At these words, pronounced in a loud voice, the tones of which had something in them familiar to my ear, all the rebels uttered a loud shout, and clashed their weapons together. Had it not been for Biassou’s influence that hour would have been my last. To such atrocities may men be driven who use the dagger for a cross, and upon whose mind the most trivial event makes a deep and profound impression.
CHAPTER XXVI.
At the termination of the ceremony the Obi bowed respectfully to Biassou; then the general rose and, addressing me in French, said—
“We are accused of having no religion. You see it is a falsehood, and that we are good Catholics.”
I do not know whether he spoke ironically or in good faith. A few moments he called for a glass bowl filled with grains of black maize; on the top he threw some white maize, then he raised it high in his hand so that all the army might see it.
“Brothers,” cried he, “you are the black maize; your enemies are the white maize.”
With these words he shook the bowl, and in an instant the white grains had disappeared beneath the black; and, as though inspired, he cried out, “Where are the white now?”
The mountains re-echoed with the shouts with which the illustration of the general was received; and Biassou continued his harangue, mixing up French, Creole dialect, and Spanish alternately.
“The season for temporising has passed; for a long time we have been as patient as the sheep to whose wool the whites compare our hair; let us now be as implacable as the panthers or the tigers of the countries from which they have torn us. Force alone can obtain for us our rights, and everything can be obtained by those who use their force without pity. Saint Loup (Wolf) has two days in the year consecrated to him in the Gregorian calendar whilst the Paschal Lamb has but one. Am not I correct, your reverence?”
The Obi bowed in sign of corroboration.