Clearing the bushes, three mounted men emerged, two flanking what appeared to be their leader on a humongous white stallion. His ebony face was large with menacing eyes to match. His physique of hard muscle—all bulging chest and huge arms—sweating through his tan Marechaussee Corps Officer shirt.  His two accomplices were nearly as well built, with uniforms clearly indicating their own officer status. All were armed with swords and sidearms, and the two lessers carried long discipline whips. They immediately flanked Jean to his left and right side, cutting him off from the workforce. 

“I am Commander Georges Biassou of the Southern Region Marechausee. I have signed warrants from the Colonial Authorities to search all properties for the apprehension of runaway slaves,” the man shot back. “I need to see the papers of all of your workforce both here and at the main house.” he concluded.

 “Whose slaves have escaped?” Jean asked. “I haven’t heard any local news regarding runaways.”

 “Two slaves belonging to the Garnier plantation are on the run” Biassou balked. “Male, first generation Bossale Congos.”

 “That does not surprise me. What does is that the Garnier’s entire workforce has not fled for their lives. Their treatment of slaves is worse than that of their livestock. And that is very bad indeed”

Jean confidently retorted. “And on top of that, I hear they are sadistic and…” 

 “That is of no matter to me,” interjected Biassou. “It only becomes my concern when these slaves escape, and I am charged with bringing them back.” he continued.’