_In Which “The Hellish Bandit” Makes an Offer and “Old Hickory” Makes an
Answer_
I
The Honorable Mercier swore softly.
“That General Jackson of yours is a fool ... a stubborn fool!” he cried,
beating the table with his fist for emphasis.
John Grymes did not answer for a moment, a deep frown on his forehead.
The two, the former district attorney and the Creole legislator, were
closeted in the library of the Grymes residence.
“I have just come from Mobile,” Mercier continued, “and I might as well
have not made the trip. Jackson is a second Claiborne ... one is as
unreasonable as the other!”
Grymes raised his hand tentatively.
“Pardon me, Mercier, but why did you go to him in the first place? I
confess I’m rather at sea.”
The other looked at his companion in surprise.
“You do not know,” he asked, “that I was sent by Lafitte?”
Grymes nodded his head in negation.
“That would be the last thing I would have suspected. Lafitte is a fool
to have repeated his offer—as I presume he did”—Mercier nodded in his
turn—“after the general’s last proclamation. He should have let well
enough alone, suh. He has more than proved his patriotism.”
“_Sans doute._ But what is this about Jackson’s last proclamation?”
“Haven’t you heard? He recently issued a savage manifesto denouncing the
British for their unusual methods of making war and among the sins he
mentioned none seemed to him quite so bad as that of their attempt to
employ against the Americans the band of pirates, or ‘hellish banditti,’
as he called them, led by Jean Lafitte. Indeed, his phrase has become
famous in these last few days. ‘Hellish banditti’!”
The state senator nodded gloomily.
“But why in the world do the authorities persist in rebuffing the
Baratarians? It has been proven that their offer was sincere.”
Grymes shrugged his shoulders.
“Precisely. Let’s see, it’s December now, just three months since Lafitte
gave his first warning. The British fleet is expected to enter the river
any day. And still they refuse to accept!”
“It’s that damned Claiborne who’s behind all this, in my opinion,” said
Mercier, hotly. “Remember how he resented yours, and Livingston’s,
activities at the time? _Le bon Dieu_ knows that we need every fighting
man that we can get ... and yet Jackson refuses! There are at least
twelve thousand Britishers at Pensacola; our army is a mere handful,
in comparison. I don’t mean to disparage our people, for their bravery
has been well proved time and again, but, I repeat, what chance have we
against the British?”
Grymes nodded assent.
“What will you do now?” he asked.
“Go back to Lafitte.”
“Where is he?”
“Still at the Bayou St. John.”
“Have you been there yet?”
“Yes. Lafitte sent for me several weeks ago.”
(A smuggler had “sent for” a state senator—and had been obeyed. Strange
times, these, when a “hellish bandit” wielded such influence over men of
prominence!)
“Most of his old associates and followers are also there,” continued
Mercier. “When Patterson treacherously captured Grande Terre, he made
a number of prisoners, but the majority escaped to the mainland, where
they are encamped with their leader on the St. John. Patterson and Ross
brought back a vast amount of loot in triumph to New Orleans, but Lafitte
tells me that his principal treasure chests were not found ... are still
hidden. The Governor did succeed in breaking up the smuggling activities
for a while, I admit, for nowadays business is at a standstill. But he
certainly failed to break up Lafitte’s band, for they are as strong as
ever, and still together, which is far more important.”
“Wait until Jackson comes to New Orleans. When he sees the real state of
affairs here ... the utter lack of any kind of defense ... he will be
only too glad to accept.”
“I doubt it!” with a grimace.
“Why? He won’t be able to refuse, once here. What defenses we have
now aren’t worth a picayune when compared with the armament that may
confidently be expected to be brought to bear on us. So far, our only
hope is in Jackson, for if New Orleans falls, the British will have
the whole state at their mercy. And if they once get a foothold in the
Mississippi Valley, they will sweep it clean ... make of it a greater
desert than they made of Spain in the Napoleonic wars! Given time and
proper action, the Western states alone could pour down a hundred
thousand men to repel invasion. And that is what will happen if the
British do get a foothold in the Valley. But by that time it will be too
late, for our own fields, our crops, will be turned to ashes, and our
homes as well. As for our lives and liberties, no more need be said.
The British are smarting already with the few defeats they’ve met ...
and surely haven’t forgotten ’Seventy-six. We can rely on them to make
existence interesting for us once they get the upper hand!”
Mercier nodded.
“_C’est vrai!_ The whole future of the Mississippi Valley ... perhaps of
the entire nation ... depends on the defense of New Orleans. And this
means that it depends on Jackson ... and _us_.
“One benefit that this crisis has brought about, _mon ami_, is the
final disappearance of class and race prejudice between my people and
yours. And I am glad! From now on we Creoles are Americans and naught
else! You know of the various attitudes that have been taken by one
class or another since the purchase of Louisiana from Bonaparte. Now
all is changed. We are a common people, fighting for a common cause!
Louisianians—Americans, you shall see that we can fight as well as any
other man in the defense of our country ... for it is our country!” The
Frenchman, rising to his feet, began to stride excitedly back and forth.
“Think—think, man! Of what we have lived, and are living to see! We
have seen the rise and fall of a great empire—and a far more wondrous
miracle still—the birth of a great nation—of two! For not only did the
world witness the birth of America, but also that of France. _Ma patrie
malheureuse!_ She has suffered even more than America. Your country’s
birth was astounding enough—epochal, true! But the spirit of America was
in a new race—a new form of human life on the globe. New blood; hardy,
independent, liberty-loving! New stock—new human material—new ideals!
“But _ma pauvre France_!—what of her? Hers was a different birth.
The pregnancy of France was one of the most terrible in history ...
feudal oppression—religious oppression—moral oppression! ... the same
monotonous oppression that had beaten down the spirit of our fathers and
forefathers. America, at least, has no history of countless years of
suffering behind her ... her people’s souls are not seared with the mark
of hereditary shame and insult. Her oppression, in proportion to ours,
was comparatively non-existent. But it was given to America to pave the
way for our freedom ... for the freedom of the world, perhaps. For that
we Frenchmen are grateful.
“The rebirth of France was one of blood and terror, misery and anarchy.
America, for all her sufferings, never experienced such an agony of body
and soul as did France! Nor ever will, please God! But Frenchmen and
Americans, above all other nationalities, should be as brothers ... and
will be, I hope, until the end of time. We Americans have not forgotten
young Lafayette, nor the sympathetic ideals he stood for ... nor have we
Frenchmen forgotten Benjamin Franklin—nor Paul Jones! They are a bond
between us—and may the future bring us many more such bonds!
“Did I say ‘we Americans’? I did. And meant it, Mr. Grymes!
“We Creoles are both American and French. American by birth, adoption,
environment ... French by ancestry, custom, religion, and culture. But
America is our adopted country, and so it is sure to remain. And we will
prove our Americanism, beyond doubt, in the next few days ... perhaps
sooner. If the tide goes against us, then at least we shall have had
the consciousness that we die side by side—brothers all—facing our
enemies. Ours—the Frenchman’s—for countless centuries past.... Yours—the
American’s—by reason of the very cause of your birth!”
For a moment after Mercier stopped, the Virginian was silent, his silence
a tribute in itself to the Creole’s eloquent outburst. He knew that the
other’s impassioned words were not mere cant—patriotic mouthings.
“You’re right!” he said, reflectively. “But to return to our original
topic, do you think it will be of any use to approach Jackson with a
final plea? So much is at stake!”
“I doubt it! The general told me that the only thing he’d have to do
with Lafitte ... I’ll quote his words ... would be ‘to hang the hellish
bandit’! From what I’ve seen of him I hardly think he is the type to
change his mind, except under the strongest provocation! It’s useless!”
“‘Hang the hellish bandit!’”
Grymes stared at the floor thoughtfully. What _would_ the future bring?