Читать книгу The Hour and the Man, An Historical Romance - Harriet Martineau - Страница 10

The report brought by Toussaint was astounding to his hearers, even after the preparation afforded by the events of the evening. It was clear that the negroes had everything in their own hand, and that the spirit roused in them was so fierce, so revengeful, as to leave no hope that they would use their power with moderation. The Breda estate, and every one near it, was to be ravaged when those on the north side of the plain were completely destroyed. The force assembled at Latour’s already amounted to four thousand; and no assistance could be looked for from the towns at all adequate to meet such numbers, since the persons and property of the whites, hourly accumulating in the towns as the insurrection spread, required more than all the means of protection that the colony afforded. The two gentlemen agreed, as they sat at the table covered with supper, wine, and glittering arms, that to remain was to risk their lives with no good object. It was clear that they must fly.

Toussaint suggested that a quantity of sugar from the Breda estate was now at Port Paix, lying ready for shipment. There was certainly one vessel, if not more, in that port, belonging to the United States. If the gentlemen would risk the ride to the coast with him, he thought he could put them on board, and they might take with them this sugar, intended for France, but now wanted for their subsistence in their exile. Bayou saw at once that this was the best plan he could adopt. Papalier was unwilling to turn his back so soon, and so completely, on his property. Bayou was only attorney to the Breda estate, and had no one but himself to care for. Papalier was a proprietor, and he could not give up at once, and for ever, the lands which his daughters should inherit after him. He could not instantly decide upon this. He would wait some hours at least. He thought he could contrive to get into some town, or into the Spanish territory, though he might be compelled to leave the plain. He slept for this night with his arms at hand, and under the watch of Placide, who might be trusted to keep awake and listen, as his father vouched for him. Bayou was gone presently; with such little money as he happened to have in the house; and in his pockets, the gold ornaments which Toussaint’s wife insisted on his accepting, and which were not to be despised in this day of his adversity. He was sorry to take her necklace and ear-rings, which were really valuable; but she said, truly, that he had been a kind master for many years, and ought to command what they had, now that they were all in trouble together.

Before the next noon, Monsieur Bayou was on board the American vessel in the harbour of Port Paix, weary and sad, but safe, with his sugar, and pocketsful of cash and gold trinkets. Before evening, Toussaint, who rode like the wind, and seemed incapable of fatigue, was cooling himself under a tamarind-tree, in a nook of the Breda estate.

He was not there to rest himself, while the world seemed to be falling into chaos around him. He was there for the duty of the hour—to meet by appointment the leader of the insurgents, Jean Français, whom, till now, he had always supposed to be his friend, as far as their intercourse went, though Jean had never been so dear to him as Henri. He had not sat long, listening for sounds of approach amidst the clatter of the neighbouring palm-tree tops, whose stiff leaves struck one another as they waved in the wind, when Jean appeared from behind the mill.

“You have stopped our wheel,” said Toussaint, pointing to the reeking water-mill. “It will be cracked in the sun before you can set it going again.”

“Yes, we have stopped all the mills,” replied Jean. “Every stream in the colony has a holiday to-day, and may frolic as it likes. I am afraid I made you wait supper last night?”

“You gave me poison, Jean. You have poisoned my trust in my friends. I watched for you as for a friend; and what were you doing the while? You were rebelling, ravaging, and murdering!”

“Go on,” said Jean. “Tell me how it appears to you; and then I will tell you how it appears to me.”

“It appears to me, then, that if the whites are to blame towards those who are in their power—if they have been cruel to the Ogés, and their party—if they have oppressed their negroes, as they too often have, our duty is clear—to bear and forbear, to do them good in return for their evil. To rise against them cunningly, to burn their plantations, and murder them—to do this is to throw back the gospel in the face of Him who gave it!”

“But you do not understand this rising. It is not for revenge.”

“Why do I not understand it. Because you knew that I should disapprove it, and kept me at home by a false appointment, that I might be out of the way. Do you say all this is not for revenge? I look at the hell you have made of this colony between night and morning, and I say that if this be not from revenge, there must be something viler than revenge in the hearts of devils and of men.”

“And now, hear me,” said Jean, “for I am wanted at Latour’s, and my time is short. It was no false appointment last night. I was on my way to you, when I was stopped by some news which altered our plans in a moment, and made us rise sooner, by three days, than we expected. I was coming to tell you all, and engage you to be one of our chiefs. Have you heard that the Calypso has put into port at the other end of the island?”

“No.”

“Then you do not know the news she brought. She has a royalist master, who is in no hurry to tell his news to the revolutionary whites. The king and all his family tried to escape from France in June. They were overtaken on the road, and brought back prisoners to Paris.”

Toussaint, who always uncovered his head at the name of the king, now bent it low in genuine grief.

“Is it not true,” said Jean, “that our masters are traitors? Do they not insult and defy the king? Would there not have been one shout of joy through all Cap last night, if this news had been brought to the deputies after dinner with their wine?”

“It is true. But they would still have been less guilty than those who add ravage and murder to rebellion.”

“There was no stopping the people when the messengers from the Calypso crossed the frontier, and sent the cry, ‘Vive le Roi! et l’ancien régime,’ through the negro quarters of every estate they reached. The people were up on the Noé plantation at the word. Upon my honour, the glare of the fire was the first I knew about it. Then the spirit spread among our people, like the flames among our masters’ canes. I like murder no better than you, Toussaint; but when once slaves are up, with knife and firebrand, those may keep revenge from kindling who can—I cannot.”

“At least, you need not join—you can oppose yourself to it.”

“I have not joined. I have saved three or four whites this day by giving them warning. I have hidden a family in the woods, and I will die before I will tell where they are. I did what I could to persuade Gallifet’s people to let Odeluc and his soldiers turn back to Cap: and I believe they would, but for Odeluc’s obstinacy in coming among us. If he would have kept his distance, he might have been alive now. As it is—”

“And is he dead?—the good Odeluc?”

“There he lies; and half-a-dozen of the soldiers with him. I am sorry, for he always thought well of us; but he thrust himself into the danger. One reason of my coming here now is to say that this plantation and Arabie will be attacked to-night, and Bayou had better roost in a tree till morning.”

“My master is safe.”

“Safe? Where?”

“On the sea.”

“You have saved him. Have you—I know your love of obedience is strong—have you pledged yourself to our masters, to oppose the rising—to fight on their side?”

“I give no pledges but to my conscience. And I have no party where both are wrong. The whites are revengeful, and rebel against their king; and the blacks are revengeful, and rebel against their masters.”

“Did you hear anything on the coast of the arrival of the Blonde frigate from Jamaica?”

“Yes; there again is more treason. The whites at Cap have implored the English to take possession of the colony. First traitors to the king, they would now join the enemies of their country. Fear not, Jean, that I would defend the treason of such; but I would not murder them.”

“What do you mean to do? this very night your estate will be attacked. Your family is almost the only one remaining on it. Have you thought what you will do?”

“I have; and your news only confirms my thought.”

“You will not attempt to defend the plantation?”

“What would my single arm do? It would provoke revenge which might otherwise sleep.”

“True. Let the estate be deserted, and the gates and doors left wide, and no mischief may be done. Will you join us then?”

“Join you! no! Not till your loyalty is free from stain. Not while you fight for your king with a cruelty from which your king would recoil.”

“You will wait,” said Jean, sarcastically, “till we have conquered the colony for the king. That done you will avow your loyalty.”

“Such is not my purpose, Jean,” replied Toussaint, quietly. “You have called me your friend; but you understand me no more than if I were your enemy. I will help to conquer the colony for the king; but it shall be to restore to him its lands as the King of kings gave them to him—not ravaged and soaked in blood, but redeemed with care, to be made fair and fruitful, as held in trust for him. I shall join the Spaniards, and fight for my king with my king’s allies.”

Jean was silent, evidently struck with the thought. If he had been troubled with speculations as to what he should do with his undisciplined, half-savage forces, after the whites should have been driven to entrench themselves in the towns, it is possible that this idea of crossing the Spanish line, and putting himself and his people under the command of these allies, might be a welcome relief to his perplexity.

“And your family,” said he: “will the Spaniards receive our women and children into their camp?”

“I shall not ask them. I have a refuge in view for my family.”

“When will you go?”

“When you leave me. You will find the estate deserted this night, as you wish. The few negroes who are here will doubtless go with me; and we shall have crossed the river before morning.”

“You would not object,” said Jean, “to be joined on the road by some of our negro force; on my pledge, you understand, that they will not ravage the country.”

“Some too good for your present command?” said Toussaint, smiling. “I will command them on one other condition—that they will treat well any white who may happen to be with me.”

“I said nothing about your commanding them,” said Jean. “If I send men I shall send officers. But whites! what whites? Did you not say Bayou was on the sea?”

“I did; but there may be other whites whom I choose to protect, as you say you are doing. If, instead of hiding whites in the woods, I carry them across the frontier, what treatment may I expect for my party on the road?”

“I will go with you myself, and that is promising everything,” said Jean, making a virtue of what was before a strong inclination. “Set out in two hours from this time. I will put the command of the plain into Biasson’s hands, and make a camp near the Spanish lines. The posts in that direction are weak, and the whites panic-struck, if indeed they have not all fled to the fort. Well, well,” he continued, “keep to your time, and I will join you at the cross of the four roads, three miles south of Fort Dauphin. All will be safe that far, at least.”

“If not, we have some strong arms among us,” replied Toussaint. “I believe my girls (or one of them at least) would bear arms where my honour is at stake. So our king is a prisoner! and we are free! Such are the changes which Heaven sends!”

“Ay, how do you feel, now you are free?” said Jean. “Did you not put your horse to a gallop when you turned your back on your old master?”

“Not a word of that, Jean. Let us not think of ourselves. There is work to do for our king. He is our task-master now.”

“You are in a hurry for another master,” said Jean. “I am not tired of being my own master yet.”

“I wish you would make your people masters of themselves, Jean. They are not fit for power. Heaven take it from us, by putting all power into the hand of the king!”

“We meet by starlight,” said Jean. “I have the business of five thousand men to arrange first; so, more of the king another time.”

He leaped the nearest fence and was gone. Toussaint rose and walked away, with a countenance so serious, that Margot asked if there was bad news of Monsieur Bayou.

When the family understood that the Breda estate was to be attacked this night, there was no need to hasten their preparations for departure. In the midst of the hurry, Aimée consulted Isaac about an enterprise which had occurred to her, on her father’s behalf; and the result was, that they ventured up to the house, and as far as Monsieur Bayou’s book-shelves, to bring away the volumes they had been accustomed to see their father read. This thought entered Aimée’s mind when she saw him, busy as he was, carefully pocket the Epictetus he had been reading the night before. Monsieur Papalier was reading, while Thérèse was making packages of comforts for him. He observed the boy and girl, and when he found that the books they took were for their father, he muttered over the volume he held—

“Bayou was a fool to allow it. I always told him so. When our negroes get to read like so many gentlemen, no wonder the world is turned upside down.”

“Do your negroes read, Monsieur Papalier?” asked Isaac.

“No, indeed! not one of them.”

“Where are they all, then?”

Aimée put in her word.

“Why do they not take care of you, as father did of Monsieur Bayou?”