Burning cane—the sky reflecting the distant glow—casks of rum boiling to waste at the will of some illiterate field hand!
He shouted to the animal.
"Giddup, horse!"
His head went swirling—the temptation to relapse conquered—barbaric obeah images filled his buckra consciousness.
Sugar canes burning—men in the canes—fire hags—nigger corpses—
Perspiration salted Bellon's brow.
Nigger corpses—nigger corpses—
And a legend, rooted deep in the tropic earth, passed pell-mell before him.
It concerned a river, a river red as burning copper and peopled by barques and brigantines, manned by blacks wedded to the obeah.