Democratic Sentinel, Volume 19, Number 45, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 15 November 1895 — A COLDEN DREAM [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

A COLDEN DREAM

CHAPTER XI. “What are you laughing at?” “Murder! look at him,” cried Bart, taking his pipe from his lips, “ruffling up like a gamecock. Not laughing at you, my dear boy, but at myself." “Oh!” said Paul, “I thought ” “That 1 was grinning at you for coming on such a wild-goose chase.” “Bart!” “Steady, old man. I tell you I was not, but at myself. My dear old Paul, I can’t afford to laugh at you beoause I am just as bad. Here we are, two days out on the briny sea, tossing about like mad, and I’m bound to confess that it seems quite natural. Only it does seem strange to me. Instead of attending lectures and seeing operations and waiting patiently till six months are over and I can succeed to my.practice, here I am, bound for a savage island in the Caribbean Sea.”

“Nonsense! Savage island! The place is cultivated enough.” “Oh, it is. You’ll see.” “But I realy feel it, Bart. It is kind of you to take this freak into your head. I’ve said nothing before, but I am glad of your companionship, and very grateful.” “Oh, bosh!” “But I am. I never was more astonished in my life than when I came on deck and found you here, just as I was cursing you by my gods as a false friend for not coming to see me off.” “Needn’t thank me.” “What?” “Thank your sister when you write.” “Luce! Her doing?” “To be sure. Said you would be getting yourself scalped by savages or down with fever, and she gave me my orders to come with you as special surgeon and physician in ordinary, to grow you a fresh scalp and administer your Cockle’s pills!” “My darling girl!” “Steady! My darling girl now, if yon please. For it’s all right, Paul. You won’t object, will you ? She is as good as promised me. Wonderful, isn’t it? Such a girl as she is, so—so —so —l don’t know what to say, oh, murder!” For at that moment there wns a heavy thud and a rush. The great steamer hail been smitten on the bows by a wave, and a tremendous shower of spray had drenched the two young men. “Well!” cried Bart, “this is nice, and no umbrella up.” • “Only salt water, man, and it will not hurt you.” “Perhaps not,” replied Bart, pettishly, “but it wets as much as fresh. I don’t like to bathe with all my clothes on. Hang it all! Gone right down my back.” “Let’s get a little more under shelter.” “No, I don’t care; but, Paul, old chnp, you will not mind much, I know. I’m not pretty to look at, but I’ll try to make her the happiest little woman in the world, and there —honor bright, I’ll never try to doctor her myself.” “What?” said Paul, smiling for the first time since he had heard that Aube was to leave Paris. “Well, I mean as some fellows do. I know medical men who try all kinds of experiments on their wives before they give the remedies to their patients.” “My dear Bart,” said Paul warmly, “there’s only one man in the world to whom I would like to see Luce married, and that man is you.” Bart tried to speak, but the words would not come, and he took his friend’s hand, grasped it warmly for a few moments, and then made a dart to get into shelter, for another wave struck the bows. “Going - to have a rough night, seemingly,” said Paul, after a few minutes’ paus ( e. “Looks like it,” replied Bart. “It will be handy my being on board in case of accident.” “Oh, we shall have no accidents.” “So much the better; but now, seeing how rough the weather is, don’t you think we are behaving very well?” “We’ve had good practice, Bart. After all our channel crossings we ought to be trained for any weather.” “To be sure; that’s it. Well, I never thought of that. Come, that’s the only good thing I ever knew come from the channel passage.” ■ “Well, gentlemen,” said a bluff, cheery man in oilskins, “got a bit wet?” “Ah, Captain, I did not know you,” said Paul. “Yes, we had a splashing just now. Is it to be a rough night?” “Oh, nothing bad—nothing particular. Making the boat dance a bit, and the seats a little creepy at dinner. Good sailors I see —you two.” “Don’t halloa till you nre out of the wood,” said Barf, laughing. “We are all right so far.” “If you can stand this you can stand anything. Thanks,” said the Captain, taking the cigar Paul offered. “We shall soon run through it, and then you will have hot sun and smooth water.” The Captain lit his cigar, took a look round, said a few words to the officers in charge, and then came back to the sheltered spot where the two young men were standing, to snloke his cigar and have a chat, for as far as the passengers were concerned, the saloon deck was empty. “So you are going to Hayti, sir?” he said. “Yes,” replied Paul, quietly. “To paint, eh? Well, you’ll never paint the place so black as it deserves.” “Perhaps it is not so black as it is painted,” said Paul, coolly. “Blacker, my dear sir—blacker. You’ll have to take care of yourself.” “Oh, I shall do that.” “Don’t know so much about that,” said the Captain, dryly. “There’s the fever.” “Well,” said Paul, smiling, “I am traveling with the doctor here.” “You are lucky, sir, very lucky.” “Put is the place so very unhealthy?” said Bart. “No, not worse than any of the other islands, sir,” replied the Captain. “Of course everywhere in those seas there are epidemics of old Yellow Jack, and if you are not enreful, you may expose yourself and catch one of the malarious fevers; but the wretched people do everything they can to poison the place. The port is a perfect horror, and I never stay an hour longer than I can help for the sake of my crew.” “But that’s from ignorance^-the place being in such a state.” “Oh. yes, that’s from ignorance, sir,” said the Captain, dryly. “Plenty of that in Hayti. Superstition and brutal immorality, too. Ah, they’re a bad lot.” Bart glanced at Paul, who was paw,

and he tried to change the topic, but the Captain ran on, and it was evident that the young artist was listening eagerly and encouraging the sturdy old salt to tell him everything he could about the island that would be his destination. “I wouldn’t stay long, sir, if I were you,” said the Captain. “The country is lovely, and you’ll pick up some glorious scenes, and some quaint, strange characters to paint; but of all the evil-mind-ed, weak, conceited beggars, that ever existed, they’re about the worst. They believe themselves to be the most civilized people under the sun, while all the time they’re a set of poor, weak, ignorant children —yes, children as far as their brains are concerned, and I don’t know which is the worst—the whites, the blacks, or the colored folk; they’re all as bad as bad can be.” “A nice character you are giving them,” said Paul, uneasily. “Well, sir, they deserve it; they’re as superstitious as the savages of the west coast of Africa. They don’t stop at using knife, pistol, or poison against any one who offends them, and they make the place miserable by their filthy habits.” “ ‘Manners none; customs beastly,’ ” said Bart. “Exactly, sir. The young middy who wrote that might have been describing some of the people of Hayti.” “Pleasant place for us, Paul, old man.” “Take my advice, gentlemen, and don’t go. Try one of the other islands. They're quite ns beautiful, and you may come back safe from them.” “Oh, no we will not alter our plans,” said Bart, after a glance at Paul. “But I say, what is that we read about the Voudoux worship?” “Be on the lookout and try and see for yourselves. It’B a savage kind of faith the blacks brought with them from the west coast of Africa, and the colored folks nnd the whites, some of them, join in it because it is an excuse for drunkenness nnd debauchery. Ah, there are all kinds of rumors about that sort of thing. They have wild feasts at times nnd offer sacrifice. I’m told, to a serpent. Rather a queer idea, that, gentlemen, worshiping the serpent, eh?” “But it would be interesting to investigate all the old superstitions,” said Bart, thoughtfully; “I should not dislike seeing one of their meetings.” “Well, if you go to one, I should advise you to be careful,” said the Captain. “We look down upon that sort of thing as a degrading superstition; but to a fanatical negro under the thumb of his black priest it is a mystery, and he is ready enough to resent any slight upon his religion.” “How?” snid Bart. “Well, they tell me,” said the Captain, “that people who play the spy at their feasts give offense to the serpent, and if they offend it, they are seized with a lingering disease and die.” “Indeed!” said Bart, eagerly. “What disease?”

“Well, sir, if it were in your country, you being a medical man, would be for a post-mortem examination, and it’s my belief that the evidence you would give at the inquest would be that the sufferer died of poison.” “Yes, that is what I supposed,” said Bart. “Of course. All these black people are pretty clever in their knowledge of poisonous plants.” “That’s quite right, so I should advise you to be careful. Take my word for it, Hayti is not the place for ordinary civilized people, especially when we consider they have freed themselves from the white rule, set up one of their own, and in spite of their conceit and contempt for the white races, are going back fast into a state of savage barbarism.” “Poor wretches!” said Bart. “Yes, sir, you are right. The place would be a paradise under a good government; but that is wanting, and all goes wrong. If you keep to your intention, be careful. Don’t say or do anything to hurt their vanity. They think Hayti the finest place in the world, so if you want to get on mind aiid praise everything, especially the native himself.” The Captain had finished his cigar, and Paul offered him another. “No, thank you, not now,” he said. “I must have a few of the loose tackle made fast; we are going to have a rougher night than I thought.” He went forward, and was soon busy giving orders, while the two young men sat in silence under the shelter of the weather bulwarks. “Yes, that’s what I’m most afraid of,” said Bart, suddenly. Paul started. “Of what?” he said. “You did not speak before, did you?” “No, but I was thinking hard.” “What about?” “You, old fellow. I as good as promised Luce that you should not come to harm. Mademoiselle Dulau is very beautiful, and it makes me afraid.” “What are you driviug at?” said Paul, impatiently. “I’ll tell you, old fellow. She is sure to be very much admired, she will have been there month before we arrive, and I fear that you,will be getting into some trouble with these hot-headed—oh, what a blundering fool I am to say a thing like that,” he continued, as Paul sprang up impatiently and walked across the deck and back, “I say, I meant it for the best, old fellow.” “Of course, of course you did,” cried Paul. “But it did sting, Bart, old boy. You are in love, too. and you can feel for me. It is that which I fear, and it is horrible to bear. How do I know to what danger my poor darling may be exposed. What plans her mother may have made, or how she will be situated there. It maddens me, and I call myself fool, idiot, a hundred times, for not going over in the same vessel, even if it had been as a stowaway.” “Oh, nonsense! don’t mind my foolish talk.” “It was the honest truth, man. A whole month parted! Bart, I must get her away from this horrible place at all hazards.” “But it may, not be so bad; and she is with her mother.” “How do I know what sort of a woman'her mother may be? Then there’s Madame Saintone. I distrust and hate that woman.” “Don’t be unjust man. You are not in a position to judge.” “No, lam not. But all this is unbearable, and even the winds and waves are fighting against me.” “And being beaten by our sturdy engines, as we’ll beat the winds and waves of bad fortune. Come, man, don’t make

youraelf miserable by imaginings. I dare say Mademoiselle Dulau’s mother is a very nice, lady-like woman; and if she Is, she will appreciate you, and see that it is all for her child’s happiness. There, cheer up." Paul laid his band upon his friend’s shoulder and gripped his hand. “Thank you, Bart,” he said. “I will hope for the best; but it is hard—very hard work.” As night fell the storm increased, but Paul Lowther heard neither the creaking of the rigging, the hiss of the wind through the ropes, nor the heavy dash of the waves against the steamer’s bows, for there was a mental storm raging within him, and when toward morning he at last fell asleep it was to dream of Aube away in this strange land, exposed to some terrible danger and stretching out her hands to him for help. (To be continued.)