Havoc`s Sword

'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