Two hundred drivers hear the king has granted three free days

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.

Boukman Dutty had been a driver and a coachman on the Lenormand de Mezy plantation, which meant he knew a great many work gangs across the northern plain, and he was a priest as well. Accounts left by planters and parish priests indicate careful planning in deep secrecy. A first meeting between the maroon camps led to a second, held on 14 August 1791 and framed as a religious ceremony over which Boukman presided. The gathering has come down as Bois-Caiman. Fact and legend are thoroughly mixed in what survives of it. The participants are said to have shared the blood of a sacrificed black pig and sworn a pact to die rather than live under the masters, while Boukman spoke in Creole and called for vengeance in the name of the ancestors. A young priestess remembered as Cecile Fatiman cut the animal's throat. The rising began eight days later.

A week before the burnings began, a group of rebel commanders held a ceremony at Morne Rouge, at the place called Bwa Kayiman, where the oungan and rebel leader Boukman prayed for support. The article stresses that Trouillot situates this within a wider pattern rather than treating it as unique: many guerrilla leaders held ceremonies before fighting, Biassou told the enslaved not to flee death because the spirits would return them to Africa, and three quarters of the leaders named, including Boukman, Biassou, Yasint, Lamour Derance and Romaine-la-Prophetesse, were oungan before they were commanders. Calinda dances were the only gatherings the enslaved were permitted, so a dance was simultaneously a cultural event, a religious event and a political meeting. Vodou supplied conviction and organisation at once, working as an adhesive across people separated by language and origin. Where this account departs from the standard one: Rejects both conventional readings of Bwa Kayiman, that it was merely a political congress and that it was merely a mystical ceremony.

Smith opens his account of Haitian regional ties before the Haitian nation existed. Within hours of the first shots of August 1791, refugees from the western half of Hispaniola set sail for Jamaica. At that stage they were mostly French planters, and they scattered across the Caribbean leaving durable marks: their contribution to the nineteenth-century development of Cuban coffee, and family names that survive in Jamaica such as Desnoes, Malabre and Espeut. Over the following century and a half the waves widened to include Haitians of every social class, political exiles, and nearly a dozen former heads of state who settled in Jamaica. Smith stresses that the traffic ran both ways, since a good many people from the British islands went the other way and settled in Haiti during the closing quarter of the century. His point is that regional integration long predated any treaty.