ON the evening of the third day of our march, we entered the ravines of
Grande-Riviere; we calculated that the negro army was some twenty
leagues off in the mountains.
We pitched our camp on a low hill, which appeared to have been used for
the same purpose before, as the grass had been trodden down and the
brushwood cut away. It was not a judicious position in a strategical
point of view, but we deemed ourselves perfectly secure from attack. The
hill was commanded on all sides by steep mountains clothed with thick
forests—the precipitous sides of these hills had given the mountains
the name of the _Dompté-Mulâtre_. The Grande-Riviere flowed behind our
camp; confined within steep banks, it was just about here very deep and
rapid. The sides were hidden with thickets, through which nothing could
be seen. The waters of the stream itself were frequently concealed by
masses of creeping plants, hanging from the branches of the flowering
maples, which had sprung up at intervals in the jungle, crossing and
recrossing the stream, and forming a tangled net-work of living verdure.
From the heights of the adjacent hills they appeared like meadows still
fresh with dew, whilst every now and then a dull splash could be heard
as a teal plunged through the flower-decked curtain, and showed in which
direction the river lay. By degrees the sun ceased to gild the crested
peaks of the distant mountains of Dondon; little by little darkness
spread its mantle over the camp, and the silence was only broken by the
cry of the night-bird, or by the measured tread of the sentinels.
Suddenly the dreaded war-songs of “_Oua-Nassé_” and of “The Camp of the
Great Meadow” were heard above our heads; the palms, the acomas, and the
cedars, which crowned the summits of the rocks, burst into flames, and
the lurid light of the conflagration showed us numerous bands of negroes
and mulattoes, whose copper-hued skins glowed red in the firelight upon
the neighbouring hills. It was the army of Biassou.
The danger was imminent. The officers, aroused from their sleep,
endeavoured to rally their men. The drum beat the “Assembly,” whilst the
bugles sounded the “Alarm.” Our men fell in hurriedly and in confusion;
but the insurgents, instead of taking advantage of our disorder,
remained motionless, gazing upon us, and continuing their song of
“_Oua-Nassé_.”
A gigantic negro appeared alone on one of the peaks that overhung the
Grande-Riviere, a flame-coloured plume floated on his head; he held an
axe in his right hand and a blood-red banner in his left.
I recognized Pierrot.
Had a carbine been within my reach I should have fired at him, cowardly
although the act might have been.
The negro repeated the chorus of “_Oua-Nassé_,” planted his standard on
the highest portion of the rock, hurled his axe into the midst of our
ranks, and plunged into the stream. A feeling of regret seized me; I had
hoped to have slain him with my own hand.
Then the negroes began to hurl huge masses of rocks upon us, whilst
showers of bullets and flights of arrows were poured upon our camp. Our
soldiers, maddened at being unable to reach their adversaries, fell on
all sides, crushed by the rocks, riddled with bullets, and transfixed by
arrows.
The army was rapidly falling into disorder.
Suddenly a terrible noise came from the centre of the stream.
The Yellow Dragoons, who had suffered most from the shower of rocks, had
conceived the idea of taking refuge under the thick roof of creepers
which grew over the river. It was Thaddeus who had at first discovered
this——
Here the narrative was suddenly interrupted.