suddenly i was broad awake. distant but approaching, i heard horses' feet. they came from the direction of the fort. aunt marcia was unbarring the shutters and fastening the inner jalousies so as to look out unseen.
"it's nearly one o'clock," some one said, and i got up, wondering how the world looked at such an hour. all hearkened to the nearing sound.
"ah!" aunt marcia gladly cried, "the troopers!"
there were only some fifty of them. slowly, in a fitful moonlight, they dimly came, hoofs ringing on the narrow macadam, swords clanking, and dark plumes nodding over set faces, while the distant war-signal from shell, reed, and horn called before, around, and after them.
still later came a knock at the door, and mr. kenyon was warily readmitted. he explained the passing of the troopers. they had hurried about the country for hours, assembling their families at points easy to defend and then had come to the fort for ammunition and orders; but the captain of the fort, refusing to admit them without the governor's order, urged them to go to their homes.
"but," mr. kenyon had interposed, "a courier can reach the governor in an hour and a half."
"one will be sent as soon as it is light," was the best answer that could be got.
our friend, much excited, went on to tell us that the town militia were without ammunition also. he believed the fort's officers were conniving with the revolt. presently he left us, saying he had met one of our freed servants, jack, who would come soon to protect us. shortly after daybreak jack did appear and mounted guard at the front gate. "go sleep, ole mis's. miss mary ann" [marion], "you-all go sleep. chaw! wha' foo all you set up all night? si' myra, you go draw watah foo bile coffee."
the dreadful signals had ceased at last, and all lay down to rest; but i remained awake and saw through the great seaward windows the wonderful dawn of the tropics flush over sky and ocean. but presently its heavenly silence was broken by the gallop of a single horse, and a danish orderly, heavily armed, passed the street-side windows, off at last for christiansted.
soon the conchs and horns began again. with them was blent now the tramp of many feet and the harsh voices of swarming insurgents. their long silence was explained; they had been sharpening their weapons.
their first act of violence was to break open a sugar storehouse. they mixed a barrel of sugar with one of rum, killed a hog, poured in his blood, added gunpowder, and drank the compound--to make them brave. then with barrels of rum and sugar they changed a whole cistern of water into punch, stirring it with their sharpened hoes, dipping it out with huge sugar-boiler ladles, and drinking themselves half blind.
jack dashed in from the gate: "oh, miss marcia, go look! dem a-comin'! gin'ral buddoe at dem head on he w'ite hoss."
we ran to the jalousies. in the street, coming southward toward the fort, were full two thousand blacks. they walked and ran, the women with their skirts tied up in fighting trim, and all armed with hatchets, hoes, cutlasses, and sugar-cane bills. the bills were fitted on stout pole handles, and all their weapons had been ground and polished until they glittered horridly in their black hands and above the gaudy madras turbans or bare woolly heads and bloodshot eyes.
"dem goin' to de fote to ax foo freedom," jack cried.
at their head rode "gin'ral buddoe," large, powerful, black, in a cocked hat with a long white plume. a rusty sword rattled at his horse's flank. as he came opposite my window i saw a white man, alone, step out from the house across the way and silently lift his arms to the multitude to halt.
they halted. it was the roman catholic priest. for a moment they gave attention, then howled, brandished their weapons, and pressed on. aunt marcia dropped to her knees and in tears began to pray aloud; but we cried to her that rachel, a slave woman, was coming, who must not see our alarm. indeed, both rachel and tom had already entered.
"la! miss mary ann, wha' fur you cryin'? who's goin' tech you?" rachel held by its four corners a madras kerchief full of sugar. "da what we done come fur, to tell miss paula" [grandmamma] "not be frightened."
tom was off again while grandmamma said: "rachel, you've been stealing."
"well, miss paula! ain't i gwine hab my sheah w'en dem knock de head' out dem hogsitt' an' tramp de sugah under dah feet an' mix a whole cisron o' punch?"
rachel told the events of the night. but as she talked a roar without rose higher and higher, and i, running with jack to the gate, beheld two smaller mobs coming round a near corner. the foremost was dragging along the ground by ropes a huge object, howling, striking, and hacking at it. the other was doing the same to something smaller tied to a stick of wood, and the air was full of their cries:
"to de sea! frow it in de sea! you'll nebber hole obbe" [us] "no mo'! you'll be drownded in de sea-watah!" their victims were the whipping-post and the thumbscrews.
tom returned to say: "dem done to'e up de cote-house and de jedge's house, an' now dem goin' bay street too tear up de sto'es."
gilbert came up from the fort telling what he had seen. the blacks had tried to scale the ramparts, on one another's shoulders, howling for freedom and defying the garrison to fire. but the commander had not dared without orders from the governor, and his courier had not returned. a leading merchant standing on the fort wall was less discreet: "take the responsibility! fire! every white man on the island will sustain you, and you'll end the whole thing here!"
upon that word off again up-town had gone the whole black swarm, had sacked the bold merchant's store, and seemed now, by the noises they made, to be sacking others. "i come," gilbert said, "with an offer of the ship-captains to take the white people aboard the ships."
as he turned away groups of negroes began to dash by laden with all sorts of "prog" [booty] from the wrecked stores. grandmamma had lain down, my aunts were trying to make up some sort of midday meal, and i was standing alone behind the jalousies, when a ferocious-looking negro rattled them with his bill.
"lidde gal, gi' me some watah."
"wait a minute," i said, and left the room. if i hid he might burst in and murder us. so i brought a bowl of water.
"tankee, lidde missee," he said, returned the bowl, and went away. tom was thereupon set to guard the gate, which he did poorly. another negro slipped in and sat down on our steps. he looked around the pretty enclosure, gave a tired grunt, and said:
"please, missee, lemme res'; i done bruk up." he held in his hands the works of a clock, fell to studying them, and became wholly absorbed.
rachel asked him who had broken it. he replied:
"obbe" [our] "ca'lina. she no like de way it talkin'. she say: 'w'at mek you say, night und day, night und day?' un' she tuk her bill un' bruk it up. un' georgina chop' up de pianneh, 'caze it wouldn' talk foo her like it talk too buckra. da shame!"
but now came yells and cheers in the street, the rush and trample of hundreds, and the cry:
"de gub'nor! de gub'nor a-comin'!"
