“I disagree,” said Smith, “if ever I saw a eunuch, he is one. Think of our Arabic! No, I prefer the mulatto.”
“But, Smith, it’s madness!”
“In an emergency, Kerrigan, madness is sometimes sanity.”
I resigned myself. We entered the gateway and moved to the left of the barrier. Glancing back I saw that a few stragglers, all Haitians, were coming down the slope. As we approached the mulatto I saw directly in front of us the black lovers. Six or seven others preceded them. Smith bent to my ear: “You see, Kerrigan,” he whispered, “it is unnecessary to strip!”
But I had seen, and the sight had afforded me a momentary relief. Two figures at least, at right and left, were those of men dressed much as we were dressed. Others were there who had thrown off the yoke and gleamed black beneath the moon. But we were not alone.
“Watch closely,” Smith whispered. “All turns on the man not identifying us. Next, stick to Arabic. Finally, if challenged, shoot him.”
I watched those who had been allowed to pass the barrier. They had all exhibited some token which they held in their hands. An interrogatory seemed to follow; then, making an odd gesture to the forehead, they were allowed to pass.
“Note that salute,” muttered Smith.
When the Negro and Negress approached the mulatto we were close behind them.
He concentrated his fierce gaze upon them, ignoring us. The man opened his hand: the girl touched an amulet which hung upon her breast. The mulatto spoke rapidly in the strange patois which I had been unable to learn, but Smith was listening intently. He pressed his lips almost against my ear: “Stick to Arabic,” he reiterated.
And as the Negro and Negress went through, we followed.
Those fierce eyes were fixed upon me. They glittered fierily in the light of surrounding torches, and I confess that my heart sank. Silently I held out the serpent amulet. The mulatto glanced at it; then his evil gaze returned to my face, and suddenly he addressed me in English!
‘“What is your name and number?” he demanded. “From what place do you come?”
Thrown temporarily off my guard, I believe I was about to answer him in the same language, when Smith kicked my ankle so hard that I stifled a cry. But he saved the situation.
“
And as I spoke. Smith threw his left arm about my shoulders and held out in his right palm the seven-pointed star.
“
The result smacked of magic. The mulatto fell into that curious pose adopted by the women at the rest- house, his hands pressed to his breast, his head bowed. Smith gave the salute which he had noted.
We were through.
Aswe walked across the enclosed space towards the temple of Voodoo: “I have taken special note of the fact,” said Smith, “that owing to the position of the moon, one side of the stockade casts a complete shadow for some ten feet out from its base. That is the spot to make for.”
We gained the shadow belt unmolested. Drawing a deep breath I looked about me. There were, as I have said, many torches and some lanterns. I saw now that they were distributed in a rough circle before the building, which on closer inspection proved to be a sort of shrine embedded in the trees. Before it was a platform, or dais, flanked by tall masts resembling totem poles. Double doors, massively carved and brightly painted, gave on to this platform. Right and left of these doors, which were closed, stood two motionless figures as if sculptured in ebony. By the light of the full moon pouring down upon them, I recognized the forest lovers!
Drums, although I could not see the drummers, continued their sinister throbbing. And now, all those summoned presumably being present, torches and lanterns were extinguished, the drum throbs died away. A voice cried out in a tongue which I had never heard spoken. The double doors swung open.
A sort of rapturous sigh passed through the multitude. With complete unanimity, they dropped to their knees and bowed their heads. A woman came into the moonlight, and I knew that she was the Queen Mamaloi . . .
CHAPTER XXXII
THE SMELLING-OUT
Her hair was hidden by a high, jewelled headdress; jewels all but covered slim, bare arms: a girdle resembling those seen in Ancient Egyptian pictures, glittering with gems, hung from her waist. There, radiant in silver light, from proud head to curving hips, to little sandalled feet, I saw an ivory statue—a statue of Isis. The deep-toned drums entirely ceased to beat. Every man and every woman who gathered before the temple fell prone. A long queerly modulated phrase, a moaning sigh, passed like a breeze among the worshippers.
I was dumbfounded, fascinated, swept for a moment into a mystic vortex which her presence had created. She stood no more than twenty paces away, wholly bathed in the radiance of the moon; and I looked, as if hypnotized, into the brilliant jade-green eyes of Queen Mamaloi, the witch woman, high priestess of Voodoo— Koreani, Dr. Fu Manchu’s daughter!
Smith pulled me down just within that fraction of a second which otherwise might have shown me standing alone. Earlier I had knelt to a priest: I lay now prostrate before a sorceress!
His grasp on my arm warned me to be silent.
She spoke, in Haitian, in French, and in some other language which I had never heard spoken before, save by that voice which had announced her coming. But the sound of it seemed to act upon her listeners like a maddening drug. They moaned, cried out inarticulately; they gesticulated as they rose to their knees. Smith drew very near.
‘The Unknown Tongue,” he whispered; “the secret language of Voodoo.”
Korean! had a bell-like voice—this I remembered; a voice which, because of its production and unusual quality, was audible from a distance: in short, the voice of a trained elocutionist and of one who might have been a great actress. Her speech was accompanied by a subdued but passionate throbbing of unseen drums.
More and more, as she spoke, I appreciated the power of the spirit driving her. Here was a mastery comparable with that of Dr. Fu Manchu. French, Haitian (of which I knew little enough), in turn were discarded, so that presently Korean! spoke altogether in the Unknown Tongue—of which I knew nothing. Frenzy grew upon her audience until some among the throng might have been said to have become possessed. They groaned, gnashed their teeth, contorted their bodies. The substance of the address I found difficulty in tracing, but the danger to the community represented by this woman’s influence was all too apparent.
Suddenly, in obedience to some command from theQueen Mamaloi, all threw themselves upon their knees; faces buried in hands they began to pray fervently. Koreani, silent, statuesque, stood with uplifted arms.
“She has asked them to pray for a sign from Damballa the Snake God,” whispered Smith. “I suspect that the real purpose of this ceremony is about to become evident.”
But even he could not foresee the miracle we were to witness. The drums became silent.
Thanks to the position which Smith had taken up we stood, as I have mentioned, in deep shadow cast by the stockade. We should become visible only if the ring of torches were lighted again before the temple. Within this ring devotees were writhing on the ground in an ecstasy of supplication. Koreani stood motionless, her brilliant eyes raised to the moon.
And, magically, those supplications were answered.
A harsh, guttural voice spoke. Smith’s sudden grip on my arm made me wince. The opening words were unintelligible; but, following them, came a phrase in Haitian: finally, in French, the imperious voice declaimed: “I, Damballa, have been called. I answer. I am here among you, but your blind eyes cannot see me. I come because there are traitors here, spies—those who work not for the glory of the African races, but for gain to themselves. Tonight there shall be a great smelling-out. True men, stand fast. Spies—I shall find you! To me, my servants. Damballa speaks.”
The jewel-laden ivory arms of Korean! dropped to her sides. I saw her clenched hands. The Negro and Negress right and left of the painted doorway seemed to be stricken immobile. Stupefaction silenced every prayer. There was movement—then stillness, broken only by panting breaths. Although the speaker seemingly stood beside the high priestess, no one was there.
