CHAPTER VIII
THE VOODOO STRONGHOLD
How long I had been dozing the last spell, I don't know, but when myeyes opened, daylight was showing through that little slit high up inthe cell wall. It wasn't much light that came in, but it was enough toshow me some kind of decorative affair on the otherwise plain walls ofthe dungeon.
I moved close to the thing; and I set the tray against the wall, belowit, and got me up closer. Then I was able to make out it was a kind ofshrine, built into the wall. There was a crucifix back in the niche, andkneeling figures at the foot.
Then suddenly I felt a queer sense of creeping in my flesh--a thought,like a revelation, had flashed in my mind. Here was just the sort ofthing I had heard that taciturn black fellow, Amos, tell about; adungeon, in the wall a shrine--Christ on the cross, and figures at thefoot! Could this be the very cell and shrine Amos had told of? It seemedtoo good to be true. And yet there was eloquent argument. For wasn'tthere that mysterious interest of Amos in Mordaunt, alias Duran, atKingston? And was it not reasonably certain that Amos had lost his lifeat the hands of this Duran? And now had we not traced Duran to this veryplace? Trembling with eagerness and suspense, I sought, and got my handon, the figure of the Virgin. I shook it gently, ashamed to so manhandlea holy thing. It held fast. I put on greater and greater violence; andfinally I felt it give a little. Compunction was all gone now; and atlast I lifted out the figure, which was prolonged at the bottom to makea round peg.
My heart thumped with excitement. I pulled on the frame of the shrine. Afew tugs and the whole thing swung in like a door, on hinges. And sothere was uncovered a black hole behind.
I put my hands on the edge and tried to pull myself up into that hole.It was no go--I hadn't the strength. I tried again and again, but Iweakened at every effort.
I went over and looked at that food and drink, tempted to have a fewmouthfuls--for strength's sake. But I finally decided against the risk.Instead, I filled my lungs with air--such as there was--and rested.
After five minutes I got my toes on the tray again. And this time I madeit. I got through. And I pulled the shrine door shut after me. There wasan interstice through which I got my hand, and put that figure-peg inplace again. I meant they should not discover the manner of my escapefrom the cell.
That place I was now in was entirely dark, and the air damp andoppressive. I could touch both walls at once, so narrow was the place.
And now which way to turn? How I wished for my flashlight! I tried it tothe left, moving cautiously. I had taken about twenty short paces, whenI noted little beams of light coming through the wall. I got my eye to achink, and made it out that here was another shrine, set in the wall ofsome room of the palace.
I got a view, too, of some part of that room. A cluster of burningcandles stood on a table, which piece of furniture, I could see, was ofrichly-carved mahogany. And there lay my flashlight in plain view.
A figure moved into the field of my eye. It was the _papaloi_; hiswounded hand was still in a bandage. He bustled about, though I couldmake nothing of his occupation; till finally he set a pomade jar on thetable, turned in his clothing at the neck, and began to smear his face.Here was a fastidious black. The process was long and leisurely, andthere came a period of wait--to let the oil that shone on his dark skinsoak in. And then he took up a cloth and began to wipe.
It was then I got a start, for his face came out from under therag--white! And it was then I recognized Duran, alias Mordaunt! Thisvoodoo _papaloi_, who put the knife to little innocents, was no otherthan Duran himself. I was now prepared to believe the stories of thehorrifying cruelty, and strange fanaticism--or whatever it may becalled--of some of those of mixed blood.
A black attendant came into the room with a vessel of water. Duranwashed, while the black busied himself with laying out clothing, as Icould see when he moved into my view. These Duran began to don, makinghimself into more the appearance of a gentleman, a role he had learnedto assume. Only now he allowed his features to relax into an expressionthat was more that of a hardened criminal than of a gentleman. There waslittle talk, and that was in French; no word of it that I couldunderstand.
I lingered in the hope that the room should be vacated, and I might tryif his Calvary--through whose filigree chinks I peeked--should not proveto be another door, and so be the means of my recovering my electricflashlight. It was a thing I wanted, to help me find my way out of thatblack hole.
The black man went out, finally, soon followed by Duran. I heard thedoor close. Now was my time! I got my hand through a crevice. I triedone kneeling figure, and then another. It came out, and I swung the gatein. In another moment I was on the floor, though I turned over a chairin the jump. I closed the portal and looked about.
The furnishings were rich, the floors marble. A single window there was,tightly shuttered; a bed, with an end to the wall.
I thrust my flashlight into a pocket of my trousers; I still held thestone peg in my hand.
The candles had been left burning; likely Duran would be back; so it wastime I was scrambling out. But my presence was already known, for thedoor opened, and in sprang a black.
There was no time for anything but defense. The black reached for me. Idodged, and made toward the bed. As I landed on the covers, he had me bythe ankle. And then I came down on his woolly pate with my stone peg,using all my force.
The black doubled up on the floor without a sound. I rushed a chairunder the secret portal, and in two moments was back in the darkpassage, the door with its peg back in place.
I put my eyes to the chink. In a minute Duran appeared. That he was allin a knot--dumfounded at the thing he saw, was plain.
I was curious to know whether I had committed manslaughter, but whenDuran opened the door and began to call out to others, I thought it wiseto move. I used my light, and went back the way I had come. There showed
nothing but bare stone walls; the passage, between four and five feetwide, and not twice so high.
Presently it descended, in steps; at the bottom my light showed a door.I lifted a long, rusty latch, and with repeated strong pulls, swung itopen. There was a hole through, ostensibly to permit of reaching thelatch with a stick from the outside.
The welcome outdoor air came through a heavy growth of vines. It wasperhaps fifteen feet to the ground. I swung the door to after me, andscrambled down by the vines.
Ah, how good that bit of turf felt under my feet! Trees were all about,though just here they were new growth--small. A stream trickled overstones close by. I went down to its edge and drank my fill, and I tookthe brook for my guide, upward, toward the hills.
I came to a place where I must walk in the water to go round a lowcliff. And then I came upon a path, new used, and seeming to come fromthat great building whose upper walls I could still see peeping throughthe tree-tops.
I heard voices, and jumped behind a bushy screen. There appeared on thepath a half dozen black men, and an old black crone. Two pairs of themen were burdened with litters, and two went before as an advanceguard--they were armed with guns. On the litter were bundles, some ingunny sacks, and some tied in blankets. I was sure I saw some movementin the bundle on one litter, as of some living thing there. My heartthumped with the thought that here were some little ones beingtransported for voodoo slaughter. And my reason told me that littleMarie Cambon was of the number.
I followed for some miles, for the most part out of view--but now andthen getting glimpses of the blacks ahead. The trail--much used I couldsee it was--held pretty much to the shores of the stream; at times theway was through the brush, avoiding a bend or some bad going; at timesthe path lay in the water itself. Grand tree ferns and a great varietyof tropic growth made it a wonderfully romantic and beautiful woodspath. And yet here it was given over to hell's own purposes.
I went far enough to convince my mind that the blacks were making directto that castle fortress on the mountain, whose high walls now and anoncame into view. I turned short about then, and hurrie
d back. I would goto the Brill cottage for news of Robert and Carlos, and send for myfriends on the _Pearl_.
I was still a mile or more from the old ruin where I'd been a prisoner,when I heard shots. I soon cut away from the path, and stumbled throughthe jungle, in the direction of the sounds of battle. My mind was fullwith conjecture.
"It must be Jean Marat, and Norris, and the others from the _Pearl_," Isaid to myself at last. Robert must have signalled them last night, andnow they were attacking.
When the sounds of firing told me I was near, I whistled a call. Andthen I came up with them. And there were Robert, and Ray with my rifle;and Ray had a story of his performance with the gun. "I peppered him atthe south end, going northwards," he said, "and it's a hot tack he'll besitting on every time he 'plunks' down on a stool."
For some reason those at the palace had ceased their firing. Maybe theunscathed blacks had taken their lesson of the things those two crackshots, Marat and Norris, had proven themselves able to do to every blackhead that showed round the edge of portal or stone wall. And perhapsthose mysterious--silent--little missiles sent by Robert and Ray hadalso had a thing to do with it. Anyway, the old palace opposite, hadbecome as silent as from its appearance it ought to be.
"Now, how did you get away?" demanded Robert.
"Yes, you might have stayed a while longer and let us have the credit ofrescuing you," exclaimed Ray.
And so I told my tale. And next I had a word for Carlos. I'd beenspoiling for this word from the moment of our reunion.
"Who was Amos?" I asked bluntly.
Carlos jerked himself erect at the word. He was caught with surprise.
"Amos, he is my brother," he said, still staring his wonder.
"I don't know why I never thought to mention it to you," I said, "butAmos was with us from New Orleans to Kingston, Jamaica."
And we gave Carlos the whole story. And when we came to the mention ofAmos' death, the poor fellow went all of a heap for a minute. Then hegot a grip of himself, and his frame became rigid; and I could see hislips move as he made some silent vow.
Carlos told us how he had been awaiting the coming of his brother, whomhe had sent forth to seek help for the recovery of a hidden gold mine,belonging, by right of inheritance, to the Brills.
"My father, he discover that mine somewhar in the hills," said Carlos."It was when Amos, and I, and Melie ver' small. He tell us how sometimehe goin' to show us the place--when we little bigger. He go 'wayfive--six day, and come back with plenty gold, some piece big as mythumb--Melie got one home. Father go to the city, and bring home plentyfine things, and much to eat. And one day that man Duran come with him.They talk big things--we little, and don't understand. Then they go 'waytogether in the hills. We wait six day--seven day--more, two week. Nouse, our father he never come back.
"That Duran then, we find out, have plenty money: he buy fine schooner,wear fine clothes--diamon's, go to France, study, and everything fine hewant to have. We--Amos, I, Melie--we say, 'Duran, he kill our father--hesteal the gold mine.' And we know what we have to do. We try to watchDuran. We see him with the voodoo. He a _sang mele_.[1] We see him go tothe old king's palace. He send warning we to keep away. One time Amos isshot in leg. But we can never find the mine. Duran never go from thepalace to the mine. We think he go in the schooner when he go to themine, so no one can follow. And then, at las' we decide we mus' havehelp, if we can find some that are honest. And so Amos he go."
[Footnote 1: _Sang mele--said to be 127 parts white and one partblack._]
And thus we of the _Pearl_ came to know that Amos, even despite hisuntimely death, had led us--or at the least he had set us on the way--tothe very place he had meant to pilot us.
Norris suggested that perhaps the mine was worked out long ago. But
Carlos declared that a friend he had in the city had seen Duran converta fresh supply of gold dust and nuggets but a few months ago.
"Well," said Norris, "then we're going to have a try for that gold mine,after all."
"Yes," said Jean Marat, "when we have find little Marie Cambon."
I had renewed my courage with food my friends carried; and now, withCarlos' help I conducted our party to the trail, going to the fortresson the mountain. Carlos had been many times on that trail, he said, andhe led us over a number of short-cuts. Robert and I were still in ourblack paint; and Ray abused us shamefully--in play--at every turn, forpresuming to hobnob so freely with our superiors.
Half the hot afternoon was gone when we had climbed to the end of thatpath. It was at the bottom of a hundred-foot wall. Carlos pointed towhere there was to be found a door, sheltered from view by the brush. Wedid not venture too close, for it was certain the door would be fast,and we planned to try for an entry by a ruse. Carlos knew a call thatwas much used by these blacks of Duran's, and he was confident he couldmake it serve our purpose.
So we laid our trap. Norris and Robert crawled cautiously into thebushes up to either side of the door, Robert armed with a strong cord,that Carlos plaited of long grasses. Carlos then sent out his call. Itsounded much like the screech of a sea-gull. He repeated it three orfour times, and waited. Then again he gave the call. In a minute, now,came an answer from high overhead. Another little space, and that dooropened, and a black came forth.
Norris pounced on him, bearing him down, one hand on the black's mouth,to prevent an outcry. Robert soon had the bonds on the fellow's wrists,and the others of us moved forward.
Captain Marat spoke to the black in French. He told him he must answerus truthfully, on pain of torture; and he had Norris give him a twist ofthe arm for a sample. And so we got it out of the man that Duran was notin the fortress, and that there were three children there, brought thisday; one, he admitted was white. There were seven men there, two of themarmed.
Then, with a gun at his back, the black was ordered to lead the way.
It was a long climb, by stone steps; then came a long corridor. At lasta room, where was a fire and cookery, utilizing a break in the wall,looking on the court, for a fireplace.
The six men, and the voodoo woman, at the cooking, were taken unawares,their two rifles confiscated, and they were lined up against the wall;Norris patting his rifle and winking, to accentuate what Marat wastelling them in the French.
The three children sat on the floor in a corner: two of them blacks,about three years of age each--and little Marie Cambon, looking like herportrait, but now big-eyed and dazed with trying to realize the meaningof this new appearance. I divined the prelude to a storm; so I hurriedover and took her up in my arms. "Little Marie!" I said. And then burstforth that flood. You have seen children cry. It continued till she wasexhausted; and then she sobbed long in her sleep. She wouldn't let meput her down; even while she slept, my attempt to relinquish her littlebody invariably awakened her. For two hours I must carry her, and wewere far from that place before she would let me rest my arms.
The two little pickaninnies were taken on, and we went off the way wehad come, leaving the seven blacks to reflect on the words of a lectureJean Marat delivered them on the evil of their ways, and to consider howthey were to account to their lord and master--and _papaloi_--Duran, forthe loss of the three "goats without horns."
Night sprung upon us before we reached the Brill cottage. And it wastruly a happy throng that gathered there. Melie bustled about preparinga supper, between whiles crooning over the three little ones--white andblack.
"Shall I see my papa and mamma?" said little Marie Cambon.
"Yes," Melie assured her. "You shall go to your papa and mamma," andthey both giggled, girl-like, for happiness.
And the little pickaninnies echoed: "Maman, maman," and Melie delightedthem with creole baby-talk; and they grinned and clapped their hands.
Robert and I had soon got the stain off our skins. Little Marie watchedthe process, and said I looked "more beautiful" without the black. Atsupper there was held a council of war. Before we could move about thebusiness of the gold mine, there were two t
hings left to be done: wemust take the Brills under our protection, for by enlisting their activehelp we had got them under the anathema of the voodoos; and we must seeto the return of little Marie to the arms of her waiting parents. Someof the effects of the Brills we got over to the care of a friendlyneighbor. Norris and Robert were to remain to assist Carlos and Meliewith their little wagon to the city. They were also to look out for thetwo little blacks.
The rest of our party moved seaward over the old trail by which we hadcome. Little Marie clung to myself; she would have none but the one whohad been the first to take her from her captors.
The morning was not yet gone, when we got to the coast. We drew our boatto the water; and then it was--back to the _Pearl_ again.
Marat and Julian were at the oars, and our boat swung round and pointedtoward the _Pearl_. It was then we perceived a boat coming toward us.And we made it out to be the other small boat from the _Pearl_. Two ofthe black sailors manned the oars, and a stranger sat in the sternsheets.
The two boats rapidly approached; in another pair of minutes I hadidentified that new figure.
"It's Monsieur Cambon!" I cried. Little Marie was beside me; I turnedher face to the approaching boat.
"See! It's papa!" I told her.
Her little face lighted up, and she seemed to expand with happiness, asshe looked.
"Papa! Papa!" she murmured.
The two boats came together, by oars they were held fast; and I passedthe child over to the silent, eager father.
"Oh! My little daughter!--Marie!" he said, then. "You are safe! Yourmamma will be so happy! So happy!"
Madame Cambon was on the _Pearl_, Monsieur told us. She was worn to ashadow with anguish. The good news must trickle to her gently. It wasfor that he came to meet us.
A strange thing it seems, that emotions of happiness can be as deadly asthe tragic. Monsieur Cambon's boat lingered behind, as ours moved to the_Pearl_. Madame Cambon lay on a hammock set up under the awning. Darkpatches were under her eyes. She tried to smile a greeting.
"I am happy that you are here," I began.
I did not rightly hear her murmured reply; and I had no mind for itanyway, whatever it was, for my mind was in a rack--how to proceed?
"You must not give in that way," I protested.
"How can I help?" she said.
"You help us all if you have courage," I said.
"Oh, I have tried," she said. "If only I could have hope."
"If you have courage I promise you hope," I ventured.
She sat up. "Hope! Only give me hope!"
"Yes," I said, with all the assurance of which I was capable, "I giveyou hope--you have it."
"Oh, I like the way you say that!" And her face took on a new look.
"I even promise you she shall come back to you again," I ventured oncemore.
Her bosom heaved for some moments; then she got control.
"Please do not give me false hopes," she begged.
"No," I asserted, now more sure of her, "I even promise you shall seeher soon."
She looked me in the eyes, to read if I told the whole truth.
"You have come with news!" she cried. "I understand you now. Tell meall--I can bear it--I see; you have prepared me. She is coming. Where ismy husband?"
"Yes," I said. "She is coming. She is with her father; they will soon behere."
Her eyes swept the water, but the boat was hidden under the rail. I wentto the side, reached down and took up little Marie from her father'shands, and brought her to her mother.
No need to describe that scene. Madame Cambon's now was a quiet,restrained emotion. She shed some tears, but there was no violence. Andat last she came to talk of gratitude, and we had to cut off her speech.That task fell to Ray.
"You don't know what you're doing," he said. "You're making us ashamedof all the fun we had. And I want to tell you of the bee I turned loosein one voodoo fellow's bonnet."
And in a minute Ray had her laughing.
Monsieur Cambon told us how Madame's condition made it imperative thatthey follow us in our search for Marie. He said, "We must go, sheinsisted, if only to be near."
The Cambons were destined to leave us on the following day, and to carryMelie Brill with them on the steamer to Jamaica. But in the meantime weawaited the coming of that portion of our party left behind up in thefoothills.
It was long after dark had come that we heard the call of Robert on thebeach opposite. Ray and I hurried the boat to shore, and took on Robert,Norris, Carlos and Melie Brill. And they had a story to tell.
The Voodoo Gold Trail Page 8