They strove again and again to get back to the mass of high rocks on the beach, but all their attempts to do so were discovered, and it was with a feeling of gloomy despair that Chéri-Bibi, who did not know that the launch had left the jetty, was fain to relinquish the idea.
The warders started again with renewed vigor to search the wood. They fired their rifles and revolvers into the trees on the off chance. They cursed and swore in their wrath.
Their imprecations were leveled at Chéri-Bibi, who had so often given them trouble, and whom they had never been able to capture when once he had taken to his heels. It was always he who, after a few weeks’ stay in the forest, gave himself up as a prisoner.
The escape of convicts, especially on the mainland, was somewhat frequent. The old offenders imprisoned there were subjected to a vigilance which was less strict, and, like Chéri-Bibi, they disappeared for a time and then returned of their own free will, having finished what they called their “short holiday.” They had taken the opportunity to scrape together a little gold dust in localities known only to themselves, and then, weary of the terrible life in the forest and its manifold dangers, they returned to take their places in the penal settlement.
Search them as the warders might, nothing was ever found on them. They were up to all sorts of extraordinary and unsuspected tricks for hiding the gold dust which enabled them to buy certain luxuries in Cayenne and in the wood-cutting establishments.
But how did Chéri-Bibi get away from the islands without falling a prey to the sharks which infested those waters?
At any rate, on this occasion the warders were pretty well certain that he was still on the island. They had caught sight of him and the Nut at the moment when they were taking refuge in the forest.
“Let’s go to the coal depot,” whispered Chéri-Bibi to the Nut, realizing that they were being surrounded.
The naval authorities kept a huge stock of coal in the îles du Salut. Chéri-Bibi had more than once found a safe retreat there. In order to discover a man hiding in an immense store of coal and compressed fuel, the entire mass would have to be turned upside down and removed.
During the hours when the convicts were “resting,” and were less subject to supervision, Chéri-Bibi was wont to make his way to the depot and dig out passages and recesses known only to himself and undreamt of by any one else. Such places would always come in handy one day or the other. The time had arrived to take advantage of them once more. To reach the place, without hindrance if possible, he went the longest way round, making a wide sweep behind the victualling department.
He stopped to take breath, and then skirting the “sugar-loaf” of the island, finally arrived at the coal store.
But, curse it all, the depot was surrounded by a body of warders who were guarding the approaches. It was evident that experience of past escapes had put the authorities on the alert. Nothing was to be done in that quarter.
Chéri-Bibi uttered an oath, and as he swore a flash pierced the darkness and a bullet whistled between him and the Nut.
Once again their presence had been detected.
In this way they were chased, by degrees, all over the island, until they reached the main buildings in which were imprisoned men who had refused to obey the warders, or been sentenced by the local courts.
Here, notwithstanding that a stronger force of men than usual was posted on guard, the doors were kept locked. That evening, however, one door was ajar and Chéri-Bibi and the Nut slipped through it. On this door was painted in black letters the one word: “Guillotine.”
Chéri-Bibi and the Nut did not find themselves alone. Two bodies and two heads lay in a basket; two heads which had fallen that very morning...
And then Pernambouc, the prison executioner, came in, closing the door after him.
He was in a merry mood.
He had returned from the canteen where he had been entertaining his friends. He had been standing treat to them throughout the day. He was very pleased with himself.
Pernambouc was a man of a cheerful disposition, and he found that life had its pleasant side. The pleasant side of life for him was the execution of other men.
Therefore Pernambouc was singing:
“I go to Trouville, to Étretat,
I cut a dash like President Faure
I go about like the head of the State—”
He did not complete the verse. He turned round, and by the red gleam of a lantern slung on the wall he recognized Chéri-Bibi and the Nut.
He did not utter a cry nor make a movement. He only regretted his omission to close the door when he first went out, and he stood waiting.
Chéri-Bibi was not long in coming to the point.
“Look here, there’s a chance for you to make a bit. Instead of placing those bodies in your sack and throwing them, as you always do, off the jetty, put us, the Nut and me, in sacks one after the other and drop us into the sea in the ordinary way, but as near as you can to the ‘Haversack’s’ launch. Do you follow me?”
“How much?” asked Pemambouc.
Chéri-Bibi undid the lining in the waistband of his trousers and took out something which glittered. Pernambouc unhooked the lantern from the wall and bent over the shining substance.
“I’ll give you half this gold dust,” said Chéri-Bibi.
“I want the lot,” returned Pernambouc.
Chéri-Bibi offered to give him half then for carrying the Nut first, and the other half when he came back to fetch him.
“That’s a fair proposal,” said Pernambouc. “All right, my lord. But what am I going to do with my corpses?”
“You’ve only got to bury them here. You can easily find a way of getting rid of them. In the meantime you needn’t be afraid they’ll come to life again.”
A minute later the Nut, quivering in body and soul, slipped into the loathsome sack intended for one of the guillotined men.
Pernambouc hoisted it on his shoulders.
The warder, whose absence from the jetty Chéri-Bibi had observed at the beginning of his flight, had hurriedly taken up his post as soon as he heard the first rumors of the convicts’ escape. He, too, was in a merry mood, and it may be that his gayety had received its inspiration from the same source at which the worthy Pernambouc had refreshed himself.
The man caught sight of the executioner as he laboriously crept forward with the sack on his back. He went to meet him and asked facetiously:
“Is that shoddy goods heavy?”
“Yes; it’s not as light as a feather,” he returned. “I’m dying to get rid of it.”
“Fire away!” said the warder. “They’re sure of ‘the convicts’ grave’ this evening. It’s as though the sharks knew about it; for I’ve seen them turning over and over near the jetty.”
“Whereabouts?” asked Pernambouc.
“At the far end.”
“I’m going to give ’em something for supper,” said Pernambouc with a hideous laugh.
“I’ll come with you,” said the warder in a sprightly tone.
As he went along Pernambouc became aware that the “Haversack’s” launch was no longer moored to the jetty. A grim laugh shook him from head to foot.
Nevertheless he was not a bad sort of man. He had, as we have said, a generous disposition, and when he was at the canteen he had no liking for “drinking alone without standing treat but at the thought of the face that the Nut would pull when, once in the water, he discovered that the launch was on a trip and sharks were waiting for him, he could not help roaring with laughter.
“Well, old man, are you satisfied with your little business?” asked the warder.
“Yes,” returned Pernambouc. “Things are not so bad. I’ve earned my pay to-day. I’m very well pleased with myself.”
When he came to the end of the jetty he laid his sack on the ground.
“Where did you see the sharks?”
The warder’s presence somewhat inconvenienced him, but when the man stooped over the water tryi
ng to catch a glimpse of the monsters in the trough of the sea, Pernambouc made the most of the opportunity to throw his sack down.
When the warder turned round at the sound which the sack made as it struck the liquid element he could see only a dark mass which was lost to view in the swirling foam. Almost immediately the waves were swollen by another eddy a few feet away, and the leaping shadow of a huge dog-fish glided over the luminous and phosphorescent sea and disappeared in the direction of the Nut. Above the spot where he had fallen the waters swished and seethed and then grew still.
“What a pity it’s dark, exclaimed the warder. “We might have seen if the sea is red.”
“Oh, never fear,” returned Pernambouc. “That’s another one dead and in his grave,” And he walked away singing to himself:
“I go to Trouville, to Étretat,
I cut a dash like President Faure,
I go about like the head of the State....
The Nut’s lost his nut!... He’ll swank no more!”
But the Nut was not dead. Before he touched water he had ripped open the sack with his knife.
He at once swam under water, making a vigorous effort to reach the spot where he believed the launch was moored.... No launch was there!
But in her place a shark was swimming towards him, a shark who had already turned on its back, its jaws wide open like a yawning gulf.
The Nut understood what tactics should be followed. They were the chief topic of conversation during the time the convicts were “resting.” He dived and passed under the shark. The monster lost the scent and hunted its prey on the other side of the jetty.
But what was he to do? From his position he could see the warder seated on the top of the steps by which alone he could land on the jetty.
He dived again and swam under water, intending to get back as quickly as he could to the beach, at the rear of the warder, by swimming round the jetty if the sharks gave him sufficient time!
Not for a second did it enter his mind to surrender in order to get out of his awful plight. Rather a thousand deaths than return again to the life of the penal settlement. He might reach the beach in time to meet Pemambouc with his new load, and save Chéri-Bibi from the terrible danger to which he himself had been exposed.... They would hide themselves once more.... And the launch would return.
He managed to swim round the jetty when the monster who missed him before and was continuing the hunt, appeared in front of him, and once more turning on its back glided towards him opening its voracious jaws.
It is this somewhat perplexing movement which the shark must make in order to seize its prey that enables pearl fishers, for example, to work in waters infested with them and, in most cases, to avoid them. As soon as the brute turns on its back, the man plunges under it, and sometimes he is quick enough to rip it open by a magnificent stroke of his knife, a weapon which he invariably carries in his teeth.
The Nut had not sufficiently practised this sort of trial of skill to think of anything but flight. He quickly retreated to the jetty and he knew that on this side a large iron ring was affixed which was used for mooring small craft. He clutched it with one hand, almost exhausted, his exertions having made so great a demand upon his muscular power; and before the brute was upon him he managed to seize the ring with both hands and lift himself out of the water by the strength of his wrists.
The shark brushed against him as it passed under him, snapping its jaws on the empty waters and vanishing in the obscurity.
Meantime Pemambouc returned to fetch Chéri-Bibi, who had lived through an agony of suspense. In his friendship, as in his love or hatred, Chéri-Bibi was always in extremes. His heart had adopted the Nut. To be conscious that the Nut was in danger was for him the cruellest of torments.
When Pernambouc entered his hut he found him seated on the basket which contained the bodies of the guillotined men. The lantern threw its beams on a face that might well have struck dismay in the least sensitive.
So little sensitive as he was a shudder passed through Pemambouc.
“It worked very well,” he threw at him without waiting to be questioned.
“Is the Nut on board the launch?” asked Chéri-Bibi.
“The Nut is on board the launch,” returned Pernambouc, holding out the second sack to Chéri-Bibi, and claiming from him the balance of the gold dust.
A few minutes later Pernambouc appeared once more on the jetty staggering under his immense burden. The warder lay drowsing on the steps. Pemambouc had to jostle him slightly.
“Let me finish my job.”
“Oh, that’s number two,” grunted the warder. “He looks heavier than the first. Shall I give you a hand to swing him in?”
“Don’t trouble.... Look here, go back a little way along the jetty.... I thought I saw the Commandant over there. He’s cursing like mad, and turning the hole damn island upside down to-night.”
“Is it a fact that Chéri-Bibi is dead?” asked the warder as he went up the steps of the jetty.
“Oh, with a man like that you can never tell.” So saying, Pernambouc bundled the sack into the water, and it was swallowed up in a huge eddy.
Pernambouc had not gone far when a hollow exclamation came from the sea, sending once more a shudder through him to the marrow: “Fatalitas!”
“What’s that?” exclaimed the warder. “I thought I heard someone’s voice.”
“You’re imagining things to-night.”
The warder did not persist. He was attracted by the distant throbbing of the launch.
“Hullo, here’s the Inspecting Officer back again,” he exclaimed.
“Yes, yes,” returned Pernambouc. “Here’s the launch. And his day’s work finished, his duty performed, he went back to his dormitory like a well-disciplined “convict.”
The Commandant had also caught the hum of the approaching launch. He reached the jetty in time to receive the officer when he landed, and to learn that his instructions had been carried out, but that no trace of the fugitives had been seen.
“It’s something very like witchcraft,” exclaimed the Commandant as he left the jetty with the officer. “We haven’t discovered anything either.”
At that juncture the warder was not a little taken aback to see the launch put off from the jetty without apparently any crew being on board her. He shouted, called for help, and fired several shots at her on chance. The officers rushing up in haste could scarcely believe their own eyes.
Meantime Chéri-Bibi and the Nut had at last found each other, boarded the launch, and reached the open sea. The engine was running to perfection. They might consider themselves out of danger. Suddenly Chéri-Bibi exclaimed:
“The barque!”
This was the sailing ship whose business it was to convey the convicts to the various penitentiary establishments and to keep guard.
The coast was quite near. Nevertheless Chéri-Bibi and the Nut had barely time to run the launch aground before the boat which was lowered by the barque landed a body of warders who at once started firing on them.
“We’ve got ’em; we’ve got ’em,” they bellowed.
But it was not long before their pursuit was brought to a standstill. They were obliged even to fall back, for they heard a crackling sound all around them.
Chéri-Bibi had set fire to the forest.
CHAPTER VII
THE MYSTERIES OF THE PRIMEVAL FOREST
CHÉRI-BIBI AND THE Nut had taken a serious step in entering the primeval forest. How many convicts who had escaped and sought refuge in it had found death; death in its most terrible form? They must needs struggle against all and everything — hunger, fever, wild beasts and men.
It sometimes happened that men who were engaged in clearing a new part of the forest came upon partly devoured remains of human bodies. That was all that was left of an escape which had created some sensation at the time of its occurrence.
None but a very old jail-bird regards the forest as a friend who would defend and keep him. As
we have said, more than one convict, weary of its savage life, returned and gave himself up as a prisoner.
Nevertheless Chéri-Bibi said to the Nut:
“I know my forest. They can send every warder in the colony after us. I defy them to capture us.”
In order to keep back for a while the men who were pursuing them, he had simply set fire to a great accumulation of trees of all sizes and species which had been felled by the ax some months previously, and which the burning hot tropical sun had entirely dried up. This mass became in a few minutes like a gigantic furnace, which spread the blaze to an entire quarter of the living forest, so that, perceiving the extent of the conflagration, the Nut anxiously inquired if they would not themselves fall victims to their own method of defense.
The wind which had arisen when darkness fell blew north and north-west, and drove the flames towards Cayenne. The Nut, feeling instinctively that animals were fleeing in the opposite direction, that is to say with the wind behind them, tried to persuade Chéri-Bibi to turn towards the north-east; but he stopped him with a word.
“That way we are bound to meet warders who must be preparing to bar our passage. Do as I say, and don’t let’s leave the fire.”
The Nut did as he said, thinking to himself that though they were almost certain, of course, to avoid the warders by fleeing in this direction, they ran considerable risk of being roasted alive. As a matter of fact they felt that the greatest heat from the furnace was behind them.
Now they cut a caper.
“That’s done it; we’re saved,” exclaimed Chéri-Bibi. And he pointed through the tropical climbers which were already beginning to crackle around them, to the crimson waters of a river.
“The river... the Kourou river!”
A few minutes later they swam across it.
“Look out for alligators!” cried Chéri-Bibi, and then immediately afterwards sinking his voice: “Under water.... Put your mug under water.... Warders about!... I prefer alligators.”
At that moment a launch filled with warders sent in pursuit of them, hove in sight at the bend of the river.
Hiding themselves in the thick of a mass of reeds and aquatic plants, Chéri-Bibi and the Nut were obliged repeatedly to dive to avoid being seen in the dazzling light of the conflagration, for the giant trees of the ages-old forest seemed like prodigious candles uniting heaven and earth in one glow and one illumination.
Collected Works of Gaston Leroux Page 190
