Inocencio Page #6

"Inocencio" by Rex Ellingwood Beach is a novel set in the early 20th century that explores themes of love, passion, and the complexities of human relationships. The story follows the life of Inocencio, a character navigating the challenges of his environment, influenced by socio-economic struggles and personal desires. Beach's rich storytelling and vivid characterizations bring to life the struggles and triumphs of individuals caught in the tides of fate, making it a compelling read that reflects on the nature of identity and resilience.

• Short story

								

incessantly. Outside, the surf maintained its sullen murmur; through the
gloom of starless nights its phosphorescent outlines rushed across the
reef like phantom serpents in parade.

In the dead of a night like this the visitors arrived.

Even the heavy animal slumber of the blacks was broken by the scream
that issued from the hut of Captain Inocencio. And then the sound of
such fighting! The negroes might have rushed to the assistance of their
leader had it not been for the echo of that awful woman-cry hovering
over the village like a shadow. It filled the air and hung there,
saturating the breathless night with such unnamable terror that the
wakened children began to whimper and the women buried their heads in
the ragged bedding to keep it out. Death was among them and the bravest
cowered while through the quivering silence there came the sounds of a
mighty combat lasting for such an interminable time that the listeners
became hysterical.

At length they discovered that the night was dead again, save for the
sudden patter of raindrops on the thatches when the palm fronds stirred.
One of them called shrilly, another answered, but they did not venture
forth. Afterward they fancied they had heard the thrust of paddles in
the lagoon and strange voices dwindling away to seaward, but they were
not sure. Eventually, however, the stillness got upon them more
fearfully than the former noises, and they stirred. Then, in time, they
heard the voice of Inocencio himself cursing faintly, as if from a great
distance. A light showed through the cracks of a hut, and Nicholas, the
least timid, emerged with a lantern held on high. He summoned the rest
around him, then went toward the black shadow of Inocencio's dwelling
with a score of white-eyed, dusky faces at his shoulder.

The door was down, and from the threshold they could see what the front
room contained. It was Nicholas who, with clattering teeth and nerveless
fingers, dragged a blanket from the bed and covered the woman's figure.
It was he who traced the feeble voice to the wreck of a room behind, and
strove to lift Inocencio out of the welter in which he lay. But the
Haytian blasted him with curses for opening his wounds; so they propped
him against the wall by his direction, and bound him about with strips
torn from the mattress. Then he called for a cigarette, and its ashes
were upon his breast when the French doctor arrived from the hospital on
the Point.

When the white man's work was done, the mulatto addressed him weakly:

"Will m'sieu' do me a great favor?"

"Certainly."

"M'sieu' is acquainted with the American, Señor Williams?"

"Oui."

"Will m'sieu' le docteur please to tell him that Captain Inocencio has
won his wager?"

"I don't understand."

"Listen! In the room yonder, under the bed, m'sieu' will find a little
boy baby rolled up in a blanket. The woman heard them at the door, and
she was just in time. Oh, she knew they would be coming."

The French doctor nodded his comprehension. "But--your wife herself?"
said he. "Perhaps when you are well again you can have your vengeance.
The soldiers will--"

"Bah! What is the use?" interrupted Inocencio. "The world is full of
women." Then, strangely enough, he bared his yellow teeth in a smile of
rarest tenderness. "But this boy of mine! They came to kill him,
m'sieu', and to show that the San Blas blood cannot be crossed; but the
woman was too quick of wit. They did not find him, praise God! Le
docteur has seen many children, perhaps, but never a child like this."
He ran on with a father's tender boastfulness. "M'sieu' will note the
back and the legs of him. And see, he did not even cry, poor little man!
Oh, he is like his father for bravery! He will be my vengeance, for he
has the San Blas blood in him; he will be a man like me, too. Bring him
to me quickly; I must see him again." He was still babbling fondly to
the negroes about him when the doctor reappeared, empty-handed.

"The child is dead," said the white man, simply.

In the silence Inocencio rose to a sitting posture. His fierce eyes grew
wild with a fright that had never been there until this moment. Then,
before they could prevent him, he had gained his feet. He waved them
aside and went into the room of death, walking like a strong man. A
candle guttering beside the open window betrayed the utter nakedness of
the place. With one movement of his great, bony hands he ripped the
planks of the bed asunder and stared downward. Then he turned to the
east and, raising his arms above his head, gave a terrible cry. He began
to sway, and even as the doctor leaped to save him he fell with a crash.

It was Nicholas who told the priest that the French doctor would not let
them move him; for he lay upon his face at the feet of the San Blas
woman, his arms flung outward like the arms of a cross.
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