At Pernier, Petion walks into his own guns to save French prisoners

Petion took part in the uprising of the freedmen against the white colonists and distinguished himself in this engagement, Bellegarde says, twice over: by staying calm under fire, and by exposing himself to the muskets of his own soldiers in order to stop them killing captured French officers. The story is told again in another form later in the article, when Petion turned against the French in 1802 and sent back across the lines the European officers and men serving under him rather than compel them to fight their own country, an act the French general Pamphile de Lacroix recorded with admiration. Bellegarde is constructing a specific kind of hero, one whose distinguishing quality is restraint rather than ferocity, in explicit contrast with Dessalines and Christophe. He notes that Petion later served as lieutenant general under Rigaud in the civil war of 1800 and defended Jacmel against a siege led by Dessalines.

For a whole month after the rising began, Beard has Toussaint keeping the Breda plantation out of the fire. He stood at the head of the estate gang, held them to obedience and stopped insurgents from putting the cane fields to the torch, while every other white household in the district fled to the towns. Madame Bayou de Libertas stayed in her own house under his protection, and the manager himself, camped at Haut-du-Cap, could come back daily to check on the slaves without being killed. The mechanism was personal standing rather than force. When the insurrection grew past what one man could contain, Toussaint had the carriage loaded with valuables, put his mistress in it and sent her to Cap Francais under his younger brother Paul, then used his growing influence to get the whole family out of the colony to the United States.

Joseph's fullest treatment of a dated event sits in an endnote. On the night of 14 August 1791, in a forest called Bois-Caiman in the parish of Morne-Rouge in the north, a large group of drivers, about two hundred of them sent from various plantations, gathered on the Lenormand de Mezy estate under the direction of the maroon and religious leader Dutty Boukman and set plans for a large-scale revolt to begin a week later. Joseph cites the testimony of an enslaved man named Francois, who reported that a man of colour read public papers to the assembly and declared that the king and the National Assembly had granted them three days of freedom a week, that the white planters opposed this, and that they must await troops sent to enforce the decree, though people on some estates in Acul and Limbe wanted to begin the war at any cost before the troops arrived. Where this account departs from the standard one: Places the Bois-Caiman gathering itself on 14 August at the Lenormand de Mezy plantation, where Dubois in this batch argues the ceremony fell on 21 August at a different site.

One week after the north burned, a delegation of Saint-Domingue planters arrived in the United States asking for military and financial help to put the rising down. Julius Scott's account of what happened next is the useful part. The American response was tangled, because the same republic that had just finished its own revolution had a slaveholding South that badly wanted this fire extinguished, and a merchant class that badly wanted the Saint-Domingue trade to keep running. Aid was sent. It was also hedged. What Scott tracks in The Common Wind is the other network moving in the same water: sailors, dockworkers, runaways and free black mariners carrying news of the rising into every port in the Caribbean and up the American coast faster than any government could suppress it. The planters sailed north to ask for soldiers. The news had already sailed north without them.