Chapter XIII: Part 13

The Maroon did not stay to speculate upon them. His thoughts were directed to the present and future rather than the past--to the rescue of the Custos, over whom a fearful fate seemed to impend.

It need not be denied that Cubina felt a certain friendship for the planter of Mount Welcome. Heretofore it had not been of a very ardent character; but the relations lately established between him and the Custos--in prospect of the process to be taken against their common enemy, the penn-keeper--had, of course, occasioned a fellow-feeling between them. The revelations of that night had strengthened the interest which the Maroon had begun to feel for Mr Vaughan; and it is not to be wondered at that he now felt an honest desire to save the father of her, whom he was henceforth to regard as his own sister. To this end, then, were his thoughts directed.

He stayed not long to speculate upon the motives either of Chakra or Jessuron. Those of the myal-man he could guess to a certainty. Revenge for the sentence that exposed him to that fearful fate on the Jumbe Rock.

The motives of the Jew were less transparent. His deepest did not appear in the confabulation Cubina had overheard. Even Chakra did not know it. It might be fear of the approaching trial: which by some means the Jew had become apprised of.

But no. On reflection, Cubina saw it could not be that: for the conversation of the conspirators betrayed that their plot had been anterior to any information which the Jew could have had of the design of the Custos. It could not be that.

No matter what. Mr Vaughan, the father of the generous young lady--she who had promised to make him a present of his beloved bride, and who now proved to be his own stepsister--her father was in danger!

Not a moment was to be lost. Without regard to motives, measures must be taken to avert that danger, and punish the miscreants who designed it.

For some minutes Cubina remained on the spot, reflecting upon what step should be first taken.

Should he go direct to Mount Welcome and warn the Custos, by reporting to him what he had heard?

That was the first idea that presented itself to his mind; but at that hour Mr Vaughan would be abed, and he--a Maroon--might not be admitted, unless, indeed, he could show, by pleading the urgency of his errand, good cause for arousing the Custos from his slumber.

This, undoubtedly, would he have done, had he known that the scheme of the conspirators had been definitely arranged. But, as already stated, he had not heard Chakra's concluding speech--referring to Cynthia and the bottle of strong medicine; and all the rest only pointed vaguely at some measures to be taken for frustrating the expedition to Spanish Town.

It would be time enough, thought he, to meet these measures by going to Mount Welcome in the morning. He could get there before Mr Vaughan should start upon his journey. He could go at an early hour, but one when his appearance would not give cause for any unnecessary remark.

It did not occur to him to reflect, that the time of the traveller's departure from Mount Welcome--of which Cubina had not been apprised-- might be anterior to that of his arrival there. The Maroon, thinking that the great Custos was not likely to inconvenience himself by early rising, had no apprehension of missing him by being himself too late.

With this confidence, then, he resolved to postpone his visit to Mount Welcome until some hour after daybreak; and, in the meantime, to carry out the preliminaries of a programme, referring to a very different affair, and which had been traced out the day before.

The first scene in this programme was to be a meeting with Herbert Vaughan. It had been appointed to take place between them on the following morning; and on the same spot where the two young men had first encountered one another--in the glade, under the great _ceiba_.

The interview was of Herbert's own seeking, for, although neither had seen the other since the day on which the runaway had been rescued, some items of intelligence had passed between them--Quaco acting as the medium of their correspondence.

Herbert had an object in seeking the interview. He desired a conference with Cubina, in hopes of obtaining from him an explanation of more than one circumstance that had lately arisen to puzzle and perplex him.

His patron's suspicious story about the red runaway was one of these circumstances. Herbert had heard from Quaco that the slave was still staying with the Maroons in their mountain town; and had been adopted into their little community--in fact, had himself become a Maroon.

This did not correspond with the account given by Jessuron. Of course, Quaco could not state the reasons. The secrecy enjoined by the Custos kept Cubina's tongue tied upon that theme; and his own men knew nothing of the design which their captain had conceived against the Jew.

This was not the only matter which mystified the young Englishman, and which he was in hopes of having cleared up by Cubina. His own position at the penn--of late developing itself in a manner to surprise and startle him--also needed elucidation. There was no one near of whom he could ask a question in regard to it, and never in his life did he stand more in need of a confidant.

In this dilemma he had thought of his old acquaintance, the Maroon captain. The intelligent mulatto appeared to be the very man. Herbert remembered the promise made at parting, his own conditional acceptance of it, which now appeared prophetic; since the contingency then expressed had come to pass.

He had need to avail himself of the friendly proffer; and for that purpose had he made the appointment under the _ceiba_.

Equally desirous was the Maroon to meet with the young Englishman. He had preserved a grateful recollection of his generous interference in what appeared a very unequal combat; and, so far from having lost sight of his noble ally, he had been keeping him in mind--after a fashion that was calculated to show the deep gratitude with which Herbert's conduct had inspired him.

He longed for an opportunity of giving renewed expression to this gratitude; but he had other reasons for wishing to see the young Englishman just then; and the meeting with. Yola on that same night had an object some what different from the mere repetition of love vows-- already pronounced over and over again, upon a score of distinct occasions.

Now that the night had nearly passed, and that the morning was nigh, the Maroon, instead of returning to his mountain home, decided on going back to the glen, and spending the few hours of interval under the shadow of the _ceiba_.

Indeed, the time would not allow of his returning home. The sun would be up in three or four hours. A little after sunrise was the appointed time for the meeting with Herbert Vaughan. Before that hour should arrive, he could scarce reach his own "town" and get back again. The thing, therefore, was not to be thought of.

To sleep under a tree, or _on_ one, was no new thing for Cubina. It would never occur to him to consider such a couch as inconvenient. In his hog-hunting excursions--often continuing for days and even weeks--he was accustomed to repose upon the cold ground--upon the swirl of withered leaves--upon the naked rock--anywhere. Not much did it matter to a Maroon to be sheltered by a roof--not much, whether a tree shadowed his slumbers, or whether on his grassy couch she saw shining over him the starry canopy of the sky. These were but the circumstances of his every-day life.

Having come to the conclusion that his best plan would be to pass the remaining hours of the night under the _ceiba_, he made no further delay by the Duppy's Hole; but turning into the path that led down the slope he proceeded back towards the glade.

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 XXXIV.

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 _machete_ 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, Senor 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, senor?" 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 Cingues, and his two dozen Mandingoes!

It was not necessary to instruct the _cacadores_ 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 XXXV.

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 _protege_ 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.

Volume Two, Chapter XXXVI.

A MISSION FOR THE MAN-HUNTERS.

Cubina for some time preserved his constrained position. He dared not derange it; since the Jew still stayed in the shadowy corridor-- sometimes moving about; but more generally standing at the head of the wooden stairway, and looking across the courtyard, towards the gate through which he had come in. It seemed as if he was expecting some one to enter after him.

This conjecture of Cubina's proved correct. The great gate was heard once more turning on its hinges; and, after a word or two spoken by the black porter outside, and answered by a voice of different tone, two men were seen stepping inside the court.

As they passed under the moonlight, Cubina recognised them. Their lithe, supple forms, and swarthy angular lineaments, enabled him to identify the Cuban _cacadores_.

They walked straight up to the stairway, at the bottom of which both stopped.

The Jew, on seeing them inside the gate, had gone back into a room that opened upon the verandah.

He was gone but for an instant; and, coming out again, he returned to the top of the stairway.

One of the Spaniards, stepping up, reached out, and received something from his hand. What it was Cubina could not have told, but for the words of the Jew that accompanied the action.

"There'sh the flashk," said he; "it ish the besht brandy in Shamaica. And now," he continued, in an accent of earnest appeal, "my goot fellish! you hashn't a minute to shpare. Remember the big monish you're to gain; and don't let thish runaway eshcape!"

"No fear about that, Senor Don Jacob," replied he who received the flask. "_Carrai_! he'll have long legs to get out of our way--once we're well on the trail of him."

And without further dialogue or delay, the _cacador_ descended the stair, rejoined his comrade, and both hurriedly re-crossing the courtyard, disappeared through the door by which they had entered.

"An expedition after some poor slave!" muttered Cubina to himself. "I hope the scoundrels won't catch him, anyhow, and I pity him if they do. After all, they're no great hands at the business, spite of their braggadocio."

With this professional reflection, the Maroon once more bent his eyes upon the form that remained in the shadow of the verandah.

"Surely," conjectured he, "the old John Crow will now go to his roost? Or has he more of the like business on hand? Till he's out of that I can't make a move. I durstn't stir, not for the life of me!"

To the joy of Cubina, the Jew at that moment stepped back into his chamber--the door of which had been left standing open.

"Good!" mentally ejaculated the Maroon; "I hope he'll stay in his hole, now that he's in it. I don't want to see any more of him this night. _Crambo_!"

As the exclamation indicated, the congratulatory speech was cut short by the re-appearance of the Jew; not in his blue body-coat, as before, but wrapped in a sort of gabardine, or ample dressing-gown, the skirts of which fell down to his feet. His hat had been removed--though the skull-cap, of dirty whitish hue, still clung around his temples; for it was never doffed.

To the consternation of Cubina he came out, dragging a chair after him: as if he meant to place it in the verandah and take a seat upon it.

And this was precisely his intention, for, after drawing the chair--a high-backed one--out into the middle of the gallery, he planted it firmly upon the floor, and then dropped down into it.

The moment after, Cubina saw sparks, accompanied by a sound that indicated the concussion of flint and steel. The Jew was striking a light!

For what purpose?

The smell of burning tobacco borne along the gallery, and ascending to Cubina's nostrils upon the summit of the palm, answered that question. A red coal could be seen gleaming between the nose and chin of the Israelite. He was smoking a cigar!

Cubina saw this with chagrin. How long would the operation last? Half-an-hour--an hour, perhaps? Ay, maybe till daybreak--now not very distant.

The situation had changed for the worse. The Maroon could not make the slightest move towards the awakening of Herbert. He dared not shift his own position, lest his presence should be betrayed to the Jew. He dared not stir upon the tree, much less come down from it!

He saw that he was in a fix; but there was no help for it. He must wait till the Jew had finished his cigar: though there was no certainty that even that would bring the _seance_ to a termination.

Summoning all the patience he could command, he kept his perch, silent and motionless, though anxious, and suffering from chagrin.

For a long hour, at least, did he continue in this desperate dilemma-- until his limbs ached underneath him, and his composure was well-nigh exhausted. Still the Jew stuck to his chair, as if glued to the seat-- silent and motionless as Cubina himself.

The latter fancied that not only a first cigar, but a second, and, perhaps, a third, had been lighted and smoked; but in the sombre shadow, in which the smoker sat, he could not be certain how many. More than one, however, from the time spent in the operation; for during the full period of an hour a red coal could be seen glowing at the tip of that aquiline proboscis.

Cubina now perceived what troubled him exceedingly--the blue dawn breaking over the tops of the trees! By slightly turning his head he could see the golden gleam of sunlight tinting the summit of the Jumbe Rock!

"_Crambo_! what was to be done?" so ran his reflections.

If he stayed there much longer he might be sure of being discovered. The slaves would soon be starting to their work--the overseer and drivers would soon be out and about. One or other could not fail to see him upon the tree! He would be lucky now to escape himself, without thinking any longer of the hammock or him who slept within its tight-drawn meshes.

While considering how he might slip unperceived from the tree he glanced once more towards the occupant of the chair. The gradually brightening dawn, which had been filling him with apprehension, now favoured him. It enabled him to perceive that the Jew was asleep!

With his head thrown back against the sloping upholstery, Jessuron had at last surrendered to the powerful divinity of dreams. His goggles were off; and Cubina could see that the wrinkled lids were closed over his sunken orbs.

Undoubtedly he was asleep. His whole attitude confirmed it. His legs lay loosely over the front of the chair--his arms hung down at the sides: and the blue umbrella rested upon the floor at his feet. This last evidence of somnolency was not even counterbalanced by the stump of a cigar, burnt close, and still sticking between his teeth!

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END OF VOLUME TWO.

Volume Three, Chapter I.

A STARTLING SUMMONS.

On the part of Cubina it was now a struggle between prudence and a desire to carry out his original programme--whether he should not go off alone, or still try to communicate with the sleeper in the hammock.

In the former case he could return to the glade, and there await the coming of Herbert Vaughan as at first fixed. But, by so doing, at least two hours would be lost; and even then, would the young Englishman be punctual to his appointment?

Even against his inclination something might occur to cause delay--a thing all the more probable, considering the circumstances that surrounded him; considering the irregularity of events in the domicile where he dwelt.

But even a delay of two hours! In that interval, Loftus Vaughan might have ceased to live!

These thoughts coursed quickly through the mind of the Maroon-- accustomed as it was to perceptions almost intuitive. He saw that he must either go by himself to Mount Welcome, or awake the sleeper at once.

Perhaps he would have decided on the former course, but that he had other motives for an interview with Herbert Vaughan, almost as immediate in their necessity as that which related to the safety of the Custos. He had as yet no reason to believe that the peril in which the planter stood was so proximate as it really was: for it never occurred to him that the departure of the two Spaniards had any other object than that which related to their calling--the capture of some runaway slave.

Had he suspected the design of the two ruffians--had he known the mission of murder on which the slave-merchant had dispatched them--he would scarce have stayed for aught else than to have provided the means of intercepting their design.

In the dark about all this, he did not believe there was such necessity for extreme haste; though he knew something was on foot against the Custos which would not allow of much loss of time.

At that moment the occupant of the hammock turned over with a yawn.

"He is going to awake!" thought Cubina; "now is my time."

To the disappointment of the Maroon, the limbs of the speaker again became relaxed; and he returned to a slumber profound as before.

"What a pity!" murmured the Maroon; "if I could only speak a word. But no. Yonder John Crow is more like to hear it than he. I shall throw something down into the hammock. Maybe that will awake him?"

Cubina drew out his tobacco-pipe. It was the only thing he could think of at the moment; and, guiding his arm with a good aim, he pitched it into the hammock.

It fell upon the breast of the sleeper. It was too light. It awoke him not.

"_Crambo_! he sleeps like an owl at noontide! What can I do to make him feel me? If I throw down my _machete_, I shall lose the weapon; and who knows I may not need it before I'm out of this scrape? Ha! one of these cocoa-nuts will do. That, I dare say, will be heavy enough to startle him."

Saying this, the Maroon bent downward; and extending his arm through the fronds beneath him, detached one of the gigantic nuts from the tree.

Poising it for a moment to secure the proper direction, he flung the ponderous fruit upon the breast of Herbert. Fortunately the sides of the hammock hindered it from falling upon the floor, else the concussion might also have awakened the sleeper in the chair.

With a start, the young Englishman awoke, at the same time raising himself upon his elbow. Herbert Vaughan was not one of the exclamatory kind, or he might have cried out. He did not, however; though the sight of the huge brown pericarp, lying between his legs, caused him considerable surprise.

"Where, in the name of Ceres and Pomona, did you rain down from?" muttered he, at the same time turning his eyes up for an answer to his classical interrogatory.

In the grey light he perceived the palm, its tall column rising majestically above him. He knew the tree well, every inch of its outlines; but the dark _silhouette_ on its top--the form of a human being _couchant_, and crouching--that was strange to him.

The light, however, was now sufficiently strong to enable him to distinguish, not only the form, but the face and features of his _ci-devant_ entertainer under the greenwood tree--the Maroon captain, Cubina!

Before he could say a word to express his astonishment, a gesture, followed by a muttered speech from the Maroon, enjoined him to silence.

"Hush! not a word, Master Vaughan!" spoke the latter, in a half whisper, at the same time that he glanced significantly along the corridor. "Slip out of your hammock, get your hat, and follow me into the forest. I have news for you--important! Life and death! Steal out; and, for your life, don't let _him_ see you!"

"Who?" inquired Herbert, also speaking in a whisper.

"Look yonder!" said the Maroon, pointing to the sleeper in the chair.

"All right! Well?"

"Meet me in the glade. Come at once--not a minute to be lost! _Those who should be dear to you are in danger_!"

"I shall come," said Herbert, making a motion to extricate himself from the hammock.

"Enough! I must be gone. You will find me under the cotton-tree."

As he said this, the Maroon forsook his seat, so long and irksomely preserved--and, sliding down the slender trunk of the palm, like a sailor descending the mainstay of his ship, he struck off at a trot, and soon disappeared amid the second growth of the old sugar plantation.

Herbert Vaughan was not slow to follow upon his track. Some disclosures of recent occurrence--so recent as the day preceding--had prepared him for a somewhat _bizarre finale_ to the fine life he had of late been leading; and he looked to the Maroon for enlightenment. But that strange speech of Cubina stimulated him more than all. "_Those who should be dear to you are in danger_!"

There was but one being in the world entitled to this description. Kate Vaughan! Could it be she?

Herbert stayed not to reflect. His hat and cloak hung in the chamber close by; and in two seconds of time both were upon him. Another second sufficed to give him possession of his gun.

He was too active, too reckless, to care for a stairway at that moment, or at that height from the ground--too prudent to descend by that which there was in front, though guarded only by a sleeper!

Laying his leg over the balustrade, he leaped to the earth below; and, following the path taken by the Maroon, like him was soon lost among the second growth of the ruinate garden.

Volume Three, Chapter II.

BLUE DICK.

In making his hurried departure from the Happy Valley, Herbert Vaughan narrowly escaped observation. A delay of ten minutes longer would have led to his design being interrupted; or, at all events, to his being questioned as to the object of his early excursion; and, in all probability, followed and watched.

He had scarce passed out of sight of the penn, when he heard the jangling tones of a swing bell--harshly reverberating upon the still air of the morning.

The sounds did not startle him. He knew it was not an alarm; only the plantation bell, summoning the slaves to enter upon their daily toil.

Knowing that it must have awakened the sleeper in the chair, he congratulated himself on his good luck at getting away, before the signal had been sounded--at the same time that it caused him to quicken his steps towards the _rendezvous_ given by the Maroon.

Cubina, though from a greater distance, had also heard the bell, and had in a similar manner interpreted the signal, though with a greater degree of uneasiness as to the effect it might have produced. He, too, had conjectured that the sounds must have awakened the sleeper in the chair.

Both had reasoned correctly. At the first "ding-dong" of the bell, the Jew had been startled from his cat-like slumber, and, rising erect in his seat, he glanced uneasily around him.

"Blesh my soul!" he exclaimed, spitting out the bit of burnt cigar that clung adheringly to his lips. "It ish broad daylight. I musht have been ashleep more ash two hours. Ach! theesh are times for a man to keep awake. The Cushtos should be on his road by thish; and if theesh Spanish hunters do their bishness as clefferly as they hash promise, he'll shleep sounder thish night ash effer he hash done before. Blesh my soul!" he again exclaimed, with an accent that betokened a change in the tenor of his thoughts. "Supposhe they make bungle of the bishness? Supposhe they should get caught in the act? Ha! what would be the reshult of that? There ish danger--shtrike me dead if there ishn't! Blesh me! I neffer thought of it," continued he, after some moments spent in reflection of an apparently anxious kind. "They might turn King'sh evidence, and implicate me--me, a shustice! To save themselves, they'd be likely to do ash much ash that. Yesh; and eefen if they didn't get taken in the act, still there ish danger. That Manuel hash a tongue ash long ash his _machete_. He'sh a prattling fool. I musht take care to get him out of the Island--both of them--ash soon ash I can."

In his apprehensions the Jew no longer included Chakra: for he was now under the belief that the dark deed would be accomplished by the Spanish assassins; and that to _steel_, not _poison_, would the Custos yield up his life.

Even should Cynthia have succeeded in administering the deadly dose--a probability on which he no longer needed to rely--even should the Custos succumb to poison, the myal-man was not to be feared. There was no danger of such a confederate declaring himself. As for Cynthia, the Jew had never dealt directly with her; and therefore she was without power to implicate him in the hellish contract.

"I musht take some shteps," said he, rising from his chair, and making a feint towards retiring to his chamber, as if to adjust his dress. "What ish besht to be done? Let me think," he added, pausing near the door, and standing in an attitude of reflection; "yesh! yesh! that's it! I musht send a messensher to Mount Welcome. Some one can go on an excushe of bishness. It will look strange, since we're such bad neighboursh of late? No matter for that. The Cushtos is gone, I hope; and Rafener can send the message to Mishter Trusty. That will bring ush newsh. Here, Rafener!" continued he, calling to his overseer, who, cart-whip in hand, was moving through the court below, "I wan't ye, Mishter Rafener!"

Ravener, uttering a grunt to signify that he had heard the summons, stepped up to the stairway of the verandah; and stood silently waiting to know for what he was wanted.

"Hash you any bishness about which you could send a messenger to Mishter Trusty--to Mount Welcome, I mean?"

"Humph! There's business a plenty for that. Them consarned hogs of the Custos has got into our corn-patch up the valley, and played pitch and toss with the young plants. Ye must get damages for it."

"That ish right--that ish right."

"Humph! You won't say it's right when once you've seen the mess they've made. We'll have a sorry show at crop time, I tell ye."

"Neffer mind that--we'll have an action. Ishe not let it pass; but joosh now I hash other bishness on hand. You send a messensher to Mishter Trusty, and tell him about it. And, harksh you, Mishter Rafener! I want this messensher to be dishcreet. I want him to find out whether the Cushtos ish at home--without making a direct ashking about it. I have heard that he ish going on a shourney; and I want to know if he hash set out yet. You undershtands me?"

"All right," replied Ravener, with an air that betokened comprehension, "All right! I'll send a fellow that'll get an answer to that question without asking it. Blue Dick can do that."

"Ah! true, Blue Dick ish the one! And, harksh you, Mishter Rafener! tell him to try if he can see the mulatta wench, Cynthy."

"What is he to say to her?"

"He ish to tell her to come ofer here, if she hash an opportunity. I wants to shpeak with _her_. But, mind ye, Mishter Rafener! Dick ish to be careful what he saysh and doesh. He musht talk with the girl _only in whishpers_."

"I'll instruct him in all that," replied the overseer, in a tone of confidence. "You want him to go now?"

"Thish minute--thish very minute. I hash a reason for being in a hurry. Send him off as soon ash you can."

Ravener, without further parley, walked off to dispatch his messenger; and a few minutes after he had gone out of the court, that yellow "complected" Mercury, known by the _sobriquet_ of "Blue Dick," was seen "streaking" it along the path which conducted from the Jew's penn to the mansion of Mount Welcome.

Volume Three, Chapter III.

THE MYSTERIOUS ABSENCE.

The brief conversation between Jessuron and his overseer had taken place _sotto voce_: as it was not desirable that it should be overheard by any one--much less by the nephew of him who was its chief subject, and who was supposed to be suspended in a hammock not ten paces from the spot.

The hammock, however, was not visible from the front stairway--being hung in that part of the verandah that extended along the other side of the house.

On the departure of Ravener from his presence, the Jew proceeded with his original intention--to put his person in order for the day.

His toilette did not take long. After a very brief absence within his room, he reappeared on the gallery in the same pocketed blue coat, breeches, and tops, that served him for all purposes and occasions. The coat was buttoned over his breast, the whitey-brown beaver once more upon his head, and the goggles adjusted on the knife-back ridge of his nose. It was evident he intended a stroll. This was all the more certain as he had regained the umbrella--which had dropped from him during sleep--and, holding it in his grasp, stood by the top of the stairway, as if on the eve of setting forth.

Whither was he going? For what purpose, so early?

His muttered soliloquy declared his design.

"It musht be to-day--yesh, I musht get them married thish very day; and before any newsh can come. The report of the Cushtos' death might shpoil all my plans. Who knowsh what the young man might do, if he hash only a hint of hish goot luck? After all, may be, Shoodith ish not so shure of him? She hash said something last night. Ha! it musht be thish day. It is no ushe going to the rector of the parish. He ish the Cushtos' friend, and might make some obsheckshun. That won't do--s'help me, no! I musht go to the other. Hee'sh poor, and won't sthand shilly-shally. Besides, hish knot would be shoost as hard to looshe as if it wash tied by the Bishop of Shamaica. He'll do; and if _he_ won't, then I knowsh one who will--for monish; ay, anything for monish!"

After this soliloquy he was about setting foot upon one of the steps with the intention of descending, when a thought appeared to strike him; and turning away from the stair, he walked with shuffling gentleness along the gallery, towards that part of the verandah where the hammock was suspended.

"I supposhe the young shentleman is shtill ashleep. Shentleman, indeed! _now_ he ish all that, or will be the next time he goesh to shleep. Well, if he ish, I mushn't dishturb him. Rich shentlemen mushn't have their shlumbers interrupted. _Ach_!"

The exclamation escaped from his lips, as, on rounding the angle of the verandah, he came within sight of the hammock.

"'Tish empty, I declare! He'sh early astir! In hish room, I supposhe?"

_Sans ceremonie_, the Jew kept on along the gallery, until he had arrived in front of his book-keeper's private apartment. There he stopped, looking inward.

The door was ajar--almost wide open. He could see the greater portion of the interior through the door; the rest of it through the jalousies. There was no one in the room--either sitting, standing, or moving about!

"Mashter Vochan! Are you there?"