 | Lafitte |  |
BOOK III.
BARRITARIA.
“Came you here to insult us, or remain
As spy upon us, or as hostage for us?”
The two Foscari.
“And now he stood upon the dazzling height
For which he long had laboured.”
The Conqueror.
“—wealth, such as
The state accords her worthiest servants; nay,
Nobility itself I guaranty thee.”
Marino Faliero.
1. BOOK III.
1. CHAPTER I.
“It was a rational conjecture that, on account of the difficulty of
ascending the Mississippi river, the British would seek a passage
through the pass of Barritaria. It was also feared they would form an
alliance with the Barritarian chief, to promote their object, as he was
perfectly acquainted with every inlet and entrance to the gulf, through
which a passage could be effected.”
History of the war.
Barritaria—the chief and his adherents—a strange sail—
a chase.
The third part, or natural division, of our tale,
opens in that portion of Louisiana, described in the
historical sketch of the Barritarians commencing
the second book, to which we refer the reader, and
six days later than the period with which we closed
that book.
On the seventh morning after the scenes and events
just related, nearly the whole of the fleet, consisting
of thirteen vessels, over which Lafitte held command,
composed principally of brigantines, polaccas,
small schooners of that peculiar class known
then, and now, as the “Baltimore Clipper,” two or
three gun boats and feluccas, besides many small
boats with and without masts, were anchored in the
little harbour behind the island, and under cover of
the guns of the strong hold of the smugglers, crowning
Terre.
Between these vessels and the smooth beach,
boats were constantly passing and repassing, whilst
the wild air of some popular French or Spanish song
—the loud laugh of reckless merriment, or bandied
jokes, mingled with strange and fierce oaths, floated
over the water to the shore with wonderful distinctness
in the clear morning air.
On the southern or opposite side of the island,
upon a gentle eminence commanding a prospect of
the sea to the south—while over the intercepting
trees was an uninterrupted and distant view of the
masts of the anchored fleet—in various natural attitudes,
was congregated a group apparently deeply
engaged in watching the movements of two vessels
standing towards the island.
The shape and number of sails of the approaching
objects which engrossed the attention of the observers,
indicated vessels of small and equal burden;
apparently sailing side by side, and making,
with all their canvass spread, for the western pass.
As they lessened their distance from the island,
and their low hulls rose above the sphericity of the
sea, the interest of the spectators became more intense.
Suddenly a little triangular flag was run
up to the peak of one of the vessels nearest the entrance
to the lake, and at the same instant a light
cloud of blue smoke shot suddenly from the side of
the more distant vessel, and curled upwards, wreathing
over her tall masts. This was followed by the
sharp report, deadened by the distance, of a shotted
gun.
The knoll upon which this party were assembled,
consisted of a grassy swell, dotted here and there by
a magnificent live oak, and terminating abruptly
several feet above the sea in a perpendicular precipice
of earth, formed by the encroachment of the
of that climate, acting upon the loose and impalpable
soil of those alluvial regions. Under a large and
venerable tree, which, growing near the precipice,
hung partly over it, casting a deep shadow not only
upon the summit of the cliff, but upon the beach
beneath, lay buried in deep sleep, like one who had
kept long vigils the preceding night, the athletic
form of the chief of the buccaneers, whose dress
and appearance we will employ the time occupied
by the vessels in gaining the island, to describe.
With a cheek browned by southern suns, his
manly features gave no indication of that age
which a silvery hair sprinkled here and there among
his raven locks, betrayed. An ample, dark, gray
roquelaure faced with black silken velvet, lay out-spread
by the foot of the tree, serving him both for
a couch and protection from the dampness of the
morning, which the up-risen sun was rapidly dissipating
before his warm and enlivening beams. One
arm grasping a richly inlaid belt pistol in its conscious
fingers was bent under his head, constituting
the sleeper's only pillow, while the other was buried
in his bosom. The blue collar of his seaman's
shirt was turned back from his throat and neck, exposing
them to the refreshing breeze of the sea, and
displaying a depth and strength of chest, as uncommon
in this day of physical degeneracy, as it was
the birth-right of the men of a sterner age.
Encircling his waist, was a gorgeous belt of wampun—the
gift of a Mexican Indian chief, as a token
of his gratitude to him for preserving from violation
his only child. In it glistened the handle of a dirk,
and the curled heads of a brace of serviceable pistols.
A black velvet jacket, a slouched sombrero, and
a pair of full, long pantaloons ornamented with numerous
bell-buttons, pendant from the eye by little
tread of the wearer, with low wrinkled boots, peculiar
to that period, completed the dress, and with the
addition of a sheathed sabre mounted with costly
jewels, lying by his side and within reach of his disengaged
hand, also the arms, of the handsome and
athletic sleeper.
At his feet, and comfortably stretched upon the
cloak of his master, apparently dozing, but with
eyes of watchfulness and intelligence that took notice
of every surrounding circumstance, lay a noble
dog, of that dignified and sagacious species, originally
derived from the island of Newfoundland.
Scarcely, however, and with strong struggles of self
denial, did the faithful animal, with philosophy worthy
of a stoic, resist repeated temptations to quit his
post from time to time, presented him in the shape of
certain comestibles, by a third individual of the party.
“Dat dog Léon, love stretch de lazy bone on
massa cloak, more dan eat. Here, you wooly nigger,
Léon, come get dis nice turkey wing for you
breakuss.”
Léon occasionally raised his eyes, and looked
wistfully upon the tempting morcel, then casting
them upon his master, reprovingly and negatively
shook his head.
Upon a rude hearth, not far from the sleeper,
burned a bright wood fire, over which, suspended
upon a crane resting upon two upright crotchets,
hung a large iron pot, the black cover of which was
constantly dancing above the boiling water, which,
with certain culinary instruments and preparations
around, gave sign of an intention to break, by a substantial
meal, the fast of the night.
Into this vessel, Cudjoe, as he progressed in dissecting
a wild turkey, tossed, as he sawed them
from the body, the severed portions, with which
he would provokingly tempt his fellow servant,
the philosophical Léon, from his duty.
Cudjoe, this mischievous leader into temptation,
whom we have before passingly introduced to the
reader, was a young slave about four feet high, with
a glossy black skin, ivory white teeth, two of which,
flanking his capacious jaws, projected outwards, with
the dignity of the embryo tusks of a young elephant.
His lips were of ample dimensions, and of the
brightest vermillion, the lower one hanging down,
and resting familiarly upon his short, retreating chin.
His nose, which surmounted, or rather stood in the
rear of these formidable appendages to his mouth,
was of vast dimensions, terminating in a magnificent
expansion of the nostril, and threatening to encroach
upon the province of his ears, which hung down in
enormous lappels, as if welcoming the expected
proximity.
His eyes were small, restless, and almost deficient
in that generous display of white, characteristic
of his race. One of these organs, he kept at
all times hermetrically sealed, while the other enjoyed
that obliquity of vision, which rendered it difficult
for the beholder to decide certainly as to the
particular point their owner was directing his visual
orb.
His neck, short, thick, and bull-like, was set into
broad shoulders, from which depended long arms
hanging by his side like those of the ourang-outang.
and terminating in short stunted fingers, of which
useful ornaments two and a half were wanting.
His feet were broad and flat, of equal longitude either
way from the base of his short legs, which
were placed exactly in their centre; so that he
seemed to enjoy the enviable facility of progressing
in opposite directions without the trouble of turning
his body.
His forehead, lined with innumerable fine wrinkles,
was very high and round, down to the centre of
which the reddish wool curled barrenly to a point,
displaying a physiognomical feature, which was the
mere mockery of that intellect it indicated. His voice
or rather his voices, for nature charitably making up
his deficiencies, had bestowed two upon him, in
ordinary conversation was sharp and wirey, and
pitched upon a shrill, discordant key; but when he
sung, as he often did, the soft airs of his tribe for the
amusement of his master, the melody of a syren
seemed floating around the enraptured listener.
His natural disposition was gentle and affectionate;
but when roused to revenge, he was more terrible
than the uncaged hyena. Gratitude to his
master, who captured him from a slaver, and subsequently
saved him from an imminent and revolting
death, had bound him to him with a faithfulness and
attachment nothing could diminish, and death only
terminate; while the shrewdness, activity and animal
courage of the young and deformed African,
rendered him a useful and necessary appendage to
the person of his master.
The fourth and last figure in the group was a
supernatural and decrepid old man, with a noble,
yet attenuated profile, doubled with age and infirmity,
with a sunken and watery eye, haggard features,
a long, neglected, gray beard, and a few straggling
silver hairs blowing about his aged temples.
He was clothed in coarse and squallid garments,
which he confined to his form with one hand, whilst
the other sustained a bundle of dry fuel that he had
just gathered on the skirts of the forest. From time
to time, the old man would add a stick to the fire,
and kneeling down blow feebly the expiring flames,
while at intervals, he muttered indistinctly with that
unconscious manner, characteristic of second childhood.
But the aged menial, was not only afflicted with
imbecile dotage, but the rays of intellect were faint
and flickering in his shattered brain. The light of
mind was extinguished in mental night. The cistern
was broken at the fountain. Who may read
the dark page of that old man's life and trace out
the causes which led to such effects?
Not far from the scene of the aged man's occupation,
and within ear shot of the sleeper, four or five
dark-looking men in the garb of buccaneers, reclined
upon the sward, smoking and watching in silence
the approaching vessels.
To the right of the knoll occupied by these groups,
at the distance of half a mile, rose the strong hold
of the buccaneers; while in the rear, and hidden
from a prospect of the sea, interspersed among the
trees and surrounding the fort, were several rude
huts constructed for the habitations of those of the
band, not immediately engaged in the duty of defending
the battery. Upon the walls of the fortilace,
and among the adjacent village of cots, figures
dressed in various wild and fantastic, yet sailor-like
garbs, were seen, either engaged under the trees
cooking their morning meal, burnishing their arms,
or hastening to and from the hold of their chief, as
though busy with preparations for some important
event.
By these individuals, the objects which had attracted
the attention of Cudjoe, the old man, and the
group of smokers had not yet been discovered.
“Who tink dem two vessel be, stannen for de
pass on de win?” asked Cudjoe, pausing a moment
in the midst of his dissecting operations, as his restless
one eye, always on the alert, caught sight of
the white sails of the two vessels, standing, with all
drawing sails set for the island.
Old Lafon fixed his bleared eye-balls in the direction
Cudjoe indicated by extending in his long arms
and shook his palsied head.
“See now, dey sail togedder like two gull on de
gulf; dey jis de same bigness.”
“No, no! the old man cannot see; two, did you
say? Then shall one destroy the other. Alas! for
two! it is an evil number,” and he talked incoherently,
mumbling the words in his toothless jaws.
The two vessels now stood in close-hauled, with
starboard tacks on board. The one to leeward however,
seemed to gain rapidly upon that to windward,
who hoisted her colours, a broad English ensign,
while a parti-coloured signal fluttered from her
main-peak.
“By St. Jone, but dat is one dam English cruiser!”
exclaimed Cudjoe as the colours were spread
to the breeze, “and sacre debble, if dat aint one
o' our own craf he chasin.”
One vessel was now evidently in pursuit of the
other. The pursuer was a large-sized English
armed brig, while the chase was a brigantine, light-armed,
but a very fast sailer, and every moment
increasing the distance between herself and pursuer.
Still she displayed no colours, when the brig fired a
gun ahead, to compel her to show them.
At the same moment, the chase run up the
Carthagenian flag, and returned the gun by a whole
broad side.
The sleeper started from his deep sleep at the
sound of the single gun, and with his sabre in his
grasp, stood upon his feet, a tall, finely-formed and
manly figure. His dark hair curled around his expansive
forehead; beneath his arched brows glowed
eyes of the deepest black, now sparkling like coals
of fire as he glanced seaward at the approaching
vessels. As the English colours of the armed brig
caught his eye, his lip, graced by handsome mustachoes
blended with his dark whiskers, curled with
more steadily upon the vessels, a proud smile lighted
up his sun-browned features.
“Here comes a timber of old England's wooden
walls, banging away at the Lady of the Gulf, as if
she had nothing better to do than to scale her guns
at my vessels.
“Ha! that tells well, my good lieutenant!” and
his eye lighted with pleasure as he saw the head of
the Englishman's bowsprit and jib-boom shot away
by the gallant broadside of the chase and fall into
the water.
The buccaneer was now too far to leeward, to
reach the pass without tacking; and before he
could execute this nautical manœuvre, the English
brig ranged upon his larboard quarter.
“Well, Monsieur Johnny,” continued the pirate
quietly watching the movement of the two vessels,
“if you fire your starboard broadside into my little
clipper, we may turn the brigantine over to Cudjoe
here for a riddling seive.
“Ha! she has grounded, and,—now the Englishman
has saved his powder;” and instead of firing
her broadside into the brigantine, as her manœuvreing
threatened, the English brig leaving the chase,
ran boldly in and came to an anchor close under
the island, and about half a mile from the cliff upon
which stood the group, who with various degrees of
interest had watched the nautical movements we
have briefly described.
“By the holy cross! but sir Englishman shows
consummate impudence, firing his spare shot into
one of my vessels, and then dropping his anchor in
the face of my battery as if he had done me good
service. Holy devil! but his coolness shall be
warmed a little with red, iron bullets, if my little battery
has not forgotten how to speak.
“Here Cudjoe, you beautiful boy, go as though
see him.”
“An who but de debble do sen me?” chuckled
Cudjoe, but very wisely to himself, as he went off
like a second Mercury, marvellously aiding his progress
up the slight ascent to the fort with his long
arms, which he alternately applied to the ground
with great dexterity and effect.
“Ha! he launches his pinnace! and it is prettily
manned withal. And there flutters a flag of truce!”
exclaimed the pirate, as he saw these indications of
pacific intentions on the part of the brig.
“Blessed visit of peace! sending out round shot
as its pioneers. Ho! my men!” he shouted. And
his boat's crew springing from their recumbent attitude
upon the grass, were upon their feet and at
his side.
“To the boat! Let us reconnoitre this mysterious
stranger, who thus saucily beards us to our
very faces,” he commanded, seizing his weapons
and casting his cloak upon the ground. Hastily
buckling his sabre around him, and placing his pistols
in his belt, he descended the cliff followed by
his oarsmen, and the next moment stood upon the
beach.
2. CHAPTER II.
“Towards the close of the war, there appeared an armed brig on
the coast, opposite the pass of Barritaria. She fired a gun at a vessel
entering, and then tacked and anchored off the island. A pinnace,
bearing British colours and a flag of truce was sent to the shore, conveying
four British officers, who had come to treat with the chief, and
endeavour to gain him and his adherents, which comprised a force of
one thousand men, besides thirteen vessels, over to their interests.
Upwards of two hundred men lined the shores when they landed, and
it was a general cry among them, that the British officers should be
made prisoners as spies. It was with difficulty Lafitte dissuaded the
multitude from their attempt, and led the guests in safety to his camp.”
Latour's War.
Prisoners—mutiny—soliloquy—an interview.
The seamen placed their shoulders to the bows of
the boat and shoved her off, while their leader, taking
from one of his men a coarse seaman's jacket and tarpaulin,
put them on, at once and effectually covering
his richer dress, and concealing any indications of
rank above those around him. Stepping on board,
he seated himself in the stern sheets and took the
helm.
“Give way men!” he cried in a low yet energetic
tone of command; and the light boat shot away
from the beach like an arrow.
In a few moments, he approached within hail of
the pinnace, which, with steady pull was making
for the shore.
“Boat ahoy!” hailed an officer in the full uniform
of a British naval officer, who was standing near the
stern of the boat leaning upon his sword, while
military dress of a commander of infantry, were
seated under a canopy in the stern sheets.
“Ahoy!” and the manly voice of the disguised
rover rung full and clear over the water, as he replied.
“Where is your captain?” inquired the English
officer, as the boats came close to each other.
The outlaw, preferring from motives of policy to
conceal his real character, replied:
“If you mean the Barritarian chief, you will find
him on shore.”
“Are you of his band?”
“We can communicate any message to him,” he
answered evasively.
“I am the bearer of a packet to Captain Lafitte;”
replied the officer, “I would know to whom I entrust
it.”
“We are of Captain Lafitte's party, and will execute
any commission with which we may be entrusted,
be its import peaceful or hostile,” said Lafitte
firmly.
“What say you Williams, shall this business be
entrusted to this stranger?”
“It is perhaps, the only alternative;” he replied
cautiously; “he is, most likely, one of the outlaw's
band, and will no doubt convey the packet safely to
his chief.”
“Ho! Monsieur, will you convey this packet to
Captain Lafitte, and say to him that we will here
await his reply?” demanded the English officer;
and he proffered to him as he spoke, a large packet
heavy with seals.
“I will, gentlemen; but had you not better see
Captain Lafitte yourselves? If you will pull into the
shore with me, I will notify him of your desire of
an interview with him.”
After a few moment's hesitation the officer complied,
the island, by the buccaneers on the beach, who,
alarmed by the firing, had assembled on the shore
in great numbers, armed and prepared for conflict,
where they watched the movements of the boats
with no little interest.
When they came within reach of the guns of the
battery on the shore, and within hail of the beach,
where nearly two hundred men had already collected,
the disguised buccaneer, desirous of detaining
the officers until he learned the contents of the
package, stood up in his boat, threw aside the seaman's
jacket in which he was enveloped and turning
to the British officers, said calmly, but in a determined
tone:
“Gentlemen, I am Lafitte—you are my prisoners!”
The astonished officers, half drew their swords,
and grasped the handles of their pistols.
“Draw no weapons gentlemen! you are, you see,
in my power. I shall detain you but a few hours.”
“Base traitor! Well is it said, you honour no
flag but your own blood-stained ensign, if thus you
recognise a fag of truce. The devil himself would
respect that emblem of peace and honourable confidence!”
shouted the Briton fiercely.
“Nay, sir officer,—Do you bring messengers of
peace at the cannon's mouth?—Do you bear a flag
of truce in one hand and a lighted match in the other?
—Peace, sir,—It is you, sir, who tarnish the flag
you accuse me of dishonouring?”
The boats had now reached the shore, and Lafitte
springing out upon the beach, said:—
“Gentlemen, I will take your arms—”
“Jacques, hold these men,” he continued, pointing
to the crew of the pinnace, “under safe guard
until further orders. Stand back! back—men!”
be called loudly to his followers. “Why do you
around my prisoners?”
“Spies! spies! Muerto a los Ingleses,—Down
with the British!—seize them—hang them!” cried
the multitude, and rushed forward with lifted
weapons as if determined to seize them in spite of
the stern discipline which usually controlled their
fierce natures.
“Men, do you press me?” he shouted as they still
closed around the Englishmen. “Back, hounds!
or by the Holy God I will send one of you to breakfast
in hell!” and he drew a pistol from his belt.
The most forward of the men at that moment
laid his hand upon the arm of one of the officers,
who stood between the buccaneer chief and the bow
of the boat from which they had just stepped. The
report of a pistol rung in the air, and the daring mutineer
fell a corpse at the feet of the Englishman.”
The crowd fell suddenly back, as they witnessed
this summary act of piratical justice. “Away with
this mutinous slave!” he exclaimed; and his followers
near him, raised the corpse in silence and moved
away to bury it in a hastily scooped grave in the
sand beneath the cliff.
“There is nothing like blood to cool blood!” he
said, quietly turning to his prisoners. “Now, Messieurs,
let this severe but necessary act of discipline,
assure you of my desire to secure your personal
safety.”
“Here, my brave fellows, you are but tools of
subtler men,” said he, turning to the crew of the
pinnace, who sat moodily and in silence in their
boat, expecting momently to be sacrificed to the
violent passions of the lawless men, who, although
awed into temporary passiveness, might the first
opportunity, satiate their appetite for blood upon
their defenceless persons.
“Here men, shove off this boat!”
The British coxswain looked at his officer for
instructions.
“Put off, Carroll; but watch any signal from
the shore,” he said; and under the combined efforts
of several of his own crew the boat shot out from
the beach, the men stooped to their oars, and in a
short time, were along side of their brig.
In the meanwhile the Barritarian conducted
through the retiring horde, the English officers to his
fortress, while dark eyes gloated on them beneath
the lowering brows of men—familiar with crime,
pursued, until it had become a passion—whose hands
mechanically rested upon the butt of a pistol, or the
handle of a dirk or Spanish knife.
The fortilace into which the chief ushered his
prisoners, crowned a slight eminence of the island
overlooking the sea to the south, and the lake or bay
of Barritaria to the north, whose distant shore was
marked by a low level line of cypress and other trees.
The quarters, or camp, as it was more frequently
termed, of the outlaw, consisted of a brick edifice
within the fort, constructed on a plan similar to those
old Spanish houses still to be seen in the more ancient
portions of the chief maritime port of Louisiana.
The entrance to the fort consisted of a low,
massive gate-way, before which paced a sentinel in
the dress of a seaman, with a drawn sabre in his
hand and a brace of heavy pistols stuck in his belt.
On either side of this gate-way, was a row of barricaded
windows, admitting light into several small
apartments, used as store, sleeping, and guard rooms.
“Weston, close the gate and add three men to
every guard! on your life admit no one without my
orders!” said Lafitte as he passed into the fort.
The sailor whom he thus addressed lifted his hat
and moved to obey the order, while his captain with
his three prisoners passed through the gate-way
low buildings, serving as work-shops, store-houses,
and quarters for the men who staid on
shore. Several pieces of dismounted cannon were
lying about the court, while a long, mounted gun,
which turning on a pivot, commanded the whole
of the interior of the defences, made use of in
quelling domestic disturbances, stood in front of
the buildings, just mentioned as the quarters of
the chief. To this dwelling, after crossing the court,
he conducted his involuntary guests.
“Théodore!” he called, stopping at the entrance:
and the youth, with a pale, and as the Englishman
thought, a strikingly intelligent face, came forth
from a room communicating with the passage running
through the building, with a pen in his hand as
if the voice of Lafitte had interrupted him while
employed in writing.
“Théodore, conduct these gentlemen into the
opposite building and tell Weston to place a guard
at the door.” “Gentlemen,” he added with courtesy,
turning to the officers, “I regret the necessity
of placing you under temporary restraint, but the
fierce humor of my men require it. They unfortunately
suspect you visit our island under feigned
pretences, while your real object is, to examine the
coast for the purpose of making a descent:” and he
looked at them severally and fixedly as he spoke.
“You will excuse me,” he said abruptly after a
moment's pause, “while I examine the package of
which you are the bearer!
“Cudjoe, see that the gentlemen are comfortable
in their room and have refreshments placed before
them.”
The officers politely bowed to their captor, who
returned their courtesy with dignity; and following
their youthful guide, disappeared.
In a few minutes Théodore re-appeared in the
court, closed behind him a heavy door, turning the
massive bolt in the lock, and returned to the quarters
of the chief, where he found him examining the
contents of the package.
He was seated at a table in a small room, lighted
by two barred windows deeply set in the thick walls
overlooking the western pass, and affording an extensive
prospect of the southern sea. The opposite
window commanded the anchorage with its
little squadron, and the bay of Barritaria, with the
distant green line of the level horizon.
Five or six rude chairs, a large ship's table, and a
seaman's chest were the only articles of furniture.
Several charts, a few books, and bundles of filed,
and many loose papers, lay upon the table.
For an hour, he sat perusing the official papers
which had been placed in his hands, then laying
them upon the table, and leaning his head upon his
hand, he remained a long time buried in deep
thought. Suddenly starting up, he cried:
“Théodore, conduct Captain Lockyer to me.
What turmoil is that without?” he added with a raised
voice, as loud words reached his ears. “Send
Weston here!”
“Weston,” he said rapidly, as the captain of the
guard appeared at the door—“run the long gun out
of the port hole in the gate, and bring it to bear
upon the blustering fools, and wait my orders to
fire. See that it is well charged with grape.”
“Aye, aye, sir!” said the guard, who had been
recently promoted from the command of a pollacca
to the defence of the fort. And the creaking of the
gun-carriage as it was swung around to the appointed
position, had scarcely ceased, when a heavy
footstep was heard in the hall, and the bearer of the
packet entered the quarters of the pirate.
“Be seated, sir,” said Lafitte, waving his hand
to a chair, which the officer occupied. “I have
considered the propositions contained in these documents
before me, and feel honoured in the confidence
reposed in me by your government. But the
subject of which they treat is of too great moment
for hasty decision. I shall require a few days delay
before I can return a final answer.”
“Captain Lafitte!” replied the officer; “without
commenting upon the circumstances which make
me your prisoner, and which I am happy to acknowledge
it is not in your power wholly to control, I
will proceed, by communicating my private instructions,
to second the arguments made use of by
my superior officer, with which those papers before
you have made you acquainted, for the purpose
of inducing you to become an ally of England,
in this her present contest, with the North American
States. I am instructed to offer you a commission
in his Britanic majesty's service with the full
pardon and admittance into the navy, with ranks
equivalent to what they now hold, of all under your
command, if you will throw the weight of your
power and influence into the scale in our favour.”
“These are tempting and honourable proposals
Monsieur, and as honourable to the gentlemen who
make them as flattering to the subject of them!” replied
the outlaw in a tone between irony and sincerity;
“But do I understand you, that I and my
officers retain command in our own vessels, provided
that we substitute St. George's cross for the
flag under which we now sail?”
“Such were not my instructions, Monsieur Lafitte.
It is expected that the armed vessels which
compose your Barritarian fleet, will be placed at the
disposal of the officers of his majesty in the contemplated
descent upon the coast.”
“These are conditions with which I am not at
present, prepared to comply;” answered the chief.
“They are—”
“But consider the advantages which will result
sir, both to yourself and the numbers you command;”
interrupted the officer. “You will be restored to
the pale of society, bearing an honourable rank,
(pardon me, Captain Lafitte) among honourable
men. The rank of Captain shall be yours, if you
co-operate with us, and moreover, the sum of six
thousand pounds sterling shall be paid into your
hands, whenever you signify your acceptance of the
terms proposed. I beg of you sir, do not permit
this opportunity of acquiring fortune and honour to
yourself, but glory and success to the arms of England,
who is ready to welcome you as one of her
bravest sons, escape you.”
“Sir, replied the Barritarian, your offers are extensive,
too much so for an outlaw—a banned and
hunted man. Ambition will not allure me to accept
them; for have I not power, fame and wealth as I am?
Is the reward of ambition greater than this? what
will it gain me more? Honor? desire of an honourable
name? Alas! that, I have not. That—that indeed,
were a spur to drive me to your purpose. But
will men confer honour upon dishonour? Will a pardon,
a title, a station, make men think better of me?
Shall I not, in all eyes, still be Lafitte? the branded,
the despised, the feared and cursed of men? No
—no—no! Yet,” he added, as the image of Constanza
passed across his mind, “I will think of it,
Captain Lockyer; I will reflect upon your proposals.
I wish to become a better and a happier man.
Fate, passions, influence—not principles, has made
me what I am!
“I will consider this matter sir,” he added, coolly,
casting his eye upon the paper which lay before
the interview.
The officer however still lingered—“I should
think sir,” he urged, “that little or no reflection
would be necessary respecting proposals that obviously
preclude any kind of hesitation. You are at
heart, if not by birth, a Frenchman, Captain Lafitte,
and therefore, in the existing peace between our respective
nations, a friend to England. You are
outlawed by the government of the United States;
your name is held up to infamy, and a price is set
upon your head by the executive of Louisiana.
“What have you sir, to bind you to America?
The tie which alone binds the slave to the galley.
The ties that bind you to England are many and
may be increased a thousand fold. Promotion is
before you among the gallant gentlemen of her
navy—”
“Gentlemen!” interrupted Lafitte sarcastically,
“aye, gentlemen!” What Lethe can make the
outlaw the gentleman? Sir, I may become a British
officer—daring, brave and gallant, may be—but,
shall I be recognized as a gentleman?
“No, no!” he added after a pause, and with bitter
emphasis, “I must still be Lafitte—the pirate!”
“Nay, Monsieur! nay, Monsieur!” said the
Englishman touched by Lafitte's manner; “allow
me to suggest, that with your knowledge of the
coast and its narrow passes, your services will be
of infinite value to the success of our arms against
southern Louisiana. An army is now waiting in
Canada to unite with the forces here, and it remains
with you to promote the success of the step.
It is on your skill, sagacity and knowledge we rely
to bring about this object.”
“Truly Monsieur these are lofty schemes,—
well and deeply planned. Such inducements as
nor will they, be disregarded. I must, however,
deliberate before taking so important a step, as that
proposed by Col. Nichols, your superior. Good
morning sir.”
“Théodore! conduct captain Lockyer to the
guard room.”
3. CHAPTER III.
“Lafitte having taken the earliest opportunity, after the agitation
among the crews had subsided, to examine the pacquet brought by the
officers, listened calmly to the splendid promises and ensnaring insinnations
held out to him by the naval captain. He replied, that in a
few days, he would give a final answer. His object, in this procrastination,
being to gain time, to inform the officers of the state government
of these overtures.”
Latour's Memoirs.
Getzendanner, and the buccaneer.—a signal.—the
mutineers.
The outlaw paced his room with a firm tread,
after the officer left him, his brow contracted with
thought and indignation, whilst the white line of his
even teeth glittered from between his curled and
contracted lips, upon which dwelt a sarcastic smile,
expressive of the bitterest scorn.
“Poor fools! they extend the right hand to Lafitte,
and say, `come and help us, good sir pirate'!”
said he, dashing the papers from him, and rising
from his chair as the door closed upon his
departing prisoner—“Cunning diplomatists as they
are! they shall find me the cunninger. They seek
my aid, and have come to ask it, with red hands
bathed in the blood of my men. They carry aloft
the flag of truce, as though a lady's white 'kerchief
would cover their treachery. This Englishman
thinks I have little cause to love my countrymen!
Thinks he I have better cause to love England?
torn me. Pressed, imprisoned, or hung without ceremony,
the bravest of my men; sunk my vessels,
and chased my cruisers from the sea, with overgrown
frigates? Verily! I have much cause to
love her!”
“But, Massa! 'merica do worse nor dat; she
take, she kill, she burn de craf'; she do, damma,
much more ob de debil's mischief dan massa Inglish.
She say she block you up in de bay, and
play de debil wid de camp on de island, and send
for to do it, dat brave cap'un Pattyson—and if he
come, he knock de ol' camp to pieces, or Cudjoe no
nigger—che! che! che!”
Lafitte paused a moment in his walk to and fro
in his little chamber, as his reflections were thus
interrupted. Cudjoe seldom restrained his thoughts
in the presence of his master, who allowed him such
license, not only because experience taught him
that he might as well stop his breath as his tongue,
but he had often profited by the shrewd observations
to which his slave from time to time gave utterance,
winding up every speech with a low
chuckle, expressive of satisfaction.
“You say well, Cudjoe! My countrymen have
given me little cause to love them neither. But,
then,” continued he, relapsing into his former
thoughtful walk; “but then it is my country, and
cursed be the hand that betrays either the country
of his adoption or of his birth! She is my country,
and I love her! No, proud Englishmen!” he added
firmly, “you shall yet learn that there is not only
honour among outlaws, but love of country—pure
and disinterested patriotism; and England shall
learn, that the outlaw Lafitte is too honourable to
submit to propositions which she had not honour
enough to withhold. She shall learn, that, although
she condescends to take the hand of a priced man,
superior to her when he refuses to accept it. No!
there is more honour for Lafitte in serving his country
as an outlaw, than in betraying her, with the
deck of a line of battle ship, which he could call
his own, under his feet. Where lies the greatest
infamy, in those who propose to an outlaw, or in the
outlaw who refuses to betray his country? Ho,
slave!” he called sternly, as he concluded.
Cudjoe was at his side in a moment, with a
long arm stretched to the handle of the door, while
he stood in the attitude of one just about to run—
“Hasten, and tell Captain Getzendanner I desire
to speak with him.”
This personage, with whom the reader is already
somewhat acquainted, was standing before a three-cornered
fragment of a mirror that once probably had
reflected the features of some honest sea-captain, affixed
into a lattice of a small hut, covered with palmetto
leaves, situated opposite to that occupied by
his commanding officer. The hut was about ten feet
square, and so low that Captain Getzendanner, who
was not very tall, unless five feet two inches be
termed so, could not stand upright, without bringing
the apex of his cranium in familiar contact with
the roof. Besides a hammock slung athwart the
room, the apartment contained a seaman's chart, and
a dark inlaid mahogany table, that once, no doubt,
graced the state-room of some fair lady, one or two
chairs, and a planed board, then reclining against
the side of the cabin, but which, twice a day, when
he was on shore, laid horizontally from the top of
one chair to the other, served effectually as a table.
Two or three cutlasses, a brace of pistols, small
swords, carbines, muskets, boarding caps, and the
various rude paraphernalia of a sailor's wardrobe,
were hung, or strewn carelessly, about the walls and
floor of the apartment.
The only opening admitting light to the interior,
was a square window, defended by a lattice of
reeds, which served at the same time to support the
lieutenant's mirror, before which he had been performing
the unclassical operation of shaving—almost
a sinecure with him, on account of the generous
depth of whiskers and mustachoes which he
allowed to grace his round physiognomy. The
lieutenant was of that age, when silver begins,
though sparingly, to mingle with the legitimate hue
of the hair, and when, from a proneness to table
pleasures, the person begins to assume a rotundity,
which, from some imaginary resemblance, has been
compared with that of a puncheon.
A Dutchman, and moreover a bachelor, he was a
man of phlegm. From a snub-nosed cabin-boy,
under a Hudson river skipper, he had passed
through all the phases of a sailor's life, until an unfortunate
predeliction for certain golden sequins
contained in a stranger's purse, who promenaded
the quay at Havana, led him to seek a mode of
life, where the distinction between meum and teum
was less scrupulously regarded than in the pale of
society.
“Mein Got, but in in dis little tamn tree corner,
dere is no seeing half-quarter of a jentlemansh fas',”
and as he spoke, he dodged every way his red round
face, gashed here and there with his razor, peering
through his fiery red whiskers and bushy hair, like
the full moon, (to venture such a comparison,)
seen through the bright leaves of an autumn tree.
“Vat vool maks de fashion off shavin'.—Blood
and blodkins! if I cut one tamn more hair off my
fas'! Abra'am was one wise mans, and he wore a
beard a saint might shwear py, and dunder and
blodkins! fader Abra'am vill pe nor petter man nor
mynheer Capt. Jacop Getzentanner,—to pe shure!
Hi, you plack peast of de teyvil's tam,—vat you poke
the lieutenant, as he saw, without the effort of
turning his body, the reflection of Cudjoe's features
in the glass, as he darkened the little doorway
opening into the interior of the camp.
“Vat now, you elephantsh cub? Some infernal
order pefore preakfast, I vill shwear! I vish Captain
Lafitte, who ish a most exshellent sailor, and
very much petter gentlemansh, vould get into the
comfortable habits of doing pusiness after preakfast
ish eaten. It were petter for de digestions. Hi,
you kunning ape—I'll cut your ugly visand off if
you pe saucy—to pe shure!” and he brandished his
razor, threatningly.
“Gi, Massa Cap'un Jacob, if you use dat instrum',
you quicker saw him off—Che! che! che!”
and Cudjoe looked behind like a wary general, to
secure a retreat.
“Hoh! hoh! hoh! you pe pretty near de truth,”
said the burly captain, laughing good-humouredly;
“here, you take de razor yourself to saw off dose
vite tusks. It vill help you peauty;” and the captain
chuckled at his own wit, as he esteemed it,
complacently in his own bosom; but the eye of the
slave gleamed with rage, and a demoniac smile fearfully
displayed the hideous features of his mouth for
a moment, and then he echoed the laugh of the
officer; but deep and bitter was the hatred which
rankled in his dark bosom against him for tampering
with his deformities. Lafitte, and he alone,
could allude to them jocosely, with impunity; but
it was seldom that he did so; whilst his followers,
imitating his language and manner towards the
slave, without penetration to discover the strong
current of resentment excited in the bosom of the
object of their rough witticisms, were sowing unconsciously
seeds of revenge in the heart of the
deformed negro, of which they were, in his own
never forgot nor forgave the joke elicited by his natural
deformities. To time and opportunity, while
he passed by the present jest with a laugh, or apparently
unnoticed, he deferred, whilst he gloated over
his terrible schemes, that revenge, which he had
sworn by Obeah, his most solemn adjuration,
should be one day his.
“Vell, you peauty plack poy, vat do you vant
mit me?” inquired the captain as he cleaned his razor
upon the edge of the glass.
“Massa say him want see you? dem English
capins dat come play de spy, make de water
boil and all de fuss,” replied Cudjoe, turning about
to go, although in the opinion of captain Jacob there
appeared no necessity for such a preparatory change
in his position.
The slave walked grumblingly to the quarters
of his master. “Young elephant—heh! saw de
tusk—heh!” and he ground his large teeth together,
while the protruding objects of the officers
jest, glanced longer and whiter from his huge red
lips.
The portly captain after twisting his mustachoes
into a fiercer curl, and placing on his carroty locks
a broad brimmed hat, looped up in front to a silver
button made of a frank piece—buckled on a huge
sword, placed his pistols in his belt, which he drew
tighter with the air of a man who expects to meet,
and is accustomed to, danger—passed, not without
some difficulty through the narrow door, and rolled
along over the area to the quarters of his commander.
Entering the door of the passage leading to the
room, he heard the heavy and measured tread of
its occupant, pacing the floor, as his habit was, when
his thoughts were busy, and matters of deep and
exciting interest occupied his mind.
“De lion is lashing his sides mit his tail,” said
he, “captain Jacop Getzentanner look to your discretions.”
“Come in,” answered a low, stern voice as he
tapped hesitatingly at the door with the point of
his sheathed sabre. The visitor entered, and at a
nod from his master, Cudjoe handed him a chair.
“Captain Getzendanner, I have sent for you.
This is a time of action. You love the British, Getzendanner?”
and he looked fixedly into the face of
his officer, with his deep, searching eyes which let
not a shade of expression escape detection and mental
analysis.
“Tousand teyvels! Captain Lafitte,” replied the
Dutchman warmly, striking his clenched fist upon
his knee. “Do I love de murterer of my proder?
did dey not press him into der tam navy? and vas
he not kill in de pattlesh? I love de hangman petter,
vat ish one tay to tie mine veasand round apout
mit de hemp.”
“Well, I thought as much,” replied Lafitte, “and
knew you would rather swing to the yard arm, than
do Mister Englishman service. Here are papers,
but you do not read?”
“I vas read Teuche, ven I vas a leetle pit poy;
put de smooth Inglish lettersh pe mitout handles,
and I never could keep dem from slipping out of
mine memorysh, and now tevfil a one is left behind
put F—to pe shure,” said he, half seriously, half
humourously.
“And that you remember from its resemblance
to a gallows, ha! worthy Getzendanner? But a truce
to this trifling. Here in these papers,” and he
struck emphatically the documents he held in his
hand, “here are proposals from the Hon. W. H.
Percy—so says the endorsement,” and his lip curled
ironically as he continued, “Captain of his Brittanic
majesty's sloop of war Hermes, and Admiral
Col. Edward Nicholls commander of his majesty's
military forces on the coasts of Florida, to me—
simple Captain Lafitte.” He then briefly stated
the nature and extent of the proposition to his astonished
lieutenant.
“Now, Getzendanner, I well know, for love nor
fear, would you obey neither me nor Satan, but from
hatred to the English, I can depend upon your cooperation;
therefore I will trust you; but betray
me and you know the penalty. Here, in this paper,
you have my written instructions, which if you cannot
read, Théodore, who is always in my confidence,
will explain to you.”
Théodore, at this moment, who was leaning out
of the window which overlooked the sea, suddenly
interrupted him.
“There is a signal flying on board the Lady of
the Gulf, for your presence on board, sir.”
“Ha! it is so indeed. What can Belluche
want? why not send a boat? Have ready my barge,
Théodore. Getzendanner, I must aboard; during
my absence observe the strictest vigilance in the
camp, and on your life, see that those Englishmen
escape not; and that the excited crews of the privateer
do not seize and sacrifice them to their suspicions.
On my return, I will talk with those mutinous
fiends, and you must aid me in giving a right
direction to their roused feelings. Ho! there, you
sea-dogs, are you ready?” he shouted from the
window.
“Aye, aye, sir,” came from the beach, where at
the end of a small pier lay a large boat, in which,
resting on their oars, sat eight seamen in red shirts
and white trowsers, each with a red woolen cap
upon his head. They were all dark, fine looking
men, with muscular arms, whose sinews, exposed
the surface like whip-cords. The glitter of their dark
eyes, and the reckless expression of their faces, indicated
that marked character, peculiar to men trained
in the school of blood and rapine. They were seated
two by two, on the four thwarts of the boat with their
faces to the stern, where with his hand resting carelessly
upon the head of the tiller, sat Théodore, who
had preceded Lafitte, dressed in an embroidered jacket
of velvet, and snow-white trowsers, with a richly
wrought belt, confining a brace of costly pistols and
a silver-hafted dirk. An eye, of the rich hue of the
chestnut, sparkled beneath a brow whose fairness a
maiden might envy, and a profusion of silken, auburn
hair curled luxuriantly from under his blue
velvet Spanish cap, terminated by a tassel, which,
drooping over his ear, played with his delicately
browned cheek in the passing breeze. An expression
of resolution, calm and deep determination,
the more severe, from its being foreign to features
so delicate, compressed his lips, as he gazed upon
the turbulent crews of the vessels lining the beach,
talking loudly and fiercely of British spies, and occasionally
whispering to each other, that their leader
was about to sell them to the English as the
price of his own pardon. At that moment, there
was a movement among the multitude, which gave
back on either hand as he advanced, and Lafitte
came through the crowd to his boat.
“What means this turmoil, my men?” he said,
in a conciliatory tone as he stepped upon the gunwale;
“have you not confidence in me? These
men are not spies. They seek restitution for those
two London brigs taken by you before my return
from my late cruise in the West Indies; and shall
they not have it, if they state their terms in ready
gold?” he said chiming in with their humour.
“Aye, give them their vessels if they give us
their gold,” cried several voices.
“Very easy said, my masters,” growled an old
weather-beaten smuggler near Lafitte, “but who is
to handle the chink when its got?” and he cast his
eyes moodily and suspiciously at his commander.
“Down with old Fritz;” said two or three who
heard him; “our captain is all honour; we never
have had cause to grumble at shares.”
“Rest easy, my men,” continued Lafitte in the
same tone; “you shall have all things explained
and understood when I return from the schooner.
If there is a man who mistrusts Lafitte or doubts
his word, let him step forward.”
No one moved, and the next moment every hat
was in the air.
“Give way,” he cried to his young coxswain,
and shoved off from the land amid the cries of,
“Long live Lafitte—viva Lafitte!” which rose long
and loud from the fickle and tumultuous assembly
upon the shore.
4. CHAPTER IV.
“Discipline among a community of outlaws can only be preserved
by frequent and summary acts of justice.”
“Lafitte having occasion to leave the island for a short time, the crew
seized the British officers, and placed them under guard. On his return,
he released them, represented to his adherents the infamy that
would attach to them if they treated as prisoners, persons who had come
with a flag of truce. Apologizing for the disagreeable treatment they
had received, and which he could not prevent, he saw them safe on board
their pinnace.”
Latour's Louisiana.
An attack from the mutineers—interview with the
British officers—secret expedition.
The business of Lafitte on board the Lady of the
Gulf relating to the private disposition of some specie,
which, unknown to his crew, the captain had
smuggled into his state-room, having no immediate
connexion with our story, we shall leave him to
transact without our supervision, and return to the
prisoners confined in the guard-room of the fortalice.
“Well, Williams, we are in a fine pickle, cooped
up in this seven-by-nine bit of a box, at the tender
mercies of Lafitte and his merciful crew,” said the
naval officer, getting up from the rude bench on
which he had been sometime seated in silence, and
looking forth from the grated window.
“Damme,” he continued, “if I ever saw such a
swarm of gallows-looking cut-throats as were assembled
on the shore to honour our debarkation!
They need neither change of place nor body, to be
fiends incarnate.
“You say true, Lockyer,” replied the military officer
addressed; “such black-browed villains would
shame the choicest corps of Beelzebub's infantry.
I have no doubt he would set up a rendezvous on
this blessed island of Grand Terre, Barrita, or whatever
else it is called, if he did not apprehend his
new recruits would corrupt his old soldiers.”
“But then,” replied the naval officer, “their
chief seems to be a man of other metal. I could
hardly believe I was looking upon the celebrated
Lafitte, when I gazed upon his elegant, even noble,
person and fine features, in which, in spite of their
resolute expression, there is an air of frankness,
which assures me that he never would be guilty of
a mean action, however familiar bold deeds of blood
and battle may be to his hand. I have seldom seen
a finer countenance nor a nobler presence than that
of this same buccaneer. What a devil he must be
among the women?” he added in a gay tone, passing
his hand complacently over his own fine face.
“I will wager my epaulettes against a middle's warrant,
if he has not broken more hearts than heads.”
And as he ceased speaking he stroked his whiskers,
and glanced with much apparent self-approval
upon his bright breastplate which reflected his handsome
features as in a mirror.
“What think you,” he continued, turning to the
other naval officer by his side, “can we trust Lafitte
in this matter? He seems to care for our welfare,
nor would he have sent that fierce Spaniard
to breakfast with his infernal highness this morning,
if he had determined to sacrifice us. He might
have suffered our massacre, without being charged
with foul play. We are in his power safe enough!
What fatal temerity could have induced us to let
him inveigle us within reach of his guns? For such
a blind piece of folly, if it does not end better than
I foresee, I will throw up my commission and run a
young savage before the mast, and a bull-headed
Congo negro, for officers and crew. Curse me,”
he added, with much apparent chagrin, “but Captain
Lockyer, you have run your craft hard aground;
if you get clear this time, you may thank any thing
but your own wits.”
“Hark! there's a gun—another—a volley!” exclaimed
the military officer.
“Good God! can these infernal fiends be attacking
the Sophia?” exclaimed Captain Lockyer; “ho,
there, guard! what, ho! what is that firing and commotion
without?” he cried, springing to the barricaded
window which only overlooked the court.
The guard, who was a heavily armed and tall
Portuguese, with an air half-military, half-naval,
preserved in keeping by a tall chasseur's cap, a sailor's
jacket, and loose trowsers, paused a moment,
while he took a huge quid from a roll of tobacco he
held in his fist, and then turned to the window and
replied, while a malign expression lighted up his
full black eyes—
“Holy St. Antoine, caballeros, but you need not
be so warm! it is only a bit of a trial among the
men, to see who is the stronger.”
“How mean you, guard?”
“I mean, sigñores, that the party that proves
the strongest below on the beach there, will either
let you remain peaceably where you are till El
Sigñor Captain Lafitte returns, or take you forth to
dangle by the necks from the live oak before the
gate.”
“What! how you jest,” exclaimed, in great perturbation,
the officer of his majesty's royal colonial
marines. “Villain, you jest!” and the fingers of
his gloved hand, involuntarily sought the precincts
of his windpipe, with tender solicitude.
“Jest! do you call that jest, señor?” as a loud
them! spies! swing them! down with the gates!”
above which was heard the voice of Capt. Getzendanner,
in vain exerted to quell the turmoil.
The officers, like resolute men determined to
sell their lives dearly as possible, drew each a concealed
dirk from his bosom, and stood with folded
arms, facing the window which commanded the
main entrance to the court from without, and towards
which the noise was rapidly approaching.
The guard himself, mounted a flight of steps
leading to the flat roof of the guard-house, not
only commanding a view of the ground outside
of the defences, but of the whole island, the southern
sea to the horizon, the passes, and the bay, with
its fleet riding quietly at anchor.
“By St. Josef!” he exclaimed, as he gained the
summit, and cast his eye beneath upon the tumultuous
scene.
The whole green esplanade, or terrace, which
sloped from the fort to the beach, was dark with a
dense crowd of men, all under the intensest excitement,
which they manifested by shouts, execrations,
and brandishing various weapons in the air. The
crowd, consisting of persons of all nations, tongues,
and hues, mostly in the garb of seamen, seemed to
the eye of the guard divided into two unequal divisions,
one of which was assembled with arms in
their hands around the gate, and near a large oak,
growing by the fort, under the command of Getzendanner,
who with loud oaths, a sabre in one
hand and a cocked pistol in the other, was standing
before another party, pressing towards the gate,
some of whom were armed with pistols, harpoons,
and heavy spars. The last, slung between eight or
ten men, by ropes, in rude imitation of the ancient
battering ram, threatened destruction to the barred
gate, for which it was evidently designed.
The two hostile bands, with ready weapons, were
eyeing each other with looks of hatred.
“Den tousand teyfils, and py all de shaints, you
sall not pass into de camp, Miles Cosgrove—to pe
shure!” continued the lieutenant, his face livid with
rage, and an eye full of determination, as a huge
seaman, with an Irish physiognomy advanced,
with a handspike, a little in advance of the mutineers,
“you once shaved mein life, Miles, and I
don't forget it; put, py Got himself, I vill make a
port hole in your tam long carcass, if you move anoder
step forward.”
“Misther lieutenant,” replied the Irishman calmly,
lifting his hand to his hat, “we mane to hoort
not wone hair of your head, but we are resolved,”—
and he raised his voice so that all, even the prisoners
in the guard-room heard his words,—“we are
resolved to seize them British officers—they are
spies! and they have either desaived Captain Lafitte,
or he himself is a traithor! So stand aside,
Captain dear, an' let us pass. You have but a
handful of men to oppose us!” and he cast his eyes
contemptuously over the small party of better disciplined
buccaneers who rallied around their officer, to
aid him in upholding that discipline, which they
knew, could alone hold their dangerous community
together. The number that met his eye was indeed
small, for most of those who had at first opposed
the measure, when they saw the popularity
of the cause, espoused by the other party, like sager
politicians on more distinguished theatres, wisely
went over to the stronger side.
The Irishman then turned his eye back upon his
own followers, numbering six to one of his opponents.
“Be discreet captain, and let us pass peaceably
into the fort,” he said, with some show of sullen
earnestness; “See you these men sir?” he
added with increased ferocity, pointing to his rude
that gate, if they pass over your dead bodies.”
Captain Getzendanner finding resistance vain
against such a fierce and overwhelming torrent, replied:
“On one condition shall you pass de gate: dat
you give me your vord, Miles Cosgrove—and I
know de value you place on dat—dat you vill only
mount one guard from your mutinous crew over
dem prisoners, till Lafitte comes on shore; and
den refer de decisions of dis matter to him. Dis
ish mein vish—to pe shure!”
“I give you the pledge, misther lieutenant, that
you ask,” said the Irishman, who was mate of one
of the pirate's cruisers.
“Den you sall pe admitted,” he replied, and a
cunning, treacherous expression glowed in his eye
as he spoke, requiring more than the Irishman's penetration
to detect. “Ho! dere Weshton, unbar de
gate and obey your first ordersh?”
With as rapid a step as was consistent with his
corporeal dignity, the Lieutenant with his men, who
might number about seventy, moved round the angle
of the building towards a stockade or exterior
fortlet, in the rear of the main defences, while the
besiegers rushed in a mass to the entrance. Too
impatient to wait the unlocking of bolts and bars,
those who bore the suspended spar, rushed at half
speed against the gate, which partly unbarred, gave
way before the tremendous power of the beam,
swung with tremendous momentum against it.
The forcing of the gate was followed by a shout,
and a rapid and tumultuous rush into the narrow
passage. All at once, a fearful cry burst from
twenty throats—
“Hold there! back! back! for God's sake hold!”
cried the Irish leader of the assault in a voice of
terror, and in another moment a match would have
to the command of Lafitte, repeated, as he left
the passage to the gate open, by the wily lieutenant,
though not understood by the mutineers at the time.
The appalled men uttered a shriek of dismay, and
those who had the most presence of mind, fell flat
on their faces, while the rest, in wild confusion and
terror, crowded back upon each other uttering cries
and imprecations of despair and fury.
At this fearful crisis, the bars of the grated
window gave way as they were wrenched out, one
after another by an iron hand. Lockyer sprung from
the aperture grasping one of them, and overthrew
his guard who attempted to intercept him; and, just
as the torch was about to ignite the powder, to
send a shower of iron hail into that living mass of
human beings before its open mouth, the murderous
hand was arrested by his irresistible grasp, and the
flaming torch hurled far over the heads of the multitude,
and quenched in the sea.
“By the twelve apostles, sir Englishman, you
have saved your life by that bould act,” exclaimed
the astonished Irishman as soon as he could recover
from his momentary surprise, as amid the cheers
of his party, Lockyer drew back a step, and surveyed
with a firm manner and folded arms the motly
crew before him. “By St. Pathrick, men, but we
may thank that stranger that we did not make our
dinner on grape shot and slugs.”
A shout of “viva el Ingles!—viven los Ingleses!”
replied.
From the momentary check the mutineers received
at the sight of the long gun, standing open-mouthed
in their path, and on account of the sudden
change of sentiment produced by it among
those in advance, who had witnessed the bold and
humane act of the gallant Englishman, it was easy
to direct the current of their feelings.
“Give back now my honies. You see this Englishman
is no spy or he'd have let that bloody
spalpeen Weston blow us into purgatory. Return
sir to the guard room,” he added, addressing the
officer, who was now as much the idol of their respect,
as he was before the object of their hatred,
“and you shall be protected until Captain Lafitte
comes on shore.”
The crowd acquiesced in the proposition of their
herculean leader, with a shout, and turned their
rage against Weston, who with his guard had retreated
into the quarters of their commander, constructed
both for strength and defence, and firmly
secured the entrance.
The English officer was once more shut up in
the guard-room with his fellow prisoners, while
Cosgrove after posting a guard of men by the door
and window, attempted to restore order among his
undisciplined associates, who, now finding a worthy
object upon which to vent the rage which the gallant
act of the Englishman had turned from himself
and his fellow prisoner, had brought the gun, so recently
directed against their own bosoms, to bear
upon the door of the building containing the guard,
and with cries of revenge, were only waiting for a
torch, for which one of the number had been sent,
to drive the whole charge of grape through the door
and force a passage to their victims.
Suddenly there was a movement among the privateers
at the gate, and “Lafitte!—the captain!”
passed hurriedly from mouth to mouth.
“Holy devil! what means all this?” cried the
chief, pressing through the crowd, who shrunk
back before his lightning eye and upraised sabre.
“Take that, sir,” and the hand which was about to
apply the burning brand to the priming of the cannon,
fell, still grasping the blazing wood, severed
the outlaw.
The next moment he stood upon the gun, with a
drawn pistol in each hand;—his eye flashing, and
his tall athletic figure expanded with rage, while a
broad circle was made around him, as the men involuntarily
drew back from the summary justice of
his ready hand.
“How is it!” he continued, vehemently, “that I
cannot leave the camp half an hour but there is
mutiny among ye knaves! By the holy St. Peter,
you shall remember this morning's work! Who
are the ringleaders of this fray? Who, I say?” and
his voice rung in their ears. “Come forward!”
and his eyes passed quickly over the silent and
moody multitude, each man, as he dropped his own,
felt that they were fixed individually upon himself.
“What—Cosgrove! my trusty Miles Cosgrove!”
exclaimed the pirate, as the tall Irishman stepped
forth from among his fellows,—“and yet I might
have thought it,” he added; “it were a miracle to
find one of you a stranger to treachery. What
could have led you,” he continued, raising his voice,
“thus boldly to despise the authority of your Captain,
and throw off the discipline of our community?”
Speak, sir! what was your object in this mad
assault upon the garrison of the fortress—a small
one indeed, for we thought friends and not traitors,
were around us? What have you to answer, sir?”
“Captain Lafitte! I have this defence,” said
Cosgrove, coming forward and speaking with a firm
countenance and a clear eye, which shrunk not beneath
the stern gaze of his superior. And in a few
words he detailed the circumstances as they had
happened.
“Cosgrove, I believe you. You are impulsive
and headstrong, but I think, in the main, faithful,”
listened to the recapitulative defence of the
ringleader, which from the mutterings and pleasurable
exclamations that proceeded from various
quarters of the fort, differently affected his hearers.
“Well, my men,” he said, raising his voice,—
“will you all return to your duty and your vessels,
if no further notice is taken of this matter?”
“Aye, aye! all, all!” came unanimously from
the multitude.
“Will you freely leave me to deal with these
prisoners?”
“Freely, captain, freely,” said a hundred voices.
“I thank you, one and all. I hope a scene like
this witnessed to-day, will never be repeated.—
Return each man to his duty. To each officer under
my command, I would suggest the expediency
of preparing for the threatened attack from the
squadron, said to be fitting out against us at New-Orleans;
and laying aside private animosities and
prejudices, party feelings, or unjust suspicions, let
us adopt for our own the wary motto of the States.
His address was received with acclamations by
his men, who, in a few moments, each under his
respective officer, departed for the fleet, leaving behind
only the regular guard of the garrison.
“Gentlemen,” said Lafitte, stepping from his elevated
station upon the gun, and approaching the
window of the guard-room, from which his guests had
been silent and deeply interested spectators of the
scene passing before them,—“Gentlemen, I congratulate
you on your safety amidst this wild commotion
of human passions. Such tempests are
fiercer than the storms and waves of the ocean to
contend with. You may thank your own daring,
and not my authority, that this storm is allayed. It
would have cost me the lives of many brave men
under restraint. I hailed, as I came under the
stern of your brig, and your pinnace is now approaching
the shore.”
Here he whispered to Théodore, who hastened
into his room.
“Allow me, Messieurs, to express my sincere
regret at the unpleasant situation in which you have
been placed. You have seen that I can scarcely
control the wild spirits around me, except by what
may be thought cruel and unnecessary severity.—
But should I abate for a moment, a feather's weight
of my discipline or authority, I should lose my
command or my head.”
Théodore now approached, with the swords of
the officers, which were courteously tendered them
by Lafitte, with an apology for detaining them; and
after doing ample justice to the sparkling stores of
the Barratarian, presented on a richly chased salver,
by his slave, accompanied by Lafitte, they left the
garrison; and after crossing the green terrace,
stretching before it quite to the beach, they were
in a few moments at their boat.
“Messieurs,” said the outlaw, with dignity and
address, as the British officer, before stepping into
his boat, desired to be told what conclusion he had
formed in relation to the proposals of Admiral
Percy,—“Messieurs, in reference to this important
subject, some delay is indispensable. The confusion
which prevailed in my camp this morning, has
prevented me from considering with that attention
I should wish to, the offers made me by your government.
If you will grant me a fortnight's delay,
—such a length of time is necessary to enable me
to put my affairs in order, and attend to other things
which peremptorily demand my present attention,
—at the termination of this period, I will be entirely
at your disposal. You may communicate with
hour before sunset, where I shall be found. You
have inspired me, Captain Lockyer, with more confidence,”
he said, sincerely, “than the admiral,
your superior officer, himself could have done.
With you alone I wish to deal, and from you also
I will reclaim in due time, the reward of the services
which I may render you.”
The decided tone and manner of Lafitte gave
Capt. Lockyer no hope of being able to draw from
him a present decisive reply; he therefore merely
said:—
“I must, I find, though reluctantly enough, comply
with your request, Captain Lafitte. On the
evening of the fourteenth day from the present, we
will ask again, your determination, which, I trust,
will be that, which will give you an opportunity of
securing a high and honourable name among men,
and that, which will add Louisiana to his majesty's
crown. Good morning, sir.”
“Good morning, Messieurs,” replied Lafitte; and
the pinnace moved swiftly away from the beach,
and the outlaw stood alone—the sea-breeze playing
coolly upon his brow—the broad gulf with a low
murmur unrolling its waves at his feet—the rich
forest rising in majesty behind him, and the deep
blue skies above him—yet, all unseen, unheard,
unfelt by him. After gazing thoughtfully a few
moments after the receding boat, he folded his arms
upon his breast, and walked slowly back to the
camp.
The sun had just set on the evening of the day
in which the events we have recorded, transpired,
when Lafitte, his tall and commanding figure
enveloped in a gray cloak, issued from the gate
of the fortress, after giving several brief orders
to Captain Getzendanner, who was stationed with
his portly mien, and goodly corporeal dimensions,
deformed figure also wrapped in a cloak followed
him with an awkward rolling gait, as he walked
rapidly towards a point at the extremity of the anchorage
on the north side of the island, closely engaged
in conversation with Théodore, who moved
by his side with a light step. After a rapid walk
of about forty minutes the three stopped under a
broad tree, casting a deep shadow over a narrow
inlet, penetrating a little way into the island, in
which a small, gracefully shaped boat could be indistinctly
seen through the obscurity of the night.
Just as they entered the dark shadow of the tree,
they were challenged by a seaman, who, with a
drawn cutlass in his hand was pacing fore and aft
under the tree, with that habitual tread learned by
that class of men, in their lonely watch upon their
vessels' decks.
“Our country!” replied the deep voice of Lafitte.
“What ho! Corneille, is all still in the fleet?” he
added.
“Aye, aye, sir; there is nothing moving within a
mile of us.”
“Are you all ready?”
“All, sir.”
Théodore, see that the oars are muffled. I choose
not that the fleet should mark our movements.
They will be in chase of us for another God-send
of English spies, and I prefer passing unnoticed.
Cudjoe, place yourself in the bows,” he said playfully,
“and show your tusks generously; if they
should spy us, they will take us for an in-shore
fisherman, with his bow-lights hung out, and so let
us pass.”
In a few moments the little boat shoved noiselessly
out from the creek in which it had been hitherto
concealed, and after a few light but skilful
strokes by the four oarsmen by whom it was manned,
been more recently denominated, Lake, of Barritaria.
For an hour they steered by the lonely polar star,
which, in that southern latitude, hung low in the
northern skies, and leaving the anchored squadron
far in shore to the left, they raised their dark brown
sail—so painted, to be less easily distinguished
through the night haze — and shipping their oars,
glided swiftly towards the narrow mouth of a deep
bayou, which, after many intricate windings terminated
in the Mississippi river, nearly opposite to the
city of New-Orleans.
As they approached, long after the hour of midnight,
the secret and scarcely discernable outlet,
nearly lost in the dark shadow of the shore, they
lowered their sail; and, yielding once more to the
impulse of the oars, the little boat shot into the
mouth of the creek, and suddenly disappeared in
the deep gloom which hung over it.
| Lafitte | |