Volume 3 Chapter 15 - The Maroon by Mayne Reid
Cynthia’s Report
Cynthia was not slow in responding to the summons of the Jew, who possessed an influence over her which, if not so powerful, was also less mysterious than that wielded by the myal-man, since it was the power of money. The mulatta liked money, as most people do, and for the same reason as most—because it afforded the means for indulging in dissipation, which with Cynthia was a habit.
Very easily did she find an opportunity for paying a visit to the penn—the more easily that her master was absent. But even had he been at home, she would have had but little difficulty in framing an excuse, or, rather, she would have gone without one.
In the days of which we write, slavery had assumed a very altered phase in the West Indies—more especially in the Island of Jamaica. The voices of Wilberforce and Clarkson had already reached the remotest corners of the Island, and the plantation negroes were beginning to hear the first mutterings of the emancipation. The slave trade was doomed; and it was expected that the doom of slavery itself would soon be declared.
The black bondsmen had become emboldened by the prospect; and there was no longer that abject submission to the wanton will of the master, and the whip of the driver, which had existed of yore. It was not uncommon for slaves to take “leave of absence” without asking it—often remaining absent for days; returning without fear of chastisement, and sometimes staying away altogether. Plantation revolts had become common, frequently ending in incendiarism and other scenes of the most sanguinary character; and more than one band of “runaways” had established themselves in the remote fastnesses of the mountains; where, in defiance of the authorities, and despite the preventive service—somewhat negligently performed by their prototypes, the Maroons—they preserved a rude independence, partly sustained by pilfering, and partly by freebooting of a bolder kind. These runaways were, in effect, playing a rôle, in complete imitation of what, at an earlier period, had been the métier of the original Maroons; while, as already stated, the Maroons themselves, employed upon the sage but infamous principle of “set a thief to catch a thief,” had now become the detective police of the Island.
Under such conditions of slavery, the bold Cynthia was not the woman to trouble herself about asking leave of absence, nor to be deterred by any slight circumstance from taking it; therefore, at an early hour of the day, almost on the heels of Blue Dick, the messenger, she made her appearance at the penn.
Her conference with Jessuron, though it threw no light either on the whereabouts of the missing book-keeper, or on the cause of his absence, was not without interest to the Jew, since it revealed facts that gave him some comfort.
He had already learnt from Blue Dick that the Custos had started on his journey, and from Cynthia he now ascertained the additional fact, that before starting he had taken the spell. It had been administered in his stirrup-cup of “swizzle.”
This intelligence was the more gratifying, in view of the apprehensions which the Jew was beginning to feel in regard to his Spanish employés. If the spell should do its work as quickly as Chakra had said, these worthies would be anticipated in the performance of their dangerous duty.
Another important fact was communicated by Cynthia. She had seen Chakra that morning—just after her master had taken his departure. There had been an arrangement between her and the myal-man to meet at their usual trysting-place—contingent on the setting out of the Custos. As this contingency had transpired, of course the meeting had taken place—its object being that Cynthia might inform Chakra of such events as might occur previous to the departure.
Cynthia did not know for certain that Chakra had followed the Custos. The myal-man had not told her of his intention to do so. But she fully believed he had. Something he had let fall during their conference guided her to this belief. Besides, on leaving her, Chakra, instead of returning towards his haunt in the Duppy’s Hole, had gone off along the road in the direction of Savanna.
This was the substance of Cynthia’s report; and having been well rewarded for the communication, the mulatta returned to Mount Welcome.
Notwithstanding the gratification which her news afforded, it was far from tranquillising the spirit of Jacob Jessuron.
The absence of Herbert Vaughan still continued—still unexplained; and as the hours passed and night drew near, without any signs of his return, Jessuron—and it may be said Judith as well—became more and more uneasy about his disappearance.
Judith was puzzled as well as pained. Her suspicion that Herbert had had an appointment with his cousin Kate had been somewhat shaken, by what she had seen—as well as what she had not seen: for on leaving the Jumbé Rock she had not ridden directly home. Instead of doing so, she had lingered for a length of time around the summit of the mountain, expecting Herbert to show himself. As she had neither encountered him, nor any traces of him, she was only too happy to conclude that her surmises about the meeting were, after all, but fancy; and that no assignation had been intended. Kate’s coming up to the Jumbé Rock was a little queer; but then Smythje had followed her, and Judith had not heard that part of the conversation which told that his being there was only an accident—the accident of having discovered the retreat to which the young Creole had betaken herself.
These considerations had the effect of soothing the jealous spirit of the Jewess; but only to a very slight extent: for Herbert’s absence was ominous—the more so, thought Judith, as she remembered a conversation that had lately passed between them.
Nor did she feel any repentance for the dark deed she had designed, and would certainly have executed, but for the well-timed appearance of Smythje upon the scene. The words which had fallen from the lips of Kate Vaughan had been a sufficient clue to her reflections; and though he whose name she had mentioned was not present in person, the Jewess did not doubt that he, and only he, was the subject of that soliloquy.
There might have been remorse for the deed, had it been accomplished; but there was no repentance for the design. Jealousy, bitter as ever in the breast of Judith, forbade this.
Judith’s return did not make the matter any clearer to Jessuron. She had no story to tell, except that which she deemed it more prudent to keep to herself. Her not having encountered Herbert during her ride, only rendered his absence more difficult of explanation.