THE STORM

Monsieur De Chemerant had scarcely left Fort Royal at the head of his escort when a young mulatto of about fifteen, after having followed for some time, hiding in the ravines or the swamps, on seeing the troop take the road to Devil’s Cliff, started with all haste for Macouba.

Thanks to his perfect knowledge of the country and of certain roads not open, this slave reached Father Griffen’s parish very soon. It was about four o’clock in the afternoon; the good priest was taking his afternoon nap, comfortably extended in one of the hammocks so ingeniously made of rushes by the Caribbeans. The young mulatto had the greatest difficulty in persuading one of the priest’s two slaves to awaken his master; finally Monsieur concluded, after long hesitation, because of the deep and peaceful sleep of the priest, to do so.

“What do you want?” said the priest.

“Master, a young mulatto has come in haste from Fort Royal and wishes to speak to you at once.”

“A mulatto from Fort Royal,” said Father Griffen, springing from his hammock. “Let him come in quickly. What do you want, my child?” continued he, addressing the young slave; “have you come by direction of Monsieur Morris?”

“Yes, Father. Here is a letter from him. He told me to follow an escort of troops leaving Fort Royal this morning, and directed me, if they took the road to Devil’s Cliff, to come and tell you, Father. His letter will explain the rest.”

“Very well, my child, the troop

“Plunged into the Goyaviers valley, and took the road to the Black Rocks; that leads only to Devil’s Cliff.”

Father Griffen, much disturbed, broke the seal of the letter and seemed overcome at its contents. He re-read it with evidence of the greatest surprise, and then said to the mulatto, “Go quickly and find Monsieur.”

The mulatto went at once.

“An envoy from France has arrived; he had a long interview with the governor, and I fear he has started with armed men for Devil’s Cliff, as Monsieur Morris believes,” said the priest, walking up and down agitatedly. “Monsieur Morris does not know, cannot know more. But I I I tremble to think of the consequences of this visit. Doubtless the mystery has been unveiled. And how, how? Who can have put them on the scent? Did not the secret die with De Crussol? His letter is my guarantee. Did they not quiet the governor and cause him to give up all pursuit of this unhappy woman?” Then, referring to Monsieur Morris’ letter, the priest continued: “’A French frigate which remains at anchor outside the roadstead, an envoy who confers for two hours with the governor, and who, after this interview, leaves for Devil’s Cliff with an escort’ there is more than suspicion, there is certainty? They have come to carry her off. My God! can it be true? But, the secret who but myself knew it? for I only knew it, oh, yes, I alone, at least unless a frightful sacrilege but no, no!” said the priest, clasping his hands with terror. “Such a thought on my part is a crime. No, it is impossible. I would rather believe it was indiscretion on the part of the only person who has an interest for life or death in the mystery, than that it should be the most impious treachery. No, a thousand times no; it is impossible! but I must start at once for Devil’s Cliff. Perhaps I can get the advance of this man who has left Fort Royal with an escort. Yes, by hurrying, I may do it. I will find that unlucky Gascon; they have nothing to fear there. His extraordinary appearance on board made me believe the poor devil, for a time, to be an emissary from London or Saint-Germain; but I have, as they say, turned him inside out, in every way. I mentioned before him abruptly certain names which, had he been in the secret, he would have found it impossible not to betray it, however guarded he might be, and he remained impassible. I understand men too well to have been deceived by him; the chevalier is nothing but a crazy adventurer, a spoiled child, in whom, after all, good qualities triumph over the bad ones.”

At this moment Monsieur appeared.

“Saddle Grenadille at once.”

“Yes, master.”

“Unchain Colas.”

“Yes, master.”

“Do not forget to put my large traveling cloak behind my saddle.”

“Yes, master.”

The black went out, then returned almost immediately, saying, “Master, shall I arm Colas?”

“Certainly, we go through the forest.”

While his mare was being saddled, the priest continued to pace up and down restlessly. All at once he cried, with fright, as if struck by a sudden thought, “But if I have been deceived; if this adventurer, under a guise of frivolity, concealed some plan coolly resolved upon some sinister design? But no! no! cunning and dissimulation could not attain to such an odious perfection. But what if his errand coincides with that of this man who has started out with an escort? And I, I who have answered for this adventurer, I who in my letter of yesterday have almost approved their decision concerning him, thinking, as they did, that this Gascon by repeating the mysterious stories connected with Devil’s Cliff, would only advance the ends of those who live there. But what if I have been deceived? if I have helped introduce a dangerous enemy there? But no! he would have taken action before this if he had known the secret. And still no! no! perhaps he waited the arrival of this frigate and this emissary before acting? Perhaps he is working with him? Oh! I am in terrible uncertainty.”

So saying, Father Griffen went out quickly to hasten the preparations for his departure. Monsieur was saddling Grenadille and Jean was arming Colas.

Some explanation is necessary in order to instruct the reader in regard to a new actor of which we have thus far had no occasion to speak. Colas was a boar, possessed of marvelous intelligence; this boar always accompanied him and went ahead on these excursions. Thanks to their long, rough hair, and to their thick coat of fat, which impedes and congeals, so to speak, the sting of serpents, boars and even domesticated pigs carry on in the colonies a desperate war with these reptiles; Colas was one of their most intrepid enemies. His armor consisted of a kind of muzzle of iron pierced with little holes, and ending in a kind of very sharp crescent. This protected the end of the boar’s head, its only vulnerable part, and furnished him with a formidable weapon against serpents. Colas always preceded Grenadille some steps, clearing the road and putting to flight the serpents which would have stung the mare.

Father Griffen, if he had known of the abrupt departure of Croustillac (the adventurer had, as we know, left the parsonage without any farewell to his host), would have offered Colas to the chevalier, when he became assured that Croustillac was absolutely determined to penetrate the forest. The priest thought that the boar would protect Croustillac from some of the dangers to which he would be exposed; but the early flight of the latter rendered the thoughtfulness of Father Griffen futile.

After placing the house in charge of the two blacks, on whose faithfulness he knew he could count, the priest spurred Grenadille, whistled to Colas, who responded with a joyful grunt, and like another St. Antony, the good father took the road which would lead him to Devil’s Cliff, fearful of arriving too late, and also of encountering on the way De Chemerant, whom he could with difficulty hope to head off.

The reader will remember that, thanks to the voracity of the wildcats which had devoured the corpse of the sailor John, Colonel Rutler had been enabled to emerge from the pearl-fisher’s cave by way of the underground passage. In order to understand the extreme importance and difficulty of the expedition which Colonel Rutler had undertaken, we must recall to the reader that the park contiguous to Blue Beard’s mansion ran from north to south, like a kind of isthmus surrounded by abysms. On the east and west these abysms were almost without bottom, for on these sides the furthermost trees of the garden overhung a peak of tremendous height, whose granite face was washed by the deep and rapid waters of two torrents. But on the north, the park jutted on a steep incline, accessible, though dangerous in the extreme. Nevertheless, this side of the garden was sheltered from attack, for in order to climb these rocks, less perpendicular than those on the east and west, it was necessary to first descend to the bottom of the abyss by the opposite side, an undertaking physically impossible to attempt, even with the aid of a rope of sufficient length, the face of the rock sometimes jutting out and sometimes broken by the angles of the rocks projecting or receding.

Colonel Rutler, on the contrary, having passed through the underground passage, had at once reached the foot of the precipice; there remained for him only to essay the perilous ascent in order that he might gain entrance into Devil’s Cliff. It would take about an hour to climb these rocks; he did not wish to enter the park surrounding the mansion until night had fallen; he waited before starting on his road, until the sun should be setting. The colonel had thrust the skeleton of John out of the passage. It was thus, near these human remains, in a profound and wild solitude, in the midst of a veritable chaos of enormous masses of granite thrown up by the convulsions of nature, that the emissary of William of Orange passed some hours, reclining in a cleft in the rocks in order to escape the heat of a tropical sun.

The oppressive silence of this solitary place was now and then interrupted by the roar of the sea as it fell upon the beach. Soon the golden light of the sun became more rosy; great angles of light outlined the face of the rocks where one could discern the further trees of Blue Beard’s park, becoming fainter, little by little; and dull mists began to envelop the bottom of the abyss where Rutler waited. The colonel judged it time to depart.

Notwithstanding his rare energy, this man of iron felt himself seized, in spite of himself, with a kind of superstitious fear; the horrible death of his companion had affected him keenly, the enforced fast to which he had been subjected since the preceding evening (he could not bring himself to eat the serpent), mounted to his head, causing singular and sinister ideas; but, surmounting this weakness, he commenced the ascent.

At first Rutler found the points of support allowed him to rapidly climb a third of the face of the cliff. Then serious obstacles began to present themselves; but with dogged courage he surmounted them. At the moment when the sun disappeared suddenly below the horizon, the colonel reached the summit of the cliff; broken by fatigue and pain, he fell half-fainting at the foot of the further trees of the park at Devil’s Cliff; happily among these were several cocoanut trees; a large quantity of ripe nuts lay on the ground. Rutler opened one with the point of his dagger; the fresh liquid inclosed within appeased his thirst, and its nourishing pulp his hunger. This unexpected refreshment renewed his strength, and the colonel penetrated resolutely into the park; he walked with extreme caution, guiding himself by the instructions John had given him, in order that he might reach the white marble fountain not far from which he wished to conceal himself. After walking some time in this obscurity, under a tall forest of orange trees, Rutler heard in the distance a slight sound as of a stream of water falling into a basin; soon after he reached the border of the orange grove, and by the faint light of the stars for the moon would not rise until later he saw a large vase of white marble, situated in the midst of a circular space, on all sides surrounded with trees. The colonel, pushing aside some thick shrubs of Indian plants, enormous reeds which grow abundantly in that humid soil, hid himself some steps away from the fountain and quietly awaited events.

In order to sum up the chances of the safety or danger to which the mysterious dwellers at Devil’s Cliff were exposed, we must remind the reader that De Chemerant had started from Fort Royal in the afternoon, and was advancing with all haste; that Father Griffen had hastily left Macouba in order to head off the French envoy; and that Colonel Rutler had secreted himself in the center of the garden.

We must now relate all that since the morning had passed over the heads of Youmaeale, Blue Beard and the Chevalier de Croustillac.