Volume 3 Chapter 7 - The Maroon by Mayne Reid
Quaco’s Queer Encounter
Quaco came into the glade carrying a large bundle upon his back—under which he had trudged all the way from Savanna-la-Mer.
He was naked to the breech-cloth—excepting the hog-skin greaves upon his shanks, and the old brimless hat upon his head. This, however, was all the costume Quaco ever wore—all, indeed, that he owned; for, notwithstanding that he was the lieutenant, his uniform was no better than that of the meanest private of the band.
His captain, therefore, exhibited no surprise at the scantiness of Quaco’s clothing; but what did surprise Cubina was the air with which he entered the glade, and some other circumstances that at once arrested his attention.
The skin of the colossus was covered with a white sweat that appeared to be oozing from every pore of his dark epidermis. This might have been occasioned by his long walk—the last hour of it under a broiling sun, and carrying weight, as he was: for the bag upon his back appeared a fifty-pounder, at least, to say nothing of a large musket balanced upon the top of it.
None of these circumstances, however, would account for that inexplicable expression upon his countenance—the wild rolling of his yellow eyeballs—the quick, hurried step, and uncouth gesticulations by which he was signalising his approach.
Though, as already stated, they had arrested the attention of his superior, the latter, accustomed to a certain reserve in the presence of his followers, pretended not to notice them. As his lieutenant came up, he simply said:—
“I am glad you are come, Quaco.”
“An’ a’m glad, Cappin Cubina, I’ve foun’ ye har. War hurryin’ home fass as my legs cud carry me, ’spectin’ to find ye thar.”
“Ha!” said Cubina; “some news, I suppose. Have you met anyone in the woods—that young Englishman from the Jew’s penn? I’m expecting him here. He appears to have missed the way.”
“Han’t met no Englishman, Cappin. Cussos Vaughan am that—I’se a met him!”
“Crambo!” cried Cubina, starting as he uttered the exclamation. “You’ve met Custos Vaughan? When and where?”
“When—dis mornin’. Where—’bout fo’ mile b’yond the crossin’ on the Carrion Crow road. That’s where I met him.”
The emphasis upon the last word struck upon the ear of Cubina. It seemed to imply that Quaco, on his route, had encountered others.
“Anybody else, did you meet?” he inquired, hurriedly, and with evident anxiety as to the answer.
“Ya-as, Cappin,” drawled out the lieutenant, with a coolness strongly in contrast with his excited manner on entering the glade. But Quaco saw that his superior was waiting for the coming of the young Englishman, and that he need not hurry the communication he was about to make. “Ya-as, I met ole Plute, the head driver at Moun’ Welcome. He was ridin’ ’longside o’ the Cussos, by way o’ his escort.”
“Nobody else?”
“Not jess then,” answered Quaco, evidently holding back the most interesting item of news he had to communicate. “Not jess then, Cappin Cubina.”
“But afterwards? Speak out, Quaco! Did you meet anyone going on the same road?”
The command, with the impatient gesture that accompanied it, brought Quaco to a quicker confession than he might have volunteered.
“I met, Cappin Cubina,” said he, his cheeks bulging with the importance of the communication he was about to make, while his eyes rolled like “twin jelly balls” in their sockets—“I met next, not a man, but a ghost!”
“A ghost?” said Cubina, incredulously. “A duppy, I sw’ar by the great Accompong—same as I saw before—the ghost of ole Chakra!”
The Maroon captain again made a start, which his lieutenant attributed to surprise at the announcement he had made.
Cubina did not undeceive him as to the cause.
“And where?” interrogated he, in hurried phrase. “Where did you meet the ghost?”
“I didn’t zackly meet it,” answered Quaco. “I only seed it on the road afore me—’bout a hundred yards or tharaway. I wor near enuf to be sure o’ it—and it was Chakra’s ghost—jess as I seed him t’other day up thar by the Duppy Hole. The old villain can’t sleep in his grave. He’s about these woods yet.”
“How far was it from where you met Mr Vaughan?”
“Not a great way, Cappin. ’Bout a quarrer o’ a mile, I shed think. Soon as it spied me, it tuk to the bushes, and I seed no more on it. It was atter daylight, and the cocks had crowed. I heard ’em crowing at ole Jobson’s plantation close by, and, maybe, that sent the duppy a-scuttlin’ into the river.”
“We must wait no longer for this young man—we must be gone from here, Quaco.”
And as Cubina expressed this intention, he appeared about to move away from the spot.
“Stop, Cappin,” said Quaco, interrupting with a gesture that showed he had something more to communicate; “you han’t heard all. I met more of ’em.”
“More of whom?”
“That same queer sort. But two mile atter I’d passed the place where I seed the duppy o’ the ole myal-man, who dye think I met nex’?”
“Who?” inquired Cubina, half guessing at the answer.
“Them debbil’s kind—like enough company for the duppy—them dam’ Spaniards of de Jew’s penn.”
“Ah! maldito!” cried the Maroon captain, in a voice of alarm, at the same time making a gesture as if a light had suddenly broken upon him. “The Spaniards, you say! They, too, after him! Come, Quaco, down with that bundle! throw it in the bush—anywhere! there’s not a moment to be lost. I understand the series of encounters you have had upon the road. Luckily, I’ve brought my gun, and you yours. We may need them both before night. Down with the bundle, and follow me!”
“Stop and take me with you,” cried a voice from the edge of the glade; “I have a gun, too.”
And at the same moment the young Englishman, with his gun upon his shoulder, was seen emerging from the underwood and making towards the ceiba.