1915, July 27, 4:00 A.M.: (The Palace Attack and Guillaume Sam’s Escape Over the Wall): At midnight under a full moon, stealing out of the consulate in Turge…

1915, July 27, 4:00 A.M.: (The Palace Attack and Guillaume Sam’s Escape Over the Wall): At midnight under a full moon, stealing out of the consulate in Turgeau and then down the cavernous Bois de Chêne ravine that bisects Port-au-Prince and skirts the Champ de Mars, Delva assembled thirty-six heavily armed confederates, and joined by another sixteen under General Ermane Robin, stealthily advanced on the structure that was temporarily serving as the Palais National. At 4:00 A.M., after whispered signals from allies among the guard, the conspirators opened a fusillade into the palace — as the stammer of machine guns joined the clamor, word spread that Cacos bivouacked in the yard had turned the palace mitrailleuses against their master. To the swell of musketry was soon added the glow of fire: outbuildings were doused with lamp oil and burned to provide light for the attackers, and for additional cover one of the little tramway engines was tipped over in the street as a breastwork. With a few faithful followers, the president and his family held out past daybreak, then Guillaume Sam clutched a carbine in one hand and a monstrous old key in the other and led a dash through the haze and smoke toward an iron door in the ten-foot wall separating the palace from the French compound. Dodging and flinching as shots spattered about, the president tried to turn the stubborn lock — it was rusted tight. Agile with terror despite a leg wound, he clawed over the wall. Ironically, Charles Zamor — still waiting to see how things would come out — was at this moment in the legation and, according to H. P. Davis, actually helped Guillaume Sam inside. French Minister Girard quickly led his newest guest to his own bedroom, assisted the president into the adjoining bathroom where he could bleed without messing up the rug, and sent for a surgeon. Meanwhile, frantic pickaxes breached the stubborn portal so that the family could get through, followed in Girard’s words by a fleet of women, of servants, of huge bundles stuffed with personal effects and household utensils swept up at the last moment, and then to finish came four magnificent horses from the presidential stables which pranced over the heaped-up rubbish. By 8:30 A.M., from the safety of the legation, Guillaume Sam sent a brief note to General Étienne, still holing up in the Bureau de l’Arrondissement in the lower town: Mon Cher Oscar, la partie est perdue, j’abandonne le pouvoir — faites ce que votre conscience vous dictera.