Chapter 616: Black Hurricane
The armed merchant ship "Deep Hold" sailed with all its main and secondary sails unfurled, propelled by the Gulf of Mexico's ocean current. In just a week, it had already sighted the coast of Georgia State in the United States.
The Intelligence Bureau had contacted the Special Trade Association a few days prior, and now a small smuggling boat was waiting to meet them in the coastal waters.
In reality, the American coastal patrol had almost no decent ships, but to be safe, the "Deep Hold" waited until dusk before docking near a deserted stretch of sand in southeastern Georgia State, guided by the smuggling boat.
Boukman and his men immediately unloaded the weapons, ammunition, and food from the merchant ship onto the shore. Looking out, his eyes met only the vast plains swallowed by the night.
His heart surged with a mix of lingering fear and excitement after his narrow escape. He immediately took out a wooden totem carving, placed it on the ground, and knelt, bowing to thank his ancestors for their protection.
After he finished praying, the "British merchant" cheerfully approached, pressing a map into his hand and advising him,
"Great hero, this is Georgia State in the United States. To the north and west are vast cotton plantations where innumerable Black people are suffering. To the south is the Savannah River, and across the river is Indian territory. They also harbor animosity towards white people. If the situation turns unfavorable, you can cross the river and seek their help, or at least use the river to defend against white armies. Additionally, the dense forests to the west can provide you with cover."
At this time, American territory was still limited to the areas east of the Missouri River and north of Florida. Even Florida itself was still a Spanish colony.
Between Florida and American territory, several larger Indian tribes were even active.
Boukman carefully put away the map. Just as he was about to bid farewell to his "British friend," he looked up and suddenly saw the "Deep Hold" with its orderly gunports illuminated by the ship's lights.
He grinned at his "British friend," then, without any formality, instructed his men to dismantle and remove both the 9-Pounder Cannons and 4-pounder cannons from the ship.
The ship actually carried 18-Pounder Cannons, but they were simply too heavy, and he had no horses, so they couldn't be moved at all.
"Thank you, Mr. Robin," Boukman said, making a Voodoo prayer gesture. "I will repay you tenfold, a hundredfold, for these things in the future."
The "British merchant" smiled and waved his hand, saying,
"I didn't do anything. If you want to thank someone, thank the Duke of Leeds. Oh, his full name is Francis Godolphin Osborne."
Two days later.
Several mixed-race scout units returned to the forest where Boukman's rebel army was hiding and reported on the local situation.
Boukman marked the nearby plantations on the map, then discussed with his officers. He ultimately pointed to the "Plant Estate" to the north.
According to the information brought back by the scouts, there were nearly 200 Black slaves there, while the white population numbered no more than 30.
The next morning, plantation owner Plant and his family were still asleep when faint gunshots suddenly echoed from afar.
Mrs. Plant forcefully nudged her husband.
"Evans, what's going on?"
Evans Plant rolled over and mumbled,
"It's probably just some runaways breaking their chains again. Ryan's leading the pursuit. I just hope Ryan doesn't have them all shot like last time..."
However, the gunshots grew more frequent.
Plant realized something was wrong. His eyes shot open, and he grabbed the hunting rifle by his bed.
He and his two sons had just stepped out of the villa when Ryan, the overseer captain, his face covered in blood, rode up at a gallop, yelling hoarsely,
"Quick! Run! There are too many of those runaways, and they have guns!"
"Runaways?" Plant asked, gesturing with his hunting rifle. "How many are there?"
"At least 200..."
About ten minutes later, the Plant family rode west, fleeing towards Milly Town, which lay 10 miles away.
However, just as they had ridden past endless cotton fields, they came face to face with more than 20 Black men in white military uniforms, pointing their guns at them.
"Don't, don't shoot! You can have anything you want..."
Plant was barely halfway through his plea when the Black men pulled their triggers without hesitation.
Just four hours later, 31 heads were laid at Boukman's feet. On the wooden racks nearby, used for torturing Black slaves, hung Plant's daughter and two other white overseers.
Around them were over 300 soldiers of the Boukman Movement and nearly 200 Black slaves from the plantation. Other soldiers continued searching the area around the plantation for any white people who had escaped.
Boukman listened to the cracking of whips lashing white people and their screams, then waved his hand forcefully at the trembling Black slaves.
"You are free! The great god Legba protects you. Now, everyone, pray with me to the spirits and ancestors, then take up arms and slaughter the damned white people!"
The Black slaves looked at each other in dismay—they didn't understand French.
Once Boukman's men translated, most of the Black slaves immediately burst into terrified tears, telling Boukman they were doomed.
A dozen or so bolder ones, however, pushed through the crowd, came behind Boukman, and knelt together before the totem pole.
Over the next week, Boukman's army successively attacked three plantations, and his force grew to nearly a thousand strong.
In truth, the United States had experienced many Black slave uprisings before, but they mostly lacked organization or leaders with command ability, and without exception, they were easily suppressed.
This time, however, the Americans encountered the Boukman Movement, forged in the blood and fire of Saint-Domingue, and were immediately thrown into chaos and panic.
It's worth noting that historically, Boukman's group had fought the regular army to a standstill in Saint-Domingue, and it wasn't until the Governor mobilized over 2,000 soldiers that they were finally defeated.
Due to America being vast and sparsely populated, and Boukman never leaving any survivors, it was ten days before the Savannah Citizens Militia received news and hastily dispatched an army of 400 men to suppress them.
Based on their previous experience, an army of this size was more than enough to handle any rebellious runaways.
But when they arrived at Milly Town, which had been occupied by the rebellious Black slaves, they suddenly heard the roar of cannons from behind them. More than ten soldiers were instantly flattened into minced flesh by 12-pound iron balls, their remains scattered everywhere.
The American soldiers instantly fell into a panic, and then a thousand Black people, carrying Brown Bess Flintlock Muskets, advanced on them from both the left and right flanks...
Two days later, Michael Haydon, the mayor of Savannah City, looked at the urgent military report in his hands, his face deathly pale.
The main force of the Savannah Citizens Militia had been routed by the rebellious Black slaves, with over 180 casualties. Currently, the Black slaves were advancing on Savannah City...
While Boukman was making rapid progress, in Saint-Domingue, Brissot was holding a meeting with Ogé, Governor Mably, and several influential council members—a discussion that could affect the entire Caribbean Sea region.
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