Chapter 637: The Worst Collaborators
The British were immediately startled; they hadn't expected these "black devils" to possess cannons.
The next moment, a neat line of infantry appeared on the north side of the cotton field—over seven hundred soldiers strong. Except for a few mixed-race officers, the vast majority were black.
Though the black soldiers wore varied clothing, every one of them carried a Charleville Model 1763 flintlock musket.
The British army, previously focused solely on chasing the routed enemy, had no formation to speak of. They could only halt and turn to face the approaching foe, urged on by the desperate shouts of their officers.
However, Louverture gave them no chance to organize. He charged at the forefront, sword held high. Only when he could clearly discern the faces of the British soldiers before him did he command loudly:
"Halt! Prepare to fire!"
The officers quickly relayed the order. Less than a minute later, seven hundred black soldiers simultaneously raised their flintlock muskets.
"Aim!"
"Fire!"
Louverture's troops swiftly reloaded, advanced twenty paces, fired another volley, then reloaded and advanced again...
By the time Lieutenant Colonel Straw realized something was wrong and deployed his reserves for support, the nine British columns in front of the cotton field had already scattered, leaving over two hundred bodies on the ground.
Louverture then ordered his infantry line to turn, engaging the over three hundred British reinforcements in a face-to-face struggle.
The quality of the British "Redcoats" was clearly far superior to that of the black army. The former not only fired faster but also aimed more accurately, managing to fight Louverture's forces to a standstill with less than half their numbers.
Seeing the arrogant British regulars scurrying about like rats, Littington felt a surge of pride. He waved his riding crop, gathering his previously routed subordinates.
"You've all seen it! Those white men, they're being killed by the very slaves they oppressed!
"You can do the same! Don't run anymore! Charge back with me!
"Today will be the day you truly gain your freedom! You will use the guns in your hands to tell those slave owners that your souls can never be enslaved!"
Upon hearing this, the Bahamian rebel soldiers turned around, indeed seeing routed British soldiers everywhere, fleeing even more miserably than they had.
Soon, hundreds of black men rallied around Littington, following him to support Louverture.
Many more black soldiers picked up their weapons again and began to pursue the fleeing British.
While their fighting capability was inferior to the British, their long history of physical labor had given them considerable muscle strength and stamina. Moreover, they outnumbered the British by three to one.
All at once, around the cotton field, groups of black soldiers surrounded the British. They took no prisoners, simply impaling them with bayonets in a frenzy.
Louverture was currently locked in a stalemate with the British reserves when suddenly, four or five hundred black soldiers charged out from their flank.
Seeing the tall officer on horseback leading the charge, a smile flashed across his face.
"Lieutenant Colonel Littington, I thought you wouldn't return before the battle was over."
As Littington led his troops in, before they even had a chance to fire, the already outnumbered British soldiers' morale collapsed.
One company commander led his men in kneeling to surrender, while the other two companies turned and fled.
Louverture ordered his men to stop the Bahamian rebels from killing prisoners. He then joined Littington in pursuing the routed enemy, fighting their way into Nassau.
Early the next morning, Nassau was completely under the control of the Bahamian abolitionist organization. Under Louverture's watchful eye, the council began to convene its members.
Meanwhile, the Governor of the Bahamas escaped by ship to the sea, protected by Lieutenant Colonel Straw.
In this battle, over five hundred British soldiers stationed in the Bahamas were killed, and two hundred twenty were captured. Straw himself was left with fewer than seventy men.
News quickly spread throughout the Caribbean Sea, and everyone in the "Abolitionist United Front" cheered with joy. Especially the rebels in Barbados, whose morale soared. Despite being relentlessly hunted by Brand's forces, they continued to resist fiercely. At the same time, more enslaved people heard the news, escaped from the plantations, and joined the rebel ranks.
Outside Bridgetown, the capital of Barbados.
British temporary command post.
Brand gazed with a grim expression at the silent, downcast officers. After a long moment, a lieutenant colonel quietly spoke:
"General, a messenger has already departed for London to request reinforcements. Ahem, also, we killed over seventy rebels this morning..."
"What's the use of killing a few 'black devils'?" Brand roared, almost shouting. "More will emerge from the plantations at any moment! That idiot Straw! The Bahamas has declared independence too! What do we do now, what do we do?!"
A Scottish-born officer cautiously offered, "General, we only need to return to Nassau to make that so-called 'Republic of the Bahamas' disappear immediately."
"No! I absolutely will not leave Barbados this time," Brand declared, clenching his jaw. "I will clean out all the 'black devils' here, then recruit locals to form a garrison army to ensure the rebellion doesn't happen again."
"But, General, as for the Bahamas..."
"I can't worry about that now!"
The Scottish Major rose again and said to Brand, "General, perhaps we could seek help from the French."
"Do you know what you're saying?"
"Please hear me out, General. Currently, the French forces in Saint-Domingue are stalemated with the rebels, entrenched in Fort Imagua. But in reality, the fort doesn't require six thousand soldiers for defense. If you could persuade them to deploy half their troops to the Bahamas, it would at least buy us some time."
"Hmph, how could the French possibly help us?"
"The French certainly want to retake Saint-Domingue as well. You could promise them that an expeditionary force would help them deal with the 'black devils' there. I believe they would seriously consider it."
Brand narrowed his eyes slightly.
France had already been defeated once by the black population of Saint-Domingue, suffering heavy losses. With the current battle still unfavorable, they might indeed accept this suggestion.
In fact, historically, even when England, France, and Spain were tearing each other apart in Europe, they would immediately unite to suppress black uprisings in the Caribbean Sea, crushing rebel forces multiple times.
This was simply because their interests in the region aligned.
However, Brand was unaware that the true mastermind behind this Caribbean abolitionist movement was France—the very nation he was now seeking to collaborate with.
Moments later, he finally nodded.
"Very well, depart for Saint-Domingue immediately and do everything possible to persuade the French."
...
United States.
At the border between Georgia and South Carolina.
Booker gazed at the American military camp through his telescope, his face etched with venomous resentment and ruthlessness.
His rebel army had grown to nearly five thousand men, and their equipment was decent since they had previously seized a militia armory in Georgia.
But before him stood over sixteen thousand American soldiers, five thousand of whom belonged to the recently formed "American Legion"—the United States' most elite standing army.
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