Chapter XVI: Part 16

Chakra, extending one of his long arms, raised the fold from off his face; and holding it up, gazed for a moment upon the features of his hated foe, now rigid, blanched, and bloodless.

Then, as if himself becoming frightened at the form and presence of death, the savage miscreant dropped the cover quickly to its place; rose from his stooping position; and stole stealthily from the hut.

Volume Three, Chapter XIX.

TWO SPECULATIVE TRAVELLERS.

The sun was sinking out of sight into the bosom of the blue Caribbean, and the twilight, long since extended over the valley below, was now spreading its purple robe around the summit of the hill, on which stood the hut. The shadows cast by the huge forest trees were being exchanged for the more sombre shadows of the coming night; and the outlines of the hovel--now a house of death--were gradually becoming obliterated in the crepusculous obscurity.

Inside that deserted dwelling, tenanted only by the dead, reigned stillness, solemn and profound--the silence of death itself.

Outside, were sounds such as suited the solemnity of the scene: the mournful _loo-who-ah_ of the eared owl, who had already commenced quartering the aisles of the forest; while from the heaven above came the wild wail of the potoo, as the bird went across the fast-darkening sky, in search of its insect prey.

To these lugubrious utterances there was one solitary exception. More cheerful was the champing of the steel bit--proceeding from the horse that had been left tied to the tree--and the quick, impatient stroke of his hoof, as the animal fretted under the stings of the musquitoes, becoming more bitter as the darkness descended.

The body of Loftus Vaughan lay upon the bamboo bedstead, just as Chakra had left it. No hand had been there to smooth that rude pillow--no friendly finger to close those eyes that were open, and saw not--those orbs glassed and coldly glaring from their sunken sockets!

As yet the attendant had not returned with that succour which would come too late.

Nor was it possible for him to get back in much less than an hour. Content, though in actual distance scarcely a mile from the hut, was full five in point of time. The slope of the mountain road was at an angle with the horizon of at least fifty degrees. There could be no rapid riding on that road--neither up nor down, upon the most urgent errand; and the black groom was not going to risk life by a broken neck, even to save the life of a Custos.

It would be a full hour, then, before the man would return. As yet only twenty minutes had passed, and forty more were to come.

But it was not fated that even for those forty minutes the body of the Custos Vaughan should be permitted to rest in peace.

Twenty minutes had scarcely elapsed after Chakra had stolen away from the side of the corpse, when there came others to disturb it, and with a rude violence almost sufficient to arouse it from the slumber of death!

Had Chakra, on leaving the hut, only taken the main road back to Montego Bay--and that was the direction in which he intended going--he would have met two strange men. Not so strange but that they were known to him; but strange enough to arrest the attention of an ordinary traveller.

But among the proclivities of the myal-man, that of travelling along _main roads_ was one in which he did not indulge, except under the most unavoidable circumstances.

Following his usual practice, as soon as he had cleared the precincts of the negro cabin, he struck off into a by-path leading through the bushes; and by so doing lost the opportunity of an encounter with two individuals, who, although of a different nationality, were as great villains as himself.

The brace of worthies thus described are already known. They were the man-hunters of Jacob Jessuron, Manuel and Andres--_cacadores de cimmarones_ from the Island of Cuba.

With the object for which they were journeying along the Savanna road the reader is equally _au fait_. Jessuron's talk with them, on starting them off, has plainly proclaimed the vile intent of his two truculent tools.

All day long had these human bloodhounds been following upon the track of the Custos--now nearer to him--now further off--according to the halts which the traveller had made, and the relative speed of horseman and pedestrian.

More than once had they sighted their intended victim afar off on the white dusty road. But the presence of the stout negro attendant, as well as the broad open daylight, had deterred them from proceeding in their nefarious purpose; and they had postponed its execution till that time which gives opportunity to the assassin--the going down of the sun.

This hour had at length arrived; and just as the real murderer was hastening away from the hut, the intending assassins were hurrying towards it, with all the speed in their power!

"_Carrambo_!" exclaimed he who was the older, and in consequence the _leader_ of the two, "I shouldn't be surprised, Andres, if the _ingeniero_ was to slip out of our clutches to-night! Not far beyond lies Content, and the owner of that _ingenio_ is a friend of his. You remember Senor Jacob said he would be like to put up there for the night?"

"Yes," replied Andres, "the old Judio was particular about that."

"Well, if he gets there before we can overhaul him, there'll be nothing done to-night. We must take our chance on the road between that and Savanna."

"_Carajo_!" responded Andres, with somewhat spiteful emphasis; "if it wasn't for them ugly pistols he carries, and that big buck nigger by his side, we might have stopped his breath before this. Supposing he gets to Savanna before we can have a talk with him? what then, _compadre_?"

"Then," answered he thus godfatherly addressed, "then our lines won't lie in pleasant places. Savanna's a big city; and it isn't so easy to murder a man in the street of a town as among these trees. People prowling about have tongues, where the trees haven't; and fifty pounds, Jamaica money, a'nt much for killing a man--more especially a _Custos_, as they call him. _Carajo_! we must take care, or we may get our necks twisted for this simple trick! These Custoses are like our _alcaldes_-- kill one, and a dozen others will spring up to prosecute you."

"But what," inquired Andres, who, although the younger of the two, appeared to be gifted with a greater degree of prudence than his companion--"what if we don't find a chance--even in Savanna?"

"Then," replied the other, "we stand a good chance of losing our fifty pounds--shabby currency as it is."

"How that, Manuel?"

"How that? Why, because the _ingeniero_, once in Savanna, will take ship and travel by sea. The _dueno_ said so. If he do that, we may bid adieu to him; for I wouldn't make another sea-voyage for five times fifty pounds. That we had from Batabano was enough to last me for my life. _Carajo_! I thought it was the _vomito prieto_ that had seized upon me. But for the fear of another such puking spell I'd have gone home with the rest, instead of staying in this nest of Jews and nigger-drivers; and how I'm ever to get back to Batabano, let alone making a voyage for the purpose of--"

The Cubano refrained from finishing his speech--not from any delicacy he had about declaring the purpose, but because he knew that the declaration would be supererogatory to an associate who already comprehended it.

"In that case," counselled the more sagacious Andres, "we must finish our business before Savanna comes in sight. Perhaps, _compadre_, by pushing on rapidly now, we may overtake the party before they get anchored in Content?"

"You're right, _hombre_; you're right about that. Let us, as you say, push on; and, if it suits you as it does me, let our motto be, `_Noche o nunca_' (this night or never)!"

"_Vamos_!" rejoined Andres; and the assassins increased their speed, as if stimulated by the fear of losing their prey.

Volume Three, Chapter XX.

NO BLOOD.

The sun had already hidden his red disc under the sea horizon, when the man-hunters mounted the hill, and approached the hut where Custos Vaughan had been compelled to make halt, and in which he was now lying lifeless.

"_Mira_, Manuel!" said Andres, as they came within sight of the hovel, and at the same instant saw the horse standing tied to the tree; "_un cavallo_! saddled, bridled, and with _alforjas_!"

"A traveller's horse!" rejoined Manuel, "and that very traveller we've been tracking. Yes! it's the horse of the great alcalde of Mount Welcome! Don't you remember, when we saw them before us at mid-day, that one of the horses was a bay, and the other a grey? There's the grey, and it was on that very animal the Custos was riding."

"Quite true, _compadre_; but where's the other?"

"Maybe among the trees, or tied round the other side of the hut. The riders must be inside."

"Both, do you think, Manuel?"

"Of course, both; though where Blackskin's horse can be is more than I can say. _Carrambo_! what's halted them here? There's nobody lives in the ranche. I know that: I came this way about a week ago and it had no tenant then. Besides, the _ingenio_ where he was to put up for the night is just below. What, in the name of Saint Mary, has stopped them here?"

"_Por Dios, compadre_!" said the younger of the two _cacadores_, looking significantly at the saddlebags still hanging over the cantle of the Custos's saddle. "There ought to be something valuable in those _alforjas_?"

"_Caval_! you're right; but we mustn't think of that just yet, _camarado_! After the other's done, then we shall have the opportunity--I wonder whether they're both inside? It's very odd we don't see the negro's horse!"

"Ha!" rejoined Andres, apparently struck with an idea. "What if he's gone on to the plantation for some purpose? Suppose an accident has happened to the Custos's steed, or, _carrai_! suppose he's himself taken sick? You remember the man we met, who told us about them ugly pistols--he said that one of the travellers--the white man--looked sick. Didn't the fellow say he saw him puking?"

"_Por Dios_! he did. As you say, there may be something in it. If Blackskin's out of the way, now's our time; for there is more to be feared from that big buck nigger than his master, when it comes to a struggle. If it should prove that the Custos is sick--I hope it is so-- he won't be in a condition to make much use of his weapons; and _carrambo_! we must get hold of them before he knows what we're after!"

"Hadn't we better go round first?" counselled the sagacious Andres. "Let us explore the back of the hut, and see whether the other horse is there. If he's not, then certainly the negro's gone off on some errand! We can steal through the bushes to the other side, and get right up to the walls without any danger of being seen!"

"That's our plan, _camarado_. Let's lose no time, then, for, if it be so that Blackskin's abroad, we're in luck. We mayn't find such another chance--not between here and the world's end. Follow me, _hombre_! and set down your feet as if you were stepping upon eggs with young birds in them. _Vamos_!"

So saying, the chief of the two _cacadores_ skulked in among the trees, closely followed by his companion.

After making a circuit through the underwood, the assassins stole silently in towards the back of the hovel.

They saw no other horse--only the grey, which stood tied to the tree in front. The bay was gone, and in all probability his rider. Andres already congratulated himself upon his conjecture being correct: the negro had ridden off upon some errand.

This was put beyond all doubt by their perceiving the fresh tracks of a horse, leading away from the hut along the road towards Content. The hoof-prints were so plain as to be visible at some distance. The turf on the road-edge was torn up, and deeply indented--where the negro groom had urged his horse into a gallop.

The assassins saw this, even without returning to the road; and were now satisfied that the attendant was gone away. It only remained to make sure that the traveller himself was inside the hut.

Creeping cautiously up to the wall, the _cacadores_ peeped through the unclayed chinks of the cabin.

At first the darkness inside hindered them from distinguishing any object in particular. Presently, as their eyes grew more accustomed to the obscurity, they succeeded in making out the bamboo bedstead in the corner, with something that resembled the figure of a man stretched lengthwise upon it. A dark cloak covered the form, the face as well; but the feet, booted and spurred, protruding from under the cover, told that it was a man who was lying in that outstretched attitude--the man who was to be murdered!

He appeared to be sound asleep: there was no motion perceptible--not even as much as would indicate that he breathed!

Lying on the floor, at some distance from the couch, was a hat, and beside it a pair of pistols, in their holsters--as if the traveller had unbuckled them from his belt, and flung them down, before going to sleep. Even if awake he could scarce get hold of the pistols, before his assailants could spring upon him.

The assassins looked towards one another with a significant glance. The fates appeared to favour their attempt; and, as both on the instant were actuated by the same sanguinary instinct, they leaped simultaneously to their feet, drew their sharp _machetes_, and rushed together through the doorway.

"_Matelo! matelo_!" (kill him!) cried both, in the same voice, each with a view of encouraging the other; and, as they uttered the cruel cry, they buried the blades in the body of the unresisting traveller-- stabbing it repeatedly through the cloak.

Convinced that they had finished their bloody work, the murderers were about to rush out again--probably with an eye to the saddlebags outside, when it occurred to them as strange that the victim of their hired villainy should have kept so quiet. In their frenzied excitement--while dealing what they supposed to be his death-blows--they had not stopped to notice anything odd in the behaviour of the man whom they were murdering. Now that the deed was done, and they could reflect more coolly, a sudden surprise seized upon them--springing from the circumstance that the wretched man had made not the slightest motion-- had neither stirred nor cried out! Perhaps the first stab had gone right through his heart: for it was so intended by Andres, who had given it. But even that does not produce instantaneous death, and the man-hunters knew it. Besides, on the blade of Andres' _machete_, as well as that of his comrade, _there was no blood_!

It was very strange. Could the cloak or under-garments have wiped it off? Partially they might, but not altogether! Their blades were wet, but not with blood--of that they showed scarce a stain!

"It's a queer thing, comrade," exclaimed Manuel. "I could almost fancy--_Vaya_! Lift the cloak, and let's have a look at him."

The other, stepping closer to the couch, stooped forward, and raised the fold of the camlet from the face of the murdered man.

As he did so, his hand came in contact with the cold skin, while his glance fell upon the stiffened features of a corpse--upon eyes whose dull, blank film showed that the light had long since forsaken them!

The assassin stayed not for a second look. With a cry of terror he let go the garment; and rushed towards the door, followed by his equally terrified companion.

In another moment both would have escaped outside; and perhaps have taken the back track, without thinking any more about the saddlebags; but just as Andres had set foot upon the door-sill, he saw before him something that caused him to pull up, and with a precipitancy that brought his comrade with a violent concussion against his back.

The something which had led to this sudden interruption was the presence of three men, standing in a triangular row, scarce five paces from the door. Each was holding a gun, in such position, that its dark, hollow tube was visible to the eyes of the assassin--pointing directly upon himself.

The three men were of three distinct colours--white, yellow, and black; all three known to the man-hunter and his companion. They were Herbert Vaughan, Cubina, captain of Maroons, and Quaco, his lieutenant.

Volume Three, Chapter XXI.

THE CAPTURE OF THE CACADORES.

The black, though presumably the lowest in rank, was the first to break speech.

"No, ye don't!" cried he, moving his musket up and down, while still keeping it levelled upon the foremost of the _cacadores_. "No, Mister Jack Spaniard, not a foot d'you set outside that door till we see what you've been a-doin' 'ithin there. Steady, now, or thar's an ounce of lead into yer garlicky inside! Steady!"

"Surrender!" commanded Cubina, in a firm, authoritative voice, and with a threatening gesture, which, though less demonstrative than that of his lieutenant, was equally indicative of determination. "Drop your _machetes_, and yield at once! Resistance will only cost you your lives."

"Come, my Spanish worthies," said Herbert, "you know me! I advise you to do as you're bid. If there's nothing against you, I promise no harm--Ha! 'ware heels!" he continued, in sharp haste, observing that the Spaniards were looking over their shoulders, as if intending to escape by the back of the hut. "Don't attempt to run away. You'll be caught, no matter how fast you go. I've got two barrels here; and each is good for a bird on the wing. Show your backs, and they'll be preciously peppered, I promise you."

"_Carajo_!" hissed out the older of the _cacadores_. "What do you want with us?"

"Ay!" added the other, in a tone of innocent reproach; "what have we been doing to make all this _fanfaron_ about?"

"What have you been doing?" rejoined the Maroon captain: "that's just what we desire to know, and are determined upon knowing."

"There is nothing to be known," answered the man, speaking with an air of assumed simplicity; "at the least, nothing that's very particular. We were on our way to Savanna--me and my comrade here--"

"Stach yer palaver!" cried Quaco, becoming impatient, and pushing the muzzle of his musket within an inch of the Spaniard's ribs. "Did ye hear the cappen tell ye to drop yer toastin' forks and surrender? Down with 'em this minnit, I say, an' do yer jaw-waggin' atterwards!"

Thus threatened, either with a poke in the ribs, or, perhaps, a bullet between them, Andres sulkily let fall his _machete_ upon the floor--an action that was instantly imitated by his senior and superior.

"Now, my braves!" proceeded the black lieutenant, still holding his huge gun to the Spaniard's breast; "lest ye mout be wantin' to gie us leg-bail, you muss submit to be trussed a trifle. Down upon yer behinds, both o' ye; and keep that way till I get the cords and skewers ready."

The _cacadores_ perfectly understood the order; and, perceiving that there was no chance for disobedience, squatted down upon the floor--each on the spot where he had been standing.

Quaco now picked up the two _machetes_, placing them beyond the reach of their _ci-devant_ owners. Then, handing his great gun over to the care of Cubina--who with Herbert was left to guard the prisoners--he walked off to a short distance among the trees.

Presently he returned, trailing after him a long creeping plant that resembled a piece of cord, and carrying two short sticks, each about three feet in length.

All this was accomplished with as much celerity, and in as brief a space of time, as if he had simply taken the articles from an adjacent store-room.

Meanwhile, Cubina and Herbert had kept their guns still pointed upon the two _cacadores_: for it was evident that the villains were most eager to get off; and as it was now nearly night, had the least chance been allowed them, they might have succeeded in escaping through the darkness.

Their captors were determined they should have no chance: for although neither Herbert nor Cubina could see into the obscure interior of the cabin, and were as yet ignorant of the fearful spectacle that there awaited them, they had reason to suspect that the Spaniards had either intended some dark deed, or had already committed it. They had learnt something along the road of the progress of the _cacadores_, and their mode of journeying, which, to more than one whom they met, had appeared mysterious.

The horse standing tied to the tree--caparisoned as he was for travel-- that was the most suspicious circumstance of all. Though none of the three pursuers recognised the animal as belonging to Custos Vaughan, as soon as they set eyes upon it they had felt a presentiment that they had arrived too late.

The wild haste with which the Spaniards were rushing from the cabin when intercepted at the door, almost confirmed their unpleasant foreboding; and before any of the three had entered the hut, they were half prepared to find that it contained a corpse--perhaps more than one, for the disappearance of Pluto was not yet explained.

Quaco, habile in handling cordage of all kinds, more especially the many sorts of supple withes with which the trees of a Jamaica forest are laced together, soon tied the two Spaniards wrist to wrist, and ankle to ankle, as tightly as could have been done by the most accomplished gaoler. A long practice in binding runaway blacks had made Quaco an expert in that department, which, indeed, constitutes part of the professional training of a Maroon.

The captors had already entered within the cabin, now dark as death itself. For some moments they stood upon the floor, their eyes endeavouring to read the gloom around them. Silent they stood--so still, that they could hear their own breathing, with that of the two prisoners upon the floor. At length, in the corner, they could dimly make out something like the form of a man lying stretched upon a low bedstead.

Quaco, though not without some trepidation, approached it. Stooping down, he applied his hand to it with cautious touch.

"A man!" muttered he: "eyther asleep or dead.

"Dead!" he ejaculated the instant after, as, in groping about, his fingers chanced to fall upon the chill forehead--"dead and cold!"

Cubina and Herbert stepping forward, and stooping over the corpse, verified the assertion of Quaco.

Whose body was it? It might not be that of Loftus Vaughan! It might be the black attendant, Pluto!

No! it was not a black man. It needed no light to show that. The touch of the hair was sufficient to tell that a white man lay dead upon the couch.

"Catch me one of those _cocuyos_!" said the Maroon captain, speaking to his lieutenant.

Quaco stepped outside the hut. Low down along the verge of the forest were flitting little sparks, that appeared to be a galaxy of stars in motion. These were the _lampyridae_, or small fire-flies. It was not with these Quaco had to do. Here and there, at longer intervals, could be seen much larger sparks, of a golden green colour. It was the great winged beetle--the _cocuyo_ [Pyrophorus Nectilucus.]--that emitted this lovely light.

Doffing his old hat-crown, Quaco used it as an insect-net; and, after a few strokes, succeeded in capturing a _cocuyo_.

With this he returned into the hut, and, crossing over, held it near the head of the corpse.

He did not content himself with the gold green light which the insect emits from the two eyelike tubercles on its thorax. The forest-craft of Quaco enabled him to produce a brighter and better.

Holding open the elytra with his fingers, and bending back the abdomen with his thumb, he exposed that oval disc of orange light--only seen when the insect is on the wing.

A circle of a yard in diameter was illuminated by the phosphoric glow. In that circle was the face of a dead man; and sufficiently bright was the lamp of the _cocuyo_, to enable the spectators to identify the ghastly lineaments as those of the Custos Vaughan.

Volume Three, Chapter XXII.

A DOUBLE MURDER.

None of the three started or felt surprise. That had been gradually passing: for before this their presentiment had become almost a conviction.

Quaco simply uttered one of those exclamations that proclaim a climax; Cubina felt chagrined--disappointed in more ways than one; while Herbert gave way to grief--though less than he might have done, had his relative more deserved his sorrow.

It was natural they should inquire into the circumstances of the Custos's death. Now, firmly believing he had been murdered, and by the _cacadores_, they proceeded to make an examination of the body.

Mystery of mysteries! a dozen stabs by some sharp instrument, and no blood! Wounds through the breast, the abdomen, the heart--all clean cut punctures, and yet no gore--no extravasation!

"Who gave the stabs? you did this, you wretches!" cried Herbert, turning fiercely upon the _employes_ of Jessuron.

"_Carrambo_! why should we do such a thing, master?" innocently inquired Andres. "The alcalde was dead before we came up."

"Spanish palaver!" cried Quaco. "Look at these blades!" he continued, taking up the two _machetes_, "they're wet now! 'Ta'nt blood azzactly; but somethin'--. See," he exclaimed, holding his _cocuyo_ over the wounds, and presenting one of the _machetes_ to the light, "they fit to these holes like a cork to a bottle. 'Twere they that made em, nothin' but they, an' you did it, ye ugly skinks!"

"By the Virgin, Senor Quaco!" replied Andres, "you wrong us. I'll swear on the holy evangelists, _we_ didn't kill the alcalde--Custos, I mean. _Carrambo_! no. We were as much surprised as any of you, when we came in here and found him lying dead--just as he is now."

There was an air of sincerity in the declaration of the wretch that rendered it difficult to believe in his guilt--that is, the guilt of him and his companion as the real murderers, though their intention to have been so was clear enough to Cubina.

"_Crambo_! why did you stab him?" said he to the two prisoners. "You need not deny that you did that."

"Senor capitan," answered the crafty Andres, who in all delicate questions appeared to be spokesman, "we won't deny that. It is true--I confess it with shame--that we did run our blades once or twice through the body."

"A dozen times, you John Crow!" corrected Quaco.

"Well, Senor Quaco," continued the Spaniard, "I won't be particular about the number. There may have been a thrust or two less, or more. It was all a whim of my comrade, Manuel, here--a little bit of a wager between us."

"A wager for what?" asked Herbert.

"Well, you see, master, we'd been journeying, as I've said already, to Savanna. We saw the horse tied outside this little rancho, and thought we would go in and see who was inside. _Carrambo_! what should we see but the body of a dead man lying stretched out on the bamboos! _Santissima! Senores_, we were as much startled as you!"

"Terribly surprised, I suppose?" sarcastically spoke Cubina.

"Nearly out of our senses, I assure you, senor."

"Go on, you wretch!" commanded Herbert. "Let us hear what tale you have to tell."

"Well!" said the _cacadore_, resuming his narration, "after a while we got a little over our fright--as one naturally does, you know--and then Manuel says to me, `Andres!' `What is it, Manuel?' said I. `Do you think,' said he, `that blood would run out of a dead body?' `Certainly not,' said I; `not a drop.' `I'll bet you five pesos it will,' challenged my _camarado_. `Done!' said I; and then, to settle the thing, we--I acknowledge it--did run our _machetes_ through the body of the Custos--of course, we could do him no harm then."

"Monsters!" exclaimed Herbert; "it was almost as bad as killing him! What a horrid tale! Ha! you wretches, notwithstanding its ingenuity, it'll not save your necks from a halter!"

"Oh, senorito," said Andres, appealingly, "we've done nothing to deserve that. I can assure you we are both right sorry for what we've done. Ain't you sorry, Manuel?"

"_Carrai_! that I am," earnestly answered Manuel.

"We both regretted it afterwards," continued Andres, "and to make up for what we had done, we took the cloak and spread it decently over the body--in order that the poor alcalde should rest in peace."

"Liar!" cried Quaco, throwing the light of his _cocuyo_ on the corpse. "You did no such thing; you stabbed him _through_ the cloak. Look there!"

And as Quaco gave this indignant denial, he pointed to the cuts in the cloth to prove the falsehood of the Spaniard's statement.

"_Carrai-ai-i_!" stammered out the confounded Andres. "Sure enough there's a cut or two. Oh, now I recollect: we first covered him up. It was after we did that, we then made the bet--didn't we, Manuel?"

Manuel's reply was not heard: for at that instant the hoof-strokes of horses were heard in front of the hut; and the shadowy forms of two horsemen could be distinguished just outside the doorway.

It was the black groom, who had returned from Content, accompanied by the overseer of the estate.

Shortly after a number of negroes appeared on foot, carrying a stretcher.

Their purpose was to convey the sick man to Content.

Circumstances had occurred to make a change in the character of their duty.

Volume Three, Chapter XXIII.

CHAKRA ON THE BACK TRACK.

Of the three magistrates who condemned the Coromantee, one had been slumbering in his grave for six months; the second, about that number of days; and the third--the great Custos himself--was now a corpse!

Of all three had the myal-man been the murderer; though in the case of the first two there had been no suspicion of foul play, or, at least, not enough to challenge inquest or investigation. Both had died of lingering diseases, bearing a certain resemblance to each other; and though partaking very much of the nature of a wasting, intermittent fever, yet exhibiting symptoms that were new and strange--so strange as to baffle the skill of the Jamaican disciples of Aesculapius.

About the death of either one Chakra had not felt the slightest apprehension--nor would he even had an investigation arisen. In neither murder had his hand appeared. Both had been accomplished by the invisible agency of Obi, that at this period held mysterious existence on every plantation in the Island.

With the assassination of the Custos, however, it was different. Circumstances had caused that event to be hurried, and there was danger--as Chakra himself had admitted--that the spell of Obi might be mistaken for a spell of poison. A death so sudden, and by natural causes inexplicable, would, undoubtedly, provoke speculation, and lead to the opening and examining of the body.

Chakra knew that inside would be found something stronger than even the sap of the Savanna flower or the branched _calalue_; and that in all probability the malady to which the Custos had succumbed would be pronounced _murder_.

With this upon his mind, he was not without apprehension--his fears pointing to Cynthia.

Not that he suspected the _honesty_ of his confederate; but only that her _consistency_ might be too weak to withstand the cross-questioning of a coroner.

Fearing this, he had scarce got out of sight of the Custos's corpse before he commenced contriving how Cynthia's tongue could be tied--in other words, how the mulatta was to be made away with.

Upon this design his thoughts were for the moment bent.

He had less, if any, apprehension about his other accomplice in the crime. He fancied that Jessuron was himself too deeply dyed to point out the spots upon his fellow-conspirator; and this rendered him confident of secrecy on the part of the Jew.

Neither did he dwell long upon the danger to be apprehended from Cynthia, and so trivial a matter as the silencing of her tongue soon became obliterated or blended with another and far more important project, to the execution of which he was now hastening.

On leaving the hut where lay the dead body of his victim, he had taken to by-paths and bushes. Only for a short time did he keep to these. The twilight rapidly darkening into night left the highway free to him; and, availing himself of this privilege, he returned to it--showing by his hurried steps, as he regained the road, that he was glad to escape from a circuitous path.

His face once more set towards the Trelawney hills, he walked in silence, and with a rapidity scarce credible--his long, ape-like legs, split trestle fashion to the centre of his body, enabling him to glide over the ground almost as fast as a mule could mince.

Whenever anyone appeared upon the road before him, he adopted his customary plan of betaking himself to the bushes until they had passed; but when travellers chanced to be going the same way--which more than once did happen--he avoided an encounter by making a circuit through the woods, and coming out far ahead of them.

The trouble thus taken to gain time, as well as the earnest manner with which the myal-man was hastening forward, proved that the crime just committed was not the crisis of Chakra's villainies; but that some other evil purpose--to him of equal or greater import--was yet before him; and soon to be achieved, or, at least, attempted.

Following back the main route between Savanna-la-Mer and the Bay, he at length arrived at the Carrion Crow Road, and, after traversing this for some distance, came within view of the Jumbe Rock, now glancing with vitreous sheen in the clear moonlight.

Almost as soon as he had caught sight of the well-known land-mark, he forsook the road; and struck off into a by-path that led through the woods.

This path, trending diagonally up the side of the Jumbe mountain, and passing near the base of the rock, was the same which Herbert Vaughan and the two Maroons had traversed on their way from the Happy Valley on that same morning.

Chakra, however, knew nothing of this; nor aught either of the design or expedition of Cubina and his comrades. Equally ignorant was he of the errand on which Jessuron had dispatched his Cuban emissaries--by way of having his bow twice stringed.

The Coromantee, fancying himself the only player in that game of murder, had no idea that there were others interested in it as much as he; and although once or twice during the day he had seen men moving suspiciously behind him along the road, it had never occurred to him who they were--much less that they had been deputed to complete his own job, should the "spell" fail to prove sufficiently potent.

A somewhat long _detour_--which he had taken after leaving the hut--had brought him out on the main road behind both parties; and thus had he remained ignorant of their proximity, at the same time that he had himself escaped the observation both of the villains who intended to assassinate the Custos, and of the men who were pressing forward to save him.

Still continuing his rapid stride, Chakra climbed the mountain slope, with the agility of one accustomed to the most difficult paths.

On arriving under the Jumbe Rock, he halted--not with any intention of remaining there, but only to consider.

He looked up towards the summit of the cliff, in whose dark shadow he was standing; and then, raising his eyes still higher, he gazed for a short while upon the sky. His glance betrayed that interrogative scrutiny characteristic of one who, not being furnished with a watch, endeavours to ascertain the time. Chakra needed no watch. By day, the sun was sufficient to inform him of the hour; by night the stars, which were old and familiar acquaintances.

The sinking of Orion towards the silvered surface of the sea told him that in two hours, or thereabout, no stars would be seen.

"Kupple ob hour!" muttered he, after making the observation; "woan do-- woan do. By de time I get to de Duppy Hole fo' de lamp, an' den back to de rock fo' fix um--It woan do! Adam an' his men de better part ob an hour 'fore dey ked climb up hya; an' den it be daylight. _Daat_ woan do nohow. Muss be done in de night, else we git follered, an' de Duppy Hole no longer safe 'treat fo' Chakra. Mussent risk dat, whasomebber a do.

"Whugh!" he continued, after reflecting a moment, and with a look of villainous chagrin overspreading his countenance; "'tam a piece of cuss crooked luck fo' me no' be hya 'bout two hour soona. Dat 'ud 'a been s'fishint to got 'em all up in time; an' dar wud den a been gobs o' time to 'complish de whole bizness.

"Nebba mind!" cried he, after a pause, and rousing himself from the attitude of reflection; "nebba mind, ye old Coromantee fool! 'morra night do jess as well. Den dar be plenty ob time. 'Taint like dey get de dead corpus ob de Cussus back to de Buff afore two, tree day; an' ef dat ere nigga fotch de news, it do no harm. Maybe do good, in de 'fusion it make 'bout de place. Nebba mind. It be all right fo' 'morr' night. 'Fore dis time ob de mornin' de Lilly Quasheba--de beau'ful dauter ob dat proud quaderoom--she sleep in de 'brace o' ole Chakra de myal-man. Whugh!

"Two hour 'fore day," added he, after a longer pause, in which he appeared to gloat over his fiendish expectations; "two hour. I'se jess hab time go down to de Jew penn, an' den back to de Duppy Hole 'fore daylight. Dat ole sinner, he want know what's a been done; an' a want get de balance ob dat fifty poun'. A mout stan' need ob de money, now a's a-gwine ta hab a wife, an' take to de keepin' ob a 'tablishment. Ha! ha! ha!"

And as he gave utterance to the laugh, the prospective bridegroom once more put his hideous form in motion, and followed the path leading to the Jew's penn.

Volume Three, Chapter XXIV.

THE VIGIL OF LOVE AND THE VIGIL OF JEALOUSY.

Yola, true to her tryst, set forth to meet her beloved Maroon. The hour of midnight was the time that had been appointed; but, in order to secure punctuality, she took her departure from Mount Welcome long before that hour--leaving herself ample time to reach the rendezvous.

Of late these after-night expeditions had become known to Miss Vaughan, and their object as well. To her young mistress, the Foolah maiden had confessed her _penchant_ for Cubina--her belief of its being reciprocated; in short, had told the whole story of her love.

Common report spoke well of the young Maroon captain--Yola warmly; and as everything contributed to proclaim his intentions honourable, Miss Vaughan made no objection to his meetings with her maid.

There was something in her own sentiments to incline her to this liberal line of conduct. The young creole could sympathise with hearts that truly loved--all the better that, by experience, her own heart had learnt the bitterness of being thwarted.

At all times, therefore--so far as she was concerned--the brown-skinned sweetheart of Cubina had free leave to meet her lover.

On that particular night permission was granted to the maid more freely than ever, since, for a certain reason, the mistress herself desired the interview to take place.

The reason may be guessed without difficulty. On the previous night Cubina had thrown out a hint, which his sweetheart had communicated to her mistress.

She had spoken of some news he might have that would interest the latter; and although there was nothing definite in that, still the hint had led to an indulgence in speculations--vague as dreams, it is true, but tinged with a certain sweetness.

Kate knew something of the romantic friendship that had been established between Herbert and Cubina. Yola had long ago told her of this--as well as the incident that had given origin to it. Perhaps that knowledge may explain the interest, almost amounting to anxiety, she now felt to ascertain the nature of the communication which the Maroon had hypothetically promised to make.

It was only in the afternoon of the day--after the excursion to the Jumbe Rock--that the maid had imparted this piece of intelligence to her mistress: and the altered demeanour of the latter during the rest of the evening proved how interesting it must have been to her. Her anxiety was scarce of the sorrowful kind, but rather tinged with an air of cheerfulness--as if some secret instinct had infused into her spirit a certain buoyancy--as if on the dark horizon of her future there was still lingering, or had suddenly arisen, a faint ray of hope.

Yola had not told all she knew. She said nothing of certain surmises that had escaped the lips of Cubina. With a woman's tact, she perceived that these, being only conjectural, might excite false hopes in the breast of her young mistress: for whom the girl felt a true affection. In fear of this, she kept back the allusion to the marriage of Herbert and Judith, and its probable failure, which Cubina had so emphatically illustrated by a proverb.

Yola intended this reserve to be only temporary--only until after her next meeting with her lover--from which she hoped to return with a fuller power of explaining it.

Neither had she made known to her mistress the circumstance of having seen Cynthia in company with the Jew, and the conference that had occurred between them, overheard by herself and Cubina--much less the suspicions to which the latter had given expression.

Under the apprehension that a knowledge of these strange facts and suspicions might trouble her young mistress, she had withheld them.

The young Creole had not retired to rest when Yola took her departure from the house, nor yet for long after. Anxious to know the result of the interview between her maid and the Maroon, she remained awake within her chamber--burning the midnight lamp far into the hours of morning.

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Notwithstanding the more than permission that had been accorded to her, the princess-slave stole softly from the house--passing the precincts of the mansion, and traversing the grounds outside with considerable caution. This partly arose from the habit of that half-barbaric life, to which, in her own country and from earliest childhood, she had been accustomed. But there was also, perhaps, some suspicion of present danger, or, at all events, that fear of interruption natural to one on the way to keep an appointment of the kind towards which she was now betaking herself.

From whatever motive sprung her cautious behaviour, it was not sufficient to prevent her departure from being observed; nor did it enable her to perceive that thing of woman's shape that, like an evil shadow, flitted after her across the fields, and went following her along the forest path.

Whenever she turned it also turned, only not preserving an erect bearing, nor going in the same continuous gait; but every now and then pausing upon the path, sometimes in crouched attitude, as if seeking concealment under the shadow of the bushes--then gliding rapidly onward to make stop as before.

After having got beyond the surroundings of the house, and some distance into the pimento forest, the Foolah walked with more freedom--as if no longer fearing interruption. She was, therefore, less likely to perceive that ill-omened shadow, that still continued on her track-- following, as before, by a series of progressive traverses, and in death-like silence.

On reaching the glade, the young girl advanced towards the _ceiba_, and took her stand within its shadow--on a spot, in her eyes, "hallowed down to earth's profound, and up to heaven."

She merely glanced round to satisfy herself that Cubina was not there. She scarce expected him yet. The hour, though late, was earlier than the time appointed. It had not yet gone twelve--else she would have heard the plantation clock announcing it.

Allowing her eyes to drop to the ground at her feet, she stood for some minutes buried in a reverie of reflection--a sweet reverie, as befitted her situation of pleasant expectancy.

She was startled from this abstraction by the behaviour of a bird--a scarlet tanager, that rose, fluttering and frightened, out of a small clump of bushes about ten paces from the _ceiba_, and in which it had been reposing.

The bird, uttering a cry of alarm, forsook the shelter, and flew off into the forest.

Yola could see nothing that should have caused the creature to make so abrupt a departure from its roosting-place. Her own presence could scarce have been the cause: since she had been some minutes upon the ground, and standing in tranquil _pose_. Some of its natural enemies had frayed the bird? Perhaps a rat, an owl, or a serpent? Thus reasoned she; and was so satisfied.

If, instead of contenting herself with this conjecture, she had stepped ten paces forward, and looked into the little copse, she would have seen there something very different from any of the three creatures her fancy had conjured up. She would have seen the form of a woman crouching within the shadow, with features set in suppressed rage, and eyes glowing indignantly upon herself. Easily, too, would she have recognised the face as that of her fellow-slave, Cynthia!

But she saw it not, though Cynthia saw her--though for hours did the two remain in this singular juxtaposition--one occupied with the vigil of love, the other absorbed in the vigil of jealousy.

For long hours did the Foolah maid wait for the coming of her beloved Cubina--her ear keenly bent to catch any sound that might announce his approach; her bosom every moment becoming more and more a prey to painful impatience.

Equally long stayed the spy in her place of concealment--equally suffering torture from jealous imaginings.

To both it was a relief, when a footstep upon the path, and a rustling of branches, proclaimed the approach of some one towards the spot. It was but a momentary relief, mocking the anticipations of both--thwarting the joy of the one, and the vengeful design of the other.

Instead of the expected lover, a very different personage made his appearance; and almost at the same instant another, coming from the opposite side.

Both, at the same time, advanced towards the middle of the glade; and, without exchanging a word, stopped face to face near the _ceiba_, as if they had met by appointment.

They were out in the open ground, and under the full light of the moon. Both were men, and the faces of both could be distinctly seen.

Yola knew only one of them, and the sight of him hindered her from staying to look upon the other. She merely glanced at a countenance that was fearful--though not more fearful to her than the one she had already recognised, and which had at once determined her to get away from the ground.

Keeping the great trunk between herself and the new comers, and retreating silently under its shadow, she glided back into the underwood of the forest, and was soon far from the presence of the two intruders, who had brought her long and vain vigil to such an unsatisfactory termination.

Cynthia could not have followed her example, even had she been so inclined. The two men had stopped within six paces of the spot in which she lay concealed. On every side of it the ground was clear of cover, with the moon shining full upon it. A cat could not have crept out of the copse without attracting the attention of one or the other.

Cynthia knew both the men--was the confederate of both--though not without fearing them.

At first sight of them she would have discovered herself, but disliked to come under the observation of her rival. Afterwards, when the two men had entered into conversation, she was held in her place by a dread of a different kind. She had already overheard part of what they were saying; and she feared they might punish her for eavesdropping, involuntary though it was.

Better for Cynthia had she then declared herself; but dreaming not of discovery, or the fearful fate that might be involved in it, she determined to be still, and listen to the dark dialogue to its ending.

Volume Three, Chapter XXV.

CYNTHIA IN TROUBLE.

The two men who had thus interrupted the silent tableau by the _ceiba_ tree were Jacob Jessuron and Chakra the Coromantee.

Just at the time that Chakra departed from the Jumbe Rock to pay his nocturnal visit to the Jew, the latter was leaving his penn to honour the Coromantee with a similar call.

As both were travelling the same path, and in adverse directions, it was more than probable--a necessity, in fact--that each should meet the other before reaching the end of his journey. Also, as the glade, where stood the great _ceiba_, was on the same path, and midway between the Jumbe Rock and the Jew's penn, it was natural this encounter should take place not far from that noted trysting-place. In effect, it occurred within the glade: the two men having entered it almost at the same instant of time.

The Jew had got first into the open ground, and was first seen. The myal-man might have had these advantages had he wished: he had been the first to arrive on the edge of the opening; but, true to his instinct of caution, he had kept under cover until making a reconnoissance, in which he saw and recognised his advancing _vis-a-vis_.

They met near the middle of the glade, just outside the shadow of the great tree, stopping face to face when within a pace or two of each other. Not the slightest salutation was exchanged between the two men-- any more than if they had been two tigers who had just come together in the jungle. The secret compact between them precluded the necessity for compliment or palaver. Each understood the other; and not a word was spoken to introduce the dialogue except that which was pertinent to the business between them.

"Well, goot Shakra! you hash news for me?" interrogated the Jew, taking the initiative in the conversation. "You hash been in the direction of Savanna? Ish all right on the road?"

"Whugh!" vociferated the myal-man, throwing out his breast and jerking up his shoulders with an air of triumphant importance. "All right, eh? Well, not azzackly on de road, but by de side ob daat same, dar lie a corp', wich by dis time oughter be as cold as de heart ob a water-millyum, an' 'tiff as--'tiff as--as--de 'keleton ob ole Chakra. Ha! ha! ha!"

And the speaker uttered a peal of fierce laughter at the simile he had had so much difficulty in conceiving; but which, when found, recalled the sweet triumph of his vengeance.

"Blesh my soul! Then it ish all over?"

"Daat's all ober--Ise be boun'."

"And the shpell did it? There wash no need--"

With a start the Jew paused in his speech, as if about to say something he had not intended; and which had been very near escaping him.

"There wash no need--no need for you to haf gone after?"

This was evidently not the question originally upon his tongue.

"No need!" repeated Chakra, a little puzzled at the interrogatory; "no need, so far as dat war consarned. Ob coos de 'pell did de work, as a knowd it wud, an' jess as a told you it wud. 'Twan't fo' dat a went arter, but a puppos ob my own. Who tole ye, Massr Jake, dat I wor gone arter?"

"Goot Shakra, I washn't quite sure till now. The wench Cynthy thought ash how you had followed the Cushtos."

"Whugh! dat 'ere gal talk too much. She hab her tongue 'topped 'fore long. She _muss_ hab her tongue 'topp, else she gess boaf o' us in trouble. Nebba mind! A make dat all right too--by-'m-bye. Now, Massr Jake, a want dat odder twenty-five pound. De job am finish, an' de work am done. Now's de time fo' de pay."

"That ish right, Shakra. I hash the monish here in red gold. There it ish."

As the Jew said this, he passed a bag containing gold into the hands of Chakra.

"You'll find it ish all counted correct. Twenty-five poundsh currenshy. Fifty pounsh altogether, ash agreed. A deal of monish--a deal of monish, s' help me!"

Chakra made no reply to this significant insinuation; but, taking the bag, deposited it in the lining of his skin _kaross_, as he did so giving utterance to his favourite ejaculation, "Whugh!" the meaning of which varied according to the accentuation given to it.

"And now, goot Shakra!" continued the Jew: "I hash more work for you. There ish another shpell wanted, for which you shall have another fifty poundsh; but firsht tell me, hash you seen anyone to-day on your travels?"