Volume 3 Chapter 32 - The Maroon by Mayne Reid
Burglars! Robbers! Murderers!
In solemn pace the procession which accompanied the corpse of Custos Vaughan moved silently on along the lonely road. The Jumbé Rock was now in sight, encarmined by the last rays of the sinking sun. Beyond lay Mount Welcome—a house to which the sad cortège was about to carry the cue for wailing and desolation.
Ah! little dreamt they who composed it that the demon was already there before them—if not of death, of a doom equally as dark!
Could Herbert only have known that at that moment the beautiful being he loved with his whole heart, and now more than ever—she who loved him, was struggling in the arms!
No matter. The terrible truth will reach him but too soon. It will meet him on his way. In another hour the sweet dreams in which, throughout that long day, he has been indulging, will meet with a dread dissipation.
At a turning of the road there stood several gigantic trees, offering a grand canopy of foliage. Under these the party halted, by the joint command of Herbert and Cubina, who at the same moment dismounted from their horses.
It was not the shade that had tempted them, for the sun had now gone down; nor yet that the bearers might obtain rest; the men were strong, and the wasted form was far from being a heavy burden. It was not for that reason that the halt had been ordered, but on account of a thought that had suggested itself to Herbert, and which was approved of by Cubina.
It was the apprehension of the dread impression which their arrival might produce at Mount Welcome—of course, on her whose father’s corpse they were carrying.
They had stopped to consider what was best to be done.
A plan soon suggested itself. A messenger could be sent forward upon one of the horses to communicate the sad tidings to Trusty, the overseer, and through him the melancholy news might be more gradually made known to her whom it most concerned.
Herbert would have gone himself, but was hindered by certain delicate considerations, based on the conflicting emotions that were stirring within him.
It mattered little who should bear the melancholy tidings to Trusty; and the negro attendant was finally chosen.
The man received his instructions; and, having mounted his own horse, rode off at such speed as the darkness, now down upon the earth, would permit.
For another hour the party remained in the place where they had halted, to give time for the messenger to execute his commission. Then, once more taking the road, they moved forward at a slow pace, Herbert alongside Cubina—now a-foot, and leading the horse upon which he had hitherto ridden.
Quaco alone guarded the prisoners; a duty to which the Maroon lieutenant was quite equal, and which he had rendered the more easy of accomplishment, by pressing into his service a piece of rope, attached round the neck of the one that was nearest, and which, held halter-fashion in his hand, enabled him to prevent either of them from straying in the darkness. Neither, however, made any attempt to escape, knowing as both did, that the slightest movement in that direction would cost them a “thwack” from a stout cudgel—an additional implement carried in the hands of Quaco.
In this way the cortège had proceeded for some half-mile or so beyond its last resting-place, when it was again brought to a halt by the orders of those in the lead.
The cause of this interruption was declared to all of the party at once. All heard the hoof-strokes of a horse coming rapidly along the road, and from the opposite direction to that in which they were moving.
Going, as he appeared to be, at full gallop, in five minutes more, or in half the time, the horseman should be in their midst.
Was he a stranger? Or could it be their own messenger coming back? He had not been directed to return. It was deemed sufficient for him to see Mr Trusty, and make known the news which he had been entrusted to communicate.
It was not without a feeling of surprise therefore, as the horseman dashed forward upon the ground, and pulled up in front of the procession, that Herbert and Cubina recognised the returned attendant.
He left them no time to speculate on the mystery of his re-appearance. The white froth upon the flanks of his steed, shining through the gloom, told of fast riding; while the stammering and terrified accents in which the man proclaimed the purpose of his return rendered more startling the news he had come to communicate.
Mount Welcome was, at that moment, attacked by a band of burglars, robbers, and murderers!
There were men in masks, and men without them—equally terrible to look upon. They were plundering the great hall, had murdered Mr Smythje, were ill-treating the young mistress of the mansion, and firing guns and pistols at every one who came in their way!
The messenger had not stayed to see Mr Trusty. He had learnt all this from the domestics, who were hurrying in flight from the mansion. Confounded by the shouting and shots he had himself heard, and thinking that the likeliest chance of assistance would be found in the party he had just left—and which he believed to be much nearer—he had galloped back along the road.
These were the main facts of the attendant’s story—not communicated, however, with any regard to sequence, but in the most incoherent manner, and liberally interspersed with exclamations of alarm.
It was a fearful tale, and fell with a terrible effect upon the ears of those to whom it was told—Herbert and Cubina.
Burglars—robbers—murderers! Mr Smythje killed! The young mistress of Mount Welcome in the act of being abused! and Yola? she, too—
“Quaco!” cried the Maroon captain, rushing to the rear, and addressing himself to his lieutenant, “think you our men can hear us from here? Sound your horn on the instant: your blast is stronger than mine. There is trouble at Mount Welcome. We may need every man of them. Quick—quick!”
“The devil!” cried Quaco, dropping his hold of the halter, and raising the horn to his mouth, “I’ll make them hear, if they’re in the Island of Jamaica. You keep your ground, ye pair of John Crows!” he added, as he held the horn an inch or two from his lips. “If either of you budge a foot out of your places, I’ll send a brace of bullets through your stinkin’ carcadges, and stop you that away. See if I don’t!”
And with this emphatic admonition, the colossus applied the horn to his mouth, and blew a blast that might have been heard for miles.
In echoes it rang from the sides of the Jumbé Rock, and from many a peak lying far beyond. So loud and shrill rang it, that one might almost have believed in Quaco’s affirmation: that it could be heard to the extremities of the Island!
At all events, it was heard by some not so far off: for scarce had its echoes ceased to reverberate, when half-a-dozen similar sounds, proceeding from different directions, and apparently from different distances, came back in response.
Cubina waited not to hear their repetition.
“Enough,” cried he, “there are half-a-dozen of them anyhow. That will no doubt be enough. You, Quaco, stay here till they come up, and then follow to Mount Welcome. Sound again, to direct them; and see that these two murderous villains don’t escape you.”
“Hadn’t I better put a brace of bullets through them?” naïvely inquired Quaco. “It’ll save trouble if I do that! What say you, Capen Cubina?”
“No, no, Quaco! Justice will settle accounts with them. Bring them on along with you; and follow as soon as our men get up!”
Before Quaco could offer any further suggestions, the Maroon captain had mounted the messenger’s horse—Herbert having already leaped into the saddle of the other—and both, without further speech, rode forward as fast as their steeds could carry them.