Chapter Fifteen.
Go or Stay?
The Commander-in-chief was not long closeted with Governor Raymond: for this was a day when minutes were precious. It was observed that there was a sudden activity among the messengers of the Governor, among the soldiers, and among the citizens; and every one felt that the voice of Toussaint was giving orders in every corner of the town, before he had yet come forth. The report spread that Moyse L’Ouverture was come; and he was soon seen, superintending the placing of cannon in the streets, and the mustering of soldiers in the squares. The presence of the young man inspired an enthusiasm inferior only to that which waited on the steps of his uncle. Its influence on Moyse was seen in the fire of his eye, the quickness of his movements, and the hilarity of his air. He appeared to notice every one who cheered, or waved hat or handkerchief to him, and to overhear all that was said as he passed along. In one instance he stopped to reply.
“I little thought,” he heard an old negro merchant say to a neighbour—“I little thought ever to see an Ouverture planting cannon against his own colour.”
“Nor do you see it now, friend,” said Moyse. “The insurgents in the plain are of all colours—almost as many whites as blacks are discontented with the Commissary, and—”
“Turn your guns upon the Commissary, then, young soldier!”
“There is no need, friend. We shall be rid of the Commissary by an easier method; and these guns will be wheeled home, as harmless as they came. My belief is that not a drop of negro blood will be shed; and to that end do we plant our cannon. If we tranquillise the whites of the town, and empty Government-house of the French, the negroes of the plain will find none but friends when they arrive.”
“Oh, ay! That is your policy, is it?”
“That is L’Ouverture’s policy. Tell it everywhere. He is the best friend of the blacks who best makes it known.”
The explanation passed from mouth to mouth; and the new proclamation, signed by Toussaint and Hédouville, from hand to hand. The proclamation was posted in the corners of the streets; it was read aloud in the squares; it was sent, by messengers of every colour, among the insurgents in the plain. The effect of this, connected with the report, which every moment gained strength, that the Commissary was about to quit the colony was so evident, that Toussaint’s wishes seemed likely to be accomplished. The insurgents did not, indeed, disband: they had been too often deceived by the Commissary’s bland promises to do that before they had gained their point: but there was every reason to believe that they would march upon the town, only to secure the departure of Hédouville and his adherents, and the fidelity of the government to the terms of the proclamation.
When Toussaint came forth from his conference with Raymond, Afra and Euphrosyne were awaiting him in the corridor. He would have passed them with a smile; but he saw that Afra was urging Euphrosyne to speak, and that the blushing Euphrosyne dared not do so. He therefore stopped to tell Afra that his daughters had sent their love to her; that she was going to Pongaudin in a day or two; and that her friends there would be very glad to see her.
“Am I really going? Does my father say that I may?”
“He is going too: he will be there before you.”
“My poor Euphrosyne, what will you do?” exclaimed Afra. “This is Euphrosyne Revel,” she continued to Toussaint; “and—”
“Revel!” he said. “Have not you an aged relative in this town, my dear?”
“In that room,” hastily answered Afra. “He is very old, and much alarmed to-day; and he cannot believe that he and Euphrosyne are safe, even here. If you will only assure Euphrosyne that there is no danger—if she could tell him that you say so—”
“I will tell him myself,” said Toussaint. “He is in that apartment, you say?”
“Oh! but please your Excellency,” exclaimed Afra, “he may not like—he may not wish—Euphrosyne is as much devoted to you as we are, but—”
Toussaint was well aware that Monsieur Revel might not like, would not wish, to see him, or any black. Among all the hatreds which had deformed the colony, none more fierce had existed than that between Monsieur Revel and the negro race. He had been a cruel master; hence his incessant terrors now. He had been marked out for vengeance at the time of the revolution, and his family had perished for his crimes; and hence the detestation in which, as the survivor of these victims, he was regarded by most who knew the story. Euphrosyne knew nothing of it; nor did her young companion. There was no one to tell them uselessly so painful a tale; and there was nothing in Monsieur Revel’s present conduct to awaken a suspicion of the truth. He rarely saw a black: and the tenderness which lies in some corner of the hardest hearts was by him lavished upon his only remaining descendant. Little did she suppose now, how much better her grandfather was known by Toussaint than by herself.
“Trust me!” said Toussaint, smiling. “I will not annoy Monsieur Revel. I will merely reassure him, and tell him a little good news; and then leave him to his repose.”
“Yes, Afra,” interposed Euphrosyne. “Oh yes, please your Excellency, do go! I will tell him you are coming.”
She flew along the corridor, and, with joyous smiles, prepared Monsieur Revel for some great honour and pleasure, when Toussaint entered, and bowed low, as it had ever been his custom to do before grey hairs.
“I come,” said he to the old man, who seemed at a loss whether to rise or not, but who would not ask his visitor to sit down, “I come to encourage you to dismiss all fears. By the resolution of the Commissary to sail for France this day all further disputes are obviated. We have strong hopes that peace will not be disturbed.”
“The Commissary going home. Who, then, is to govern us? What is to become of the whites in the colony?”
“I will take care of them. Those who are unwilling to remain, in the absence of the Commissary, can depart with him. There is shipping enough for more than will wish to go.”
Euphrosyne glanced apprehensively at her grandfather, and then said, “Grandpapa is too old to go upon the sea any more; and I am not afraid of anything here. I do not believe there is anything to be afraid of here; is there?”
“Indeed, I believe not.”
“Besides,” said Afra, “my father will not allow any harm to happen to his best friends. My father—”
“Your father, my dear, will not be here,” said Toussaint. “He is appointed to the legislature, in the interior. I protect this town till a new governor is appointed. I told you we hoped to see you at Pongaudin. You will pass your time there, with my family, while Monsieur Raymond attends his duties in the legislature. I go, sir, to provide for the peace of the town. If I can be of service to you, you have only to send to me. I entreat you to rely upon my protection.”
And he went out.
“Oh, grandpapa!” exclaimed Euphrosyne, sighing.
“My dears, I hope I was not rude to him. I know that he meant kindly by coming: and I would not be otherwise than civil. I hope I was not rude to the Commander-in-chief.”
Neither of his companions spoke, to give him comfort on this head. He grew angry. He declared that he did not understand all these changes and troubles, and he would go out of the way of them. He would sail with Hédouville; and so should Euphrosyne, and so should Pierre. He knew he should die before they had been a week at sea; but he would not stay to see everything turned topsy-turvy by the blacks.
Afra gently said that she understood it was Hédouville who had endeavoured to turn everything topsy-turvy, and those who understood the affairs of the colony better, who hoped to keep them straight. Euphrosyne protested that it was impossible to get home, to pack up their goods: and even if they were at home, there was no time to do it properly. When she found all her objections of this class unavailing, she gravely said that she fully believed what her grandfather had just declared—that he would die before they had been a week at sea; and nothing, therefore, should make her consent to go. A compromise was at length agreed upon. Euphrosyne promised to enter the convent, if her grandfather should desire it: and on this promise, he consented to say no more about going to sea.
As Toussaint went forth from Monsieur Revel’s apartment, he met Monsieur Pascal, with his portfolio in his hand.
“Monsieur Pascal here already! I am gratified—I am grateful!” said Toussaint, grasping his hand. “You are weary—you must be very weary; but can you work a little before going to rest?”
“Willingly. No doubt. Most willingly.”
Toussaint desired that fruit and wine should be sent to the governor’s private room, and that the reports of messengers from the city should be brought instantly to him there. Monsieur Pascal and he then sat down beside a table, with pen, ink, and paper before them.
“Monsieur Pascal,” Toussaint began, “the Commissary sails for France this day, with as many as desire to accompany him. You know the reasons which compel me to advise his departure. You came out as his secretary. Do you desire to return with him?”
“I do not. With your permission, I will remain with you.”
“With what view?”
“My own satisfaction, and the wish to serve the colony. My attachment to yourself is strong. I also perceive that you govern wisely and well; and I desire to aid in so important a work.”
“Good. But you are not aware of the danger of attaching yourself thus exclusively to me. Till to-day, if I fell, your way to France, your way in France, was open. After to-day, it will no longer be so. I am so surrounded with dangers, that I can scarcely escape ruin or death. The mulattoes conspire against my power and my life. The blacks, for whom I have made myself responsible, are yet full of passion, and not to be relied on in the present infancy of their education. The French officials are so many malignant spies—excepting yourself, indeed,” he added, with a smile. “Bonaparte, who rules everywhere, is surrounded by our emigrants, who attribute their sufferings to the blacks; and he is jealous of me. I would rather say he distrusts me. Now you see my position. I ask no white to share its perils. If you go with Hédouville, you shall carry with you my friendly farewell.”
“I will stay with you.”
“Thank God! Then we are friends indeed! Now to business. In the pressing affairs of to-day, we must not overlook the future security of the colony. The story which Hédouville will tell at home must be met and illustrated by our statement. Write so fully to the First Consul as that he may clearly see that it is to Hédouville’s ignorance and presumption that the present disturbances are owing.”
“It is a clear case.”
“It is to us. Make it so to him. One word first. Will you undertake the office of governor of this town?”
“Instead of Raymond?”
“Instead of Raymond. He is a good man; but I erred in appointing him. He is fit for deliberation, but not for action. But for my early arrival, this town would have been burned to-day, for want of even a show of defence. He is setting out now for the legislature, to which I have appointed him, and where he will be valuable. Will you assume his office?”
“By no means. I desire to remain beside you, and study your mode of government, before I attempt myself to govern.”
“I have no fixed mode of governing. I merely act as seems to me good at the time.”
“Inspired by a generous love, ever,” said Pascal.
“Enough of this. It would be an advantage to me, and to the colony, that you should undertake this office. There is no other white, there is no mulatto fit for it! and the mulattoes need conciliation. If they see the office bestowed on a black, or occupied by me, in the interim they will feel themselves injured by Raymond’s removal. You see the advantages of your filling the office.”
“I see yet more plainly the disadvantages, unfit as I am. I cannot accept it.”
“Very well. While you are writing, I will ascertain how the provisioning of the ships goes on, and will give you as much time as possible. But there is not a moment to lose. I will return presently to sign.”
Toussaint walked up and down the corridor, receiving reports, and issuing orders every moment. He found that the harbour was covered with boats carrying out hogs, fowls, vegetables, and water, according to his orders: but no baggage had been sent down from the quarters of the French officials, though porters had been waiting for two hours past. Scouts had come in, with news of the approach of the insurgents. This information was communicated to Hédouville, with a hint that the ships were nearly provisioned; but no answer was returned. Moyse sent word that the preparations in the town were nearly complete, and the spirit of the inhabitants improving every hour, if only the Commissary would make haste and be gone. Toussaint found the moment was coming for him to give the word to fire the alarm gun.
“Are the despatches nearly ready?” he asked of Pascal, entering the secretary’s apartment.
“Quite ready for signature,” replied Pascal, drying the ink of the last sheet.
“Excellent!” cried Toussaint, when he had read them. “True and clear!”
He signed and sealed them, and introduced the officer who was to be responsible for their delivery, assuring him that he would be welcome back to the honours which would follow the faithful discharge of his trust. He did not forget to request Monsieur Pascal to go to rest. There might be no rest for either of them this night.
As Euphrosyne sat beside Monsieur Revel, who was sleeping on a couch, after the fatigues of the morning, old Pierre beckoned her softly out, sending in Euphrosyne’s maid, and saying, as he shut the door, “She will stay with my master fill he wakes. Mademoiselle Afra has sent for you, mademoiselle, to see from the upper gallery what is going on. The harbour is so crowded with boats, that they can hardly move; and it is time they were moving pretty fast; for the battle is beginning at the other end of the town; and the Commissary is not off yet, though the gun was fired half-an-hour since. You heard the gun, mademoiselle?”
“Yes. I am glad it was only a signal. You are sure it was only a signal?”
“So they say everywhere. This is the way, mademoiselle. Monsieur Pascal is up here—the secretary, you know—and Mademoiselle Raymond, and her gouvernante, and several more, who have nothing to do with the fighting.”
“But I do not want to see any fighting,” said Euphrosyne, turning upon the stairs to descend. “Tell Mademoiselle Raymond that I cannot bear to see fighting.”
“There is no fighting yet, mademoiselle, indeed: and many say there will not be any. Indeed you must see such a fine sight as this. You can see the Commander-in-chief galloping about the square, with his two trompettes at his heels.”
Euphrosyne turned again, and ran up to the top, without once stopping. There she was hastily introduced to Monsieur Pascal, and placed by the gouvernante where she could see everything.
By this time it had become a question whether the Commissary and his suite could get away. They were making every effort to do so; but it was clear that their road would have been blockaded if the Commander-in-chief and his trompettes had not ridden round and round the party of soldiers which escorted them, clearing a passage by the power of a voice and a presence which always prevailed. Meantime, a huge body of people, which filled all the streets in the northern quarter, was gaining ground, pressing forwards against the peaceable opposition of the town’s-people, and the soldiers, commanded by Moyse. The clamour of voices from that quarter was prodigious, but there were no shots. The wharves were covered with gentlemen, ladies, children, servants, and baggage, all being precipitated by degrees into boats, and rowed away, while more were perpetually arriving.
“Is not this admirable?” said Monsieur Pascal. “The secret has actually been kept that the Commissary is on his way to the water side. See! the cultivators are pressing on in this direction. They think he is here. If they knew where he was, they might catch him. As it is, I believe he will escape.”
“Oh! are they coming here? Oh, my poor grandfather!” cried Euphrosyne, turning very pale.
“Fear nothing,” said Afra. “They will presently learn that there is nothing to come here for. Will they not, Monsieur Pascal?”
“No doubt: and if not, there is nothing to fear, I believe. Not a shot has been fired yet, but from the alarm gun.”
“Oh, how it echoed from the Haut-du-Cap!” cried Afra. “I wonder what the cultivators understood by it. See! my father’s barge! There is fighting there, surely.”
As Hédouville and his suite approached the wharf, the Governor’s barge, which had lain at a little distance from the shore, began to press in, among the crowd of other boats, at a signal from one of the trompettes. The other boats, which were taking in terrified women and children, resisted this movement, and refused, at such a moment, its usual precedence to the Governor’s barge. There was a hustling, a struggling, a shrieking, an uproar, so loud as to reach the ears and understandings of the insurgents. The word spread that the Commissary was escaping them. They broke through their opponents, and began a rush to the wharves. Not a few shots were now fired; but the young ladies scarcely heeded them in the excitement of this decisive moment.
“Oh, they will seize him! They will tear him in pieces!” cried Afra.
“He cannot—no, he never can get away!” exclaimed Euphrosyne.
“And he gave me the sweetest smile as he was going out!” said the weeping gouvernante.
“There! Bravo! Bravo!” cried Monsieur Pascal; and Pierre echoed “Bravo!”
“What is it? What is it?” cried the girls.
“He is safe! He and his party—they are all safe! Not in the barge—that is upset. You see those two green boats, now pulling off. They are there. They leaped into those boats just in time.”
“Oh, look, look! what dreadful confusion!” cried Euphrosyne, covering her eyes with her hands.
“It is not so sure that they are safe yet,” observed Pierre. “See how the blacks are pouring into the water!”
“And carrying the ladies and children with them, I fear,” said Monsieur Pascal, gazing anxiously through his glass.
In fact, the negroes had no idea of giving up the pursuit because they had reached the water. Hundreds plunged in; and their heads were seen bobbing about all the surface of the bay. The rowers, however, pulled well, and presently left the greater number behind, to find satisfaction in the coolness of the element.
“There is no great harm done,” said Monsieur Pascal, still gazing through his glass. “They have picked up two ladies and three children; and none seem to be missing.”
“It is well that you and Monsieur were not there, Euphrosyne,” observed Afra.
Euphrosyne shuddered, and Pierre looked all amazement at the absurdity of such an idea.
“No fear for us, Mademoiselle,” said he. “See how empty the streets are, down below. None but the guard left, within half a mile.”
It did indeed appear as if the whole population of the town and plain was collected on the shores of the bay. Those who had thrown themselves into the sea had to wait for a footing on land, unless they chose to swim round the point—which some of them did. When at length the crowd began to move up into the town, it was because the Commander-in-chief was riding away, after having addressed the people.
“What have you been about, child?” exclaimed Monsieur Revel, an hour after. “You are never beside me when I wake.”
Euphrosyne did not point out that this was the first time she had failed to watch his siesta. She said that she had been seeing the Commissary set sail.
“What, already! He is in a great hurry, I think.”
“The wind is quite fair, grandpapa. I suppose that is the reason why he made all the ships in the harbour sail the same way. He has carried off three frigates, and all the shipping in the roads. The sea is quite clear, grandpapa. There is not a single sail in sight, all along, as far as you can see. They are all off for France.”
“What in the world made him do that?”
“Perhaps we shall hear, some day. To be sure, he had to carry a good many people away with him.”
“Did many whites go with him?”
“I do not know how many whites. They say fifteen hundred went altogether; but many of these were mulattoes; and some few blacks, who went for a frolic, and will come back again when they have seen France.”
“Strange doings! Strange doings!” sighed the old man.
“And we shall have some glorious doings to-morrow, grandpapa. There was a little bustle and struggle when the Commissary went away—I am glad you were asleep, and did not hear it. There will be no more—there will be no riot now, everybody says—the Commander-in-chief has behaved so finely, and the people are so fond of him. The danger is all over; and the town’s-people have begged him—the Deliverer, as they call him—to attend the great church to-morrow, in state. Te Deum will be sung in all the churches, and it is to be a great fête-day. Are you not pleased?”
“Not at all pleased that Hédouville is gone, and fifteen hundred of his friends, and all the shipping.”
“Well, but we are all at peace now, and everybody satisfied.”
“Why are we here, then? Why am I not at home?”
“We will go home in a day or two. The streets will be noisy to-night; and besides, one removal is enough for one day. Afra will follow her father after to-morrow—he is gone, you know, this morning—”
“Whose guest am I, then? If I am the guest of the negro Toussaint—”
“You are the guest of Monsieur Raymond while Afra is here. When she sets out, we will go home.”
“And shall I have to be swung up to the balcony, and have my brains dashed out, while all the nuns are staring at me?”
“Oh, no,” replied Euphrosyne, laughing. “There will be nothing then to prevent your going in your own carriage to your own door. I am afraid we shall not find my pretty little humming-birds there. They will think I have forgotten them.”
“Ay, those humming-birds,” said Monsieur Revel, appearing to forget all his troubles.