CHAPTER THIRTY ONE.
RETREAT.
Pongaudin was indeed no longer safe. Immediately on the return ofCoasson to the fleet, under the date of the 17th of February, theCaptain-General issued a proclamation of outlawry against L'Ouvertureand Christophe, pronouncing it the imperative duty of every one who hadthe power to seize and deliver up the traitors. As Toussaint said tohis family, Pongaudin was a residence for a citizen; outlaws must go tothe mountains.
To the mountain they went--not weeping and trembling, but in a temper ofhigh courage and hope. The rocks rang with the military music whichaccompanied them. Their very horses seemed to feel the spirit of theircause; much more were the humblest of the soldiery animated with thehope of success in the struggle, which was now to be carried on in amode which they much preferred to keeping watch in the plains. Theyfound the pass well fortified; they found the morne above it still andundisturbed; untrod, as it seemed now likely to remain, by the foot ofan invader. They found the mansion at Le Zephyr, spacious as it was,much enlarged by temporary erections, and prepared for the abode of morethan the number that had come. Madame Pascal looked at her husband witha sigh, when the alterations met her eye; and Raymond himself did notmuch relish seeing sentinels posted at all his gates. Euphrosyne,however, was still quite happy. Here was her beloved Le Zephyr, withits blossoming cacao-groves. Here were space, freedom, and friends; andneither convent rules nor nuns.
A perpetual line of communication was established between the pass andthis mansion. Vincent, with a troop, was appointed to guard the estateand the persons on it--including the two French prisoners. Placide wasto join his father below, to receive the forces which flocked to therendezvous. Before he went, he pointed out to Vincent, and his ownfamily, a station, on a steep at some distance in the rear of the house,whence they might discern, with a good glass, the road which woundthrough the plain of the Artibonite, within two miles of the Plateaux,and up towards Plaisance to the north. Many and wonderful were theobjects seen from this lofty station; but not one of them--not even thegreen knolls and hollows of the morne, stretched out from Le Zephyr tothe pass--not the brimming river of the plain--not the distant azuresea, with its tufted isles--was so interesting, under presentcircumstances, as this yellow winding road--the way of approach ofeither friend or foe.
But for the apprehensions belonging to a state of warfare--apprehensionswhich embitter life in all its hours to women--and, possibly, more thanis generally acknowledged, to men--but for the speculations as to whowas destined to die, who to fall into the most cruel hands that everabused their power over a helpless foe (for the French of former warswere not forgotten), and what was to be the lot of those who escapeddeath and capture--but for these speculations, which were stirring inevery woman's heart in all that household, the way of life at Le Zephyrwas pleasant enough.
Even poor Genifrede appeared to revive here. She showed more interestin nursing Dessalines than in any previous occupation since the death ofher lover. Therese was delighted to afford her the opportunity offeeling herself useful, and permitted herself many a walk in the groves,many an hour of relaxation in the salon, which she would have despised,but for their affording an interest to Genifrede. The three were morethan ever drawn together by their new experience of the conduct of theFrench. Never was sick man more impatient to be strong than Dessalines.Genifrede regarded him as the pillar of the cause, on account of hisuncompromising passion for vengeance; and his wife herself counted thedays till he could be again abroad at the head of his forces.
When not in attendance upon him, Genifrede spent the hours of daylightat the station on the height. She cared neither for heat nor chillwhile there, and forgot food and rest; and there was sometimes that inher countenance when she returned, and in the tone of her prophesyingabout the destruction of the enemy, which caused the whisper to go roundthat she met her lover there, just under the clouds. Monsieur Pascal--the rational, sagacious Monsieur Pascal--was of opinion that shebelieved this herself.
On this station, and other heights which surrounded the mansion, therewere other objects of interest than the visitations of the clouds, andthe whisperings of the breezes from the depths of the woods. For manydays, a constant excitement was caused by the accession of troops. Notonly Toussaint's own bands followed him to the post, but three thousandmore, on whom he could rely, were spared from his other strong posts inthe mountains. Soon after these three thousand, Christophe appearedwith such force as could be spared from the garrisons in the north. Theofficers under Dessalines also, aware that the main struggle, wheneverthe French would come to an engagement, must be in the Plateaux de laRavine, drew thither, with the remnants of the force which had suffereddefeat in the south-west. Hither, too, came Bellair, with his family,and the little garrison which had fortified and held L'Etoile, till itbecame necessary to burn and leave it.
Messenger arrived after messenger, to announce these accessions offorce; and the whole household poured out upon the heights to see andhear. If it was at noon, the clear music of the wind-instrumentsfloated faintly in the still air; if the morning or evening breezes wereabroad the harmony came in gushes; and the shouts of greeting andreception were plainly distinguishable, and were responded toinvoluntarily by all at Le Zephyr but the two prisoners. Under theimpulse of the moment, no voice was louder or more joyous thanVincent's. It now only remained for Maurepas to bring his numeroustroops up to the point of junction. He must presently arrive; and then,as Placide and other sanguine young soldiers thought, and as Sabes andhis companion began seriously to fear, the negro force under L'Ouverturemight defy all Europe.
News, stirring news, came from all corners of the colony with everyfresh arrival. Deesha, especially, could tell all that had been done,not only at L'Etoile, and in all the plain of Cul-de-Sac, but within thedistricts of the unfaithful generals, Clerveaux and La Plume. Her boyJuste, though too young to take a practical part in the war, carried thepassion and energy of a man into the cause, and was versed in all thedetails of the events which had taken place since the landing of theFrench. It was a sore mortification to Juste that he was not permittedto remain by his father's side at the Plateaux; but he consoled himselfwith teaching his little brother Tobie the military exercise, and withsport. Juste was as fond of sport as on the day when he floated undercalabashes, to catch wild ducks; and this was well; for at Le Zephyr,under present circumstances, the sportsman was one of the most usefulmembers of the establishment. The air of the mornes was celebrated forits power of creating an appetite; and there were many mouths to feed:so that Juste was assured, on all hands, that he had as important afunction to fulfil as if he had been a soldier. As it was believedimpossible for human foot to stray beyond the morne by any other passagethan that of the Plateaux, the boys were permitted to be out early andlate, in the woods and upon the hill-sides; and often did Genifrede andthe sentries hear the far-off shouts of the little sportsmen, or see thepuff of smoke from Juste's rifle in the valley, or under the verge ofthe groves. Many a nest of young orioles did Tobie abstract from thelast fork of a branch, when the peculiar note of the parent-bird led himon into the midst of the thicket where these delicate creatures hidethemselves. The ring-tail dove, one of the most exquisite of tableluxuries, he was very successful in liming; and he would bring home adozen in a morning. He could catch turkeys with a noose, and young pigsto barbecue. He filled baskets with plover's eggs from the high lands;and of the wild-fowl he brought in, there was no end. In the midst ofthese feats, he engaged for far greater things in a little while--whenthe soldier-crabs should make their annual march down the mountains, ontheir way to the sea. In those days, Tobie promised the tables at LeZephyr should groan under the profusion of savoury soups, which shouldbanish for the season the salt beef and salt-fish which, meantime,formed part of the daily diet of the household.
While his little brother was thus busy with smaller game, Juste wasindulging a higher ambition. When nothing better was to be had, hecould c
ondescend to plovers and pigeons; but he liked better to bringdown a dainty young heifer among the herds of wild cattle, or severalhead of deer in a day. It was his triumph to return heavily laden, andto go forth again with three or four soldiers, or half-a-dozen servants(whichever could best be spared), to gather up from the hill-sides thefallen game, which he had covered with branches of trees, to keep offhawk and vulture. It was triumph to point out to his aides spot afterspot where the bird of prey hovered, seeking in vain for a space onwhich to pounce. Amidst these triumphs, Juste was almost satisfied notto be at the Plateau.
Perhaps the heaviest heart among all that household, scarcely exceptingGenifrede's, was Madame L'Ouverture's; and yet her chief companionship,strangely enough, was with the one who carried the lightest--Euphrosyne.It was not exactly settled whether Madame L'Ouverture or Madame Pascalwas hostess; and they therefore divided the onerous duties of theoffice; and Euphrosyne was their handmaid, charmed to be with those sheloved best--charmed to be busy in new ways--charmed to hear, from timeto time, that she was useful. She useful to the Ouvertures! It was anhonour--it was an exquisite pleasure. She was perhaps the first whitelady in the island, out of the convent, who had gathered fruits,prepared vegetables, and made sweet dishes with her own hands. Morningafter morning the three ladies spent together in domestic occupations,finding that the servants, numerous as they were, could not get throughthe whole work of hospitality to such a household. Morning aftermorning they spent in the shaded store-room, amidst the fragrance offruits and spices. Here the unhappy mother, the anxious wife, openedher heart to the young people; and they consoled and ministered to heras daughters.
"If you are not my daughters," said she, on one of these mornings, "Ihave none."
"But you will have: they will return to you," said Afra. "Think of themas you did of your sons, when they were at Paris--as absent for a whileto gain experience, and sure to return. You will find one of them,perhaps both, as happy on your bosom hereafter as we see your Placide byhis father's side."
"How can you say so, Afra? Which of my girls will ever come to meagain, as they did at Breda?"
"Genifrede is better," said Euphrosyne; "better since we came here--better every day: and I should wonder if she were not. No one can longbe sullen here."
"Do not be hard, Euphrosyne, my love--`Sullen' is a hard word for mypoor, unhappy child."
"Nay, madam; no one can be more sorry for her than I am; as you willfind, if you ask Father Gabriel. He will tell you how angry I was withL'Ouverture, how cruel I thought him on that dreadful day. But now, inthese stirring times, when our whole world, our little world in themiddle of the sea, is to be destroyed, or made free and glorious forever, I do think it is being sullen to mope on the mountain as she does,and speak to nobody, care for nobody, but the Dessalines. However, Iwould not say a word about it, if I were not sure that she is gettingbetter. And if she were growing worse, instead of better, there isnothing that I would not do to help or console her, though I must stillthink her sullen--not only towards her father here, but--"
And Euphrosyne crossed herself.
"It is hard," sighed Madame L'Ouverture; "it is hard to do all oneought, even in the serious hours of one's prayers. I do try, with myhusband's help, when he is here, and from the thought of him when he isabsent, to pray, as he desires, for our enemies. But it generally ends(God forgive me!) in my praying that Bonaparte may be held back from thework of estranging our children from us."
"It can only be for a time," said Afra, again. She could think of noother consolation.
"Those who know best say that everything is for good," continued Margot."If so, I wonder whether anyone can foretell what can be the good of astranger, a man that we have never seen, and who has everything abouthim to make him great, thrusting himself between us and our children, totake their hearts from us. I asked L'Ouverture to foretell to me howthis would be explained; and he put his hand upon my month, and asked meto kneel down, and pray with him that we might have patience to waitGod's own time."
"And could you do so?" asked Euphrosyne, with brimming eyes.
"I did: but I added a prayer that Bonaparte might be moved to leave usthe glory and dominion which we value--the duty and the hearts of ourchildren--and that he might be contented with gaining the homage of theFrench nation, and grasping the kingdoms of Europe."
"I think God will hear that prayer," said Afra, cheerfully.
"And I am sure Bonaparte will thank you for it," said Euphrosyne, "inthat day when hearts will be known, and things seen as they are."
"One might expect," sighed Madame L'Ouverture, "as one's children growup, that they should go mad for love; but I never thought of such athing as their going mad for loyalty."
"Do you think it is for loyalty?" asked Euphrosyne. "I should callPlacide the most loyal of your children; and, next to him, Denis."
"They think they are loyal and patriotic, my dear. I am sure I hopethey will go on to think so; for it is the best excuse for them."
"I wish I had a magic glass," said Euphrosyne--
"My dear, do not wish any such thing. It is very dangerous and wickedto have anything to do with that kind of people. I could tell you sucha story of poor Moyse (and of many other unhappy persons, too) as wouldshow you the mischief of meddling with charms, Euphrosyne."
"Do not be afraid, dear madam. I was not thinking of any witchcraft;but only wishing your children the bright mirror of a clear and settledmind. I think such a mirror would show them that what they take forloyalty and patriotism in their own feelings and conduct, is no moreloyalty and patriotism than the dancing lights in our rice-grounds arestars."
"What is it, my dear, do you think?"
"I think it is weakness, remaining from their former condition. Whenpeople are reared in humiliation, there will be weakness left behind.Loyal minds must call Bonaparte's conduct to L'Ouverture vulgar. Thosewho admire it, it seems to me, either have been, or are ready to be,slaves."
"One may pity rather than blame the first," said Afra; "but I do notpretend to have any patience with the last. I pity our poor faithlessgenerals here, and dear Aimee, with her mind so perplexed, and herstruggling heart; but I have no toleration for Leclerc and Rochambeau,and the whole train of Bonaparte's worshippers in France."
"They are not like your husband, indeed, Afra."
"And they might all have been as right as he. They might all have knownas well as he, what L'Ouverture is, and what he has done. Why do theynot know that he might long ago have been a king? Why do they not tellone another that his throne might, at this day, have been visited byambassadors from all the nations, but for his loyalty to France? Why dothey not see, as my husband does, that it is for want of personalambition that L'Ouverture is now an outlaw in the mornes, instead ofbeing hand-in-hand, as a brother king, with George of England? Theymight have known whom to honour and whom to restrain, as my husbanddoes, if they had had his clearness of soul, and his love of freedom."
"And because they have not," said Euphrosyne, "they are lost inamazement at his devotion to a negro outlaw. Do not shrink, dear madam,from those words. If they were meant in anything but honour they wouldnot be spoken before you. Afra and I feel that to be the First of theBlacks is now to be the greatest man in the world; and that to be anoutlaw in the mornes, in the cause of a redeemed race, is a higher glorythan to be the conqueror of Europe. Do we not, Afra?"
"Assuredly we do."
"They will soon learn whom they have to deal with in this outlaw," saidMadame. "I can tell you, my dears, that Rochambeau is drawing near us,and that there is likely soon to be a battle. Heigho!"
"Is that bad news or good?" asked Euphrosyne.
"My husband means it for good news, my dear--at least, if Maurepasarrives from the south as soon as Rochambeau from the north."
"I wish Maurepas would come!" sighed Afra. Madame L'Ouverture went on--
"It has been a great mortification to my husband that there has been nofa
ir battle yet. His people--those who are faithful--have had noopportunity of showing how they feel, and what they can do. The Frenchhave been busy spying, and bribing, and cajoling, and pretending tonegotiate; and the one thing they will not do is fighting. But I tellyou, my dears, the battle-day is coming on now. Heigho!"
There was a pause; after which Euphrosyne said--
"I suppose we shall hear the battle."
There was another pause, during which Madame's tears were dropping intoher lap. Afra wondered how General Dessalines would bear to hear thefiring from his chamber, so near, and be unable to help.
"That puts me in mind," said Madame, rising hurriedly--"how could Iforget? It was the very reason why my husband told me that Rochambeauwas so near. We must prepare for the wounded, my dears. They will besent up here--as many as the house will hold, and the tents which myhusband is sending up. We must be making lint, my dears, and preparingbandages. My husband has provided simples, and Madame Dessalines willtell us--Oh dear! what was I about to forget all this!"
"Do not hurry yourself, dear madam," said Afra. "We will take care thateverything is done. With Madame Dessalines to direct us, we shall bequite prepared. Do not hurry yourself so, I dare say Rochambeau is notat hand at this moment."
At the very next moment, however, Euphrosyne's countenance showed thatshe was by no means certain of this. Madame L'Ouverture stood still tolisten, in her agitated walk about the room. There were distant shoutsheard, and a bustle and buzz of voices, within and about the house,which made Euphrosyne empty her lap of the shaddocks she was peeling,and run out for news.
"Joy! Joy!" she cried, returning. "Maurepas is coming. We can see hismarch from the station. His army has crossed the river. Make haste,Afra. Dear madam, will you go with me to the station?"
"No, my love," said Madame, sitting down, trembling.
"We can go as slowly as you like. There is plenty of time. You neednot hurry; and it will be a glorious sight."
"No, my dear. Do you young people go. But, Euphrosyne, are you quitesure it is not Rochambeau?"
"Oh, dear, yes! quite certain. They come from the south, and havecrossed the Artibonite; they come from the very point they ought to comefrom. It is good news, you may rely upon it; the best possible news."
"I am thankful," said Madame, in a low, sad voice. "Go, my dears. Go,and see what you can."
All who could leave the house, or the post of duty--that is, all but thetwo prisoners, the sentries, and Madame--were at the station, or ontheir way to it. The first notice had been given, it appeared, by somehuntsmen who had brought in game.
"My boys!" said Madame Bellair, "what a pity they should miss thissight! only that, I suppose, we could not keep Juste within bounds. Hewould be off to the camp before we could stop him. It may be afortunate chance that he is on the northern hills instead of thesouthern, to-day; but I am sorry for my little Tobie. Whereabouts arethey, I wonder. Has any one seen them within these two hours?"
The hunters had parted with the boys in the valley, at sunrise, whenthey said they should seek fish and fowl to-day, in the logwood groveand the pond above it, as there were hunters enough out upon the hills.
"If they are really no farther off than that," said their mother, "theymay hear us, and come for their share of the sight. You walk well,General Dessalines."
Dessalines declared himself well. The rumour of war was the tonic heneeded. Even at this distance, it had done more for him than allTherese's medicines in a month. Therese saw that it was indeed so; andthat he would lie at the Plateaux now before the enemy.
"Look at General Vincent," whispered Madame Pascal to her husband, onwhose arm she was leaning, as all stood on the height, anxiously gazingat the road, which wound like a yellow thread across the plain, andround the base of the hills. The troops were now hidden by a hangingwood; so that Afra rested her strained eyes for a moment, and happenedto notice Vincent's countenance. "Look, do look, at General Vincent!"
Her husband shook his head, and said that was what he was then thinkingof. Dessalines and his wife were similarly occupied; and they and thePascals communicated with each other by glances.
"What is the matter, Vincent," asked Dessalines, outright. "Here arethe long-expected come at last; and you look as gloomily upon them as ifthey were all France."
"I am not such a man of blood as you, Dessalines. I have never given upthe hope of accommodation and peace. It is strange, when the great menon both sides profess such a desire for peace, that we must see thisbreach made, nobody can tell why."
"Why, my good fellow!" exclaimed Dessalines, staring into his face,"surely you are talking in your sleep! The heats put you to sleep lastsummer, and you are not awake yet. You know nothing that has been donesince December, I do believe. Come! let me tell you, as little Tobie isnot here to do it."
"Don't, love," said Therese, pressing her husband's arm. "No disputesto-day, Jacques! The times are too serious."
"At another time, General," said Vincent, "I will instruct you a littlein my opinions, formed when my eyes were wide open in France; whichyours have never been."
"There they are! There they come from behind the wood, if we could butsee them for the dust!" exclaimed some.
"Oh, this dust! we can see nothing!" cried others. "Who can give aguess how many they are?"
"It is impossible," said Bellair. "Without previous knowledge, onecould not tell them from droves of bullocks and goats going to market atSaint Marc."
"Except for their caps," said Euphrosyne. "I see a dozen or two offeathers through the crowd. Do not you, Afra?"
"Yes, but where is their music? We should hear something of it here,surely."
"Yes, it is a dumb march," said Dessalines, "at present. They willstrike up when they have turned the shoulder of that hill, no doubt.There! now listen!"
All listened, so that the brook, half a mile behind, made its babblingheard, but there was not a breath of music.
"Is it possible that Rochambeau should be in the way," asked Therese.
"He cannot be in the way," said her husband, "for where I stand, Icommand every foot of the road, up to our posts; but he may be nearerthan we thought. I conclude that he is."
"Look! See!" cried several. "They are taking another road. Where arethey going! General Dessalines, what does it mean?"
"I would thank anyone to tell me that it is not as I fear," repliedDessalines. "I fear Maurepas is effecting a junction, not with us, butwith some one else."
"With Rochambeau!"
"Traitor!"
"The traitor Maurepas!"
"His head!"
"Our all for his head!" cried the enraged gazers, as they saw Maurepasindeed diverging from the road to the post, and a large body of Frenchtroops turning a reach of the same road, from behind a hill. The twoclouds of dust met. And now there was no more silence, but sound enoughfrom below and afar. There was evidently clamour and rage among thetroops in the Plateaux; and bursts of music from the army of their foes,triumphant and insulting, swelled the breeze.
"Our all for the head of Maurepas!" cried the group again.
"Nay," said Vincent, "leave Maurepas his head. Who knows but that peacemay come out of it? If all had done as he has now done, there could beno war."
"In the same way," exclaimed Pascal, "as if all of your colour thoughtas you do, there would then be no war, because there would be no men tofight; but only slaves to walk quietly under the yoke."
"Be as angry as you will," said Vincent, in a low voice to Pascal. "Noone's anger can alter the truth. It is impious and vain, here aselsewhere, to oppose Bonaparte. L'Ouverture will have to yield; youknow that as well as I do, Monsieur Pascal; and those are the bestfriends of the blacks who help to render war impossible, and who bringthe affair to a close while the First Consul may yet be placable."
"Has that opinion of yours been offered to your Commander, Vincent?"
"It would have been, if he had asked
for it. He probably knows that Ihad rather have seen him high in honour and function under Leclerc, thanan outlaw, entrenched in the mornes."
"Then why are you here?"
"I am here to protect those who cannot protect themselves, in theserough times. I am here to guard these ladies against all foes, comethey whence they may,--from France, or out of our own savannahs,--fromearth, air, or sea.--But hark! Silence, ladies! Silence all, for amoment!"
They listened, ready to take alarm from him, they knew not why. Nothingwas heard but the distant baying of hounds,--the hunters coming home asit was supposed.
"Those are not Saint Domingo hounds," said Vincent, in a low voice toDessalines.
"No, indeed!--Home, all of you! Run for your lives! No questions, butrun! Therese, leave me! I command you.--If this is your doing,Vincent--"
"Upon my soul, it is not. I know nothing about it.--Home, ladies, asfast as possible!"
"My children!" exclaimed Madame Bellair. "I can find them, if you willonly tell me the danger,--what is the danger?"
"You hear those hounds. They are Cuba bloodhounds," said Dessalines."The fear is that they are leading an enemy over the hills."
Not a word more was necessary. Every one fled who could, exceptTherese, who would not go faster than her husband's strength permittedhim to proceed. The voice of the hounds, and the tramp of horses' feetwere apparently so near, before they could reach the first sentry, thatboth were glad to see Pascal hurrying towards them, with two soldiers,who carried Dessalines to the house, while Pascal and Therese ran fortheir lives,--she striving to thank her companion for remembering tobring this aid.
"No thanks!" said Pascal. "General Dessalines is our great man now. Wecannot do without him. Here is to be a siege,--a French troop has comeover by some unsuspected pass;--I do not understand it."
"Have you sent to the Plateaux?"
"Of course, instantly; but our messengers will probably be intercepted,though we have spared three men, to try three different paths. IfL'Ouverture learns our condition, it will be by the firing."
Some of the sportsmen had brought in from the hills the news of thepresence of an enemy in the morne--not, apparently, on their way to theplantation, but engaged in some search among the hills. Others spoketidings which would not have been told for hours but for thedetermination of Madame Bellair to set out in search of her children,whatever foe might be in the path. It became necessary to relate thatit was too late to save her children. They had been seen lying in atrack of the wood, torn in pieces by the bloodhounds, whose cry washeard now close at hand. Though there was no one who would at firstundertake to tell the mother this, there were none who, in the end,could conceal it from her. They need not have feared that their work ofdefence would be impeded by her waitings and tears. There was not acry; there was not a tear. Those who dared to look in her face saw thatthe fires of vengeance were consuming all that was womanish in Deesha'snature. She was the soldier to whom, under Dessalines, the successfuldefence of Le Zephyr was mainly owing. Dessalines gave the orders, andsuperintended the arrangements, which she, with a frantic courage,executed. From that hour to the day when she and her husband expired intortures, the forces of the First Consul had no more vindictive andmischievous enemy than the wife of Charles Bellair. Never propitiated,and long unsubdued, Charles Bellair and his wife lived henceforth in thefastnesses of the interior; and never for a day desisted from harassingthe foe, and laying low every Frenchman on whom a sleepless, andapparently ubiquitous vengeance, could fix its grasp.
Deesha was not the only woman who seemed to bear a foeman's soul.Therese looked as few had seen her look before; and, busy as was herhusband with his arrangements for the defence of the house, he could notbut smile in the face which expressed so much. To her, and anycompanions she could find among the women, was confided the charge ofSabes and Martin, who, locked into a room whence they must hear thefiring of their comrades outside, could not be supposed likely to make adesperate attempt to escape. Therese answered for their detention, ifshe had arms for herself and two companions. Whoever these heroinesmight be, the prisoners were found safe, after the French had decamped.
There were doubts which, at any other time, would have neededdeliberation. It was a doubt, for a moment, whether to imprisonVincent, whose good faith was now extremely questionable: but there wasno one to guard him; and his surprise and concern were evidently soreal, and his activity was so great in preparing for defence, that thereseemed nothing for it but trusting him to protect the women who wereunder his charge. Dessalines, however, kept his eye upon him, and hispiece in readiness to shoot him down, on the first evidence oftreachery.
Another doubt was as to the foe they had to contend against. How theygot into the morne, and why such an approach was made to an object soimportant as securing a party of hostages like these; whether, ifVincent had nothing to do with it, the spies had; and whether,therefore, more attacks might not be looked for, were questions whichpassed through many minds, but to which no consideration could now begiven. Here were the foe; and they must be kept off.
The struggle was short and sharp. Small as was the force without, itfar outnumbered that of the fighting men in what had been supposed thesecure retreat of Le Zephyr; and there is no saying but that the ladiesmight have found themselves at length on Tortuga, and in the presence ofBonaparte's sister, if the firing had not reached the watchful ear ofL'Ouverture at the Plateaux, on the way to which all the threemessengers had been captured. Toussaint arrived with a troop, in timeto deliver his household. After his first onset, the enemy retreated;at first carrying away some prisoners, but dropping them on their road,one after another, as they were more and more hardly pressed byL'Ouverture, till the few survivors were glad to escape as they could,by the way they came.
Toussaint returned, his soldiers bringing in the mangled bodies of thetwo boys. When he inquired what loss had been sustained, he found thatthree, besides the children, were killed; and that Vincent was the onlyprisoner, besides the three messengers turned back in the morne.
"Never was there a more willing prisoner, in my opinion," observedPascal.
"He carries away a mark from us, thank Heaven!" said Dessalines."Madame Bellair shot him."
It was so. Deesha saw Vincent join the French, and go off with them, onthe arrival of L'Ouverture; and, partly through revenge, but not withouta thought of the disclosures it was in his power to make, she strove tosilence him for ever. She only reached a limb, however, and sent himaway, as Dessalines said, bearing a mark from Le Zephyr.
One of the French troop, made prisoner, was as communicative as couldhave been desired--as much so as Vincent would probably be on the otherside. He declared that the attack on Le Zephyr was a mere accident:that his company had entered the morne, led by the bloodhounds inpursuit of some negroes, from whom they wanted certain information forRochambeau, respecting the localities; that they had thus becomeacquainted with the almost impracticable pass by which they had entered;that, when the hounds had destroyed the children, and proved that therewere inhabitants in the morne, the situation of Le Zephyr had beendiscovered, and afterwards the rank of its inhabitants; that thetemptation of carrying off these hostages to Rochambeau had been toostrong to be resisted; and hence the attack.
"We shall have to remove," the ladies said to each other, "now that ourretreat is known."
"Shall we have to remove?" asked Euphrosyne, whose love of the placecould not be quenched, even by the blood upon its threshold. "I am notafraid to stay, if any one else will."
"How can you be so rash, Euphrosyne?" asked Afra.
"I would not be rash, Euphrosyne replied; but we know now how thesepeople came into the morne, and L'Ouverture will guard the pass. Andremember, Afra, we have beaten them; and they will take care how theyattack us another time. Remember, we have beaten them."
"We have beaten them," said Dessalines, laughing. "And what did you doto beat off the French, my little lady?"
> "I watched the prisoners through the keyhole; and if they had made theleast attempt to set the house on fire--"
"You would have put it out with your tears--hey, MademoiselleEuphrosyne?"
"Ask Madame, your lady, what she would have done in such a case: shestood beside me. But does L'Ouverture say we must remove?"
"L'Ouverture thinks," said Toussaint, who heard her question, "that thisis still the safest place for the brave women who keep up his heart bytheir cheerful faces. He is ashamed that they have been negligentlyguarded. It shall not happen again."
He was just departing for the Plateaux. As he went out he said to hiswife, while he cast a look of tender compassion upon Madame Bellair--
"I shall tell Charles that you will cherish Deesha. It is well that wecan let her remain here, beside the graves of her children. Bury themwith honour, Margot."
The Hour and the Man, An Historical Romance Page 31
