The Bo's'n, overhearing part of our conversation, expressed it as his opinion that we should at once demand the jewel from the daughter of the dead King.
"O Bo's'n!" said Cynthia, "don't talk about money! That has brought much of this trouble upon us. Let us once get home, and I care not if I live on a crust a day. Let us get home, to free, God-fearing America!"
"I'll see how I feel to-morrow, Mrs. Jones, ma'm," said the Bo's'n stubbornly.
The citadel was ours! The grand, great fortress, with its multitude of apartments and secret interiors, was as absolutely given over to us as if we had fought for its possession with the army who held it, and had vanquished its occupants.
After the last one of the guard had disappeared, with all the booty that he could carry, we left the little band of mourners upon the terrace and went with the Skipper in search of a comfortable shelter for Cynthia. I found one apartment well secluded from the others, which seemed as if provided to withstand a siege—something which Christophe had always apprehended. These rooms were designated as "the Queen's chambers," and here we brought Cynthia and Lacelle, and for the first time in many long weeks the two were together in absolute comfort and safety, wrapped, I hoped, in dreamless sleep. The Skipper ensconced himself in the sacred bed of the King, and the others of our party found lodgment both commodious and magnificent. As for me, the excitement of the day had told upon me. I felt smothered inside the walls, and could not forget so soon the hurried march of events. Nor could I prevent myself from dwelling on the thought that we at last were free to go as we listed. It had all come about in a moment, as it were, by means which no man could have foreseen, and I mused upon this fact, and the evolving of what I had considered my wise and wily plans, and their defeat and overthrow by that Providence who had but to say, "Go! thou art bound no more." I sat myself down outside upon the terrace and leaned against the great stone wall, where from an angle I could overlook the palace of Sans Souci and the little town of Millot, now black and smoke-stained, or charred and burned by fire. My eyes endeavoured to penetrate the cloud of war that overhung that valley, which smiled but yesterday, but beyond an occasional flame which shot upward from a still burning sugar house or the villa of some one of Christophe's court, all was still. There was no clash of arms. The opposing warriors were resting from their days of slaughter, to begin afresh on the morrow.
To me, as I sat, came Zalee, and with many halting words, broken speech, and explanatory signs, he conveyed to me an astounding piece of news.
If you will go back with me to the night of the burial of the skeletons, you will recall that the Skipper had said to me, as we were carrying our grewsome burdens down the hillside, that there was a tall figure walking between us. I had felt unpleasantly over his words, but I found from what Zalee told me that the Skipper's eyesight had not been so uncertain as at the time I hoped it was. There had been a third person present with us, and that person was Zalee himself. From a coign of vantage in the cavern, of which we were ignorant, he had observed the secreting of the jewels by the Bo's'n. And surmising from the Skipper's actions what his intentions were, he had joined us in the dark to render us another of those remarkable and generous services of which he had ever been so prodigal. As we left each poor bundle of bones upon the shore to return after another, Zalee had busied himself in extricating the parcels of jewels from the interiors of the skeletons. Three of these he rifled. The fourth naturally, as it was the last, and we did not return to the cavern, he could not secure. But, after all, there was a large part of the treasure—three quarters, at the very least—intact, and in some place of safe keeping, of which Zalee knew. But to say that I scarce listened, is to tell the exact and unvarnished truth. Our troubles and sorrows had been so great, our fears so overwhelming, that the one great possession of freedom was the only thing for which I cared. We were going home, safe as when we started, all but the poor Smith, who, though not of our kith, kin, or people, had shared our hardships and had aided us with his knowledge and advice.
I shook my head sadly, but with a well spring of hope rising in my breast.
"Let us talk no more of riches, or wealth, or gems, or jewels," I said. "All that we desire now is to get away from this savage land, to tread once more the deck of an American ship, to breathe the air of our free country, and see Belleville once again."
I lay all night out under the stars, scarce sleeping, scarce waking, in that strange, glad state which the sudden certainty of relief from anxiety brings. The morning was yet dark when I called the others. They came out one by one, with strange, dazed faces, but looking refreshed from their long hours' sleep. As we sat there waiting for day, we talked of home and the prospect of our soon seeing Aunt Mary 'Zekel and Belleville.