"--You can force me to sign such an authorisation? You have noticed
probably that there are four of us?"
I had noticed still more--the commander's jeering tones and that,
from the wording of his sentences, the situation was growing warm; I
therefore edged myself gradually back until I was master of the door
and, while doing so, I placed my hands inside my coat pockets and
silently prepared the double locks of my pistols. I then suddenly drew
them from my pockets and pointed the muzzles towards the group in front
of me.
"True, there are four of you, messieurs,... but there are five of us!"
And I took a step forward and said, "Messieurs, I give you my word of
honour that if the order is not signed within the next five seconds I
will blow out the brains of all four of you, and I will begin with you,
Monsieur le Lieutenant de Roi--honour to whom honour is due!"
I had turned deadly pale, but in spite of my pallor my face expressed
immovable determination. The double-barrelled pistol which I held in my
right hand was only a foot and a half off M. de Linières' face.
"Beware, monsieur!" I said to him: "I am going to count the seconds";
and after a pause I began, "One, two, three!..."
At this moment a side door opened and a woman burst into the room in a
paroxysm of terror.
"Oh! my love, yield! yield!" she cried; "it is a second revolt of the
negroes!..
And, saying this, she gazed at me with terrified eyes.
"Monsieur," began the commander of the fort, "out of regard for my
wife...."
"Monsieur," I replied, "I have the profoundest respect for Madame, but
I too have a mother and a sister and hope, therefore, you will have the
goodness to send Madame away, so that we can thrash this matter out
between men alone."
"My love!" Madame de Linières continued to implore, "yield! yield!
I implore you! Remember my father and mother, both massacred at
Saint-Domingo!"
I had not until then understood what she meant by her words, "It is a
second revolt of negroes!"
She had taken me for a negro, from my fuzzy hair and complexion, burnt
deep brown by three days' exposure to the sun and by my faintly Creole
accent--if, indeed, I had any accent at all, from the hoarseness that
had seized me. She was beside herself with terror, and her fright was
easily understood; for I learnt, later, that she was a daughter of M.
and Madame de Saint-Janvier, who had been mercilessly killed under her
very eyes during a revolt. The situation was now too strained to be
prolonged much further.
"But, monsieur," the commander exclaimed in despair, "how can I yield
before one single man?"
"Would you like me, monsieur, to sign a paper attesting that you gave
me the order with a pistol at your head?"
"Yes, yes! monsieur," shrieked Madame de Linières.
Then turning to her husband, whose knees she had been clasping, she
reiterated, "My love! my love! give him the order! Give it him, I
entreat you!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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