The Power and the Glory (17 page)

“Who told you that?”

“My cousins, John and Robin Cutler. They make it their business to know what's happening on other islands in the Indies.”

“I see. Carry on.”

“There's not much more I can tell you, sir. I understand that British forces have captured several fortresses near Port-au-Prince—or Port Républicain as it's now called. But they have failed in their objective to drive out the French. A peace treaty was signed some years back, not long after the National Directory abolished slavery on Saint-Domingue and other French islands. That decree ended the slave rebellion—for a while, at least.”

“Is that it?”

“I believe so, sir. As I said, I don't know a lot.”

“You know a great deal more than most people, Mr. Cutler, including just about everybody in our State Department. What of the current situation? Anything to add there?”

“No, sir, except to say that I believe the slave rebellion continues in the form of a civil war on Saint-Domingue, pitting former slaves against their former owners.”

“Not quite accurate, but close enough. Does the name Rigaud mean anything to either of you? André Rigaud?”

It did not.

“What about Toussaint L'Ouverture?”

“That name's familiar, sir,” Carter cut in, relieved to have something to contribute to the conversation. “I read a little about him in a newspaper. He's a leader in the civil war, I believe.”

“Quite so, Mr. Carter. On whose side?”

Carter gave him a blank look. “On the side of the former slaves, I should think, sir.”

“That would seem a safe assumption, wouldn't it, since Toussaint is as pure-blooded a Negro as there is. But his role is more complicated than that. Toussaint is hardly your everyday slave. He started out that way, as a servant to a benevolent master who, among other privileges, allowed Toussaint to educate himself and learn English. Which he did to the point where he now speaks English better than most Englishmen. Plus, he has taught himself several other languages. Care to guess the title of his favorite book?”

Neither lieutenant did.

“
Caesar's Gallic Wars
,” Truxtun informed them. “In Latin. So what we have here is a man who is both brilliant and a natural-born leader. And he's a man of strict loyalties. When informed of the slave uprising, the first thing he did was to see his master and his master's family safely off the island. He then joined the Spanish against the French, some claim because he preferred allegiance to a king over a republic. By the end of'93, he and his followers controlled much of the island's interior.

“Early in '94 he switched sides and declared himself for France. Exactly why, I cannot say for certain. But since France abolished slavery in the Indies, it's a fair guess Toussaint believed he owed allegiance to France. The Spanish had also promised freedom to their slaves but were slow to act on that promise. Great Britain—Spain's ally at the time, as Mr. Cutler correctly informed us—has in fact reinstated slavery in the areas of Hispaniola it controls. The British fear, legitimately, in my view, that emancipation on one island will encourage slave rebellions on the other islands.”

He allowed a moment for that information to sink in. “What you said a moment ago, Mr. Cutler, is accurate. Hispaniola is a hodgepodge of foreign interests, and those interests have little regard for the local citizenry. On Saint-Domingue there are—I should say,
were
—approximately 30,000 whites, the majority of them government administrators, artisans, and shopkeepers. Most supported the French Republic. Others, the wealthier ones—the planters, the so-called
grand blancs
—remained loyal to the Bourbon king, the exiled Louis XVII. When rebellion broke out, these royalists sided with the Spanish and British, hoping, I suppose, to somehow come out of the turmoil with the status quo intact. When that effort failed and the slaughter began anew, the
grand blancs
fled the colony right behind the
petit blancs
. Many of them went to Cuba, taking with them what slaves they could, as well as their knowledge of sugar production.

“Also living on Saint-Domingue are another 30,000 so-called
gens de couleur
, a rather elegant term for citizens of mixed European and African descent. These people are the offspring of white planters and their Negro mistresses who lived together in an odd form of common-law marriage that allows their offspring to inherit property. These people—mulattoes, you and I would call them—are recognized by France as citizens of France. They form an elite group on the island. So elite, in fact, that they consider themselves superior to
both
blacks and whites.

“The third group on the island—by far the most numerous at 400,000 strong—consists of former black slaves. Most of these Negroes came to Saint-Domingue in chains from the west coast of Africa. I need not describe for you the misery of their lives. So it should be easy to understand why they call Toussaint ‘Father Toussaint' and look upon him as a saint or savior—which to them, of course, he is. Thousands have flocked to his banner.”

“Against whom? The French?”

“Not at all, Mr. Carter. Have you not been listening?” His tone conveyed more humor than reprimand. “As I told you, most of the whites have fled the island. Those who remain are connected in some way to the government or military. No, Toussaint is fighting the
gens de couleur
, the mulatto army led by André Rigaud, the militant extremist whose name I mentioned earlier. Rigaud also knows a thing or two about military affairs—enough to conquer and control what amounts to a semi-autonomous state in the southern regions of Saint-Domingue. His objectives go far beyond that, however. He seeks what Toussaint seeks: to conquer the entire island of Hispaniola. Toussaint seems to have a better chance of succeeding because his army is considerably larger than Rigaud's. That's the point to remember. Two years ago Toussaint thwarted Rigaud's attempt to assassinate the French governor of the colony, a general named Laveaux. As a reward for saving his life, Laveaux appointed Toussaint lieutenant governor of Saint-Domingue and commander in chief of French forces on the island. Have I confused you yet?”

Richard scratched the nape of his neck. “You've done a good job confusing
me
, sir. This is all quite intriguing, but if I may, what does all this have to do with Lieutenant Carter and me?”

“A great deal, Mr. Cutler, which I am about to tell you. Before I do, however, you should know that Toussaint L'Ouverture has been in secret contact with President Adams.”

That piece of information caused both lieutenants to blink. Then Truxtun delivered his thunderbolt. “He has formally requested that our government lift our embargo on shipments to Saint-Domingue. He has also requested military supplies and food for his army. In exchange, he has pledged to Mr. Adams that he will deny France the use of Saint-Domingue as a naval base in the West Indies.”

Richard and Carter exchanged looks, both men struggling to make sense of a labyrinth of double-dealing that seemed to expand in size and complexity with each sentence Truxtun uttered.

“Captain,” Richard managed, “how can that be? Did you not say a moment ago that Toussaint L'Ouverture now commands French forces on Saint Domingue?”

“I said exactly that.”

“Forgive me, sir, but how can the commander of French forces deny France the use of a naval base he is pledged to maintain and defend?”

Truxtun's mouth twisted. “I appreciate the difficulty you are having with this, Mr. Cutler. If it's any consolation, I asked my superiors the same questions that you and Mr. Carter are asking me. What you need to understand is that Toussaint's true loyalty lies not with France but with the former slaves. He trusts no foreigner or mulatto. But he will treat with you and me and anyone else he believes can help him realize his ultimate objective.”

“Which is?”

“An independent nation ruled by freed black slaves.”

Richard shook his head in disbelief. “And the United States is open to this? We're willing to help him realize this objective?”

“I can't answer that. What I
can
tell you is that Mr. Pickering is on board with this initiative, as is Mr. Hamilton. Mr. Stoddert, less so. So you see, gentlemen, we have a government that is split on this issue. But it's a disagreement based more in ignorance than fact. We require more facts, more information, to clarify the situation. We need to understand more about Toussaint's motives and exactly how he intends to use our support, should we decide to lend him that support. Above all, we need to be assured that whatever we decide to do is in the best interests of our country. That requires a fact-finding mission, led in part by an American naval attaché, to meet with Toussaint L'Ouverture on Saint-Domingue and have it out with him, so to speak.”

“I see. And that naval attaché is . . .”

Truxtun's smile was benign. “You, Mr. Cutler, as no doubt a man of your intelligence has already concluded. You, escorted by Lieutenant
Carter and a squad of his Marines. Mind you, I am not ordering you to do this. Mr. Stoddert made it quite clear that this mission is to be strictly voluntary, both because of its confidential nature and because there may be danger involved. Having stated that, I am compelled to point out that your name was put forth by both Mr. Adams and Mr. Hamilton. I must therefore ask if you harbor any doubts concerning the wisdom of their choice?”

“No, sir,” Richard said, feeling like a pawn in a game of chess.

“Splendid. Apparently my superiors view your past exploits in the Caribbean and Mediterranean as critical factors in this mission. There are further details that I am not at liberty to divulge this evening. Nor, I confess, am I aware of them all. You shall hear more of this when we meet with Vice Admiral Parker in Port Royal.”

“Admiral Parker?” Richard probed. “Admiral Hyde Parker? I believe I once met his father. They have the same name.”

“You did, Mr. Cutler.” Truxtun's tone turned more sober. “Near the end of the war, when Admiral Hyde Parker Senior—‘Vinegar Hyde' to some, ‘Old Piss and Vinegar' to others—commanded the Windward Squadron in Barbados. Your acquaintance with him is yet another reason why you were recommended for this mission. It's perhaps the most important reason of all. You see, this is to be a joint British-American expedition, and your family's English connections may well decide its outcome.”

Port Royal, Jamaica August 1798

R
ICHARD CUTLER knew something of the history of Port Royal—as did most people familiar with the West Indies. Situated at the western tip of a long, thin spit of land shaped like an ostrich leg with an Italy-shaped boot at its western end, the port was in its heyday in the late 1600S the largest, richest, and most debauched British municipality in the Western Hemisphere. Its dubious distinction as the “Sodom of the West Indies” was well deserved. With an economy driven by gold bullion plundered by English privateers off Spanish treasure fleets, Port Royal served as a safe haven for pirates, buccaneers, cutthroats, and other lowlifes keen to pick a farthing or a florin from an unsuspecting tar passed out cold on an alehouse floor or in a dark alley rife with the stench of human waste. In 1680 Port Royal was said to host a tavern for every ten residents. Inside those taverns and on the streets outside, prostitutes brazenly plied their wares, their oft-used bodies tantalizing pie-eyed sailors too long away at sea.

Tottering at the tip of the societal pyramid, the town's few respectable citizens—merchants, mainland planters, and an Anglican priest or two—tried to buy safety from the thieves and other opportunists who scourged the port. They pooled their resources and appointed Henry Morgan, the renowned buccaneer and sworn enemy of propriety and Puritanism, as lieutenant governor. The seemingly insane gamble paid off. Elevated from the base to the apex of society, Morgan found religion
and set about to clean up the unholy mess, publicly hanging many of those with whom just a few weeks before he had been in cahoots. His efforts, however, proved too little, too late. At 11:42 on the morning of June 7, 1692, in what was widely perceived as divine punishment for its manifold sins and wickedness, Port Royal was rocked to its core by a violent earthquake that sent much of the city, Atlantis-like, into the sea. The few people who managed to survive the holocaust fled across the bay to the mainland, where, in collaboration with the sugar planters and wealthier merchants already living there, they established a new commercial center. With the devastation of Port Royal fresh in their minds, these citizens of Kingston, as the new community came to be called, lived and worked and prayed as paragons of sobriety and Christian morals—until memories faded.

What remained of Port Royal, meanwhile, was appropriated by the Royal Navy and rebuilt as Britain's flagship base in the West Indies.

 

“ON DECK, THERE! Land ho! Dead to loo'ard!”

The cry from the foremast crosstrees compelled everyone on
Constellation'
s weather deck to squint ahead beyond the bowsprit and its three cloud-white foresails taut in a stiff northeasterly breeze. Theirs was an instinctive reaction only. Another hour would pass before those on deck could see what the lookouts on high had seen. Not until the sun rose above the yardarms and the crew had been issued its noon ration of rum did a form begin to take shape on the horizon, a dark smudge in between the cerulean sea and the turquoise sky.

“Jamaica, sir,” James Jarvis said to Richard, stating the obvious as he handed back the spyglass. The voice of the young midshipman from New York seemed to have suddenly dropped several octaves, as if the mere sight of this fabled island and the possibilities for debauchery it held had instantly transported him beyond puberty.