Early in the morning, earlier even than I had supposed possible, the
conductor's voice was heard announcing to somebody that we would be in
New Orleans in less than half an hour. I had been sleeping somewhat
uneasily, curled up on one of the seats. I was dimly conscious of the
fact that at some unknown hour in the night another telegram had been
received referring to Vinton, and that Miss Summers was wide awake when
it came. I remember Harrod's bending over and kissing her, and hearing
the words, "That is better yet." Then sleep again overpowered me. Now,
at daybreak, I arose and gazed around the dimly-lighted car. Miss
Summers, Harrod, and Major Williams were the only occupants apparently
astir. The former was sitting near the opened window; the cool, salty
breeze from the Gulf was playing with the ripples of fair hair that
clustered about her forehead. She looked very white and wan in the
uncertain light, but there was a womanly tenderness and sweetness about
her face that made it inexpressibly lovely to me. She was gazing
wistfully out over the sea of marsh and swamp, as though longing to
bridge the distance that still separated us from the city, where he lay
battling with that insidious enemy. Harrod and the major were in earnest
conversation. Other occupants of the car were beginning to stir
uneasily, as though warned that soon they must be up and doing; but
Kitty still slept, and the cloak of army blue still covered her. Mr.
Turpin had disappeared.
A few moments more and the officers had been aroused; the men were
donning their belts and equipments; Pauline herself stepped forward,
and, bending over her pretty cousin, roused her from her baby-like
sleep; and glancing from the windows, I could see that we were rolling
up the "Elysian Fields." Then came the curving sweep around on the broad
levee. All looked quiet, even deserted, as we passed the Mint and the
wide thoroughfare of Esplanade Street. Some of the lamps still burned
dimly in the _cafes_ and bars, but no trace of commotion or excitement
could be discerned. It was with some little surprise then that our eyes
met the warlike scene as we rolled into the station at the foot of Canal
Street.
The instant the train stopped, our car was boarded by an alert gentleman
in civilian dress whom I had often seen, and whom I knew to be an
aide-de-camp on the staff of the commanding general. He came at once to
Major Williams; shook hands with him, and conveyed some orders in a low
tone of voice; then asked to be presented to Colonel Summers. Major
Williams brought him to where our group of four was then standing, at
the rear of the car,--Miss Summers, Kitty, Harrod, and myself.
"Let me introduce Colonel Newhall, of General Emory's staff," he said,
and the colonel, raising his hat in general salutation to the party,
spoke in the hurried, nervous way I afterwards found was habitual with
him, despite the _sang-froid_ that distinguished him at all times save
in the presence of ladies.
"I have come direct from Major Vinton's room, Colonel Summers, and am
happy to tell you that the doctors pronounce him much better. The
general charged me to bring you the latest news of him, and to express
to you and to your ladies his warm interest and sympathy."
Then we had not come as strangers to a strange land. I glanced at
Pauline, as her brother, warmly grasping the staff-officer's hand,
presented him to her and to Kitty. Her clear, brave eyes were suffused
with tears and she did not venture to speak a word; but she was
infinitely moved by the constantly recurring evidences of interest in
her and her gallant lover. Such an informal announcement of an
engagement perhaps was not strictly in accordance with the prevailing
customs of society, but the exigencies of the case put all such
considerations aside. Everybody on our train knew the story of course,
and it had evidently been telegraphed to headquarters. Meantime, Major
Williams had been superintending the debarkation of his men, and they
were forming ranks on the platform outside. Beyond them, a long line of
stacked arms was guarded by sentries, and several companies of infantry
were grouped behind them, watching with professional interest the
arrival of comrade soldiery. A number of officers had gathered at the
side of the car,--very weary they looked too, and far from jaunty in
their dusty fatigue uniforms; but they were intent on welcoming Major
Williams and his command, and at that hour in the morning, costume and
unshaven chins were not subject to criticism. Time and again it had been
my lot to be at this very station, but never before had I seen it
thronged with troops. It was evident that matters of grave moment were
going on in the city.
Colonel Newhall had left the car for a moment and Harrod came to me:
"It seems that Vinton is at Colonel Newhall's quarters on Royal Street,
Mr. Brandon. He met the troop on its arrival in town, and finding Vinton
wellnigh delirious with fever, had him taken at once to his lodgings.
There are a number of vacant rooms, he tells me, and he has made all
arrangements to take us right there; so there we will go. The St.
Charles is crowded, and Pauline naturally wants to be near him. I think
it the best arrangement that could possibly be made."
Even as he finished, the colonel came in to say that the carriage was
ready. Harrod, Pauline, Kitty and I followed him to the platform. The
group of officers standing there courteously raised their forage-caps as
our ladies passed them. Kitty looked furtively about her as she stepped
from the car, and Mr. Turpin sprang forward to take her light satchel.
It was but a few steps to the carriage. Pauline and Kitty were handed
in. Summers and Colonel Newhall took their seats in the carriage. We
shook hands all round without saying much of anything, except that I
should meet them later in the day; the driver cracked his whip, and away
they went up Canal Street, Mr. Turpin and I gazing after them.
Even as we looked, there came trotting down the stone pavement towards
us a pair of cavalrymen. The one in front, tall, slender, erect, I
recognized at once as Frank Amory. The one in rear was evidently his
orderly. Never noticing the carriage, which had hurried off on the
Custom-House side of the street, the former rode rapidly to the very
point where we were standing. I saw Mr. Turpin look eagerly at him, then
spring forward.
"Sheep, old man, how are you?"
"Hello, Cyclone! when did you get here?" and throwing the reins to his
orderly, Frank Amory sprang from the saddle, and warmly grasped Mr.
Turpin by the hand. The boys were classmates.
It was perhaps a minute before Amory noticed that I was standing there,
so absorbed was he in greeting his comrade. The moment he caught sight
of me, however, he stepped quickly forward. Quite a number of the
younger officers had gathered around by this time, and with heightened
color he looked eagerly in my face.
"When did you come? Who--who else came?" he asked, excitedly.
"We arrived only a few minutes ago," I said. "Miss Summers, Miss Kitty,
and the colonel with me. They just drove off in that carriage. We are so
rejoiced to hear Major Vinton is better."
"You don't say so!" he exclaimed, then stopped short, as though at a
loss what to add. "I--I had no idea she--you could get here so soon.
Vinton _is_ better, thank God! Where have they gone?"
"To Colonel Newhall's quarters," I answered. "It seems there are several
rooms, and the colonel says his landlady will take the best of care of
them. Then they will be near him, which is something to be considered."
"Why, Sheep, did you know Colonel Summers and Miss Carrington?" broke in
Mr. Turpin, suddenly.
"Yes, quite well. I was stationed near them," was the answer, given with
some constraint.
Mr. Turpin stuck his hands deep in his pockets and said not another
word. Other officers crowded about Mr. Amory to inquire for Major
Vinton, and to ask for news. Presently Major Williams came up with
Colonel Starr, the commanding officer of the battalion that was "in
bivouac" at the station, and I was presented to the latter. From them I
learned something of the situation.
They had been on guard all night there at the station. What for they
could not exactly tell. It seems that one faction of the Legislature
occupied the temporary State-House; another had its headquarters over a
prominent bar-room in Royal Street; and a large concourse of citizens
had organized with military formalities and the avowed intention of
dislodging the factional Legislature from the house; installing a
Governor of their own choice; and subduing the police force of the city,
now enrolled as a uniformed and fully-equipped battalion of infantry,
with a battery of field-guns and a squadron of cavalry as assistants.
The police held the various stations, and no encounter had taken place;
but the citizens had turned out in great numbers, and the chances were
that they would prove too powerful for the mixed array of the police
force; and trouble had been anticipated for that very night, but it had
not come. A strong battalion of infantry was posted here at the railway
station. Another, after a day of weary marching, was resting at a large
cotton-press up the levee; two companies of cavalry were stationed at
the quartermaster's warehouse up in Magazine Street, near the
headquarters of the commanding general, and two foot batteries from an
artillery regiment had spent the night in the State-House itself.
Cavalry patrols had been scouting through the city all night, promptly
reporting any unusual gathering, but in no case interfering. Verily
these were strange accompaniments to the times of piping peace.
It was after seven o'clock when I reached my rooms. I was tired and
ought to have been sleepy after the long, rapid ride by rail, but the
morning papers were full of exciting prophecy as to the events of the
day, and sleep was out of the question. Amory had declined my invitation
to breakfast, saying that he could not be away from his troop more than
fifteen minutes at a time, and had only managed to get down to the
station while out looking after his patrols. A bath and a change of
raiment proved refreshing. Then I took a car; rode to Canal Street;
walked down Royal to Colonel Newhall's lodgings; met one of the doctors,
who assured me that Major Vinton was doing very well, and that later
they hoped he might be well enough to see Miss Summers. He was still
flighty and had no idea of his whereabouts. The ladies were up-stairs
resting. Would I see them? No, I preferred not to disturb them, and so
went off by myself to breakfast at my usual haunt, Moreau's. The room
was already well filled when I entered. Most of the tables were
occupied, many of them by prominent citizens. Much earnest talk was
going on in subdued tones, and there was an air of suppressed excitement
that was noticeable to the most careless observer. Two of the tables
were occupied by a party of infantry officers whom I had seen at the
station, and it was noticeable that within earshot of them little was
being said in reference to "the situation." I had several acquaintances
among the business men present, and took a seat near them. The first
words that fell upon my ears were,--
"And it will be done to-night, you may depend upon it."
"But do you suppose that General Emory will stand by and allow such a
thing to go on under his very nose?"
"General Emory can't help himself, sir. His orders from Washington do
not permit him to act unless called upon by the marshal or by the State
authorities. The whole thing will be over and done with before they can
make their demand, and our people will have dispersed before the troops
get there."
"But suppose they get wind of it and call upon him to station his men to
meet the move?"
"Why, that ends it, of course. We are helpless in that case. We don't
mean to raise a finger against the general government. Let him send a
corporal's guard to any one of the places and it's safe; but as for this
infernal mottled police----"
"Steady!"
And then both speakers looked up at the party of infantry officers, who
had risen and were quietly leaving. Then they looked at me, and the rest
of the conversation was in too low a tone for any one to hear.
The day was one of restless anxiety, yet of apparent quiet and order.
The broad "banquette" of Canal Street was thronged with ladies and
children as is customary on bright afternoons. The matinees at the
Varieties and the St. Charles Theatre were crowded. At half-past four,
as I strolled up the street under the friendly shade of the awnings,
that made the wide sidewalks one long arcade, I was struck by the
perfectly peaceful aspect of the scene. From the Custom-House to Rampart
Street, on the lower side of the way, I did not see a policeman, much
less a soldier in uniform; but at all the corners, the knots of
unoccupied men were much larger than usual; this being especially the
case around Dumonteil's and Lopez's confectioneries, and the well-known
establishment of "Dr. Sample."
On the opposite side and grouped around the brown-stone building of the
Shakespeare Club, half a dozen men in civilian dress were lolling about,
and less than one hundred yards up Dryades Street, as many more were
sitting or standing around the entrance of the massive Mechanics'
Institute, now used as a State-House and place of meeting of one at
least of the rival Legislatures; but there was nothing in its exterior
to indicate the state of siege as described in the daily press. In all,
there might have been one hundred loungers scattered from Victor's
marble-columned restaurant on the lower side down to "Dr. Sample's," in
the middle of the next block; but absolute quiet and order reigned. Some
of the windows in the second story of the Institute were open, and
occasionally the features of some colored legislator could be seen
peering curiously and cautiously out towards Canal Street.
Now that demon of curiosity that has always possessed me, prompted me to
stroll across the broad thoroughfare and to approach the entrance of
Dryades Street. As a neutral, I felt serenely confident that neither
side would take exceptions to my movements, but looking behind me as I
reached the car-tracks, I saw that the listless loungers on the
banquette had crowded forward to its edge, and were watching me with
interest. Keeping on, however, I soon reached the upper side, and
deliberately walked ahead as though bent on going to the State-House.
The instant I got beyond the Canal Street pavement, however, one of the
men I had noticed at the upper corner stepped quickly in front of me and
said,--
"Pardon me, Mr. Brandon, where did you wish to go?" Then, seeing my look
of surprise, he smilingly added, "Of course I know you, sir, though you
do not know me; I'm a detective."
"Why," said I, "if there be no objections, I would like to go to the
State-House, just to see what is going on."
"I'm sorry, sir," was the civil reply; "at this moment our orders are to
admit nobody."
Now, I hated to go back. I knew well that all those estimable
fellow-citizens of mine on the other side were watching the scene, and
that they would be sure to hold me in lighter estimation if I had to
retire. I put a bold face on the matter and whipped out my card-case.
"There are two batteries of foot artillery in there, I'm told, and among
their officers is a gentleman whom I used to know in New York and would
like to see. Can you send this to him?" I hastily scrawled "Late N. Y.
7th Regt." under my name. The detective took the card; whistled to a boy
who stood near; the youngster seized it and was off like a shot; while
my detective and I walked slowly towards the building. Before we reached
the stone steps, a fine-looking fellow in the fatigue uniform of the
United States artillery came out and looked inquiringly around. I
stepped forward at once and introduced myself; was most courteously
greeted and invited to walk in; the police official smilingly nodded
"All right now," and, guided by the lieutenant, I entered the mysterious
portals of the besieged halls of government.
It was an extraordinary sight that met my eyes. Grouped inside the
vestibule, where they could not be seen from Canal Street, or indeed
from any point on Dryades except directly in front, were some fifty
Metropolitan police in complete uniform and the equipments of infantry
soldiers; belts, cartridge-boxes, bayonet-scabbards, and all. Their
officers, with drawn swords and wearing shoulder-straps like those of
the regular service, were gathered in front. Stacks of Winchester rifles
stood close by, many of the men having their muskets still in their
hands. All the lower hall and the staircases were crowded with these
improvised troops, some white, some colored, there being white men in
the rank and file, and colored men among the officers. All were very
quiet, orderly, and apparently well disciplined. Some of those who were
seated on the stairway rose rather slowly to make way for us, and a
colored officer in the shoulder-straps of a captain spoke in a quick,
sharp tone to them; and, black and white, they sprang to their feet and
respectfully drew aside. At the head of the stairs were sentries and an
officer of the guard, all in police uniform, and they saluted my
artillery guide with all the precision of regulars.
"Would you like to look in at your Legislature?" asked he, with a
mischievous grin. I assented. The officer of the guard opened a door,
and we found ourselves in an inner hall or vestibule. Here we came upon
a dozen colored men surrounding a low wooden counter or table covered
with pies, cakes, sandwiches, and fruit. Behind the counter sat an old
negress in vehement expostulation.
"It's no use talkin', gen'lemen, you's just wastin' yo' time. Las' year
I done trus' de gen'lemen of de Senate an' Representives, an' dey ain't
paid me yit."
"But fo' de Lawd's sake, Mis' Fontelieu, I ain't had nuffin to eat sence
day befo' yis'day mawnin', an' I's starvin', I is. Yo' ought ter have
some consideration fo' gen'lemen of de Legislature what's sufferin' here
fo' you an' de people. Soon's we done git our salaries we's goin' to pay
you fus' thing. Ain't we, gen'lemen?" said the spokesman appealingly to
his brother Solons.
"Of co'se we is, Mis' Fontelieu," was the chorus, but all to no
purpose. Miss Fontelieu's experiences with previous Legislatures and
legislators had undermined her faith in the stability of their financial
condition, and nothing but cash in hand would induce her to part with
any of her stock in trade.
"I'd buy them a breakfast myself," said my lieutenant, laughingly, "for
I know very well that they have had nothing to eat except what they
could pick up here; but we contributed all our spare greenbacks
yesterday, and they'd be just as hungry by ten o'clock to-night."
We pushed on through the lobby and entered the main room, the temporary
hall of representatives, and here another odd sight greeted our eyes.
The room was large, rectangular in shape; a raised platform being at the
farther end; rows of cane-bottomed chairs were arranged in semicircular
order across the hall; a desk for the presiding officer was on the
platform; and tables and desks for clerks and reporters stood below it.
Scattered in groups all about the room were upwards of an hundred men,
some white, some colored, stretched at length upon the chairs, others
were lying asleep. The instant we entered, conversation ceased, and all
looked eagerly and inquiringly at my companion; even some of the
recumbent figures straightened up and gazed at him. Several stepped
forward from the nearest group and asked if there were any news,
receiving with evident disappointment his civil reply that he had heard
nothing.
"They have been cooped up here for nearly forty-eight hours," the
lieutenant explained. "You see, they've just got a quorum, and the
Governor knows blessed well that if they once get out, the chances are
ten to one they'll never get back. Either the other crowd will mob them,
or, in fear of the attack on the State-House, they will keep in hiding
somewhere around town."
The Governor, with his officers, was in his private room down-stairs, my
friend explained; and the Senate was likewise blockaded in another part
of the building; and this was the shape in which one Governor, at least,
of the sovereign State of Louisiana was "holding the fort" against all
would-be adversaries.
Then we left the hall of unwilling representatives; clambered another
flight of stairs, and came upon what the local press had not inaptly
termed "the citadel." Here, in an upper room, half a dozen officers of
artillery of the regular service were killing time, reading, writing, or
dozing; and most disgusted they looked with their occupation. On being
presented to the commanding officer and his comrades I was courteously
greeted and invited to make myself at home, "if," said the major, "you
can find any comfort in the situation. I've only once in my life been
on more distasteful duty, and that was when we were sent to break up
illicit distilleries in Brooklyn."
Their orders, I learned, were that both officers and men should remain
in the State-House, and not leave, even for meals, which were to be sent
from a neighboring restaurant; and there they had been for two nights
and days, in readiness to defend the place if attacked, yet having every
assurance that so long as there remained a "regular" soldier in the
building it would not be molested. No wonder they yawned and looked
bored to death; and my proffer of services was gladly accepted. "Send us
anything you may have in the way of reading matter, and we'll be only
too thankful," was the major's half-laughing, half-rueful reply, and
after an hour's chat I left. The lieutenant accompanied me to the
entrance, where he bade me good-by. The knot of detectives drew aside
and passed me out without remark. Once more I crossed Canal Street, and
in an instant found myself surrounded by a bevy of eager reporters,
note-book and pencil in hand, clamoring for information. From the
obscurity of yesterday, Mr. G. S. Brandon had suddenly leaped into
prominence.