The Maroon Part 70

While these final preparations were being made, a mulatta woman was seen moving about the room--at times acting as an attendant upon the table, at other times standing silently in the background. She was the slave Cynthia.

In the behaviour of this woman there was something peculiar. There was a certain amount of nervous agitation in her manner as she moved about; and ever and anon she was seen to make short traverses to different parts of the room--apparently without errand or object. Her steps, too, were stealthy, her glances unsteady and furtive.

All this would have been apparent enough to a suspicious person; but none of the three present appeared to notice it.

The "swizzle" bowl stood on the side-board. While breakfast was being placed on the table, Cynthia had been seen refilling the bowl with this delicious drink, which she had mixed in an outside chamber. Some one asked her why she was performing that, her diurnal duty, at so early an hour--especially as master would be gone before the time of swizzle-drinking should arrive: usually during the hotter hours of the day.

"P'raps ma.s.sr like drink ob swizzle 'fore he go," was the explanatory reply vouchsafed by Cynthy.

The girl made a successful conjecture. Just as the Custos was about to step outside for the purpose of descending the stairway, a fit of choking thirst once more came upon him, and he called for drink.

"Ma.s.sr like gla.s.s ob swizzle?" inquired Cynthia, stepping up to his side. "I've mixed for ma.s.sa some berry good," added she, with impressive earnestness.

"Yes, girl," replied her master. "That's the best thing I can take.

Bring me a large goblet of it."

He had scarce time to turn round, before the goblet was presented to him, full to the rim. He did not see that the slave's hand trembled as she held it up, nor yet that her eyes were averted--as if to hinder them from beholding some fearful sight.

His thirst prevented him from seeing anything, but that which promised to a.s.suage it.

He caught hold of the goblet, and gulped down the whole of its contents, without once removing it from his lips.

"You've overrated its quality, girl," said he, returning her the gla.s.s.

"It doesn't seem at all good. There's a bitterish taste about it; but I suppose it's my palate that's out of order, and one shouldn't be particular about the stirrup-cup."

With this melancholy attempt at appearing gay, Loftus Vaughan bade adieu to his daughter, and, climbing into the saddle, rode off upon his journey.

Ah! Custos Vaughan! That stirrup-cup was the last you were ever destined to drink! In the sparkling "swizzle" was an infusion of the baneful _Savannah flower_. In that deep draught you had introduced into your veins one of the deadliest of vegetable poisons!

Chakra's prophecy will soon be fulfilled. The death-spell will now quickly do its work. In twenty-four hours you will be a corpse!

Volume Three, Chapter VI.

THE HORN SIGNAL.

Cubina, on getting clear of the penn-keeper's precincts, lost little time in returning to the glade; and, having once more reached the _ceiba_, seated himself on a log to await the arrival of the young Englishman.

For some minutes he remained in this att.i.tude--though every moment becoming more fidgetty, as he perceived that time was pa.s.sing, and no one came. He had not even a pipe to soothe his impatience: for it had been left in the hammock, into which he had cast it from the cocoa.

Before many minutes had pa.s.sed, however, a pipe would have been to little purpose in restraining his nervous excitement; for the non-appearance of the young Englishman began to cause him serious uneasiness.

What could be detaining him? Had the Jew been awakened? and was he by some means or other, hindering Herbert from coming out? There was no reason, that Cubina could think of, why the young man should be ten minutes later than himself in reaching the _ceiba_. Five minutes--even the half of it--might have sufficed for him to robe himself in such garments as were needed; and then, what was to prevent him from following immediately? Surely, the appeal that had been made to him-- the danger hinted at to those dear to him, the necessity for haste, spoken in unmistakable terms--surely, all this would be sufficient to attract him to the forest, without a moment's hesitation!

Why, then, was he delaying?

The Maroon could not make it out: unless under the disagreeable supposition that the Jew no longer slept, and was intercepting his egress.

What if Herbert might have lost his way in proceeding towards the rendezvous? The path was by no means plain, but the contrary. It was a mere cattle-track, little used by men. Besides, there were others of the same--scores of them trending in all directions, crossing and converging with this very one. The half-wild steers and colts of the penn-keeper ranged the thickets at will. Their tracks were everywhere; and it would require a person skilled in woodcraft and acquainted with the _lay_ of the country, to follow any particular path. It was likely enough that the young Englishman had strayed.

Just then these reflections occurred to Cubina. He chided himself for not thinking of it sooner. He should have stayed by the penn--waited for Herbert to come out, and then taken the roads along with him.

"Not to think of that! _Crambo_! how very stupid of me!" muttered the Maroon, pacing nervously to and fro: for his impatience had long since started him up from the log.

"Like enough, he's lost his way?

"I shall go back along the path. Perhaps I may find him. At all events, if he's taken the right road, I must meet him."

And as he said this, he glided rapidly across the glade, taking the back track towards the penn.

The conjecture that Herbert had strayed was perfectly correct. The young Englishman had never revisited the scene of his singular adventure, since the day that introduced him to the acquaintance of so many queer people. Not but that he had felt the inclination, amounting almost to a desire, to do so; and more than once had he been upon the eve of satisfying this inclination, but, otherwise occupied, the opportunity had not offered itself.

Not greatly proficient in forest lore--as Cubina had also rightly conjectured--especially in that of a West-Indian forest, he had strayed from the true path almost upon the instant of entering upon it; and was at that very moment wandering through the woods in search of the glade where grew the gigantic cotton-tree!

No doubt, in the course of time, he might have found it, or perhaps stumbled upon it by chance, for--made aware, by the earnest invitation he had received, that time was of consequence--he was quartering the ground in every direction, with the rapidity of a young pointer in his first season with the gun.

Meanwhile the Maroon glided rapidly back, along the path leading to the penn, without seeing aught either of the Englishman or his track.

He re-entered the ruinate fields of the old sugar estate, and continued on till within sight of the house, still unsuccessful in his search.

Proceeding with caution, he stepped over the dilapidated wall of the old orchard. Caution was now of extreme necessity. It was broad day; and, but for the cover which the undergrowth afforded him, he could not have gone a step further without the risk of being seen from the house.

He reached the ruin from which he had before commanded a view of the verandah; and, once more stealing a glance over its top, he obtained a full view of the long rambling corridor.

Jessuron was in it--not as when last seen, asleep in his armchair, but on foot, and hurrying to and fro, with quick step and excited mien.

His black-bearded overseer was standing by the stair, as if listening to some orders which the Jew was issuing.

The hammock was still hanging in its place, but its collapsed sides showed that it was empty. Cubina could see that, but no signs of its late occupant--neither in the gallery nor about the buildings.

If still there, he must be in some of the rooms? But that one which opened nearest the hammock, and which Cubina conjectured to be his bedroom, appeared to be unoccupied. Its door stood ajar, and no one seemed to be inside.

The Maroon was considering whether he should stay a while longer upon the spot, and watch the movements of the two men, when it occurred to him that if the young man had gone out, and up the right path, he must have crossed a track of muddy ground, just outside the garden wall.

Being so near the house--and in the expectation of seeing something there to explain Herbert's delay--he had not stayed to examine this on his second approach.

Crouching cautiously among the trees, he now returned to it; and, almost at the first glance, his eye revealed to him the truth.

A fresh footprint was in the mud, with its heel to the house, and its toe pointing to the path! It was not his own: it must be that of the young Englishman!

He traced the tracks as far as they could be distinguished; but that was only to the edge of the damp earth. Beyond, the ground was dry and firm--covered with a close-cropped carpet of gra.s.s, upon which the hoof of a horse would scarcely have left an impression.

The tracks, however, on leaving the moist ground, appeared as if trending towards the proper path; and Cubina felt convinced that, for some distance at least, the young Englishman had gone towards the glade.

That he was no longer by the house was sufficiently certain; and equally so that he had kept his promise and followed Cubina into the woods. But where was he now?

"He may have reached the glade in my absence, and be now waiting for me!" was the reflection of the Maroon.

Stimulated by this, as well as by the chagrin which his mischances or mismanagement were causing him, he started back along the path at a run--as if struggling in a match against time.