“Truly a house, dear girl, is the first thing to be considered, and that
may best be obtained by a good crop of indigo seed, since the planters
hereabouts must needs get their seed from France, unless some are
willing to raise seed only.”
On the forenoon of the second day the boats drew up to the shore, and
Pierre, anxious, but looking cheerful, said,—
“Welcome to your new home, Clemence. Give me the little Annette, Marie,
since she, with her mother, must be the first to step on shore.”
“Home, say you, Pierre?” and Clemence laughed, and looked ruefully, too,
at the little log-cabin which had been hastily built by the negroes sent
on in advance by Pierre.
“Patience but for a little while, and in place of that rude home you
shall see a house as fair as any in these plantations.”
Laughing like two children, the young parents hastened to touch to the
ground one of Annette’s tiny feet cased in its sandal, and as Monsieur
Valvier handed the child back to its mother, he said,—
“What is that which makes the child’s garments so stiff?”
A warning glance from Clemence and a smothered exclamation from Marie
made him remember that it was the precious packet with the pearl
necklace and jewels, of which the little girl was still the unconscious
custodian.
In New Orleans, indeed, they had been forced to draw on the packet,
since it was necessary to have slaves to help them build and plant, and
though there were frequent importations of them from Africa, the value
of one working slave was equal to a thousand dollars of our money, and
while it was generally paid in rice, Pierre, a new-comer, was obliged to
pay in money. In order to do this, and also buy the precious seed which
was so necessary, his own store was more than exhausted, and but for the
packet so thoughtfully provided by Monsieur Bienville they would have
been obliged to start out ill provided.