Томас Майн Рид - Лучшие романы Томаса Майна Рида / The Best of Thomas Mayne Reid

It was but a simple trick – that of substituting a carcase – afterwards to become a skeleton – for the presumed dead body of the myal-man. The baracoon of the slave-merchant generally had such a commodity in stock. If not, Jessuron would not have scrupled to manufacture one for the occasion.

Humanity had nothing to do in the supplying of this proxy. Had there been no other motive than that to actuate the Jew, Chakra might have rotted under the shadow of the cabbage-palm.

But Jessuron had his purpose for saving the life of the condemned criminal – more than one, perhaps – and he had saved it.

Since his resurrection , Chakra had pursued his iniquitous calling with even more energy than of old; but now in the most secret and surreptitious manner.

He had not been long in re-establishing a system of confederates – under the auspices of a new name – but only at night, and with disguised form and masked face, did he give his clients rendezvous. Never in the Duppy’s Hole; for few were sufficiently initiated into the mysteries of myalism [543]to be introduced to its temple in that secure retreat.

Although the confederates of the obeah-man rarely reveal the secret of his whereabouts – even his victims dreading to divulge it – Chakra knew the necessity of keeping as much as possible en perdu [544]; and no outlaw, with halter around his neck, could have been more cautious in his outgoings and incomings.

He knew that his life was forfeit on the old judgment; and, though he had once escaped execution, he might not be so fortunate upon a second occasion. If recaptured, some surer mode of death would be provided – a rope, instead of a chain; and in place of being fastened to the trunk of a tree, he would be pretty certain of being suspended by the neck to the branch of one.

Knowing all this, Chakra redivivus trod the forest paths with caution, and was especially shy of the plantation of Mount Welcome. Around the sides of the mountain he had little to fear. The reputation of the Jumbé Rock, as well as that of the Duppy’s Hole, kept the proximity of these noted places clear of all dark-skinned stragglers; and there Chakra had the heat to himself.

Upon dark nights, however, like the wolf, he could prowl at pleasure and with comparative safety – especially upon the outskirts of the more remote plantations: the little intercourse allowed between the slaves of distant estates making acquaintanceship among them a rare exception. It was chiefly upon these distant estates that Chakra held communication with his confederates and clients.

It was now more than a year since he had made his pretended resurrection; and yet so cautiously had he crawled about, that only a few individuals were aware of the fact of his being still alive. Others had seen his ghost ! Several negroes of Mount Welcome plantation would have sworn to having met the “duppy” of old Chakra, while travelling through the woods at night, and the sight had cured these witnesses of their propensity for midnight wandering.

For a while after the departure of Cynthia, the temple of Obi remained untenanted, except by its dumb deities: its priest having gone to ferry his neophyte [545]across the lagoon.

In a few minutes he returned alone – having left the mulatta to make her way up the cliff, and homeward to Mount Welcome, where she belonged.

It was evident that the visit of the mulatta had given him gratification. Even in the dim light of his lard lamp an expression of demoniac joy could be distinguished upon his ferocious visage, as he re-entered the hut.

“One dead!” cried he, in an exulting tone; “anodder upon ’im death-bed; and now de third, de las’ an’ wuss ob ’em all – ha! ha! ha! – he soon feel de vengeance ob Chakra, de myal-man!”

Thrice did the wild, maniac-like laugh peal from under the spreading limbs of the ceiba – reverberating with an unearthly echo against the cliffs that hemmed in the Duppy’s Hole. It startled the denizens of the dark lagoon; and, like echoes, came ringing up the ravine the scream of the crane, and the piercing cry of the wood-ibis.

These sounds had scarce died away, when one of a somewhat different intonation was heard from above. It resembled a shriek; or rather as if some one had whistled through his fingers. Whoever gave utterance to the sound was upon the top of the cliff – just over the hut.

Chakra was not startled. He knew it was a signal; and that it was given by the guest he was expecting.

“Das de ole Jew!” muttered he, taking the rum-bottle, and concealing it under the bedstead. “You stay dar till I wants ye ’gain,” added he, addressing himself in a confidential tone to this, the object of his greatest adoration. “Now for de nigga-dealer! I’se hab news fo’ him ’ll tickle ’im in de ribs like a ole guana lizzard. Not dat Chakra care fo’ him. No – only, on dis voyage, boaf am sailin’ in de same boat. Da he go ’gain!”

This last exclamation referred to a repetition of the signal heard further down: as if he who was sounding it was advancing along the cliff, towards the gorge at the lower end.

A third call proceeded from that point where the tree stairway scaled the precipice – indicating to Chakra that his visitor was there awaiting him.

Without further delay, the ferryman – grim as Charon himself – returned to his canoe; and once more paddled it across the lagoon.

While Chakra was thus occupied, a man could be seen descending the cliff, through the tangle of climbing plants, who, on the arrival of the canoe at the bottom, was standing, half concealed among the bushes, ready to step into it. The moon shone upon a blue body-coat, with bright buttons; upon a brown beaver hat and white skull-cap; upon tarnished top-boots, green goggles, and an enormous umbrella.

Chakra did not need to scan the sharp Israelitish features of the man to ascertain who he was.

Jacob Jessuron was there by appointment; and the myal-man knew both his presence and his purpose.

Not a word of recognition passed between the two, nor sign. Only a caution from Chakra – as the Jew, swinging by a branch, let himself down into the canoe.

“’Tep in lightly, Massr Jake, an’ doan’ push da canoe down ’tream. ’T am jess’ as much as I kin do to keep de ole craff out ob de eddy. Ef she get down da, den it ’ud be all up wifh boaf o’ us.”

“Blesh my soul! D’you shay so?” rejoined the Jew, glancing towards the gorge, and shivering as he listened to the hoarse groaning of the water among the grim rocks. “S’help me, I didn’t know it was dangerous. Don’t fear, Shakra! I shtep in ash light ash a feather.”

So saying, the Jew dropped his umbrella into the bottom of the boat; and then let himself down upon the top of it, with as much gentleness as if he was descending upon a basket of eggs.

The ferryman, seeing his freight safely aboard, paddled back to the mooring-place; and, having secured his craft as before, conducted his visitor up the valley in the direction of the hut.

On entering the temple of Obi, Jessuron – unlike the devotee who had just left it – showed no signs either of surprise or fear at its fantastic adornments. It was evident he had worshipped there before.

Nor did he evince a special veneration for the shrine; but, seating himself familiarly on the bamboo bedstead, uttered as he did so a sonorous “Ach!” which appeared as if intended to express satisfaction.

At the same time he drew from the ample pocket of his coat a shining object, which, when held before the lamp, appeared to be a bottle. The label seen upon its side, with the symbolical bunch of grapes, proved it to be a bottle of cognac.