The Hour and the Man, An Historical Romance

by Harriet Martineau

  CHAPTER EIGHT.

  BREDA AGAIN.

  The French proclamation was efficiently published along the line ofmarch of the blacks. They shouted and sang the tidings of theirfreedom, joining with them the name of Toussaint Breda. These tidingsof freedom rang through the ravines, and echoed up the sides of thehills, and through the depths of the forests, startling the wild birdson the mountain-ponds and the deer among the high ferns; and bringingdown from their fastnesses a multitude of men who had fled thither fromthe vengeance of the whites and mulattoes, and to escape sharing in theviolence of the negro force which Jean Francais had left behind him, topursue uncontrolled their course of plunder and butchery. Glad, tosuch, were the tidings of freedom, with order, and under the command ofone whose name was never mentioned without respect, if not enthusiasm.The negro who did not know that there was any more world on the otherside the Cibao peaks, had yet learned to be proud of the learning ofToussaint. The slave who conceived of God as dwelling in the innermostof the Mornes, and coming forth to govern His subjects with the fire ofthe lightning and the scythe of the hurricane, was yet able to reverethe piety of Toussaint. The black bandit who had dipped his hands inthe blood of his master, and feasted his ear with the groans of theinnocent babes who had sat upon his knee, yet felt that there wassomething impressive in the simple habit of forgiveness, the vigilantspirit of mercy which distinguished Toussaint Breda from all hisbrethren in arms--from all the leading men of his colour, except hisfriend Henri Christophe. At the name of Toussaint Breda, then, theseflocked down into the road by hundreds, till they swelled the numbers ofthe march to thousands. The Spanish soldiers, returning to their campby such by-ways as they could find, heard again and again from adistance the cries of welcome and of triumph; and one or two of themchanced to witness from a high point of rock, or through a thick screenof foliage, the joyous progress of the little army, hastening on to findtheir chief. These involuntary spies gathered at every point ofobservation news which would gall the very soul of Jean Francais, ifthey should get back to the camp to tell it.

  Jacques knew where to seek his friend, and led the way, on descendingfrom the hills, straight across the plain to the Breda estate, whereToussaint meant to await his family. How unlike was this plantation towhat it was when these negroes had seen it last! The cane-fields,heretofore so trim and orderly, with the tall canes springing from theclean black soil, were now a jungle. The old plants had run up tillthey had leaned over with their own weight, and fallen upon one another.Their suckers had sprung up in myriads, so that the racoon whichburrowed among them could scarcely make its way in and out. The grasson the little enclosed lawns grew so rank, that the cattle, now wild,were almost hidden as they lay down in it; and so uneven and unsightlywere the patches of growth, that the blossoming shrubs with which it hadbeen sprinkled for ornament, now looked forlorn and out of place,flowering amidst the desolation. The slave-quarter was scarcelydistinguishable from the wood behind it, so nearly was it overgrown withweeds. A young foal was browsing on the thatch, and a crowd ofglittering lizards darted out and away on the approach of human feet.

  Jacques did not stay at the slave-quarter; but he desired his company toremain there and in the neighbouring field, while he went with Thereseto bring out their chief to them. They went up to the house; but in noone of its deserted chambers did they find Toussaint.

  "Perhaps he is in his own cottage," said Therese.

  "Is it possible," replied Jacques, "that, with this fine house all tohimself, he should take up with that old hut?"

  "Let us see," said Therese; "for he is certainly not here."

  When they readied Toussaint's cottage, it was no easy matter to know howto effect an entrance. Enormous gourds had spread their network overthe ground, like traps for the feet of trespassers. The front of thepiazza was completely overgrown with the creepers which had been broughtthere only to cover the posts, and hang their blossoms from the eaves.They had now spread and tangled themselves, till they made the houselook like a thicket. In one place, however, between two of the posts,they had been torn down, and the evening wind was tossing the loosecoils about. Jacques entered the gap, and immediately looked out again,smiling, and beckoning Therese to come and see. There, in the piazza,they found Toussaint, stretched asleep upon the bench--so soundlyasleep, for once, that the whispers of his friends did not alter, for amoment, his heavy breathing.

  "How tired he must be!" said Jacques. "At other times I have known hissleep so light, that he was broad awake as quick as a lizard, if abeetle did but sail over his head."

  "He may well be tired," said Therese. "You know how weary he looked atmass this morning. I believe he had no rest last night; and now thismarch to-day--"

  "Well! He must rouse up now, however; for his business will not wait."And he called him by his name.

  "Henri!" cried Toussaint, starting up.

  "No, not Henri. I am Jacques. You are not awake yet, and the place isdark. I am your friend Jacques, five inches shorter than Henri. Yousee?"

  "You here, Jacques! and Therese! Surely I am not awake yet."

  "Yes, you are, now you know Therese--whom you will henceforth look uponas my wife. We are both free of the whites now, for ever."

  "Is it possible?"

  "It is true; and we will fell you all presently. But first explain whyyou called me Henri as you woke. If we could see Henri--Why did youname Henri--"

  "Because he was the next person I expected to see. I met one on the waywho knew where he was, and took a message to him."

  "If we could learn from Henri--" said Jacques.

  "Here is Henri," said the calm, kindly, well-known voice of the powerfulChristophe, who now showed himself outside. The other went out to him,and greeted him heartily.

  "What news, Henri?" asked Toussaint. "How are affairs at Cap? What isdoing about the proclamation there?"

  "Affairs are going badly at Cap. The mulattoes will no more bear ourproclamation than the whites would bear theirs. They have shut upGeneral Laveaux in prison; and the French, without their militaryleader, do not know what to do next. The commissary has no authority,and talks of embarking for France; and the troops are cursing thenegroes, for whose sake, they say, their General is imprisoned, and willsoon die of the heats."

  "We must deliver General Laveaux," said Toussaint. "Our work alreadylies straight before us. We must raise a force. Henri, can you bringsoldiers?"

  "Ay, Henri," said Jacques, "what force can you bring to join ours?General Toussaint Breda has six thousand here at hand, half of whom aredisciplined soldiers, well armed. The rest are partially armed, andhave strong hearts and ready hands."

  Toussaint turned round, as if to know what Jacques could mean.

  "General," said Jacques, "the army I speak of is there, among thosefields, burning to greet you their commander; but in the meantime, Ibelieve, supping heartily on whatever they can find in your wildernesshere, in the shape of maize, pumpkins, and plantains--and what else, youknow better than? That is right, Therese; rest yourself in the piazza,and I will bring you some supper, too."

  "Six thousand, did you say, Jacques?" said Henri. "I can rally twothousand this night, and more will join on the way."

  "We must free Laveaux before sunrise," said Toussaint. "Will our troopsbe fit for a march after this supper of theirs, Jacques--after supperand three hours' rest?"

  "They are fit at this moment to march over the island--to swim fromSaint Domingo to France, if you will only lead them," replied Jacques."Go to them, and they will do what you will."

  "So be it!" said Toussaint, his bosom for a moment heaving with thethought that his career, even as viewed by Father Laxabon, was notended. "Henri, what is the state of the plain? Is the road open?"

  "Far from it. The mulattoes are suspicious, and on the watch againstsome danger--I believe they are not clear what. I avoided some of theirscouts; and the long way they made me go round was the reason of mybeing late."


  Observing that Toussaint looked thoughtful, he proceeded: "I imaginethere is no force in the plain that could resist your numbers, if youare sure of your troops. The road is open, if they choose that it beso."

  "I am sure of only half of them; and then there is the town. It seemsto me, Jacques, that I may more depend upon my troops, in their presentmood, for a merry night march, though it be a long one, than for askirmish through the plain, though it be a short one."

  Jacques assented. It was agreed that the little army should proceed bythe mountain tracts, round by Plaisance and Gros Morne, so as to arriveby the Haut-du-Cap, in which direction it was not likely that a foeshould be looked for. Thus they could pour into the town from thewestern heights before sunrise, while the scouts of the mulatto rebelswere looking for them across the eastern plain.

  This settled, Jacques went down among his forces, to tell them thattheir general was engaged in a council of war--Henri Christophe havingjoined from Cap, with a promise of troops, and with intelligence whichwould open the way to victory and freedom. The general allowed them tenminutes more for refreshment, and to form themselves into order; and hewould then present himself to them. Shouting was forbidden, lest anyfoe should be within hearing; but a murmur of delight and mutualcongratulation ran through the ranks, which were beginning to form whilethe leader of their march was yet speaking. He retreated, carrying withhim the best arms he could select for the use of his general.

  While he was gone, Toussaint stepped back into the piazza, where Theresesat quietly watching the birds flitting in and out among the foliage andflowers.

  "Therese," said he, "what will you do this night and to-morrow? Whowill take care of you?"

  "I know not--I care not," said she. "There are no whites here; and I amwell where they are not. Will you not let me stay here?"

  "Did Jacques say, and say truly, that you are his wife?"

  "He said so, and truly. I have been wretched, for long--"

  "And sinful. Wretchedness and sin go together."

  "And I was sinful; but no one told me so. I was ignorant, and weak, anda slave. Now I am a woman and a wife. No more whites, no more sin, nomore misery! Will you not let me stay here?"

  "I will: and here you will presently be safe, and well cared for, Ihope. My wife and my children are coming home--coming, probably in afew hours. They will make this a home to you till Jacques can give youone of your own. You shall be guarded here till my Margot arrives.Shall it be so?"

  "Shall it? Oh, thank God! Jacques," she cried, as she heard herhusband's step approaching. "Oh, Jacques! I am happy. Toussaint Bredais kind--he has forgiven me--he welcomes me--his wife will--"

  Tears drowned her voice. Toussaint said gently--

  "It is not for me to forgive, Therese, whom you have never offended.God has forgiven, I trust, your young years of sin. You will atone(will you not?) by the purity of your life--by watching over others,lest they suffer as you have done. You will guard the minds of my youngdaughters: will you not? You will thank God through my Genifrede, myAimee?"

  "I will, I will," she eagerly cried, lifting up her face, bright throughher tears. "Indeed my heart will be pure--longs to be pure."

  "I know it, Therese," said Toussaint. "I have always believed it, and Inow know it."

  He turned to Jacques and said--

  "You declare yourself to be under my command?"

  "Yes, Toussaint; you are my general."

  "Well, then, I appoint you to the duty of remaining here, with a troop,to guard my family (who are coming in a few hours), and this estate. Ihave some hopes of doing what I want at Cap without striking a blow; andyou will be better here. You hate the whites too much to like mywarfare. Farewell, Therese! Jacques, follow me, to receive yourtroop."