That very evening the Governor called a military council, and by nine
o’clock every important military official in New Orleans was present,
seated around the long conference table in the Mansion library. It is
noteworthy that the assembly was in every respect military in character.
Neither legislator nor landowner, banker nor merchant, was there.
Claiborne came to the point immediately. In a few well-worded sentences
he apprised his auditors of the letter and information sent him by
Lafitte, but made no mention of Mercier’s visit, which, indeed, had
forced him to take some action.
“What does he definitely warn us of, Your Excellency?” asked Commodore
Patterson, thoughtfully.
“Lafitte claims that an attack in force is to be made on both New Orleans
and Mobile. He offers us the services of himself and his men in their
defense.”
“How much, exactly, does that mean?” interrupted Colonel Forbes.
“He claims to have a well-armed and trained force of over a thousand
men,” answered the Governor, after referring to some papers. There was a
general exclamation of surprise.
“The army could use them,” said Forbes, reflectively. “They’re hardened
fighters, all of them ... and dare-devils if there ever were any.”
Commodore Patterson interrupted:
“To my thinking, since they’re seamen first, they—”
“Since they are Louisianians, and Creoles at that,” put in Major Borland,
bridling, “it is most fitting that they join the militia.”
“Not so fast, gentlemen,” interrupted the Governor. “We haven’t accepted
his offer, as yet.” There followed a moment’s silence.
“What does Lafitte want in return for this information, assuming that it
is true?” demanded Patterson.
“He asks that all proceedings against Grande Terre be abandoned, that
amnesty be given himself and his followers; and that an act of oblivion
be passed, by which their past deeds should be forgiven and forgotten.”
“Fair enough,” said Colonel Forbes, brightening; “it’s—” Claiborne looked
at him coldly. He subsided.
“Personally,” announced His Excellency, “I believe that it is all merely
a trick—a ruse whereby he can secure a pardon.”
“Jove! but I believe Your Excellency is right!” exclaimed Patterson.
“And so say I!” put in a Colonel Ross, who had hitherto listened in
silence. “To quote General Jackson, these Baratarians are hellish
banditti—and should be destroyed, root and branch!”
“Then you doubt Lafitte’s sincerity?” said Claiborne.
“Dammit, yes!” put in Patterson, testily. “In my opinion those inclosed
letters you have, sir, are forgeries!”
“Decidedly so!” said Colonel Forbes, sagely.
“What man in Lafitte’s position,” demanded Major Borland, triumphantly,
“would refuse a captaincy in the royal navy? It’s preposterous, and
Lafitte’s a fool to try and make us think so! And His Excellency says
the offer included thirty thousand dollars, in gold. That’s easily to
be detected as a falsehood, aside from its absurdity. Why should the
British—tried veterans—want the aid of these smugglers? No doubt they
despise them for backwoodsmen. No, suh! _That’s_ not like the British,
and you know it, every one of you!”
The company nodded affirmation. They all had had a close acquaintance
with the British character, often to their cost.
“Gentlemen,” said Commodore Patterson, gravely, “we know very well that
the British would deem it beneath their dignity to deal with pirates—that
they despise them. Shall it be said that we, too, condescended to treat
with common smugglers—lawbreakers?”
His Excellency nodded approval, but said nothing.
“The only negotiations I want to carry on with Lafitte,” said Colonel
Ross, hammering the table-top with his clenched fist, “are bullets!”
There was a general chorus of affirmation to this pugnacious sentiment.
“Therefore,” said the Governor, “we must hurry forward preparations to
attack Grande Terre in force. If it were not for these French fools in
the Legislature, I could have cleaned out that smugglers’ nest long ago.
But they refused me money. Most of them are secretly connected with the
Lafittes, or I miss my guess!”
The others assented warmly.
“Of course there is no possibility of the British really attacking New
Orleans ...” ventured Forbes, half-heartedly. He was speedily convinced
of the impossibility of such a contingency by a well-controlled shout of
laughter, led by the Governor, himself.
“We shall meet with some opposition,” said Claiborne, after a while, “so
we must make haste, and work as secretly as possible. Commodore Patterson
will command the expedition, of course. It will be best, I think, to make
a surprise attack—”
“There’ll be loot and to spare, take my word for it!” broke in Ross.
The whole company involuntarily stiffened, as if reminded of something
that had lain dormant in their brains, but which had not been allowed to
awaken.
Claiborne laughed unpleasantly.
“Yes, gentlemen, there will no doubt be loot in plenty ... but as for me,
I want Jean Lafitte, dead or alive! Remember that, Commodore!”
“Most decidedly so!” put in Colonel Forbes, sagely.