Chapter Twenty Four. A Strange Apparition
I had been but a few minutes in this state of unconsciousness, when I was awakened by a plunge, as of some one leaping into the pond. I was not startled sufficiently to look around, or even to open my eyes.
“Jake is having a dip,” thought I; “an excellent idea – I shall take one myself presently.”
It was a wrong conjecture. The black had not leaped into the water, but was still upon the bank near me, where he also had been asleep. Like myself, awakened by the noise, he had started to his feet; and I heard his voice, crying out:
“Lor, Massr George! lookee dar! – ain’t he a big un? Whugh!”
I raised my head and looked towards the pond. It was not Jake who was causing the commotion in the water – it was a large alligator.
It had approached close to the bank where we were lying; and, balanced upon its broad breast, with muscular arms and webbed feet spread to their full extent, it was resting upon the water, and eyeing us with evident curiosity. With head erect above the surface, and tail stiffly “cocked” upward, it presented a comic, yet hideous aspect.
“Bring me my rifle, Jake!” I said, in a half whisper. “Tread gently, and don’t alarm it!”
Jake stole off to fetch the gun; but the reptile appeared to comprehend our intentions – for, before I could lay hands upon the weapon, it revolved suddenly on the water, shot off with the velocity of an arrow, and dived into the dark recesses of the pool.
Rifle in hand, I waited for some time for its re-appearance; but it did not again come to the surface. Likely enough, it had been shot at before, or otherwise attacked; and now recognised in the upright form a dangerous enemy. The proximity of the pond to a frequented road rendered probable the supposition.
Neither my companion nor I would have thought more about it, but for the similarity of the scene to one well-known to us. In truth, the resemblance was remarkable – the pond, the rocks, the trees that grew around, all bore a likeness to those with which our eyes were familiar. Even the reptile we had just seen – in form, in size, in fierce ugly aspect – appeared the exact counterpart to that one whose story was now a legend of the plantation.
The wild scenes of that day were recalled; the details starting fresh into our recollection, as if they had been things of yesterday – the luring of the amphibious monster – the perilous encounter in the tank – the chase – the capture – the trial and fiery sentence – the escape – the long lingering pursuit across the lake, and the abrupt awful ending – all were remembered at the moment with vivid distinctness. I could almost fancy I heard that cry of agony – that half-drowned ejaculation, uttered by the victim as he sank below the surface of the water. They were not pleasant memories either to my companion or myself, and we soon ceased to discourse of them.
As if to bring more agreeable reflections, the cheerful “gobble” of a wild turkey at that moment sounded in our ears; and Jake asked my permission to go in search of the game. No objection being made, he took up the rifle, and left me.
I re-lit my “havanna” – stretched myself as before along the soft sward, watched the circling eddies of the purple smoke, inhaled the narcotic fragrance of the flowers, and once more fell asleep.
This time I dreamed, and my dreams appeared to be only the continuation of the thoughts that had been so recently in my mind. They were visions of that eventful day; and once more its events passed in review before me, just as they had occurred.
In one thing, however, my dream differed from the reality. I dreamt that I saw the mulatto rising back to the surface of the water, and climbing out upon the shore of the island. I dreamt that he had escaped unscathed, unhurt – that he had returned to revenge himself – that by some means he had got me in his power, and was about to kill me!
At this crisis in my dream, I was again suddenly awakened – this time not by the plashing of water, but by the sharp “spang” of a rifle that had been fired near.
“Jake has found the turkeys,” thought I. “I hope he has taken good aim. I should like to carry one to the fort. It might be welcome at the mess-table, since I hear that the larder is not overstocked. Jake is a good shot, and not likely to miss. If – ”
My reflections were suddenly interrupted by a second report, which, from its sharp detonation, I knew to be also that of a rifle.
“My God! what can it mean? Jake has but one gun, and but one barrel – he cannot have reloaded since? he has not had time. Was the first only a fancy of my dream? Surely I heard a report? surely it was that which awoke me? There were two shots – I could not be mistaken.”
In surprise, I sprang to my feet. I was alarmed as well. I was alarmed for the safety of my companion. Certainly I had heard two reports. Two rifles must have been fired, and by two men. Jake may have been one, but who was the other? We were upon dangerous ground. Was it an enemy?
I shouted out, calling the black by name.
I was relieved on hearing his voice. I heard it at some distance off in the woods; but I drew fresh alarm from it as I listened. It was uttered, not in reply to my call, but in accents of terror.
Mystified, as well as alarmed, I seized my pistols, and ran forward to meet him. I could tell that he was coming towards me, and was near; but under the dark shadow of the trees his black body was not yet visible. He still continued to cry out, and I could now distinguish what he was saying.
“Gorramighty! gorramighty!” he exclaimed in a tone of extreme terror. “Lor! Massa George, are you hurt?”
“Hurt! what the deuce should hurt me?”
But for the two reports, I should have fancied that he had fired the rifle in my direction, and was under the impression he might have hit me.
“You are not shot? Gorramighty be thank you are not shot, Massr George.”
“Why, Jake, what does it all mean?”
At this moment he emerged from the heavy timber, and in the open ground I had a clear view of him.
His aspect did not relieve me from the apprehension that something strange had occurred.
He was the very picture of terror, as exhibited in a negro. His eyes were rolling in their sockets – the whites oftener visible than either pupil or iris. His lips were white and bloodless; the black skin upon his face was blanched to an ashy paleness; and his teeth chattered as he spoke. His attitudes and gestures confirmed my belief that he was in a state of extreme terror.
As soon as he saw me, he ran hurriedly up, and grasped me by the arm – at the same time casting fearful glances in the direction whence he had come, as if some dread danger was behind him!
I knew that under ordinary circumstances Jake was no coward – Quite the contrary. There must have been peril then – what was it?
I looked back; but in the dark depths of the forest shade, I could distinguish no other object than the brown trunks of the trees.
I again appealed to him for an explanation.
“O Lor! it wa-wa-war him; I’se sure it war him.”
“Him? who?”
“O Massr George; you – you – you shure you not hurt. He fire at you. I see him t-t-t-take aim; I fire at him– I fire after; I mi-mi-miss; he run away – way – way.”
“Who fired? who ran away?”
“O Gor! it wa-wa-war him; him or him go-go-ghost.”
“For heaven’s sake, explain! what him? what ghost? Was it the devil you have seen?”
“Troof, Massr George; dat am the troof. It wa-wa-war de debbel I see; it war Yell’ Jake!”
“Yellow Jake?”