by Eugène Sue
“I do not doubt you, my son, and I accept your offer. I will fasten the windows securely against the assassins, and bar the door strongly. Snog will act as picket. It will not be the first time this house has stood a siege; a dozen English pirates attacked it two years ago, but with my slaves and the aid of an official from Cabesterre, who was accidentally at my house, we punished the heretics severely.”
So saying, Father Griffen entered the dining room, withdrawing with some effort the iron-barbed arrow which stuck in the back of the chair, he exclaimed with surprise, “There is a paper attached to the feather of this arrow!” Then, unfolding it, he read these words, written in a large and bold hand: “Warning number one, to the Chevalier de Croustillac.”
“To the Rev. Father Griffen, respect and affection.”
The priest looked at the chevalier without saying a word. He, in turn, took the bit of paper and read it.
“What does this mean?” he exclaimed.
“It means that I have not been deceived in speaking of the sure aim of the Caribbeans. The person who shot the arrow could have killed you had he so willed. See! this arrow tip is poisoned, doubtless; it entered an inch into the back of this chair of hard wood; if it had struck you, you would be dead. What skill was displayed in thus guiding this arrow!”
“Zounds, Father! I find it rather more marvelous that I am not touched,” said the Gascon. “But what the devil have I done to this savage?”
Father Griffen struck his forehead with his hand. “When I have read you this?” he exclaimed.
“Read what, Father?”
“Warning number one, to the Chevalier de Croustillac.”
“Well?”
“Well! this warning comes from Devil’s Cliff.”
“You believe it to be so?”
“I am sure of it. They have learned of your project and they desire to force you to give it up.”
“How can they have learned it?”
“You did not hide it on board the Unicorn. Some of the passengers, disembarking three days ago at St. Pierre, have spoken of it; this rumor has reached the counting house of Blue Beard and her business manager has informed his employer.”
“I am forced to confess,” replied the chevalier, after a moment’s reflection, “that Blue Beard has singular means of corresponding with one. This is a queer little mail.”
“Ah, well, my son, I hope the lesson will profit you,” said the priest. Then he continued, addressing the two slaves who were carrying in the blinds and were about to raise them into place, “It is unnecessary, my children, I see there is nothing to fear.”
The slaves, accustomed to a blind obedience, took away the impromptu defenses.
The chevalier looked at the priest with astonishment.
“Without doubt,” said the good father, “the word of the dwellers at Devil’s Cliff is sacred; I have nothing at present to fear from them, nor you either, my son, because you are warned, and you will necessarily give up your mad plan.”
“I, Father?”
“How — —”
“May I become blacker this moment than your two negroes if I renounce it.”
“What do you say — after such a warning?”
“Well, who is to tell me that this warning comes from Blue Beard? It may come from a rival — from the buccaneer, the filibuster, or the cannibal. For I have quite a selection among the gallant admirers of the beauty of Devil’s Cliff.”
“Ah, well, what does it signify — —”
“How? What does it signify, Father? But I intend to show these would-be wits what the blood of a De Croustillac is! Ah! they think to intimidate me! They do not know this sword which, look you, would move in its scabbard! whose steel would blush with indignation if I were to renounce my undertaking!”
“My son, this is madness, sheer madness — —”
“And what a coward, what a sheep, would the Chevalier de Croustillac appear in the eyes of Blue Beard if he were so pusillanimous as to be daunted by so little!”
“By so little! but two inches higher and you would have been killed!”
“But as it was two inches lower, and I was not killed, I will consecrate my life to taming the willful heart of Blue Beard and to vanquishing my rivals, be they ten, twenty, thirty, one hundred or ten thousand,” replied the Gascon, with growing enthusiasm.
“But if this act was the order of the mistress of Devil’s Cliff?”
“If it was done by her order, she shall see, the cruel one, that I will brave the death to which she would send me, in order to reach her heart. She is a woman; she will appreciate such valor. I do not know if she is a Venus but I know that without wronging the god Mars I Polyphème Amador de Croustillac am terribly martial; and from beauty to courage there is but a step.”
One must imagine the exaggeration and Gascon accent of the chevalier to have an idea of this scene.
Father Griffen hardly knew whether to laugh or to be appalled at the opinionated resolve of the chevalier. The secret of the confessional forbade his speaking, from entering into any details concerning Devil’s Cliff; he knew not how to induce the chevalier to renounce his fatal intention. He had endeavored to do so, but in vain.
“If nothing can withhold you, my son, it cannot be said that I have been, even indirectly, an accomplice in your mad enterprise. You are ignorant of the position of Devil’s Cliff; neither myself, nor my slaves, nor, I assure you, any of my parishioners will be your guide. I have instructed them to refuse. Beside the reputation of Blue Beard is such that no one would care to infringe my orders.”
This declaration of the priest’s seemed to make the chevalier reflect. He bent his head in silence then he began again resolutely: “I know that Devil’s Cliff is some four leagues from this spot; it is situated in the northern part of the island. My heart will serve as a compass to guide me to the lady of my thoughts, with the assistance of the sun and the moon.”
“But, madman,” cried the priest, “there is no path through the forests which you would traverse; the trees are so thick that they would hide from you the position of the sun — you would be lost.”
“I shall go right ahead; I shall arrive somewhere. Your island is not so large (be it said without disparaging Martinique), Father; then I shall retrace my steps, and I shall seek until I find Devil’s Cliff.”
“But the soil of the forest is often impassable; it is infested with serpents of the most dangerous species; I say to you that in what you propose, you are courting a thousand deaths.”
“Ah, well, Father, ‘nothing venture, nothing have.’ If there are serpents I will get upon stilts after the manner of the natives of my country.”
“Going to walk on stilts in the midst of creepers, brambles, rocks, trees overturned by storms? I tell you, you do not know our forests.”
“If one always considered the perils of an undertaking one would never accomplish any good. Did you think of the deadly fevers when you tended those of your parishioners who were attacked with it?”
“But my object was a pious one; I risked death in the observance of my duty; while you rush upon yours out of vanity.”
“Vanity, Father! A companion who has sacks filled with diamonds and fine pearls, and probably five or six millions more in gold! Zounds! what a ‘vanity!’”
Having seen the futility of overcoming such unparalleled opinionativeness, the good priest said no more.
He conducted his guest to the room assigned to him, fully resolved to put every difficulty possible in the way of the chevalier the next day.
Inflexible in his resolve, Croustillac slept profoundly. A lively curiosity had come to the aid of a natural obstinacy and an imperturbable confidence in his destiny; the more this confidence had been, till then, disappointed, the more our adventurer believed that the promised hour was about to come to him. The following morning, at break of day, he arose and went on tiptoe to the door of Father Griffen’s room. The priest still slept, not thinking for a moment that the chevalier wou
ld dream of starting off on a journey through an unknown country without a guide. He deceived himself.
Croustillac, in order to escape the solicitation and reproaches of his host, started at once. He girded on his formidable sword, a weapon very inconvenient to travel with through a forest; he jammed his hat well down on his head, took a staff in his hand with which to frighten the serpents, and with firm tread and nose in the air, though with a heart beating rather rapidly, he quitted the hospitable house of the priest of Macouba, and directed his steps toward the north, for some time following the extremely thick vegetation of the forest. He shortly afterward made a circuit of this dense vegetation, which formed an angle toward the east, and stretched indefinitely in that direction.
From the moment that the chevalier entered the forest, he did not hesitate in the slightest degree. He recalled the wise counsels of Father Griffen; he thought of the dangers which he was going to encounter; but he also invoked the thought of Blue Beard’s treasures; he was dazzled by the heaps of gold, pearls, rubies and diamonds which he believed he saw sparkling and quivering before his eyes. He pictured to himself the owner of Devil’s Cliff, a being of perfect beauty. Led on by this vision, he entered resolutely the forest, and pushed aside the heavy screen of creepers which were suspended from the limbs of the trees which they draped.
The chevalier did not forget to beat the bushes with his staff, crying out in a loud voice, “Out, ye serpents, out!”
With the exception of the voice of the Gascon, there was not a sound.
The sun rose; the air, freshened by the plenteous dew of the night, and by the sea breeze, was impregnated with the aromatic odors of the forest, and its tropical flowers. The rest was still plunged in the shadow when the chevalier entered it.
For some time the profound silence reigning in this imposing solitude was only broken by the blows of the chevalier’s staff on the bushes, and by his repeated cries, “Out, ye serpents, out!”
Little by little these sounds grew fainter and then ceased all at once.
The gloomy and profound silence which reigned was suddenly broken in upon by a kind of savage howl which had in it nothing human. This sound, and the first rays of the sun trembling on the horizon, like a sheaf of light, appeared to rouse the inhabitants of the great forest. They responded one after another until the uproar became infernal. The chattering of monkeys; the cry of wildcats; the hissing of serpents; the grunts of wild boars; the bellowing of cattle, broke from every direction with a frightful chorus; the echoes of the forest and the cliffs repeated these discordant sounds; one would have supposed a band of demons was responding to a superior demon’s call.
CHAPTER VII.
THE CAVERN.
WHILE THE CHEVALIER sought a road to Devil’s Cliff by which to traverse the forest, we will conduct our readers toward the most southern portion of the coast of Martinique.
The sea rolled with slow majesty at the foot of large rocks near a peak which formed a natural defense to this part of the island, and which rose in a perpendicular wall some two hundred feet in height. The continued beating of the waves rendered this coast so dangerous that a vessel could not touch at this place without being, inevitably, broken to pieces.
The site of which we speak had a wild and grand simplicity; a wall of barren rocks, of a dull red, was outlined on a sky of sapphire blue; their base was swallowed up in a whirl of snowy foam, hidden by the incessant shock of enormous mountains of water which broke upon these reefs in tones of thunder. The sun with all its strength threw a brilliant, torrid light on this mass of granite; there was not a cloud in the brazen heavens. On the horizon there appeared through a burning vapor the high land of the other Antilles.
At some distance from the coast, where the waves broke, the sea was of a somber blue, and as calm as a mirror. An object scarcely perceptible, because it offered little surface above the water, approached rapidly the portion of this island called Cabesterre.
Little by little, a long, light canoe was to be distinguished, whose stern and bow cut the sea evenly; this vessel, without sails, was impelled forward by the strength of the waves. On each seat was clearly seen a man vigorously rowing. Whether or not the coast was as unapproachable at three leagues as at this place, it was evident that the canoe was directed toward these rocks.
The object of those who were approaching seemed to be hard to understand. Presently the canoe was caught in the midst of the surf beating upon these reefs. Had it not been for the marvelous ability of its pilot, who avoided these masses of water following the frail bark and incessantly menacing it, she would very soon have been swallowed up.
At two gunshots from the rocks, the canoe reversed and rested, and took advantage of an interval in the succession of waves, at a moment of calm, which occurred periodically after seven or eight waves had broken into foam.
The two men, who by their clothing were easily seen to be European sailors, pressing their caps more securely on their heads, sprang overboard and boldly struck out for the shore while their companions turned at the edge of this calm, regained the open, and disappeared after having braved anew the fury of the mountainous waves with wonderful skill.
During this time the two intrepid swimmers, by turn submerged or cast up from the midst of the enormous waves which they adroitly traversed, arrived at the foot of the rocks in the center of a sea of foam. They appeared to be rushing upon certain death, and it looked as if they would be dashed to pieces upon the reefs. Nothing of the sort occurred, however. These two men seemed to perfectly understand the coast; they directed their course toward a place where the violence of the waves had hollowed out a natural grotto.
The waves, engulphing themselves under this roof with a horrible din fell back from it in a cataract into a smaller basin, hollow and deep. After some heavy undulations, the waves grew feebler; in the center of a gigantic cavern formed a little subterranean lake which, when full, returned to the sea by some hidden channel.
It required great temerity to so abandon themselves to the impulse of these furious waves which precipitated them into the abyss; but this momentary submersion was more frightful than dangerous; the mouth of the cave was so large that there was no danger of being bruised by the rocks, and the cloud of foam threw them into the midst of a peaceful pond, surrounded by a fine, sandy beach.
Sifting through the fall of water which bubbled at the entrance of this enormous roof, the light was feeble, soft, and bluish like that of the moon.
The two swimmers, breathless, deafened and wounded by the shook of the waves, emerged from the little lake and stretched themselves on the sand, where they rested for some time.
The larger of these two men, though he was dressed like a common sailor, was Colonel Rutler, a stanch partisan of the new King of England, William of Orange, under whose orders he had served when the son-in-law of the unfortunate James II. was only a stadtholder of Holland. Colonel Rutler was robust and tall; his face wore an expression of audacity, bordering on cruelty; his hair, lying in close, damp meshes, was of a deep red; his mustache of the same color hid a large mouth overshadowed by a hooked nose, resembling the beak of a bird of prey.
Rutler, a faithful and resolute man, served his master with blind devotion. William of Orange had testified his confidence in him by intrusting to him a mission as difficult as it was dangerous, the nature of which we shall know later on. The sailor who accompanied the colonel was slight but vigorous, active and determined.
The colonel said to him in English, after a moment’s silence, “Are you sure, John, that there is a passage leading from here?”
“The passage exists, colonel, be easy on that score.”
“But I do not perceive any — —”
“By and by, colonel, when your view shall have become accustomed to this half light, like that of the moon, you will lay yourself down flat on your stomach, and there, at the right, at the end of a long natural passage in which one cannot advance except by crawling, you will perceive the light of
day which penetrates through a crevasse in the rock.”
“If the road is sure, it certainly is not easy.”
“So far from easy, colonel, that I defy the captain of the brigantine who brought you to the Barbadoes, with his great stomach, to enter the passage which remains for us to travel. It is as much as I could do heretofore to glide through; it is the size of the tunnel of a chimney.”
“And it leads?”
“To the bottom of a precipice which forms a defense for Devil’s Cliff; three sides of this precipice are a peak, and it is as impossible to descend as to ascend it; but as to the fourth side, it is not inaccessible, and with the help of the jutting rocks one can reach by this road the limits of the park of Blue Beard.”
“I understand — this subterranean passage will conduct us to the bottom of the abyss above which towers Devil’s Cliff?”
“Exactly, colonel; it is as if we were at the bottom of a moat, one of whose sides is perpendicular and the other sloping. When I say sloping, that is simply a figure of speech, for in order to reach the summit of the peak, one must more than once hang suspended by some vine between heaven and earth. But when there, we find ourselves at the edge of the park of Devil’s Cliff — once there, we can hide ourselves in some place and wait our opportunity — —”
“And this opportunity is not far distant; come, come, you, who know so much, must, at one time, have been in the service of Blue Beard!”
“I told you, colonel, I came from the coast with her and her first husband; at the end of three months, they sent me back; then I left for San Domingo. I have heard no further word of them.”
“And she — would you know her well?”
“Yes, as to her height and general air, but not her face; for we reached the coast at night, and once on shore she was carried in a litter to Devil’s Cliff. When by chance she walked in the daytime, she wore a mask. Some say she is as beautiful as an angel; others, that she is ugly as a monster. I cannot say which are in the right, for neither I nor my mates ever put foot in the interior of the mansion. Those who perform the special attendance and service are mulattresses as mute as fish.”