Tales of terror
storms in the highlands of Brazil that they are very alarming to anyone
unaccustomed to them; moreover, the deluge of rain that falls makes a
shelter not only desirable but necessary. Fortunately, the rain was
only spitting then, but Torquato began to look round anxiously for
shelter, when, with quite startling suddenness, and as if she had risen
from the earth, a woman stood before us, and demanded to know what we
wanted there. She was the wildest, weirdest, strangest looking woman
I have ever set eyes upon. She was almost a dwarf in stature, with
misshapen limbs, and long skinny arms out of all proportion to the
rest of her body. Her face--I declare it solemnly--was hardly human.
It was more like a gargoyle from some old cathedral. A few scant grey
hairs covered her head; and her chin and lips were also covered with a
growth of wiry grey hair. Curiously enough, she had excellent teeth,
which were in striking contrast to the rest of her appearance, and her
eyes, deep sunk in their sockets and overhung with a pent-house fringe
of wiry hair, were keen and brilliant as a hawk’s, and seemed to look
not at you but through you. The upper part of her body was clothed with
a blanket, tied with a piece of rope at the waist, but her arms, legs,
and feet were bare.
This singular-looking being was the woman we were seeking. Torquato
recognised and saluted her, and spoke some words in the Indian language
which I did not understand. She then addressed me in Portuguese, and as
I marvelled at her perfect teeth and brilliant eyes, I marvelled still
more at the clearness of her voice. Its tones were the dulcet tones of
a young girl’s. Indeed, I am not sure if that is a right description,
for a girl’s voice is often harsh, whereas Anita’s was sweet and
mellow. But in general appearance no more repulsive being could be
imagined, and it was easy to understand how great an influence she
could exert over the minds of superstitious people; nor am I ashamed to
confess that I myself regarded her with a mixture of curiosity and fear.
‘The Senhor seeks me?’ she said.
‘Yes.’
‘Follow then, and I will give you shelter from the storm.’
She turned and led the way up the mountain. Although her feet were
bare, the rocks made no impression upon her, and yet my feet were
hurt, well shod as I was. Suddenly we came upon a sort of rocky
platform before the entrance to a cave. It was on the very edge of a
deep ravine--a rent in the earth, caused probably by an earthquake in
the first instance, and gradually widened and deepened by the action
of water. The sides of this ravine went down in broken precipices
for thousands of feet, and were clothed with dense undergrowth and
monstrous ferns, the home, as one could well imagine, of every reptile
and loathsome insect to be found in Brazil. At the bottom of the ravine
was a brawling river.
We had scarcely gained the shelter of the cave, at the mouth of which
some wood ashes still smouldered, when the storm burst with appalling
fury. We could see the lightning occasionally smite the rocks, tearing
off great masses and hurling them into the dark depths of the ravine,
where probably human foot had never yet trod; while the roll of the
thunder was so awful that it seemed like the bursting up of the
universe. Anita appeared to delight in the storm, and now and again she
raised her long skinny arms straight up above her head and laughed like
one demented. Presently she turned and motioned us to follow her, and
led the way into the depths of the cavern, having first lighted a pine
torch which she drew from a recess in the rocks, and plunged it into
the glowing ashes. We went along a kind of corridor, but had to stoop
low to avoid battering our skulls against the jagged roof. The floor
was wet and soft, and Anita, in answer to my inquiries, said it was due
to a natural spring of water which gave her a supply all the year round.
When we had traversed about a dozen yards, the roof got higher in the
passage, and after another few yards we found ourselves in a spacious
chamber, with an almost perfectly level floor. Looking up, one could
see nothing but darkness, so high was the roof, and beyond was what
appeared to be another passage. The cavern, according to Anita,
penetrated into the bowels of the mountains for more than a league,
but she alone knew the secrets of those inner passages and chambers,
and would reveal them to no one. I was led to inquire the cause of
a strange rumbling noise I heard, and she told me it was due to a
subterranean river.
In the chamber in which we found ourselves a hammock was stretched
from two opposite points of rock, and afforded the witch good sleeping
quarters, no doubt. There were also two or three wooden stools about,
and on the floor, arranged on what appeared to be a square of carpet,
was a miscellaneous collection of articles, including an old-fashioned
sword, some peculiarly shaped goblets, a large wooden bowl, some human
bones, several knives, including a hunting knife, an old gun, and
various boxes. In another corner of the chamber I noticed a quantity
of cooking utensils, which seemed to indicate that there was a good
deal of the human about the old witch after all, and that if she loved
solitude she also liked a certain amount of comfort. In such a country
a woman of that kind was sure to get an evil reputation, whether she
deserved it or not.
At my bidding Torquato unpacked his knapsack, and I presented my
peace-offering of tobacco and rum, which the hag accepted with every
sign of gratification, and filling a wooden cup with some of the rum,
tossed it off at a draught. She had stuck the torch in a niche or
hole in the rock, and its flickering, dancing flame threw a Rembrandt
weirdness over the scene; and every time the woman’s eyes caught the
flame they glowed and glistened with such an unnatural light that
I experienced a sense of creepiness which is hard to describe. The
woman’s whole appearance was so uncanny that while the hammock and the
cooking utensils proclaimed her human, she seemed altogether unnatural,
and, I am bound to add, devilish. She squatted on the floor while I and
Torquato occupied stools. I told her the purpose of my errand; and the
whole of the time while I was speaking she fixed her glowing eyes upon
me, but they did not look at me, but through me. When I had finished my
story she drew her knees up, rested her chin on them, and became very
thoughtful; and though I spoke to her several times, she made no reply,
and Torquato said she was in a trance. Whether that was really so or
not I don’t know. But when the silence had remained unbroken for nearly
half an hour, she rose up slowly, and not without a certain dignity and
grace, and turning her glowing eyes on me, said:
‘In three days the Senhor will come here again when the sun is
declining, and I will talk with him.’
‘But why not now,’ I asked, beginning to regard her as a humbug whose
strange and uncouth appearance helped her to pass as a witch-woman.
‘I have spoken. In three days,’ she replied, in such a decisive,
commanding manner that I felt further parley would be useless.
‘And can Torquato come with me?’ I asked.
‘Yes. ’Tis well he should. Go.’
There was no mistaking that peremptory order to depart; and, led by
the negro, I groped my way back along the corridor, and was thankful
to get into the open air. The rain had ceased, but the thunder still
growled, the lightning still flashed; the air was delightful and
refreshing after the rain. We stood for a few minutes at the entrance
to the cavern, drinking in pure draughts of the cool fresh air, when
suddenly there issued from the cave an eldritch scream, so piercing, so
agonising that it seemed to indicate suffering beyond human endurance,
so startling that I instinctively made a movement to rush back into
the interior of the cavern with a view to ascertaining the cause of
that awful cry. But Torquato gripped my arm like a vice, and drew me
forcibly away. His eyes were filled with a scared expression, and his
face told of deadly fear working within.
‘Come away, come,’ he whispered with suppressed excitement. ‘Anita is
quarrelling with her master the Devil, and he is scourging her.’
I could hardly refrain from bursting into laughter at this statement;
but Torquato looked so serious, so terribly in earnest, and evidently
so firmly believed in what he said that I refrained. He continued to
drag me along for some distance before he released my arm. He was then
breathless and agitated, and sat down on a rock, and removing his large
grass hat, he scraped the beads of perspiration from his forehead.
I was sorry, when I came to think of it, that I had allowed myself
to be baulked in my intention to learn the cause of the strange wild
cry which presumably came from Anita’s lips; and for an instant I was
tempted to reascend the mountain and enter the cavern again. But a
glance at Torquato’s scared face caused me to alter my mind, and in a
few minutes we recommenced the descent, and in due time got back to the
station. I had then come to feel a conviction that Anita was a humbug,
and the scream was part of her imposition.
It was with something like feverish anxiety that I waited for the three
days to pass. I really had no faith at that time in Anita’s powers
to tell me what I wished to know; but she was a remarkable creature,
so uncanny and weird and wild in her aspects, so interesting as a
study of abnormity that I was anxious to know more of her. I think I
may safely say curiosity prompted me more than anything else, though
I thought there was a bare possibility she _might_ be able to clear
up the mystery. When the morning of the third day came I found that
Torquato was reluctant to again visit Anita, but at last I overcame
his reluctance and scruples by the medium of silver dollars liberally
bestowed, and without making known the objects of our journey we set
off, well-armed as before, and well-provided with food in case of need.
We hadn’t the advantage of a clouded sky as on the previous visit,
and the sun beat down with pitiless rays from the clear blue heavens.
The heat was intense and tried my powers of endurance very much, but
Torquato, being a child of the sun, was indifferent to the heat. As
I suffered a good deal our progress was necessarily slow. Moreover,
we had to exercise extreme caution on account of the numerous deadly
snakes that lay in our path basking in the broiling sun, amongst them
being the brilliant dazzling coral snake, one of the most beautiful
but most deadly of the serpent tribe. It is a very vicious brute, and
is said to be the only snake in Brazil that will attack a man without
provocation--though in some districts the same thing is said about
the Sorocotinga, which is also terribly deadly, and with no beauty to
fascinate as in the case of the coral.
So slow was our progress that the sun was far down towards the western
horizon when we reached our destination. We were startled by suddenly
and unexpectedly coming upon Anita squatted on her haunches before the
entrance to the cavern, while round her right arm was coiled a coral
snake, its head moving backwards and forwards with a rhythmical sway.
Instinctively I drew back, for the sight was so repulsive, but Anita
rose and told us to follow her, and when I expressed my dislike of the
snake, she waved her left hand before it, and its head and neck dropped
straight down as if it were dead. I was amazed, for this power over
the deadly reptile proved in itself that she was no ordinary being,
although she might be an impostor in other respects.
Both Torquato and myself hesitated to follow the hag; when noticing
this she turned angrily and cried:
‘Why come you here if you are afraid? You seek knowledge which I alone