"It most certainly will be, if we dismiss most of the militia, which is what it would mean if we did what you just said."
"I didn't say you don't need a militia. You just need men in it who're ready to stand and fight."
Briggs examined him quizzically. "But if we dismissed all these half-hearted freeholders, there'd be scarcely any free men left on the island to take their place."
"That's right. You'd have to make some free men." He gestured toward the hills inland. "Do you realize there're hundreds of first class fighting men here now, men with battle experience who could massacre Morris' forces if given a chance? And, more to the point, if you gave them something to fight for."
"Who do you mean?"
"You know who. These new Africans. They've got battle experience, I can tell just by looking at them. I don't know how many of them have ever handled a musket, but I'd wager a lot of them can shoot. Make them part of your militia, and Morris' infantrymen'll never know what hit them."
"I'm damned if we'll arm these savages and let them loose
on the island. Next thing, they'd try and take over. It'd be the end of slavery. Which means the end of sugar."
"Doesn't have to be. Let them work for wage and start treating them like men. Then, instead of worrying about having them at your back, you'd have them holding your defenses."
"That's about the damnedest idea I've ever come across." Briggs spat into the sand.