 | CHAPTER VII.
THE HAYTIEN MOTHER—THE WINTER BIRD CAGED FOR SUMMER. The damsel of Darien |  |
7. CHAPTER VII.
THE HAYTIEN MOTHER—THE WINTER BIRD CAGED FOR SUMMER.
The warriors of Darien were convoked in a grand and
general assemblage. The presence of the priests and
women, in all the pomp and pageantry which are almost
equally, in all barbarous countries, affected by both, served
to render the scene one of imposing and gorgeous display;
and the place chosen for the convocation was on consecrated
ground. A rock of sacrifice rose in the centre of
the plain, which was immediately surrounded by the magicians—the
uninitiated crowd covered the hundred hills
which looked down upon the spot. Between the great
multitude and the officiating priesthood, occupying a little
space to themselves, stood fifty of the bravest warriors of
the people of Zemaco. These had offered themselves to
the war-demon, and were to be present at the barbarous
rites performed in their behalf, and for the better propitiation
of the appetite of the cruel power to whom they
dedicated themselves, and whose favour they invoked.
They had sworn to sacrifice the cassique of the Spaniard to
his anger, or to yield themselves up to death in the prosecution
of their object. It needs not that we should dwell
on the horrible details which distinguished the barbarous
rites by which this pledge was to be consummated and
rendered binding on the parties. It is enough to know
that a wretched prisoner was sacrificed—a subject of the
cassique of Coyba, and the blood of the victim absolutely
lapped by the devoted warriors. A consecrated knife was
put into the hands of each, with which, before he delivered
it to its future possessor, the magician gashed his breast,
thighs, and shoulders, with seemingly unmeasured and
warriors departed on their mission of treachery and hate.
Among the spectators on this occasion was the wife of
Caonabo, the unhappy woman of Hayti. The tender
heart of the islander revolted at the horrible display she
witnessed, so utterly foreign to the habits of her own people;
and when she thought upon the cruel object for
which the dreadful ceremony had been performed, an intense
anxiety arose in her bosom which rendered her
feelings—harrowed and torn as they had been by the
savage orgies of the priesthood—scarcely restrainable.
It has been seen that she now knew what Spaniard led the
invaders. This knowledge had prompted her to the appeal
made to Caonabo in his behalf. Watching along the
hills the toilsome advance of the foe, her keen eyes had
distinguished the majestic and graceful form of that warrior,
who, once seen, it was not easy to forget; and whose
features and carriage, impressed on her at a moment the
most keenly observant and anxiously intense of her whole
life, had become, as it were, a very part of her memory.
Never could she forget the prompt, though unavailing interference
which he offered, when the sword of the murderous
Garabito was lifted against her child—nor the no less
prompt valour by which he would have avenged the barbarous
deed by which she had lost the boy for ever. With
her heart beating and burning with the gratitude which she
felt for the good and gallant Spaniard, could she calmly
behold the preparations intended for his murder? Could
she hear patiently the dreadful imprecations of the savage
priesthood of the Charaibee, — the profession of a religion
the most savage of any known to the new world—and
hear the promises of the young warriors to their cassique,
to wreak vengeance by treachery, in the unguarded moment
to which their falsehood should beguile him, upon
the brave and noble gentleman to whom her maternal
heart acknowledged so warm a debt of gratitude? Her
eyes grew blind with their tears, when all others around
her gleamed with triumph. The shouts in her ears, the
fierce cries and savage exultation, which lifted all other
hearts to furious satisfaction, went like the chilling stroke
of death into hers; and while a singular, and, we may add,
a patriotic sentiment of hope and rejoicing filled the immense
multitude around her with the conviction that a
feeling and the one fear, that she was about to lose no
other than a friend. As yet the quickening resolution in
her mind was still unformed; but she felt, when she retired
from the assemblage, that she could not suffer the
brave Spaniard to fall by this wily treachery. It was only
after hours of confused thought that the course of conduct
which her duty presented to her, rushed with the speed of
fire to her mind; and she resolved at all hazards to fore-warn
the Spaniard against confiding in the professions of
the devoted warriors who had undertaken the work of
treachery. It must be understood that she little knew or
little dreamed of the danger which threatened Caonabo.
He had, with a tenderness rather due to his Haytien connexions
than to his Charaibean birth, withheld from her the
painful doom which awaited him as the penalty following
inevitably the failure of his plans; and with the fond conviction
that while she saved the noble Spaniard she harmed
none, and least of all, the lord of her own life and affections,
she resolved that very night to descend into the
plain—availing herself of the absence of Caonabo, who
was about to set forth with the army of his jealous enemy,
Quarequa—and apprise Vasco Nunez of the purpose of
those who would seek him with proffers of service, and
bringing with them those treasures of gold and pearls,
which, she well knew, would tempt the Spaniard to any
degree of confidence, as they tempted also to any measure
of rashness. Women are not apt to be good politicians in
any country, and the good Buru little thought that her
truth to the cassique of the Spaniard was only so much
treachery to the protector of herself and husband, the cassique
of Darien.
Circumstances favoured her design. It was considered
advisable that the Indian deputation bearing the presents of
Zemaco and his friendly protestations, should “fetch a
compass” of some extent, in order to deceive the Spaniard
as to the precise spot where the Indian army lay. The
necessity of gathering the treasure from various quarters,
was also a cause of delay, which contributed to the prosecution
of the plan of the woman; and when she descended
from the hills, and, on the ensuing night, entered
the camp of the Spaniards, she was several hours in advance
of the warriors whose purpose she was about to foil.
the presence of the chief she sought. When she saw
him she fell upon her face. She was reminded by his
noble presence of the fearful event in which her heart was
so deeply wounded—the murder of her son—and her sobs
silenced her own speech, while they commanded the wonder
of all around. Vasco Nunez raised her from the earth,
and gazed steadfastly on her agonized features; but the
rapid passage of events, and the continual change of faces
passing before him, had almost obliterated her mild and
humble, but truly beautiful, features from his memory,
until, seeing the abstracted and inquiring expression of his
glance, she exclaimed in accents still broken and impaired
by sobs—
“Buru, master—Buru. The poor Buru,—the woman
that danced for the Spaniard, when the boy—”
“Ah!” said Vasco Nunez, with a feeling of astonishment
prevailing over all others,—“Can it be? You here,
Buru? How came you here—in whose vessel?”
With more art than she commonly employed, she evaded
this inquiry, and proceeded with as little delay as possible
to declare her object, and apprise him of the dangers which
awaited him from the approaching deputation. The eye
of the warrior searched keenly her countenance, as she
unfolded the details of a design which denoted a higher
degree of artifice than was common to the Indian, and betrayed
a kind of tactics which, if persevered in, promised to
be more dangerous to his successes than any he had yet
encountered in the new world;—he would have preferred
to doubt her intelligence,—her faith,—but the plain and
direct narration which she gave, and the simple and sincere
expression of her face, at once forced upon him a conviction
which he would not willingly have entertained.
“The star is working for us,” said he to the astrologer,
when the narration was over, “and truly the events are
wonderful which belongs to this. How came this poor woman
here, whom we left at Santo Domingo? Can it be
that she has come with other of her people in vessels of
their own? How is it, Buru, will you not tell me?”
“Let my lord suffer the poor woman to go to the hills,”
she replied, evasively, in imperfect Spanish. “Have I
not spoken all for my lord's safety? Would my lord have
“It were base for me to think this thing, Buru,” replied
the cavalier. “The Blessed Mother of God forbid that I
should desire thy lips to declare any of the secrets of thy
people, which shall bring them to harm. But why would'st
thou return to the hills? Know'st thou not I am thy
friend? I will not harm thee if thou keep'st with my
warriors, but danger awaits thee among the hills, when I
go up to battle with Quareqna. It is Quarequa who leads
the warriors of Zemaco upon the hills, thou say'st?”
“Quarequa, and another chief—a great chief,” replied
the woman.
“And what name has the other chief, Buru?” demanded
Vasco Nunez.
“Let not my lord ask the woman what she is forbidden
to speak; but let her depart upon her way, up the narrow
path upon the mountain. It were not well that the young
warriors of Zemaco should behold her in the tents of the
Spaniard.”
“Shrewdly spoken, Buru—thou may'st depart; but
thou shalt wear this for my sake around thy neck, so that
when the Spaniard shall meet thee, he will say, this is one
whom Vasco Nunez loves, and will leave thee unharmed.
Nay, fear not—it is the image of the Spaniard's God whom
thou beholdest—one who died a cruel death, Buru, that I
might save thy child if I could, and be kind to his mother.”
“Ah, master!” was the only exclamation of the woman,
as he flung around her neck a little crucifix of silver, with
the image of the dying Jesus attached. The tears trickled
down her cheeks the while, and her thick rising sobs stifled
all her farther efforts at speech. Vasco Nunez himself
conducted her beyond the limits of the camp, and deported
himself the while, without forgetting the air of the superior,
with all the respectful deference of one who feels
how much that is venerable is associated with the idea and
the person of a mother.
“Micer Codro,” he said to the astrologer, at returning,
“our star serves us well at seasons, but I cannot help the
thought which tells me thou hast not yet learned truly to
decipher its language. From thy lips, whatever thou
speakest of my fortune, thy language is ever one of omen
ever been my hope and joy, is ever thy dislike and dread.
What wilt thou say touching the humble and true-hearted
woman of Hayti? Shall I doubt her story? Shall I hold
her an enemy seeking to beguile me into danger—to lull
me to sleep, or blind me against the truth, until I am shorn
of my strength and fall into the hands of my enemies.
Thou wouldst have me, I nothing doubt, reject her story,
and give ear to these cunning savages, who would lure me
with rich gifts and friendly speech, until they find fitting
moment to destroy me.”
“I warn thee, my son,” replied the other, “against
woman,—since I am shown that it is by woman thou wilt
fall at last;—but I tell thee not that all women will do thee
harm, and I say not that some women may not serve thee.
The stars work for man sometimes through hostile aspects,
even as Satan works in the cause of Heaven, even when
he would seem most busy in his own.”
“Then it is still a power beyond their own which brings
goodness to woman, and prompts her to becoming works.
Ah, Codro—I fear me it is in thy memories of youth, and
in the great experience of thy heart in long past years, rather
than in the stars of heaven, that thou seest this ill-favour
in the nature of the woman. But, to the present need
—shall I give ear to these tidings of Buru, and hold these
savages that are to seek me with friendly speech, as I
should hold lying enemies? What aspect shall I put on
before these messengers of the cunning Zemaco?”
“I would not have thee treat them as friends, nor yet
as foes—for the woman may have mistaken the words of
Zemaco, or she may have spoken falsely—”
“No! no!” cried Vasco Nunez hastily, interrupting
the old man—“No, Micer Codro, I should as soon look to
thee for falsehood as to that meek woman of Hayti. But
thy counsel nevertheless is good. I will not treat the savages
as foes,—but I will guard them as if they might be
so. Were I sure that they came on purpose of treachery,
I should give them to the dogs for punishment. Ho
there! Colmenares!”
The lieutenant made his appearance.
“Get thee thy men in readiness—see that their matches
be lighted, and all things prepared for hidden strife. Double
your guards, and let your swords be out, for we may
all but one—who shall bear the tidings back to his master,
of the bad success of this most cunning scheme. He shall
see that his treacherous practice speeds with no better
fortune than his daring. Away—be ready.”
Before the dawn of day, the fifty messengers of Zemaco
appeared in the camp of Vasco Nunez, and so far confirmed
the truth of the tidings brought by Buru. They
were received by the Spanish cavalier with a cold indifference
of manner which effectually concealed from them his
discovery. The preparedness in which the Spaniards
stood for battle, did not alarm them, since, under the command
of Vasco Nunez, the Indians had never found them
otherwise. They delivered up the rich presents which
they brought, and he beheld them placed at his feet with a
countenance that underwent no change. He heard with a
like inflexibility, the glowing protestations of the orator,
who headed the deputation, and described for Zemaco, the
fond and friendly interest which his master entertained in
the fortunes of the Spaniard, in language, the warmth and
exuberance of which, fitly corresponded with its insincerity.
When he had finished, the cavalier regarded his
unsinking, unabashed countenance with a piercing gaze,
that might have made less rigid muscles than those of the
Indian, quiver with shame and apprehension. But the
orator met the glance with a stare of utter immobility.
“What name do they give thee among thy people?”
said Vasco Nunez to the speaker, after a brief pause.
“I am Bacheco,” said the orator, “but my people call
me Canomee-calichee, or the bird that sings in winter.”
“Indeed!” replied the Spaniard with a smile—“I will
cage thee, Bacheco, that I may hear thy voice in summer
also. It should be good at all seasons.”
Then giving a signal to Colmenares and Pizarro, which
had been previously resolved upon, the Indians were in an
instant surrounded by the soldiers, and so sudden and complete
was the surprise that they were disarmed of the consecrated
knives which had been conferred upon each,
before they could think to use them.
“Thou,” said Vasco Nunez to one of the prisoners,
whom he commanded to be released, “thou shalt go back
to Zemaco; tell him that the Spaniard sees into his heart
and knows all its falsehood—that he hath spoken to me
he will not come to me in person. Away! I will be upon
thy steps with the sun of another day.”
The Indian thus released, looked at the Spanish chief
though without obeying him, until a glance from the eye
of the chief of the deputation, Bacheco, the orator for the
occasion, seemed to authorize his departure. Then, bending
almost to the earth, with an air of the profoundest
deference, at the feet of Vasco Nunez, he turned gracefully
from the presence and was soon hidden from sight in the
crowd of gathering shadows that thicken at the coming of
the dawn.
| CHAPTER VII.
THE HAYTIEN MOTHER—THE WINTER BIRD CAGED FOR SUMMER. The damsel of Darien | |