CHAPTER I NICKY AND THE VOODOO WOMAN
“What is the matter with that colored boy?” whispered Nicky Lane to hiscomrades, Tom and Cliff, “Look! He stares up at the sun and then hewatches us as if he expects something to happen.”
Cliff and Tom lifted their heads from the shallow pit in which they weredigging. A glance toward the top rail of the fence around the fieldshowed them a black-faced boy of about ten, perched there. As theystared at him he looked away.
“He’s only curious to know what we are doing,” Tom declared.
“All these Jamaica colored folks are,” Cliff added. “They can’tunderstand why we want to find old relics.”
“But why does he look up at the sun?” Nicky persisted. “See! He’s doingit now.”
The boy gave a glance toward the sun, about two hours high, and thenresumed his intent stare toward the trench. Nicky leaned on his spadehandle and glowered back.
“Do you suppose he expects us to be sun-struck?” Cliff suggested. “Onlyit isn’t hot enough yet, and we’re not working hard.”
“I don’t know,” Tom declared, “but I wish I did. He seems to befidgeting and nervous.”
“I’m going to find out!” exclaimed Nicky. Of the trio of chums he wasthe most excitable and impulsive. As he dropped his spade and strodetoward the fence, its occupant tumbled off; scrambling to his feet heran out of sight around the side of an old, ramshackle cabin in a cornerof the enclosure.
“That’s a funny one,” Cliff observed when Nicky returned.
They discussed the strange actions of the colored boy for a moment butsince there was no explanation they went back to work.
Nicky Lane was on a holiday with his two bosom companions. The AmadaleMilitary Academy, which they all attended, had been closed because therewas an epidemic of “flu” in the suburb of a mid-Western city in whichthe school was located.
Most of the students had gone to their homes. Cliff Gray lived with hisAunt Lucy in the very suburb most affected by the epidemic; Tom andNicky were boarding there also. Cliff’s father, whom the boys had helpedto rescue from detention among some Incas of Peru, in an old hidden Incacity among the Andes, was, at this time, exploring and studying in theisland of Jamaica, among the West Indies. He was a great scholar and astudent of old civilizations and was writing some chapters of a book onthe Carib Indians, the original inhabitants of the islands when Columbusdiscovered them.
Cliff’s Aunt Lucy thought it would be wise for Cliff to join his father,to be well away from danger of infection; because the three chums wereinseparable, consent was easily secured for Tom and Nicky to go withhim. The three friends had been residing on a plantation in the heart ofthe island for nearly a week. There, with Cliff’s father and a youngman, Clarence Neale, who was securing Carib relics for a great Museum ofIndian History in New York, they tried to help out by searching forCarib pottery and ornaments. Jamaica had a great lure for them, forNicky, a “pirate bug,” called Jamaica “Pirates’ Paradise!”
This interest was not due to any desire on Nicky’s part to be a wild,fierce seadog, sailing from some port with letters of marque, to pillageunprotected ships. The days for such things lay far in the past andalthough Nicky was excitable and impulsive he was, at heart, a verysteady, sincere boy, a true American living up to the ideals of all thatAmerican boyhood means.
But in Nicky’s family there was an old paper which was a direct messageto one of his ancestors from no less a person than the alleged pirate,Captain Kidd!
Naturally Nicky, scarcely more than fourteen, was elated when he knewthat he was permitted to accompany Cliff Gray, with their comrade, Tom,slightly older than either, to the island which had once been governedby a reformed pirate, in the heart of the West Indies where once piracyhad flourished.
They found very little more than legends and old tales to whet theirinterest. Piracy had given place to commerce on the seas, as sailingships had surrendered to steam. And so, instead of digging for buriedtreasure, on the sixth morning of their visit, they had found themselvesdigging carefully in a corner of an uncultivated field, to unearthbroken bits of earthenware, possibly some small ornaments, or otherrelics of the Caribs who once roamed the island.
Digging early to avoid the mid-day heat during which everybody was quietand inactive, they had discovered the unaccountable interest of thecolored boy and when he had scuttled away they returned to their workwondering a little about it.
“When we rescued your father from the Incas and got some of their goldthe whole business started with a mystery, Cliff.” Tom referred to anadventure during the previous summer in which they had explored a hiddencity in Peru and gone through many exciting escapades.
“Wouldn’t it be odd if that boy started up a new mystery?” Nickysuggested. “We’re right in the heart of mystery land. Voodoo—piracy inthe past—and—and everything!”
“Look—but don’t let him see you!” Cliff nudged his comrades. “By theright side of that old cabin—there’s our ‘boy-friend!’”
Sure enough, the ebony face protruded around the old shack that stood inthe field, not far from their trench.
“Listen, fellows,” whispered Nicky, “there is something queer aboutthis. How can we get hold of him and make him tell us what he expects isgoing to happen. He’s just looked up at the sun again!”
“You pretend to chase him,” Tom advised. “When he disappears and is outof sight I will go the other way and head him off.”
Nicky promptly started toward the boy, who ran away around the cabin.Tom lost no time in taking a direction around the other side of theshack. There was a shrill yell of fear and the sound of a scuffle, andback came Nicky and Tom, almost dragging a terrified colored boy.
Cliff joined them close to the cabin.
“Now,” said Nicky, “we’re not going to hurt you. But you tell us whatmade you look at the sun and then watch us!”
The boy was silent. Suddenly he began to wriggle and to struggle and allthree took hold of him. They did not intend to harm him but his actionshad their curiosity fully aroused.
“Here! White boys! Let that colored boy alone, do you hear!”
A shrill, cracked voice came from the cabin. The three white chumshesitated, looking at one another and then at the cabin.
In its doorway stood an old, bent woman, who seemed to be all skin andbones. Her face looked like crinkled, black parchment, dry and wrinkled.Her hands were skinny and had long nails and clawlike fingers. Sheleaned on a stick and made them all think of pictures of witches theyhad seen. Her eyes blazed at them.
A little frightened by the old crone’s evident fury, they let go of theboy who scuttled past the woman into the shack.
“We didn’t hurt him,” Nicky said defiantly. “He was—” and he told herhow the boy had acted. “We wanted to know why he did it,” he ended.
The woman scowled at them.
“You know very quick,” she said in her shrill, cracked tones. “You goaway or sun make you very sick in the head!”
“Ho!” cried Nicky, “will it? Who says so?”
“Sh-h-h!” Tom nudged him. “Don’t you remember what Cliff’s father toldus about Voodoo on these islands?”
“Yes, I do,” Nicky answered under his breath. “But I’m not afraid! Whydoes she want us to go away? What is there in this field that shedoesn’t want us to see?”
“It’s Voodoo, I tell you!” Tom urged. “These old Voodoo witches canenchant people.”
“Do you really believe that?” demanded Nicky. The old woman was fumblingand tugging at an old bag, dirty and of some queer animal or reptileskin, as he spoke.
“Well—” Tom hesitated, “I know they say it’s only the effect on ignorantminds that makes Voodoo hurt people.”
“Well, it can’t hurt me!” declared Nicky, “And, as I say—why would shewant to ‘voodoo’ us—white fellows and strangers?”
“I think Nicky’s right,” Cliff declared. “Sh
e must have some reason.”
“Listen,” whispered Nicky, excitedly, “one of you run and bring Mr. Grayor the other man—Mr. Neale. Let’s get to the bottom of this. I’ll giveyou any odds you like that she is trying to drive us away becausesomething’s hidden in this field—maybe—maybe——”
“Treasure!” gasped Cliff and ran like a deer for the older members oftheir party. Treasure!