Chapter V: Part 5

Close by the cotton-tree stood another giant of the forest--rivalling the former in height, but differing from it as an arrow from its bow. Straight as a lance, it rose to the height of an hundred feet. It was branchless as a column of polished malachite or marble--up to its high summit, where its long green fronds, radiating outward, drooped gracefully over, like a circlet of reflexed ostrich plumes.

A child could have told it to be a palm; but Herbert knew more. He had heard of the noble "mountain-cabbage" of Jamaica--the kingly _areca oredoxia_. He knew that in the centre of that circlet of far-stretching fronds--in that crown--there was a jewel that had often proved more precious than gems or gold: for often had it been the means of saving human life.

How was this jewel to be obtained? Like all crowns, it was placed high--far above the reach of ordinary mortals. Young and active though he was, and a climber at school, he could never "swarm up" that tall, smooth shaft. Without a ladder a hundred feet in length, it would not be possible to reach its summit.

But, see! the palm-tree stands not alone. A great black lliana stretches tortuously from the earth up to the crown, where its head is buried among the tufted leaves, as if it were some huge dragon in the act of devouring its victim.

Herbert stood for a moment reconnoitring the grand stay-cable, that, trailing from the summit of the palm, offered, as it were, a natural ladder for ascending it. Hunger stimulated him to the attempt; and, resting his gun against the trunk of the _ceiba_, he commenced climbing upward.

Without much difficulty, he succeeded in reaching the top, and making his way among the huge _pinnae_ of the leaves--each in itself a leaf of many feet in length. He arrived at the youngest of them all--that still enfolded in the envelope of the bud--and which was the object for which he had climbed.

With his knife he separated this summit leaf from the stem, flung it to the earth; and then, descending to the bottom of the tree, made his supper upon the raw but sweet and succulent shoots of the mountain-cabbage.

Supper over, he collected a quantity of the strewn fleece of the silk-cotton; and, placing it between two of the great buttress-like root-spurs of the tree, constructed for himself a couch on which, but for some hard thoughts within, he might have slept as softly and soundly as upon a bed of eider.

Volume One, Chapter XXIII.

THE TREE FOUNTAIN.

That he did not sleep soundly may be attributed solely to his anxieties about the morrow: for the night was mild throughout, and the composition of his improvised couch kept him sufficiently warm. His cares, however, had rendered his spirit restless. They were vivid enough to act even upon his dreams--which several times during the night awoke him, and again, finally, just after the break of day.

This time, on opening his eyes, he perceived that the glade was filled with soft blue light; and the quivering fronds of the cabbage-palm--just visible from where he lay--had caught the first trembling rays of the sun.

Only there, and among the summit-branches of the _ceiba_, far overtopping the _spray_ of the surrounding forest, was the sun yet visible. Everything else was tinted with the blue grey of the morning twilight.

He could sleep no longer; and rose from his forest lair, intending to make an immediate departure from the spot.

He had no toilet to trouble him--nothing to do, further than brush off the silken floss of the tree-cotton, shoulder his gun, and go.

He felt hunger, even more than on the preceding night; and, although the raw mountain-cabbage offered no very tempting _dejeuner_, he determined before starting, to make another meal upon it--remembering, and very wisely acting upon, the adage of "a bird in the hand."

There was plenty left from the supper to serve him for breakfast; and, once more making a vigorous onslaught on the _chou de palmiste_, he succeeded in appeasing his hunger.

But another appetite, far more unpleasant to bear, now assailed him. In truth, it had assailed him long before, but had been gradually growing stronger; until it was now almost unendurable.

It was the kindred appetite, thirst; which the cabbage-palm, instead of relieving, had, from a certain acridity in its juice, only sharpened-- till the pain amounted almost to torture.

The sufferer would have struck off into the woods in search of water. He had seen none in his wanderings; still he had hopes of being able to find the river. He would have started at once, but for an idea he had conceived that there was water near the spot where he had slept.

Where? He had observed neither stream nor spring, pond nor river; and yet he fancied he had seen water--in fact, he felt sure of it!

In a very singular situation he had seen it--so thought he at the time-- since it was over his head in the cotton-tree!

On the previous evening, while upon the crown of the cabbage-palm, he had glanced slantingly across, among the branches of the _ceiba_. This, as with all great trees in the tropical forests, was loaded with parasites--_vriesias_, long ragged-looking cacti, bromelias, epiphytical orchids, and the like. _Tillandsias_ too, of the kind known as "wild pines," grew in the forks, or on the upper surface of the great limbs, flourishing as luxuriantly as if their roots rested in the richest soil. Among them was conspicuous the most magnificent of the genus, the noble _Tillandsia lingulata_, with its spike of gorgeous crimson flowers projecting from the midst of its broad sheathing leaves. It was in the concavities of these huge leaves that Herbert had observed something which did not belong to the plant--something he believed to be _water_.

It would cost but a few seconds' time to confirm or refute this belief-- a climb among the branches of the _ceiba_. Another huge parasite, from the same root as the former, trended tortuously up to the limbs of the silk-cotton-tree--here and there touching and twisting around them. Its diagonal direction rendered it easy of ascent; and Herbert, impelled by his desire to drink, commenced climbing it.

Ere long, he had succeeded in reaching a main fork of the _ceiba_, where nestled one of the largest of the wild pines.

He had not been deceived. In a hollow formed by one of its huge ventricose leaves was the natural reservoir he had noticed--the gathering of dew and rain, which the rays of the sun could never reach.

At his approach, the green _hyla_ sprang out from this aerial pool; and leaping, frog-like, from leaf to leaf--guarded against falling by the clammy sponge-disks of its feet--soon disappeared amid the foliage. It was this singular creature whose voice Herbert had been hearing throughout the livelong night; and which, in constant chorus with others of its kind, had recalled to his memory the groaning and working of the _Sea Nymph_ in a storm.

The presence of the tree-toad in this its natural haunt, did not deter the young man from drinking. Raging thirst has no scruples; and, bending over one of the leaves of the _tillandsia_, he placed his lips to the cool water, and freely quaffed it.

The labour of scrambling up the _lliana_ had taken away his breath, and to some extent fatigued him. Instead, therefore, of descending at once--which he knew would cost him an effort equal to that of the ascent--he determined to rest for a few minutes upon the large limb of the _ceiba_ on which he had seated himself.

"Well!" muttered he, in satisfied soliloquy, "if the people of this island have proved inhospitable, I can't say the same of its trees. Here are two of them--almost the first I have encountered. They have yielded me the three necessaries of life--meat, drink, and lodging-- lodging, too, with an excellent bed, a thing not so common in many a human hostelry. What more is wanted? Under such a sky as this, who need care to have walls around, or a roof over him? Verily, to sleep here, _sub Jove_, is rather a luxury than an inconvenience! And, verily," continued he, "were it not that I should feel rather lonely, and that man is designed to be a social animal, I might pass my whole life in these glorious woods, without work or care of any kind. No doubt there is game; and I was told at home there are no game laws--so I might poach at pleasure. Ha! game? What do I see? A deer? No! a hog! Yes, hog it is; but such a singular fellow--prick ears, red bristles, long legs, and tusks. A boar! and why not a wild boar?"

There was no reason why it should not be, since it _was_ one--a wild boar of the Jamaica forest--a true descendant of the Canarian hog, transported thither by the Spaniards.

The young Englishman, never having seen a wild boar in its native haunts, put the question conjecturally; but a moment's observation of the animal convinced him that his conjecture was correct. The short upright ears, the long head, hams, and legs, the shaggy neck and frontlet, the foxy red colour, the quick short step as it moved onward-- all these _points_, combined with a certain savage air which Herbert noticed at a glance, satisfied him that the animal under his eyes was not one of the domestic breed, but a genuine wild hog of the woods. The grunt, too, which the creature uttered as it moved across the glade-- short, sharp and fierce--had but slight resemblance to the squeaking sounds of the farm-yard. A wild boar beyond a doubt!

On perceiving this noble head of game, and so near him, Herbert's first reflection was one of extreme regret. How unlucky that he should be up in the tree, with his gun upon the ground!

It was very tantalising; but the young man saw it would be impossible to get possession of his gun without giving the alarm. To attempt descending from the tree, or even make a movement upon the branch, would be sufficient to send the boar scampering from the spot: of course never to be seen more.

Conscious of this, Herbert preferred remaining upon his perch--the silent spectator of a scene of wild Nature, to which chance had so oddly introduced him.

Volume One, Chapter XXIV.

THE HOG-HUNTER.

The boar had stopped over the _debris_ of Herbert's breakfast--some fragments of the mountain-cabbage which had been left upon the ground. Switching his feathered tail, and uttering a short grunt, expressive of satisfaction, the animal proceeded to snap up the scattered pieces, crunching them between his formidable grinders.

All of a sudden, the tranquil tableau became transformed into a scene of a more exciting nature. As Herbert continued to gaze, he saw the boar suddenly make a start, jerk his muzzle high in the air, at the same instant uttering a peculiar cry. It was a cry of alarm, mingled with angry menace--as testified by the bristles upon his back, which had suddenly shot up into an erect spinous mane.

Herbert looked for the enemy. None was in sight--at least to his eyes. The boar, however, had either seen or heard something: for he was evidently upon the strain to spring off.

Just then, a loud report reverberated through the glade, a bullet hissed through the air, and the animal, with a shrill scream, turned over upon its back, the blood spouting from a wound in its thigh.

In an instant it was on its feet again; but rage appeared to hinder it from attempting flight! It retreated only a few paces, taking its stand between two of the buttresses of the _ceiba_--on the very spot where the young Englishman had passed the night. There--protected on both flanks and in the rear--and uttering fierce grunts of defiance--it stood, as if awaiting an enemy.

Soon after a man emerged from the underwood, armed with what appeared to be a straight sword or cutlass.

In a dozen quick strides he crossed the glade; and, having reached the roots of the cotton-tree, became engaged in a deadly struggle with the wounded boar.

Notwithstanding the damage done to it, the creature was still a formidable antagonist; and it required all the address of the hunter-- habile though he appeared to be--to avoid contact with his terrible tusks.

Each alternatively charged upon the other--the hunter endeavouring to thrust the quadruped with his long blade, while the boar in its turn would repeatedly rush towards its antagonist, suddenly rear itself upon its hind legs, and strike upwards with its armed and grinning muzzle.

It was one of the fore-legs of the animal that had been broken by the shot; but the wound, although greatly disabling it, did not hinder it from making a protracted and desperate defence. The spurs of the cotton-tree rising on each side proved its best protectors--hindering its assailant from turning its flanks and piercing it in the side. The combat, therefore, was face to face; and the blade of the hunter, repeatedly thrust forward, as often glanced harmlessly from the hard skull, or glinted with a metallic ring against the tusks of the boar.

For several minutes did this singular contest continue--the young Englishman all the while watching it with lively interest; but without giving the slightest signs of his being a spectator. Indeed, the scene was so exciting, and had come under his eyes so unexpectedly, that he was for a time held speechless by sheer surprise.

After a while the struggle between biped and quadruped was brought to a termination. The former--who appeared to possess all the craft of his calling--put in practice a _ruse_ that enabled him to give his antagonist the _coup de grace_.

It was a feat, however, accompanied by no slight danger: and so adroitly did the hunter perform it, as to create within the mind of his spectator--himself a sportsman--both surprise and admiration.

Thus was the feat accomplished. In charging forward upon his human adversary, the boar had incautiously ventured beyond the flanking buttresses of the tree. In fact, the hunter had enticed the animal outward--by making a feint of retreating from the contest.

Just then--and before the brute could divine his intention--the hunter rushed forward, and, throwing all his strength into the effort, sprang high into the air. Quite clearing the quadruped, he alighted in the angle formed by the converging spurs of the tree.

The boar had now lost his position of defence; though that of the hunter for the moment appeared desperate. He had calculated his chances, however: for before the enraged animal--hindered by its hanging limb-- could face round to assail him, he had lunged out with his long blade, and buried it up to the hilt between the creature's ribs.

With a shrill scream the boar fell prostrate to the earth--the red stream from his side spurting over and spoiling the improvised mattress of cotton-tree flock upon which the young Englishman had passed the night.

Up to this moment the latter had done nothing, either by word or gesture, to make known his presence. He was about to descend and congratulate the hunter for the performance of a feat that had filled him with admiration. A fancy, passing through his mind at the moment, determined him to remain where he was a little longer; and, in obedience to this fancy, he sat gazing down upon the successful sportsman at the bottom of the tree.

To say the least, the appearance presented by this individual was singular--especially so in the eyes of an Englishman unacquainted with West Indian characters and costumes. But, in addition to picturesqueness of attire, there was something in the carriage and features of the man that could not fail to make a remarkable impression upon the beholder.

This impression was decidedly pleasing, though the face that produced it was not that of a _white_ man. Neither was it the face of a black man; nor yet the yellow countenance of the mulatto. It was a shade lighter than the last, with a dash of crimson in the cheeks. It was this colouring of the cheeks, perhaps, combined with a well-rounded, sparkling iris, that imparted the agreeable expression.

The man was young. Herbert Vaughan might have guessed him about his own age without being many months astray; and, in point of size and shape, there was no great dissimilitude between them. In the colour of their hair, complexion, and features, there was no resemblance whatever. While the face of the young Englishman was of the oval type, that of the West Indian hunter was rotund. A prominent, well-cut chin, however, hindered it from degenerating into any expression of feebleness. On the contrary, firmness was the prevailing cast of the features; and the hold, swelling throat was a true physical index of daring.

The complexion of the hunter betokened a _sang-mele_ between African and Caucasian, which was further confirmed by the slight crisping that appeared among the jet-black curls of hair thickly covering his head. The luxuriance of these curls was partly kept in check by a head-dress that Herbert Vaughan would have been less surprised to see in some country of the East: for, at the first glance, he had mistaken it for a turban. On closer examination, however, it proved to be a brilliant kerchief--the Madras check--ingeniously folded around the forehead, so as to sit coquettishly over the crown, with the knot a little to one side. It was a _toque_--not a turban.

The other articles of dress worn by the young hunter were an outer coat, or shirt, of sky-blue cottonade, cut somewhat blouse-fashion; an under-shirt of fine white linen, ruffled and open at the breast; trousers of the same material as the coat; and buff coloured boots of roughly-cleaned cowskin. There were straps and strings over both shoulders, all crossing each other on the breast.

From the two that hung to the right side were suspended a powder-horn and skin shot-pouch. On the same side hung a large calabash canteen, covered with a strong network of some forest withe to protect it from injury. Under the left arm was a carved and curving cow's horn, evidently not for holding powder, since it was open at both ends. Below this, against his hip, rested a black leathern sheath--the receptacle of that long blade still reeking with the blood of the boar.

This weapon was the _machete_--half sword, half hunting-knife--which, with its straight, short blade, and haft-like hilt of greyish horn, is to be found in every cottage of Spanish America, from California to the "Land of Eire." Even where the Spaniards have been, but _are_ no longer--as in Jamaica--the universal _machete_ may be seen in the hands of hunter and peasant--a relic of the conqueror colonists.

Volume One, Chapter XXV.

THE RUNAWAY.

Up to the moment that the boar was laid prostrate upon the ground, he in the _toque_ had been kept too well employed with his fierce game to find time for looking at anything else. It was only after dealing the deathblow to his adversary that he was able to stand erect and take a survey around him.

In an instant his eye fell upon the gun of the young Englishman, and then the white pieces of palm-cabbage upon which the boar had been browsing.

"Hoh!" exclaimed he, still gasping for breath, but with a look that betrayed surprise; "A gun! Whose? Some runaway slave who has stolen his master's fowling-piece? Nothing more likely. But why has he left the piece behind him? And what has started him away from here? Surely not the boar? He must have been gone before the animal got up? _Crambo_! a richer prize than the porker, if I could only have set eyes on him! I wonder in which direction he has tracked it? Hish! what do I see? The runaway! yes--yes, it is he! Coming back for his gun? _Crambo_! This is unexpected luck, so early in the morning--a slave capture--a _bounty_!"

As the hunter hurriedly muttered these concluding phrases, he glided with stealthy tread between the two buttresses; and, having placed himself in the extreme angle of their convergence, remained perfectly still--as if to await the approach of some one who was advancing towards the tree.

Herbert, from his perch, had a full view of the new comer thus announced.

A young man of a copper red colour, with straight black hair, shaggily tossed and pulled over his forehead, as if some one had been tearing it from his head! His face, too--a fine one, notwithstanding its mahogany colour--appeared freshly lacerated; and his whole body bore the marks of inhuman abuse. The coarse cotton shirt that covered his shoulders was blotched with blood; and long, crimson-coloured stripes running across his back, looked like the imprints of an ensanguined lash!

The attitude in which he was advancing was as peculiar as his costume. When Herbert first set eyes on him he was _crawling_ upon his hands and knees, yet going with considerable speed. This led to the belief that his bent position was assumed rather with a view towards concealment, than from the inability to walk erect.

This belief was soon after confirmed: for on entering the glade the young man rose to his feet, and trotted on--but still with body bent-- towards the _ceiba_.

What could he want there?

Was he making for the huge tree as a haven of safety from some deadly pursuers? Herbert fancied so.

The hunter believed he was coming back for his gun--having no suspicion that the real owner of the piece was just over his head.

Both remained silent; though from motives having no similitude to each other.

In a few seconds' time, the fugitive--for his actions proved him one-- had reached the bottom of the tree.

"Halt!" cried the hunter, showing himself round the buttress, and stepping in front of the new comer. "You are a runaway, and my prisoner!"

The fugitive dropped upon his knees, crossed his arms over his breast, and uttered some phrases in an unknown tongue--amongst which Herbert could distinguish the word "Allah."

His captor appeared equally at fault about the meaning of the words; but neither the attitude of the speaker, nor the expression upon his countenance, could be mistaken: it was an appeal for mercy.

"_Crambo_!" exclaimed the hunter, bending forward, and gazing for a moment at the breast of the runaway--on which the letters "J.J." were conspicuously branded--"with that tattoo on your skin, I don't wonder you've given leg-bail to your master. Poor devil! they've tattooed you still more brutally upon the back."

As he said this--speaking rather to himself than to the wretched creature that knelt before him--the hunter stretched forth his hand, raised the shirt from the shoulders of the runaway, and gazed for a while upon his naked back. The skin was covered with purple wales, crossing each other like the arteries in an anatomic plate!

"God of the Christian!" exclaimed the yellow hunter, with evident indignation at the sight, "if this be your decree, then give me the fetish of my African ancestors. But no," added he, after a pause, "J.J. is _not_ a Christian--he cares for no God."

The soliloquy of the hunter was here interrupted by a second speech from the suppliant, spoken in the same unknown tongue.

This time the gesture signified that it was an appeal for protection against some enemy in the rear: for the sympathetic looks of his captor had evidently won the confidence of the fugitive.

"They are after you--no doubt of it," said the hunter. "Well, let them come--whoever are your pursuers. This time they have lost their chance; and the bounty is mine, not theirs. Poor devil! it goes against my grain to deliver you up; and were it not for the law that binds me, I should scorn their paltry reward. Hark! yonder they come! Dogs, as I'm a man! Yes, it's the bay of a bloodhound! Those villainous man-hunters of Batabano--I knew old Jessuron had them in his pay. Here, _my_ poor fellow, in here!" and the hunter half-led, half-dragged the fugitive over the carcass of the wild boar, placing him between the buttresses of the _ceiba_. "Stand close in to the angle," he continued. "Leave me to guard the front. Here's your gun; I see it's loaded. I hope you know how to use it? Don't fire till you're sure of hitting! We'll need both blade and shot to save ourselves from these Spanish dogs, that will make no distinction between you and me. Not they! _Crambo_! there they come!"

The words had scarce issued from the speaker's lips, when two large dogs broke, with a swishing noise, out of the bushes on the opposite side of the glade--evidently running on the trail of the fugitive.

The crimson colour of their muzzles showed that they had been baited with blood--which, darkening as it dried, rendered more conspicuous the white fang-like teeth within their jaws.

They were half-hound, half-mastiff; but ran as true-bred hounds on a fresh trail.

No trail could have been fresher than that of the flogged fugitive; and, in a few seconds after entering the glade, the hounds had got up to the _ceiba_, in front of the triangular chamber in which stood the runaway and his protector.

These dogs have no instinct of self-preservation--only an instinct to discover and destroy. Without stopping to bark or bay--without even slackening their pace--both dashed onward, bounding into the air as they launched themselves upon the supposed objects of their pursuit.

The first only impaled himself upon the outstretched _machete_ of the yellow hunter; and as the animal came down to the earth, it was to utter the last howl of his existence.

The other, springing towards the naked fugitive, received the contents of the fowling-piece, and, like the first, rolled lifeless upon the earth.

Volume One, Chapter XXVI.

A COMBAT DECLINED.

The spectator in the tree began to fancy that he was dreaming. Within the short space of twenty minutes he had been the witness of a greater number of exciting events than he might have seen, in his own land, during the same number of years!

And yet he had not witnessed the _finale_ of the drama. The gestures of the runaway, and the speeches of his captor, had already warned him that there was another act to come; and, from the attitudes of both, it was evident that this act would be performed on the same stage, without any change of scene.

As yet the young Englishman saw no particular reason why he should cease to be a spectator, and become an actor, in this West Indian drama. That the yellow hunter should kill a wild boar, capture a runaway slave, and afterwards shield both his captive and himself from a brace of bloodhounds, by killing the fierce brutes, was no affair of his. The only thine: that concerned him was the unceremonious use that had been made of his fowling-piece; but it is scarce necessary to say that Herbert Vaughan, had he been asked, would have freely lent the piece for such a purpose.

Nothing, however, had yet transpired to tempt him from a strict neutrality; and, until something should, he determined to preserve the passive attitude he had hitherto held.

Scarce had he come to this determination, when three new actors appeared upon the scene.

One, the foremost, and apparently the leader, was a tall, black-bearded man in a red plush waistcoat, and high-topped horse-skin boots. The other two were lean, lithe-looking fellows in striped shirt and trousers, each wearing broad-brimmed palm-leaf hats that shadowed their sharp Spanish physiognomies.

The bearded man was armed with gun and pistols. The others appeared to be without firearms of any kind; but each carried in his hand a long rapier-like blade, the sheath of which hung dangling from his hip. It was the _machete_--the same kind of weapon as that which the yellow hunter had but the moment before so skilfully wielded.

On perceiving the tableau under the tree, the three new comers halted-- and with no slight surprise depicted in their looks. The men of Spanish face appeared more especially astonished--indignation mingling with their surprise--when they beheld in that grouping of figures the bodies of their own bloodhounds stretched dead upon the sward!

The bearded man, who, as we have said, appeared to be the leader, was the first to give speech to the sentiment that animated all three.

"What game's this?" he cried, his face turning purple with rage. "Who are you that has dared to interfere with our pursuit?"

"_Carajo_! he's killed our dogs?" vociferated one of the Spaniards.

"_Demonios_! you'll pay for this with your lives!" added the other, raising his _machete_ in menace.

"And what if I have killed your dogs?" rejoined the yellow hunter, with an air of _sang froid_, which won the silent applause of the spectator. "What if I have? If I had not killed _them_, they would have killed _me_!"

"No," said one of the Spaniards; "they would not have touched you. _Carrambo_! they were too well trained for that--they were after _him_. Why did you put yourself in the way to protect him? It's no business of yours."

"There, my worthy friend, you are mistaken," replied he in the _toque_, with a significant sneer. "It _is_ my business to protect him--my _interest_ too: since he is my captive."

"_Your_ captive!" exclaimed one of the men, with a glance of concern.

"Certainly, he is my captive; and it was my interest not to let the dogs destroy him. Dead, I should only have got two pounds currency for his head. Living, he is worth twice that, and mileage money to boot; though I'm sorry to see by the `J.J.' on his breast that the mileage money won't amount to much. Now, what more have you to say, my worthy gentlemen?"

"Only this," cried the man with the black beard; "that we listen to no such nonsense as that there. Whoever you may be, I don't care. I suspect who you are; but that don't hinder me from telling you, you've no business to meddle in this affair. This runaway slave belongs to Jacob Jessuron. I'm his overseer. He's been taken on Jessuron's own ground: therefore you can't claim the captive, nor yet the bounty. So you'll have to give him up to _us_."

"_Carrambo, si_!" vociferated both the Spaniards in a breath, at the same time that the three advanced towards the runaway--the bearded overseer pistol in hand, and his two comrades with their _machetes_ drawn, and ready to be used.

"Come on, then!" cried the hunter, in a taunting tone--as he spoke making signs to the runaway to stand to his defence. "Come on! but, remember! the first that lays hand upon him is a dead man. There are three of you, and we are but two--one already half-dead with your inhuman cruelty."

"Three against two! that's not a fair fight!" cried the young Englishman, dropping down from the tree, and ranging himself on the weaker side. "Perhaps it'll be a better match now," added he, taking a pistol from under the breast of his coat, and cocking it as he did so-- evidently with the intention of using it, should the affair be carried further.

"And who are you, sir?" demanded the overseer, with as much arrogance as he could throw into his manner. "Who, sir, may I inquire, is the white man who thus places himself in opposition to the laws of the island? You know the penalty, sir; and by _my_ word, you shall pay it!"

"If I have committed a breach of the laws," replied Herbert, "I presume I shall have to answer for it. But I have yet to learn what law I have broken; and I don't choose that you shall be my judge."

"You are aiding in the escape of a slave!"

"That's not true," interrupted the yellow hunter. "The slave is already captured; he could not have escaped; and this young gentleman--who is as much a stranger to me as to you--I am sure, had no intention of assisting him to escape."

"Bah!" exclaimed the overseer; "we care not for your talk--we deny your right to capture him; and you had no business to interfere. We had already tracked him down with the dogs; and should have had him without any help from you. He is _our_ prize, therefore; and I again demand of you to give him up!"

"Indeed!" sneeringly responded the yellow hunter.

"I make the demand," continued the other, without noticing the sneer, "in the name of Jacob Jessuron--whose overseer I've told you I am."

"Perhaps, were you Jacob Jessuron himself, I might resist your demand," rejoined the hunter, coolly, and without any appearance of braggadocio.

"You refuse to surrender him, then?" said the overseer, as if making his final overture.

"I do," was the firm reply.

"Enough--you shall repent this; and you, sir," continued the deputy of Jessuron, turning a fierce look upon Herbert, "you shall answer before a magistrate for the part it has pleased you to play in this transaction. A pretty white man you for the island of Jamaica! A few more of your sort, and we'd have a nice time with our niggers. Don't fear, mister; you'll see me again."

"I have no particular desire," rejoined Herbert; "for, certainly," continued he, with provoking jocularity, "an uglier-looking face than yours I have never set eyes upon; and it could be no pleasure to me to look upon it again."

"Confusion!" cried the overseer. "You'll repent that insult before you're a month older--curse me if you don't!"

And with this characteristic menace, the ruffian turned and walked sullenly away.

"_Caspita_!" cried one of the Spaniards, as the two hastened to follow their leader. "My brave dogs! Ah, _demonio_! you shall pay dearly for them. Two hundred _pesos_ each--not a _cuartito_ less!"

"Not a _cuartito_ for either!" responded the yellow hunter, with a mocking laugh. "Haven't I proved that they are not worth it? With all your boasting of what your bloodhounds could do, look at them now. _Vaya_! my fine fellows! Go back to your own country, and hunt runaway negroes there. Here you must leave that game to those who know how to manage it--_the Maroons_!"

Herbert observed that the hunter, on pronouncing these last words, drew himself up with an air of majestic pride--as he did so, glancing scornfully towards the crestfallen _cacadores_.

An angry "_Carrai_!" simultaneously hissed from the lips of both, was the only reply made by the two Spaniards; who, at the same instant, turned their backs upon the _ceiba_, and followed their leader across the glade.

Volume One, Chapter XXVII.

THE MAROONS.

As soon as they were gone out of sight, the hunter turned towards Herbert, his eyes sparkling with gratitude.

"Master!" said he, making a low obeisance as he spoke, "after that, words are but a poor way of offering thanks. If the brave white gentleman who has risked his life for a coloured outcast will let me know his name, it will not be forgotten by _Cubina, the Maroon_."

"Cubina, the Maroon!" Struck by the oddness of the name and title--as he had already been by the appearance and behaviour of him who bore them--Herbert repeated the phrase mechanically, rather than otherwise.

"Yes, that is my name, master." The young Englishman, though not yet enlightened as to the odd appellation, was too well-bred to press for an explanation.

"Pardon me," said he, "for not directly replying to your request. I am an Englishman; my name Vaughan--Herbert Vaughan."

"By that name, master, I take it you have relatives in the island. The owner of Mount Welcome estate--"

"Is my uncle."

"Ah! then, sir, anything a poor Maroon hunter could do for you would not be much. All the same, you have my thanks; and if--; but, master," continued the speaker, suddenly changing his tone, as if in obedience to some instinct of curiosity, "may I make bold to ask why you are afoot so early? The sun is not yet ten minutes above the trees, and Mount Welcome is three miles distant. You must have tracked it here in the dark--no easy matter, through these tangled woods?"

"I passed the night here," replied the Englishman, smiling; "that was _my_ bed, where the boar is now sleeping."

"Then the gun is yours, not his?"

The hunter nodded interrogatively towards the runaway, who, standing some paces off, was regarding both the speakers with glances of gratitude, not, however, unmingled with some signs of uneasiness.

"Yes, it is my gun. I am very glad the piece was not empty: since it enabled him to destroy the fierce brute that would otherwise have had him by the throat. Wretched as the poor fellow appears, he handled his weapon well. What is he, and what have they been doing to him?"

"Ah, Master Vaughan; by those two questions, it is easy to tell you are a stranger to the island. I think I can answer both--though I never saw the young man before. Poor wretch! The answers are written out upon his skin, in letters that don't require much scholarship to read. Those upon his breast tell that he's a slave--the slave of J.J.: Jacob Jessuron. You'll excuse me from giving my opinion of _him_."

"What have they done to you, my poor fellow?" asked Herbert of the runaway--his compassion hindering him from waiting for the more roundabout explanation of the Maroon.

The blood-bedaubed creature, perceiving that the speech was addressed to him, made a long rejoinder; but in a tongue unknown both to the hunter and Herbert. The latter could distinguish two words that he had heard before--"Foolah" and "Allah"--both of which occurred repeatedly in the speech.

"It's no use asking him, Master Vaughan. Like yourself, he's a stranger to the island; though, as you see, they've already initiated him into some of its ways. Those brands upon his breast are nearly fresh--as you may tell by the red skin around the letters. He's just been landed from Africa, it appears. As for the marks upon his back--those have been made by a plaything, the white planters and their overseers in these parts are rather too fond of using--the cart-whip! They've been flogging the poor devil; and, _Crambo_! they've given it to him thick and sharp."

As the Maroon made this remark, he raised the blood-stained shirt, exposing to view that back so terribly reticulated. The sight was sickening. Herbert could not bear to gaze upon it; but averted his eyes on the instant.

"From Africa, you say? He has not got negro features!"

"As to his features, that don't signify. There are many African tribes who are not negro-featured. I can tell from his that he is a Foolah. I hear him use the word as he talks."

"Yoy--Foolah! Foolah!" cried the runaway on hearing pronounced the name of his people; and then he continued in a strain of the same language, accompanied by much gesticulation.

"I wish I knew his lingo," said the hunter. "I know he's a Foolah. It is some reason why I should take an interest in him; and may be, if only for that, I might--"

The speaker paused, as if he had been talking to himself; and then continued the soliloquy only in thought. After a pause he resumed speech.

"_Crambo_! very little would tempt me _not_ to restore him to his master."

"And must you?"

"I must. We Maroons are bound by a treaty to deliver up all runaways we may take; and if we fail to do so--that is, _when it is known_; but these villains of old Jessuron know I have him--"

"You will receive a bounty, you say?"

"Yes. They will try to deprive me of that; but it isn't the bounty would tempt me in this case. There is something about this young fellow.--My word! he _is_ like her!--ay, as if he were her brother."

This last speech was delivered in soliloquy.

"Like her! Like whom?" demanded Herbert with a puzzled look.

"Your pardon," replied the hunter. "I was struck with a resemblance between this poor fellow and one whom I know; but, Master Vaughan," he continued, as if wishing to change the subject, "you have not said how you came to be all night in the woods? You were hunting yesterday and lost your way?"

"True, I lost my way, but not exactly while hunting."

"Perhaps that is all the sort of breakfast you have had?" and the Maroon pointed to some pieces of the palm-cabbage that still lay on the turf.

"I have both supped and breakfasted upon it," replied Herbert. "I had climbed the tree for water, when the boar came up to break his fast upon what remained of it."

The Maroon smiled at this explanation of some circumstances by which even he had been mystified.

"Well," said he, "if you are not anxious to return at once to Mount Welcome, and will give me five minutes' time, I think I can provide you something better than raw cabbage."

"I am not particularly in a hurry about getting back to Mount Welcome. Perhaps I may never go back!"

These words, combined with the air of the young Englishman as he uttered them, did not escape the notice of the intelligent Maroon.

"Something strange in this young man's history!" said he to himself, though he had the delicacy not to demand an explanation of the ambiguous speech just made. "Well, it's not my affair, I suppose!"

Then, addressing himself to Herbert, he said aloud--

"Do you agree, Master Vaughan, to eat a forest breakfast of my providing?"

"Indeed, with pleasure," answered Herbert. "Then I must ring for my servants." As he said this, the hunter raised his curved horn to his lips and blew a long, tremulous blast.

"That should procure us company and something to eat, master," said he, allowing the horn to drop back to its place.

"Hark!" he continued, the instant after, "there are some of my fellows. I thought they could not be far off."

As he spoke the sound of a horn was heard reverberating through the woods; and then another, and another--until nearly a dozen could be distinguished, yet all in different directions. They were evidently answers to the signal he had sounded.

"So, Master Vaughan," he resumed, with an air expressive of triumph, though in a restrained and modest way, "you see these vultures would not have had it all their own way? My hawks were too near for that. Not the less am I beholden to you, Master Vaughan. I did not think it worth while to call my people. I knew the poltroons would not venture beyond a little swaggering talk. See! they come!"

"Who?"

"The Maroons!"

Herbert heard a rustling among the bushes on the opposite side of the glade; and, at the same time, about a dozen armed men emerged from the underwood, and advanced rapidly towards the _ceiba_.

Volume One, Chapter XXVIII.

A FOREST BREAKFAST.

The young Englishman gazed upon the advancing troop with keen curiosity. There were about a dozen of them, all black men, or nearly all--only one or two of them showing any admixture of colour. There was not a dwarfish or deformed figure in the party. On the contrary, every man of them possessed a tall stalwart form, strong muscular limbs, a skin shining with health, and eyes sparkling with a vigorous brilliance that betokened an innate sense of freedom and independence.

Their erect, upright carriage and free, forward step confirmed the belief, which Herbert had already formed, that these black men were not _bondsmen_. There was nothing of the slave either in their looks or gestures. But for the colour of their skins, he would never have thought of associating such men with the idea of slavery. Armed as they were with long knives and guns, some of them with stout spears, they could not be slaves. Besides, their equipments told that they were hunters--and warriors, if need he. All of them had horns, with pouches suspended over their shoulders; and each was provided with a netted calabash for water, like that of the yellow hunter, already described.

A few carried an equipment altogether different--consisting of a small pannier of withe-work, or palm-fibre neatly woven. It rested upon the back, where it was held in place by a band of palm sinnet, crossing the breast, and another brought over the forehead, which thus sustained a portion of the weight. This pannier was the _cutacoo_--the depository of their provisions, and of such articles as were required in their wild forest rambles.

With regard to their costume, that was _bizarre_, though not unpicturesque. No two were dressed alike, though there was a certain idiosyncrasy in their attire, which proclaimed them all of one following. The _toqued_ "bandanna" was the most common head-dress--a few having palm-leaf hats. Only some of them had a shirt with sleeves; others wanted a complete pair of trousers; and one or two were naked from the waist upward, and from the thighs downwards--the white cotton loin-cloth being the unique and only garment! All of them had their feet and ankles covered: as the stony and thorny paths they were accustomed to tread rendered necessary. The _chaussure_ was the same with all; and appeared to be a tight-fitting jack-boot, of some species of raw hide, without seam or stitching of any kind. The reddish bristles standing thinly over its surface, proclaimed the character of the material. It was the skin of the wild hog: the hind leg of a boar, drawn upon the foot while fresh and warm, as it dries tightening over the instep and ankle like an elastic stocking. A little trimming with the knife is all that is necessary for this ready-made mocassin; and once on, it is never taken off till the wearing of the sole renders necessary a refit. Drawing on his boots, therefore, is no part of the diurnal duties of a Jamaica hog-hunter.

I have said that Herbert Vaughan regarded the new comers with a feeling of curiosity as well as surprise. It was no wonder he did so. The mode in which they had been summoned into his presence, their echo-like answers to the horn signal, and their prompt, almost instantaneous appearance, formed a series of incidents that more resembled what might have been witnessed upon the stage of a theatre than in real life; and had the yellow hunter been a white man, and he and his followers clad in Lincoln green, the young Englishman might have fancied himself in Sherwood Forest, with bold Robin _redivivus_, and his merry men mustering around him!

"This white gentleman has not eaten breakfast," said Cubina to his followers as they came up. "Well, Quaco! what have you got in your cutacoos?"

The individual thus appealed to was a jet-black negro of large dimensions, with a grave yet quizzical cast of countenance. He appeared to be a sort of lieutenant: perhaps the "Little John" of the party.

"Well, worthy capten," answered he, saluting the yellow hunter with a somewhat awkward grace; "I believe there's enough, one thing with another--that be, if the gen'lman has got a good appetite, and's not too nice about what he eats."

"What is there? Let me see!" interrupted Cubina, as he proceeded to inspect the panniers. "A ham of wild hog barbecued," continued he, turning out the contents of a cutacoo. "Well, that to begin with--the white gentry are rather partial to our barbecued hog! What else? a brace of soldier-crabs. So far good. Ah! better still, a pair of ramier pigeons, and a wild guinea-fowl. Who carries the coffee and sugar?"

"Here, captain," cried another of the cutacoo men, throwing his pannier to the ground, and drawing out several bags which contained the necessary materials for coffee-making.

"A fire, and be quick!" commanded Cubina.

At the word given a tinder was struck, dry leaves and branches quickly collected, and a sparkling, crackling fire soon blazed upon the ground. Over this was erected a crane--resting horizontally on two forked sticks--which soon carried a brace of iron pots suspended in the blaze.

With so many cooks, the process of preparing the meat for the pots was very short and quick. The pigeons and guinea-fowl were singed as fast as feathers would burn; and then being "drawn and quartered," were flung in torn fragments into the largest of the pots.

The soldier-crabs shared the same fate; and some pieces of the wild hog ham. A handful of salt was added, water, a few slices of plantain, eddoes, calalue, and red capsicum--all of which ingredients were supplied from the cutacoos.

A strong fire of dried faggots soon brought the pot to a furious boil; and the lieutenant Quaco--who appeared also to act as _chef de cuisine_--after repeatedly testing the contents, at length declared that the _pepper-pot_ was ready for serving up.

Dishes, bowls, cups, and platters made their appearance--all being shells of the calabash, of different shapes; and as soon as Herbert and the captain were helped to the choicest portions of the savoury stew, the remainder was distributed among the men: who, seating themselves in groups over the ground, proceeded to discuss the well-known viand with an avidity that showed it was also their breakfast.

The _pepper-pot_ was not the sole dish of the _dejeuner_. Pork steaks, cut from the carcass of the freshly-slain boar, were added; while plantains and "cocoa-fingers," roasted in the ashes, contributed a substitute for bread not to be despisingly spoken of.

The second pot boiling over the fire contained the coffee; which, quaffed from the calabashes, tasted as fine as if sipped out of cups of the purest Sevres porcelain.

In this "al-fresco" feast the poor captive was not forgotten, but was supplied among the rest--the colossal Quaco administering to his wants with an air of quizzical compassion.

The young Englishman desired enlightenment about the character of his hosts; but delicacy forbade any direct inquiries. Could they be robbers--brigands with black skins? Their arms and accoutrements gave colour to the supposition. _Maroons_ they called themselves, but the name was new, and helped not Herbert in his perplexity. "If robbers," thought he, "they are the gentlest of their calling."

Breakfast over, the Maroons gathered up their traps, and prepared to depart from the spot.

Already the wild boar had been butchered, cut up into portable flitches, and packed away in the cutacoos.

The wales upon the back of the runaway had been anointed by the hand of Quaco with some balsamic cerate; and by gestures the unfortunate youth was made to understand that he was to accompany the party. Instead of objecting to this, his eyes sparkled with a vivid joy. From the courtesy he had already received at their hands, he could not augur evil.

The Maroons, out of respect to their chief--whom they appeared to treat with submissive deference--had moved some distance away, leaving Captain Cubina alone with his English guest. The latter, with his gun shouldered, stood ready to depart.

"You are a stranger in the island?" said the Maroon, half interrogatively. "I fancy you have not been living long with your uncle?"

"No," answered Herbert. "I never saw my uncle before yesterday afternoon."

"_Crambo_!" exclaimed the hunter-captain in some surprise; "you have just arrived, then? In that case, Master Vaughan--and that is why I have made bold to ask you--you will scarce be able to find your way back to Mount Welcome. One of my people will go with you?"

"No, thank you. I think I can manage it alone."

Herbert hesitated to say that he was not going to Mount Welcome.

"It is a crooked path," urged the Maroon; "though straight enough to one who knows it. You need not take the guide so far as the great house; though Mr Vaughan, I believe, does not object to our people going on his grounds, as some other planters do. You can leave the man when you get within sight of the place. Without a guide, I fear you will not be able to find the path."

"In truth, Captain Cubina," said Herbert, no longer caring what idea his words might communicate to his Maroon acquaintance, "I don't wish to find the path you speak of. I'm not going that way."

"Not to Mount Welcome?"

"No."

The Maroon remained for a moment silent, while a puzzled expression played over his features. "Only arrived yesterday--out all night in the woods--not going back! Something strange in all this."

Such were the quick reflections that passed through his mind.

He had already noticed an air of distraction--of dejection, too--in the countenance of the stranger. What could it mean? The gay ribbon knotted in the button-hole of his coat--what could that mean?

Captain Cubina was of the age--and perhaps just then in the very temper--to observe all matters that appeared indications of a certain soft sentiment; and both the blue ribbon and the thoughtful attitude were of that signification. He knew something of the white denizens of Mount Welcome--more, perhaps, of those with a coloured skin. Could the odd behaviour of the young Englishman be attributed to some family difficulty that might have arisen there?

The Maroon mentally answered this interrogatory for himself: with the reflection that something of the kind had occurred.