University of Virginia Library

10. CHAPTER X.

Let us now return to our Maroon. Three days
upon his desolate island did not materially lessen its
terrors, or increase its attractions, in the eyes of
Lopez de Levya. He still shuddered, not less at its
fanciful and unknown dangers than at his isolation
among them. But the necessity of looking about
him—of looking upward, indeed—of feeling himself
in motion, and realizing, as thoroughly as he could,
the sense of life, as well as its consciousness of suffering—led
him, at the end of this period, to make an
effort, which, in his previous feeling of despair, he
had never thought it possible he should make again.
The nature, even of the constitutionally timid man,
does not easily succumb to fortune—does not usually
—except, perhaps, in the first moment of overthrow,
yield itself submissively to fate. The first moment of
weariness which succeeds the contest, is, perhaps, the
one of greatest prostration; and, after that, the recuperative
energies arouse themselves and the sufferer
together. The very sense of abandonment is usually
one of awakening and new resolve. This is one of
the marked characteristics of the human nature.
Indeed, the natural impulse of every free moral agent

is resistance. To oppose, to struggle farther—to
contend to the last, and even where consciousness of
the conflict itself fails—is one of the earliest, as it is
one of the most necessary developments of the moral
instinct. Combativeness, indeed, is one of the most
important of our moral qualities. It is one which—
arguing always the presence of a great and pressing
necessity—is, at the same time, continually counselling
the means by which to contend against it.

Lopez de Levya, though feeble, was not entirely
wanting in the natural instinct; and, armed with the
Spanish crossbow, and the shafts which had been accorded
him—a spear, a knife, and one or two other
implements of use and necessity, which might, in the
event of exigency, be converted into weapons—he
now proceeded to explore his empire. A sense of his
possessions was also rapidly beginning to make itself
felt in his reasonings. That delightful human instinct
which, in the consciousness of sway, reconciles us so
readily to all its dangers, was about to contribute its
assistance toward comforting our Maroon in his desolation.
He was, indeed, a sovereign, though he commanded
no subjects. Yet, the wild-fowl which sped
along the shore before his footsteps, or sprang aloft,
wheeling in slow gyrations overhead, as he drew nigh
their coverts, might be made to feel his authority as
well as to minister to his wants. He could persecute,
punish, and destroy them, quite as certainly, and certainly
with less danger to himself, than if they were
of his own species; and a sense of fierce delight at
this consciousness of his power to do mischief, was

grateful to his heart, as it always is to that of the
being who is himself peculiarly sensible to the influences
of fear. He was beginning to regard with
complacency a condition from which there was no
escape. A thousand years might elapse, as Velasquez
had malignantly assured him, without suffering the
prows of any European vessel to approach so nearly
to his islet as to discover the existence of its lone possessor.
He must make the most of that existence.
He must hoard, must economize his resources, as well
of thought and enjoyment, as of covering and food.
He must not destroy his subjects simply to exercise
his authority. His power must be sparingly indulged
for his own sake and safety. He laid aside his guitar
with care and tenderness, protecting it from hurt and
exposure, by hanging it beneath the friendly palm-trees
where he had passed the night. In the first
paroxysm of his despair and madness, conscious that
this dangerous but delightful instrument was connected
with his present sufferings, he was about to dash it
upon the bleak sands and trample it under foot, or
cast it from him into the engulfing and surrounding
sea. He knew not, himself, why he forbore to do so.
Some tender recollection in his thought procured its
safety;—some conviction that it might minister to
him in his wretched exile;—and the desperate passion
which might have destroyed it—was restrained. Yet
bitter were the tears that he shed over it, as, arousing
from the swoon that followed the departure of the
vessel from his eyes, he found the cruel memorial still
about his neck, where it had been hung by the mocking
hands of his enemy. With the subdued temper
that followed the first feeling of his despair, the instrument
became doubly precious, as it not only spoke
of future solace, but reminded him of former enjoyments.
It constituted one of the few moral links
which connected him still with the great family of
man. He lacked the courage to part with any of his
treasures, and the care with which he secreted his
favorite instrument beneath the palm-trees, was that
of the tender mother who leaves her infant for
awhile, solicitous of its comfort even while she has no
fears for its safety; and sometimes looking back, not
with any hope to see, but that her eyes involuntarily
yield themselves to the course indicated by her heart.

This charge disposed of, Lopez de Levya grasped
his spear with as much martial dignity as he could
command. He felt for his knife at his girdle, he
slung the crossbow over his shoulder, and, ready for
any event, he sallied forth to explore his empire.
But though his territory was a small one, such as an
adventurous spirit would have traversed wholly, and
surveyed thoroughly, in the course of a single day, our
Maroon was quite too timid, too cautious in his footsteps,
not to make it a work of longer time. Several
days were necessary to his examination. He proceeded
slowly, and winding heedfully about, and
probing every copse before he penetrated it, he first
assured himself against any possible danger from
secret foes, before he made his search satisfactory.
His domain was equally ample and compact; not
wanting in variety, but having its elevations of rock,

and its valley of verdure, and its long wastes and
stretches of sand, in a comparatively close compass.
The islet was not, as it had been thought by Velasquez,
a mere series of sand-hills, raised up by the
sea, the creation of its own contending billows. It
was a solid rock, whose gradual ascent, nowhere
rising into more than a very gentle elevation, admitted
of the easy accumulation of sand and soil, which, in
process of time, had in various places received a
covering of very green and beautiful vegetation. The
shrubbery was rather close than lofty. Among the
trees were the plantain, the cocoanut, the breadfruit,
and the banana. The pineapple grew in gold and
purple, unobserved by man; and slender vines, which
shot out from the knotted and ancient bulbs, from
crevices of the rock, ran wantonly over the sides of
sudden hillocks, which they garnished with blue clusters
of the grape. Verily, our musician had an empire
in truth. Velasquez little dreamed of the treasure
he had given away in his malice. The sterile
islet was a principality of fairy land, and Lopez de
Levya grew more and more reconciled to life as he
beheld the wealth which lay scattered around him.
His possessions were beyond his wants. Nature had
made ample provision, and millions might have been
found, among the needy and oppressed children of
Europe, to whom a life of exile and isolation in such
an abode, would have been the most acceptable boon
of Heaven. Nor were these vegetable possessions all
that came to Lopez with his empire. Tribes of small
wild animals wantoned before his footsteps, scarcely
seeming to fear his presence; and the nimble little
marmozet of the tropics, with a petty, playful mischief,
darting before him as he came, would fling the
nuts from the tree-tops, and chatter, in equal fun and
defiance, at his sovereign authority. Our Maroon
began to grow interested in his possessions, and fate
soon conducted him to other discoveries. His island,
stretching away from north to south, was exceedingly
long in proportion to its width. He had been landed
at the northern extremity, at which point it had been
impossible to conceive its dimensions, except from its
width, and this had led to conclusions which gave no
reason to suppose its extent to be half so great as
Lopez found it. At the close of the third day of his
explorations, he had nearly reached its southern extremity.
He had found the land gradually to rise as
he advanced, until, toward the close, taken in comparison
with the uniform level of the sand and sea
surrounding the spot to which he approached, and by
which the island was terminated in this quarter, he
discovered what might be considered a moderate mountain.
It was certainly a large and imposing hill, seen
from the low shores or the waters which surrounded
them. Here, too, the groves thickened into something
like a forest. Heated by his ramble, and somewhat
fatigued, as the day was wearing to its close, he
passed gladly for shelter into the shady recesses of its
heights. He soon found himself in one of the coolest
realms of shade which he had ever traversed. A
natural pathway, as it seemed, conducted him forward.
Gradually advancing, he at length emerged from the
thicket only to stand upon the brow of a rugged eminence,
which rose almost perpendicularly, overlooking
the sea. A small flat of sandy beach lay at his feet,
which was evidently subject to overflow at the rising
of the tide. Not half a mile beyond could be seen a
small cluster of little rocks, just peering above the
sea, scarcely bigger, it would seem, than so many
human heads, which the waves covered at high water.
Between them, he could distinguish the boiling and
striving of the billows, which sent up a sheeted
shower far above the rocks with which they strove.
Long lines, stretching from several points, and losing
themselves among these rocks, betrayed the course of
strong currents, which were caused by the capricious
whirlpools that lay within their embrace. The eye
of Lopez took in all these objects, but they did not
bound his survey. Stretching far beyond—did he
only fancy, or did he really behold a slender dark
speck, which might be the outline of a shore corresponding
with that on which he stood?—miles of
ocean lay between them, but in that unclouded realm
of sunshine and of calm, objects might be seen from
an eminence, such as that on which he stood, at a surprising
distance. It was only in glimpses now that he
beheld, or fancied, the object in his gaze. Sometimes
it would utterly disappear—but this might be from the
continued and eager tension of his vision;—again would
it grow out boldly beneath his eyes;—but this might be
in obedience only to the desires of his mind. Long and
feverishly did he watch, and many were his conjectures
as to the distant empire which his hope or his
sight had conjured up. He turned away, and his
glances rested upon the smooth plain of yellow sand
beneath his feet, which lay inviting to his tread, glistening
a thousand fires from bits of crystal, which reflected
the now waning sunlight. To this little esplanade,
which looked so exceedingly inviting, our Maroon
was persuaded to descend from his heights, by finding
a convenient series of rude steps, which wound below
—little gaps in the hill-side, or fractures in the naked
rock, which one might almost be tempted to imagine
—so admirable was the assistance which they gave to
the anxious footsteps—had been the work of art.
Following these, Lopez descended to the hard and
sandy floor, and standing in the shadow of the rock,
he once more looked forth eagerly upon the doubtful
waste of sea. There still lay the empire of his desire.
It was along, and over those billows that he was yet
to see the glimmer of a saving hope. Such was still
his dream, and, seating himself upon the sand, he inscribed
almost unconsciously the names of Spain, of
the Dian de Burgos, and of the lowly hamlet in his
own country, from which he had been persuaded regretfully
to wander. Then followed rude outlines of
the ship which had abandoned him, and then, naturally
enough, a portrait, something less rude, of the
fair but passionate woman, for whose fatal love he
was suffering the dreadful doom of exile and isolation.
His own name was written, but as quickly obliterated,
and musing over the melancholy record, his heart
failed him, and he sank forward, prone, upon the faint
memorials which the rising waters would soon wash
away forever. Thus he lay moaning for many weary
minutes, till all at once a coldness fell upon him
which chilled him to the heart, and aroused him to
more immediate apprehensions. The shadow of the
hill beneath which he lay was upon him. The sun
was slowly receding from the heights. Starting to
his feet, he turned to reascend the hill, and recoiled
with a feeling little short of horror, as he beheld the
huge mouth of a cavern yawning directly upon him.
This cavern was open to the sea. Its waters, at their
rising, passing the little stretch of sand upon which
he had lain, glided into the dim hollow, which now
looked grimly threatening upon the easily alarmed
spectator. The opening was not a very large one,
but would easily admit of the passage of three or more
persons at a time. Its lips were covered with a soft
and beautiful clothing of green moss, which made the
darkness within seem yet more dismal. Long grasses,
and thick shrubs and vines hanging over from above,
contributed to increase the solemnity of its aspect, as
showing the depth and certainty of its solitude; and
the deep silence which prevailed within, added still
more greatly to the impressive influence with which it
possessed the soul of the Maroon, while he timidly
yet eagerly gazed upon the opening. At the first
discovery of this domain of solemnity and silence, he
receded almost to the sea. He was not encouraged
by the stillness. A voice from within, the cry of a
beast, the rush of a bird's wing—had been more encouraging.
His advance was very gradual—but he
did advance, his doubts being much less easy of endurance
than the absolute presence of a real cause of
apprehension. With trembling nerves he presented
his spear, and got his knife in readiness. The spear
was thrust deep into the throat of the cavern, but it
provoked no disquiet within. Then, his hair erecting
itself, and his heart rising in his throat as he advanced,
he at length fairly made his way into the subterranean
dwelling. There he shouted, and the sounds
came rolling back upon him from so many hollow
voices within, that he once more recoiled from the
adventure, and hurried back in terror to the entrance.