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Inocencio
by
Chancing to meet the Senor Williams on the street some time later, he said: ” Buenas dias, senor! You see, Captain Inocencio is still alive and the woman has not run away.”
His former employer grunted, as if neither phenomenon were worthy of comment.
“I’ve heard how you rub it into those San Blas fellows,” Williams remarked. “I can’t understand why they never avenged Markeena.”
“Bah! They have heard of me,” said the Haytian, boastfully; then, with a grin, “You remember our bet, senor?”
“I never made you a bet,” the American denied, hotly. “But I’ve a mind to. I’ve been here ten years, and I think I know those people.”
“Two hundred pesos!”
“You’ll never have a child by her. They won’t allow it. They’ll get her and you, too, in ample time. I tell you, their blood is clean.”
“Two hundred pesos that she brings me a San Blas half-breed within two months,” smiled the mulatto, insolently.
And Williams exclaimed: “I’ll do it. It’s worth two hundred ‘silver’ to see a miracle.”
” Bueno! I’ll bring him to you when he comes.”
Thereafter Inocencio gave over beating the woman.
Back at the little settlement beyond the swamp the coming event did not pass without comment, and although the black women were kind to their straight-haired neighbor, she never made friends with them, nor did she ever accompany Inocencio to town. On the contrary, she seemed obsessed by an ever-present dread, and whenever she heard that her own people were near she concealed herself and did not appear again until they were gone. Bred into her deepest conscience was the certainty that her tribe would make desperate attempt to preserve its most sacred tradition, and hence, as the days dragged on and her condition became more pronounced her fears increased likewise. She began to look forward to the birth of the child as the crisis upon which her own life hinged. Inocencio did his best to dissipate her fears, explaining boastfully that the mere mention of his name was ample protection for her, and, did he wish it, not even the army of the Republic could take her from him. But still she would not be convinced.
And then, in the dark of the December moon, the expected came. It was that season when the rains were at their heaviest, when rust and rot might be felt by the fingers. A gray mold had crept over all things indoors; a myriad of insect pests burdened the air.
In the rare intervals between showers every faintest draught deluged the huts from the dripping palm leaves overhead. From the swamp arose a noxious vapor whenever the sun exposed itself; tree-toads shrilled incessantly. Outside, the surf maintained its sullen murmur; through the gloom of starless nights its phosphorescent outlines rushed across the reef like phantom serpents in parade.
In the dead of a night like this the visitors arrived.
Even the heavy animal slumber of the blacks was broken by the scream that issued from the hut of Captain Inocencio. And then the sound of such fighting! The negroes might have rushed to the assistance of their leader had it not been for the echo of that awful woman-cry hovering over the village like a shadow. It filled the air and hung there, saturating the breathless night with such unnamable terror that the wakened children began to whimper and the women buried their heads in the ragged bedding to keep it out. Death was among them and the bravest cowered while through the quivering silence there came the sounds of a mighty combat lasting for such an interminable time that the listeners became hysterical.
At length they discovered that the night was dead again, save for the sudden patter of raindrops on the thatches when the palm fronds stirred. One of them called shrilly, another answered, but they did not venture forth. Afterward they fancied they had heard the thrust of paddles in the lagoon and strange voices dwindling away to seaward, but they were not sure. Eventually, however, the stillness got upon them more fearfully than the former noises, and they stirred. Then, in time, they heard the voice of Inocencio himself cursing faintly, as if from a great distance. A light showed through the cracks of a hut, and Nicholas, the least timid, emerged with a lantern held on high. He summoned the rest around him, then went toward the black shadow of Inocencio’s dwelling with a score of white-eyed, dusky faces at his shoulder.