Volume 1 Chapter 29 - The Maroon by Mayne Reid
Quaco
It was not without regret that Herbert parted with this new friend; and long time was he following upon the heels of Quaco, before he ceased to reflect on the circumstances that had led to his making so singular an acquaintance.
Quaco, being one of the taciturn sort, made no attempt to interrupt Herbert’s meditations until the two had walked together for more than a mile. Then, however, some matter upon his mind brought the guide to a halt, and the commencement of a conversation.
“Two tracks from here, buckra. We can follow either; but dis to the right am the shortest—the best road, too.”
“Why not take it, then?”
“O—a master; there may be reasons.”
“What! for avoiding it?”
“Ya—a!” replied Quaco, in a thoughtful, drawling tone.
“What reasons, friend?”
“Don’t you see the roof of a house—just over the tops of them pawpaws?”
“Yes—what of that?”
“That’s the baracoon.”
“The baracoon?”
“Ya—the penn of de Jew Jess’ron.”
“And what if it be?”
“Ah, buckra, what if it be? If we take the path to the right we must pass the Jew’s house, and some of his people are sure see us. That John Crow’s a justice of the peace, and we may get into trouble.”
“Oh! about the affair of the runaway, you mean? Your captain said he belonged to a Mr Jessuron.”
“As much ’bout the dogs as the man. Captain had a right to claim the runaway as his catch; but these Spanish cusses’ll make a muss ’bout thar dogs. They’ll say our captain killed them out o’ spite—that they’ll swar to; since it’s well-known we mountainee men don’t like such interlopers here, meddlin’ with our business.”
“But neither you nor I killed the dogs?”
“All, buckra, all the same—you helped—your gun helped kill them. Besides, you hindered the John-Crows from pecking the hawk.”
“For what I have done I am not afraid to answer before a justice,—be it this Mr Jessuron, or any other,” said the young Englishman; conscious of having acted rightly in the part he had taken in the quarrel.
“Not much justice to be expected from Justice Jess’ron, master. My advice be to keep out of the hands of justice as long’s we can; and that we can only do by taking the road to the left.”
“Will it be much out of our way?” asked Herbert; not caring to greatly inconvenience himself for the reasons set forth by his sable guide.
“Nothing to signify,” answered Quaco, though not speaking very truthfully: for the path he intended to take was really much longer than the one leading by Jessuron’s house.
“In that case,” assented Herbert, “take which way you please!”
Without further parley, Quaco strode forward on the path branching to the left—as before, silently followed by him whom he was guiding.
The track they had taken ran entirely through woods—in some places very difficult to traverse on account of the thorny thickets as well as the unevenness of the ground, which caused the path to be constantly ascending, or trending rapidly downward. At length, however, they arrived at the summit of a high ridge, and were moving onwards amidst groves of pimento, more open than the forest from which they had emerged.
From the top of the ridge, Herbert saw a large house shining against the verdant background of the landscape, which he at once recognised as the mansion of Mount Welcome.
They were not going towards the house, but in a diagonal direction, which would bring them out on the avenue near the entrance-gate.
Herbert called out to his guide to make halt. The young man did not like the idea of entering upon the avenue, lest he might encounter some of his uncle’s people—a circumstance which he should not wish to have reported at the great house. He therefore requested Quaco to conduct him by some way lying more to the right—so that he might reach the main road without being seen from Mount Welcome.
The guide yielded compliance, though not without a little grumbling reluctance—as he turned off, muttering some words about giving “as wide a berth as possible to the ole Jew penn.”
He obliqued, however, into a new direction; and after another traverse through the woods, Herbert had the satisfaction of finding himself on the main road leading to Montego Bay.
The young Englishman had no farther need of a guide, and Quaco was just on the point of taking leave of him, when at that moment a party of horsemen suddenly made appearance round a bend in the road. There were six or seven in all; and they were riding forward at a rapid pace, as if bent upon some serious business.
At the first sight of these strangers, Quaco shot like an arrow into the underwood—calling upon the buckra to follow his example.
Herbert, however, disdaining to hide himself, remained standing in the middle of the road.
Seeing his determination, Quaco returned to his side; as he did so, clamorously protesting against the imprudence of his protégé.
“Don’t like their looks,” muttered the Maroon, as he glanced apprehensively towards the horsemen. “It might be—by the Great Accompong it is!—that harpy Ravener, the overseer of Jess’ron. Golly! buckra, we’s in for it! No use tryin’ to ’scape ’em now.”
As Quaco finished speaking, the horsemen rode forward on the ground—one and all halting as they came to the spot where the pedestrians were standing.
“Here’s our fellow!” cried the bearded man at their head, whom Herbert easily identified. “Just dropped upon him, like a duck upon a June bug. Now, Mr Tharpey, do your duty! We’ll hear what this young gentleman’s got to say before the justice.”
“I arrest you, sir,” said the person appealed to as Mr Tharpey. “I am head constable of the parish—I arrest you in the name of the law.”
“On what charge?” demanded Herbert, indignantly.
“Mr Ravener here will bring the charge. I’ve got nothing to do with that part of it. You must come before the nearest justice. I reckon the nighest justice from here is the Custos Vaughan?”
This half-interrogatory of the constable was addressed, not to Herbert, but to his own followers. Though it was spoken rather in an undertone, the young man heard it with sufficient distinctness, and with very little complacency. To be carried back into the presence of his uncle—whom he had so lately defied—and in the character of a felon; to be brought, under such humiliating circumstances, before the eyes of his fair cousin—before the eye-glass of his late fellow-passenger—was a prospect that could not fail to be unpleasant.
It was a sort of relief, therefore, when Ravener—who appeared to use some guiding influence over the constable and his posse comitatus—overruled the suggestion that Mr Vaughan was the nearest magistrate, and claimed that honour for Jacob Jessuron, Esquire, of the Happy Valley.
After some discussion between the parties upon this moot legal point, the overseer’s opinion was adopted: and it was determined that the case should be carried before Justice Jessuron.
Both Herbert and his guide were then formally arrested in the name of the king, and marched off in custody—not without some very vociferous protestations on the part of Quaco, with a long string of threats that he would some day make both constable and overseer pay for this outrage upon the person of a free Maroon.