Life of Being a Crown Prince in France

Chapter 706: Chapter 615: The Black Hurricane

“The ‘Deep Warehouse’ armed merchant ship had all sails up, and with the push of the Gulf of Mexico current, it had only taken a week to spot the coast of Georgia in the United States from afar.

A few days earlier, the Intelligence Bureau had made contact with the ‘Special Trade Association’, and at the moment, a small smuggling ship was waiting offshore to rendezvous.

In fact, the coastal patrol of the United States practically had no noteworthy ships, but to be safe, the ‘Deep Warehouse’ waited until twilight before docking on a desolate beach in southeastern Georgia, under the guidance of the smuggling ship.

Brisso immediately had his men move weapons, ammunition, and food from the merchant ship onto the shore. Looking around, he saw only endless plains shrouded in the night.

His heart swelled with both the fear and excitement of having narrowly escaped with his life, and without hesitation, he took out a wooden carved totem, placed it on the ground, and prostrated himself to give thanks for his ancestors’ protection.

After he finished praying, the ‘British merchant’ happily came over, handed him a map, and reminded, “Great hero, this here is Georgia in the United States. To the north and west, there are vast cotton plantations where countless black people suffer.

“To the south lies the Savannah River, beyond which is Indian territory. They likewise hate the white people. If the situation becomes difficult, you can cross the river to seek their help. At the very least, they can help you defend against the white army’s advances.

“Additionally, the dense forests to the west can provide you with cover.”

At this time, United States territory was still only east of the Missouri River and north of Florida. Even Florida was still a Spanish colony.

Between Florida and United States territory, there were even several large Indian tribes active.

Georgia, sitting adjacent to Florida and the Indian-controlled areas, also offered a rapid retreat into the Atlantic Ocean to the east, making it an excellent “place to start a rebellion.”

Brisso carefully stored the map away, preparing to bid farewell to the ‘British friend’, but as he looked up, he suddenly saw the orderly rows of cannon aboard the ‘Deep Warehouse’, lit by lantern light.

He grinned at the ‘British friend’, and unreservedly had his men dismantle the 9-pound and 4-pound cannons from the ship.

In fact, there were 18-pound cannons on board, but they were too heavy, and without horses, they were impossible to move.

“Thank you, Mr. Robbin,” said Brisso, making a Voodoo prayer gesture. “I will repay you tenfold, a hundredfold for these items in the future.”

The ‘British merchant’ smiled and waved his hand, “I haven’t done much. If you want to thank someone, thank the Duke of Leeds. Ah, his full name is Francis Godolphin Osborne.”

Two days later.

Several mixed scout troops returned to the Rebel Army’s hideout in the woods, reporting the nearby situation to Brisso.

Brisso marked the nearby plantations on the map, discussed them with his officers, and finally pointed to the ‘Al Plant Manor’ to the north.

According to the information brought back by the scouts, there were nearly 200 slaves there, while there were no more than 30 white people.

The next morning, as the Plantation Owner Plant and his family were still asleep, faint gunshots suddenly sounded in the distance.

Mrs. Plant forcefully pushed her husband: “Evans, what’s happening?”

Evans Plant turned over and muttered, “Must be another Negro that broke the chains. Ryan is leading a chase. I hope Ryan doesn’t end up killing them all like last time…”

However, the gunfire grew increasingly dense.

Plant realized something was wrong, his eyes snapped open, and he reached for the hunting shotgun by the bed.

He and his two sons had just left the villa when the blood-covered supervisor Ryan rode up to them, screaming, “Run, run! There are too many niggers, and they’ve got guns!”

“Niggers?” Plant waved the hunting shotgun, “How many?”

“At least 200…”

Ten minutes later, Plant’s family rode westward toward Meili Town, which was about 10 miles away.

However, as soon as they crossed the endless cotton fields, they were confronted by more than 20 black men in white military uniforms, guns aimed at them.

“Don’t shoot! You can have anything you want…”

Before Plant could finish, the black men had already pulled their triggers without hesitation.

Just four hours later, 31 heads were lying at Book’s feet, while Plant’s daughter and two other white supervisors hung from the wooden frame used to torture slaves.

Around them stood more than 300 soldiers of the Book movement, along with nearly 200 slaves from the plantations. Other soldiers continued to comb the surrounding plantations for any whites who slipped through the net.

Listening to the sounds of his men whipping the whites, along with their agonizing screams, Book vigorously waved at the trembling slaves, “You are free! The great Ligba God protects you.

“Now, let us all pray to the gods and ancestors, then take up arms to kill the damn whites!”

The slaves looked at each other—they didn’t understand French.

When Book’s men finished translating, most of the slaves began to cry out in fear, telling Book they were as good as dead.

But a dozen or so braver ones squeezed out of the crowd, knelt behind Book at the totem pole.

Over the next week, Book’s army struck three more plantations, swelling their ranks to nearly a thousand.

In fact, many slave revolts had occurred before in the United States, but nearly all lacked organization or capable leadership, and were effortlessly crushed without exception.

But this time, Americans encountered the Book movement, forged in the blood and fire of Santo Domingo, and were immediately thrown into disarray.

Historically, the Book group had fought the regular army of Santo Domingo to a standstill until the Governor deployed over 2,000 soldiers to defeat them.

Because the United States was sparsely populated and Book never left any survivors, it wasn’t until ten days later that the Savannah Militia received word and hastily dispatched a 400-man army to suppress them.

According to their past experiences, such a large force was more than enough to deal with any rebellious niggers.

But when they arrived at Meili Town, now occupied by the rebel slaves, they suddenly heard the roar of cannons from behind. Instantly, a dozen soldiers were smashed into bits by 12-pound iron shot, scattering everywhere.

The American soldiers fell into immediate panic, then up came thousands of black men with Brown Bess flintlock guns, pressing in from the left and right…

Two days later, Savannah City’s Mayor Michael Hayden looked at the urgent military dispatch in his hands, his face deathly pale.

The Militia’s main force was crushed by the rebelling slaves, over 180 dead, and at the moment, the slaves were advancing toward Savannah City…

While Book was making his triumphant advance, on the other side in Santo Domingo, Brisso was having a meeting with Oreal, Governor Mabuli, and several influential legislators, a meeting that could affect the entire Caribbean Sea Region.