The Great Uprising (3)
“In Georgia, tens of thousands of black people will rise up in revolt.”
At first, John Brown thought James had completely lost his mind.
Before leaving the South for the North, he had heard from Seuret about what was to come. The reason was that the plan’s efficiency could be maximized only if he provided support from the North.
Wait... hadn't he said before that while his ideals were good, they were too extreme? A man who insisted on preparing for the day slavery would end in a realistic and rational way was now planning to incite a riot of tens of thousands?
Let’s ask anyone on the street. One hundred out of one hundred would surely say that the other side was the crazy one, not him. All he had done was capture a few slave owners or slave hunters and behead them. On the other hand, this man was trying to completely flip over Georgia, a state with a population of one million. And he was doing it entirely under the leadership of black people.
Of course, he had known James was a different breed of madman ever since he saw him training thousands of runaway slaves like soldiers under the guise of a rehabilitation center.
“Owen, do everything Seuret asks of you.”
“Me? Wouldn't it have a greater impact if you stepped forward yourself, Father?”
“If I step forward, the name John Brown will inevitably be dragged into the mud. I agree with him that we must not let that happen this time.”
John Brown was not the type to believe that it was enough for black people to simply break the chains of slavery. He believed that black people were perfectly equal to white people, and therefore, they deserved to be treated exactly the same.
However, no matter how much he racked his brain, the future awaiting black people after this war ended seemed obvious. As James Seuret had said, they would be third-class citizens, not even second-class. They might have to face a reality even worse than the past, where at least their personal safety was guaranteed.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. John Brown. My name is John Davison Rockefeller.”
“My name is Andrew Carnegie.”
Just then, two men came to find John Brown. He already knew their names. They were the top executives handling affairs in the North on behalf of Seuret. It was his first time meeting them, but he could tell they were certainly extraordinary.
Rockefeller reached out his hand first, politely, as if conducting a business deal.
“We have come under the orders of Chairman James Seuret.”
So, he was called 'Master' in the South and 'Chairman' by the people in the North.
“Yes, I’ve heard. But why have you come all this way? I was just waiting quietly as Seuret asked.”
“We are here to ensure the level of that ‘quietly’!”
As soon as Rockefeller finished speaking, Carnegie, who was standing next to him, nodded immediately and added a word.
“Mr. Brown! As you may have heard, the Chairman said that you must absolutely not step to the forefront this time. The protagonist of this event is not you, but the slaves themselves.”
“Andrew. There is a procedure. First, we must confirm if Mr. Brown possesses the same level of information as we do.”
Rockefeller glared at Carnegie, stopped him, and continued.
“Mr. Brown. The Chairman’s plan is to package this Georgia uprising as a noble struggle achieved by the black people themselves. Our mission is to make all the media in the North accept this fact as such.”
A combination of reason and wildness? They looked like opposites, and he didn't quite understand why Seuret had put these two young men together. Still, John Brown nodded calmly and sighed in agreement.
“I know that well, but isn't the method the key? I don't think the media bastards will be interested in anything other than my name.”
“Of course. If a riot breaks out, they will try to link it to Mr. John Brown in their articles no matter what. That is why the first start is important.”
Rockefeller took a ledger out of his bag.
“I have already signed partnerships with the Harbor News Association and several major newspapers in New York. Of course, they don't know the truth yet, but when the incident breaks out, I will immediately provide them with commentary materials emphasizing the moral justification of this uprising, along with the ‘heroic eyewitness accounts’ we have secured.”
“Eyewitness accounts...”
“Mr. Brown, do you think it’s too weak? You don't have to worry.”
Carnegie sneered at Rockefeller’s words and cut in.
“Frankly speaking, when are we going to wait for eyewitness accounts? I have already hired three reporters and a sketch artist. We will create the most dramatic stories that will unfold in Georgia, vividly, just as they are!”
“...Create them?”
“Yes! ‘The Black Spartacus of Georgia!’ ‘The heroes who broke their chains and raided the armory!’ Can’t you see the picture right now? I will sell this revolution!”
Why are they so extreme? As he stood there with his mouth agape in bewilderment, Rockefeller’s face twisted and he clicked his tongue.
“Are you planning to smear such a noble struggle with agitation and fabrication again?”
“The truth is what people believe to be the truth. To cover up Mr. Brown’s name in the first place, we have to throw out this much stimulating material!”
John Brown just stared blankly at the scene. What on earth did Seuret trust these two idiots with? One was a rigid accountant, and the other was a fraudulent snake-oil salesman.
However, once they started working together, John Brown realized it instantly.
“While Andrew incites the public with vulgar sensationalism, I will persuade the financiers and railroad tycoons, who are the core funding sources for the Republican Party, that this uprising is merely a process for ‘stabilizing future labor’ and not a threat to private property.”
“While that church clergyman puts them to sleep with boredom, I will make sure the sketches of the black heroes hang in every tavern in Boston and Philadelphia! There will even be songs about it by next week!”
The two were bickering and fighting among themselves, yet they were secretly getting everything done. And the work was being handled with an impossibly fast, seamless efficiency. From politics and finance to the public and public opinion—John Brown, who thought he had been operating his organization systematically, realized in front of their god-like work speed that he had been running it like a neighborhood hole-in-the-wall shop until now.
Indeed, you cannot judge a person by their appearance...
“What about the budget?”
“I’ve already secured it. Andrew, I can’t give a single penny to your fabrications...”
“Bullshit, I knew you’d say that, so I’ve already set aside an independent budget! Did you already forget the Chairman’s words to not interfere with each other and do your best?”
No, even so, these guys really are idiots. The two of them threw their documents aside again and started pointing fingers and raising their voices. But it was absurd that all the tasks that needed to be handled were already finished.
Perhaps James, who is keeping these crazy people together, is the craziest of them all. That might be an obvious statement.
John Brown spent a moment lost in such obvious thoughts.
Around the time John Brown was soaked in bewilderment and James Seuret had just departed for his new post, at the Rice Plantation near Savannah, Georgia.
Inside a slave barrack as darkness fell, Jonah, one of the 4,000 liberators, was giving a low-voiced speech in front of dozens of local slaves. It wasn't just here. In hundreds, thousands of farms, the exact same things were likely happening right now.
“Brothers! Do you hear the gunfire from the North!”
“......”
“Just as they destroyed the Master’s rehabilitation center, Georgia will soon become a fierce battleground between the South and the North.”
The air inside the barrack began to heat up. As they felt that the time for liberation had finally arrived, the first emotion that erupted was none other than hatred. One slave shouted in a voice filled with rage.
“Let’s storm the mansion right now and cut their throats!”
“We must peel the skin off the overseer!”
Hatred, and anger. They were the easiest flames to ignite, but Jonah remembered what he had been taught until his ears grew sore at the rehabilitation center.
“No.”
Even if it were a small number of people, it is impossible for anyone to control a crowd blinded by rage. Why would they create strict discipline in the military and punish those who stray? It is because humans are made to be difficult to control as their numbers grow.
Rufus raised a torch and looked them straight in the eyes.
“Revenge is sweet. But revenge alone changes nothing.”
“But...”
“Listen! What is our goal? Are we just going to slaughter those who have tormented us until now and end our own lives as well? If so, you can do as you please. But isn't what we want to create a world where we can live like human beings after this war ends, and where our children do not live the same lives we did!”
That was the sentiment of everyone who had been educated at the rehabilitation center. If they only wanted to eat well and live well for themselves, they could have just endured until the war ended and then gotten hired at Seuret Cotton. Then why were they doing such troublesome work?
“We are here now for all of us. Let us keep in mind that our actions can determine the future not only of our compatriots spread across this entire country, but also of all the children who will be born in the future!”
“...Huu.”
“Think about it! If we just run wild in a frenzy of rage and kill even their children, what will the Northerners call us? Savages! Beasts! They will slander and vilify us! They will say that 'niggers' need control and try to put shackles back on us. Remember, in the end, they are white too. When the war ends, they will side with the South again, not us.”
His words carried the logic he had learned at the rehabilitation center and the experience he had gained in the North while living as a runaway slave.
“But, what if we help their war? What if we don't take lives, but destroy only their capabilities? We can become not beasts, but fighters who broke their own chains and fought for a great cause!”
Instead of sickles, he handed the slaves crowbars and lifted up a small bundle of gunpowder he had secretly smuggled out.
“We must make it so that the North cannot ignore our contributions. Indiscriminate murder only gives the Southerners a pretext for suppression. That is an act of betrayal. Anyone who does that will be executed immediately!”
The goal that Seuret proposed and the rehabilitation center pursued was, from beginning to end, only one: the loss of the South’s ability to sustain the war.
The South, which would face this uprising, would never imagine it, but all their schemes were focused entirely on striking the South’s facilities. Therefore, it could never be stopped. Because they wouldn't even know what this side was aiming for.
“Our first target will not be the mansion, but the Savannah port.”
“Waaaaah!”
“Do not be afraid! Thousands of comrades are already recruiting colleagues on thousands of farms. Everyone here will know after today passes that we are not the only ones moving! Let’s go! For freedom! For victory!”
“For freedom!”
“For victory!”
That night.
All of Georgia burned simultaneously. As Jonah’s speech suggested, they began the work of removing the gears of the giant machine called Georgia, not through arson.
Atlanta Railway Hub.
“Squad 1, ready to blow up the bridge supports!”
“Squad 2, switching mechanism freezing in progress!”
“All railways heading to Atlanta will be cut off tonight! According to the Master’s will!”
Logistics Warehouse.
“Don’t burn it! Open the warehouse!”
The agents raided the warehouse and distributed the food as spoils of liberation to the starving local slaves. The more food they distributed, the more the number of people who trusted and followed them grew.
Savannah Port.
“There it is! The logistics loading dock!”
Not just the farm led by Jonah, but hundreds of people raided the port along the predetermined route as discussed. They subdued the guards and sank all the supplies that were supposed to go to Atlanta.
Boom! Ka-boom!
“Destroy everything, and throw what you can’t destroy into the sea!”
“Destroy it so it can’t function as a port, and set it on fire!”
On the first day of the uprising, urgent reports poured in from all over Georgia.
“Contact with the capital has been cut off. It seems someone is destroying the telegraph poles!”
“The militia armory has been raided!”
“The railway is cut. The gunpowder is...”
“What on earth does all this mean! Is it a slave revolt? Catch them and execute them immediately as an example! How many traitors could there be that we are being so helpless...”
“Th-that, General. The number being reported is too high. Even at the lowest estimate, it’s all over Georgia.”
“...What did you say?”
Georgia’s population was just over one million. The number of black people was over 460,000. Georgia was facing a hellish situation where half of its entire population had turned into rioters.