The Hour and the Man Part 7
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"Oh, yes, if he leads straight. Jean is a commander, Placide. Look at his c.o.c.ked hat."
"And he calls himself commander-in-chief of the armies of France."
"In Saint Domingo. Well, so he is," said Toussaint, smiling, and pointing to the troop. "Here are the armies of the King of France in Saint Domingo; and here Jean commands."
At this moment, Jean made proclamation for Toussaint Breda; and Toussaint joined him, leaving his wife saying, "You see he wants my husband at every turn. I am sure he thinks a great deal of my husband."
"Toussaint," said Jean, "I shall introduce you to the Marquis d'Hermona; and I have no doubt he will give you a command."
"I shall introduce myself to him, Jean."
"But he will be expecting you. He will receive you according to my report--as a man of ability, and a most valuable officer. I sent messengers forward to tell him of my approach with reinforcements; and I gave a prodigious report of you."
"Still I shall speak for myself, Jean."
"What I now have to ask of you is, that you will dress like an officer-- like me. The uniform is, on the whole, of no great consequence at this season, when the whites wear all the linen, and as little cloth as they can. But the hat. Toussaint--the hat! You will not show yourself to the Marquis d'Hermona in a cap! For my sake, do not show yourself till you have procured a c.o.c.ked hat."
"Where did you get yours, Jean?"
Jean could only say that it was from one who would never want it again.
"We will go as we are," said Toussaint. "You look like a commander, as you are--and I look what I am, Toussaint Breda."
"But he will not believe what I shall say of you, if he sees a mere common negro."
"Then let him disbelieve, till I have shown what I am. We shall find daylight on the other side this ridge."
They had been for some time ascending the ridge which lies north and south between Fort Dauphin and the river Ma.s.sacre, the Spanish boundary.
In the covert of the woods which clothed the slope all was yet darkness; but when the travellers could catch a glimpse upwards through the interwoven branches, they saw that the stars were growing pale, and that the heavens were filling with a yellower light. On emerging from the woods on the summit of the ridge, they found that morning was indeed come, though the sun was not yet visible. There was a halt, as if the troops now facing the east would wait for his appearance. To the left, where the ridge sank down into the sea, lay Mancenillo Bay, whose dark grey waters, smooth as gla.s.s, as they rolled in upon the sh.o.r.e, began to show lines of light along their swell. A dim sail or two, small and motionless, told that the fishermen were abroad. From this bay, the river Ma.s.sacre led the eye along the plain which lay under the feet of the troops, and between this ridge and another, darkly wooded, which bounded the valley to the east; while to the south-east, the view was closed in by the ma.s.s of peaks of the Cibao group of mountains. At the first moment, these peaks, rising eight thousand feet from the plain, appeared hard, cold, and grey, between the white clouds that enc.u.mbered their middle height and the kindling sky. But from moment to moment their aspect softened. The grey melted into lilac, yellow, and a faint blus.h.i.+ng red, till the start, barren crags appeared bathed in the hues of the soft yielding clouds which opened to let forth the sun. The mists were then seen to be stirring,--rising, curling, sailing, rolling, as if the breezes were imprisoned among them, and struggling to come forth. The breezes came, and, as it seemed, from those peaks. The woods bent before them at one sweep. The banyan-tree, a grove in itself, trembled through all its leafy columns, and shook off its dews in a wide circle, like the return shower of a playing fountain. Myriads of palms which covered the uplands, till now still as a sleeping host beneath the stars, bowed their plumed heads as the winds went forth, and shook off dews and slumber from the gorgeous parasitic beauties which they sustained. With the first ray that the sun levelled among the woods, these matted creepers shook their flowery festoons, their twined, green ropes, studded with opening blossoms and bells, more gay than the burnished insects and gorgeous birds which flitted among their tangles.
In the plain, the river no longer glimmered grey through the mists, but glittered golden among the meadows, upon which the wild cattle were descending from the clefts of the hills. Back to the north the river led the eye, past the cl.u.s.ter of hunters' huts on the margin,--past the post where the Spanish flag was flying, and whence the early drum was sounding--past a slope of arrowy ferns here, a grove of lofty cocoa-nut trees there, once more to the bay, now diamond-strewn, and rocking on its bosom the boats, whose sails were now specks of light in contrast with the black islets of the Seven Brothers, which caught the eye as if just risen from the sea.
"No windmills here! No cattle-mills!" the negroes were heard saying to one another. "No canes, no sugar-houses, no teams, no overseers'
houses, no overseers! By G.o.d, it is a fine place, this! So we are going down there to be soldiers to the king! those cattle are wild, and yonder are the hunters going out! By G.o.d, it is a fine place!"
In somewhat different ways, every one present, but Papalier and Therese, was indulging the same mood of thought. There was a wildness in the scene which made the heart beat high with the sense of freedom. For some the emotion seemed too strong. Toussaint pointed out to his boys the path on the other side of the river which would lead them to the point of the sh.o.r.e nearest to Paul's hut, instructed them how to find or make a habitation for their mother and sisters till he could visit them, gave his wife a letter to his brother, and, except to bid his family a brief farewell for a brief time, spoke no more till he reached the Spanish post, and inquired for the General.
Jean stepped before him into the general's presence, taking possession of the centre of the green s.p.a.ce before the tent, where the Marquis d'Hermona was enjoying the coolness of the morning. After having duly declared his own importance, and announced the accession of numbers he was likely to bring, Jean proceeded to extol Toussaint as one of the valuables he had brought. After apologising for his friend's want of a c.o.c.ked hat, he proceeded to exhibit his learning, declaring that he had studied "Plutarch", "Caesar's Commentaries", "Epictetus", "Marshal Saxe's Military Reveries--"
Here he was stopped by the grasp of Toussaint's hand upon his arm.
Toussaint told the General that he came alone, without chief and without followers: the few men who had left Breda with him having ranged themselves with the force of Jean Francais. He came alone to offer the strength of his arm, on behalf of his king, to the allies of royalist France.
The Spanish soldiers, who glittered all around in their arms and bright uniform, looked upon the somewhat gaunt negro in his plantation dress, dusty with travel, and his woollen cap in hand, and thought, probably, that the king of France would not be much aided by such an ally. It is probable; for a smile went round, in which Jean joined. It is probable that the Marquis d'Hermona thought differently, for he said--
"The strength of your arm! Good! And the strength of your head, too, I hope. We get more arms than heads from your side of the frontier. Is it true that you have studied the art of war?"
"I have studied it in books."
"Very well. We want officers for our black troops--all we can raise in the present crisis. You will have the rank of colonel in a regiment to be immediately organised. Are you content?"
Toussaint signified his a.s.sent, and orders were given for a tent to be prepared for his present repose. He looked around, as if for some one whom he did not see. On being asked, he said that if there was at the post a priest who spoke French, he could wish to converse with him.
"Laxabon understands French, I think," said the marquis to a gentleman of his staff. The aide a.s.sented.
"Your excellent desire shall be gratified," said the General. "I doubt not Father Laxabon will presently visit you in your tent."
Father Laxabon had heard rumours of the horrors perpetrated in the French colony within the last two nights. On being told that his attendance was equally desired by a fugitive negro, he recoiled for a moment from what he might have to hear.
When he entered the tent, he found Toussaint alone, on the ground, his bosom bursting with deep and thick-coming sobs, "How is this, my son?"
said the priest. "Is this grief, or is it penitence?"
"I am free," said Toussaint, "and I am an oppression to myself. I did not seek freedom. I was at ease, and did not desire it, seeing how men abuse their freedom."
"You must not, then, abuse your freedom, my son," said the priest, wholly relieved.
"How shall I appear before G.o.d--I who have ever been guided, and who know not whether I can guide myself--my master gone--my employment gone--and I, by his will, a free man, but unprepared, unfit?--Receive my confession, father, and guide me from this time."
"Willingly, my son. He who has appointed a new lot to you will enable me to guide you in it."
The tent was closed; and Toussaint kneeled to relieve his full heart from its new sense of freedom, by subjecting himself to a task-master of the soul.
CHAPTER FIVE.
GRIEFS OF THE LOYAL.
Margot doubted much, at the end of the first week, and at the end of every following week, whether she liked freedom. Margot had had few cares during the many years that she had lived under the mild rule of Monsieur Bayou--her husband faithful and kind, and her children provided for without present anxiety on her part. Thoughts of the future would, it is true, occasionally trouble her, as she knew they weighed heavily on her husband's mind. When she saw Genifrede growing up, handsome in her parents' eyes, and so timid and reserved that her father sometimes said he wondered whether any one would ever know her mind better than her own family did--when Margot looked upon Genifrede, and considered that her lot in life depended on the will of Monsieur Bayou, she shuddered to think what it might be. When Monsieur Bayou told Genifrede that she was well coiffee, or that he wished she would show the other girls among the house-negroes how to make their Sunday gowns sit like hers, Genifrede invariably appeared not to hear, and often walked away in the midst of the speech; and then her mother could not but wonder how she would conduct herself, whenever the day should come that must come, when (as there was no one on the Breda estate whom Genifrede liked, or would a.s.sociate with) Monsieur Bayou should bring some one to their cottage, and desire Genifrede to marry him. When Margot looked upon her sons, and upon Aimee, now so inseparable from Isaac, and considered that their remaining together depended not only on Monsieur Bayou's will, but on his life, she trembled lest the day should be at hand when Placide might be carried away northward, and Isaac eastward, and poor Aimee left desolate. Such had been the mother's pa.s.sing cares in the situation in which nothing had been wanting to her immediate comfort. Now, amidst the perplexities of her new settlement, she was apt to forget that she had formerly had any cares.
Where to house the party had been the first difficulty. But for old Dessalines, who, being no soldier, had chosen to hide himself in the same retreat with them, they would hardly have had good shelter before the rains. Paul had received them kindly; but Paul's kindness was of a somewhat indolent sort; and it was doubtful whether he would have proceeded beyond looking round his hut, and lamenting that it was no bigger, if his spirited son Moyse, a fine lad of sixteen, had not been there to do something more effectual, in finding the place and the materials for the old tiler to begin his work. It was Moyse who convinced the whole party from the plain that a hut of bamboo and palm-leaves would fall in an hour before one of the hail-storms of this rocky coast; and that it would not do to build on the sands, lest some high tide should wash them all away in the night. It was Moyse who led his cousins to the part of the beach where portions of wrecks were most likely to be found, and who lent the strongest hand to remove such beams and planks as Dessalines wanted for his work. A house large enough to hold the family was soon covered in. It looked well, perched on a platform of rock, and seeming to nestle in a recess of the huge precipices which rose behind it. It looked well, as Dessalines could obtain neither of his favourite paints to smear it with. It stood, neither red nor blue, but nearly the colour of the rocks, against which it leaned, and thatched with palm-leaves, which projected so far as to throw off the rains, even to a depth below.
Paul provided fish--as much as his relations chose to have; but the young people chose to have many other things, under the guidance of Moyse; and here lay their mother's daily care. She believed that both boys and girls ran into a thousand dangers, and no one would help her to restrain them. Paul had always let Moyse have his own way; and Dessalines, when he had brought in drift-wood for her fires, which he daily chose to do, lay down in the sun when the sun shone, and before the fire when the clouds gathered, and slept away the hours. Paul wanted help in his fis.h.i.+ng; and it was commonly Isaac who went with him; for Isaac was more fond of boating than rambling. Where Isaac was, there was Aimee. She gave no contemptible help in drawing in the nets; and when the fish was landed, she and Isaac sat for hours among the mangroves which bordered the neighbouring cove, under pretence of cleaning the fish, or of mending the nets, or of watching the cranes which stalked about the sands. Sometimes, in order to be yet more secure from disturbance, the brother and sister would put off again, when they had landed Paul with his prize, and get upon the coral reef, half a mile off--in calm weather collecting the sh.e.l.l-fish which were strewed there in mult.i.tudes, and watching the while the freaks and sports of the dolphins in the clear depths around; and in windy weather sitting in the midst of the spray, which was dashed over them from the heavy seas outside. Many times in a morning or evening did Margot look out from her doorway, and see their dusky forms upon the reef, now sitting motionless in talk, now stooping for mussels and crabs, and never till the last moment in the boat, on their way home. Sometimes Denis was with them--sometimes with her--but oftenest with the party led by Moyse.
Moyse had first enticed Genifrede up the rocks behind their dwelling, to get gra.s.s for hammocks, and to make matting for the floors. Almost from the first day, it appeared as if Genifrede's fears all melted away in the presence of Moyse; and her mother became sure of this when, after gra.s.s enough had been procured, Genifrede continued to accompany Placide and Moyse in their almost daily expeditions for sporting and pleasure.
They brought guanas, tender young monkeys, and cocoa-nuts from the wood, wild kids from the rock, delicate ducks from the mountain-ponds, and sometimes a hog or a calf from the droves and herds which flourished in the rich savannahs on the southern side, on which they looked down from their ridge. In the joy of seeing her children home again, gladsome as they were, and feeling that they brought plenty and luxury into her cottage, Margot kept her cares to herself, from day-to-day, and did not interfere with their proceedings. She sometimes thought she was foolish, and always was glad to see them enjoying their freedom; but still, she felt doubtful whether she herself had not been happier at Breda. The only time when her heart was completely at ease and exulting was when Toussaint came to see his family, to open his heart to his wife, and to smile away her troubles. Her heart exulted when she saw him cross the ridge, with a mounted private behind him, urge his horse down the ascent, gallop along the sands to the foot of the rocks, throw the bridle to his attendant, and mount to the platform, looking up as he approached, to see whether she was on the watch. She was always on the watch. She liked to admire his uniform, and to hear his sword clatter as he walked. She liked to see him looking more important, more dignified, than Bayou or Papalier had ever appeared in her eyes. Then, her heart was always full of thoughts about their children, which he was as anxious to hear as she to tell; and he was the only one from whom she could learn anything of what was going on in the world, or of what prospects lay before themselves. He brought news from France, from Cap and the plain, and, after a while, from America--that Monsieur Bayou was settled at Baltimore, where he intended to remain till, as he said, the pacification of the colony should enable him to return to Breda. There was no fear, as Toussaint always found, but that Margot would be looking out for him.
The tidings he brought were never very joyous, and often sad enough. He said little of his personal cares; but Margot gathered that he found it difficult to keep on good terms with Jean. Once he had resigned his rank of colonel, and had a.s.sumed an office of which Jean could not be jealous--that of physician to the forces--an office for which he was qualified by an early and extensive acquaintance with the common diseases of the country, and the natural remedies provided by its soil.
When the Marquis d'Hermona had insisted upon his resuming his command, as the best officer the negro forces could boast, Jean had purposed to arrest him on some frivolous charge, and the foolish act had only been prevented by a frank and strong remonstrance from his old friend. All this time, Toussaint's military successes had been great; and his name now struck such awe into the lawless forces of the insurgent blacks, that it was unnecessary for him to shed their blood. He held the post of Marmalade, and from thence was present with such unheard-of rapidity of march, wherever violence was expected, that the spirit of outrage throughout the colony was, at length, kept in check. This peaceful mode of standing by the rights of the king was more acceptable to the gentle Toussaint than the warfare by which he had gained his power over his own race; but he knew well that things could not go on as they were--that order of some kind must be established--order which could be reached only through a fierce final struggle; and of what nature this order was to be, depended wholly upon the turn which affairs took in Europe.
He rarely brought good news from abroad. His countenance always grew sad when Margot asked what s.h.i.+ps had arrived from France since his last visit. First he had to tell her that the people of Paris had met in the Champ de Mars, and demanded the dethronement of the king; then, that Danton had audaciously informed the representatives of France that their refusal to declare the throne vacant would be the signal for a general insurrection. After this, no national calamity could surprise the loyal colonists, Toussaint said; for the fate of Louis as a king, if not as a man, was decided. Accordingly, there followed humiliations, deposition, imprisonment, during which little could be known of the mind, and even of the condition of the king: and those who would have served him remained in anxious suspense. It happened, one warm day in the spring, when every trace of the winter hail-storms had pa.s.sed away, that the whole party were amusing themselves in trying to collect enough of the ripening sea-side grape for a feast. The bright round leaves were broad and abundant; but the cl.u.s.ters of the fruit were yet only of a pale yellow, and a berry here and there was all that was fit for gathering.
The grape-gathering was little more than a pretence for basking in the sun, or for lounging in the shade of the abundant verdure, which seemed to have been sown by the hurricane, and watered by the wintry surf, so luxuriantly did it spring from the sands and the salt waves. The stately manchineel overhung the tide; the mangroves sprang out of the waters; the sea-side grape overspread the sands with a thick green carpet, and kept them cool, so that as the human foot sought the spot, the glittering lizards forsook it, and darted away to seek the hot face of the rock. For full half a mile this patch of verdure spread; and over this s.p.a.ce were dispersed Margot and her household, when Toussaint crossed the ridge, on one of his frequent visits. As he descended, he heard laughter and singing; and among the singing voices, the cracked pipe of old Dessalines. Toussaint grieved to interrupt this mirth, and to think that he must leave dull and sad those whom he found so gay.
But he came with bad news, and on a mournful errand, and there was no help for it. As he p.r.i.c.ked on his horse towards the party, the young people set up a shout and began to run towards him, but stopped short on seeing how unusually large a train he brought. Five or six mounted soldiers, instead of one, followed him this time, and they led several horses.
"Oh, you are come to take us home!" cried Margot, joyfully, as she met him.
He shook his head as he replied--"_No_, Margot, not yet. But the time may come."
"I wish you could tell us when it would come," said Dessalines. "It is all very well gathering these things, and calling them grapes, for want of better; but give me the grapes that yield one wine. I wonder who has been gathering the grapes from my trellis all this time, while, the whole rainy season through, not a drop did I taste? I wish you had left your revolutions and nonsense till after my time, that I might have sat under my own vine and my own fig-tree, as the priest says, till the end of my days."
The Hour and the Man Part 7
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The Hour and the Man Part 7 summary
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