The stolen chest of sugar was speedily made into an altar and covered with a white cloth, through which, however, the words Dubussion and Company for Nantes could be plainly perceived.
When the sacred vessels had been placed on the altar, the Obi perceived that the crucifix was wanting. He drew his dagger which had a cross handle, and stuck it into the wood of the case in front of the pyx. Then without removing his cap or veil, he threw the cope which had been stolen from the priest of Acul over his shoulders and bare chest, opened the missal with its silver clasps from which the prayers had been read on my ill-fated marriage day; and turning towards Biassou, whose seat was a few paces from the altar, announced to him that all was ready.
On a sign from the general the Katchmir curtains were drawn aside, and the insurgent army was seen drawn up in close column before the entrance to the grotto.
Biassou removed his hat and knelt before the altar.
“On your knees,” he cried, in a loud voice.
“On your knees!” repeated the commander of the battalions.
The drums were beaten, and all the insurgents fell upon their knees.
I alone refused to move, disgusted at this vile profanation about to be enacted under my very eyes; but the two powerful mulattoes who guarded me pulled my seat from under me, and pressed heavily upon my shoulders so that I fell on my knees, compelled to pay a semblance of respect to this parody of a religious ceremony. The Obi performed his duties with affected solemnity, whilst the two white pages of Biassou officiated as deacon and sub-deacon. The insurgents, prostrated before the altar, assisted at the ceremony with the greatest enthusiasm, the general setting the example.
At the moment of the exaltation of the host, the Obi, raising in his hands the consecrated vessel, exclaimed in his Creole jargon,
“Zoté coné bon Giu; ce li mo fé zoté voer. Blan touyé li, touyé blan yo toute!” (“You see your good God; I am showing Him to you. The white men killed Him; kill all the whites!”)