Devil's Prize

by Samuel Edwards

  But a long time passed before his eyes became acclimated and he could make out the other man's features. He saw then that his companion was a Carib, and finally he called out to the Indian, but there was no response.

  Painfully, slowly, Ethan crawled to him, and another surprise awaited him. The other prisoner was Poda, and he was unconscious.

  Ethan stared at him in the gloom, but could not focus for any length of time on Poda's face. Afterwards he did not remember sliding to the hard stone floor; his only memory was the dream that he was back at the Battery in New York, commanding his own troops in a pitched battle with the army of Marinus Boline.

  Ten

  ETHAN did not awaken until he felt himself being lifted up into the air. He stirred and tried to speak, but a hand was clamped over his mouth, silencing him. He then realized that he was being carried out of the cell. It was so difficult for him to think coherently that he knew the injuries he had sustained were more serious than he had imagined, but he had gained sufficient consciousness to see that his bearers were not Boline's soldiers. When they came out into the open where a quarter-moon provided more light, he made out the Asiatic features, green and yellow painted faces and brown skins of the men who were carrying him. Only then did the full impact of what was taking place strike him—the Carib Indians were trying to spirit him out of the encampment!

  He remembered being aware of other shadowy figures nearby, and knew that an effort was being made to take Poda to safety, too. He marveled at the ability of the natives to move silently as they hugged the stone walls of the buildings, and it occurred to him that not even the dreaded Senecas of New York Colony were capable of such stealth. The Caribs inched their way along the walls and halted for long periods, so Ethan assumed that they were evading Boline's guards. Now and again he made out the sound of footsteps as the soldiers' boots struck the ground, and he tried to breathe as quietly as he could. At one point he felt an irresistable urge to cough, but he lifted his hand to his mouth and dug his teeth into his flesh until the spasm passed.

  It was inconceivable to him that the rescue party could have entered the compound without being detected, but the Carib plainly knew what they were doing. They reached the palisade without incident, and there some vine ropes were already slung over the walls, in readiness. Ethan and Poda, tied securely, were hoisted up into the air; obviously there were other Indians manning the ropes on the far side of the palisade. As Ethan neared the top he grew tense, for two black-uniformed soldiers suddenly appeared from behind one of the stone buildings. They stopped and saw what was happening; one lifted his musket and the other opened his mouth to shout a warning.

  But the Caribs were prepared for just such an emergency. Ethan saw several of the natives raise curious instruments to their mouth, weapons which at a distance appeared to be hollow bamboo tubes about a foot in length. An instant later the soldiers dropped to the ground, writhed in agony for a few seconds and then lay still. Later, Ethan learned the Caribs had killed their foes with blowguns from which they shot tiny poisoned arrows.

  The pointed tops of the fence poles dug into Ethan's skin, but a moment later he was grasped by strong hands, and his new bearers glided along the outside of the wall. They were soon joined by those who had initiated the rescue, and although Ethan could not see the entire group clearly, he estimated that the party was comprised of at least twenty Indians. A watchtower was located at the far end of the compound, but the Caribs moved past it confidently, and Ethan guessed that the guards on duty there had already been rendered harmless in one way or another.

  Beyond the palisade was a cleared area perhaps two hundred yards wide. It was obvious that as the Indians moved out into the open they were taking one of the greatest risks of their entire hazardous operation—they were plainly visible to anyone who might be looking out into the fields from other watchtowers, and they were well within the range of Boline's muskets. But they were depending on surprise and speed to guarantee their safety, and they ran with astonishing rapidity over the broken ground in spite of the burden of the two inert men.

  At last they reached the jungle, and as the heavy trees, thick underbrush and luxurious creepers closed in on all sides, Ethan felt a sense of relief so great that he was exhausted; it was as though he had actively participated in the rescue. The jungle belonged to the tropics and to the Caribs, and it was evident from the first that no one but a native could exist in it or make his way through it. The heavy foliage overhead cut off the light of the moon and stars, there were no paths and hidden dangers lurked everywhere. Within ten minutes after the party entered the dense forest, one of the Caribs suddenly brandished a machete and lunged into the underbrush. There was the sound of thrashing in the waist-high grass, then the Indian emerged, holding aloft the still-writhing body of an eight foot snake, a green and brown spotted reptile as thick as a man's arm.

  They continued to move steadily higher into the mountains, dipping occasionally into little valleys, climbing ravines and crossing narrow, fast-moving streams. The march went on for hour after hour, and once in a while there was a change in bearers, but otherwise the Indians did not pause either for rest or refreshment. There was no conversation, either, and the silent darkness, in combination with the tensions of the escape, made the injured Ethan drowsy.

  The remainder of the long night was forever a blur to him, and he could later recall only brief moments of consciousness. He did not know it when the Indians arrived some hours after dawn at a village located high in the mountains, nor was he aware that more than three hundred Carib men, women and children were watching the proceedings in silence. He and Poda were carried to a curious hut, whose walls were made of stone for the first four feet above the ground. The grass roof that topped the hut was held up by high bamboo poles, set firmly into the ground.

  Ethan's bearers deposited him on a woven mat, and he awoke to discover that someone was pressing a gourd to his lips. He was thirsty and drank eagerly, thinking the contents were water. But discovering that a bitter, evil-smelling concoction was being offered to him, he tried to push it away. Someone continued to hold it to his lips, however, and he dimly made out the face of a girl. What impressed itself most on his mind was her long, black hair; he thought of Prudence Courtney, so he smiled and drank. Then he fell back on his pallet and drifted off into a deep and dreamless slumber.

  The convalescence of Ethan and Poda seemed interminable, but there were compensations, such as the constant presence of Luki, the girl who had forced Ethan to drink the herb brew on the morning of his arrival. A bright, cheerful girl of about sixteen, she had warm brown eyes, and delicate features. Her figure was perfection in miniature in the breastband and thigh-length skirt that all the Carib women wore. She, like the rest of village, was devoted to the tall, fair-skinned stranger who had risked his own life to save Poda from a beating. Even before Ethan began to learn the natives' language, he discovered that Poda and Luki were brother and sister and that the local chieftain was their father. The old man invariably wore a turban of snakeskin, a symbol of his rank, in addition to his breech cloth of plaited grass.

  As days became weeks Ethan gradually picked up the Carib tongue, for in all the village only Poda spoke a smattering of English. And after more than two months, by which time he was fully recovered from the beating he had suffered at the hands of Boline's guards, he found he could converse easily with the natives in their tongue.

  Ethan had not been allowed to venture far beyond the convalescent hut, which was set apart from the community, and so he was eager to see the village and the surrounding countryside. He stood in the center of the room, attired in a new loin cloth of plaited grass that Luki had woven for him, and looked at his friend Poda, who would remain in the convalescent hut a few days longer. At the moment they were alone.

  "Be sure you take your medicine when I'm no longer here," Ethan said. "I'll come in every day to make sure you haven't thrown it to the ground when Luki isn't looking."

  "Luki
may not be the guardian of Poda when Ethan goes."

  "Where is she going?"

  The Indian shrugged. "That will be decided by Dama, the head man, who decides all things. He will tell Ethan where he is to live and what work he is to do, too."

  "As soon as I'm a little stronger, I've got to return to my own people." Ethan had spent countless hours contemplating his future, and he knew precisely what he had to do. "You see, Poda, the Caribs are protected from Boline by the great trees and the mountains. But my people have no such protection. Unless I can warn them, Boline can conquer them and make them all his slaves."

  Poda shook his head sympathetically. "Ethan has told Poda and Luki of the great ships that take men to Ethan's land. Only the devil-men come to Dominica in ships so large."

  "There must be a ship somewhere that will take me home!" Ethan had hoped to persuade the Caribs to help Jed and David Stanley escape from the slave compound, but even assuming that this could be accomplished, he had no idea how they would make their way to New York. A return to Martinique, where Boline's open and secret agents were everywhere, was out of the question. "I don't know where it is or how I'll find it, but I will."

  "This, too, Dama will decide." In Poda's mind that disposed of the matter.

  Before Ethan could say anything more Luki came into the hut carrying a gourd of herb medicine, which she gave to her brother to drink. Then she turned to the tall outsider, and as always when she looked at him, her eyes became soft and her gestures self-conscious. And Ethan, returning her gaze, felt uncomfortable. In her eyes, as in those of her people, she was a woman, but to Ethan she was no more than an adolescent. It was abundantly clear that she was interested in him, but his last desire was to hurt her or to repay her long vigil of nursing by taking unfair advantage of her. Only by exercising great care had he been able to avoid injuring her sensitivities so far, and now that he was no longer an invalid, the problem would be compounded.

  As he had done so often in the past, he joked with her about the medicine as Poda drank the bitter brew, and the girl was quick to laugh. Then she sobered and exchanged a significant look with her brother that Ethan did not understand. 'The time has come for Ethan to see Dama,' she announced. "Luki will take Ethan to Dama."

  They left the hut and started through the village. Huts of various sizes were scattered here and there among the trees without plan or order, some partly hidden from view by the jungle, others close to the path. A few huts stood near the shore of a little silver-green lake, where two old men were fishing with bamboo poles and lines of vine. A middle-aged woman was roasting a wild boar over a stone hearth set out behind her hut while her man dozed in the shade nearby.

  At last Luki paused before a hut somewhat larger than the rest, and suddenly, inexplicably, she became shy. "Luki will wait here for Ethan," she said, folding her hands over her breasts and turning away.

  Ethan had no idea what had caused her modesty, but he thought it unwise to ask. Stooping slightly, he stepped inside the small open frame that served as a door and looked around. The furniture consisted of two low mahogany stools. Dama was sitting impassively on one of them, awaiting his guest. Ethan, who had been instructed in the proper etiquette by Poda, folded his arms and stood erect, waiting for the old man to speak first.

  Dama's face was grave, and might have been carved out of the hard mahogany of his jungles. Unlike the Indians of North America, he and his people had small features, low foreheads and large eyes, but like the natives whom Ethan had known in his childhood, the Caribs laughed easily. And when Dama smiled his whole face glowed. "The Caribs welcome their new son," he said. "It is good to be a son of the Carib," Ethan replied.

  "And I will be forever grateful to Dama and his people for rescuing me from the bondage of the devil-men."

  "It is the Carib who are in Ethan's debt," the old chieftain said elaborately. "And Dama is in the greatest debt of all, for it was Ethan who saved the son of his loins when the devil man beat him with the leather stick.

  "The Carib and Ethan are bound each to the other by many ties. Fires have been burned and the heads of many animals offered to Santro-kri, so his spirit would no longer dwell in the body of Ethan. Santro-kri heard the prayers of the Carib, and Ethan is now strong."

  Suddenly he dropped his formal air, waved Ethan to the other stool and spoke crisply. "All who live in the land of the Carib must work. The new son of the Carib will work."

  "Of course I'll work," Ethan replied, choosing his words carefully. "But I must be honest with Dama. It is not my wish to remain in the land of the Carib all of my days. I must go home to my own people and warn them of the devil-men who would enslave them."

  "It will be done," the old man assented. "But first Ethan will spend many suns and many moons in the land of the Carib. Soon the rains will come. Then will come the time of Gol-wi, the big winds. If Ethan will pray to Gol-wi, she will give to Ethan one of the ships of two sails that brings to the shore of the Carib the slaves of the devil-men."

  Ethan frowned and shook his head. "Such ships are too small to sail to my home."

  "Then another way will be found," Dama said, unperturbed. "But none may sail from the land of the Carib in the time of the rains or the time of Gol-wi. The seas grow angry then, and all who go out onto the water are swallowed by the sea. What was the work of Ethan in his own land?" he asked, changing the subject without pausing for breath. "Did he grow food in the ground?"

  "No." Ethan searched his limited Carib vocabulary so he could explain his vocation. "I was head man of those who fight."

  "That is good." The chieftain seemed highly pleased.

  "The Carib have many villages. The Carib lived at peace in their villages when the strangers who came from across the seas sailed away. Then the devil-men came to the land of the Carib and brought evil with them. The Carib have arrows of death, the Carib have machetes, the Carib have many noise-devils they have taken from the wicked ones. But the Carib do not know how to use the foreign tools of war. They fear the devil-men, and so do not fight together. Ethan will teach them the ways of war that the devil-men use, so they may hurl the wicked ones into the sea."

  "There's nothing I'd like better," Ethan said earnestly, "than to help your people to be rid of the devil-men for all time." He had no idea how many braves the various Indian villages could muster, and he doubted that their blow-guns, augmented by a few stolen muskets, could do much in a battle with Marinus Boline's trained troops, but at least he could teach the Carib how to fight together and protect themselves.

  Dama stood and placed his left hand on the younger man's shoulder. "It will be done," he said. "The warriors of the Carib will learn from Ethan. All is agreed, and Ethan will live in the village of Dama with his woman."

  "I have no woman," Ethan declared impulsively, speaking before he had time to think.

  "Luki would be the woman of Ethan," her father replied.

  The old man would never understand his reasons for not wanting such a liaison, Ethan thought, and spoke slowly. "I already have a woman," he explained, searching in vain for the Carib word for "wife." "I did not choose her for myself, Dama. I was forced by the devil-men to make her my woman."

  "She is with the devil-men now?"

  "Yes. She lives with the chief of the devil-men."

  "Then she is not Ethan's woman," Dama said emphatically.

  Ethan wanted to agree heartily, and wished there were some way to tell Luki's father about Prudence, too. But he could not, any more than he could express his conviction that Luki, no matter how attractive she might be, was only a child, Dama smiled, seeing him disturbed, and patted him on the arm. "The ways of the young are the same in the land of the Carib and in the land of Ethan. When a man is filled with the spirit of Santro-kri he does not want a woman. Then he is well again, and he wants a woman. The spirit of Santro-kri has departed from Ethan, so he will soon want a woman. Luki will wait, and each day she will come to the hut of Ethan and cook his food. Then Ethan will want her. H
e will come to Dama, and Dama will give her to him."

  The dilemma would continue, but any decision regarding Luki was fortunately postponed. And in the meantime, Ethan told himself, there was work to be done, important work that had purpose and meaning.

  Eleven

  ONE OF THE first steps Ethan took in organizing for war was to establish an espionage system, one that would provide him with a steady flow of data from Boline's headquarters. He sent out a call for volunteers, and forty-three warriors responded. He assigned each man to a specific observation post on the periphery of Boline's sprawling encampment. The braves saw everything that took place in the training area, the ship-building district and the slave compound, and within a short time Ethan and Poda were spending the better part of their mornings sorting and classifying the information that came up to them. They learned where Boline's arsenal was located, and they were able to keep a record of the types of arms that were being shipped to Dominica from Martinique.

  By putting together the figures that dribbled into their hands, they began to gain an accurate idea as to the size of the army, too. There were more than two thousand soldiers on the island, including the recruits who had recently been released from serfdom. At least four or five hundred slaves would eventually be added to the ranks of the fighting men who hoped to conquer the Western world for their master. The Caribs could not muster more than approximately one thousand warriors, so Ethan knew that the numerical odds against the Indians in a pitched battle would be overwhelming.

  But the conviction grew in him that he and his native warriors would have to act, and act alone, if Boline's threat to civilization was to be ended. He realized now that it was virtually impossible for him to escape from the island, make his way to North America and warn the King's representatives there of the gigantic plot being hatched in the West Indies; what was more, he seriously doubted that anyone in New York or Boston would take him seriously, even if a miracle took place and he could make a safe journey home. Therefore it was up to him and to the Caribs to crush Boline here and now, before an invasion fleet could sail against the rich English and French colonies that were so complacently unaware of the fate that awaited them.