Up to this moment all had been conjecture. It was so no longer. The scheme became revealed to me, as by a flash of sudden sinister light. From my perch in the cypress tree I was looking upon a scene of piracy such as I had heard was far from being rare upon the Mississippi river.
The transaction was clear. The planter-pirates had taken possession of the cotton-boat, and were making their plunder presentable for a safe sale. That Bradley was at the back of it I had no doubt. His name going upon the bales proved his participation, and something more—the chief of the gang. He was not there himself, but I felt certain he had been but a few minutes before. I could almost have sworn to hearing his voice and that, too, giving directions to the others.
How had the capture been effected? My thoughts now reverted to the negroes, who had composed the crew. With increased interest, I again looked to see if they were upon the boat. If so they must be hidden somewhere and holding themselves unusually silent.
My eyes wandered to the hatchway of the little cabin, in which I had last seen them asleep. Were they asleep still, or in the slumber of death?
My blood ran cold at the horrid suspicion—colder as I thought of its probability.
There was no sign of any negro. Stinger was alone seen by the steps of the caboose, still occupied with his scrubbing-brush.
My attention now became particularly directed to this man. What could be his object in washing the rough planks forming the roof of a flat-boat? Of what was he cleansing them? And why with such care? for he was down upon his knees, devoting himself to the task with apparent earnestness.
In seeking an explanation, my eye rested upon the "suds" chased to and fro before his brush. I saw that they were of a crimson color, as if tinged with blood! I saw this with astonishment, with trembling. I remembered what I had heard in the night—that I had believed to be a dream—the shot, and the shriek that succeeded.
Had both been real? Had murder been committed? And was Stinger engaged in eliminating its traces?
The blacks were no longer upon the boat. Where were they? Was it their blood I saw, and were their bodies at the bottom of the lagoon?