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

After having got beyond the surroundings of the house, and some distance into the pimento forest, the Foolah walked with more freedom – as if no longer fearing interruption. She was, therefore, less likely to perceive that ill-omened shadow, that still continued on her track – following, as before, by a series of progressive traverses, and in death-like silence.

On reaching the glade, the young girl advanced towards the ceiba , and took her stand within its shadow – on a spot, in her eyes, “hallowed down to earth’s profound, and up to heaven.”

She merely glanced round to satisfy herself that Cubina was not there. She scarce expected him yet. The hour, though late, was earlier than the time appointed. It had not yet gone twelve – else she would have heard the plantation clock announcing it.

Allowing her eyes to drop to the ground at her feet, she stood for some minutes buried in a reverie of reflection – a sweet reverie, as befitted her situation of pleasant expectancy.

She was startled from this abstraction by the behaviour of a bird – a scarlet tanager, that rose, fluttering and frightened, out of a small clump of bushes about ten paces from the ceiba , and in which it had been reposing.

The bird, uttering a cry of alarm, forsook the shelter, and flew off into the forest.

Yola could see nothing that should have caused the creature to make so abrupt a departure from its roosting-place. Her own presence could scarce have been the cause: since she had been some minutes upon the ground, and standing in tranquil pose . Some of its natural enemies had frayed the bird? Perhaps a rat, an owl, or a serpent? Thus reasoned she; and was so satisfied.

If, instead of contenting herself with this conjecture, she had stepped ten paces forward, and looked into the little copse, she would have seen there something very different from any of the three creatures her fancy had conjured up. She would have seen the form of a woman crouching within the shadow, with features set in suppressed rage, and eyes glowing indignantly upon herself. Easily, too, would she have recognised the face as that of her fellow-slave, Cynthia!

But she saw it not, though Cynthia saw her – though for hours did the two remain in this singular juxtaposition – one occupied with the vigil of love, the other absorbed in the vigil of jealousy.

For long hours did the Foolah maid wait for the coming of her beloved Cubina – her ear keenly bent to catch any sound that might announce his approach; her bosom every moment becoming more and more a prey to painful impatience.

Equally long stayed the spy in her place of concealment – equally suffering torture from jealous imaginings.

To both it was a relief, when a footstep upon the path, and a rustling of branches, proclaimed the approach of some one towards the spot. It was but a momentary relief, mocking the anticipations of both – thwarting the joy of the one, and the vengeful design of the other.

Instead of the expected lover, a very different personage made his appearance; and almost at the same instant another, coming from the opposite side.

Both, at the same time, advanced towards the middle of the glade; and, without exchanging a word, stopped face to face near the ceiba , as if they had met by appointment.

They were out in the open ground, and under the full light of the moon. Both were men, and the faces of both could be distinctly seen.

Yola knew only one of them, and the sight of him hindered her from staying to look upon the other. She merely glanced at a countenance that was fearful – though not more fearful to her than the one she had already recognised, and which had at once determined her to get away from the ground.

Keeping the great trunk between herself and the new comers, and retreating silently under its shadow, she glided back into the underwood of the forest, and was soon far from the presence of the two intruders, who had brought her long and vain vigil to such an unsatisfactory termination.

Cynthia could not have followed her example, even had she been so inclined. The two men had stopped within six paces of the spot in which she lay concealed. On every side of it the ground was clear of cover, with the moon shining full upon it. A cat could not have crept out of the copse without attracting the attention of one or the other.

Cynthia knew both the men – was the confederate of both – though not without fearing them.

At first sight of them she would have discovered herself, but disliked to come under the observation of her rival. Afterwards, when the two men had entered into conversation, she was held in her place by a dread of a different kind. She had already overheard part of what they were saying; and she feared they might punish her for eavesdropping, involuntary though it was.

Better for Cynthia had she then declared herself; but dreaming not of discovery, or the fearful fate that might be involved in it, she determined to be still, and listen to the dark dialogue to its ending.

The two men who had thus interrupted the silent tableau by the ceiba tree were Jacob Jessuron and Chakra the Coromantee.

Just at the time that Chakra departed from the Jumbé Rock to pay his nocturnal visit to the Jew, the latter was leaving his penn to honour the Coromantee with a similar call.

As both were travelling the same path, and in adverse directions, it was more than probable – a necessity, in fact – that each should meet the other before reaching the end of his journey. Also, as the glade, where stood the great ceiba , was on the same path, and midway between the Jumbé Rock and the Jew’s penn, it was natural this encounter should take place not far from that noted trysting-place. In effect, it occurred within the glade: the two men having entered it almost at the same instant of time.

The Jew had got first into the open ground, and was first seen. The myal-man might have had these advantages had he wished: he had been the first to arrive on the edge of the opening; but, true to his instinct of caution, he had kept under cover until making a reconnoissance, in which he saw and recognised his advancing vis-à-vis .

They met near the middle of the glade, just outside the shadow of the great tree, stopping face to face when within a pace or two of each other. Not the slightest salutation was exchanged between the two men – any more than if they had been two tigers who had just come together in the jungle. The secret compact between them precluded the necessity for compliment or palaver. Each understood the other; and not a word was spoken to introduce the dialogue except that which was pertinent to the business between them.

“Well, goot Shakra! you hash news for me?” interrogated the Jew, taking the initiative in the conversation. “You hash been in the direction of Savanna? Ish all right on the road?”

“Whugh!” vociferated the myal-man, throwing out his breast and jerking up his shoulders with an air of triumphant importance. “All right, eh? Well, not azzackly on de road, but by de side ob daat same, dar lie a corp’, wich by dis time oughter be as cold as de heart ob a water-millyum, an’ ’tiff as – ’tiff as – as – de ’keleton ob ole Chakra. Ha! ha! ha!”

And the speaker uttered a peal of fierce laughter at the simile he had had so much difficulty in conceiving; but which, when found, recalled the sweet triumph of his vengeance.

“Blesh my soul! Then it ish all over?”

“Daat’s all ober – Ise be boun’.”

“And the shpell did it? There wash no need – ”

With a start the Jew paused in his speech, as if about to say something he had not intended; and which had been very near escaping him.