Back Aa

The Dark Road: Further Adventures of Chéri-Bibi

<h4>CHAPTER II</h4> <h4>CHÉRI-BIBI</h4> "Have you left the black hole?" asked the Nut. "Yes," returned Chéri-Bibi, who held in his hand a peculiarly shaped piece of hard wood which he was carving with the point of his knife. It was an appalling face, was Chéri-Bibi's. His amazing adventures, the long years passed in the convict settlement, broken by innumerable escapes, his fierce passions and the martyrdom of the flesh even to the corrosive marks of vitriol, had ravaged that terrible face so that no one could look upon it without a shudder. Nevertheless ever and anon—when his gaze rested upon the Nut for instance—a curious gleam of kindliness would flicker across that death's head. His figure in its entirety, moreover, was extraordinary. His huge fists, his square build, his shoulders which seemed to have been designed for lifting enormous weights, all combined to convey the impression of irresistible strength. When he made an effort the muscles under his convict's jumper stood out in startling prominence. He invariably wore this jumper. No one had ever seen him, as they had seen his fellow-convicts, at work or walking about stripped to the waist. It was said that upon his chest was tattooed the mystery of his life and that these marks expressed the secret of his heart. Chéri-Bibi was a man of great reserve in love affairs. This man, whose crimes were beyond computation, had always possessed, as the phrase goes, irreproachable morals. Chéri-Bibi and the Nut imagined that they were alone. They did not observe the Burglar warily retrace his steps and hide behind a rock in order to keep an eye on them and overhear their conversation. Chéri-Bibi sat down beside the Nut and proceeded with the carving of his piece of wood. "What's that?" asked the Nut. "That's the key to freedom," returned Chéri-Bibi. "What do you say?" exclaimed the Nut, turning pale. Chéri-Bibi heaved a sigh that might have softened the hardest heart. "I like you, old chum, and should have been glad of your company," he said in a voice that failed him somewhat, "but I see clearly enough that you are worrying yourself to death here. Cheer up. You will soon be free. You will be able to go back to France, old man." The Nut knew that when Chéri-Bibi spoke he spoke to some purpose. He believed in him; and he was buoyed up by an immense hope. "Back to France," he gasped. "Twenty-two!" whispered Chéri-Bibi. Twenty-two signified in convict language: "Look out!" The Nut turned his head slightly and caught sight of the figure of a convict guard passing not far away from them, his rifle slung over his shoulder. The man cast a glance in their direction and disappeared, strolling along the sea-front. The Burglar still occupied his post of observation. "I may tell you that I shall provide you with the papers of an honest man. You shall have everything necessary to start afresh and be happy." "Heavens above!" moaned the Nut. He took a long look at Chéri-Bibi. Chéri-Bibi was weeping. The Nut felt a thrill pass through him. Tears in the eyes of Chéri-Bibi! It was a sight to which he was unaccustomed. Chéri-Bibi stuck his fists into his eyes, as a punishment, doubtless, for that moment of weakness, and uttered a frightful oath. "Why don't you get away with me?" asked the Nut. "Because I should be in your way, old man. You'll soon forget all about Chéri-Bibi, I assure you." "Never!" exclaimed the Nut. "You are the only man here who has been decent to me. You have always stood up for me." "Stood up for you! You don't need anyone to stand up for you. Under your somewhat ladylike ways you are as strong as I am. If you had given those fellows who are always jawing at you a sound thrashing they would have soon stopped humbugging you. But you are too much of the gentleman to fight them. For that matter, that's what attracted me to you. I like people who have been well brought up; and then I like an honest man, and you are an honest man. I believe you when you tell me that you are innocent. I remember the time when I hadn't yet used the knife. Oh, it remains impressed on my memory, does that first blow. I always carried a knife in my belt. I was a journeyman butcher in Le Pollet. Do you know Le Pollet? It's near Dieppe. No doubt you've been to the races there in the summer. You were always a smart chap. . . . Why are you so pale again?" "Because I'm thinking of the races at Dieppe," returned the Nut, closing his eyes. "Yes, those were jolly days. Believe me, that was the place for smartly dressed people. The pink of fashion, swagger officials in full fig, and English swells. And the chorus girls, what brazen hussies! . . . But to come back to my first affair with a knife, which happened on the cliff at Dieppe. Some blackguard was about to do in a decent fellow. I arrived on the scene. I tried to get at the blackguard with my knife, but killed the honest man instead. And I was sentenced. Fatalitas! That was the beginning of all my troubles. But I don't want to think about them, nor about France nor anything else. I have perpetrated more murders than there are fingers on my hands. But always with the best intentions! You know what I mean; it was hard luck. Fatalitas! So it's better for me to remain here forever, don't you think? A penal settlement, you see, was made for me; it's my hearth and home. You, you are young, and that's quite another pair of shoes. You can build up a new life. Marry an honest woman and make her happy. Take my advice, and keep away from the other sort of women. You've had your lesson in that particular, I dare say." "You bet!" returned the Nut smiling, greatly astonished to hear such moral sentiments from Chéri-Bibi's mouth. "But you haven't yet told me what you are making." Chéri-Bibi did not answer immediately, but raising his eyes to the jetty, the head of which sheltering the small natural harbor, could be seen, said: "Take a squint yonder." The Nut turned his gaze to the harbor. A large motor launch, evidently from the wood-cutting establishments at St. Laurent-du-Maroni, drew alongside. An officer landed and was received on the jetty by a number of officials. "See what's taking place," went on Chéri-Bibi. "What do you make of it?" "Well," returned the Nut, "it's the officer who has just finished his tour of inspection. They must be asking him for news of the war. It doesn't seem to be good news. They don't look a bit pleased with themselves." "What then?" "The lieutenant is stooping towards the launch." "Ah, there you are," said Chéri-Bibi. "Well, what else?" "The engineer is standing on the deck-house and has handed him something which he is putting in his pocket." "Stop! You've seen enough and now have a look at this." Chéri-Bibi pointed to the piece of wood upon which he was no longer working. "This is an exact copy of the thing that the inspecting officer put in his pocket. Do you know what that thing is? It is an indispensable part of the motor, and without it the engine won't go. When he has it in his pocket he is easy in his mind. There's no hope of the convicts making use of the launch. When I went on fatigue duty to St. Laurent I had the opportunity of examining that part. I assure you that this one is the fellow to it, and if anything is missing, I'll make it this evening." "This evening!" exclaimed the Nut. "Yes, old man, you shall be free this evening, I give you my word. I've finished digging a hole in my hut. We shall see some fun this evening. Look out! . . . Warders coming. They're sounding the fall in." The two men sprang up. The Nut was behind Chéri-Bibi, quivering with a new hope. They went off to line up with the other men of their section in a sunk road which was dominated by a government office. It was here that they were employed in laying out a new road across the island. During the whole of that day every movement by the Nut and Chéri-Bibi was spied upon by the Burglar, and not a word was exchanged by them which was not either overheard or guessed by him. The Burglar said, between times, to the Parisian, the Caid and the Joker: "Hold yourself in readiness. Something's going to happen to-night when we're having a game of dice." After the last muster at six o'clock the convicts turned their steps towards their prison almost with an air of cheerfulness. The day's work was done. The men were then locked up in their prison, which consisted of one large dormitory, and were left to do as they pleased, sleep or drink or play games, free from the presence of the guards. Chéri-Bibi, the Nut, the Parisian, the Burglar, the Caid and the Joker shared the same dormitory with some twenty other men. That evening the officer made a tour of inspection. Standing in line in front of a double row of hammocks, they listened to his remarks. He told them that he would not allow any noise in the prison. They might consider themselves in their own homes, with doors closed, but they were there for sleeping purposes, and if any complaint was made against them, he would send the entire section to the cages in the main building. Before leaving he asked: "Has any man anything to bring to my notice?" The Nut stepped forward. "There's a rumor, monsieur, that bad news has been received from France." "What interest can that be to you?" returned the officer harshly. "Men like you have nothing more to do with France." The Nut grew pale. A threatening murmur swept through the ranks. The guards enforced silence by drawing their revolvers. Nevertheless one of the men could not refrain from shouting: "Give us a rifle and you'd soon see that we know how to die like other men." "You are not fit to shoulder a rifle," retorted the officer, and he walked away. The door closed after him. The convicts raised their clenched fists in the air. A tumult of oaths filled the dormitory. The Nut flung himself into his hammock and covered his face with his hands. For men like the Nut, who had been laid low by the hand of fate, the hours spent in the dormitory, however popular they might be with other men because of the absence of all restraint, were undoubtedly the most merciless which human justice could inflict. The herding together of these men was an abominable sight. Every passion and vice, kept alive by drink and gambling, had full rein. It was a veritable inferno. Fortunately for the Nut fate, which was so cruel in other respects, had vouchsafed Chéri-Bibi to him as his comrade. His presence and the terror which he inspired forced the men to leave the Nut comparatively undisturbed. As he lay in his hammock, he closed his eyes to shut out the vision of those hideous faces, but he could not stop his ears. And it was too awful. Bottles of rum, playing cards, money, appeared from no one knew where, and the nightly revel began. Chéri-Bibi lifted one of the slabs with which the floor of the prison was paved without troubling about what was taking place around him. A gaping cavity stood revealed before him, and he descended it. For the last two months he had been digging at that outlet. Once he broke off his work to get himself sent to solitary confinement for a week in order quietly to finish carving the piece of wood which would enable him to make use of the motor launch. When he was digging at his hole his fellow-convicts helped him in the morning to remove the earth which had collected during the night, so that the warders might not perceive anything unusual. He promised them that when his plan was completed there would be an opportunity for any of them to escape if they had a mind for it. He did not enter into any further explanation, and they let him go his own way, wondering what it was that he was about to attempt. The Parisian and his gang did not betray him for many reasons, not the least of which was that Chéri-Bibi had declared that if they gave him away he would know who did the deed, and, in any case, even if the Parisian and the Burglar were innocent, he would cook their goose for them. Another reason was that the Parisian and his friends were themselves cherishing the idea of flight. They retained the hope that Cheri-Bibi's scheme, when they knew it in its entirety, would be useful to them. That evening, seated on their kit-bags, in a corner, the Parisian, the Burglar, the Caid and the Joker watched Chéri-Bibi as he slipped into his underground passage. "Will your hole be ready soon?" asked the Joker. "Give me another week," returned Chéri-Bibi, as he disappeared from view. The four convicts fished out their dice and began to play in the dismal light of the lanterns hanging from the prison roof. Darkness had fallen, for night comes quickly in tropical countries. In every part of the dormitory men began to play games. Some of them were at cards. Bottles were opened and the pungent odor of rum permeated the air. The Nut was seemingly asleep in his hammock. "Chéri-Bibi is lying to you," whispered the Burglar to his three confederates. "Chéri-Bibi is tricking us. He's going to do the job to-night. He'll get out through his underground passage, and put off in the motor launch. He has found some dodge of making the engine go. The Nut is to follow him in half an hour when he's ready to start the engine. But our pals will prevent the Nut from getting away, and it's we who'll do a guy. When Chéri-Bibi finds that the Nut doesn't turn up he'll come back to fetch him, and we'll take the opportunity of jumping into the launch, and off we'll go!" The plot was cleverly contrived. The other "jail-birds" were furious when they learned that Chéri-Bibi was putting them off, and held themselves in readiness to act on a signal from the Burglar. The Nut pretended to be asleep. Nevertheless he was consumed by a feeling of intense excitement. At that terrible and decisive moment his thoughts turned to his mother, who had died of grief, and he prayed to her—his mother! He thought of the golden days of his youth. He lived the past over again. He beheld the radiant picture of himself when life smiled at him and he had but to stoop to pluck its most fragrant flowers. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

1 of 2

2 of 2

Update Required To play the media you will need to either update your browser to a recent version or update your Flash plugin.