Havoc`s Sword

by Dewey Lambdin

  "So, what's the plan, then?" Lewrie asked, deciding they might as well get down to it. "What part of Choundas d'ye want me to lop off this time?"

  Dammit, though-there was another of those guarded looks back and forth 'twixt Pelham and Peel.

  "This does concern Choundas, doesn't it?" Lewrie pressed.

  "Well, it is, and it does," Pelham answered with an inscrutable smile. "Though not completely," he maddeningly hinted.

  "There's bigger fish to fry than him?" Lewrie asked, puzzled.

  "Indeed, Captain Lewrie," Pelham told him with a condescending little chuckle. "There still remains the larger matter of winning the French colony of Saint Domingue for the Crown."

  "We just lost it," Lewrie all but yelped in surprise. "Or had you not heard? Our army beaten… evacuated, root and branch?"

  "Nothing is ever completely lost, Captain Lewrie," Pelham said looking down his long, aristocratic nose, and still wearing a superior grin. "So long as we remain at war with France, the game's not ended. Oh, I'll allow that the French, with this Toussaint L'Ouverture and his tag-rag-and-bobtail slave rabble as their instrument, have out-scored us, the last few innings. But barring a sudden declaration of peace, the game is still afoot… and it is now our turn before the stumps."

  "With what?" Lewrie petulantly demanded, trying to picture the Saint Domingue soldiery and Pelham on a cricket pitch. "We sending in another army?"

  "What may not be gained by force of arms, sir," the elegant wee Pelham chuckled, in a conspiratorial whisper, "may yet be won with the application of guile, bribery, and diplomacy."

  Lewrie had a sudden sinking feeling that this would not be in any way a straightforward proposition-and why he had hoped that it would, he couldn't imagine. He knew in his bones that this time, he would really be in for a spell of "war on the cheap."

  CHAPTER SIX

  Looks hellish-lost t'me!" Lewrie grumbled, wishing that Capt. Charles's wine was but a tad drinkable. He felt badly in need of some.

  "To all intents and purposes, it does appear so," Pelham said, "but appearances can deceive, sir. We have our sources in France who tell us that the Directory in Paris, and the Assembly, have their suspicions as to whether Saint Domingue has been won for France, or does L'Ouverture have designs of his own which may result in a loss after all. There are mercantile forces of great influence who demand Saint Domingue return to immediate profitability, both for their own gain, and for the Republic's. They want their lands, and their money back, even does the trade in cocoa, sugar, cotton, coffee, and tobacco go in American hulls. Once exports are sold in American ports, profit is easily exchanged from United States banks to French banks."

  "The United States is at war with France," Lewrie pointed out.

  "Not officially," Pelham countered, "and American merchantmen, along with Portuguese, Danish, and Swedish traders, enter the colony's ports daily. As captain of a blockading frigate you surely know how impossible it is to stop supposedly neutral trade, so long as their cargoes are innocent, and no military supplies are discovered."

  "Granted," Lewrie moodily agreed.

  "A return to profitability, though, a quick one," Pelham continued, Would require a return to the status quo ante on the island. That is to say, the presence of a French garrison army, the dismissal of the ex-slave armies, and this L'Ouverture creature being supplanted by a new, French-White-Governor-General. But," Pelham posed "What if L'Ouverture doesn't want supplanting? Hmm? What if he owns to dreams of grandeur? He's a simple African, a former slave at best one generation from the customs of some barbaric kingdom and a crude kingship recalled from his bed-time stories. And what worries France is that, perhaps, Liberte, Egalite et Fraternite cannot extend to all, not if the plantations must be productive, again. That would mean the return to human bondage. You know of Leger Sonthonax, Lewrie?"

  "A horse, showed well at New Market?" Lewrie quipped.

  "The former governor of Saint Domingue," Pelham exclaimed, not sure if Lewrie was being witty, or sublimely un-informed. "Soon as he kicked our forces off, L'Ouverture finagled to send Sonthonax back to France to represent the colony. Sonthonax is a staunch revolutionary, the bloody sort, who more than decimated the colony's Whites with his guillotines, worse than the Terror of '93 in France. He's a bit of a loose cannon, as you sailors might say… loves the Blacks! Said in public he wished he was Black, more than once. All that 'noble savage' rot of Rousseau's, don't ye know."

  "Then who better to send to Paris," Lewrie assumed aloud.

  "Laveaux, t'other ranking Frenchman in the colony," Pelham said. "He, at least, is a cultured, aristocratic holdover from the old days of the ancien regime, and a whole lot cleverer and subtler than Leger Sonthonax, more skilled in faction intrigues. Just as 'beloved' with L'Ouverture, we're told, and leagues more able. The question is, why did L'Ouverture send Sonthonax, instead of Laveaux? Sonthonax is not in good loaf in Paris. Too fractious a man, but deuced lucky in being out of the country when his worst enemies got the chop. As he did in the latest instance, landing in France just as Robespierre went under the guillotine and lost his head," Pelham snickered.

  "Robespierre, d'ye say!" Lewrie cried, perking up. "The ogre finally got his, hey? Why, that's marvellous news."

  Wish we could drink to that! Lewrie dryly thought.

  "But did L'Ouverture hope that Sonthonax would be eliminated?" Pelham asked the aether, and leaned back in his chair, staring at the old, water-spotted plaster ceiling. "Is Laveaux more bendable to his will, should he declare total independence? Or is Laveaux less powerful to control events…"

  "And, with Sonthonax chopped first, would L'Ouverture despatch Laveaux to face the wrath of the Directory next," Peel chimed in with a sage expression, "leaving him in sole control?"

  "No matter," Pelham said with a disappointed sniff. "Sonthonax survived the latest power shift, and is recently returned, with fresh orders from the Directory. But with his power diminished in favour of another… so we are informed" Pelham simply had to leer, "who's to decide whether L'Ouverture has outlived his brief usefulness after he expelled our armies. Whether his rival, General Rigaud, might be more amenable to France's long-term interests. Rigaud has created what he calls a Mulatto Republic in South Province, round Jacmel and Jeremie, with most of the educated Free Blacks and educated Mulattoes rallied to him. He's betrayed L'Ouverture more than once, changed sides right in the middle of a battle. In the brief period both served under the Spanish, when the Dons had designs on the whole island of Hispaniola, their relations were quite bitter."

  "But, sir," Lewrie happily pointed out, if only to scotch the superior, insider's, smirk on Pelham's phyz, "once our troops landed, they became tight as ticks. Our General Maitland offered Rigaud just about everything but his virgin daughter to change sides, but Rigaud spurned our every blandishment."

  "Only so long as we were there," Mr. Peel calmly dismissed with a study of his fingernails. "We evil White Devils who'd have put 'em back in chains… and slew 'em by battalions, atrocity for atrocity."

  "I absolutely refuse to countenance any tales of British atrocities," Pelham retorted. "They're all a pack of lies dreamt up by the Directory, and stuck in their papers to poison the other powers against us! Rigaud, though… now we're gone, he has no reason to stay true to L'Ouverture. Both are so ambitious, they're sure to fall out, then make another bloody 'War of the Skin' to determine who rules over what still stands when it's ended. Does L'Ouverture win, t'will be the illiterate and barbaric ex-slaves oppressing the educated, the half-caste, and the remaining Whites, and reduce Saint Domingue to the backwardness of the Dahomey jungles. No, no, 'twould be better, all round, if Rigaud came out on top, and his more-civilised followers. We could deal with Rigaud, who at least is somewhat sophisticated, an educated man schooled in France, seen the wider world, raised as good as a European by his own White father…"

  "Eats with a knife and fork," Mr. Peel interjected, feigning an air of wonder, which subtle jape went right past
Pelham, but put Lewrie to coughing into his fist.

  "As you say, sir," Pelham snapped, stiffening. "Rigaud can see the commercial realities of re-establishing trade relations with other powers. A man who realises whose Navy rules the seas. A man who sees that any hope of American trade is futile, given the vulnerability of Yankee merchant ships, and the utter weakness of the new United States Navy. And, God knows, does either L'Ouverture or Rigaud hope that the French restore their trade or naval presence, they've another thing coming!"

  "So… you want my help to get to Rigaud," Lewrie surmised in dread of just up and sailing into Jacmel like a fart in a trance. "We offer him whatever it takes to buy him over, before the French or the Yankees make him a better offer? God above…"

  "We would prefer Rigaud to L'Ouverture, yayss," Pelham drawled so coolly and casually that it made Lewrie's nape hairs stand on end.

  "You won't mind, do I not go ashore with you, when you dine with either or both," Lewrie scoffed. "Good God, man! L'Ouverture, Rigaud… Christophe or that brute Dessalines, none of the Black generals'd give a tinker's damn for your offers. They'd torture you for six days runnin', and put your head on a pole the seventh! Heard their favourite song, have you? Goes, ummm…

  "Eh eh, bomba, heu heu! Canga, bafio te! Canga, moune de le! Canga, do ki la! Canga, li'!" Lewrie grunt-chanted, pounding the time on the arm of his chair and bob-thrusting from the waist.

  "Mmmm," Mr. Peel chuckled. "Catchy."

  "It means, 'We swear to kill all the Whites and take all their possessions,' Mister Pelham," Lewrie harshly translated. " 'Let us die if we fail to keep this vow.' Well, they've done for their White owners, and a whole British army, and they'll do for you if you go there."

  "Oh, rot!" Pelham countered, as if jadedly amused. "Just like the Terror in France, the bulk of the killing is done with. Laveaux, and Sonthonax, saw to that. Why, L'Ouverture's offered amnesty to emigres who came back with our army, amnesty and return of their estates to any White planters who'll return to the back-country and get 'em running, again. Pay the workers, this time, of course. Those who won't lose all claim to their former fortunes. Sonthonax and Laveaux have enough influence and control over the ugly little monkey to place experienced White officers over his Black regiments, make him see the sense of appointing clever local-born Whites in civil government positions. Guaranteed the safety of any White, even children, who'll teach reading, writing, and sums, e'en on the remotest plantations."

  "All of whom, you hope, will turn on him, once Rigaud announces that he's the boss-cock," Lewrie charily speculated; all that was new to him, but it didn't signify. " 'Cause former masters'd never abide a savage ex-slave regime, but they could almost tolerate a moderate, and educated pack o' half-breeds who can at least speak some sort o' Frog, dress like them… live like them…"

  "Who can eat with a knife and fork, yes," Peel reiterated.

  "That is the hope," Pelham admitted, blithely unworried by any mere quibble. "That, once Rigaud and L'Ouverture fall out, as men do, sooner or later, Rigaud will have the troops, artillery, and support of the prominent, leading elements in the colony, and civil government appointees swinging his way. From what we know of his forces, he has excellent prospects of success. And," Pelham related, bestowing another of those clever little simpers, "even he cannot, both sides're locked in a draining war that sooner or later ends in weary stalemate. At which time our trade, protection, and good offices will appear more than welcome… gaining us what we seek whether Rigaud wins, or not."

  "Slamming the door on American aspirations to extend trade into the colony, thence to dominate the entire Caribbean," Peel took up the tale, since Pelham's cleverness had seemed to exhaust him for the moment; "retaining and protecting our own stakes in the Sugar Isles; and getting us access to a colony that was wealthier than all ours put together, before the war began. We must keep a wary eye on the Americans, Captain Lewrie. Else, they'll swamp us with their skinflint Yankee traders and their wiles, and we'll gradually lose all we own out here."

  God, but it was a vaunting scheme, and all back-alley ambushes and under-handed devilment. Lewrie studied Pelham, who was fussing at his neck-stock, now wilted with perspiration, and wondered whether it was his own scheme, one that would make his name and career in government, or was the preening little pop-in-jay some clever fellow's avid apostle. Must've looked just inspired back in London, Lewrie sneered in silence; gentlemens ' club, drawing room, over port? And scads of clean, unwrinkled maps! Gawd… was this old Twigg's last, glorious riposte? A guarantee of knighthood, even in retirement? It'd be just like him, it has that same fresh-blood smell.

  "Well, it all sounds promising," Lewrie said, lying damn' well. "And Choundas is… what? Going to beat you to it?"

  "Ah, Choundas!" Pelham exclaimed, now revived, and rubbing his hands wolfishly. "We have our sources, don't ye know, Lewrie, even in Paris, the Directory, and the Ministry of Marine."

  Oh God, here we go, again/ Lewrie quietly groaned to himself.

  "He was despatched to Guadeloupe with two missions," Mr. Pelham enthusiastically told him. "The overt one is to organise, arm, and run privateers and smaller National ships as raiders, working for another Mulatto, Victor Hugues, now promoted to greater responsibility. Amazin', ain't it. So many coloureds in French service…" he simpered. "His second mission is to smuggle arms and supplies into Saint Domingue, land agents, and perhaps even speed the export of the money crops," Pelham said, then turned sly, again. "To give his support and aid to…?" He paused, as if awaiting applause.

  I'll kill him, he keeps that up! Lewrie promised himself.

  "To one or t'other," Lewrie finished for him, "L'Ouverture, or Rigaud, whichever looks t'be the winner, so France keeps it, no matter who gets betrayed."

  "Erm… exactly," Pelham admitted with a petulant snap of his jaws. "Got it in one, Captain Lewrie! Now, we also know that France has sent out yet another man to keep an eye on L'Ouverture, Laveaux, and Sonthonax, see which way the wind is blowing, and determine which of them gets the chop, and try on Rigaud as a replacement, if he gets displeased with L'Ouverture."

  "So if Rigaud looks as if he'll go the distance, Choundas and this new man do the dirty work for us?" Lewrie asked, his head cocked over in disbelief. "Mean t'say, they back Rigaud, we let 'em? Just get out of their way? Help Choundas along?"

  "Well, at the least, turn a half-blind eye," Mr. Pelham chuckled, after a long ponder. "So long as things go our way, that is."

  "Mine arse on a band-box!" Lewrie all but yelped.

  "I know that Guillaume Choundas is your particular bete noire, Captain Lewrie," Pelham dismissively said to soothe him, patronisingly, "and you'd like nothing better than to carve him into cutlets, but… the old monster's played the cat's-paw for France, so who's to say he can't be our cat's-paw for a bit, and all unwitting? Wouldn't that be delicious? Oh, decimate his privateers should you meet them, it goes without saying. Gather information from the prizes you might take, in particular any written directives from Choundas himself, so we can do a bit of forgery to sow distrust and confusion, should the need arise… and, do you meet up with one of his men o' war, of course you will be free to engage her, and fetch me prisoners to interrogate. Can't let Choundas think he's a completely free hand, ha!"

  "One would hope not, sir," Lewrie gruffly said, most unamused.

  "You're here, he's here, you know he's here, and we will make sure that he knows of your presence, does he not already," Mr. Pelham cackled with glee from his schemes. You're his nemesis, too, ye know. The temptation to do for you, on his part, must distract him from the proper discharge of his mission. That, and your preying upon his too-few ships, will blunt whatever aid he can deliver either L'Ouverture or Rigaud, making Britain, in the end, appear the best choice to whoever wins over yonder. Either one, really," Pelham confessed, almost whispering to impart his inside knowledge once again, "so long as he is dependent upon the Crown for his continued peace and prosperity. I do believe we might e
ven tolerate an independent, abolitionist, Black Republic to gain that end, Captain Lewrie."

  "But preferably under Rigaud," Lewrie said, sniffing sourly in world-weary amazement at that revelation.

  "Of course," Pelham answered, shutting his eyes and nodding as if saying "Ever and Amen" in his family's pew-box.

  "Slave or free, no matter?" Lewrie pressed, a dubious brow up.

  "Mmm," Pelham uttered, nodding again over steepled hands, as if the re-enslavement of nearly 300,000 people was simply a cost of doing business. "As to that, this new man out from Paris is just the fellow to stir that pot. General Hedouville. Have you heard of him, Captain Lewrie?" Pelham asked expectantly, as if preparing to be clever again.

  "Not in this life, no," Lewrie slowly intoned, preparing himself.

  "Hedouville's a bloodthirsty butcher," Pelham was happy to say. "Conquered the Royalist enclaves in the Vendee region in the early days of their Revolution… rather brutally. A 'Monsieur Guillotine' and a real terror. He'll sort things out in quick order, most-like. Get the colony aboil, likely purge Citizen Sonthonax, perhaps even Laveaux as well. We still have got agents and influence on the island to prompt Hedouville to do just that. And, launch Rigaud at L'Ouverture if God is just, and our slanders take root," Pelham sniggered. "He's the new power over yonder, is Hedouville."

  Lewrie looked away towards Peel, rolling his eyes, just about fed up with Pelham's "how shall we torment the headmaster?" titterings. He found an equally unimpressed ally in Peel, whose blank attentiveness relaxed enough to curl up his lips in the faintest of weary smiles.

  "Hedouville is reputed to be blunt, direct, and quick off the mark," Peel said. "Once he's made up his mind, he's very hard to divert. Much like a Spanish fighting bull, beguiled by the cape. None too clever, really, but a force of nature once set in motion. The ideal instrument for the Directory." Peel had a clever simper of his own. "We pour our subtle poisons in his ears, and mayhem and disorder will surely follow, in short order."