by Gigi Amateau
He is my husband now. I will care for him, she resolved. She could, at least, sew a new shirt for him, so when one got too soiled, he could wear the other.
When Nanny finally grew tired, she crawled beneath the quilt she had long ago pieced with her sisters, the only remnant of her family. She put her head on Gabriel’s chest. Anchored to the rhythm of her husband’s breath, Nanny had just slipped into the dreamy cove when Gabriel’s fit woke her. Thrashing and kicking, he called out in words she could not understand. The firelight glowed amber across Gabriel’s face.
Even in his sleep, Nanny thought, he finds no peace.
She tried to cast off the nightmare. “You’re safe with me,” she whispered to him.
When he cried out, “Water! Water!” Nanny sprang from the bed. She dipped her cup in the wooden bucket and held the water to Gabriel’s lips. His eyes shot open, yet he slept on in the grip of the night terror.
Nanny shook him. “Here, drink. You asked for water.”
He pushed her hand away. “No. I’m meeting him,” Gabriel said.
“Who?” she asked, and tried again to shake him awake. “Who, Gabriel?”
“I’m meeting him at the water,” he repeated. “About the business.” He fell back on the bed, and Nanny lay awake, watching over him.
In the morning, when she heard Gabriel stir, she first-thing said to him, “Tell me about the business. Who you plan on meeting at the water, Gabriel?”
He revealed how the Frenchman had sought him out at Jacob’s forge. He read Nanny the pamphlet. “Can I not do for Virginia what Toussaint has done for his people?” he asked her.
At first after he told her, Nanny wanted Gabriel’s plan to be from God. “Has the Lord shown you the way? Did you have a vision?” she asked him.
“I think I have always had this vision, Nan. Is my plan of God? I can only hope.”
“Do you hear voices, Gabriel, tellin’ you what to do? Where to go? What to say?”
“I have heard these voices since I was a little boy — Ma’s, Pa’s, Old Major’s. Yours, my own, those of the children we will have.”
“And you can imagine not only a free Nanny or free Gabriel but a free Virginia?”
“The entire world is turning free. Since childhood, I have asked myself, ‘Why not my home?’ A free Virginia is all I can imagine.”
Nan let her eyes wander the room, searching for some answer, some insight into what to say or do next. She knew she had married a truehearted man, but Nanny had not expected sorrow — the frequent companion of truth — to interrupt her nuptials like this. Seeing no way to change her husband and not sure she wanted to, she implored her Lord God to set aside the quiet and steady work He was known to love in favor of a glorious, bold, and victorious swift Hand. She gave her own hands over to Gabriel. “I am your wife,” Nanny said. “I will never abandon you, not even in death. What will we do?”
And Gabriel told Nanny of his plan.
“We will raise an army from the city, from the countryside, and from the waterfront. We will arm our soldiers with swords forged from pitchforks and scythes. We will field a cavalry of borrowed stallions and raid Mr. Jefferson’s capitol. We will do whatever it takes, Nan, whatever it takes.”
COMMONWEALTH of VIRGINIA
EXECUTIVE COMMUNICATIONS, 1800
to JAMES MONROE, GOVERNOR
March 23
Arsenal
Sir, this Certifies to the delivery in good order by Captain John Tinsley of five hundred and twenty-six cartridge boxes, made by him according to contract and deposited in the Arsenal.
May 30
Arsenal
Excellency, the cleaning and stamping of the arms is progressing well. The muskets are stamped with the name of the county and number of the regiment.
June 14
Richmond
Sir, influenced by the idea which generally prevails, that some precautions are necessary at the present period in consequence of the disbanding of the troops in the vicinity of this place, permit me to invite the attention of Your Excellency to the propriety of establishing a guard at the Capitol for a short period.
HE KNEW now was the time to act. After months of private talks and clandestine conversations with Quersey at taverns and in shops around the city — in Jacob’s forge, too — Gabriel was ready to recruit men from the city and the countryside.
Governor Monroe had discharged the regiments back home, so the capital lay largely unguarded. All the arms of the militia had been cleaned and tagged and deposited at sites throughout the region. New shipments of gunpowder and bullets were arriving in Richmond from Philadelphia.
On a night when Thomas Henry had long left for the mountains in Amherst County to visit family, Gabriel called the first meeting of the men closest to him. He waited at the smithy to see who among his friends would keep his word. Who among them loved liberty. Who among them was true.
Sitting on a log outside the shop, he let the dark woods fill him with words and resolve. Even more than any man or woman, the oak and the elm and the walnut had long witnessed the oppression of folks in Virginia. These trees attended his people’s suffering, anointed their spirits. Now Gabriel asked the forest and his ancestors to breathe wisdom and courage into him. Pa, Old Major, Ma. His stillborn brother. Grandmothers and grandfathers he had never known. He reached into the past and into the future; he needed all of his people now.
Just before the appointed hour and from every direction, the night beamed, alight with the glow of pine-knot torches ascending the hill, converging on the forge. Old men of proven genius and young men of tested strength united to dream of their freedom and to take their place, a free people.
Thomas Henry’s deceitful dealings with Gabriel of late had turned every Henrico bondman against the young planter, though at first some of the elders had blamed Gabriel — not for stealing the hog but for assaulting Absalom Johnson.
All the folks had felt repercussions from that act. Planters in Henrico were like chickens in a henhouse — reacting to every squawk of every nearby neighbor. Some elders said in private and a rare few to Gabriel’s face, “Gabriel got a chance. He came close, but he threw his chance away.” Yet when Gabriel explained to them in his own words the act of maiming Johnson, all of the gathered men acknowledged the impossibility of restraint. All agreed they could bear no more.
“Then gather close and listen. Now is the time to rise and fight for our freedom. I have a plan for our liberty. You know me. I’m asking you to stand up.”
Gabriel told his early recruits the story of Toussaint, and though they knew of Saint Domingue’s victory already, Gabriel gave the story new meaning for these Virginia men.
“Do you think you are too small to make a difference? Tell me, who could imagine this: our brother, Toussaint, showing the world how each man is his own master? Who could imagine a slave boy growing up to command an army? Who could ever dream up a nation of slaves uniting to break free from the irons the whole world conspired to keep them in? Together, are we too small to make a difference?”
The men kept still, and Gabriel gave them the time they needed to place themselves in Toussaint’s skin. Gabriel burned a kindling fire that gave off just enough dim light, just enough, to judge each man’s face.
He watched how they breathed, and when the rapid, shallow breaths of men shackled by fear subsided, and when Gabriel could see the tide of their bellies rising and falling, he spoke again. “You can imagine this, can’t you? You have always held this vision of liberty there inside you, for your whole life. At first it feels dangerous to return to the free place, the free place where your true spirit lives. At first you might feel wrong. I fooled myself, too. But can we ever be happy without also being free? Can we ever be who God intended us to be? Freedom is ours by God as much as it is Prosser’s or Young’s or Wilkinson’s.”
He waved a letter of support and promise of training and troops and arms from Charles Quersey. Most of the recruits had always relied on Gabriel to h
elp them read important documents, but for those who could read, Gabriel made show of handing over every letter of support and offer of assistance. His friend Sam Byrd nodded after reading the letters himself.
“I am a free man; you are free men. Do you believe me?” Gabriel asked them. “We have every right to fight for our freedom as did Washington and Monroe. Now is the time to fight. Will you join me?”
Two brothers stepped forward. “You have our hands and our hearts,” they pledged. “We will sooner wade to our knees in blood than give up the fight.”
One by one they enrolled. Some of Brookfield’s men were among the early joiners — Solomon, Martin, Ben, Tom, Watt, Frank, and Peter. And, from old Colonel Wilkinson’s place, Gabriel’s good friend Jupiter and also Sam and Nat stepped up. From nearby Mr. Burton’s, the husband of Venus, Isaac, and the brothers Isham and George. And from the widow’s came the boy Michael. Only Sheppard’s Pharoah did not step up.
Gabriel wrote each name on a paper he carried with him. If a man could write, that man signed his name. Those who could not write were required to take up the pen and dip it in the inkwell, which Gabriel kept at the forge. Each one made a bold mark where Gabriel pointed.
He told Michael, “Here is your name, right below Isaac.”
The slave Michael looked at the letters in his name. “When I get to be a free man, I will learn to read and write.”
“Are you a true man?” Gabriel asked him.
Michael nodded.
“Mark it here.”
Throughout the spring of 1800, Gabriel and Solomon and Jupiter persuaded men from all around to enlist with the rebellion. In quiet corners of nearby taverns and on the fringes of public gatherings of folks from nearby quarters — gatherings where the women ate all the fish and the men drank only grog — the liberty boys went about building the liberty business.
GABRIEL CONVINCED men from Caroline and Hanover and Henrico to join the boys on the brook, and many new ones from Richmond came in, too. The boatmen heard talk upriver to Cartersville and down into Petersburg, and more names and more men joined Gabriel’s clandestine plan. In Norfolk, in Gloucester, Albemarle, and Dinwiddie, bondmen pledged to fight for their country.
The boys promised guns, clubs, knives, and sticks. They committed to getting horses when the time came to fight. Solomon laid claim to Brookfield’s bay mare, Gabriel to Thomas Henry’s gray stallion. When the new soldiers asked for details of the plot, Gabriel demurred. “We will train with the French colonel. For now, gather weapons or bring me your tools,” Gabriel said.
Recruits brought scythes for Gabriel and Solomon to repurpose into swords. They turned over pistols for the two blacksmiths to repair.
Wherever men congregated, Gabriel went there to make fire with their true spirits and truest desires. At Half Sink, Littlepage, Hanover Towne, and Ground Squirrel, every boy fell in behind him, clamoring for Gabriel’s favor; each boy held his hand out to receive the blacksmith’s touch. Now no man dared whisper behind Gabriel’s back. Now not even the elders would anymore mention the name Absalom Johnson. Gabriel looked deep into the faces of the boys and men who came to him. He gazed into their true spirits as if they had always been free, as if all of them had always been free.
“Can you keep a secret?” he asked the boys at Half Sink.
“We are about to rise and fight for our freedom,” he whispered beneath the bridge at Littlepage.
“I’m damned glad to hear it!” Frank said.
“Can you be strong?” asked Gabriel.
Frank leaped to his feet, ready to fight. Willing to die.
“Then take the oath; swear to secrecy,” Gabriel insisted.
And Frank swore, “I am bound not to discover our secret to man, woman, or child or any person who has not genius or strength enough to support us. I will stand by you till the last.”
Man after man stood up to take the oath to fight for freedom. In secret, Gabriel and the boys readied the city and countryside for war. Hundreds, and soon thousands, joined with the business.
COMMONWEALTH of VIRGINIA
EXECUTIVE COMMUNICATIONS, 1800
to JAMES MONROE, GOVERNOR
August 9
Mr. Grammer to Mr. Davis
Petersburg
Sir, Some whispers have been heard here within a few nights past indicating some plan of an insurrection among the blacks, it is said, intended to-night or some Saturday night. The evidence is not sufficient for any steps to be taken publicly, nor is it publicly known here. It is, perhaps, prudent that the citizens should be on their guard and take such steps as may most likely lead to a detection, if such a thing should be really in agitation. Also, please procure from Mr. Collins, and send me by the stage on Monday or Tuesday, 4 oz. Norfolk Turnips, 2 oz. Hanover Turnips.
August 10
Dr. McClurg to the Governor
Richmond
Dear Sir, This intelligence was received by Mr. Davis in a letter from the Postmaster at Petersburg, and communicated last night by Mr. Davis to me. It appeared to be vague and uncertain; stated that there were whispers of an intended insurrection among the Negroes at Petersburg, and that the information was intended to put the citizens of Richmond upon their guard, as the scheme might extend to this place. At that time of night I thought it best to apply to Capt. Austing, of the Horse, and Lieut. Dunmore, of the Light Infantry, and request that they would form a patrol for the night.
GABRIEL FELT a sort of restlessness among his men. One Sunday, with all the people gathered at the brook for a sermon — as their masters commonly encouraged them to convene for worship — he slipped out of the crowd and retreated to below the bridge. The boys involved in the business joined him there and overwhelmed him with questions.
“When will we march?”
“How many men are committed? What about weapons?”
“Why don’t we start?”
Ben, one of Brookfield’s men, confronted Gabriel. “Why should we put our trust in you? How many names are on your list? How well armed are we?”
Every other man averted his eyes, and this told Gabriel something. If they are too cowardly to confront me, how will they find the courage to march?
Gabriel tried to quell their fears. “Solomon and I have made twelve dozen swords. I’ve made five hundred bullets. Men are bringing what they can bring.”
“Those swords will never be enough to take Richmond,” Ben said.
Then Sam Byrd reported, “I got five hundred on my list. I’ll have every man in Petersburg before long.”
Ben would not be satisfied with their answers. “Gabriel, how many names? Are you marching us to our certain deaths?”
A grumbling spread through them. One or two recruits started back toward the women.
I’m losing them, Gabriel thought. If Ben goes, they may all go. “How many will join us? One thousand in Richmond, six hundred from Ground Squirrel Bridge, four hundred in Goochland.” He pleaded for help from the sky. “I have ten thousand names! Read for yourself. Count them; read each name aloud for all of us to hear.” Gabriel thrust his papers to Ben, who he knew could not read.
When Ben handed the list of names back to him, Gabriel reassured all of the men. “We are strong enough to get the business done.”
“How will you make enough arms to take Richmond?” the late recruit Sheppard’s Pharoah then asked.
“No need. If you were paying close watch the way I do, you’d know we need only enough force to take Goodall’s Tavern. The militia deposited arms there for counting and repair.” He heard the grumbling begin to shift back his way.
“My brother’s right,” Martin said. “The governor ordered the militia to disarm. We can arm ourselves easily at Goodall’s and from there march to the capitol.”
Gabriel spoke again. “I sent Jupiter to Bob Cooley, who guards all the buildings at the capitol. Mister Cooley has agreed to leave the armory unlocked. We need only say when.” This was enough to rouse the boys into full swing and secure their c
onfidence in Gabriel.
Gabriel told them no more. Some were content to know that he had a plan and that French officers stood on their side and at the ready. For others, Gabriel’s decision to send Sam Byrd to enlist the Catawba Indians and the poor whites and the free blacks stoked their spirits.
“When they see we are black and white and Indian, our victory will be assured. Death or liberty, boys!” they shouted.
Ben persisted in his doubts and called for the men to vote on who should lead the business, and by a large margin, the boys on the brook elected Gabriel their general.
“Why are we waiting? Let us move the business forward now!” cried Gilbert. “General Gabriel, lead us to the capital city tonight!”
Disagreement rose up among them about when to move ahead with the business. George said he needed more time. He had recruited only fifty men from Manchester and thirty-seven from Hungry meetinghouse. “Defer the business for as long as possible. We need every man,” George argued.
“Summer’s about over. We must avoid fighting a winter war,” Gilbert countered.
After worship at Young’s spring, while the women cooled their ankles in the brook and while sisters and friends rejoiced in the company of one another, the men took a second vote — this time to determine the date of the insurrection. The boys defied the permits burning in their pockets and voted that the business of liberty would move forward the next Saturday night, August 30, 1800.
GABRIEL WAS to meet Solomon and Jupiter in the forest at his shop on the morning of the appointed Saturday for final preparations. The two brothers reached the shop at the same time. Gabriel made fire; he would cast more bullets and cut more swords while they waited for Jupiter and for nightfall.
