“Come, Clemence, bring Annette, while Marie helps me, for the Captain
says we are to go ashore and wait at the house of the Commandant till
boats come for us from New Orleans.”
It was with scant ceremony that our little party and some of the other
passengers were packed into the ship’s boats and taken to Dauphin
Island. Here they were made comfortable, and during the week of their
stay recovered somewhat from the sufferings on shipboard.
It was in two pirogues and two barges that they at last started on the
trip up the river to New Orleans, and for discomfort the seven days
passed in this journey far outdid all the fatigues sustained in the
“Espérance.”
“Oh, Madame,” said Marie, “who ever saw ‘Messieurs les Maringouins’ of
such size and with such stings before?” and as she spoke she waved again
the huge fan with which she tried to protect Annette from the ravages of
the mosquitoes.
An hour before sunset the rowers stopped each day, and the whole party
encamped on shore, so as to get safely tucked in beneath the mosquito
bars before “les Messieurs” should begin operations.
If the nights were dreadful, the days were scarcely better, since the
boats were piled high with goods, so that the passengers were cramped in
narrow spaces and hardly dared to move. In fact, the little cat in its
wicker basket, and Annette carried on the broad breast of Marie, were
the most comfortable members of the party. They had no fears of going to
feed the fishes, as had some of their elders.
At length the weary trip was over, and when at length the boats drew up
at the landing much of the discomfort was forgotten.
The Crescent City lay before them, the white-walled houses gleaming in
the sunshine, while the bells of the Ursuline Convent pealed a welcome,
and there burned before the chapel of “Our Lady of Prompt Succour”
votive candles, to commemorate the safe arrival of another band of
travellers from the distant land which every one in his heart called
“home.”
“Pierre,” cried Clemence, surprise showing in every tone of her clear
voice, “but what a beautiful city! And oh, Pierre, behold the lovely
ladies! Scarce ever in my life have I seen such brave apparel.”
Her eyes were fixed, as she spoke, on a group which came idly down
towards the landing, the ladies elegant in robes of damask silk loaded
with lace and ribbons, while beside them lounged officers in rich court
suits, both men and women wearing powdered hair and having their faces
decorated with black patches.
Louisiana was passing through an interesting period of its growth, a
changing from the pioneer days when the young officers from Canadian
forts came down and made things lively with their merry pranks and
boyish larks, their ceremonies and festivals. The Marquis de Vaudreuil
was governor now, and brought with him the elegances and dignity which
he had learned in years of life at the French court. The French and
Swiss officers, but newly arrived, bore also the stamp of continental
training; and the house of the Marquis, reflecting as well as might be
the elegance of Versailles, was the centre of all that was most refined
in the city.
Tradition chatters yet of the gracious manners of the Marquis, and there
are still drawn from chests and carved presses robes which once figured
at his balls, when court dress was the only wear. Though these gowns are
now faded and tarnished, in the time when they were first worn they
flaunted brilliant flowers on a ground of gold. The yellow bits of lace
at elbow and corsage are frail now as a spider’s web, but then they were
the latest patterns from Alençon and Flanders, and fit companions for
the jewels which sparkled amongst them.
It was at this time, when New Orleans boasted the greatest beauty and
elegance of any city in the New World, that our little family landed on
its quay.
It is hard to conceive that while within the limits of the city there
flowed such gay life as that seen in the Governor’s mansion, without,
and but a few miles away, were untrod wildernesses.
But so it was.
Pierre and Clemence rested but a few days before they sought out the
plantation where they so fondly hoped to raise a home and enjoy the
fruits of the rich country which they had chosen as their own.
The roads were poor, horses high in price and not at all plenty, so that
Pierre bought some pirogues, a species of small boat, to take them and
their goods the twenty miles up the Bayou Gentilly, to where their
plantation lay.
Poor Clemence, how gloomy looked the cypress swamps which stretched away
on either hand as the heavily laden boats moved slowly along! Strange
and unfamiliar were the long curtains of grey moss which swung back and
forth from the branches of the trees, seeming to wave in a ghostly
fashion even when there was no wind, and creeping up to the tops of the
tallest trees in its silent fashion, but ever turning aside from the
bunches of mistletoe which stood out, great rosettes of bright green
where all else seemed marked for decay.
Even the brilliant-hued birds which flitted cheerfully from one twig to
another, and sang from time to time, did not cheer her, for they seemed
so unfamiliar, her mind clinging more to those modest-coated friends,
the linnets and finches, which she had fed in the rose garden at the
chateau at Étaples.