I have already stated that the owner of the Brig Betsey was Mr. Gray,
of Salem, a merchant of great enterprise, probity, and wealth. He soon
afterwards removed to Boston, and was known throughout this country and
the maritime cities of Europe by the name of "Billy Gray." His agent in
New Orleans was Nathaniel Ware. Mr. Ricker explained to him the mournful
events which had taken place on the passage from the West Indies,
and Mr. Ware exhibited deep sympathy while listening to the tale of
suffering. Ricker, prompted by a feeling of gratitude which showed
the goodness of his heart, gave me full credit for the services I had
rendered during the passage; explained the nature of my connection with
the brig, and placed in the hands of Mr. Ware the written obligation
I had given Captain Blackler, and which was found among the papers of
Captain Adams. This document, which had caused me much anxiety, Mr. Ware
returned, along with the twenty dollars I had previously paid towards
my passage. He also thanked me for the assistance I had rendered
Mr. Ricker, and added something more substantial, in the shape of
twenty-five dollars, "as a trifling compensation," he said, "for my
services," although, for obvious reasons, he was not aware of their
full extent. He suggested that, if I designed to follow the sea, I could
remain in the brig on pay, and that the command of the vessel would be
given to Mr. Ricker. He further said he would represent my conduct in a
favorable light to Mr. Gray, which he did, and years afterwards it was
remembered to my advantage. Mr. Ricker himself urged me to remain,
and occupy the situation of mate. It was in vain I assured him that my
practical knowledge of seamanship was limited, and what little I once
knew I had forgotten during my residence in the West Indies. He said he
knew me better than I knew myself; he would excuse all imperfections, as
he had seamanship enough for both, and to spare. I was not convinced;
I had also some misgivings in regard to the weakness which he had
exhibited, amid danger and death, on the passage through the Caribbean
Sea; and I feared he had contracted a habit which would render any man
unfit for a situation involving great responsibilities, not only in
relation to property but also of life. Nevertheless, I gladly embraced
the opportunity to remain on board for a time. The brig would probably
be several weeks in port, and my future course could be guided by
circumstances.
The moral condition of New Orleans at this period the year 1816-1817
was deplorable. For vice and immorality, it doubtless bore away the
palm from every city in Christendom or heathen lands. Gaming houses, and
vile, disgusting receptacles of vice and infamy, were thickly scattered
over every part of the city. Midnight brawls and robberies were
frequent; and hard-fought fisticuff encounters, sometimes between two
individuals, and sometimes between two squads of half a dozen on-a-side,
were taking place on the levee, or in its neighborhood, almost every
hour in the day.
The population of the city was of the most heterogeneous character.
Frenchman and Spaniards, of all complexions, native-born citizens,
formed the basis. To them were added a thin sprinkling of Yankees,
mostly enterprising business men; and an influx of refugees,
adventurers, smugglers, pirates, gamblers, and desperate scoundrels from
all parts of the world. The large number of ships waiting for freight,
and constantly arriving, furnished a formidable body of sailors, many
of them old men-of-war's men, who, keeping themselves well primed with
whiskey, were always ready for a set-to, a riot, or a row. And if we add
to these the boatmen of the Mississippi, not only those who came down
the river in flatboats, but that numerous class, now extinct, of hardy,
powerful, reckless, quarrelsome fellows who managed the KEELBOATS, the
only craft that could stem the current of the Mississippi before the
introduction of steamboat navigation, it will be easily imagined that
vice struggled hard to exercise full and uncontrolled dominion over the
capital of Louisiana.
Ineffectual efforts were made to repress tumult and establish order.
The police regulations were in a wretched condition. The police officers
were more inclined to look after the blacks than the whites; and the
calaboose was filled every night with unfortunate darkies, who in a
humble way were imitating the vices of the more enlightened CASTE. When
symptoms of a serious riot appeared, the military were called out. On
more than one occasion, the sailors on one side to the number of two
or three hundred, and the Kentucky and Tennessee boatmen of equal
or superior numbers on the other, were drawn up in battle array,
and commenced a desperate contest with hard knuckles, bludgeons, and
missiles of every description, revolvers and bowie-knives had not at
that time been introduced into such MELEES, when the military made their
appearance, and the belligerents were dispersed.
Fighting on the levee became an established custom, and was sometimes
resorted to as an exciting pastime. If a couple of "old salts"
quarrelled under the stimulus of a glass of grog, instead of bandying
words, and pouring into each other a broadside of vulgar epithets, they
quietly adjourned to the levee and took it out in hard knocks, and after
having fought with desperation, and pummelled each other out of all
resemblance to human beings, they would go on board their ship and
cheerfully attend to their duties.
One day I watched with no little interest a pitched battle between a
wooden-legged sailor and a French stevedore. The sailor, although he was
wanting in one of his limbs, was said to be a valuable seaman one who
would never shrink from work of any kind. He would go aloft in a gale or
in a calm, and lend a hand at reefing or furling as promptly as any man
in the ship. His wooden leg was so constructed, with iron machinery,
at the extremity, that he could stand on a ratline or a hawse without
difficulty. The stevedore, who was a powerful fellow, expected to make
short work of the cripple, taking it for granted that Jack could not
stand firm on his pins; and indeed, almost at the beginning of the
combat, the man with the timber toe was capsized. His opponent,
flushed with success, and disregarding the rules of honorable warfare,
determined to give Jack a drubbing while he lay sprawling on his back.
But as he approached him with mischievous intent, his fist clinched and
his eyes flashing fire and fury, Jack watched his opportunity, and
gave him two or three kicks with his iron-shod wooden leg in swift
succession. They were so strongly and judiciously planted that the
astonished Frenchman was compelled to measure HIS length on the ground,
from which, to is great pain and mortification, he was unable to rise,
and wooden-leg hobbled off with the palm of victory.
The most savage and revolting contest which I witnessed was a "rough and
tumble" fight between two Mississippi boatmen. One was a young man,
of slight frame, and rather prepossessing appearance; the other was a
burly, broad-shouldered ruffian from Tennessee. The quarrel originated
in a gaming house, over a pack of cards, and the parties adjourned to
the street to settle the matter in regular style. But few words were
interchanged. They grasped each other firmly by the waist, and after a
severe struggle for the mastery, both fell heavily to the earth, when
the real battle commenced. In a close, but not loving embrace, they
rolled over and over again. No blows were given; they seemed to be
clutching at each other's faces, but their motions were so quick,
violent, and spasmodic that I could not see how their hands were
occupied. The struggle was soon over; the Kentuckian released himself
from the relaxed grasp of his prostrate antagonist, and sprang to his
feet. He looked around on the spectators with a smile of triumph, then
entered the miniature Pandemonium, apparently without having received
injury. His vanquished opponent was assisted to his feet. He was
groaning, quivering in every limb, and manifesting symptoms of
insufferable agony. I pressed forward, eager to ascertain what injury
he had received in this strangely conducted combat, when, to my great
horror, I saw the blood streaming from his cheeks, and shuddered as
I witnessed other and unmistakable proofs of a successful attempt at
gouging.
Nor were these pugnacious propensities, which seemed epidemical,
confined to the lowest classes in society. They were manifested by those
who moved in a higher sphere, and who, looking with contempt on vulgar
fisticuffs and gouging, settled their difficulties satisfactorily
according to the established rules of the DUELLO with sword, pistol,
or rifle. Hostile meetings on the levee, below the city, where the
population was sparse, and no impertinent interruptions could be
apprehended, were frequent. Indeed, the intelligence, some pleasant
morning, that a duel had just been fought, and one of the parties lamed
in the sword arm, or scientifically run through the body with a small
sword, or bored through the cranium with a pistol-bullet, excited little
attention or remark, excepting among the friends and relatives of the
parties.
One duel, however, was fought while I was in New Orleans, which, being
attended with some unusual circumstances, caused considerable talk. The
principals were a French gentleman and a lieutenant in the navy of the
United States. A dispute occurred in a billiard room; the Frenchman used
some insolent and irritating language, and, instead of being soundly
drubbed on the spot, was challenged by the naval officer. The challenged
party selected the small sword as the medium of satisfaction, a weapon
in the use of which he was well skilled. The American officer was
remonstrated with by his friends on the folly of fighting a Frenchman,
a noted duellist, with his favorite weapon, the small sword; it was
rushing on certain death. But the challenge had been given, accepted,
and the weapons agreed on; there could be no change in the arrangement;
and, indeed, the Yankee, who was a fine, determined-looking young
fellow, showed no disposition to "back out."
"I may fall in battle," said he, "by the sword or shot of a brave
Englishman, but never by a thrust from a spit in the hands of a
spindle-shanked Frenchman! Dismiss all fears on my account; I will give
this 'PARLEZ-VOUS FRANCAIS' a lesson in fighting he little dreams of."
They met on the duelling ground at the appointed hour. There were more
spectators present than usual on such occasions. The Frenchman affected
to treat the matter with indifference, and made some frivolous remarks
which excited the laughter of his countrymen. Indeed, the chances seemed
to be a hundred to one against the lieutenant, who could handle with
terrible effect a cutlass or a boarding-pike, but was almost a stranger
to a weapon, to excel in the use of which, a man must be as loose in
the joints as a posture maker, and as light in the heels as a dancing
master. And yet there was something in the cool, resolute, business-like
bearing of the Yankee which inspired his friends with some confidence in
his success; and they watched the proceedings under an intense degree of
excitement.
The parties took their places, assumed the proper attitudes, and crossed
swords. The Frenchman grinned with anticipated triumph. It was
clear that, confident in his skill, and richly endowed with feline
propensities, he intended to amuse himself and the bystanders for a few
minutes, by playing with his intended victim. His antagonist, however,
stood firm, until the Frenchman, with a nimble caper, changed his
ground, when the officer bounded forward, got within the guard of his
opponent, and with a thrust, the force of which nothing could withstand,
sent his sword, apparently, through the body of the Frenchman to the
hilt!
The poor fellow was hurled to the ground by the violence of the shock,
and supposed to be mortally wounded. That he was not KILLED outright was
certain, for, owing to surprise and grief at this unlooked-for result,
the fear of death, or extreme physical pain, he discharged a volley of
screams that could be heard a mile off, writhed and twisted his body
into all sorts of shapes, and manufactured, gratuitously, a continuous
and ever-changing series of grimaces, for which the younger Grimaldi
would have pawned his cap and bawble.
The wails and contortions of the wounded man were such, that it was some
time before his friends and a surgeon who was present could examine
his condition, which appeared deplorable enough. Indeed, an examination
seemed hardly necessary, unless for the purpose of gratifying curiosity,
as the wretched man, amid his groans and screams, kept repeating, with
much emphasis and pathos, the terrible words, "JE SUIS ASSASSINE!
JE SUIS ASSASSINE!" (I am killed! I am killed!) But as his voice grew
stronger, instead of weaker, at every repetition of the phrase, doubts
were entertained of his veracity; and a surgical inspection showed
beyond cavil, that he was laboring under a hallucination, and
asseverating with needless energy what was not strictly true.
That he was not killed on the spot, however, impaled on a rapier as
an unscrupulous entomologist would impale a beetle, could hardly be
regarded as the fault of his opponent. The thrust was directed to the
place where the centre of the body of the Frenchman should have been,
BUT IT WAS NOT THERE. The sword passed only through the muscles of the
abdomen, from the right side to the left, perforating his body, it is
true, and grazing, but not injuring, the larger intestines. The wound
in itself was not a dangerous one, although the disturbance among the
bundle of integuments threw the discomfited duellist into almost mortal
agony, and led him to believe he was a dead man, while experiencing in
his own person a liberal share of the pain he was so ready to inflict on
others.