Peralte strikes the capital and writes to Britain the same day

Peralte attacked Port-au-Prince and frightened its inhabitants, and on the same day wrote a further letter to the representative of Great Britain in which he mentioned that he belonged to the Haitian elite. Michel treats the correspondence as a deliberate second front. Peralte had already written to the British consul in June, claiming to defend his country and his flag, demanding justice against American aggression and estimating his own forces at thirty to forty thousand men, and had written to the French minister in August to define the movement's objectives. The aim was recognition, an explanation of the war as national liberation, and diplomatic support, together with a rebuttal of the effort to discredit him personally. Michel says the attack on the capital made the occupiers dance to his music, which they could not accept.

The pan-African movement of the 1920s and 1930s grew in North America and the Caribbean out of a shared experience of colonial rule and racism. Marcus Garvey, who never set foot in Africa, founded the Universal Negro Improvement Association and preached Africa for the Africans and the removal of Europeans from it. Garveyism was eccentric in places, and it reached the young men who would lead African independence movements in the 1940s and 1950s. In French-speaking Africa the same current produced negritude, argued most publicly by the Senegalese poet Leopold Senghor, later the first president of Senegal, which asserted Black self-respect and the antiquity of African civilisation. I keep this on a Haitian timeline because Haiti sat in the middle of the traffic. The marines were in Port-au-Prince while Garvey was speaking in Harlem, and the Haitian writers who answered the occupation were reading the same material as the men who would govern Dakar and Accra.

Through the 1920s and 1930s the export crops of tropical Africa came off small African farms. The change of those two decades was the lorry. Roads spread, motor transport followed them, and commercial agriculture reached villages the railways had left alone. Market towns filled up. African cultivators, mostly men using the labour of the women in their households, opened new ground for export crops. After a generation of conquest the 1920s were steady and comparatively prosperous, and the population grew. The communities forming out of this were part peasant and part capitalist, and European administrations disliked them. Officials preferred chiefs they had appointed and were wary of African businessmen who would eventually want politics as well as profit. The weakness in the arrangement was visible before the crash came. African producers had no way to move a world price, and what Africa sold remained crops, timber and minerals. In parts of West Africa the trade of the nineteenth century simply carried on under a new flag.

The plan for the night of 31 October 1919 was that Conzé would attack Grande Rivière while Péralte waited at Masère in the river gorge. The marines knew both halves of it. Meade brought gendarmes and a machine gun section quietly into the barracks at Grande Rivière, and blocking positions went out on every trail from Saint Raphaël to Vallière. Hanneken took eighteen picked gendarmes and Lieutenant William Button, dressed them as Cacos in worn denim, and blacked his own face and Button's with burned cork. Seven hundred Cacos filed past their ambush and Péralte was not among them. Jean-Edmond François then brought word that Péralte was waiting in camp for a detachment to fetch him in. Hanneken's party became that detachment and climbed through six Caco outposts using the password General Jean, chosen as a compliment to Conzé. At the last one a sentry tried to inspect Button's automatic rifle and Button snapped at him in Creole and pushed on. François pointed out a man in a blue shirt beside a small fire. Hanneken shot him twice through the heart.