter hatred.
Knowing all this, he felt the necessity of caution in approaching the place: for should the penn-keeper’s people find him prowling about the premises, they would be certain to capture him, if they could, and carry him before Jacob Jessuron, J.P., where he might expect to be treated to a little “justice’s justice.”
With this prospect before him, in the event of being detected, he approached the Jew’s dwelling as cautiously as if he had been a burglar about to break into it.
It was towards the back of the house that he was advancing from the fields – or rather, the side of it, opposite to that on which lay the cattle and slave enclosures.
He had made a short circuit to approach by this side, conjecturing that the others would be more likely to be guarded by the slave and cattle watchers.
The fields, half returned to the condition of a forest, rendered it easy to advance under cover. A thick, second growth of logwood, bread-nut, and calabash trees covered the ground; and nearer the walls the old garden, now ruinate, still displayed a profusion of fruit-trees growing in wild luxuriance, such as guavas, mangoes, paw-paws, orange and lemon, sops, custard-apples, the akee, and avocada pear. Here and there a cocoa-palm raised its tufted crown far above the topmost spray of the humbler fruit-trees, its long, feathery fronds gently oscillating under the silent zephyrs of the night.
On getting within about a hundred yards of the house Cubina formed the intention not to go any nearer just then. The plan he had traced out was to station himself in some position where he could command a view of the verandah – or as much of it as it was possible to see from one place. There he would remain until daybreak.
His conjecture was, that Herbert Vaughan would make his appearance as soon as the day broke, and this was all the more probable on account of his engagement with the Maroon himself.
The protégé of Jessuron would show himself in the verandah on leaving his chamber. He could not do otherwise, since all the sleeping-rooms – and Cubina knew this – opened outward upon the gallery.
Once seen, a signal by some means – by Cubina showing himself outside, or calling the young Englishman by name – would bring about the desired interview, and hasten the execution of the project which the Maroon had conceived.
A slight elevation of the ground, caused by the crumbling ruins of an old wall, furnished the vidette station desired; and the Maroon mounting upon this, took his stand to watch the verandah. He could see the long gallery from end to end on two sides of the dwelling, and he knew that it extended no farther.
Though the house glistened under a clear moonlight, the verandah itself was in shade; as was also the courtyard in front – the old grey pile projecting its sombre shadow beyond the walls that surrounded it. At the end, however, the moonbeams, slanting diagonally from the sky, poured their light upon the floor of the verandah, there duplicating the strong bar-like railing with which the gallery was inclosed.
The Maroon had not been many minutes upon the stand he had taken, when an object in the verandah arrested his attention. As his eye became more accustomed to the shadowy darkness inside, he was able to make out something that resembled a hammock, suspended crosswise, and at some height above the balustrade of the verandah. It was near that end where the moonlight fell upon the floor.
As the moon continued to sink lower in the sky, her beams were flung farther along the gallery; and the object which had attracted the attention of Cubina came more into the light. It was a hammock, and evidently occupied. The taut cordage told that some one was inside it.
“If it should be the young Englishman himself!” was the conjectural reflection of Cubina.
If so, it might be possible to communicate with him at once, and save the necessity of waiting till daybreak.
How was the Maroon to be satisfied that it was he? It might be some one else! It might be Ravener, the overseer; and Cubina desired no conversation with him. What step could he take to solve this uncertainty?
As the Maroon was casting about for some scheme that would enable him to discover who was the occupant of the hammock, he noticed that the moonbeams had now crept nearly up to it, and in a few minutes more would be shining full upon it. He could already perceive, though very dimly, the face and part of the form of the sleeper inside. Could he only get to some elevated position a little nearer to the house, he might be able to make out who it was.
He scanned the ground with a quick glance. A position sufficiently elevated presented itself, but one not so easy to be reached. A cocoa-nut palm stood near the wall, whose crest of radiating fronds overlooked the verandah, drooping towards it. Could he but reach this tree unobserved, and climb up to its crown, he might command a close view of him who slept in the swinging couch.
A second sufficed to determine him; and, crawling silently forward, he clasped the stem of the cocoa-tree, and “swarmed” upward. The feat was nothing to Cubina, who could climb like a squirrel.
On reaching the summit of the palm, he placed himself in the centre of its leafy crown – where he had the verandah directly under his eyes, and so near that he could almost have sprung into it.
The hammock was within ten feet of him; in a downward direction. He could have pitched his tobacco-pipe upon the face of the sleeper. The moonlight was now full upon it. It was the face of Herbert Vaughan!
Cubina recognised it at the first glance; and he was reflecting how he could awake the young Englishman without causing an alarm, when he heard a door turn upon its hinges. The sound came up from the courtyard; and on looking in that direction, Cubina saw that the gate leading out to the cattle enclosure was in the act of being opened.
Presently a man passed through, entering from the outside; and the gate, by some other person unseen, was closed behind him.
He who had entered walked directly towards the dwelling; and, mounting the steps, made his way into the verandah.
While crossing the courtyard, the moonlight, for a moment, fell upon his face, discovering to Cubina the sinister countenance of the Jew.
“I must have passed him on the path!” reflected the Maroon. “But no, that couldn’t be,” he added, correcting himself; “I saw his return track in the mud-hole just by. He must have got here before me. Like enough, he’s been back, and out again on some other dark business. Crambo! it’s true enough what I’ve heard say of him: that he hardly ever goes to sleep. Our people have met him in the woods at all hours of the night. I can understand it now that I know the partner he’s got up there. For Dios! to think of Chakra being still alive!”
The Maroon paused in his reflections; and kept his eye sharply bent upon the shadowy form that, like a spirit of darkness, was silently flitting through the corridor. He was in hopes that the Jew would soon retire to his chamber.
So long as the latter remained outside, there was not the slightest chance for Cubina to communicate with the occupant of the hammock without being observed. Worse than that, the Maroon was now in danger of being himself seen. Exposed as he was upon the cocoa – with nothing to shelter him from observation but its few straggling fronds – he ran every risk of his presence being detected. It was just a question of whether the Jew might have occasion to look upwards; if so, he could scarce fail to perceive the dark silhouette of a man, outlined, as it was, against the light blue of the sky.
That would be a discovery of which Cubina dreaded the consequences, and with reason. It might not only frustrate the intended interview with the young Englishman, but might end in his own capture and detention – the last a contingency especially to be avoided.
Under this apprehension the Maroon stirred neither hand nor foot; but kept himself silent and rigid. In this attitude of immobility he looked like some statue, placed in a sedentary posture upon the summit of a Corinthian column – the crushed crocus represented by the fronds of the palm-tree.
