Н. Самуэльян - Лучшие романы Томаса Майна Рида / The Best of Thomas Mayne Reid

As the Jew gave utterance to this conjectural speech, he started to his feet – taking a tighter hold upon his umbrella, and standing before his vis-à-vis in a threatening attitude.

“No, Massr Jake,” replied the myal-man, without altering the air of obeisance he had hitherto assumed, – “no – nuffin ob dat – anyhow, I’se can say dar’s nuffin ob dat. You yaseff sabbey well ’nuff a hab as good reezun as you to make de spell work, an’ I tell you it shall work !”

“Yesh! when too late – too late! I don’t care then. If the Cushtos get to Spanish Town – if he procuresh the shpecial act, I’m a ruined Shew! I don’t care a shtraw if the death-shpell wash put on myshelf! I don’t!”

This speech was rather a soliloquy than addressed to Chakra, who listened to it without clearly comprehending its import: for the chief motive which was stimulating the Jew was still unknown to his fellow-conspirator.

“I tell you,” resumed Jessuron, still in threatening speech, “I believe you hash been fooling me, Shakra! You hash some interest of your own – perhaps, with thish Lilly Quasheba. Ha! never mind! I tell you thish time – I tell you, Shakra, if the shpell dosh fail – yesh, if it fail, and the Cushtos reach the capital – where he ish going – I tell you, Shakra, you may look out for shqualls! You loosh your monish I promised you. Ay, you may loosh your life ash well. I hash only to shay a word, and the Duppy’s Hole will be searched by the houndsh of the law. Now will you do your besht to keep the Cushtos from reaching the capital of the Island?”

As Jessuron finished the speech containing this conditional threat, he moved in the direction of the door, apparently with the intention of taking his departure.

The Maroon, perceiving the movement, stepped further back into the shadow of the cotton-tree – taking care to conceal himself effectually.

This change of position prevented him from hearing what subsequently passed between the two conspirators. Some more conversation there was on both sides – an interchange of it – which lasted for several minutes; but although the listener could hear the sound of their voices, he was unable to make out the words spoken by either.

What was said by the Jew was principally a repetition of his menace – in terms the most emphatic he could employ; while Chakra, with equal emphasis, repeated his promises to accomplish the nefarious purpose already agreed upon between them.

“A promise, Massr Jake,” said the myal-man, in conclusion, “by de great Accompong, a do ma bess. Ef de Cussus ’trive ’scape, den you do wid ole Chakra whasomediver you hab mind to. ’Liver him up, ef you like! Ha! de Cussus no ’scape. Dis night Cynthy hab take bottle in her basket of de ’trongest kind. It do de bizness in ’bout twenty-fo’ hour. Daat am de true death-spell . Whugh!”

“In twenty-four hours? You ish shure, Shakra? you ish shure?”

“Shoo’ as a ’m now in de Duppy Hole, Massr Jake. Doan’ you hab no mo’ doubt ob ole Chakra. He hab no lub fo’ Cussus Va’ghan mo’ dan youseff. P’raps he lub de Cussus’ dau’ter, but dat am berry diffrent sort ob ’fecshun. Whugh!”

With this speech of fiendish signification the dialogue ended; and the Jew was seen stepping outside, followed by his confederate.

Both walked away from the spot, Chakra taking the lead, the Maroon closely watching their movements.

On reaching the canoe the conspirators stepped aboard, and the craft was paddled over the lagoon.

Cubina waited for its return; and then, seeing Chakra safe within his hut, he hastened back to the water; and, as before, swimming under the shadow of the rock, he re-ascended the tree stairway, and stood once more on the summit of the cliff.

Chapter 32

A Stormy Scene

On emerging from the Duppy’s Hole, the penn-keeper tracked it, as straight as the path would permit him, towards his own home. He walked with hurried steps, as if he had some purpose before him beyond that of going to bed. Late as was the hour – or early, it should rather be said, since it was getting on for daybreak – in the eye of the old Israelite there was no sign of sleepiness; but, on the contrary, a wide-awake expression that betokened his intention to accomplish some desired object before retiring to rest.

The mutterings which fell from his lips, as he moved onward among the trees, told that his discontent still continued. Chakra’s assurances, that had, for the moment, partially removed his ill-humour, on reflection failed to satisfy him. More than once before, the myal-man had given him promises which he had failed in keeping; and so might it be with the promise of the death-spell. With this thought was revived in full vigour the apprehension that his enemy might escape; and, consequently, his deep-conceived scheme would result in ignominious failure.

The measures which the myal-man had taken for administering the spell-medicine – that bottle of strong waters which Cynthia carried home in her basket – had been revealed to the Jew. The revelation had been made – as suited the subject – in a low tone of voice; and it was this part of the dialogue between the two conspirators which Cubina had not heard.

But the Coromantee might be mistaken in his skill? The prescription might fail in producing the desired effect? The slave might not find the opportunity to administer it?

Considering the early hour at which the traveller was to start – Jessuron knew the hour – Cynthia might not have a chance to give the medicine ? Or, frayed by contemplation of the fearful consequence, which she now knew would follow almost instantaneously upon the act, she might in the end shy from the dangerous duty? The intended victim might, in the meantime, have become suspicious of the mixtures prepared by the mulatta, and decline to drink the deadly draught?

There were many chances that the Custos might escape.

“‘There ish many a shlip between the cup and the lipsh’!” muttered the wicked old man, quoting one of his favourite proverbs. “Ach! that ish true,” he added, with bitter emphasis, as the probabilities of failure passed more palpably before his mind.

“S’help me!” continued he, with an attempt at self-consolation; “I shall not be deprived of my refenge – that ish certain – whether he goesh to Spanish Town, or shtays at home. Ach!” he exclaimed, again changing his tone to one of chagrin, “what dosh that signify, beshide the other? If he could be shtopped, it wash a grand destiny for mine Shoodith, for myshelf – me, old Shacob Shessuron! Mount Welcome wash mine! It musht belong to this young fellow – he belongs to Shoodith – Shoodith belongsh to me! Ach! what a pity if my shkeme ish to fail – after all I hash done to make it succeed!

“If it fail,” he continued, the probabilities of failure presenting a new phase to him, “if it fail, I’m a ruined man! – I am! Shoodith may want to marry this young fellow. I believe she luffs him – I’m afeerd she doesh – and he hasn’t the worth of the shoosh he shstands in. Blesh my shoul! I musht try to prevent it. It musht go no further till I’m sure of the Cushtos. Not a shtep – not a shtep. She musht be seen, and thish very night. Yesh; I musht see Shoodith before I shleep.”

Urged on by the desire of the interview thus announced, the Jew hastened his steps; and soon arrived under the shadow of the dark pile that constituted his dwelling.

Admitted by the black porter at the gate – for that of the courtyard, or slave inclosure, was always kept locked – he mounted the wooden steps, and stole as silently along the verandah, as if he had been a stranger in the house instead of its owner. His object, in this stealthy movement, appeared to be to avoid disturbing some one who slept in a hammock near one end of the long gallery.