Sir Arthur had set out in pursuit of an enemy, but he had no idea where to locate his foe. Ahead of him were spread thousands of acres of thick jungle, of rugged hills and high mountains. Somewhere in this silent and desolate fastness was a group of men and women who defied his authority, but he would have to find them before he could fight them. He had hoped the Maroons would come out of their lair and meet him in open battle on the Liguanea Plain. As they had not, he would chase them into the deepest part of the jungle, follow them to the most inaccessible peaks of the mountains.
It was midafternoon before the kettles were sent to the rear and the companies re-formed. The men muttered uneasily when word was passed down the line that the march would be continued up into the hills, for they had heard rumors that the unseen men of the Maroons dabbled in witchcraft and were endowed with supernatural powers.
The cavalry was forced to break its rigid formation when it reached the soursop trees that marked the edge of the forest, and the squadron strung itself out in a single line behind a sweating, cursing sergeant who first tried from the back of his mount to cut away some of the tangled underbrush and the overhanging creepers but was finally forced to dismount and lead the way on foot.
One man armed with only a saber could not cope with the dense foliage, however, and soon half a dozen others joined in slashing away the thick growth. The brigade crept forward slowly, but it was dusk before the quartermaster and his supply train, bringing up the rear, left the open plain and plunged into the gloomy, sweet-sour-smelling tropical jungle. By this time the column was spread out over half a mile.
Without warning, there was bedlam. An infantryman, one of the first behind the advancing cavalry troopers, uttered a piercing scream, threw his hands high in the air, and crumpled to the heavily trampled weeds. Those behind him and in front of him needed only one glance to know that he was dead; from his neck projected the feathered tail of a six-inch arrow.
A second man screamed and fell, then a third. The cavalry promptly halted, and several officers fired their pistols. Farther back in the column jumpy soldiers raised their muskets and answered the fire, and for five minutes the brigade fought itself. Only the coolness of the captain of cavalry and two lieutenant colonels of infantry prevented the Crown troops from wiping each other out.
Orders were given to open fire to the left and to the right of the column, and the nervous soldiers responded with a will. For fifteen minutes their muskets made the early evening hideous with the sound of firing, and the leaves of the trees trembled. There was no answering fire from the unseen foe, however, and though the frightened men of the brigade were sure they saw shapes looming behind almost every tree, there was no positive indication that even a single Maroon was in the black recesses of bamboo thicket or giant mushroom weed. Sir Arthur, frustrated and angry, reluctantly gave the order to retreat, and the brigade turned about and slowly worked its way back to the Liguanea Plain. Significantly, there were no more attacks on the column, and the meaning was lost on no one: the troops would not be molested if they remained clear of Maroon territory.
The sounds of musket fire were heard clearly in the Maroon village on Stony Hill, and a hush settled over the community. The women of the warriors remained in their homes, seeking to dispel their uneasiness by remaining close to familiar places and objects. The old men gathered in small groups and conversed in low tones, each trying to pretend a casualness he was far from feeling and each making valiant efforts to conceal his interest in what went on in the vicinity of the commander's house. So far no runners or messengers from Arnold had appeared there, but the elders were prepared to remain where they were and to indulge in meaningless conversation until such time as word arrived on the progress of the battle.
At the house of Arnold and Myra, Jeremy Stone hurriedly completed some simple preparations. In his pocket was sufficient dried beef and roasted, ground wheat for two days; this, combined with the fruits he could pick on his journey, would be enough food to see him into Port Royal. And inside his shirt, enclosed in a roll of heavy paper which he had oiled with animal fat, were the maps of the country which he had so laboriously copied from Arnold's.
His clothes were ragged and his Maroon-made boots were thin, but there was no chance to acquire more suitable clothing. Now, as he strapped on a long sword of fine Toledo steel that he had taken from the Maroon arsenal, he thought of the note he had written to the commander, promising to return the sword, a pistol, and an ornate powder horn.
All was in readiness, and he debated with himself fiercely and for the last time whether to say good-by to Janine. He could not take her with him, so it would be easier if he simply left without seeing her again. Tightening his belt, he blew out the stub of a candle and climbed through the window frame, then dropped noiselessly to the ground.
The night was dark, and heavy black clouds scudded across the skies, only occasionally revealing a distant star. Even so, Jeremy was taking no chances of being stopped; there was no way to hide the sword, pistol, or powder horn, and even the bulging food packet looked suspicious. So he hastily circled the house of Arnold and struck out toward the east, away from the center of the village. The next few minutes were critical, for he passed numerous dwellings, and anyone glancing out of a window might see him.
At last he reached the final house of the clearing and moved in a semicircle until he was on the south edge of the community. Pausing for an instant, he took a deep breath and plunged into the jungle, sacrificing caution for speed. There were probably only a few sentries guarding the village tonight, as the majority of able-bodied men had accompanied Arnold.
Some of his tension dissipated, and he smiled softly to himself. Then, without warning, he heard approaching footsteps somewhere behind him. Drawing his pistol from his belt, he debated whether to flee or to remain where he was and hope that this pursuer would miss him. Quickly he decided on the latter course; it would be foolhardy to try to run from a Maroon who could make his way through a dense jungle in the dark as easily as Jeremy could cross an open field in the moonlight.
He moved closer to a broad, wild tangle of bamboo shoots that partially screened him; then, shaking his head ruefully, he jammed the pistol back into his belt. He could not shoot at one of the band who had saved him from captivity and death. He could make out the dim outlines of the other's form now, and tensed himself. The man was moving rapidly, and it appeared as though he would pass within inches of the bamboo thicket. At such a close range it would be virtually impossible for him to miss Jeremy. The pursuer was coming into focus now, and Jeremy gaped in astonishment.
"Janine!" he said.
The girl stopped short and smiled at him. She was wearing a pair of leather-thonged sandals, her Maroon skirt, and a loose-fitting man's shirt that revealed as much as it concealed of her full, young figure. From the waistband of her skirt there projected the stubby metal hilt of a short poniard, but she carried neither supplies nor weapons in her hands.
"You've been following me, Janine?"
"Of course. It hasn't required much imagination to read your mind, Jeremy. You made it very clear to me that you were going to leave the Maroons at the first opportunity. And when this war with the government came I was sure you'd take advantage of the lack of guards to escape. Then, when I saw you go into the hut they use as an arsenal and come out again with a sword and '*
"You've been spying on me?" It was more of an accusation than a question.
"I suppose you might call it that," Janine replied comfortably. "Be that as it may, I followed you tonight. I almost lost you—twice—but you make as much noise as I do in these weeds, so I was sure I'd find you again."