"They are calling me," she whispered. "I must go at once."
She pressed my hand affectionately, and I saw her glide away a little to where another figure joined her, and together they melted into the gloom. I sat down again to think over my last few moments with Cynthia. I will not weary you with a lover's rhapsodies, but from what I have seen in your courting days, son Adoniah, I know that you will understand how I felt, or something of it. No one can possibly understand exactly the feelings that come over a man placed as I was unless he has experienced a similar fate. Here was I, meeting my dear girl by stealth in the gardens of a cruel and bloodthirsty monarch, no less a monarch because he was a black monarch, who had soldiers and slaves at his command against whom our little strength was as but an insect's. Cynthia had left me to go I knew not where. She had told me in our short talk that the daughters of Christophe would have loaded her with ornaments had she been willing. He might show her mercy because of these black princesses, but what if they should change toward her? The blacks are capricious at times. What if he should insist upon this hated marriage, and either bind her to his nephew or, angry at her refusal, hand her over to a worse fate, if anything could be worse? I hoped that if such were the alternative he would throw her from the great wall, and thus end all our misery. I began to think it time to return to my room, and was wondering if I could regain it in the same way that I came, when a hand was laid upon my shoulder, a heavy hand. There was a flash of light, and I saw a great griffe standing there, looking at me curiously. This man had a red turban round his head. Around his loins he had another cloth of the same colour. The rest of his body was bare. I caught the flash of a weapon upraised to strike. I jerked myself away from the man, but he had me again in a moment. I struggled, I kicked, I vituperated. He did not strike with the weapon, and I judged at once that he had threatened me only to intimidate me. It was a rude awakening from the bliss of Cynthia's kiss to the rough grasp of a man set to trap me. When I saw several more surrounding me, I gave up the unequal struggle and sank down on the seat under the mahogany tree. But the griffe rudely jerked me to my feet again, and told me, I suppose, that I was to accompany him. He pointed along a lovely alley, which was just beginning to show in the light of the newly risen moon. It was a beautiful path, and I could not help wondering if murder and death lurked at the end of it. I walked amid my captors, thinking that my road lay toward a stronger, more secure chamber, where I was to finish my self-imposed task. Fool that I had been, to think that I could deceive such an astute savage as the great conqueror Christophe! The odours of the night were sweet. The flowers nodded and swayed on every side. The green boughs drooped overhead and shaded the seats about the tree trunks, fit refuge for lovers, and I walked in the midst of six tall savages, each watching me with a wary eye, and each with a great knife drawn to cut me down should I attempt to flee.
At the end of the alley we came to a halt. Here were several mules ready bridled and saddled for mounting. Three of the men mounted. Then the three who remained standing on the ground placed me upon a fourth animal, and fastened me securely to the saddle. My hands, however, were left free.
"Wait a moment!" I cried, with desperate energy. "I have made the ring which the King ordered. I have it here. I can give it to his Majesty at once. Only let me see him. Let me see the King. I must see King Christophe! Let me see him for a moment, or bring the interpreter. Let me speak with the interpreter; he will tell the King." But I might as well have talked to the grim mountain above me. The men half laughed, half scowled, shook their heads, and prodded the beast on which I sat. The mule was started along a narrow causeway, where the slightest step to the right or left would have dashed us both into a dark and swiftly flowing stream. When we had crossed, I turned to look behind me. I found the three mounted men were following me. I tried to turn the mule, but I soon saw the utter futility of such an attempt. The path was extremely narrow, and I perceived that turning the mule about would be a most difficult manoeuvre, even were the animal willing, and my experience with the genus mule had led me to believe that he is never of his rider's mind. Then of what avail to turn! I might dash one, even two, of the men off the steep fall in my own company, but I could not see what recompense that would be to me, and then I remembered the old Skipper's words, "I've been in tighter places than this, my boy," and I resigned myself to the inevitable. Up, up, up, we went, now winding through narrow defiles, again coming out on the sheer side of the mountain. There is a way of approach to the mountain top which is not so dangerous as the one which we pursued, and I know that it was in existence at that time, but I was conducted along a path which would have caused my eyes to start in terror from my head had I not felt certain that there was much worse to come.
We are going to the citadel, I thought—that citadel about which Cynthia and I jested one day not so long ago. I am to be thrown from the Boucan, and shall either die going through the air or lie a mangled heap among those whitening bones. The vultures of the air will hover over me, they will swoop down upon me, they will try to peck out my eyes. I shall fight them as long as I can, if I am alive, if I have an arm that is not broken, and if I can draw my knife! I felt for my knife. It was gone! I knew not when I had lost it, whether when I had bathed and changed my clothes or whether it had fallen from its sheath since. I looked abroad on the wonderful night. No one was moving in that vast exterior but we four. It seemed as if I were alone, for I rode ahead of this singular cavalcade, and saw nothing but the wonderful panorama of the verdure-covered steeps, the wide-spreading ocean below, and the stars and moon above me. I trembled and shook so that I could hardly hold to my animal, for I discerned some few dark shapes still wheeling down below there whose cravings had not yet been satiated.
"I shall be their next morsel," said I to myself. And as these thoughts passed through my brain I entered between two high walls, which spread as I advanced, and I found myself in an open courtyard. The gates had been flung wide at our approach, but as soon as we were within them they closed with a loud and ominous clang, and I was a prisoner within the frowning, stupendous walls of Christophe's citadel, the terrible La Ferrière.
I remember little that followed. I tumbled rather than slid from the mule. I could hardly walk upon my stiffened legs, but I found that they must be put to use. We crossed the courtyard and entered a heavy door, which clanged to behind us, captive and captors alike. We traversed long halls, we passed dark interiors. We came out into open spaces, where in the brilliant light of the moon I saw again the open ocean, on which I imagined that white sails flecked the open, free waters. Nearer were esplanades, where great cannon frowned and balls for their consumption were piled to the top of the different compartments. Then into the dark interior again, again emerging into light, mounting stairs, descending them, and so on until we came at last to a door. It was hastily unlocked and I was pushed inside, my guards, following. For a moment I could see nothing, and then, as my eyes gathered strength, I perceived that I was not alone. A figure was crouching in the corner of the room. It arose with a sort of growl and stood upon its feet. It recalled to me at the moment the snarl of a dog whose bone is to be taken away from him. Its back was to the little ray of moonlight that came through the open port. This being made a dash at us, all four, with an open knife. We started back. The guards laughed as they all three ran out, pulling the door to after them. I had seized upon the edge of the door, but it had slipped through my fingers. Its closing click was like the answer of fate. I flung my back against it and faced the figure who stood in the middle of the room with his hand upraised, and in that hand a knife.