Chapter XXV: 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.