CHAPTER III
WE SAIL ON A DIFFERENT QUEST
There were none among us who had not heard stories of the voodoo, ofthat strange snake worship of the negroes; how at night the devoteescame together secretly in the forest; and how they got themselves into afrenzy of excitement with the music of the drum and the drinking of rum,which they mixed with the blood of fowls, or better that of a goat; howat times they were not satisfied with anything less than the blood of ahuman (_the goat without horns_). It was more often a child, black orwhite, which was sacrificed to the voodoo god, which was incarnate inthe form of a small green snake, kept in a basket on a platform, onwhich appeared the _papaloi_ or _mamaloi_ who presided at the horridceremony. Then it became an orgie--dancing--cannibalism, for after thewarm blood had been drunk, the flesh was boiled and eaten.
Thus you can imagine our horror at the thought of sweet little MarieCambon falling into such hands; and so too you will understand our easyabandonment of every other ambition that we might turn our zeal towardthe rescue of this poor innocent.
Monsieur Cambon's suspicions, too, had turned to this Mordaunt, when thereport of the schooner's flight in the dark had come to him, andparticularly so when the news came of the mysterious landing of a boatto take off the black men with the great basket. But we of the _Pearl_were very careful not to repeat to Cambon anything of Amos's mention ofthe voodoo. Such a blow to let strike a parent, we felt, would serve nopurpose.
Let us pass over those hours of preparation for the sailing in pursuitof the schooner _Josephine_.
Monsieur Cambon, accompanied by his daughter, Josephine, came with us tothe boat, to give last expression of gratitude and God speed. MissJosephine pulled me aside for a word. Her face was pale, and a wild lookwas in her eyes as they gazed into mine.
"You go after him!" She meant it for a question, though she gave it theform of an accusation.
I made no denial.
"He did not steal Marie!" she said, her tone expressing a wish ratherthan a conviction. I could see that she, even, now had begun to doubt,for she knew, too, that Mordaunt had stolen away under cover of night.
"I am convinced he did," I asserted.
Her face became more pale. "Oh, tell me!" she said.
I considered a moment; then decided that it would be a kindness, if Icould cure her of her belief in this man. Pledging her to secrecy I thentold her Rufe's story of Amos, though carefully omitting any mention ofthe voodoo. I believe she matched other circumstances with what I had tosay, to the end that conviction was stealing into her heart. Finally shespoke.
"Oh, I didn't want to believe!" she said. "Oh, I hope he will die!"
And she turned away.
It was at four bells of the morning watch (ten o'clock) that we sailedout of Kingston harbor. We set our course to the east in spite of thefact that the mysterious boat had landed to the west, beyond PortlandPoint; the home of the voodoo was to the east, not to the west. He who
was our guide living, was still our guide, though dead. Indeed thereseemed almost ground for believing that his spirit continued to directus, on a number of occasions, when we were completely at a loss.
Madame Marat had remained in Kingston; so the _Pearl_ company consistedof Grant Norris, Jean Marat, Julian Lamartine, Rufe, Ray Reid, RobertMurtry, and myself, not to mention the sailors, forward.
When we had passed Morant Point, Captain Marat set the course eastnortheast. We aimed for the home of the voodoo. It was the only clue wehad. At midnight we sighted the white flash of an island light; it wasday when we passed the towering rock. Then at last the peaks of thegreat island we sought began to creep up out of the sea. The greatjumbled mass of rocks came even nearer, spreading out as if to engulfus, till, on the following day we dropped anchor off the city.
It was not a cheerful passage, this from island to island. Even Ray hadbeen caught in the general gloom. We had time, each severally, duringthese two days, to come, by reflection, to a realization of the apparenthopelessness of our task. Beyond the almost haphazard selection of thisone large port as our first point of contact, we had no plan. While thequery,--what next? was uppermost in the minds of each, he dreaded tohear another--every other--confess that he did not know. For ofnecessity he _could_ not know. And so, when we moved in,in that late afternoon, seeking a suitable anchorage, everyeye--independently--sought out every sail within view, only half daringto hope for a sight of a vessel that should appear to be the_Josephine_.
When everything had been made snug above deck, and the harbor officialshad made their visit, dusk was on. No move could be made until morning.And then came supper. All lingered at the table, knowing that the timehad come for a council of war. It was Norris who volunteered to open theball.
"Well comrades," he began, seeking to be cheerful, "I suppose we'll nowhave to decide on a fresh start. How are we going to find out if the_Josephine_ is here?"
"Well," said Captain Marat, "If she have not change her name, that willbe easy."
Captain Marat had hit on the thing that was troubling us all. The manMordaunt, we knew, had at one time changed the name of his vessel tohonor her whom he had hoped to make his wife, and now he might have tworeasons for making another change in name: He had been disappointed inhis hope, and there was the criminal reason--for concealment. None hadtaken any note of the schooner, and Monsieur Cambon's description of thevessel made a picture that answered for almost any schooner yacht ofdimensions a little greater than the _Pearl_.
It was also unfortunate that none of us had set eyes on this manMordaunt. But Monsieur Cambon had been able to give us onecharacteristic of the man that might go far toward identifying him,should we be fortunate enough to encounter him under favorableconditions. Cambon described him as of medium though strong build; offinely chiseled, rather handsome features; black eyes, black hair, whichhe wore a little long and which was disposed to curl. His manners Cambondescribed as studiously polished, if self-assertive. But the singlecharacteristic that interested me most was a certain mannerism.
"Sometimes," M. Cambon had said, "when he is unconscious of hissurroundings, deeply cogitating on something, he will take the lobe ofhis ear between thumb and finger, pulling or stroking--like when othersscratch the head when they are puzzled."
It took us but a short time to determine on a course. Some were to go ina small boat among the many ships of the harbor, while others shouldvisit the city. We spent an hour on deck, breathing the balmy air, andwatching the many lights of the ships and the city. There, too, was therevolving red light on Point Lomentin, and the green light, set in bythe city.
We were early astir, all eager to be doing. Ray and Julian went withGrant Norris to sail about the harbor, to seek news of the _Josephine_;Robert and myself, with Captain Marat, rowed to a wharf of the city. Itwas verily a city of blacks. Mulattoes were few, and we walked up anddown numerous streets before we found a white man whose appearanceencouraged us. He was a Frenchman, seated before an apothecary shop. Thesmile on his thin smooth-shaven face invited us to stop. He and CaptainMarat were directly in conversation, in the tongue they knew best.
The Frenchman gave us his name--Jules Sevier--and had us into his shop,with its many bottles of patent medicines, in rows. He and Marat sippedFrench wine while they continued their talk. At last the apothecaryturned to Robert and myself.
"Ah," he said, "I am 'fraid you have one ver' deeficult task. But I amglad you fin' your way to me. I will help you all I can."
It developed that he knew nothing of either the schooner _Josephine_ orM. Mordaunt, or anyone to fit the description Marat was able to givehim. But after listening to the recital of the circumstances (set aboutthe disappearance of little Marie Cambon) he said,--"Oui, oui! it wasthad man. Such things like thad have happen more times than the worldthink. You have come to the right place."
Jules Sevier at the last told us that he would make some privateinquiries, and advised that we come back on the following day to learnthe results.
We we
re soon in our boat, somewhat cheered by the bit of encouragementwe'd got, alloyed as it was.
"I think it's a good sign," declared Robert, "that we went so straightto that man. He can help us if anybody can."
Robert was something of a fatalist you see.
"Yes, he know ver' much about the voodoo," said Jean Marat.
We boarded the _Pearl_, to wait several hours before the others showedup. When they drew near we could see that they had been unsuccessful.They had found no schooner of the name sought, nor any with a newlypainted name.
"Of course," said Norris, "she might be lying hid behind some smallisland, or point, miles away, and it will take anyway a week to findout."
The Voodoo Gold Trail Page 3