All Souls' Rising Read Free

glanced up at me with that same sly smile. “Of course I am a Christian,” he said, “but I should like to see Africa all the same.”
    Our colloquy could not continue past that point, for the dragoons quite brusquely led him away. Improbable as it is that anyone aboard should enter into conspiracy with such a one as he, his reputation for cunning is sufficient that his guard evidently has been ordered to permit that he converse with no one.
    Unfortunate fellow, I should not suppose him likely ever to see Africa—not, at least, in this lifetime.
    It was well past dark when I was relieved of my watch, and in groping along through the darkness below toward my own repose I must pass the cabin where Toussaint was held secure. Going along the passage, I heard a voice coming from behind the door, and (the sentinel having absented himself, perhaps to the jakes) I paused to listen. The occupant was reading in a loud sonorous voice, this passage from the end of Deuteronomy:

And Moses went up from the plains of Moab under the mountains of Nebo, to the top of Pisgah, that is over against Jericho. And the Lord showed him all the land of Gilead, unto Dan .
And all Naphtali, and the land of Ephraim, and Manasseh and all the land of Judah, unto the utmost sea .
And the south, and the plain of the valley of Jericho, the city of palm trees, unto Zoar .
And the Lord said unto him, This is the land which I sware unto Abraham, unto Isaac, and unto Jacob, saying, I will give it unto thy seed: I have caused thee to see it with thine eyes, but thou shalt not go thither .
So Moses the servant of the Lord died there in the land of Moab, according to the word of the Lord .
And he buried him in a valley in the land of Moab, over against Bethpeor, but no man knoweth his sepulchre unto this day .
And Moses was a hundred and twenty years old when he died. His eye was not dim, nor his natural force abated .
And the children of Israel wept for Moses in the plains of Moab thirty days: so the days of weeping and mourning for Moses were ended .

    Here Toussaint stopped, and after a little period of silence began again but in a lower and less certain tone, a murmur unintelligible to me—perhaps it was a prayer. This was for all the world like a regular church service, though with the one man playing the roles of both priest and communicant.
    I took my way toward my own berth, but sleep continues to elude me, though the hour is late. Therefore I write—to no one. The wind has risen and the seas run higher than they did at sunset, so that the lamp swings like a pendulum on its chain; it blots my page with shadow, and then once more returns its light. Though the ship is densely packed with men and I can hear my fellows snoring, I feel myself much alone this night.
    Out of the groaning of the ship’s timbers come again the words that Captain Savary repeated to a few of us at table: a sentence he claimed Toussaint had spoken when first taken onto the ship. En me reversant, on n’a abattu à Saint-Domingue que le tronc de l’arbre de la liberté des noirs; il poussera par les racines, parce qu’elles sont profondes et nombreuses . *1 Captain Savary quoted this with a sneer and the following remark that these were fine phrases indeed to fall from the thick lips of a gilded nigger. Then there was laughter, in which I joined. Yet now I hear the words again and not in Savary’s voice but in some other. What if they are true? If this man did inspire these last ten years of fire and murder—could he call up two hundred more?
    Away with such a foolish thought. I shall not sail this way again. As for Toussaint, the gilt is well worn from him now, his time is past for such pretensions. Toussaint must pass into ignominy, and I into anonymity, remaining at the last without a name.

Part I
    BOIS CAYMAN
    August 1791
Jou a rive pou n kite Babilon
Moman rive pou n viv an twa pawòl
Se pa mistè pou
Yon moun vin Ginen o
Se sa wap di, sa w panse, sa wap fè
Ki pou an