my foot on his neck
I placed my foot on his neck.
I placed my foot on his neck.
The Smith and the Bo's'n seemed to understand what he intended to convey. They immediately plumpedthemselves down upon the hard pavement, in the hot glare of the sun; but I looked at them contemptuously, and only moved myself a little nearer to the camaito tree, and within its shade.
"If you are willing to appear as slaves," said I to the men at my feet, "you may do so. As for me, I am an American prince, and so I shall remain."
When the King saw that I stood while the others knelt, he began to look on me as something nearer equal with himself. The Smith, catching the situation, turned to me and began to prostrate himself before me. The Bo's'n, seeing the motions of the Smith, imitated him. I waved my hand grandly, and walked to the lower step of the dais and asked for a seat.
Meanwhile I placed my foot upon the necks of the Bo's'n and the Smith alternately, who edged along after me and knelt humbly before me.
Just then a man came hurrying into the King's presence and prostrated himself before Christophe. Then he arose and looked inquiringly at the black monarch, as if to ask what was required of him, whether his head was to pay the forfeit for some transgression of which he was not conscious. It seemed that his tongue was the member required, and only that it should wag a little, for this was the court interpreter. The man turned to me and asked in fairly good English who I was and where I had come from.
"I represent," said I, "all there is of royal blood in my country. I am the son of our ruler." When this was repeated to Christophe, he spread his great lips in a hideous grin and asked what I supposed he cared for that.
"Tell the King," said I, "that I belong to a country a thousand times as large as this little Haïti and Santo Domingo put together. We have great battle ships; we have subdued that immense country, England. What do you suppose they will do with you if you dare to harm a hair of my head?"
"For Heaven's sake, speak him fair!" groaned the Bo's'n.
"He may not harm a hair of your head," said the Smith, "but the bloodthirsty old wretch won't care a hang if he chops ours off in the next half hour."
I looked downward to where the two men knelt, their heads bent to the floor in abject terror. I could not but laugh to see them.
"You have placed yourself in that ridiculous position," said I. "Now you will have to bear the consequences."
The King now asked if there was anything I could do to prove the truth of my statement. The old devil had a cunning leer, and I wondered what this might mean. I answered that if hating the French and English was not enough (I felt the Smith wriggle under my foot as I said this), "I know of little else to recommend me unless it is my knowledge of magic."
"How that fellow's lying!" murmured the Smith. But, I added, that I was unaccustomed to being without clothes and a bath, and when those were supplied to me I could better collect my thoughts. The King looked astounded at this remarkable speech, and well he might. I doubt if any one had ever spoken with such frankness to Christophe since he was a little slave on the plantations of St. Kitts. He roared something to some guards standing near, and they approached me with much more respect than they had manifested at first, and motioned me with polite, if not servile bows along the terrace. I saw that the attitude which I had assumed had raised me at once in the estimation of the King, and I decided to preserve it. I left the Smith and the Bo's'n still kneeling, not knowing if they dare rise. I felt certain that I had all that I could do to take care of myself for the present, and that whatever I gained in respect from this black villain they would share as a part of my retinue.
I was led from the terrace along a veranda toward the back of the palace. Here I came upon a lovely flower garden, where singing birds swung above my head, and lakes reflected the leafy branches and the splendid cups of colour which overshadowed them. The bath was situated some distance back in this garden, and here I disported myself with such luxurious joy as no one can imagine who has not been a wanderer in the heated tropics away from fresh water. When I had bathed, I found clean towels lying on a stool at the door of the little rancho. The water, I should have said, ran through a sort of stone trough. There was a roof overhead, with jalousies to screen one from the sun and from too curious eyes; but, as Nature's dress was at that time the most popular one to be found, it excited no interest. When I was ready to resume my clothes, I found a clean white costume awaiting me, and, robed in this, I felt once more that I was in my right mind, and the peer of any king that ever came out of Dahomey. I was now led back to the terrace where the King was still conducting business before he set out to ride among his sugar plantations, to see that his people toiled, constantly and sufficiently enough, to keep his revenues up to the proper figure. Upon my return I went close to the throne, regardless of the suggestion of my guard by nudges that I keep a little farther away from the august presence. The King turned upon me with almost a smile. I was certainly altered for the better. I assumed a very proud air, and looked around inquiringly for a chair. My guard, thinking that he knew my requirements, ran back into the crowd, and from the mass of hot and dishevelled prisoners he brought forth the Smith and the Bo's'n. He made them resume their humble attitudes at my feet. The Bo's'n was quaking with fear. The men both knelt before me and placed their necks submissively under my foot.
"Hot isn't no word for it," said the Smith.
"I didn't ship for this," said the trembling Bo's'n.
"You may get a worse billet than this if you don't do as I tell you," said I hurriedly. "You must treat me as a great prince, and then perhaps I can help you. Heaven knows I don't care to rest my foot on your neck!—it's most uncomfortable." The men subsided without a murmur, and I took the open cane chair that was brought me, with a contemptuous look at its humble proportions.
Our asides had not been noticed, for just here some prisoners were brought to the King for judgment, and every one was turning to see them approach. Among them I discovered the Skipper. So soon as I caught sight of him I bounded from my chair and ran and embraced him most affectionately. The Skipper was very slightly clothed, and looked extremely uncomfortable.
"What are you doing, Jones?" he said. "Don't make me ridiculous."
"You'll feel much more ridiculous," said I, "if they take you out and shoot you, or if they copy the French method."
"What's that?" asked the Skipper, with a trembling voice, apparently oblivious that the court had stopped business and was gazing at us.
"Why, kneeling before a trench with fifty other fellows, and being shot with such good aim that they don't have to put you in your grave, only have to shovel the earth in. Now, you're my Uncle——"
"What bosh are you talking! I am in no way related——"
"Very well, then, take your own course. I wanted to do what I can——"
"I'll be anything if they'll take this infernal chain off my wrist; it blisters like hot coals."
I turned to the interpreter and told him that, with the King's permission, I should like the chains removed from my uncle's arms—that he was the brother of theruler of our country, who was my father. "We are not very far from your little island," said I. "It will not take my father many days to come here in one of his powerful war ships to carry us home." My look and tone seemed to convey much more than my words, as I intended that they should. The interpreter translated my speech to the King. He looked at me curiously for a moment, and then ordered the chains removed from the Skipper's wrists.
The Skipper, now that his worst trouble was removed, began to clamour for even greater comforts.
He looked about him critically, the condescension of his manner contrasting curiously with the scantiness of his apparel.
"If the old beggar has another throne handy," said he, "I'll take it."
These words were repeated to the King at my demand, with much halting and fear of consequences by the interpreter. I have always thought that Christophe had experienced so much of servility, which is the most tiresome thing in the world, from his sycophants, that he was glad to hear some straightforward talk. Possibly he felt that men who spoke so fearlessly and openly were even greater than they had declared themselves to be. Whatever his reasons, he spoke hurriedly to the interpreter, and he in turn to a servant. A chair was brought at once. I kicked the Smith and the Bo's'n out of the way with all the hauteur that I could express in my manner. They bowed low and withdrew with smiling faces, but I noticed a glitter in the eyes of the Bo's'n that was not to be lightly overlooked.
"We have disturbed the gracious King long enough," said I, with my politest bow. "We will not interrupt again." Wondering somewhat that we were not hurried to the citadel, or that our heads did not pay the forfeit at once, I saw the King settle down to the pursuance of his business matters.
The next prisoner was a fine-looking young fellow, tall and straight, of much prouder appearance than any one there.
"Have you finished the crown that I gave you to make?" asked Christophe.
The prisoner, who had fallen upon his face, partly because he was pushed there by the guard, replied:
"I have not, my Lord King. The time given me was too short."
"Away with him to La Ferrière! Bind him upon the parapet until nightfall, and when the sun sets behind the citadel cut the cords and let him fall into the abyss. Thus he will have a day to think over his failure and what success might have done for him. Bring in the next prisoner!"
The condemned man fell upon his face on the ground as if lifeless, and was dragged away.
The next person to step forward was a woman of about forty years. She trembled in every limb, and threw herself upon the hard stone slabs, sobbing, crying, and praying for mercy. So it seemed to me, though I could judge only by her tears and her attitude of supplication.
"Have you finished the robe that I commanded for the Queen?" asked Christophe, in no gentle tones.
"A little time! A little time, I pray thee, most noble King!"
The interpreter was whispering the translation of these words in my ear.
"You have had a month! To the dungeons with her!" said the King.
The next prisoner who came forward was a middle-aged man. He shook as if with a palsy, but concealed his fear as well as possible. He knelt before the throne.
"Can you duplicate my ring?" asked Christophe.
"I think that I can with a little more time, great King," said the man. "I am working day and night.But if the King will not let me have the sacred symbol, how shall I duplicate it?"
The words caused something to snap within my ear. I looked up anxiously. The King was glaring at the man with eyes of fire. He had thrust his hand into the very face of the prisoner, and on his great thumb I perceived for the first time a circle of grotesque make. It held a common likeness to the sacred symbol which Cynthia had found. The moment that I caught a glimpse of the twisted serpent body I felt that I was safe. It was the very duplicate of the serpent ring that I had in my possession.
Christophe held the circle up to the multitude.
"It is the ring that my favourite gave to me," he said, "my favourite Mauresco, before he disappeared forever."
"That Mauresco fellow seemed to be a fascinating sort of chap," said the Smith, who had edged near me, in an undertone. "I understand all he says, but I think it is better to keep that fact quiet."
"I have already given you time enough," said the King. "Remove the prisoner! Throw him at once off the Grand Boucan!"
I arose. "Stop!" said I, "if it please your Majesty. I come of a family who deal in magic. To make a ring like that is simple work. I will promise to make you one if you will in turn deign to pardon the prisoners who have offended you."
When the interpreter had repeated my speech to Christophe, he turned on me with an incredulous air.
"That offer has been often made," he said, "but no one has ever performed it. Mauresco, my prime minister, my counsellor, the Grand Papaloi of the North, had given me a ring, but I have lost it. The one that he wore he carried away. I am wearing a poor imitation. It was cunningly artificed by skilful hands. Can you reproduce it?"
I felt the cold snake ring dangling against my bosom as I spoke. Christophe gazed at me with curiosity.
"Say to the King," said I, "that a bargain must be made. If I succeed in pleasing him with the symbol that I shall make, he in turn must promise to send me with my friends to the coast, where a ship will come for us to take us back to our good and great country."
The King thought a moment. He smiled his diabolical smile. He nodded his head several times and spoke to the interpreter.
"Tell him," he said, "that I am quite willing to make the promise. They have all failed me, but the Grand Boucan never fails me."
"I shall not fail," said I.
I asked leave to take the symbol in my hands. The King beckoned me to approach. When I was close to the dais he held out the ring to me, but he did not give it into my hand. I looked at it with much curiosity.
"May I take the circle in my hand?" I asked the interpreter. The interpreter in turn asked the King. Christophe hesitated; then he gave a reluctant nod. I took the great ring from the hand of the King. I examined it curiously, and shook my head with a contemptuous air. The workmanship was crude. It did not compare in any way with the circle that thumped against my bosom. I gave the King's ring back to him with a smile of superiority.
"How is it possible," asked I of the interpreter, "that a great monarch like King Henry the First is willing to wear a thing of such unskilled workmanship?"
A look of almost mortification overspread the face of the King as these words were translated to him.
"Explain!" said he to the interpreter.
"The King's favourite, Mauresco," said the interpreter, "presented the King with a ring. It was a wonderful circle of magic. Its properties were supernatural. Mauresco had brought it from the far East. Its designwas that of the serpent and the goat's head, much as you see it here in the imitation. While Mauresco was here he wore a poor imitation of the symbol, something like the one which the King wears on his thumb to-day. The original ring was all-powerful. The King carried all before him. When he wore that sacred circle he was victorious in battle. The tribes of the island flocked to his standard, his generals were faithful. But one day Mauresco was missing and the sacred circle of magic had changed to what you see it."
Finding that Christophe's fortunes were on the wane, he deserted him, thought I. Got tired of black royalty, and went to join the pirates. Took the original and left the poor copy to console the King. Ah! Mauresco, had I known that you were so clever a villain, perhaps I might have spared your life just for admiration of you! Perhaps I, too, would have come under your ban, and have been your willing servant like the rest of them. So you took the original, did you, Mr. Grand Papaloi Mauresco, and you dropped it on the seashore, and some one whom I know found it? And the symbol has supernatural or magic properties, has it? Very well, then! It is I who possess that original. Now we will see what this magic symbol will do for me and for her who found it. The King sat looking inquiringly at me.
"I can reproduce the ring," said I. "Not this parody on the original, but one so near the original that the King shall not know them apart." I returned to my seat without further explanation.
"Are there any more prisoners to come before me?" shouted Christophe.
But just here I heard feminine voices, and along the terrace I saw advancing three women. I saw that one was white, the other two of darker hue. They were all three dressed in flowing robes of white, and looked as cool as possible compared with the people surrounding the throne. At a little distance behind the three cameseveral women who appeared like serving maids. I wondered who this white maiden could be. Her fair skin shone out in contrast to that of the dark women with whom she walked. The two girls had entwined their arms around the white girl, but it seemed to me that the latter shrank somewhat from their caresses. A few steps nearer they came, and all at once I discovered that the white girl was Cynthia. Somehow I had never thought of her in anything but that old blue dungaree dress. As they approached I saw that she was as well clad as the maidens with whom she walked, only that the two girls wore quantities of jewellery, but Cynthia wore only the fine flowing robe, cool and spotless. I looked for Lacelle, but I did not see her. Just here, as we were watching their approach, there came an interruption. I heard from overhead a strange but familiar voice. I arose at once and approached Cynthia. The voice had given me an idea. I bowed low before her, and as I did so I contrived to whisper:
"Did you hear that voice? Turn it to use, I will give you the key." And then as I raised my head there came again the words, "There's no fool like an old fool." I glanced upward to the low roof, and there sat Solomon in all his glory. "Damn the Britishers!" said Solomon. I now took Cynthia by the hand and approached the throne.
"Your Majesty," said I, "let me present to you my sister, who has been through all the trials and troubles that have overtaken us. She is an adept in the sort of magic that we know in our northern home. She is a peculiar favourite with birds and animals." I might have added, "With the greatest brutes of all, men," but I desisted.
Christophe smiled, as much at his favourite daughter as at what I had said. The dusky maidens approached and seated themselves on the steps of the throne and drew Cynthia down beside them. I mumbled a fewwords so low that the interpreter could not distinguish them.
"Thank God, you are safe!" said I. "Call the parrot, and pretend you never saw him before."
And then aloud:
"Let my sister try her power, your Majesty, on some animal here. A dog, perhaps, or a horse, or, oh!"—perceiving the parrot for the first time—"there is a strange bird. She may as well take him as an instance. Call the bird!" said I to Cynthia.
She readily comprehended me. She arose from the low seat and walked a little way out to the edge of the tree.
She held her fingers out to the bird and called in her peculiarly sweet cooing voice. Solomon looked at her for a moment with his head on one side, and then flew straight toward her: But that was not the worst of it. About six or eight other parrots flew down also from the roof, and not only Solomon but all of the number were calling and screaming raucously, "Damn the Britishers!" and "There's no fool like an old fool!" Solomon, who had flown straight to Cynthia, began to walk over her shoulder and climb up and down her dress, and, strange to say, the other birds, seeing the confidence with which Solomon accomplished his supposed introduction, followed suit, so that Cynthia had them billing and cooing in her ears, putting up their beaks to be kissed, calling, "Kiss me!" or declaring that there was no fool like an old fool, until the clamour was deafening. Cynthia was as much astonished as the rest of us, but she carried out my project with great cleverness. It is astonishing what Solomon had taught those birds while he had been among them. I laughed heartily to hear them say again and again, singly and in concert, "Damn the Britishers!" Even the King smiled.
"They are most kind to me," said Cynthia to me hurriedly; "only I'm sorry you said I was your sister."
"Why?" said I.
"Oh, I fear complications. The other would have been better, I think."
The King now arose and motioned us all away. When the Bo's'n passed me I saw that he had one of those sudden attacks which were unpleasant, ludicrous, but far from dangerous. He did look absurd with his cheek sticking out like a hickory nut, in fact, like two or three, and I could not help laughing. The King was angry at my laughing in his presence, and, to calm him, I was forced to ask him through the interpreter to recall the Bo's'n. As soon as his eyes fell upon the man he laughed harder than I had done. To see Christophe laugh was something worth living for. His great features twisted into a thousand contortions, and I felt that not only did he enjoy the absurdity of the spectacle, but that it was a real pleasure to him to see the sufferings of a fellow-creature. I was sorry for my part in this performance, but what else could I do.
"No matter, Bo's'n," said I cheerfully, "you'll laugh at this yourself some day."
"You'll laugh the other side of your mouth, sir," mumbled the Bo's'n angrily, looking so comical that I laughed afresh. This seemed to put Christophe in a very good humour. To find me willing to laugh at suffering seemed to argue well for me, and he regarded me with some faint expression of esteem.
"You ought to be satisfied if you are as well off as I can make you. There are a good many of us, but I intend that we shall share as much alike as your stupidity will allow," said I to the Bo's'n.
"You'll be sorry if you do," said the Bo's'n gloomily.
I found it difficult to understand him, he spoke so indistinctly, so I told him that I would send word to the King that I should like some remedy for my suffering servant. The Bo's'n gave a gloomy shake of the head.
"Very well, sir," he said threateningly, "you'll besorry, Mr. Jones, sir. Now, I tell you, you'll be sorry! You've ruined one good plan, for Heaven's sake don't put your finger too deep into another pie, sir."
But as I retired from the terrace, and told him that I thought the King was disposed to treat us kindly unless we offended him in some way, I added, "I will try to get a change of clothes for each of you."
"Thank you," answered the Smith; "I shall be glad of some."
"Won't have 'em, Mr. Jones, sir!" said the Bo's'n. "Won't have 'em, don't ask it of me! Not on no account."
"What nonsense!" said I. "Of course, you will have them."
"No, sir, don't ask me, please. You'll be sorry if you do, sir."
"You're a lunatic!" said I. "You must be made comfortable. I shall do what I think best," and I followed my guard. I found that I was not to return to the cells below the terrace. I was taken to a garden at the back of the palace and lodged in a room looking out upon the mountain. Cynthia, with a lingering glance at me, had disappeared with the two daughters of Christophe, I knew not where.
I found myself in a plain sort of room, which contained little more than the furniture needed for absolute use; but when I discerned among the articles upon the table a primitive sort of arrangement for heating, a blow pipe, some small tools, and some bits of darkish ore, which had been rudely twisted into some semblance of the ring, I recognised the fact that I was in the room of that unhappy workman who had left it that morning never to return, and that this was the workshop where I was to try my hand at fashioning a ring like the one that the black King wore upon his thumb.
When the door was closed upon me the first thing that I did was to feel for my precious ring. It was safe. I took it out and looked at it long and curiously. It had never seemed so hideous, so wonderful, so fascinating, or so absorbing to me as it did at that moment. I apostrophised it. I almost worshipped it.
"You are some good, after all," said I. "There you lie in my hand, too big for anything but the thumb of a giant, looking at me with those great shining devil's eyes of yours, and hoping to get me into trouble; but I'll get you into trouble while you get me out of it, for I'll leave you with the greatest rapscallion of modern times."
The red and glowing pupils gleamed with a long-reaching ray of light, thrown right into the centre of my blinking eyes, and, was I mistaken, or did I see one of them wink at me? I put the ring back under the breast of my shirt and got up and tried the door. It was, as I supposed, fastened. There was a couch in the room, and in the space outside I saw a hammock. It swung from corner to corner of the short veranda.
"Ah!" you may say, "why didn't you just go out on that veranda, and if it was on the first floor step out into the garden and so escape?"
In the first place, if I could have escaped from this place, what had I to gain? I should leave Cynthia behind. In the second place, I was not on the ground floor,but two flights from the ground, which is an unusual thing in a tropic-built house. From the picture which I made of the palace as it looked in those days, you can see that above the terrace itself there were two other stories. This brought my room on the third floor. I suppose you think that I might have risked dropping down into the garden, but of what use? However, there was no question as to that. I could not get out if I would. The veranda was surrounded by a lattice work of iron. I was inclosed in a cage, and, though not as confining a one as that in which the pirates had placed me, it was a cage all the same.
I entered the veranda from the long French window of the room and lay down in the hammock. I had nothing with which to while away my time, and I lay thinking what the upshot of all this business was to be. As I reclined I heard voices. They came from the garden below me. I peered downward as well as I could through my wire lattice, and there I saw Cynthia with the two dusky maidens hovering near. They overwhelmed her with their attentions, each one seeming to vie with the other in striving to show how much affection she could lavish on the white girl. As I watched them, they seemed to get angry with each other. I saw that it was jealousy, and I also saw that if Cynthia was clever she could do more for herself than I could do for her. So I called as if I were singing. I sang an old-fashioned tune which my mother used to play on the ancient spinnet in summer evenings at home when the farm work was done. I sang these words, or words to this effect:
"Be careful what you do, dear one. You can work on their feelings. Do not make one jealous of the other. Find out who is the King's favourite, and, if you must anger either, let it be the other. I am here just above you. Where are you lodged? Can you send Solomon with a line under his wing, or can you, in passing, tie a note to the thread which I shall lower close to the jasmine vine? Do not answer, but do what you can to tell me where you are lodged."
I saw Cynthia start and look all around and above her at the rooms of the palace. The two princesses were quarrelling, and nearly coming to blows, so that Cynthia could raise her eyes to my place of detention without being observed. I repeated my words. I added to them. I went further. I told her how much I loved her, and assured her that nothing but the most insuperable difficulties should part us. I saw that she understood me. She waited until I had finished, and then she walked to where one of the black belles had pushed the other into a flowering bank, and, approaching them with gentle step, she held out a hand to each, speaking sweetly and softly, as I knew that Cynthia could do, though I had had little experience of it myself. Her manner and words seemed to subdue them, and finally they were reconciled with each other and with her. As I lounged in my hammock after they had left the garden, the door of my room softly opened, and I found that a boy had entered. He had in his hand a tray, and on it were some sweets and a glass of a pale-coloured decoction, also a glass of water. He looked strangely familiar to me, and when he raised his liquid eyes to me I recognised Lacelle. I found later that the torch bearer was an old friend of Lacelle's and Zalee's. That his mother was one of the women employed about the kitchens, and that he had taken the girl directly to her, and that she had disguised her in the clothes of one of the serving lads. Christophe cared nothing about making a prisoner of the Haïtienne; all that he wanted was the party of white people, whom he thought might be fomenting a revolution, or might be connected with the pirates who infested the Isle of Pines, and made those terrible dashes upon the unprotected coast. I often wonder what he would have thought had he known that his favourite Mauresco had deserted him for the buccaneers themselves. But it was not within my province to tell of this, or, in fact, to talk of Mauresco at all. So long as I was to reproduce the ring and thus get our freedom, it would be well for me to remain silent about Mauresco, whose ring would be recognised at once should I own that I had ever even seen him. For Christophe to know that Mauresco had been killed by any of our party, would insure instant death for every one of us.
I sat looking at Lacelle while these thoughts ran through my mind. She was in no hurry to leave me, and seemed puzzling her brains as to how she should communicate with me. Finally she stretched her hand toward the glass of yellow liquid, and, pointing to her mouth, she shook her head. I stretched my hand toward the glass with the pretended intention of drinking the liquid, when she bounded to the table and, with a look of horror, seized the glass and carried it out to the veranda. I watched her as she poured it down the stem of the vine which grew from the ground below.
"A-ha!" I thought, "trying to poison or drug me. Now, what for, I wonder? If Lacelle can always bring my food, I shall feel safe," Lacelle now handed me the dulces and the glass of water, and bade me eat and drink. This I did gratefully. Then she pointed to the empty glass. There were two dead flies in the bottom of the glass and another one was just tumbling in, and several were strewn around upon the table. I nodded comprehendingly. She then, by signs, made me understand that I should eat nothing but what she brought me. I responded understandingly, and she took her tray and departed. After she had left the room, I found a piece of paper on the table. I opened it. A few lines from Cynthia were there, written hurriedly, as if she had snatched a moment in secret. They ran thus:
"Do meet me in the garden, under the mahogany tree, at ten this evening. I have some thing to tell you."
"Do meet me in the garden, under the mahogany tree, at ten this evening. I have some thing to tell you."
Truth to tell, I had never seen Cynthia's handwriting, but I was sure that it was a lady's hand, and that neither of my friends could form the letters so well or so delicately. Also I flattered myself that Cynthia really wanted to see me at last. I put the paper in my mouth and reduced it to pulp. Not a very romantic thing to do with one's first approach to a love letter, but all things are fair in love or war, and this was a combination of both, I feared.
I now went out into the veranda and lay down in the hammock, preparatory to taking a short sleep. The breeze blew softly through the vines, and soon I became drowsy, but not so soon as my captors had imagined that I should. I was still quite wide awake, though in a few moments I should have succumbed to the soothing nature of my surroundings, when I heard a faint click. It was at my door; of that I was certain. I watched the door through my almost closed eyelids, but to no end. No one approached me from my room. I feigned sleep and began to breathe regularly, and had almost begun to think my idea but fancy. Still, my eyes were opened a tiny crack, and they happened, from my position, to rest upon the wire screen which separated mine from the veranda beyond. And as I looked, the netting separated, a square of it the size of a small door was pushed toward me, and through the opening thus made a short person entered. I had thought that a solid wall of wire inclosed and shut me in.
It was a boy who approached the hammock where I lay. He was darker than Lacelle, and was clothed as boys of the palace dressed, except that the body was much more covered than I remember to have noticed in the dress of the pages. The feet of the boy were covered with some sort of light shoe; the legs and arms were hidden from view, and only the head and the very woolly hair were visible. I caught a glimpse of this as he was turning to close the door as softly as might be. When heturned again, I was breathing as regularly as a little child. My hands were crossed upon my breast. I was at peace apparently with the world. The boy came near me and stood still and listened. Nothing but my regular breathing broke the silence, except now and then the note of a mocking bird, than which no music on earth is sweeter, always excepting your mother's voice, Adoniah. For a moment all was quiet, and then the boy stooped toward me. He took one of my hands in his and, removing it from my breast, laid it by my side. I suffered the hand to hang listless in his. Then he took the other hand and as slowly and quietly laid that also by my side. He then laid his hand on my chest, feeling here and there. Then I felt the button which closed my loose garment pulled gently, as if to detach it from the buttonhole, and—quick as thought I was out of my hammock and upon him! I seized him in my arms, and together we rolled over and over upon the floor. He was no match for me, and in a moment I had him between my knees. As I sat astride his helpless young body, I gazed and gazed, and then I began to laugh. I laughed long and heartily, for the black was rubbed off in streaks, and there was enough of the original colour showing forth for me to recognise the Minion. As I tore the mat of wool from his head, the Minion's well-shaved poll stood out red and shining.
"So it is you!" said I. "I thought you had been eaten cold long ago." The Minion grinned, but did not speak.
"I've a great mind to throttle you," said I. "On second thoughts, I will, unless you tell me the truth about how you came here and what you want of me." By way of emphasizing my words, I gave the Minion's thorax a vicious squeeze. He gagged and choked and struggled to get free.
"Not until you tell me how you came here and who sent you," said I threateningly. The Minion made meunderstand, in his laconic speech, that if I would allow him to rise he would explain his actions. I got up and stood, as a precautionary measure, against the door through which he had entered my part of the veranda. I did not trust the young villain in the very slightest degree, but he was helpless, and so I waited until he spoke. By urging and prodding and threatening to choke him, and partly succeeding, I discovered that he had escaped from the vaudoux sect on the night of the fight. That he, unlike the rest of us, had sought the court. That Christophe was so pleased with this that he took him into his service. That he had told Christophe's spies that he hated the Bo's'n and myself, and only wanted to get rid of us, and that he would aid our double taking off in any way most agreeable to the King. That he had always suspected the Bo's'n and myself of having some of his jewels about our persons, and that the King had told him that if he found that we had some of them he would believe his story of his discovery in the cave, and that he would send a platoon of soldiers down to the coast to find the jewels and restore them to him.
"I suppose you think he would give them to you," said I. "But your jewels are gone." And then I told him how the Bo's'n had hidden them, and how the Skipper and I had buried them in the sea. "And you will never see them again," said I. "But what enrages me against you is that you were willing to try to come upon me unawares. Did the King order that drink for me?" The Minion, by short and jerky sentences, conveyed to me the idea that he did not know that I had had a drink of anything, but that a grand officer had taken him aside and told him he would find me in a sound sleep, and that he could get the jewels that I wore concealed about me if he came in at once. The Minion also told me that the liquor had probably been given to me that I might be taken to another place, away from all my friends, and that he had heard the King say that unless I completedthe ring within four or five days I was to be thrown from the Grand Boucan, that my bones might bleach with those of the other unfortunates who lay by the thousands in that valley of horror. Then I took the Minion in my two hands and I shook him. I shook him until I thought that I should shake the teeth out of his head.
"Do you feel that, and that, and that?" asked I, as I gave him an extra shake. "Now, the very first time that I catch you meddling with my affairs I shall not only shake the breath out of your lungs, but I'll beat the wind out of your spying little carcass. Now go!" I opened the wire door and kicked the Minion through into the next section of the veranda. He put up his black fists and began to cry, smearing the colouring matter all over his face until he looked so absurd that I could not refrain from laughing, angry as I was. While I stood there laughing at him, the farther door of the next compartment was opened and an arm in uniformed sleeve drew the lad in and closed the door and locked it. I returned to my own veranda, and soon I heard the wire door fasten with a click. I tried it, and found that I could not again open it. Then upon my ear broke the sound of wails. Sobs, groans, shrieks, and howls rent the air, and I laughed with fiendish glee.
"You see what a nice time you'll have between them and me," I called as loudly as I could. "Don't try it again, for there will be nothing to beat when I have got through with you."
And now I turned over in my hammock and went to sleep. I argued, that if they really intended to kill me I had better get some sleep when and how I could, to be ready for—I knew not what.
I awoke much refreshed. I saw from the long shadows in the garden below me that it must be later than I thought. I sprang from my hammock, determined to show some interest in the making of the ring, and thus deceive those who came to my chamber. I knew lessthan nothing about work such as this that I had offered to perform, but I decided to set about my fraudulent exhibit at once. I went to the door and tried to open it; as I had suspected, it was fastened on the outside. I then began to pound upon it. After making a tremendous noise, I heard the shuffling of feet, and an undersized negro turned the key and opened the door a crack. I jumped upon him and hurled him from the door, pushing it wide, whereupon I confronted three of Christophe's famed body guard. So this was the way that they proceeded! I saw that they simply wanted to discover if I was one of the docile kind. I proved the contrary very quickly. I began to storm and rage. I pointed to the table within my room, and asked how I could follow the commands of the King if I were not allowed fire to ignite the wick of my lamp. I said that I had been pounding on the door for hours. What was the matter with their ears that they could not hear me? The men looked at me with astonishment. Then they gave an order to the old negro, who quickly disappeared. While he was gone I worked myself into such a state of rage that my guard stood gazing open-mouthed. It was very exhausting, as when the person whom the old negro had been despatched to bring returned with him I was forced to repeat the entire performance, for this was the interpreter.
After my rage was quite exhausted, and my arms ached painfully from my having thrashed them round my head like the arms of a windmill, the interpreter turned to the guard and told them what I desired. The old negro was sent for a light, and I closed my door with a bang in the face of the guard, and settled down to my work. I felt confident that I should be able to produce nothing, but I held the metal before the flame, put the pipe in my mouth, and began to blow. I did not dare take my ring from beneath my clothes, for I feared that in the corner of some adjacent room there was a spy setto watch me, and it was not part of my plan that Christophe should know that I carried a ready-made symbol about with me. I found that the metal melted easily under the pipe. I allowed it to get partly cool, and then began to fashion it with my pincers into somewhat near the size and shape of the ring. I was much pleased with myself, and, after about an hour's work, I came to the conclusion that I had done pretty well for a novice. However creditable it was, I knew that that was not the sort of work that Christophe wanted. He required the smooth polish, the delicate arabesque, the exquisite symmetry, the perfect setting of those wonderful eyes, the expression of the face half human, half grotesque, and with a beastliness of vision that I can not describe, but which seemed to permeate the whole. Remembering Lacelle's horror of the ring as a symbol, I covered it with my handkerchief, thinking that if she saw it when she came to serve me she would be so terrified that she might never come to my aid again. I wondered why Christophe should care so much for the original ring—whether it was that blind devotion which every one who had ever come in contact with Mauresco had shared for that hypnotic personality, or whether Christophe himself was tainted with the love of fetish worship. This latter idea, however, was contradicted by the fact of his having built within his palace an Anglican church. This much I surmised: The King evidently thought that the ring held some occult power, and I could account for his anxiety to possess one, the counterpart of Mauresco's own, only on the supposition that he felt assured of its supernatural qualities.
My stay in this delightful spot would have been satisfactory enough had I not been anxious about our future, and had I been able to see Cynthia. Each day when my guard came into my room he cast a scrutinizing glance at the table where the lamp and the metal lay, but I had always the handkerchief thrown over them, so that hiscuriosity was never rewarded. Four days had now passed, and I had done little more than heat the metal and try to bend it into the shape of a circle, which bore no more resemblance to the original design than would any bit of carelessly twisted iron.
This, as I have said, was the fourth day. I did not wish the task to seem too easily accomplished, as I might be suspected of producing a ring that I had stolen and not made. Each morning when the old servant came in to bring me my breakfast I arose from the table, hurriedly blew out the lamp, threw my handkerchief over the awkward attempt at ring making, and seated myself on the balcony to sip my coffee and eat my bread. On this last morning I had grown a little careless, and had lost myself in speculations as to what a pleasure it would be to return once more to God's country, when I heard a chuckle. I jumped to my feet, but it was too late. The old man had twitched the handkerchief from the materials which I was pretending to use toward gaining my liberty. He held the ring in his grimy paw, and examined it as if he had every right in the world to do so. I sprang upon him and kicked him all across the chamber, and out into the passage, down which he ran howling with pain. The interpreter came to see me later, and explained to me in low tones that he was sorry that I had used such harsh measures, for the old man was a favourite with Christophe—his half brother, in fact—and he feared for the result.
"Very well, then," said I. "Let the result be what it will. I do not intend to be spied upon any longer. It is quite easy to make such a ring as the King wants, and that I will show you to-morrow morning if I may be taken before him."
"If he lets you remain so long," said the good interpreter, sighing. In that sigh I thought that I read my doom.
He looked with curiosity at my work, but shook his head.
"They have all of them got as far as that," he said. "Many much further. As an evidence, recall the ring which Christophe wears upon his thumb. There has never been so good a one made, and yet it is as far from being the strange, mysterious thing that Mauresco gave the King, as sunlight is different from starlight. That symbol which Mauresco gave to the great Christophe contained eyes of jewels, the like of which I believe have never been seen in this world. The symbol is said to have come from the far East, and to possess the power of magic. I hear that the King can not understand its failure to protect him since his favourite Mauresco left him. I remember the day that Mauresco took it from his finger and gave it to the King. Mauresco's fingers were thin and bony. The ring was a mile too large. He wore it on his thumb, with a smaller and thicker ring to keep the symbol in place. He told the King that it would preserve him from all harm. That he would be successful so long as he should wear it or keep it near his person. Mauresco had free entrance to the King's chambers at all times. Sometimes he slept in the room adjoining that of the King. He often talked mysteriously of his being called hence at some near day, but he impressed Christophe with the fact of the power of protection, even if he was forced to leave him, which the ring would possess for him. And there is undoubtedly that power in the ring of Mauresco, wherever it may be at this day. After Mauresco presented the King with the ring his successes began to be phenomenal. He was the victor in every battle that he fought, but since he awoke one morning to find Mauresco gone, and to discover later, in looking at it closely, that his ring was not the symbol which Mauresco had given him, he has been less successful. Its effect upon his character has shown itself in a hundred different ways. He is more irritable.Where formerly he threw one or two men from the Grand Boucan in the week, now there is rarely a day when some life does not pay the penalty."
"Irritable" I thought a rather modest word for the temper which induced this wholesale slaughter.
I wondered why the interpreter should talk so familiarly with me, but I argued that he was glad to speak his native tongue once more. I discovered that he had been born in America of African parents. That in going to sea with his master, an old sea captain, the ship had been set upon by one of Dessalines' vessels of war and sunk, the whites being drowned and killed. This one man swam ashore and had drifted into the army, and then, after various vicissitudes which it would require too long a time to recount, to Christophe's palace. Here he had been for ten years or more. His value as an interpreter was fully recognised, and he had been kept by Christophe for this purpose.
I had not seen anything of the Queen in the short time that I was honoured by the King's hospitality. She was away, I heard from the interpreter, at a place called the "Queen's Delight." The King had many beautiful places among his possessions. They were cotton plantations, sugar estates, and the like. Sometimes the black Queen longed to escape from the magnificence which must have overwhelmed her, not to mention the presence of certain ladies whose neighbourhood made her life uncomfortable, if not unendurable. At such times she would go to "The Victory," "The Glory," "The King's Beautiful View," "The Queen's Delight," or "The Conquest." These places were at some distance from Sans Souci, but they were all situated in the "Artibonite," one of the most beautiful and fertile valleys in the world. Here the poor woman, whose devotion to the famous, as well as infamous, King was phenomenal (I judge from what I saw later), could live in peace, and, if she were alone, her solitude was at least undisturbed by jealousies,friction, or the sounds of misery which the black King caused each day by imperative orders, whose right was never questioned.
The interpreter told me that the people were growing restless, that already there had been some revolutions about "Le Cap," and there was news of uprisings to the south of us. I looked to this as a means of rescue, but then, I argued, we may fall into hands as bad as, if not worse than, Christophe's, and I dared not pray for a change.
"I wonder why they allow you to talk so freely with me!" said I. "I seem to be a prisoner, and I can not understand why they should let you come in and talk with me in a language which they do not speak themselves."
The interpreter shook his head.
"I do not know," said he, "unless they want you to feel secure, and that they are friendly to you."
It was growing dusk now, and the room and veranda were dark, but I could not help seeing that there was a slight movement on the porch outside. I found that it was a black servant who was engaged in raising the jalousies. His back was toward me, but I paid some attention to him.
"Do you think he intends to let me go," asked I, "or is the ring making only a pretense to kill me?"
"I think——"
But I had risen and had sprung out upon the balcony. Not because I cared what I said myself, but because I did not want this poor fellow to get into trouble through me. The attitude of the servant was that of a listener, and I was upon him before he could turn round.
"This place is like a box of surprises," said I, as I seized the listener. I dragged him into the room, and, striking a light, I found that I had the Minion again within my grasp.
I lighted the lamp and held it under his chin for want of a better mode of torture.
"You young devil!" said I, "so it's you again, set to spy upon me, of course! They seem to have stained you for good this time. That dye will never rub off." At this the Minion lifted up his voice and howled.
"Tell me where the Captain is," said I, holding the lamp close under his snub nose.
"Dead!" roared the Minion, drawing suddenly away from the flame.
"Of course, I know you are lying," said I. "I suppose the Bo's'n and the Smith, too, are dead."
The Minion nodded his head and added, "Lady, too."
I gave his nose a final scorch and ran him through the open door, took him out, and dropped him off the veranda next to mine. I did not care if I killed him. Unfortunately for those whom the Minion lived to plague, I heard him catch among the vines as he descended, and, after a rather rough fall, get up and limp off.
"Tell your master," I called after him, with fury in my tones, "that if he comes here I will serve him in the same way. Do you think there is any truth in that young liar's words?" said I to the interpreter when I came back into the room.
"Oh, no," said he, "for I saw the rest of your party just before I came in here—I mean the m'sieus."
"Where were they?" I asked anxiously.
The interpreter shook his head.
"I hardly like to tell you," said he. "But you may as well know the truth first as last. They were tied on the backs of mules and were going up the mountain path."
"What do you mean?" I breathlessly asked.
"To the citadel," answered the interpreter, and added, "I wish, I do wish you had not said what you did just now."
When the interpreter left me I was a prey to the saddest thoughts. Could it really be that this black brute had taken my dear old Skipper, the Bo's'n, and the Smith up to the citadel to dispose of them in his usual brutal way? I arose and walked to the veranda and looked out. The door opening into the next veranda was still flung wide, and I saw that I should have no trouble in climbing down where I had dropped the Minion, so I walked to the rail and vaulted it. There was no one to bar my progress, and I got to the bottom very comfortably. I could only surmise that the door had been intrusted to the Minion to open at will, and that he had been chosen to inform upon me as to my confidences with the interpreter. Probably those who sent him thought that he was still spying upon me, and that when he returned it would be with a large budget of news. I walked softly to the back of the garden. I had no idea where the large mahogany tree might be situated, but made straight for the largest trunk that I could find, and, going round behind it, I discovered Cynthia. She took my hand in hers and pressed it warmly, but she did not allow me to kiss her cheek, as I should like to have done.
"I have been here every evening since I sent you that note," said she. "Did you get it?"
"Yes," said I.
"Then why have you been so long in coming?" Her tone was one of reproach.
"You know that I would have come if it were possible," answered I. "Do not waste the time in reproaches, Cynthia. We may have but a moment. Are they kind to you?"
"Yes; no one could be more devoted than the two daughters of the King. But, Mr. Jones——" She cast down her head and whispered hurriedly: "What do you think? The King wants me to marry his nephew."
"Who, that black brute?"
"Yes, the King."
"Thank God, he does not want you himself!" I blurted out. I was sorry and ashamed the moment that I said this, but to the Cynthias of this world all things are pure.
"Why, he couldn't marry me!" said Cynthia, raising those great innocent eyes to mine. "He has a wife already. That beautiful Queen, the mother of those girls you saw me with. I have not seen her; she is away just now at one of the other palaces, but I hear on all sides of her loveliness and dignity. They tell me that she is more beautiful than ever Cleopatra was, and that her colour is not much darker than that of the Oriental Queen. But I have very little time to speak with you. My friend is waiting for me over there beneath the acacia tree. She is keeping watch. She tells me that the King's plan is this: He wants a white princess here to show the world that he is the equal of any power. You know how the French have intermarried with these people, and Christophe can not understand, I suppose, why we of the North should not fall at once into his plans. His daughter, the youngest, is really in love with her cousin. She hardly knows what to counsel me to do. Christophe purposes to break up these family arrangements and marry me to the nephew and you to the daughter."
"Well," said I dejectedly, "you have the dagger, I suppose? But marry me to the daughter!" I shook with laughter. The whole thing seemed so perfectly ridiculous.
"I don't see anything so very amusing in that," said Cynthia in an offended tone.
Although I knew that Christophe had a very beautiful Queen, and also numerous attractive ladies about his court, I was very much afraid that he would take a fancy to Cynthia himself; but happily this danger seemed not to have been thought of.
"The girls have been very kind to me. The youngest one came to me in tears, and with Lacelle's help—Do you know that Lacelle is here?" I nodded. "She told me this plan of her father's. She it was who brought me here this evening, and she says that she will do all in her power to aid me. She knows of a place where she can hide me, she says, but how to get me away later she does not know. She thinks that her cousin Geffroy will aid her. She says when things get to the worst that she will take me to this hiding place. I have given her Solomon for her kindness to me."
"Where is it?" I asked—"the hiding place that you speak of?"
"I do not know," said Cynthia mournfully.
I was furious at the idea of that old wretch having made these plans for Cynthia, but his plan for me struck me as most ludicrous, so that at one moment I was laughing convulsively and the next foaming at the mouth with rage.
"Dearest," I said, "whatever you do, keep friends with this girl, this daughter of Christophe's. She will help you, I am sure. Have you your dagger still?"
She drew it from the folds of her dress.
"If the worst comes to the worst," said I, "be sure and use it. Unless they kill me, you must know that I am always trying to devise some scheme to rescue you." I felt for her hand. "Do you wear our wedding ring, Cynthia?"
I heard a faint "Yes." I pressed her fingers in mine, and found the little band that I had taken from the pirates' cave still there. I drew nearer. For one delicious moment she allowed her head to rest upon my shoulder. I pressed a kiss upon her cheek, the first that I had been allowed to give my own wife, and I arose as strong as Hercules.
"I can do anything now," said I. "I must tell you my secret hurriedly. I have told the King that I canmake a ring like the one he wears, only it will be a ring of much more power. The ring that I have—the one you found on the beach—is, I am certain, the one which was lost by Mauresco, his favourite, who gave it to Christophe, and then stole it away again."
"What! that handsome pirate?" asked Cynthia.
"Yes, damn him!" said I, "and without apology, Cynthia. Now I am sure that you found that very ring—what they call the magic symbol. Sometimes I think that there is something in their superstition about it. Such eyes were never seen in human head! I thought of giving Christophe that ring, and pretending that I had made it. If he believes that I can do so much, he may think that I can do still more. He may even take a fancy to me and make me his favourite."
"Yes, and marry you to one of those girls. No, Hiram, I should not like that at all."
To say that these words delighted me is superfluous.
"Then what shall I do with it, Cynthia? Shall I give it to you?"
"N—n—no," said Cynthia hesitatingly. "I suppose your plan is best, after all. Where do you carry it?"
"Tied to a cord around my neck," said I.
"They may come at night while you are asleep and take it. I have a needle stuck in my dress now, with a needleful of thread. I stuck it there on purpose, thinking that you might want a little sewing done. I have brought it every evening. Do you know that I have been here every evening since I wrote to you? I took it out of Aunt Mary 'Zekel's bag before I came out—the needle and thread, I mean."
"Bless you, dear!" said I. "My clothes are new, and I have no pockets. They saw to that. Perhaps it would be as well to let you secure it somewhere, that I may not lose it, until the proper time comes to surprise the King."
"When will that be?" asked Cynthia.
"To-morrow, I think. I have had time enough. Thetime was up yesterday." As I spoke I took the ring from beneath my shirt front and, breaking the cord, handed it to Cynthia. It lay like a heavy weight in her hand, and, even though there was hardly a ray of light, the eyes shone with a glow almost luminous.
"I can't think of any better place than the hem of your trouser leg," said she. "A very unromantic hiding place, but it is better to be safe than romantic."
"I wish we could be both," said I.
I agreed with Cynthia in her view of the case. I stood up and rested my foot on the seat at the back of the tree. She took her needle and thread, and, almost entirely by feeling, she sewed the barbaric symbol into the hem. I thanked her, and told her that she must return now, so that no one need know where she had been.
"Before you go, Cynthia, I must give you something of yours."
"Of mine?" asked Cynthia in apparent amazement, but I could detect a tremor in her voice.
"Yes, I found it in the cave the morning that we returned from our dove hunt, and saw that the house was burned. It was on the floor, just where you lost your handkerchief."
I took her palm in mine and slid the locket into it.
"Strange that I should have found it in the cave when I saw you throw it into the stream."
"Yes, it was strange," answered Cynthia, with perfect calmness of tone; "but very curious things happen in this island I have discovered."
Just here I heard a sort of warning cry. Cynthia arose hurriedly.
"They are calling me," she whispered. "I must go at once."
She pressed my hand affectionately, and I saw her glide away a little to where another figure joined her, and together they melted into the gloom. I sat down again to think over my last few moments with Cynthia.I will not weary you with a lover's rhapsodies, but from what I have seen in your courting days, son Adoniah, I know that you will understand how I felt, or something of it. No one can possibly understand exactly the feelings that come over a man placed as I was unless he has experienced a similar fate. Here was I, meeting my dear girl by stealth in the gardens of a cruel and bloodthirsty monarch, no less a monarch because he was a black monarch, who had soldiers and slaves at his command against whom our little strength was as but an insect's. Cynthia had left me to go I knew not where. She had told me in our short talk that the daughters of Christophe would have loaded her with ornaments had she been willing. He might show her mercy because of these black princesses, but what if they should change toward her? The blacks are capricious at times. What if he should insist upon this hated marriage, and either bind her to his nephew or, angry at her refusal, hand her over to a worse fate, if anything could be worse? I hoped that if such were the alternative he would throw her from the great wall, and thus end all our misery. I began to think it time to return to my room, and was wondering if I could regain it in the same way that I came, when a hand was laid upon my shoulder, a heavy hand. There was a flash of light, and I saw a great griffe standing there, looking at me curiously. This man had a red turban round his head. Around his loins he had another cloth of the same colour. The rest of his body was bare. I caught the flash of a weapon upraised to strike. I jerked myself away from the man, but he had me again in a moment. I struggled, I kicked, I vituperated. He did not strike with the weapon, and I judged at once that he had threatened me only to intimidate me. It was a rude awakening from the bliss of Cynthia's kiss to the rough grasp of a man set to trap me. When I saw several more surrounding me, I gave up the unequal struggle and sank down on the seat under the mahoganytree. But the griffe rudely jerked me to my feet again, and told me, I suppose, that I was to accompany him. He pointed along a lovely alley, which was just beginning to show in the light of the newly risen moon. It was a beautiful path, and I could not help wondering if murder and death lurked at the end of it. I walked amid my captors, thinking that my road lay toward a stronger, more secure chamber, where I was to finish my self-imposed task. Fool that I had been, to think that I could deceive such an astute savage as the great conqueror Christophe! The odours of the night were sweet. The flowers nodded and swayed on every side. The green boughs drooped overhead and shaded the seats about the tree trunks, fit refuge for lovers, and I walked in the midst of six tall savages, each watching me with a wary eye, and each with a great knife drawn to cut me down should I attempt to flee.
At the end of the alley we came to a halt. Here were several mules ready bridled and saddled for mounting. Three of the men mounted. Then the three who remained standing on the ground placed me upon a fourth animal, and fastened me securely to the saddle. My hands, however, were left free.
"Wait a moment!" I cried, with desperate energy. "I have made the ring which the King ordered. I have it here. I can give it to his Majesty at once. Only let me see him. Let me see the King. I must see King Christophe! Let me see him for a moment, or bring the interpreter. Let me speak with the interpreter; he will tell the King." But I might as well have talked to the grim mountain above me. The men half laughed, half scowled, shook their heads, and prodded the beast on which I sat. The mule was started along a narrow causeway, where the slightest step to the right or left would have dashed us both into a dark and swiftly flowing stream. When we had crossed, I turned to look behind me. I found the three mounted men were following me. I tried to turn the mule, but I soon saw the utter futility of such an attempt. The path was extremely narrow, and I perceived that turning the mule about would be a most difficult manoeuvre, even were the animal willing, and my experience with the genus mule had led me to believe that he is never of his rider's mind. Then of what avail to turn! I might dash one, even two, of the men off the steep fall in my own company, but I could not see what recompense that would be to me, and then I remembered the old Skipper's words, "I've been in tighter places than this, my boy," and I resigned myself to the inevitable. Up, up, up, we went, now winding through narrow defiles, again coming out on the sheer side of the mountain. There is a way of approach to the mountain top which is not so dangerous as the one which we pursued, and I know that it was in existence at that time, but I was conducted along a path which would have caused my eyes to start in terror from my head had I not felt certain that there was much worse to come.
We are going to the citadel, I thought—that citadel about which Cynthia and I jested one day not so long ago. I am to be thrown from the Boucan, and shall either die going through the air or lie a mangled heap among those whitening bones. The vultures of the air will hover over me, they will swoop down upon me, they will try to peck out my eyes. I shall fight them as long as I can, if I am alive, if I have an arm that is not broken, and if I can draw my knife! I felt for my knife. It was gone! I knew not when I had lost it, whether when I had bathed and changed my clothes or whether it had fallen from its sheath since. I looked abroad on the wonderful night. No one was moving in that vast exterior but we four. It seemed as if I were alone, for I rode ahead of this singular cavalcade, and saw nothing but the wonderful panorama of the verdure-covered steeps, the wide-spreading ocean below, and the stars andmoon above me. I trembled and shook so that I could hardly hold to my animal, for I discerned some few dark shapes still wheeling down below there whose cravings had not yet been satiated.
"I shall be their next morsel," said I to myself. And as these thoughts passed through my brain I entered between two high walls, which spread as I advanced, and I found myself in an open courtyard. The gates had been flung wide at our approach, but as soon as we were within them they closed with a loud and ominous clang, and I was a prisoner within the frowning, stupendous walls of Christophe's citadel, the terrible La Ferrière.
I remember little that followed. I tumbled rather than slid from the mule. I could hardly walk upon my stiffened legs, but I found that they must be put to use. We crossed the courtyard and entered a heavy door, which clanged to behind us, captive and captors alike. We traversed long halls, we passed dark interiors. We came out into open spaces, where in the brilliant light of the moon I saw again the open ocean, on which I imagined that white sails flecked the open, free waters. Nearer were esplanades, where great cannon frowned and balls for their consumption were piled to the top of the different compartments. Then into the dark interior again, again emerging into light, mounting stairs, descending them, and so on until we came at last to a door. It was hastily unlocked and I was pushed inside, my guards, following. For a moment I could see nothing, and then, as my eyes gathered strength, I perceived that I was not alone. A figure was crouching in the corner of the room. It arose with a sort of growl and stood upon its feet. It recalled to me at the moment the snarl of a dog whose bone is to be taken away from him. Its back was to the little ray of moonlight that came through the open port. This being made a dash at us, all four, with an open knife. We started back. The guards laughed as they all three ran out, pulling the door toafter them. I had seized upon the edge of the door, but it had slipped through my fingers. Its closing click was like the answer of fate. I flung my back against it and faced the figure who stood in the middle of the room with his hand upraised, and in that hand a knife.