even mentioning the name of the guilty man.
Unless he was saved by a miracle, Joam Dacosta might now be
considered as irrevocably lost. The death of Judge Ribeiro on the one
hand, the death of Torres on the other, were blows from which he
could not recover! It should here be said that public opinion at
Manaos, unreasoning as it always is, was all against he prisoner. The
unexpected arrest of Joam Dacosta had revived the memory of the
terrible crime of Tijuco, which had lain forgotten for twenty-three
years. The trial of othe young clerk at the mines of the diamond
arrayal, his capital sentence, his escape a few hours before his
intended execution–all were remembered, analyzed, and commented on.
An article which had just appeared in the _O Diario d’o Grand Para,_
the most widely circulated journal in these parts, after giving a
history of the circumstances of the crime, showed itself decidedly
hostile to the prisoner. Why should these people believe in Joam
Dacosta’s innocence, when they were ignorant of all that his friends
knew–of what they alone knew?
And so the people of Manaos became excited. A mob of Indians and
negroes hurried, in their blind folly, to surround the prison and
roar forth tumultuous shouts of death. In this part of the two
Americas, where executions under Lynch law are of frequent
occurrence, the mob soon surrenders itself to its cruel instincts,
and it was feared that on this occasion it would do justice with its
own hands.
What a night it was for the passengers from the fazenda! Masters and
servants had been affected by the blow! Were not the servants of the
fazenda members of one family? Every one of them would watch over the
safety of Yaquita and her people! On the bank of the Rio Negro there
was a constant coming and going of the natives, evidently excited by
the arrest of Joam Dacosta, and who could say to what excesses these
half-barbarous men might be led?
The time, however, passed without any demonstration against the
jangada.
On the morrow, the 26th of August, as soon as the sun rose, Manoel
and Fragoso, who had never left Benito for an instant during this
terrible night, attempted to distract his attention from his despair.
After taking him aside they made him understand that there was no
time to be lost–that they must make up their minds to act.
“Benito,” said Manoel, “pull yourself together! Be a man again! Be a
son again!”
“My father!” exclaimed Benito. “I have killed him!”
“No!” replied Manoel. “With heaven’s help it is possible that all may
not be lost!”
“Listen to us, Mr. Benito,” said Fragoso.
The young man, passing his hand over his eyes, made a violent effort
to collect himself.
“Benito,” continued Manoel, “Torres never gave a hint to put us on
the track of his past life. We therefore cannot tell who was the
author of the crime of Tijuco, or under what conditions it was
committed. To try in that direction is to lose our time.”
“And time presses!” added Fragoso.
“Besides,” said Manoel, “suppose we do find out who this companion of
Torres was, he is dead, and he could not testify in any way to the
innocence of Joam Dacosta. But it is none the less certain that the
proof of this innocence exists, and there is not room to doubt the
existence of a document which Torres was anxious to make the subject
of a bargain. He told us so himself. The document is a complete
avowal written in the handwriting of the culprit, which relates the
attack in its smallest details, and which clears our father! Yes! a
hundred times, yes! The document exists!”
“But Torres does not exist!” groaned Benito, “and the document has
perished with him!”
“Wait, and don’t despair yet!” answered Manoel. “You remember under
what circumstances we made the acquaintance of Torres? It was in the
depths of the forest of Iquitos. He was in pursuit of a monkey which
had stolen a metal case, which it so strangely kept, and the chase
had lasted a couple of hours when the monkey fell to our guns. Now,