CHAPTER V
WE GAIN AN ALLY
It was an hour before dawn that we pushed away from the schooner in oneof the boats; Captain Marat, Grant Norris, Ray, Robert and myself. Wepassed among the sleeping vessels with their white night-lights showingaloft.
The harbor light still continued its revolutions, sending bright rays
out over the sea. Norris and Ray were at the oars. The land breeze wascool; there was little sound except the swish of the oars. But as wemoved on down the shore, presently there came the night sounds from thecountry, frogs' voices in the ascendent. Then all at once, it seemed,light burst on the high peaks of the mountains; in a few minutes it wasfull day. The royal palm and cocoanut trees lined the shore, curving outover the sand beach.
We came opposite two boats on the white sand; and a pair of huts showedabove the bushy growth. Here we went to shore. Jean Marat entered intotalk with some black children who had appeared on the beach at ourapproach. Did white men ever land there? he asked. No, no white man hadbeen there for ever so long--years. Did black sailors ever land there?Yes, two the evening before. "And oh yes, two days--three days before,some black men came in a boat with--oh, such a big basket! Two men carrythe basket and go back in the country." There was but one road or trail,going any distance back. There was a small village a few hours walktoward the hills.
I felt my heart leap with hope at the mention of the basket. And yet Iwas never destined to hear of it again.
"It looks like we're on the right trail," said Norris, when Jean Marathad interpreted for us the last statement of the little blacks.
"Yes," said Marat. "And now," he added, turning to Robert and me, "youstill feel you weesh to go, only you two together?"
"Yes," I answered for us both. "As you have admitted, we two alone won'tattract so much attention. And then we have the black wigs and paint. Ifwe get up in the hills and need you we can signal."
Our equipment made but a small pack each. The rifles we bore in theircanvas cases.
"Now, boys," cautioned Marat, when we stood among the cocoanut palms atthe beginning of the path, "now, boys, go ver' slow and ver' careful.W'en you have find thee place--if you are so fortunate, just come forus."
"Or if you get up on the side of one of those mountains," broke in Ray,"you can signal us at night."
"And look here," began Norris, "if signalling is going to be that easy,you let us know how things are going--before the third day, or by allthat's holy! I'll be hiking after you to see what's up."
Grant Norris was not one that was used to holding back while others weredoing, he was always eager to be in the forefront of the fray.
"Well you can depend on it, Norris," I assured him, "we'll not delayletting you know, when we've located them."
And so, after a shake of the hand all round, Robert and I plunged intothe brush. Cocoanut palms and cabbage palms leaned over our path; thesweet odor of orange blossoms delighted our nostrils. Beyond the secondof the cottages--a palm-thatched ajoupa--the ragged leaves of bananaplants gave an added touch to the tropic scene. A mile or more back fromthe beach, the trail took us into open country; here tall grass borderedthe way.
Two leisurely hours of tramping had brought us again among the trees.The ground became broken, and we had some stiff climbs. And then at lastwe came upon a wee bit of a village. There were dwellings of variousdescriptions; some were of stone, most seemed to be of palm-thatch. Andthere were numbers of children, though none who could understand twowords of English. But they pointed a way toward the hilly side of thehamlet, as if to indicate that that way we should find something in ourline. And at last we came upon one who could make something of ourspeech.
In the midst of a cluster of palms stood a stone cottage, better keptthan any we'd passed; and the garden showed straighter rows. WhileRobert and I stood contemplating the scene, there came from the back, awoman; black, like all the rest, but with superior features and anintelligent eye.
"Yes, sar, I speak the English," she answered our inquiry.
We began with no fuller explanation than that we were strangers; but sheinvited us to a seat on a bench in a cool arbor at the back, and beforewe could protest, she had up a small table and dishes of food.
One thing leads to another in talk, and it was not long till it becameplain that our hostess was in no sort of sympathy with the voodoo.
"It is very horrible, the things they do," she said. And she told of aneighbor who had lost a child at the hands of the voodoo worshipers lessthan two months gone. "If it was not for my brother, Carlos, I wouldleave thees island," she said.
And thus it came about that we finally confided to this woman thepurpose of our visit to the region, telling her the story of thekidnapping of the Cambon child, making mention of Mordaunt, alias Duran,and all.
She showed much excitement while she listened, and when we had finished,she spoke with vehemence.
"Oh, thad Duran!" she said. "Ah, my brother, he will help you. Wait tillCarlos come. I cannot explain now, but he will be very glad to helpyou."
Carlos was gone to the city on some marketing errand, and would be backby night, she said.
And so we lay aside our packs, and, to while away the time, set off toexplore the region, a mile or so farther inland. Our hostess warned usto keep aloof from an old ruin of a palace we were likely to see on ourtramp. The place, she said, had a bad name. The natives had it that theold ruin was now the abode of _zombis_ (devils); and there were storiesof men who had gone to explore the place and had never returned. Some ofthe stories were fanciful, she admitted, but she had herself seen oneman return nursing a bullet wound, and who had refused to talk of hisexperience, and had gone away never to return.
Robert and I moved on up the valley, curious for a look at this tabooedruin. The path for some time led through heavy forest growth, where wasa perfect tangle of lianas, running from ground to tree, and tree totree, in a great network.
Presently we came to an open space. Robert was ahead.
"There she is," he said, pointing.
The ground sloped away, down to the left hand of our path. The foresttrees hid the bottom of the valley--a big ravine I prefer to callit--and over there, over-topping the trees on the other side of thevalley, a mile away, loomed a wonderful structure--or the ruins of one.
For a minute we gazed in speechless wonder.
The air was clear, and from our high vantage point we could see withunusual distinctness the high walls of each story which seemed to rise awide step behind that of the story below. Flanking a great arched portalat the ground, either side rose wide stone buttressed terraces,zigzagging in their ascent. The top--the fourth or fifth story of thepalace showed only crumbling walls, and trees grew up there, evidentlyrooted in the crevices. And one tree, I saw, poked its head through awindow opening. The grandeur and bizarre beauty of the structure made itseem like a chapter out of "Arabian Nights Entertainments."
"Who'd think to see a thing like that here!" I said.
"I'd like to get inside of it," said Robert. And I saw it was a hope heexpressed.
"And what about the devils that live there?" I quizzed him, though I hadthe same thought as he.
"I don't take any stock in that part of those stories," saidRobert--"Any more than you do," he added, studying my face.
"Well, suppose we try getting a little closer," I said.
So we again took up the march, now moving down into the ravine. When wehad crossed the open ground, we found a way into the tangled growth. Itwas apparently an old, though now unused, path, that must have been cutthrough the forest with much labor. When we reached the stream, it wasat a shallow fording; and then we ascended the other side of the ravineby a path, grass overgrown like that of the descent. Seldom would we seemore than fifty feet in front, so close was the growth, and winding thepath.
We moved silently, the effort of the climb taking all our breath. Whenwe had gone what we judged to be some over half the distance to thepalace, we came to a halt, to
rest, and to consider. We had hoped thatby this time we should have come to a close view of the structure. Butthere was yet no sign of a break in the trees.
"Perhaps if we go a little farther we'll come to some opening,"suggested Robert.
Directly, the slope of ascent became more gentle, and we went withgreater ease. But we were soon brought to a sudden halt. We had justmade a sharp turn of the path, when we came upon a bleached human skull,fixed in the notch of a tree. Below it were nailed two long bones. Theyevidently were meant to be crossed, though now they lay almost parallel,doubtless due to the giving way of some rusty support. The skull wassmall, apparently that of a child; and the sight was not cheerful.
"It's a warning," I whispered.
Robert nodded agreement, and then there was a question in his eyes.
"Better try it a little farther," I said.
And so we moved on cautiously. The trees were very tall and very closeset together, making the wood very dark, where not so much as a flybuzzed. I was debating whether to call a halt, when the light of openground showed ahead. By way of caution I pulled Robert with me off thepath to the right; there might be danger in the path; and we crawledthrough the heavy undergrowth and tangle of lianas to the edge of theforest.
When we looked out across the open it was to find ourselves almost underthe walls of that great ruin. The tooth of decay had gnawed big gaps inthe top parts, but the lower stories still boasted a sound fabric; andmight even be habitable. What a place to play in!
But we got a rough awakening from our dreaming contemplation: There camethe sudden crack of a gun, and the ball whizzed close over our heads,causing us to drop flat on the ground and wriggle away lively into theunderbrush.
For above a quarter of an hour we crouched in our burrow, not daring tomove, or even converse in a whisper. Then, with infinite labor andextreme caution, we finally worked our way back to the path, down whichwe trotted, half expecting a shot from some ambush.
We had just passed the ford at the bottom of the ravine when we werestartled by the sudden appearance of a black directly in our path.
It proved to be Carlos, the brother of our hostess, who had come insearch of us. When we had recited our adventure he was inclined toscold.
"Id is ver' danger' to go to thad place," he said, "Melie say she tellyou about thad."
The shadows already covered the open spaces and it was night when wecame to the cottage of Carlos and Melie Brill.
Carlos told us that he had got it of friends in the city that M. Duran'sschooner had been in the harbor.
"And where did the schooner go that he did not go with it?" I asked.
"Oh, the schooner she go not so ver' far," said Carlos. "She hide in onebay not ver' far away, I guess."
We had not spoken long with Carlos Brill, till it became plain that inhis mind this man, Duran, was associated with some kind of emotion, andit was equally plain that that emotion could not be given the name oflove. The real nature and source of this sentiment he seemed disposed tokeep to himself; though he was in no pains to make us believe that hiswillingness to help us was entirely disinterested.
Melie Brill had a meal prepared. The chief dish was a soup, as shecalled it; carrots, yams, pumpkins, turnips, bananas, salt pork, andpimentos, boiled all together. Pineapple and bananas made the desert.Our host gave us to understand we were already installed, as of thehousehold. They would listen to no other way of it.
These two, brother and sister, were not much of a kind with theirneighbors. It was plain, dark as they were, they were of some mixedblood, it was shown in the features and hair, which was straight, noteven deigning to curl.
Before we had finished our supper there appeared the black neighbor whohad so recently lost a child to the voodoo. She seemed to have sensed,in some manner, the purpose of our visit, for she wished Robert and meall kinds of success. This was interpreted to us by Melie Brill, for thewoman had only the West Indian-French. She gave me a kind of fetish; itwas of some very hard wood, the shape of a bird, bill and tail, and thethickness of a marble. She said that within was a drop of blood of agreat wizard, and that it would preserve me from a violent death (and sofrom the attacks of the _zombis_) and would insure success in myundertakings. She was soon gone, for it is the practice among all thenatives to retire to bed early.
The desire to press our business was upon Robert and myself, and we puta number of questions. We desired to know who they were who inhabitedthe ruined palace, and who it could have been who fired the shot at usover there.
"I do not know who it is who stay there," Carlos answered, "an' I do notknow who fire' the shot."
"Don't you think it's that man, Duran, who makes that his headquarters?"I pressed.
Carlos exchanged a look with his sister before he spoke. "I have suspectfor some time, that Duran he keep there, when he not away in heesschooner," he said. "I have think that for two year."
"Hasn't anyone seen him around there?" queried Robert.
"No," returned Carlos. "No one have seen any white man that way, but Isuspect Duran he go there."
"Then," I asked, "do you think that's where he has hidden little MarieCambon?"
"Yes, ver' like'," said Carlos.
Further talk only strengthened our conviction. Next we required ofCarlos to guide us to a barren hillside--some spot in range of theharbor, so many miles below. This Carlos professed to be easy ofaccomplishment.
We went the way we had been in the afternoon. The forest was of an inkyblackness; even the stars could seldom be seen from the path. Carlos hadno trouble to keep the road. A perfect hush was over everything untilthe night birds and frogs tuned up to show that the world was not dead.
When we got out into that open space, instinctively we turned our eyesacross the valley in the direction of the mysterious palace. And then,as if for our particular benefit, a light flashed over there. Itdisappeared in the same moment, only to appear again, perhaps at anotherpoint near. Again it went out, and though we waited some minutes, itshowed no more.
"There's some one there, sure enough," observed Robert.
"Thee people here have see' the light many times," said Carlos. "Theytheenk it is the _zombis_."
"I guess Duran is the king Zombi," said Robert.
Carlos laughed. "I theenk you right," he said.
We passed through another patch of forest and climbed to a ledge on thesteep hillside. To gather a pile of wood was the work of but fiveminutes. Then we set it akindle.
Using our jackets for a screen, we began to signal, alternately coveringand exposing our fire. Our friends on the _Pearl_ must have kept a goodwatch, for hardly two minutes had passed, till we made out an answeringsignal.
"Ray is on the job," said Robert.
Then I spelled out, in short and long flashes, the following words:
Good So Far.
Then came from the sea the terse acknowledgment: O.K.
"That ought to hold Norris," said Robert.
"Yes, till tomorrow night," I returned. "If we don't signal them againtomorrow night, Norris will be piling up here hand over foot."
Carlos had been very quiet, taken up with watching our procedure. Thatmode of communication was far from unknown to him, but it seemed to himmarvelous that white folk should use it. But the wonder of it all wasthat we could spell out any words we pleased in that way.
"An' if you tell your frien's to come, they weel come?" he asked.
"Yes," I answered, "they will come, in a hurry."
That somehow seemed to please Carlos; and he became pensive. We had putout the fire and were already on our way back through the black forest.When we came again to the open space, we stopped for near half an hour,in the hope that we might again have a sight of the mysterious lightover at the old ruin.
While we squatted on the ground, watching, my mind was taken up with theproblem of how to discover where little Marie Cambon was hid; and wouldour little handful of men be sufficient to storm the place? I put thequestions to Carlos.
He referred to our being fired on.
"Wait till tomorrow, then maybe I fin' out sometheeng," he said.
Carlos and his sister made us a pallet in the arbor at the back.
The Voodoo Gold Trail Page 5