NEW ORLEANS
Although the commandant had told Jimmy that the river was open, the ark
had yet to hear from the Spanish intendant.
Marion Royce was down with the fever when he was helped aboard and the
voyage resumed, and Jimmy took his place, in a measure, and there was no
demur. Even Shadwell Lincoln showed him a sarcastic deference since the
interview with the governor.
Night and a dense fog covered the river, when they reached the line of
West Florida.
Suddenly, as the ark floated downward, its headway was slowly arrested,
and they heard the jangle of a bell ashore. The ark came to a
standstill.
Lewis, who was leaning over the port bow, heard the dull swish of the
current against a cable, and saw that a raft of driftwood had already
collected against it. He dropped on his knees and started to crawl aft
to report.
Before he was half-way there, however, there was a dull red flash in the
fog, accompanied by a tremendous report, and a cannonball howled over
the ark. So startling a salute might well have caused confusion, but the
pioneer arksmen did not lack coolness in danger. The horses, indeed,
jumped and made some noise, but not a man spoke; and Lewis, reaching
Jimmy, whispered his news.
He had hardly done so when a second red flash and report followed. They
heard this ball skipping on the water ahead of them. Still another gun
roared its hostile salutation, soon followed by a fourth report; and but
for the poor shooting of the Spanish gunners, it must have gone hard
with the ark. But, meanwhile, Jimmy was not idle. Swinging down from the
port bow, he found that he could touch the cable with his foot. It was a
strong line; but glad to find that it was not a chain, as he had at
first feared, he sent Moses for a large, sharp knife from the cook-room.
Then, bidding Wistar and Lewis bear a hand at a line which he looped
round his own body, he reached down, and after several efforts, cut the
hawser.
It parted with a splash, and immediately the ark floated on, silently as
before. Four or five more shots were fired, but all went wide of the
ark; the gunners appeared to think that the enemy was farther
down-stream.
After passing the Spanish battery, the ark floated on during the
remainder of the night, and until eight or nine o’clock the following
morning, when, the fog clearing away, they found themselves heading down
a narrow passage between two islands. Being still apprehensive of
capture, they tied up under cover of a wooded bank in this narrow arm of
water.
No one came off to them here, although they saw several boats in the
channel outside the islands; and that night they went on again by
moonlight, but had much difficulty at a succession of great eddies in
the river. In one of these the ark floated round and round for an hour
or more before they could row out of it.
Very few boats were seen that day, and these few were mostly
market-boats, plying to and fro between the city and the numerous large
plantations on both banks. Moses and Lewis had never seen such fine
places before. There were extensive gardens of vegetables and flowers,
and the plantation houses looked palatial to their unaccustomed eyes.
What astonished them still more was that the river was so much higher
than the fields of cane and cotton on each side of it. When floating
near the bank they could look down on the gardens from the ark roof.
Toward morning of the third night they arrived within a mile and a half
of the city. As Jimmy had determined to go on in advance that day, to
make inquiries as to the real condition of affairs, the ark was moored
to what, in the dusk of the early morning, was believed to be a
wild-wood bank.
After tying up, Lewis and Moses jumped ashore to look about them. They
had gone but a few steps, however, when they found themselves in a grove
of thick trees, with yellow balls showing amidst the dark-green, glossy
leaves.
“Oranges, aren’t they, Lew?” Moses exclaimed.
“Guess so,” said Lewis, doubtfully. “Must be. Wonder if they are wild,
or do they belong to somebody?”
They had heard oranges described, but had never tasted one. A few steps
away there was what appeared to be a green hedge, having numerous gaps
in it; beyond were more of the thick, dark-green trees with the
scattered yellow fruit.
The two boys now advanced to one of the gaps in the hedge, but had
scarcely peeped through when a little bareheaded lad and a tall,
black-eyed girl stepped out from a covert.
The girl said something to them, laughing heartily; something in a
rapid, tripping tongue, which they did not in the least
understand. Moses afterward said that it sounded like,
“_Bonesure-messr-may-voo-venny-arboner!_”—which may have been,
“Good morning! You have called early!”
Like most boys in pioneer days, Lewis and Moses were not very bashful.
Seeing that the girl was laughing, they laughed in turn, and pointed to
the small yellow globes in the trees. Thereupon the little lad picked up
several oranges, and gave them each one, with a bow and flourish of his
hand. Moses thumbed his as if it had been an apple, then essayed to take
a big bite from it, with the result that the juice flew, some of it into
his own eyes!
Noting this, the girl laughed heartily. Moses, winking hard, was
inclined to make angry remarks; but the boy, approaching with grave
politeness, showed the newcomer how to pull off the peel. He also peeled
an orange for Lewis, and invited them to be seated on a bench near by.
There was a house not far off, half-hidden by trees.
A stout, dark-haired man appeared, with a huge yellow and white dog,
that sniffed the strangers and then wagged his tail. The man drew near
and said, “_Buenas días!_” and asked what appeared to be an abrupt
question.
Moses nodded at a venture, although he did not understand a word, but
Lewis shook his head. The dark man looked perplexed and angry; but the
girl said something about “Norah,” to which the man replied—still to
quote from Moses—“_Ah—see—Norah._”
The girl ran away again, but soon returned with a tall, austere woman,
whose auburn hair was turning gray. The woman glanced hard at the boys,
and with a strong Irish accent said:
“The señor general wishes to know where you came from and what you are
doing here, for sure.”
Lewis replied that they had come down the river on an ark, and that they
had seen the oranges on the trees.
“We did not come to steal them,” Moses added, honestly enough. “We will
go right away if you say so.”
The woman smiled broadly, then turned and repeated what they said in
Spanish. The small lad, meanwhile, was peeling more oranges for them.
But the man cried out as if in much excitement, and the woman asked them
gravely when they had come down the river.
“Last night,” replied Moses.
“We always float by night when there is a moon,” Lewis explained, to
help out Moses’ statement.
“Norah” interpreted, and the man grew even more excited.
[Illustration:
“HOW GOT YE BY THE FORT?”]
The Irishwoman fell to laughing. “But, sure, his honor wants to know how
ye got by the fort?” she said to the boys.
“Fort?” said Moses, inquiringly, and looking hard at Lewis. “‘Fort?’” he
repeated. “We didn’t see any fort”—which was literally true; there was
too much fog.
But the man fairly jumped at this reply, and sputtered angrily.
Little wonder, for this short, dark man was the Spanish intendant of New
Orleans, Señor Morales himself, the same who had ordered the embargo! He
had chanced to be spending the night at the up-river house of a French
Creole friend, Doctor Lecassigne, whose children our youthful arksmen
had found in the orange-orchard. That an ark had floated past his
fortifications and never even seen them was not flattering to Señor
Morales’ pride!
Doctor Lecassigne, a lean, sallow man, who had now come from the house,
sought to soothe the irritation of his distinguished guest. Norah,
meanwhile, was asking the boys what they had brought in their ark and
what they had seen on the way.
“Sure I was once in Philadelphia mesilf,” she said. “And a fine, brave
gintlemon was Gin’ral George Washington! Many’s the toime I’ve handed
him his coffee. Ah, sure,” she added, “I’ve lived in ivery part of the
world.”
The boys rather liked old Norah. Lewis told her of their nocturnal
battle with the alligators; and, not to be outdone, Moses threw in an
account of his Indian “Gobbler,” and the great bones which they had
brought for Doctor Buchat.
“Doctor Buchat!” cried Norah. “Sure, he must be a frind of me master
here,” and she spoke to Doctor Lecassigne, who became interested at
once.
He went to call Señor Morales again, and immediately they both expressed
a great curiosity to see the bones. The boys, therefore, led the way
back to the river, where the ark lay moored.
Jimmy had already set off along the levee for the city; but Shadwell
Lincoln, who had as usual been left in charge, threw out a plank for
them all to come on board. He was a good deal disturbed, however, when
Lewis whispered to him that the short, dark man was the hated intendant.
Of the mastodon skeleton on the ark roof, there still remained seven or
eight of the long ribs, the huge skull, femur bones, one long, curved
tusk and many of the smaller bones. Both Doctor Lecassigne and General
Morales examined them in astonishment at their enormous size. They sent
back to the house for Norah to interpret, and asked a great many
questions. The intendant seemed now to forget his anger, and assented
good-humoredly when Doctor Lecassigne proposed that the ark should be
allowed to remain there till he could send for Doctor Buchat, who seems
to have been a friend of both.
Doctor Lecassigne, who was a very genial, kind-hearted man, went into
the cabin to see how Marion Royce and the other sick men were coming on,
and his favorable report, especially of the captain, gave the utmost
relief to the crew. He then showed them a better place to moor their
craft, in a short canal which opened through the levee a little way
below his house. A water-gate at the end of this little canal allowed a
stream to flow from the level of the river down to a mill for grinding
corn and sawing lumber. There were numbers of such mills along the
levees, the millstreams flowing out of the river instead of into it,
presenting the odd spectacle of creeks flowing backward from their
mouths till their waters were lost in the swamps at a distance.
When Jimmy returned he was surprised and a little startled to learn that
in his absence they had had Señor Morales for a visitor. The intendant
had already returned to the city in his barge; but Doctor Lecassigne
assured them that although the intendant was a somewhat choleric man and
inclined to narrow political views, he would probably give them no
farther trouble, particularly if they were to send him a present of a
showy horse.
This overture they concluded, rather reluctantly, to make; and since
Lewis and Moses had seen and spoken with the general, it was judged best
that they should take one of their handsomest animals to his house in
the city that very afternoon.
They set off, accordingly, leading a large bay horse—one of their very
best. Meanwhile Doctor Buchat had arrived to see his long-expected
mammoth bones, which proved even bigger than he had been told. But his
disappointment that the skeleton was not complete was keen, and he was
willing to pay but four hundred francs for what Marion Royce had
brought.
The New Orleans of that day extended for about a mile along the
river-front, and was surrounded on the back or land side by a ditch or
moat, filled with water, and inside this ditch by a row of tall pickets,
consisting of cypress logs driven into the earth close together. On this
side, leading out into the back country, were two gates with
drawbridges; on the levee by the water there was another gate, both
above and below the town.
The people were chiefly French and negroes, with a small Spanish and
American population, and the number of inhabitants is said to have been
ten thousand.
At each gate there was a battery of cannon, and along the river-front
were a number of larger guns, deemed very heavy ordnance for the times.
Negro slaves did the work of stevedores along the levee. Several
hundreds of them were constantly to be seen at the latter place, and
when not at work the rival gangs beguiled the time dancing, singing, and
sometimes fighting pitched battles. It was all very novel to Moses and
Lewis—the palisades, the cannon, the drawbridges, the long rows of
houses and the gay shops. But, although strangers, they experienced
little difficulty in finding the intendant’s house. For, on mentioning
his name to a group of young darkies, the latter, mightily pleased at
sight of the horse, led the way there of their own accord.
Señor Morales was not at home, however, and they had to content
themselves with giving the horse in charge of his equerries, with
Captain Royce’s compliments. Their errand accomplished, it would have
been better if they had returned at once; but they wished to see the
town, and set off on a long tramp through the streets.
Even in 1803, with a population of only ten thousand, New Orleans was a
gay and picturesque little city. Lewis and Moses found so much to see
that the shades of evening surprised them while they were still
wandering along the streets.
It was no more than a mile and a half along the levee to the ark,
however. The boys continued on, peeping into the candle-lit _cabarets_,
coffee-houses and verandas, where gaily attired people were talking,
singing and playing.
Presently, however, a _sereno_, or patrol, stopped them, on account of
their pioneer dress, perhaps, and said a great deal which they did not
in the least understand. His tone and manner were so censorious that
Moses thought they had better turn back. Accordingly they hastened to
the gate near Fort St. Louis, by which they had entered, but found it
shut. A watch-fire burned in the street near it, and a soldier in
uniform, with musket and bayonet, was walking up and down before it.
As they drew near this sentry, he shouted: “_Centinela alerta!_” at the
top of his lungs—the usual fifteen-minute cry of a Spanish soldier on
guard duty.
But the boys thought that he had shouted to them, and were startled by
his vehemence.
The soldier continued on his beat, but looked hard at them; and not to
provoke him into shouting like that again, the boys went back a little
way to see what would happen next.
Something happened immediately. From out a side street near the
_palisadoes_ they heard a little bell ringing, and saw a queer
procession coming—two tonsured men in black robes, who bore a black
banner and a kind of a tray; while behind them, at a rapid pace, trotted
four or five attendants, each carrying a lantern. Bringing up the rear
were twelve soldiers, having muskets and bayonets fixed.
These, most likely, were Spanish priests, proceeding to a military
execution. Moses and Lewis were apprehensive lest the soldiers might be
looking for them, and promptly scudded to the cover of several long
tiers of molasses hogsheads on the levee.
The ominous procession passed, however; and, satisfied now that they
were not objects of pursuit, Lewis and Moses came out from their
hiding-place and followed. Walking rapidly, priests and soldiers
proceeded to the _Plaza de Armas_ (now Jackson Square), passed the
_Cabildo_, _aduana_ and barracks, and went to the _calabozo_, or prison,
in the rear.
Several hundred people had collected here, and there were also numbers
of soldiers and three serenos with torches. Way was made for the strange
procession. When it stopped before the prison door the by-standers drew
back, and every one sank on his knees with bowed head—every one except
our two youthful pioneers from the Ohio. They had no idea what it was
all about, and simply stood still.
Immediately attention was attracted to their irreverent attitude. One
man whispered to them brusquely, and attempted to pull Moses down. Not
understanding a word, and resenting having hands laid on him, Moses gave
him a push. The stranger insisted. Moses pushed him headlong. Lewis,
too, squared about to assist his companion. Thereupon two soldiers
attempted to seize him. Lewis promptly clinched with the one nearest,
and cross-locking his leg, threw him heavily to the ground. Moses, too,
proved more than a match for the other.
Our two young arksmen broke away and ran through the crowd, shoving the
people right and left. But a sereno caught hold of Moses, and as he was
unable to break loose again, they secured him, and with many threats and
buffets, hustled him away to a circular wooden structure, hard by the
calabozo. This was the “little calabozo,” which the Creoles called the
“calaboose,” answering to our lockup, or police-station. Moses was
thrust in without ceremony, and found himself in very undesirable
company.
Lewis meanwhile had broken through the crowd and started off at a rapid
run. Several soldiers, serenos and others, chased him hotly, and shouted
savage orders after him in Spanish, none of which he in the least
comprehended.
When it came to running, Lewis was quite at home; they could not catch
him. All along the water-front the chase continued, and Lewis was
getting well away when he came to the palisadoes, by Fort St. Louis,
where they projected into the river.
Finding himself likely to be cornered here, he was about to double back
on his pursuers when he saw a number of skiffs drawn up in a row. To
shove one of them off was but the work of an instant. There was a paddle
in it, and he got clear of the levee before the serenos could reach him.
They hailed the sentry at the gate, however, and he, running up, touched
off his gun. But by this time Lewis had paddled out past a five-oared
galley which lay near the bank. Keeping outside this and several other
craft that lay crowded along the levee, he escaped up-stream and
returned to the ark.
Captain Royce was disturbed when he learned that Moses had been made a
prisoner. He knew the ways of the Spanish authorities well enough to
understand that nothing could be done for a captive until the following
day, and that to obtain Moses’ release was a problem. It was suggested
that the best method of procedure would be to go to the prefect, or
_alcalde_, the next day, with a substantial present.
As it chanced, however, the present was not needed. Moses succeeded in
solving the problem himself. He found himself in disagreeable
company—ten dirty negroes, thieves and fighters, some of them
intoxicated; a number of French sailors, a few Mexicans, and a pirate or
two from below the Belize. This motley crew received him with open arms
and a shout of sinister welcome. They passed him round, picked his
pocket, and even tried to strip him of his leather jacket, moccasins and
coonskin cap.
But Moses had not been a fighter all his life without learning something
of the science of self-defense; and finding that he was being stripped,
he hit out at his tormentors with such force that they stood away from
him, objurgating him for _un mauvais Kaintock_. Others stole upon him in
the obscurity, and for an hour or so Moses was in his natural element.
What light there was came from a lantern suspended from a peg in a
wooden post at the center of the enclosure. This post apparently
supported the roof. After a time Moses backed against it and stood there
on the defensive.
As the night advanced many of the prisoners lay down and slept; but the
young arksman leaned against the post listening to all that went on.
What would be done with him in the morning caused him anxiety.
The lantern went out at last; the candle was consumed; and after a time
he caught the twinkle of a star through a chink in the roof of the
building. It was near the top of the post, and led the boy to think that
the roof was not very thick or strong there. He was accustomed to
climbing trees; it occurred to him that he might break out, and he
clasped the post with his arms and “shinned” up.
He had twelve or fifteen feet to climb before his head bumped into the
roof. It did not feel very solid, and pressing his head up against it,
he began giving upward pushes, grasping the post hard and jumping up.
One of the covering boards yielded, and reaching up with one hand, he
pushed it aside, got his head through the hole, and then climbed out on
the roof.
His operations had created a hubbub among his fellow prisoners below;
clods and old bones flew about his legs, but he could hear no stir
outside. So, sliding down to the eaves of the calaboose at the back—for
he thought there was a sentry at the gate—he swung off, dropped to the
ground, and decamped forthwith.
He ran out toward the levee. A sereno, with his lantern, was walking to
and fro; but Moses easily kept away from him, and stealing along the
encumbered levee up-stream, came to the palisadoes by the fort, as Lewis
had done earlier in the night.
The row of skiffs here attracted his attention, and deeming his own need
great, he was not slow in appropriating one. The river current was so
strong, however, that he was fully two hours paddling the skiff against
it, up to the ark. Day was breaking as he reached it. Thus ended the two
boys’ first visit to the Crescent City in 1803. The skiffs were returned
to their places that afternoon.
The weather was hot; fevers prevailed, and Marion Royce had not
recovered enough to dispose of his cargo. A great number of arks,
flatboats and other up-river craft, came down to the city. The
water-front of the “American quarter” for a mile was crowded with boats,
and the town was so thronged with frontiersmen that the Spaniards had
difficulty in maintaining even the semblance of law and order.
It must be confessed that Señor Morales’ reluctance to have American
craft make New Orleans their market was not wholly unreasonable. The
little city was in turmoil night and day. Roisterers were no sooner
arrested and put in the little calabozo than a mob of their fellows
collected and set them free. At last, to save themselves further
trouble, the boatmen pulled the little calaboose down. They were so
numerous and aggressive that the Spanish dared not interfere with them
in earnest, lest they should take full possession of the town.
The wide-awake French population had grown very restless. These people
had little fondness for the Spaniards, and ardently longed for the
appearance of the French fleet. Equally they disliked the frontiersmen.
“Napoleon will make you hop very soon,” they said to the Americans in
the Creole “gombo,” or _patois_. “General Victor is already at sea. When
he arrives you will all toe the mark.”
Doctor Lecassigne and Doctor Buchat remained Marion Royce’s warm
friends, however. The ark had not moved from its berth in the canal near
the plantation house of the former. Here, too, they often saw Señor
Morales, and once met the aged Governor Salcedo.
News had already come that Spain had ceded West Florida and Louisiana to
France. The Spaniards were merely awaiting the arrival of French
officials and a garrison. The Creoles had grand anticipations of what
New Orleans would be as the capital of the new French empire.
In point of fact there had been another and more extraordinary change.
President Jefferson had commissioned Livingstone and Monroe to buy New
Orleans and a small strip of land at the mouth of the Mississippi. But,
while the negotiations were under way in Paris, Napoleon changed his
mind. Suddenly, through Talleyrand, he offered the whole of Louisiana to
the Americans, and the offer was finally accepted. The sale had already
been made—April 30th, 1803.
Even after the news of the sale arrived, the people would not credit it.
“Napoleon never gives up anything,” they said. “His fleet will come at
Christmas.”
But this was one of the cases where Napoleon gave up something. He dared
not send a fleet to New Orleans, for the reason that England, with whom
he was at war, had a stronger fleet than his in the West Indian waters.
On November 30th the banner of Spain was lowered for the last time at
the Cabildo, and the tricolor of France went up in its place. But the
sight of it brought little joy to the Creoles, for the rumor of the
transfer of Louisiana to the United States was now confirmed.
The French were taking possession merely to legalize the transfer.
General Victor and the fleet were not coming.
As the Spanish troops were now withdrawn, and the French representative
had no troops with him to police the city, lawlessness would have held
full sway if the arksmen and rivermen had not offered their services to
M. Laussat, and, forming a volunteer company, patrolled the streets day
and night, in armed bands. These were stirring times for the arksmen
from Fish Creek. Marion was about again, and Jimmy was everywhere in
evidence, jealously guarding the city as if he were its sole custodian
until the arrival of the American commissioners, Wilkinson and
Claiborne. He knew, now, that the letter he had carried so long had held
the first intimation to the governor that he would be chosen, in case
the purchase was successfully brought about, to receive it from France.
To whom the letter was addressed, Jimmy never knew; but it was evidently
to some close personal friend of the President’s and the young Governor
of Mississippi.
City life had made some change in Jimmy’s appearance. He had taken the
governor’s hint and visited the barber. His own heart was so jubilant
that he marveled at the despair of the Creoles. Women, and even men,
were seen weeping in the shops and doorways. To them this transfer was
but one more mocking irony of fate.
The time fixed for the entrance of the commissioners and the American
troops was Tuesday, December 20; but the great event began for Jimmy the
evening before, when, walking out by the Gate of France to the ark, he
met Governor Claiborne and the French commissioner, M. Laussat,
returning on horseback from a visit to one of the plantations.
“By Jupiter, but it seems to me that I see my young cousin from up the
Ohio,” exclaimed the governor, reining in his horse. “Monsieur Laussat,
permit me to present a young kinsman of mine from the West.”
He turned to his companion, and at that moment a bullet whizzed past his
head. Turning back quickly, he saw that Jimmy’s upflung hand had caught
the wrist of a swarthy little Creole. The pistol fell from the Creole’s
hand.
“You would, would you?” said Jimmy, pinning him, now that he was
unarmed, and taking him by the throat. “What shall I do with him, sir?
He tried to shoot you!”
The governor looked down at the dark-skinned little partisan who had
tried to kill him. “He seems to have no love for the idea of an American
occupation,” he said. “I hope the city isn’t full of such patriotism for
France. Let him go, cousin. My friend,” he added to the Creole, “if you
were as good an American as you are a Frenchman, I would like to have a
thousand of you at my back. As it is, I will ask you to walk in front of
us; is it not so, M. Laussat?”
To Jimmy he held out his hand. “You are always goodness itself,” he
said. “You will come to me to-morrow at the Cabildo?”
“Thank you,” murmured Jimmy. But he had no idea of doing so. He and the
volunteer company would have their hands full in the Place d’Armes,
preserving order.
Next morning the American troops approached in order of battle, to be
received by the Spanish troops at the city gates. They were escorted to
the Cabildo, where the keys of the city were handed to Claiborne, and
the people were absolved by Laussat from allegiance to the French
Consul. Commissioner Claiborne then welcomed them as citizens of the
United States. The commissioners then passed out into one of the
balconies and looked down on the cheering crowds that gazed up at them
from the Place d’Armes. No other fanatic attempted to kill the
representative of the new government, but Jimmy, among his volunteers,
watched anxiously, as if the safety of the young man in the gallery
depended upon him alone.
[Illustration:
IN ITS PLACE ROSE THE STARS AND STRIPES]
Slowly the tricolor of France was lowered, and the Stars and Stripes
raised until they met midway of the flagstaff and were saluted. Then the
flag of the United States rose, to the accompaniment of a great cheer
from thousands of boatmen and soldiers, and New Orleans was an American
city for all future time.
With the transfer came the hoped-for improvement. Within three weeks
Captain Royce was able to dispose of nearly everything at fair rates,
even to the old ark itself, in which they had come so far. Its sound oak
planks went to repair the gun platforms and casemates at Fort St.
Charles. And for little more than he received for these, Marion Royce
had an opportunity to purchase a small “keel” boat of fifteen-tons
burden for the homeward voyage.
A difficulty now rose, however. The horse-gear for the paddle-wheels,
which they had brought for the return trip up the river, was too heavy
for the keel. It required six horses, walking round on a kind of
gallery, to operate the transverse shaft to which the paddle-wheels were
attached. The keel was too narrow for a six-horse “circuit.”
Horse-boats were not uncommon on the Mississippi in those days; but
most, if not all, of these devices consisted of a large horizontal
wheel, round which the horses walked, as sailors walk round a capstan,
the horizontal wheel being connected by cog-gear to the shaft beneath,
which carried the two paddle-wheels.
Marion Royce now set his wits at work to devise something lighter and
less cumbrous, adapted to his small keel. His two good friends, Doctor
Lecassigne and Doctor Buchat, were much interested, and spent several
days studying the problem with him.
But a Yankee sea-captain, named Grover, who chanced to be in port with
his Boston brig, had the honor of suggesting to them a horse-power of
the treadmill type, such as is now so commonly used for thrashing grain
and sawing wood, where the weight of the horses, climbing on “lags,”
propels the saw, or the “separator.”
At a “smithy” boat which had come down the river, our arksmen had such a
horse-power made for them, and placed it low in the keel, amidships. The
two paddle-wheels were attached to the topmost axle of the “lags” wheel,
up the incline of which two horses walked abreast.
A week or more was occupied in making and adjusting the new gear, and
there were many doubts as to its success; but on trial it was found that
two horses were able to propel this light keel-boat against the river
current at the rate of about four miles an hour. It was necessary,
however, to have two spare horses. Four of their horses were reserved
for this purpose.
They still had the pet bear, which had come to them so unexpectedly.
Captain Royce had supposed that they might fall in with its former
owners at New Orleans.
Moses, who still laid claim to the animal, had hopes of trading it for a
rifle. But Doctor Buchat had taken a fancy to the bear, and named him
“Napoleon,” and Captain Royce wished to give him to the genial
Frenchman, who had repeatedly helped them.
Moses demurred to this; and the doctor, perceiving how matters stood
with the boy, offered him a pair of antique, silver-mounted dueling
pistols for his pet—not a very suitable present for a boy, but the only
thing he could give.
The pistols were long-barreled old flintlocks, provided with “hair”
triggers, and Moses was much elated. After a discussion, however, he
reluctantly consented to give Lewis one of them; and this burning
question being at last settled, the two boys set off to take Napoleon to
Doctor Buchat’s house, which was on Good-Children Street, beyond the
French market.
They confined the bear’s mouth in a strong muzzle and led him by his
chain. Wistar Royce went along with them to lend a hand, in case of
need, and to carry in a bag two vertebræ of the mastodon, which were
overlooked in the hold of the ark when the rest of the skeleton was
hauled to the doctor’s house.
Captain Royce had that day given each arksman his share of the proceeds
of the voyage; and John Kenton, Clark MacAfee and Merrick also went
along with the boys, bent on celebrating the occasion at the “Sure Enuf
Hotel,” kept by a tremendously stout pioneer woman, known as “Old Ma’am
Colby.” This was a place of common resort for flatboatmen, and was in a
locality called “The Swamp,” at the farther end of Girod Street.
But the three boys went on with their bear past the American quarter,
and entered the city proper by the Tchoupitoulas gate.
There chanced to be a festival in progress, which, judging from the
date, may have been “King’s day,” a _fete_ celebrated by the negroes
with songs and dances.
A group of shouting youngsters set upon the boys, pelting them with
little bags containing sugar and rice, also dust and snuff, that caused
boisterous sneezing. The revelers began chanting an improvised song
about _les jeunes Kaintocks_. This may have been good-natured chaff, but
our young arksmen did not like it; no more did Napoleon, who was
distressed by sneezing with a muzzle on his nose.
They got away from this first group of roisterers, and hastened toward
the doctor’s house; but near the market they encountered a greater and
much more formidable crowd, in fantastic dress, wearing masks and
bearing grotesque effigies aloft on poles.
To eyes unused to such parades, the spectacle was a startling one. The
maskers wore all sorts of frightful head-gear—cocks’ heads, with huge
red combs and bills a foot long, lions’ heads and tigers’ heads, bulls’
heads and dogs’ heads, Indians, crocodiles, serpents with forked
tongues; and all were crowing, growling, bellowing, barking, whooping
and hissing, with an added chorus from scores of horns and conch-shells.
The uproar, indeed, was incredible. In this fantastic mob our young
friends found themselves suddenly engulfed, and became objects of most
undesirable attention.
“_Mira a los Kaintock malos!_” (Look at these Yankee rascals!) cried a
tipsy Spanish sailor, and immediately an eddy of maskers circled round
them, bawling forth a song then much in vogue:—
“_’Mericain coquin,
Bille en nanquin,
Voleur du pain,
Chez Miche d’Aquin!_”
which, freely translated, signifies that the “Americans” are rogues who
dress in homespun, steal bread from the bake-shop, and are all
jail-birds! This was not complimentary—if the boys had understood it.
They cared less for abusive songs, however, than for the horns that
blared in their faces, and two “Indians” who danced about them,
brandishing tomahawks. When Lewis and Moses caught sight of these
pseudo-savages they made ready for trouble.
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