Kitabı oku: «The Quadroon: Adventures in the Far West», sayfa 22
Chapter Sixty Four
Two Villains
We travelled rapidly. There were no hills to impede our progress. Our route lay along the Levee Road, which leads from New Orleans by the bank of the river, passing plantations and settlements at every few hundred yards’ distance. The path was as level as a race-course, and the hoof fell gently upon the soft dusty surface, enabling us to ride with ease. The horses we bestrode were mustangs from the prairies of Texas, trained to that gait, the “pace” peculiar to the saddle-bags of the South-western States. Excellent “pacers” both were; and, before the night came down, we had made more than half of our journey.
Up to this time we had exchanged only a few words. I was busy with my thoughts – busy planning my enterprise. My young companion appeared equally occupied with his.
The darkening down of the night brought us closer together; and I now unfolded to D’Hauteville the plan which I had proposed to myself.
There was not much of plan about it. My intention was simply this: To proceed at once to the plantation of Gayarre – stealthily to approach the house – to communicate with Aurore through some of the slaves of the plantation; failing in this, to find out, if possible, in what part of the house she would pass the night – to enter her room after all had gone to sleep – propose to her to fly with me – and then make our escape the best way we could.
Once clear of the house, I had scarce thought of a plan of action. That seemed easy enough. Our horses would carry us back to the city. There we might remain concealed, until some friendly ship should bear us from the country.
This was all the plan I had conceived, and, having communicated it to D’Hauteville, I awaited his response.
After some moments’ silence, he replied, signifying his approval of it. Like me, he could think of no other course to be followed. Aurore must be carried away at all hazards.
We now conversed about the details. We debated every chance of failure and success.
Our main difficulty, both agreed, would be in communicating with Aurore. Could we do so? Surely she would not be locked in? Surely Gayarre would not be suspicious enough to have her guarded and watched? He was now the full owner of this coveted treasure – no one could legally deprive him of his slave – no one could carry her away without the risk of a fearful punishment; and although he no doubt suspected that some understanding existed between the quadroon and myself, I would never dream of such a love as that which I felt – a love that would lead me to risk even life itself, as I now intended.
No. Gayarre, judging from his own vile passion, might believe that I, like himself, had been “struck” with the girl’s beauty, and that I was willing to pay a certain sum – three thousand dollars – to possess her. But the fact that I had bid no more – no doubt exactly reported to him by his agent – was proof that my love had its limits, and there was an end of it. As a rival he would hear of me no more. No. Monsieur Dominique Gayarre would never suspect a passion like mine – would never dream of such a purpose as the one to which that passion now impelled me. An enterprise so romantic was not within the bounds of probability. Therefore – so reasoned D’Hauteville and I – it was not likely Aurore would be either guarded or watched.
But even though she might not be, how were we to communicate with her? That would be extremely difficult.
I built my hopes on the little slip of paper – on the words “Ce soir viendrai.” Surely upon this night Aurore would not sleep. My heart told me she would not, and the thought rendered me proud and sanguine. That very night should I make the attempt to carry her off. I could not bear the thought that she should pass even a single night under the roof of her tyrant.
And the night promised to befriend us. The sun had scarcely gone down, when the sky became sullen, turning to the hue of lead. As soon as the short twilight passed, the whole canopy had grown so dark, that we could scarce distinguish the outline of the forest from the sky itself. Not a star could be seen. A thick pall of smoke-coloured clouds hid them from the view. Even the yellow surface of the river was scarce perceptible from its bank, and the white dust of the road alone guided us.
In the woods, or upon the darker ground of the plantation fields, to find a path would have been impossible – so intense was the darkness that enveloped us.
We might have augured trouble from this – we might have feared losing our way. But I was not afraid of any such result. I felt assured that the star of love itself would guide me.
The darkness would be in our favour. Under its friendly shadow we could approach the house, and act with safety; whereas had it been a moonlight night, we should have been in great danger of being discovered.
I read in the sudden change of sky no ill augury, but an omen of success.
There were signs of an approaching storm. What to me would have been kindly weather? Anything – a rain-storm – a tempest – a hurricane – anything but a fine night was what I desired.
It was still early when we reached the plantation Besançon – not quite midnight. We had lost no time on the road. Our object in hurrying forward was to arrive at the place before the household of Gayarre should go to rest. Our hopes were that we might find some means of communicating with Aurore – through the slaves.
One of those I know. I had done him a slight favour during my residence at Bringiers. I had gained his confidence – enough to render him accessible to a bribe. He might be found, and might render us the desired assistance.
All was silent upon the plantation Besançon. The dwelling-house appeared deserted. There were no lights to be seen. One glimmered in the rear, in a window of the overseer’s house. The negro quarter was dark and silent. The buzz usual at that hour was not heard. They whose voices used to echo through its little street were now far away. The cabins were empty. The song, the jest, and the cheerful laugh, were hushed; and the ’coon-dog howling for his absent master, was the only sound that broke the stillness of the place.
We passed the gate, riding in silence, and watching the road in front of us. We were observing the greatest caution as we advanced. We might meet those whom above all others we desired not to encounter – the overseer, the agent, Gayarre himself. Even to have been seen by one of Gayarre’s negroes might have resulted in the defeat of our plans. So fearful was I of this, that but for the darkness of the night, I should have left the road sooner, and tried a path through the woods which I knew of. It was too dark to traverse this path without difficulty and loss of time. We therefore clung to the road, intending to leave it when we should arrive opposite the plantation of Gayarre.
Between the two plantations a wagon-road for wood-hauling led to the forest. It was this road I intended to take. We should not be likely to meet any one upon it; and it was our design to conceal our horses among the trees in the rear of the cane-fields. On such a night not even the negro ’coon-hunter would have any business in the woods.
Creeping along with caution, we had arrived near the point where this wood-road debouched, when voices reached our ears. Some persons were coming down the road.
We reined, up and listened. There were men in conversation; and from their voices each moment growing more distinct, we could tell that they were approaching us.
They were coming down the main road from the direction of the village. The hoof-stroke told us they were on horseback, and, consequently, that they were white men.
A large cotton-wood tree stood on the waste ground on one side of the road. The long flakes of Spanish moss hanging from its branches nearly touched the ground. It offered the readiest place of concealment, and we had just time to spur our horses behind its giant trunk, when the horsemen came abreast of the tree.
Dark as it was, we could see them in passing. Their forms – two of them there were – were faintly outlined against the yellow surface of the water. Had they been silent, we might have remained in ignorance as to who they were, but their voices betrayed them. They were Larkin and the trader.
“Good!” whispered D’Hauteville, as we recognised them; “they have left Gayarre’s – they are on their way home to the plantation Besançon.”
The very same thought had occurred to myself. No doubt they were returning to their homes – the overseer to the plantation Besançon, and the trader to his own house – which I know to be farther down the coast. I now remembered having often seen this man in company with Gayarre.
The thought had occurred to myself as D’Hauteville spoke, but how knew he? He must be well acquainted with the country, thought I.
I had no time to reflect or ask him any question. The conversation of these two ruffians – for ruffians both were – occupied all my attention. They were evidently in high glee, laughing as they went, and jesting as they talked. No doubt their vile work had been remunerative.
“Wal, Bill,” said the trader, “it air the biggest price I ever giv for a nigger.”
“Darn the old French fool! He’s paid well for his whistle this time – he ain’t allers so open-fisted. Dog darned if he is!”
“Wal – she air dear; an she ain’t when a man has the dollars to spare. She’s as putty a piece o’ goods as there air in all Louisiana. I wouldn’t mind myself – ”
“Ha! ha! ha!” boisterously laughed the overseer. “I guess you can get a chance if you’ve a mind to,” he added, in a significant tone.
“Say, Bill! – tell me – be candid, old feller – have you ever – ?”
“Wal, to tell the truth, I hain’t; but I reckon I mout if I had pushed the thing. I wan’t long enough on the plantation. Beside, she’s so stuck up with cussed pride an larnin’, that she thinks herself as good as white. I calclate old Foxey ’ll bring down her notions a bit. She won’t be long wi’ him till she’ll be glad to take a ramble in the woods wi’ anybody that asks her. There’ll be chance enough yet, I reckon.”
The trader muttered some reply to this prophetic speech; but both were now so distant that their conversation was no longer audible. What I had heard, absurd as it was, caused me a feeling of pain, and, if possible, heightened my desire to save Aurore from the terrible fate that awaited her.
Giving the word to my companion, we rode out from behind the tree, and a few minutes after turned into the by-path that led to the woods.
Chapter Sixty Five
The Pawpaw Thicket
Our progress along this by-road was slow. There was no white dust upon the path to guide us. We had to grope our way as well as we could between the zigzag fences. Now and then our horses stumbled in the deep ruts made by the wood-wagons, and it was with difficulty we could force them forward.
My companion seemed to manage better than I, and whipped his horse onward as if he were more familiar with the path, or else more reckless! I wondered at this without making any remark.
After half-an-hour’s struggling we reached the angle of the rail-fence, where the enclosure ended and the woods began. Another hundred yards brought us under the shadow of the tall timber; where we reined up to take breath, and concert what was next to be done.
I remembered that there was a pawpaw thicket near this place.
“If we could find it,” I said to my companion, “and leave our horses there?”
“We may easily do that,” was the reply; “though ’tis scarce worth while searching for a thicket – the darkness will sufficiently conceal them. – Ha! not so —Voilà l’éclair!”
As D’Hauteville spoke, a blue flash lit up the whole canopy of heaven. Even the gloomy aisles of the forest were illuminated, so that we could distinguish the trunks and branches of the trees to a long distance around us. The light wavered for some seconds, like a lamp about being extinguished; and then went suddenly out, leaving the darkness more opaque than before.
There was no noise accompanying this phenomenon – at least none produced by the lightning itself. It caused some noise, however, among the wild creatures of the woods. It woke the white-headed haliaetus, perched upon the head of the tall taxodium, and his maniac laugh sounded harsh and shrill. It woke the grallatores of the swamp – the qua-bird, the curlews, and the tall blue herons – who screamed in concert. The owl, already awake, hooted louder its solemn note; and from the deep profound of the forest came the howl of the wolf, and the more thrilling cry of the cougar.
All nature seemed startled by this sudden blaze of light that filled the firmament. But the moment after all was darkness and silence as before. “The storm will soon be on?” I suggested. “No,” said my companion, “there will be no storm – you hear no thunder – when it is thus we shall have no rain – a very black night, with lightning at intervals – nothing more. Again!”
The exclamation was drawn forth by a second blaze of lightning, that like the first lit up the woods on all sides around us, and, as before, unaccompanied by thunder. Neither the slightest rumble nor clap was heard, but the wild creatures once more uttered their varied cries.
“We must conceal the horses, then,” said my companion; “some straggler might be abroad, and with this light they could be seen far off. The pawpaw thicket is the very place. Let us seek it! It lies in this direction.”
D’Hauteville rode forward among the tree-trunks. I followed mechanically. I felt satisfied he know the ground better than I! He must have been here before, was my reflection.
We had not gone many steps before the blue light blazed a third time; and we could see, directly in front of us, the smooth shining branches and broad green leaves of the Asiminas, forming the underwood of the forest.
When the lightning flashed again, we had entered the thicket.
Dismounting in its midst, we hastily tied our bridles to the branches; and then, leaving our horses to themselves, we returned towards the open ground.
Ten minutes’ walking enabled us to regain the zigzag railing that shut in the plantation of Gayarre.
Directing ourselves along this, in ten minutes after we arrived opposite the house – which by the electric blaze we could distinguish shining among the tall cotton-wood trees that grew around it. At this point we again made a stop to reconnoitre the ground, and consider how we should proceed.
A wide field stretched from the fence almost to the walls. A garden enclosed by palings lay between the field and the house; and on one side we could perceive the roofs of numerous cabins denoting the negro quarter. At some distance in the same direction, stood the sugar-mill and other outbuildings, and near these the house of Gayarre’s overseer.
This point was to be avoided. Even the negro quarter must be shunned, lest we might give alarm. The dogs would be our worst enemies. I knew that Gayarre kept several. I had often seen them along the roads. Large fierce animals they were. How were they to be shunned? They would most likely be rambling about the outbuildings or the negro cabins; therefore, our safest way would be to approach from the opposite side.
If we should fail to discover the apartment of Aurore, then it would be time to make reconnaissance in the direction of the “quarter,” and endeavour to find the boy Caton.
We saw lights in the house. Several windows – all upon the ground-floor – were shining through the darkness. More than one apartment therefore was occupied.
This gave us hope. One of them might be occupied by Aurore.
“And now, Monsieur!” said D’Hauteville, after we had discussed the various details, “suppose we fail? suppose some alarm be given, and we be detected before – ?”
I turned, and looking my young companion full in the face, interrupted him in what he was about to say. “D’Hauteville!” said I, “perhaps, I may never be able to repay your generous friendship. It has already exceeded all bounds – but life you must not risk for me. That I cannot permit.”
“And how risk life, Monsieur?”
“If I fail – if alarm be given – if I am opposed, voilà– !”
I opened the breast of my coat, exposing to his view my pistols.
“Yes!” I continued; “I am reckless enough. I shall use them if necessary. I shall take life if it stand in the way. I am resolved; but you must not risk an encounter. You must remain here – I shall go to the house alone.”
“No – no!” he answered promptly; “I go with you.”
“I cannot permit it, Monsieur. It is better for you to remain here. You can stay by the fence until I return to you – until we return, I should say, for I come not back without her.”
“Do not act rashly, Monsieur!”
“No, but I am determined. I am desperate. We must not go farther.”
“And why not? I, too, have an interest in this affair.”
“You?” I asked, surprised at the words as well as the tone in which they were spoken. “You an interest?”
“Of course,” coolly replied my companion. “I love adventure. That gives me an interest. You must permit me to accompany you – I must go along with you!”
“As you will then, Monsieur D’Hauteville. Fear not. I shall act with prudence. Come on!”
I sprang over the fence, followed by my companion; and, without another word having passed between us, we struck across the field in the direction of the house.
Chapter Sixty Six
The Elopement
It was a field of sugar-cane. The canes were of that species known as “ratoons” – suckers from old roots – and the thick bunches at their bases, as well as the tall columns, enabled us to pass among them unobserved. Even had it been day, we might have approached the house unseen.
We soon reached the garden-paling. Here we stopped to reconnoitre the ground. A short survey was sufficient. We saw the very place where we could approach and conceal ourselves.
The house had an antique weather-beaten look – not without some pretensions to grandeur. It was a wooden building, two stories in height, with gable roofs, and large windows – all of which had Venetian shutters that opened to the outside. Both walls and window-shutters had once been painted, but the paint was old and rusty; and the colour of the Venetians, once green, could hardly be distinguished from the grey wood-work of the walls. All round the house ran an open gallery or verandah, raised some three or four feet from the ground. Upon this gallery the windows and doors opened, and a paling or guard-rail encompassed the whole. Opposite the doors, a stairway of half-a-dozen steps led up; but at all other parts the space underneath was open in front, so that, by stooping a little, one might get under the floor of the gallery.
By crawling close up in front of the verandah, and looking through the rails, we should be able to command a full view of all the windows in the house; – and in case of alarm, we could conceal ourselves in the dark cavity underneath. We should be safe there, unless scented by the dogs.
Our plan was matured in whispers. It was not much of a plan. We were to advance to the edge of the verandah, peep through the windows until we could discover the apartment of Aurore; then do our best to communicate with her, and get her out. Our success depended greatly upon accident or good fortune.
Before we could make a move forward, fortune seemed as though she was going to favour us. In one of the windows, directly before our face, a figure appeared. A glance told us it was the Quadroon!
The window, as before stated, reached down to the floor of the verandah; and as the figure appeared behind the glass, we could see it from head to foot. The Madras kerchief on the head, the gracefully undulating figure, outlined upon the background of the lighted room, left no doubt upon our minds as to who it was.
“’Tis Aurore!” whispered my companion.
How could he tell? Did he know her? All! I remembered – he had seen her that morning in the Rotundo.
“It is she!” I replied, my beating heart scarce allowing me to make utterance.
The window was curtained, but she had raised the curtain in one hand, and was looking out. There was that in her attitude that betokened earnestness. She appeared as if trying to penetrate the gloom. Even in the distance I could perceive this, and my heart bounded with joy. She had understood my note. She was looking for me!
D’Hauteville thought so as well. Our prospects were brightening. If she guessed our design, our task would be easier.
She remained but a few moments by the window. She turned away and the curtain dropped into its place; but before it had screened the view, the dark shadow of a man fell against the back wall of the room. Gayarre, no doubt!
I could hold back no longer; but climbing over the garden-fence, I crept forward, followed by D’Hauteville.
In a few seconds both of us had gained the desired position – directly in front of the window, from which we were now separated only by the wood-work of the verandah. Standing half-bent our eyes were on a level with the floor of the room. The curtain had not fallen properly into its place. A single pane of the glass remained unscreened, and through this we could see nearly the whole interior of the apartment. Our ears, too, were at the proper elevation to catch every sound; and persons conversing within the room we could hear distinctly.
We were right in our conjecture. It was Aurore we had seen. Gayarre was the other occupant of the room.
I shall not paint that scene. I shall not repeat the words to which we listened. I shall not detail the speeches of that mean villain – at first fulsome and flattering – then coarse, bold, and brutal; until at length, failing to effect his purpose by entreaties, he had recourse to threats.
D’Hauteville held me back, begging me in earnest whispers to be patient. Once or twice I had almost determined to spring forward, dash aside the sash, and strike the ruffian to the floor. Thanks to the prudent interference of my companion, I restrained myself.
The scene ended by Gayarre going out of the room indignant, but somewhat crest-fallen. The bold, upright bearing of the Quadroon – whose strength, at least, equalled that of her puny assailant – had evidently intimidated him for the moment, else he might have resorted to personal violence.
His threats, however, as he took his departure; left no doubt of his intention soon to renew his brutal assault. He felt certain of his victim – she was his slave, and must yield. He had ample time and opportunity. He need not at once proceed to extremes. He could wait until his valour, somewhat cowed, should return again, and imbue him with a fresh impulse.
The disappearance of Gayarre gave us an opportunity to make our presence known to Aurore. I was about to climb up to the verandah and tap on the glass; but my companion prevented me from doing so.
“It is not necessary,” he whispered; “she certainly knows you will be here. Leave it to her. She will return to the window presently. Patience, Monsieur! a false step will ruin all. Remember the dogs!”
There was prudence in these counsels, and I gave way to them. A few minutes would decide; and we both crouched close, and watched the movements of the Quadroon.
The apartment in which she was attracted our notice. It was not the drawing-room of the house, nor yet a bedroom. It was a sort of library or studio – as shelves filled with books, and a table, covered with papers and writing-materials, testified. It was, no doubt, the office of the avocat, in which he was accustomed to do his writing.
Why was Aurore in that room? Such a question occurred to us; but we had little time to dwell upon it. My companion suggested that as they had just arrived, she may have been placed there while an apartment was being prepared for her. The voices of servants overhead, and the noise of furniture being moved over the floor, was what led him to make this suggestion; it was just as if a room was being set in order.
This led me into a new train of reflection. She might be suddenly removed from the library, and taken up-stairs. It would then be more difficult to communicate with her. It would be better to make the attempt at once.
Contrary to the wish of D’Hauteville, I was about to advance forward to the window, when the movements of Aurore herself caused me to hesitate.
The door through which Gayarre had just made his exit was visible from where we stood. I saw the Quadroon approach this with silent tread, as if meditating some design. Placing her hand upon the key, she turned it in the lock, so that the door was thus bolted inside. With what design had she doing this?
It occurred to us that she was about to make her escape out by the window, and that she had fastened the door for the purpose of delaying pursuit. If so, it would be better for us to remain quiet, and leave her to complete the design. It would be time enough to warn her of our presence when she should reach the window. This was D’Hauteville’s advice.
In one corner of the room stood a large mahogany desk, and over its head was ranged a screen of box-shelves – of the kind known as “pigeon-holes.” These were filled with papers and parchments – no doubt, wills, deeds, and other documents relating to the business of the lawyer.
To my astonishment I saw the Quadroon, as soon as she had secured the door, hastily approach this desk, and stand directly in front of it – her eyes eagerly bent upon the shelves, as though she was in search of some document!
Such was in reality the case, for she now stretched forth her hand, drew a bundle of folded papers from the box, and after resting her eyes upon them for a moment, suddenly concealed them in the bosom of her dress!
“Heavens!” I mentally ejaculated, “what can it mean?”
I had no time to give way to conjectures – for in a second’s time Aurore had glided across the floor, and was standing in the window.
As she raised the curtain, the light streamed full on the faces of myself and my companion, and at the first glance she saw us. A slight exclamation escaped her, but it was of joy, not surprise; and she suddenly checked herself.
The ejaculation was not loud enough to be heard across the room. The sash opened noiselessly – with silent tread the verandah was crossed – and in another moment my betrothed was in my arms! I lifted her over the balustrade, and we passed hastily along the walks of the garden.
The outer field was reached without any alarm having been given; and, directing ourselves between the rows of the canes, we speeded on towards the woods, that loomed up like a dark wall in the distance.
