“Oh, father, I’ve had the most curious adventure!”
John R. Grymes, district attorney of New Orleans and parent of its
present reigning toast, looked up from his work and enthusiastically
returned Virginia’s caress.
“Really, Jinny?” he asked, carefully sanding a letter. “I hope you
enjoyed it.”
Virginia pouted adorably.
“Oh, not that kind, father. You’d never guess it in a coon’s age. It was
like this: I was just returning from Margaret’s, and stopped in to see
old Madame Leroux about that heavenly gown she’s making for me. You
should see it, father, with its lace—”
“Yes—yes—I’m sure it’s very pretty, honey, and no doubt I’ll soon get a
pretty bill for it. But you said something about an adventure?”
“Well, father, just as I was leaving and had entered the carriage, one
of those horrid old sailors passed by—he looked like a pirate—and he was
singing and shouting, and poor Molly and Billy got frightened and ran
away.”
Her father straightened abruptly.
“And where was Scipio?” he demanded.
“Scipio had not yet mounted the box, father, so—”
“I’ll whip that black scoundrel within an inch—”
“No, you won’t father. It wasn’t really his fault. Anyway, they ran away
and went through the whole city, I suppose, before we stopped. We had
come all the way from the Rue Des Ursulines down to one of those dirty
waterfront streets, and I was almost scared to death, when a man stepped
out of the crowd, right in front of Billy and Molly, and—shot Billy!”
Grymes looked worried.
“Was that necessary, do you think, Jinny?”
Her eyes clouded.
“He saved my life, father. The horses were heading straight for the
wharf, and an old sailor said that if Captain Lafitte hadn’t stopped them
we’d have all—” At this point she could not help sobbing. John Grymes
felt a lump rise in his throat at the thought of the danger in which his
only child had been.
“Who did you say the man was, honey? Captain—who?”
“Lafitte!”
“Good God! Not Jean Lafitte?”
Her adorable little mouth tightened.
“Yes, and I wish that it were anyone else in the world but he!”
“Why, child?” astonished at her vehemence.
“Because he’s a pirate—a low sailor—a smuggler.”
“Why, Jinny, who in the world told you all that?”
“Then he isn’t?”
The district attorney looked rather uncomfortable.
“Well, some people might call it that. Perhaps the Lafittes do engage in
questionable practices. But then there are few of our citizens who aren’t
connected with it in the same way. You have a wrong impression of Mr.
Lafitte, honey. He is one of the most popular men in New Orleans—moves in
the best circles, and is well liked by everybody. Really, Jinny—”
“But, father, he’s a—murderer.”
“Who told you _that_?” was the emphatic query.
“Margaret Claiborne. She says that he killed a man—shot him, just because
he wouldn’t do what he told him.”
She did not mention the negro slave girl. Young ladies of her day would
have died before mentioning such an affair to a man—even to a father....
“That’s all nonsense!”
“No, it’s not! Her father, His Excellency, says the same thing, so _she_
says. And, father, during the last eight years I’ve been going to Miss
Borden’s school in Philadelphia, with Margaret, I’ve never known her
to—exaggerate.”
“Of course not! But she herself may be mistaken. Don’t you know, Jinny,
that Governor Claiborne is the worst enemy the Lafittes have. It’s very
natural that he should tell Margaret so. Don’t you worry, honey, Jean
Lafitte is a perfect gentleman, no matter what his occupation, and so is
his brother.”
“Yes, his brother is very nice. I met him at the Lavalayé dinner last
evening, and he was very attentive to me. But I couldn’t very well be
rude to him, could I, father?”
He smiled.
“No, not very well. Nor to his brother, either. Especially after he has
done you the service of saving your life.”
She colored.
“Well, he acted nicely, and I appreciated it. But still, I can’t help
thinking that he is a pirate.”
“Well, forget it, honey. And take everything Margaret tells you about the
Lafittes with a grain of salt, because it’s her father’s ideas that she
expresses. Now run along, like a good little girl, and let father finish
his letter.”
Pouting prettily, she kissed him again, and left him to his own devices.