Latitude 19 degree Part 17

Christophe's palace at "Sans Souci" was one of the wonders of the world.

It would have graced any country; have reflected glory upon any people.

The earthquake of '42 damaged its fair beauty, but its remains stand to-day a proof of the power, the determination, and the inventive genius of that terrible black king. Seated under a camaito tree, which spread its green shade over the marble terrace, this absolute monarch held court. No one dared to look upon his face. Officers, soldiers, and prisoners alike trembled and hid their eyes as they knelt before him. If any one displeased or unconsciously thwarted the king, he was haled away to a dungeon, which generally meant death.

Is it wonderful, then, that I regarded our going to the interior of the island as little less than suicidal? We were in danger of lawless bands from the West and from the East, for there was discontent with the black king Henri, and irresponsible parties of griffes and mulattoes, not to speak of outlawed whites who had no standing at home, were in hiding among the rocks and caves of that extraordinary formation known as the island of Santo Domingo. I had wondered how Captain Schuyler had dared to bring his niece with him on this cruise of the Yankee Blade, for the buccaneers were still pursuing helpless craft upon the high seas. They usually feared a close proximity to civilized lands, but carried on their nefarious business upon the open ocean, making sudden and unexpected dashes from the Isle of Pines, which was their stronghold.

I think that I have written enough without going further into detail to show why, though we had been ash.o.r.e barely twenty-four hours, I was anxious to escape from this place of horrors. These reflections ran through my brain in the s.p.a.ce of a very few seconds, as thoughts will, and I trailed my oars and spoke.

"Captain Schuyler," I said, "why did you run the risk of bringing your niece on such a dangerous voyage?"

The Skipper looked up at me for a moment, as if not comprehending my question.

"G.o.d bless your soul! Dangerous? Dangerous? What do you mean, Mr.

Jones?"

"I consider it a very foolish thing, Captain, to----"

"What! Mr. Jones, do you know who you are speaking to, sir? This is mutiny, Mr. Jones, rank mutiny! Rank----"

"No, Captain," I answered calmly and slowly, "it is no mutiny. I must speak my mind. I can not understand your action, with pirates still roaming the high seas----"

"Yes, yes, high seas," broke in the Skipper; "but who ever dreamed of their coming so close to sh.o.r.e? Why, I've been sailing these waters now for seven years, since I gave up the Calcutta trade, and I never so much as saw a pirate craft. I've hugged the sh.o.r.e pretty close, it's true, and----Pshaw, Mr. Jones, you're nervous! I recognise the signs. A man's always nervous when he's in love. I used to be; I----"

"I am not unnecessarily nervous," said I. "Your niece is a very beautiful young girl----"

"Do you think so?" said the Skipper in a surprised tone. "Why, do you know, Jones, I never thought her even good-looking. You should have seen her Aunt Mary 'Zekel at her age!"

"I regret my loss," I said. "But that's neither here nor there----"

"You are foolish, Jones! You imagine things."

"I suppose the loss of the Yankee and the b.a.l.l.s of those pirates are all in my fancy."

"Good G.o.d! No! I wish they were. I can't say that," answered the Skipper, "but----"

"Hardly, I fancy," said I impatiently, "with the old Yankee sunk and our party ash.o.r.e, half of them dead, some of them buried, the others----"

"Don't go on so, Jones. Those men may not have been pirates. Sometimes people pretend they are pi----"

"Don't split hairs, Captain. I think if a Britisher or an American should capture them, and knew what they done, they would give them a short shrift. I can't see how you can be so unimpressed with our dreadful situation."

I looked up at the Skipper and saw the tears welling over from his eyes.

"Don't scold me, Jones," he said in a broken voice. "G.o.d knows I can't see my way clear to anything! Tell me what you think best, and I'll do it."

I saw that the old man's nerve was gone, and I suspected that with it had departed some of the good judgment for which he had been noted, I had heard, in years gone by. Had I started from Coenties Slip with the s.h.i.+p, I should have remonstrated with him, if possible, for taking a young girl on so hazardous a voyage; but I had joined the s.h.i.+p at Martinique, my own vessel having been lost off that island in a hurricane, of which more another time. The Captain had quarreled with his Mate, he had deserted, and I had taken the job, and glad to get it, too. My surprise was great when I found Miss Archer on board. I had always been pessimistic about her presence there, and now something like what I had antic.i.p.ated had happened, and here was I left to care for a Captain who was broken and old, and a young girl of my own nation, for whose welfare I found that I cared more than was good for my peace of mind, and a boy who was of no use except to give us an occasional laugh, and a Bo's'n who went off into strange, mysterious attacks, and talked at such times miles over my head, as well as his own--a sublimated Bo's'n, who, though entirely illiterate in his normal moments, in attacks such as I have described spoke like a professor; who one moment was soaring in the skies, and raving of things spiritual and supernatural, and the next moment was talking like the veriest old Jacky that ever came out of a forecastle. I, too, was feeling upset with all that we had gone through, but I must keep my courage up if we were to escape from that accursed island.

"Jones, what do you say to rowing back up along the beach and seeing if those fellows are alive? We ought to bury them decently if they have died since yesterday." The Skipper seemed suddenly to have developed a fancy for the role of Chaplain. Having tasted the pleasure of being in close communication with Heaven, on a confidential footing, so to speak, with Providence, the apologist and recommender of the dead of his crew, he hated to give up the job. I have noticed the same sort of frenzy in my wife at times. She (to speak mildly) used to dissipate, at certain seasons, in church meetings, going to Wednesday evening and Friday evening meetings, to noon prayer meetings, and three times to church.

On Sundays many's the time I've walked the floor with little Adoniah Schuyler second, while she was listening to Reverend Vandenwater thunder h.e.l.l and d.a.m.nation at the unrepentant. She has come in with an uplifted look on her face and an air of holy calm, which a.s.sured me that the next world held no place for such degenerates as myself. The Reverend Vandenwater demanded all her time and attention for the "Refuge for the Progeny of the Bondsman." But the Reverend Vandenwater disappeared with the funds of the Refuge, and she has not dissipated so extensively since. I used to tell her when she talked about the love of the Lord that it was spelled with a "V," which at times created a coolness in the family. But I have digressed.

I told the Skipper that I thought we had been enjoying ourselves long enough away from the camp, and that we should now return as soon as possible. As I spoke, I rested for a moment on my oars and turned my head in the direction of the camp.

"Strange!" said I; "there's no one on the beach." The Skipper stood up in the boat.

"No," he said, "there isn't. Perhaps they have gone a little farther into the shade." There were no figures moving about, no Cynthia, no Bo's'n, no Minion. One never knew what Lacelle would be up to, so I did not worry myself at not seeing her. I turned again to face the Skipper, and all at once I perceived a strange vessel coming rapidly toward the coast, and as I looked, the French flag which she bore was supplemented by another. I could not believe my eyes. I did really rub them and look again. Yes, it was true. The Jolly Roger fluttered for a moment at the masthead, and as suddenly was lowered to the rail. It confirmed my suspicions as to the pa.s.s to which the island had come, that a pirate craft could sail openly along the coast in broad daylight, displaying her signal of murder and death! That it was a signal to some one in waiting on the sh.o.r.e, I could not hesitate to believe. Then, in what terrible danger were we and our party from an a.s.sault both on the land and on the water. We were, indeed, between the devil and the deep sea.

"Captain," said I, scrambling hastily over the middle seat, "take the other pair, for G.o.d's sake!"

"What's the matter with the man?" exclaimed the Captain, as I tumbled hastily into the bows and picked up the extra pair of oars. "Just when one begins to feel peaceful and calm, communing with his Maker, as it were, you----"

"You'll commune with your Maker sooner than you care to, Captain," said I, "if you don't pick up those oars. That pirate's come back, or else it's another one. I saw the Roger----"

The Skipper had by this time turned about, deliberately removed his coat, and taken up the oars.

"What! that vessel? She's no more a pirate than you are."

"I tell you I saw the crossbones as plain as I see your back. Pull, Captain, for the love of G.o.d!"

The Skipper did bend to his oars, but his mutterings were proof that he had little confidence in my judgment or eyesight.

"Just thinking peacefully of my latter end----"

"You'll have your latter end closer in view, Captain," said I, "if you don't pull like h.e.l.l."

My violent word brought him down from his heavenly flight, and pull he did, but we had quite a distance yet to go.

"She's a beauty," said the Skipper. "She's so long and low and rakish, but so was the Yankee Blade. Not quite so much free board as the Yankee, has she, now?"

"Captain, excuse me, but if you would pull more and talk less----"

"Well, I'll pull, Mr. Jones, I'll pull, but I'll remember your language, Mr. Jones, and when I get----"

I looked over my shoulder as I rowed.

"Our people are nowhere to be seen, Captain. Do you think they could have noticed that signal?"

"You are crazy, man, utterly and entirely out of your head. I told you that men in love were insane. They would never show that flag if they had it."

"They know what they are about, sir," said I. "They wouldn't do it for fun. Let us beach the boat and run for it."

The Skipper suddenly seemed to catch my fear. We beached the boat some hundred yards from the camp.

"Which way, Jones?"

"For the camp, Cap'n, the camp! If you ever ran in your life, run now."

I sped along the beach, taking it just where the retreating water had left the sand hard and firm, the Skipper pounding along after me on his fat, short legs. I did not think of the danger of being seen by those on board the vessel, and, had I done so, I should have been sure that they were busy with their signals and their rounding to. As I ran, I turned my head now and then to watch the approach of the craft. She was a beautiful sight, the long, low schooner, all sails set, pointing directly for the sh.o.r.e. She ran so far in, that one would think that they meant to run directly up on the beach, but I argued that their confidence bespoke their knowledge of these waters. The wind had risen, and the trades were blowing freshly along, parallel with the sh.o.r.e line.

We had reached the camp now. No one was to be seen. I turned for one more glimpse of the dreadful vessel, and as I looked she began to haul down her jibs. She rounded to, shot up head to wind, and lowered her foresail and dropped anchor pretty nearly together.