The Complete Novels of Robert Louis Stevenson - All 13 Novels in One Edition. Robert Louis Stevenson

about by an innumerable cloud of sea-fowl. Immediately under our board, a somewhat larger isle was green with trees, set with a few low buildings and approached by a pier of very crazy workmanship; and a little inshore of us, a smaller vessel lay at anchor.

      I had scarce time to glance to the four quarters, ere a boat was lowered. I was handed in, Kentish took place beside me, and we pulled briskly to the pier. A crowd of villainous, armed loiterers, both black and white, looked on upon our landing; and again the word passed about among the negroes, and again I was received with prostrations and the same gesture of the flung-up hand. By this, what with the appearance of these men, and the lawless, sea-girt spot in which I found myself, my courage began a little to decline, and clinging to the arm of Mr. Kentish, I begged him to tell me what it meant?

      ‘Nay, madam,’ he returned, ‘YOU know.’ And leading me smartly through the crowd, which continued to follow at a considerable distance, and at which he still kept looking back, I thought, with apprehension, he brought me to a low house that stood alone in an encumbered yard, opened the door, and begged me to enter.

      ‘But why?’ said I. ‘I demand to see Sir George.’

      ‘Madam,’ returned Mr. Kentish, looking suddenly as black as thunder, ‘to drop all fence, I know neither who nor what you are; beyond the fact that you are not the person whose name you have assumed. But be what you please, spy, ghost, devil, or most ill-judging jester, if you do not immediately enter that house, I will cut you to the earth.’ And even as he spoke, he threw an uneasy glance behind him at the following crowd of blacks.

      I did not wait to be twice threatened; I obeyed at once, and with a palpitating heart; and the next moment, the door was locked from the outside and the key withdrawn. The interior was long, low, and quite unfurnished, but filled, almost from end to end, with sugar-cane, tar-barrels, old tarry rope, and other incongruous and highly inflammable material; and not only was the door locked, but the solitary window barred with iron.

      I was by this time so exceedingly bewildered and afraid, that I would have given years of my life to be once more the slave of Mr. Caulder. I still stood, with my hands clasped, the image of despair, looking about me on the lumber of the room or raising my eyes to heaven; when there appeared outside the window bars, the face of a very black negro, who signed to me imperiously to draw near. I did so, and he instantly, and with every mark of fervour, addressed me a long speech in some unknown and barbarous tongue.

      ‘I declare,’ I cried, clasping my brow, ‘I do not understand one syllable.’

      ‘Not?’ he said in Spanish. ‘Great, great, are the powers of Hoodoo! Her very mind is changed! But, O chief priestess, why have you suffered yourself to be shut into this cage? why did you not call your slaves at once to your defence? Do you not see that all has been prepared to murder you? at a spark, this flimsy house will go in flames; and alas! who shall then be the chief priestess? and what shall be the profit of the miracle?’

      ‘Heavens!’ cried I, ‘can I not see Sir George? I must, I must, come by speech of him. Oh, bring me to Sir George!’ And, my terror fairly mastering my courage, I fell upon my knees and began to pray to all the saints.

      ‘Lordy!’ cried the negro, ‘here they come!’ And his black head was instantly withdrawn from the window.

      ‘I never heard such nonsense in my life,’ exclaimed a voice.

      ‘Why, so we all say, Sir George,’ replied the voice of Mr. Kentish. ‘But put yourself in our place. The niggers were near two to one. And upon my word, if you’ll excuse me, sir, considering the notion they have taken in their heads, I regard it as precious fortunate for all of us that the mistake occurred.’

      ‘This is no question of fortune, sir,’ returned Sir George. ‘It is a question of my orders, and you may take my word for it, Kentish, either Harland, or yourself, or Parker — or, by George, all three of you!— shall swing for this affair. These are my sentiments. Give me the key and be off.’

      Immediately after, the key turned in the lock; and there appeared upon the threshold a gentleman, between forty and fifty, with a very open countenance, and of a stout and personable figure.

      ‘My dear young lady,’ said he, ‘who the devil may you be?’

      I told him all my story in one rush of words. He heard me, from the first, with an amazement you can scarcely picture, but when I came to the death of the Senora Mendizabal in the tornado, he fairly leaped into the air.

      ‘My dear child,’ he cried, clasping me in his arms, ‘excuse a man who might be your father! This is the best news I ever had since I was born; for that hag of a mulatto was no less a person than my wife.’ He sat down upon a tar-barrel, as if unmanned by joy. ‘Dear me,’ said he, ‘I declare this tempts me to believe in Providence. And what,’ he added, ‘can I do for you?’

      ‘Sir George,’ said I, ‘I am already rich: all that I ask is your protection.’

      ‘Understand one thing,’ he said, with great energy. ‘I will never marry.’

      ‘I had not ventured to propose it,’ I exclaimed, unable to restrain my mirth; ‘I only seek to be conveyed to England, the natural home of the escaped slave.’

      ‘Well,’ returned Sir George, ‘frankly I owe you something for this exhilarating news; besides, your father was of use to me. Now, I have made a small competence in business — a jewel mine, a sort of naval agency, et caetera, and I am on the point of breaking up my company, and retiring to my place in Devonshire to pass a plain old age, unmarried. One good turn deserves another: if you swear to hold your tongue about this island, these little bonfire arrangements, and the whole episode of my unfortunate marriage, why, I’ll carry you home aboard the Nemorosa.’ I eagerly accepted his conditions.

      ‘One thing more,’ said he. ‘My late wife was some sort of a sorceress among the blacks; and they are all persuaded she has come alive again in your agreeable person. Now, you will have the goodness to keep up that fancy, if you please; and to swear to them, on the authority of Hoodoo or whatever his name may be, that I am from this moment quite a sacred character.’

      ‘I swear it,’ said I, ‘by my father’s memory; and that is a vow that I will never break.’

      ‘I have considerably better hold on you than any oath,’ returned Sir George, with a chuckle; ‘for you are not only an escaped slave, but have, by your own account, a considerable amount of stolen property.’

      I was struck dumb; I saw it was too true; in a glance, I recognised that these jewels were no longer mine; with similar quickness, I decided they should be restored, ay, if it cost me the liberty that I had just regained. Forgetful of all else, forgetful of Sir George, who sat and watched me with a smile, I drew out Mr. Caulder’s pocket-book and turned to the page on which the dying man had scrawled his testament. How shall I describe the agony of happiness and remorse with which I read it! for my victim had not only set me free, but bequeathed to me the bag of jewels.

      My plain tale draws towards a close. Sir George and I, in my character of his rejuvenated wife, displayed ourselves arm-in-arm among the negroes, and were cheered and followed to the place of embarkation. There, Sir George, turning about, made a speech to his old companions, in which he thanked and bade them farewell with a very manly spirit; and towards the end of which he fell on some expressions which I still remember. ‘If any of you gentry lose your money,’ he said, ‘take care you do not come to me; for in the first place, I shall do my best to have you murdered; and if that fails, I hand you over to the law. Blackmail won’t do for me. I’ll rather risk all upon a cast, than be pulled to pieces by degrees. I’ll rather be found out and hang, than give a doit to one man-jack of you.’ That same night we got under way and crossed to the port of New Orleans, whence, as a sacred trust, I sent the pocket-book to Mr. Caulder’s son. In a week’s time, the men were all paid off; new hands were shipped; and the Nemorosa weighed her anchor for Old England.

      A more delightful voyage it were hard to fancy. Sir George, of course, was not a conscientious man; but he had an unaffected