PAGE 10
Inocencio
by
The door was down, and from the threshold they could see what the front room contained. It was Nicholas who, with clattering teeth and nerveless fingers, dragged a blanket from the bed and covered the woman’s figure. It was he who traced the feeble voice to the wreck of a room behind, and strove to lift Inocencio out of the welter in which he lay. But the Haytian blasted him with curses for opening his wounds; so they propped him against the wall by his direction, and bound him about with strips torn from the mattress. Then he called for a cigarette, and its ashes were upon his breast when the French doctor arrived from the hospital on the Point.
When the white man’s work was done, the mulatto addressed him weakly:
“Will m’sieu’ do me a great favor?”
“Certainly.”
“M’sieu’ is acquainted with the American, Senor Williams?”
” Oui. “
“Will m’sieu’ le docteur please to tell him that Captain Inocencio has won his wager?”
“I don’t understand.”
“Listen! In the room yonder, under the bed, m’sieu’ will find a little boy baby rolled up in a blanket. The woman heard them at the door, and she was just in time. Oh, she knew they would be coming.”
The French doctor nodded his comprehension. “But–your wife herself?” said he. “Perhaps when you are well again you can have your vengeance. The soldiers will–“
“Bah! What is the use?” interrupted Inocencio. “The world is full of women.” Then, strangely enough, he bared his yellow teeth in a smile of rarest tenderness. “But this boy of mine! They came to kill him, m’sieu’, and to show that the San Blas blood cannot be crossed; but the woman was too quick of wit. They did not find him, praise God! Le docteur has seen many children, perhaps, but never a child like this.” He ran on with a father’s tender boastfulness. “M’sieu’ will note the back and the legs of him. And see, he did not even cry, poor little man! Oh, he is like his father for bravery! He will be my vengeance, for he has the San Blas blood in him; he will be a man like me, too. Bring him to me quickly; I must see him again.” He was still babbling fondly to the negroes about him when the doctor reappeared, empty-handed.
“The child is dead,” said the white man, simply.
In the silence Inocencio rose to a sitting posture. His fierce eyes grew wild with a fright that had never been there until this moment. Then, before they could prevent him, he had gained his feet. He waved them aside and went into the room of death, walking like a strong man. A candle guttering beside the open window betrayed the utter nakedness of the place. With one movement of his great, bony hands he ripped the planks of the bed asunder and stared downward. Then he turned to the east and, raising his arms above his head, gave a terrible cry. He began to sway, and even as the doctor leaped to save him he fell with a crash.
It was Nicholas who told the priest that the French doctor would not let them move him; for he lay upon his face at the feet of the San Blas woman, his arms flung outward like the arms of a cross.