CHAPTER VI
WE BREAK UP THE VOODOO CEREMONIAL
Carlos was gone when Robert and I awoke. Melie told us he had gone offearly on our business, and had left word that we were to lay close, tillhe returned.
Our excursion over to that old ruin of a palace, we were to learn, hadbeen a bit rash. In fact, before the morning was gone, the woman who hadgiven me the fetish came over to report that black men had been about,with inquiries as to the movements of the two white boys.
Carlos turned up at noon. He had been angling among some of the lesservoodoo devotees. There was no news of any white child being held forsacrifice; but there had been passed word of a big voodoo ceremonial totake place either this night or the next. The place was some ten milesback in the hills.
"Some of the voodoos near here have gone from their home'," he said,"an' some more make ready to go."
The news was disturbing. I had no doubt that a big voodoo ceremonialcould mean nothing less than that there was to be the offering of the"goat without horns." And here, too, was the big voodoo doings to followclose upon the arrival of Duran with little Marie Cambon.
And what was to do? Call our friends from the _Pearl_? Manifestly, wecould not bring so many whites into the region without attractingattention. Duran would be forewarned, and so our purpose defeated. Wetwo must continue to go it alone, trust to luck and our own devices. Andthere was our new ally, Carlos Brill.
"We must go and see what's going on," I said to Carlos, "and if it's tenmiles, we must start soon."
"Oh, if we go before dark," returned Carlos, "and some one see whiteboys, they--"
"We have a cure for that," I interrupted. "You'll see, we'll fool them."
Robert and I got our packs together, to which we added some small piecesof clothing that I begged of Carlos. Soon we stood all fixed for a longmarch.
"And now," said I to Carlos, "you and Melie are to come a short way withus to bid us goodbye, for it is to be understood that we are going backthe way we came. But then you are to keep watch on the brush; and if youhear the whistle of a bird you're to come over quietly and meet us."
"Yes, yes," nodded Carlos, comprehending.
And so Carlos and Melie walked with us till we were in the midst of thevillage; and there we shook hands as we parted, and again waved agoodbye, as we moved out of view, numbers of curious blacks looking on.
When we had gone a mile or more seaward, we turned aside; and from ascreen of brush, we watched the path for a quarter of an hour, forpossible followers.
"Do you think there were any of the voodoo, there?" questioned Robert atlast.
"Perhaps not," I answered, "but they'll soon hear of our going."
We picked a suitable spot in the brush, and set up our dressing room.Forth came the kinky, black wigs, and paints given us by Jules Sevier.We worked on one another, turn about. At the end of twenty minutes I setthe wig on Robert's head. The result was satisfactory. His color was adusky brown, all but black. A few minutes drying, and the stain refusedto rub off.
"Bob, you are pretty," I told him. "I'll defy Rufe to know you."
"I'll say the same for you, Wayne," said he. "Even Ray wouldn't know_you_."
A jacket and a jumper, and an old hat, got of Carlos, and a twist andturn to Robert's slouch cover, completed our make-up.
Going back, we skirted the village on the west. We came in time into thebrush back of the Brill hut.
A whistled bird-call brought Carlos. When he put aside the bush andstepped into view, that moment his face was a picture--his mindcontending between the certainty of our identity and doubt of his eyes.
"Ah," he began, "that is ver' suprise'. How you do it?" And then he musthave Melie over to the show.
Carlos had soon got himself ready, and we were off for the hills.
For some miles we kept pretty much in cover as we moved toward themountains. Carlos knew the way through the forest, where we ofttimesslipped on the moist roots of the great trees, and scrambled amongst thelianas that were everywhere. Two hours had gone when we had our firstrest in a clump of cabbage palms.
Towering above us, on a mountain, stood an old abandoned fortress.Carlos said its walls were a hundred feet high and with a thickness oftwenty feet. Our way lay to the eastward of that old stronghold.
Our progress now had us puffing, for it was up-up-up. We kept as much aspossible in the glades. Pigeons were plentiful, and we spied a predatoryhawk, at which Robert and I got our little rifles out of their cases.But Carlos put up his hand in caution.
"To shoot is not safe," said he. "Sound go ver' far, an' we do not wantanyone know some ones is here."
And then we gave Carlos another turn of surprise. To see a bird fall,and no sound of the gun,--that was beyond reason. He snapped his fingerat his ear to make sure he had not lost his hearing.
We showed him the silencers set on the rifles and tried to explain them,but he shook his head; his physics wasn't up to such juggling withsound.
The shadows were over everything when we stopped beside a brook to restand make a meal. Carlos found wood that burned with little smoke, and wesoon had a bird apiece, broiling. Out of a bag Carlos poured farine.With water he made a paste. Then came macadam--codfish stewed with rice.We topped off with bananas, and water from the stream.
The scene was like to have been the last to my eyes on this earth. Ahigh peak towered some seven miles to the east. We could see the bluesea below, many miles to the north, with the golden-yellow horizon.Great tracts of forest were everywhere between, with bits of glades, andpalm groves.
While we looked, the coast line darkened, the valleys blackened; thegloom crept up the slopes; swiftly it enveloped the three of us. Thenfor several minutes the mountain peaks glowed at the tops as if afire,and then they, too, went out, and it was night. The world was changed.The trees seemed like personalities now, come awake like the owls, withthe going out of the light. Tree-ferns below us seemed to whisper withtheir greater neighbors--mysterious gossip. Night birds piped theirsolemn dirge, insects tweeked; tree toads shrilled in competition withthe bellowing bull-frogs; owls hoarsely laughed, and called their"what-what-what."
A strange oppression crept over me and I yearned for the deck of the_Pearl_.
Suddenly Carlos sat erect--listening. I cocked my ear, but there wasnothing but the usual night sounds. A minute passed. Then, ever sofaintly I discerned the peculiar low rumble. It was something I hadheard before. It rose and fell in waves of sound; and wave upon wave itswelled in volume.
"It's the voodoo drum!" I whispered Robert.
"That's over a mile away," he observed, listening.
"Seex mile!--maybe seven mile!" corrected Carlos.
We collected our belongings and were off in the direction of the sound.When we entered the forest, we no longer heard the sound. But afterstumbling among the slimy roots, and bumping our noses on the swinginglianas, for half an hour, we came again out in the open, and again weheard the drumming. Carlos ofttimes avoided the jungles by detours. Atthe end of an hour the rolling of the drum seemed only a few hundredyards away.
"T'ree more mile, I guess," said Carlos.
On and on we stumbled in the dark. The moon was not due till nearmorning, and so distinct was the drumming that we did not seem anylonger to be approaching the place, but were already arrived.
Then at last the sound seemed more distant.
"Now we ver' close," said Carlos.
Something or other was contradictory.
A quarter of a mile or so through the dense forest, and a bright lightshowed in front.
Now cautiously we moved forward till we came to the edge of an openspace. The place appeared to have been partly cleared by hand, for manytree-stumps presented.
We climbed into the low branches of a great tree. The great fire blazedbut a hundred yards from our perch. The drummer sat astride hisinstrument (a cylinder of wood) the fingers of both hands playing on theskin stretched over the one end. The dancers were very many. Here was ar
epetition of the things I saw in the company of Jules Sevier.
To the right of the fire there was the raised platform, on which stoodthe snake-box. Back of all was some form of shelter, out from which intime came a figure cloaked in red, and wearing a red kerchief woundabout the head. This was the _papaloi_ (voodoo king). This appearancewas the signal for a hush, and a halting of the dance. All groupedround. There were the usual requests for favors and the listening at thebox for the answers.
Then came the slaughter of the fowls; and the mixing of the rum.
I had begun to breath more freely on my perch. But then Robert touchedme on the arm.
"What's that thing on the ground?" he whispered.
I strained my eyes. The figures of the blacks obscured the view. But atlast--what I saw froze my blood.
"We must save it," I said. "It's little Marie Cambon."
As I look back on the experience of the hours following, it is as if Iwere recalling a horrid dream.
"Robert," I whispered, "the rifles!"
We slipped to the ground, seized our little guns, and got back to ourplaces.
The red-robed _papaloi_ was fumbling with a rope that hung from a liana.An attendant was kneeling on the ground holding a cup to the lips of thechild.
In another moment the child was swinging in the air by the rope, itshead just clearing the ground. I heard it whimper in fright. The_papaloi_ took up a knife.
"Give it to him in the hand," I said in Robert's ear.
We leveled our guns together. There was no sound of the explosions. The_papaloi_ dropped the knife, seized his right hand with his left, and hebent over in pain. I had given my shot to the rope. After my secondsqueeze of the trigger it hung by a strand; a third lead missile, andthe child went gently to the ground.
The voodoo worshipers began to scatter in panic of this strangevisitation.
We in the tree slipped to the ground. I thrust my rifle into the handsof Carlos and, intent on making the most of the panic, rushed forward.The _papaloi_ saw me coming, and called on the nearest of his followers.But I had up the child before any could interfere, and I sprinted backand thrust it into the arms of Robert.
"Run! both of you!" I cried. And I sought to delay pursuit, hurlingpiece after piece of dead-wood at the nearest blacks, who were alreadyat the chase, urged on by the wounded _papaloi_.
I meant to run for it, and elude the voodoos in the thick forest, sosoon as the laden Robert and Carlos should have a good start. Mymissiles danced about the shins of the foremost blacks, and they heldup.
I was backing toward the edge of the jungle, and in the way of readilymaking my escape; but some wily black with a club must have taken athought worth two of that, and got on the wrong side of me. I was justin the thought it was about time to make my break, when I got a crack onthe back of my head that put me to sleep.
The Voodoo Gold Trail Page 6