I am the Crown Prince of France

Chapter 655: The Guide to Freedom

In the end, Bland relented.

After all, the Bahama rebels weren't just clamoring for independence—they had established a functioning government, controlling the island's administration and economy. The threat was incomparable to mere unrest.

If things deteriorated further, Bland, as commander of the expeditionary forces, would be held accountable.

The reinforcements he had been expecting would take at least four more months to arrive, with only 5,000 soldiers scheduled to reach the Caribbean. Until then, Bland needed someone to stabilize the situation in the Bahamas and prevent the rebel government from seizing the plantations and expelling British landowners.

As for the "commission" owed to the French, Bland planned to have the Bahamian governor cover the expense. Sir Essex had fled Nassau with significant funds in hand.

That afternoon, Brissot boarded the British supply ship Smile, fully loaded with provisions, to return to Saint-Domingue.

For the next few months, the Smile would remain under Brissot's command, one of the conditions for France's assistance in suppressing the Bahamian uprising.

France's own transport ships, after all, had been "commandeered" by the Saint-Domingue rebels three months earlier.

On his way back, Brissot stopped at the French-controlled island of Saint Lucia to replace the ship's crew with French sailors before continuing northwest.

Once the Smile left the vicinity of the Little Andros Islands, a crew member escorted a black man from among the "laborers" onboard to the officers' meeting room. The man was disheveled, his clothes tattered, but his sharp eyes burned with defiance.

Brissot stood to greet him with a polite nod and spoke in English:

"It's an honor to meet you here, Mr. Jones."

The man was none other than Jones, leader of the Bahamian abolitionist movement. After his forces were crushed, the "Special Trade Association" had smuggled him to Saint Lucia.

Jones placed a hand on his chest in a curt salute.

"They said you work for Monsieur Ogé?"

"In a manner of speaking."

Jones nodded.

"If you could give me a pistol and drop me off at Bridgetown, I'd be eternally grateful."

"What would you do then?"

"Davy is dead, Jerris is dead, Old John is dead. Everyone is dead." Jones locked eyes with Brissot, his voice hoarse. "I'll avenge them. With a gun, I can kill a lot of British soldiers before joining them in 'that place.'"

Brissot nodded solemnly.

"You've faced setbacks, yes, but the cause of freedom and liberation is far from over."

Jones shouted, "Freedom forever!"

"I will take you to Bridgetown, but not so you can assassinate British soldiers."

"Then what? Beg forgiveness on my knees before the whites?"

"No," Brissot said firmly. "Tens of thousands of enslaved people are waiting for you to free them. Your fight for freedom is far from finished."

Jones let out a bitter laugh.

"My brothers are all dead. I can't save anyone now."

Brissot's gaze was steady.

"What if I could give you 1,000 flintlock rifles and £50,000 in funding?"

Jones's eyes lit up.

"You? You're not joking, are you?"

"Of course not," Brissot said, placing a reassuring hand on Jones's shoulder. "The weapons will arrive in three days, delivered by another ship. As for the money, it's in the hold below us.

"The flame of freedom will never be extinguished!"

Thus, half of the £100,000 Bland had just handed over to the French was redirected to the abolitionist forces, fueling their resistance against British rule.

Days Later

Standing on the ship's bow, Brissot watched Jones's figure recede into the distance. His heart swelled with emotion.

That is the spark of freedom!

It has not been extinguished. It will continue to ignite across Barbados, ultimately liberating the enslaved and oppressed.

Turning to gaze at the vast ocean, Brissot thought of the Caribbean's interconnected struggles. On the other side of these waters, in the Bahamas and Jamaica, black rebels were also fighting against their grim fates. With their blood and labor, they were digging the grave for the vile institution of slavery.

Saint-Domingue, he knew, would lead the charge in creating a Caribbean united by freedom—free from oppression and the horrors of the slave trade.

In this envisioned future, whether black, white, or mulatto, all people would live as equals, smiling as one under the sun.

The long night of suffering and sin would finally end, and the radiant light of liberty would shine over the boundless Caribbean.

Brissot crossed himself and raised his voice passionately:

"Long live His Highness the Prince! It is he who has brought hope to these lands! May God bless him!"

Brissot was a fervent abolitionist, his zeal born from firsthand experience aboard slave ships to the Americas. He had witnessed the wretched conditions of African captives—how they were attacked by raiders, forcibly taken, and transported across the ocean, with nearly a quarter perishing during the voyage.

Survivors were greeted by lives of relentless toil under plantation overseers' whips, punished with fire, hanging, or worse for even minor infractions. Female slaves endured routine sexual violence, and male slaves were bred like livestock to produce new generations of enslaved labor.

Their lives were a never-ending cycle of despair, a descent into hell without hope.

Until the Prince sent Brissot to this place.

Since then, countless enslaved people had been freed from the lash, reclaiming their humanity and basking once more in the light of God.

Brissot's eyes glistened with unshed tears.

In his heart, he swore eternal loyalty to the Prince—a true guide to freedom—and pledged to dedicate his entire being to the cause.

Two Weeks Later

A 4,000-strong French expeditionary force landed in the Bahamas.

The provisional Bahamian parliament panicked, immediately authorizing Majors Toussaint Louverture and Liddington to rally their forces for defense.

However, the parliament's senior members, as well as the two rebel commanders, had already been in secret talks with Ogé's envoys. They knew the French troops were not their enemies—in fact, the two sides would soon cooperate.

French commander Lieutenant Colonel Gallisonnière stood pointing toward Nassau in the distance. Smiling, he said to British military advisor Major Gardner:

"These blacks have no understanding of military strategy. Look—I've surrounded the city in less than two days."

"I hope you achieve victory soon," Gardner replied curtly.

In reality, his role as a "military advisor" was simply to monitor the French, ensuring they followed through on their obligations.

By noon the next day, French forces began their assault on Nassau.

Cannons roared, tearing through the city's outer defenses. French infantry marched forward in disciplined lines, advancing relentlessly to the beat of military drums.

Just as Gardner marveled at the French army's prowess, confident they would crush the black rebels with ease, a sudden trumpet blast echoed from both flanks.

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