“Dawkins is a pirate,” I said. “I always told you so.”
“Dawkins,” retorted Brandon, stoutly, “is a good man.”
We were come by this time to the entrance of an avenue of cedars, whose lofty aisle of dark green foliage framed, in a diminishing perspective, a squat white house with a wide verandah, crouched beneath a little hill of tropical foliage. Our negro stopped; his errand, he said, was done,—that was Mr Murch’s house. He stood shifting from one leg to the other, his white eyeballs glancing on every side, holding out his dingy paw for his fee, in a terrible hurry to be gone. As the money touched his palm he was off like an arrow.
“He doesn’t seem to relish the neighbourhood,” Pomfrett observed, staring after the fleeing figure. “It seems quiet enough.”
It was quiet, indeed. The breeze hummed in the vast, feathery tree-tops, the grasshoppers chirped, and the droning of the flies was like the turning of a wheel; but these monotonous sounds made but an undercurrent in the deep stillness. Not a soul was in sight. The low, secret-looking house with the green shutters stood to all appearance wholly deserted, as we approached. The whole place was noiseless as a dream. I had a fancy, indeed, that I was walking in a dream, as we came to the neatly raked sand in front of the verandah, upon which our footsteps made no sound, and noted the shuttered windows, and spied in vain for any sign of habitation. But Pomfrett had no such fancies.
“I suppose these people sleep in the day-time. We’ll make ’em rouse and bitt,” said he, and rapped smartly on the door.
It was opened with unexpected promptness by an old, white-haired negro. We asked him if Mr Jevon Murch were within. Instead of answering, the black opened his mouth and, gaping at us horribly, pointed down that red cavern. Our eyes following his gesture, we saw that his tongue had been cut out. Pomfrett had the letter of introduction in his hand. Still fearfully staring, he offered it mechanically to this nightmare of a negro, who took it, nodded, flashed a grin upon us, and shut the door in our faces.
We looked at one another, not without dismay.
“Oh, dear me!” said Pomfrett, with great gravity. “What next, I wonder?”
The hot silence settled thick about us, as we waited on the threshold.