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The Maroon

Volume Two – Chapter Twenty Eight
Midnight Wanderers

Once more under the ceiba, that gigantic trysting tree, stood the Maroon and his mistress. Not, as before, in the bright noonday sun, but near the mid-hour of the night. The Foolah had dared the dangers of the forest to meet her beloved Cubina.

And there were dangers in that forest, more to be dreaded than fierce beasts or ravenous reptiles – more to be dreaded than the tusks of the wild boar, or the teeth of the scaly alligator. There were monsters in human form far more fearful to be encountered; and at that moment not very distant from the spot where the lovers had made their rendezvous.

Love recks little of dangers. Cubina knew of none; and, in Yola’s belief, there was no danger while Cubina was near.

The moon was in high heaven, full, calm, and clear. Her beams filled the glade with a silvery effulgence. It was a moonlight that almost rivalled the brightness of day. The flowers over the earth, and the blossoms upon the trees, appeared full blown: as if they had opened their petals to drink in the delightful dew. Borne upon the soft, silent breeze, the nocturnal sounds of the forest fell with a tremulous cadence upon the ear; while the nightingale of the West, as if proud of the superiority of her counterfeit notes, in turns imitated them all.

The lovers stood in shadow – but it was the shadow of the ceiba. There was none in their hearts; and had the moonlight at that moment fallen upon their faces, no trace of a cloud could have been detected there.

It was a happy meeting – one of the happiest they had yet enjoyed. Each had brought good news to the other. Cubina, that the brother of his beloved was still safe under his protection – safe and well; Yola, that her young mistress had promised to bestow upon her her freedom.

Within the few days since they had last met, many things had transpired to interest both. Each had a tale to tell.

Yola related how the story of her brother’s misfortunes, though strictly kept from the servants at Mount Welcome, had been told to her mistress; how Miss Vaughan, on hearing it, had requested her father to grant her (Yola’s) manumission; and how the Custos had consented to the request. Conditionally, however. Her “free papers” were to be dated from a certain day – that on which Kate Vaughan was to become a bride, but that day was supposed not to be far distant.

It was joyous news for the Maroon. He might keep his hundred pounds for the plenishing of his mountain home!

This piece of intelligence might have taken Cubina more by surprise, but for the understanding that now existed between him and the Custos – whom he had of late frequently visited. Certain conditions had become established between the magistrate and the Maroon, which rendered the latter less apprehensive about the future. Mr Vaughan had made some promises to himself in regard to the manumission of Yola. It is true, these had also been conditional; and their performance was to depend, to a great degree, on the success of the prosecution to be instituted against the Jew. But, with the Custos himself as a prosecutor, Cubina felt sanguine that the conditions would be accomplished.

These were circumstances to be kept secret. Even to his sweetheart the lover was not permitted to impart the knowledge of this affair. Only did he make known to her that steps were being taken to cause the restitution of her brother’s property; but how, where, and when, could not be divulged until that day when war should be openly declared against the enemy. So had the Custos commanded.

Cubina, nevertheless, could not help being gratified by the intelligence which Yola had conveyed to him. The promise of Miss Vaughan had but one condition – her bridal day; and that was definite and certain.

“Ah!” said Cubina, turning with a proud look towards his sweetheart, “it will be a happy day for all. No, not for all,” added he, his face suddenly assuming an expression of sadness; “not for all. There is one, I fear, to whom that day will not bring happiness!”

“I know one, too, Cubina,” rejoined the girl, her countenance appearing to reflect the expression that had come over his.

“Oh, you know it, too? Miss Vaughan has told you then, I suppose? I hope she does not boast of it?”

“What she boast of, Cubina?”

“Why, of breaking his heart, as you would do mine, if you were to marry somebody else. Poor young fellow! Crambo! If I’m not mistaken, it will be a sad day for him!”

The girl looked up, in puzzled surprise. “Sad day for him! No, Cubina; he very happy. For her – poor missa – that day be sad.”

“Vayate! What do you mean, Yola?”

“No more dan I say, Cubina. Missa Kate be very unhappy that day she marry Mr Mongew – she very so now.”

“What!” exclaimed Cubina, suddenly placing himself in an attitude of unusual attention; “do I understand you to say that Miss Vaughan don’t wish to marry this Mr Smythje?”

“She no love him, Cubina. Why she wish marry him, then?”

“Ha!” significantly ejaculated the Maroon, while an expression of joy came over his countenance; “what makes you think she don’t love him? Have you a reason, Yola?”

“Missa me say so. She me tell everything, Cubina.”

“You are sure she has said that she don’t love him?”

“She laugh at him – she no care for him. Girl no love one she laugh at – never.”

“Vaya! I hope you will never laugh at me, then! But say, dearest; do you know why she is going to marry Mr Smythje?”

“Massa her make marry. He Mr Mongew very, very rich – he great planter. That why she him go to marry.”

“Ho! – ho!” thoughtfully ejaculated the captain of Maroons. “I suspected there was some compulsion,” continued he, not speaking to his companion, but muttering the words to himself.

“Can you tell me, Yola,” he asked, turning again to his sweetheart; “do you know why your mistress does not like this grand gentleman? Has she told you any reason?”

“Very good reason, Cubina. She another love; that why she Mongew not like.”

“Ah! she’s in love with somebody else! Have you heard who it is, Yola?”

“Oh, yes; you know him youself. He Missa Kate’s cousin; she him love.”

“Her cousin, Herbert Vaughan?”

“Yes, he name Herber’; he come once – never more come. No matter, she love him first time – she him love ever more! Same I you, Cubina; I you love first time, all the same for ever.”

“You are sure of all this?” inquired Cubina, in his anxiety to know more, resisting the temptation to reciprocate the endearing speech; “you are sure Miss Vaughan loves her cousin Herbert?”

“Sure, Cubina; missa say so many, many time. She have very much grief for him. She hear he marry one fine, bad lady. You know old Jew Jess’ron – his daughter he go marry.”

“I have heard so,” rejoined Cubina, evidently keeping back from his sweetheart a more definite knowledge of the subject which he himself possessed; “I have heard so. After all,” he continued, speaking reflectingly, “it might not happen – neither of these marriages. There’s a proverb, Yola, I’ve heard among the white folks – ‘Many a slip between the cup and the lip.’ I hope it won’t be true of you and me; but it might come to pass between young Master Vaughan and Miss Jessuron. Who knows? I know something. Por Dios! you’ve given me good news, I think, for somebody. But tell me, Yola; have you heard them say when your mistress and this great gentleman are to be married?”

“Massa he say soon. He tell Missa Kate he go great journey. When he come back they get marry; he Missa Kate say so yesterday.”

“The Custos going a journey? Have you heard where?”

“Spanish Town, missa me tell – a great big city far away.”

“I wonder what that can be for,” said Cubina to himself, in a conjectural way. “Well, Yola,” he added, after a pause, and speaking more earnestly, “listen to me. As soon as Mr Vaughan has set out on this journey, you come to me. Perhaps I may have a message for your mistress. Have you heard when he intends to take the road?”

“He go morrow morning.”

“Ha! so soon! Well, so much the better for us, and maybe for somebody else. You must meet me here to-morrow night. Tell your mistress it concerns herself. No, don’t tell her,” he added, correcting himself, “she will let you come without that excuse; besides, it might be that – never mind! Come, anyhow. I shall be waiting for you at this same hour.”

Yola gave her willing promise to keep an appointment so accordant to her inclinations.

For some time longer the lovers conversed, imparting to each other the ordinary news of life – the details of common things – to be at length succeeded by words only of love, of far, far deeper interest.

Cubina swore eternal truth – by the trees around – by the sky above – by the bright moon, and the blue heavens.

He had done the same a score of times; and as often had he been believed. But lovers never tire of such vows – neither of hearing nor repeating them.

The African maiden answered with promises of faithfulness, alike free, alike fervent. She no longer sighed for her far Gambian home – no more mourned the fate that had torn her from a court to consign her to slavery. The dark hours of her life seemed to have ended; and her future, as her present, was full of hope and bliss!

For more than an hour did the enamoured pair indulge in this sweet converse. They were about to close it with a parting kiss.

The Maroon stood with his strong arms tenderly entwined around the waist of his mistress, who willingly yielded to the embrace. Her slender form, under the shadow of the ceiba, looked like the statue of some Egyptian maiden in bronze antique.

The adieu had been spoken more than once; but still the lovers lingered, as if loth to give the parting kiss. There had been more than one, but not that which was to end the interview.

Ere their lips had met to achieve it, the design was interrupted. Voices fell upon their ears, and two forms emerging into the moonlight at the lower end of the glade, rapidly advanced in the direction of the ceiba.

As if by a common instinct, Cubina and his mistress stepped silently and simultaneously back, retiring together between the buttresses of the tree. There it was dark enough for concealment. Only an eye bent on purposed scrutiny could have detected their presence.

The forms drew near. They were those of a man and a woman. The moonlight shining full upon them, rendered them easy of recognition; but their voices had already declared their identity. Both the intruders were known to both the lovers. They were the Jew Jessuron and the slave Cynthia.

“Crambo!” muttered the Maroon, as he saw who they were. “What on earth can they be doing together, at this time of the night, and here – so far away from any house? Maldito! some wicked business, I warrant.”

By this time the brace of midnight strollers had got opposite to the tree, and the Jew was delivering himself of a speech, which was plainly heard by those who stood concealed in its shadow.

“Now, Cynthy – goot wench! – you hashn’t said yet why he hash sent for me! Do you know what it ish for?”

“I don’t, Mass Jess’ron, unless it be – ”

“Unlesh what, wench?”

“Somethin’ ’bout the news I took him afore I come to you, when I went with his basket of provisions – ”

“Ah-ha! you took him some newsh – what newsh, girl?”

“Only that Massr Vagh’n am a-goin’ away in the mornin’.”

“Blesh my soul!” exclaimed the Jew, suddenly stopping in his tracks, and turning towards the mulatta with a look of troubled surprise. “Blesh my soul! You don’t shay that, dosh you?”

“Dey say so at the Buff, Massr Jess’ron. Besides, I know m’self he’s a-goin’. I help pack up him shirts in de trabbelin’ valise. He’s a-goin’ a hossaback.”

“But where, wench? where?” gasped the Jew, in hurried and anxious speech.

“Dey say to ’Panish Town – odder side ob de Island.”

“Spanish Town! ach!” cried the penn-keeper, in a tone betokening that the words had conveyed some very unwelcome intelligence. “Spanish Town! S’help me, it ish! I knew it! I knew it! ach!”

And, as he repeated the aspirated ejaculation, he struck his umbrella fiercely into the ground – as if to render more emphatic the chagrin that had been communicated by the answer.

Only for a few seconds did he make pause upon the spot.

“Come on!” cried he to his companion, hurriedly moving off from the tree; “come on, wench! If that’sh the case, ash you shay, there’sh no time to be losht – not a minute, s’help me!”

And with this elegant reflection, he ended the brief dialogue, and strode swiftly and silently onward across the glade – the woman following close upon his heels.

“Demonios!” muttered the Maroon, as they went off. “That John Crow and his pretty partner are on some ugly errand, I fear! It appears to be the Custos they’re conspiring against. Crambo! I wonder what they are after with him! What can the old Jew have to do with his going to Spanish Town? I must follow them, and see if I can discover. There appears to be some scheme brewing, that bodes no good to Mr Vaughan. Where can they be gadding to at this time of night? From the Jew’s penn, instead of towards it!”

These interrogative reflections the Maroon made to himself. Then, turning once more to his sweetheart, with a gesture that declared his intention to be gone, he said: —

“We must part, Yola, and this instant, love: else I may lose their trail. Adieu! adieu!”

And, with a quick kiss and equally hurried embrace, the lovers separated – Yola returning to Mount Welcome, by a path well-known to her; while the Maroon glided off on the track taken by the penn-keeper and his female companion.

Volume Two – Chapter Twenty Nine
Tracking the Strollers

The Maroon was but a few moments in recovering the “spoor” of the two nocturnal strollers.

At the point where they had gone out of the glade, there was a path that led up the hills in the direction of the Jumbé Rock. It was a mere cattle track – used only very occasionally by bipeds. Being the only path that went that way, and judging, moreover, that neither the Jew nor his follower would be likely to traverse the thicket at random, Cubina concluded that they had gone by this path.

Throwing himself upon it, and advancing with a quick but silent step, he soon recovered sight of them.

The shade of the gigantic trees – it was a primeval forest through which they were passing – was favourable to his design; and without much risk of being seen, he was able to keep them in view, and almost within earshot.

At that moment, the mind of the Jew was too pre-occupied to be suspicious; and the mulatta was not likely to trouble her thoughts about whether they were followed or not. Had she known, however – had she even suspected – that her steps were dogged, and by Cubina, the Maroon, it would, no doubt, have sharpened her senses.

“They appear to be making for the Jumbé Rock?” mentally soliloquised Cubina, as they commenced ascending the slope of the mountain. “Crambo! That is odd enough! What do they intend to do there at this hour of the night – or at any hour, I might say? And who’s the he that’s been sending for Jessuron? She took him a provision basket! By that, it ought to be some runaway. But what has the old Jew to do with a runaway? To get out of his bed at this time of the night, and tramp it three miles through the woods! For that matter, they say he don’t sleep much anyhow; and, like the owl, night’s his favourite time, I suppose. Something’s being cooked for the Custos: for that girl’s a very devil! Not that I should care about him, or what happened to him, at any other time. He’s not much; and is only helping me in that matter because he hates the other. No matter for him; but from what Yola’s told me, I’d go to the world’s end for his daughter. Ha! I may do her a service yet. Valga me Dios! what’s up now? They’ve stopped!”

The Jew and his companion, about a hundred yards ahead, had suddenly come to a stand. They appeared to be scrutinising the path.

Cubina, crouching in the shadow of the bushes, stopped likewise; and waited for the others to advance.

They did so after a short interval – hastening on as before; but in a slightly divergent direction.

“Ho, ho!” muttered the Maroon; “not for the Jumbé Rock, but the Duppy’s Hole! I remember now. The path forks up yonder. They’ve taken that which goes to the Hole. Well! it don’t help me to comprehend their purpose a bit clearer. Carrai! that Duppy’s Hole! Didn’t some of my fellows tell me they’ve heard strange noises there lately? Quaco is ready to swear he saw the ghost of the old myal-man, Chakra, standing upon the edge of the cliff! They’re going there, as sure as my name’s Cubina!”

And with this conjectural reflection the Maroon forsook the shadow under which he had been sheltering, and flitted forward along the path.

Another five hundred yards further on, his conjecture was confirmed. The parties dogged by him had reached the edge of the precipice that frowned down upon the Duppy’s Hole, and there halted.

Cubina also made stop – as before concealing himself within the black shadow of the bushes.

He had scarcely crouched down, when his ears were saluted by a shrill whistle – not made by the lips, but proceeding from some instrument, as a reed or a common dog-call. It was plainly a signal, sounded either by Cynthia or the Jew, Cubina could not tell which.

Only once was it given. And there was no answer – for that similar sound, that came like an echo from the far forest, was a counterfeit. It was the mimic-note of the mock-bird.

Cubina, skilled in these voices of the night, knew this, and paid no heed to the distant sound. His whole attention was absorbed in watching the movements of the two individuals still standing upon the edge of the cliff. The white sky was beyond them, against which he could see their dark silhouettes outlined with perfect distinctness.

After about a minute’s time, he saw them once more in motion; and then both appeared to vanish from his view – not wasting into the air, but sinking into the ground, as if a trap-door had admitted them to the interior of the earth.

He saw this without much surprise. He knew they must have gone down the precipice, but how they had performed this feat was something that did surprise him a little.

It was but a short spell of astonishment. In a score of seconds he stood upon the edge of the precipice, at the spot where they had disappeared.

He looked down. He could trace, though dimly, a means of descent among the wattle of boughs and corrugated creepers that clasped the façade of the cliff. Even under the fantastic gleam of the moon, he could see that human hands had helped the construction of this natural ladder.

He stayed not to scrutinise it. An object of greater interest challenged his glance. On the disc of the lagoon – in the moonlight, a sheet of silver, like a mirror in its frame of dark mahogany – moved a thing of sharp, elliptical shape – a canoe.

Midships of the craft, a form was crouching. Was it human or demon?

The aspect was demon – the shape scarce human. Long, ape-like arms; a hunched back; teeth gleaming in the moonlight like the incisors of a shark; features everything but human to one who had not seen them before!

Cubina had seen them before. To him, though not familiar, they were known. If not the ghost of Chakra, he saw Chakra himself!

Volume Two – Chapter Thirty
Cynthia in the Way

The heart of the young Maroon, though by nature bold and brave, was for a moment impressed with fear. He had known the myal-man of Mount Welcome – never very intimately – but enough to identify his person. Indeed, once seen, Chakra was a man to be remembered.

Cubina had, like every one else for miles around, heard of the trial of the Coromantee conjuror, and his condemnation to exposure on the Jumbé Rock. The peculiar mode of his execution – the cruel sentence – the celebrity of the scene where the criminal had been compelled to pass the last miserable hours of his existence – all combined to render his death even more notorious than his life; and few there were in the western end of the Island who had not heard of the myal-man of Mount Welcome, and the singular mode of atonement that justice had demanded him to make for his crimes.

In common with others, Cubina believed him dead. No wonder, then, that the heart of the Maroon should for a moment misgive him on seeing Chakra seated in a canoe, and paddling himself across the calm surface of the lagoon!

Under any circumstances, the sight of the Coromantee was not calculated to beget confidence in the beholder; but his unexpected appearance just then produced within the mind of the Maroon a feeling somewhat stronger than astonishment, and for some seconds he stood upon the cliff overcome by a feeling of awe.

Very soon, however, he remembered the statement which his lieutenant had made, and which Quaco had put in the form of an asseveration.

Quaco, like most of his colour, a firm believer in “Duppy” and “Jumbé,” had believed it to be Chakra’s ghost he had seen; and under the terror with which the sight had inspired him, instead of making an attempt to pursue the apparition, and prove whether it was flesh and blood, or only “empty air,” he had used his utmost speed to get away from the spot, leaving the myal-man’s ghost full master of the ground.

Cubina, less given to superstitious inclinings, only for a moment permitted himself to be mystified with the idea of a “Duppy.” Quaco’s experience, along with the presence of the penn-keeper and his companion – there evidently for a purpose – guided him to the conclusion that what he saw in the canoe was no spiritual Chakra, but Chakra in the flesh.

How the Coromantee came to be still living and moving, the Maroon could not so easily comprehend; but Cubina possessed acute reasoning powers, and the presence of the Jew, evidently en rapport with the restored conjuror, went far towards explaining the mystery of the latter’s resurrection.

Satisfied that he saw Chakra himself, the Maroon placed himself in a position to watch the movements both of the men in the canoe, and those who had summoned him across the lagoon.

In another moment the canoe was lost sight of. It had passed under the bushes at the bottom of the cliff, where it was not visible from above.

Voices now ascended, which could be heard, but not distinctly.

Cubina could distinguish three voices taking part in the conversation – Chakra’s, the Jew’s, and, at longer intervals, the shrill treble of the slave Cynthia.

He bent his ear, and listened with keen attention – in hopes of hearing what they said. He could only catch an occasional word. The roar of the cascade rising along with the voices hindered him from hearing them distinctly; and, notwithstanding his earnest desire to do so, he was unable to make out the matter of the conversation.

Only for a short while was he kept waiting. The trialogue came to a close, followed by a brief interval of silence – at the end of which the canoe once more made its appearance upon the open water of the lagoon.

Two persons only were in it, Chakra and the Jew. Cynthia had stayed by the bottom of the cliff.

Cubina made this observation with some chagrin. It was a circumstance that promised to frustrate the design he had suddenly conceived: of following the myal-man to his lair. This he desired to do, in order to make himself acquainted with the hiding-place of the remarkable runaway.

That it was down in the Duppy’s Hole there could be no doubt; and therefore the Maroon might at any time find him there.

This reflection would have contented him; but, on seeing the Jew ferried across the lagoon, he conjectured that he and Chakra were bent upon the completion of some horrid plot, which, by following, he, Cubina, might overhear, and, perhaps, be enabled to counteract.

The Maroon was aware of the difficulty of descending into the Duppy’s Hole. He knew there was but one way – by the bushes that clustered along the face of the cliff at his feet. Once, while on the chase, he and his followers, aided by a rope-ladder, had gone down; and, in search of game, had explored the wooded covert beyond. At that time, however, Chakra had not been executed; and the hunter had found no trace of human presence in the solitary place.

He knew that he could follow the canoe by swimming; as in this way he had crossed before, but now that Cynthia barred the way, it would be impossible for him to reach the water unobserved.

To follow the conspirators further was out of the question. His chance was cut off by the interposition of the mulatta. He could only remain on the cliff and await their return.

He was reflecting upon what course to pursue, when a rustling sound reached him from below. It was made by some one moving among the bushes that grew against the face of the precipice.

He caught one of the branches; and, supporting himself by it, craned his neck over the cliff. His eye fell upon the brilliant chequer of a bandanna, visible among the leaves. It was the toque upon the head of Cynthia. It was in motion; and he could see that she was ascending by the tree stairway he had already observed.

Without staying to witness the ascent, he turned back into the underwood by the side of the path; and, crouching down, he waited to see what the woman intended doing. Perhaps her part in the performance had been played out – at least, for that night – and she was on her way homeward?

That was what Cubina conjectured, as well as just what he would have wished.

His conjecture proved correct. The mulatta, on mounting to the crest of the cliff, stopped only for a moment, to adjust upon her arm a basket she had brought up – from the half-open lid of which protruded the neck of a bottle. Then, casting her eyes forward, she struck off into the shadowy forest path, and was soon out of sight.

The moment after she had passed him, the Maroon glided silently forward to the edge of the cliff, and commenced descending the stair. Such feat was nothing to him; and in a few seconds he had reached the edge of the lagoon.

Here he paused – to make sure that the canoe had arrived at its destination, and that its late occupants had disembarked from it.

After a moment spent in this reconnoissance– looking sharply, and listening with all his ears – he became satisfied that the coast was clear; and, letting himself stealthily into the water, he swam for the opposite shore of the lagoon.

Upon only about two-thirds of the surface of the lagoon did the moonlight fall – the cliff casting its shadow upon the other third. Keeping within the boundaries of this shadow, and swimming as silently as a fish, Cubina succeeded in reaching the opposite shore, without perceiving any sign that he had been observed.

Under the heavy timber, with which the upper half of the ravine was covered, the darkness was as deep as if not a ray of moonlight came down from the sky. Only on the stream itself, and here and there through a break in the umbrageous forest, could the moonbeams reach the surface of the earth. Elsewhere, from cliff to cliff, the obscurity was complete.

Cubina conjectured, and correctly, that there was a path leading from the anchorage of the canoe; and to find this was his first purpose.

Keeping around the edge of the lagoon, he soon came upon the craft – empty, and anchored under a tree.

The moonlight, entering here from the open water, showed him the embouchure of the path, where it entered the underwood; and, without losing a moment’s time, he commenced moving along it.

Silently as a cat he stole onward, at intervals pausing to listen; but he could only bear the hissing sound of the upper cascade – to which he was now making approach.

There was a space in front of the waterfall, where the trees stood thinly, and this opening was soon reached.

On arriving at its edge the Maroon again stopped to reconnoitre.

Scarcely a second of time did he need to pause. Light flashed in his eyes through the interstices of what appeared to be a sort of grating. It was the bamboo door of the obeah hut. Voices, too, reverberated through the bars.

Within were the men upon whom it was his purpose to play eavesdropper.

In another instant Cubina was cowering under the cotton-tree, close up to the doorpost.