by Day Taylor
The blood rushed to Adam's head. He wanted to smash his fist into Lucifer's leering face. "Amparo, take me to Mr. Gilmartin." He hadn't come this far to be turned back by a boy and a housekeeper.
Amparo motioned Adam to enter. Adam stalked past, not daring to look at the monster boy. Lucifer called after him. "I know everything. You've killed all hope of ever knowing your fate or hers." His laughter rang through the crude adobe inner walls.
Amparo led him to a doorway, then disappeared into a corridor. Adam fought down the impulse to shudder. The deformed youth watched him.
"Costal" the boy shouted. A wizened old servant crabbed his way to the boy, walking in a crouch that made his thin, sinuous muscles stand out like cords. Lucifer stared at Adam. "You see, I am all-powerful. Costa! Lie on the floor!" The man fell to the floor. "Roll over!" Lucifer looked up from his obedient servant, grinning broadly at Adam. "Have you such power over any dog or man? Have all your straight limbs ever given you command? Go see my father, mister fool. Talk to another of your kind." The dog sprang forward. The servant Costa followed, crabbing along behind Lucifer.
Adam entered Gilmartin's study. A fire burned in the overwarm, airless room. In a large threadbare chair sat a drunken wisp of a man, Kenneth Gilmartin, thinning white hair barely covering his pinkish scalp, his clothing soiled and neglected.
He looked up as Adam crossed the room. Gilmartin waggled his hand vaguely. His speech was slurred. "Justin'll have that order ready t'morra, or I'll have the boy's hide. Tha's a promish." He offered Adam a drink out of his own bottle. "Tell me about London now."
"Sir, my ship was wrecked some time ago, maybe weeks.
Can you tell me anything about that wreck? Did your men find wreckage? Or survivors?"
"Your ship wrecked? Tha's strange. I jush got a letter yesterday. You been with Mam'bo Luz? You ain't one o* them livin' dead o' hers?"
"I know no one named Luz. Who is she? Would she know of a woman being washed up on shore?"
"Dorothy?"
Adam sat up alertly, once more hoping. "No—not Dorothy. Dulcie."
Gilmartin's eyes leaked pathetic tears. "She'sh losht Losht."
"Think, sir, please. Could her name have been Dulcie, sir?"
"Saw her long time ago, day that son o* Satan was bom. God-damned demon, he is. Now I can't fin' her."
Adam was on the edge of his seat. "Have you seen her!"
Gilmartin kept drinking from the nearly empty bottle. "Long time ago . . ."
"Damn it, stop drinking, man!" Adam shouted. "I have to find her! She's my wife. She's carrying my child!"
Gilmartin was crying pathetically, cradling the whiskey bottle against his chest. "So long ago . . . Search. Always search. Never give up until she'sh found."
Adam rushed from the study. He went to every door, peered into every room, opening closets, examining the contents of drawers, hunting for anything that might reveal Dulcie's presence. The mansion was a rabbit's warren of passages, one wing of the house connecting to another. Nothing hinted at Dulcie's presence, yet his feeling remained strong that she was there.
At every turn he was stymied by Lucifer, smiling his evil knowing smile, waiting for the opportunity to tell Adam he was a fool. "I am the one to whom you must supplicate. I am the one to answer your wishes. It is to me you must pay homage to gain your desires."
After Adam had wandered through the house several times, Amparo came up to him. "You must leave now, man. Nobody here to help you. Go back to the sea. Go back where you came."
At the edge of the woods he stopped to look back at the strange isolated mansion called Satan's Keep. Thank God Dulcie hadn't been thefe.
The next day he walked south down the beach. He found several pieces of wreckage. One of his charts, ruined by sun and water, lay buried in the sand. In a small inlet a jolly boat rocked, caught on a snag. Inside was the gruesome cargo of two crewmen, blistered by the sun, torn by scavenger birds, covered with insects. Adam hauled the rotting corpses from the boat and buried them in the forest
Beaten, no longer knowing where to look, and afraid of what he would find, Adam returned to the native boat Inside it was a fresh supply of food. He had come to take it for granted. He laid his oilskin on the sand and went to sleep.
The sun was high when he awakened. He lay still, a shadow long and dark falling across his face. He blinked, squinting against the sun, and looked around. All manner of things had been carried to the beach and now encircled him. At his feet was a scarecrow figure, black and eerie against the sun, almost unidentifiable against that blinding brilliance. Behind him a small banana tree had been planted in the sand. Around him lay a circle of banana leaves. From the circle the leaves formed a path to the native boat at the water's edge. To. his right was a pole, a joukoujou painted black, a sign of death. As he stood up, Adam saw the pile of black clothing laid near the pole, apparently for him to don.
His attention went to the scarecrow hanging against the light of the sun. He moved out of its shadow. On a crudely made cross hung Dulcie's gown. Perched at the top was a skeleton head.
Adam stared in horror at the grotesquery, then lunged forward, ripping the figure down.
From the forest the natives came forward. Slowly and rhythmically their drums beat, and their low, fearful voices chanted to the Guede I'Orage, the god of storms, the spirit of death and cemeteries. Slowly they advanced on Adam, the Drum of the Thunderbolt never faltering or stopping, the low thrum of their voices growing in intensity.
Adam screamed at them and hurled the cross garbed in Dulcie's clothing. Their line parted, the scarecrow figure falling to the sand, and they came on. The line of natives began to curve, enclosing Adam in a circle formed by themselves and the sea behind him.
Slowly he backed up, unsure of their intent The dark
faces appeared to be entranced by him and called him Guede I'Orage. In unison they murmured as one of their members saluted to the four directions of the earth. Whenever Adam misstepped, taking his feet from the ceremonial path, the human barrier moved in, forcing him back to the leaves. His calves touched against the hull of the native boat. It, too, had been lined with banana leaves. Around the bed of leaves lay the food he had come to expect from his mysterious benefactors, who until this moment he had imagined cared for him.
Somehow they had gotten Dulcie's gown. They could take him to her—if only to show him where she died and where she now lay. He put his hands out to them. "Where is the woman?" he asked softly.
Cries of alarm, a break in the rhythm of the prayers. But they pressed on, walking steadily toward the water as though they would walk right through him.
Adam backed into the small craft and stood waiting for them to approach. A native handed him the black grab. Without question he put the robe around his shoulders. Flag bearers came forward, oriented themselves to the cardinal points, and saluted the boat and Adam as its precious cargo. Amid a cacophony of drums, seasheU trumpets, and chanted rituals, they pushed the native boat into the water, sending the Gu6de TOrage, the god of the storm, back to Ife, fatherland of the gods.
Three natives walked out into the water over the coral shoals, pushing the native craft from shore. Adam felt the current of the Tongue of the Ocean begin to propel the boat north. By nightfall he would be bobbing along the shore of northern Andros as he had been that first morning of consciousness after the sinking of the Independence, If the craft continued unhindered, he would eventually reach Nassau and help from Ben.
Adam beached the boat near the Nassau pier. He ran to the docks chuckling madly under his breath as he saw the Liberty at anchor. He raced for the gangplank, shouting orders. "Prepare to weigh anchor!"
Several seamen working on deck glanced up to see a tall gaunt man in flowing black robes, his long unkempt hair streaming around his face, his beard scraggly, his eyes burning with the same intensity that was in his conmianding voice. The four crewmen moved forward barring his way.
The largest one solicitously took Adam
's arm. "Easy does it, mate," he said jovially. "You're in the wrong berth."
"Take your hands off me and do as you're ordered, Carson!" Adam swung around to face the others. "Prepare to weigh anchor!"
Carson, bewildered, backed off. The other three stared, open-mouthed. "Captain Tremain? Bejasus—can it be you, sir?"
The second crewman crossed himself. Carson ran for the quarterdeck.
"Since when can't you recognize your captain, Billings?" Adam snapped.
The man's eyes shifted uneasily from Adam. "Beggin' your pardon, sir!"
Adam sneered and stalked off toward the companionway. He had mounted the first steps when Ben appeared at the top of the ladder.
"Adam! Holy Mother, it is you!" Ben rushed down the ladder, forcing Adam to back away. Ben grabbed his hand, then clasped Adam by the shoulders. His smile was filled with relief. "Christ, we thought you were lost. Some of the crewmen made it—and then, when you never returned —Christ! You're really here!" Ben beamed; then he looked carefully at Adam. "Jeez, you look like hell. What happened?"
Adam's eyes grew wild and fevered. "Weigh anchor, Ben. We've got to go back. I know she's there. Those damned natives are hiding her from me." He faced the gaping crew, who had stopped work and come to stare. "Weigh anchor, damn it! I command you to get this ship underway!"
Ben motioned the men away, saying, "You're got your orders." Worriedly, he touched Adam's arm. "We'd better plot the course, Adam," he said gently. "I need a little more information than you've given me."
Adam shook him off. "The southern tip of Andros. That's where they are. We can take the men ashore and get Dulcie. No one can stop us."
Ben sighed, "We're not going anywhere, Adam."
"Ben! I've got to go back. They have her, I know they do."
"Come into the cabin. We'll talk as you bathe and eat."
"For God's sake, man, don't you understand? They have Dulcie."
"Come with me, Adam. We'll do it my way or not at all. I don't know what you're talking about."
"Will you help me after I've told you?"
Ben nodded. "I'll do anything I can, but you're two steps from collapse. You're not making sense."
Adam followed him and did as Ben asked. He bathed and dressed. Ben handed him a razor. "I don't have timel You said—"
"I said I'd listen and then decide what could be done, if anything. Where did the ship go down? What happened?"
Without realizing it, Adam picked greedily and steadily at the food the mate put before him as he told Ben all he remembered about Andros. Even he was aware that it sounded garbled and fantastic. So many days had never come clear in his mind. He was no longer certain that Kenneth Gilmartin and Lucifer were real. Perhaps they were creatures of his tortured imagination.
Ben rubbed his temples. "Do you know how long you've been gone?"
"What difference does it make?" Adam asked shrilly.
"You left Nassau six weeks ago. You say you went down that first night. God! I don't know how you survived. But Adam, a woman couldn't. Dulcie, if she made it through the wreck, is—she's dead."
"No! No, she's not! Others survived. She did too. The natives—*'
"Over a hundred crewmen and all the officers were lost. Every crewmember who survived has made it back here. They returned days after the wreck. That's how I knew the Independence had gone down. The first eight men returned, and each thought he was the only one. Dulcie couldn't have helped herself. And . . . she couldn't have foraged—Christ, look at yourself! You're half-dead!"
Ben had seen Adam meet defeat with cold fury, with hot-blooded anger, with c^lm, but never had he seen Adam with helpless tears in his eyes, humbly begging him to make Dulcie be alive.
His voice breaking, Ben again refused to take him back to Andros. His story about the ring of fire and the Guede rOrage and the spirit queen and the monster boy were all the stuff of nightmares.
Above all, Ben suspected Adam had buried Dulcie himself and was unable to face it. He had told Ben of finding
bodies and of finding Dulcie's gown. Ben was certain it had been Dulcie Adam had buried in the forest. There was no question that Adam was on the edge, his eyes burning blue coals sunken deep in his head. He was exhausted and overwrought.
He prepared himself and Adam a drink, slipping a potion into Adam's without the slightest twinge of bad conscience. It was only minutes, but it seemed like hours to Ben before Adam slumped in the chair, the glass rolling from his slack fingers.
Ben ordered the mate to bring Rosebud McAllister to the cabin. As he waited, Ben sat quietly in his chair. A deep ache coursed through him.
Rosebud lumbered into the cabin, his eyes fixed on Adam. "Praise de Lawd, he done led de Boss back home to us!" Rosebud lifted Adam from the chair, holding him tenderly as a baby, and placed him in Ben's bunk. "Ah specks Ah be resignin' fum de Libutty, Cap'n. Look like Ah got me a job lookin' aftuh de Boss."
Ben watched the giant man place a coverlet over Adam with infinite care. "He'll need a lot of caring. Mrs. Tremain died when the ship went down. The captain hasn't been able to accept that yet."
Rosebud let out a low, sorrowful moan. Shaking his head mournfully back and forth, he rocked back on his haunches, his hands clasped in front of him. "Oh, Lawd, lay yo' peaceful ban's down on de boss. He done been yo* servant, de Black Swan. Now, what dat ol' black swan gwine do when he ain't got his li'l ol' firebird to come home to? Ain't right you leave him all 'lone here, Lawd. You done better bring dis boss man peace fo' his soul."
Chapter Three
"You feelin' better, Boss?'*
Adam opened his eyes, staring uncomprehendingly at Rosebud. He moved too quickly. His head throbbed. "My God, what did Ben give me?"
"Ain't nothin' gwine hurt you much." Rosebud grinned.
"Or Cap'n Ben got hisseff all worked up wiff you. He put you to sleep."
"Whcre'd you come from, R.B.? I don't remember seeing you."
"Ah come aftuh you asleep, Boss. Ah go gits you some-thin' good to eat, now you 'wake an' feelin' better."
"Rosebud, will you go with me? Help me find Mrs. Tremain."
Rosebud watched him sadly. "Ah goes anywhere you wants me to, Boss. But Ah gwine tell you what you oughter know fust. Dem natives is voodoo. Now, Ol' Rosebud here, he done a lot o' witchin' an' spellin' folks. Dey done give you a warnin'. Dey doan want you on dat islan', thinkin* you be one o' dem guedes an' all."
"I don't care what they think. They have Dulcie."
"No, Boss. Effen dey sen's you back to de sea, dey mo'n likely sen's her back, too. Cap'n Ben say you fin' her dress, an' mebbe her body—"
"Not her body! The natives—they put her dress on a cross and planted it in the sand beside me. You see, Rosebud? That proves she's there. How else would they have her gown?"
"Gowns is mighty temptin' gahmints even fo' de Mam'bos. Ain't no woman Ah know kin turn her back on a purty dress."
Adam shook his head mutely. Rosebud went on, "Miss Dulcie, she jes' a li'l bitty woman. Ain't no big strong man like you be."
Adam remained silent, unable to argue with Rosebud, unable to face having to agree with him.
"Effen you still wants to go. Boss, Ah go wifl you. We hunt dat ol' islan' fum one side to de odder, effen dat's what you want."
Adam left the ship without speaking to Ben. Rosebud didn't believe Dulcie was alive any more than Ben did, but Rosebud was willing to help him. Though Ben might come, too, if he insisted, Adam felt betrayed.
Adam turned into one of the grogshops along Bay Street, pouring two quick rums into himself. He was thinking nonsense, and he knew it. Still, the feelings of betrayal and depression wouldn't be chased away.
Rosebud stuck to him like a mustard plaster. Where Adam went. Rosebud followed, clearing the way, shoving
grumbling seamen from barstools, placing silver on the counter when Adam forgot to pay.
Erratically Adam wandered down Bay Street, drunk enough now not even to remember that Dulcie wouldn't be waiting
at home. The more he drank, the more it seemed that nothing had changed. He laughed and joked with the other men, shouting cheers at the woman who danced bare-breasted at the Halyard Light Inn.^
Rosebud yawned and settled back, waiting. Adam could hardly stand and was incapable of walking unassisted when he was ready to leave. He clung to Rosebud's arm, slurring, "You gonna folia me all—alia time?"
Rosebud placed his arm around Adam's waist and nearly carried him from the Halyard Light. "No, Boss, Ah's jes' gwine take you to yo' do'. Miss Claudine'll know what to do wiff you ^en."
"Miss Claudine?" Adam gurgled, laughing. *'Miss Clau-dine . . . you been steppin' out with Claudine? Dulcie'll laugh about that."
Rosebud gnmted, steering Adam up Parliament Street. With relief he reached Adam's suite. Claudine was silent as Rosebud dumped Adam onto the sofa. Her eyes were tear-filled. She had thought him dead. Now here he was, drunk as a lord and grinning like a happy cat.
Adam blinked sleepily, his legs sprawled. "Claudine, tell Miss Dulcie the captain's home an' middlin' anxious to see her."
"Miss Dulcie ain't here, Mastah Adam. She went with you. She . . ."
Rosebud frowned, shaking his head. Adam's head nodded. Rosebud said, "She daid, but de boss doan wan' to think so. He jes' keep on a-sayin' he gwine fin' her an* woan give up fo' nothin'. Look like we jes' have to wait *til he sees hisseff she ain't comin' back to him no—"
"She's not dead!" Adam heaved himself unsteadily from the sofa, his fists clenched, swinging at Rosebud. The huge man did an agile dance, sidestepping Adam's thrashing arms. Claudine squealed, her hands covering her ears as Adam hit the floor like a felled tree.
Rosebud chuckled. "Dat be de onliest man ain't skeered t' Ipome at me wiff bofi" his fisses a-goin'."
"Oh, you killed him!" Claudine wailed.
"Ah din't touch him. He knocked his ownseff out." Rosebud carried Adam to the bedroom, dropping him onto the
coverlet. Grinning, he shook his head. "He gwine think de cavalry been a-rompin' an' a-stompin' on de inside o' his haid when he wake up."
Claudine's eyes were huge with questions. "Miss Dulcie ain't daid? He ast—"
