Hunting the Skipper: The Cruise of the «Seafowl» Sloop

Chapter Thirty Seven.

Obeah

“This man is a puzzle,” said the lieutenant. “One hour he is a shivering cowardly slave, the next he plays the part of a hero; and now he is like a clever household servant who does the best he can for visitors in his master’s absence. Why, Murray – Roberts – we never expected such treatment as this.”

“No, sir,” said the two midshipmen together.

For Caesar had been bustling about, and one way and another had spread quite a supper in the planter’s little dining-room for the officers, and afterwards supplied the men in one of the back rooms with delicious coffee and bread, to the great refreshment of the tired adventurers.

“What are you thinking about, Mr Murray?” said the lieutenant. “Come, out with it, my lad;” for the middy had hesitated and turned red.

“I was only thinking, sir, that we ought to send a messenger to the Seafowl.”

“Humph! Strange, my lad. I have been thinking just the same, but I can spare neither man nor boat, and I have come to the conclusion that if Captain Kingsberry wants news he must send to us for it. What’s that you are muttering, Mr Roberts? – He will be angry?”

“I didn’t say so aloud, sir,” replied the lad.

“No, but you thought it, sir. Well, if he is he will soon be in a good humour again when he finds how busy we have been and what we have made out. Ah, here is our guide. Well, Caesar, what now?”

“Berry dark now, massa. Come see.”

“Come and see in the dark?” said the lieutenant, who appeared to be in the best of humours. “Well, what have you to show us?”

The three officers rose from the table and followed their guide out on the platform, where he pointed to a ruddy glow which rose from beyond the trees.

“Fire!” said Murray excitedly. “Can that be where the plantation house lies, sir?”

“No, Mr Murray, I think not. But if it is I should not be surprised if, taking advantage of their master’s absence, the blacks have fired his house to burn it down. Here, Caesar, are they burning the place?”

“No, massa,” replied the black. “Massa bring all sailor. Come see.”

The lieutenant nodded, and said in a low tone to Murray —

“Look here, my lad, I believe this fellow is to be trusted, but one’s caution and discipline will whisper that we ought to be careful, and it will not do for us to come back and find that our boats are burned.”

“No, sir,” replied the lad quickly. “Whom will you leave in charge of them?”

“I should like to leave May, but I want him with us. What do you say, Mr Roberts? It is an important charge.”

“Yes, sir,” faltered the midshipman, “but – ”

“You want to go with us, eh? Well, it is only natural. Murray too, I suppose, feels the same. But you must take into consideration that this may be a very dangerous expedition we are going upon.”

“Do you think so, sir?”

“I do, Murray, and I cannot help hesitating now and then – from ignorance, of course, for though our guide seems to be trustworthy, we know absolutely nothing of what his feelings may be towards us. Well, I shall leave six men in charge of the two boats, with Titely at their head and instructions to keep well off shore.”

These arrangements were quickly made while the black stood looking on impatiently; and then Murray heard him utter a sigh of relief, for Mr Anderson told him to lead on.

The man sprang to the front at once, and was closely followed by the blacks who formed the crew of the planter’s boat.

“Massa keep close to Caesar,” said their guide, “and tell men not to talk and make noise. Soon get not dark.”

For the time being the darkness seemed to be impenetrable, but somehow the black leader was quite able to thread his way along an invisible track, which however soon grew easier, for the glow in the distance increased till the tops of the forest trees began to stand out clearly against the ruddy light.

Murray had received whispered instructions from his officer, whose caution seemed to increase as they went on, and those instructions turned the midshipman into the head of a rear-guard made up of himself, Tom May and two men, with instructions to report upon anything that seemed to be suspicious.

It was not long before the lad began to follow out his instructions by leaving the big sailor for a few minutes and hurrying forward to join the lieutenant.

“That you, Mr Murray?” he said. “You’ve come to say that the fire is increasing, and that there is another one away to the left?”

“No, sir; I saw that,” replied the middy.

“Then why have you left your men?”

“To tell you, sir, that we are being followed very closely by a body of blacks who are hemming us in.”

“Hang it! You don’t mean that!”

“I do, sir. Twice over we have seemed to pass through men who are hanging back on either side to let us pass, and who then close in behind us and follow up silently.”

“Humph! Unarmed, I suppose?”

“No, sir; I have not had much opportunity, but I am pretty well sure that, some of them have muskets, while all have those clumsy hangers with which they clear away the canes and growth from the forest paths.”

“Well, we are in for it now, Mr Murray. But look here, they are not many, I suppose?”

“They are, sir, and keep on increasing in numbers.”

“But they seem peaceable?”

“Yes, sir, quite; but I can’t help feeling suspicious.”

“Yes, it is suspicious, but they may not mean harm. I believe in that black Caesar all the same. If I did not I should give the order to retreat at once. There, go back to your men, and keep close up. Take special care not to let the blacks get between you and us.”

“There is no need, sir. They hang back to let us all pass.”

“That may be part of their plan to shut us in. But I will go on believing in the fellow till I have good cause to turn upon him, and then it will be very hard if our lads can’t keep any number at bay. There, stand fast till your men overtake you.”

Murray halted and let the men march by till Tom May and his messmates joined him; and then as he resumed his place he became aware that the blacks in their rear had increased greatly in number. Short as had been his absence, it was now much lighter, so that it was plain to see that they were being followed by a dense mass of white-cotton-clothed plantation slaves, all bearing arms of some kind or another, and moving in comparative silence, their bare feet making hardly a sound upon the soft earth.

“They seem to be increasing fast, Tom,” whispered Murray, as the sailors tramped steadily on.

“Yes, sir; tidy – tidy,” replied the big fellow.

“But they don’t seem to mean mischief, Tom.”

“No, sir, not yet; but if that was their game they could eat our little lot without salt.”

“You don’t seem to be a bit alarmed, Tom.”

“No, sir; no, sir, only a bit bothered.”

“What about – the darkness?”

“Nay, sir; that’s getting easier. It’s twice as light as it was. I meant about what game’s up. We seem to be going on some expedition or another, and I’ve been trying to settle it down in my mind. Don’t think it’s a coon hunt, do you, sir?”

“No, Tom; they are all too grave and serious for that.”

“Yes, sir, but that might be ’cause they don’t want to scare the game.”

“No; this is no hunt, Tom.”

“P’raps not, sir, and I only fancied that’s what it might be. No, sir, I don’t feel much worried about it – oneasy, you may say. Do you, sir?”

“Well, to be honest, Tom, I don’t like to be shut up like this among these blacks. Why, they’re growing thicker and thicker!”

“That’s so, sir. They’re hundreds upon hundreds strong. What does the chief officer think of it?”

“He doesn’t say, Tom, but I could see that he felt the need of caution by the order he gave me about keeping close together.”

“Oh, he did that, sir, did he? But I say, I wonder what the skipper would say about our being in such a hole.”

Murray looked sharply round at the speaker, who to his surprise began to chuckle softly.

“I don’t see anything to laugh at, Tom May,” said the middy sharply.

“No sir,” replied the man; “I s’pose not. There aren’t really nothing.”

“Then why do you laugh?”

“Couldn’t help it, sir. Only you see it does seem such cheek on our part, just a boat and a half’s crew and our orficer marching right in here no one knows where, only as it’s forest and just as cool as you please, and all these here niggers – reg’lar black thunderstorm of ’em – shutting us in, and all as quiet as mice. We’re not a bit frightened of ’em, but I’ll be bound to say as they’re scared of us. It do make me laugh, it do; but I s’pose it’s because we’ve got what they arn’t, sir – discipline, you see.”

“I think it takes something more than discipline, Tom,” said the midshipman. “Our men’s pluck has something to do with it.”

“Well, sir, I s’pose it has,” replied the man. “But look here, how they’re standing on each side for us to pass through. Talk about hundreds, why if it goes on like this there’ll be thousands soon.”

For the rich red glowing light became stronger and stronger, until at the end of half-an-hour the trees grew more open and the party could make out flame and smoke arising, while the silence of the marching men was at times broken by the crackle of burning wood.

“Well, sir,” exclaimed the big sailor, “I can’t say as I can make it out yet what game this is going to be, but anyhow we’re in for it whatever it is. I say, Mr Murray, sir, these here black African niggers arn’t cannibals, are they?”

“Some of them, Tom, I believe.”

“Then that’s it, sir; they’re all gathering up together for a great feed. Over yonder’s a big opening like with the fire in the middle of it, and we’re in for it now, and no mistake!”

“Oh, nonsense, Tom!”

“Is it, sir? Well, I never see such a turn out o’ nonsense before. It’s going to be a feast they’re set upon, and it don’t seem to me as we’re going to have a bit o’ room if the first luff makes up his mind to fight. All I can say is that cook me how they please, I’m sorry for the poor beggar of a black who’s got to stick his teeth into me. Talk about a tough un, Mr Murray, sir, I’m one,” chuckled the big fellow. “They’re gathered together for a big feast, as I said afore, and it’s no use to show fight, for there arn’t room. They’ll squeeze us all up pretty tight before the cooking begins, and that may make a bit o’ difference in the way of being tender, but I shall give some of them the toothache for certain, and I don’t think after the feed’s over many of ’em’ll want to try British tar again. British tar!” repeated the man jocosely. “Wonder whether I shall taste o’ best Stockholm tar. I’ve got pretty well soaked in it in my time.”

“Hush, Tom! Here’s Mr Anderson waiting for us to join him.”

For it had proved to be as the sailor had said. They had been marched into a wide amphitheatre of trees, in the midst of which a tremendous fire was burning brightly, and by its light the English party could make out the long serpentine line of men who were marching into the amphitheatre, which was lined with hundreds upon hundreds of blacks, whose eyes glowed in the firelight, while whenever lips were parted there was the glistening of the brilliantly white teeth.

It was a strangely impressive sight, as the lieutenant said when Murray joined him.

“I don’t know even now,” he added, “what it signifies. They don’t mean harm to us, my lad; but if they did we should have small chance of resistance. It seems to me that they have gathered for some special reason. It is a sort of feast, I suppose.”

Murray caught sight of Tom May’s eyes fixed upon him, and he closed one eye very slowly and solemnly as he frowned at the midshipman, as much as to say, “There, sir, I told you so!”

“What is your opinion of it, Mr Murray?”

“It looks to me, sir, like a rising of the blacks, for they are all armed.”

“Well,” said the lieutenant, “they are not rising against us. If they were they would not be so civil. Besides, they have nothing against us to rise about. They can’t rebel against those who have come to give them their freedom. Let’s go and see what is going on there.”

Just then their black guide came forward and stood before them, evidently for the purpose of stopping their progress, for the lieutenant had begun to cross the middle of the wide opening in the woods to where something important was apparently taking place.

“Well, Caesar,” said the lieutenant, “what is going on there?”

The black shook his head and looked anxiously from one officer to the other.

“Massa not go dah,” whispered the man. “Massa just look, see, and listen to what Obeah man say.”

“Obeah man?”

“Yes, massa. Obeah man. Snake fetish. Big snake in great box dah. Priest Obeah man take snake out o’ box soon. Not good for massa.”

“Oh, that’s it, is it?” said the lieutenant. “Do you know anything about all this, Murray?”

“No,” replied the lad, “only that I have heard something of serpent worship which the blacks have carried with them to Barbadoes and Jamaica, sir.”

“Say Hayti too, my lad.”

“No, sir,” said Murray, smiling, his face looking bright in the warm glow spread by the tremendous fire now burning. “I can’t say any more, for I have heard so little about these people and their religion.”

“I expect you know as much as I do, Murray, my lad. This is Obeah, isn’t it? Serpent worship, Caesar?”

“Yes, massa. Not good for Bri’sh officer and brave sailor. Snake in big box. Priest show um to people. Obeah. Berry dreadful, sah.”

“Very dreadful nonsense, Murray,” said the lieutenant to his companion, in a low tone. Then speaking aloud: “And what is it all for?”

The black shook his head.

“Caesar can’t tell, massa. Priest show big snake Caesar people. Make all see fire and fight.”

“Aha! Fight, eh?” said the lieutenant, after a glance at Murray.

“Yes, massa; make people fight – kill.”

“Fight and kill us?” said Mr Anderson.

The man showed his white teeth and shook his head.

“No, massa; Caesar people no fight Bri’sh captain, Bri’sh officer. All come do poor black fellow good. Massa want know why not go fesh Massa Allen. Not good time. Caesar people all come to snake fetish. Obeah priest call people to come not know who Massa Huggin friend, who Massa Allen friend. Caesar bring Bri’sh officer, Bri’sh sailor, see Obeah night. See Obeah priest show big snake. Snake fetish. Caesar go now.”

The black turned away and walked quickly to where several strange-looking negroes – probably Obeah men – had now begun to walk in procession around the blazing fire, in front of which a long coffin-shaped box had been placed, and behind which a black, who must have attained to some consequence among his superstitious brethren on account of his gigantic height, stood now in the ruddy glow tossing his arms on high, gesticulating and uttering a weird strange chant, until the English party saw that their guide had approached quite close to the huge giant, and was evidently talking to him eagerly and with a great show of respect.

“Well, we know where we are now, Murray,” said the lieutenant. “Our guide has brought us here to see the mummery of their barbarous religion, and there is no doubt that the people have met to be stirred up to some rising against the planters who own them as slaves.”

“You think so, sir?” asked Murray.

“Yes, I feel sure of it, my lad. But look here, Murray; the people are quite friendly towards us, so help me in making our lads behave themselves. I mean, there must be no ribald laughing at the poor wretches. That is not the way to appeal to their better feelings. Look at that! Poor benighted creatures. These slave-owners must keep them in a darkness as black as their skins.”

For as the party from the Seafowl stood looking on, the strange chant rose and fell, while the huge black, who seemed to be the priest and leader, marshalled the people into a procession which he led round the fire, the blacks gesticulating, raising their arms in the air, and then bowing themselves down as they marched in a slow and solemn tramp about the blazing embers. Stamp, stamp, stamp; the vibration of the earth and the movement of the concourse of the excited people raised a current of air which fanned the flames and sent the sparks flying upwards eddying into the black night, while flakes of fire that were now and then dazzling in the brilliancy of their colour flashed and fluttered as they rose on high.

There was no need for the lieutenant’s words to his young officer, for, far from giving vent to mocking laughter, the sailors stood together looking on with wonder and something like awe at the intensity of feeling displayed by the people, who as they marched slowly onward in the weird procession, kept on pausing with wonderful unanimity to stamp and utter a wild and stirring moan as if of despair. Then they tossed their hands on high in obedience to the movements of their leader, who seemed to tower up above them, and whose black skin, which had most probably been heavily anointed with palm oil, glistened in the firelight until when every now and then he stopped short and stood motionless, he looked like some great image cast in ruddy bronze.

Onward and onward tramped and stamped the great procession; the strange thrilling chant rose and fell, now uttered as a wild shrieking yell, and then descending gradually until the sailors were listening to a wail of despair, as if the wretched people were appealing for pity in their terrible position and asking for help to relieve them from their piteous bondage.

“And I was afraid my lads would laugh, Murray,” whispered the lieutenant huskily. “Why, my lad, there’s something so terrible, so horrible, about it all that one seems to want no explanation. It tells its own tale of the poor wretches’ sufferings.”

“Yes, sir,” whispered back the middy, “and I’m glad to hear you say that.”

“Glad, boy!” cried the lieutenant, in an angry whisper. “What do you mean by that?”

“Only that it makes me feel choky, sir,” whispered Murray, “and I was a bit ashamed.”

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of, my lad. I feel as if I should be glad of a chance to set our lads at some of the torturing, murderous wretches who drag the people from their own country and treat them as they do.”

“I feel the same, sir,” replied Murray, as he stared straight before him at something that had caught his eye; “but we shall have our chance, I feel sure, sir, and have the blacks to help us, for they are not working themselves up like this for nothing.”

“Working themselves up,” whispered the lieutenant, as the weird chant went on and the heavy beat of the people’s bare feet grew more and more impressive, while the rate at which they now tore on increased. “Why, they are working my men up too. The great baby! I shouldn’t have believed it possible that a big strong fellow like that could have been so impressed.”

“What, Tom May, sir?” said Murray.

“Yes, my lad. There were two great tears rolling down his cheeks, and I suppose he didn’t know how they were shining in this dazzling light, for he rubbed them away with his great ugly fists. Don’t let him see that we noticed it, for I suppose it is genuine emotion, and no one can say that he is not as big and brave a fellow as ever stepped. Here, look, boy – look!” whispered the lieutenant excitedly.

“I am looking, sir,” replied the middy, “and so is every one else. Oh, Mr Anderson, I am glad I didn’t miss seeing this.”

“I don’t know, my lad, whether I am glad or whether I am sorry,” replied his leader, “but I should not have thought it possible. It sets one thinking about what we read regarding the worships of the old idolaters, and I never imagined that such things could be going on now. Look, look; they seem to be growing frantic. It can’t last long like this; the poor wretches are growing mad.”

For the chant had grown louder and wilder, the wails in chorus more piercing and thrilling, and the heavy stamping of the bare feet more heavy and deep-toned, so that all round the great circle in which the slaves were stamping, the earth vibrated more thunderously than ever.

Then, as if by one impulse, every actor in the weird scene stopped short in response to a signal given by the huge leader, who threw up his arms just when the fire, fanned so strangely by the hundreds of figures sweeping round it, tore upward in a vast whirl of fluttering flame and eddying sparks, and all with a low, deep musical hum which strangely dominated the silence.

It was as if the multitude had ceased to breathe, and all present were reflecting from their staring protuberant eyes the ruddy light of the roaring cone of flame. The great bronze figure formed the centre upon which all eyes were fixed, and he stood now with his hands raised on high as if to hold his followers’ attention and make them as statue-like as himself.

Murray felt impressed and held as it were by the gesture of the great leader, and for one brief moment turned his eyes upon his brother middy, to see that his face was thrust forward, his lips were apart, and his eyes and teeth were glistening in the light.

It was but a momentary glance, and then his own eyes were watching the great glistening black, who, perfectly nude, now lowered his arms till they were horizontal, and, with levelled and pointing fingers stalked towards where the great coffin-shaped box lay in the full light of the glowing and roaring fire.

He stood with his hands outstretched above the chest for what seemed to be long-drawn endless minutes; but no one stirred, and then, with one quick movement, he seemed to sweep off the long lid before him, stooped, and plunged his hands into the chest, just too as the fire burned the brightest; and as he rose erect again he tore from out of where it rested, a great writhing serpent, whose myriad scales flashed in the brilliant light as if it were of gold.

And then, and then only, a deep, low, moaning murmur rose from the many throats and died away as if in the distance in one deep sigh.

Silence again, and Murray’s eyes were fixed, his breast thrilling, and a sensation ran through him as if some strange force were plucking at his nerves and making them vibrate throughout his frame.