“We must wait patiently, at all events, till the mystery is elucidated,” observed my father; “and now, as you hunters are hungry, we will go to dinner.”
We had just finished our meal when Tim hurried in with the announcement that a number of our black labourers were collecting outside in a state of great commotion, three or four of them having brought in the doctor’s servant, Gab, as a prisoner. Tim informed us that, having suspicions as to his conduct, they had followed him for several miles into the mountains, when they found that he had gone to meet some Spaniards.
On hearing this the doctor seized a thick stick, and was on the point of rushing out, to break it, as he said, on Gab’s head,—or rather on his shins, for his head was not likely to be much the worse for it.
“Sit down, my good friend,” said my father. “I don’t manage my blacks in that way. Let me go and speak to him, and I may perchance elicit the truth. If he has been holding any traitorous communication with the enemy, he probably knows something of their movements; he may afford us valuable information.”
My father accordingly went out. I stayed a short time to try and calm the doctor, who was excessively enraged at the conduct of his servant. “Light your meerschaum, doctor,” I said, “while I go and see how matters are proceeding.”
On reaching the verandah in front of the house, I found Norah and old Josefa standing there, the latter apparently as much excited as the rest of her sable brethren and sisters, who in considerable numbers were collected round the accused negro, vociferating loudly, while Jumbo, who had never taken to him, was joining in the chorus with repeated barks. My father advanced, and having requested the rest to be silent, addressed him earnestly, and urged him at once to confess what he had been about. Gab, lifting up his hands, declared that he had had no evil intentions, as he respected his master, and was grateful to us his entertainers; and that the other blacks, through jealousy, had brought a false accusation against him. On hearing this they all shouted out as before, denouncing Señor Gab as a traitor, a spy, a barefaced hypocrite, and bestowing a good many other unsavoury epithets upon him.
“Silence, my friends,” again said my father; “I must sift this matter to the bottom. You have behaved faithfully in bringing him back, and I am thankful to you. And now, Gab, tell me at once, who are the people you went to meet, and what did you say to them? You will understand that if you faithfully speak the truth, you will be rewarded; but if you endeavour in any way to deceive us, you will be punished severely.”
Gab hung down his head.
“Speak at once,” said my father. “I cannot allow you time to concoct a story. Who are the people you went to meet?”
“I learned nothing from them, Señor Desmond,” at length replied Gab. “They were friends of the Spaniards, I confess; and they wanted to know how many people were assembled in this house, and in Señor Concannan’s; also if there were many fighting men in the village, and whether you expected a party of the insurgent troops to come here.”