THE confusion in the camp appeared to increase, to the great uneasiness
of Biassou. I heard afterwards that it was caused by the negroes of
Morne-Rouge, who hurried from one end of the camp to the other,
announcing the return of my liberator, and declaring their intention of
supporting him in whatever object he had come to Biassou’s camp for.
Rigaud had informed the generalissimo of this, and it was the fear of a
fatal division in the camp that prompted Biassou to make some sort of
concession to the wishes of Pierrot.
“Your Highness,” remarked he, with an air of injured innocence, “if we
are hard on the whites, you are equally severe upon us. You are wrong in
accusing us of being the cause of the torrent, for it is the torrent
that drags us away with it; but _que podria hacer a hora_ (“but what can
I do at present”) that will please you?”
“I have already told you, Señor Biassou,” answered Pierrot; “let me take
this prisoner away with me.”
Biassou remained for a few moments silent, as though in deep thought;
then putting on an expression of as great frankness as he was able, he
answered—
“Your Highness, I wish to prove to you that I have every wish to please
you. Permit me to have two words in private with the prisoner, and he
shall be free to follow you.”
“If that is all you ask, I agree,” replied Pierrot.
His eyes, which up to that moment had wandered about in a distrustful
manner, glistened with delight, and he moved away a few paces to leave
us to our conversation.
Biassou drew me on one side into a retired part of the cavern, and said
in a low voice—
“I can only spare your life upon the condition that I proposed; are you
ready to fulfil it?”
He showed me the dispatch of Jean François; to consent appeared to me
too humiliating.
“Never,” answered I, firmly.
“Aha,” repeated he, with his sardonic chuckle, “are you always as firm?
You have great confidence, then, in your protector. Do you know who he
is?”
“I do,” answered I, quickly, “he is a monster, as you are, only he is a
greater hypocrite.”
He started back in astonishment, seeking to read in my glance if I spoke
seriously.
“What!” exclaimed he, “do you not know him then?”
With a disdainful look, I replied—
“I only know him as my uncle’s slave, and his name is Pierrot.”
Again Biassou smiled bitterly.
“Aha, that indeed is strange; he asks for your life and liberty, and you
say that you only know him for a monster like myself.”
“What matters that?” I answered; “if I do gain a little liberty, it is
not to save my own life, but to take his.”
“What is that you are saying?” asked Biassou. “And yet you seem to speak
as you believe; I cannot think that you would trifle with your life.
There is something beneath all this that I do not understand. You are
protected by a man that you hate; he insists upon your life being
spared, and you, are longing to take his. But it matters little to me;
you desire a short spell of freedom—it is all that I can give you. I
will leave you free to follow him, but swear to me by your honour, that
you will return to me and reconstitute yourself my prisoner two hours
before the sun sets. You are a Frenchman, and I will trust you.”
What shall I say, gentlemen. Life was a burden to me, and I hated the
idea of owing it to Pierrot, for every circumstance pointed him out as a
just object of my hatred. I do not think for a moment that Biassou (who
did not easily permit his prey to escape him) would allow me to go free
except upon his own conditions. All I desired was a few hours’ liberty
which I could devote to discovering the fate of my beloved before my
death. Biassou, relying upon my honour as a Frenchman, would grant me
these, and without hesitation I pledged it.
“Your Highness,” said Biassou, in obsequious tones, “the white prisoner
is at your disposal; you can take him with you, for he is free to
accompany you wherever you wish.”
“Thanks, Biassou,” cried Pierrot, extending his hand. “You have rendered
me a service which places me entirely at your disposal. Remain in
command of our brethren of Morne-Rouge until my return.”
Then he turned towards me—I never saw so much happiness in his eyes
before.
“Since you are free,” cried he, “come with me.” And with a strange
earnestness he drew me away with him.
Biassou looked after us with blank astonishment, which was even
perceptible through the respectful leave that he took of my companion.