Chapter XII: Part 12

"Cynthy, gal," said he, with a look of mysterious gravity, "why you blow out de light? But no matter for light. It's all oba. Did you hear the god 'peak?"

"I did," murmured the mulatta, still trembling at what she had heard.

"You hear wha him say?"

"Yes--yes."

"Den he 'peak de troof. Nuffin mor'n dat. You take heed--I 'vise you, as you friend. You go troo wif de 'pell now 'im 'gun, else you life not worth so much trash ob de sugar-cane. A say no more. Ebbery night, in um fuss glass, de full ob de crab-claw, up to de mark. Now, gal, come 'lon'."

The last command was the more readily obeyed since Cynthia was but too glad to get away from a place whose terrors had so severely tested her courage.

Taking up the basket--in which the bottle containing the dangerous decoction had been already placed--she glided out of the hut, and once more followed the Coromantee to his canoe.

Volume Two, Chapter XXVIII.

MIDNIGHT WANDERERS.

Once more under the _ceiba_, that gigantic trysting tree, stood the Maroon and his mistress. Not, as before, in the bright noonday sun, but near the mid-hour of the night. The Foolah had dared the dangers of the forest to meet her beloved Cubina.

And there were dangers in that forest, more to be dreaded than fierce beasts or ravenous reptiles--more to be dreaded than the tusks of the wild boar, or the teeth of the scaly alligator. There were monsters in human form far more fearful to be encountered; and at that moment not very distant from the spot where the lovers had made their rendezvous.

Love recks little of dangers. Cubina knew of none; and, in Yola's belief, there was no danger while Cubina was near.

The moon was in high heaven, full, calm, and clear. Her beams filled the glade with a silvery effulgence. It was a moonlight that almost rivalled the brightness of day. The flowers over the earth, and the blossoms upon the trees, appeared full blown: as if they had opened their petals to drink in the delightful dew. Borne upon the soft, silent breeze, the nocturnal sounds of the forest fell with a tremulous cadence upon the ear; while the nightingale of the West, as if proud of the superiority of her counterfeit notes, in turns imitated them all.

The lovers stood in shadow--but it was the shadow of the _ceiba_. There was none in their hearts; and had the moonlight at that moment fallen upon their faces, no trace of a cloud could have been detected there.

It was a happy meeting--one of the happiest they had yet enjoyed. Each had brought good news to the other. Cubina, that the brother of his beloved was still safe under his protection--safe and well; Yola, that her young mistress had promised to bestow upon her her freedom.

Within the few days since they had last met, many things had transpired to interest both. Each had a tale to tell.

Yola related how the story of her brother's misfortunes, though strictly kept from the servants at Mount Welcome, had been told to her mistress; how Miss Vaughan, on hearing it, had requested her father to grant her (Yola's) manumission; and how the Custos had consented to the request. Conditionally, however. Her "free papers" were to be dated from a certain day--that on which Kate Vaughan was to become a bride, but that day was supposed not to be far distant.

It was joyous news for the Maroon. He might keep his hundred pounds for the plenishing of his mountain home!

This piece of intelligence might have taken Cubina more by surprise, but for the understanding that now existed between him and the Custos--whom he had of late frequently visited. Certain conditions had become established between the magistrate and the Maroon, which rendered the latter less apprehensive about the future. Mr Vaughan had made some promises to himself in regard to the manumission of Yola. It is true, these had also been _conditional_; and their performance was to depend, to a great degree, on the success of the prosecution to be instituted against the Jew. But, with the Custos himself as a prosecutor, Cubina felt sanguine that the conditions would be accomplished.

These were circumstances to be kept secret. Even to his sweetheart the lover was not permitted to impart the knowledge of this affair. Only did he make known to her that steps were being taken to cause the restitution of her brother's property; but how, where, and when, could not be divulged until that day when war should be openly declared against the enemy. So had the Custos commanded.

Cubina, nevertheless, could not help being gratified by the intelligence which Yola had conveyed to him. The promise of Miss Vaughan had but one condition--her bridal day; and that was definite and certain.

"Ah!" said Cubina, turning with a proud look towards his sweetheart, "it will be a happy day for all. No, not for all," added he, his face suddenly assuming an expression of sadness; "not for all. There is one, I fear, to whom that day will not bring happiness!"

"I know one, too, Cubina," rejoined the girl, her countenance appearing to reflect the expression that had come over his.

"Oh, you know it, too? Miss Vaughan has told you then, I suppose? I hope she does not boast of it?"

"What she boast of, Cubina?"

"Why, of breaking his heart, as you would do mine, if you were to marry somebody else. Poor young fellow! _Crambo_! If I'm not mistaken, it will be a sad day for him!"

The girl looked up, in puzzled surprise. "Sad day for him! No, Cubina; he very happy. For her--poor missa--that day be sad."

"_Vayate_! What do you mean, Yola?"

"No more dan I say, Cubina. Missa Kate be very unhappy that day she marry Mr Mongew--she very so now."

"What!" exclaimed Cubina, suddenly placing himself in an attitude of unusual attention; "do I understand you to say that Miss Vaughan don't wish to marry this Mr Smythje?"

"She no love him, Cubina. Why she wish marry him, then?"

"Ha!" significantly ejaculated the Maroon, while an expression of joy came over his countenance; "what makes you think she don't love him? Have you a reason, Yola?"

"Missa me say so. She me tell everything, Cubina."

"You are sure she has said that she don't love him?"

"She laugh at him--she no care for him. Girl no love one she laugh at-- never."

"_Vaya_! I hope you will never laugh at me, then! But say, dearest; do you know why she is going to marry Mr Smythje?"

"Massa her make marry. He Mr Mongew very, very rich--he great planter. That why she him go to marry."

"Ho!--ho!" thoughtfully ejaculated the captain of Maroons. "I suspected there was some compulsion," continued he, not speaking to his companion, but muttering the words to himself.

"Can you tell me, Yola," he asked, turning again to his sweetheart; "do you know _why_ your mistress does not like this grand gentleman? Has she told you any reason?"

"Very good reason, Cubina. She another love; that why she Mongew not like."

"Ah! she's in love with somebody else! Have you heard who it is, Yola?"

"Oh, yes; you know him youself. He Missa Kate's cousin; she _him_ love."

"Her cousin, Herbert Vaughan?"

"Yes, he name Herber'; he come once--never more come. No matter, she love him first time--she him love ever more! Same I you, Cubina; I you love first time, all the same for ever."

"You are sure of all this?" inquired Cubina, in his anxiety to know more, resisting the temptation to reciprocate the endearing speech; "you are sure Miss Vaughan loves her cousin Herbert?"

"Sure, Cubina; missa say so many, many time. She have very much grief for him. She hear he marry one fine, bad lady. You know old Jew Jess'ron--his daughter he go marry."

"I have heard so," rejoined Cubina, evidently keeping back from his sweetheart a more definite knowledge of the subject which he himself possessed; "I have heard so. After all," he continued, speaking reflectingly, "it might not happen--neither of these marriages. There's a proverb, Yola, I've heard among the white folks--`_Many a slip between the cup and the lip_.' I hope it won't be true of you and me; but it might come to pass between young Master Vaughan and Miss Jessuron. Who knows? I know something. _Por Dios_! you've given me good news, I think, for somebody. But tell me, Yola; have you heard them say _when_ your mistress and this great gentleman are to be married?"

"Massa he say soon. He tell Missa Kate he go great journey. When he come back they get marry; he Missa Kate say so yesterday."

"The Custos going a journey? Have you heard where?"

"Spanish Town, missa me tell--a great big city far away."

"I wonder what that can be for," said Cubina to himself, in a conjectural way. "Well, Yola," he added, after a pause, and speaking more earnestly, "listen to me. As soon as Mr Vaughan has set out on this journey, you come to me. Perhaps I may have a message for your mistress. Have you heard when he intends to take the road?"

"He go morrow morning."

"Ha! so soon! Well, so much the better for us, and maybe for somebody else. You must meet me here to-morrow night. Tell your mistress it concerns herself. No, don't tell her," he added, correcting himself, "she will let you come without that excuse; besides, it might be that-- never mind! Come, anyhow. I shall be waiting for you at this same hour."

Yola gave her willing promise to keep an appointment so accordant to her inclinations.

For some time longer the lovers conversed, imparting to each other the ordinary news of life--the details of common things--to be at length succeeded by words only of love, of far, far deeper interest.

Cubina swore eternal truth--by the trees around--by the sky above--by the bright moon, and the blue heavens.

He had done the same a score of times; and as often had he been believed. But lovers never tire of such vows--neither of hearing nor repeating them.

The African maiden answered with promises of faithfulness, alike free, alike fervent. She no longer sighed for her far Gambian home--no more mourned the fate that had torn her from a court to consign her to slavery. The dark hours of her life seemed to have ended; and her future, as her present, was full of hope and bliss!

For more than an hour did the enamoured pair indulge in this sweet converse. They were about to close it with a parting kiss.

The Maroon stood with his strong arms tenderly entwined around the waist of his mistress, who willingly yielded to the embrace. Her slender form, under the shadow of the _ceiba_, looked like the statue of some Egyptian maiden in bronze antique.

The adieu had been spoken more than once; but still the lovers lingered, as if loth to give the parting kiss. There had been more than one, but not that which was to end the interview.

Ere their lips had met to achieve it, the design was interrupted. Voices fell upon their ears, and two forms emerging into the moonlight at the lower end of the glade, rapidly advanced in the direction of the _ceiba_.

As if by a common instinct, Cubina and his mistress stepped silently and simultaneously back, retiring together between the buttresses of the tree. There it was dark enough for concealment. Only an eye bent on purposed scrutiny could have detected their presence.

The forms drew near. They were those of a man and a woman. The moonlight shining full upon them, rendered them easy of recognition; but their voices had already declared their identity. Both the intruders were known to both the lovers. They were the Jew Jessuron and the slave Cynthia.

"_Crambo_!" muttered the Maroon, as he saw who they were. "What on earth can _they_ be doing together, at this time of the night, and here--so far away from any house? _Maldito_! some wicked business, I warrant."

By this time the brace of midnight strollers had got opposite to the tree, and the Jew was delivering himself of a speech, which was plainly heard by those who stood concealed in its shadow.

"Now, Cynthy--goot wench!--you hashn't said yet why he hash sent for me! Do you know what it ish for?"

"I don't, Mass Jess'ron, unless it be--"

"Unlesh what, wench?"

"Somethin' 'bout the news I took him afore I come to you, when I went with his basket of provisions--"

"Ah-ha! you took him some newsh--what newsh, girl?"

"Only that Massr Vagh'n am a-goin' away in the mornin'."

"Blesh my soul!" exclaimed the Jew, suddenly stopping in his tracks, and turning towards the mulatta with a look of troubled surprise. "Blesh my soul! You don't shay that, dosh you?"

"Dey say so at the Buff, Massr Jess'ron. Besides, I know m'self he's a-goin'. I help pack up him shirts in de trabbelin' valise. He's a-goin' a hossaback."

"But where, wench? where?" gasped the Jew, in hurried and anxious speech.

"Dey say to 'Panish Town--odder side ob de Island."

"Spanish Town! ach!" cried the penn-keeper, in a tone betokening that the words had conveyed some very unwelcome intelligence. "Spanish Town! S'help me, it ish! I knew it! I knew it! ach!"

And, as he repeated the aspirated ejaculation, he struck his umbrella fiercely into the ground--as if to render more emphatic the chagrin that had been communicated by the answer.

Only for a few seconds did he make pause upon the spot.

"Come on!" cried he to his companion, hurriedly moving off from the tree; "come on, wench! If that'sh the case, ash you shay, there'sh no time to be losht--not a minute, s'help me!"

And with this elegant reflection, he ended the brief dialogue, and strode swiftly and silently onward across the glade--the woman following close upon his heels.

"_Demonios_!" muttered the Maroon, as they went off. "That John Crow and his pretty partner are on some ugly errand, I fear! It appears to be the Custos they're conspiring against. _Crambo_! I wonder what they are after with him! What can the old Jew have to do with his going to Spanish Town? I must follow them, and see if I can discover. There appears to be some scheme brewing, that bodes no good to Mr Vaughan. Where can they be gadding to at this time of night? _From_ the Jew's penn, instead of _towards_ it!"

These interrogative reflections the Maroon made to himself. Then, turning once more to his sweetheart, with a gesture that declared his intention to be gone, he said:--

"We must part, Yola, and this instant, love: else I may lose their trail. Adieu! adieu!"

And, with a quick kiss and equally hurried embrace, the lovers separated--Yola returning to Mount Welcome, by a path well-known to her; while the Maroon glided off on the track taken by the penn-keeper and his female companion.

Volume Two, Chapter XXIX.

TRACKING THE STROLLERS.

The Maroon was but a few moments in recovering the "spoor" of the two nocturnal strollers.

At the point where they had gone out of the glade, there was a path that led up the hills in the direction of the Jumbe Rock. It was a mere cattle track--used only very occasionally by bipeds. Being the only path that went that way, and judging, moreover, that neither the Jew nor his follower would be likely to traverse the thicket at random, Cubina concluded that they had gone by this path.

Throwing himself upon it, and advancing with a quick but silent step, he soon recovered sight of them.

The shade of the gigantic trees--it was a primeval forest through which they were passing--was favourable to his design; and without much risk of being seen, he was able to keep them in view, and almost within earshot.

At that moment, the mind of the Jew was too pre-occupied to be suspicious; and the mulatta was not likely to trouble her thoughts about whether they were followed or not. Had she known, however--had she even suspected--that her steps were dogged, and by Cubina, the Maroon, it would, no doubt, have sharpened her senses.

"They appear to be making for the Jumbe Rock?" mentally soliloquised Cubina, as they commenced ascending the slope of the mountain. "_Crambo_! That is odd enough! What do they intend to do there at this hour of the night--or at any hour, I might say? And who's the _he_ that's been sending for Jessuron? She took _him_ a provision basket! By that, it ought to be some runaway. But what has the old Jew to do with a runaway? To get out of his bed at this time of the night, and tramp it three miles through the woods! For that matter, they say he don't sleep much anyhow; and, like the owl, night's his favourite time, I suppose. Something's being cooked for the Custos: for that girl's a very devil! Not that I should care about _him_, or what happened to him, at any other time. He's not much; and is only helping me in that matter because he hates the other. No matter for him; but from what Yola's told me, I'd go to the world's end for his daughter. Ha! I may do her a service yet. _Valga me Dios_! what's up now? They've stopped!"

The Jew and his companion, about a hundred yards ahead, had suddenly come to a stand. They appeared to be scrutinising the path.

Cubina, crouching in the shadow of the bushes, stopped likewise; and waited for the others to advance.

They did so after a short interval--hastening on as before; but in a slightly divergent direction.

"Ho, ho!" muttered the Maroon; "not for the Jumbe Rock, but the Duppy's Hole! I remember now. The path forks up yonder. They've taken that which goes to the Hole. Well! it don't help me to comprehend their purpose a bit clearer. _Carrai_! that Duppy's Hole! Didn't some of my fellows tell me they've heard strange noises there lately? Quaco is ready to swear he saw the ghost of the old myal-man, Chakra, standing upon the edge of the cliff! They're going there, as sure as my name's Cubina!"

And with this conjectural reflection the Maroon forsook the shadow under which he had been sheltering, and flitted forward along the path.

Another five hundred yards further on, his conjecture was confirmed. The parties dogged by him had reached the edge of the precipice that frowned down upon the Duppy's Hole, and there halted.

Cubina also made stop--as before concealing himself within the black shadow of the bushes.

He had scarcely crouched down, when his ears were saluted by a shrill whistle--not made by the lips, but proceeding from some instrument, as a reed or a common dog-call. It was plainly a signal, sounded either by Cynthia or the Jew, Cubina could not tell which.

Only once was it given. And there was no answer--for that similar sound, that came like an echo from the far forest, was a counterfeit. It was the mimic-note of the mock-bird.

Cubina, skilled in these voices of the night, knew this, and paid no heed to the distant sound. His whole attention was absorbed in watching the movements of the two individuals still standing upon the edge of the cliff. The white sky was beyond them, against which he could see their dark _silhouettes_ outlined with perfect distinctness.

After about a minute's time, he saw them once more in motion; and then both appeared to vanish from his view--not wasting into the air, but sinking into the ground, as if a trap-door had admitted them to the interior of the earth.

He saw this without much surprise. He knew they must have gone down the precipice, but how they had performed this feat was something that did surprise him a little.

It was but a short spell of astonishment. In a score of seconds he stood upon the edge of the precipice, at the spot where they had disappeared.

He looked down. He could trace, though dimly, a means of descent among the wattle of boughs and corrugated creepers that clasped the _facade_ of the cliff. Even under the fantastic gleam of the moon, he could see that human hands had helped the construction of this natural ladder.

He stayed not to scrutinise it. An object of greater interest challenged his glance. On the disc of the lagoon--in the moonlight, a sheet of silver, like a mirror in its frame of dark mahogany--moved a thing of sharp, elliptical shape--a canoe.

Midships of the craft, a form was crouching. Was it human or demon?

The aspect was demon--the shape scarce human. Long, ape-like arms; a hunched back; teeth gleaming in the moonlight like the incisors of a shark; features everything but human to one who had not seen them before!

Cubina had seen them before. To him, though not familiar, they were known. If not the ghost of Chakra, he saw Chakra himself!

Volume Two, Chapter XXX.

CYNTHIA IN THE WAY.

The heart of the young Maroon, though by nature bold and brave, was for a moment impressed with fear. He had known the myal-man of Mount Welcome--never very intimately--but enough to identify his person. Indeed, once seen, Chakra was a man to be remembered.

Cubina had, like every one else for miles around, heard of the trial of the Coromantee conjuror, and his condemnation to exposure on the Jumbe Rock. The peculiar mode of his execution--the cruel sentence--the celebrity of the scene where the criminal had been compelled to pass the last miserable hours of his existence--all combined to render his death even more notorious than his life; and few there were in the western end of the Island who had not heard of the myal-man of Mount Welcome, and the singular mode of atonement that justice had demanded him to make for his crimes.

In common with others, Cubina believed him dead. No wonder, then, that the heart of the Maroon should for a moment misgive him on seeing Chakra seated in a canoe, and paddling himself across the calm surface of the lagoon!

Under any circumstances, the sight of the Coromantee was not calculated to beget confidence in the beholder; but his unexpected appearance just then produced within the mind of the Maroon a feeling somewhat stronger than astonishment, and for some seconds he stood upon the cliff overcome by a feeling of awe.

Very soon, however, he remembered the statement which his lieutenant had made, and which Quaco had put in the form of an asseveration.

Quaco, like most of his colour, a firm believer in "Duppy" and "Jumbe," had believed it to be Chakra's ghost he had seen; and under the terror with which the sight had inspired him, instead of making an attempt to pursue the apparition, and prove whether it was flesh and blood, or only "empty air," he had used his utmost speed to get away from the spot, leaving the myal-man's ghost full master of the ground.

Cubina, less given to superstitious inclinings, only for a moment permitted himself to be mystified with the idea of a "Duppy." Quaco's experience, along with the presence of the penn-keeper and his companion--there evidently for a purpose--guided him to the conclusion that what he saw in the canoe was no spiritual Chakra, but Chakra in the flesh.

How the Coromantee came to be still living and moving, the Maroon could not so easily comprehend; but Cubina possessed acute reasoning powers, and the presence of the Jew, evidently _en rapport_ with the restored conjuror, went far towards explaining the mystery of the latter's resurrection.

Satisfied that he saw Chakra himself, the Maroon placed himself in a position to watch the movements both of the men in the canoe, and those who had summoned him across the lagoon.

In another moment the canoe was lost sight of. It had passed under the bushes at the bottom of the cliff, where it was not visible from above.

Voices now ascended, which could be heard, but not distinctly.

Cubina could distinguish three voices taking part in the conversation-- Chakra's, the Jew's, and, at longer intervals, the shrill treble of the slave Cynthia.

He bent his ear, and listened with keen attention--in hopes of hearing what they said. He could only catch an occasional word. The roar of the cascade rising along with the voices hindered him from hearing them distinctly; and, notwithstanding his earnest desire to do so, he was unable to make out the matter of the conversation.

Only for a short while was he kept waiting. The _trialogue_ came to a close, followed by a brief interval of silence--at the end of which the canoe once more made its appearance upon the open water of the lagoon.

Two persons only were in it, Chakra and the Jew. Cynthia had stayed by the bottom of the cliff.

Cubina made this observation with some chagrin. It was a circumstance that promised to frustrate the design he had suddenly conceived: of following the myal-man to his lair. This he desired to do, in order to make himself acquainted with the hiding-place of the remarkable runaway.

That it was down in the Duppy's Hole there could be no doubt; and therefore the Maroon might at any time find him there.

This reflection would have contented him; but, on seeing the Jew ferried across the lagoon, he conjectured that he and Chakra were bent upon the completion of some horrid plot, which, by following, he, Cubina, might overhear, and, perhaps, be enabled to counteract.

The Maroon was aware of the difficulty of descending into the Duppy's Hole. He knew there was but one way--by the bushes that clustered along the face of the cliff at his feet. Once, while on the chase, he and his followers, aided by a rope-ladder, had gone down; and, in search of game, had explored the wooded covert beyond. At that time, however, Chakra had not been _executed_; and the hunter had found no trace of human presence in the solitary place.

He knew that he could follow the canoe by swimming; as in this way he had crossed before, but now that Cynthia barred the way, it would be impossible for him to reach the water unobserved.

To follow the conspirators further was out of the question. His chance was cut off by the interposition of the mulatta. He could only remain on the cliff and await their return.

He was reflecting upon what course to pursue, when a rustling sound reached him from below. It was made by some one moving among the bushes that grew against the face of the precipice.

He caught one of the branches; and, supporting himself by it, craned his neck over the cliff. His eye fell upon the brilliant chequer of a _bandanna_, visible among the leaves. It was the toque upon the head of Cynthia. It was in motion; and he could see that she was ascending by the tree stairway he had already observed.

Without staying to witness the ascent, he turned back into the underwood by the side of the path; and, crouching down, he waited to see what the woman intended doing. Perhaps her part in the performance had been played out--at least, for that night--and she was on her way homeward?

That was what Cubina conjectured, as well as just what he would have wished.

His conjecture proved correct. The mulatta, on mounting to the crest of the cliff, stopped only for a moment, to adjust upon her arm a basket she had brought up--from the half-open lid of which protruded the neck of a bottle. Then, casting her eyes forward, she struck off into the shadowy forest path, and was soon out of sight.

The moment after she had passed him, the Maroon glided silently forward to the edge of the cliff, and commenced descending the stair. Such feat was nothing to him; and in a few seconds he had reached the edge of the lagoon.

Here he paused--to make sure that the canoe had arrived at its destination, and that its late occupants had disembarked from it.

After a moment spent in this _reconnoissance_--looking sharply, and listening with all his ears--he became satisfied that the coast was clear; and, letting himself stealthily into the water, he swam for the opposite shore of the lagoon.

Upon only about two-thirds of the surface of the lagoon did the moonlight fall--the cliff casting its shadow upon the other third. Keeping within the boundaries of this shadow, and swimming as silently as a fish, Cubina succeeded in reaching the opposite shore, without perceiving any sign that he had been observed.

Under the heavy timber, with which the upper half of the ravine was covered, the darkness was as deep as if not a ray of moonlight came down from the sky. Only on the stream itself, and here and there through a break in the umbrageous forest, could the moonbeams reach the surface of the earth. Elsewhere, from cliff to cliff, the obscurity was complete.

Cubina conjectured, and correctly, that there was a path leading from the anchorage of the canoe; and to find this was his first purpose.

Keeping around the edge of the lagoon, he soon came upon the craft-- empty, and anchored under a tree.

The moonlight, entering here from the open water, showed him the _embouchure_ of the path, where it entered the underwood; and, without losing a moment's time, he commenced moving along it.

Silently as a cat he stole onward, at intervals pausing to listen; but he could only bear the hissing sound of the upper cascade--to which he was now making approach.

There was a space in front of the waterfall, where the trees stood thinly, and this opening was soon reached.

On arriving at its edge the Maroon again stopped to reconnoitre.

Scarcely a second of time did he need to pause. Light flashed in his eyes through the interstices of what appeared to be a sort of grating. It was the bamboo door of the obeah hut. Voices, too, reverberated through the bars.

Within were the men upon whom it was his purpose to play eavesdropper.

In another instant Cubina was cowering under the cotton-tree, close up to the doorpost.

Volume Two, Chapter XXXI.

STRANGE DISCLOSURES.

The two plotters were palavering loud enough. In that place there was no need--at least, so thought they--for restrained speech; and the listener could have heard every word, but for the hoarse hissing of the cataract. This, at times, hindered him from distinguishing what was said; and only in detached portions could he pick up the thread of the discourse. Enough, however, heard he to cause him astonishment--the greatest of all, that in the Island of Jamaica, or upon the earth, existed two such villains as Chakra, the Coromantee, and Jessuron, the Jew!

He could see the conspirators as well as hear them. The chinks between the bamboos enabled him to obtain a view of both.

The Jew, slightly blown with his long walk against the hill, had dropped into a sitting attitude upon the truck-like bedstead; while the Coromantee stood before him, leaning against the buttress of the tree which formed one side of his dwelling.

The conversation had commenced before Cubina came up. It could not have proceeded far. The lard lamp seemed recently lit. Besides, the Maroon knew that he had been only a few minutes behind them. The plot, therefore, whatever it was, had not yet made much progress.

So reasoned the listener; but it soon appeared that it was the continuation of a plot, and not its first conception, to which he was to become privy--a plot so demoniac as to include _murder_ in its design!

The Jew, when Cubina first got eyes on him, appeared as if he had just given utterance to some angry speech. His dark, weasel-like orbs were sparkling in their sunken sockets, with a fiendish light. The goggles were off, and the eyes could be seen. In his right hand the eternal umbrella was grasped, with a firm clutch, as if held in menace!

Chakra, on the other hand, appeared cowed and pleading. Though almost twice the size, and apparently twice the strength of the old Israelite, he looked at that moment as if in fear of him!

"Gorry, Massr Jake!" said he, in an appealing tone; "how ebber wa' _I_ to know de Cussus warn a gwine so soon? A nebber speered ob dat; an' you nebber tole me you wanted de obeah-spell to work fasser dan war safe. Ef a'd a know'd dat, a kud a fotch de dam Cussus out o' him boots in de shake ob a cat's tail--dat cud a a' did!"

"Ach!" exclaimed the Jew, with an air of unmistakable chagrin; "he's going to shlip us. S'help me, he will! And now, when I wants more ash ever the shpell upon him. I'sh heard something from thish girl Cynthy of a conshpiracy against myshelf. Sheesh heard them plotting in the summer-house in the Cushtos's garden."

"Wha' dey plot 'gain you, Massr Jake? Who am dey dat go plottin'?"

"The Cushtos is one, the other ish that scamp son of Cubina, the Maroon--the young Cubina. You knowsh him?"

"Dat same a know well 'nuf."

"Ah! the proud Cushtos don't know--though he hash his sushpicions--that hish wife Quasheba wash the mishtress of a Maroon. Ha! ha! ha! And she luffed the mulatto better as ever she luffed Vanities Vochan! Ha! ha! ha!"

"Dat am berry near de troof," observed the negro, with a thoughtful air.

"Little dosh the Cushtos think," continued Jessuron, without heeding the interpolation, "that thish young fellow, whosh a-helpin' him to conshpire againsht me, is a sort of a son to hish consheited worship. Ha! ha! ha!"

It was startling intelligence for the listener outside the door. It was the first intimation the young Maroon ever had as to who was his mother.

Some vague hints had been conveyed to him in early childhood; but his memory recalled them only as dreams; and he himself had never allowed them expression. His father he had known well--called, as himself, Cubina, the Maroon. But his mother, who or what she had been, he had never known.

Was it possible, then, that the quadroon, Quasheba--of whose fame he, too, had heard--was it true she was his own mother? That "Lilly Quasheba," the beautiful, the accomplished daughter of the Custos Vaughan, was his half-sister?

He could not doubt it. The conversation that followed put him in possession of further details, and more ample proofs. Besides, such relationships were too common in the Island of Jamaica, to make them matter either of singularity or surprise.

Notwithstanding, the listener was filled with astonishment--far more than that--for the revelation was one to stir his soul to emotions of the strangest and strongest kind. New thoughts sprang up at the announcement; new vistas opened before the horoscope of his future; new ties were established within his heart, hitherto unfelt and unknown.

Stifling his new-sprung emotions as well as he was able--promising them indulgence at some other time--he re-bent his ear to listen.

He heard enough to satisfy him that he had a sister--a half-sister, it is true--but still a sister.

The next point determined on between the conspirators was equally calculated to startle and astonish him. It was no less than a design to render that sister _brotherless_!

"You musht put the shpell on _him_, too," said the Jew; "for heesh the principal in thish plot againsht me. Even if the Cushtos wash out of the way, thish Captain Cubina will go to some other magistrate to carry out hish design. There will be plenty to help him. You musht shpell _him_, and soon ash you can, Shakra. There'sh no time to lose--not a minnit, s'help me!"

"A do wha a can, Massr Jake; but a mout's well tell ye, that it a'nt so easy to put de spell on a Maroon. It coss me more'n twenty year to put de obeah on him ole fadder, and I'se a been tryin' um on dis young Cubina fo' some time--ebber since him fadder die. A hate de young un, same a hated de ole un. You knows why a hate boaf."

"I knowsh all that--I knowsh all that."

"Wa, den! a do ma bess. Dat ar m'latta gib me no hope. She soon 'dminster de spell ef she hab chance--kase she think um de lub drink. She no hab chance, fo' Cubina he no let her come nigh o' him. Nebba mind: Chakra he find oppotunity some day; 'fore long he put de death-spell on de son ob dat quaderoom."

"Perhaps not so soon!" was the mental rejoinder of him who listened to this confident declaration.

"It'sh less matter about him than the other!" cried the Jew, giving way to a fresh burst of rage. "S'help me! the Cushtos is going to shlip out of my fingers--the eshtate--all! Ach!" he ejaculated, as his disappointment came more palpably before him, "you hash played me false, Shakra! I b'lief you've been playin' me false!"

As the Jew gave utterance to this conjectural speech, he started to his feet--taking a tighter hold upon his umbrella, and standing before his _vis-a-vis_ in a threatening attitude.

"No, Massr Jake," replied the myal-man, without altering the air of obeisance he had hitherto assumed,--"no--nuffin ob dat--anyhow, I'se can say dar's nuffin ob dat. You yaseff sabbey well 'nuff a hab as good reezun as you to make de spell work, an' I tell you _it shall work_!"

"Yesh! when too late--too late! I don't care then. If the Cushtos get to Spanish Town--if he procuresh the shpecial act, I'm a ruined Shew! I don't care a shtraw if the death-shpell wash put on myshelf! I don't!"

This speech was rather a soliloquy than addressed to Chakra, who listened to it without clearly comprehending its import: for the chief motive which was stimulating the Jew was still unknown to his fellow-conspirator.

"I tell you," resumed Jessuron, still in threatening speech, "I believe you hash been fooling me, Shakra! You hash some interest of your own-- perhaps, with thish Lilly Quasheba. Ha! never mind! I tell you thish time--I tell you, Shakra, if the shpell dosh fail--yesh, if it fail, and the Cushtos reach the capital--where he ish going--I tell you, Shakra, you may look out for shqualls! You loosh your monish I promised you. Ay, you may loosh your life ash well. I hash only to shay a word, and the Duppy's Hole will be searched by the houndsh of the law. Now will you do your besht to keep the Cushtos from reaching the capital of the Island?"

As Jessuron finished the speech containing this conditional threat, he moved in the direction of the door, apparently with the intention of taking his departure.

The Maroon, perceiving the movement, stepped further back into the shadow of the cotton-tree--taking care to conceal himself effectually.

This change of position prevented him from hearing what subsequently passed between the two conspirators. Some more conversation there was on both sides--an interchange of it--which lasted for several minutes; but although the listener could hear the sound of their voices, he was unable to make out the words spoken by either.

What was said by the Jew was principally a repetition of his menace--in terms the most emphatic he could employ; while Chakra, with equal emphasis, repeated his promises to accomplish the nefarious purpose already agreed upon between them.

"A promise, Massr Jake," said the myal-man, in conclusion, "by de great Accompong, a do ma bess. Ef de Cussus 'trive 'scape, den you do wid ole Chakra whasomediver you hab mind to. 'Liver him up, ef you like! Ha! de Cussus no 'scape. Dis night Cynthy hab take bottle in her basket of de 'trongest kind. It do de bizness in 'bout twenty-fo' hour. _Daat am de true death-spell_. Whugh!"

"In twenty-four hours? You ish shure, Shakra? you ish shure?"

"Shoo' as a 'm now in de Duppy Hole, Massr Jake. Doan' you hab no mo' doubt ob ole Chakra. He hab no lub fo' Cussus Va'ghan mo' dan youseff. P'raps he lub de Cussus' dau'ter, but dat am berry diffrent sort ob 'fecshun. Whugh!"

With this speech of fiendish signification the dialogue ended; and the Jew was seen stepping outside, followed by his confederate.

Both walked away from the spot, Chakra taking the lead, the Maroon closely watching their movements.

On reaching the canoe the conspirators stepped aboard, and the craft was paddled over the lagoon.

Cubina waited for its return; and then, seeing Chakra safe within his hut, he hastened back to the water; and, as before, swimming under the shadow of the rock, he re-ascended the tree stairway, and stood once more on the summit of the cliff.

Volume Two, Chapter XXXII.

A STORMY SCENE.

On emerging from the Duppy's Hole, the penn-keeper tracked it, as straight as the path would permit him, towards his own home. He walked with hurried steps, as if he had some purpose before him beyond that of going to bed. Late as was the hour--or early, it should rather be said, since it was getting on for daybreak--in the eye of the old Israelite there was no sign of sleepiness; but, on the contrary, a wide-awake expression that betokened his intention to accomplish some desired object before retiring to rest.

The mutterings which fell from his lips, as he moved onward among the trees, told that his discontent still continued. Chakra's assurances, that had, for the moment, partially removed his ill-humour, on reflection failed to satisfy him. More than once before, the myal-man had given him promises which he had failed in keeping; and so might it be with the promise of the death-spell. With this thought was revived in full vigour the apprehension that his enemy might escape; and, consequently, his deep-conceived scheme would result in ignominious failure.

The measures which the myal-man had taken for administering the _spell-medicine_--that bottle of strong waters which Cynthia carried home in her basket--had been revealed to the Jew. The revelation had been made--as suited the subject--in a low tone of voice; and it was this part of the dialogue between the two conspirators which Cubina had not heard.

But the Coromantee might be mistaken in his skill? The prescription might fail in producing the desired effect? The slave might not find the opportunity to administer it?

Considering the early hour at which the traveller was to start--Jessuron knew the hour--Cynthia might not have a chance to give the _medicine_? Or, frayed by contemplation of the fearful consequence, which she now knew would follow almost instantaneously upon the act, she might in the end shy from the dangerous duty? The intended victim might, in the meantime, have become suspicious of the mixtures prepared by the mulatta, and decline to drink the deadly draught?

There were many chances that the Custos might escape.

"`There ish many a shlip between the cup and the lipsh'!" muttered the wicked old man, quoting one of his favourite proverbs. "Ach! that ish true," he added, with bitter emphasis, as the probabilities of failure passed more palpably before his mind.

"S'help me!" continued he, with an attempt at self-consolation; "I shall not be deprived of my refenge--that ish certain--whether he goesh to Spanish Town, or shtays at home. Ach!" he exclaimed, again changing his tone to one of chagrin, "what dosh that signify, beshide the other? If he could be shtopped, it wash a grand destiny for mine Shoodith, for myshelf--me, old Shacob Shessuron! Mount Welcome wash mine! It musht belong to this young fellow--he belongs to Shoodith--Shoodith belongsh to me! Ach! what a pity if my shkeme ish to fail--after all I hash done to make it succeed!

"If it fail," he continued, the probabilities of failure presenting a new phase to him, "if it fail, I'm a ruined man!--I am! Shoodith may want to marry this young fellow. I believe she luffs him--I'm afeerd she doesh--and he hasn't the worth of the shoosh he shstands in. Blesh my shoul! I musht try to prevent it. It musht go no further till I'm sure of the Cushtos. Not a shtep--not a shtep. She musht be seen, and thish very night. Yesh; I musht see Shoodith before I shleep."

Urged on by the desire of the interview thus announced, the Jew hastened his steps; and soon arrived under the shadow of the dark pile that constituted his dwelling.

Admitted by the black porter at the gate--for that of the courtyard, or slave inclosure, was always kept locked--he mounted the wooden steps, and stole as silently along the verandah, as if he had been a stranger in the house instead of its owner. His object, in this stealthy movement, appeared to be to avoid disturbing some one who slept in a hammock near one end of the long gallery.

It was towards the other end, however, that he went--in the direction of a chamber through the lattice-window of which a light was streaming. It was the sleeping apartment of the Jewess.

On arriving opposite the door, he knocked, not loudly--at the same time pronouncing, in a half-whisper, the name "Shoodith!"

"That you, rabbi?" inquired a voice from within; while a footstep passing across the floor told either that the Jewess had not yet sought her couch, or had sought, and again forsaken it.

The door was opened; and the worthy father of this wakeful daughter passed inside.

"Well," said she, as he entered, "I won't inquire what errand you've been on, my good papa Jessuron: some slave speculation, I suppose? But what have I to do with it, that you should compel me to sit up for you till this time of the night? It's now near morning; and I am precious sleepy, I can tell you!"

"Ach! Shoodith, dear," replied the father, "everything ish goin' wrong! s'help me, everything!"

"Well, one might think so, from that doleful phiz of yours. What's troubling you now, my worthy parent?"

"Ach! Shoodith! Don't dishtress me by your speeches. I hash something of importance to shay to you, before I go to shleep."

"Say it quick, then: for I want to go to sleep myself. What is it, pray?"

"Well, Shoodith, dear, it ish this: you mushn't trifle any more with thish young fellow."

"What young fellow do you mean, my good man?"

"Vochan, of coursh--Mashter Vochan."

"Ho! ho! you've changed your tune. What's this about?"

"I hash reason, Shoodith; I hash reason."

"Who said I was trifling with him? Not I, father! Anything but that, I can assure you."

"That ish not what I mean, Shoodith."

"Well, then, what do you mean, old gentleman? Come now! make yourself intelligible!"

"I mean thish, Shoodith: you mushn't let things go any further with the young fellow--that ish, shoost now--till I knowsh something more about him. I thought he wash going to be lich--you know I thought that, mine daughter--but I hash found out, thish very night, that--perhaps--he may never be worth a shingle shilling; and therefore, Shoodith, you couldn't think of marrying him--and mushn't think of it till we knowsh more about him!"

"Father!" replied the Jewess, at once throwing aside her habitual badinage, and assuming a serious tone, "it is too late! Did I not tell you that the tarantula might get caught in its own trap? The proverb has proved true; _I_ am that unhappy spider!"

"You don't say so, Shoodith?" inquired the father, with a look of alarm.

"O do! Yonder sleeps the fly,"--and the speaker pointed along the gallery in the direction of the hammock--"secure from any harm I can ever do him. And were he as poor as he appears to be--as humble as the lowest slave on your estate--he is rich enough for me. Ah! it will be _his_ fault, not _mine_, if he do not become my husband!"

The proud, determined tone in which the Jewess spoke, was only modified as she uttered the last words. The conjunctive form of the closing speech, with a certain duplexity of expression upon her countenance showed that she was not yet sure of the heart of Herbert Vaughan. Notwithstanding his attentions at the ball--notwithstanding much that had since occurred, there appeared to be a doubt--a trace of distrust that still lingered.

"Never, Shoodith!" cried the father, in a tone of determined authority. "You mushn't think of it! You shall never marry a pauper--never!"

"Pauper him as much as you like, father; he won't care for that, any more than I do."

"I shall disinherit you, Shoodith!" said the Jew, giving way to a feeling of spiteful resentment.

"As you like about that, too. Disinherit me at your pleasure. But remember, old man, it was you who began this game--you who set me to playing it; and if you are in danger of losing your stake--whatever it may be--I tell you you're in danger of losing _me_--that is, if he--"

The hypothetic thought--whatever it was--that at this crisis crossed the mind of the Jewess, was evidently one that caused her pain: as could be seen by the dark shadow that came mantling over her beautiful brow.

Whether or not she would have finished the speech is uncertain. She was not permitted to proceed. The angry father interrupted her:--

"I won't argue with you now, Shoodith. Go to your bed, girl! go to shleep! Thish I promish you--and, s'help me, I keepsh my promish!--if thish pauper ish to be a pauper, he never marries you with my conshent; and without my conshent he never touches a shilling of my monish. You understand that, Shoodith?"

And without waiting to hear the reply--which was quite as defiant as his own declaration--the Jew hurried out of his daughter's chamber, and shuffled off along the verandah.

Volume Two, Chapter XXXIII.

WHERE NEXT?

The Maroon, after mounting to the summit of the cliff, paused for some moments to reflect upon a course of action.

In his bosom were many new emotions, springing from the strange revelations to which he had just listened. His mind was in such a state of chaotic confusion, that it required some time to determine what he ought to do next, or whither he should go.

The thought that thrilled him most, was that which related to the discovery of his maternal relationship to Miss Vaughan. But this matter, however strange it was, required no immediate action to be taken on his part; and though the semi-fraternal affection, now felt for the first time, strengthened the romantic friendship which he had conceived for the young lady--whom he had now seen several times--still, from what he had overheard of the scheme of the conspirators, his new-discovered sister did not appear to be in any danger. At least, not just then: though some horrid hints darkly thrown out by Chakra pointed to a probable peril at some future time.

That her father was in danger, Cubina could not doubt. Some demoniac plot had been prepared for the Custos, which was to deprive him even of life; and from what the Maroon could make out of the half-heard conversation of the conspirators, action was to be taken upon it, so early as the following morning.

Mr Vaughan intended a journey. Yola had herself told him so; and the confabulation between Jessuron and Chakra confirmed it. Cynthia had been their informant; and it was evident that upon that very night she had brought the news from Mount Welcome. Evident, also, that the piece of intelligence thus conveyed had taken both the conspirators by surprise--causing them to hasten the _denouement_ of some devilish plan that before that night had not been quite ripe for execution.

All this was clear enough to the mind of the Maroon.

Equally clear was it, that the plan was no other than an atrocious plot to murder the proprietor of Mount Welcome; and that poison was the safe, silent weapon to be used--for Cubina was not unacquainted with the signification of the _death-spell of Obeah_. Before that night he had reason to believe that his own father had fallen by that secret shaft, and reasons to suspect that Chakra had shot it. What he had just heard confirmed his belief; and but that he saw the necessity of hastening to the rescue of the threatened Custos--and knew, moreover, that he could now find Chakra at any time--he would, in all probability, have avenged his father's death before leaving the Duppy's Hole.

The young Maroon, however, was a man of mild character--combining prudence with an extreme _sang froid_--that hindered him from bringing any event to a hasty or ambiguous ending. Though leaving Chakra for the time, he had determined soon to return to him.

The resurrection of the myal-man, though it at first very naturally astonished him, had soon ceased to be a mystery to the mind of the Maroon. In fact, the presence of the Jew had at once explained the whole thing. Cubina conjectured, and correctly, that Jessuron had released the condemned criminal from his chains, and substituted the body of some dead negro--afterwards to become the representative of Chakra's skeleton.

For this the Jew, well-known for wickedness, might have many motives.