Part 8 (1/2)

”Humph!” grunted the _papaloi_, ”so I thought. It is one of the white boys.”

”You came from Jamaica, in the schooner,” he addressed me. ”You make plenty good blood for the drink--and plenty good meat for the feast.”

This last with a malicious grin.

I could perceive that here was one, this voodoo priest, who was in the confidence of Duran. It was doubtless to him Duran delivered the children procured for sacrifice. And so here must be the source of the vast wealth of that white fiend of tinged blood. Something spurred me to defiant speech.

”You can tell Duran, alias Mordaunt,” I began, ”that I have had my fortune read, and that I would not exchange my fate for his at any price.”

He stared for a moment speechless. Then he said something to the two litter bearers, who loosed the ropes that held me to the litter; then they stood me on my feet, and one holding either arm, led me through a doorway, the _papaloi_ following, attended by another black with the lantern. It was many steps we went down the bare pa.s.sage; a turn, and we stood before a door. A heavy bolt was drawn, and the door opened.

”Very soon you die,” spoke the _papaloi_, as I was thrust in.

I heard the bolt slide into place with a click, and I stood in darkness.

I felt in my pocket for my flash lamp. It was gone. I put my feet forward cautiously, step by step, my hand on the wall; and moved around my dungeon till I came to the door again. I became used to the dark, got my bearings, and paced the damp floor, side to side and end to end. It was four paces one way, eight the other. As I moved about, suddenly I caught in my eye a few stars peeking in on me. There was a slit in the wall high up. By reason of the thickness of the wall the view out was had only when standing directly in line with that narrow porthole.

The cell was barren, there was not even a box for a seat. A half hour was hardly gone, when I heard the click of the bolt again. This time it was food that was pushed in, on a wooden tray. Recalling those stories of the poisoned food given by the voodoos to their victims, I denied myself, even of the drink. In that hot, airless hole, what would I have not given for a draught of pure water!

I got the food off the tray and used it to sit on.

When I thrust the little one into Robert's arms, he and Carlos had run for it, as I directed. They got far enough into the jungle for safe hiding, and then Carlos went back to lead me there. I had already got that whack on the head, and the thing Carlos saw was the crew of blacks securing their prisoner.

It was then Robert decided to call our friends from the _Pearl_. So the two, carrying the little rescued mulatto, turn about, hurried back toward home. When they came to the place where we had cooked our meal, Robert made his signal fire. He made it big, for it was fifteen miles to the _Pearl's_ anchorage. The two plaited a big screen of leaves and gra.s.ses. Again and again he spelled out in flashes the following:

_Come ask for Brill._

To make out any answering signal at so great a distance, was a thing not to be expected, where a mere lantern was to be used. But he knew they would be on the lookout, and could not miss so great a flare.

Daylight had come before the two arrived at the Brill hut. Melie took the little one in charge; and it may here be said that the yellow tot was finally restored to the rejoicing parents.

RAY'S NARRATIVE

When Wayne and Robert had got out of sight, as they started on the trail of that Duran fellow, right away Grant Norris began to fuss.

”I don't think those boys ought to be allowed to go after those cannibals alone,” he said. ”Suppose those black cusses get wind of them and put up a fight. And they haven't anything but those d.i.n.ky little rifles!”

”Meaning,” I told him, ”that they ought to have an old campaigner to protect them, and that old campaigner's name is Grant Norris.”

”Oh, go 'long! you red-headed wag, you,” he shot back at me.

”'Fess up now,” I said. ”You're just itching for excitement. But never fear, Wayne will send for you before the fighting begins--he knows you.

In the meantime, you know Wayne and Robert well enough; there won't anyone get much the best of them.”

When we had rowed back to the _Pearl_, things were got ready for a move to a new anchorage--nearer to the place where we had landed Wayne and Robert. Captain Marat said we must avoid having the lights of the town between us and any signal from Wayne.

Grant Norris was watching the hills back inland while the sun was still holding its fire on the tops of the mountains.

”Say,” I asked him, ”you don't expect to see fire signals in broad daylight, do you?”

”Daylight!” he sniffed--”It'll be night before you can turn round twice.”