I REJOIN THE REGIMENT.
I now experienced somewhat of that miraculous cure which restored
Bruce of ours to health, before we landed in Martinique. Excitement
and pleasure at the prospect of soon rejoining the regiment and
seeing my old friends, endued me with new strength; and in spite of
all that Captain Cranky, Percival, or their surgeon could urge, I
insisted on going on shore next day, and on shore I accordingly went.
War and pestilence had made such havoc in my dear old corps, that, on
the 1st of July, only two days after my landing, I found myself
parading as captain of the third company, vice Gordon of Ardgilion,
who had been shot in the first attempt to retake La Fleur d'Epée.
I was not yet twenty years of age!
Once again in Guadaloupe, the entire half of which was possessed by
the enemy, I had every prospect of seeing a good deal of fighting;
and the fire of ambition to which my rapid success bent every
impetus, glowed anew within me; though somewhat tempered by the
horrors of the yellow fever, which thinned our ranks so fast that the
bear-skin caps of the poor Fusiliers lay thicker in the barrack-yard
and in the ditches of Basse Terre, than I had ever seen them in
action; till at last an order was issued to burn all the gear of the
dead.
I was not permitted to remain long idle, for while Sir George Grey,
the commander-in-chief, was preparing to recapture Grande Terre, as
one half of the isle is named, I was detached with my company on a
special service against a body of armed slaves who were in revolt;
and while acting by turns as _Gens du Roi_, as French republican
citizens, and as men of colour struggling to erect a free community,
committed outrages too horrible for narration upon the French
planters, the white troops of Victor Hugues, and all British soldiers
who unfortunately fell into their hands.
The regiment was on its morning parade in the ancient citadel of
Basse Terre, when the Earl of Kildonan rode to the group of officers,
who were gossiping and bantering each other, in the usual way, before
the bugle sounds "Fall in," and announced the duty which was before
me.
"These rascals," said he, "are in arms in the mountains, and are such
a common nuisance to all, that Sir Charles Grey has already conceived
the idea of inviting the co-operation of our enemies the French, for
the extermination of all revolted blacks."
"Who leads them?" I inquired.
"Scipio, a leader of the revolted blacks in Hispaniola--the same
African savage who destroyed the family of Monsieur du Plessis and
abducted his daughter. After suffering, within a short but bloody
month, many reverses from the arms of the French colonists, he fled
by sea, and reaching Guadaloupe, has incited the slaves of a wealthy
planter, named Monsieur George de Thoisy, some eight hundred in
number, to revolt, and carry off their master, whom they intend to
put to a barbarous death; at least, so I am informed by Lady
Kildonan, who is residing with his family. Since then many mulattoes
and quadroons have joined him; thus his band musters nearly a
thousand strong."
"My lord, my company is barely a hundred rank and file!" said I
hesitatingly.
"But they are Scots Fusiliers, and those you are to attack are only a
band of wretched negroes. As a sample how they mean to carry on the
war, the standard of our sable hero with the classic name, is a white
man's head upon a pike."
"This is encouraging!" said I, laughing.
"I am glad you think so."
"And my orders are----"
"To march at once, attack their fastness in the mountains, and save
M. de Thoisy if you can. Root these fellows out, and show no
quarter, but take especial care that none of your men fall into their
hands, alive at least, if you can prevent it."
"Are they worse than other folks?" asked Rowland Haystone.
"I should think so--they eat their prisoners."
"Eat them!"
"Yes; after offering them up to an idol they have fashioned out of
the bones of white men."
"Well, Ellis, this is not a pleasant prospect for you after being
starved on that island for a month and more," said Glendonwyn.
"And this rich old planter----"
"They can't be particular to a shade, if they eat him," said
Haystone, laughing.
"Why?" I inquired.
"I don't think the old fellow will prove very digestible."
"You remember his daughters, Georgette, Claire, and Julie, three
handsome girls, whom we met at the ball here in Basse Terre, on the
night before La Fleur d'Epée was retaken," said Bruce.
"Yes," replied Haystone, twirling his whiskers (we were not permitted
a moustache in those days); "charming French Creole demoiselles, with
designs upon the liberty of mankind equal to those of Bonaparte and
all the Directory."
"They beat all the girls in the Antilles, windward and leeward," said
another, "and can flirt like the deuce."
"Ah--we understand all that," lisped our last accession of a sub from
the depôt; "but though we do make a little love in the Fusiliers, we
don't marry!"
"Do not jest thus, if you please, gentlemen," said Lord Kildonan;
"their father, poor man, must be saved, if possible. He is, I
believe, a loyal old French royalist, and is now at the mercy of
absolute devils incarnate. So to you, Ellis, I confide the duty of
saving him. March, and take your whole company; but whatever you do,
do warily, for those black fellows are full of strategy and
wickedness. See that your men keep sober, for kill-devil (new rum)
slays more than French bullets or the yellow fever. Shoot all who
make the slightest resistance, or in fact, whom you find in arms."
"And philanthropists at home?" queried Glendonwyn.
"Philanthropists at home, who run no danger, and sleep sound in their
beds at night, may say exactly what they please. With savages, one
must act the savage. Are we to grant the courtesies of war and of
civilization to those who are ignorant alike of military honour and
the amenities of civilized life? _Terror_ is the only argument they
understand; so, through terror, bloodshed, and death, must we speak
to them. To strike terror into mere cannibals is to befriend them.
There sounds the bugle! Gentlemen, to your companies. Ellis,
good-bye; make quick work with Scipio and his Quacos, or you may be
too late to share in the recapture of La Fleur d'Epée."
In ten minutes after this, under the guidance of a faithful French
quadroon, I was on the march at the head of my company, and had
quitted the town of Basse Terre by the shady sun-proof avenue.