It was now nearly half-past five and dawn not far off. As usual at that hour the wind had dropped, but a light breeze from the sea still fanned the flames of the burning maize store; and there was good reason to assume that the negroes had deliberately chosen that building to start a fire in because it was on the seaward side of the house. With the abandoning of the attempt to get buckets of water along to the laundry the shooting had ceased; so in the early morning stillness Roger could now actually hear the crackling of the flames as they ate into the old rafters.
As soon as the others learned of de Boucicault's death, by an unspoken but unanimous consent they looked to Roger as their new leader, and the responsibility weighed with crushing heaviness upon him. Had he been strong and well he could as a last resort have led a desperate sortie, hoping that some of them might break through with the women, then turn and make a stand while they ran on to hide themselves in the woods; but, crippled as he was, that was out of the question. He put the idea to Fergusson, suggesting that he or Dan should act as leader, but immediately Amanda and Georgina heard of it they refused to leave without him.
All he could do then was to send more men up to the roof to aid the fire-fighting parry there, in the hope that if enough water was poured down on to the laundry that might yet check the advance of the fire. But the flames from the maize store were now leaping high and casting a new lurid light upon the scene. By it the attackers were able to see and snipe at the fire-fighters. Kilick was again wounded, this time in the hand, and shortly afterwards Ovid, de Boucicault's mulatto valet, was shot through the head; so these casualties, and the caution the others now had to exercise, nullified the extra help that had been sent up to them.
Soon after Kilick came down to have his hand bound up, flames burst through the laundry roof as if it had been a lid clamped down upon a seething volcano. In a matter of moments the main building caught fire and smoke began to drift through the house.
Sick with distress, Roger made his way to the dining-room. Taking a large jug he poured two bottles of wine into it, then the poison. Setting the jug on the table he placed nearby it a glass apiece for each of the survivors. But when he got back to the hall he could not yet bring himself to tell any of the others what he had done.
Unnoticed by him while he had been preparing the deadly brew, dawn had come. As he peered out through one of the loopholes at the side of the front door his heart sank afresh. Some way down the drive a body of at least a hundred negro soldiers stood casually leaning on their muskets and evidently awaiting orders. Reinforcements had arrived, so the last hope had gone of persuading the others to try a breakout instead of taking the terrible alternative.
As he watched, a tall negro in a plumed cocked hat signed to one of the soldiers to go forward. The man held something white. Next moment as he walked towards the house he raised it above his head, and Roger saw that it was a flag of truce. With trembling ringers he set about unbarring the door.
"In Heaven's name, what are you about?" exclaimed Amanda.
"They are offering us a parley," he replied, "and I am going out to meet them."
"Have you become crazed?" she cried. "They will tear you limb from limb. Monsieur de Boucicault knew these wretches well. He told me that he would sooner take the risk of sporting with a hungry shark than place his trust in them."
"No matter," replied Roger curtly. "It is a risk which I must run."
As he resumed the unbarring of the door Amanda stepped forward to fling her arms about him. Dan, sweating and smoke-begrimed, had just come down the wide staircase to report Roger, with his bright blue eyes hard as agates, called to him.
"Quick, Dan! Hold your mistress. It is imperative that she should not be permitted to thwart me at this moment."
After a second's hesitation Dan ran forward, gripped Amanda by the shoulders and drew her bade The other women were acting as loaders in other rooms. Old Eloi was getting a fresh supply of powder from under the stairs and Fergusson was guarding a door at the extreme back of the hall, which gave on to the terrace. Taking up his crutches Roger swung himself swiftly along to the doctor and in a low voice told him about the poisoned wine. As he returned, swirls of smoke were curling like the tentacles of a giant octopus across the lofty hall. Pausing before Amanda he said in a now gentle voice:
"My love. You may be right; but what I am about to do offers the only chance for all of us. Should your fears for me prove justified I beg you to promise me one thing. It is that you should do your utmost to persuade the others to drink the wine that I have left prepared in the dining-room, and to drink of it yourself."
The sudden distension of her eyes showed her realization that it was no ordinary glass of wine to which he referred. Slowly she nodded, then murmured: "You are right my sweet. It is the easier way. May God protect you and bring you back to me."
Old Eloi had seen that it was Roger's intention to go out; so now he completed the unfastening of the door, drew a deep breath, and opened it
With his home-made crutches tapping sharply on the stone steps Roger swung himself down them. The soldier with the flag of truce had by now approached to within twenty yards of the house. Halting, he called out in a rich voice: "General Toussaint l'Ouverture would speak with you."
"Lead on," replied Roger, and as the man turned he followed him down the drive.
On seeing him approach, the negro officer with the plumed hat left his men and came to meet him. When they were within two yards of one another both came to a standstill. Roger eyed the General with anxious speculation, striving to learn something of his character from his face. It was long and thin with a sensitive mouth, high forehead, and deep-set intelligent eyes. He was tall, bony and his gaudy uniform with its enormous gold epaulettes hung loosely upon him. After a moment he asked in the lisping Creole French that all the negroes used; "Are you the owner of this house?"
"No," replied Roger. "I have been here only as a guest for the past two weeks after having escaped from pirates, by whom I had the misfortune to be captured."
"What is your name, and when you were captured upon what were you engaged?"
"I am an Englishman named Brook, and I was on my way to take up the Governorship of Martinique."
The negro's eyes narrowed slightly. "Then you are a person of importance?"
Roger had swiftly seized upon the opening given him, and added quickly: "Apart from those permanently resident in the house, all the inmates are British; and among them is the Countess of St. Ermins, a lady who has far greater influence and wealth than myself."
The General nodded. "I had heard that there were women here. That is one reason why I offered you a parley. I am averse to making war on women, whatever their nationality."
"Do you mean that you are willing to grant them a safe conduct to Mole St Nicholas?" asked Roger with a sudden surge of hope.
'To that I cannot agree. But I am anxious to have the house so that I may lodge my wounded in it and that will be out of the question if it is allowed to burn down. If you will at once vacate it I will give you reasonable terms."
"What are they?" Roger enquired, striving to keep his anxiety out of his voice.
"With one exception, I am willing to grant you your lives. The exception is the man who shot my officer when you were first called on to surrender. For his callous act it is just that he should die."
"It was Monsieur de Boucicault, and he is already dead. What are your intentions with regard to the rest of us?"
"I mean to hold you as hostages. In view of your quality it may be possible for me to arrange to exchange you for some of my people whom the British have taken prisoner; but I can make no promise about that"
"Does your promise of protection apply to the coloured servants in the house as well as to my own party?"
"Theirs is a mistaken loyalty, but I admire honest devotion to any cause. They may go free. I will give orders that they are not to be molested, and shall hope that in due course they will realize where lie the true
interests of their race."
"Should you fail to arrange an exchange, what is to happen to us?"
The deep-set eyes of the tall negro smouldered with a sudden glow that betrayed his fanaticism. "You will remain in captivity until I have driven every white man out of this island, then I will send you anywhere you wish."
Roger took mental note that the French terrorists had caught a tartar in making such a powerful personality as this negro General their ally, and that by secretly supporting him the Spaniards in the eastern end of the island were paving the way for the cutting of their own throats. But at the moment he was far more concerned with the fate of himself and his friends. To become the prisoners of a horde of blood-thirsty negroes, perhaps for an indefinite period, was a prospect that would have filled anyone with dismay. Yet it meant life —if General Toussaint's word could be relied upon.
De Boucicault, Roger felt sure, would have maintained that the offer was a trap, simply designed to get them out of the house before it was burnt down, and that remained a terrible possibility. But during their conversation he had formed the impression that the General was an honest man, so decided that if he could get him to commit himself as deeply as possible, he would take that risk. Holding out his hand, he said: - "Will you give me your solemn pledge to carry out the terms you offer, and give me your hand upon it?"
A sudden smile lit the lean dark face of the negro, as he replied: "Monsieur, it is a rare thing for a white man to offer his hand to a black. I am very glad now that news of the trouble here caused me to leave the main body of my troops during the night with a small reinforcement, I take your hand gladly and you may rely upon my word." Then his long bony fingers closed upon Roger's in a powerful grip.
Greatly relieved by this firm assurance, Roger returned to the house, while General Toussaint set about organizing his men to fight the fire. As Roger and his party had arrived entirely destitute of belongings, de Boucicault had made their lack good as far as he could from the wardrobe of his wife and daughters and himself; so now those of them who were in a condition to do so ran upstairs and hastily packed small portmanteaux with a variety of things which might make their captivity slightly more endurable. Roger, meanwhile, threw away the poisoned wine; then, choking from the smoke, he and his party went out to the General, who sent its white members under guard down to the small lodge at the entrance of the long palm-lined drive.
There, the wife of the old lodge-keeper knocked up a scratch meal for them; after which they sat about grouped round the porch of the lodge wearied out by the night's fears and activities, yet with minds too harassed by the uncertainties of their future to escape for more than short periods into fitful sleep.
At about ten o'clock the General rode up accompanied by a solitary A.D.C. Reining in, he called to Roger. "The fire has been got under control, and I must now rejoin the main body of my troops. I have made Lieutenant Charlemange responsible for your safety. Obey his orders and no harm will come to you."
Somewhat over an hour later a heavy travelling coach lumbered
down the drive which, together with the horses that drew it, had evidently been taken from de Boucicault's stable. Out of it clambered a young negro officer who had only one arm, and half a dozen soldiers. The officer gave the group outside the lodge an unfriendly stare, and announced sharply:
"I am Lieutenant Charlemange. The women and wounded will ride in the coach. The rest of you will walk."
The girlst Tom and Roger entered the roomy vehicle, the other men fell in behind it with the squad of soldiers bringing up the rear, Lieutenant Charlemange clambered up onto the box and they set off.
It was a nightmare journey which lasted two days and two nights. Charlemange and his men made it clear that they neither understood nor approved the order they had received to keep the prisoners alive. In consequence, nothing whatever was done to make their slow progress over appalling by-roads under the torrid sun more easily supportable. On the contrary, morning and evening their food was flung to them, they were frequently denied water for many hours at a stretch, and the women were at times placed in such embarrassing situations that but for a certain stoicism that their previous unhappy experiences had developed in them, they must almost have died of shame.
At last this grim progress came to an end. Of the name of the locality they had reached they had no idea. They knew only that they must have travelled some fifty miles in a south-easterly direction and had come to a big rambling mansion that stood in a forest clearing among the foothills of a range of mountains.
This once noble property was in just the state de Boucicault had described as the fate of large houses taken over by the negroes. Evidence of neglect was everywhere and the building swarmed with negroes, negresses and piccaninnies, all living together in an indescribable state of squalor. Several hundred of them inhabited the house and every corner of its outbuildings. On seeing the coach draw up they poured forth in a swarm, and surging round the white prisoners screamed abuse and insults at them. No one seemed to have any authority over this dangerous rabble, so Roger feared that they were all about to be massacred upon the spot But Charlemange stood up on the box of the coach and shouted to them that General Toussaint had ordered him to shoot anyone who attempted to lay a hand on theprisoners, upon which the crowd sullenly gave back.
The question of quarters for the newcomers was settled arbitrarily by Charlemange's ordering his men to eject half a dozen protesting families from three attics at the top of the house. The women were given one, the men another, while the Lieutenant took the largest of the three for himself and their guard.
The low-ceilinged rooms were filthy and bug infested. As the ejected negroes had taken their scant belongings with them they were also now bare of furniture, and appeals to Charlemange to procure even mattresses proved unavailing. With a callous shrug he said that there were none to be had. Asked what he meant to do about himself and his men, he replied that he would commandeer their requirements but had no intention of depriving honest coloured folks to provide comforts for the type of people who for generations had treated them like animals. His orders went no further than to protect his prisoners from harm; so for a change they could live like animals themselves.
That .was indeed the miserable state to which they were very near reduced. They had at least been allowed to retain the small portmanteaux they had brought, so were able to use these for pillows, and the contents of them provided minor ameliorations of then hard lot But the food they were given was hardly better than pig swill, and they had to eat it out of one big crock with their fingers; the sanitary arrangements were degrading and the smell of the place disgusting; no water was allowed them to wash with and for many hours each day, the atmosphere of the attics was stifling from the strong sun beating down on the roof.
Soon they were all scratching themselves from scores of insect bites, and had not Fergusson had the forethought to bring with him a bottle of de Boucicault's essence of Cinchona bark, a little of which he gave each of them in water every morning, some of them would, almost certainly, have gone down with Yellow Fever. In spite of the appalling conditions in which they lived their health remained good; and as they were not called upon to exert themselves in any way both Tom and Roger regained some of their former strength.
As a means of combating melancholia they divided the day into sections with a variety of activities which would occupy their minds. First thing every morning they held a competition while delousing themselves, the winner being given the choice of what games should be played up till midday. During the heat of the afternoon they endeavoured to sleep, then later took turns in telling stories or describing events in their own lives. Dan's yarns of his years as a smuggler proved particularly popular, and Wilson kept them interested for many hours telling them about the War of Independence and life in the new United States. Then in the evening they held a sing-song.
Yet by the end of the week the lack of new items to introduce into this routine an
d, by then, the certainty that their jailers had no intention of ever taking any step to lessen the utter wretchedness of their existence, began to make these sessions more like work than play.
For most of the day the negro community below lazed about, but with the coming of night they roused up and threw all their latent energy into Voodoo ceremonies. The chanting, drumming and dancing at these took the place for them of all other recreations, with die exception of watching cock fights. By midnight they had hypnotized themselves into such a frenzy of abandonment that the house shook from the stamping of their feet on the floors of the lower rooms, and frequently it was not until the early hours of the morning that the sound of their orgies gradually ceased.
Night after night, as Roger lay turning restlessly on the hard boards listening to the maddening rhythm of the drums, he tried to plan some means of escape. But the problem proved beyond him.
By now he no longer needed his crutches; so had he been alone, or his parry consisted only of men, an escape might have been effected by night through one of the skylights and over the roof. Although, even had it been successful, it was very doubtful if the many miles of hostile country that separated them from British troops could have been traversed without recapture. But such an attempt hampered by four women was out of the question. A breakout was equally unthinkable, as, although they might possibly have overpowered their slack and somnolent guards, they could not have done so without the alarm being raised, and their chances of fighting their way through the horde of negroes' who lived in the house were about as good as trying to swim the Atlantic. In fact, ill-disposed to them as Charlemange was, he and his men were their only shield. They had already proved their loyalty to their General by standing their ground in the face of several hostile demonstrations against the prisoners; so to have deliberately rendered them hors de combat while the murderous mob below had still to be encountered would have been sheer madness.
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