Chapter THE EIGHTH: How His Excellency the Governor, Issues a Proclamation

I

Ten years had passed since that ill-fated visit of the Lafittes to the Isle of Mauritius, but the dramatic scene enacted there had been indelibly stamped on the mind of the younger. As Pierre Dominique, wise philosopher that he was, had said, Jean’s passion for the hapless Lizette Fondac had been a mere infatuation—a passing fancy—which, like most emotions of its kind, would have dissolved into nothingness in the course of time.

If Lizette had not died as she had, and so changed the entire current of Jean’s life, Lafitte, perhaps, youthful and impressionable that he was, would have in time fallen out of love with her as quickly as he had tumbled into that amorous state. For such is the immutable law of youth. On the other hand, however, it is not improbable to assume that Jean, being his own inexplicable self, might also have stayed in love—married her—and this chapter in American history might never have materialized.

But Lizette was ordained by an inscrutable Fate to die, and, dying, to be the instrument that influenced his whole future, not to mention the lives of countless others.

He had enshrined this French fisher-maiden in his heart, in the firm belief that he would never love again. Years had passed since the birth of that resolution and he had not yet broken it ... which was an even stranger thing.

The Lizette incident, however, had served its purpose in the great scheme of things. Because of the memory of her, during his short but exciting career of piracy in the Caribbean, he had never harmed a woman prisoner, nor so much as allowed his men to do so; treating them as courteously as place and policy would permit. Men would grumble and men would jeer, but in the end they came to respect his whim, for they could not help but recognize his prowess.

Of course, in a certain sense, he was not much better than the average run of the scavengers of the high seas. It was not consistent with his nature that he should be a celibate. But although he had the vices of his calling, as well as of any other, for that matter, his taste was a fastidious one, and his few amorous adventures were well worth relating, if only for their romantic value. But these had been born of passion, not love; or at least not the love that he imagined he had possessed for Lizette.

Those ten years were a curious chapter in his life ... a period of moods ... of inhibitions ... the metamorphosis of the youthful mind.

Unconsciously, however, the image of Lizette faded—faded and became a dream of the dead past. At first he had his moments of brooding in the still watches of the night, leaning on the taffrail, perhaps, staring moodily on the moonlit waters of the phosphorescent sea, which, rolling, ever rolling, washed against the sides of his ship, aflame with ruffled incandescence.

But after his reunion with his brother, all this changed.

Once established in New Orleans, with abundant means and plentiful leisure, he found himself plunged into a whirl of gayety—Creole balls and Creole society. Gallant figures and gentlemen of leisure, the Lafittes were invited everywhere, and many were the sparkling eyes that turned in admiration on the two. Pierre Dominique immediately accepted the many challenges and soon became the most flirtatious of all the Creole beaus, but Jean did not yield so easily.

In an incredibly short time Jean Lafitte became a _poseur_, wearing an unconsciously assumed mask, behind which he withdrew himself as a protection against sentiment and behind which he dreamed great dreams and planned great plans.

And now, at last, his schemes were bearing fruit, his ambition well on the road to fulfillment.

Before that memorable year of 1811 was over, Barataria Bay, the headquarters of the pirates of the Gulf, had established such a reputation for itself in Southern trade that even the national government was forced to officially recognize its importance as a factor to be coped with in handling the commercial situation of that day. The name of Jean Lafitte stood out in red letters upon the economic and political ledgers of not a few traders in Southern cotton states and the Mississippi Valley region.

Lafitte had indeed attained his ambition. After only three years in the United States, he, together with the efficient aid of Pierre Dominique, had brought the smuggling profession to such a point that legitimate commerce in the great seaport of New Orleans had almost vanished and the United States customs in Louisiana, never very popular with the Creoles, was practically a farce.

Since his arrival at Grande Terre, when he had taken charge of the pirate colony, the settlement had become as if reborn.

Many large wharfs, warehouses, slave stockades, and houses had been erected, and were overflowing. The bay swarmed with every type of vessel, from almost every nation on the globe. The wharves teemed with sweating slaves and stevedores who busily unloaded the contraband cargoes, both human and otherwise, the former transferred to the log stockades, where they were kept until sold at the auction block and thence transported to the plantations of the interior, often by way of New Orleans, through which they went duty free.

Of the booty other than “black ivory,” the Baratarians had their share. This, when brought to Grande Terre, was placed in long, low, closely-guarded warehouses, to be disposed of at the whim or will of the “bosse.” And of this there was not a little. Jewels, silks, gold, arms, ammunition, rare wines, fine clothes—valuables of all kinds, including a heterogeneous collection of luxuries and necessities, were all there and it is little wonder that the pirates lived a life of riotous luxury and wild carousal.

What was not used by the buccaneers was disposed of by many devious ways. Part was smuggled to New Orleans and there turned over to dishonest shopkeepers, who sold it at a large profit. As the large variety of articles daily pouring into their possession demanded to be sold by the same number of dealers, the Lafittes reaped a double profit by charging dealers for the privilege of handling their goods. This fee the dealers paid willingly enough, for they could buy goods from the Baratarians at one-third the price they would have had to pay legitimate wholesale houses.

But the unheard-of prosperity of the smugglers, or “privateers,” began to have another effect on the situation. The shipping of New Orleans and neighboring trade centers had become seriously impaired, for sea captains and planters soon got in the habit of going to Grande Terre to buy their slaves and supplies at bargain prices that could not be obtained in New Orleans.

It was not long before Grande Terre changed from a mere pirates’ rendezvous to a feverish trade center. Traders came from all parts of the South to do business at Barataria. At this period, according to an official statement, four hundred slaves were sold at the auction block there, daily.

New Orleans felt this competition, but nothing could be done to remedy it. The business of the banks decreased because of lack of deposits, owing to the absence of trade in the legitimate trade centers.

But at Barataria all was liveliness. So defiant of the law did the Baratarians become that the streets of New Orleans were placarded with handbills announcing the daily auction sales at Grand Terre, and the daring “privateers” even had the effrontery to post them alongside the Governor’s proclamations, which offered rewards for their arrest and conviction.

Jean and his followers still visited New Orleans.

Surrounded by groups of admirers, the Baratarians swaggered through the busy waterfront and business streets and fairly overran the Place d’Armes. Every dive and grog-shop on Canal Street welcomed them with open arms, willingly took their money, and resounded to the loud recital of their exploits.

The Lafittes had the _entrée_ to the most conservative of Creole homes, attended balls, fêtes, dinners, and other social events galore. They were social lions.

And now, in New Orleans, at the close of these ten years of transition from mental adolescence to spiritual manhood, Jean was beginning to realize that he had never loved Lizette Fondac, that, after all, his brother had been right.

But it had not been his brother who had brought home to him this realization. It had taken a beautiful girl to bring him to his senses ... a girl whom he hardly knew and had met but once. A vision in silk and crinoline who thought it was “wonderful” to flirt with death....

A new star had appeared on his horizon.

II

“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.

III

It was a week later.

Virginia Grymes had just returned home from a dance to find her father, as usual, in the library. On the table in front of his armchair were many empty wine glasses and a few broken card counters. He was playing a game of solitaire, but it was very evident that he had been playing at cards with a gathering of friends.

Virginia looked at the card-littered, wet table disapprovingly.

“You’ve been gambling again, father,” she said, accusingly, “and after you promised me!”

The district attorney flushed.

“There, there, Jinny! Just a little game between friends. But I have some news for you. Lafitte has been here.”

“To see me?” eagerly.

“No, honey, on business. But there is more news, if you care to hear it.”

“What is it, father?” She sat on the arm of his chair, playfully rumpling his hair.

“It’s more of a joke, I think. Your friend, the Governor, sent a revenue cutter yesterday—that is, he got Washington to send one—to Barataria Bay, with the purpose of destroying the colony of Grande Terre. But it turned out to be a farce. The pompous fool ought to have known that the smugglers have spies everywhere. Why, they knew the government vessel was coming before it had left the harbor.”

Virginia was immediately all interest.

“So what happened?”

“Well, when Captain Lloyd and his crew arrived at Grande Terre, the smugglers, or pirates—whichever you prefer—simply laughed at them. Not only that, but they politely asked them to come ashore and offered them cognac and champagne. Think of it—cognac and champagne, when they came with the intention of capturing the whole place! Anyway, they were forced to return, empty-handed, having been warned by the Baratarians not to return.” He paused to chuckle. “I think it’s the best joke I’ve heard in a long time. All New Orleans is talking about it, and laughing at Claiborne up their sleeves. He should have known that it would take more than one ship and one crew of customs officers to attack hundreds of desperate, well-armed men who take pleasure in defying the law. But not only that, it is said that even the government agents are in partnership with the smugglers. It is really hard to tell who isn’t, nowadays.”

Virginia looked thoughtful.

“Still, father, I hardly think the Governor was unprepared for this. He must be shrewd enough to think of some other plan, if that failed; or he wouldn’t be the Governor of Louisiana.”

Grymes only laughed in answer.

Virginia’s suspicions were proved well founded the next day, however, for the citizens of New Orleans found a new proclamation posted about the city.

This was to the effect that His Excellency denounced the Baratarians as pirates and cautioned the residents of the state to have intercourse with them in no way whatsoever. He moreover threatened dire penalties for those who would disobey this decree, together with any Baratarian who might fall into his hands.

However, to the secret joy of the majority of the inhabitants, notably the Creoles, with whom the United States government was at the time extremely unpopular, the Baratarians heeded the gubernatorial threats no more than if they had never been published. Frightened? Not they, _mes amis_!

On the contrary, the Lafittes, exquisitely dressed, chatted with the prominent merchants and bankers on street corners and in the cafés; they patronized charities and public entertainments more than ever, were still prominent figures at the social functions of New Orleans society—and continued to post their notices of slave auctions, right beside the Governor’s proclamation!

By this time the worthy Claiborne became desperate. It was not long before a second manifesto appeared, offering five hundred dollars reward for the arrest of either of the Lafittes.

It was then that matters came to a head.