Ethan, who had been studying Stanley carefully, took an immediate liking to the young man, whose overly-fussy attire was not in keeping with his character. Although he was no more than twenty or twenty-one years of age, his eyes were sober and his manner as well as his acceptance of an extraordinary situation indicated that he was mature in advance of his years. "We bid you welcome. Master Stanley," Ethan said dryly, then added quickly as the youth held out his hand, "Boline's men are watching us! It's best not to advertise a friendship, I think. We must learn to be careful of everything we do and everything we say if we hope to survive."
"You're right, sir," Stanley replied. "But remember this. No matter what may be ahead for us, I'll join you in any effort to break up this monstrous scheme. I was taught to use a pistol at ten and a sword at twelve, and I look forward to the day when I can show you my skill."
There was no opportunity for further conversation, as a vague shape appeared on the horizon, and one of the guards came forward and roused the sleeping prisoners. The shape was the island Dominica, and the men in the cockpit stared at it as it grew larger and larger before them. Their first impression was one of a vast expanse of green.
After a time it was possible to make out objects on the shore. Off to the left, set on a hill, were long rows of barracks, and infantry units in black uniforms could be seen drilling in front of them. But the schooner sailed on to a point which Ethan estimated to be at least five miles farther up the coastline, and here he could see the partially-constructed shells of five large sea-going vessels. Boline, it seemed, left nothing to chance, and was building at least a portion of the invasion fleet with which he hoped to conquer North America.
The schooner sailed closer to shore and dropped anchor in open water; one of the obvious peculiarities of Dominica was that there was no harbor anywhere. The prisoners were ordered over the side and were prodded with musket butts until they obeyed. They found themselves in rather deep water and waded toward the shore with difficulty, hampered by their clothes. Ethan noted that the broad beach was black, and never having seen sand this color, he was puzzled for a moment. Then he remembered that Jed had mentioned a boiling lake, and he concluded that Dominica must be a land of active volcanoes.
Musket-bearing soldiers patrolled the beach in pairs, and from a high pole fluttered a flag which bore alternate stripes of green and white—obviously Boline's emblem. A tall, sun-tanned man whose black uniform was trimmed in silver and who carried a long, lead-tipped whip, was waiting on the beach for the prisoners. As they struggled up onto the sand, he beckoned to them curtly. They approached him, and he addressed them first in French, then in English.
"You are now on the soil of the Empire of the West," he said harshly, "and you had better understand at once that any infraction of the law is punishable by death. You are all slaves of the Emperor. You can win your freedom through industry and loyalty. Those of you who work hard will be given places in the Emperor's army—as free men. Those who are lazy or rebel will die as slaves. Now—remove your clothes and put these on." He tossed a pile of breech cloths onto the sand. As slaves you will wear nothing else."
"We're hungry," one of the merchant seamen said in the soft French of the Mediterranean. "When do we get breakfast?"
The whip sang out and cut a gash in his chest. "Slaves remain silent except when they are permitted to speak," the overseer said, oblivious to the anguish on the sailor's face. "And slaves eat only when they work. And you'll start to work now. Follow me!"
He led the way inland, past a thick grove of acacia and mangrove trees, up a small hill and into a little valley beyond. The sight that greeted the newcomers* eyes was astonishing. Two or three hundred men, among them fair-haired captives from Holland and Scandinavia, husky African Negroes and short, slender Carib Indians, all of them wearing breech cloths, labored at a variety of tasks. Some were constructing buildings out of stones which they dug out of hillsides, others were working in vegetable gardens and still others were hammering and sawing wood, which they then carried to the partly-completed boats. All of the activity took place in a cleared compound of perhaps six acres, which was surrounded by a palisade. The poles were set close together, their tops had been sharpened to points and black-uniformed guards patrolled the walls in pairs. And the crack of whips could be heard everywhere.
The new arrivals were handed over to a swarthy, black-haired man whose silver-trimmed uniform showed numerous grease stains. His eyes were red-rimmed, and there was a three-day growth of beard on his face. Ethan, after one look at him, knew that Boline used only the most brutal and swinish of his officers to supervise the slaves. Those of greater capabilities performed other functions. The short man flourished his whip and indicated by gestures that the newcomers were to prostrate themselves on the ground, faces down, before him.
They obeyed, not comprehending; then his whip lashed out six times in quick succession, expertly striking each of the prisoners between the shoulder blades.
"You have tasted the whip of Lieutenant Hemelmann for the first time, but not for the last," the officer above them announced in a thick German accent. "Now you will work, and for Lieutenant Hemelmann you will work as never before in your lives!"
They were taken to the far side of the compound, and there were given the most menial and exhausting of tasks, that of carrying boulders to the buildings under construction. They labored without pause, and within an hour's time their arms and backs ached, the sun blistered them and their hands were rubbed raw by the rough stones. But they were given no opportunity to rest, and whenever one of them paused or faltered. Lieutenant Hemelmann's ever-active whip spurred him into renewed activity. By the time a halt was finally called at sundown, every member of the group was on the verge of collapse.
Their day's labor complete, they were herded into a pen surrounded by a stone wall and there they found twenty other slaves eating bread and cold meat, thrown to them as though they were animals, and drinking lukewarm rain water out of gourds. From some of the older inhabitants, men who had lived in the pen for three months and were looking forward to an advancement to the next higher group, the newcomers learned much. Everything in Dominica, they were told, was organized to the last detail. New arrivals carried stones for three months; thereafter those who were strong enough were transferred to shipbuilding activities and the weaker ones who had somehow survived the gruelling existence were put to work on farms. And a favored few were given positions as menials in the households of the officers.
In any event, no slave was set free until he had spent a minimum of one year at hard labor, and if he remained alive that long he was considered fit material for the Emperor's army. He was then given his freedom, but the difference between his new lot and his old was theoretical, for he was forced to become a private in the army, and as such he enjoyed only a few privileges, among them a pallet in a barracks, a uniform to protect him from the elements and a better variety of foods. The soldiers were divided into three basic groups: infantry, artillery and sappers, and a man spent a minimum of one year learning his new military trade. But during this time he could still be beaten by his superiors for any infraction of countless rules.
Those who obeyed regulations were liberally rewarded, and even the slaves who showed an eagerness and aptitude for work were given extra food. But recalcitrants were severely punished, and it was not unusual for a slave or even a soldier to die under the lash. Ethan, listening carefully to the descriptions of life in Dominica, began to understand how Boline managed to inspire such fanatical loyalty on the part of his followers. By the time they finished his course of education, all opposition had literally been beaten out of them. In its place had been instilled a burning desire to share in the glory and riches of power and plunder. Men who had long been underdogs were eager to become masters, and even the slaves spoke of the future in glowing terms.
Ethan, unlike the other newcomers, could not sleep, and although he stretched out on the hard ground, his mind seethed. One othe
r occupant of the pen remained awake—a Carib Indian who sat cross-legged and stared up at the mountains that were half-revealed by a tropical moon, half-concealed by mists. The native's eyes were wistful, and on his face was an expression of such fierce longing that Ethan, who had known and loved the Mohawks of the upper New York colony from boyhood, impulsively rose and joined him.
"You want to be free," he said.
The Carib remained unmoved and unmoving for a long moment, then he pointed in the direction of the highest peak. "My home there. My people there." His accent was the musical sing-song of the West Indies, but his English, though stilted, was dear.
"I didn't know there was anyone on the island who wasn't a part of all this." Ethan waved his arm.
"Carib live in land of big trees. Have many villages near home of Santo-kri, dragon who breathes fire through water."
It was logical to assume that he referred to the boiling lake, and Ethan took heart. If there were others on the island than Boline's forces, the hope of escape would always exist. "How did they capture you?" he asked.
"Poda come out of high place to fight devil men. Poda come, other Carib come, but too many devil men, not enough Carib. Men of Carib afraid of dragon noise that smash trees. Few Carib no can fight devil men. Some Carib die. Some like Poda slave now."
Never had Ethan heard such bitterness in another human being's voice, and he put his hand on the Carib's shoulder. "Some day we'll be free again, Poda. We will, I swear it"
In the weeks that followed some men died of fever, others broke under the unceasing strain of hard labor. But Ethan, tanned by the tropical sun, grew even stronger, as did David Stanley. Even Jed, who had never before worked with his hands, put on weight and muscle. There was no relief from the grind of hard work; Boline's slaves were busy from sunrise until dusk, seven days a week. And a man counted himself lucky when he did not feel the harsh bite of an officer's lash at least once each day.
Of all the prisoners only Ethan and Jed, together with Stanley and the Carib, Poda, retained their principles and clarity of vision, and in them the flame of freedom burned more brightly than ever. But they kept their views to themselves, and expressed their opinions only to each other and at such times when they were certain they would not be overheard. The slave camp always seethed with rumors of malcontents who had been reported to the authorities by men who were anxious to curry favor for themselves, and twice during the first ten weeks that Ethan and his friends were in Dominica all of the slaves stopped work long enough to watch a terrible ceremony. On one occasion a slave who had been a freebooter in his previous existence was whipped to death because he had expressed a derogatory opinion about the Emperor, and some time later a Spaniard who had tried to escape had been burned at the stake. Henceforth those who loved liberty held their thoughts to themselves.
One hot afternoon, about two weeks before Ethan and his companions were scheduled to be transferred to the shipbuilding division, there was a sudden and unexpected break in the routine of rock-carrying. A score of officers whose heavy gold and silver braid indicated that they held high rank in the Imperial army came into the compound, and orders were given for all work to be stopped at once. The slaves were commanded to prostrate themselves, and they fell to the ground, happy for a chance to rest, regardless of the reason.
After a wait that seemed interminable they heard voices, and Ethan, twisting his neck to one side and looking up, saw a uniformed group moving slowly around the compound on what was obviously a tour of inspection. The party came closer, and he took a deep breath; in the center, wearing a white uniform with a gold sash across his chest, was Marinus Boline. And on his arm, looking breathtakingly lovely—and incongruous in this setting of squalor and misery—was Melanie. Her gown of delicate peach chiffon was particularly inappropriate, and when she came closer Ethan caught a glimpse of her face. She was examining the slave pens with calm interest, and the suffering of the inmates seemed to leave her unmoved.
Then something gleamed in the sunlight, and Ethan averted his gaze. Melanie was wearing the bracelet that had contributed so much to his downfall. At that moment he could have killed her with his bare hands, so intense was his hatred for her. But his fervent hope that he would be spared any special attention was doomed to disappointment. The party came closer and still closer to him, and finally halted directly above him. Ethan, his muscles rigid and perspiration pouring down his face, pressed his nose into the ground and tried to blot out the sight of Boline's shining boots and of the gauze-like hem of Melanie's skirt. But he could not evade the provocative, elusive scent that floated down to him, nor could he shut out the sound of Boline's voice.
The Emperor carried a walking stick and he prodded Ethan's shoulders, back and legs with it as impersonally as though he were examining cattle. "He's becoming a splendid specimen, my dear, if you can see him through the filth. You'll be very pleased with him by the time we're through with him here."
Melanie murmured something that the man on the ground could not hear.
"Of course, if it will make you happy, my sweet," Boline said.
One of the officers chuckled, there was nothing but silence. Melanie raised her skirts a few inches, drew back her right foot and kicked Ethan with all of her might on the side of his head. Then she took Boline's arm and strolled away.
The next morning Ethan's temper was such that an outbreak was inevitable, and an incident that occurred only a few minutes after the sun came up set it off.
Poda, who had been ill for several days, paused overly long when he knelt to dig a heavy boulder from the earth, and Lieutenant Hemelmann, who had a greater contempt for the natives than he did for his other charges, struck the Indian viciously with his whip. Poda made the error of saying something, and the whip lashed out at him repeatedly. The Carib covered his face and head with his arms and tried to evade the blows that rained on him, but to no avail, and his pain was so intense that he screamed in agony.
Then help came, very suddenly. Before either Jed or Stanley, who were some ten feet away, could intervene, Ethan hurled himself at the startled Lieutenant. He drove his right fist into Hemelmann's face, struck him in the pit of the stomach with his left and then smashed his right into the white blur of a face again. Behind each blow was the pent-up rage and humiliation of many weeks, and even Ethan himself did not realize how powerful he had become in his months of heavy labor. Lieutenant Hemelmann dropped to the earth as though he had been struck by a bullet.
In the excitement a Carib slave, an inconspicuous little man, sidled to the palisade, scaled it with a monkey's ease and disappeared, unnoticed, into the jungle.
For a moment after the beating no soldier moved; this was the first time in years that a foolhardy slave had shown such shocking temerity. Then the guards recovered themselves, an officer bawled an order and a full squad bore down on Ethan He planted his bare feet wide apart, and waited for them with a grim smile on his lips. One unarmed man could do little against so many, but for days afterward the slaves whispered of nothing except the incredible fight waged by a lone prisoner against a dozen armed men. He knocked one soldier out of the fray and was hammering the face of a second to a pulp when the sheer weight of numbers overwhelmed him. The guards tripped him with their muskets, and when he started to go down they closed in and hit him from all sides. Then they pounded him so unmercifully with the butts of their weapons that they might have killed him had not a high-ranking officer intervened.
At his orders the men picked Ethan up and carried him to one of the stone buildings at the edge of the compound; although he did not know it, this was the headquarters of the commandant of the slaves. The soldiers took him into a bare room, dumped him on the floor and then, after kicking him several times, departed and bolted the door behind them. He remained sprawled on the floor, bleeding from several wounds and groggy, but determined to con-tine the fight when the guards returned for him.
However his injuries were more serious than he realized, and after a f
ew hours in the hot room with the sun beating in through a high window he lost his ardor for combat. In fact his condition was such that when the door at last opened, a guard had to jerk him to a sitting position, and it was several seconds before he could see a middle-aged officer standing before him.
"Wade," the man said in a cultured voice, "in all the time I've been commandant of the slave compound, I've never heard of an exhibition such as you put on this morning."
Had Ethan been in his right senses he would have remained silent, but he could not concentrate and he felt light-headed and giddy. "I'll show you better than that,' he mumbled.
The officer shook his head. "Such spirit must be disciplined if you*re to be of service to the Empire. Wade, you don't know how fortunate you are. As you should realize, the Emperor plans to use you in a high position once you've learned obedience and loyalty. If you were just an ordinary slave and had behaved as you did today, there would be no alternative for you but death. The Emperor himself has decided to show you leniency—however, even a slave who enjoys special privileges cannot escape punishment. By personal decree of the Emperor, you are to be given one hundred strokes with a bull whip. Take him to the prison."
Two soldiers hurried forward to do their superior's bidding, and Ethan, still unaware of how feeble he had become, tried ineffectually to fight them off. But they lifted him up and carried him to an adjoining building, where they dumped him in a high-ceilinged, windowless chamber. After they had gone he was mildly surprised to discover that it was very dark in the cell; then he heard someone else's irregular breathing, and he knew vaguely there was another prisoner here with him.
Devil's Prize Page 11
