CHAPTER TWO.
THE EXCLUSIVES.
The party of deputies with whom Monsieur Bayou was dining were assembledat the great hotel, at the corner of Place Mont Archer, at Cap Francais.Languidly, though gladly, did the guests, especially those from thecountry, enter the hotel, overpowering as was the heat of the roads andthe streets. In the roads, the sand lay so deep, that the progress ofhorsemen was necessarily slow, while the sun seemed to shed down adeluge of flame. In the streets, there was the shelter of the piazzas;but their pillars, if accidentally touched, seemed to burn the hand; andthe hum of traffic, and the sound of feet, appeared to increase theoppression caused by the weather. Within the hotel, all wascomparatively cool and quiet. The dining and drawing-rooms occupied bythe guests adjoined each other, and presented none but the most welcomeimages. The jalousies were nearly closed; and through the small spacesthat were left open, there might be seen in one direction the fountainplaying in the middle of the Place, and in the other, diagonally acrossthe Rue Espagnole, the Jesuits' Walk, an oblong square laid down ingrass, and shaded in the midst by an avenue of palms. Immediatelyopposite the hotel was the Convent of Religieuses, over whose gardenwall more trees were seen; so that the guests _might_ easily haveforgotten that they were in the midst of a town.
The rooms were so dark that those who entered from the glare of thestreets could at first see nothing. The floor was dark, being of nativemahogany, polished like a looking-glass. The walls were green, thefurniture green--everything ordered in counter-action of light and heat.In the dining-room more was visible; there was the white cloth spreadover the long range of tables, and the plate and glass, glittering insuch light as was allowed to enter; and also the gilded balustrade ofthe gallery, to be used to-day as an orchestra. This gallery wascanopied over, as was the seat of the chairman, with palm branches andevergreens, intermixed with fragrant shrubs, and flowers of all hues. Ahuge bunch of peacocks' feathers was suspended from the lofty ceiling,and it was waved incessantly to and fro, by strings pulled by two littlenegroes, at opposite corners of the room, causing a continual fanning ofthe air, and circulation of the perfumes of the flowers. The black bandin the orchestra summoned the company to dinner, and entertained themwhile at it by playing the popular revolutionary airs which were thenresounding through the colony like the hum of its insects, or the dashof its waterfalls. As they took their seats to the air of the"Marseillaise Hymn," more than one of the guests might be heard by hisnext neighbour singing to himself:
"Allons, enfans de la patrie, Le jour de gloire est arrive."
Before politics, however, there was dinner to be attended to; and thefirst-fruits of the eloquence of the meeting was bestowed on thedelicate turtle, the well-fattened land-crabs, and the rich pasties--onthe cold wines, the refreshing jellies, and the piles of oranges, figs,and almonds, pomegranates, melons, and pine-apples. The first vote ofcompliment was to Henri, the black cook from Saint Christophe, whence hehad been brought over by the discerning hotel-keeper, who detected hisculinary genius while Henri was yet but a lad. When the table wascleared, a request was sent up to the chairman from various parties atthe table, that he would command Henri's attendance, to receive thetestimony of the company respecting the dinner he had sent up, and totake a glass of wine from them.
Dr Proteau, the chairman, smilingly agreed, saying that such a tributewas no more than Henri's professional excellence and high reputationdeserved; and Henri was accordingly summoned by a dozen of the grinningblack waiters, who ran over one another in their haste to carry to thekitchen the message of these, the highest gentry of the land. Thewaiters presently poured into the room again, and stood in two rows fromthe door, where Henri appeared, not laughing like the rest, butperfectly grave, as he stood, white apron on, and napkin over his arm,his stout and tall figure erect, to receive the commands of his masters.
"Was your father a cook or a gourmand, Henri? Or are you all good cooksat Saint Christophe?" asked a deputy.
"If it is the air of Saint Christophe that makes men such cooks asHenri, the knights of Saint John of Malta had a goodly gift in it," saidanother.
"Can one get such another as you for money, Henri?" asked a third.
"How many boys has your wife brought you, Henri? We shall bid high forthem, and make your master's fortune, if he trains them all to yourprofession," said a fourth.
"Tell your master he had better not part with you for any sum, Henri.We will make it worth his while to refuse more for you than was everoffered yet."
"Your health, Henri! May you live out all the turtle now in SaintDomingo, and the next generation after them."
Amidst all these questions and remarks, Henri escaped answering any. Hestood looking on the ground, till a glass of champagne was brought tohim, bowed to the company, drank it off, and was gone.
"How demure the fellow looks!" said Monsieur Papalier, a planter, toBayou, his neighbour in the plain, who now sat opposite to him; "what anair of infinite modesty he put on! At this moment, I daresay he issnapping his fingers, and telling the women that all the money in SaintDomingo won't buy him."
"You are mistaken there," said Bayou. "He is a singular fellow, isHenri, in more ways than his cookery. I believe he never snapped hisfingers in his life, nor told anybody what his master gave for him. Ihappen to know Henri very well, from his being an acquaintance of myoverseer, who is something of the same sort, only superior even toHenri."
"The fellow looked as if he would have given a great deal more than hisglass of wine to have stayed out of the room," observed Monsieur Leroy."He has nothing of the mulatto in him, has he? Pure African, Isuppose."
"Pure African--all safe," replied Bayou. "But observe! the music hasstopped, and we are going on to the business of the day. Silence,there! Silence, all!"
Everybody said "Silence!" and Dr Proteau rose.
He declared himself to be in a most remarkable situation--one in whichhe was sure every Frenchman present would sympathise with him. Here hestood, chairman of a meeting of the most loyal, the most spirited, themost patriotic citizens of the empire, chairman of an assemblage ofmembers of a colonial parliament, and of their guests and friends--herehe stood, in this capacity, and yet he was unable to propose any one ofthe loyal toasts by which it had, till now, been customary to sanctiontheir social festivities. As for the toast, now never more to be heardfrom their lips--the health of the king and royal family--the less thatwas said about that the better. The times of oppression were passingaway; and he, for one, would not dim the brightness of the presentmeeting by recalling from the horizon, where it was just disappearing,the tempest cloud of tyranny, to overshadow the young sunshine offreedom. There had been, however, another toast, to which they had beenwont to respond with more enthusiasm than was ever won by despoticmonarchy from its slaves. There had been a toast to which this loftyroof had rung again, and to hail which every voice had been loud, andevery heart had beat high. Neither could he now propose that toast.With grief which consumed his soul, he was compelled to bury insilence--the silence of mortification, the silence of contempt, thesilence of detestation--the name of the National Assembly of France.His language might appear strong; but it was mild, it was moderate; itwas, he might almost say, cringing, in comparison with what the NationalAssembly had deserved. He need not occupy the time of his friends, norharrow their feelings, by a narrative of the injuries their colony hadsustained at the hands of the French National Assembly. Those aroundhim knew too well, that in return for their sympathy in the humbling ofa despot, for their zeal in behalf of the eternal principles of freedom,the mother-country had, through the instrumentality of its NationalCouncil, endeavoured to strip its faithful whites in this colony of thepower which they had always possessed, and which was essential to theirvery existence in their ancient prosperity--the exclusive power ofmaking or enforcing laws for their own community. The attempt was nowmade, as they too well knew, to wrest this sacred privilege from theirhands, by admitting to share
it a degraded race, before whose inroadswould perish all that was most dear to his fellow-citizens and tohimself--the repose of their homes, the security of their property, thehonour of their colour, and the prosperity of the colony. He rejoicedto see around him, and from his heart he bade them welcome, somefellow-labourers with himself in the glorious work of resistingoppression, and defending their ancient privileges, endeared to them byas many ages as had passed since distinctions of colour were made by anAlmighty hand. He invited them to pledge themselves with him todenounce and resist such profane, such blasphemous innovations, proposedby shallow enthusiasts, seconded by designing knaves, and destined to bewrought out by the agency of demons--demons in human form. He calledupon all patriots to join him in his pledge; and in token of theirfaith, to drink deep to one now more deserving of their homage than wasever king or National Assembly--he need not say that he alluded to thenoblest patriot in the colony--its guardian, its saviour--GovernorBlanchelande.
The gentleman who rose, amidst the cheers and jingling of glasses, tosay a few words to this toast, was a man of some importance in thecolony as a member of its Assembly, though he otherwise held no higherrank than that of attorney to the estate of Monsieur Gallifet, a richabsentee. Odeluc was an old resident, and (though zealous for theprivileges of the whites) a favourite with men of all colours, andtherefore entitled to be listened to by all with attention, when hespoke on the conflicting interests of races. However his opinions mightplease or displease, all liked to look upon his bright countenance, andto hear his lively voice. Vincent Oge had said that Odeluc was a worsefoe to the mulattoes than many a worse man--he always so excited theirgood-will as to make them forget their rights.
As he now rose, the air from the peacock-fan stirring the white hairupon his forehead (for in the heats of Saint Domingo it was permitted tolay wigs aside), and the good wine animating yet further the spirit ofhis lively countenance, Odeluc was received with a murmur of welcome,before he opened his lips to speak.
"I must acknowledge, my fellow-citizens," said he, "I never was moresatisfied with regard to the state of our colony than now. We have hadour troubles, to be sure, like the mother-country, and like allcountries where portions of the people struggle for power which theyought not to have. But we have settled that matter for ourselves, bythe help of our good Governor, and I firmly believe that we are at thecommencement of a long age of peace."
Here some applauded, while two or three shook their head. Odeluccontinued--
"I see some of my friends do not altogether share my hopes. Yet arethese hopes not reasonable? The Governor has himself assured me thatnothing shall induce him to notice the obnoxious decree, till he has, inthe first place, received it under all the official forms--in the nextplace, written his remonstrance to the government at home--and, in thethird place, received an answer. Now, all this will take some time. Inthree days, we deputies shall begin our session; and never were themembers of any assembly more united in their will and in their views,and therefore more powerful. We meet for the express purpose ofneutralising the effects of this ill-judged decree; we have the power--we have the will--and who can doubt the results? The management of thiscolony has always succeeded well in the hands of the whites; they havemade its laws, and enforced them--they have allowed the people of colourliberty to pursue their own business, and acquire property if theycould, conscious of strength to restrain their excesses, if occasionshould arise: and, as for the negro population, where in the world wereaffairs ever on a better footing between the masters and their forcethan in the colony of Saint Domingo? If all has worked so wellhitherto, is it to be supposed that an ignorant shout in the NationalAssembly, and a piece of paper sent over to us thence, can destroy theharmony, and overthrow the prosperity which years have confirmed? I,for one, will never believe it. I see before me in my colleagues men towhom the tranquillity of the colony may be safely confided; and overtheir heads, and beyond the wise laws they are about to pass for thebenefit of both the supreme and subordinate interests of our community.I see, stretching beyond the reach of living eye, a scene of calm andfruitful prosperity in which our children's children may enjoy theirlives, without a thought of fear or apprehension of change. RegardingGovernor Blanchelande as one of the chief securities of this our longtenure of social prosperity, I beg to propose, not only that we shallnow drink his health, but that we shall meet annually in his honour onthis day. Yonder is Government-House. If we open our jalousies wideenough, and give the honours loudly enough, perhaps our voices may reachhis ears, as the loyal greeting that he deserves."
"Do not you smell smoke?" asked Bayou of his neighbour, as the blindswere thrown open.
"What a smell of burning!" observed the chairman to Odeluc at the samemoment.
"They are burning field-trash outside the town, no doubt," Odelucanswered. "We choose the nights when there is little wind, you know,for that work."
There was a small muster of soldiers round the gates ofGovernment-House, and several people in the streets, when the honourswere given to the Governor's name. But the first seemed not to hear,and the others did not turn their heads. The air that came in was sohot, that the blinds were immediately ordered to be closed again. Thewaiters, however, seemed to have lost their obsequiousness, and manyorders and oaths were spent upon them before they did their duty.
While the other gentlemen sat down, a young man remained standing, hiseyes flashing, and his countenance heated, either by wine, or by thethoughts with which he seemed big.
"My fellow-citizens," said Monsieur Brelle, beginning in a very loudvoice, "agreeing as I do in my hopes for this colony with MonsieurOdeluc, and, like him, trusting in the protection and blessing of a justProvidence, which will preserve our rights, and chastise those who wouldinfringe them--feeling thus, and thus trusting, there is a duty for meto perform. My friends, we must not permit the righteous chastisementsof Providence to pass by unheeded, and be forgotten. The finger ofProvidence has been among us, to mark out and punish the guiltydisturber of our peace. But, though dead, that guilty traitor has notceased to disturb our peace. Do we not know that his groans have movedour enemies in the National Assembly; that his ashes have been stirredup there, to shed their poison over our names? It becomes us, ingratitude to a preserving Providence, in fidelity to that which isdearer to us than life--our fair fame--in regard to the welfare of ourposterity, it becomes us to mark our reprobation of treason andrebellion, and to perpetuate in ignominy the name of the rebel and thetraitor. Fill your glasses, then, gentlemen, and drink--drink deep withme--Our curse on the memory of Vincent Oge!"
Several members of the company eagerly filled their glasses; otherslooked doubtfully towards the chair. Before Dr Protean seemed to havemade up his mind what to do, Monsieur Papalier had risen, saying, in arather low and conversational tone--
"My young friend will allow me to suggest to him the expediency ofwithdrawing his toast, as one in which his fellow-citizens cannot allcordially join. We all unite, doubtless, in reprobating treason andrebellion in the person of Oge; but I, for one, cannot think it good,either in taste or in policy, to curse the memory of the dead in thehearing of those who desire mercy for their fallen enemies (as some herepresent do), or of others who look upon Oge as no criminal, but amartyr--which is, I fear, the case with too many outside." He pointedto the windows as he spoke, where it now appeared that the jalousies hadbeen pushed a little open, so as to allow opportunity for someobservation from without. Monsieur Papalier lowered his tone, so as tobe heard, during the rest of his speech, only by those who made everyeffort to catch his words. Not a syllable could be heard in theorchestra outside, or even by the waiters ranged against the wall; andthe chairman and others at the extremities of the table were obliged tolean forwards to catch the meaning of the speaker, who proceeded--
"No one more heartily admires the spirit and good-humour of our friend,Monsieur Odeluc, than myself: no one more enjoys being animated by thehilarity of his temper, and carri
ed away by the hopeful enthusiasm whichmakes him the dispenser of happiness that he is. But I cannot alwayssympathise in his bright anticipations. I own I cannot to-day. He maybe right. God grant he be so! But I cannot take Monsieur Odeluc's wordfor it, when words so different are spoken elsewhere. There areobservers at a distance--impartial lookers-on, who predict (and I fearthere are signs at home which indicate) that our position is far fromsecure--our prospects far other than serene. There are those whobelieve that we are in danger from other foes than the race of Oge; andfacts have arisen--but enough. This is not the time and place fordiscussion of that point. Suffice it now that, as we all know,observers at a distance can often see deeper and farther than thoseinvolved in affairs; and that Mirabeau has said--and what Mirabeau saysis, at least, worth attention--Mirabeau has said of us, in connectionwith the events of last October, `They are sleeping on the margin ofVesuvius, and the first jets of the volcano are not sufficient to awakenthem.' In compliment to Mirabeau," he concluded, smiling, and bowing toMonsieur Brelle, "if not in sympathy with what he may think my needlesscaution, I hope my young friend will reserve his wine for the nexttoast."
Monsieur Brelle bowed, rather sulkily. No one seemed ready at themoment to start a new subject. Some attacked Monsieur Papalier inwhispers for what he had said; and he to defend himself, told, also inwhispers, facts of the murder of a bailiff on an estate near his own,and of suspicious circumstances attending it, which made him and othersapprehend that all was not right among the negroes. His facts andsurmises went round. As, in the eagerness of conversation, a few wordswere occasionally spoken aloud, some of the party glanced about to seeif the waiters were within earshot. They were not. There was not anegro in the apartment. The band had gone out unnoticed; to refreshthemselves, no doubt.
Odeluc took the brief opportunity to state his confidence that alldoubts of the fidelity of the negroes were groundless. He agreed withMonsieur Papalier that the present was not the time and place forentering at large into the subject. He would only just say that he wasnow an old man, that he had spent his life among the people alluded to,and knew them well, if any man did. They were revengeful, certainly,upon occasion, if harshly treated; but, otherwise, and if not corruptedby ignorant demagogues and designing agents, they were the mosttractable and attached people on earth. He was confident that themasters in Saint Domingo had nothing to fear.
He was proceeding; but he perceived that the band was re-entering theorchestra, and he sat down abruptly.
The chairman now discovered that it had grown very dark, and called outfor lights. His orders were echoed by several of the party, who hopedthat the lights would revive some of the spirit of the evening, whichhad become very flat.
While waiting for lights, the jalousies were once more opened, by ordersfrom the chair. The apartment was instantly pervaded by a dull,changeful, red light, derived from the sky, which glowed above the treesof the Jesuits' Walk with the reflection of extensive fires. The guestswere rather startled, too, by perceiving that the piazza was crowdedwith heads; and that dusky faces, in countless number, were looking inupon them, and had probably been watching them for some time past. Withthe occasional puffs of wind, which brought the smell of burning, came aconfused murmur, from a distance, as of voices, the tramp of many horsesin the sand, and a multitude of feet in the streets. This wasimmediately lost in louder sounds. The band struck up, unbidden, withall its power, the Marseillaise Hymn; and every voice in the piazza,and, by degrees, along the neighbouring streets and square, seemed tojoin in singing the familiar words--
"Allons enfants de la patrie, Le jour de gloire est arrive."
The consternation of the deputies and their guests was extreme. Everyman showed his terror in his own way; but one act was universal. Eachone produced arms of one sort or another. Even Odeluc, it appeared, hadnot come unarmed. While they were yet standing in groups about thetable, the door burst open, and a negro, covered with dust and pantingwith haste, ran in and made for the head of the table, thrusting himselffreely through the parties of gentlemen. The chairman, at sight of theman, turned pale, recoiled for a moment, and then, swearing a deep oath,drew the short sword he wore, and ran the negro through the body.
"Oh, master!" cried the poor creature, as his life ebbed out in theblood which inundated the floor.
The act was not seen by those outside, as there was a screen of personsstanding between the tables and the windows. To this accident it wasprobably owing that the party survived that hour, and that any order waspreserved in the town.
"Shame, Proteau! shame!" said Odeluc, as he bent down, and saw that thenegro was dying. Papalier, Bayou, and a few more, cried "Shame!" also;while others applauded.
"I will defend my deed," said Proteau, struggling with the hoarseness ofhis voice, and pouring out a glass of wine to clear his throat. Hishand was none of the steadiest as he did so. "Hush that band! There isno hearing oneself speak. Hush! I say; stop!" and swearing, hepassionately shook his fist at the musicians, who were still making theair of the Marseillaise peal through the room. They instantly stopped,and departed.
"There! you have sent them out to tell what you have done," observed adeputy.
"I will defend my deed," Proteau repeated, when he had swallowed thewine, "I am confident the negroes have risen. I am confident the fellowcame with bad intent."
"_No_ fear but the negroes will rise, anywhere in the world, where theyhave such as you for masters," said Odeluc.
"What do you mean, sir?" cried Proteau, laying his hand on the hilt ofhis dripping sword.
"I mean what I say. And I will tell you, too, what I do not mean. I donot mean to fight to-night with any white: and least of all with one whois standing in a pool of innocent blood, of his own shedding." And hepointed to Proteau's feet, which were indeed soaked with the blood ofhis slave.
"Hush! hush! gentlemen!" cried several voices. "Here is more news!"
"Hide the body!" said Bayou, and as he spoke he stooped to lift it.Monsieur Brelle made shorter work. He rolled it over with his foot, andkicked it under the table. It was out of sight before the master of thehotel entered, followed by several negroes from the plain, to say thatthe "force" had risen on several plantations, had dismantled the mills,burned the sugar-houses, set fire to the crops, murdered the overseers,and, he feared, in some cases, the proprietors.
"Where?" "Whose estates?" "What proprietors?" asked every voicepresent.
"Where did it begin?" was the question the landlord applied himselffirst to answer.
"It broke out on the Noe estate, sir. They murdered the refiner and hisapprentice, and carried off the surgeon. They left another young manfor dead; but he got away, and told the people on the next plantation;but it was too late then. They had reached Monsieur Clement's by thattime, and raised his people. They say Monsieur Clement is killed; butsome of his family escaped. They are here in the town, I believe."
Some of the deputies now snatched their hats, and went out to learnwhere the fugitives were, and thus to get information, if possible, atfirst hand.
"All is safe in our quarter, at present, I trust," said Papalier toBayou; "but shall we be gone? Your horse is here, I suppose. We canride together."
"In a moment. Let us hear all we can first," replied Bayou.
"Do you stay for that purpose, then, and look to our horses. I willlearn what the Governor's orders are, and come here for you presently."And Papalier was gone.
When Bayou turned to listen again, Odeluc was saying--
"Impossible! incredible! Gallifet's force risen! Not they? They wouldbe firm if the world were crushed flat. Why, they love me as if I weretheir father!"
"Nevertheless, sir, you owe your safety to being my guest," said thelandlord, with a bow as polite as on the most festive occasion. "I amhappy that my roof should--"
"Who brought this report?" cried Odeluc. "Who can give news ofGallifet's negroes?" And he looked among the black faces which wereclus
tered behind the landlord. No one spoke thence; but a voice fromthe piazza said--
"Gallifet's force has risen. The canes are all on fire."
"I will bring them to their senses," said Odeluc, with sudden quietness."I have power over them. The Governor will give me a handful of menfrom the town guard, and we shall set things straight before morning.The poor fellows have been carried away, while I was not there to standby them--but making speeches here, like a holiday fool! I will bringthem to their senses presently. Make way, friends--make way."
And Odeluc stepped out among the blacks on the piazza, that being theshortest way to Government-House.
"I hope he is not too confident," whispered a town deputy to a friendfrom the south. "But this is bad news. Gallifet's plantation is thelargest in the plain, and only eight miles off."
A sort of scream, a cry of horror, from one who stood close by, stoppedthe deputy.
"Boirien! what is the matter?" cried a deputy, as Boirien hid his facewith his arms upon the table, and a strong shudder shook his wholeframe.
"Do not speak to him! I will tell you," said another. "Oh, this ishorrible! They have murdered his brother-in-law on Flaville's estate,and carried off his sister and her three daughters into the woods.Something must be done directly. Boirien, my poor fellow, I am going tothe Governor. Soldiers shall be sent to bring your sister into thetown. We shall have her here before morning; and you must bring her andher family to my house."
No one could endure to stay and hear more. Some went to learn elsewherethe fate of those in whom they were interested. Some went to offertheir services to the Governor; some to barricade their own houses inthe town; some to see whether it was yet possible to entrench theirplantations. Some declared their intention of conveying the ladies oftheir families to the convent; the place always hitherto esteemed safe,amidst all commotions. It soon appeared, however, that this was not theopinion of the sisters themselves, on the present occasion, nor of theauthorities of the town; for the muffled nuns were seen hurrying down tothe quay, under the protection of soldiers, in order to take refuge onboard the vessels in the bay. All night long, boats were plying in theharbour, conveying women, children, plate, and money, on board the shipswhich happened to be in the roads.
The landlord would have been glad of the help of any of his guests, inclearing his house; but they had no sympathy to spare--no time to thinkof his plate and wines. As the whites disappeared from the room, theblacks poured in. They allowed the landlord to sweep away his plate,but they laid hands on the wines; and many a smart speech, and many alight laugh, resounded within those walls till morning, whileconsternation reigned without. When these thoughtless creaturessauntered to their several homes in the sunrise, they found that such oftheir fellow-servants as they had been accustomed to look up to, asabler and more trusted than themselves, had disappeared, and no onewould tell whither they were gone--only that they were quite safe.
When Monsieur Papalier returned to the hotel, from his cruise forinformation, he found his neighbour Bayou impatiently waiting onhorseback, while Henri, still in his white apron, was holding the otherhorse.
"Here, sir--mount, and let us be off," cried Bayou. "We owe it to myfriend Henri, here, that we have our horses. The gentlemen from thecountry very naturally took the first that came to hand to get homeupon. They say Leroy is gone home on a dray-mule. I rather expect tomeet Toussaint on the road. If he sees the fires, he will be coming tolook after me."
"He cannot well help seeing the fires," replied Papalier. "They areclimbing up the mountain-side, all the way along the Haut du Cap. Weshall be singed like two porkers, if we do not ride like two devils; andthen we shall be lucky if we do not meet two thousand devils by theway."
"Do you suppose the road is safe, Henri?" asked Bayou. "I know you willtell me truth."
"Indeed, master, I know nothing," replied Henri. "You say you shallmeet Toussaint. I will ride with you till you meet him, if you will.Our people all know him and me."
"Do so, Henri. Do not wait to look for another horse. Jump up behindme. Mine is a strong beast, and will make no difficulty, even of yourweight. Never mind your apron. Keep it for a flag of truce, in case wemeet the enemy."
They were off, and presently emerged from the comparative darkness ofthe streets into the light of the fires. None of the three spoke,except to urge on the horses up the steep, sandy road, which firstpresented an ascent from the town, and then a descent to the plain,before it assumed the level which it then preserved to the foot of theopposite mountains, nearly fifty miles off. No one appeared on theroad; and the horsemen had, therefore, leisure to cast glances behindthem, as they were slowly carried up the ascent. The alarm-bell was nowsending its sullen sounds of dismay far and wide in the air, whosestillness was becoming more and more disturbed by the draughts of thespreading fires, as the canes caught, like torches, up the slopes to theright. Pale twinkling lights, sprinkled over the cape and theharbour-lights which looked like glow-worm tapers amidst the fieryatmosphere, showed that every one was awake and stirring in the town,and on board the ships; while an occasional rocket, mounting in thesmoky air, from either the Barracks or Government-House, showed that itwas the intention of the authorities to intimate to the inhabitants ofthe remoter districts of the plain that the Government was on the alert,and providing for the public safety.
On surmounting the ridge, Henri stretched out his hand, and pulled thebridle of Monsieur Bayou's horse to the left, so as to turn it into anarrow, green track which here parted from the road.
"What now, sir?" cried Papalier, in a tone of suspicion, checking hishorse, instead of following.
"You may, perhaps, meet two thousand devils, if you keep the high roadto the plain," answered Henri, quietly. To Monsieur Bayou he explainedthat Toussaint would probably choose this road, through Madame Oge'splantation.
"Come on, Papalier; do not lose time. All is right enough," said Bayou."The grass-tracks are the safest to-night, depend upon it."
Papalier followed, in discontented silence. In a few moments, Henriagain pulled the bridle--a decided check this time--stopping the horse.
"Voices," he whispered. Bayou could hear none. In a moment, Henricontinued.
"It is Toussaint, I thought we should meet him hereabouts."
The next turn of the path brought them upon Toussaint, who was advancingwith the led horse from Breda. Not far behind him was Madame Oge'shouse, the door standing wide, and, seen by the light within, a woman inthe doorway. Toussaint pulled up, Henri leaped down, and ran to shakehands with his friend. Papalier took the opportunity to say, in a lowvoice, to Bayou--
"You must send your fellow there on board ship. You must, there is nodoubt of it. The Governor, and all the householders in Cap, are doingso with their cleverest negroes; and if there is a clever one in thecolony, it is Toussaint."
"I shall do no such thing," said Bayou. "I have trusted Toussaint forthese thirty years; and I shall not distrust him now--now when we mostneed those we can best confide in."
"That is exactly what Monsieur Clement said of his postillion; and itwas his postillion that struck him to the heart. You must sendToussaint on board ship; and I will tell you how--"
Papalier stopped, perceiving that the two negroes were not talking, buthad their eyes fixed on him.
"What is that?" said Henri. "Is Toussaint to go on board ship?"
"No, no; nonsense," said Bayou; "I am not going to send anybody on boardship. All quiet at Breda, I suppose, Toussaint?"
"All quiet, sir, at present. Monsieur Papalier--on board ship I willnot go."
"As your master pleases. It is no concern of mine, Toussaint," saidPapalier.
"So I think," replied Toussaint.
"You see your faithful hands, your very obedient friends, have got awill of their own already," whispered Papalier to Bayou, as they settheir horses forward again: Henri turning homewards on the tired horsewhich had carried double, and Bayou mounting that w
hich Toussaint hadbrought.
"Will you go round, or pass the house?" Toussaint asked of his master."Madame Oge is standing in the doorway."
Bayou was about to turn his horse's head, but the person in the doorwaycame out into the darkness, and called him by his name. He was obligedto go forward.
"Madame," said he, "I hope you have no trouble with your people. I hopeyour people are all steady."
"Never mind me and my people," replied a tremulous voice. "What I wantto know is, what has happened at Cap. Who have risen? Whose are thesefires?"
"The negroes have risen on a few plantations: that is all. We shallsoon--"
"The negroes!" echoed the voice. "You are sure it is only the negroes?"
"Only the negroes, madame. Can I be of service to you? If you have anyreason to fear that your force--"
"I have no reason to fear anything. I will not detain you. No doubtyou are wanted at home, Monsieur Bayou."
And she re-entered her house, and closed the doors.
"How you have disappointed her!" said Papalier. "She hoped to hear thather race had risen, and were avenging her sons on us. I am thankfulto-night," he continued, after a pause, "that my little girls are atParis. How glad might that poor woman have been, if her sons had stayedthere! Strange enough, Paris is called the very centre of disorder, andyet it seems the only place for our sons and daughters in these days."
"And strangely enough," said Bayou, "I am glad that I have neither wife,son, nor daughter. I felt that, even while Odeluc, was holding forthabout the age of security which we were now entering upon--I felt at themoment that there must be something wrong; that all could not be right,when a man feels glad that he has only himself to take care of. Ournegroes are better off than we, so far. Hey, Toussaint?"
"I think so, sir."
"How many wives and children have you, Toussaint?" asked Papalier.
"I have five children, sir."
"And how many wives in your time?"
Toussaint made no answer. Bayou said for him--
"He has such a good wife that he never wanted more. He married her whenhe was five-and-twenty--did not you, Toussaint?"
Toussaint had dropped into the rear. His master observed that Toussaintwas rather romantic, and did not like jesting on domestic affairs. Hewas more prudish about such matters than whites fresh from themother-country. Whether he had got it out of his books, or whether itreally was a romantic attachment to his wife, there was no knowing; buthe was quite unlike his race generally in family matters.
"Does he take upon himself to be scandalised at us?" asked Papalier.
"I do not ask him. But if you like to consult him about your Therese, Ido not doubt he will tell you his mind."
"Come, cannot we go on faster? This is a horrid road, to be sure; butpoor Therese will think it is all over with me, if she looks at the redsky towards Cap."
There were reasons enough for alarm about Monsieur Papalier's safety,without looking over towards Cap. When the gentlemen arrived at Arabie,his plantation, they found the iron gates down, and lying on the grass--young trees hewn down, as if for bludgeons--the cattle couched in thecane-fields, lapped in the luxury of the sweet tops and sprouts--thedoors of the sugar-house and mansion removed, the windows standing wide,and no one to answer call. The slave-quarter also was evidentlydeserted.
Papalier clapped spurs to his horse, and rode round, faster than hiscompanions could follow him. At length Bayou intercepted his path at asharp turn, caught his bridle, and said--
"My dear fellow, come with me. There is nothing to be done here. Yourpeople are all gone; and if they come back, they will only cut yourthroat. You must come with me; and under the circumstances, I cannotstay longer. I ought to be at home."
"True, true. Go, and I will follow. I must find out whether they havecarried off Therese. I must, and I will."
Toussaint pricked his horse into the courtyard, and after a searchinglook around dragged out from behind the well a young negress who hadbeen crouching there, with an infant in her arms. She shrieked andstruggled till she saw Papalier, when she rushed towards him.
"Poor Therese!" cried he, patting her shoulder. "How we have frightenedyou! There is nobody here but friends. At least, so it seems. Whereare all the people? And who did this mischief?"
The young creature trembled excessively; and her terror marred for thetime a beauty which was celebrated all over the district--a beauty whichwas admitted as fully by the whites as by people of her own race. Herfeatures were now convulsed by fear, as she told what had happened--thata body of negroes had come, three hours since, and had summonedPapalier's people to meet at Latour's estate, where all the force of theplain was to unite before morning--that Papalier's people made nodifficulty about going, only stopping to search the house for what armsand ammunition might be there, and to do the mischief which nowappeared--that she believed the whites at the sugar-house must haveescaped, as she had seen and heard nothing of bloodshed--and that thiswas all she knew, as she had hidden herself and her infant, first in oneplace, and then in another, as she fancied safest, hoping that nobodywould remember her, which seemed to have been the case, as no onemolested her till Toussaint saw her, and terrified her as theyperceived. She had not looked in his face, but supposed that some ofLatour's people had come back for her.
"Now you will come with me," said Bayou to Papalier, impatiently.
"I will, thank you. Toussaint, help her up behind me, and carry thechild, will you? Hold fast, Therese, and leave off trembling as soon asyou can."
Therese would let no one carry the infant but herself. She kept herseat well behind her master, though still trembling when she alighted atthe stables at Breda.
Placide and Denis were on the watch at the stables.
"Run, Denis!" said his brother. And Denis was off to tell his motherthat Toussaint and Monsieur Bayou were safe home.
"Anything happened, Placide?" asked Bayou.
"Yes, sir. The people were sent for to Latour's, and most of them aregone. Not all, sir. Saxe would not go till he saw father; nor Cassius,nor Antoine, nor--"
"Is there any mischief done? Anybody hurt?"
"No, sir. They went off very quietly."
"Quietly, indeed! They take quietly enough all the kindness I haveshown them these thirty years. They quietly take the opportunity ofleaving me alone to-night, of all nights, when the devils from hell areabroad, scattering their fire as they go."
"If you will enter, Monsieur Bayou," said Toussaint, "my wife will getyou supper; and the boys and I will collect the people that are left,and bring them up to the house. They have not touched your arms, sir.If you will have them ready for us--"
"Good, good! Papalier, we cannot do better. Come in. Toussaint, takehome this young woman. Your girls will take care of her. Eh! what'sthe matter? Well, put her where you will--only let her be taken careof--that is all."
"I will speak to Jeannette, sir."
"Ay, do. Jeannette will let Therese come to no harm, Papalier. Comein, till Toussaint brings a report of how matters stand with us poormasters."