Word reach us that, all over town, notices going up. Hammered into trunks of tree or pasted to boards, in each and every town, in every parish where the slaves rising up. So a few nights ago, Sharpe gathered up those of us still fighting and read out to us what them notices say.

To the Rebellious Slaves.

NEGROES – YOU have taken up arms against your Masters, and have burnt and plundered their Houses and Buildings. Some wicked persons have told you that the King has made you free, and that your Masters withhold your freedom from you. In the name of the King, I come among you to tell you that you are misled. I bring with me numerous Forces to punish the guilty, and all who are found with the Rebels will be put to death, without mercy. You cannot resist the King’s Troops. Surrender yourselves, and beg that your crime may be pardoned. All who yield themselves up to any military post immediately, provided they are not principals and chiefs in the burnings that have been committed, will receive His Majesty’s gracious pardon. All who hold out will meet with certain death.

WILLOUGHBY COTTON, Maj. General Command.

Afterwards, we all silent as a grave. Some of the rebels push for us to surrender, others say no, we must fight on. We look to Sharpe to see what him going say. We are not disappointed. Just like in church, him preach a sermon that pick us up and keep us fighting.

‘When did backra ever tell the truth, unless he’s going to benefit? When did backra ever withhold the lash, when he had a chance to use it? If we turn ourselves in now, what will we gain? It is too late, my brothers, my sisters, we have already done the deed. I know if they catch me, I will hang. And those of you that they think is a ringleader, you will also hang. Make no mistake, I would rather die on yonder gallows than live in slavery. I am happy to go this way, knowing that our work is done. Go to my death wrapped in a future that will declare we did the right thing. The sacrifice well worth it. Our actions are just one more step on the road to freedom. A road we have pried open with our hands, our struggle, our blood, our lives. A road made a little wider like all those who rebelled before us have done.’