The West Indies.
the slave akd his captive—his revenge—pursuit of the strange sail.
After the count left the frigate on his expedition against tlie rendezvous of the pirates, the fair girl, whose star of happiness seenned now in the ascendant, and about to shine propitiously upon her future life, re-assumed her recHning attitude by the cabin window, which overlooked the sea in the direction of her native land. For a few moments, her thoughts were engaged upon her approaching bridal; but gradually, they assumed the garb of memory, and winging, like a wearied bird, over the evening sea, reposed in the home of her childhood. As she still gazed vacantly upon the fading horizon, she was conscious that a dark object broke its even line. It grew larger, and approached the frigate rapidly before she was called from her half-conscious abstraction by a change in its appearance; when, fiiing her look more keenly in the direction, she saw it was a schooner just rounding to about a mile beyond the frigate. Apparently, it had not as yet, been observed from the deck, as all eyes were
LAFITTE,
turned to the shore, following the boats which had just gained the foot of the cliff.
At the sight of the vessel, so nearly resembling the one whose prisoner she had been, her capture and its trying scenes canne vividly before her mind, and she turned her face from an object, connected with such disagreeable associations. The approaching ceremony again agitated her bosom; and as her eye rested upon a mirror in the opposite pannel, she parted with care her dark hair from her forehead, arranged in more graceful folds her mantilla, and all the woman beamed in her fine eyes as they met the reflection of her lovely countenance and symmetrically moulded figure.
''How long he stays !—he must have been gone full an hour," she said, unconsciously aloud. "The virgin protect him from harm ?"
" T^e count will soon return, ma'moiselle," said a small mulatto boy, who acted as steward of the state rooms, now that they were occupied by their fair inmate. She turned as he spoke,
" Is there danger, boy ?"
"None, please you ma'moiselle—the men on deck, say the rovers have left their rock, and that there will be no fighting."
" Sacra diable !" he suddenly shrieked, pointing to the state-room window, at which appeared the head of the slave. Constanza also turned, but only to be grasped in his frightful arms. At first surprised, and too much paralized with fear to scream, Cudjoe prevented her from giving the alarm by winding her mantilla about lier mouth, and hastily conveyed her through the window or port hole, from Avhich the gun, usually stationed there, had been removed. Rapidly letting himself, with his burden, down by the projections of the rudder, he dropped with her into the sea, and laising her head above water with one muscular arm, a few vigorous
Strokes with the other bore him within the black shadow of the rocks behind a projecting point of which, he disappeared.
Re-entering tiie hiU after the abrupt departure of the slave, Oula released the Spaniard from his place of concealment, and informed him of her plan to place the lady in his power.
" You are a very devil for happy thoughts," he said, with animation ; but if the revengeful slave gets her, I may thank you, and not Fetish, for the prize. Have her this night I must, for I expect my schooner."
" Ha! there is the Julie now, by the holy twelve!" he exclaimed, as his quick eye rested upon the object which had attracted the attention of Con-stanza. "Getzendanner will be putting a boat in for me, and yet he must see the frigate unless she lays too dark in the cliff's shadow. St. Peter, send fortune with the slave ! Will he bring her to the hut if he^succeeds, think you, Oula?" he suddenly and sharply inquired, as a suspicion of change in the negro's purpose flashed across his mind.
"Bring de lady?" she exclaimed in surprize, " he know he finger rot oif—he eye fall out—and he hair turn to de live snake wid de fang, if he no bring her—He no dare keep her way."
Solaced by this assurance, he paced the little green plat before the cabin, often casting his eyes in the direction of the frigate. Nearly half an hour elapsed after the departure of Cudjoe, when the robes of the maiden borne in the arms of the slave caught his eye.
" Back, back, you spoil de whole," exclaimed Oula, as the impatient Spaniard darted forward to seize his prize.
Instead of the maiden's lovely form, he met the herculean shoulders of the slave, whose long knife 16*
passed directly tbroiigb his heart. Without a word or a groan, Martinez iell dead at his feet.
Resicrning the maiden to the faithful Juana, who followed immediately behind, Cudjoe sprung forward with a cry of vindictive rage, and before Quia could comprehend bis motives, the reeking blade passed tlirongli her withered bosom.
" Take dis bag ob hell!" he shouted, as he drew forth the knife from her breast. " You make no more fool ob Cudjoe, for de curs' Spaniard."
" Grande diable ! what debble dis ?" he suddenly yelled and groaned, as the son of the slain Obeah leaped upon his neck, when he saw his mother fall, and grappled his throat tightly with his fingers, while he fixed his leeth deep into his flesh. The struggle between them was but for a moment. Finding it impossible to disengage his fingers, the slave bent his arm backward, and passed his long knife up through his body. The thrust was a skilful one, and fatal to the boy, who released his grasp, and fell back in the death struggle to the gi'ound.
In the meanwhile, Juana had borne Constanza to the fire, in the hut, and was using every means to restore circulation to the chilled limbs of the unconscious girl.
The interview between the Spaniard and Oula, had been overheard by Juana, from the rock above the hut. After the escape of her mistress and the count, and the departure of Lafitte and his men, in pursuit—with the exception of Cudjoe, who, in the hurry and confusion of geiting undervveigh, was left behind, and with whom she was accustomed occasionally to indulge in social African gossip on ship-board—she had been left quite alone. This, solitude and anxiety on account of her mistress, led her, at the approach of evening,, lo pay a visit to the
old sybil, for the purpose of consulting her respecting her safet}'.
After the hasty departure of the slave, to obey the commandsot Oula, she descended the rock over-hnnging the hut, and rapidly following him, she awaited his return, and then communicated to him the information relative to the JSpaniard and the lady. Indignant at this treachery towards one whom he regarded as liis master's lady, and enraged that tlie old woman should ihus use him as the tool for the Spaniard, he drew [lis knife, bounded forward, and met Martinez with the fatal result we have just mentioned.
When the slave entered the hut, after his bloody revenge was completed, Juana informed him of the expedition against the cave which she had seen moving from its destination towards the rock above the hut.
Constanza soon recovering, Juana led her forth into the air, and told her that she would go round with her to the cave, where the boats of her lover then were, at the same time warning Cudjoe to endeavour to get on board the schooner, and escape from the French seamen. The slave looked seaward, where she could just be discovered lying to, and m a few seconds afterward, he saw a boat pulling close to the shore. Supposing, from the language of the Spaniard, that it was sent for him, and thai the schooner was the Julie, he bid Juana conduct Constanza to the barges of the frigate, and hastily leaving them, he approached the boat, which now touched the beach.
" Boat ahoy !" he hailed, as he came near.
" Ha, Cudjoe ! that's your sweet voice, in a thousand !" replied one, in answer to his hail—"how came you here ?"
" The captain, sail and leab me sleep in de cabe," he replied ; " I must go lo Barrita in de Julie,"
" You are right welcome, my beaut}'; but where's Martinez ?"
" He was jus' killed by de Frenchman, in shore. I jus' 'scape vvid my neck."
" Frenchman ? how V exclaimed the man, in surprise. " What do you mean ?"
" No see dal frigate, dar ? I tought you bol' nufF to com' in right under her guns. See her ! dere she lay. You can hardly tell her masts from de trees."
The man looked for a mom.ent steadily, and then exclaimed—" By the holy St. Peter, you say truly. Spring into the boat, Cudjoe. Shove off, men— shove off, and give way like devils to your oars.— We must be out of this, or we shall have hard quarters between Monsieur's decks."
In a few moments, they stood on the deck of the schooner, which immediately filled and stood seaward.—Her subsequent career is already known to the reader.
Before Juana gained the cave, with her charge, to effect which she had first to ascend the cliff, and then descend by a perilous foot-way, to the platform before it, the object of the count had been effected. The gun had been pitched over into the basin, and the arms and stores either destroyed or carried off. When he gained the deck of his frigate, he was met by the first lieutenant, who reported a sail in the offing. " She has been lying to some time, sir," he added.
" Ha, I see her ! she is now standing out," said the count, as he took his glass from his eye,
" Shall we get under way, sir V inquired ihe lieutenant.
" Not yet, Monsieur," replied he smiling. " We have a festival below, which will require the presence of my officers ; and the men must make merry to-night;" and winged with love, he hastened to meet
Constanza. Entering the state-room, he encountered ihe prostrate form of the mulatto boy, who was lying insensible by the door.
Glancing his eyes hastily around the apartment, whilst his heart palpitated with a sudden foreboding of evil, the loved form he sought, no where me this eager gaze. Alarmed, he called her name, and searched every recess of that and the adjoining state rooms.
" My God } where can she be ?" he exclaimed, now highly excited ; " Can she have fallen into the water from this port ? yet, it cannot be—Constanza! my betrothed, my beloved ! speak to me, if you are near !" he cried, hoping, yet with trembling, that she might still be concealed—playfully hiding from him to try, as maidens will do, her lover's tenderness. " Yet if here, what means this ?" he added raising the boy; " There is life here—he has fainted—speak Anloine, open your eyes and look at me !"
The boy still remained insensible; but the count by applying restoratives hastily taken from the toilet of the maiden, soon restored his suspended faculties. To his eager questions the boy told in reply of the hideous visage that appeared at the port-hole, enlarging upon h:s black face and white tusks.
Was it a man or a wild beast?" he interrogated.
"Oh ! Monsieur, one man-devil—with such long arms, and long white tusks like a boar!" he replied, clinging to the person of the officer, and looking fearfully around, as if expecting the appalling apparition to start momentarily upon his sight.
The brow of the lover changed to the hue of death; the blood left his lips, and faintly articulating " Lafitte's slave !" he reeled, and would have fallen to the floor, had not the boy cauglit him. Recovering himself by a vigorous intellectual and physical effort, he stood for an instant in thought, as if resolving upon some mode of action.
All at once he spoke, in a voice hollow and deep vviih emotion, and awful with gatherin^^as-sion.
" Lafitte—thou seared and branded outlaw—cursed of God and loathed of men—fit compeer of hell's dark spirits—blaster of human happiness—destroyer of innocence ! Guilty thyself, thou wouldst make all like thee ! Scorner of purity, thou wouldst unmake, and make it guilt. Like Satan, thou sowest tares of sorrow among the seeds ot peace —thou seekest good to make it evil !—Renegade of mankind !—Thou art a blot among thy race, the living presence of that moral pestilence which men and Holy Writ term sin! Oh, that my words were daggers, and each one pierced thy heart! then would I talk on, till the last trumpet called tiiee from thy restless shroud to face me. But, Lafitte ! Lafitte !" he added, in a voice that rung like a battle cry, " I will first face thee on earth ! As true as there is one living God, 1 will be revenged on thee for this foul and grievous wrong !
" Ha ! why do I stand here, idly wasting words ? he is not far off. I may pursue and take him within the hour—and" he added, bounding to the deck, "perhaps Constanza, ere it be—too late."
His voice, as he issued his orders to get at once under weigh, rung with an energy and sternness the startled officers and seamen never knew before. Having rapidly communicated the disappearance of Constanza, he learned from the officer of the watch that some of the men who had joined the shore expedition, on returning, said they had seen a sail in the offing. " But after having swept the whole horizon with my glass," he contin\J^d, "and discerning nothing, I conpluded they must have been deceived, and therefore, did not report it. Now, I think they were right."
" That vessel was Lafittc's and Constanza is on
board of her," exclaimed the count. " We must pursue, and if there is strength in wind or speed in ships, overtake and capture her this night. Call the men who saw her."
The seamen being interrogated, indicated by the compass the direction the sail bore from the frigate, when they discovered it. Towards this point, leaving her anchor behind, the ship, in less tlian three minutes after the count had ascended to the deck, began to move with great velocity, her tall masts bending gracefully to one side, as if they would kiss the leaping waves, the water surging before her swelling bows, and gurgling with hoarse but lively music around her rudder.
All that night, a night of intense agony to the count, a bright watch was kept on every quarter; yet the morning broke without discovering the object of their pursuit. The horizon was unbroken even by a cloud; a calm had fallen upon the sea, and not a wave curled to the zephyrs, which from time to time danced over its polished surface, scarcely dimpling it.
For several days, within sight of the distant island, the frigate lay becalmed, during which period, the lover, unable to contend with the fever of his burning thoughts, became delirious. The winds rose and again died away ! Storms ploughed the face of the deep, and calms reigned upon the sea ! Yet he was unconscious of any change; day and night he raved, and called on the name of his betrothed. During this period the frigate cruised along the coast, the officer in command not wishing to take any step ifntil he knew the mind of the count.
On the twelfth day after the disappearance of Constanza, he was so far recovered as to ascend to the deck. His brow was pale, and his eye piercing with an unwonted expression.
*' Twelve days Montville—so long ? There is no hope—but there is revenge !" and his eyes flashed as his voice swelled with emotion and passion. " Put about for Barritaria !" he added quickly, rising and walking the deck with much agitation. " My only passion, my only purpose now shall be to meet that man—the bane of my happiness ! Destiny has bid him cross my path, and destiny shall bid him die by my hand."
On the third morning, they arrived at the island of Barritaria—prepared to destroy that strong hold of the pirates, when, instead of a formidable fleet— a strong fortress and extensive camp—they found desolation. The day before, the buccaneers had been dispersed, their vessels captured, and their fort dismantled. Here and there wandered a straggler, ragged and w^ounded—no boats were visible, and the smoke of two or three vessels, and the ruined camp of the pirates, told how recently and completely the revenge of the count had been anticipated.
From a wounded pirate, whom they took prisoner, he learned that Lafitte had been recently at Barritaria, and had gone to New Orleans to join the American forces in the defence of that city.
Piloted by one of his men who-was acquainted with the inlets and bayous, communicating with the Mississippi, he gave orders to his first lieutenant to await his return, and proceeded at once up to the city. On his approach the next morning, the thunder of artillery filled his ears, and burning with revenge, he urged his oarsmen to their strength.
Entering the Mississippi about two leagues below the city, on the morning of the eighth of January, by a diflbrent route from that taken on a former occasion by Lafitte, he crossed to the opposite shore, from which came the roar of cannon, the crash of musketry, and shouts of combatants, while a dense
cloud of smoke enveloped the plain to the extent of half a mile along llie river.
"There, face to face, steel to steel, will I meet him I seek, or—death," he exclaimed.
Learning from a fisherman the disposition of the two armies, and the point defended by the outlaw, he crossed the river, and alter pulling up agauist the current for a third of a mile, he landed airudst a shower of balls and joined in the battle.
After he had, as he thought, achieved his revenge, in the fall of Lafitte, whose personal combat with him has already been detailed, the count, himself severely wounded, returned to his boat. In a few minutes he grew faint from loss of blood, and was landed by his crew at a negro's hut on the banks of the river. Here he remained several days, confined to a wretched couch, until his wound enabled him to proceed.
As he was about to order his boatmen to prepare for their departure, he heard the name of Lafitte mentioned by the liospitable slave who was his host, in conversation with some one outside of the hut.
" What of him?" he exclaimed.
" Dere him schooner, massa—gwine down de libber!"
" What, that light-rigged vessel ?" he said, pointing to a small, but beautiful armed schooner. "No —no—he is slain."
" He was wounded in the battle of the eighth, with two of his lieutenants, Sebastiano and a Dutchman, Getzendanner, 1 believe they call him," said a fislierman, coming forward; "but Lafitte is now well, and has purchased that vessel, formerly his own, and is going—they say, now he lias received his pardon—to spend his days in the West Indies, or in France."
" Ha—say you, Monsieur!—Was it not him then I
Vol. II.—17
met on the field ? Yet it must have been—know you certainly that he sails away in that schooner ?" he inquired, eagerly of the man, turning to look as he spoke, at the vessel vv^hich, with swift and graceful motion, with all sail set, moved down the river, rapidly disappearing in the distance.
*' I saw him standing upon the deck as she passed," replied the fisherman, decidedly.
" Then shall he not escape me," cried the count; and calling to his crew, he hastened to his boat, and in a few minutes was on the way to his frigate, resolved, if possible, to intercept the schooner at the Balize.
The following day he reached his ship, and immediately, with his heart steeled to ihe consumma tion of his revenge, got under-weigh for the mouth of the Mississippi.
CHAPTER III.
" The consequences of crime are not confined to the guilty individual. Besides the public wrong, they are felt in a greater or less degree by his friends. Parents suffer more from the crimes of men than others. It ought to be the severest mental punishment, for a guilty man, if not wholly depraved, to witness a wife's or a parent's wretchedness, produced by his owti acts."
Letters on Political Economy.
. A RAMBLE—SURPRISE—AT SEA—CONVERSATION—LAFON.
We will leave the count in pursuit of Lafitte, now no longer " the outlaw^ He had recovered his favourite vessel, " The Gertrude," which had been captured with the rest of the fleet; and with a select crew, drawn frona his fornner adherents, set sail a few days after we left him in the convent, for his rendezvous in the Gulf of Gonsaves, for the purpose of carrying into effect the resolutions he there made. To Constanza—whom we left at this rendezvous, with the faithful Juana on her way to the boats of her lover's frigate—we will now turn the attention of our readers.
When the desolate and unhappy girl found the frigate's boats had left the rock, her heart sunk within her, and when the ship, shortly after, stood seaward, under full sail, she at once surrendered herself to hopeless wretchedness. Three weeks she remained in the grotto, with a kind slave, her only
companion, from whom she received every attention that circumstances permitted.
Her mind was daily tortured with fears of the approach of some of the pirate's squadron, or of Lafitte himself, whom, if again thrown into his power, she feared above all. As yet she was ignorant of the scenes he had passed through— the great change in his destiny—the honourable career he had commenced, and his pardon by the adnjinistrator of the laws he had so long violated. If she had known all this, and known that love for her, united with a noble patriotism, influenced him to take these steps, how different would have been her feelings ?—With what other emotions than of fear, would she have anticipated his approach ?
Tlie moon had shone tremblingly in the west, like the fragment of a broken ring, had displayed a broad and shining shield, and had nearly faded again into the pale eastern skies, and yet Constanza remained an inmate of the grotto.
Late in the afternoon, three days after w-e took leave of the count, on his way to intercept the Gertrude at the Balize, Constanza ascended the cliff, above the terrace, to survey, as she had done each long day of her imprisonment, the extensive horizon spread out before her to the south and west, hoping to discover the white sails of the frigate, which contained all that bound her to existence.
As night gathered over the sea, she descended the cliif, and walked towards the point where stood the hut of the deceased Obeah. The waves kissed her feet as she walked along the sandy shore. The stars, heralded by the evening planet, one by one began to appear, sprinkling a faint light upon her brow ; the night wind played wantonly
with her hair ; but unmindful of every surrounding object, she walked thoughtfully forward, unheeding her footsteps, which carried her unconsciously to the extreme point oi the rocky cape. Here seating herself upon a rock, she leaned her head upon her hand, and, gazinrr upon the sea, while thoughts of her lover and her desolate and unprotected situation, filled her mind, insensibly fell asleep.
About midnight, a hand laid upon her forehead, awoke her. Instinctively comprehending her situation, she recollected where she was. A tall figure stood by her side. With a scream of terror she sprung to her feet, and would have fled ; but he detamed her by her robes.
" Stay, Constanza, senora ! stay—tell me why you are here ?"
" Is it Lafitte—the outlaw ?" she exclaimed, breathless with alarm.
" [t is lady; but no more Lafitte the outlaw."
" Oh seiior, have pity, and do not use the power you have," she cried with nervous emotion. *' I am wretched, miserable indeed."
" Lady," he replied, moved by her pathetic ap* peal, " Lady, there shall no danger come nigh you while I can protect you. How you came once more in my power, or here, is to me a mystery. I thought you happy as the bride of "
" No—oh ! no. He raturned here after we gained his frigate, and your slave stole on board into the port, and siezing me, prevented me from giving the alarm, and brought me on shore to the hut of an old negress. The,frigate, on my being missed, stood out to sea, probably after a schooner, which they thought was yours, and on board of which they no doubt thought I was, or they would i ave searched the shore and cavern. Three weeks have
17*
I been here with none but Juana. Even your presence seiior, is a relief to me."
The chief listened with surprise to this rapid account of her capture.
" Ha !" he exclaimed, the conduct of the count on the field of battle, flashing upon his mind. *' I see it all. ' Revenge,* was his war-cry—revenge for his betrothed. He must have suspected my agency in this, and pursued me to avenge his wrongs. Thank God ! I am herein guiltless. But my slave ! know you whose tool he was, or what his purpose, seiiora ?" he inquired quickly.
" 1 do, seiior," she replied," and then related to him the deception practised upon Cudjoe, of which Juana had informed her, and his instant revenge.
'•I knew that Martinez to be. a second Heberlo Velanquez in villainy ;" he said. " Lady, I congratulate you—Heaven surely watches over you for good ! My slave's vengeance was like himself. Strange, when he arrived in the Julie at Barritaria, a day or two after, he told me not of all this. But perhaps he feared for his head."
At this moment a voice startled the maiden, and timid as the hunted fawn from the excitement she had gone through, she raised a foot to fly.
" Slay lady, it is but my boatmen on the other side of this rock. Passing up the channel to the grotto in the schooner," continued Lafitte, " J saw your white robes even in this faint star-light, as you were sleeping on the rocks. I immediately let down my boat, and ordering the schooner to keep on into the basin, ] landed to ascertain who it v/as, not dieaming—although my heart should have told me"—he added tenderly, "that it was you.
" Now senora," he said, addressing her earnestly, ** will you so far place confidence in me as voluntarily to put yourself under my protection ? I need
not assure you it shall be a most honourable one. Let ine lake you, and this very hour I will sail to your friends—nay, to the Count D'Oyley himself. If you desire it, I will seek him in every'port in the Mexican seas. Confide in me lady, and allow me to show you the slrength of my love for you, while T manifest its disinterestedness."
In less than half an hour, Constanza and Juana, whom she had left in the cave during her absence, were once more occupants of the gorgeously furnished state-room on board the Gertrude. Before morning, Lafitte having also completed the business for which he visited his rendezvous, was many leagues from t}ie grotto, his swift w^inged vessel almost flying over the waves before a brisk wind, in the direction of Havana, where he expected to hear of, or fall in with, the French frigate Le Sultan.
From the moment his lovely passenger had entered the cabin he had not seen or spoken with her. Again her young protector Theodore became her page, and Juana her faithful attendant.
From Theodore she learned; \vilh surprise and pleasure the scenes through which his benefactor had passed since she last met him. With prayerful gratitude she listened to the strange history of the last few weeks he had passed at Barritaria and in the besieged city, of his exploits upon the battlefield, his pardon by the executive, and his resolution to devote his life for the good of his fellow men, by retiring to the monastery of heroic and benevolent monks, on the summit of Mont St. Bernard.
" May the virgin and her son bless and prosper him in his purposes!" she said, raising her eyes with devotional gratitude to heaven, while all the woman beamed in them, as she reflected how far she had contributed to this change. And she sighed,
that she could not requite love so noble and pure as his.
With perfect confidence in the sincerity of her captor, she now became more composed, and a ray of joy illumined her heart, when she looked forward to the meeting with her betroihed lover.
" And where will you go my Theodore—when your friend becomes a recluse ?"
" Lady, I shall never leave him, where he goes, I go ! He is mv only friend on earth. There is none besides to care for the buccaneer boy," he added, with a melancholy air.
" i\ ay—nay—Theodore. The count D'Oyly, and myself—esteem, and feel a deep interest in you. Will you not be my brother, Theodore ? Our home shall be yours, we will supply your present benefactor. The gloom and solitude of a monastery's walls will not suit your young spirit."
" Lady—urge me not—I will never leave him," he said firmly, while his heart overflowed with thankfulness for the kind and affectionate interest she manifested in his w^elfare.
At that moment an aged man, bent with the weight of years, with a majestic face, although deeply lined W4th the furrows of lime, came to the state-room door, and in a feeble voice, called to the youth.
" Who is that old man, Theodore ?" she inquired with interest, while her eyes filled with tears as she thought of her own venerable father. " It is old Lafon, Sefiora. He was taken prisoner a few weeks since by one of our cruisers, and having been at times insane, he was compelled by the officer—Martinez, I think—who captured him, to perform such menial duties as were suitable to his age."
" Was not this unfeeling, Theodore ? Where was your chief?"
" It was, lady. On account of his numerous duties, captain Lafitte, who permitted no cruellies of that kind, was ignorant of this degradation—for, miserable as he now is, he appears to have seen happier and brighter days—but when he heard of it, he released him from his duties." We stopped at Bar-ritaria after we left the Balize to take on board some treasure concealed there, and found the old man on the shore, nearly famished and torpid with exposure to the cold and rain.
" We took him on board, intending to leave him in Havana, where he has friends."
" Is he insane, did you say, Theodore?" she inquired.
" He has been—but I think is not now."
" Poor man ; he is, no doubt, the victim of some great affliction," she said, with feeling. " Da you know any thing of his past history ?"
'' I do not, Sefiora. He is studiously silent upon that subject."
" Is he now a menial ?" she said, looking with sympathy upon the aged man, who still stood with one hand upon the lock of the door, and his body half-protruded into the room; in which position he hail remained during their low-toned conversation, waiting for Theodore.
" No, Seiiora. He is now passenger in the schooner, and by kindness and atteniion to him, the captain seeks to atone for the rigorous treatment he' has heretofore received. He also feels a strange and unaccountable interest in him."
" Go, Theodore; keep him not in waiting—he speaks again !"
The youih left the apartment, to ascertain his wishes, which w^ere, to communicate, through him, to Lafitte some instructions relating to his landing at Havana; and then ascended to the deck, to ascer-
lain the rate of sailing and position of the vessel, which, bowling before a favourable breeze, was with within less than two day's sail of their port of destination.
CHAPTER IV.
St. Julien. " If sincere penitence be atonement for an ill-spent life, then has my guilty sire gone up to heaven."
Martin. "The holy Fathers preach another doctrine.'^ St. JuLiEx. " But which is which they can no two agree." Martix. 'Twere better then methinks, sir, to live healthy and honest lives, and so through the blood of the Holy Cross, we'll have the best assurance."
AN AMERICAN SLOOP OF WAR—A CHASE—FIGHT OFF THE MORO CASTLE—CLOSING SCENE—CONCLUSION.
" My eye, Bill, but that's a rare tit-bit in the offing," exclaimed a sailor straddled atliwart the niain-yard of an American sloop of war, anchored near the entrance of the harbour, ostensibly securing a gasket, but in reality roving his one eye over the harbour of Havana—its lofty castellated Moro—its walls, towers, and cathedral domes—its fleet of shipping—and its verdant scenery, luxuriant and green even in the second month of winter.
" That she is !" returned his shipmate, further in on the same yard, at the same time cocking his larboard eye to windward, hitching up his loose trow-sers, and thrusting into his cheek a generous quid tobacco, dropped from the top-gallant-yard by a brother tar. " That she is, Sam ; and she moves in stays, like a Spanish girl in a jig, and that's as fine as a fairy, to my fancy."
" Lay to, there, my hearty. Blast my eyes, if I
have'nt seen the broadside of that craft before now. If it's not a clipper we chased when \ was in the schooner last month, cruising off St. Domingo, you may sav, ' stop grog'."
*' What! one o' your bloody pirates ?" inquired Sam, with an oath.
" Aye ! and she run in shore, and lay along side of a high rock, up which they mounted like so many wild monkeys. We followed as fast—but they beat'us off, and sent to the bottom of the sea, twenty as brave fellows as ever handled cutlass."
" What is this," observed languidly one of the lieutenants on deck, interrupting a most luxurious yawn ; " that those fellows can feel an interest in, this infernal hot weather? Take that glass, will you Mr. Edwards, and make us wise in the matter."
The young midshipman rose indolently from an ensign on which he had ensconced huiiself to leeward of the mizen mast, to avoid the extreme heat, even on that winter day; for winter holds no empire through all that lovely clime, and after two or three unsuccessful attempts, at last brought the instrument handed him by the officer, into conjunction with his visual organ. He then gazed a moment seaward, and his face, before expressionless, now beamed with pleasure.
" By all that's lovely, that craft carries a pretty foot. She glides over the water like a swan; and yet there's hardly breeze enough to fan a lady's cheek. Look at lier, sir."
The officer took the glass, and slightly raising himself, so that he could see over the quarter, the next moment convinced those around him, that his features had not lost all their flexibility, and that his muscles were not really dissolved by the heat, by exclaiming still more eagerly than the midshipman,
" Beautiful! admirable!"
" Can you make out lier colours ?" inquired one lying upon ihe deck, under the awning, without raising his head, or moving from his indolent altitude.
" She carries the stars and stripes ; yet she cannot be an American. There is not a boat in the navy to be compared to this craft for beauty and velocily."
" She is not an armed vessel ?"
" Evidently ; although slie shows gun nor port. She looks too saucy for a quakeress ; her whole bearing is warlike ; and there is a frigate half a mile to windward of her, I believe, in chase."
By this time, the officers, yielding to curiosity, abandoned, though reluctantly, their various comfortable positions, and gathered themselves up, to take a view of a vessel, that had induced even their ease-loving first lieutenant to tlirow off his lethargy.
The object of general interest—a beautiful taunt-rigged rakish schooner now advanced, steadily towards the er>trance of the harbour. The air was scarcely in motion, yet the little vessel ghded over the water with the ease and rapidity of a bird on the wing.
" By Heaven ! that craft has been in mischief!" exclaimed an officer, "or that frigate would not spread such a cloud of studden-sails in chase."
" He is no doubt a pirate," said Edwards. " Shall we give him a gun for running under our flag."
" No, no ! we will remain neutral. As true as that schooner has lighter heels than any crafi that ever sailed the sea, she will escape her pursuer !" exclaimed the lieutenant with animation.
" Unless taken between wind and water;" added another officer. " See that!"
Vol. H.— 18
As he spoke a flame flashed from the bows of the frigate, and a shot, followed by the report of a heavy gun, recochetled over the waves, and carried away the bowsprit of the schooner, which was about half a mile from ihe frigate.
" My God ! we shall be blown out of the water by that hasty count!" exclaimed Lafitle, as the shot struck his vessel—for-on board the Gertrude we now take our -readers—" Hoist that white flag at the peak," he shouted.
The order was obeyed; and still the frigate bore down upon them, and a second shot shivered her foremast, killed several of the crew including his mate Ricardo, and mortally wounding his favorite slave Cudjoe.
The schooner was now wholly unmanageable, and defeated in his exertions to get into the harbor, Lafitte put her before the wind, which was now increasing, and run her ashore, about a mile to the eastward of the Moro.
The frigate conlinued in chase until the water became too shallow for her draught, when she laj to and put off two of her boats filled with men, the smallest of which was commanded by the count in person.
Lafitte, although determined not to fight unless compelled to do so in self-defence, ordered his men to their guns. Every ofificer was at his post. The carronades were double shotted, and hand grenades, boarding-pikes and cutlasses, strewed the deck. He himself, was armed with a cutlass and brace of pistols, and a shade of melanchoUy was cast over his features, which, or the thoughts occasioning it, he sought to dispel by giving a succession of rapid and energetic orders to his men.
The count, who learned from the prisoner he had taken at Barritaria, that this was Lafille's vessel,.
—which he had fallen in with the day before, after missing him at the Balize—stood in the stern of his boat wliich swiftly approached the grounded schooner. His face was pale and rigid with settled passion. He grasped the hilt of his cutlass nervously, and his eye glanced impatiently over the rapidly lessening distance between him and his revenge. He saw liis rival standing calmly upon the quarterdeck, surveying his approach with seeming indifference. This added fuel to his rage, and he cheered his oars-men on with almost frenzied energy.
" Count D'Oyley" said J^afitte aloud as the boat came near the schooner; " she whom you seek is safe, and in honor."
" Thou liest! slave ! villain !" shouted the count, and at that moment, as the boat struck the side of the schooner, he leaped, sword in hand, on to her deck, followed by a score of his men.
" Now, or we shall be massacred, fire !" cried Lafitte, in a voice that rung above the shouts of the boarders, at the same time parrying a blow aimed at hi« breast by the count; and the light vessel recoiled shuddering in every joint, from the discharge of her whole broadside.
The iron shower was fatally hurled. The larger boat, which was within a few fathoms of the schooner, was instantly sunk, and fifty men were left struggling in the waves. The barge along side, shared the same fate before half its crew had gained the deck of the vessel.
A fierce and sanguinary contest now took place. In vain Lafitte called to tfie count to desist—that Constanza was on board and in safety.
" Liar in thv throat! villain !" with more rapid and energetic blows of his cutlass, was alone the reply he received from his infuriated antagonist.
Lafilte now fought like a tiger at bay upon the quarter-deck of his schooner, his followers encircling him, each hand to hand and steel to steel with a boarder.
Two nobler looking men than the distinguished combatants, have seldom trode the balile deck of a ship of war. In courage, skill, and physical energies, they seemed nearly equal, although the count was of slighter make, and possessed greater delicacy of features. Cutlass rung against cutlass, and the loud clangor of their weapons was heard far above the din and uproar of baitle.
The combatants on both sides, as if actuated by one impulse, simultaneously suspended the fight to gaze upon their chief, as if victory depended alone upon the issue of this single encounter.
They fought for some moments with nearly equal success, mutually giving and receiving several slight wounds, when a blow, intended by Lafitte who fought in the defensive, to disarm his antagonist, shivered his steel boarding-cap, which dropped to the deck, while a profusion of rich auburn hair fell down from his head, clustered with almost feminine luxuriance around his neck. At the same instant, the sword of the count passed through the breast of his antagonist.
A wild exclamation, not of pain, but of surprise and horror escaped from Lafitte, and springing backward, he stood staring witli dilated nostrils, a heaving breast, from which a stream of blood flowed to the deck, and eyes almost starting from their sockets, upon his foeman.
" Art thou of this world ? speak !" he cried in accents of teiror, while his form seemed agitated with super-human emotion.
The count remained in an attitude of defence, displaying by the derangement of his hair, a scar
in the shape of a crescent over his brow, and transfixed with astonishment, gazing upon liis foe, who moved not a muscle, or betraying any sign of life, except in the deep sepulchral tones, with which he conjured him '/o speakP
The count slightly changing his position, an ex--clamation of joy escaped the venerable Lafon, and totteruig forward, he fell into his outstretched arms.
" Henri, my son—my only son !"
" My father !" and they were clasped in each other's arms.
Their close embrace was interrupted by a deep groan and the heavy fall of Lafitte to the deck.
"Henri! It is uideed my brother T exclaimed the wounded man, raising his head—" for—forgive me, Henri, before I die !" and he fell back again to the deck.
At the sound of his name, the count started, gazed earnestly upon his pale features for an instant, and a.l the brother yearned in his bosom.
Wiih a heart bursting with the infen^sity of his feelings, he silently kneeled beside his brother.
" Acliille !"
" Henri!"
They could utter no more, but.w^ept together in a silent ernbrace; the count laying his head upon his brother's bosom, whose arms encircled him with fraternal love, while the aged parent kneeling be-, side them, with his uplifted hands, blessed them.
Suddenly a loud scream pierced their ears—and starting up, the count beheld Constanza making her way with a wild air towards him, followed by Theodore, who had, till now, detained her in the stateroom, lest in her excitement of mind, she should mingle among the combatants. The voice of her lover reached her ears in the silence that followed the discovery of the brothers, and she flew to the deck..
18*
LAFITTE.
" Oh, my Alphonze ! my only love ! we will part no more !" she exclaimed, throwing herself into his arms.
The count affectionately embraced her; but his face betrayed the whilst, unusual emotion, and his eye sought his brother's.
" Take her ! fold her in your arms, Henri ! she is yours—pure as an angel !" he rephed, comprehending the meaning of his glance. "Here, Con-stanza, let me take your hand—yours, Henri"—and he joined them together:—" May God bless and make you truly happy !" he continued, while his voice grew more feeble.
" My father ! my venerable father ! I am ashamed to look you in the face ! forgive your repentant son ! T am dying, father !
The aged man kneeled by his son, and blessed him! and wept over him ! in silence.
" My brother—Henri!" continued the dying man: " I have wronged you; but I have suffered ! Oh ! how deeply ! How true, that crime brings its own punishment ! Forgive ! forgive me, Henri ! Think not you have slain me—mine is the blame. I armed your hand against my life !
" ConsTanza ! forgive ! 1 have loved you in death ! Farewell," he added, after a moment's silence, while they all kneeled around him. "Farewell, my father—brother—Constanza—farewell! Theodore !'* he said, affeciingly taking the hand of the youth— " Theodore, my orphan boy, farewell ! May God bless and protect you, my child ! Henri ! be a brother to him."
'^riie count pressed his hand in silence. " Now, once more—adieu, for-for ever ! May God forgive !"—and, with this prayer on his Jips, he expired in the arms of his father and brother.
CONCLUSION.
One antumn twilight, five years after the peace was ratified between the two belligerent powers —Europe, and the Noiih United Slates—a group might have been observed by one, sailing up to ihe capital of Louisiana, gathered on the portico of an elegant villa, situated on the banks of the Mississippi, a few miles below the city. This group consisted of six. Fn a large armed chair, sat an old gentleman, with a dignified air, and a bland smile, dancing upon his knee a lovely child, just completing lier third summer, with sparkling black eyes, and silken hair of the same rich hue, while an old slave, seated at his feet, was amusing herself with the antics of the delighted girl.
Near the steps of the portico, stood a gentleman of middle age, with a lofty forehead, slightly disfigured by a scar, a mild blue eye, and manly features, who was directing the attention of a beautiful female, leaning on his arm, to the manoeuvres of a small vessel of war then doubling one of the majestic curves of the river.
The lady, united in her face and person the dignity of the matron with the loveliness of the maiden. The sweet face of the cherub upon its grand-sire's knee, was but the reflection of her image in miniature !
Leaning against one of the columns of the portico, stood a noble looking and very handsome young man, in a hunting-dress. A gun rested carelessly upon one arm, and a majestic dog, venerable with age, whom he occasionally addressed as Leon, stood upoji his hind legs, with his fore paws upon his breast.
Leaving this brief outline of the happiness and
fortunes of those whom we have followed through their various adventures, we will take leave of the reader with a few words of explanation.
Henri, on reaching France, fell heir to the title and estates of the nobleman whose name Alphonze, the Count D'Oyley, he assumed. Lafon was a name given to their a^ed captive, by the buccaneers, from his resemblance to one of their number, who bore that name. Gertrude has long since been translated to a better world. Achille, afier exiling himself from his native land, assumed the name of Lafitte, by which and no other, he was known to his adherents, and to the world:
" He left a corsair's name to other times, Link'd with one virtue and a thousand crimes.'*
ERRATA.
Postscript. —On page 48, volume first, read recklessness, for wrecklessness. On page 66, volume second, read tuum, for teum. Page 84, read folded, for folden. Page 33, for wampun, read wampum. Page 112, for tonens, read tonans.
The following note—" * Written by Mr. Beckett," should have been inserted at the bottom of page 6, volume second.
APPENDIX.
Proclamation of pardon to Lafitte and his adherents, by President Madison.
BY THE PRESlDEiNT OP THE UMTED STATES OF AMERICA.
A PROCLAMATION.
Among the many evils produced by the wars, which, with little intermission, have afflicted Europe, and extended their ravages into other quarters of the globe, for a period exceeding twenty years, the dispersion of a considerable portion of the inhabitants of different countries, in sorrow and in want, has not been the least injurious to human happiness, nor the least severe in the trial of human virtue.
" It had been long ascertained that many foreigners, flying from the dangers of their own home, and that some citizens, forgetful of their duty, had co-operated in forming an establishment on the island of Barataria, near the mouth of the river Mississippi, for the purpose of a clandestine and lawless trade. The government of the United States caused the establishment to be broken up and destroyed; and, having obtained the means of designating the offenders of every description, it only remained to answer the demands of justice by inflicting an exemplary punishment.
" But it has since been represented that the offenders have manifested a sincere penitence ; that they have abandoned the prosecution of the worst cause for the support of the best, and, particularly, that they have exhibited, in the defence of New Orleans, unequivocal traits of courage and fidelity. Offenders, who have refused to become the associates of the enemy in the war, upon the most seducing terms of invitation ; and who have aided to re-
pel his hostile invasion of the territory of the United States, can no longer be considered as objects of punishment, but as objects of a generous forgiveness.
" It has therefore been seen, with great satisfaction, that the General Assembly of the State of Louisiana earnestly recommend those offenders to the benefit of a full pardon : And in compliance with that recommendation, as well as in consideration of all the other extraordinary circumstances of the case, I James Madison^ President of the United States of America, do issue this proclamation, hereby granting, publishing knd declaring, a free and full pardon of all offences committed in violation of any act or acts of the Congress of the said United States, touching the revenue, trade and navigation thereof, or touching the intercourse and commerce of the United States with foreign nations, at any time before the eighth day of January, in the present year one thousand eight hundred and fifteen, by any person or persons whatsoever, being inhabitants of New Orleans and the adjacent country, or being inhabitants of the said island of Barataria, and the places adjacent: Provided, that every person, claiming the benefit of this full pardon, in order to entitle himself thejreto, shall produce a ■certificate in writing from the governor of the State of Louisiana, stating that such person has aided in thp. dpfence of New Orleans and the adjacent country, during the invasion thereof as aforesaid.
" And I do hereby further authorize and direct all suits, indictments, and prosecutions, for fines, penalties, and forfeitures, against any person or persons, who shall be entitled to the benefit of this full pardon, forthwith to be stayed, discontinued and released: All civil officers are hereby required, according to the clwties of their respective stations, to carry this proclamation into immediate and faithful execution.
•" Done at the City of Washington^ the sixth day of February, in the year one thousand eight hundred and fifteen, and of the independence of the United States the thirty-ninth. " By the President,
"James Madison. ^' Jameb Monroe,
Acting Secretary of Statc.^^
The annexed historical sketch of Lafitte suggested the present work.
" A curious instance of the strange mi xture of magnanimity and ferocity, often found among the demi-savages of the borders, was afforded by the Louisianian Lafitte. This desperado had placed himself at the head of a band of outlaws from all nations under heaven, and fixed his abode upon the top of an impregnable rock, to the south-west of the mouth of the Mississippi. Under the colours of the South American patriots, they pirated at pleasure every vessel that came in their way, and smuggled their booty up the secret creeks of the Mississippi, with a dexterity that baffled all the efforts of justice. The depredations of these outlaws, or, as they styled themselves, Buratarians,{{Tom Barata, their island,) becoming at length intolerable, the United States' government despatched an armed force against their little Tripoli. The establishment was broken up, and the pirates dispersed. But Lafitte again collected his outlaws, and took possession of his rock. The attention of the congress being now diverted by the war, he scoured the gulf at his pleasure, and so tormented the coasting traders, that Governor Claiborne, of Louisiana, set a price on his head.
*' This daring outlaw, thus confronted with the American government, appeared likely to promote the designs of its enemies. He was known to possess the clue to all the secret windings and entrances of the many-mouthed Mississippi; and in the projected attack upon New Orleans it was deemed expedient to secure his assistance.
" The British officer then heading the forces landed at Penso-cola for the invasion of Louisiana, opened a treaty with the Bara-tarian, to whom he offered such rewards as were best calculated to tempt his cupidity and flatter his ambition. The outlaw affected to relish the proposal ; but having artfully drawn from
Colonel N the plan of his intended attack, he spurned his
offers with the most contemptuous disdain, and instantly despatched one of "his most trusty corsairs to the governor who had set a price for his life, advising him of the intentions of the enemy, and volunteering the aid of his little band, on the single con-
dition that an amnesty should be granted for their past offences. Governor Claiborne, though touched by this proof of magnanimity, hesitated to close with the offer. The corsair kept himself in readiness for the expected summons, and contined to spy and report the motions of the enemy. As danger became more urgent, and the steady generosity of the outlaw more assured, Governor Claiborne granted to him and his followers life and pardon, and called them to the defence of the city They obeyed with alacrity, and served-with a valour, fidelity, and good conduct, not surpassed by the best volunteers of the republic."— Flint's Miss. Valley.
THE END.
