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 The mulatto politely acceded and went on deck to give the necessary orders. Dessalines went to Rosenthal's stateroom.

"I will bid you au revoir, my friend. General Miragoâne has been here and is no doubt already on his way to the rendez-vous."

"And the situation?" asked Rosenthal. Dessalines in a few words put him in possession of the facts given him by the mulatto.

In their delight the two embraced.

"There is nothing more to be said?" asked Dessalines.

"I can think of nothing, my king!" exclaimed the Jew. "It now remains only to act. Haste is necessary. Our blows must be swift, strong, and final. And now, once more, au revoir! When next I greet you may it be as emperor!" Again they embraced, Dessalines so overcome by his emotion that he was unable to speak. Dashing the tears from his eyes he returned to the deck and a moment later was convulsed with laughter at the frantic struggles of his horse as the animal was lowered into a lighter.

Dessalines went ashore with his friend. The sun had set; the swift, tropic day was falling. As they proceeded to the house of Calisthène he caught the glow of the port light on the Waccamaw as she headed down the coast.

A short walk brought them to the home of the mulatto. It was a bungalow, somewhat pretentious, shabby, placed in the middle of a charming tropical garden. Many people, women for the most part, slipped in and out, peering, whispering, disappearing around corners. 216