Part 4 (1/2)
”I sho' is glad you-all is come back,” Rufe greeted us, as we climbed aboard. ”Some o' dem heathen voodoo n.i.g.g.ars has been a' circ.u.mvallatin'
aroun' dis heah s.h.i.+p.”
”What do you mean by that?” demanded Norris.
”Jes' what I say,” returned Rufe. ”Less'n two hours ago Neb come to me an' says dey's a boat a comin'. I goes out, an' I see four o' dem n.i.g.g.ars a rowin' dis way, jes' like dey fixed to come on board. I goes in afte' mah shot-gun, and I lays it on de roof, so's dey kin see it; an' when dey is close, I says: 'I reckon you-all better not come too close to dis heah s.h.i.+p.' Dey seems kin' o' s'prised, an' eyein' dat gun, and hol'n back wid dere oars. Den one o' dem n.i.g.g.ars up an' says: 'Whar is you-all from?' And I says--'We's from de good ole U. S., I reckon.'
He says--'Ain' you been in Kingston?'
”I begin to smell dat rat, an' I say to myself dat dese here n.i.g.g.ars is from dat schooner we is lookin' foh, an' dey's come to git wisdom.
”I scratch my head, an' say--'Kickston--Kickston--if dey is a town in de U. S. by dat name, I ain' heered of it.' He says, 'No, Kickston, dat's in Jamaica.' I say, 'Oh, I reckon you mean de kick dat's in de rum. No we ain' got no Jamaica rum wid no kicks by de ton in it--we ain' got no rum at all; dis here s.h.i.+p is strictly temperance.'”
”Well, did that satisfy him?” laughed Norris.
”Not 'zactly,” returned Rufe, ”He wanted to know whar we-all was a goin', and I tol' him dat depend on de wind an' how de 'maggot bite'--we ain't got no sailin' orders, 'zactly. And den he seem plumb disgusted, an' dey rows away widout no t'anks foh all de wisdom I give um.”
”Well, did you see what way their boat went?” I asked.
”Yes, sah,” said Rufe, ”I got de gla.s.ses, an' I wach um row way up de sh.o.r.e to de east, I reckon way outside de town.”
”It's plain enough,” began Norris. ”That man, Duran, has had his eyes on us, and sent those blacks out to confirm his suspicions that we had followed from Kingston.”
”And I'll bet,” offered Robert, ”that he sent them since Wayne and I saw him, and that he is now a long way from that place where we left Captain Marat and Ray on watch.”
Night had come on while we talked. Rufe set a meal before us, and while we supped we had new meat for discussion. It was part of the information we got of Jules Sevier that criminal voodooism was practiced only back in the hills. It was plain, then, that the trail must finally lead us somewhere beyond the city. And what more reasonable than to conclude that Duran's blacks had gone that way in their boat? It was there then, we must seek little Marie Cambon. And it was then I made the suggestion that Robert and I should follow that trail alone, if we found that it pointed inland.
As expected, Marat and Ray had got no news of the man, Duran. Captain Marat, however, had got into talk with a mulatto, of whom he drew the information that the part of the city in which we had come upon Duran was a hot-bed of the city voodoo, whose practices were said to be of a moderate nature. It was well back in the hills that voodooism went full swing.
Captain Marat fell in with Robert's and my plan to take up the trail on land, alone, if occasion should come; and he helped us with our equipment. We would have with us our little rifles and some fis.h.i.+ng tackle. If the trail should lead us into the country a dove or two, and some fish, now and then, might prove welcome additions to our grub-sacks.
CHAPTER V
WE GAIN AN ALLY
It was an hour before dawn that we pushed away from the schooner in one of the boats; Captain Marat, Grant Norris, Ray, Robert and myself. We pa.s.sed among the sleeping vessels with their white night-lights showing aloft.
The harbor light still continued its revolutions, sending bright rays
out over the sea. Norris and Ray were at the oars. The land breeze was cool; there was little sound except the swish of the oars. But as we moved on down the sh.o.r.e, presently there came the night sounds from the country, 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 was full day. The royal palm and cocoanut trees lined the sh.o.r.e, curving out over the sand beach.
We came opposite two boats on the white sand; and a pair of huts showed above the bushy growth. Here we went to sh.o.r.e. Jean Marat entered into talk with some black children who had appeared on the beach at our approach. Did white men ever land there? he asked. No, no white man had been 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 carry the 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 walk toward the hills.
I felt my heart leap with hope at the mention of the basket. And yet I was never destined to hear of it again.
”It looks like we're on the right trail,” said Norris, when Jean Marat had interpreted for us the last statement of the little blacks.
”Yes,” said Marat. ”And now,” he added, turning to Robert and me, ”you still feel you weesh to go, only you two together?”