Lawrence de Graaf--A Queer Flag at the Mast
THE _Badine_ was the name of a ship dancing over the Atlantic to her
port at Santo Domingo of the West Indies. Behind her came her sister
ship, the _Marine_, a small frigate. In their wake, wavering gull-like
in the sunshine, sailed a couple of store vessels.
The commander of the fleet was the Sieur de Iberville, a Canadian,
lately the hero of the battle of Hudson Bay. With the sweep and dash
of some North Sea Viking, he had plunged with his ship, the _Pelican_,
into the frost and fog of that Arctic harbor. He fell upon those
ancient rivals of the French, the English traders, and took them by
surprise. To their man-of-war he gave a slashing fight and sank it. Two
consort ships were captured. Fort Nelson could not hold out against his
impetuous onslaught. It was taken and renamed Fort Bourbon.
For this maritime conquest France hailed him as a brilliant genius. The
court fêted and idolized him. The king gave him a patent, two hundred
colonists, and supplies enough to found a colony at the mouth of the
Great River.
The first fleet sent from the mother country to the sea entrance of
the Mississippi had over-sailed the estuary and had been wrecked upon
the coast of Texas. The brave La Salle, leader of the expedition, had
perished tragically while going back overland to search for what was
called his "fatal river."
The Sieur de Iberville's fleet had crossed the ocean safely. The decks
of the _Badine_ and _Marine_ were crowded with folks in their best
array. Land had been sighted. They longed for a view of that New World
which was to be their home.
One of the commander's retinue, an adventurer of France, Anthony
Auguelle, the Picard du Gay, set his scarlet heels upon the boards
where his buckles glittered finely. His hair was parted in the middle
and hung in heavy curls on his shoulders. In those days he who had good
hair wore it thus; he who had it not bought a wig and achieved the same
effect. A plumed hat adorned the curls. This was the fashion of that
Paris Anthony had so lately quitted for the Spanish Main. His velvet
coat which concealed a shirt of mail, his laces and ruffles, his knee
breeches and sword were exactly as they should be. He was proud of
himself.
Yet all of this elegance was forgotten when the lookout called: "A
sail! A sail!"
The colonists strained their eyes on the horizon where one by one each
gradually made out three low-lying craft of speed, sloops of ten guns
each. They flew no flag. But when upon closer approach the pilot of
the _Badine_ hailed them with some cabalistic word, they set up such
a shout as none of the listeners had ever heard. As they passed at
quarters perilously close the dullest eye could see--all ready to raise
as it lay at the foot of the mast in the foremost boat--the black flag
of piracy!
On the _Badine_ and the _Marine_ and on both the other ships every gun
was manned, every soldier stood in readiness. But the sloops gave them
a cheer and a great laugh. Nothing else!
The officers looked to the Sieur de Iberville for explanation. He
looked to his pilot. Now this pilot's name was Lawrence de Graaf and
he was a buccaneer upon occasion. Every one on board knew that. But a
ship must have a pilot, even though he be a person with a history. And
a buccaneer is to a pirate as a tadpole to a frog. Until he is fully
developed he is more interesting than repulsive. So de Graaf answered,
quite simply, "They wait for bigger game."
After an uneasy interval of suspense and guessing they found that
he was right, for they saw a far-away dot which on coming nearer and
nearer proved to be that most magnificent pageant of the coral seas, a
Spanish galleon with all sail spread.
As this splendid treasure ship went past them on the wings of the trade
wind the _Badine_ shouted a warning to her, "Beware the sloops!"
The other ships from France repeated the hail, "Beware the sloops!" She
dipped an ensign in a salute of thanks. How gallant she was!
"Shall we turn about and go to her assistance?" asked the Sieur de
Bienville, younger brother to the commandant. This was his first sight
of pirates, and he was as full of fight as a cockerel.
The Sieur de Iberville shook his head. "The sloops are Spanish, the
galleon is Spanish, too; they might combine against us and amuse
themselves by making us walk Spanish before they fought it out between
them."
"Will there be pirates at the mouth of the Mississippi?" queried de
Bienville, hopefully.
"If we begin a successful colony they will raid it. All good towns
will be looted. You will have your fill of defending the weak in days
to come. When you grow too strong to be robbed you can then buy of the
sea-rovers all the stuff they have taken from some one else."
"And you won't stop now to interfere in Spanish family quarrels?"
asked Anthony in a tone filled with regret.
The Sieur de Iberville shook his head, and the fleet went on to anchor
at Cape Haytien. At that place they met the _La Françoise_, a fifty-gun
war-ship, sent to join them and to act as escort past the lanes of
piracy.
By de Graaf's advice they stopped also at the island of Tortugas, where
they could get a stock of meat much cheaper than at Santo Domingo. Cut
prices were possible, for the men of Tortugas stole the cattle from
the planters of Santo Domingo. They dried the meat by a process called
buchanning. While fitting out any ship with meat these buchanners, or
buccaneers, examined it to see whether it was armed or not and whether
it was worth a chase.
The Sieur de Iberville's fleet was not afraid of them. From the
superior height of the quarter-deck, and the elevated sense of clean
mind, decent body, and elegant clothes, Anthony looked down upon the
unkempt men who loaded the meat.
These fellows had rough hair braided into queues tied back with
bandanas. Their chests and arms and feet were bare. Bright sashes bound
round their rags held pistols of every size and shape. Wherever a
knife could be stuck, behind ears, in pockets, up trousers legs, there
it gleamed. When one of them carried a blade between his teeth how
reckless he looked! How any man could degrade himself to the level of
one of these foul robbers Anthony could not imagine.
One yellow-fanged beef-handler had a scar across his mouth from some
blow which had knocked out his lower front teeth. He was whistling
through this handy opening a curiously wild and melodious air. Leaning
over the rail, Anthony puckered his lips around the impish gap in his
own handsome teeth and repeated the tune with an echo's mockery.
The man glanced up. If he had not fancied Anthony's look it was an
even chance that he had gone black with hate and thrown a knife. Like
most people at whom Anthony smiled he softened into friendliness. "Ha,
comrade," he called, for the ship was moving out, "we will meet again.
How do they call you?" His words were English.
Tickled at making the acquaintance of a buccaneer so easily, Anthony
replied in French: "I am the Picard du Gay at your service. Thank you
for the tune."
"Good-by, du Gay, good-by!"
"Good-by, brother, good-by," and Anthony laughed as he waved his hand.
All this looked like playing with fire to the Sieur de Bienville. He
was young; much younger than Anthony now was. But Anthony still looked
so boyish and was so fresh at heart that the two had become cronies on
the long voyage. With one mind they now fell to talking of the Gulf
pirates. What could they do if their colony was attacked and the skull
and cross-bones flaunted in their faces?
They were therefore much dismayed, upon reaching Pensacola, to find
that they themselves were objects of suspicion. Their fleet was
forbidden to enter the harbor. Pensacola was a Spanish colony. The
officers of the port were polite but firm in their refusal. Behind them
lay a Spanish war-ship even bigger than the _La Françoise_. The French
fleet moved on.
De Bienville fumed, "They treat us as though we were robbers." But
after he had followed de Graaf's significant look at the fifty guns of
their escort, he demanded of his brother, "If our war-ship had been the
best armed would you have gone in by force?" and when the commandant
did not reply he and Anthony put their heads together and went over the
whole matter again. "I think our patent allows us to use our judgment
about how to hold and _extend_ the king's dominion." And he made round
eyes as who should ask, "How far can a man go in the pursuit of such
duties?"
Westward then moved these French ships. Cautiously they wound among the
islands which make a barrier between the rough waters of the Gulf and
the northern coast. In the quieter channel thus formed they came to
anchor and chose Ship Island for their first stopping-place. Here the
war-ship left them: here the colonists built the first huts to shelter
themselves.
The mouth of the Mississippi must be near at hand, but they did not
know exactly where. Not wishing to risk his all as the unfortunate La
Salle had done, the Sieur de Iberville left most of his colonists and
his ocean-going ships at the island. Taking forty-eight men in two open
boats he rowed westward still further along the coast.
The sky and sea were as blue as blue could be. The beach sands and the
clouds were white as spray. The live-oaks and the pines marked the
mainland with lines of beauty. In the channel porpoises at play stood
up on their tails to make bows of welcome inviting the Frenchmen to
follow them.
It was a pleasant thing to be sweeping along through this balmy air.
Anthony's barytone began to mark the time for the oarsmen with the tune
he had picked up at Tortugas. The new melody seemed oddly suited to the
time and place.
"Teach him the words," cried de Graaf, and the sailors who knew a
little of that difficult language called English were soon singing in
chorus with Anthony the words of the song once so popular:
"My name was Captain Kidd as I sailed, as I sailed,
My name was Captain Kidd as I sailed.
God's laws I did forbid and right wickedly I did
As I sailed!"
For two rollicking days they rang endless changes on this fascinating
theme. On the third a storm overtook them. Not daring to put into the
waters of the Gulf, the Sieur de Iberville decided to risk landing on
the rocky coast.
Nobody, then, knew how big the world was. Longitude was not understood.
Sailors had to guess at distances east and west. La Salle had thus gone
past the Mississippi's mouth whose latitude he knew. The accident had
brought his colony to a miserable end at the unfavorable place where
they finally landed.
By a lucky chance, since there was no way to reckon the right spot,
the Sieur de Iberville went straight into the Great River half hidden
behind the outlying palisades. He saved his boats: he found his port.
The place of landing he named Mardi Gras for the day, Tuesday, March 3,
1699.
It was a good beginning. After that all the adventurers were eager to
go upon exploring parties, to make friends with the Indians, and to
build a town. The colonists were ready to set their homes almost any
place upon the borders of this summer sea. So the city of the port of
the Great River was begun, settled, and stockaded as the Sieur La Salle
had prophesied that some day it would be.
It was better not to have all his resources in one place to tempt a
buccaneer attack, and so Sieur de Iberville built another fort on Ship
Island and one at Biloxi inlet on the north coast.
Ship Island was an ideal secret refuge, and when it was abandoned
by the French colonists for larger quarters on shore it became a
rendezvous for pirates of the Gulf. Its silver sand has buried many
treasures of gold and gems and it has been dyed with the blood of
captured crews. To-day a government station stands upon it and its
wicked years are almost forgotten by the honest boats with respectable
mariners now sailing tamely past it.
On the bay at Biloxi, the Sieur de Iberville's bastioned fort held a
dozen cannon. Later still another fort was built in Mobile Bay. All
were intended to guard the coming city at the mouth of the Mississippi
and her immense domain. Anthony was one of many to work on these
defenses against sea-robbers, or Indians, or rival nations.
One day, while he and the boyish de Bienville and a few armed followers
were floating down the Mississippi from one of their numerous scouting
trips, what should they see but a full-rigged ship coming to meet them.
Their surprise was mixed with fear. For the ship was English and she
carried sixteen guns. And, as they presently learned, a sister ship
quite as strong lay off the mouth of the Great River. What if this
commander turned those guns on their tiny new town? What if he captured
these Frenchmen and took this smaller open boat with its four little
cannon?
The stripling de Bienville was a master of men. He promised his crew
that they should not be taken. Then he sent a friendly hail to the
ruddy captain of the English and beamed confidently at his fellows
when it was politely returned. Anthony, who loved courtesy, forgot how
scared he was as he listened to the formal speech in which the two
leaders conversed.
They used English, but he was able to understand that the Englishman
was Captain Barr and that he had come at the command of his king and
queen to take possession of the Mississippi!
Anthony's heart sank like lead. After all that Frenchmen had done and
suffered to explore this river valley it seemed dreadful to lose it
now by so unequal a battle as this would be if their little boat had
to fight it out with the English ship. But de Bienville's boyish face
showed the friendliest interest in the Englishman's plans.
He assured Captain Barr that there _was_ a Mississippi river. "I am
_sure_ of that," he stated positively in his frank young way, "for I've
often heard the Indians speak of it. If you continue to sail along the
coast line you will surely find some splendid stream. _This_ river,
of course, belongs to the French; there is one of our colonies on it;
but there are other rivers, enough for all of us. You have our best
wishes to take with you as you go in search of a Mississippi for _your_
empire."
So this English Captain Barr turned his big ship about and, leaving the
little French boat in control, sailed away never to return.
Quoth the wise de Bienville: "When we cannot win by force of arms,
strategy is the thing. My dear du Gay, as you stood and nodded your
head to confirm the stories I told, I have a fancy that you involved
yourself in international intrigue. It is just possible that you and I
may look like doubtful characters to Captain Barr's superior officers
since we pulled a kingdom from his grasp. Men have walked the plank for
less than we have done this day!"
Many captains of every nation were watched with suspicion in those
days, for the riches of the New World sailing homeward toward the Old
were a constant temptation to travelers, and many privateers became
pirates because it was such an easy way to make money. Not only Ship
Island, but almost any dot of land would do for a harbor to a band of
smugglers or marooners. For a full century after the settlement of its
mouth they flourished in the neighboring channels and bayous of the
Great River.
All kings were alike to a pirate. He openly defied French, English,
and Spanish rule. But when in the time of the War of 1812, "old Andy
Jackson" came down to New Orleans to make a stand for democracy against
the British red-coats, the smugglers and outlaws of the north coast,
those ruffian Baratarians, with their strong sentiment for personal
freedom and self-government, offered themselves to him. They were glad
to fight for his cause.
Under the notorious Lafitte they came bringing all the ferocity of
hand-forged guns and home-made knives and filibustered ammunition. They
threw the whole of their buccaneering energy into the cause of the
first republic of the continent. In that long struggle, when hope was
almost gone, they helped to turn the scale for freedom and were one
of the picturesque units who made possible the famous victory of New
Orleans.
In de Bienville's time Captain Barr's was the earliest ship to threaten
French rights. Whether it was his turning back which displeased his
government into challenging the Sieur de Iberville or whether there
were commands from France to strike any rival before she struck them,
Anthony as a subordinate couldn't find out, but there came a day when
the commandant ordered the _Badine_ and the _Marine_ into action, and
leaving de Bienville behind to look after the colonists, he sailed away
to the island of Nevis and, taking it by surprise, captured it without
trouble.
St. Christopher also belonged to England, and that the French meant to
get on the same cruise. On its coral strand the tiny hamlet of thatched
huts, palm grove, brilliant birds, and huge flowers seemed an easy
little Noah's ark sort of town to pick up.
But alack-a-day! Its men were all at home. They proved to be, not timid
natives under one domineering white man, but a very hornets' nest of
recruiting buccaneers. And the Sieur de Iberville's soldiers, for all
their vaunted military training, were hard pressed to subdue the town.
Now Anthony was not a soldier. He was attached to the Iberville
expedition as an envoy to the Mississippi Indians. But when he saw the
need of another sword arm, he hurriedly braided his hair and tied it
back out of the way with his kerchief, loosened his collar for more
air, rolled up his sleeves, tightened his sash, snatched his pistol,
and threw himself against the enemy.
The military formation of the ranks had been broken almost as soon as
it touched the shore. The battle was not organized--it was a running
fight--each Frenchman against the nearest buccaneer, hand to hand, up
and down, back and forth, over the one long street of the toy village.
Going at one another like a lot of fiends, they cut and hacked--shot
and clubbed--guns were emptied--swords broken--teeth and nails
used--any weapon to keep the next man off.
The buccaneers were disappearing. Victory seemed to be with the French.
They paused for breath. Through the lull came the alarm: "The ship! The
ship!"
The English had run for the harbor by a back way and were attacking the
flag-ship! They scaled the swinging ladders. Repelling the owners like
boarders, the rogues forced the French to fight madly for their own
_Badine_. If the buccaneers could once get a ship like this they could
sail the Gulf and river as full-fledged pirates. What a truly fine joke
it would be if the men of St. Christopher should turn the French ship
against the French port! It was one of the tricks of the Spanish Main
to do such things.
Anthony fought like a man of twice his size. He struggled for his
own life, for the life of the Mississippi port, for the life of New
France. He banged away as though Joliet, Accau, Tonty, and La Salle
were at his back. His hand never faltered. Over the rail into the bow
he went headlong. A man was at the mast. The rascal all ready to pull
down the French colors whipped out his own pennant--a white skull and
cross-bones on a black field.
Anthony flung against him with all the force of desperation. Together
they went down and rolled over and over the swaying deck; with the
buccaneer on top they bumped into the rail.
One great hand with claws like knives had already torn Anthony's
shoulder into slits; the other fastened on his throat; it was ready
to tighten its strangle-hold. The vanquished one glared wildly at his
would-be murderer. Then he began to laugh with his eyes. Who knew
better than Anthony how to make merry with one glance? The buccaneer
stared in wonder. His hold relaxed. Anthony's lips parted in as
friendly a smile as ever a man could give. His assailant hung over
him in perplexity. Anthony puckered his lips and whistled one bar.
The buccaneer replied with that toothless grin of far-away Tortugas.
Recognition had come to him. "Ho, brother," he laughed, "ho, ho! I
didn't know ye."
[Illustration: ANTHONY FLUNG AGAINST HIM WITH ALL THE FORCE OF
DESPERATION]
Anthony began to chuckle contagiously, flapped his old friend on the
back and fell to laughing heartily and long. The fearsome strangler,
like a huge bear diverted by a taste of honey, forgot the fight now
raging in the stern and joined in a hoarse "Ha, ha, ha!"
Who can tell where a battle turns? Suppose the French flag had come
down and the black flag had gone up! The sight of such an exchange
would have encouraged the pirates to fiercer efforts. England might
have wrested this little fleet from France. The control of the
Mississippi would then have passed to another king.
With their leader so cunningly beguiled by Anthony that he was quite
out of their sight and forgetting to strike where his hand was needed
most, the pirates weakened. The desperate Frenchmen succeeded in
pitching them into the sea. Dejected they swam ashore.
The Sieur de Iberville towered above them as they crawled upon the
reef. His pistols were ready, his powder dry, all the advantage was on
his side. He demanded their surrender.
They acknowledged his victory and gave up St. Christopher.
Anthony's sensitive ears had followed this last part of the foray as
he sat huddled in the bow. The noisy laugher did not bother to notice
anything. Anthony took a peep and pointed out to his friend that the
buccaneers were already in irons. He whispered: "I don't want our
soldiers to capture _you_. Take this plank, drop over the side, float
further down the beach and get away in safety."
"Keep the flag," mumbled the buccaneer; "show it to de Graaf. If ever
you steal this ship I'll join your crew," and he disappeared over the
rail.
When the _Badine_ finally put out into the Gulf Anthony went to de
Iberville's cabin to report. There he confronted himself in the mirror
of its fine furnishings. His rough hair was braided into a queue and
tied back with a bandana. His naked chest and arms were dirty, his
clothes were in rags bound round with a sash. His stockings had been
ripped away. His feet were bare. He looked at the uncouth figure that
he presented. Where had he seen such another? His smile was gone. His
voice was dull with misery.
"Tell me," he demanded, "what I am. Am I a patriot or am I a pirate?"
With a pair of dreadful blood-stained hands he unfurled the black flag
of such shocking design.
The Sieur de Iberville was also much disheveled, but he answered with
the dignity of a victor. "The courts of all civilized nations are now
busy with the problem: 'When is it right for men to fight on the high
seas?' and until that is decided, if it ever can be, you and I must
obey our superior officers." He laid a soothing hand on Anthony's
wounded shoulder. "We have been in very bad company this morning, du
Gay. Lest we get into worse, let me advise you to tie a piece of lead
in that captured rag and drop it overboard. Many a man no worse than
you and I has been hanged because he carried the Jolly Roger!"
VIII
BROKEN POTS
Swashbucklers of Spain Duel for the Food of Pierre Le Moyne de
Iberville--Hunger Seasons Sagimity
ANTHONY knelt before a jar which held perhaps two gallons. It was of
red hand-made pottery open at the top and it had a bail of withes. Low
on one side was a hole leading into the vessel between its flat bottom
and another ventilated over-bottom to create a draught. The jar was
filled with fat pine shavings and dry cones. He struck his flint and
after several trials lighted some dry grass which fired the resin in
the pine. Then the tiny clay stove began to roar cheerfully. Setting
another crock upon it and mixing in that a very little corn with too
much water the Picard du Gay tried to tell himself that he was getting
breakfast.
Provisions had run short at this fort of Biloxi, and Anthony, one of
the twenty men left here to guard the Great River's mouth, had missed
more meals than he liked to count. The stockade on the Mississippi
itself was no better furnished with men or food than this one. The
main body of the colony had been moved several times in hope of better
picking and was now at a third fort on Mobile Bay. Like all new
settlements from the beginning of time until to-morrow, this one had
not been able to fit itself to the country about it without making
mistakes. One error after another in handling foodstuffs had brought
about the catastrophe of famine.