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 THE M A K O O N. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 LONDON : 
 PRINTED BY WOODFALL AND KINDER, 
 ANGEL COURT, SKINNER STREET.
 
 THE MAROON. 
 
 BY 
 
 CAPTAIN MAYNE EEID, 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 " THE RIFLE RANGERS," *' THE SCALP HUNTERS," ETC. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 HURST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS, 
 
 SUCCESSORS TO HENRY COLBURN, 
 
 13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. 
 18G2. 
 
 Tht right of Translation is reserved.
 
 /,/ 
 
 3 
 
 ^ THE MAROON, 
 
 ^ 
 
 '^ PEOLOaUE. 
 
 THE "land of springs." 
 
 Wandering like a waif through the West- 
 India islands, chance conducted me into 
 "^ Montego Bay, on the north-western coast of 
 ^ Jamaica. 
 ^ I beheld a noble bay, of semi-circular shape, 
 |[ girt with lofty wooded hills, sweeping like a 
 ^ crescent around it. In the concavity of this 
 \ crescent appeared the town — its white walls 
 cij and " jalousied" windows gleaming cheerfully 
 J^ through a frondage of tropical trees, where 
 :^ mingled the foliage of palms and plantains, 
 citrons and cecropias, pawpaw and palma* 
 <:;^^ christi. On the declivities of the hills, trend* 
 ing up into the interior, I could see the sugar 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 2 THE MAROON. 
 
 " estate," the coffee " plantation," and tlie 
 " penn " of the cattle-breeder — the ^reaf house 
 of each placed in a commanding position, 
 flanked by shaded verandahs, embowered 
 amidst orange groves, and surrounded by per- 
 fumed forests of the indigenous allspice. 
 
 So silent and tranquil was the scene, that, 
 gazing upon the town of Montego Bay, I 
 might have fancied it a quiet country village, 
 but for some tall masts that, crossing the 
 horizontal line of the landscape, proclaimed it 
 a seaport. 
 
 There was not above a score of these taper- 
 ing sticks ; and this limited number, combined 
 with the absence of all movement upon the 
 waters of the bay — our own ship the only one 
 that entered, or went out — instead of proving 
 the prosperity of the place, argued rather its 
 decay. 
 
 Had I entered that port but half a century 
 sooner, I should have witnessed a far different 
 spectacle. I should have beheld a hundred 
 ships moored by the wharfs, or anchored in 
 the harbour ; others standing in and out, or 
 under full sail in the ofling — ^boats and barges 
 rowed rapidly to and fro — crowds of men hur- 
 rying along the beach — in short, a scene
 
 THE MAROON. 3 
 
 of active, busy life, such as is usually pre- 
 sented on the seaward side of a prosperou.. 
 port. 
 
 That was a period of grand, intellectual 
 activity, perhaps unparalleled in the history of 
 our race : when the heart of Christendom had 
 become swollen to bursting with wild aspira- 
 tions for liberty ; when the souls of men, 
 overcharged, as it were, with electricity — like 
 the internal fires of the earthquake, long 
 gathering for a mighty shock — became roused 
 to make those gigantic throes in the cause of 
 freedom that broke many a bond upon both 
 sides of the Atlantic. 
 
 Equally Avas it a period of great commercial 
 enterprise — in Jamaica, as elsewhere. But 
 there, and then, mercantile prosperity had 
 reached its maximum. A crisis had arrived, 
 to be followed soon after by quick decadence. 
 
 And who need lament the downfall of a 
 commerce whose most important commodity 
 was human flesh ? Eather let humanity rejoice 
 at its ruin ! 
 
 As our ship forged nearer to the shore, and 
 the outline of individual objects could be dis- 
 tinguished, the scene became still more inte- 
 resting.
 
 THE MAROON. 
 
 The living forms of men and animals 
 moving along the beach, or in the fields near 
 by ; the varied and gay- coloured costumes ; 
 the brilliant hues of the tropical foliage ; the 
 graceful symmetry of the palms and pawpaws ; 
 all entered into the composition of a landscape 
 that deserved the designation of lovely. 
 
 My eye dwelt not long on these objects. 
 Par more attractive to it were some blue peaks 
 just visible in the distance — outlined against 
 the yet bluer sky — and which I knew to be 
 the mountains of Trelawney. 
 
 It was not the mountains themselves that 
 were the sources of this attraction — much as 
 I love to look upon those, the grandest of 
 earth's features. I had been too long gazing 
 upon the Cordilleras of the Andes to be stirred 
 by a sight of the '' Blue Mountains " of 
 Jamaica. But about these there hung a 
 history, which, though less known to the 
 world, was not the less attractive to me — in 
 romantic interest equalling, if not surpassing, 
 that which attaches to the vanished halls of 
 the Moctezumas, or the ruined palaces of 
 the Peruvian Incas. 
 
 Of all the varied races and nations of men 
 who have figured in the annals of the New
 
 THE MAROON. 
 
 World, there is none whose history possesses 
 for me so powerful an attraction as that of the 
 Maroons of Jamaica. 
 
 No lover of liberty — no advocate for the 
 equahty of mankind — can fail to feel an en- 
 thusiastic admiration for those brave black 
 men, who, for two hundred years, maintained 
 their independence against the whole white 
 population of the island. 
 
 Gazing upon the Trelawney mountains, I 
 could not help recalling the history of these 
 intrepid hog-liunters. Among those far hills 
 had they their homes. There stood the scat- 
 tered cabins of their mountain town — each 
 embowered in its little grove of bananas. 
 'There, in time of peace, under the shadow of 
 the tamarind, might have been seen the dark- 
 skinned mothers, surrounded by their sable off- 
 spring — training them to emulate the exploits 
 of their fathers — the fathers themselves away 
 in the far forest, pursuing the savage boar. 
 There, in the still tropic evening, might have 
 been witnessed cheerful groups in front of 
 their picturesque dwellings, listening to some 
 warlike Coromantee song, or the more melan- 
 choly lay of the Ebo — perhaps dancing the
 
 6 THE MAROON, 
 
 Congo dance, to the stirring sounds of the 
 goombay and merrkoang. 
 
 There, too, when war was forced upon them, 
 lay the scene of their valorous achievements. 
 There were the " cockpits," those curious na- 
 tural fortresses they so successfully defended 
 against ten times their number of assailants — 
 every path leading to them deluged by the 
 blood of their foiled foemen — every ravine 
 consecrated by deeds of chivalric emprise, 
 that vie with those of any age or clime. 
 
 Boast not of Thermopylse — talk not of Tell 
 and the field of Grutli — and be silent about 
 the Maroons of Jamaica. In that little band, 
 who for two centuries independently trod the 
 Blue Mountains of Jamaica were heroes as 
 worthy of world renown as those either of 
 Sparta or of Switzerland. 
 
 The Maroons were never conquered. Their 
 proud spirits never knew the ignominy of defeat. 
 
 With the history of these unique people 
 fresh in my memory, no wonder that my eyes 
 were attracted to the Trelawney hills ; nor is 
 it strange that my steps should be directed 
 thither, almost on the instant of my setting 
 foot upon the soil of Jamaica.
 
 THE MAROON. / 
 
 I went not only to drink from the sweet 
 fountain of the historic past ; but to ascertain 
 whether, among the scenes rendered sacred by 
 their deeds of heroism, there still existed any 
 remnants of this remarkable race. 
 
 I was not disappointed. 
 
 In the wild mountains of Trelawney, I 
 found that neither the Maroons nor their 
 memory had passed into oblivion. Though 
 no longer regarded as a distinct people — for 
 the act of ^Emancipation had removed the 
 barrier between them and the other blacks of 
 the island — I met with many of their de- 
 scendants. 
 
 I was even so fortunate as to meet with one 
 of their veritable fathers — a true typical 
 Maroon— a white-wooUed veteran, of ' three- 
 score and ten, who had been one of their 
 boldest warriors. 
 
 Contemplating the still massive remains 
 of a man, almost gigantic in size, I could 
 easily believe him to have been the hero of 
 many a powerful exploit. I could not help 
 thinking what must have been the grandeur 
 of the edifice represented by such a ruin. 
 
 A queer encounter — not necessary to be 
 here described — brought me in contact with
 
 8 THE MAEOON. 
 
 this singular heptagenarian, and made me the 
 welcome guest of liis mountain home ; where 
 more than one conversation passed between us 
 on the affairs of the olden time — a theme in- 
 teresting to him as to myself. 
 
 In addition to many other adventurous in- 
 cidents which I had from the mouth of the 
 ancient Maroon, I am indebted to him for the 
 details of the story now presented ; and, if the 
 reader should feel gratified by its perusal, his 
 thanks will be less due to me than to the 
 venerable Quaco.
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 A JAMAICA SUGAR ESTATE. 
 
 A SUGAR estate, and one of the finest in the 
 *' land of springs," is that of " Mount Wel- 
 come." 
 
 It is situated abont ten miles from Montego 
 Bay, in a broad valley, between two rounded 
 ridges. These ridges, after running parallel 
 for more than a mile, and gradually increasing 
 in elevation, at length converge with an in- 
 ward sweep — at their point of convergence, 
 rising abruptly into a stupendous hill, that 
 fairly merits the name which it bears upon 
 the estate — tlte ' moantain! 
 
 Both the ridges are wooded almost down to 
 their bases ; the woods, which consist of 
 shining pimento trees, ending on each side in 
 groves and island copses, pleasantly inter- 
 spersed over a park-like greensward. 
 
 The " great house " or " buff" of the estate 
 stands under the foot of the mountain, just at
 
 10 THE MAROON. 
 
 the point of union between the two ridges — 
 where a natural table or platform, elevated 
 several feet above the level of the valley, had 
 offered a tem]3ting site to the builder. 
 
 In architectural style it is not very different 
 from other houses of its kind, the well-known 
 planter's dwelling of the West Indies. One 
 storey — the lower one, of course — is of strong 
 stone mason- work ; the second and only other 
 being simply a wooden " frame " roofed with 
 " shingles." 
 
 The side and end walls of this second 
 story cannot with propriety be termed w^alls : 
 since most part of them are occupied by a 
 continuous line of Venetian shutters — the 
 " jalousies " of Jamaica. 
 
 These impart a singular cage-like appear- 
 ance to the house, at the same time contri- 
 buting to its coolness — a quality of primary 
 importance in a tropical climate. 
 
 Outside in the front centre a flight of broad 
 stone steps, resting upon arched mason- work, 
 and bordered by strong iron balustrades, con- 
 ducts to the level of the second storey — the 
 real dwelling-house : since the ground-floor is 
 entirely occupied by store-rooms and other 
 " offices."
 
 THE JMAEOON. 11 
 
 The entrance door is from tlie landing of 
 the aforesaid escalier, and conducts at once into 
 the " hall " — a spacious apartment, of crucifix- 
 shape, running clear across the building from 
 side to side, and end to end. The current of 
 air admitted by the open jalousies, passing 
 constantly through tliis apartment, renders 
 it at all times delightfully cool ; while the 
 lattice-work serves to mellow the glare of 
 light, which, under the sky of the tropins, is 
 almost as disagreeable as the heat. An un- 
 carpeted floor, composed of the hardest sorts 
 of native wood, and subjected to a diurnal 
 polish, contributes to increase the coolness. 
 
 This great hall is the principal apartment of 
 the dwelling. It is dining and drawing-room 
 in one — where side-boards and cheffoniers may 
 be seen in juxta-position vdih. lounge chairs, 
 fauteuils, and ottomans — a grand chandelier in 
 the centre extending its branches over all. 
 
 The bed-chambers occupy the square spaces 
 to one side of the cross ; and these also have 
 their jalousied windows to admit the air, and 
 exclude, as much as possible, the sultry rays of 
 the sun. 
 
 In Mount Welcome House, as in all other 
 country mansions of Jamaica, a stranger
 
 12 THE MAROON. 
 
 would remark a want of correspondence be- 
 tween the dwelling itself and tlie farniture 
 which it contains. The former might be re- 
 garded as slight, and even flimsy. But 
 it is this very character which renders it 
 appropriate to the climate, and hence the ab- 
 sence of substantiality or costliness in the style 
 and materials of the building. 
 
 The furniture, on the other hand — the solid 
 tables of mahogany, and other ornamental 
 woods — the shining carved side-boards — the 
 profuse show of silver and cut glass that rests 
 upon them — the elegant couches and chairs — 
 the glittering lamps and candelabras — all com- 
 bine to prove that the quasi meanness of the 
 Jamaica planter's establishment extends no 
 farther than to the walls of his house. If the 
 case be a cheap one, the jewels contained in it 
 are of the costliest kind. 
 
 Outside, the great house of Mount Welcome 
 looks grand enough. Its broad fagade, in 
 which the deep green of the jalousies contrasts 
 pleasantly with the white of the surrounding 
 walls — the massive stone stair- way in front — 
 the wooded mountain sweeping up and form- 
 ing a back-ground of variegated green — the 
 noble avenue of nearly a mile in length, with
 
 THE MAROON. 13 
 
 its double rows of tamarinds and cocoa-palms, 
 leading up in front from the lower end of the 
 valley — all contribute to produce a picture of 
 almost palatial grandeur. 
 
 Nor does a nearer view detract from the 
 splendour of this picture. The platform on 
 which the house is built affords s^Dace for a 
 large garden and shrubber}^, extending rear- 
 ward to the mountain-foot, from which they 
 are separated by a high wall of stone. 
 
 The mountain is a conspicuous feature of 
 the landscape. Not so much from its height : 
 for there are others of equal elevation near to 
 it ; and further off, though still within sight, 
 many still higher. Even the famed "Blue 
 Peak" is visible, towering hundreds of feet 
 above the surrounding summits. 
 
 Nor is it conspicuous from being isolated. 
 On the contrary, it is only a spur of that vast 
 elevated chain of hills, that, separated by deep 
 gorge-like valleys, and soaring thousands of 
 feet above the level of the Caribbean Sea, are 
 known as the " Blue Mountains of Jamaica." 
 
 Covering almost the entire area of the 
 island — which is thus broken into an endless 
 succession of gigantic corrugations — Jamaica 
 presents a surface rough and irregular as the
 
 14 THE MAROON. 
 
 crumplings upon a cabbage-leaf; and "land of 
 mountains " would be a title as appropriate as 
 its ancient Indian appellation, " the land of 
 fountains." 
 
 The bill wbicli overlooks the estate of 
 Mount "Welcome is less than two thousand 
 feet above sea-level; but what renders it re- 
 markable is the geometrical regularity of its 
 outlines, and, still more, its singularly- shaped 
 summit. 
 
 Viewed from the valley below, it presents 
 the appearance of an exact and somewhat acute 
 cone, up to within about fifty yards of its top. 
 There the sloping outline ends — the line on 
 each side thence trending vertically, and ab- 
 ruptly terminating in a square table-top, forty 
 or fifty feet in diameter. In general ap- 
 pearance, this truncated summit is not unlike 
 that of the famed " Cofre di Perote " of 
 Mexico. 
 
 The sloping sides of the mountain are 
 densely v/ooded, especially that fronting the 
 valley of Mount Welcome — towards which is 
 presented a broad frowning fa(^ade, thickly 
 clothed with a forest that appears primeval. 
 
 Alone at its top is it treeless — bare and bald 
 as the crown of a Franciscan friar. There
 
 THE MAROON. 15 
 
 stands tlie square coffer-like snmmit, a mass of 
 solid rock, wliicli repels the approach of the 
 vegetable giants that crowd closely around its 
 base, some of them stretching out their huge 
 arms as if to strangle or embrace it. 
 
 One tree alone has succeeded in scaling its 
 steep rampart-like wall. A noble palm — the 
 areca — has accomplished this feat, and stands 
 conspicuously upon the table-top, its plumed 
 leaves waving haughtily aloft, like a trium- 
 phal banner planted upon the parapet of some 
 conquered castle. 
 
 This summit rock presents a singular ap- 
 pearance. Its seamed and scarred surface is 
 mottled with a dark glaze, which during the 
 sunlight, and even under the mellower beams 
 of the moon, gives forth a coruscation,, as if 
 the light were reflected from scale armour. 
 
 To the denizens of the valley below it is 
 known as the Jumbe Bock — a name character- 
 istic of the superstitious ideas attached to it. 
 Though constantly before their eyes, and ac- 
 cessible by an hour's climbing up the forest 
 path, there is not a negro on the estate of 
 Mount Welcome, nor on any other for miles 
 around, that would venture alone to visit the 
 Jumbc rock ; and to most, if not all of them.
 
 16 THE MAROON. 
 
 the top of this mountain is as much of a terra 
 incognita as the summit of Chimborazo 1 
 
 I am speaking of a period more than half 
 a century ago. At that time the terror, that 
 was attached to the Jumbe Eock, did not 
 altogether owe its origin to a mere superstition. 
 It had been partly inspired by the remem- 
 brance of a horrid history. The rock had been 
 the scene of an execution, which for cruel and 
 cold-blooded barbarity rather deserves to be 
 called a crime. 
 
 That table-summit, like the blood-stained 
 temples of the Moctezumas, had been used as 
 an altar, upon which a human sacrifice had 
 been offered up. Not in times long past, 
 neither by the sanguinary priesthood of Azteca, 
 but by men of white skin and European 
 race — their victim a black and an African. 
 
 This incident, illustrating Jamaica justice 
 during the dark days of slavery, deserves to 
 be given in detail.
 
 CHAPTEE II. 
 
 THE MYAL-MAN. 
 
 In the West Indies, a few years previous to 
 tlie Emancipation, there was much agitation on 
 the subject of Oheah-ism. 
 
 The practice of this horrid art had become 
 appallingly common — so common that upon 
 almost every extensive estate in the island 
 there was a " professor " of it ; in other words, 
 an " Obeahman." " Professor," though often 
 used in speaking of these charlatans, is not a 
 correct title. To have professed it — at least 
 in the hearing of the whites — would have been 
 attended with peril : since it was punishable 
 by the death penalty. FractUioner is a more 
 appropriate appellation. 
 
 These mysterious doctors were almost al- 
 ways men — very rarely women — and usually 
 natives of Africa. Universally were they per- 
 sons of advanced age and hideous aspect : the 
 uglier the more successful in the pursuit of 
 their criminal calling. 
 
 VOL. I. c
 
 18 THE MAROON. 
 
 There was a class of tliem distinguished as 
 " myal-men," whose chief distinction consisted 
 in their being able to restore life to a dead body. 
 
 Such was the belief of their ignorant fellow 
 slaves, who little suspected that the defunct 
 subject had been all the while only dormant, 
 his death-like slumber secretly brought about 
 by the myal-man himself, assisted by a 
 prescription of the branched " calalue " — a 
 species of caladium. 
 
 I cannot here enter into an explanation of 
 the mysteries of Obi, which are simple enough 
 when understood, I have met it in every land 
 where it has been my lot to travel; and 
 although it holds a more conspicuous place in 
 the social life of the savage, it is also found in 
 the bye-lanes of civilization. 
 
 The reader, who may have been mystified 
 about its meaning, will perhaps understand 
 what it is, when I tell him that the oheah-man 
 of the West Indies is simply the counterpart 
 of the " medicine man " of the North- American 
 Indians, the "piuche" of the South, the 
 " rain-maker " of the Cape, the " fetish man " 
 of the Gruinea coast, and known by as many 
 other titles as there are tribes of uncivilized 
 men.
 
 THE MAROON. 19 
 
 It is ^Q first dmoning of relijion on the soul 
 of the savage ; but even when its malignant 
 spirit has become changed to a purer aspiration 
 after eternal life, it still lingers amidst the 
 haunts of ignorance, its original form almost 
 unaltered — loitchcraft. 
 
 To the statement above made — that on 
 every large plantation there was an obeah-man 
 — the estate of Mount Welcome was no excep- 
 tion. It, too, was blessed, or rather cursed, 
 by a follower of the art, an old Coromantee 
 negro — Chakra by name — a man whose fell 
 and ferocious aspect could not have failed to 
 make him one of the most popular of its 
 practitioners. 
 
 Such, to his misfortune, had he become. 
 
 He had long been suspected of having 
 poisoned his master, the former owner of the 
 estate, who had made an abrupt and mysterious 
 exit from the world. The fate of this man, 
 however, was not much lamented, as he bore 
 the reputation of being a cruel slave-master. 
 The present proprietor of Mount Welcome 
 had least reason to regret it : since it gave 
 him possession of an estate he had long 
 coveted. 
 
 It was greater chagrin to him, that since 
 
 c 2
 
 20 THE MAROON. 
 
 entering upon tlie enjoyment of tlie property, 
 several of Lis most valuable slaves had ter- 
 minated their existence suddenly, and in a 
 manner which could only be accounted for by 
 the supposition that Obi had accomplished 
 their destruction. 
 
 Chakra, the myal-man, was suspected of 
 causing their deaths. He was arraigned and 
 brought to trial. 
 
 His judges were three — three justices of the 
 neighbourhood — for that number was sufiicient 
 to pass the death-sentence upon a slave. The 
 president of the court was the man s own 
 master — Loftus Yaughan, Esquire, proprietor 
 of Mount Welcome, and custos rotulorum of 
 the precinct. 
 
 The substance of the crime charged against 
 Chakra was "practising the arts of Obi." 
 The charge had no reference to the death of 
 his former master. 
 
 The proofs were not very clear ; but were 
 deemed sufficiently so by the court to warrant 
 a conviction. 
 
 Strange to say that of the three justices, 
 the man's own master — the president of the 
 court — appeared the most anxious to bring the 
 trial to this termination. So anxious indeed.
 
 THE MAROON. 2l 
 
 tliat he used every effort to overrule the opi- 
 nions of the other two : his superior position as 
 custos giving him a certain power of controlling 
 the decision. One of them had actually pro- 
 nounced in favour of an acquittal ; but after 
 a whispering consultation with the custos, he 
 retracted his former opinion, and gave his 
 vote for the verdict. 
 
 There was a rumour at the time, that Loffcus 
 Vaughan, in this trial, was actuated by meaner 
 motives than either a stern love of justice, or 
 the desire to put down the practice of Obi. 
 There was a whisper abroad of some secrets — 
 family secrets — with which the Coromantee 
 had become acquainted ; some strange trans- 
 action, of which he was the sole living witness ; 
 and of such a character, that even the testimony 
 of a negro would have been an inconvenience; 
 and it was suspected that this, and not obeah- 
 ism, was the crime for which Chakra had to 
 answer with his life. 
 
 Whether this was true or not, the Coro- 
 mantee was condemned to die. 
 
 The trial was not more irregular than the 
 mode of execution, which these irresponsible 
 justices thought fit to decree. It was almost as
 
 22 THE MArcOON. 
 
 whimsical as it was cruel towards the wretched 
 criminal. 
 
 He was to be taken to the top of the Jumbe 
 rock, chained to the palm tree, and there left 
 to perish ! 
 
 It may be asked why this singular mode of 
 execution was selected. Why was he not hanged 
 upon the scaffold, or burnt at the stake — a 
 custom not unusual with condemned criminals 
 of his kind ? 
 
 The answer is easy. As already stated, at 
 this particular period, much unpleasant feeling 
 prevailed on the subject of obeah-ism. In 
 almost every district mysterious deaths had 
 occurred, and were occurring — not only of 
 black slaves, but of white masters, and even 
 mistresses — all attributed to the baneful in- 
 fluence of Obi. 
 
 The African demon was ubiquitous, but 
 invisible. Everywhere could be witnessed his 
 skeleton hand upon the wall, but nowhere 
 hims'elf. It had become necessary to make a 
 conspicuous example of his worshippers. The 
 voice of all planterdom called for it ; and the 
 myal-man, Chakra, was selected for that 
 example — in the belief that his fearful fate
 
 THE MAROON. 23 
 
 would terrify the votaries of the vile super- 
 stition to their very hearts' core. 
 
 The Jumhe rock suggested itself as the 
 most appropriate place for the execution of 
 the Coromantee. The terrors with which the 
 place was already invested — added to those 
 now to be inspired by the fearful form of 
 punishment of which it was to be the scene — 
 would exert a beneficial effect on the supersti- 
 tious understandings of the slaves, and for 
 ever destroy their belief in Obeah and Ob- 
 boney. 
 
 Under this belief was the myal-man escorted 
 up to the summit of the Jumbe rock; and, 
 like a modern Prometheus, chained there. 
 
 No guards were placed near him — none 
 were required to stay by the spot. His chains, 
 and the terror inspired by the act, were deemed 
 sufficient to prevent any interference with his 
 fate. 
 
 In a few days, thirst and hunger, aided by 
 the vultures, would perform the final and fatal 
 ceremony — as surely as the rope of the hang- 
 man, or the axe of the executioner. 
 
 ***** 
 
 It was long before Loftus Yaughan ascended 
 the mountain to ascertain the fate of the
 
 24 THE MAROON. 
 
 unfortunate negro, his ci-devanis\siYe. When, 
 stimulated by curiosity, and, perhaps, a motive 
 still stronger — he, at length, climbed to the 
 top of the Jumbe rock, his hopes and expec- 
 tations were alike confirmed. A skeleton, 
 picked clean by the John-crows, hung suspend- 
 ed to the stem of the tree ! 
 
 A rusty chain, warped around the bones, 
 kept the skeleton in place. 
 
 Loftus Yaughan had no inclination to dwell 
 long upon the spot. To him the sight was 
 fearful. One glance, and he hurried away ; 
 but far more fearful — far more terrifying — 
 was that which he saw, or fancied he saw, 
 in passing homeward down the forest path — 
 either the ghost of the myal-man, or the man 
 himself !
 
 CHAPTEE III. 
 
 A JAMAICA DEJEUNER. 
 
 On a tranquil morning in tlie fair month of 
 May — fair in Jamaica, as elsewhere on the 
 earth — a large bell ringing in the great hall 
 of Mount Welcome announced the hour of 
 breakfast. 
 
 As yet there were no guests around the table, 
 nor in the hall — only the black and coloured 
 domestics, who, to the number of half-a- 
 dozen, had just come up from the kitchen with 
 trays and dishes containing the viands that 
 were to compose the meal. 
 
 Though but two chairs were placed by the 
 table — and the disposition of the plates, knives, 
 and forks indicated that it had been set for 
 only that number of guests — the profusion of 
 dishes, thickly covering the snow-white damask 
 cloth, might have led to the belief that a large 
 party was expected. 
 
 It was emphatically a dejeitner a la fourcheite. 
 There were cutlets plain, and ^fi^hsaucepiquante^
 
 26 THE MAROON. 
 
 cavisJiedfi^]i, entrees of devilled fowl and duck, 
 broiled salmon, and the like. These //or.? d'oBuvres 
 were placed around the table, while a cold ham 
 on one dish, and a tongue on another, oc- 
 cupied the centre. 
 
 Of " bread kind " there were mealy yams — 
 some mashed with milk and butter, and 
 dished up in shapes — roast plantains, hot rolls, 
 toast, cassada cakes, and sweet potatoes. 
 
 But that a splendid silver tea-ser^dce, and^ 
 a large glittering urn were conspicuous, the 
 spread might have been mistaken for a dinner, 
 rather than the matutinal meal. The hour — 
 nine o'clock a.m. — also precluded the idea of its 
 being dinner. 
 
 Whoever were to be the guests at this table, 
 it was intended they should fair sumptuously. 
 So did they every day of their lives ; for 
 there was nothing occasional in that morn- 
 ing's meal. Both the style and the profase- 
 ness were of diurnal occurrence — the mode of 
 Jamaica. 
 
 Soon after the tones of the bell had ceased 
 to vibrate through the hall, they for whom the 
 summons was intended made their appearance 
 — entering from opposite sides, not together, 
 but one coming in a little before the other.
 
 THE MAROON. '^ t 
 
 The first was a gentleman of somewliat 
 over middle age, of a hale complexion, and fall, 
 portly form. 
 
 He was dressed in a suit of nankeens — 
 jacket and trousers, both of ample make — the 
 former open in front, and displaying a shirt 
 bosom of finest white linen, the broad plaits of 
 which were uncovered by any vest. A wide 
 turn-down collar was folded back, exhibiting a 
 full development of throat — which, with the 
 broad jaws of ruddy hue, appeared clean and 
 freshly shaven. 
 
 From a fob in the waistband of his trousers 
 hung a massive gold chain, with a bunch of 
 seals and watch-keys at one end ; while at the 
 other was an immense chronometer watch of 
 the old-fashioned " guinea gold," with white 
 dial, upon which the black figures were con- 
 spicuously painted. The watch itself could be 
 seen ; as, on entering, the wearer had drawn it 
 out of its fob with a view of ascertaining 
 whether his servants were punctual to the 
 minute : for the gentleman in question was a 
 very martinet in such matters. 
 
 Loftus Vaughan, Esq., proprietor of Mount 
 Welcome, — Justice of the Peace, and Ciisfos 
 Rotulorum, — was the man thus characterized.
 
 28 THE MAROON. 
 
 After casting a scrutinizing glance at the 
 display of viands, and apparently satisfied with, 
 what he saw, the master of Mount Welcome 
 seated himself before the table, his face beaming 
 with a smile of pleasant anticij)ation. 
 
 He had scarce taken his seat when a fair 
 apparition appeared entering from the further 
 end of the hall — a young virgin-like creature, 
 looking as fresh and roseate as the first rays of 
 the Aurora. 
 
 She was habited in a dress, or rather an un- 
 dress, of purest white : a morning wrapper of 
 fine lawn, that, fitting closely behind, displayed 
 the waving contour of her back. In front, the 
 dress fell in loose folds — scarce, however, con- 
 cealing the full, bold outlines of her bosom; 
 and then draped gracefully downward, so low 
 as to leave nothing visible but the tips of a 
 pair of tiny satin slippers, alternately showing 
 themselves like white mice as the young girl 
 glided over the polished surface of the fioor. 
 
 Her throat, full and finely rounded, was en- 
 circled with a string of amber beads ; and a 
 crimson blossom — the beautiful bell of the 
 Quamoclit — glittered amidst the ample folds 
 of her hair. This, of a rich chestnut colour, 
 was parted on her forehead, and carried in a
 
 THE MAROON. 29 
 
 curving sweep over cheeks that rivalled the 
 radiance of the flower. 
 
 It would have required an experienced eye 
 — one well acquainted with the physiological 
 characteristics of race — to have told that that 
 young girl was not of the purest Caucasian 
 blood. And yet the sHght undulation of 
 the hair ; a rotund rather than an oval face ; 
 eyes of darkest umber, with a light gleaming 
 perpetually in the pupils ; a singular picture- 
 like expression in the colouring of the cheeks 
 — were all characteristics, that proclaimed the 
 presence of the sang-melee. 
 
 Slight indeed was the taint ; and it seems 
 like profanation to employ the phrase, when 
 speaking of a creature so beautifully fair — for 
 beautifully fair was the daughter of Loffcus 
 Yaughan. She was his only daughter — the 
 only member of his family : for the proprietor 
 of Mount Welcome was a widower. 
 
 On entering the hall, the young girl did 
 not proceed directly to seat herself; but, glid- 
 ing behind the chair occupied by her father, 
 she flung her arms around his neck, and im- 
 printed a kiss upon his forehead. 
 
 It was her usual matutinal salute; and
 
 30 THE jMAROON. 
 
 proved that on that morning they had met for 
 the first time. 
 
 Not that it was the first appearance of 
 either : for both tad been mnch earlier abroad 
 — ^up with the sun, indeed, as is the universal 
 custom in Jamaica. 
 
 Mr. Yaughan had entered the hall from 
 the front door, and the broad-brimmed Lesr- 
 horn hat, and cane carried in his hand, told 
 that he had been out for a walk — perhaps to 
 inspect the labour going on at the " works," 
 or ascertain the progress made in the cultiva- 
 tion of his extensive cane-fields. * 
 
 His daughter, on the contrary, might have 
 been seen entering the house some half-hour 
 before, in riding costume — hat, habit, and 
 whip — proving that her morning exercise had 
 been taken on horseback. 
 
 After saluting her father as described, the 
 young girl took her seat in front of the coffee 
 urn, and commenced performing the duties of 
 the table. 
 
 In this she was assisted by a girl apparently 
 of her own age, but of widely-different ap- 
 pearance. Her waiting-maid it was, who, 
 having entered at the same time, had taken
 
 THE MAROON. 31 
 
 her station behind the chair of her mis- 
 tress. 
 
 There was sometliing strikingly peculiar in 
 the aspect of this personage — as well in her 
 figure as in the colour of her skin. She was 
 of that slender classic shape which we find in 
 antique sculptures — like the forms of the 
 Hindoo women known in England as " ayahs " 
 and differing altogether from the negro outline. 
 Her complexion, too, was not that of a n egress 
 — still less of a mulatta or quadroon. It was 
 an admixture of black and red, resulting in a 
 chestnut or mahogany colour ; which, with the 
 deep damask tincture upon her cheeks, pro- 
 duced an impression not unpleasing. 
 
 Nor were the features at all of a nesrro 
 type. On the contrary, far removed from it. 
 The lips were thin, the face oval, and the nose 
 of an aquiline shape — such features as may be 
 traced on Egyptian sculptured stones, or may 
 be seen in living forms in the lands of the 
 Arab. 
 
 Her hair was not woolly, though it differed 
 altogether from the hair of a European. It 
 was straight, and jet black, yet scarcely reach- 
 ing to her shoulders. Not that it had been 
 shortened b}^ the scissors : for it appeared to
 
 32 THE MAROON. 
 
 be at its fullest growth. ; and, hanging, as it 
 did, loosely over her ears, it imparted a youth- 
 ful appearance to the brown- skinned damsel. 
 
 The girl was far from ill-looking ; and, to 
 an eye accustomed to her " style," she may 
 have appeared even handsome. Her elegant 
 shape, exposed by the extreme scantiness of 
 her costume — a sleeveless robe, with a Madras 
 kerchief worn a la toque upon her head — ^her 
 graceful attitudes, which seemed natural to her, 
 either when in motion or standing poised be- 
 hind the chair of her mistress; the quick 
 glance of her fine, fiery eyes; and the pearl- 
 like whiteness of her teeth ; all contributed to 
 make up a picture that was far from common- 
 place. 
 
 This young girl was a slave — the slave 
 Yola,
 
 CHAPTEE lY. 
 
 TWO LETTERS. 
 
 Instead of standing in the middle of the 
 floor, the breakfast table had been placed close 
 to the front window — in order that, with the 
 jalousies thrown open, the fresh air might be 
 more freely felt, while at the same time a view 
 could be obtained of the landscape outside. 
 A splendid view it was, comprising the val- 
 ley with its long palm-shaded avenue, a reach 
 of the Montego river, the roofs and spires of 
 the town, the shipping in the bay and road- 
 stead, the bay itself, and the blue Caribbean 
 beyond. 
 
 Striking as was this landscape, Mr. Yaughan 
 just then showed no inclination to look upon 
 it. He was too busily occupied with the rich 
 viands upon the table ; and when he at length 
 found time to glance over the window-sill, 
 his glance extended no further than to the 
 negro " gang " at work among the canes — to 
 see if his drivers were doing their duty. 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 34 THE MAROON. 
 
 The eyes of Miss Yanghan were oftener 
 directed to the outside view. It was at this 
 hour that one of the servants usually returned 
 from Montego Bay, bringing the letters from 
 the post-office. There was nothing in her 
 manner that betrayed any particular anxiety 
 about his arrival ; but simply that lively in- 
 terest which young ladies in all countries feel 
 when expecting the postman — hoping for one 
 of those little letters of twelve sheets with 
 closely-written and crossed lines, most difficult 
 to decipher, and yet to them more interesting 
 than even the pages of the newest novel. 
 
 Yery soon a dark object, of rudely Centaurean 
 form, appeared coming along the avenue ; and, 
 shortly after, an imp-like negro lad upon the 
 back of a rough pony galloped up to the front 
 entrance. This was Quashie — ^the post-boy, 
 of Mount Welcome. 
 
 If Miss Yaughan expected a billet, she was 
 doomed to disappointment. There were only 
 two letters in the bag, with a newspaper ; and 
 all three were for the Gustos himself. 
 
 All bore the English post-mark ; and the 
 superscription of one of the letters was by 
 him at once recognized — a pleasant smile
 
 THE MAROON. 35 
 
 stealing over his features as lie Lroke open 
 tlie seal. 
 
 A few moments sufficed to make liim master 
 of its contents, when the smile increased to a 
 look of vivid gratification; and, rising from 
 his chair, he paced for some time back and 
 forward, snapping his fingers, and ejaculating, 
 " Grood — good ! I thought so ! " 
 
 His daughter regarded this behaviour with 
 surprise. Gravity was her father's habit, at 
 times amountinor to austeritv. Such an ex- 
 hibition of gaiety was rare with Loftus 
 Vaughan. 
 . " Some pleasing news, papa? " 
 
 " Yes, you little rogue ; very." 
 
 "May I not hear it?" 
 
 " Yes — no — no — not yet awhile." 
 
 " Papa ! It is cruel of you to keep it from 
 me. I promise I shall share your joy." 
 
 "Ah ! you will when you Iiear the news — 
 that is, if you're not a little simpleton, Kate." 
 
 "la simpleton, papa? I shall not be called 
 so." 
 
 " Wliy, you'll be a simpleton if you don't 
 be joyful — when you — never mind, child — I'll 
 tell you all about it by-and-by. Good, good ! "
 
 36 THK MAROON. 
 
 continued he, in a state of ecstatic frenzy. " I 
 thought so — I knew he would come/' 
 
 " Then you expect some one, papa? " 
 
 "I do. Guess who it is ! " 
 
 " How could I ? You know I am unac- 
 quainted with your English friends/' 
 
 " Not with their names ? You have heard 
 their names, and seen letters from some of 
 them ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, I often hear you speak of one — 
 Mr. Smythje. A very odd name it is ! I 
 wouldn't be called Smythje for the world/' 
 
 " Ta, ta, child 1 Smythje is a very pretty 
 name, especially with Montagu before it. 
 Montagu is magnificent. Besides, Mr. 
 Smythje is the owner of Montagu Castle." 
 
 " Oh, papa ! how can that make his name 
 sound any better ? Is it he whom you ex- 
 pect ? " 
 
 " Yes, dear. He writes to say that he will 
 come by the next ship — the /Sea Nywjjh she 
 is called. She was to sail a week after the 
 letter was written, so that we may look out 
 for his arrival in a few days. Gad ! I must 
 prepare for him. You know Montagu Castle 
 is out of repair. He is to be my guest ; and,
 
 THE MAKOON. 37 
 
 liark yon, Catherine ! " continued tlie planter, 
 once more seating himself at the table, and 
 bending towards his daughter, so that his 
 sotto voce might not be overheard by the do- 
 mestics, "you must do your best to entertain 
 this young stranger. He is said to be an ac- 
 complished gentleman, and I know he is a rich 
 one. It is to my interest to be friendly with 
 him," added Mr. Yaughan, in a still lower 
 tone of voice, and as if in soliloquy, but loud 
 enough for his daughter to hear w^hat was said. 
 
 " Dear j^apa ! " was the reply, " how could 
 I be otherwise than polite to him ? If only 
 for your sake " 
 
 " If only for i/our own'' said the father, in- 
 terrupting her, and accompanying the remark 
 with a sly look and laugh. "But, dear Ca- 
 therine," continued he, " we shall find time to 
 talk of this again. I must read the other 
 letter. Who on earth can it be from ? Egad ! 
 I never saw the writing before.'* 
 
 The announcement of the projected visit of 
 Mr. Montagu Smythje, with the trumpet-like 
 flourish of his many accomplishments — wdiich 
 Kate Vaughan had not now listened to for the 
 first time — appeared to produce in the heart 
 of the young lady no very vivid emotions of
 
 38 THE MAROON. 
 
 pleasure. She received it with perfect indif- 
 ference, not seeming to care much one way or 
 the other. If there was a balance, it was 
 rather against him : for it so chanced that 
 much of what she had heard in relation to 
 this gentleman was not at all calculated to 
 prepossess her in his favour. 
 
 She had heard that he was an exquisite — a 
 fop, in fact — perhaps of all other characters 
 the one most repulsive to a young Creole : for, 
 notwithstanding the natural disposition of 
 these to become enamoured of fine personal 
 appearance, it must be accompanied by certain 
 qualities of mind, if not of the highest 
 morality, or even intellectuality, yet differing 
 altogether from the frivolous accomplishments 
 of mere dandyism. 
 
 Nature, that inspires the Creole maiden to 
 give her loliole heart away and without any re- 
 serve, has also taught her to bestow it with 
 judgment. Instinct warns her not to lay her 
 precious offering upon an altar unworthy of 
 the sacrifice. 
 
 There was another circumstance calculated 
 to beget within the heart of Kate Vaughan a 
 certain feeling of repulsion towards the lord 
 of Montagu Castle ; and that was the conduct
 
 THE MAROON. 39 
 
 of her own fatlier in regard to this matter. 
 Erom time to time — when speaking of Mr. 
 Montagu Smythje — he had made use of cer- 
 tain expressions and innuendoes, which, though 
 couched in ambiguous language, his daughter 
 very easily comprehended. 
 
 The heart of woman is quick, as it is 
 subtle, in the understanding of all that relates 
 to the disposal of itself ; and this even at the 
 earliest age of maidenhood. It is prone to 
 repel any effort to guide it from its natural 
 inclinings, or rob it of its right to choose. 
 
 Mr. Yaughan, in his ignorance of these 
 rather recondite truths, was erecting a barrier 
 to his own designs, all the while that he 
 fancied he was successfully clearing the track 
 of presumptive obstructions, and making the 
 path smooth and easy. 
 
 At match-making he was likely to prove a 
 bungler : for it was evident that match-making 
 was in his mind. 
 
 ''ISTever saw the handwriting before," said 
 he, in repetition, as he broke open the seal of 
 the second epistle. 
 
 If the contents of the first had filled him 
 with joy, those of the second produced an 
 effect directly the opposite.
 
 40 THE MAKOON. 
 
 " 'Sdeath ! " exclaimed he, crushing the 
 letter, as he finished reading it, and once more 
 nervously springing to his feet. "Dead or 
 living, that ill-starred brother of mine 
 seems as if created to be a curse to me 1 
 While alive, always v^anting money ; and now 
 that he is dead sending his son — a never-do- 
 well, like himself — to trouble, and, perhaps, 
 disgrace me." 
 
 " Dear father 1 " said the young girl, 
 startled more by his wild demeanour than 
 what he was saying — for the words were 
 muttered in a low voice, and rather in so- 
 liloquy — " has the other letter brought un- 
 pleasant news ? " 
 
 " Ah ! that it has. You may read for your- 
 self." 
 
 And once more seating himself, he tossed 
 the unwelcome epistle across the table, and 
 recommenced eating with apparent voracity — 
 as if by that means to tranquillize his per- 
 turbed spirit. 
 
 Kate took up the rejected letter; and, 
 smoothing out the paper, ran her eye over the 
 contents. 
 
 The perusal did not require much time : for 
 considering that the letter had made such a
 
 THE MAROON. 41 
 
 long journey, its contents were of tlie short- 
 est : — 
 
 London, June 10, 18 — . 
 '' Dear Uncle, 
 
 I have to announce to vou the melan- 
 choly intelligence that your brother, my dear 
 father, is no more. His last words were, that 
 I should go over to you : and, acting in ac- 
 cordance with his wish, I liave taken passage 
 for Jamaica. The ship is the Sea Nt/mjjJt, and 
 is to sail upon the ISth instant. I do not 
 know how long we shall be at sea, but I hope 
 it will prove a shdrt voyage : as poor father's 
 eflPects w^ere all taken by the sheriffs officer, 
 and I am compelled, for want of money, to take 
 passage in the sfecraf/c, which I have been told 
 is anything but a luxurious mode of travelling. 
 But I am young and strong, and no doubt 
 shall be able to endure it. 
 
 '' Yours affectionately, 
 
 " Herbert Yaughan.'' 
 
 Whatever effect the reading of the letter 
 may have had upon Kate Yaughan, it cei- 
 tainly did not produce indignation. On the 
 contrary, an expression of S3'mpathy stole 
 over her face as slie mastered the contents or
 
 42 THE MAKOON. 
 
 the epistle ; and on finishing it, the phrase, 
 " poor fellow ! " dropped as if involuntarily, 
 and just audibly, from her lips. 
 
 Not that she knew anything of Herbert 
 Yaughan, more than the name, and that he 
 was her cousin ; but the word cousin has an 
 attractive sound, especially in the ears of young 
 people, equalling in interest — at times even 
 surpassing — that of sister or brother. 
 
 Though uttered, as we have said, in a tone 
 almost inaudible, the words reached the ears 
 of her father, 
 
 " Poor fellow ! " he repeated, turning sharply 
 to his daughter, and regarding her with a 
 glance of displeasure, " I am surprised, Kate, 
 to hear you speak in that strain of one you 
 know nothing about — one who has done 
 nothing to deserve your compassion. An 
 idle, good-for-nothing fellow — just as his 
 father was before him. And only to think 
 of it — coming over here a steerage passenger, 
 in the very same ship with Mr. Montagu 
 Smythje ! 'Sdeath ! What a disgrace ! Mr. 
 Smythje will be certain to know who he is — 
 though he is not likely to associate with such 
 ca7iaiUe. He cannot fail to notice the fellow, 
 however : and when he sees him here, will
 
 THE MAROON. 43 
 
 be sure to remember liim. Ah ! I must take 
 some steps to prevent that. Poor fellow, 
 indeed ! Yes, poor enough, but not in that 
 sense. Like his father, I suppose, who fiddled 
 his life away among paint-brushes and 
 palettes instead of following some profitable 
 employment, and all for the sake of being 
 called an artist ! Poor fiddlestick ! Bah ! 
 Don't let me hear you talk in that strain 
 again ! " 
 
 And as Mr. Vaughan ended his ill-natured 
 harangue, he tore the wrapper ofi* the news- 
 paper, and endeavoured, among its contents, 
 to distract his mind from dwelling longer on 
 the unpleasant theme either of the epistle, 
 or him who had written it. 
 
 The young girl, abashed and disconcerted 
 by the unusual violence of the rebuke, sat 
 with downcast eyes, and without making any 
 reply. The red colour had deepened upon 
 her cheeks, and mounted to her forehead ; but, 
 notwithstanding the outrage done to her feel- 
 ings, it was eas}^ to see that the sympathy she 
 had expressed, for her poor but unknown cou- ' 
 sin, was felt as sensibly as ever. 
 
 So far from having stifled or extinguished 
 it, the behaviour of her father was more
 
 44 THE MAROON. 
 
 likely to liave given it increase and strength : 
 for tlie adage of the " stolen waters " is still 
 true ; and the forbidden fruit is as tempting 
 now as upon the morning of creation. As 
 it was in the beginning, so will it ever 
 be.
 
 ClIAPTEE Y. 
 
 THE SLAVER. 
 
 A HOT West-Indian sun was rapidly declining 
 towards the Caribbean Sea — as if hastening to 
 cool his fiery orb in the blue water — when a 
 ship, that had rounded Pedro Point, in the 
 Island of Jamaica, was seen standing east- 
 ward for Montego Pay. 
 
 She was a three-masted vessel — a barque — 
 as could be told by the lateen rig of her mizen- 
 mast — and apparently of some three or four 
 hundred tons burden. 
 
 As she was running under one of the gen- 
 tlest of breezes, all her canvas was spread; 
 and the weather-worn appearance of her sails 
 denoted that she was making land at the 
 termination of a long ocean voyage. This was 
 further manifest by the faded paint upon her 
 sides, and the dark, dirt-coloured blotches that 
 marked the position of her hawse-holes and 
 scuppers. 
 
 Besides the private ensign that streamed,
 
 46 THE MAROON. 
 
 pennon-like from lier peak, another trailed 
 over her taffrail; which, unfolded by the 
 motion of the vessel, displayed a blue starry 
 field with white and crimson stripes. In this 
 case the flag was appropriate— that is, in its 
 stripes and their colour. Though justly 
 vaunted as the flag of the free, here was it 
 covering a cargo of slaves : the ship was a 
 slaver. 
 
 After getting fairly inside the bay, bnt still 
 at a long distance from the town, she was ob- 
 served suddenly to tack \ and, instead of con- 
 tinuing on towards the harbour, head for a 
 point on the southern side, where the shore 
 was uninhabited and solitary. 
 
 On arriving within a mile of the land she 
 took in sail, until every inch of canvas was 
 furled upon her yards. Then the sharp 
 rattling of the chain, as it dragged through 
 the iron ring of the hawse-hole, announced 
 the dropping of an anchor. 
 
 In a few moments after the ship swung 
 round ; and, drifting till the chain cable be- 
 came tant, lay motionless upon the water. 
 
 The object for which the slaver had thus 
 anchored short of the harbour will be learnt 
 by our going aboard of her — though this was
 
 THE MAROON. 47 
 
 a privilege not granted to tlie idle or curious. 
 Only tlie initiated were permitted to'witness 
 the spectacle of which her decks now became 
 the theatre : only those who had an interest 
 in the disposal of her cargo. 
 
 Viewed from a distance, the slaver lay appa- 
 rently inert ; but for all that a scene of active 
 life was passing upon her deck — a scene of 
 rare and painful interest. 
 
 She carried a cargo of two hundred human 
 beings — " bales," according to the phraseology 
 of the slave-trader. These bales were not 
 exactly alike. It was, as her skipper jocularly 
 styled it, an " assorted cargo " — that is, one 
 shipped on different points of the African 
 coast, and, consequently, embracing many 
 distinct varieties of the Ethiopian race. There 
 was the tawny, but intelligent Mandingo, and 
 by his side the Jolof of ebon hue. There the 
 fierce and warlike Coromantee, alongside the 
 docile and submissive Pawpaw; the yellow 
 Ebo, with the visage of a baboon, wretched 
 and desponding, face to face with the cannibal 
 Moco, or chained wrist to wrist with the light- 
 hearted native of Con^ro and Anerola. 
 
 None, however, appeared of light heart on 
 board the slaver. The horrors of the " middle
 
 48 . THE MAROON. 
 
 passage " had equally affected them all, until 
 the dancing Congese, and the Lucumi, prone 
 to suicide, seemed equally to suffer from 
 dejection. The bright picture that now pre- 
 sented itself before their eyes — a landscape 
 gleaming with all the gay colours of tropical 
 vegetation — was viewed by them with very 
 different emotions. Some seemed to regard it 
 with indifference ; others it reminded of their 
 own African homes, from which they had been 
 dragged by rude and ruffian men ; while not 
 a few gazed upon the scene with feelings of 
 keen apprehension — believing it to be the 
 dreaded Koomi, the land of the gigantic can- 
 nibals — and that they had been brought thither 
 to be eaten! 
 
 Reflection might have convinced them that 
 this would scarcely be the intention of the 
 Tobon-doo — those white tyrants who had carried 
 them across the ocean. The hard, unhusked 
 rice, and coarse maize corn — their only food 
 during the voyage — were not viands likely to 
 fatten them for the feast of Anthropophagi ; 
 and their once smooth and shining skins now 
 exhibited a dry, shrivelled appearance, from the 
 surface coating of dandruff, and the scars of 
 the hideous cra-cra.
 
 THE MAROON. 49 
 
 The blacks among them, by the hardships 
 of that fearful voyage, had turned ashy grey 
 and the yellows of a sickly and bilious hue. 
 Males and females — for there were many of 
 the latter — appeared to have been alike the 
 objects of ill-usage, the victims of a starved 
 stomach and a stifled atmosphere. 
 
 Some half-dozen of the latter — seen in the 
 precincts of the cabin — presented a different 
 aspect. These were young girls, picked from 
 the common crowd on account of the supe- 
 riority of their personal charms; and the 
 flaunting vestments that adorned their bodies 
 — contrasting with the complete nudity of 
 their fellow-voyagers — told too plainly why 
 they had been thus distinguished. A horrid 
 contrast — wantonness in the midst of woe ! 
 
 On the quarter-deck stood the slave-skipper 
 — a tall, lathy individual of sallow hue — and, 
 beside him, his mate — a dark-bearded ruffian ; 
 while a score of like stamp, but lower grade, 
 acting under their orders, were distributed in 
 different parts of the ship. 
 
 These last, as they tramped to and fro over 
 the deck, might be heard at intervals giving 
 utterance to profane oaths — as often laying 
 violent hands upon one or other of their un- 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 THE MAROON. 
 
 fortunate captives — apparently out of the sheer 
 wantonness of cruelty ! 
 
 Immediately after the anchor had been 
 dropped, and the ropes belayed and coiled in 
 their places, a new scene of this disgusting 
 drama was entered upon. The living " bales," 
 hitherto restrained below, were now ordered, 
 or rather driven, upon deck — not all at once, 
 but in lots of three or four at a time. Each 
 individual, as he came up the hatchway, was 
 rudely seized by a sailor, who stood by with a 
 soft brush in his hand and a pail at his feet ; 
 the latter containing a black composition of 
 gunpowder, lemon-juice, and palm-oil. Of 
 this mixture the unresisting captive received a 
 coating ; which, by the hand of another sailor, 
 was rubbed into the skin, and then polished 
 with a " dandybrush," until the sable epider- 
 mis glistened like a newly-blacked boot. 
 
 A strange operation it might have appeared 
 to those who saw it, had they not been ini- 
 tiated into its object and meaning. But to 
 the spectators there present it was no uncom- 
 mon sight. It was not the first time those 
 unfeeling men had assisted at the spectacle of 
 black bales being made ready for the market! 
 
 One after another were the dark-skinned
 
 THE MAROON. 51 
 
 victims of human cupidity brougM from be- 
 low, and submitted to this demoniac anoint- 
 ment — to which one and all yielded with an 
 appearance of patient resignation, like sheep 
 under the hands of the shearer. 
 
 In the looks of many of them could be de- 
 tected the traces of that apprehension felt in 
 the first hours of their captivity, and which 
 had not yet forsaken them. Might not this 
 process be a prelude to some fearful sacrifice ? 
 
 Even the females were not exempted from 
 this disgusting desecration of God's image ; 
 and they too, one after another, were passed 
 through the hands of the rough operators, 
 with an accompaniment of brutal jests, and 
 peals of ribald laughter ! 

 
 CHAPTER YI. 
 
 JOWLER AND JESSURON. 
 
 Almost on the same instant that the slave- 
 barque had dropped anchor, a small boat shot 
 out from the silent shore; which, as soon as 
 it had got fairly clear of the land, could be 
 seen to be steering in the direction of the 
 newly-anchored vessel. 
 
 There were three men in the boat — two of 
 whom were plying the oars. These were both 
 black men — naked, with the exception of dirty 
 white trousers covering their limbs, and coarse 
 palm-leaf hats upon their heads. 
 
 The third occupant of the skiff — for such 
 was the character of the boat — was a white, 
 or more properly, a wJdtisk man. He was 
 seated in the stern-sheets, with a tiller-rope in 
 each hand; and steering the craft — as his 
 elbows held a-kimbo, and the occasional mo- 
 tion of his arms testified. He bore not the 
 slightest resemblance to the oarsmen, either 
 in the colour of his skin, or the costume that
 
 THE MAROON. 53 
 
 covered it. Indeed, it would not have been 
 easy to have found his counterpart anywhere 
 either on land or at sea. 
 
 He appeared to be about sixty years old — 
 he might have been more or less — and had 
 once been white ; but long exposure to a West- 
 Indian sun, combined with the numerous dirt- 
 bedaubed creases and furrows in his skin, had 
 darkened his complexion to the hue of leaf- 
 tobacco. 
 
 His features, naturally of an angular shape, 
 had become so narrowed and sharpened by age 
 as to leave scarce anything in front ; and to 
 get a view of his face it was necessary to step 
 to one side, and scan it en profil. 
 
 Thus viewed, there was breadth enough, 
 and features of the most prominent character 
 — including a nose like the claw of a lobster 
 — a sharp, projecting chin — with a deep 
 embayment between, marking the locality of 
 the lips : the outline of all suggesting a great 
 resemblance to the profile of a parrot, but 
 still greater to that of a Jew — for such, in 
 reality was its type. 
 
 When the mouth was opened in a smile — a 
 rare occurrence, however — only two teeth could 
 be detected within, standing far apart, like two
 
 54 THE MAROON. 
 
 sentinels guarding the approach to the dark 
 cavern within. 
 
 This singular countenance was lighted up 
 by a pair of black, watery orbs, that glistened 
 like the eyes of an otter; and eternally glis- 
 tened, except when their owner was asleep — 
 a condition in which it was said he was rarely 
 or never caught. 
 
 The natural blackness of his eyes was ren- 
 dered deeper by contrast with long white eye- 
 brows running more than half-way around 
 them, and meeting over the narrow ridge ot 
 the nose. Hair upon the head there was 
 none — that is, none that was visible — a skull- 
 cap of whitish cotton- stuff covering the w^hole 
 crown, and coming down over both ears. 
 Over this was a white beaver hat, whose 
 worn nap and broken edges told of long 
 service. 
 
 A pair of large green goggles, resting on 
 the humped bridge of his nose, protected his 
 eyes from the sun ; though they might, per- 
 haps, have been worn for another purpose — to 
 conceal the villainous expression of the orbs 
 that sparkled beneath them. 
 
 A sky-blue cloth coat, whitened by long 
 wear, with metal buttons, once bright, now
 
 THE MAROON. 55 
 
 clianged to the line of bronze; small-clothes 
 of buff kerseymere glistening with grease ; 
 long stockings, and tarnished top-boots, made 
 up the costume of this unique individual. A 
 large blue cotton umbrella rested across his 
 knees, as both hands were occupied in steer- 
 ing the skiff. 
 
 The portrait here given — or, perhaps, it 
 should be styled profile — is that of Jacob Jes- 
 suron, the slave-merchant ; an Israelite of Ger- 
 manic breed, but one in whom — it would not 
 have been truth to say — there was " no guile." 
 
 The two oarsmen were simply his slaves. 
 
 The little craft had put out from the shore 
 — from a secluded spot at a distance from the 
 town, but still within view of it. It was 
 evidently making for the newly-anchored 
 barque ; and evidently rowed at its best speed. 
 Indeed, the steersman appeared to be urging 
 his blacks to the exertion of their utmost 
 strength. From time to time he was seen to 
 twist his body half round and look towards 
 the town — as though he expected or dreaded 
 to see a rival boat coming from that quarter, 
 and was desirous to reach the barque ahead of 
 her. 
 
 If such was his design it proved successful.
 
 56 THE MAROON. 
 
 Although his little skifF was a considerable 
 time in traversing the distance from shore to 
 ship — a distance of at least a mile — he arrived 
 at the point of his destination without any 
 other boat making its appearance. 
 
 " Sheep ahoy 1 '' shouted he, as the skiff was 
 pulled up under the larboard quarter of the 
 barque. 
 
 " Ay, ay ! " responded a voice from above. 
 
 " Ish that Captain Showier I hearsh ? " 
 
 " Hilloo ! who's there ? " interrogated some 
 one on the quarter-deck ; and the moment 
 after, the sallow face of Captain Aminadab 
 Jowler presented itself at the gangway. 
 
 " Ah ! Mister Jessuron, that you, eh ? 
 Determined to have fust peep at my blackeys ? 
 Well ! fust kim, fust served ; that's my rule. 
 Glad to see you, old fellow. HoAv'd deo ? " 
 
 " Fusht-rate ! — fusht-rate 1 I hopsh you're 
 the same yourshelf, Captain Showier. How ish 
 you for cargo ? " 
 
 " Fine, old boy ! got a prime lot this time. 
 All sizes, colours, and scales, too ; ha ! ha ! 
 You can pick and choose to suit yourself, 
 I reckin. Come ! climb aboard, and squint 
 your eye over 'em !" 
 
 The slave-merchant, thus invited, caught
 
 THE MAROON. 57 
 
 hold of tlie rope-ladder let down for his ac- 
 commodation ; and scrambHng up the ship's 
 side with the agility of an old ape, stepped 
 upon the deck of the slaver. 
 
 After some moments spent in hand- 
 shaking and other forms of gratulation ; 
 proving that the trader and merchant were 
 old friends — and as thick as two thieves could 
 possibly be — the latter fixed the goggles more 
 firmly on the ridge of his nose, and commenced 
 his inspection of the " cargo."
 
 CHAPTEE YII. 
 
 THE POOLAH PRINCE. 
 
 On the quarter-deck of the slaver, and near 
 the " companion/' stood a man of unique ap- 
 pearance — differing not only from the whites 
 who composed the crew, but also from the 
 blacks and browns who constituted the cargo. 
 
 His costume, attitude, and some, other 
 trivial circumstances, proclaimed him as 
 belonging neither to one nor the other. 
 
 He had just stepped up from the cabin, and 
 was lingering upon the quarter-deck. 
 
 Having the entree of the first, and the 
 privilege of remaining upon the second, he 
 could not be one of the " bales '' of this hu- 
 man merchandise ; and yet both costume and 
 complexion forbade the supposition that he 
 was of the slaver's crew. Both denoted an 
 African origin — though his features were not 
 of a marked African type. Eather were they 
 Asiatic, or, more correctly, Arabian ; but, in 
 some respects, differing also from Arab fea-
 
 TITE MAEOOT^. 5© 
 
 tures. In truth, they were almost European ; 
 but the complexion again negatived the idea 
 that the individual in question belonged to 
 any of the nationalities of EurojDe. His hue 
 was that of a light Florentine bronze, with a 
 tinge of chestnut. 
 
 He appeared to be about eighteen or nine- 
 teen years of age; with a person well pro- 
 portioned, and possessing the following 
 characteristics • — A fine arched eyebrow, span- 
 ning an eye full and rotund ; a nose slightly 
 aquihne ; thin, well-modelled lips ; white 
 teeth — whiter from contrast v/ith the dark 
 shading on the upper lip — and over all an 
 ample cJtevelure of jet-black hair, slightly 
 curling, but not at all woolly. 
 
 In nothing did he differ more, from the dark- 
 skinned helots of the hold, than in his costume. 
 While none of these had any clothing upon 
 their bodies, or next to none, he, on the con- 
 trary, was splendidly apparelled — his face, 
 throat, arms, and limbs, from the knee to the 
 ancle, being the only parts not covered by a 
 garment. 
 
 A sort of sleeveless tunic of yellow satin, 
 with a skirt that just reached below his knees, 
 was bound around his waist by a scarf of crim-
 
 60 THE MAROON. 
 
 son China crape, tlie ends of which, hanging 
 still lower, were adorned with a fringe-work 
 of gold. Over the left shoulder rested loosely 
 another scarf of blue humous cloth, concealing 
 the arm over which it hung ; while half hid- 
 den beneath its draping could be perceived 
 a scimitar in its richly-chased scabbard, 
 with a hilt of carved ivory. A turban on the 
 head, and sandals of Kordofan leather upon 
 the feet, completed his costume. 
 
 Notwithstanding the Asiatic character of 
 the dress, and the resemblance of the wearer 
 to those East Indians known as Lascars, he 
 was a true African — though not of that type 
 which we usually associate with the word, and 
 which suggests a certain ncgroism of features. 
 He was one of a people entirely distinct from 
 the negro — the great nation of the Foolahs 
 (Fellattas) — that race of shepherd warriors 
 whose country extends from the confines of 
 Darfur to the shores of the Atlantic — the 
 lords of Sockatoo and Timbuctoo — those fa- 
 natic followers of the false prophet who con- 
 spired the death of Laing, and murdered 
 Mungo Park upon the Quorra. Of such race 
 was the individual who stood on the quarter- 
 deck of the slaver.
 
 THE MAROON. 6l 
 
 He was not alone. Three or four others 
 were around him, who also differed from the 
 wretched creatures in the hold. But their 
 dresses of more common material, as well as 
 other circumstances, told that they were his 
 inferiors in rank — in short, his attendants. 
 
 The humble mien with which they regarded 
 him, and the watchful attention to his every 
 look and gesture, proclaimed the habitual 
 obedience to which they were accustomed ; 
 while the turbans which they wore, and their 
 mode of salutation — the salaam — told of an 
 obeisance Oriental and slavish. 
 
 To the richness of the young man's attire 
 was added a certain haughtiness of mien that 
 proclaimed him a person of rank — perhaps the 
 chieftain of some African tribe. 
 
 And such, in reality, he was — a Foolah 
 prince, from the banks of the Senegal. 
 
 There, neither his presence nor appearance 
 would have attracted more than passing ob- 
 servation; but here, on the western side of 
 the Atlantic, on board a slave-ship, both re- 
 quired explanation. 
 
 It was evident that he was not in the same 
 category with his unfortunate countrymen 
 " between decks " — doomed to perpetual cap-
 
 62 THE MAROON. 
 
 tivity. There were no signs that he had been 
 treated as a captive, but the contrary. 
 
 How, then, was his presence on board the 
 slave barque to be accounted for ? Was he a 
 passenger ? In what relationship did he stand 
 to the people who surrounded him ? 
 
 Such, though differently worded, were the 
 interrogatories put by the slave-merchant, as, 
 returning from the fore-deck, after completing 
 his inspection of the cargo, his eyes for the 
 first time fell upon the young Fellatta. 
 
 " Blesh my shtars, Captain Showier ! " cried 
 he, holding up both hands, and looking with 
 astonishment at the turbaned individuals on 
 the quarter-deck. " Blesh my shtars ! " he 
 repeated ; " what ish all thish ? S'help my 
 Gott ! theesh fellows are not shlaves, are 
 they?" 
 
 "No, Mister Jessuron, no. They ain't 
 slaves, not all on 'em ain't. That 'ere fine 
 fellow, in silk and satin, air a owner o' slaves 
 hisself. He air a prmce." 
 
 " What dosh you say, Captin Showier ? a; 
 prinshe ? " 
 
 " Ye ain't 'stonished at that, air ye ? 'Tain't 
 the fust time I've had an African prince for a 
 passenger. This yeer's his Eoyal Highness
 
 THE MAROON. 63 
 
 tlie Prince Cingiles, son o' the Grand Sultan 
 of Foota-toro. The other fellows you see thar 
 by him are his attendants — courteers as waits 
 on him. That with the yellow turban's ' gold 
 stick ; ' him in blue 's ' silver stick ; ' an' 
 t'other fellow's ' groom o' the chamber,' I 
 s pose. 
 
 " Sultan of Foota-toro ! " exclaimed the 
 slave-merchant, still holding up the blue 
 umbrella in surprise; "King of the Cannibal 
 Islandsh ! Aha, a good shoke. Captain Show- 
 ier ! But, serious, mine friend, what for hash 
 you tricked them out in this way? They 
 won't fetch a joey more in the market for all 
 theesh fine feathers." 
 
 "Seerus, Mister Jessuron, they're not for 
 the market. I sw'ar to ye the fellur's a real 
 Afrikin prince." 
 
 " African fiddleshtick ! " echoed the slave- 
 merchant with an incredulous shruof. " Come, 
 worthy captin, what'sh the mashquerade 
 about ? " 
 
 " Not a bit of that, ole feUur ! 'Sure ye 
 the nigger's a prince, and my passenger — 
 nothing more or less." 
 
 '' S'help you gott, isli it so ? " 
 
 " So help me that ! " emphatically replied
 
 64 THE MAROON. 
 
 the skipper. "It's just as I've told ye. 
 Mister Jessuron." 
 
 " Blesh my soul ! — a passenger, you shay ?' 
 
 *' Yes ; and he's paid his passage, too — like 
 a prince, as he is." 
 
 " But what's hish business here in Sha- 
 maica : 
 
 " Ah ! that's altogether a kewrious story, 
 Mister Jessuron. You'll hardly guess his 
 bizness, I reckon ? " 
 
 " Lesh hear it, friend Showier." 
 
 " Well, then, the story air this : 'Bout 
 twelve months ago an army o' Mandingoes 
 attacked the town of Old Foota-toro, and, 
 'mong other plunder, carried off one o' his 
 daughters — own sister to the young fellur 
 you see there. They sold her to a West- 
 India trader ; who, in course, brought the girl 
 over here to some o' the islands ; which one 
 ain't known. Old Foota-toro, like the rest o' 
 'em, thinks the slaves are all fetched to one 
 place ; and as he's half beside himself 'bout 
 the loss of this gurl — she war his favourite, 
 and a sort of a court belle among 'em — he's 
 sent the brother to search her out, and get 
 her back from whoever hez purchased her on 
 this side. There's the hul story for you."
 
 THE MAROON. ' 05 
 
 The expression tliat had been gathering on 
 the countenance of the Jew, while this relation 
 was being made to him, indicated something 
 more than a common interest in the tale — 
 something beyond mere cnriosity. At the 
 same time, he seemed as if trying to conceal 
 any outward sign of emotion, by preserving, 
 as much as possible, the rigidity of his 
 features. 
 
 " Blesh my soul ! " he exclaimed, as the 
 skipper had concluded. " Ash I live, a won- 
 derful shtory ! But how ish he ever to find 
 hish sister? He might ash well look for a 
 needle in a hayshtack." 
 
 " Wall, that's true enough," replied the 
 slave skipper. " As for that," added he, with 
 an air of stoical indifference, " 'tain t no 
 business o' mine. My affair hez been to carry 
 the young fellur acrost the Atlantic ; an' I'm 
 willin to take him back on the same farms, 
 and at the same price, if he kin pay it." 
 
 " Did he pay you a goodsh price ? " inquired 
 the Jew, with evident interest in the answer. 
 
 " He paid like a prince, as I've told you. 
 D'ye see that batch o' yellow Mandingoes by 
 the windlass yonder ? " 
 
 "Yesh-yesh!" 
 
 VOL. I. p
 
 66 THE MAROON. 
 
 " Porty there air — all told." 
 
 « Well ? " 
 
 " Twenty on 'em I'm to have for fetchin' 
 him acrost. Cheap enough, ain't it ? " 
 
 " Dirt sheep, friend Showier. The other 
 twenty ? " 
 
 *' They are /ds'n. He's brought 'em with 
 him to swop for the sister — when he finds 
 her." 
 
 " Ah, yesh ! if he finds the girl." 
 
 " In coorse, if he finds her." 
 
 " Ach I " exclaimed the Jew, with a signifi- 
 cant shrug of his shoulders ; "that will not 
 he an easy bishness, Captin Showier." 
 
 " By Christopher Columbus, old fellow ! " 
 said the trader, apparently struck with an 
 idea ; " now I think of it, you might gie him 
 some help in the findin' o' her. I know no man 
 more likely than yourself to be able to pilot 
 him. You know everybody in the island, I 
 reckon. No doubt he will pay you well for 
 your trouble. I'm rayther anxious he should 
 succeed. King Foota-toro is one of my best 
 sources of supply ; and if the gurl could be 
 found and took back, I know the old nigger 
 w^ould do the handsome to me on my next trip 
 to the coast."
 
 THE MAROON. 67 
 
 " Well, worthy captin, I don't "know that 
 there's any hope, and won't hold out any to 
 hish royal highnesh the prince. I'm not as 
 able to get about ash I ushed to was ; but I'll 
 try my besht for you. As you shay, I might 
 do something towardsh putting him in the 
 way. Well, we'll talk it over ; but let ush 
 first settle our other bishness, or all the world 
 will be aboard. Twenty, you shay, are his ? " 
 
 " Twenty of them 'ere Mandingoes." 
 
 " Hash he anything besides ? " 
 
 " In cash ? no, not a red cent. Men and 
 women are the dollars of his country. He 
 hez the four attendants, you see. They air 
 his slaves like the others." 
 
 " Twenty-four, then, in all. Blesh my soul ! 
 Wliat a lucky fellow ish this prinsh. Maybe 
 I can do something for him ; but we can talk 
 it over in the cabin, and I'm ready for some- 
 thing to drink, worthy Showier." 
 
 " Ah ! " he exclaimed, as, on turning round, 
 he perceived the group of girls before men- 
 tioned. *' Blesh my soul ! Some likely wenches. 
 Just the sort for chambermaids," added he, 
 with a villanously significant look. "How many 
 of that kind hash you got, good Showier ?" 
 
 " About a dozen," jocularly responded the 
 
 F 2
 
 68 THE MAROON. 
 
 skipper ; " some splendid breeders among 'em, 
 if you want any for that bizness." 
 
 " I may — I may. Gad ! it's a valuable 
 cargo — one thing with another ! Well, let 
 ush go below," added he, turning towards the 
 companion. " What's in your locker ? I 
 musht have a drink before I can do bishness. 
 Likely wenches ! Gad — a valuable cargo ! " 
 
 Smacking his lips, and snapping his fingers 
 as he talked, the old reprobate descended the 
 companion stairway — the captain of the slaver 
 following close behind him. 
 
 We know not, except by implication, the 
 details of the bargaining that took place 
 below. The negotiation was a secret one — as 
 became tlie nature of any transaction between 
 two such characters as a slave- dealer and a 
 slave -stealer. 
 
 It resulted, however, in the purchase of the 
 whole cargo ; and in so short a time, that just 
 as the sun sank into the sea, the gig, cutter, 
 and long-boat of the slaver were lowered into 
 the water ; and, under the darkness of night, 
 the " bales" were transported to the shore, and 
 landed in the little cove whence the skiff of 
 the slave-merchant had put out. 
 
 Amongst them were the twenty Mandin-
 
 THE MAROON. 69 
 
 goes, the attendants of the prince, and the 
 " wenches," designed for improving the hreed 
 on Jessuron's plantation : for the slave-mer- 
 chant was also a land-proprietor and planter. 
 
 The skiff was seen returning to the shore, 
 a cable's-length in the wake of the other 
 boats. Now, however, a fourth personage ap- 
 peared in it, seated in the stern, face to face 
 with the owner. The gaily-coloured costume, 
 even in the darkness, shining over the calm 
 shadowy surface of the sea, rendered it easy to 
 recognize this individual as the Foolah prince. 
 The wolf and the lamb were sailing in the 
 same boat.
 
 CHAPTEE VIII. 
 
 A HANDSOME OFFER. 
 
 On the day after the slave ship had landed her 
 cargo, and at an early hour in the morning, 
 Mr. Yaughan, looking from the front window 
 of his house, perceived a solitary horseman 
 approaching by the long avenue. 
 
 As the stranger drew nearer, the animal he 
 bestrode appeared gradually to transform itself 
 into a mule ; and the rider was seen to be an 
 old gentleman in a blue coat, with metal 
 buttons, and ample outside pockets — under 
 which were breeches and top-boots, both 
 sullied by long wear. A damaged brown 
 beaver hat upon his head, with the edge of 
 a white cotton skull-cap showing beneath it — 
 green goggles upon the nose — and a large blue 
 umbrella, instead of a whip, grasped in the right 
 hand — enabled Mr. Yaughan to identify one of 
 his nearest neighbours : the penn-keeper Jacob 
 Jessuron, who, among other live stock, was 
 also known as an extensive speculator in slaves.
 
 THE MAROON. 71 
 
 " The old Jew ! " muttered Mr. Yauglian, 
 with an accent that betokened a certain degree 
 of discontent. "What can lie want at this 
 early hour? Some slave stock for sale, I 
 suppose? That looked like a trader I saw 
 yesterday in the offing ; and he's sure to have 
 had a lot or two out of her. Well, he won't 
 find a market here. Fortunately, I'm stocked. 
 Morning, Mr. Jessuron !" continued he, hailing 
 his visitor as the latter dismounted by the 
 bottom of the stairway. " As usual, you are 
 early abroad. Business, eh ? " 
 
 " Ach, yesh, Mishter Yochan ! Bishness 
 must be minded. A poor man like me can't 
 afford to shleep late theesh hard times ! " 
 
 " Ha ! lia ! Poor man, indeed ! That's a 
 capital joke, Mr. Jessuron 1 Come in. Have 
 you breakfasted ? " 
 
 '' Yesh, thanks, Mishter Yochan," replied the 
 Jew, as he climbed up the steps. " I always 
 breakfasht at six." 
 
 " Oh, that is early ! A glass of swizzle, 
 then?"^ 
 
 "Thanks, Mishter Yochan; you ish very 
 kind. A glasli of shwizzell will be better ash 
 anything else. Itsli warm thisli morning." 
 
 The sicizzle, a mixture of rum, sugar, water.
 
 72 THE MAKOON. 
 
 and lime-juice, was found in a large puncli-bowl 
 that stood upon the sideboard, with a silver 
 ladle resting across the rim, and glasses set 
 around it. This is a standing drink in the 
 dwelling of a Jamaica planter — a fountain 
 that may be said never to go dry, or, at all 
 events, renewed as soon as exhausted. 
 
 Stepping up to the sideboard, where he was 
 attended to by a black butler, the penn-keeper 
 briskly quaffed off a tumbler of the swizzle ; 
 and then smacking his lips, and adding the 
 observation, "'Tisli goot! " he returned towards 
 the window, where a chair had been placed 
 for him beside the one already occupied by 
 his host. 
 
 The visitor removed his beaver hat, though 
 the white skull-cap — not over clean — was still 
 permitted to keep its place upon his head. 
 
 Mr. Yaughan was a man possessed of con- 
 siderable courtesy, or at least, an affectation of 
 it. He remained silent, therefore, politely 
 waiting for his guest to initiate the conver- 
 sation. 
 
 " Well, Mishter Vochan," began the Jew, " I 
 hash come over to see you on a shmall bish- 
 ness — a very shmall bishness it is, shcarcely 
 worth troubling you about."
 
 THE MAROON. 78 
 
 Here the speaker liesitated, as if to put 
 some proposition into shape. 
 
 " Some black stock for sale, eh ? I think I've 
 heard that a cargo came in yesterday. You got 
 part, I suppose ? " 
 
 " Yesh, yesh, I bought a shmall lot, a very 
 shmall lot. I hadn't the monish to buy more. 
 S'help me gott ! the shlaves ish getting so dear 
 ash I can't afford to buy. This talk about 
 shtoppin' the trade ish like to ruin ush all. 
 Don't you think so, Mishter Yoclian? " 
 
 " Oh, as for that, ^oii needn't fear. If the 
 British Government should' pass the bill, the 
 law will be only a dead letter. They could 
 never guard the whole of the African coast 
 « — no, nor that of Jamaica neither. I think, 
 Mr. Jessuron, vou would still contrive to land 
 a few bales, eh? " 
 
 " Ach, no, Mishter Yochan ! dear, oh dear, 
 no ! I shouldn't venture againsht the laws. 
 If the trade ish to be stop, I musht give up 
 the bishness. Slaves would be too dear for a 
 jDOor Jewsh man like me to deal in : s' help 
 me, yesh ! they're too dear ash it ish." 
 
 " Oh, that's all nonsense about their getting 
 dearer ! It's very well for you to talk so, Mr. 
 Jessuron : you have some to sell, I presume ?"
 
 74 THE MAROON. 
 
 " 'Not now, Mishter Yoclian, not now. 
 Posshible, I may have a shmall lot to dishpose 
 of in a day or two ; but joosht now, I haven't 
 a shingle head ready for the market. Thish 
 morning I want to buy, instead of shell." 
 
 " To buy ! From me, do you mean ? " 
 
 " Yesh, Mishter Yochan, if you're disposed 
 to shell." 
 
 " Come, that's something new, neighbour 
 Jessuron ! I know you're always ready for a 
 trade ; but this is the first time I ever heard of 
 you buying slaves on a plantation." 
 
 " Well, the truth ish, Mishter Yochan, 1 
 hash a cushtomer, who wants a likely wench 
 for waiting at liish table. Theresh none 
 among my shtock, he thinks good enough for 
 hish purposh. I wash thinking you hash got 
 one, if you could shpare her, that would suit 
 him nishely." 
 
 " Which do you mean ?" 
 
 " I mean that young Foolah wench ash I 
 sold youlasht year — joosh after crop time." 
 
 "Oh! the girl Tola?" 
 
 " Yesh, I think that wosli her name. Ash 
 you had her dirt sheep, I don't mind giving 
 you shomething on your bargain — shay ten 
 pounds currenshy ? "
 
 THE MAROON. 75 
 
 " Poll, poh, poh ! " replied the planter, with a 
 deprecating shrug. " That would never do — 
 even if I meant to sell the girl. But I have no 
 wish to part with her." 
 
 '' Shay twenty, then ? " 
 
 '' Nor twice twenty, neighbour. I v*^ouldn't, 
 under any circumstances, take less than two 
 hundred pounds for that girl. She has turned 
 out a most valuable servant " 
 
 " Two hunder poundsh ! " interrupted the 
 Jew, starting up in his chau\ '' Och ! Mishter 
 Yochan, theresh not a black wench in the 
 island worth half the monish. Two hunder 
 poundsh ! Blesh my soul, that ish a prislie ! I 
 wish I could shell some of my shtock at that 
 prishe ! I'd be glad to give any two I hash for 
 two hunder poundsh." 
 
 " Why, Mr. Jessuron ! I thought you said 
 just now slaves were getting very dear ? " 
 
 " Dear, yesli ; but that is doublish dear. 
 S'help me gott ! You don't mean it, Mishter 
 Yochan?" 
 
 " But I do mean it ; and even if you were 
 to offer me two hundred " 
 
 " Don't shay more about it," said the slave- 
 merchant, hurriedly interrupting the hypo- 
 thetical speech ; '' don't shay more ; I agreesh
 
 76 THE MAROON. 
 
 to give it. Two liunder poundsh ! — blesli mj 
 shtars ! it'll make a bankrup' of me." 
 
 '' No, it will not do that : since I cannot 
 agree to take it." 
 
 " Not take two hunder ponndsli ?" 
 
 " No — -nor twice tliat sum." 
 
 " Grott help ush, Mishter Yochan ; you ish 
 shurely shokin ? Why will you not take two 
 hunder ? I hash the monish in my pocket." 
 
 " I am sorry to disappoint j^ou, neighbour ; 
 but the fact is, I could not sell the girl Yola 
 at any price, without the consent of my 
 daughter — to whom I have given her." 
 
 "Mish Yochan?" 
 
 " Yes — she is her maid ; and I know that 
 my daughter is very fond of her. It is not 
 likely she would consent to the girl's being 
 sold." 
 
 '' But, Mishter Yochan ! you shurely don't 
 let your daughter shtand between you and a 
 good bargain? Two hunder poundsh is big 
 monish — big monish, Cushtos. The wench 
 ish not worth half ash much, and, for myshelf, 
 I wouldn't give half; but I don't want to 
 dishappoint a good cushtomer, who'sh not so 
 particular ash to prishe." 
 
 " Your customer fancies the girl, eh?" said
 
 THE MAROON. 77 
 
 Mr. Vauglian, glancing significantly at his 
 guest. " She is very good-looking — no won- 
 der. But, if that be the reason for his wanting 
 to buy her, I may as well tell you, I should 
 myself not be inclined to part with her ; and, 
 as for my daughter, if she suspected such a 
 purpose, all the money you have got, Mr. 
 Jessuron, wouldn't reach the price of Yola." 
 
 "S'help me gott, Mishter Vochan, you're 
 mishtaken 1 The cushtomer I speak of never 
 shet hish eyes on the wench. Itsh only a 
 waiting-maid he wants for hish table ; and I 
 thought of her, ash she'sh joost what he desh- 
 cribes. How do you know that Misli Yochan 
 might not conshent to let her go ? I promish 
 to get her another young girl ash goot or better 
 ash Yola." 
 
 " Well," replied the planter, after a mo- 
 ment's reflection, and apparently tempted by 
 the handsome offer, '' since you seem so deter- 
 mined upon buying the wench, I'll consult my 
 daughter about it. But I can hold out very 
 little hope of success. I know that she likes 
 this young Foolah. I have heard that the 
 girl was some king's daughter in her own 
 country ; and I am as good as certain Kate 
 won't consent to her being sold."
 
 78 THE ^MAROON. 
 
 " Not if you wished it, Misliter Vochan ? ** 
 
 " Oh, if I insisted upon it, of course ; but I 
 gave my daughter a promise not to part with 
 the girl against her wish, and I never break 
 my word, Mr. Jessuron — not to my own 
 child." 
 
 With this rather affected profession, the 
 planter walked out of the room, leaving the 
 slave-merchant to his reflections. 
 
 " May the difiel strike me dead if that man 
 ishn't mad ! " soliloquized the Jew, when left 
 to himself; " shtark shtarin mad ! refuse two 
 hunder poundsh for a she wench ash brown ash 
 a cocoa-nut ! JBlesh my shtars ! '* 
 
 " As I told you, Mr. Jessuron," said the 
 planter, re-entering the hall, " my daughter is 
 inexorable. Yola cannot be sold." 
 
 "Good morning, Mishter Yochan," said 
 the slave-merchant, taking up his hat and 
 umbrella, and making for the door. " Good 
 morning, shir : I hash no other bishness 
 to-day." 
 
 Then, putting on his hat and grasping his 
 umbrella, with an air of spitefulness he was 
 unable to conceal, he hurried down the stone 
 steps, scrambled upon the back of his mule, 
 and rode away in sullen silence.
 
 THE MAROON. 79 
 
 " Unusually free witli his money this morn- 
 ing," said the planter, looking after him. 
 " Some shabby scheme, I have no doubt. Well, 
 I suppose I have thwarted it ; besides, I am 
 glad of an opportunity of disobliging the old 
 curmudgeon : many's the time he has done as 
 much for me ! "
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 JUDITH JESSURON. 
 
 In the most iinamiable of tempers did the 
 slave -speculator ride baek down the avenue. 
 So out of sorts was he at the result of his in- 
 terview, that he did not think of unfolding his 
 blue umbrella to protect himself from the hot 
 rays of the sun, now striking vertically down- 
 ward. On the contrary, he used i\\Q parcq^Iuic 
 for a very different purpose — every novv^ and. 
 then belabour in 2: the ribs of his mule wdth it : 
 as if to rid himself of his spleen by venting it 
 on the innocent mongrel. 
 
 Nor did he go in silence, although he was 
 alone. In a kind of involuntary soliloquy he 
 kept muttering, as he rode on, long strings of 
 phrases denunciatory of the host whose roof he 
 had just quitted. 
 
 The dausfhter, too, of that host came in for 
 a share of his muttered denunciations, which 
 at times, assmned the form of a menace.
 
 THE MAROON. 81 
 
 Part of what lie said was spoken distinctly 
 and with emphasis : — 
 
 " The dusht oft my shoosh, Loftish Yochan 
 — I flingsh it back to you ! G-ott for damsch ! 
 there wash a time when you would be glad 
 for my two hunder poundsh. oS^ot for any 
 monish? Bosh! Grand lady, Misli Kate — 
 Mish Quasheby 1 Ha ! I knowsh a thing — 
 I knowsh a leetle thing. Some day, may 
 be, yourshelf sell for lesh ash two hunder 
 poundsh. Ach ! I not grudgsh twice the 
 monish to see that day ! 
 
 " The dusht off my shoosh to both of yousli!" 
 he repeated, as he cleared the gate entrance. 
 " I'sh off your grounds, now ; and, if I hash 
 you here, I shay you something of my mind 
 — something ash make you sell your wench for 
 lesh ash -two hunder poundsh ! I do so, some 
 time, pleash gott ! Ach !" 
 
 Uttering this last exclamation with a pro- 
 longed aspirate, he raised himself erect in his 
 stirrups ; and, half turning his mule, shook his 
 umbrella in a threatening manner towards 
 Mount "Welcome — his eye accompanying tlie 
 action with a glance that expressed some 
 secret but vindictive determination. 
 
 As he faced back into the road, another pcr- 
 
 YOL. I. G
 
 82 THE MAROON. 
 
 sonage appeared upon tlie scene — a female 
 equestrian, who, trotting briskly up, turned 
 lier horse, and rode along by his side. 
 
 She was a young girl, or, rather a young 
 woman — a bright, beautiful creature — who 
 appeared an angel by the side of that demon- 
 like old man. 
 
 She had evidently been waiting for him at 
 the turning of the road ; and the air of easy 
 familiarity, with the absence of any salutation 
 as they met, told that they had not long been 
 separated. 
 
 Who was this charming equestrian ? 
 
 A stranger would have asked this question, 
 while his eye rested upon the object of it with 
 mingled feelings of wonder and admiration: 
 admiration at such rare beauty — wonder at 
 beholding it in such rude companionship ! 
 
 It was a beauty that need not be painted 
 in detail. The forehead of noble arch; the 
 scimetar-shaped eyebrows of ebon blackness ; 
 the dark-brown flashing pupils; the piquant 
 prominence of the nose, with its spiral curving 
 nostrils ; were all characteristics of Hebraic 
 beauty — a shrine before which both Moslem 
 and Christian have ofttimes bent the knee in 
 humblest adoration.
 
 THE MAROON. 83 
 
 Twenty cycles liave rolled j)ast — twenty 
 centuries of outrage, calumny, and wrong — 
 housed in low haunts — pillaged and persecuted 
 — oft driven to desperation — rendered roofless 
 and homeless — still, amid all, and in spite of 
 all, lovely are Judah's dark-eyed daughters — • 
 fair as when they danced to the music of cym- 
 bal and timbrel, or, to the accompaniment of 
 the golden-stringed harp, sang the lays of a 
 happier time. 
 
 Here, in a new w^orld, and canopied under an 
 occidental sky, had sprung up a very type of 
 Jewish beauty : for never was daughter of 
 Judah lovelier than the daughter of Jacob 
 Jessuron — she who was now riding by his side. 
 
 A singular contrast did they present as they 
 rode together — this fair maid and that harsh- 
 featured, ugly old man — unlike as the rose 
 to its parent thorn. 
 
 Sad are we to say, that the contrast was only 
 physical- morally, it was ''like father like 
 daughter." In external form, Judith Jessuron 
 was an angel ; in spirit — and we say it with 
 regret — she was the child of her father — de- 
 vilish as he. 
 
 " A failure ? " said this fair she, taking 
 the initiative. *' Pah ! I needn't have asked
 
 84 THE MAROON. 
 
 you : it's clear enougli from your looks — 
 though, certes, that beautiful countenance of 
 yours is not a very legible index to your 
 thoughts. What says Yanity Yaughan ? Will 
 he sell the girl? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 ''As I expected." 
 
 " S'help me, he won't ! " 
 
 " How much did you bid for her ? " 
 
 " Och ! I'sli ashamed to tell you, Shoodith." 
 
 '' Come, old rabbi, you needn't be backward 
 before me. How much? " 
 
 '' Two hunder poundsh." 
 
 " Two hundred pounds ! Well, that is a 
 high figure ! If what you've told me be true, 
 his own daughter isn't worth so much. Ha ! 
 ha! ha!" 
 
 " Hush, Shoodich, dear ! Don't shpeak of 
 that — for your life don't shpeak of it. You 
 may shpoil some plansh I hash about her." 
 
 " Have no fear, good father. I never 
 spoiled any plan of yours yet — have I ? " 
 
 " No, no ! You hash been a good shild, my 
 daughter ! — a good shild, s'help me gott, you 
 hash." 
 
 " But tell me ; why would the Gustos not 
 sell ? He likes money almost as well as your-
 
 THE MAROON. 85 
 
 self. Two hundred pounds is a large price for 
 this copper-coloured wench — quite double what 
 she's worth." 
 
 *' Ach, Shoodith dear, it wash not Yochan 
 hishelf that refused it." 
 
 "Who then?" 
 
 " Thish very daughter you speaksh of." 
 
 " She ! " exclaimed the young Jewess, with 
 a curl of the lip, and a contemptuous twist of 
 her beautiful nostril, that all at once changed 
 her beauty into very ugliness. " She, you say ? 
 I wonder what next ! The conceited mustee — 
 herself no better than a slave ! " 
 
 " Shtop — shtop, Shoodith," interrupted the 
 Jew, with a look of uneasiness. " Keep that 
 to yourshelf, my shild. Shay no more about 
 it — at leasht, not now, not now. The trees 
 may have earsh." 
 
 The burst of angry passion hindered the 
 fair "Shoodith" from making rejoinder, and 
 for some moments father and daughter rode on 
 in silence. 
 
 The latter was the first to re-commence the 
 conversation. 
 
 " You are foolish, good father," said she ; 
 " absurdly foolish." 
 
 "Why, Shoodith?"
 
 86 THE MAROON. 
 
 " Why ? In ofFering to buy tins girl at 
 all." 
 
 '' Ay — wliat would you sliay ? " inquired tlie 
 old Jew, as if tlie interrogatory had been an 
 echo to his own thoughts. " What would you 
 shay ? " 
 
 '' I would say that you are silly, old rabbi 
 Jacob ; and that's what I do say." 
 
 '' Blesh my shoul ! What dosli you mean, 
 Shoodith?" 
 
 " Why, dear and worthy papa, you're not 
 always so dull of comprehension. Answer 
 me : what do you want the Foolah for ? " 
 
 " Och ! you know what I wants her for, 
 Thish prinshe will give hish twenty Mandin- 
 goes for her. There ish no doubt but that 
 she's his sister. Twenty good shtrong Man- 
 dingoes, worth twenty liunder poundsh. 
 Blesh my soul ! it'sh a fortune ? 
 
 " Well ; and if it is a fortune, what then ?" 
 
 " If it ish ? By our fathers ! you talk of 
 twenty hunder poundsh ash if monish was 
 dirt." 
 
 "My worthy parent, you misunderstand 
 
 me." 
 
 *' Mishunderstand you, Shoodith?" 
 
 " You do. I have more respect for twenty
 
 THE MAROON. 87 
 
 hundred pounds than you give me credit for. 
 So much, as that I advise you to get it!' 
 
 " Gret it ! why, daughter, that ish shoosht 
 what I am trying to do.'' 
 
 " Ay, and you've gone about it in such a 
 foolish fashion, that you run a great risk of 
 losing it." 
 
 " And how would you have me go about 
 it, mine Shoodith ? " 
 
 *' By taking it!' 
 
 The slave-merchant suddenly jerked upon 
 the bridle, and pulled his mule to a stand — as 
 he did so darting towards his daughter a look 
 half- puzzled, half-penetrating. 
 
 " Grood father Jacob," continued she, halting 
 at the same time, ''3^ou are not wont to] be so 
 dull-witted. While waiting for you at the 
 gate of this pompous sugar-planter, I could 
 not help reflecting ; and my reflections led me 
 to ask the question : what on earth had taken 
 you to his house ? " 
 
 " And what answer did you find, Shoodith ? " 
 
 " Oh, not much ; only that you went upon a 
 very idle errand." 
 
 " Yesh, it hash been an idle errand : I did not 
 ^et what I went for."
 
 88 THE MAKOON. 
 
 " And what matters if you didn't ? " 
 *' Mattershit ? Twenty Mandingoes mattersh 
 a, great deal — twenty hunder poundsh cur- 
 renshy . That ish what it mattersh, Shoodith 
 mine darling ! ' 
 
 " Not the paring of a Mandingo's toe-nail, 
 my paternal friend." 
 
 " Hacli ! what shay you, mine wise Shoo- 
 dith?" 
 
 " What say I ? Simply, that these Mandin- 
 goes might as well have been yours without 
 all this trouble. They may be yet — ay, and 
 their master too, if you desire to have a prince 
 for your slave, /do." 
 
 " Speak out, Shoodith ; I don't understand 
 you." 
 
 " You will presently. Didn't you say, just 
 now, that Captain Jowler has reasons for not 
 coming ashore ? " 
 
 " Captain Showier ! He would rather land 
 in the Cannibal Islands than in Montego Bay. 
 Well, Shoodith?" 
 
 " Eabbi Jessuron, you weary my patience. 
 For the Foolah prince — as you say he is — you 
 are answerable only to Captain Jowler. Cap- 
 tain Jowler comes not ashore."
 
 THE MAROON. S9 
 
 " True — it ish true," assented the Jew, with 
 a gesture that signified his comprehension of 
 these preliminary premises. 
 
 " Who, then, is to hinder you from doing 
 as you please in the matter of these Mandin- 
 
 rv J) 
 
 goes r 
 
 " Wonderful Shoodith ! " exclaimed the 
 father, throwing up his arms, and turning 
 upon his daughter a look of enthusiastic 
 admiration. "Wonderful Shoodith 1 Joosh 
 the very thing 1 — blesli my soul ! — and I 
 never thought of it ! " 
 
 " Well, father ; luckily it's not too late. I 
 have been thinking of it. I knew very well 
 that Kate Yaughan would not part with 
 the ml Yola. I told vou she wouldn't; 
 hut, by the bye, I hope you've said nothing 
 of what you wanted her for? If you 
 have " 
 
 *'Not a word, Shoodith ! not a word ! " 
 
 " Then no one need be a word the wiser. 
 As to Captain Jowler " 
 
 " Showier daren't show hish face in the Bay : 
 that'sh why he landed hish cargo on the coast. 
 Besides, there wash an understanding between 
 him and me. He doeshn't care what ish done
 
 90 THE MAROON. 
 
 with tlie prinshe — not he. Anyhow, hell be 
 gone away in twenty-four hours." 
 
 ' ' Then in twenty -four hours the Mandingoes 
 may be yours — prince, attendants, and all. But 
 time is precious, papa. We had better hasten 
 home at once, and strip his royal highness of 
 those line feathers before some of our curious 
 neighbours come in and see them. People will 
 talk scandal, you know. As for our worthy 
 overseer " 
 
 " Ah, Eavener ! he knowsh all about it. 
 I wash obliged to tell him ash we landed." 
 
 " Of course you were ; and it will cost you a 
 Mandingo or two to keep /us iong\ie tied: that 
 it will. For the rest, there need be no diffi- 
 culty. It won't matter what these savages 
 may say for themselves. Fortunately, there's 
 no scandal in a black man's tongue." 
 
 " Wonderful Shoodith I " again exclaimed 
 the admiring parent. " My precious daugh- 
 ter, you are worth your weight in golden 
 guinish ! Twenty-four shlaves for nothing, and 
 one of them a born prinshe ! Two thousand 
 currenshy ! Blesh my soul ! It ish a shplendid 
 profit — worth a whole year's buy in' and shell- 
 m .
 
 THE MAROON. 91 
 
 And with, this honest reflection, the slave- 
 merchant hammered his mule into a trot, and 
 followed his "precious Shoodith'' — who had 
 already given the whip to her horse, and was 
 riding rapidly homeward.
 
 CHAPTEE X. 
 
 THE SEA NYMPH. 
 
 On the third day after tlie slaver had cast an- 
 chor in the Bay of Montego, a large square- 
 rigged vessel made her appearance in the offing; 
 and, heading shoreward, with all sail set, 
 stood boldly in for the harbour. The Union 
 Jack of England, spread to the breeze, floated 
 freely above her taffrail ; and various boxes, 
 bales, trunks, and portmanteaus, that could be 
 seen on her deck — brought up for debarkation 
 — as well as the frank, manly countenances of 
 the sailors who composed her crew, proclaimed 
 the ship to be an honest trader. The lettering 
 upon her stern told that she was the " Sea 
 Nymph, of Liverpool." 
 
 Though freighted with a cargo of merchan- 
 dise, and in reality a merchantman, the presence 
 on board of several individuals in the costume 
 of landsmen, denoted that the Sea Tsyiiiplt 
 also accommodated passengers. 
 
 The majority of these were West India
 
 THE MAROON. 93 
 
 planters, with their families, returning from a 
 visit to the mother country — their sons, per- 
 haps, after graduating at an English university, 
 and their daughters on having received their 
 final polish at some fashionable metropolitan 
 seminary. 
 
 Here and there an " attorney " — a consti- 
 tuent element of West Indian society, though 
 not necessarily, as the title suggests, a real limb 
 of the law. Of the latter there might have been 
 one or two, with a like number of unpractised 
 disciples of ^sculapius ; both lawj^er and 
 doctor bent on seeking fortune — and with fair 
 prospects of finding it in a land notorious for 
 crime as unwholesome in clime. These, with 
 a sprinkling of nondescripts, made up the list 
 of the Bea Ni/mjjJts cabin passengers. 
 
 Among these nondescripts was one of pecu- 
 liarities sufficiently distinctive to attract atten- 
 tion. A single glance at this personage satis- 
 fied you that you looked upon a London Cock- 
 ney, at the same time a West-End exquisite of 
 the very purest water. He was a young man 
 who had just passed the twenty-first anni- 
 versary of his birth ; although the indulgence 
 of youthful dissipation had already brushed 
 the freshness from his features, giving tliem the
 
 94 THE MAROON. 
 
 stamp of greater age. In complexion he was 
 fair — pre-eminently so — with hair of a light 
 yellowish hue, that presented the appearance 
 of having been artificially curled, and slightly 
 darkened by the application of some per- 
 fumed oil. The whiskers and moustache were 
 nearly of the same colour ; both evidently 
 cultivated with an elaborate assiduity, that 
 proclaimed excessive conceit in them on the 
 part of their owner. 
 
 The eyebrows were also of the lightest shade 
 but the hue of the eyes was not so easily told 
 since one of them was kept habitually closed 
 while a glancing lens, in a frame of tortoise-shell, 
 hindered a fair view of the other. Through the 
 glass, however, it appeared of a greenish grey, 
 and decidedly " piggish.'' 
 
 The features of this individual were regular 
 enough, though without any striking character; 
 and of a cast rather effeminate than vulgar. 
 Their prevailing expression was that of a cer- 
 tain superciliousness, at times extending to an 
 affectation of sardonism. 
 
 The dress of the young man was in corre- 
 spondence with the foppery exhibited in the 
 perfumed locks and eye-glass. It consisted of a 
 surtout of broadcloth, of a very light drab.
 
 THE MAROON. 95 
 
 with a cape that scarce covered the shoulders ; 
 a white beaver hat ; vest and pants of spotless 
 buff kerseymere ; kid gloves on his hands ; and 
 boots, bright as lacquer could make them, on 
 his feet. These items of apparel, made in a style 
 of fashion and worn with an air of savoir fairey 
 loudly proclaimed the London fop of the time. 
 
 The affected drawl in which the gentleman 
 spoke, whenever he condescended to hold com- 
 munion with his fellow-passengers, confirmed 
 this character. 
 
 Notwithstanding a certain ill-disguised con- 
 tempt with which he was regarded by some of 
 his fellow-voyagers, not a few treated him with 
 marked deference ; and the obeisance paid him 
 by the steward and cabin boys of the Sea isij^njolt 
 gave evidence of his capability to bestow a 
 liberal largess. And such capability did he 
 possess : for Mr. Montagu Smythje, the 
 individual in question, was a youth of good 
 family and fortune — the latter consisting of a 
 magnificent sugar estate in Jamaica, left him 
 by a deceased relative, to visit which was the 
 object of his voyage. 
 
 The estate he had never seen, as this was 
 his first trip across the Atlantic ; but he had 
 no reason to doubt the existence of the pro-
 
 96 THE MAROON. 
 
 perty. The handsome income which it had 
 afforded him, during several years of his 
 minority, and which had enabled him to live 
 in magnificent style in the most fashionable 
 circles of London society, was a substantial 
 proof that Montagu Castle — such was the name 
 of the estate — was something more than a 
 castle in the air. During his minority, the 
 estate had been managed by a trustee resident 
 in the island : one Mr. Yaughan, himself a 
 sugar-planter, whose plantation adjoined that 
 of Montagu Castle. 
 
 Mr. Smythje had not come over the water 
 with any intention of settling upon bis Jamaica 
 estate. "Such an ideaw," to use his own 
 phraseology, " nevwaw entawed ma bwain. To 
 exchange London and its pwesyaws for a 
 wesi '^ among those haw-ed niggavs^s — deaw, 
 
 n' u_ could nevwaw think of such a voluntawy 
 banishment ; that would be a baw — a decided 
 baw ! " " A meaw twip to see something of the 
 twopics, of which I've heard such extwaor'nary 
 stowies — have a look at my sugaAv plantation 
 and the dem'd niggaws — besides, I have a 
 stwong desire to take a squint at these Queeole 
 queetyaws, who are said to be so dooccd pwetty. 
 Haw ! haw ! "
 
 THE MAROON. 97 
 
 After such faslaion did Mr. Montagu Smythje 
 explain the purpose of his voyage to such of 
 his fellow-passengers as chanced to take an 
 interest in it. 
 
 There were but few travellers in the steerage 
 of the Sea Nym^ph. They who are compelled 
 to adopt that irksome mode of voyaging 
 across the Atlantic have but little errand to the 
 West Indies, or elsewhere to tropical lands — 
 where labour is monopolized by the thews and 
 sinews of the slave. Only three or four of 
 this class had found accommodation on board 
 the Sea Nymph ; and yet among these humble 
 voyagers was one destined to play a conspi- 
 cuous part in our story. 
 
 The individual in question was a young man, 
 in appearance of the same age as Mr. Montagu 
 Smythje, though differing from the latter in 
 almost everything else. In stature he was 
 what is termed " middle height," with limbs 
 well set and rounded, denoting activity and 
 strength. His complexion, though not what 
 is termed brunette, was dark for a native of 
 Britain, though such was he. 
 
 His features were nobl}^ defined; and liis 
 whole countenance sujSiciently striking to 
 attract the attention of even an indifferent 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 THE MAROON. 
 
 observer. Dark brown eyes, and hair of like 
 colour, curling jauntily over his cheeks, were 
 characteristic points of gracefulness ; and, take 
 him all in all, he was w^hat might justly be 
 pronounced a handsome young fellow. 
 
 The garments he wore were his best — 
 put on for the first time during the voyage, 
 and for the grand occasion of landing. A dark 
 blue tunic frock, faced with black braid, skirt- 
 ing down over a pair of close-fitting tights, 
 and Hessian boots, gave him rather a distingue 
 air, notwithstanding a little threadbarishness 
 apparent along the seams. 
 
 The occupation in which the young man 
 was engaged betrayed a certain degree of refine- 
 ment. Standing near the windlass, in the 
 blank leaf of a book, which appeared to be his 
 journal, he was sketching the harbour into 
 which the ship was about to enter ; and the 
 drawing exhibited no inconsiderable degree of 
 artistic skill. 
 
 Eor all that, the sketcher was not a profes- 
 sional artist. Professionally, indeed, and to 
 his misfortune, he was nothing. A poor 
 scholar — without trick or trade by which 
 he might earn a livelihood — he had come out 
 to the West Indies, as young men go to
 
 THE MAROON. 99 
 
 other colonies, with that sort of indefinite 
 hope, that Fortune, in some way or other, might 
 prove kinder abroad than she had been at 
 home. 
 
 Whatever hopes of success the young co- 
 lonist may have entertained, they were evidently 
 neither sanguine nor continuous. Though na- 
 turally of a cheerful spirit, as his countenance 
 indicated, a close observer might have detected 
 a shadow stealing over it at intervals. 
 
 As the ship drew near to the shore, he closed 
 the book, and stood scanning the gorgeous 
 picture of trojDical scenery, now, for the first 
 time, disclosed to his eyes. 
 
 Despite the pleasant emotions which so fair 
 a scene was calculated to call forth, his coun- 
 tenance betrayed anxiety — perhaps a doubt 
 as to whether a welcome awaited him in that 
 lovely land upon which he was looking. 
 
 Only a few moments had he been thus occu- 
 pied, when a strange voice falling upon his ear 
 caused him to turn towards the speaker — in 
 whom he recognized the distinguished cabin 
 passenger, Mr. Montagu Smythje. 
 
 As this gentleman had voyaged all the way 
 from Liverpool to Jamaica without once ventur- 
 ing to set his foot across the line v-^hich separates
 
 100 THE MAROON. 
 
 the sacred precincts of the quarter from the 
 more plebeian for'ard deck, his presence by 
 the windlass might have been matter of sur- 
 prise. 
 
 A circumstance, however, explained it. It 
 was the last hour of the voyage. The Sea 
 Ni/mph was just heading into the harbour ; 
 and the passengers of all degrees had rushed 
 forward, in order to obtain a better view of the 
 glorious landscape unfolding itself before their 
 eyes. Notwithstanding his often-expressed 
 antipathy to the " abom'nable smell of taw " it 
 was but natural that Mr. Smythje should 
 yield to the general curiosity, and go forward 
 among the rest. 
 
 Having gained an elevated stand-point upon 
 the top of the windlass, he had adjusted the 
 glass to his eye, and commenced ogling the 
 landscape, now near enough for its details to be 
 distinguished. 
 
 Not for long, however, did Mr. Smythje re- 
 main silent. He was not one of a saturnine 
 habit. The fair scene was inspiring him with 
 a poetical fervour, which soon found expression 
 in characteristic speech. 
 
 " Dooced pwetty, 'pon honaw ! " he ex- 
 claimed ; "would make a spwendid d wop-scene
 
 THE MAROON. 101 
 
 faw a theataw ! Dawnt yaw think so, ma good 
 fwend ? " 
 
 The person thus appealed to chanced to be 
 the young steerage passenger ; who, during the 
 long voyage, had abstained from going abaft 
 of the main-mast with as much scrupulousness 
 as Mr. Smythje had observed about venturing 
 forward. Hence it was that the voice of the 
 exquisite was as strange to him, as if he had 
 never set eyes on that illustrious. personage. 
 
 On perceiving that the speech was meant 
 for himself, he was at first a little nettled at its 
 patronizing tone ; but the feeling of irritation 
 soon passed away, and he fixed his eyes upon the 
 speaker, with a good-humoured, though some- 
 what contemptuous expression. 
 
 " Aw — haw — it is yaw, my young fellaw," 
 continued the exquisite, now for the first time 
 perceiving to whom he had made his appeal. 
 " Aw, indeed ! IVe often observed yaw 
 from the quawter-deck. Ba Jawve ! yes — a 
 veway stwange Individ wal ! — incompwehensi- 
 bly stwange ! May I ask — pawdon the liberty 
 — what is bwinging yaw out heaw — to Ja- 
 maica, I mean?" 
 
 "That," replied the steerage passenger, 
 again somewhat nettled at the rather free
 
 102 THE MAKOON. 
 
 style of interrogation, " which is bringing 
 yourseli^ — the good ship Sea Nymph!' 
 
 '' Aw, haw ! indeed ! Good — ^veway good ! 
 Bnt, my deaw sir, that is not what I 
 meant/' 
 
 ^^No?" 
 
 " No, I ashaw yaw. I meant what bisness 
 bwings yaw heaw. P'waps you have some 
 pwofession ? " 
 
 "No, not any," replied the young man, 
 checking his inclination to retaliate the im- 
 pertinent style of his interrogator. 
 
 "Atwade, then?" 
 
 "I am sorry to say I have not even a 
 trade." 
 
 " No pwofession ! no twade ! what the 
 dooce daw yaw intend da wing in Jamaica? 
 P'waps yaw expect the situation of book- 
 keepaw on a pwantation, or niggaw-dwivaw. 
 Neithaw, I believe, requiaws much ex- 
 pewience, as I am told the book-keepaw has 
 pwositively no books to keep — haw ! haw ! 
 and shawly any fellaw, howevaw ignowant, 
 may dwive a niggaw. Is that yaw expecta- 
 tion, my worthy fwend ? " 
 
 " I have no expectation, one way or 
 another," replied the young man, in a
 
 THE MAROON. 103 
 
 tone of careless indifference. " As to the 
 business 1 may follow out here in Jamaica, 
 that, I suppose, will depend on the will of 
 another/' 
 
 " Anothaw ! aw ! — who, pway ? " 
 
 " My uncle." 
 
 '' Aw, indeed ! yaw have an uncle in 
 Jamaica, then ? " 
 
 '' T have — if he be still alive." 
 
 " Aw— haw ! yaw are not sliaw of that 
 intcAvesting fact? P'waps yaw've not heard 
 from him wately ? " 
 
 "^ot for years," replied the young steer- 
 age passenger, his poor prospects now having 
 caused him to relinquish the satirical tone 
 which he had assumed. " 'Not for years," re- 
 peated he, "though I've written to him to 
 say that I should come by this ship." 
 
 " Yev/ay stwange ! And pway, may I ask 
 what bisness yaw uncle follows ? " 
 
 " He is a planter, I believe." 
 
 " A sugaw plantaw ? " 
 
 " Yes — he was so Avhen we last heard from 
 him." 
 
 " Aw, then, p'waps he is wich — a pwo- 
 pwietor ? In that case he may find something 
 faw yaw to daw, bettaw than niggaw-dwiv-
 
 104 THE MAROON. 
 
 ing. Make yaw his ovaw-seeaw. May I know 
 yaw name ? '' 
 
 " Quite welcome to it. Yauglian is my 
 name/' 
 
 " Yawn ! " repeated the exquisite, in a tone 
 that betrayed some newly-awakened interest ; 
 " Vawn, did I understand yaw to say ? " 
 
 " Herbert Yaughan," replied the young 
 man, with firmer emphasis. 
 
 " And yaw uncle's name ? " 
 
 " He is also called Yaughan. He is my 
 father's brother — or rather was — my father is 
 dead." 
 
 '' Not Woftus Yawn, Esq., of Mount Wei- 
 come r 
 
 " Yes, Loftus Yaughan ; my uncle is so 
 called, and Mount Welcome is, I believe, the 
 name of his estate." 
 
 " Ye way stwange ! incompwehensibly 
 stwange ! D'yaw know, my young fel- 
 law, that yaw and I appeaw to be making 
 faw the same pawt. Woftus Yawn, of Mount 
 Welcome, is the twustwee of my own pwo- 
 perty — the veway person to whom I am 
 consigned. Deaw me ! how dooced stwange 
 if yaw and I should yet be guests undaw the 
 same woof! "
 
 THE MAROON. 105 
 
 Tlie remark was accompanied by a super- 
 cilious glance, that did not escape the obser- 
 vation of the young steerage passenger. It 
 was this glance that gave the true signification 
 to the words, which Herbert Vaughan inter- 
 preted as an insult. 
 
 He was on the point of making an angry 
 rejoinder, when the exquisite turned abruptly 
 away — as he parted drawling out some words 
 of leave-taking, with the presumptive conjec- 
 ture that they might meet again. 
 
 Herbert Vaughan stood for a moment look- 
 ing after him, an expression of high contempt 
 curling upon his lip. Only for a short while, 
 however, did this show itself; and then, his 
 countenance resuming its habitual expression 
 of good-nature, he descended into the steerage, 
 to prepare his somewhat scanty baggage for 
 the debarkation.
 
 CHAPTEE XI. 
 
 LOPTUS VAUGHAN ON THE LOOK-OUT. 
 
 Every day, after that on which he had re- 
 ceived the two English letters — and almost 
 every hour during daylight — might Loftus 
 Yaughan have been seen, telescope in hand, at 
 one of the front windows of his house, sweep- 
 ing with his glass the roadstead and offing of 
 Montego Bay. 
 
 The object of this telescopic observation was, 
 that he might descry the Sea Nymph before 
 she had entered the harbour : in order that his 
 carriage should be at the port to receive the 
 distinguished Smythje on the moment of his 
 landing. 
 
 At this period there were no steamers trad- 
 ing across the Atlantic, punctual to a day, and 
 almost to an hour. Though the letter of 
 advice had been written several days before 
 that on which the Sea Nymph was to sail, 
 there could be no calculation made upon such
 
 THE MAROON. 107 
 
 uncertain data as winds and waves ; and tlie 
 ship whicli carried Montagu Smythje might 
 arrive at any hour. 
 
 That some distinguished guest was expected, 
 was a fact that had become well known to 
 every domestic in the establishment of Mount 
 Welcome. Every day saw some article or ar- 
 ticles of costly furniture brought home from 
 the " Bay '' ; and the chambers of the " great 
 house " were being freshly decorated to receive 
 them. The house-wenches and other indoor 
 servants were furnished with new dresses, 
 some even with liveries — an unusual piece of 
 finery in Jamaica — while shoes and stockings 
 were forced upon feet that, perhaps, had never 
 felt such imjjedimenfaheioYe, and whose owners 
 would have been only too glad to have escaped 
 the torture of wearing them. 
 
 It need scarcely be said that the planter 
 was undergoing all this extravagant expendi- 
 ture for the reception of Mr. Montagu 
 Smythje, and him alone. Had it been only 
 his nephew that was expected, no such con- 
 tinuous look-out would have been kept, and 
 no such preparations made to do him honour 
 on his arrival. 
 
 Neither do Mr. Vaughan's motives require
 
 108 THE MAROON. 
 
 explanation : the reader will ere this have 
 surmised them. He was the father of a 
 daughter readj at any moment for marriage. 
 Mr. Montagu Smythje was, in his eyes, not 
 only an eligible, but highly desirable, speci- 
 men for a son-in-law. The young man was 
 possessed of a splendid property, asMr. Yaughan 
 well knew : for the worthy planter was not 
 only Gustos Rotulorum, but for many long 
 years had been custos of Montagu Castle, and 
 could tell its value to a shilling " currency." 
 It lay contiguous to his own. He had looked 
 with a longing eye upon its broad acres and 
 black retainers, until he had become imbued 
 with a desire, amounting indeed to a passion, to 
 possess it — if not in his own right, at least in 
 that of his daughter. The union of the two 
 estates. Mount Welcome and Montagu Castle, 
 would make a magnificent domain — one of 
 the richest in the Island. 
 
 To accomplish this object had long been the 
 wish of Loffcus Yaughan. It had grown and 
 grown upon him, till it had become the most 
 cherished purpose of his heart. 
 
 Let us not conceal a really creditable motive 
 that Mr. Yaughan had for desiring this union. 
 He had been too long in Jamaica to be igno-
 
 THE MAROON. 109 
 
 rant of the true social position of his daughter. 
 However beautiful and accomplished Kate 
 Yaughan was; however much her father 
 loved her — and, to do him justice, his paternal 
 affection was of the strongest — he knew that 
 her mother was a quadroon, and she only a 
 mustee. No matter how little trace there 
 might be of the taint — however imperceptible 
 to the outward eye — he knew that between her 
 and the young gentlemen of his acquaintance — 
 that is, those who would have been eligible — 
 there was still enough to erect a certain social 
 barrier. He knew, moreover, that vouup- 
 Englishmen, especially on their first arrival, 
 make light of this barrier ; in fact, altogether 
 disregard it, until corrupted by the " society " 
 of the island. 
 
 In his match-making designs the Jamaica 
 planter was not more of a sinner than hun- 
 dreds of other parents both at home and 
 abroad ; and there is this much in his favour : 
 that, perhaps, his affection for his daughter, 
 and the desire of ennobling her — for by such 
 an alliance would the taint he extinpmhed — 
 were the chief motives for the conduct he was 
 pursuing in regard to Montagu Smytlije. 
 
 So far Mr. Vaughan's conduct may be ex-
 
 110 THE MAROON. 
 
 cused. But, unfortunately, the studied cour- 
 tesy with which he was preparing to receive 
 the lord of Montagu Castle presented a damag- 
 ing contrast to the discourtesy he had designed 
 for his kinsman. 
 
 In the latter case, both his acts and inten- 
 tions were paltry beyond parallel. 
 
 The announcement in the nephew's letter, 
 that he had taken a steerage passage, had been 
 to his uncle a source of bitter chagrin. Not 
 that he would have cared a whit about the thing, 
 had the young fellow voyaged in any other 
 •vessel than the Sea Nymph, or had he travelled 
 unrecognized. What troubled Mr. Vaughan 
 was the fear that the relationship might be- 
 come known to Mr. Montagu Smythje, and 
 thus create in the mind of the latter a suspi- 
 cion of his, the planter's, respectabilty. 
 
 The dread of this expose so preyed upon Mr. 
 Yaughan's mind that, had it been possible, 
 he would have denied the relationship alto- 
 gether. 
 
 He had conceived a hope that this recogni- 
 tion might not take place during the voyage : 
 building his hope on the character of the 
 aristocratic Cockney, which he knew to be a 
 type of supercilious pride. Confiding in the
 
 THE MAROON. Ill 
 
 faith that nothing might transpire on board 
 ship to make Mr. Smythje acquainted with the 
 connection, he was determined there should 
 be no chance on shore. To preclude the pos- 
 sibility of sucli a thing, he had donceived a 
 design as childish as it Avas cruel : his nephew 
 was to be kept out of the imij. 
 
 The plan of action he had traced out long 
 before the arrival of the ^ea Nymph. Mr. 
 Montagu Smythje was to be met at the land- 
 ing, and at once hurried ofP to Mount' Wel- 
 come. Herbert Yaughan was likewise to be 
 conducted thither ; but not direct. 
 
 A different means of transport was to be 
 provided for him ; and on his arrival within 
 the bounds of the plantation, he was to be 
 taken by a private road to the house of the 
 overseer — which stood in a secluded corner of 
 the valley, nearly half a mile distant from the 
 '' Buff." 
 
 Here he was to remain as the guest of the 
 latter, until such time as his uncle could 
 find a way of disposing of him — either 
 by procuring some employment for him at 
 Montego Bay, or the situation of book-keeper 
 on some distant plantation.
 
 11.2 THE MAROON. 
 
 With this ingenious contrivance did Mr. 
 
 Vaughan await the arrival of his guests. 
 # # # # • 
 
 It was upon the third day after receiving 
 his letters of advice, and near the hour of 
 noon, that the planter, playing as usual witli 
 his telescope, perceived in the offing of Mon- 
 tego Bay, and standing in for the port, a large 
 square-rigged vessel — a ship. 
 
 It might be the Sea Nymplt, and it might 
 not ; hut, taking into consideration some cir- 
 cumstances, knov/n to Mr. Yaughan, the proba- 
 bilities were that it was the expected vessel. 
 
 iVhether or no, the planter was determined 
 that the programme, he had so ingeniously 
 sketched out, should ;not be spoiled by any mis- 
 management in the performance ; and its execu- 
 tion was ordered upon the instant. 
 
 Bells were rung for a general muster of the 
 domestics ; a horn was sounded to summon 
 the overseer ; and, in less than half an hour 
 afterwards, the family barouche — a handsome 
 equipage, drawn b}^ a pair of splendidly- 
 caparisoned horses — was on the road to the 
 Bay, with the overseer on horseback, riding as 
 an escort behind it.
 
 THE MAROON. 113 
 
 In rear of this went a waggon, to which 
 eight large oxen were attached ; and behind the 
 waggon appeared an escort sui generis : a rough 
 negro boy, mounted on the shaggiest of steeds, 
 w^ho w^as no other than the post-boy abeady 
 mentioned — the identical Quashie. 
 
 Quashie was not on his usual diurnal duty : 
 his present errand was one of a far more 
 important character, and the duty confided to 
 him of an exceedingly delicate nature. 
 
 At this hour the great hall of Mount 
 Welcome exhibited a scene that, to the eye of 
 a stranger to West Indian customs, mig]/ 
 have appeared curious enough. 
 
 Scattered over the floor, at certain distances 
 from each other, were some six or eight negro 
 girls, or " wenches," as they are called, most of 
 them being of the younger brood of the plan- 
 tation blacks. All w^ere down on their knees — 
 each one having by her side, and within reach 
 of her hand, an orange freshly cut in halves, 
 some bees'-wax, and a portion of the fibrous 
 pericarp of a cocoa-nut. 
 
 The floor itself was without carpet of r.ny 
 kind ; but instead of beiug of plain deal, it pre- 
 sented a mosaic of hard woods, of difiercnt 
 colours — among which might be recognized 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 THE MAROON. 
 
 the mahogany and heart- wood, the bread-nut 
 and bully-tree. / 
 
 To give the tesselated surface a polish was 
 the business of the dark damsels on their knees ; 
 and for that purpose .were the oranges and 
 cocoa-husks provided. 
 
 To an islander the sight was one of common, 
 indeed daily, occurrence. The lustre of his 
 hall floor is a matter of pride with a Jamaica 
 planter ; as much so as the quality or pattern 
 of his drawing-room carpet to a householder 
 at home ; and every day, and at the same hour, 
 the dark-skinned housemaids make their ap- 
 pearance, and renew the glitter of the surface, 
 whose gloss has been tarnished by the revels 
 of the preceding night. 
 
 The hour set apart for this quaint custom 
 is just before laying the cloth for dinner — 
 about three or four o'clock; and that she 
 may not sully the polish while carrying in 
 the dishes, the barefooted Abigail adopts a 
 plan that deserves mention on account of its 
 originality. 
 
 Having provided herself Avith two small 
 pieces of linen or cotton cloth, she spreads 
 them out upon the floor, and then places a foot 
 upon each. As the toes of a West Indian house-
 
 THE MAROON. 115 
 
 wench are almost as prehensile as her fingers, 
 she finds no difiicnlty in '' cramping " the cloth 
 and holding it between the " big toe " and its 
 nearest neighbour ; and with this simple chaus- 
 sure she is enabled to slide over the floor 
 Avithont in the least degree " smoutching " its 
 gloss, or leaving any sign of her passage over 
 its shining surface. 
 
 While such a busy scene was transpiring in 
 the great hall of Mount Welcome, one of a 
 difierent character, but of equal activity, was 
 going on in the kitchen. This " ofiice " stood 
 a little apart from the main dwelling, com- 
 municating with its lower storey by a covered 
 gallery. Along this passage black and yeUow 
 wenches could be seen constantly going and 
 returning, each with her load — a haunch of 
 venison, a ham of the wild hog, a turtle, ramier 
 pigeons, and mountain crabs, all on their way 
 to the spit, the stew-pan, or the chafing-dish. 
 
 A similar sight might have been witnessed 
 at Mount Welcome any other day in the year ; 
 but perhaps with a less abundant variety in 
 the materials, and with not half so much move- 
 ment among the stafi* of wenches pertaining to 
 the cuisine — whose excited manner in the per- 
 formance of their specific duties testified, as 
 
 I 2
 
 116 THE MAROON. 
 
 much as the variety of luxuries lying around, 
 that on this particular day a repast of the 
 most sumptuous kind was expected from their 
 skill. 
 
 Their master did not leave these prepara- 
 tions to be made without his own personal 
 surveillance. From the time that the ship 
 had been descried, he was everywhere — in the 
 stable, to look after the sable grooms ; in the 
 kitchen, to instruct the cooks ; in the great 
 hall, to inspect the polishing of the floor ; and, at 
 last, on the landing outside, standing, telescope 
 to his eye, and looking down the long avenue, 
 where the carriage containing his distinguished 
 visitor might at any moment be expected to 
 make its appearance.
 
 CHAPTEE XII. 
 
 KATE AND TOLA. 
 
 Occupying one corner of the mansion of 
 Mount Welcome — that which was farthest 
 removed from the din and clangour of the 
 kitchen — was a small chamber, richly and ele- 
 gantly furnished. The light was admitted into 
 it on two sides through latticed windows, that, 
 when open, left a free passage from the floor to 
 a little balcony outside — with which each of 
 the windows was provided. 
 
 One of these windows looked out to the 
 rearward, commanding a view of the garden, 
 and the wooded steep beyond. The other 
 opened to the left side of the house, upon the 
 shrubbery grounds that extended in that direc- 
 tion as far as the foot of the ridge. 
 
 Even had there been no one within this 
 little chamber, the style and character of its 
 furniture would have told, that the person to 
 whom it appertained was of the gentler sex. 
 
 In one corner stood a bed, with carved posts
 
 118 THE MAROON. 
 
 of yellow lance wood ; from wliicli hung what 
 at first sight might have been taken for white 
 muslin curtains, but which, on closer scrutiny, 
 could be seen to be the gauze-like netting 
 of a" mosquito bar." 
 
 The size of the bed told that it was in- 
 tended for but one individual. Its habitual 
 occupant was therefore unmarried. 
 
 In the bay of one of the windov/s stood a 
 dressing-table of ^a])ier macJte, inlaid with 
 mother-of-pearl ; and upon this was placed a 
 mirror of circular shape on a stand of the finest 
 Spanish mahogany. 
 
 In front of the mirror was a variety of 
 objects of different forms — among which 
 might be noticed the usual implements of the 
 toilet, with many of those eccentric little 
 articles of luxe and vertu^ that bespeak the 
 refined presence of woman. 
 
 Other pieces of furniture in the room were 
 three or four Chinese chairs ; a small marque- 
 terie table ; a work-box of tortoise-shell veneer, 
 on a pedestal of like material; and a little 
 cabinet of ebony wood, richly inlaid with buhl. 
 
 There was neither mantel nor fireplace — the 
 climate of eternal summer precluding all ne- 
 cessity for such " fixtures."
 
 THE MAROON. 119 
 
 The window- curtains were of a tliin trans- 
 parent mnslin, with a pattern of pink flower- 
 ing woven into the stuff, and bordered with 
 a fringe of alternate pink and white tassels. 
 
 A breeze, laden with the perfume of a thou- 
 sand flowers, blowing, in through the open 
 latticework of the jalousies, kept these light 
 hangings almost continually in motion, im- 
 parting an aspect of coolness to the chamber. 
 This was further heightened by the glossy 
 smoothness of the hard-wood floor, which 
 glistened under foot like a mirror. 
 
 'No one could have glanced into this little 
 apartment, without being struck with its costly 
 yet chaste adornment. Eich and elegant, how- 
 ever, as was the case, it was no more than 
 worthy of the jewel which it was accustomed 
 to contain. It was the bedroom and boudoir 
 of " Lilly Quasheba," the heiress jjrcsumjjtive 
 of Mount Welcome. 
 
 But few were ever favoured with a glance 
 into that luxurious chamber. It was a sacred 
 precinct, into which curious eyes were not per- 
 mitted to penetrate. Its polished floor was 
 not to be trodden by vulgar feet. With the 
 exception of her father, no man had ever in- 
 truded into that virgin shrine ; and he, only on
 
 120 THE MAROON. 
 
 rare and extraordinary occasions. Even to the 
 domestics it was not of free access. Only one, 
 besides its mistress, could enter it unbidden — 
 her brown-skinned handmaid Yola. 
 
 i\i * * « 
 
 On that same day — shortly after the ringing 
 of the bells had announced the arrival of the 
 English ship, and while the dusky domes- 
 tics were engaged, as described, in their 
 ante -prandial preparations — two individuals 
 occupied the chamber in question. 
 
 One was the young lady to whom the apart- 
 ment pertained — the other her maid. 
 
 They were in different attitudes : the mistress 
 seated upon one of the Chinese chairs in front 
 of the window, while the maid was standing 
 behind, occupied in arranging her mistress's 
 hair. 
 
 The girl was just entering upon her task — 
 if we may so designate that which many might 
 have deemed a pleasure. Already the compli- 
 cated machinery of combs and hair-pins lay 
 strewed over the table ; and the long chestnut- 
 coloured tresses hung in luxuriant confusion 
 around those shoulders of snow, in whose 
 velvet-like epidermis there appeared no trace 
 of the taifit.
 
 THE MAROON. 121 
 
 Involuntarily the maid ceased from her task, 
 and stood gazing upon her young mistress 
 with a look of instinctive admiration. 
 
 " Oh, beautiful ! " exclaimed she, in a low, 
 murmured voice ; " you beautiful, missa ! " 
 
 " Tut, Yola : 'tis only flattery of you to say 
 so ! You are as beautiful as I ; only your beauty 
 is of a different order. No doubt, in your 
 country you would be a great belle." 
 
 *' Ah, missa, you belle anywhere — black man 
 — white man — all think you beautiful — all the 
 same ! " 
 
 " Thank you, Yola ! but I shouldn't particu- 
 larly desire to be the object of such universal 
 admiration. For my part, I don't know one 
 male biped in whose eyes I care to appear at- 
 tractive." 
 
 " Perhaps missa no so say, when come young 
 buckra from Inglis' country ! " 
 
 " Which buckra ? — there are two of them 
 expected from the English country." 
 
 " Yola no hear two come. Massa she hear 
 speak of one — only one." 
 
 '* Oh, you've heard speak of one only ! Did 
 you hear his name mentioned? " 
 
 " Yes ; he grand man — great lord — Sultan
 
 122 THE MAROON. 
 
 of Mongew. He have other name — Yola 
 hear it ; but she no sabbey speak it." 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! ha 1 I don't wonder at that. It's 
 as much as I ' sabbey ' myself to pronounce 
 that second name : which I presume to be 
 Smythje. Is that the name you heard ?" 
 
 " That it, missa — he berry fine gentl'man, he 
 beauty man. Massa he so tell Massr' Trusty." 
 
 " Ah, Yola ! your master is a man, and men 
 are not always the best judges of one another's 
 looks. Perhaps the Sultan of Mongew, as you 
 call him, might not be such a pattern of per- 
 fection as papa describes him. But no doubt, 
 we shall soon have an opportunity of judging 
 for ourselves. Did you hear your master say 
 nothing about another "buckra" that is ex- 
 pected ? " 
 
 " No, Missa Kate. One only he speak of — 
 dis same one of Mongew Castle." 
 
 A low ejaculation, expressive of disappoint- 
 ment, escaped the lips of the young Creole, as 
 she settled down into an attitude of silent re- 
 flection, her eyes turned upon the shining floor 
 at her feet. 
 
 It is not easy to tell why she put the last 
 interrogatory. Perhaps she had some sus-
 
 THE MAROON. 123 
 
 picion of her father's plans. At all events, she 
 knew there was some mystery, and was desirous 
 of penetrating it. 
 
 The maid was still gazing npon her, when all 
 at once the dark Arab-like features of the latter 
 assumed a changed expression-^the look oT 
 admiration giving place to one of earnest in- 
 quiry, as if some strange thought had occurred 
 to her. 
 
 " Allah ! " ejaculated she, still keeping her 
 eyes fixed upon the face of her mistress. 
 
 '' Well, Yola," said the latter, attracted by 
 the exclamation, and looking up ; " v/hy do you 
 call upon Allah ? Has anything occurred to 
 yoa? 
 
 " Oh ! beauty missa ! you so like one man." 
 
 " I like a man ! I resemble a man ! Is that 
 what you mean ?" 
 
 " Yes, missa. Nebber see it before — ^you 
 berry, berry like ! " 
 
 " Well, Yola, you are certainly not flattering 
 me now. Who might this man be ? I pray 
 you tell me." 
 
 " He man of the mountains — Maroon." 
 
 " Oh ! worse and worse ! I resemble a Ma^ 
 Gracious me ! Surely you are jesting, 
 
 ? 
 
 roon 
 Yola?^
 
 1.24 THE MAROON. 
 
 " Oil ! missa, he beauty man ; ronn black 
 eyes tliat glance like the fire-fly in the wood 
 — eyes like yours — berry like you eyes, missa." 
 
 '' Come, silly girl ! " said the young lady, 
 speaking in a tone of reproval, more affected 
 than real; -^'do you know that it is very 
 naughty of you, to compare me to a man — 
 much more to a Maroon ? " 
 
 " Oh ! !Missa Kate, he beauty man — berry 
 beauty man/' 
 
 " That 1 doubt very much ; but even were 
 it so, you should not speak of his resembling 
 me. 
 
 " Me pardon, missa. I no more so say." 
 
 '' No, you had better not, good Yola. If 
 you do, I shall ask papa to sell you." 
 
 This was said in a tone of gentle raillery, 
 which told that any intention of carrying out 
 the threat was far from the speaker's thoughts. 
 
 " By the bye, Yola," continued the young- 
 lady, " I could get a good price for you. 
 How much do you suppose I was offered for 
 you the other day ? " 
 
 " Missa Kate, I no know. Allah forbid me 
 you ebber leave ! If you no more my missa, 
 I care no more live." 
 
 " Thanks, Yola," said the young Creole,
 
 THE MAROON. 125 
 
 evidently touched by the words of her atten- 
 dant, the sincerity of which was proved by the 
 tone in which they were spoken. "Be not 
 afraid of my parting with you. As proof 
 that I shall not, I refused a very large sum — 
 how much, can you guess?" 
 
 " Ah 1 missa, I worth nothing to no one but 
 you. If I you forced leave, I be no more 
 happy in this world." 
 
 " Well, there is one who thinks you worth 
 two hundred pounds, and has offered that for 
 you." 
 
 "Wlio, missa? " 
 
 "^Vliy — he who sold you to papa — Mr. 
 Jessuron." 
 
 " Allah help poor Yola ! Oh ! missa Kate, 
 he bad master ; he berry wicked man. Yola 
 die — Cubina kill her ! Yola herself kill rather 
 than she go back to Jew slave-dealer ! Good 
 missa ! — beauty missa ! — you no sell you poor 
 slave ? " 
 
 The girl fell upon her knees at the feet of 
 her young mistress, with her hands clasped 
 over her head, and for some moments remained 
 in this attitude. 
 
 " Don't fear my selling you," said the young 
 lady, motioning the suppliant to rise to her
 
 126 THE MAROON. 
 
 feet ; " least of all to liim — whom I believe to 
 be what you have styled him, a very wicked 
 man. Have no fear for that. But tell me, 
 what name was that you pronounced just 
 now? Cubina, was it not ?" 
 
 " Yes, missa, Cubina." 
 
 " And pray w^ho is Cubina ?" 
 
 The brown maid hesitated before making 
 reply, while the crimson began to show itself 
 on her chestnut-coloured cheeks. 
 
 "Oh, never mind!" said her young mistress, 
 noticing her hesitation. " If there's any 
 secret, Yola, I shall not insist upon an 
 answer." 
 
 " Missa, from you Yola no have secret. 
 Cubina, he mountain man — Maroon." 
 
 " What ! is he the Maroon I am supposed 
 to resemble ? " 
 
 " True, missa, he same." 
 
 *' Oh ! I see how it is — I suppose that ac- 
 counts for you thinking me beautiful ? This 
 Cubina, no doubt, is a sweetheart of yours ?" 
 
 Yola lowered her eyes without making reply. 
 The crimson appeared in deeper tint through 
 the chestnut. 
 
 " You need not answer, good Yola," said 
 the young creole, with a significant smile. " I
 
 THE MAROON. 127 
 
 know what your answer ougltt to be, if yon were 
 to speak yonr mind. I tliink I liave heard of 
 this Cnbina. Have a care, my girl ! These 
 Maroons are a very different sort of men from 
 the coloured people on the plantations. Like 
 me, he is — ha ! ha 1 ha ! " and the yonng 
 beauty glanced coyly at the mirror. '' Well, 
 Yola, I'm not angry with you, since it is your 
 sweetheart with whom T am compared. Love, 
 they say, is a wonderful beautiner ; and no 
 doubt Master Cubina is, in your eyes, a per- 
 fect Endymion. 
 
 " Come girl ! " added she, coquettishly tossing 
 the chestnut tresses over her shoulders of ivory, 
 " I fear we have been wasting time. If I'm 
 not ready to receive this grand guest, I'll get 
 into trouble with papa. Go on, and trick 
 me out in a style becoming the mistress of 
 Mount Welcome." 
 
 With a peal of merry laughter at the air of 
 grandeur she had thus jestingly assumed, the 
 young lady bent down her head, submitting 
 her magnificent chevelure to the manipulation 
 of her maid.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 QUASHIE. 
 
 In less than half an hour after the hrief con- 
 versation between Mr. Montagu Smythje and 
 the young steerage passenger, the Sea Nymph 
 had got warped into port, and was lying along- 
 side the wharf. 
 
 A gangway -plank was stretched from the 
 shore ; and over this, men and women, of all 
 shades of colour, from blonde to ebony black, 
 and of as many different callings, came crowd- 
 ing aboard; while the passengers, sick of 
 the ship and everything belonging to her, 
 hastened to get on shore. 
 
 Half-naked porters — black, brown, and yel- 
 low — commenced wrangling over the luggage 
 — dragging trunks, boxes, and bags in every 
 direction but the right one, and clamouring 
 their gumbo jargon with a volubility that 
 resembled the jabbering of apes.
 
 THE MAROON. 129 
 
 On the wharf appeared a number of 
 wheeled vehicles, that had evidently been 
 awaiting the arrival of the ship — not hack- 
 neys, as would have been the case in a 
 European port, but private carriages — some 
 of them handsome '' curricles " drawn by a 
 pair, and driven by black Jehus in livery ; 
 others only gigs with a single horse, or two- 
 wheelers of even an inferior description — 
 according to the wealth or style of the indi- 
 vidual for whose transport each had been 
 brought to the port. 
 
 Waorcrons, too, with teams of oxen — some 
 having eight in the yoke — stood near the 
 landing-place, waiting for baggage : the naked 
 black drivers lounging silently by the animals, 
 or occasionally calling them by their names, 
 and talking to them, just as if their speeches 
 had been understood ! 
 
 Among the different carriages ranged along 
 the wharf, a handsome barouche appeared con- 
 spicuous. It was attached to a pair of cream- 
 coloured horses, splendidly caparisoned. A 
 mulatto coachman sat upon the box, shining 
 in a livery of lightest green, with yellow 
 facings ; while a footman, in garments of like 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 THE MAROON. 
 
 hue, attended at the carriage-step, holding the 
 door for some one to get in. 
 
 Herbert Yaughan, standing on the fore-deck 
 of the Sea Nymjph — as jet undecided as to 
 whether he should then go ashore — had 
 noticed this magnificent equipage. He was 
 still gazing upon it, when his attention was 
 attracted to two gentlemen, who, having 
 walked direct from the vessel, had j ast arrived 
 by the side of the carriage. A white servant 
 followed them; and behind were two negro 
 attendants, carrying a number of parcels of 
 light luggage. One of the gentlemen and 
 the white servant were easily recognized by 
 Herbert : they were Mr. Montagu Smythje 
 and his valet. 
 
 Herbert now recalled the odd expression 
 made use of, but the moment before, by his 
 fellow-passenger — that he was "consigned" 
 to the proprietor of Mount Welcome. 
 
 The carriage having received Mr. Montagu 
 Smythje, and the footman having mounted the 
 box — leaving the rumble to tlie English valet 
 — was driven off at full speed; the second 
 gentleman, who appeared to be an overseer, 
 following on horseback as an escort.
 
 THE MAROON. 131 
 
 Herbert watched the receding vehicle, until 
 a turn in the road hid it from his view ; and 
 then, dropping his eyes towards the deck, he 
 stood for some moments in a reflective atti- 
 tude, — revolving in his mind some thoughts 
 that were far from agreeable. 
 
 ISTo one there to meet him and bid him 
 welcome ! 
 
 The countenance of the young adventurer 
 became clouded under the influence of this 
 thought ; and he stood silently gazing upon 
 the deck with eyes that saw not. 
 
 " Sa ! " said a negro boy, at this moment 
 stepping up and interrupting his reflections. 
 
 "Ha!" rejoined Herbert, looking up and 
 perceiving, with some surprise, that the darkey 
 was regarding him with a fixed stare. " What 
 might you >vant, my lad ? If it be money, I 
 have none to give you." 
 
 " Money, sa ? wharra fo' Quashie want 
 money ? He do wha' massr bid. Young 
 •buckra ready go now ? " 
 
 " Eeady to go ! where ? — what mean you, 
 boy ? " 
 
 " Go fo' da great house." 
 
 " Great house ! of what great house are you 
 speaking ? "
 
 132 THE MAROON. 
 
 " Moun Welc'm', sa — Massr Ya n. You fo' 
 Massr Ya'n, sa? " 
 
 " What ! " exclaimed Herbert, in surprise, at 
 the same time scanning the darkey from head 
 to foot ; " how do you know that, my boy ? " 
 
 " Quashie know dat well 'nuf. Cappen ob 
 da big ship, obaseeah say so. Obaseeah point 
 out young buckra from de waff — he send 
 Quashie fetch young buckra to Moun' Welc'm'. 
 Eeady go now, sa ? " 
 
 '' You are from Mount Welcome, then ? " 
 
 " Ya, sa — me hoss-boy da, an' pose-boy — 
 fetch pony for young Englis' buckra. Obaseeah 
 he bring b'rouche for grand Englis' buckra. 
 Baggage dey go in de ox- waggon." 
 
 " Where is your pony ? " 
 
 " Up yonna, sa ; on de waff, sa. Eeady go, 
 
 " All right," said Herbert, now comprehend- 
 ing the situation of affairs. '' Shoulder that 
 portmanteau, and toss it into the waggon. 
 Which road am I to take ? " 
 
 " Can't miss um road, sa — straight up da 
 ribber till you come to de crossin.' Dar you 
 take de road dat don't lead to da leff — you 
 soon see Moun' Welc'm/ sa." 
 
 "How far is it?"
 
 THE MAROON. 133 
 
 " Bout sebben or eight mile, sa — reach dar 
 long 'fore sun-down ; pony go like de berry 
 lightnin'. Sure you no keep to da left by da 
 crossin'." 
 
 Thus instructed, the young steerage-pas- 
 senger took his departure from the ship — after 
 bidding adieu to the friendly tars, who had 
 treated him so handsomely during his irk- 
 some voyage. 
 
 With his gun, a single -barrelled fowling- 
 piece, on his shoulder, he strode over the plat- 
 form, and up the w^ooden wharf. Then de- 
 taching the pony from the wheel of the ox- 
 waggon, to which it had been tied, he threw 
 himself into the saddle, and trotted off along 
 the road pointed out as the one that would 
 conduct him to Mount Welcome. 
 
 The excitement produced by the sudden 
 change from ship to shore — the stir of the 
 streets through which he had to pass — the 
 novel sights and sounds that at every step 
 saluted his eyes and ears — hindered Herbert 
 Yaughan from thinking of anything that con- 
 cerned himself. 
 
 Only for a short time, however, was his mind 
 thus distracted from dwelling on his own 
 aJSairs. Before he had ridden far, the road —
 
 134 THE MAROON. 
 
 hitherto bordered by houses — entered under a 
 dark canopy of forest foliage ; and the young 
 traveller, all at once, found himself surrounded 
 hj a perfect solitude. 
 
 Under the sombre shadow of the trees, his 
 spirit soon returned to its former gloomy fore- 
 bodings ; and, riding more slowly over a stretch 
 of the road where the ground was wet and 
 boggy, he fell into a train of thoughts that 
 were anything but pleasant. 
 
 The subject of his reflections may be easily 
 guessed. He had not failed to notice — how 
 could he ? — the distinction made between him- 
 self and his fellow- voyager. While a splendid 
 equipage had been waiting for the latter — and 
 his landing had been made a sort of ova-v 
 tion, how different was the means of transport 
 provided for him ! 
 
 " By the memory of my father ! " muttered 
 he, as he rode on, "it is an insult I shall not 
 overlook : an insult to him more than to 
 myself. But for the fulfilment of /lis dying 
 wish, I should not go one step farther ;" and 
 as he said this, he drew his rough roadster to 
 a halt — as if half-resolved to put his hypo- 
 thetic threat into practice. 
 
 " Perhaps/' he continued, again moving for-
 
 THE MAROON. . 135 
 
 ward, with a more liopeful air, " perhaps there 
 may be some mistake ? But no," he added, 
 with a strong emphasis on the negative mono- 
 syllable, " there can be none ! This shallow 
 fop is a young man of fortune — I a child of 
 misfortune ; " and he smiled bitterly at the 
 antithesis he had clrawTi ; " that is the reason 
 why such a distinction has been made between 
 us. Be it so ! " he continued, after a pause. 
 " Poor as I am, this churlish relative will find 
 me as proud as himself. I shall return him 
 scorn for scorn. I shall demand an explana- 
 tion of his behaviour ; and the sooner I have 
 it the better ! " 
 
 As if stimulated by a sense of the outrage, 
 as also by a half-formed purpose of retalia- 
 tion, the young adventurer gave the whip to 
 his shaggy steed, and dashed onward at full 
 gallop.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 TRAVELLING AT THE TAIL. 
 
 For nearly an hour did the cob continue its 
 gallop, without pause or slacking. The road 
 was a wide one, much tracked by wheels ; and, 
 as it ran in a direct course, the rider took it 
 for granted he was keeping the right path. 
 Now and then he caught a glimpse of v.ater 
 through the trees — no doubt, the river men- 
 tioned in the directions given hira by the 
 darkey. 
 
 The crossing at length came in sight, caus- 
 ing him to desist from his rapid pace — in order 
 that he might ford the stream. There was no 
 appearance of a bridge. The water, however, 
 was only knee-deep ; and, without hesitation, 
 the pony plunged in and waded over. 
 
 Herbert halted on the opposite bank : for 
 there appeared in front of him a dilemma. 
 The road forked. The negro boy had warned
 
 THE MAROON. 137 
 
 him of this — telling him at the same time to 
 take the one that didnt lead to "da leff " ; but 
 instead of two " tines " to the fork, there were 
 three ! 
 
 Here was a puzzle. It was easy enough 
 to know which of the three not to take — the 
 one that did\^2A to "da leff"; but which of 
 the other two was to be chosen was the point 
 that appeared to present a difficulty in the 
 solution. Both were plain, good roads ; and 
 each as likely as the other to be the one which 
 would conduct him to Mount "Welcome. 
 
 Had his rider left the pony to its own guid- 
 ance, perhaps it would have chosen the right 
 road. In all likelihood he would have done 
 so in the end ; but, before determining on any 
 particular line of action, he thought it better 
 to look for the wheel-tracks of the carriage, 
 that he knew must have passed in advance of 
 him. 
 
 While thus cogitating, the silence occa- 
 sioned by his momentary halt was all at once 
 interrupted by a voice that sounded at his 
 very side, and the tones of which he fancied 
 were not new to him. 
 
 On suddenly turning in the saddle, and look- 
 ing in the direction whence the voice appeared
 
 138 THE MAROON. 
 
 to proceed, what was his astonishment on 
 beholding the negro boy — the veritable 
 Quashie ! 
 
 " Da, sa ! das da crossin' me you tell 'bout ; 
 yon no take by de leif — dat lead to ole Jew 
 penn ; nor da right — he go to Mon'gew Cassel ; 
 de middle Massr Ya'n road — he go straight na 
 Monn' Welc'm'." 
 
 The young traveller sat for some moments 
 without speaking, or making reply in any way 
 — surprise, as by a spell, holding him silent. 
 He had left the boy on the forward deck of the 
 ship, to look after his luggage ; and he had 
 seen him — he could almost swear to it — still on 
 board, as he rode away from the wharf ! More- 
 over, he had ridden a stretch of many miles 
 — most of the way at full gallop, and all of it 
 at a pace with which no pedestrian could 
 possibly have kept up ! How, then, was he 
 to account for the lad's presence upon the 
 spot? 
 
 This was the first question that occurred to 
 him ; and which he put to the darkey, as soon 
 as he had sufficiently recovered from his sur- 
 prise to be able to speak. 
 
 " Quashie foller young buckra — at him pony 
 heels."
 
 THE MAROON. 139 
 
 The answer went but a short way towards 
 enlightening the " jornig buckra :" since he 
 still believed it utterly impossible for any 
 human being to have travelled as fast as he 
 had ridden. 
 
 " At the pony's heels I "Wliat, my black- 
 skin ! do you mean to say you have run all 
 the way after me from the landing-place ? " 
 
 " Ya, sa : dat hab Quashie do." 
 
 " But I saw you on board the ship as I 
 started off. How on earth could you have 
 overtaken me ? " 
 
 " Yaw, massa, dat wa' easy 'nuf. Young 
 buckra, he start off; Quashie, he put him 
 porkmantle in da ox- waggon, an den he foller. 
 Buckra, he go slow at fuss, Quashie soon cotch 
 up, and den easy run 'long wi' da pony — not 
 much in dat, sa." 
 
 " Not much ! Why, 3'ou imp of darkness, I 
 have been riding at the rate of ten miles an 
 hour, and how you've kept up with me is 
 beyond my comprehension 1 Well, you're a 
 noble runner, that I will say ! I'd back you at a 
 foot-race against all comers, whether black ones 
 or white ones. The middle road, you say ? " 
 
 " Ya, sa, dat de way to Moun' Welc'm' ; you 
 soon see de big gate ob de plantation."
 
 140 THE MAROON. 
 
 Herbert headed liis roadster in the direction 
 indicated ; and moved onward along the path — 
 his thoughts still dwelling on the odd incident. 
 
 He had proceeded but a few lengths of his 
 pony, when he was tempted to look back — 
 partly to ascertain if Quashie was still follow- 
 ing him, and partly with the intention of 
 putting a query to this singular escort. 
 
 A fresh surprise was in store for him. The 
 darkey was nowhere to be seen ! Neither to 
 the right, nor the left, nor yet in the rear, was 
 he visible ! 
 
 " Where the deuce can the boy have 
 gone ?" inquired Herbert, involuntarily, at the 
 same time scanning the underwood on both 
 sides of the road. 
 
 " Hya, sa ! " answered a voice, that appeared 
 to come out of the ground close behind — 
 while at the same instant the brown mop of 
 Quashie, just visible over the croup of the 
 cob, proclaimed his whereabouts. 
 
 How the boy had been able to keep up with 
 the pony was at length explained : he had been 
 holding on to its tail! 
 
 There was somethins^ so ludicrous in the 
 sight, that the young Englishman forgot for 
 a moment the grave thoughts that had been
 
 THE MAUOON. 141 
 
 harassing him ; and once more checking his 
 steed into a halt, gave utterance to roars of 
 laughter. The darkey joined in his mirth 
 with a grin that extended his mouth from ear 
 to ear — though he was utterly unconscious of 
 what the young buckra was laughing at. He 
 could not see anything comic in a custom 
 which he was almost daily in the habit of prac- 
 tising — for it was not the first time Quashie 
 had travelled at the tail of a horse. 
 
 Journeying about half a mile further 
 along the main road, the entrance-gate of 
 Mount Welcome was reached. There was 
 no lodge — only a pair of grand stone piers, 
 with a wing of strong masonwork on each 
 flank, and a massive folding gate between 
 them. 
 
 From the directions Herbert had already 
 received, he might have known this to be 
 the entrance to his uncle's plantation ; but 
 Quashie, still clinging to the pony's tail, re- 
 moved all doubt by crying out, — 
 
 " Da's da gate, buckra gemman — da's de way 
 fo' Moun' Welc'm' ! " 
 
 On passing through the gateway, the mansion 
 itself came in sight — its white walls and green 
 jalousies shining conspicuously at the extreme
 
 142 THE MAROON. 
 
 end of the long avenne ; which last, with its 
 bordering rows of palms and tamarinds, gave 
 to the approach an air of aristocratic grandeur. 
 
 Herbert had been prepared for something of 
 this kind. He had heard at home that his 
 father's brother was a man of great wealth ; 
 and this was nearly all his father had himself 
 known respecting him. 
 
 The equipage which had transported his 
 more favoured fellow-voyager — and which had 
 passed over the same road about an hour 
 before him — also gave evidence of the grand 
 style in which his uncle lived. 
 
 The mansion now before his eyes was in corre- 
 spondence with what he had heard and seen. 
 There could be no doubt that his uncle was 
 one of the grandees of the island. 
 
 The reflection gave him less pleasure than 
 pain. His pride had been already wounded ; 
 and as he looked up the noble avenue, he was 
 oppressed with a presentiment that some even 
 greater humiliation was in store for him. 
 
 " Tell me, Quashie," said he, after a spell of 
 painful reflection, " was it your master him- 
 self who gave you directions about conducting 
 me to Mount Welcome ? Or did you have your 
 orders from the overseer ? "
 
 THE MAROON. 143 
 
 " Massr no me speak 'bout you, sa ; I no 
 hear him say nuffin." 
 
 " The overseer, then? " 
 
 " Ya, sa, de obaseeah." 
 
 " "What did he tell you to do ? Tell me as 
 near as you can ; and* I may make you a pre- 
 sent one of these days." 
 
 " Gorry, massr buckra ! I you tell all he 
 say, 'zactly as he say um. ' Quashie,' say he, 
 'Quashie,' he say, ' you go down board de 
 big ship ; you see dat ere young buckra' — dat 
 war yourself, sa — ' you fotcli 'im up to de ox- 
 waggon, you fotch 'im baggage, too ; you 
 mount 'im on Coco ' — da's de pony's name — 
 ' and den you fetch him home to m?/ house.' 
 Da's all he say — ebbery word." 
 
 " To /lis house ? Mount Welcome, you 
 mean ! 
 
 '' No, young buckra gemman — to de obaseeah 
 own house. And now we jess got to da road 
 dat lead dar. Dis way, sa ! dis way ! " 
 
 The darkey pointed to a bye-road, that, 
 forking off from the main avenue, ran in the 
 direction of the ridge, where it entered into a 
 tract of thick woods. 
 
 Herbert checked the pony to a halt, and sat 
 gazing at his guide, in mute surprise.
 
 144 THE MAUOON. 
 
 " Dis way, sa ! " repeated the boy. 
 " Yonna's de obaseeah's house. You see wha 
 da smoke rise, jess ober de big trees ? " 
 
 " What do you mean, my good fellow ? 
 AVhat have I to do with the overseer's house ? " 
 
 '' We's agwine da, sa." 
 
 '^Who? you?" 
 
 " BofF, sa ; an' Coco too." 
 
 " Have you taken leave of your senses, you 
 imp of darkness ? " 
 
 " No, sa ; Quashie only do w^hat him bid. 
 Da obaseeah Quashie bid fotch young buckra 
 to him house. Dis yeer's da way." 
 
 " I tell you, boy, you must be mistaken. It 
 is to Mount Welcome I am going — my uncle's 
 house — up yonder ! " 
 
 " No, buckra gemman, me no mistake. Da 
 obaseeah berry partikler 'bout dat same. He 
 tell me you no fo' da great house — da Buff. 
 He say me fotch you to 'im oitm house." 
 
 " Are you sure of that ? " 
 
 Herbert, as he put this interrogatory, leant 
 forward in the saddle, and listened attentively 
 for the reply. 
 
 '' Lor, buckra gemman ! I'se sure ob it as 
 de sun am in de hebbens dar. I swa' it, if 
 you like."
 
 THE MAROON. 145 
 
 On hearing this positive affirmation, the 
 young Englishman sat for a moment, as if 
 wrapt in a profound and painful reverie. His 
 breast rose and fell as though some terrible 
 truth was breaking upon him, which he was 
 endeavouring to disbelieve. 
 
 At this moment, Quashie caught the rein of 
 the bridle, and was about to lead the pony 
 into the bye-path. 
 
 " No ! '' shouted the rider, in a voice loud 
 and angry. " Let go, boy 1 let go, or I'll give 
 you the whip. This is my way." 
 
 And, wrenching the rein from the grasp of 
 bis sable guide, he headed the pony back into 
 the main avenue. 
 
 Then laying on the lash with all his might, 
 he pressed forward, at full gallop, in tlie direc- 
 tion of the " great house." 
 
 VOL. r.
 
 CHAPTEE XY. 
 
 A SLIPPERY FLOOR. 
 
 The carriage conveying Mr. Montagu Smythje 
 from Montego Bay to Mount Welcome, passed 
 up the avenue and arrived at the great 
 house, just one hour before Herbert Yaughan, 
 mounted on his rough roadster, and guided by 
 Quashie, made his appearance at the entrance- 
 gate of the plantation. 
 
 Mr. Smythje had arrived at half-past three, 
 P.M. Four was the regular dining hour at 
 Mount Welcome : so that there was just neat 
 time for the valet to unpack the ample valises 
 and portmanteaus, and dress his master for 
 the table. 
 
 It had been the aim of Mr. Yaughan to 
 make the introduction of Mr. Smythje to his 
 daughter as effective as possible. He was sage 
 enough to know the power of first appearances. 
 
 Tor this reason, he had managed to keep 
 them apart until the moment of meeting at 
 the dinner-table, when both should appear 
 under the advantage of a full dress. 
 
 So far as the impression to be made on Mr.
 
 THE MAROON. 147 
 
 Smythje was concerned, Mr. Vanghan's scheme 
 was perfectly successful. His daughter really 
 appeared superb — radiant as the crimson 
 quamoclit that glistened amidst the plaits of 
 her hair ; graceful as nature, and elegant as 
 art, could make her. 
 
 The heart of the cockney felt — perhaps 
 for the first time in his life — that true senti- 
 ment of admiration which beauty, combined 
 with virgin modesty, is almost certain to in- 
 spire. 
 
 For a moment, the remembrance of the 
 ballet girl and the lewd recollections of the 
 hagnio were obliterated; and a graver and 
 nobler inspiration took their place. 
 
 Even vulgar Loftus Vaughan had skill 
 enough to note this effect ; but how long it 
 would last — how long the plant of a pure pas- 
 sion would flourish in that uncongenial soil — 
 was a question which it required an abler phy- 
 siologist than Loftus Yaughan to determine. 
 
 The sugar-planter congratulated himself 
 upon his success. Smythje was smitten, be- 
 yond the shadow of a doubt. 
 
 Had the calculating father been equally 
 anxious to perceive a reciprocity of this fine 
 first impression, he would have been doomed 
 
 L 2
 
 148 THE MAROON. 
 
 to a disappointment. As certainly as that of 
 Mr. Smytlije was a sentiment of admiration, 
 so certainly was tliat of Kate Vaughan a feel- 
 ing of degout ; or at least of indifference. 
 
 In truth, the Londoner had made a most 
 unfortunate dedut. A coiitretenijos had occurred 
 in the ceremony of introduction — ;just at that 
 crisis-moment when all eyes are sharply set, 
 and all ears acutely bent in mutual reconnois- 
 sance. Mr. Vaughan had committed a grand 
 error in causing the presentation to take place 
 in the grand hall. Ice itself was not more 
 slippery than its floor. The consequence was 
 unavoidable ; and the cockney, essaying one 
 of his most graceful attitudes, fell flat upon 
 his face at the feet of her he simply intended 
 to Lave saluted ! 
 
 In that fall he had lost everything — every 
 chance of winning Kate Yaughan's heart. A 
 thousand acts of gracefulness, a thousand deeds 
 of heroism, would not have set him up again, 
 after that unfortunate fall. It was a clear 
 paraphrase ot the downfall of Humpty 
 Dumpty — the restoration alike hopeless, alike 
 impossible. 
 
 Mr. Montagu Smythje was too well stocked 
 with self-complacency to suffer much embar-
 
 THE MAllOOK. 149 
 
 rassment from a lapsus of so trifling a character. 
 His valet had him upon his feet in a trice ; 
 and with a '' Haw-haw ! " and the remark that 
 the floor was " demmed swippeway," he crept 
 cautiously to his chair, and seated himself. 
 
 Though the Londoner had been all his life 
 accustomed to dining well, he could not help 
 indulging in some surprise at the plentiful 
 and luxurious repast that was placed before 
 him. 
 
 Perhaps in no part of the world does the 
 table groan under a greater load of rich viands 
 than in the West Indian Islands. In the 
 prosperous times of sugar-planting, a Ja- 
 maican dinner was deserving of the name of 
 feast. Turtle was the common soup ; and the 
 most sumptuous dishes were arranged thickly 
 over the board. Even the ordinary every-day 
 dessert was a spread worthy of Apicius ; and 
 the wines — instead of those dull twin poisons, 
 port and sherry — were south-side Madeira, 
 champagne, claret, and sparkling hock — all 
 quaffed in copious flagons, plenteous as small 
 beer. 
 
 These were glorious times for the white- 
 skinned oligarchy of the sagar islands — the 
 days of revel and rollicky living — before the
 
 150 THE MAROO^\ 
 
 wedge of Wilberforce split the dark pedestal 
 which propped up their pomp and prosperity. 
 
 A dinner of this good old-fashioned style 
 had Loftns Vaughan prepared for his English 
 guest. Behind the chairs appeared troops of 
 coloured attendants, gliding silently over the 
 smooth floor. A constant stream of domes- 
 tics poured in and out of the hall, fetching 
 and removing the dishes and plates, or carrying 
 the wine decanters in silver coolers. Young 
 girls of various shades of complexion — some 
 nearly white — stood at intervals around the 
 table, fanning the guests with long peacock 
 plumes, and filling the great hall with an 
 artificial current of delicious coolness. 
 
 Montagu Smythje was delighted. Even in 
 his " dear metwopolis " he had never dined so 
 luxuriously. 
 
 " Spwendid, spwendid — 'pon honaw ! A 
 dinner fit for a p wince ! " he exclaimed, in 
 compliment to his entertainer." 
 
 The savoury dishes were partaken of, and 
 removed, and the table, arranged for dessert, 
 exhibited that gorgeous profusion which a 
 tropic clime can alone produce — -where almost 
 every order of the botanical world supplies 
 some fruit or berry of rarest excellence.
 
 THE MAROON. 151 
 
 Alone in the intertropical regions of the New 
 World may such variety be seen — a dessert 
 table upon which Pomona appears to have 
 poured forth her golden coriuicojncB. 
 
 The cloth having been removed from the 
 highly-polished table, the sparkling decanters 
 were once more passed round. In holaour of 
 his guest, the planter had already made free 
 with his own wines, all of which were of 
 most excellent quality. Loftus Yaughan was 
 at that moment at a maximum of enjo}^- 
 ment. 
 
 Just at that very moment, however, a cloud 
 was making its appearance on the edge of the 
 sky. 
 
 It was a very little cloud, and still very far 
 off; but, for all that, a careful observer could 
 have seen that its shadow became reflected on 
 the brow of the planter. 
 
 Literally speaking, this cloud was an object 
 on the earth, of shape half human, half equine, 
 that appeared near the extreme end of the 
 long avenue, moving towards the house. 
 
 When first seen by Loftus Yaughan, it was 
 still distant, though not so far off but that, 
 with the naked eye, he could distinguish a 
 man on horseback.
 
 152 THE MAROON. 
 
 From that moment he might have been 
 observed to turn about in his chair — at short 
 intervals casting uneasy glances upon the 
 centaurean form that was gradually growing 
 bigger as it advanced. 
 
 For a time, the expression on the face of Mr. 
 Vaughan was far from being a marked one. 
 The looks that conveyed it were furtive, and 
 might have passed unnoticed by the superficial 
 observer. They had, in fact, escaped the notice 
 both of his daughter and his guest ; and it was 
 not until after the horseman had made halt 
 at the entrance of the bye-path, and was seen 
 coming on for the house, that the attention of 
 either was drawn to the singular behaviour 
 of Mr. Vaughan. Then, however, his nervous 
 anxiety had become so undisguisedly patent, 
 as to elicit from Miss Vaughan an ejaculation 
 of alarm ; while the cockney involuntarily ex- 
 claimed, " Bless ma soul ! " adding the inter- 
 rogatory, — 
 
 " Anything wong, sir? " 
 
 " Oh ! nothing ! " stammered the planter ; 
 " only — only — a little surprise — that's all." 
 
 " Surprise, papa ! what has caused it ? Oh, 
 see ! yonder is some one on horseback — a man 
 — a young man. I declare it is our own pony
 
 THE MAROON. 153 
 
 he is riding ; and that is Quashie rnnning be- 
 hind him ! How very amusing ! Papa, what 
 is it all about ? " 
 
 " Tut ! sit down, child ! " commanded the 
 father, in a tone of nervous perplexity. " Sit 
 down, I say ! Whoever it be, it will be time 
 enough to know when he arrives. Kate ! 
 Kate ! 'tis not well-bred of you to interrupt 
 our dessert. Mr. Smythje — glass of Madeira 
 with you, sir ? " 
 
 " Plesyaw ! " answered the exquisite, turn- 
 ing once more to the table, and occupying 
 himself with the decanter. 
 
 Kate obeyed the command with a look that 
 expressed both reluctance and surprise. She 
 was slightly awed, too ; not so much by the 
 words, as the severe glance that accompanied 
 them. She made no reply, but sat gazing 
 with a mystified air in the face of her father — 
 who, hob-nobbing with his guest, affected not 
 to notice her. 
 
 The pony and his rider were no longer vi- 
 sible: as they were now too close to the house 
 to be seen over the sill of the window ; but 
 the clattering hoofs could be heard, the sounds 
 coming nearer and nearer. 
 
 Mr. Yaughan was endeavouring to appear
 
 154 THE MAROON. 
 
 coUected, and to say sometliing ; but his sang 
 froid was assumed and unnatural ; and being 
 unable to keep up the conversation, an omi- 
 nous silence succeeded. 
 
 The sound of the hoofs ceased to be heard. 
 The pony, having arrived under the windows, 
 had been brought to a halt. 
 
 Then there were voices — earnest and rather 
 loud. They were succeeded by the noise of 
 footsteps on the stone stairway. Someone 
 was coming up the steps. 
 
 Mr. Yaughan looked aghast. All his fine 
 plans were about to be frustrated. There was 
 a hitch in the programme — Quashie had failed 
 in the performance of Jiis part. 
 
 " Aha ! " ejaculated the j)lanter, with return- 
 ing delight, as the smooth, trim countenance of 
 his overseer made its appearance above the 
 landing. " Mr. Trusty wishes to speak with 
 me. Your pardon, Mr. Smythje — only for 
 one moment." 
 
 Mr. Yaughan rose from his seat, and has- 
 tened, as if wishing to meet the overseer, be- 
 fore the latter could enter the room. Trusty, 
 however, had already stepped inside the door- 
 way ; and, not being much of a diplomatist, 
 had bluntly declared his errand — in sotto voce,
 
 THE MAROON. 155 
 
 it is true, but still not low enough to hinder 
 a part of his communication from being heard. 
 Among other words, the phrase "jour nephew" 
 reached the ears of Kate — at that moment 
 keenly bent to catch every sound. 
 
 The reply was also partially heard, though 
 delivered in a low and apparently tremulous 
 voice: — '' Show him — summer-house — garden 
 — tell him to wait — there presently." 
 
 Mr. Yaughan turned back to the table with 
 a half-satisfied air. He was fancying that he 
 had escaped from his dilemma, at least, 
 for the time ; but the expression which he 
 perceived on the countenance of his daugh- 
 ter restored his suspicions that all was not 
 right. 
 
 Scarce a second was he left in doubt, for 
 almost on the instant, Kate cried out, in a tone 
 of pleased surprise, — 
 
 " Oh, papa, what do I hear ? Did not Mr. 
 Trusty say something about ' your nephew ' ? 
 After all, has cousin come? Is it he who 
 
 " Kate, my child," quickly interrupted her 
 father, and appearing not to have understood 
 her interrogatory, " you may retire to your 
 room. Mr. Smythje and I would like to have
 
 156 THE MAROON. 
 
 our cigar; and the smoke of tobacco don't 
 agi'ee with you. Go, child — go ! " 
 
 The young girl instantly rose from her 
 chair, and hastened to obey the command — 
 notwithstanding the protestations of Mr. 
 Smyth] e, who looked as if he would have 
 much preferred her company to the cigar. 
 
 But her father hurriedly repeated the " Go, 
 child — go ! " accompanying the words with 
 another of those severe glances which had 
 already awed and mystified her. 
 
 Before she had passed fairly out of the great 
 hall, however, her thoughts reverted to the 
 unanswered interrogatory ; and as she crossed 
 the threshold of her chamber, she was heard 
 muttering to herself : 
 
 " I wonder if cousin be come !"
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE KIOSK. 
 
 A PORTION of the level platform, on which 
 Mount Welcome was built, extended to the 
 rear of the dwelling ; and was . occupied, as 
 already described, b}' a garden filled with rare 
 and beautiful plants. Near the midst of this 
 garden, and about a dozen paces from the house, 
 stood a small detached building — a summer- 
 house — the materials of which were ornamental 
 woods of various kinds, all natives of the 
 island, famed for such products. The pieces 
 composing this summer-house, or " kiosk," as 
 it was habitually called, had all been cut and 
 carved with skilful care ; and the whole struc- 
 ture had been designed as a representation of 
 a miniature temple, with a cupola upon its top, 
 surmounted by a gilded and glittering vane. 
 
 Inside there were neither stairs nor parti- 
 tions — the whole space being taken up by a 
 single apartment. There were no glass win-
 
 158 THE MAROON. 
 
 dows : but all aroimd, the walls were open, 
 or closed only with Venetian blinds, the laths 
 of which were of the finest mahogany. A 
 Chinese mat covered the floor, and a rustic 
 table of bamboo cane pieces, with some half- 
 dozen chairs of like manufacture, constituted 
 the principal part of the furniture. 
 
 On the aforesaid table stood an inkstand of 
 silver, elaborately chased, with plume pens per- 
 taining to it. Some writing-paper lay beside 
 it ; and on a silver tray there were wafers, red 
 sealing-wax, and a signet seal. An escritoire 
 stood on one side ; and two or three dozen 
 volumes placed upon the top of this — with a 
 like number thrown carelessly on chairs — ■ 
 formed the library of Mount Welcome. 
 
 Some magazines and journals lay upon the 
 centre-table, and a box of best Havannahs — 
 open and half used — showed that the summer- 
 house served occasionally for a smoking-room. 
 
 It was sometimes styled the ''Library," 
 though its purposes were many. Mr. Yaughan, 
 at times, used it for the reception of visitors 
 — such as might have come upon errands of 
 business — such, in short, as were not deemed 
 worthy of being introduced to the company of 
 the grand hall.
 
 THE MAROON. 159 
 
 Just at the moment when Kate Yauo^lian 
 quitted the dinner-table, a young man was 
 shown into this detached apartment, Mr. 
 Trusty, the overseer, acting as his chaperon. 
 
 It is not necessary to say that this young 
 man was Herbert Yaughan. 
 
 How he came to be conducted thither is 
 easily explained. On learning from Quashie 
 the destination designed for him — aggrieved 
 and angry at the revelation — he had hurried in 
 hot haste up to the house. To Mr. Trusty, 
 who was keeping guard at the bottom of the 
 stairway, he had announced his relationship 
 with Mr. Yaughan, and demanded an interview 
 — making his requisition in such energetic 
 terms as to disturb the habitual sang-froid of 
 the overseer, and compel him to the instanta- 
 neous delivery of his message. 
 
 Indeed, so indignant did Herbert feel, that 
 he would have mounted the steps and entered 
 the house without further parley, had not Mr. 
 Trusty put forth his blandest entreaties to 
 prevent such a terrible catastrophe. 
 
 "Patience,my good sir ! " urged the overseer, 
 interposing himself between the new comer 
 and the stairway ; " Mr. Yaughan icUl see you, 
 presently — not just this moment ; he is en-
 
 160 THE MAROON. 
 
 gaged — company with him. The family's at 
 dinner. " 
 
 So far from soothing the chafed spirit of the 
 young man, the announcement was only a new 
 mortification. At dinner, and with company 
 — the cahin-passenger, of course — the ward- 
 not even a relative — while he, the nephew — 
 no dinner for him 1 
 
 In truth, Herbert recognized in this inci- 
 dent a fresh outrage. 
 
 With an eifort, be gave up the idea of as- 
 cending the stairs. Poor though he was, he 
 was nevertheless a gentleman ; and good breed- 
 ing stepped in to restrain him from this unbid- 
 den intrusion : though more than ever did he 
 feel convinced that an insult was put upon him, 
 and one that almost appeared premeditated. 
 
 He stood balancing in his mind whether 
 lie should turn upon his heel, and depart from 
 his uncle's house without entering it. A 
 feather would have brought down the scale. 
 The feather fell on the negative side, and 
 decided him to remain. 
 
 On being conducted into the summer-house 
 and left to himself, he showed no wish to be 
 seated ; but paced the little apartment back- 
 ward and forward in a state of nervous agitation.
 
 THE MAROON. 161 
 
 He took but slight heed of aught that was 
 there. He was in no mood for minutely ob- 
 serving — though he could not help noticing 
 the luxurious elegance that surrounded him : 
 the grandeur of the great house itself; the 
 si^lendidparfetres and gardens filled with plants 
 and flowers of exquisite beauty and fragrant 
 perfume. 
 
 These tine sights, however, instead of 
 soothing his chafed spirit, only made him 
 more bitterly sensible of his own poor for- 
 tunes, and the immeasurable distance that 
 separated him from his proud, rich uncle. 
 
 Through the open sides of the kiosk he 
 merely glanced hastily at the grounds; and 
 then his eyes became bent upon the great 
 house — directed habitually towards an entrance 
 at the back that by a flight of steps conducted 
 into the garden. By this entrance he ex- 
 pected his uncle would come out ; and in angry 
 impatience did he await his coming. 
 
 Had he seen the beautiful eyes that were, at 
 that moment, tenderly gazing upon him from 
 behind the lattice-work of the opposite window, 
 perhaps the sight would have gone far towards 
 soothing his irate soul. But he saw them 
 not. The jalousies were closed ; and though 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 162 THE MAROON. 
 
 from the shadowy interior of the chamber, 
 the kiosk and its occupant were in full view, 
 the young Englishman had no suspicion that 
 he was at that moment the object of observa- 
 tion — perhaps of admiration — by a pair of the 
 loveliest eyes in the island of Jamaica. 
 
 After turning, for the twentieth time, across 
 the floor — at each turn scanning the stairs 
 with fresh impatience — he somewhat spitefully 
 laid hold of a book, and opened it — in the 
 hope of being able to kill time over its pages. 
 
 The volume which came into his hands — by 
 chance : he had not chosen it — was but little 
 calculated to tranquillize his troubled spirit. 
 It was a digest of the statutes of Jamaica re- 
 lating to slavery — the famous, or rather in- 
 famous, hlach code of the island. 
 
 There he read : that a man might mutilate 
 his own image in the person of a fellow-man — 
 torture him, even to death, and escape with 
 the punishment of a paltry fine ! That a man 
 with a black skin — or even white, if at all 
 tainted with African blood — could hold no 
 real estate, no office of trust ; could give no 
 evidence in a court of law — not even had he 
 been witness of the crime of murder; that 
 such a man must not keep or ride a horse \ must
 
 THE MAROON. 163 
 
 not carry a gun, or otlier weapon of defence; 
 must not defend liimself when assaulted ; mnst 
 not defend wife, sister, or daughter — even when 
 ruffian hands were tearing them from him 
 for the most unholy of purposes ! In short, 
 that a man of coJov.r must do nothing to make 
 himself different from a docile and suhmissive 
 brute ! 
 
 To the young Englishman, fresh from a 
 Christian land — at that period ringing with 
 the. eloquent denunciations of a "Wilherforce, 
 and the philanthropic appeals of a Clarkson — 
 the perusal of this execrable statute-book, in- 
 stead of producing tranquillity, only infused 
 fresh bitterness into his soul; and stamping 
 his foot fiercely on the floor, he flung the de- 
 testable volume back to its place. 
 
 At that moment — -just as he had reached 
 the maximum of reckless defiance — a noise 
 was heard in the direction of the great house, 
 and the door of the stair-landing was seen to 
 turn on its hinges. 
 
 Of course, he expected to see a surly old 
 uncle, and was resolved to be as surly as he. 
 
 On the contrary, and to his pleased sur- 
 prise, he beheld in the doorway a beautiful 
 young girl, bending her eyes upon him with
 
 164 THE MAROON. 
 
 an aifectionate look, and as if courting re- 
 cognition ! 
 
 A sudden revulsion of feeling passed through 
 his whole frame ; his countenance changed its 
 angry expression to one of admiration ; and, 
 unable to utter a word, he remained silently 
 gazing on this lovely apparition.
 
 CHAPTEE XVII. 
 
 A BOLD KESOLYE. 
 
 Far better would it have been for Mr. Vaughan 
 — at least, for the success of his schemes — had 
 he adopted an honourable course with his 
 nephew ; and at once introduced him, openly 
 and above-board, to his table, his daughter, and 
 his aristocratic guest. 
 
 Had he known before dinner what he was 
 made aware of in less than five minutes after 
 it, he would, in all likelihood, have adopted 
 this course. It would have spared him the 
 chagrin he was made to feel, on Mr. Smythje 
 reporting to him the encounter he had had on 
 board ship — which the latter proceeded to do, 
 the moment after Kate had been so uncere- 
 moniously dismissed from the hall. 
 
 Smythje had also overheard the communica- 
 tion of the overseer — the word " nejDhcw," at 
 least — and this recalled to his mind — not 
 without some unpleasant remembrance of the
 
 ii)0 THE MAROON. 
 
 satire from which lie had suffered — the steerage 
 passenger who had treated him so brusquely 
 on board the Sea Nymph. 
 
 The miserable bubble was burst; and the 
 onus of a somewhat bungling explanation was 
 put upon the shoulders of the pompous planter 
 — into whose heart a bitter drop of gall was 
 infused by the disclosure. 
 
 As the deception could be sustained no 
 longer, the relationship was necessarily acknow- 
 ledged ; but the spark of ire thus introduced 
 boded a still more unwelcome reception to the 
 unlucky nephew. 
 
 The planter partially cleared himself of the 
 scrape by a false representation. In other 
 words, he told a lie, in saying that his nephew 
 had not been expected. Smythje knew it 
 was a lie, but said nothing ; and the subject 
 was allowed to drop. 
 
 Loftus Vaughan was a common man ; and 
 the course he had followed — shallow and self- 
 defeating — was proof of an intellect as low as 
 its morality. 
 
 By his shabby treatment of his nephew, he 
 was investing that young man with a romantic 
 interest in the eyes of his daughter, that per- 
 haps might never have been felt, or, at all
 
 THE MAROON. 167 
 
 events, not so readily. Misfortune — especially 
 that wliicli springs from persecution — is a 
 grand suggester of sympathy — that is, when 
 the appeal is made to noble hearts ; and the 
 heart of Kate Yaughan was of this quality. 
 
 Moreover, this surreptitious dealing with 
 the poor relative — smuggling him into the 
 house like a bale of contraband goods — was 
 sufficient of itself to pique the curiosity of 
 those whom it was meant to mystify. 
 
 So far as Kate Vaughan was concerned, that 
 very effect it produced : for, on leaving the 
 dining-room — from which, to say the truth, 
 she was only too happy to escape — the young 
 girl glided at once to that window that opened 
 out upon the garden ; and, parting the lattice 
 with her fingers, looked eagerly through. 
 
 In the brief undertone that had passed 
 between her father and the overseer, she had 
 heard the command, " Show him to the summer- 
 house." She knew that the summer-house was 
 within view of her chamber- window. She was 
 curious to see what in all her life she had 
 never beheld — a cousin. Her curiosity was not 
 balked. On looking through the lattice, her 
 cousin was before her eyes — pacing the little 
 apartment as described.
 
 168 THE MAROON. 
 
 With his braided frock, buttoned tightly- 
 over his breast — glittering Hessian boots on 
 his well-turned limbs — his neat three-cornered 
 hat set lightly over his brown curls — he was 
 not a sight likely to terrify a young girl — least 
 of all a cousin. Even the bold, somewhat 
 fierce, expression upon his countenance — at 
 that moment reflecting the angry emotions 
 that were stirring within him — did not, in the 
 eyes of the young Creole, detract from the 
 beauty of the face she saw before her. 
 
 What impression did the sight produce ? 
 Certainly not terror — certainly not dislike. 
 On the contrary, she appeared gratified by it : 
 else, why did she continue her gaze, and gaze 
 so earnestly ? Why became her eyes filled with 
 fire, and fixed, as by some fascination ? Why 
 did her young bosom heave and fall, as if some 
 new, undefinable emotion was for the first time 
 germinating within it ? 
 
 For some moments she remained in the same 
 attitude, gazing steadfastly and silent. Then, 
 without turning, there escaped from her lips, 
 low murmured, and as if by an involuntary 
 effort, the interrogatory, — 
 
 " Yola ! is he not beautiful?" 
 
 *' Beautiful, missa," repeated the maid, who
 
 THE MAROON. 169 
 
 had not yet beheld the object for whom this 
 admiration was meant ; " who beautiful ?" 
 
 '' Who ? My cousin, Yola." 
 
 '' You cousin — what cousin, young missa?'' 
 
 " Look yonder, and see ! That's my cousin." 
 
 " I see a man." 
 
 ** Ah ! and saw you ever such a man ? " 
 
 " True, missa ; never see man look so — he 
 surely angry, missa ? " 
 
 *' Angry ? " 
 
 " Berry angry. He go back, he go forward, 
 like hyena in a cage." 
 
 " He is only impatient at being kept waiting. 
 My word ! I think he looks all the better for 
 it. Ah ! see how his eye flashes. Oh ! Yola, 
 how handsome he is — how different from the 
 young men of this island. Is he not a beau- 
 tiful fellow ? " 
 
 *' He curled hair, like Cubina ! " 
 
 "Cubina! ha! ha! ha! This Cubina must 
 be a very Proteus, as well as an Adonis. Do 
 you see any other resemblance, except in the 
 hair ? If so, my cousin may, perhaps, resem- 
 ble me'' 
 
 '* Cubina much darker in de colour ob him 
 skin, missa." 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! that is not unlikely."
 
 170 THE MAHOON. 
 
 " Cubina same size — same shape — 'zactly 
 same shape/ 
 
 " Then I should say that Cubina is a good 
 shape ; for, if I know anything of what a man 
 ought to he, that cousin of mine is the correct 
 thing. See those arms ! they look as if he 
 could drag down that great tamarind with 
 them ! Gracious me ! he appears as if he in- 
 tended doing it ! Surely, he must be very 
 impatient ? And, after his coming so far, for 
 papa to keep him waiting in this fashion ! I 
 really think I should go down to him myself. 
 What is your opinion, Yola ? Would it be 
 wrong for me to go and speak with him ? He 
 is my cousin." 
 
 " What am cousin, missa ? " 
 
 " Why, cousin is — is — something like a 
 brother — only not exactly — that is — it's not 
 quite the same thing." 
 
 " Brudder ! Oh, missa ! if he Yola br udder, 
 she him speak ; she care not who be angry." 
 
 " True, Yola ; and if he were my brother 
 — alas ! I have none — I should do the same 
 without hesitation. But with a cousin — that's 
 different. Besides, papa don't like this cousin 
 of mine — for some reason or another. I 
 wonder what he can have against him. I can't
 
 TEE MAROON. 171 
 
 see ; and surely it can be no reason for my 
 not liking him ? And, surely, his being my 
 cousin is just why I should go down and talk 
 to him. 
 
 " Besides," continued the young girl, speak- 
 ing to herself rather than to the maid, " he 
 appears very, very impatient. Papa may keep 
 him waiting — who knows how long ? since he 
 is so taken up with this Mr. Montagu What's- 
 his-name ! Well, I may be doing wrong — 
 perhaps papa will be angry — perhaps he won't 
 know anything about it ! Eight or wrong, 
 I'll go ! I shall go ! " 
 
 So saying, the young Creole snatched a scarf 
 from the fauteuil ; flung it over her shoulders ; 
 and, gliding from the chamber, tripped silently 
 along the passage that conducted towards the 
 rear of the dwelling.
 
 CHAPTEE XVIII. 
 
 THE ENCOUNTER OP THE COUSINS. 
 
 Opening the door, and passing out, Kate 
 Vaughan paused timidly upon the top of the 
 stairway that led down into the garden. Her 
 steps were stayed by a feeling of bashful reserve, 
 that was struggling to restrain her from carry- 
 ing out a resolve somewhat hastily formed. 
 
 Her hesitancy was but the matter of a mo- 
 ment ; for on the next — her resolution having 
 become fixed — she descended the stairs, and 
 advanced blushingly towards the kiosk. 
 
 Herbert had not quite recovered from sur- 
 prise at the unexpected apparition, when he 
 was saluted by the endearing interrogatory, — 
 
 " Are you my cousin ? " 
 
 The question, so naively put, remained for 
 a moment unanswered : for the tone of kind- 
 ness in which it was spoken had caused him a 
 fresh surprise, and he was too much confused 
 to make answer.
 
 THE MAROON. 173 
 
 He soon found speecli, however, for the 
 hypothetical reply : — 
 
 "If yoTi are the daughter of Mr. Loftus 
 Vaughan " 
 
 "lam." 
 
 " Then I am proud of calhng myself your 
 cousin. I am Herbert Yaughan — from Eng- 
 land." 
 
 Still under the influence of the slight which 
 he believed had been put upon him, Herbert 
 made this announcement with a certain stiff- 
 ness of manner, which the young girl could 
 not fail to notice. It produced a momentary 
 incongeniality, that was in danger of dege- 
 nerating into a positive coolness ; and Kate, 
 who had come forth under the promptings of 
 an affectionate instinct, trembled under a re- 
 pulse, the cause of which she could not com- 
 prehend. 
 
 It did not, however, hinder her from cour- 
 teously rejoining : — 
 
 "We were expecting you — as father had 
 received your letter ; but not to-day. Papa 
 said not before to-morrow. Permit me, cousin, 
 to welcome you to Jamaica." 
 
 Herbert bowed profoundly. 
 
 Again the young creole felt her warm im-
 
 174 THE MAROON. 
 
 pulses painfully checked ; and, blushing with 
 embarrassment, she stood in an attitude of in- 
 decision. 
 
 Herbert, whose heart had been melting like 
 snow under a tropic sun, now became sensible 
 that he was committing a rudeness ; which, so 
 far from being natural to him, was costing 
 him a struggle to counterfeit. 
 
 Why should the sins of the father be 
 visited on the child — and such a child ? 
 
 With a reflection kindred to this, the young 
 man hastened to change his attitude of cold 
 reserve. 
 
 " Thanks for your kind welcome ! " said he, 
 now speaking in a tone of affectionate frank- 
 ness ; " But, fair cousin, you have not told me 
 your name.'' 
 
 '' Catherine — though I am usually ad- 
 dressed by the shorter synonym, Kate." 
 
 " Catherine ! that is a family name with 
 us. My father's mother, and your father's, 
 too — our grandmamma — was a Catherine. 
 Was it also your mother's name ? " 
 
 " No ; my mother was called Quasheba." 
 
 " Quasheba ! that is a very singular name." 
 
 " Do you think so, cousin ? I am sometimes 
 called Quasheba myself — only by the old peo-
 
 THE MAEOON. 175 
 
 pie of the plantation, who knew my mother. 
 Lilly Quasheba they call me. iPapa does not 
 like it, and forbids them." 
 
 " Was your mother an Englishwoman ? " 
 
 " Oh, no ! she was born in Jamaica, and 
 died while I was very j^onng — too young to re- 
 member her. Indeed, cousin, I may say I 
 never knew what it was to have a mother ! " 
 
 "JSTor I much, cousin Kate. My mother 
 also died early. But are you my only cousin ? 
 — no sisters nor brothers? " 
 
 " Not one. Ah ! I wish I had sisters and 
 brothers ! " 
 
 " Why do you wish that ? " 
 "Oh, how can you ask such a question? 
 For companions, of course. " 
 
 " Fair cousin ! I should think yo?^ would find 
 companions enough in this beautiful island." 
 
 " Ah ! enough, perhaps ; but none whom I 
 like — at least, not as I think I should like a 
 sister or brother. Indeed," added the young 
 girl, in a reflective tone, "I sometimes feel 
 lonely enough ! " 
 
 "Ah!" 
 
 " Perhaps, now that we are to have guests, 
 it will be different. Mr. Smythje is very 
 amusingi"
 
 176 THE MAROON. 
 
 " Mr. Smythje ! Who is he ? " 
 
 "What ! you do not know Mr. Smythje ? 
 I thought that you and he came over in the 
 same ship ? Papa said so ; and that you were 
 not to be here until to-morrow. I think you 
 have taken him by surprise in coming to- 
 day. But why did you not ride out with Mr. 
 Smythje? He arrived here only one hour 
 before you, and has just dined with us. I have 
 left the table this moment, for papa and him 
 to have their cigars. But, bless me, cousin ! 
 Pardon me for not asking — perhaps you have 
 not dined yet ? " 
 
 " No," replied Herbert, in a tone that ex- 
 pressed chagrin, "nor am I likely to dine 
 here, to-day." 
 
 The storm of queries with which, in the 
 simplicity of her heart, the young Creole thus 
 assailed him, once more brought back that 
 train of bitter reflections, from which her fair 
 presence and sweet converse had for the mo- 
 ment rescued him. Hence the character of 
 his reply. 
 
 " And why, cousin Herbert ? " asked she, 
 with a marked air of surprise. " If you have 
 not dined, it is not too late. Why not 
 here?"
 
 THE MAROON. 177 
 
 " Because " — and the young man drew him- 
 self proudly up — " I prefer going without 
 dinner to dining where I am not welcome. 
 In Mount Welcome, it seems, I am not wel- 
 come." 
 
 "Oh, cousin !" 
 
 The words, and the appealing accent, were 
 alike interrupted. The door upon the landing 
 turned upon its hinge, and Loftus Yaughan 
 appeared in the doorway. 
 
 "Your father?" 
 
 " My father ! " 
 
 " Kate ! " cried the planter, in a tone that 
 bespoke displeasure, " Mr. Smythje would 
 like to hear you play upon the harp. I have 
 been looking for you in your room, and all 
 over the house. What are you doing out 
 there ? " 
 
 The language was coarse and common — the 
 manner that of a vulgar man flushed with 
 wine. 
 
 " Oh, papa ! cousin Herbert is here. He 
 is waiting to see you." 
 
 " Come you here, then ! Come at once. 
 Mr. Smythje is waiting for you." And with 
 this imperious rejoinder Mr. Yaughan re- 
 entered the house. 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 178 THE MAROON. 
 
 *' Cousin ! I must leave you.'* 
 
 *^ Yes ; I perceive it. One more worthy 
 than I claims yonr company. Go! Mr. Smythje 
 is impatient." 
 
 "It is papa." 
 
 " Kate ! Kate ! are you coming ? Haste, 
 girl ! haste, I say ! " 
 
 " Gro, Miss Yaughan ! Farewell ! " 
 
 " Miss Yaughan ? TareweU ? " 
 
 Mystified and distressed by those strange- 
 sounding words, the young girl stood for 
 some seconds undecided, but the voice of her 
 father again came ringing along the corridor — 
 now in tones irate and commandino*. Obe- 
 dience could no longer be delayed ; and, with 
 a half-puzzled, half-reproachful glance at her 
 cousin, she reluctantly parted from his pre- 
 sence.
 
 CHAPTEE XIX. 
 
 A SURLY RECEPTION. 
 
 After tlie young Creole had disappeared 
 within the entrance, Herbert remained in a 
 state of indecision as to how he should act. 
 
 He no longer needed an interview wdth his 
 uncle, for the sake of having an explanation. 
 This new slight had crowned his convictions 
 that he was there an unwelcome guest; and 
 no possible apology could now retrieve the ill- 
 treatment he had experienced. 
 
 He would have walked off on the instant 
 without a word ; but, stung to the quick by 
 the series of insults he had received, the instinct 
 of retaliation had sprung up within him, and 
 determined him to stay — at all events, until he 
 could meet his relative face to face, and re- 
 proach him with his unnatural conduct. He 
 was recklessly indifferent as to the result. 
 
 With this object, he continued in the kiosk 
 — his patience being now baited with the 
 prospect of that slight satisfiiction. 
 
 He knew that his uncle might not care 
 
 N 2
 
 180 THE MAROON. 
 
 mucli for what lie should say : it was not 
 likely such a nature would be affected by re- 
 proach. Nevertheless, the proud young man 
 could not resist the temptation of giving words 
 to his defiance — as the only means of mollify- 
 ing the mortification he so keenly felt. 
 
 The tones of a harp, vibrating through the 
 far interior of the dwelling, faintl}^ reached the 
 kiosk ; but they fell on his ear without any 
 soothing effect. Eather did they add to his 
 irritation : for he could almost fancy the music 
 was meant to mock him in his misery. 
 
 But no ; on second thoughts, that could not 
 be. Surely, that sweet strain was not in- 
 tended to tantalize him. He caught the air. It 
 was one equally appropriate to the instru- 
 ment and to his own situation. It was the 
 " Exile of Erin." 
 
 Presently a voice was heard accompanying 
 the music — a woman's voice — easily recog- 
 nizable as that of Kate Vaughan. 
 
 He listened attentively. At intervals he 
 could hear the words. How like to his own 
 thoughts 1 
 
 ** * Sad is my fate,' said tlie heart-broken stranger ; 
 * The wild deer and wolf to the covert can flee, 
 But I have no refuge from famine and danger — 
 A home and a country remain not to me ! ' ''
 
 THE MAROON. 181 
 
 Perhaps the singer intended it as a song of 
 sympathy for him ? It certainly exerted an in- 
 fluence over his spirits, melting him to a de- 
 gree of tenderness. 
 
 Not for long, however, did this feeling con- 
 tinue. As the last notes of the lay died away 
 in the distant corridor, the rough baritones of 
 the planter and his guest were heard joining 
 in loud laughter — perhaps some joke at the 
 expense of himself, the poor exile ? 
 
 Shortly after, a heavy footstep echoed along 
 the passage. The door opened ; and Herbert 
 perceived it was his uncle, who had at 
 length found time to honour him with an 
 interview. 
 
 Though so joyous but the moment before, 
 all traces of mirth had disappeared from the 
 countenance of Loffcus Yaughan, when he pre- 
 sented himself before the eyes of his nephew. 
 His face, habitually red, was fired with the 
 wine he had been drinking to the hue of scar- 
 let. Nevertheless, an ominous mottling of a 
 darker colour upon his broad massive brow 
 foretold the ungracious reception his relative 
 was likely to have at his hands. 
 
 His first words were uttered in a tone of in- 
 solent coolness : —
 
 182 THE MAROON. 
 
 " So you are my iDrotlier's son, are you ? '* 
 
 There was no extending of the hand, no ges- 
 ture — not even a smile of welcome ! 
 
 Herbert checked his anger, and simply an- 
 swered, — 
 
 " I believe so/' 
 
 " And pray, sir, what errand has brought 
 you out to Jamaica ? " 
 
 *' If you have received my letter, as I pre- 
 sume you have, it will have answered that 
 question. " 
 
 " Oh, indeed ! " exclaimed Mr. Yaughan, 
 with an attempt at cynicism, but evidently 
 taken down by the unexpected style of the re- 
 ply. " And what, may I ask, do you purpose 
 doing here ? " 
 
 " Have not the slightest idea," answered 
 Herbert, with a provoking air of independence. 
 
 " Have you any profession ? " 
 
 " Unfortunately, not any." 
 
 " Any trade ? — I suppose not." 
 
 " Your suppositions are perfectly correct." 
 
 " Then, sir, how do you expect to get your 
 bread ? " 
 
 " Earn it, the best way I can." 
 
 " Beg it, more likely, as your father before 
 you : all his life begging it, and from' me."
 
 THE MAROON. 183 
 
 " In tliat respect I sTiall not resemble him. 
 Yon wonld be tlie last man I sliould think of 
 begging from/' 
 
 f " S'death ! sirrah, yon are impertinent. This 
 is fine language to me, after the disgrace jou 
 have already brought upon me 1 " 
 
 " Disgrace ? " 
 
 "Yes, sir, disgrace. Coming out here as 
 a pauper, in the steerage of a ship ! And yon 
 must needs boast of your relationship — letting 
 all the world know that you are my nephew." 
 
 " Boast of the relationship ! " repeated Her- 
 bert, with a smile of contempt. ^' Ha ! ha ! 
 ha ! I suppose you refer to my having an- 
 swered a question asked me by this pretty 
 jack-a-box 3^ou are playing v>ith. Boast of it, 
 indeed ! Had I known you then as well as 
 I do now, I should have been ashamed to 
 acknowledge it ! " 
 
 "After that, sir," shouted Mr. Yaughan, 
 turning purple with rage — "after tliat, sir, no 
 more words ! You shall leave my house this 
 minute.^' 
 
 " I had intended to have left it some minutes 
 sooner. I only stayed to have an opportunity 
 of telling you what I think of you.'' 
 " What is that, sir ? what is that ? "
 
 184 THE MAROON. 
 
 The angry youtli had sunnnoned to the top 
 of his tongue a few of the strongest epithets 
 he could think of, and was about to hurl them 
 into his uncle's teeth, when, on glancing up, he 
 caught sight of an object that caused him to 
 change his intention. It was the beautiful face 
 of the young Creole, that appeared through 
 the half-open lattice of the window opposite. 
 She was gazing down upon him and his uncle, 
 and listening to the dialogue with an anguished 
 expression of countenance. 
 
 " He is lier father, " muttered Herbert to 
 himself; *'for her sake I shall not say the 
 words ; " and, without making any reply to 
 the last interrogatory of his uncle, he strode 
 out of the kiosk, and was walking away. 
 
 " Stay, sir ! " cried the planter, somewhat 
 taken aback by the turn things had taken. 
 " A word before you go — if you are going." 
 
 Herbert turned upon his heel and listened. 
 
 " Your letter informs me that 3'ou are with- 
 out funds. It shall not be said that a relative 
 of Loftus Vaughan left his house penniless and 
 unprovided. In this purse there are twenty 
 pounds currency of the island. Take it ; but 
 on the condition that you say nothing of what 
 has occurred here ; and, furthermore, that you
 
 THE MAROON. 185 
 
 keep to yourself that you are the nephew of 
 Loftus Yaughan." 
 
 Without saying a word, Herbert took the 
 proffered purse ; but, in the next moment, 
 the chink of the gold pieces was heard upon 
 the gravel walk as he dashed the bag at the 
 feet of his uncle. 
 
 Then, turning to the astonished planter, and 
 measuring him with a look that scorned all 
 patronage, he faced once more to the path, and 
 walked proudly away. 
 
 The angry " Begone, sir 1 " vociferated after 
 him, was only addressed to his back, and was 
 altogether unheeded. Perhaps it was even 
 unheard : for the expression in the eyes of 
 the young man told that at that moment 
 his attention was occupied elsewhere. 
 
 As he walked towards the house — with the 
 design of going round it to get upon the front 
 avenue — his glance was directed upwards to 
 the window where that beautiful face had been 
 just seen. The lattice was now closed ; and 
 he endeavoured to pierce the sombre shadows 
 behind it. The face was no longer there. 
 No eyes met his. 
 
 He glanced back towards the kiosk to see
 
 186 THE MAROON. 
 
 if he might linger a moment. His nncle was 
 in a hent attitude, gathering the scattered 
 pieces of gold. In this position the shmbbery 
 concealed him. 
 
 Herbert was about to glide nearer to the 
 window, and summon his cousin by name, 
 when he heard his own pronounced, in a soft 
 whisper, and with the endearing prefix 
 " cousin." 
 
 Distinctly he heard " Cousin Herbert 1 " and 
 as if spoken around the angle of the building. 
 
 He hastened thither : for that was his proper 
 path by which to arrive at the front of the 
 house. 
 
 On turning the wall, he looked up. He saw 
 that another window opened from the same 
 chamber. Thence came the sweet summons, 
 and there appeared the fair face for which he 
 was searching. 
 
 " Oh, cousin Herbert ! do not go in anger ! 
 Papa has done wrong — very wrong, I know ; 
 but he has been taking much wine — he is not 
 — Grood cousin, you will pardon him ? " 
 
 Herbert was about to make reply, when 
 the young Creole continued : — 
 
 " You said in your letter you had no money.
 
 THE MAROON. 1S7 
 
 Tou liave refused father's — you will not 
 refuse mine ? It is very little. It is all I 
 have. Take it ! '* 
 
 A bright object glistened before his eyes, 
 and fell with a metallic chink at his feet. He 
 looked down. A small silk purse containing 
 coin, with a blue ribbon attached, was seen 
 lying upon the ground. 
 
 The young man raised it, and, holding it in 
 one hand, hesitated for a moment — as if he had 
 thoughts of accepting it. It was not that, 
 however, but another thought that was pass- 
 ing in his mind. 
 
 His resolve was soon taken. 
 " Thanks ! " said he. " Thanks, cousin 
 Kate ! " he added, vvdth increasing warmth. 
 " You have meant kindly, and though we may 
 never meet again " 
 
 " Oh, say not so ! " interrupted the young 
 girl, with an appealing look. 
 
 "Yes," contmued he, "it is probable we 
 never shall. Here there is no home for me. I 
 must go hence ; but, wherever I may go, I 
 shall not soon forget this kindness. I may 
 never have an opportunity of repaying it — you 
 are beyond the necessity of aught that a 
 humble relative could do for you ; but remem-
 
 LSS THK MAROON. 
 
 ber, Kate Yaughan ! should you ever stand in 
 need of a strong arm and a stout heart, there 
 is one of your name who will not fail you ! 
 
 " Thanks ! '' he repeated, detaching the 
 ribbon from the bag, and flinging the latter, 
 with its contents, back through the open 
 window. Then, fastening the ribbon to the 
 breast-button of his coat, he added : " I shall 
 feel richer with the possession of this token 
 than with all the wealth of your father's estate. 
 Farewell! and God bless you, my generous 
 cousin ! " 
 
 Before the young Creole could repeat her 
 offer, or add another word of counsel or conso- 
 lation, he had turned the angle of the building, 
 and passed out of sight.
 
 CHAPTEE XX. 
 
 THE Jew's penn. 
 
 While these scenes were transpiring upon the 
 plantation of Mount Welcome, others of a 
 still more exciting nature were being enacted 
 on that which adjoined it — the property of 
 Jacob Jessuron, slave-merchant and penn- 
 keeper. 
 
 Besides a "baracoon " in the Bay, where his 
 slaves were usually exposed for sale, the Jew 
 was owner of a large plantation in the country, 
 on which he habitually resided. It lay con- 
 tiguous to the estate of the Gustos Yaughan — 
 separated from the latter by one of the wooded 
 ridges already mentioned as bounding the 
 valley of Mount Welcome. 
 
 Like the latter, it had once been a sugar 
 estate, and an extensive one; but that was 
 before Jessuron became its owner. Now it 
 was in the condition termed ruinate. The 
 fields where the golden cane had waved in the 
 tropic breeze were choked up by a tangled
 
 190 THE MAROON. 
 
 "second growth," restoring them almost to 
 their primitive wildness. With that quickness 
 characteristic of equatorial vegetation, huge 
 trees had already sprung up, and stood thickly 
 over the ground — ^logwoods, bread-nuts, cotton, 
 and calabash trees, which, with their pendent 
 parasites, almost usurped dominion over the 
 soil. Here and there, where the fields still 
 remained open, instead of cultivation, there 
 appeared only the wild nursery of nature — 
 glades mottled with flowering weeds, as the 
 Mexican horn-poppy, swallow-worts, West In- 
 dian vervains, and small passiflora. 
 
 At intervals, where the underwood permitted 
 them to peep out, might be seen stretches of 
 " dry wall," or stone fence, without mortar or 
 cement, mostly tumbled down, the ruins thickly 
 trellised with creeping plants — as convolvuli, 
 cereus, and aristolochia ; cleome, with the cheer- 
 ful blossoming lantana ; and, spreading over 
 all, like the web of a gigantic spider, the yel- 
 low leafless stems of the American dodder. 
 
 In the midst of this domain, almost recon- 
 quered by nature, stood the " great house " — 
 except in size, no longer deserving the appel- 
 lation. It consisted rather of a pile than a 
 single building — the old " sugar works " hav-
 
 THE MAROON. 191 
 
 mg been joined under the same roof with the 
 dwelling — and negro cabins, stables, offices, aU 
 inclosed within an immense high wall, that 
 gave to the place the air of a penitentiary or 
 barrack, rather than that of a country man- 
 sion. The enclosure was a modern construc- 
 tion — an afterthought — designed for a pur- 
 pose very different from that of sugar- making. 
 Garden there was none, though evidence 
 that there had been was seen everywhere around 
 the building, in the trees that still bloomed : 
 some loaded with delicious fruits, others with 
 clustering flowers, shedding their incense on 
 the air. Half wild, grew citrons, and avocado 
 pears, sop and custard apples, mangoes, guavas, 
 and pawpaws ; while the crown-like tops of 
 cocoa-palms soared high above the humble 
 denizens of this ^vild orchard, their recurvant 
 fronds drooping as in soitow" at the desolation 
 that surrounded them. 
 
 Close to the buildings stood several huge trees, 
 whose tortuous limbs, now leafless, rendered 
 it easy to identify them. They were the giants 
 of the West Indian forest — the silk-cotton tree 
 {Eriodendron anfraduosum). The limbs of these 
 vegetable monsters — each itself as large as an 
 ordinary tree — were loaded with parasites of
 
 192 THE MAROON. 
 
 many species; among which might be dis- 
 tinguished ragged cactaccBy with various spe- 
 cies of wild pines, from the noble vriesia to 
 the hoary, beard-like " Spanish moss," whose 
 long streaming festoons waved like winding- 
 sheets in the breeze — an appropriate draping 
 for the eyrie of the black vultures (John Crows) 
 tliat might at all times be seen seated in 
 solemn silence upon the topmost branches. 
 
 In the olden time, this plantation had borne 
 the name of " Happy Yaliey '' ; but during 
 the ownership of Jessuron, this designation — 
 perhaps deemed inappropriate — had been 
 generally dropped ; and the place was never 
 spoken of by any other name than that of the 
 " Jew's Penn. ' 
 
 Into a " penn " (grazing farm) Jessuron had 
 changed it, and it served well enough for the 
 purpose : many of th.e old sugar fields, now 
 overgrown by the valuable Guinea grass, afford- 
 ing excellent pasturage for horses and cattle. 
 
 In breeding and rearing the former for the 
 use of the sugar estates, and fattening the 
 latter for the beef markets of the Bay, the 
 industrious Israelite had discovered a road to 
 riches, as short as that he had been travelling 
 in the capacity of slave-dealer ; and of late
 
 THE MAROON. 193 
 
 years he had come to regard the latter only as. 
 a secondary calling. 
 
 In his old age, Jessuron had become ambi- 
 tious of social distinction; and for this reason, 
 was desirous of sinking the slave-merchant in 
 the more respectable profession of penn-keeper; 
 He had even succeeded so far in his views as 
 to have himself appointed a justice of the 
 peace — an office that in Jamaica, as elsewhere, 
 is more distinctive of wealth than respect- 
 ability. 
 
 In addition to penn-keeper, the Jew was 
 also an extensive spice-cultivator, or rather 
 spice-gatherer : for the indigenous pimento 
 forests that covered the hills upon his estate 
 required no cultivation — nothing further than 
 to collect the aromatic berries, and cure them 
 on the harhacoa. 
 
 Though changed from a plantation to a 
 penn, the estate of Jacob Jessuron was not 
 less a scene of active industrial life. 
 
 In the fields adjacent to the house, and 
 through the glades of Guinea grass, horses and 
 half-wild cattle might be seen in turns neigh- 
 ing and bellowing, pursued by mounted herds- 
 men, black and half-naked. 
 
 Among the groves of pimento on the hills, 
 
 VOL. I. O
 
 194 THE MAROON. 
 
 gangs of negro wenches could be heard scream- 
 ing and chattering continually, as they picked 
 the allspice berries from the branches ; or, 
 with the filled baskets poised on their heads, 
 marched in long, chanting files towards the 
 harhacoa. 
 
 Outside the gate-entrance, upon the broad 
 avenue leading to the main road, negro horse- 
 tamers might every day be seen, giving their 
 first lessons to rough colts fresh caught from 
 the pastures ; while inside the grand enclosure, 
 fat oxen were being slaughtered to supply 
 the markets of the Bay — huge, gaunt dogs 
 holding carnival over the offal — while black 
 butchers, naked to the waist, their brown arms 
 reeking with red gore, stalked over the ground, 
 brandishing blood-stained blades, and other 
 instruments of their sanguinary calling. 
 
 Such scenes might be witnessed diurnally on 
 the estate of Jacob Jessuron ; but on the day 
 succeeding that on which the slave-merchant 
 had made his unsuccessful errand to Mount 
 Welcome, a spectacle of a somewhat rarer kind 
 was about to be exhibited at the penn. 
 
 The scene chosen for this exhibition was an 
 inner inclosure, or courtyard, contiguous to 
 the dwelling — the great house itself forming
 
 THE MAROOX. 195 
 
 one side of this court, and opening upon it by 
 a broad verandali, of a dingy, dilapidated 
 appearance. 
 
 Vis-a-vis with the dwelling was another 
 large building which shut in the opposite 
 side of the court — the two being connected 
 by high massive walls, that completed the 
 quadrangle. A strong double gate, opening 
 near the centre of one of these walls, vras the 
 way out — that is, to the larger enclosure of 
 the cattle-penn. 
 
 From the absence of chimneys and windows, 
 as well as from its plain style of architecture, 
 the building that stood opposite the dwelKng- 
 house might have been taken for some large 
 granary or barn. But a peep into its inte- 
 rior at once controverted this idea. Inside 
 could be seen groups of human beings, of 
 all colours, from ebony black to jaundice 
 yellow, in all attitudes — seated, standing, or 
 l}dng upon the floor — and not a few of them, 
 in pairs, manacled to one another. Their at- 
 titudes were not more various than the ex- 
 pressions upon their faces. Some looked sad 
 and sullen ; some glanced fearfully around, as 
 if waking from horrid dreams, and under the 
 belief that they were realities ; others wore the 
 
 o 2
 
 196 THE MAROON. 
 
 vacant stare of idiotcy ; while here and there a 
 gronp — apparently regardless of past, present, 
 or future — chattered in their barbaric language 
 with an air of gaiety that bespoke the most 
 philosophic insouciance. 
 
 The building that contained them was the 
 baracoon — the storehouse of the slave-mer- 
 chant. Its occupants were his stores ! 
 
 The " stock " had been just replenished by 
 the cargo of the slave-ship, though there were 
 also some old " bales " on hand ; and these 
 were in the act of entertaining the new comers, 
 and initiating them into the ways of the place. 
 Their means, of showing hospitality had been 
 limited — as testified by the empty calabashes 
 and clean-scraped wooden platters that lay 
 scattered over the floor. Not a grain of rice, 
 not a spoonful of the pepper-pot, not a slice 
 of plantain, was left. The emptiness of the 
 vessels showed that the. rations had been as 
 short as the viands were coarse and common. 
 
 Outside, in the yard, were many groups, 
 happier to escape from the stifled atmosphere 
 of their crowded quarters; though that was 
 freedom when compared with the 'tween-decks 
 of the middle passage. 
 
 Each group was gathered around some old
 
 THE MAROON. 197 
 
 hand — some compatriot wlio had preceded 
 them across the great sea — and who, himself 
 initiated into slavery under ajwestern sky, was 
 giving them some notions of what they had to 
 expect. Eager looks of all, from time to time, 
 directed towards the verandah, told that they 
 were awaiting some event of more than ordi- 
 nary interest. 
 
 There were white men in the courtyard — 
 three of them. Two were of dark complexion 
 — so swarth that many of the coloured slaves 
 were as fair-skinned as they. These two men 
 were lounging hy the stairway of the verandah 
 — one of them seated upon the steps. Both 
 were sparely clad in check shirts and trou- 
 sers, having broad-brimmed palmetto hats on 
 their heads, and rough buskins on their feet 
 and ankles. 
 
 Each carried a long, rapier-like blade — a 
 machete — hanging over his hip in its leathern 
 sheath ; while a brace of fierce dogs — looped in 
 cotton-rope leashes, attached to belts worn 
 around their waists — crouched upoji the 
 ground at their feet. 
 
 The faces of these men were clean-shaven 
 — a pointed chin-tuft, or '' bigote," alone be- 
 ing left ; and the hair on the heads of both was
 
 198 THE MAEOON. 
 
 close-cropped. Their sharp, angular features 
 were thus fully displayed, denoting a high 
 order of intelligence ; which might have pro- 
 duced a pleasing effect, but for the pronounced 
 expression of cruelty which accompanied it. 
 
 The exclamations that from time to time 
 escaped from their lips, with the few words of 
 conversation that passed between them, bespoke 
 them of Spanish race. Their costume — their 
 arms and accoutrements — their comrades, the 
 fierce dogs — plainly proclaimed, their calling, 
 as well as the country from whence they came. 
 They were cacadores de negros — negro-hunters 
 from the Island of Cuba. 
 
 The third white man who appeared in the 
 courtyard differed essentially from these — ^not 
 so much in colour, for he was also of swarth 
 complexion — but in size, costume, and calling. 
 A pair of horse- skin riding-boots reached up to 
 his thighs, on the heels of vdiich appeared 
 heavy spurs, with rowels three inches in dia- 
 meter. A sort of monkey-jacket of thick cloth 
 — notwithstanding its unsuitableness to the 
 climate — ^hung down to his hips ; under which 
 appeared a waistcoat of scarlet plush, with tar- 
 nished metal buttons, and a wool comforter of 
 the same flaming colour. Crowning all was a
 
 THE MAROON. 199 
 
 felt hat ; wliich, like the other articles of his 
 dress, gave evidence of exposure to all weathers 
 — sun and rain, storm and tornado. 
 
 A thick shock of curling hair, so dark m 
 colour as to pass for black ; a heavy heard, jet 
 black, and running most of the way around 
 his mouth ; amber-coloured eyes, with a sinis- 
 ter, shining light that never seemed to pale ; 
 lips of an unnatural redness gleaming through 
 the black beard ; and a nose of aquiline oblique, 
 v/ere the points in the personal appearance of 
 this man that most prominently presented 
 themselves. 
 
 The effect of this combination was to impress 
 you with the conviction, that the individual in 
 question belonged to the same nationality as 
 the proprietor of the penn. Such was in real- 
 ity the case : for the bearded man was another 
 of the race of Abraham, and one of its least 
 amiable specimens. His name was Eavener, 
 his calling that of overseer : he was the over- 
 seer of Jessuron. The symbol of his profession 
 he carried under his arm — a huge cart- whip. 
 He had it by him at all hours — by night, as 
 by day — for by night, as by day, was he ac- 
 customed to make use of it. And the victims
 
 200 THE MAROON. 
 
 of his long lash were neither oxen nor horses 
 — they were men and ivomen ! 
 
 No sparing use made he of this hideous im- 
 plement. " Crack, crack ! " was it heard from 
 morn to eve ; " crack, crack ! " from eve to 
 midnight ; if need be, from midnight to morn- 
 ing again : for some said that the overseer of 
 Jessuron never slept. " Crack, crack ! " did 
 he go through the courtyard, apparently proud 
 of exhibiting his power before the newly-arrived 
 negroes — here and there swinging his long 
 bitter lash among the groups, as if to break 
 up and scatter them in sheer wantonness.
 
 CHAPTEE XXI. 
 
 A riERY BAPTISM. 
 
 It was about twelve o'clock in the day. Jes- 
 suron and his daughter had just stepped forth 
 into the verandah, and taken their stand by 
 the balustrade looking down into the court. 
 The countenance of both betrayed a certain 
 degree of solicitude, as if the}^ had come out to 
 be witnesses to some spectacle of more than 
 common interest. 
 
 The house-wenches and other domestics, 
 trooping behind them with curious looks, 
 showed that some rare scene was to be 
 enacted. 
 
 A small iron furnace, filled with live coals, 
 had been placed in the courtyard, near the 
 bottom of the steps. Three or four sullen- 
 looking men — blacks and mulattoes — stood 
 around it in lounging attitudes. One of these 
 stooped over the furnace, turning in the fire 
 what appeared to be a soldering iron, or some 
 other instrument of a brazier. 
 
 It was not that, however, as the spectators
 
 202 THE MAROON. 
 
 well knew. All who beheld it recognized the 
 dreaded hranding iron : for every one present, 
 the whites and newly-arrived Africans excepted, 
 had, ere now, felt its hot, seething fire in their 
 flesh. 
 
 These last had already learnt what was pre- 
 paring for them ; and most of them stood re- 
 garding the preparations with looks of silent 
 awe. 
 
 Some Coromantees there were among the 
 number, who looked on with reckless indiffer- 
 ence, chatting as gaily — and, at intervals, 
 laughing as loudly — as if they awaited the 
 beginning of some merry game. Little cared 
 these courageous sons of Ethiopia — whose 
 sable skins bore scars of many a native fray 
 — ^little cared they for the scorching of that 
 simple brand. 
 
 It was not long before the inhuman spec- 
 tacle commenced. The entrance of Jessuron 
 and his daughter was the cue to begin ; and 
 the bearded overseer, who was master of the 
 ceremonies, had only been waiting till these 
 should make their appearance. The man, from 
 experience, ^lew that his master always gave 
 his personal superintendence when such a scene 
 was to be enacted. He knew, moreover, that
 
 THE MAUOON. 203 
 
 his master's daughter was equally accustomed 
 to assist at these interesting ceremonies ! 
 
 " Go on, Mishter Havener ! " cried the Jew, 
 on reaching: the front of the verandah. 
 " Theesh first/' he added, pointing towards a 
 group of Ehoes — who stood tremhling with 
 apprehension in one corner of the yard. 
 
 At a sign' from the overseer, who was one of 
 the taciturn sort, a numher of old negroes — 
 evidently used to the business — laid hands 
 upon the Eboes, and led theni up to the 
 furnace. 
 
 As the victims were brought near to the 
 fire, and saw the red iron glowing amid the 
 coals, fear became strongly depicted upon their 
 faces, and their frames shook with a convulsive 
 terror. Some of them, the younger ones, 
 screamed aloud, and would have rushed away 
 from the spot, had they not been held in the 
 grasp of the attendants. 
 
 Their appeals, made by the most pitiful 
 looks and gestures, were answered only by un- 
 feeling jeers and shouts of laughter, in which 
 the old Jew himself joined — in which, incre- 
 dible to relate, joined his beautiful daughter ! 
 Nor was it a mere smile which appeared on 
 .the face of the fair Judith ; clear laughter rang
 
 204 THE MAUOON. 
 
 from her lips, exhibiting her regular rows of 
 ivory-like teeth — as if some fiend had assumed 
 the form of an angel ! 
 
 The Eboes were led forward, and held firmly 
 by the assistants, while their breasts were pre- 
 sented to receive the brand. The red-hot 
 iron flashed for a moment in the eyes of each; 
 and then fell with a dull clap upon the clam- 
 my skin. Smoke ascended with a hiss, till 
 the court became filled with a smell of roasting 
 flesh ! A struggle, some wild cries, and the 
 operation was over. The slave^was marked 
 with those indelible initials, to be carried with 
 him to his grave. 
 
 One by one, the poor beings received this 
 terrible baptism, and were led away from the 
 ground. 
 
 A batch of Pawpaws — from the Whidaw 
 country — came next. They were brought up 
 one by one, like the Eboes ; but altogether 
 unlike these was their behaviour . They neither 
 gave way to extreme fear, nor yet displayed 
 extraordinary courage. They appeared to 
 submit with a sort of docile resignation : as 
 though they regarded it in the light of a 
 destiny or duty. 
 
 The operation of branding them was a short
 
 THE MAROON. 205 
 
 work, and afforded no mirth to the bystanders : 
 since there was no ludicrous display of terror 
 to laugh at. This facile disposition renders 
 the Whidaw the most valuable of slaves. 
 
 A group of Coromantees were now to under- 
 go the fiery ordeal. These bold and warlike 
 indigenes of Africa evinced, by their attitudes 
 and actions, the possession of a moral nature 
 altogether different from that either of Paw- 
 paw or Eboe. Instead of waiting to be led 
 forward, each stepped boldly up, as he did so 
 baring his breast to receive the red brand, at 
 which he glanced with an air of lordly con- 
 tempt ! 
 
 One young fellow even seized the iron from 
 the grasp of the operator ; and, turning it in 
 his hand, struck the stamp firmly against his 
 breast, where he held it until the seething 
 flesh told that a deep imprint had been made ! 
 Then, flinging the instrument back into the 
 furnace, he strode away from the spot with the 
 air of a triumphant gladiator ! 
 
 At this moment there occurred a pause in 
 the proceedings — not as if the drama was 
 ended, but only an act. Another was yet to 
 come. 
 
 Eavoner stepped up to the verandah, in
 
 206 THE MAEOON. 
 
 front of the place where Jessnron and his 
 daughter stood. With the former, or indeed 
 with both, he communicated in a voice just 
 audible, — not as if with any design of conceal- 
 ing what he said — but because there was no 
 necessity for loud talking. 
 
 The two man-hunters were the only persons 
 there he might h^ve had any care to be cautious 
 about ; but these were at that moment busy 
 with their dogs, and not heeding aught that 
 was going on. Branding a batch of negroes 
 was no new sight to them ; and they were 
 spectators, merely from having, at the moment, 
 nothing better to do. 
 
 " Which next ? " was the question put by 
 Eavener to the Jew ; " the Mandingoes ? " 
 
 " Either them or the prinshe," replied Jes- 
 suron ; " it don't matter which ish marked 
 first." 
 
 " Oh, the prince first, by all means ! " sug- 
 gested the amiable Judith, with a smile of sa- 
 tisfaction. " Bring him out first, Mr. Eavener; 
 I'm curious to see how his royal highness will 
 stand fire." 
 
 The overseer made no rei^lj ; but, taking 
 the wish of the young lady as a command, 
 proceeded to obey it.
 
 THE MAROON. 207 
 
 Stepping across the court lie opened a door 
 tliat led into a room, separate from that in 
 which the slaves had been lodged. 
 
 The overseer entered the room ; and in a few 
 minutes came out again, bringing with him an 
 individual who, by his dress, it might have 
 been difficult to recognize as the 3^oung Fel- 
 latta seen on board the slaver, but whose noble 
 mien still rendered it possible to identify him : 
 for it was he. 
 
 Changed, indeed, was his costume. The 
 turban was gone, the rich silken tunic, the 
 sandals and scimetar — all his finery had been 
 stripped off ; and in its place appeared a coarse 
 Osnaburg shirt and trousers — the dress of a 
 plantation negro. 
 
 He looked wretched, but not crestfallen. 
 
 No doubt he had by this time learnt, or sus- 
 pected, the fate that was in store for him ; 
 but, for all that, his features exhibited the 
 proud air of a prince ; and the glances which 
 he cast upon the overseer by his side, but 
 oftener upon Jessuron — whose instrument he 
 knew the other to be — were those of concen- 
 trated anger and defiance. 
 
 Not a word escaped his lips, either of pro- 
 test or reproach. This had all passed before —
 
 208 THE MAROON. 
 
 when the first rude assault liad been made 
 upon him, to deprive him of his garments and 
 the adornments of his person. The hour of 
 recrimination was past. He knew he had 
 no alternative but submission, and he was 
 submitting — though in angry and sullen 
 silence. 
 
 He had no idea of what was now designed for 
 him. He had been shut up in a windowless 
 room, and saw nothing of the spectacle that 
 had just passed. Some new outrage he anti- 
 cipated ; but of what nature he could not guess. 
 
 He was not allowed to remain long in igno- 
 rance. Eavener, roughly grasping him by the 
 wrist, led him up to the furnace. 
 
 The iron by this time was ready — glowing 
 red-hot among the coals. The operator stood 
 watching for the signal to use it ; and on its 
 being given, he seized the instrument in his 
 grasp, and poised it aloft. 
 
 The prince now perceived the intention, but 
 shrank not at the sight. His eyes were not 
 upon the iron, but, gleaming with a fire like 
 that of the furnace itself, were directed upon 
 the face of the old Jew — at intervals upon that 
 of the angel-like demon at his side. 
 
 The Jew alone shrank from the glance ; his
 
 THE MAROON. 209 
 
 dangliter returned it with a mocking imper- 
 turbability ! 
 
 In another instant the red brand hissed as 
 it burnt into the flesh of the Fellatta's bosom. 
 Prince Cinglles was the slave of Jacob Jessu- 
 ron ! 
 
 As if the terrible reality had now for the 
 first time burst upon him, the young man 
 sprang forward with a cry ; and before anyone 
 could oppose his progress, he had bounded up 
 the steps and entered the verandah. 
 
 Then, gliding along the gallery, to the 
 spot occupied by Jessuron and his daughter, 
 he launched himself forward upon the Jew. 
 As he clutched the latter by the throat, both 
 came together to the ground, and rolled over 
 and over in the writhings of a desperate 
 struggle. 
 
 Fortunate it was for the slave-merchant 
 that his victim had been disarmed : else that 
 moment would have been fatal to him. As it 
 was, he came very near being strangled ; and 
 had it not been for Eavener and the two 
 Spaniards, who hastened to his rescue, tlie be- 
 trayal of the Foolah prince would have been 
 the last treason of his life. 
 
 Overpowered by numbers, Cmglies was at 
 
 VOL. I. p
 
 210 THE MAROON. 
 
 length secured ; and tlie throat of the slave- 
 merchant was extricated from his death-like 
 clutch. 
 
 " Kill him ! " cried the Jew, as soon as 
 he found hreath to speak. " No, don't kill 
 him yet," added he, correcting himself, " not 
 joosh yet, till I punish him for it ! an if I don't 
 punish him — ach ! " 
 
 " Flos: the savaare ! " shouted the beauti- 
 ful Judith ; " make an example of him, Mr. 
 Eavener : else those others will he rising upon 
 us in the same style." 
 
 " Yesh, flog him ! that'll do to begin with. 
 Mog him now, goot Eavener. Grive him a 
 hundred lashes thish minute ! " 
 
 " Ay, ay ! " responded the overseer, drag- 
 ging the victim down the steps; "I'll give 
 him his full dose — never fear you ! " 
 
 Eavener was as good as his word. The 
 spectacle that followed was even more horrible 
 to behold than that which has been described : 
 for the punishment of the lash is among the 
 most fearful of exhibitions. 
 
 The young Toolah was tied to a post — one 
 that stood there for the purpose. A strong 
 headman wielded the cruel quirt ; and as the 
 last stripe was administered, completing that
 
 THE MAROON. 211 
 
 horrid hundred, the poor victim sank fainting 
 against the blood-stained stake. 
 
 The occupants of the verandah showed not 
 the sHghtest signs of having been moved to 
 pity by this horrid spectacle. On the contrary, 
 both father and daughter seemed to draw de- 
 light from it ; and, instead of retiring when the 
 fearful scene was over, both, seemingly with 
 perfect unconcern, remained to witness the 
 finale of the day's work — the marking of the 
 Mandingoes !
 
 CHAPTEE XXII. 
 
 A COUCH OF SILK COTTON. 
 
 On parting from the presence of his fair cousin, 
 and, at the same time, from the house of his 
 inhospitable relative, Herbert Yaughan struck 
 off through the shrubbery that stretched 
 towards the ridge on the right. 
 
 Notwithstanding the storm that was raging 
 in his breast, a reflection had occurred to him, 
 which hindered him from going by the main 
 xvenue. Suffering from a keen sense of hu- 
 miliation, he had no desire to meet with any 
 of his uncle's people : since the very slaves 
 seemed to be privy to his false position. Still 
 less desirous was he of being observed, while 
 making the long traverse of the avenue, by 
 eyes that might be directed upon him from the 
 windows of the great house. 
 
 On reaching the limits of the level platform, 
 he leaped a low wall, that separated the shrub- 
 bery from the outer fields ; and then, under 
 cover of the pimento groves, commenced 
 ascending the slope of the ridge.
 
 THE MAROON. 213 
 
 For some time the conflicting emotions that 
 were stirring in his soul hindered him from any- 
 thing like tranquil reflection. Conflicting, I 
 say : for two very opposite sentiments had been 
 aroused by the two individuals with whom he 
 had just held interview ; opposite as darkness 
 from light — as sorrow from joy — perhaps, as 
 hate from love. 
 
 The conflict might have lasted longer, had 
 there been an opportunity to give way to idle 
 emotions. But there w^as not. The young 
 man felt too forlorn and friendless to indulge 
 in the luxury of passionate thought ; and, 
 on this account, the sooner did the storm 
 subside. 
 
 On reaching the crest of the ridge, and 
 before plunging into the deep forest that 
 stretched aw^ay on the other side, he endea- 
 voured, through an opening in the trees, to 
 catch a view of those w^hite walls and green 
 jalousies. In that glance there was more of 
 regretfulness than anger — an expression of de- 
 spair, such as may have appeared on the face of 
 the fallen angel when gazing back over the 
 golden palings of Paradise. 
 
 As the young man turned away, and entered 
 under the sombre shadows of the forest, the
 
 214 THE MAROON. 
 
 expression of despair seemed to become deeper 
 and darker. 
 
 To make Mont ego Bay — to seek in it such, 
 humble home as might offer — to wait there till 
 his poorly-stocked portmanteau, now on its way 
 to Mount Welcome, should be returned to him 
 — ^these were the simple plans that suggested 
 themselves. His mind was still too much on 
 the rack to permit of his dwelling upon any 
 ulterior purpose. 
 
 He walked on through the woods, without 
 taking much heed as to the direction in which, 
 he was going. Anyone who could have 
 seen him just then might have supposed that 
 he had lost his way, and was wandering. 
 
 It was not so, however. He knew or believed 
 that by keeping to the left of his former course 
 he would get out upon the main road, by which 
 lie had reached the entrance gate of Mount 
 Welcome. In any case, he could not fail to 
 find the river he had already crossed ; and by 
 following it downward, he would in time arrive 
 at the town. 
 
 With this confidence, false as it may have 
 been, he was not wandering; only ab- 
 sorbed in thought — in common parlance, 
 absent-minded.
 
 THE MAROON. 215 
 
 But this absence of mind lasted so long, that 
 it led to the result it resembled : he lost his 
 way in reality. 
 
 The trees hindered him from seeing the sun 
 — now low down. But even if a view of the 
 golden orb had been afforded liim, it would 
 have served no purpose : since, on riding out 
 to Mount Welcome, he had taken no note of 
 the relative directions between it and the Bay. 
 
 He was not much disconcerted by the dis- 
 covery that he had lost himself. The reflection 
 that in Montego Bay he would be no better off, 
 hindered him from greatly regretting the cir- 
 cumstance. He had not the means to command 
 the shelter of a roof — even in the midst of a 
 whole city full — and the chances were he 
 might find none better than that which was 
 above him at the moment — the spreading 
 fronds of a gigantic cotton -tree. 
 
 At the time that this reflection crossed his 
 mind, the sun had gone quite down : for the 
 cotton-tree stood upon the edge of an opening 
 where he could see the sky above him ; and he 
 perceived that it was already tinged with the 
 purple of twilight. To find his way in the 
 darkness would be no longer possible, and he
 
 216 THE MAROON. 
 
 resolved for that night to accept the hospi- 
 tality of the ceiha. 
 
 It had even spread a conch for him : for the 
 seed capsnles had bnrst npon its branches ; and 
 the pale-brown staple thickly covered the 
 ground beneath — offering a couch that, under 
 the canopy of a West Indian summer sky, was 
 sufficiently luxuriant. 
 
 Was there a supper as well ? Herbert looked 
 around — he was hungry. Not a morsel had he 
 eaten since breakfast — only a piece of mess-pork 
 and a brown wormy biscuit, on parting from 
 the ship. Hunger had already made itself 
 felt. During his wanderings, having his gun 
 with him, he had looked out for game. Had 
 any appeared, he was too good a sportsman 
 to have let it escape. But none had shown 
 itself — neither beast nor bird. The woods 
 seemed deserted as himself He could hear 
 the voices of birds — all strange to his ear — he 
 could see bright-winged creatures fluttering 
 amongst the leaves ; but none near enough for 
 the range of his fowling-piece. 
 
 Now^ that he had come to a halt, and having 
 nothing better to do, he took his stand, watch- 
 ing the open glade. Perhaps some bird might
 
 THE MAROON. 217 
 
 yet show itself passing from tree to tree, or 
 flying about in pursuit of prey. It was the 
 hour for owls. He felt hungry enough to eat 
 one. 
 
 Neither owl nor night-jar came in sight ; but 
 his attention was attracted to an object edible 
 as either, and which promised to relieve him 
 from the pangs he was suffering. 
 
 Close by the cotton-tree stood another giant 
 of the forest — rivalling the former in height, 
 but differing from it as an arrow from its bow. 
 Straight as a lance, it rose to the height of an 
 hundred feet. It was branchless as a column 
 of polished malachite or marble — up to its 
 high summit, where its long green fronds, 
 radiating outward, drooped gracefully over, like 
 a circlet of reflexed ostrich plumes. 
 
 A child could have told it to be a palm ; but 
 Herbert knew more. He had heard of the 
 noble "mountain-cabbage" of Jamaica — the 
 kingly areca oredoxia. He knew that in the 
 centre of that circlet of far- stretching fronds — 
 in that crown — there was a jewel that had 
 often proved more precious than gems or gold : 
 for often had it been the means of saving hu- 
 man life. 
 
 How was this jewel to be obtained ? Like
 
 218 THE MAROOX. 
 
 all crowns, it was placed liigli— far above the 
 reach, of ordinary mortals. Young and active 
 though he was, and a climber at school, he could 
 never "swarm up" that tall, smooth shaft. 
 Without a ladder a hundred feet in length, it 
 would not be possible to reach its summit. 
 
 But, see ! the palm-tree stands not alone. 
 A great black lliana stretches tortuously from 
 the earth up to the crown, vdiere its head 
 is buried among the tufted leaves, as if it were 
 some huge dragon in the act of devouring its 
 victim. 
 
 Herbert stood for a moment reconnoitring 
 the grand stay- cable, that, trailing from the 
 summit of the palm, offered, as it were, a na- 
 tural ladder for ascending it. Hunger stimu- 
 lated him to the attempt ; and, resting his gun 
 against the trunk of the ceiha, he commenced 
 climbing upward. 
 
 Without much difficulty, he succeeded in 
 reaching the top, and making his way among 
 the huge innnce of the leaves — each in itself a 
 leaf of many feet in length. He arrived at 
 the youngest of them all — that still enfolded 
 in the envelope of the bud — and vrhich was 
 the object for which he had climbed. 
 
 With his knife he separated this summit
 
 THE MAKOON. 219 
 
 leaf from the stem, flung it to tlie eartli; and 
 then, descending to tlie bottom of the tree, 
 made his supper upon the raw but sweet and 
 succulent shoots of tlie mountain-cabba2:e. 
 
 Supper over, he collected a quantity of the 
 strewn fleece of the silk-cotton ; and, placing 
 it between two of the great buttress-like root- 
 spurs of the tree, constructed for himself a 
 couch on which, but for some hard thoughts 
 within, he might have slept as softly and 
 soundly as iipon a bed of eider. '
 
 CHAPTEE XXIII. 
 
 THE TREE FOUNTAIN. 
 
 That lie did not sleep soundly may be attri- 
 buted solely to bis anxieties about the mor- 
 row : for tbe night was mild throughout, and 
 the composition of his improvised couch kept 
 him sufficiently warm. His cares, however, had 
 rendered his spirit restless. They were vivid 
 enough to act even upon his dreams — which 
 several times during ^the night awoke him, 
 and again, finally, just after the break of 
 day. 
 
 This time, on opening his eyes, he perceived 
 that the glade w^as filled with soft blue light ; 
 and the quivering fronds of the cabbage-palm 
 — just visible from where he lay — had caught 
 the first trembling rays of the sun. 
 
 Only there, and among the summit-branches 
 of the ceiha, far overtopping the sp-ay of the 
 surrounding forest, was the sun yet visible. 
 Everything else was tinted with the blue grey 
 of the morning twilight.
 
 THE MAROON. 221 
 
 He could sleep no longer ; and rose from his 
 forest lair, intending to make an immediate de- 
 parture from tlie spot. 
 
 He had no toilet to trouble him — nothing to 
 do, further than brush off the silken floss of 
 the tree-cotton, shoulder his gun, and go. 
 
 He felt hunger, even more than on the pre- 
 ceding night ; and, although the raw moun- 
 tain-cabbage offered no very tempting dejeuner, 
 he determined before starting, to make another 
 meal upon it — remembering, and very wisely 
 acting upon, the adage of " a bird in the 
 hand." 
 
 There was plenty left from the supper to 
 serve him for breakfast ; and, once more making 
 a vigorous onslaught on the chou de j^cdmiste, 
 he succeeded in appeasing his hunger. 
 
 But another appetite, far more unpleasant 
 to bear, now assailed him. In truth, it had 
 assailed him long before, but had been gradu- 
 ally growing stronger; until it was now almost 
 unendurable. 
 
 It was the kindred appetite, thirst ; which 
 the cabbage-palm, instead of relieving, had, 
 from a certain acridity in its juice, only sharp- 
 ened — till the pain amounted almost to 
 torture.
 
 222 THE MAROON. 
 
 The sufferer would have struck off into the 
 woods in search of water. He had seen none 
 in his wanderings ; still he had hopes of 
 being able to find the river. He would have 
 started at once, but for an idea he had con- 
 ceived that there was water near the spot where 
 he had slept. 
 
 Where ? He had observed neither stream nor 
 spring, pond nor river ; and yet he fancied he 
 had seen water — in fact, he felt sure of it ! 
 
 In a very singular situation he had seen it — 
 so thought he at the time — since it was over 
 his head in the cotton-tree 1 
 
 On the previous evening, while upon the 
 crown of the cabbage-palm, he had glanced 
 slantingly across, among the branches of the 
 ceiba. This, as with all great trees in the tro- 
 pical forests, was loaded with parasites — vrie- 
 sias, long ragged-looking cacti, bromclias, 
 epiphytical orchids, and the like. Tillandsiai 
 too, of the kind known as " wild pines," grew 
 in the forks, or on the upper surface of the 
 great limbs, flourishing as luxuriantly as if 
 their roots rested in the richest soil. Among 
 them was conspicuous the most magnificent of 
 the genus, the noble Tillandsia lingulatay with 
 its spike of gorgeous crimson flowers projecting
 
 THE MAEOON. 223 
 
 from the midst of its broad sheathing leaves. 
 It was in the concavities of these huge leaves 
 that Herbert had observed something which 
 did not belong to the plant — somxething he 
 believed to be water. 
 
 It would cost but a few seconds' time to 
 confirm or refute this belief — a climb among 
 the branches of the ceiha. Another huge pa- 
 rasite, from the same root as the former, 
 trended tortuously up to the limbs of the silk- 
 cofcton-tree — ^here and there touching and 
 twisting around tbem. Its diagonal direction 
 rendered it easy of ascent ; and Herbert, im- 
 pelled by his desire to drink, commenced climb- 
 ing it. 
 
 Ere long, he had succeeeded in reaching a 
 main fork of the ceiba, where nestled one of 
 the largest of the wild pines. 
 
 He had not been deceived. In a hollow 
 formed by one of its huge ventricose leaves 
 was the natural reservoir he had noticed — the 
 gathering of dew and rain, wliich the rays of 
 the sun could never reach. 
 
 At his approach, ^^ green hjla sprang out 
 from this aerial pool ; and leaping, frog-like, 
 from leaf to leaf — guarded against falling by 
 the clammy sponge-disks of its feet — soon dis-
 
 224 THE MAROON. 
 
 appeared amid the foliage. It was this singular 
 creature whose voice Herbert had been hearing 
 throughout the livelong night ; and which, in 
 constant chorus with others of its kind, had 
 recalled to his memory the groaning and work- 
 ing of the Sect Nymph in a storm. 
 
 The presence of the tree -toad in this its 
 natural haunt, did not deter the young nian 
 from drinking. Eaging thirst has no scruples ; 
 and, bending over one of the leaves of the 
 tillandsia, he placed his Hps to the cool water, 
 and freely quaffed it. 
 
 The labour of scrambling up the lliana had 
 taken away his breath, and to some extent 
 fatigued hiin. Instead, therefore, of descend- 
 ing at once — which he knew would cost him 
 an effort equal to that of the ascent — he 
 determined to rest for a few minutes upon 
 the large limb of the ceiha on which he had 
 seated himself. 
 
 " Well ! " muttered he, in satisfied soliloquy, 
 '* if the people of this island have proved in- 
 hospitable, I can't say the same of its trees. 
 Here are two of them — almost the first I have 
 encountered. They have yielded me the three 
 necessaries of life — meat, drink, and lodging — 
 lodging, too, with an excellent bed, a thing
 
 THE MAROON. 225 
 
 not so common in many a human hostelry. 
 What more is wanted ? Under such a sky as 
 this, who need care to have walls around, or 
 a roof over him ? Yerily, to sleep here, sub 
 Jove, is rather a luxury than an inconvenience ! 
 And, verily,'' continued he, " were it not that 
 I should feel rather lonely, and that man is 
 designed to be a social animal, I might pass 
 my whole life in these glorious woods, with- 
 out work or care of any kind. No doubt there 
 is game ; and I was told at home there are no 
 game laws — so I might poach at pleasure. 
 Ha ! game ? What do I see ? A deer ? No 1 
 a hog ! Yes, hog it is ; but such a singular fel- 
 low — prick ears, red bristles, long legs, and 
 tusks. A boar ! and why not a wild boar ? " 
 
 There was no reason why it should not be, 
 since it tvas one — a wild boar of the Jamaica 
 forest — a true descendant of the Canarian lioor, 
 transported thither by the SjDaniards. 
 
 The young Englishman, never having seen 
 a wild boar in its native haunts, put the ques- 
 tion conjecturally ; but a moment's observation 
 of the animal convinced him that his conjec- 
 ture was correct. The short upright ears, the 
 long head, hams, and legs, the shaggy neck 
 and frontlet, the foxy red colour, the quick 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 226 THE MAROON. 
 
 sliort step as it moved onward — all ihesejjoinfs, 
 combined with a certain savage air whicli Her- 
 bert noticed at a glance, satisfied liim that 
 the animal under his eyes was not one of the 
 domestic breed, but a genuine wild hog of the 
 woods. The grunt, too, which the creature 
 uttered as it moved across the glade — short, 
 sharp and fierce— had but slight resemblance 
 to the squeaking sounds of the farm- yard. A 
 wild boar beyond a doubt ! 
 
 On perceiving this noble head of game, and 
 so near him, Herbert's first reflection was one 
 of extreme regret. How unlucky that he 
 should be up in the tree, with his gun upon 
 the ground ! 
 
 It was very tantalizing ; but the young man 
 saw it would be impossible to get possession 
 of his gun without giving the alarm. To 
 attempt descending from the tree, or even 
 make a movement upon the branch, would be 
 sufficient to send the boar scampering from 
 the spot : of course never to be seen more. 
 
 Conscious of this, Herbert preferred remain- 
 ing upon his perch — the silent spectator of a 
 scene of wild Nature, to which chance had 
 so oddly introduced him.
 
 CHAPTEE XXIY. 
 
 THE HOG-HUNTER. 
 
 The boar had stopped over the debris of Her- 
 bert's breakfast — some fragments of the moun- 
 tain cabbage which had been left upon the 
 ground. Switching his feathered tail, and 
 uttering a short grunt, expressive of satisfac- 
 tion, the animal proceeded to snap up the 
 scattered pieces, crunching them between his 
 formidable grinders. 
 
 All of a sudden, the tranquil tableau became 
 transformed into a scene of a more exciting 
 nature. As Herbert continued to gaze, he saw 
 the boar suddenly make a start, jerk his muzzle 
 high in the air, at the same instant uttering a 
 peculiar cry. It was a cry of alarm, mingled 
 with angry menace^as testified by the bristles 
 upon his back, which had suddenly shot up 
 into an erect spinous mane. 
 
 Herbert looked for the enemy. None was 
 in sight — at least to his eyes. The boar, how- 
 ever, liad either seen or heard something : for 
 
 q2
 
 228 THE MAROON. 
 
 he was evidently upon the strain to spring 
 off. 
 
 Just then, a loud report reverberated through 
 the glade, a bullet hissed through, the air, and 
 the animal, with a shrill scream, turned over 
 upon its back, the blood spouting from a wound 
 in its thigh. 
 
 In an instant it was on its feet again ; but 
 rage appeared to hinder it from attempting 
 flight ! It retreated only a few paces, taking 
 its stand between two of the buttresses of 
 the ceiha — on the very spot where the young 
 Englishman had passed the night. There — 
 protected on both flanks and in the rear — 
 and uttering fierce grunts of defiance — it 
 stood, as if awaiting an enemy. 
 
 Soon after a man emerged from the under- 
 wood, armed with what appeared to be a 
 straight sword or cutlass. 
 
 In a dozen quick strides he crossed the glade ; 
 and, having reached the roots of the cotton 
 tree, became engaged in a deadly struggle with 
 the wounded boar. 
 
 Notwithstanding the damage done to it, the 
 creature was still a formidable antagonist ; and 
 it required all the address of the liunter — habile
 
 THE MAROON. 229 
 
 tliougli he appeared to be — to avoid contact 
 with his terrible tusks. 
 
 Each alternatively charged upon the other 
 — the hunter endeavouring to thrust the 
 quadruped witli his long blade, while the boar 
 in its turn would repeatedly rush towards its 
 antagonist, suddenly rear itself upon its hind 
 legs, and strike upwards with its armed and 
 grinning muzzle. 
 
 It was one of the fore-legs of the animal 
 that had been broken by the shot ; but the 
 wound, although greatly disabling it, did not 
 hinder it from making a protracted and de- 
 sperate defence. The spurs of the cotton-tree 
 rising on each side proved its best protectors 
 — hindering its assailant from turning its flanks 
 and piercing it in the side. The combat, 
 therefore, was face to face ; and the blade of 
 the hunter, repeatedly thrust forward, as often 
 glanced harmlessly from the hard skull, or 
 glinted with a metallic ring against the tusks 
 of the boar. 
 
 For several minutes did this singular con- 
 test continue — the young Englishman all the 
 while watching it with lively interest; but 
 without giving the slightest signs of his being 
 a spectator. Indeed, the scene was so ex-
 
 230 THE MAEOON. 
 
 citing, and liad come under his eyes so unex- 
 pectedly, that he was for a time held speechless 
 by sheer surprise. 
 
 After a while the struggle between biped 
 and quadruped was brought to a termination. 
 The former — who appeared to possess all the 
 craft of his calling — put in practice a ruse 
 that enabled him to give his antagonist the 
 coup de grace. 
 
 It was a feat, however, accompanied by no 
 slight danger : and so adroitly did the hunter 
 perform it, as to create within the mind of his 
 spectator — himself a sportsman — both surprise 
 and admiration. 
 
 Thus was the feat accomplished. In 
 charging forward upon his human adversary, 
 the boar had incautiously ventured beyond the 
 flanking buttresses of the tree. In fact, the 
 hunter had enticed the animal outward — b}^ 
 making a feint of retreating from the 
 contest. 
 
 Just then — and before the brute could divine 
 his intention — the hunter rushed forward, and, 
 throwing all his strength into the effort, 
 sprang high into the air. Quite clearing the 
 quadruped, he alighted in the angle formed by 
 the converging spurs of the tree.
 
 THE MAROON. 231 
 
 The boar had now lost his position of 
 defence ; though that of the hnnter for the 
 moment appeared desperate. He had calcu- 
 lated his chances, however : for before the 
 enraged animal — hindered by its hanging limb 
 — could face round to assail him, he had 
 lunged out with his long blade, and buried 
 it up to the hilt between the creature's 
 ribs. 
 
 With a slu'ill scream the boar fell prostrate 
 to the earth — the red stream- from his side 
 spurting over and spoiling the improvised 
 mattress of cotton-tree flock upon which the 
 young Englishman had passed the night. 
 
 Up to this moment the latter had done 
 nothing, either by word or gesture, to make 
 known his presence. He was about to descend 
 and congratulate the hunter for the perform- 
 ance of a feat that had filled him with admira- 
 tion. A fancy, passing through his mind at 
 the moment, determined him to remain where 
 he was a little longer ; and, in obedience to 
 this fancy, he sat gazing down upon the suc- 
 cessful sportsman at the bottom of the tree. 
 
 To say the least, the appearance presented 
 by this individual was singular — especially so 
 in the eyes of an Englishman unacquainted with
 
 232 THE MAROON. 
 
 West Indian characters and costumes. But, in 
 addition to picturesqueness of attire, there was 
 something in the carriage and features of the 
 man that could not fail to make a remarkable 
 impression upon the beholder. 
 
 This impression was decidedly pleasing, 
 though the face that produced it was not that 
 of a wliite man. Neither was it the face of a 
 black man ; nor yet the yellow countenance of 
 the mulatto. It was a shade lighter than the 
 last, with a dash of crimson in the cheeks. It 
 was this colouring of the cheeks, perhaps, com- 
 bined with a well-rounded, sparkling iris, that 
 imparted the agreeable expression. 
 
 The man was young. Herbert Yaughan 
 might have guessed him about his own age 
 without being many months astray ; and, in 
 point of size and shape, there was no great 
 dissimilitude between them. In the colour 
 of their hair, complexion, and features, there 
 was no resemblance whatever. While the 
 face of the young Englishman was of the 
 oval type, that of the West Indian hunter 
 was rotund. A prominent, well- cut chin, 
 however, hindered it from degenerating into 
 any expression of feebleness. On the contrary, 
 firmness was the prevailing cast of the fea-
 
 THE MAROON, 233 
 
 tures ; and the bold, swelling throat was a true 
 physical index of daring. 
 
 The complexion of the hunter betokened a 
 sang-meU between African and Caucasian, 
 which was further confirmed by the slight 
 crisping that appeared among the jet black 
 curls of hair thickly covering his head. The 
 luxuriance of these curls was partly kept in 
 check by a head-dress that Herbert Yaughan 
 would have been less surprised to see in some 
 country of the East : for, at the first glance, he 
 had mistaken it for a turban. On closer exami- 
 nation, however, it proved to be a brilliant ker- 
 chief — the Madras check — ingeniously folded 
 around the forehead, so as to sit coquettishly 
 over the crown, with the knot a little to one 
 side. It was a torque — not a turban. 
 
 The other articles of dress worn by the 
 young hunter were an outer coat, or shirt, of 
 sky-blue cottonade, cut somewhat blouse- 
 fashion ; an under-shirt of fine white linen, 
 ruffled and open at the breast ; trousers of the 
 same material as the coat ; and bufi:' coloured 
 boots of roughly-cleaned cowskin. There were 
 straps and strings over both shoulders, all 
 crossing each other on the breast. 
 
 From the two that hunc: to the riirht side
 
 23-4 THE MAROON. 
 
 were suspended a powder-horn and skin sliot- 
 poucli. On the same side hung a large 
 calahash canteen, covered with a strong net- 
 work of some forest withe to protect it 
 from injury. Under the left arm was a 
 carved and curving cow's horn, evidently not 
 for holding powder, since it was open at both 
 ends. Below this, against his hip, rested a 
 black leathern sheath — the receptacle of that 
 long blade still reeking with the blood of the 
 boar. 
 
 This weapon was the machete — half sword, 
 half hunting-knife — which, with its straight, 
 short blade, and haft-like hilt of greyish horn, 
 is to be found in every cottage of Spanish 
 America, from California to the "Land of 
 Eire." Even where the S|)aniards have been, 
 but are no longer — as in Jamaica — the uni- 
 versal machete may be seen in the hands of 
 hunter and peasant — a relic of the conqueror 
 colonists.
 
 CHAPTEE XXY. 
 
 THE RUNAWAY. 
 
 Up to the moment that the boar was laid pro- 
 strate upon the ground, he in the toqiie had 
 been kept too w^ell employed with his fierce 
 game to find time for looking at anything 
 else. It was only after dealing the death- 
 blow to his adversary that he was able to stand 
 erect and take a survey around him. 
 
 In an instant his eye fell upon the gun of 
 the young Englishman, and then the white 
 pieces of palm-cabbage upon wdiich the boar 
 had been browsing. 
 
 '' Hoh ! " exclaimed he, still gasping for 
 breath, but with a look that betrayed surprise ; 
 " A gun ! Whose ? Some runaway slave who 
 has stolen his master's fowling-piece? No- 
 thing more likely. Eut why has he left the 
 piece behind him ? And what has started him 
 away from here ? Surely not the boar ? He 
 must have been gone before the animal got 
 up ? Cramho I a richer prize than the porker,
 
 236 THE MAROON. 
 
 if I could only have set eyes on him ! I 
 wonder in which direction he has tracked it ? 
 Hish ! what do I see ? The runaway 1 yes — yes, 
 it is he ! Coming hack for his gun ? Crainho I 
 This is unexpected luck, so early in the morn- 
 ing — a slave capture — a hounfy ! " 
 
 As the hunter hurriedly muttered these 
 concluding phrases, he glided with stealthy 
 tread hetween the two buttresses ; and, having 
 placed himself in the extreme angle of their 
 convergence, remained perfectly still — as if to 
 await the approach of some one who was ad- 
 vancing towards the tree. 
 
 Herbert, from his perch, had a full view of 
 the nev\r comer thus announced. 
 
 A young man of a copper red colour, with 
 straight black hair, shaggily tossed and pulled 
 over his forehead, as if some one had been 
 tearing it from his head ! His face, too — a 
 fine one, notwithstanding its mahogany colour 
 — appeared freshly lacerated ; and his whole 
 body bore the marks of inhuman abuse. 
 The coarse cotton shirt that covered his 
 shoulders was blotched with blood ; and long, 
 crimson-coloured stripes running across his 
 back, looked like the imprints of an ensan- 
 guined lash !
 
 THE MAROON. 237 
 
 The attitude in wliich. lie was advancing 
 was as peculiar as liis costume. When 
 Herbert first set eyes on him he was craioling 
 upon his hands and knees, yet going with 
 considerable speed. This led to the belief 
 that his bent position Avas assumed rather 
 with a view towards concealment, than from 
 the inability to walk erect. 
 
 This belief was soon after confirmed : for on 
 entering the glade the young man rose to his 
 feet, and trotted on — but still with body bent 
 — towards the ceiha, 
 
 Wliat could he want there ? 
 
 "Was he making for the huge tree as a 
 haven of safety from some deadly pursuers ? 
 Herbert fancied so. 
 
 The hunter believed he was coming back for 
 his gun — having no suspicion that the real 
 owner of the piece was just over his head. 
 
 Both remained silent ; though from motives 
 having no similitude to each other. 
 
 In a few seconds' time, the fugitive — for his 
 actions proved him one — had reached the bot- 
 tom of the tree. 
 
 " Halt 1" cried the hunter, showing himself 
 round the buttress, and stepping in front of
 
 238 THE MAROON. 
 
 the new comer, " You are a runaway, and mj 
 prisoner ! " 
 
 The fugitive dropped upon his knees, crossed 
 his arms over his breast, and uttered some 
 phrases in an unknown tongue — amongst 
 which Herbert could distinguish the word 
 " Allah." 
 
 His captor appeared equally at fault about 
 the meaning of the words ; but neither the 
 attitude of the speaker, nor the expression 
 upon his countenance, could be mistaken : it 
 was an appeal for mercy. 
 
 " Crambo /" exclaimed the hunter, bending 
 forward, and gazing for a moment at the 
 breast of the runaway — on which the letters 
 " J. J." were conspicuously branded — " wdth 
 that tattoo on your skin, I don't wonder 
 j^ou've given leg-bail to your master. Poor 
 devil ! they've tattooed you still more brutally 
 upon the back." 
 
 As he said this — speaking rather to himself 
 than to the wretched creature that knelt be- 
 fore him — the hunter stretched forth his hand, 
 raised the shirt from the shoulders of the run- 
 away, and gazed for a v>diile upon his naked 
 back. The skin was covered with purple
 
 THE MAROON. 239 
 
 wales, crossing eacli oilier like the arteries in 
 an anatomic plate ! 
 
 " God of the Christian ! " exclaimed the 
 yellow hunter, with evident indignation at 
 the sight, '' if this he yonr decree, then give 
 me the fetish of my African ancestors. But 
 no," added he, after a pause, " J. J. is not a 
 Christian — he cares for no G-od." 
 
 The soliloquy of the hunter was here inter- 
 rupted hy a second speech from the suppliant, 
 spoken in the same unknown tongue. 
 
 This time the gesture signified that it was 
 an appeal for protection against some enemy 
 in the rear : for the sympathetic looks of his 
 captor had evidently won the confidence of the 
 fugitive. 
 
 " They are after you — no douht of it," said 
 the hunter. " Well, let them come — whoever 
 are your pursuers. This time they have lost 
 their chance ; and the hounty is mine, not 
 theirs. Poor devil ! it goes against my grain 
 to deliver you up ; and v/ere it not for the law 
 that hinds me, I should scorn their paltry 
 reward. Hark ! yonder they come ! Dogs, as 
 I'm a man ! Yes, it's the bay of a bloodhound ! 
 Those villanous man-hunters of Batabano — 
 I knew old Jessuron had them in his pay.
 
 240 THE MAROON. 
 
 Here, my poor fellow, in here !" and the hunter 
 half-led, half-dragged the fugitive over the 
 carcass of the wild boar, placing him between 
 the buttresses of the ceiha, " Stand close in to 
 the angle," he continued. " Leave me to guard 
 the front. Here's your gun ; I see it's loaded. 
 I hope you know how to use it ? Don't fire 
 till you're sure of hitting ! We'll need both 
 blade and shot to save ourselves from these 
 Spanish dogs, that will make no distinction, 
 between you and me. Not they! Crambo! 
 there they come !" 
 
 The words had scarce issued from the 
 speaker's lips, when two large dogs broke, 
 with a swishing noise, out of the bushes on 
 the opposite side of the glade — evidently run- 
 ning on the trail of the fugitive. 
 
 The crimson colour of their muzzles showed 
 that they had been baited with blood — which, 
 darkening as it dried, rendered more con- 
 spicuous the white fang-like teeth within their 
 jaws. 
 
 They were half-hound, half-mastiff; but ran 
 as true-bred hounds on a fresh trail. 
 
 No trail could have been fresher than that 
 of the flogged fugitive ; and, in a few seconds 
 after entering the glade, the hounds had got
 
 THE MAROON. 241 
 
 up to the ceiha, in front of the triangular 
 chamber in which stood the runaway and his 
 protector. 
 
 These dogs have no instinct of self-preser- 
 vation — only an instinct to discover and de- 
 stroy. Without stopping to bark or bay — 
 without even slackening their pace — both 
 dashed onward, bounding into the air as they 
 launched themselves upon the supposed objects 
 of their pursuit. 
 
 The first only impaled himself upon the 
 outstretched machete of the yellow hunter ; and 
 as the animal came down to the earth, it was 
 to utter the last howl of his existence. 
 
 The other, springing towards the naked 
 fugitive, received the contents of the fowling- 
 piece, and, like the first, rolled lifeless upon 
 the earth. > 
 
 VOL. I,
 
 CHAPTEE XXYI. 
 
 A COMBAT DECLINED. 
 
 The spectator in the tree began to fancy tliat 
 he was dreaming. Within the short space of 
 twenty minutes he had been the witness of a 
 greater number of exciting events than he 
 might have seen, in his own land, during the 
 same number of years ! 
 
 And yet he had not witnessed the jinale of 
 the drama. The gestures of the runaway, and 
 the speeches of his captor, had already warned 
 him that there was another act to come ; and, 
 fqpm the attitudes of both, it was evident that 
 this act would be performed on the same stage, 
 without any change of scene. 
 
 As yet the young Englishman saw no par- 
 ticular reason why he should cease to be a 
 spectator, and become an actor, in this West 
 Indian drama. That the yellow hunter should 
 kill a wild boar, capture a runaway slave, and 
 afterwards shield both his captive and himself 
 from a brace of 1)loodhounds, by killing the
 
 THE MAROON. 243 
 
 fierce brutes, was no affair of bis. Tbe only 
 tbing tbat concerned bim was tbe uncere- 
 monious use tbat bad been made of bis fowl- 
 ing-piece ; but it is scarce necessary to say 
 tbat Herbert Yaugban, bad be been asked, 
 would bave freely lent tbe piece for sucb a 
 purpose. 
 
 Notbing, bowever, bad yet transpired to 
 tempt bim from a strict neutrality ; and, until 
 sometbing sbould, be determined to preserve 
 tbe passive attitude be bad bitberto beld. 
 
 Scarce bad be come to tbis determination, 
 wben tbree new actors appeared upon tbe 
 scene. 
 
 One, tbe foremost, and apparently tbe 
 leader, was a tall, black-bearded man in a red 
 plusb waistcoat, and bigb- topped borse-skin 
 boots. Tbe otber two were lean, litbe-lookin<y 
 fellows in striped sbirt and trousers, eacli 
 wearing broad-brimmed palm-leaf bats tbat 
 sb ado wed tbeir sbarp Spanisb pbysiognomies. 
 
 Tbe bearded man was armed witli gun and 
 pistols. Tbe otbers appeared to be witbout 
 firearms of any kind ; but eacb carried in bis 
 band a long rapier-like blade, tbe slieatb of 
 wbicb bung dangling from liis bip. It was 
 tbe machete — tbe same kind of weapon as tbat 
 
 R 2
 
 244 THE MAROON. 
 
 which the yellow hunter had but the moment 
 before so skilfully wielded. 
 
 On perceiving the tableau under the tree, 
 the three new comers halted — and with no 
 slight surprise depicted in their looks. The men 
 of Spanish face appeared more especially asto- 
 nished — indignation mingling with their sur- 
 prise — when they beheld in that grouping of 
 figures the bodies of their own bloodhounds 
 stretched dead upon the sward ! 
 
 The bearded man, who, as we have said, ap- 
 peared to be the leader, was the first to give 
 speech to the sentiment that animated all 
 three. 
 
 ^'What game's this?" he cried, his face 
 turning purple with rage. " Who are you that 
 has dared to interfere with our pursuit ?" 
 
 ''Carajo! he's killed our dogs?" vociferated 
 one of the Spaniards. 
 
 " Bemonios ! you'll pay for this with your 
 lives !" added the other, raising his maclieie in 
 menace. 
 
 "And what if I have killed your dogs?" 
 rejoined the yellow hunter, with an air of sang 
 froid, which won the silent applause of the 
 spectator. " What if I have ? If I had not 
 killed them, they would have killed me''
 
 THE MAUOON. 245 
 
 " No/' said one of the Spaniards ; " they 
 would not have touched you. Cai'ramho ! they 
 were too well trained for that — they were after 
 1dm. Why did you put yourself in the way to 
 protect him ? It's no business of yours." 
 
 " There, my worthy friend, you are mis- 
 taken/' replied he in the to(iue, with a signifi- 
 cant sneer. " It is my business to protect him 
 — my interest too : since he is my captive." 
 
 " Your captive !" exclaimed one of the men, 
 with a glance of concern. 
 
 " Certainly, he is my captive ; and it was 
 my interest not to let the dogs destroy him. 
 Dead, I should only have got two pounds cur- 
 rency for his head. Living, he is worth twice 
 that, and mileage money to boot ; though I'm 
 sorry to see by the 'J. J.' on his breast that 
 the mileage money won't amount to much. 
 Now, what more have you to say, my worthy 
 gentlemen ?" 
 
 " Only this," cried the man with the black 
 beard ; " that we listen to no such nonsense 
 as that there. Whoever you may be, I don't 
 care. I suspect who you are ; but that don't 
 hinder me from telling you, you've no business 
 to meddle in this affair. This runaway slave 
 belongs to Jacob Jessuron. I'm his overseer.
 
 246 ■ THE MAROON. 
 
 He's been taken on Jessuron's own gronnd : 
 therefore you can't claim the captive, nor yet 
 the bounty. So you'll have to give him up 
 to us.'' 
 
 " 6V/rr^^;?(^(9,^2/" vociferatedboththe Spaniards 
 in a breath, at the same time that the three 
 advanced towards the runaway — the bearded 
 overseer pistol in hand, and his two comrades 
 with their machetes drawn, and ready to be used. 
 
 "Come on, then!" cried the hunter, in a 
 taunting tone — as he spoke making signs to 
 the runaw^ay to stand to his defence. " Come 
 on ! but, remember ! the first that lays hand 
 upon him is a dead man. There are three of 
 you, and we are but two — one already half-dead 
 with your inhuman cruelty." 
 
 " Three against two ! that's not a fair fight ! " 
 cried the young Englishman, dropping down 
 from the tree, and ranging himself on the 
 weaker side. " Perhaps it'll be a better match 
 now," added he, taking a pistol from under 
 the breast of his coat, and cocking it as he 
 did so — evidently with the intention of using 
 it, should the affair be carried further. 
 
 " And who are you, sir ? " demanded the 
 overseer, with as much arrogance as he could 
 throw into his manner. " Who, sir, may I
 
 THE MAROON. 247 
 
 inquire, is tlie white man who thns places 
 himself in opposition to the laws of the 
 island ? You know the penalty, sir ; and by 
 my word, you shall pay it ! " • 
 
 "If I have committed a breach of the 
 laws," replied Herbert, " I presume T shall 
 have to answer for it. But I have 3^et to 
 learn what law I have broken; and I don't 
 choose that you shall be my judge." 
 
 '' You are aiding in the escape of a 
 slave ! " 
 
 " That's not true," interrupted the yellow 
 hunter. " The slave is already captured ; he 
 could not have escaped ; and this young gen- 
 tleman — who is as much a stranger to me as 
 to you — I am sure, had no intention of assist- 
 ing him to escape." 
 
 '' Bah ! " exclaimed the overseer ; " we care 
 not for your talk — we deny your right to cap- 
 ture him ; and you had no business to inter- 
 fere. "We had already tracked him down with 
 the dogs ; and should have had him without 
 any help from you. He is our prize, there- 
 fore ; and I again demand of you to give him 
 up ! 
 
 " Indeed ! " sneeringly responded the yellow 
 hunter.
 
 248 THE MAROON. 
 
 " I make the demand," continued the other, 
 without noticing the sneer, " in the name of 
 
 Jacoh Jessuron — whose overseer I've told you 
 
 I}) 
 am. 
 
 " Perhaps, were you Jacob Jessuron him- 
 self, I might resist your demand," rejoined 
 the hunter, coolly, and without any appear- 
 ance of braggadocio. 
 
 " You refuse to surrender him, then ? " said 
 the overseer, as if making his final overture. 
 
 " I do," was the firm reply. 
 
 " Enough — you shall repent this ; and you, 
 sir," continued the deputy of Jessuron, turn- 
 ing a fierce look upon Herbert, " you shall 
 answer before a magistrate for the part it has 
 pleased you to play in this transaction. A 
 pretty white man you for the island of Ja- 
 maica ! A few more of your sort, and we'd 
 have a nice time with our niggers. Don't 
 fear, mister ; you'll see me again." 
 
 " I have no particular desire," rejoined 
 Herbert ; " for, certainly," continued he, with 
 provoking jocularity, " an uglier-looking face 
 than yours I have never set eyes upon ; and 
 it could be no pleasure to me to look upon it 
 again." 
 
 " Confusion ! " cried the overseer. " You'll
 
 THE MAROON. 249 
 
 repent that insult before you're a month older 
 — curse me if you don't ! " 
 
 And with this characteristic menace, the 
 ruffian turned and walked sullenly away. 
 
 *' Caspita ! " cried one of the Spaniards, as 
 the two hastened to follow their leader. " My 
 brave dogs ! Ah, demonio I you shall pay 
 dearly for them. Two hundred jpesos each — 
 not a cuariito less 1 " 
 
 " Not a cuartito for either ! " responded 
 the yellow hunter, with a mocking laugh. 
 " Haven't I proved that they are not worth 
 it? With all your boasting of what your 
 bloodhounds could do, look at them now. 
 Vai/a ! my fine fellows ! Go back to your 
 own country, and hunt runaway negroes there. 
 Here you must leave that game to those who 
 know how to manage it — t/ie Maroons ! " 
 
 Herbert observed that the hunter, on pro- 
 nouncing these last words, drew himself up 
 with an air of majestic pride — as he did so, 
 glancing scornfully towards the crestfallen 
 ccK^adores. 
 
 An angry " Carrai ! " simultaneously hissed 
 from the lips of both, was the only reply made 
 by the two Spaniards ; who, at the same in- 
 stant, turned their backs upon the ccida, and 
 followed their leader across the glade.
 
 CHAPTEE XXVII. 
 
 THE MAROONS. 
 
 As soon as they were gone out of sight, the 
 hunter turned towards IIerhert,^ his eyes 
 sparkling with gratitude. 
 
 " Master ! " said he, making a low oheisance 
 as he spoke, " after that, words are but a poor 
 way of offering thanks. If the brave white 
 gentleman who has risked his life for a co- 
 loured outcast will let me know his name, it 
 will not be forgotten by Cuhina, the Maroon." 
 
 " Cubina, the Maroon ! " 
 
 Struck by the oddness of the name and 
 title — as he had already been by the appear- 
 ance and behaviour of him who bore them— 
 Herbert repeated the phrase mechanically, 
 rather than otherwise. 
 
 " Yes, that is my name, master." 
 
 The young Englishman, though not yet 
 enlightened as to the odd appellation, was too 
 well-bred to press for an explanation. 
 
 " Pardon me," said he, " for not directly 
 replying to your request. I am an English- 
 man ; my name Yaughan — Herbert Yaughan."
 
 THE MAROON. 251 
 
 " By that name, master, I take it yoii have 
 relatives in tlie island. The owner of Mount 
 Welcome estate " 
 
 " Is my uncle." 
 
 " Ah ! then, sir, anything a poor Maroon 
 hunter could do for you would not be much. 
 All the same, you have my thanks ; and 
 
 if . ]3ixt, master," continued the speaker, 
 
 suddenly changing his tone, as if in obedience 
 to some instinct of curiosity, " may I make 
 bold to ask why you are afoot so early ? The 
 sun is not yet ten minutes above the trees, 
 and Mount "Welcome is three miles distant. 
 You must have tracked it here in the dark 
 — no easy matter, through these tangled 
 woods ? " 
 
 " I passed the night here," replied the 
 Englishman, smiling; "that was m?/ bed, 
 where the boar is now sleeping." 
 
 " Then the gun is yours, not his ? " 
 
 The hunter nodded interrogatively towards 
 the i-unaway, who, standing some paces off, 
 was regarding both the speakers with glances 
 of gratitude, not, however, unmingled with 
 some signs of uneasiness. 
 
 " Yes, it is my gun. I am very glad the 
 piece was not empty : since it enabled him to
 
 252 THE MAROON. 
 
 destroy the fierce brute that would otherwise 
 have had him by the throat. Wretched as 
 the poor fellow appears, he handled his wea- 
 pon well. What is he, and what have they 
 been doing to him ? " 
 
 " Ah, Master Vaughan ; by those two 
 questions, it is easy to tell you are a stranger 
 to the island. I think I can answer both — 
 though I never saw the young man before. 
 Poor wretch ! The answers are written out 
 upon his skin, in letters that don't require 
 mnch scholarship to read. Those upon his 
 breast tell that he's a slave — the slave of 
 J. J. : Jacob Jessuron. You'll excuse me 
 from giving my opinion of Idm!' 
 
 " What have they done to you, my poor 
 fellow ? " asked Herbert of the runaway — 
 his compassion hindering him from waiting 
 for the more roundabout explanation of the 
 Maroon. 
 
 The blood-bedaubed creature, perceiving 
 that the speech was addressed to him, made 
 a long rejoinder ; but in a tongue unknown 
 both to the hunter and Herbert. The latter 
 could distinguish two words that he had heard 
 before — "Foolah" and "Allah" — both of 
 which occurred repeatedly in the speech.
 
 THE MAROON. 253 
 
 *' It's no use asking him, Master Yauglian. 
 Like yonrself, he's a stranger to the island ; 
 though, as you see, they've abeady initiated 
 him into some of its ways. Those hrands 
 upon his breast are nearly fresh — as you may 
 tell by the red skin around the letters. He's 
 just been landed from Africa, it appears. As 
 for the marks upon his back — those have been 
 made by a plaything, the white planters and 
 their overseers in these parts are rather too 
 fond of using — the cartwhip ! They've been 
 flogging the poor devil; and. Crambo! they've 
 given it to him thick and sharp." 
 
 As the Maroon made this remark, he raised 
 the blood-stained shirt, exposing to view that 
 back so terribly reticulated. The sight was 
 sickening. Herbert could not bear to gaze 
 upon it ; but averted his eyes on the instant. 
 
 " From Africa, you say ? He has not got 
 negro features ! " 
 
 " As to his features, that don't signify. 
 There are many African tribes who are not 
 negro -featured. I can tell from his that he is 
 a Foolali. I hear him use the word as he 
 talks." 
 
 " Yoy— Foolah ! Foolah ! " cried the run- 
 away on hearing pronounced the name of his
 
 254 THE MAKOON. 
 
 people ; and then lie continued in a strain of 
 the same language, accompanied by much ges- 
 ticulation. 
 
 " I wish I knew his lingo," said the hunter. 
 *^ I know he's a Foolah. It is some reason 
 why I should take an interest in him; and 
 may be, if only for that, I might " 
 
 The speaker paused, as if he had been 
 talking to himself; and then continued the 
 soliloquy only in thought. After a pause he 
 resumed speech. 
 
 " Crambo I very little would tempt me not 
 to restore him to his master." 
 
 " And must you? " 
 
 " I must. We Maroons are bound by a 
 treaty to deliver up all runaways we may 
 take ; and if we fail to do so — that is, when 
 it is known ; but these villains of old Jessuron 
 know I have him " 
 
 " You will receive a bounty, you say ? " 
 
 " Yes. They will try to deprive me of 
 that ; but it isn't the bounty Vv^ould tempt 
 me in this case. There is something about 
 this young fellow. — My w^ord ! he is like her ! 
 — ay, as if he were her brother." 
 
 This last speech was delivered in soli- 
 loquy.
 
 THE MAROON. 255 
 
 " Like lier ! Like whom ? " demanded 
 Herbert with a puzzled look. 
 
 " Your pardon/' replied the hunter. " I was 
 struck with a resemblance between this poor 
 fellow and one whom I knoY\r ; but, Master 
 Yaughan/' he continued, as if wishing to 
 change the subject, " you have not said how 
 you came to be all night in the woods ? You 
 were hunting yesterday and lost your way ? " 
 
 " True, I lost my way, but not exactly 
 while hunting." 
 
 " Perhaps that is all the sort of breakfast 
 you have had ? " and the Maroon pointed to 
 some pieces of the palm cabbage that still lay 
 on the turf. 
 
 " I have both supped and breakfasted upon 
 it," replied Herbert. " I had climbed the tree 
 for water, when the boar came up to break his 
 fast upon what remained of it." 
 
 The Maroon smiled at this explanation of 
 some circumstances by which even he had 
 been mystified. 
 
 " Well," said he, '' if you are not anxious 
 to return at once to Mount Welcome, and 
 will give me five minutes' time, I think I can 
 provide you something better than raw cab- 
 bage."
 
 256 THE MAROON. 
 
 " I am not particularly in a hurry about 
 getting back to Mount Welcome. Perhaps I 
 may never go back ! " 
 
 These words, combined with the air of 
 the young Englishman as he uttered them, 
 did not escape the notice of the intelligent 
 Maroon. 
 
 " Something strange in this young man's 
 history ! " said he to himself, though he had 
 the delicacy not to demand an explanation of 
 the ambiguous speech just made. " Well, it's 
 not my affair, I suppose ! " 
 
 Then, addressing himself to Herbert, he 
 said aloud — 
 
 " Do you agree, Master Yaughan, to eat a 
 forest breakfast of my providing ? " 
 
 " Indeed, with pleasure," answered Herbert. 
 
 " Then I must ring for my servants." 
 
 As he said this, the hunter raised his curved 
 horn to his lips and blew a long, tremulous 
 blast. 
 
 " That should procure us company and 
 something to eat, master," said he, allowing 
 the horn to drop back to its place. 
 
 " Hark ! " he continued, the instant after, 
 " there are some of my fellows. I thought 
 they could not be far off."
 
 THE MAROON. 257 
 
 As lie spoke the sound of a liorn was heard 
 reverberating through the woods ; and then 
 another, and another — until nearly a dozen 
 could be distinguished, yet all in different 
 directions. They were evidently answers to 
 the signal he had sounded. 
 
 " So, Master Yaughan," he resumed, with 
 an air expressive of triumph, though in a 
 restrained and modest way, " you see these 
 vultures would not have had it all their own 
 way ? My hawks were too near for that. Not 
 the less am I beholden to you. Master 
 Yaughan. I did not think it worth while to 
 call my people. I knew the poltroons would 
 not venture beyond a little swaggering talk. 
 See ! they come ! " 
 
 " Who ? " 
 
 " The Maroons ! '' 
 
 Herbert heard a rustling among the bushes 
 on the opposite side of the glade ; and, at tlie 
 same time, about a dozen armed men emerged 
 from the underwood, and advanced rapidly to- 
 wards the ceiha. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 CHAPTEE XXYIII. 
 
 A FOREST BREAKFAST. 
 
 The young Englisliman gazed upon the ad- 
 vancing troop with keen curiosity. There 
 were about a dozen of them, all black men, or 
 nearly all — only one or two of them showing 
 any admixture of colour. There was not a 
 dwarfish or deformed figure in the party. On 
 the contrary, every man of them possessed a 
 tall stalwart form, strong muscular limbs, a 
 skin shining with health, and eyes sparkling 
 with a vigorous brilliance that betokened an 
 innate sense of freedom and independence. 
 
 Their erect, upright carriage and free, for- 
 ward step confirmed the belief, which Herbert 
 had already formed, that these black men were 
 not hondsvien. There was nothing of the 
 slave either in their looks or gestures. But 
 for the colour of their skins, he would never 
 have thought of associating such men with 
 the idea of slavery. Armed as they were with 
 long knives and guns, some of them with stout
 
 THE MAROON. 259 
 
 spears, they could not be slaves. Besides, their 
 equipments told that they were hunters — and 
 warriors, if need be. All of them had horns, 
 with pouches suspended over their shoulders ; 
 and each was provided with a netted calabash 
 for water, like that of the yellow hunter, 
 already described. 
 
 A few carried an equipment altogether diffe- 
 rent — consisting of a small pannier of withe- 
 work, or palm-fibre neatly woven. It rested 
 upon the back, where it was held in place by a 
 band of palm sinnet, crossing the breast, and 
 another brought over the forehead, which thus 
 sustained a portion of the weight. This pan- 
 nier was the cufacoo — the depository of their 
 provisions, and of such articles as were re- 
 quired in their wild forest rambles. 
 
 With regard to their costume, that was 
 hizarre, though not unpicturesque. No two 
 were dressed alike, though there was a certain 
 idiosyncrasy in their attire, which proclaimed 
 them all of one following. The foquecl " ban- 
 danna " was the most common head-dress — 
 a few having palm-leaf hats. Only some of 
 them had a shirt with sleeves ; others wanted 
 a complete pair of trousers; and one or 
 two were naked from the waist upward, and
 
 260 THE MAROON. 
 
 from tlie thighs downwards — the white cotton 
 loin-cloth being the unique and only garment ! 
 All of them had their feet and ankles covered : 
 as the stony and thorny paths they were 
 accustomed to tread rendered necessary. The 
 chaussure was the same with all ; and appeared 
 to be a tight-fitting jack-boot, of some species 
 of raw hide, without seam or stitching of any 
 kind. The reddish bristles standing thinly 
 over its surface, proclaimed the character of 
 the material. It was the skin of the wild 
 hog : the hind leg of a boar, drawn upon the 
 foot while fresh and warm, as it dries tighten- 
 ing over the instep and ankle like an elastic 
 stocking. A little trimming with the knife 
 is all that is necessary for this ready-made 
 mocassin ; and once on, it is never taken off 
 till the wearing of the sole renders necessary 
 a refit. Drawing on his boots, therefore, is 
 no part of the diurnal duties of a Jamaica 
 hog-hunter. 
 
 I have said that Herbert Vaughan re- 
 garded the new comers with a feeling of 
 curiosity as well as surprise. It was no won- 
 der he did so. The mode in which they had 
 been summoned into his presence, their echo- 
 like answers to the horn signal, and their
 
 THE MAROON. 261 
 
 prompt, almost instantaneous appearance, 
 formed a series of incidents that more resem- 
 bled what might have been witnessed upon 
 the stage of a theatre than in real life ; and 
 had the yellow hunter been a white man, and 
 he and his followers clad in Lincoln green, 
 the young Englishman might have fancied 
 himself in Sherwood Forest, vv^ith bold Eobin 
 redivivus, and his merry men mustering 
 around him ! 
 
 '' This white gentleman has not eaten break- 
 fast," said Cubina to his followers as they 
 came up. " Well, Quaco ! what have you o^ot 
 in your cutacoos ? " 
 
 The individual thus appealed to was a jet 
 black negro of large dimensions, with a grave 
 yet quizzical cq,st of countenance. He ap- 
 peared to be a sort of lieutenant : perhaps the 
 " Little John" of the party. 
 
 " Well, worthy capten," answered he, sa- 
 luting the yellow hunter with a somewhat 
 awkward grace ; " I believe there's enough, one 
 thing with another — that be, if the gen'lman 
 has got a good appetite, and 's not too nice 
 about what he eats." 
 
 " What is there ? Let me see ! " interrupted 
 Cubina, as he proceeded to inspect the pan-
 
 262 THE MAROON. 
 
 niers. " A ham of mid liog barbecued/' con- 
 tiuued he, turning out the contents of a cutacoo. 
 " Well, that to begin with — the white gentry- 
 are rather partial to our barbecued hog ! What 
 else? a brace of soldier- crabs. So far good. 
 Ah ! better still, a pair of ramier pigeons, and 
 a wild guinea-fowl. Who carries the cofiee 
 and sugar?" 
 
 '' Here, captain," cried another of the cuta- 
 coo men, throwing his pannier to the ground, 
 and drawing out several bags which contained 
 the necessary materials for coffee -making. 
 
 "A lire, and be quick !" commanded Cubina. 
 
 At the word given a tinder was struck, dry 
 leaves and branches quickly collected, and a 
 sparkling, crackling fire soon blazed upon the 
 ground. Over this was erected a crane — rest- 
 ing horizontally on two forked sticks — which 
 soon carried a brace of iron pots suspended in 
 the blaze. 
 
 With so many cooks, the process of prepar- 
 ing the meat fot the pots was very short and 
 quick. The pigeons and guinea-fowl were 
 singed as fast as feathers would burn ; and 
 then being " drawn and quartered," were flung 
 in torn fragments into the largest of the pots. 
 
 The soldier-crabs shared the same fate ; and
 
 THE MAUOON. 263 
 
 some pieces of the wild hog ham. A handful 
 of salt was added, water, a few slices of plan- 
 tain, eddoes, calalue, and red capsicum — all 
 of which ingredients were supplied from the 
 cutacoos. 
 
 A strong fire of dried faggots soon brought 
 the pot to a furious boil ; and the lieutenant 
 Quaco — who appeared also to act as chef de 
 cuisine — after repeatedly testing the contents, 
 at length declared that the pepjjer-pof was 
 ready for serving up. 
 
 Dishes, bowls, cups, and platters made their 
 appearance — all being shells of the calabash, 
 of different shapes ; and as soon as Herbert 
 and the captain were helped to the choicest 
 portions of the savoury stew, the remainder 
 was distributed among the men : who, seating 
 themselves in groups over the ground, pro- 
 ceeded to discuss the well-known viand with 
 an avidity that showed it was also their break- 
 fast. 
 
 H\\Q pej)]oer-pot was not the sole dish of the 
 dejeiiner. Pork steaks, cut from the carcass of 
 the freslily-slain boar, were added ; while 
 plantains and " cocoa-fingers," roasted in the 
 ashes, contributed a substitute for bread not to 
 be despisingly spoken of.
 
 264 THE MAROON. 
 
 The second j)ot boiling over tlie fire con- 
 tained the coffee ; which, quaffed from the 
 calabashes, tasted as fine as if sipped out of 
 cups of the purest Sevres porcelain. 
 
 In this "al-fresco" feast the poor captive 
 was not forgotten, but was supplied among 
 the rest — the colossal Quaco administering to 
 his wants with an air of quizzical compassion. 
 
 The young Englishman desired enlighten- 
 ment about the character of his hosts ; but 
 delicacy forbade any direct inquiries. Could 
 they be robbers — brigands with black skins ? 
 Their arms and accoutrements gave colour to 
 the supposition. Maroo7is they called them- 
 selves, but the name was new, and helped not 
 Herbert in his perplexity. '' If robbers,'' 
 thought he, " they are the gentlest of their 
 calling.'' 
 
 # * * # * T-C- 
 
 Breakfast over, the Maroons gathered uj) 
 their traps, and prepared to depart from the 
 spot. 
 
 Already the wild boar had been butchered, 
 cut up into portable flitches, and packed away 
 in the cutacoos. 
 
 The wales upon the back of the runaway 
 had been anointed by the hand of Quaco with
 
 THE MAROON. 265 
 
 some balsamic cerate ; and by gestures the 
 unfortunate youth was made to understand 
 that he was to accompany the party. Instead 
 of objecting to this, his eyes sparkled with a 
 vivid joy. From the courtesy he had already 
 received at their hands, he could not augur 
 evil. 
 
 The Maroons, out of respect to their chief 
 — whom they appeared to treat with submis- 
 sive deference — had moved some distance away, 
 leaving Captain Cubina alone with his English 
 guest. The latter, with his gun shouldered, 
 stood ready to depart. 
 
 " You are a stranger in the island?" said 
 the Maroon, half interrogatively. " I fancy 
 you have not been living long with your 
 uncle ?" 
 
 " No," answered Herbert. " 1 never saw 
 my uncle before yesterday afternoon." 
 
 " Cramho .'" exclaimed the hunter-captain in 
 some surprise ; " you have just arrived, then ? 
 In that case, Master Yaughan — and that is 
 why I have made bold to ask you — you will 
 scarce be able to find your way back to Mount 
 Welcome. One of my people will go with 
 you?" 
 
 "No, thank you. I think I can manage it 
 alone." 
 
 \
 
 2Q6 THE MAROON. 
 
 Herbert liesitated to say that lie was not 
 going to Mount Welcome. 
 
 " It is a crooked path/' urged the Maroon ; 
 '' though straight enough to one who knows 
 it. You need not take the guide so far as the 
 great house ; though Mr. Yaughan, I believe, 
 does not object to our people going on his 
 grounds, as some other planters do. You can 
 leave the man when you get within sight of 
 the place. Without a guide, I fear you will 
 not be able to find the path." 
 
 " In truth, Captain Cubina," said Herbert, 
 no longer caring what idea his words might 
 communicate to his Maroon acquaintance, " I 
 don't wish to find the path you speak of. I'm 
 not going that way." 
 
 "Not to Mount Welcome? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 The Maroon remained for a moment silent, 
 while a puzzled expression played over his fea- 
 tures. " Only arrived yesterday — out all night 
 in the woods — not going back ! Something 
 strange in all this." 
 
 Such were the quick reflections that passed 
 through his mind. 
 
 He had already noticed an air of distraction 
 — of dejection, too — in the countenance of the 
 stranger. What could it mean ? The gay
 
 THE MAROON. 267 
 
 ribbon knotted in the button-hole of his coat 
 — what could that mean ? 
 
 Captain Cubina was of the age — and per- 
 haps just then in the very temper — to observe 
 all matters that appeared indications of a cer- 
 tain soft sentiment ; and both the blue ribbon 
 and the thoughtful attitude were of that sig- 
 nification. He knew something of the white 
 denizens of Mount Welcome — more, perhaps, 
 of those with a coloured skin. Could the odd 
 behaviour of the young Englishman be attri- 
 buted to some family difficulty that might have 
 arisen there ? 
 
 The Maroon mentally answered this inter- 
 rogatory for himself : with the reflection that 
 something of the kind had occurred. 
 
 Perhaps Captain Cubina was not merely 
 guessing ! Perhaps he had already listened 
 to some whisper of plantation gossip : for elec- 
 tricity itself can scarce travel faster than news 
 in the negro quarter I 
 
 If the hunter captain-had any suspicions as 
 to the real position of his woodland guest, he 
 was polite enough not to express them. On 
 the contrary, he waived the opportunity given 
 him by Herbert's ambiguous rejoinder, and 
 simply said — .
 
 26S THE MAROON. 
 
 " If you are going elsewliere, you will need 
 a guide all the same. This glade is surrounded 
 by a wide stretch of tangled woods. There is 
 no good path leading anywhere." 
 
 " You are very kind," answered Herbert, 
 touched by the delicate solicitude of this man 
 with a coloured skin. " I wish to reach Mon- 
 tego Bay ; and if one of your men would set 
 me on the main road, I should certainly feel 
 under great obligations. As to rewarding him 
 for his trouble, beyond thanking him, I am 
 sorry to say that circumstances just now have 
 placed it out of my power." 
 
 " Master Yaughan \" said the Maroon, smil- 
 ing courteously as he spoke, " were you not a 
 stranger to us and our customs, I should feel 
 offended. You speak as if you expected me 
 to present you with a bill for your breakfast. 
 You seem to forget that, scarce an hour ago, 
 you threw yourself before the muzzle of a 
 pistol to protect the life of a Maroon — a poor 
 outcast mulatto of the mountains ! And now 
 — but I forgive you. You know me not " 
 
 '' Pardon me, Captain Cubina ; I assure 
 you " 
 
 " Say no more ! I know your English heart, 
 master — still uncorrupted by vile prejudices of
 
 THE MAROON. 269 
 
 caste and colour. Long may it remain so ; 
 and whetlier Captain Cubina may ever see you 
 again, remember ! that up yonder in tlie Blue 
 Mountain" — the Maroon pointed as he spoke 
 to the purple outline of a mountain ridge, 
 just visible over the tops of the trees — " up 
 yonder dwells a man — a coloured man, it is 
 true, but one whose heart beats with gratitude 
 perhaps as truly as that of the whitest ; and 
 should you ever feel the fancy to honour that 
 man with a visit, under his humble roof you 
 will find both a friend and a welcome." 
 
 " Thanks 1" cried the young Englishman, 
 stirred to enthusiasm by the free friendshijD of 
 the yellow hunter. " I may some day avail 
 myself of your hospitable offer. Farewell ! " 
 
 " Farewell !" responded the Maroon, eagerly 
 grasping the hand which Herbert had held 
 out to him. " Quaco !" he cried, calling to 
 his lieutenant, " conduct this gentleman to 
 the main road that leads to the Bay. Fare- 
 well, Master Yaughan, and may fortune favour 
 you!
 
 CHAPTEE XXIX. 
 
 QUACO. 
 
 It was not witliout regret tliat Herbert parted 
 with tliis nev/ friend ; and long time was he 
 following upon the heels of Quaco, before he 
 ceased to reflect on the circumstances that had 
 led to his making so singular an acquaintance, 
 
 Quaco, being one of the taciturn sort, made 
 no attempt to interrupt Herbert's meditations 
 until the two had walked together for more 
 than a mile. Then, however, some matter 
 upon his mind brought the guide to a halt, 
 and the commencement of a conversation. 
 
 "Two tracks from here, buckra. We can 
 follow either; but dis to the right am the 
 shortest — the best road, too." 
 
 " Why not take it, then ? " 
 
 " — a master; there may be reasons." 
 
 " What ! for avoiding it ? " 
 
 " Ya — a ! " replied Quaco, in a thoughtful, 
 drawling tone. 
 
 '' What reasons, friend ? "
 
 THE MAROON. 271 
 
 " Don't you s^e tlie roof of a house — -just 
 over the tops of them pawpaws ? " 
 
 "Yes— what of that?" 
 
 " That's the baracoon." 
 
 " The baracoon ? " 
 
 " Ya — the penn of de Jew Jess'ron." 
 
 "And what if it be?" 
 
 "Ah, buckra, what if it be? If we take 
 the path to the right we must pass the Jew's 
 house, and some of his people are sure see us. 
 That John Crow's a justice of the peace, and 
 we may get into trouble." 
 
 " Oh ! about the affair of the runaway, you 
 mean ? Your captain said he belonged to a 
 Mr. Jessuron." 
 
 " As much 'bout the dogs as the man. 
 Captain had a right to claim the runaway as 
 his catch ; but these Spanish cusses '11 make a 
 muss 'bout thar dogs. They '11 say our cap- 
 tain killed them out o' spite — that they '11 swar 
 to ; since it's well known we moantainee men 
 don't like such interlopers here, meddlin' with 
 our business." 
 
 " But neither you nor I killed the 
 dogs ? " 
 
 " Ah, buckra, all the same — you helped — 
 your gun helped kill them. Besides, you
 
 272 THE MAROON. 
 
 hindered tlie John Crows from pecking the 
 hawk." 
 
 " For what I have done I am not afraid to 
 answer before a justice, — be it this Mr. Jes- 
 suron, or any other," said the young EngHsh- 
 man ; conscious of having acted rightly in the 
 part he had taken in the quarrel. 
 
 "Not much justice to be expected from 
 Justice Jess'ron, master. My advice be to 
 keep out of the hands of justice as long 's we 
 can ; and that we can only do by taking the 
 road to the left." 
 
 " Will it be much out of our way ? " asked 
 Herbert ; not caring to greatly inconvenience 
 himself for the reasons set forth by his sable 
 guide. 
 
 " Nothing to signify," answered Quaco, 
 though not speaking very truthfully : for the 
 path he intended to take was really much 
 longer than the one leading by Jessuron's 
 house. 
 
 "In that case," assented Herbert, "take 
 which way you please !" 
 
 Without further parley, Quaco strode for- 
 ward on the path branching to the left — as 
 before, silently followed by him whom he was 
 
 g 
 
 uidino". 
 
 3
 
 THE MAROON. 273 
 
 The track tliey had taken ran entirely 
 tlirougli woods — in some places very difficult 
 to traverse on account of tlie tliorny thickets 
 as well as the nnevenness of the ground, 
 which caused the path to be constantly as- 
 cending, or trending rapidly downward. At 
 length, however, they arrived at the summit 
 of a high ridge, and were moving onwards 
 amidst groves of pimento, more open than 
 the forest from which they had emerged. 
 
 From the top of the ridge, Herbert saw a 
 large house shining against the verdant back- 
 ground of the landscape, which he at once 
 recognized as the mansion of Mount AYel- 
 come. * 
 
 They were not going towards the house, 
 but in a diagonal direction, which would 
 bring them out on the avenue near the en- 
 trance gate. 
 
 Herbert called out to his guide to make 
 halt. The young man did not like the idea 
 of entering upon the avenue, lest he might 
 encounter some of his uncle's people — a cir- 
 cumstance which he should not wish to have 
 reported at the great house. He therefore 
 requested Quaco to conduct him by some way 
 lying more to the right — so that he might 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 274 THE MAROON. 
 
 reach tlie main road without being seen from 
 Mount Welcome. 
 
 The guide yielded compliance, though not 
 without a little grumbling reluctance — as he 
 turned off, muttering some words about giving 
 ''as wide a berth as possible to the ole Jew 
 penn." 
 
 He obliqued, however, into a new direction ; 
 and after another traverse through the woods, 
 Herbert had the satisfaction of finding him- 
 self on the main road leading to Montego 
 Bay. 
 
 The young Englishman had no farther need 
 of a guide, and Quaco was just on the point 
 of taking leave of him, when at that moment 
 a party of horsemen suddenly made appear- 
 ance round a bend in the road. There were 
 six or seven in all ; and they were riding for- 
 ward at a rapid pace, as if bent upon some 
 serious business. 
 
 At the first sight of these strangers, Quaco 
 shot like an arrow into the underwood — call- 
 ing upon the buckra to follow his example. 
 
 Herbert, however, disdaining to hide him- 
 self, remained standing in the middle of the 
 road. 
 
 Seeing his determination, Quaco returaed to
 
 THE MAKOON. 275 
 
 his side ; as lie did so, clamorously protesting 
 against tlie imprudence of his j^rotSf^e. 
 
 "Don't like their looks/' muttered the 
 Maroon, as he glanced apprehensively towards 
 the horsemen. " It might be — by the Great 
 Accompong it is ! — that harpy havener, the 
 overseer of Jess'ron. Golly ! buckra, we's in 
 for it ! No use tryin' to 'scape 'em now." 
 
 As Quaco finished speaking, the horsemen 
 rode forward on the ground — ;one and all 
 halting as they came to the spot where the 
 pedestrians were standing. 
 
 '' Here's our fellow !" cried the bearded man 
 at their head, whom Herbert easily identified. 
 " Just dropped upon him, like a duck upon a 
 June bug. Now, Mr. Tharpey, do your duty ! 
 We'll hear what this young gentleman's got 
 to say before the justice." 
 
 '' I arrest you, sir," said the person appealed 
 to as Mr. Tharpey. "I am head constable 
 of the parish — I arrest you in the name of 
 the law." 
 
 "On what charge?" demanded Herbert, 
 indignantly. 
 
 " Mr. Eavener here ^^^ill bring the charge. 
 I've got nothing to do with tliat part of it. 
 You must come before the nearest justice. I
 
 276 THE MAROON. 
 
 reckon the nighest justice from liere is the 
 Gustos Yaughan ? " 
 
 This half-interrogatory of the constable 
 was addressed, not to Herbert, but to his own 
 followers. Though it was spoken rather in 
 an undertone, the young man heard it with 
 sufficient distinctness, and with very little 
 complacency. To be carried back into the 
 presence of his uncle — whom he had so lately 
 defied — and in the character of a felon; to 
 be brought, under such humiliating circum- 
 stances, before the eyes of his fair cousin — 
 before the eye-glass of his late fellow-pas- 
 senger — was a prospect that could not fail to 
 be unpleasant. 
 
 It was a sort of relief, therefore, when 
 Eavener — who appeared to use some guiding 
 influence pver the constable and his posse 
 comitatus — overruled the suggestion that Mr. 
 Yaughan was the nearest magistrate, and 
 claimed that honour for Jacob Jessuron, Esq., 
 of the Happy Yalley. 
 
 After some discussion between the' parties 
 upon this moot legal point, the overseer's 
 opinion was adopted : and it was determined 
 that the case should be carried before Justice 
 Jessuron.
 
 THE MAROON. " 277 
 
 Both Herbert and liis guide were then 
 formally arrested in the name of the king, 
 and marched off in custody — not without 
 some very vociferous protestations on the part 
 of Quaco, with a long string of threats that 
 he would some day make both constable and 
 overseer pay for this outrage upon the person 
 of a free Maroon.
 
 CHAPTEE XXX. 
 
 A JAMAICA JUSTICE. 
 
 Jessuron, Esquire, lield court in the ve- 
 randali of liis clingy dwelling-liouse, where we 
 have already seen him assisting at a different 
 spectacle. 
 
 He was now seated, v/ith a small table be- 
 fore him, covered with a piece of green baize, 
 and carrying a gold snuff-box, an inkstand, 
 pens, and some sheets of paper. 
 
 A book or two lay upon the table, one of 
 which, by the lettering upon its cover, pro- 
 claimed its title and character — The Jamaica 
 Justice. It was bound in black leather — a 
 colour sufficiently emblematic of the chief 
 subject on which it treated : for more than 
 four-fifths of the laws and regulations it con- 
 tained, related to creatures with black skins. 
 
 The Justice was in full costume, as the 
 occasion required — that is, he wore his best 
 blue body- coat with gilt buttons, his drab 
 smallclothes and topboots. The brownish
 
 THE MAROON. 279 
 
 beaver had. been laid aside : as tbe sanctity of 
 justice requires even tbe judge's bead to be 
 uncovered; but tbe wbite cotton skull-cap 
 still remained upon bis cranium : justice in 
 Jamaica not being so rigorous as to exact its 
 removal. 
 
 Witb tbe spectacles well set upon bis nose, 
 and bis tbin face screwed into an expression 
 of pompous importance, Squire Jessuron sate 
 bebind bis bencb, waiting till tbe parties to 
 tbe suit sbould get well into tbeir places. 
 
 He was sole justice present ; but, of course, 
 it was merely a " preliminary inquiry before a 
 magistrate.'* To bave tried a wbite criminal 
 on tbe serious cbarge brougbt against Herbert 
 Vaugban, would bave required a fuller bencb 
 — at least tbree magistrates, and one of tbem 
 a custos. 
 
 Jessuron's power could go no fartber tban 
 to commit tbe presumed criminal to prison, 
 until a more formal process sbould be organized 
 against bim. 
 
 Herbert bad been brougbt up in front of 
 tbe table — bis captor, tbe constable, and one 
 or two of tbe posse standing bebind bim. On 
 tbe rigbt side appeared Eavener, backed by 
 tbe two Spanisb cagadores ; tbe last-mentioned
 
 280 THE MAROON. 
 
 worthies no longer — as had formerly been 
 their constant custom — attended by their 
 canine companions. 
 
 Quaco had been left in the yard below — 
 unguarded — since there was, in reality, no 
 charge against 1dm. 
 
 There was one other witness to this magis- 
 terial trial — the daughter of the Justice him- 
 self Yes, the fair Judith was present — as 
 on all important occasions; but this time 
 not conspicuously so. On the contrary, she 
 was seated in a window that opened on the 
 verandah, her beautiful face half- concealed 
 behind the netted fringe-work of the curtains. 
 The position enabled her to observe what 
 was passing, without formally exposing her 
 own person to view. 
 
 Her face was not altogether hidden; and 
 her white shining forehead and dark lustrous 
 eyes, gleaming through the gauzy muslin that 
 veiled them, only appeared more piquantly 
 attractive. 
 
 It was evident, from her actions, that the 
 gentle Judith had no intention of remaining 
 unseen. There were several rather good-look- 
 ing men in the party that accompanied the 
 constable — young planters he had picked up
 
 THE MAROON. 281 
 
 by tlie way — and who desired nothing better 
 than a lark of this kind. From the moment 
 that these had entered the courtyard, the fair 
 mistress of the mansion had remained almost 
 constantly by the window. 
 
 It was only, however, after the people had 
 got grouped in the gallery, that she took her 
 seat behind the curtain, and entered upon a 
 more minute inspection of their faces and 
 persons. 
 
 She was not long engaged in this game, 
 when a change might have been observed 
 passing over her countenance. 
 
 At first her eyes had wandered from face to 
 face with rather a sneering, cynical expression 
 — such as the Jewess well knew how to put 
 on. All at once, however, her gaze became 
 fixed; and the contemptuous smile gradually 
 gave place to a look of more serious regard. 
 
 By following the direction of her eyes, the 
 object of this regard could easily be discovered. 
 It was the " prisoner at the bar ! " 
 
 What was the meaning of that gaze? 
 Sympathy for the accused ? 
 
 She knew why the young man was there. 
 Eavener had already informed her fiither of 
 all that had transpired, and the daughter had
 
 282 THE MAROO^". 
 
 heard, the tale. Was it a generous pity for 
 the position in which this unknown youth 
 was placed, that was now stirring within the 
 breast of the fair Judith, and had produced 
 that sudden change in the expression of her 
 countenance ? Hers was hardly the soul for 
 such a sentiment. 
 
 Certainly, however, she was actuated by 
 some motive different from the common : for 
 as the trial progressed she no longer looked 
 stealthily from behind the curtain ; but having 
 drawn it to one side, she directed her full 
 glance on the stranger, and kept her eyes 
 hxed upon him, apparently regardless of any 
 observation which her conduct might call 
 forth ! 
 
 Her father, whose back was towards her, 
 saw nothing of this ; though it was not un- 
 noticed by the otbers. 
 
 The young Englishman — though little dis- 
 posed at that moment to the contemplation of 
 aught beyond his own unpleasant position — 
 could not help observing the beautiful face 
 directly opposite to where he stood ; nor did 
 he fail to notice the peculiar glances with 
 which he was being regarded. 
 
 Was the old man, before whom he stood on
 
 THE MAROON. 283 
 
 trial, the father of that fair creature at the 
 window ? Such was his interrogative reflec- 
 tion, as he glanced inquiringly from one to the 
 other. 
 
 Some time had been occupied by the over- 
 seer in telling his story — to substantiate the 
 charge he had made. That done, the prisoner 
 was put upon his defence. 
 
 " Young man ! " said the Justice, " you have 
 heard what thish witness alleges against you. 
 What hash you to say in your defence ? And 
 first tell ush what's your name ? " 
 
 " Herbert Yaughan." 
 
 Jessuron re-adjusted his spectacles, and 
 looked at the prisoner with some show of sur- 
 prise. The bystanders — stolid constable and 
 all — seemed a little startled. Quaco, whose 
 colossal form rose above the railings in the 
 background, uttered a grunt of satisfaction on 
 hearing the young man's name — which he 
 had not known before-— a name all-powerful 
 in the district, being that of the mighty 
 Custos himself! 
 
 There was one upon whom the words ap- 
 peared to produce an impression different from 
 that of mere surprise. A glance of anger 
 shot from the dark eyes of the Jewess as she
 
 284 THE MAROON. 
 
 heard it pronounced, and the look of sym- 
 pathy for the moment disappeared. Evidently, 
 to her the name was distasteful. 
 
 " Herbert Vochan ? " repeated the Justice. 
 " Might you be any kinshman of Mishter 
 Vochan of Mount Welcome ? '' 
 
 " His nephew," was the laconic reply. 
 
 " Ah ! hish nephew ! Bless me ! ish that 
 true ? " 
 
 This announcement, as testified by his 
 speech, produced a sudden commotion in the 
 mind of the Jew-justice. From some little 
 that was known of his secret hostility towards 
 his neighbour of Mount Welcome — Eavener 
 knew more than a little — it might have been 
 expected that the discovery of the relation-* 
 ship of the prisoner would have put him in 
 high glee. To be sitting in judgment upon 
 the near kinsman of the Gustos — accused of a 
 serious crime, too — was a proud position for 
 Jacob Jessuron, who could remember many a 
 slight he had received from the haughty lord of 
 Mount Welcome. What a splendid revanche I 
 
 Certainly the manner of the Justice, on 
 learning who was before him, seemed to indi- 
 cate that such were his reflections. He rubbed 
 his skinny hands together; helped himself
 
 THE MAROON. 285 
 
 from his gold snuff-box ; gleefully smiled from 
 behind his glasses, which were once more 
 shifted upon the sharp ridge of his nose ; and 
 then, bending his face forward over the table, 
 he remained for some moments smiling, but 
 silent and thoughtful, as if considering how 
 he should proceed. 
 
 After a time he raised his eyes, and freshly 
 scrutinized the prisoner — who had already re- 
 turned an affirmative answer to his last query. 
 
 " Blesh my soul ! — I never knew that Mish- 
 ter Yochan had a nephew ! You are from 
 England, young man ? Hash your uncle 
 any more English nephews?" 
 
 " Not that I am aware of," replied Herbert, 
 frankly. " I believe I am liis only relative of 
 that kind — in England, at least." 
 
 The proviso in this reply betrayed a signi- 
 ficant fact : that the young man was not very 
 well acquainted with the family affairs of his 
 colonial kinsman. 
 
 The astute Justice did not fail to notice this 
 deficiency in the nephew's knowledge. 
 
 " How long hash you been in Shamaica ?" 
 asked he, as if endeavouring to arrive at an 
 explanation of some point that was puzzling 
 him.
 
 286 THE MAROON. 
 
 " A niglit, and part of two days — ^in all, 
 about twenty-four hours," replied Herbert, 
 with scrupulous exactness, 
 
 " Blesh my soul !" again exclaimed the Jus- 
 tice ; " only twenty-four hours ! It'sh a wonder 
 you're not at your uncle's house ? Tou hash 
 been there ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes," answered Herbert, carelessly. 
 
 " You come to shtay at Mount Welcome, I 
 supposhe ? " 
 
 Herbert made no reply to this interrogatory. 
 
 " You shleep there lash night ? Excushe 
 me young man, for ashking the question, but 
 ash a magistrate " 
 
 " You are perfectly welcome to the answer, 
 ^our iDorsMp^' said Herbert, laying a satirical 
 emphasis on the titular phrase ; " I did oiot 
 sleep there last night." 
 
 " Where did you shleep then ? " 
 
 " In the woods," answered Herbert. 
 
 " Moshesh ! " exclaimed the Jew-justice, 
 raising his spectacles in surprise. '' In the 
 woods, you shay ? " 
 
 '' In the woods," re-affirmed the young man ; 
 '' under a tree \ and a very good bed T found 
 it," he added, jocosely. 
 
 "And did your uncle know of thish?"
 
 THE MAROON. 2S7 
 
 " I suppose my uncle knew nothing about 
 it, and as little did lie care," replied Herbert, 
 with a reckless indifference as to what answer 
 he gave. 
 
 The bitter emphasis on the last words, with 
 the tone in which they were delivered, did not 
 escape the observation of Jessuron. A suspi- 
 cion had arisen in his mind, that there was 
 something amiss in the relationship between 
 the young man and his uncle ; to the compre- 
 hension of which the answer of' the former, 
 aided by a knowledge of the character and 
 affairs of the latter, was gradually giving him 
 a clue. A secret joy sparkled in his sunken 
 eyes, as he listened to the last answer given. 
 
 All at once he discontinued the direct exa- 
 mination of the prisoner ; and, signing to 
 Eavener and the constable to come near, he 
 became engaged with these two worthies in a 
 whispering conversation. 
 
 What passed between the trio, the young 
 Englishman could not tell — nor indeed any 
 one else who chanced to be present. The re- 
 sult, however, was to Herbert as pleasant as 
 unexpected. 
 
 When Jessuron again returned to address 
 him, a complete change appeared to liave taken
 
 288 THE MAROOX. 
 
 place in his manner ; and, instead of the frown- 
 ing Justice, Herbert now saw before him a man 
 who appeared more in the character of a friendly 
 protector — bland, smiling, almost obsequious ! 
 
 "Mashter Vochan," said he — rising from his 
 magisterial seat, and extending his hand to 
 the prisoner — " you will excush the rough 
 treatment you hash had from thesh people. 
 It ish a great crime in thish country — helping 
 a runaway shlave to eshcape ; but as you hash 
 joosh landed, and cannot be ekshpected to know 
 our shtatutes, the law deals mershifully with a 
 firsht offence. Besides, in thish instance, the 
 runaw^ay — who ish one of my own shlave s — 
 did not eshcape. He ish in the hands of the 
 Maroons, and will soon be brought in. The 
 punishment I inflict upon you — and I shall 
 inshist upon its being carried out — ish, that 
 you eats your dinner with me, and — I think 
 that ish punishment enough. Mishter Eave- 
 ner," added he, calling to his overseer, and at 
 the same time . pointing to Quaco, " take that 
 good fellow and see that he ish cared for. 
 Now, Mashter Yochan ! pleashe to step inside, 
 and allow me to introshuce you to my daugh- 
 ter Shoodith." 
 
 It would have been contrary to all human
 
 THE MAROON. 289 
 
 nature had Herbert YaTighan not felt grati- 
 fied at tlie pleasant turn which this disagree- 
 able affair had taken ; and perhaps this grati- 
 fication was enhanced at the prospect of the 
 proposed introduction. Indeed, no man, how- 
 ever cold his nature, could have looked upon 
 those lovely eyes — so long wistfully watching 
 him from the window — without wishing a 
 nearer acquaintance with their owner. 
 
 The angry glance had been evanescent. It 
 was gone long before the conclusion of the 
 trial scene ; and as the young Englishman — 
 in obedience to the invitation of his ci-devant 
 judge — stepped across the verandah, the fair 
 face, retreating from the window, was suffused 
 with the sweetest and most sympathetic of 
 smiles. 
 
 VOL. I. TJ
 
 CHAPTEE XXXI. 
 
 AN UNEXPECTED PATRON. 
 
 Thus had the chapter of accidents that con- 
 ducted Herbert Yaughan to the penn of Jacob 
 Jessuron been brought to a very unexpected 
 termination. 
 
 But the end was not yet. There was more 
 to come — much more. 
 
 Herbert was surprised at the turn things 
 had taken. The only explanation he could 
 think of was, that it was to his uncle's name 
 he was indebted for the honours that were 
 being done to him — a mere neighbourly feel- 
 ing of the penn-keeper for the great sugar- 
 planter. 
 
 " They are friends," thought Herbert, 
 " and this kindness to me is the offspring of 
 that friendship." 
 
 The reflection did not give him pleasure, 
 but the contrary. He felt himself in an 
 awkward position — the recipient of a hos-
 
 THE MAROON. 291 
 
 pitality not meant for himself, but rather for 
 one who had injured him ; and who, although 
 his own relative, he now regarded as his 
 enemy. 
 
 His uncle would hear of it — no doubt, soon 
 — and would be able to accuse him of taking 
 advantage of his name. The thought caused 
 Herbert a feeling of uneasiness. 
 
 Perhaps he would have cared less had there 
 been no one but his uncle to be cognizant of 
 the false position. But there was. His short 
 and troubled visit to Mount Welcome had 
 made Herbert Vaughan acquainted with one 
 whose remembrance was likely for a long time 
 to exert an influence over his thoughts — even 
 though lips as red, and eyes, perhaps, as 
 brilliant as hers, were now smihng courteously 
 upon him. 
 
 The memory of his cousin Kate was stih 
 mellow. He could fancy her soft, sweet voice 
 yet ringing in his ears ; the warm glow of her 
 virgin presence seemed hanging like a halo 
 around him : all urging him to preserve the 
 heroism of his character, if only for the sake 
 of standing well in her estimation. 
 
 Influenced by these considerations, lie re- 
 solved to throw off the mask with wdiich cir- 
 
 u 2
 
 292 THE MAROON. 
 
 cumstances had momentarily invested him, 
 and declare the true position in which he 
 stood to his haughty relative. 
 
 It was not until the conclusion of the 
 dinner — after the daughter of his host had 
 retired smilingly from the table — that the 
 young Englishman unburdened himself. Then 
 — perhaps a little prompted by the wine — he 
 made a full confession of the disagreeable cir- 
 cumstances existing between himself and the 
 master of Mount Welcome. 
 
 Was it the wine — somewhat freely pressed 
 upon him — that hindered him from perceiving 
 the displeasure which his communication had 
 produced upon his hearer? Was there any 
 show of displeasure ? 
 
 If there was, Herbert did not perceive it. 
 
 On the contrary, had the young man been 
 closely observant, he might have noticed an 
 effect of altogether an opposite character. 
 Behind the green goggles, he might have 
 seen those deep dark Israelitish eyes sparkling 
 with joy at the revelation he had made. 
 
 "I'm exsheedingly sorry, young Mashter 
 Vochan," said the Jew, after his surprise at 
 Herbert's revelations had apparently subsided 
 — ''exsheedingly sorry I isli — to hear that
 
 THE MAROON. 293 
 
 you and your uncle are not on good terms. 
 Ah ! well ; we mush hope for the besht ; and 
 ash I am one of Mishter Yochan's humble 
 friendsh, possibly I might do somethingsh to 
 reconshile your little quarrel. Doosh you 
 not intend going back to Mount Welcome ? " 
 
 " ISTever. After what has passed, never ! " 
 
 " Ach I yoush musht not be too revengeful. 
 Mishter Yochan ish a proud man ; and I 
 musht say he hash behaved badly — very 
 badly ; but still he ish your uncle." 
 
 " He has not acted as such.'' 
 
 " That ish true — very true — ^thish fine gen- 
 tleman you shpeak of — shtill, that ish no 
 reason why Mishter Vochan should treat hish 
 own nephew so shabby. Well, well — I am 
 sorry — exsheedingly sorry. But, Mashter 
 Herbert," continued the penn-keeper, interro- 
 gating his guest with evident interest, " what 
 dosh you intend to do ? I suj)posh you hash 
 monish of your own ?" 
 
 " I am sorry to say, Mr. Jessuron, I have 
 not." 
 
 "No monish at all!" 
 
 " Not a shilling," affirmed Herbert, with a 
 careless laugh. 
 
 " That ish bad. Where dosh you think of
 
 294 THE MAKOON. 
 
 going — since you shay you will not return to 
 Mount Welcome?" 
 
 " Well/' said Herbert, still preserving his 
 air of jocularity, " I was making for the port 
 again, when your worthy overseer and his 
 friends intercepted me — luckily, I may say : 
 since, but for their intervention, I should in 
 all likelihood have gone without dinner to- 
 day — at all events, I should not have dined so 
 sumptuously." 
 
 "A wretched dinner, Mashter Yochan — a 
 misherable dinner to what your uncle could 
 have given you. I'm but a poor humble man 
 compared with the Cushtos ; but w^hat I hash 
 ish at your service any time." 
 
 "Thanks!" said Herbert. ''I know not, 
 Mr. Jessuron, how I shall ever repay you for 
 your hospitality. I must not tax it any 
 longer, however. I see, by the sun, it is time 
 I should be making for the Bay." 
 
 As Herbert spoke, he was rising to take his 
 departure. 
 
 " Shtop, shtop !" cried his host, pushing him 
 back into his chair ; " not to-night, Mashter 
 Yochan, not thish night. I can't promish 
 you ash fine a bed as yoush might get at 
 Mount Welcome, but X think T can give you
 
 THE MAROON. 295 
 
 a better asli you shleep in lash night — ha, ha ! 
 Yon mnsht stay with nsh thish night; and 
 Shoodith will make you some music. Don't 
 shay a word ; I takesh no refushal." 
 
 The offer was a tempting one ; and, after 
 some further pressure, Herbert acquiesced in 
 it. He was partly influenced to stay where he 
 was, by the poor prospect of a lodging which 
 the Bay afforded him ; and, perhaps, a little 
 from a desire to hear the promised music. 
 
 The conversation was continued, by his host 
 putting some further interrogatories : — How 
 did Herbert intend to employ himself in the 
 Bay ? What prospect had he of employment ; 
 and in what line ? 
 
 " I fear not much in any line^' replied the 
 young man, answering both questions in one, 
 and in a tone of sarcastic despondence. 
 
 "Hash you no profeshion?'' 
 
 " Alas, no ! " replied Herbert. " It was in- 
 tended by my father I should have one ; but 
 he died before my education was completed ; 
 and my college — as is too often the case — has 
 taught me little more than a knowledge of 
 dead languages." 
 
 "No ushe — no ushe whatever," rejoined 
 the intelligent Israglite. 
 
 " I can draw a landscape," pursued the
 
 296 THE MAROON. 
 
 young man, modestly, " or paint a portrait 
 tolerably well, I believe — my father himself 
 taught me these accomplishments." 
 
 " Ah ! Mashter Yochan, neither ish of the 
 shlightest ushe here in Shamaica. If you could 
 paint a house, or a waggon, or a shopkeeper' sh 
 sign, it would bring you more monish than to 
 make the likeneshes of every face in the island. 
 What saysli you to the situation of book- 
 keeper ?" 
 
 " Unfortunately, I know nothing of accounts. 
 The very useful science of book-keeping I have 
 not been taught." 
 
 *' Ha ! ha ! ha !" replied Jessuron, with an 
 encouraging chuckle, " you ish what we, in 
 Shamaica, call green^ Mashter Vochan. You 
 musht know that a book-keeper here hash no 
 books to keep. He doesh not even put a pen 
 to paper." 
 
 " How is that, Mr. Jessuron ? I have heard 
 the statement before, though I did not com- 
 prehend what was meant by it." 
 
 " Then I musht explain, Mashter Yochan. 
 There ish a law here which makes all proprie- 
 tors of shlaves keep a white man on hish 
 estate for every fifty blacksh. A very shilly 
 law it ish ; but it ish a law. Theesh white super- 
 numeraries are called book-keepers : though,
 
 THE MAROON. 297 
 
 ash I've told you, tliey keepsli no books. JSTow 
 you understand what it meansh." 
 
 " Then, what duties do they perfoi^m ?" 
 
 " Oh ! that depends on circumshtances. Some 
 look after the shlaves, and some do thish and 
 some that. But, egad ! now I think of it, 
 Mashter Yochan, I am myshelf in need of a 
 book-keeper. I have joosh bought a new lot 
 of blacksh, and I musht not break the law. I 
 am uslied to give my book-keepers fifty 
 poundsh a-year, currenshy ; but if you would 
 be content to accept such a berth, I would 
 make the salary — on account of your uncle — 
 a hundred poundsh a-year. You would also 
 be found in everything elshe. What dosh you 
 shay, Mashter Vochan?" 
 
 This unexpected proposal on the part of the 
 penn-keeper, caused his guest to hesitate and 
 reflect. 
 
 Not long, however. His forlorn, homeless 
 situation presented itself too forcibly to his 
 mind, to keep him long in doubt as to what 
 answer he should make. 
 
 Suffice it to say, that the offer — which to the 
 young Englishman appeared only too gene- 
 rous — was accepted ; and from that hour the 
 Happy Valley became his home.
 
 CHAPTEE XXXII. 
 
 A PLOTTING PARENT. 
 
 Jacob Jessuron was never known to be gene- 
 rous without expecting some reward. Never 
 did lie fliug out a sprat without the expecta- 
 tion of catching a sahnon. 
 
 What object had he in view in thus be- 
 coming the patron and protector of the young 
 Englishman — an outcast adventurer, appa- 
 rently incapable of making him any return ? 
 Why such liberal conditions unasked, and to 
 all apj)earance unmerited — for, to say the 
 truth, Herbert Yaughan was not the stuff for 
 a slave-driver, a term almost synonymous with 
 that of book-keejjer. . 
 
 No doubt the Jew had some deep scheme ; 
 but in this, as in most other matters, he kept 
 his counsel to himself. Even his " precious 
 Shoodifch " was but half-initiated into his de- 
 signs upon this special subject : though a con- 
 versation, which occurred between father and 
 daughter, had placed before the latter some
 
 THE MAROOX. 299 
 
 data calculated to assist her in guessing at 
 them. 
 
 The date of this dialogue was upon the 
 morning after Herbert's arrival at the penn. 
 
 " Show the young man every kindness, 
 Shoodith dear ! Don't shpare pains to pleashe 
 him." 
 
 " Why particularly Mm, my worthy parent?" 
 
 " Hush ! mine Shoodith ! Shpeak low, for 
 the luf of Grott ! Don't let him hear you talk 
 in that shtyle. Theesh young Englishmen are 
 not ushed to our ways. I hash a reason for 
 being friendly to him." 
 
 " Wliat ! because he is the nephew of Vanity 
 Yaughan ? Is that your reason, rabbi ?" 
 
 " I shay, shpeak low ! He's in his shleeping 
 room, and may hear you. A single word like 
 that you shay might slip oil all my plans." 
 
 " Well, father, I'll talk in whispers, if you 
 like. But what are your plans ? You'll let 
 me know them, I suppose ? " 
 
 " I will, Shoodith, but not shoost now. I 
 hash an idea, mine daughter — a grand idea, it 
 ish ! And if all goes right, you, Shoodith, 
 will be the richest woman in Shamaica." 
 
 " Oh, I liave no objection to that — to be 
 the richest woman in Jamaica, with a prince
 
 300 THE MAROON. 
 
 for my footman ! Who won't envy Juditli 
 Jessuron, the daughter of the slave-mer- 
 chant?" 
 
 *'Shtay ! a word about that, Shoodith dear. 
 In hish presence we musht say as little ash 
 possible upon the subject of shlaves. He 
 musht see no shlave-whipping here — at leasht 
 till he gets ushed to it. Eavener musht be 
 told to behave himshelf. I knowsli of more 
 than one young Englishmans who left his 
 place joosh for that very thing. He needn't 
 go among the field handsh at all. I'll take 
 care of that. But, dearest Shoodith ! everything 
 depends on you; and I knowsh you can, if 
 you will." 
 
 " Can what, worthy father ? " 
 
 " Make this young fellow satishfied to shtay 
 with ush." 
 
 The look which accompanied these words 
 betokened some other meaning, than what 
 they might have literally conveyed. 
 
 " Well," replied Judith, affecting to under- 
 stand them literally, " I fancy there will not 
 be much difficulty about that. If he's as poor 
 as you say, he'll only be too well pleased to 
 get a good situation, and keep it, too, I should 
 think."
 
 THE MAROON. 301 
 
 ** I'sh not so sure about that. He'sli a young 
 man of a proud spirit. That ish proved by 
 hish leaving his uncle ash he has done — with- 
 out a shilling in hish pocket — and then to defy 
 the Cushtos faysh to faysh ! Blesli my soul ! 
 what a foolish young fellow he ish ! He must 
 be managed, Shoodith, dear — he must be 
 managed ; and you're shoost the one to do it." 
 
 " Why, father, to hear you talk, one would 
 think that this poor young Englishman was 
 a rich sugar estate — to be managed for some 
 grand profit " 
 
 " Aha ! " exclaimed the other, interrupting 
 her ; " maybe yesh — maybe he ish a rich sugar 
 estate. We shee — we shee." 
 
 " Now, had it been the grand guest of 
 Mount Welcome," continued Judith, without 
 heeding the interruption ; " had it been this 
 lord of Montagu Castle that you wished me 
 to manage " — at the word the Jewess smiled 
 significantly — " I might have come nearer 
 comprehending you." 
 
 " Ah ! there is no schance there — no schance 
 whatever, Shoodith." 
 
 " No chance of what ? " abruptly inquired 
 the Jewess.
 
 802 THE MAROON. 
 
 "Why, no scliance of — that ish " 
 
 " Come, worthy rabbi, speak out ! You 
 needn't be afraid to tell me of what you're 
 thinking : I know it already." 
 
 " Of what wash I thinking, Shoodith ? " 
 
 The father put this question rather with a 
 view to escape from an explanation. The 
 daughter instantaneously answered, 
 
 "You were thinking, and I suppose still 
 are, that I — your daughter, the child of an 
 old nigger- dealer as you are — would have no 
 chance with this aristocratic stranger who has 
 arrived — this Mr. Montagu Smythje. That's 
 your thought, Jacob Jessuron ? " 
 
 " Well, Shoodith, dear ! you know he ish 
 to be the guesht of the Cushtos ; and the 
 Cusiitos, ash I hash reason to know, hash an 
 eye on him for his own daughter. Miss 
 Yochan is thought a great belle, and it would 
 be no ushe for ush to ashpire " 
 
 " She a belle ! " exclaimed the Jewess, with 
 a proud toss of her head, and a slight up- 
 turning of her beautiful spiral nostril ; " she 
 was not the belle of the last ball at the Bay — 
 not she, indeed ; and as for asjnring, the 
 daughter of a slave-dealer is at least equal
 
 THE MAROON. 303 
 
 to the daughter of a slave — maybe a slave 
 herself " 
 
 " Hush, Shoodith ! not a word about that — 
 not a whisper in the hearing of thish young 
 man. You know he ish her cousin. Hush ! " 
 
 " I don't care if he was her brother/' re- 
 joined the Jewess, still speaking in a tone of 
 spiteful indignation — for Kate Yaughan's 
 beauty was Judith Jessuron's especial fiend ; 
 " and if he were her brother," continued she, 
 "I'd treat him worse than I intend to do. 
 Portunately for him, he's only her cousin ; and 
 as he has quarrelled with them all, I suppose — 
 has he said anything of /ler ? " 
 
 The interrogatory was put as if suggested 
 by some sudden thought — and the questioner 
 seemed to wait with considerable anxiety for 
 the answer. 
 
 " Of hish cousin Kate, you mean ? " 
 
 " Why, who should I mean ! " demanded 
 Judith, bluntly. " There is no other she in 
 Mount Welcome the young fellow is likely 
 to be talking about ; nor you either — unless, 
 indeed, you've still got that copper-coloured 
 wench in your head. Of course, it's Kate 
 Yaughan I mean. What says he of her? 
 He must have seen her — short as his visit
 
 304 THE MAROON. 
 
 seems to have been ; and, if so, you must have 
 talked about her last night — since you sat 
 late enough to have discussed the v^hole scan- 
 dal of the island." 
 
 With all this freedom of verbiage, the Jewess 
 seemed not to lose sight of the original inter- 
 rogatory ; and her frequent repetition of it . 
 was rather intended to conceal the interest 
 with which she looked for the answer. If 
 her words did not betray that interest, her 
 looks certainly did : for, as she bent forward 
 to listen, a skilled observer might have de- 
 tected in her eyes that sort of solicitude 
 which springs from a heart where the love- 
 passion is just beginning to develope itself — 
 budding, but not yet blooming. 
 
 " True, Shoodith, true," admitted the slave- 
 merchant, thus bantered by his own bold off- 
 spring. " The young man did shpeak of hish 
 cousin ; for I hash a wish to know what wash 
 hish opinion of her, and ashked him. T wash 
 in hopes he had quarrelled with her too ; but, 
 ach ! no — he hashn't — he hashn't." 
 " "What might that signify to you?" 
 " Moch, moch, daughter Shoodith ; a great 
 deal." 
 
 "You're a mysterious old man, father Jacob;
 
 THE MAROON. 305 
 
 and, though I've been studjdng you for nearly 
 a score of years, I don't half understand you 
 yet. But what did he say of Kate Vaughan ? 
 He saw her, I su23pose ? " 
 
 " Yesh. He had an interview with her. 
 He saysh she behaved very hind to him. 
 He'sh not angry with her. S'help me, 
 no I 
 
 This information appeared to produce no 
 very pleasant impression upon the Jewess; 
 who, with her eyes downcast upon the floor, 
 remained for some moments in a thoughtful 
 attitude. 
 
 " Pather," she said, in a tone half serious, 
 half in simplicity, " the young fellow has got 
 a bit of blue ribbon in his button-hole. You 
 have noticed it, I suppose ? I am curious 
 to know what he means by wearing that. 
 Is it an order, or what? Did he tell 
 
 you?" 
 
 *'No. I notished it; but, ash he shayed 
 nothings about it, I did not ashk him. It'sh 
 no order — nothing of the kind. His father 
 was only a poor artisht." 
 
 " I wonder where he procured that piece of 
 ribbon ? " said Judith, speaking in a low tone, 
 and half in soliloquy, 
 
 VOL. I. X
 
 306 THE MAROON. 
 
 " You can aslik liini for yourself, Shoodith. 
 There isli no liarm in that." 
 
 "No, not I/" answered Judith, suddenly 
 changing countenance, as if ashamed of having 
 shown the weakness of curiosity. "What 
 care I for him, or his ribbon?'' 
 
 "No matter for that, Shoodith, dear; no 
 matter for that, if yoush can make him care 
 for you y 
 
 " Care for me ! Wliat, father ! do you want 
 him to fall in love with me ? " 
 
 " Joosh that— joosh so." 
 
 " For what reason, pray ? " 
 
 "Dont ash know. I hash a purpose. You 
 shall know it in good time, Shoodith. You 
 make him in luff with you— over head and 
 earsh, if you like." 
 
 The counsel did not appear averse to her 
 who received it. Anything but displeasure 
 was in her looks as she listened to it. 
 
 " But what," asked she, after a reflective 
 pause, and laughing as she spake, " what if, 
 in luring him, I should myself fall into the 
 lure? They say that the tarantula is some- 
 times taken in its own trap." 
 
 " If you succeed in catching your fly, mine 
 goot shpider Shoodith, that won't signify.
 
 THE MAROON. 307 
 
 So mucli the better ish tliat. But fuslit catch 
 your fly. Don't let go the shtrings of your 
 heart, till you hash secured hish ; and then 
 you may do as you pleashe about falling in 
 luff with hirn. Hush ! I hear him coming 
 from hish shamber. Now, Shoodith dear, 
 show him every reshpect. Shower on him 
 your sweetest of shmiles ! " 
 
 And terminating the dialogue with this pa- 
 rental injunction, Jacob Jessuron walked off 
 to conduct his guest into the great hall. 
 
 " Ah ! worthy father!" said Judith, looking 
 after him with a singular expression upon her 
 countenance, " for once, you may find me a 
 dutiful daughter ; though not for you or your 
 purpose — whatever that may be. I have my 
 suspicion of what it is. 'No : not for that 
 either — grand destiny as it might be deemed. 
 There is something grander still — a passion 
 perilous to play with ; and just for that peril 
 shall I play v/ith it. Ha — he comes ! How 
 proud his step ! He looks the master, and yon 
 old Israelite his overseer — his book-keeper — 
 ha ! ha ! ha ! " 
 
 " Ach ! " she exclaimed, suddenly checking 
 her laughter, and changing her smile to a 
 
 X 2
 
 308 THE MAROON. 
 
 frown ; " the ribbon ! be wears it still ! What 
 can it mean ? No matter now ! Ere long 
 I shall unravel the skein of its silken mys- 
 ter}' — even if this heart should be torn in the 
 attempt ! "
 
 CHAPTEE XXXIII. 
 
 ANOTHER or THE SAME. 
 
 On that same morning, and about the same 
 hour, a scene of remarkable parallelism was 
 passing at Mount Welcome. Loftus Yaughan 
 was holding dialogue with his daughter, as 
 Jacob Jessuron with Judith — the subject very 
 similar — the motives of planter and penn- 
 keeper equally mean. 
 
 '' You have sent for me, papa ? " said Kate, 
 entering the great hall in obedience to a sum- 
 mons from her father. 
 
 "Yes, Catherine," replied Mr. Yaughan, 
 in a tone of unwonted gravity. 
 
 The grave tone was not needed. The " Ca- 
 therine " was enough to tell Kate that lier 
 father was in one of his serious moods : 
 for it Avas only when in this vein, that he ever 
 pronounced her baptismal name in full. 
 
 " Sit down there," he proceeded, pointing 
 to a fauteuil in front of where he was himself 
 seated. " Sit down, my daughter, and listen :
 
 310 THE MAROON. 
 
 I have something of importance to say to 
 you. 
 
 The young lady obeyed in silence, and 
 not without a little of that reluctant ^au- 
 cherie which patients display when seating 
 themselves in front of a physician, or a 
 naughty child composing itself to listen to the 
 parental lecture. 
 
 The natural gaiety of "Lilly Quasheba" 
 was not easily restrained; and though the 
 unusual gravity depicted in her father's face 
 might have checked it, the formality with 
 which he was initiating the interview had an 
 opposite effect. At the corners of her pretty 
 little mouth might have been observed some- 
 thing that resembled a smile. 
 
 Her father did observe something that 
 resembled it. 
 
 '' Come, Catherine ! " said he, reprovingly, 
 '' I have called you out to talk over a serious 
 matter. I expect you to listen seriously, as 
 becomes the subject." 
 
 " Oh ! papa, how can I be serious, till I 
 know the subject ? You are not ill, I hope ? " 
 
 " Tut, no — no. It has nothing to do with 
 my health — which, thank Providence, is good 
 enough — nor yours neither. It is our wealth,
 
 THE MAROON, 311 
 
 not our health, that is concerned— our wealth, 
 Catherine ! " 
 
 The last phrase was uttered with emphasis, 
 and in a confidential way, as if to enlist his 
 daughter's sympathies upon the subject. 
 
 "Our wealth, papa? I hope nothing has 
 happened ? You have had no losses ? " 
 
 "No, child," replied Mr. Yaughan, now 
 speaking in a fond, parental tone ; " nothing 
 of the sort, thanks to fortune, and perhaps a 
 little to my own prudence. It is not losses I 
 am thinking about, but gains." 
 
 "Grains!" 
 
 "Aye, gains — gains, Catherine, which you 
 can assist me in obtaining." 
 
 "I, papa? How could I assist you? I 
 know nothing of business — I am sure I know 
 nothing." 
 
 " Business ! ha ! ha ! It's not business, 
 Kate. The part which you will have to play 
 will be one of pleasure— I hope so, at least." 
 
 " Pray tell me what it is, papa ! I am sure 
 I'm fond of pleasure at all times — ever3'body 
 knows that." 
 
 " Catherine ! " said her father, once more 
 adopting the grave tone, " do you know how 
 old you are ? "
 
 312 THE MAROON. 
 
 " Certainly, papa ! at least, what I have been 
 told. Eighteen — -just past last birthday." 
 
 "And do you know what young girls 
 should, and generally do, think about, when 
 they come to be of that age ? " 
 
 Kate either affected or felt profound ig- 
 norance of the answer she was expected to 
 make. 
 
 " Come ! " said Mr. Vaughan, banteringly, 
 "you know what I mean, Catherine ? " 
 
 " Indeed, papa, I do not. You know I keep 
 no secrets from you ; you taught me not. If 
 I had any, I would tell them to you." 
 
 " I know you're a good girl, Kate. I know 
 you would. But that is a sort of secret I 
 should hardly expect you to declare — even to 
 me, your father." 
 
 " Pray what is it, papa ? " 
 
 " Why, at your age, Kate, most girls — and 
 it is but right and natural they should — take 
 to thinking about a young man." 
 
 " Oh ! that is what you mean ! Then I can 
 answer you, papa, that I /lave taken to think- 
 ing about one." 
 
 " Ha ! " ejaculated Mr. Yaughan, in a tone 
 of pleased surprise ; "you have, have you? " 
 
 "Yes, indeed," answered Kate, with an air,
 
 THE MAHOON. 313 
 
 of the most innocent naivete. " I have been 
 thinking of one — and so much, that he is 
 scarce ever out of my mind." 
 
 " Ha ! " said the Gustos, repeating his ex- 
 clamation of surprise, and rather taken aback 
 by a confession so unexpectedly candid. "Since 
 how long has this been, my child ? " 
 
 "Since how long?" rejoined Kate, mus- 
 ingly. 
 
 " Yes. When did you first begin to think 
 of this young man ? " 
 
 " Oh ! the day before yesterday, after dinner 
 — ever since I first saw him, father." 
 
 " At dinner you first saw him," said Mr. 
 Yaughan, correcting his daughter. " But, no 
 matter for that," he continued, gleefully rub- 
 bing his hands together, and not noticing the 
 puzzled expression upon Kate's countenance. 
 " It might be, that you did not think of him 
 in the first moments of your introduction. 
 It's not often people do. A little bashfulness 
 has to be got over. And so then, Kate, you 
 like him noio — you think you like him now ?" 
 
 " Oh ! father, you may be sure I do — better 
 than any one I ever saw — excepting yourself, 
 dear papa." 
 
 " Ah ! my little chit, that's a difi'erent sort
 
 314 THE MAROON. 
 
 of liking — altogetlier diiferent. The one's 
 love — the other is but filial affection — each 
 very well in its place. Now, as you're a good 
 girl, Kate, I have a bit of pleasant news for 
 you." 
 
 " What is it, papa ? " 
 
 '' I don't know whether T should tell you 
 or not," said the Gustos, playfully patting his 
 daughter upon the cheek ; " at least, not now, 
 I think. It might make you too happy." 
 
 " Oh, papa ! I have told you what you 
 wished me ; and I see it has made you happy. 
 Surely you will not conceal what you say 
 will do the same for me? What is the 
 
 news r 
 
 " Listen, then, Kate ! " 
 
 Mr. Yaughan bending forward, as if to 
 make his communication more impressive, 
 pronounced in a whisper :^ 
 
 "He reciprocates your feeling— /^e likes 
 you ! 
 
 " Father, I fear he do^s not," said the 
 young Creole, with a serious air. 
 
 " He does — I tell you so, girl. He's over 
 head and ears in love v*^ith you. I know it. 
 In fact, I saw it from the first minute. A 
 blind man might have perceived it ; but then
 
 THE MAROON. 315 
 
 a blind man can see better tban a young lady 
 that's in love. Ha ! ba ! ba ! " 
 
 Loftns Yaugban laugbed long and loudly 
 at tbe jest be bad so unexpectedly perpe- 
 trated : for at tbat moment be was in tbe 
 very mood for merriment. His dearest dream 
 was about to be realised. Montagu Smytbje 
 was in love witli bis daugbter. Tbat be knew 
 before. I\ow bis daucrbter bad more tban 
 balf admitted — in fact, c[uite confessed — tbat 
 sbe liked Smytbje ; and w^bat vras Wking but 
 love ? 
 
 " Yes, Kate," said be, as soon as bis exulta- 
 tion bad to some extent subsided, " you are 
 blind, you little silly — else you migbt liave 
 seen it before. His bebaviour would sbow bow 
 mucb be cares for you." 
 
 " All ! fatber, I tbink tbat bis bebaviour 
 would ratber sbow tbat be cares not for eitber 
 of us. He is too proud to care for any one." 
 
 " Wbat ! too proud ? Nonsense ! it's only 
 bis way. Surely be bas not sbown anything 
 of tbat to you, Kate ? " 
 
 '' I cannot blame bim," continued the 
 young girl, still speaking in a serious tone. 
 " The fault was not his. Your treatment of 
 him, father — you must not be angry at me
 
 316 THE MAROON. 
 
 for telling you of it — now that I know all, 
 dear papa — was it not enough to make him 
 act as he has done ? " 
 
 " My treatment of him ! " cried the Gustos, 
 with a self-justifying, but puzzled look. 
 " Why, child, you rave ! I could not treat 
 him better, if I was to try ever so. I have 
 done everything to entertain him, and make 
 him feel at home here. As to what he has 
 done, it's all nonsense about his pride : at 
 least, with us he has shown nothing of the 
 kind. On the contrary, he is acting admirably 
 throughout the whole matter. Certainly, no 
 man could behave with more politeness to you 
 than Mr. Smythje is doing? " 
 
 " Mr. Smythje ! " 
 
 The entrance of this gentleman at the 
 moment prevented Mr. Yaughan from noticing 
 the effect which the mention of his name had 
 produced : an unexpected effect, as might 
 have been seen by the expression which Kate's 
 features had suddenly assumed. 
 
 But for that interruption — hindering the 
 eclair cissement which, no doubt, his daughter 
 would on the instant have made — Mr. Yaughan 
 might have sat down to breakfast with his 
 appetite considerably impaired.
 
 THE MAROON. 317 
 
 His guest requiring all liis attention, caused 
 him to withdraw suddenly from the dialogue ; 
 and he appeared neither to have heard the 
 exclamatory repetition of Smythje's name, 
 nor the words uttered by Kate in a lower 
 tone, as she turned towards the table : — 
 
 " / thought it ivas Herbert ! "
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 A SWEETHEART EXPECTED. 
 
 The departure of the young Englisliman, 
 under the conduct of Quaco, was a signal for 
 the black band to disperse. 
 
 At a word from their chief, they broke up 
 into knots of two or three individuals each; 
 and went off in different directions — disap- 
 pearing amid the underwood as silently as they 
 had emerged from it. 
 
 Cubina alone remained in the glade, the 
 captured runaway cowering upon a log beside 
 him. 
 
 For some minutes, the Maroon captain stood 
 resting upon his gun — which one of his 
 followers had brought up — ^his eyes fixed upon 
 the captive. He appeared to be meditating 
 what course he should pursue in relation to 
 the unfortunate slave ; and the shadow upon 
 his countenance told that some thought was 
 troubling him. 
 
 The Maroon captain felt himself in a
 
 THE MAUOON. 819 
 
 dilemma. His duty was in conflict with his 
 desires. From the first, the face of the cap- 
 tive had interested him ; and now that he had 
 time to scan it more narrowly, and observe its 
 noble features, the idea of delivering him up to 
 snch a cruel master, as he Vv^hose initials he 
 bore upon his breast, became all the more 
 repugnant. 
 
 Duty demanded him to do so. It was the 
 law of the land — one of the terms of the 
 treaty by which the Maroons were bound — 
 and disobedience to that law would be certain 
 to meet with punishment stringent and 
 severe. 
 
 True, there was a time when a Maroon cap- 
 tain would have held obedience to this law 
 more lightly; but that was before the con- 
 quest of Trelawney town— or rather its 
 traitorous betrayal — followed by the basest 
 banishment recorded among men. 
 
 That betrayal had brought about a change. 
 The Maroons who had avoided the forced 
 exile, and still remained in the mountain fast- 
 nesses, though preserving their independence, 
 were no longer a powerful people — only a 
 mere remnant, whose weakness rendered them 
 amenable, not only to the laws of the island.
 
 3.20 THE MAROON. 
 
 but to the tyranny and caprice of sucli planter- 
 justices as might choose to persecute them. 
 
 Such was the position of Cubina and his 
 little band, who had established themselves in 
 the mountains of Trelawney. 
 
 With the Maroon captain, therefore, it was 
 a necessity as well as a duty, to deliver up the 
 runaway captive. Failing to do so, he would 
 place his own liberty in peril. He knew this, 
 without the threat which Eavener had fulmi- 
 nated in such positive terms. 
 
 His interest also lay in the line of his duty. 
 This also he could understand. The captive 
 was a prize for which he would be entitled 
 to claim a reward — the bounty. 
 
 Not for a moment was he detained by this 
 last consideration. The prospect of the re- 
 ward would have had no weight with him 
 v/hatever ; it would not even have cost him a 
 reflection, but that, just then, and for a very 
 singular purpose, Cubina required money. 
 
 This purpose was revealed in a soliloquy 
 that at that moment escaped from his lips. 
 
 " Crambo! " he muttered, using an exclama- 
 tion of the Spanish tongue, still found in a cor- 
 rupted form among the Maroons ; " if it wasn't 
 that I have to make up the purchase-money
 
 THE MAROON. 321 
 
 of Yola — Tor Bios ! he is as like to Yola as 
 if he was her brother ! I warrant he is of the 
 same nation — perhaps of her tribe. Two or 
 three times he has pronounced the word Foolah. 
 Besides, his colour, his shape, his hair — all 
 like hers. No doubt of it, he's a Foolah." 
 
 The last word was uttered so loud as to 
 reach the ear of the runaway. 
 
 " Yah ! Foolah, Foolah ! " he exclaimed, 
 turning his eyes appealingly upon his captor. 
 " No slave — no slave ! '' added he, striking 
 his hand upon his breast as he repeated the 
 words. 
 
 " Slave ! no slave ! " echoed the Maroon, 
 with a start of surprise ; " that's English 
 enough. They've taught him the ugly word." 
 
 " Foolah me — no slave ! " again exclaimed 
 the youth, with a similar gesture to that he 
 had already made. 
 
 " Something curious in this," muttered the 
 Maroon, musingly. " What can he mean by 
 saying he is no slave — for that is certainly 
 what he is trying to say ? Slave he must be ; 
 else how did he get here ? I've heard that a 
 cargo has been just landed, and that the old 
 Jew got most or all of them. 'Hiis young 
 fellow must be one of tliat lot. Very likely 
 
 VOL. I. Y
 
 322 THE MAROON. 
 
 lie's picked up tlie words aboard sMp. Per- 
 haps he is speaking of what he was in his 
 own country. Ah, poor devil ! he'll soon 
 find the difference here ! 
 
 " Santos Dios I " continued the Maroon, after 
 a pause, in which he had been silently regard- 
 ing the countenance of the newly-arrived 
 African. "It's a shame to make a slave of 
 such as he — a hundred times more like a free- 
 man than his master. Poor fellow ! it's a 
 hard row he'll have to hoe. I feel more than 
 half-tempted to risk it, and save him from 
 such a fate." 
 
 As this half- determination passed through 
 the mind of the Maroon, a noble and proud 
 expression came over his features. 
 
 " If they had not seen him in my posses- 
 sion ; " he continued to reflect ; " but the 
 overseer and those Spanish poltroons know 
 
 all, and will WeU, let them ! — at all events 
 
 I shall not take him back till I've seen Yola. 
 No doubt she can talk to him. If he's Poolah 
 she can. We'll hear what he's got to say, 
 and what this ' no slave ' means." 
 
 On saying this, the speaker turned his eyes 
 upward ; and appeared for some moments to 
 scan the sun.
 
 THE MAROON. 323 
 
 " Good," lie exclaimed. "It is near the 
 hour. I may expect her at any moment. Oh ! 
 I must have him out of sight, and these dead 
 dogs, too, or my timid pet will be frayed. 
 There's been so much doing about here — blood 
 and fire — she will scarcely know the old 
 try sting-place. Hark you, Foolah ! Come 
 this way, and squat yourself in here till I call 
 you out again." 
 
 To the runaway the gestures. of his captor 
 were more intelligible than his words. He 
 understood by them that he was required to 
 conceal himself between the buttresses of the 
 ceiha ; and, rising from the log, he readily 
 obeyed the requisition. 
 
 The Maroon captain seized the tail of one 
 of the jlead bloodhounds ; and, after trailing 
 the carcase for some distance across the glade, 
 flung it into a covert of bushes. 
 
 Eeturning to the ceiha, in a similar manner 
 he removed the other ; and then, once more 
 cautioning the runaway to remain silent in 
 his concealment, he awaited the approach of 
 her who had given him assignation. 
 
 Y 2
 
 CHAPTEE XXXY. 
 
 A LOVE SCENE UNDER THE CEIBA. 
 
 The lover wlio is beloved need never fear dis- 
 appointment. True to lier tryst, and punctual 
 to the time, did the expected sweetheart make 
 her appearance within the glade. 
 
 With shy but graceful mien, she advanced 
 towards the ceiha, and with su£S.cient firmness 
 of step to show that she came not in doubt. 
 A smile, confident and slightly coquettish, 
 dancing in her dark eyes, and playing upon 
 her prettily- curved lips, told of a love already 
 plighted — at the same time betokening full 
 faith in the vows that had been exchanged. 
 
 Cubina stepped forth to receive her; and 
 the lovers met in the open ground, at some 
 distance from the tree. Their demeanour at 
 meeting told that it was not their first assig- 
 nation; but that ofttimes before had they 
 been together in that same rendezvous. 
 
 Tlie presence of the runaway — not seen,
 
 THE MAROON. 325 
 
 however, from the spot — lid not hinder 
 Cubina from saluting his sweetheart with a 
 kiss, nor prevent him from folding her for a 
 short moment in h's arm?. 
 
 That spasm of exquisite pleasure passed, the 
 dialogue began. 
 
 The girl spoke first. 
 
 " Oh, Cubina ! news I have tell." 
 
 "Come, my love — what news? Ah! you 
 are looking grave, Yola ; your news is not very 
 joyful, I fear ? " 
 
 "No, not joyful — bad news." 
 
 "Let me hear them, love. Something 
 Cynthy has been saying to you? You 
 shouldn't heed what that girl says." 
 
 " No, Cubina, I no care what her me tell. 
 I her know, wicked, bad girl. Not Cynthy 
 say that thing me trouble now. Missa Kate 
 me tell." 
 
 " Ah ! something Miss Vaughan has told 
 you ? I wouldn't look for bad news from her. 
 But what is it, dear Yola ? Maybe, after all, 
 it's nothing? " 
 
 "Ah! yes, Cubina, something. I fear me 
 keep from you long, long time." 
 
 " Keep you from me ! Surely Miss Yaughan 
 don't object to your meeting me ? "
 
 326 THE MAROON. 
 
 "No — not that. Something I fear me 
 hinder from be .'' 
 
 "Be what?" inquired the lover, seeing that 
 his sweetheart hesitated to pronounce some 
 word, the thought of which was causing her 
 to blush. " Come, dear Yola, don't fear to 
 tell me. You know we're engaged. There 
 should be no secret between us. What were 
 you going to say ? " 
 
 In a low, murmured voice, and looking 
 lovingly in his eyes as she spoke, the girl pro- 
 nounced the word " marry." 
 
 " Ho ! ho ! " exclaimed the lover, in a con- 
 fident tone. " I think nothing can occur to 
 hinder that — at least, for a very long time. 
 I have now nearly a hundred pounds laid by, 
 and a lucky capture I've just made this morn- 
 ing will help still further to make up that 
 sum. Surely the Gustos will not require more 
 th^n a hundred pounds ; though if you were 
 once mine," continued the speaker, casting a 
 look of smiling fondness upon his sweetheart's 
 face, " all the money in the world wouldn't 
 tempt me to part with you. I hope," added 
 he, speaking in a jocular air, " a hundred 
 pounds will be enough to make you my 
 slave ? "
 
 THE MAROON. 327 
 
 "You slave, Cubina?" 
 " Yes, Yola, as I am yours now." 
 " All — ^tliat way, Yola yours ; yours ever — 
 evermore." 
 
 " I will believe you, dear girl," rejoined tbe 
 lover, gazing, with a gratified look, in the face 
 of his beloved. " I am very happy to think 
 that in that way you are mine ; and that I 
 have, as you assure me, your heart and soul. 
 But, dearest Yola, so long as another is the 
 owner of your body — not with the right, but 
 the power to do, aye — indeed, almost as he 
 might please — for who can hinder these proud 
 planters from committing crimes of which 
 they are their own judges ? Ah ! Yola, girl, 
 it is fearful to reflect on their wicked doings. 
 This very morning I have come across a sam- 
 ple of their cruelty ; and when I think of you 
 being in the power of one, it makes me feel as 
 if every hour was a day until I can obtain 
 your freedom. I am always in fear lest some- 
 thing may happen to hinder me. 
 
 " Just to-day I am in high hopes," con- 
 tinued the lover, evincing the truth of his 
 words by a pleasant smile. '' I have succeeded 
 in raising nearly the hundred pounds ; and
 
 328 THE MAROON. 
 
 the bounty I expect to receive for the runaway 
 I have caught will make it quite that." 
 
 The girl returned no reply to this speech of 
 her lover, but stood gazing upon him silently, 
 and as if half reproachfully. Something of 
 this kind he read, or fancied he read, in her 
 looks. 
 
 " What, Yola, you are not satisfied with 
 what I have said ? You reproach me ? Ah ! 
 true. I confess it is not a very creditable way 
 of procuring your purchase-money. Maldito I 
 what can I do? We Maroons have no other 
 way of raising money, except by hunting the 
 wild hogs, and selling their barbecued flesh. 
 But that barely gives us a living. Crambo ! 
 I could never have got together a hundred 
 pounds in that way. So do not reproach me, 
 dear Yola, for what I've done. I assure you 
 it goes against my grain, this man-hunting 
 business. As for the young fellow I caught 
 this morning, I'd risk a good real rather than 
 give him up — if it wasn't for the purpose of 
 procuring your freedom. For that I must 
 have the hundred pounds, which it is to be 
 hoped will be enough to satisfy your master." 
 
 " Ah, Cubina ! " replied his slave-love, with
 
 THE MAROON. 329 
 
 a sigh, " that the bad news I you bring. 
 Hundred pound no more enough. Only two 
 days go, he have him offer twice so much for 
 poor slave Yola.'^ 
 
 " Two hundred pounds offered iorcyouT ex- 
 claimed the Maroon, with a start of surprise, 
 his brow becoming suddenly clouded. " Is 
 that what you mean, Yola ?" 
 
 "Ah, yes !" answered the slave, repeating 
 her sad sigh. 
 
 "And who — who is he?" demanded the 
 lover, in a quick earnest tone, at the same 
 time that a gleam of jealous thought flashed 
 from his dark eyes, like forked lightning across 
 a clouded sky. 
 
 He knew that no man would have bid two 
 hundred pounds for a slave — even for Yola 
 — without some wicked motive. The girl's 
 beauty, combined with the extravagant offer, 
 would have suggested the motive to one dis- 
 interested in her fate. How much more was 
 it calculated to arouse the suspicions of a 
 lover ! 
 
 " A white man," continued he, without 
 waiting for the reply to his first question. 
 " I need not ask that. But tell me, Yola, who
 
 330 THE MAROON. 
 
 is he that's so desirous of becoming your 
 owner. You know, I suppose." 
 
 " Missa Kate me tell all. He Jew — ^wicked 
 white man ! Same wlio me take from big 
 ship ; and me first sell Massa Yaughan/' 
 
 "Ha!" sharply ejaculated the lover, "that 
 old wretch it is ? Wicked white man you may 
 well call him. I know the old villain well. 
 Crambo! what can he want with her?" 
 muttered the Maroon, musingly, but with a 
 troubled mien. " Some vile purpose, to a cer- 
 tainty ? Oh, sure !" Then once more address- 
 ing himself to his slave sweetheart — 
 
 " You are certain, Yola, the old Jew made 
 this offer?" 
 
 " So me say young missa." 
 
 " Two hundred pounds ! And Mr. Yaughan 
 refused it ? " 
 
 " Missa Kate no allow Massa Yaughan me 
 sell. She say ' Never 1 ' Ah ! young missa 1 
 she good for say so ! !No matter what money 
 he give, she never let wicked white man buy 
 Yola. She so say many time." 
 
 " Miss Kate said this ? Then she is good, 
 she is generous ! It must have been her doing, 
 else the Gustos would never have refused such
 
 THE MATIOON. 331 
 
 a tempting offer. Two hundred pounds ! It 
 is a large sum. "Well, I must begin again. I 
 must work niglit and day to get it. And 
 then, if they should refuse me ! Ha ! what 
 then?" 
 
 The speaker paused, not as if expecting a 
 reply from her who stood by his side, but 
 rather from his own thoughts. 
 
 " Never mind ! " continued he, his counte- 
 nance assuming an expression partly hopeful, 
 partly reckless. " Have no fear of the future, 
 Yola. Worst come worst, you shall yet be 
 mine. Aye, dearest, you shall share my moun- 
 tain home, though I may have to make it the 
 home of an outlaw ! " 
 
 "Oh!" exclaimed the young girl, slightly 
 frayed by the wild look and words of her lover, 
 her eye at the same instant falling upon the 
 red pool where the hounds had been slain. 
 "Blood, Cubina?" 
 
 " Only that of some animals — a wild boar 
 and two dogs — -just killed there. Don't let 
 that frighten you, pet. You must be brave, 
 my Yola ; since you are to be the wife of a 
 Maroon ! Ours is a life of many dangers." 
 
 " With you Yola no fear. She go any-
 
 332 THE MAROON. 
 
 where — far over the mountains — to Jumbe 
 Eock — anywhere you her take, Cubina." 
 
 " Thanks, dearest ! Maybe, some day, we 
 may be forced to go far over the mountains — 
 \vl flight, too, Yola. But we shall tr}^ to avoid 
 that. If your master will only act right, there 
 will be no need. If not, then you will fly with 
 me — will you not?" 
 
 " What Cubina do, Yola do same ; where 
 he go, she go." 
 
 The passionate promise was sealed by a kiss, 
 followed by an interval of sacred silence. 
 
 " Enough, then ! " said the lover, after the 
 pause had passed. " As a last resource, we can 
 do that. But we shall hope for the best ; and, 
 maybe, some good fortune may befall. My fol- 
 lowers are true, and would help me ; but, alas ! 
 all are poor hunters, like myself. AYell, it 
 may take some time before I can call you my 
 own fearlessly, in the face of the world — 
 longer, maybe, than I expected. Never mind 
 for that ; we can meet often. And now, dear 
 Yola, listen to what I am going to say to you 
 — listen, and keep it in your mind ! If ever 
 a white man insults you — you know what I 
 mean ? — if you are in danger of such a thing
 
 THE MAROON. 333 
 
 — as you would have been, were old Jessuron 
 to become your master — aye, and who knows 
 how, where, or when ? — well, then, fly to this 
 glade, and wait here for me. If I do not come, 
 some one will. Every day I shall send one of 
 my people to this place. Don't fear to run 
 away. Though I may not care to get into 
 trouble about a common slave, I shall risk all 
 to protect you — yes, my life, dearest Yola ! '* 
 
 "Oh, Cubina ! " exclaimed the girl, in 
 passionate admiration. '^ Oh, brave, beauty 
 Cubina ! you not fear danger ? " 
 
 " There is no great danger in it," returned 
 the Maroon, iu. a confident tone. ''If I had 
 made up taj mind to run away with you, I 
 could soon take you beyond the reach of pur- 
 suit. In the Black Grounds we could live 
 without fear of the tyranny of white men. 
 But I don't want to be hunted like a wild 
 hog. I would rather you should become mine 
 by honest means — that is, I would rather buy 
 you, as I intend to do ; and then we may 
 settle down near the plantations, and Hve 
 without apprehension. Perhaps, after all, the 
 Custos may not be so hard w^^h me as with 
 the old Jew — who knows ? Your young mis-
 
 334 THE MAROON. 
 
 tress is kind, you have told me : she may do 
 something to favour our plans." 
 
 " True, CuMna — she me love ; she say 
 never me part/' 
 
 " That is well ; she means, she would not 
 part with you against your will. But if I 
 offer to buy you, it would be a different thing. 
 Perhaps you might let her know all, after a 
 while. But I have something to learn first, 
 and I don't wish you to tell her till then 
 So keep our secret, dear Yola, for a little 
 longer. 
 
 " And now," continued the Maroon, chang- 
 ing his tone, and turning towards the ceiha as 
 he spoke, " I've got something to show you. 
 Did you ever see a runaway? " 
 
 " Runaway ! " said the girl ; " no, Cubina 
 — never." 
 
 "Well, my love, there's one not far off; he 
 that I said I had captured this morning — only 
 a little while ago. And I'll tell you why I've 
 kept him here : because I fancied that he was 
 like yourself, Yola." 
 
 " Like me ? " 
 
 " Yes ; and that is why I felt for the poor 
 fellow something like pity : since it is to this
 
 THE MAROON. 335 
 
 cruel old Jew lie belongs. From what I can 
 make out, he must be one of your people; 
 and I'm curious to know what account he 
 will give of himself." 
 
 " He Foolah, you think ? " inquired the 
 African maiden, her eyes sparkhng with 
 pleasure at the anticipation of seeing one of 
 her own race. 
 
 " Yes ; I am as good as sure of that. In 
 fact, he has called himself a Foolah several 
 times, though I can't make out what he says. 
 If he is one of your tribe, you will be able to 
 talk to him. There he is ! " 
 
 Cubina had by this time conducted his 
 sweetheart round the tree, to that side on 
 which the runaway was concealed between 
 the two spurs. 
 
 The young man was still crouching within 
 the angle, close up to the trunk of the ceiha. 
 The moment the two figures came in front of 
 him, and his eyes fell upon the face of the 
 girl, he sprang to his feet, uttering a cry of 
 wild joy. Like an echo, Yola repeated the 
 cry ; and then both pronouncing some hurried 
 phrases in an unknown tongue, rushed to- 
 gether, and became folded in a mutual em- 
 brace !
 
 336 THE MAROON. 
 
 Cubina stood transfixed to the spot. Sur- 
 prise — something more — held him speechless. 
 He could only think : — 
 
 " She knows him ! Perhaps her lover in 
 her own land ! " 
 
 A keen pang of jealousy accompanied the 
 thought. 
 
 Rankling it remained in the breast of the 
 Maroon, till Yola, untwining her arms from 
 the fond embrace, and pointing to him who 
 had received it, pronounced the tranquillizing 
 words : — 
 
 " My brother I " 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 London : Printed by Woodfall and Kinder, Angel Court, Skinner Street.
 
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