A LOUISIANA LAWYER.
Once installed in our hotel, we proceeded upon the business that
brought us to New Orleans. The lawyer was looked up, and the
circumstances laid before him.
Charley Sawyer appeared far less surprised by the story than might have
been expected. Though still but a young man, he had been long enough
in the Crescent City to become acquainted with the inner secrets of
its social life. Engaged in practice at its criminal court, he had
met with those strange types of crime for which New Orleans has been
historically distinguished. As to our plan of proceeding, his advice
corresponded with what we had already conceived.
"Although every thing seems straight for bringing the scoundrels
to justice," said he, "we must proceed with caution. The law here
is rather a rough institution as yet; and where men's liberty is
concerned--to say nothing of their lives--the testimony must be clear
and positive. If they have actually killed the poor negroes, there must
be no loophole left for them to escape--not one of them, and least of
all their chief. Bradley must be permitted to _sell the cotton_. That
will be needed to connect him with the theft, robbery, or whatever we
may have to call it."
"But suppose he have no opportunity?" suggested Walter Woodley. "There
may not be anyone to purchase it all at once."
"No fear of that. I shall myself find him a purchaser. By good luck
I chance to be acquainted with a cotton-broker who can be trusted in
such a delicate negotiation. He can offer such a price as will secure
a trade; and before the money be paid over we can get a warrant by
deposition, and lodge Messrs. Bradley, Black & Co. in the calaboose.
After that, the thing should be easy enough.
"And now," continued the lawyer, "we must act; and the first thing is,
to find out whether the flat has got in. Would any of you know the
boat? You, Mr. Walter Woodley, ought to be able to identify your own
property."
"I really don't think I can," replied the young planter; "but I should
know Black and Stinger, the men in charge. I could see them aboard."
"True. But they might also see you, if you went near enough to
distinguish them. That would never do."
"I fancy I can manage that part of it," I suggested. "Black can be but
slightly acquainted with my face, though I shall never forget his. By
sacrificing my mustache, and borrowing a pair of whiskers from one of
these creole _costumers_--that and a change of dress would do, would it
not?"
"The very thing," said the astute Sawyer. "You can put on a light
camlet cloak--they are worn here. It will conceal the mark Mr. Black
has for the time put upon you. That, with a broad-brimmed palmetto
hat, and a pair of _cottonade_ trowsers, will turn you into a creole
complete. As for you, Henry Woodley, and your brother, your best plan
will be for both of you to go back to the hotel, stay within doors, and
wait till I communicate with you. It will not do for either to be seen
in the streets--at least till we get the birds safe inside the cage."
In obedience to Sawyer's instructions the two brothers returned to
the hotel, while I remained in his office to make the transformation
required.
In order to avoid suspicion, a razor was obtained, and I did the
shaving myself. It was not altogether pleasant to part with my pet
mustaches; but I consoled myself with two thoughts--one that they would
grow again, and the other that before they did I should see the man who
had twice attempted my life stand in the felon's dock.
The garments necessary for my disguise were readily got at one of the
levee "clothing stores," and the whiskers from a costume shop with
which New Orleans, noted for its masked balls, is abundantly provided.
In less than an hour I was ready to play the part of a detective.
With Mr. Sawyer acting as guide we sallied forth, and took our way
toward the flat-boat wharf.
Those not acquainted with the New Orleans "levee" must be told that it
is a landing full four miles in length; that only a portion of it is
provided with wharves, strong wooden platforms, supported by piles,
driven deep into the river-bank. Between, are spaces where the natural
slope of the levee is left unfurnished with such structures, and
where boats, both flats and steamers, at low water, can project their
staging-planks into the mud.
But by certain municipality laws the levee is apportioned, so that each
kind of craft--ships, steamboats, flats, and _rafts_--has a stretch of
shore appropriated to itself. There are the shipping wharves--two sets
of them--the steamboat wharves, and, last of all, that portion of the
levee set apart for the odd-looking embarkations known as "keels" and
"flat-boats."
Of these there is usually a large "fleet" lying along shore--especially
at that time of the year when the up-country produce is floated down
from a hundred head-waters to the great depot and entrepot of the
Mississippi Valley.
It was just then the season; and on reaching the flat-boat wharf, we
found some hundreds of these antediluvian-like structures lying against
the wharf, and so closely packed together that a man might have stepped
from the roof of one to the other, throughout the whole conglomeration.
Sauntering along, without appearing to be particularly interested in
any of them, Mr. Sawyer and I proceeded to make our reconnoissance.
Most of them had their stagings out and were delivering their cargoes
on shore--hogsheads of sugar and tobacco, barrels of pork, and bags
of Indian corn. Some appeared to have been already emptied, and to be
watching for a purchaser who would break them up for firewood.
There were a few lying a little way off from the levee, as if crowded
out of place, and waiting for a chance to come in.
One of these particularly drew my attention. I fancied I had seen it
before. It was only a vague conjecture, but I could not help thinking
that it was the same craft on board of which I had spent some very
unpleasant hours, and from which I had been so unceremoniously ejected.
No one appeared above decks. Else I might have more easily identified
it.
For some time my companion and I sauntered back and forward along
the levee, keeping an eye on this particular flat. I had already
communicated to him my suspicion that it was the one we were in search
of. We watched the hatch-door of the caboose; but, though standing
open, no one came out or went in; and no face could be seen.
It at length occurred to me that if we could get aboard, I might find a
trace to satisfy me. There was no plank communicating with the shore;
but there was one to the adjacent boat, which was engaged in getting
out its cargo, and by using this, we could step to the roof of the
craft suspected.
Sawyer led the way. A slight apology to the owner of the discharging
flat was sufficient to frank us; and we passed on over its roof, and
stepped across the chasm dividing the two.
I had just time to see that Stinger, with his scrubbing-brush, had not
altogether effaced that hideous stain, when a head popped up through
the hatch, and a rough voice demanded "what we were doing there?" The
demand was prefaced by an oath. I had seen enough to satisfy me, before
perceiving that the speaker was Mr. Black; and without staying to hear
the reply, which I left the lawyer to make, I averted my face, and
returned, apparently unconcerned, to the shore.
I could hear Mr. Sawyer making some excuse--that we were only exploring
out of idle curiosity; and then overtaking me, we sauntered from the
spot.
"From your behavior," said he, as soon as we had got to a safe
distance, "I took it that our polite friend is one of the pirates. Is
it so?"
"The man who gave me this," I replied, flirting up the corner of the
camlet cloak, and showing my slung limb.
"So far good! We've treed the jackals; now for the lion himself. But
first let us make sure of the birds in hand, before going after that in
the bush. You stay here till I return to you."
And without further speech the lawyer walked hurriedly away in the
direction of the houses. I did not quite comprehend the meaning of his
figurative language.
It was soon made known, on his returning to me accompanied by a man
of that peculiar cast of countenance not easily mistaken. In his keen
inquiring eye, I could recognize the detective.
"You see that flat," said Sawyer, at the same time casting his eyes in
a different direction--across the river to "Algiers." "I mean the one
next to that unloading the Cincinnati pork-barrels."
"Ay, ay!" responded the detective, just glancing at the object spoken
of, and then also appearing interested in something supposed to be on
the opposite shore.
"Very well," muttered the lawyer; "you will keep it under your eye,
take note of who comes ashore--who goes on board; and don't lose sight
of it, either by day or night, till it begins to get out its cargo,
which is cotton. As soon as you see the first bale rolled upon the bank
you come to my office as quick as your legs can carry you."
"All right," signified the man, rather by a nod of the head than any
expressed speech; while Sawyer by a sign summoned me to follow him.
"Now," said he, as we walked off together, "the first chapter is
complete, and we must proceed to the second. We've done, for the
time, with the flat. Let us go in for higher game, to be found upon a
steamboat."
Saying this, Mr. Sawyer directed his steps toward the steamboat
wharves. I made no inquiry as to his purpose. It was plain to me; and I
accompanied him without making remark.