Pongaudin was no longer safe, as head-quarters for the
Commander-in-chief, his family, and guests. The defeats which had been
sustained were bad enough; but the defection was worse. Amidst the
contagion of defection there was no saying who, out of the circle of
immediate friends, might next join the French for the sake of peace; and
for the sake of peace, perhaps, deliver up the persons of the
Ouvertures, with their wounded friend, Dessalines, and the brave young
officers who formed the guard of the household. Christophe's letters
had already proved to Toussaint and his secretary, that no reliance was
to be placed on the honour of the French, in their dealings with
negroes. Cajolery in speech, covering plots against their persons,
appeared to be considered the conduct appropriate to business with
blacks, who had no concern, it seemed, with the usages of war, as
established among whites. La Plume had fallen by bribery; Clerveaux by
cajolery; and both means had been attempted with Christophe. The troops
were assailed on the side of their best affections. They were told that
Leclerc came to do honour to L'Ouverture--to thank him for his
government of the island during the troubles of France, and to convoy to
him the approbation of the First Consul, in papers enclosed in a golden
box. It is probable that, if they had not heard from Toussaint's own
lips of the establishment of slavery in the other French colonies, the
authorisation of the slave-trade, and the threat to do what was
convenient with Saint Domingo--all the negroes would have made the
French welcome, as Clerveaux had done. As it was, large numbers
unquestionably remained faithful to their liberties and their chief--
enough, as Toussaint never doubted, to secure their liberties at last:
but how many, and after how long and arduous a struggle, it remained for
time to show.
Many houses had been offered as a retreat for the household of the
Commander-in-chief. The one chosen this day was his friend Raymond's
cacao-plantation, Le Zephyr, in the Mornes du Chaos--among the mountains
which retired above the light bank of the Artibonite. It was a spacious
mansion, sheltered from storms, but enjoying a pleasant mountain air--
the most wholesome that could be found, if the retreat should continue
through the hot season. It was surrounded with never-failing springs of
pure water. There were kids on all the hills, and cattle in every
valley round. Grain and fruits were in the fields and gardens; and it
was thought that one well-guarded post, at a pass below the Plateaux de
la Ravine, would render the place inaccessible to the enemy. To the
satisfaction of Raymond and his daughter, and the delight of Euphrosyne,
this, their beloved summer mansion, was fixed on for the abode of the
whole party, provided Toussaint should find, on examination, that it
would answer his purposes as well as was now supposed.
Such was the plan settled presently after the deputation had left the
gates--settled among the few confidential friends, whose tastes, as well
as interests, Toussaint chose to consult. Madame Dessalines was among
those; and one of the most eager to be gone. She engaged to remove her
husband safely to a place where his recovery must proceed better than
among the agitations of Pongaudin. By one of these agitations her
desire to go had been much quickened. Before the departure of the
deputation, she had chanced to meet Monsieur Papalier in one of the
corridors, equipped for his journey. She could not avoid passing him;
and he had greeted her with a significant "Au revoir, Therese."
Fervently she prayed that she might never meet him again; and anxious
was she to be gone to a place where he could not come.
Before noon, L'Ouverture, with Placide riding by his side, and followed
by some officers, who were themselves followed by a few soldiers, was
among the heights which commanded the plain of the Artibonite on one
side, and on the other the valleys which lay between their party and the
Gros Morne. They had visited Le Zephyr, and were now about to examine
the pass where their post was to be established.
"This heat, Placide," said his father, as the sun beat down upon their
heads, "is it not too much for you? Perhaps you had better--But I beg
your pardon," he added, smiling; "I had forgotten that you are no longer
my growing boy, Placide, whom I must take care of. I beg your pardon,
Placide; but it is so new to me to have a manly son beside me--!"
And he looked at him with eyes of pride.
Placide told how often at Paris he had longed to bask in such a sunshine
as this, tempered by the fragrant breezes from the mountain-side. He
was transported now to hear the blows of the axe in the woods, and the
shock of the falling trunks, as the hewers of the logwood and the
mahogany trees were at their hidden work. He was charmed with the songs
of the cultivators which rose from the hot plain below, where they were
preparing the furrows for the indigo-sowing. He greeted every housewife
who, with her children about her, was on her knees by the
mountain-stream, washing linen, and splashing her little ones in sport.
All these native sights and sounds, so unlike Paris, exhilarated Placide
in the highest degree. He was willing to brave either heats or
hurricanes on the mountains, for the sake of thus feeling himself once
more in his tropical home.
"One would think it a time of peace," said he, "with the wood-cutters
and cultivators all about us. Where will be the first cropping from
those indigo-fields? And, if that is saved, where will be the second!"
"Of that last question, ask me again when we are alone," replied his
father. "As for the rest, it is by no will of mine that our people are
to be called off from their wood-cutting and their tillage. To the last
moment, you see, I encourage the pursuits of peace. But, if you could
see closely these men in the forest and the fields, you would find that,
as formerly, they have the cutlass at their belt, and the rifle slung
across their shoulders. They are my most trusty soldiery."
"Because they love you best, and owe most to you. What has Vincent
discovered below there--far-off? Have you your glass, father?"
"The deputation, perhaps," said Toussaint.
"Yes: there they are! They have crossed the Trois Rivieres, and they
are creeping up towards Plaisance. What a mere handful the party looks
at this distance! What mere insects to be about to pull the thunder
down upon so many heads! What an atom of space they cover! Yet
Vincent's heart is on that little spot, I believe. Is it not so,
father?"
"Yes! unless some of it is, as I fear, with the fleet beyond the ridge."
"He will be missing, some day soon, then."
"For his own sake and Aimee's, I trust not. This step of hers has
disconcerted me: but no harm can be done by detaining Vincent in honour
near me, till the turn of events may decide his inclinations in favour
of Aimee's father, and of his own race. Detained he must be, for the
present, in dishonour, if not in honour: for he knows too much of my
affairs to be allowed to see Leclerc. If Aimee returns to us, or if we
gain a battle, Vincent will be ours without compulsion. Meantime, I
keep him always employed beside me."
"This is the place for our post, surely," said Placide. "See how the
rocks are rising on either hand above this level! No one could pass
here whom we choose to obstruct."
"Yes: this is the spot; these are the Plateaux," replied his father,
awaiting the officers and soldiers--the latter being prepared with
tools, to mark out and begin their work.
While the consultations and measurements were going on, Placide's eye
was caught by the motion of a young fawn in the high grass of a lawny
slope, on one side of the valley. He snatched the loaded rifle which
one of the soldiers had exchanged for a spade and fired. The passion
for sport was instantly roused by the act. Kids were seen here and
there on the rocks. Marks were not wanting: and first Vincent, and then
one and another, followed Placide's example; and there were several
shots at the same instant, whose echoes reverberated to the delighted
ear of Placide, who was sorry when the last had died away among the
mountain-tops.
"Your first and last sport for to-day," observed Toussaint. "You have
given the game a sufficient alarm for the present."
"We must find our game, as we have shot it," exclaimed Vincent. "My kid
is not far-off."
"After it, then! You will find me under the large cotton-tree yonder.
The heat is too great here, Placide, between these walls of rock."
Every man of the party was off in pursuit of his game, except Placide,
who remained to ask his father, now they were alone, what was to happen
at the season of the second indigo-cutting. They threw themselves down
beneath the cotton-tree, which with its own broad shades, deepened by
the masses of creepers which twined and clustered about it, and weighed
it down on every side, afforded as complete a shelter from the shower of
sun-rays as any artificial roof could have done.
"The second indigo-cutting is in August, you know," said Toussaint.
"August will decide our freedom, if it is not decided before. August is
the season when Nature comes in as our ally--comes in with her army of
horrors, which we should not have the heart to invoke, but which will
arrive, with or without our will; and which it will be the fault of the
French themselves if they brave."
"Foul airs and pestilence, you mean!" said Placide.
"I mean foul airs and pestilence. All our plans, my son--(it is a
comfort to make a counsellor of my own son!)--all the plans of my
generals and myself are directed to provide for our defence till August,
certain that then the French will be occupied in grappling with a
deadlier foe than even men fighting for their liberties."
"Till August!" repeated Placide. "Nearly six months! I scarcely think
the French could hold their footing so long, if--but that--"
"If what? Except for what?"
"If it were not for the tremendous reinforcements which I fear will be
sent."
"I thought so," said his father.
"All France is eager to come," continued Placide. "The thousands who
are here (about twelve thousand, I fancy; but they did what they could
to prevent our knowing the numbers exactly)--the thousands who are here
are looked upon with envy by those who are left behind. The jealousy
was incredible--the clamour to gain appointments to the Saint Domingo
expedition."
"To be appointed to pestilence in the hospitals, and a grave in the
sands!" exclaimed Toussaint. "It is strange! Frenchmen enough have
died here, in seasons of trouble, to convince all France that only in
times of peace, leisure, stillness, and choice of residence, have
Europeans a fair chance of life here, for a single year. It is strange
that they do not foresee their own death-angels clustering on our
shores."
"The delusion is so strong," said Placide, "that I verily believe that
if these twelve thousand were all dead to-day, twenty thousand more
would be ready to come to-morrow. If every officer was buried here, the
choicest commanders there would press forward over their graves. If
even the Leclercs should perish, I believe that other relatives of the
First Consul, and perhaps some other of his sisters, would kneel to him,
as these have done, to implore him to appoint them to the new expedition
to Saint Domingo."
"The madness of numbers is never without an open cause," said Toussaint.
"What is the cause here?"
"Clear and plain enough. The representations of the emigrants coming in
aid of the secret wishes of Bonaparte, have, under his encouragement,
turned the heads of his family, his court, and after them, of his
people."
"The emigrants sigh for their country (and it is a country to sigh
after), and they look back on their estates and their power, I suppose;
while the interval of ten years dims in their memories all
inconveniences from the climate, and from the degradation of their
order."
"They appear to forget that any form of evil but Oge and you, father,
ever entered their paradise. They say that, but for you, they might
have been all this while in paradise. They have boasted of its wealth
and its pleasures, till there is not a lady in the court of France who
does not long to come and dwell in palaces of perfumed woods, marbles,
and gold and silver. They dream of passing the day in breezy shades,
and of sipping the nectar of tropical fruits, from hour to hour. They
think a good deal, too, of the plate and wines, and equipages, and
trains of attendants, of which they have heard so much; and at the same
time, of martial glory and laurel crowns."
"So these are the ideas with which they have come to languish on
Tortuga, and be buried in its sands! These emigrants have much to
answer for."
"So Isaac and I perpetually told them; but they would not listen to
anything said by an Ouverture. Nor could we wonder at this, when
persons of every colour were given to the same boastings; so that Isaac
and I found ourselves tempted into a like strain upon occasion."
"It appears as if the old days had returned," said Toussaint; "the days
of Columbus and his crows. We are as the unhappy Indians to the
rapacity of Europe. No wonder, if mulattoes and blacks speak of the
colony as if it were the old Hayti."
"They do, from Lanville, the coffee-planter, to our Mars Plaisir. Mars
Plaisir has brought orders for I do not know how many parrots; and for
pearls, and perfumes, and spices, and variegated woods."
"Is it possible?" said Toussaint, smiling. "Does he really believe his
own stories? If so, that accounts for his staying with you, instead of
going with Isaac; which I wondered at. I thought he could not have
condescended to us, after having lived in France."
"He condescends to be wherever he finds most scope for boasting. On
Tortuga, or among the ashes of Cap, he can boast no more. With us he
can extol France, as there he extolled Saint Domingo. If August brings
the destruction we look for, the poor fellow ought to die of remorse;
but he has not head enough to suffer for the past. You can hold out
till August, father?"
"If Maurepas joins us here with his force, I have no doubt of holding
out till August. In these mornes, as many as will not yield might
resist for life; but my own forces, aided by those of Maurepas, may
effectually keep off the grasp of the French from all places but those
in which they are actually quartered. A few actions may be needful,--
morally needful,--to show them that the blacks can fight. If this
lesson will not suffice, August, alas! will exterminate the foe. What
do I see stirring among the ferns there? Is it more game?"
Placide started up.
"Too near us for game," he whispered; and then added aloud, "Shall we
carry home another deer? Shall I fire?"
At these words, some good French was heard out of the tall, tree-like
ferns,--voices of men intreating that no one would fire; and two
Frenchman presently appeared, an army and a navy officer.
"How came you here, gentlemen? Are you residents in the colony?"
"If we had been, we should not have lost ourselves, as you perceive we
have done. We are sent by the Captain-General to parley, as a last hope
of avoiding the collision which the Captain-General deprecates. Here
are our credentials, by which you will discover our names,--Lieutenant
Martin," pointing to his companion, "and Captain Sabes," bowing for
himself.
"It is too late for negotiation, gentlemen," said L'Ouverture, "as the
news from the south will already have informed the Captain-General. I
regret the accident of your having lost your way, as it will deprive you
for a time of your liberty. You must be aware that, voluntarily or
involuntarily, you have fulfilled the office of spies; and for the
present, therefore, I cannot part with you. Placide, summon our
attendants, and, with them, escort these gentlemen to Le Zephyr. I
shall soon join you there, and hear anything that your charge may have
to say."
The officers protested, but in vain.
"It is too late, gentlemen. You may thank your own commanders for
compelling me to run no more risks--for having made trust in a French
officer's honour a crime to my own people. You may have heard and seen
so much that I am compelled to hold you prisoners. As I have no proof,
however, that you are spies, your lives are safe."
In answer to Placide's shout--the well-known mountain-cry which he was
delighted to revive--their followers appeared on all sides, some
bringing in their game, some empty-handed. The French officers saw that
escape was impossible. Neither had they any thought, but for a passing
moment, of fighting for their liberty. The Ouvertures were completely
armed; and there never was an occasion when a man would lightly engage,
hand-to-hand, with Toussaint or his son.
Half the collected party, including Vincent, accompanied Toussaint to
Pongaudin. The other half escorted Placide and his prisoners up the
morne to Le Zephyr; these carried all the game for a present provision.
Placide observed an interchange of glances between his prisoners as they
passed the spades, pick-axes, and fresh-dug earth in the plateaus. He
had little idea how that glance was connected with the romancing he had
just been describing; nor how much of insult and weary suffering it
boded to his father.