1915, January 23–27: (Revolution Is Flourishing: Admiral Caperton Arrives and the Bellhop President): Instead of hastening south like Davilmar Théodore, Vilb…

1915, January 23–27: (Revolution Is Flourishing: Admiral Caperton Arrives and the Bellhop President): Instead of hastening south like Davilmar Théodore, Vilbrun Guillaume — who had begun to style himself Guillaume “Sam” — tarried at the Cap to ensure that all would be safe in his rear. There was, after all, no hurry: the government was incapable of resistance. Livingston reported to Washington on January 27 that there had been practically no fighting at all, not a single shot fired at Cap Haïtien or anywhere in the neighborhood, that General Métellus had come into the Cap on Saturday morning the 16th with a thousand men and remained to accompany Guillaume to Port-au-Prince, that not a single act of disorder had been conducted, and the situation had more the appearance of a great holiday than of a revolution. The very day Métellus’s cannon were announcing a new chef du pouvoir exécutif at the Cap, the armored cruiser Washington, wearing the flag of Rear Admiral William B. Caperton, was rolling and bucking her way past Cape Hatteras — descending the ladder aft, a communication orderly handed a half-sheet flimsy that read: PROCEED CAPE HAITIEN WITHOUT DELAY. The Washington anchored outside the harbor on January 23, 1915. Going ashore in his burnished steam pinnace, past the silent ruins of Forts Picolet and St. Joseph and avoiding Bulldog’s coral-crusted bones, the admiral was greeted at the wharf by Livingston, who had forehandedly cabled for a warship the day Vilbrun Guillaume disclosed his presidential aspirations. Haiti had changed little since Caperton’s alert and thoughtful chief of staff, Captain E. L. Beach, had last been there with Admiral Gherardi in 1891 — the Cap, wrote Beach, presented the appearance of a ruined town, business was at a standstill, the streets still paved with cobblestones placed there by the French one hundred and fifty years ago were uncared-for, walls of buildings were cracked and crumbling and left in disrepair, but one thing was flourishing, and that was revolution. On the 25th, Caperton called on Guillaume, and the admiral memorably described being met at the door by a tatterdemalion soldiery while inside a very gorgeous black gentleman arrayed like a head bellhop at the Waldorf directed them through a room and up a pair of steps, then suddenly disappeared to reappear still resplendent at the head of the stairs — and in a moment General Guillaume Sam appeared, and greatly to the admiral’s surprise he recognized him as the bellhop, only this time he had discarded his coat for another more elaborate one and an enormous sword clanked around his heels.