CHAPTER XXVII.
Lottie was startled out of her self-possession by Mr. Highton’s speech to his wife. She turned quickly, and stretching out an imploring hand toward her, begged her not to go.
But Mrs. Highton, with a coarse laugh, exclaimed, “Oh, you needn’t be afraid. He ain’t a-goin’ to hurt you!” and walked out of the room.
There were a few whispered words between man and wife before the woman left the house, and while these were being said, Lottie’s courage was coming back, and when Mr. Highton came in he found her seated composedly upon the lounge, with Eva nestled close to her side.
He threw himself into the arm-chair which his wife had vacated, and sat for some minutes eying Lottie from under his shaggy eye-brows, without speaking. Then he shifted in his seat, crossed one leg over the other and said, in an insinuating tone.
“You seem to hev a very poor opinion of me, miss.”
Lottie made no reply to this, and he continued, more roughly:
“You think I had a hand in your brother’s runnin’ off. How did you come by sech an idea as that?”
“I have already told you that I know some one persuaded him to go. No one but you could have had any object in doing that,” replied Lottie, steadily.
“Wal, I declare! What did I want the boy to run off fer?” asked Mr. Highton, in pretended surprise, while an angry flush rose to his cheek.
“I can’t answer that question.”
“Wal, it’s best not to throw out insinerations that you can’t prove. An’ it will be all the better fer you, if you make up your mind to be friendly with me. Because, if you ain’t, you’ll find yourself in a middlin’ bad box before very long. My wife an’ me, we wants to be friendly, an’ is willin’ to do the best we kin fer you; that’s what we come over this morning to talk about.”
“I am getting along very well—I don’t need any kind of help from any one, at present,” said Lottie coldly.
“You’re mighty inderpendent fer a bit of a girl; but when you come to find out jest how you air fixed, you may change your tune,” and Mart Highton grinned maliciously.
Lottie made no answer, and he continued:
“We come to you, my wife an’ I did, to let you know that this place belongs to us; but, not wishin’ to be too hard on you, we offered you the privilege of stayin’ on here with us till you could make some other ’rangements. I told my wife to be easy on you, an’ not break the news too suddint, but she didn’t seem to work it jest right. So the next best plan is to come out plain an’ let you know exactly how you’re situated.”
“I’d like to know, if there’s anything I don’t understand,” said Lottie, so quietly that Mr. Highton looked rather astonished at the way she was taking the matter.
“Wal, then, this is the way the business stands. When your father settled down here, an’ entered his quarter-section, he jest made a mistake an’ put his improvements on the wrong quarter. Nobody didn’t happen to discover the mistake, fer folks wasn’t comin’ in here to no great extent; but, now a railroad is bein’ talked of, people is lookin’ after things middlin’ sharp. I found out how it was ’tother day, when I was over to the land office, an’ I jest clipped in an’ filed on it quicker’n a wink. So now I’m goin’ to come right along an’ take possession. You kin stay, as I said afore, ’till you kin make other ’rangements—purvided you’re a mind to make yourself agreeable! ’Taint everybody as would be so easy on you, you must remember!”
“No, it is not every one who would try to rob helpless children,” answered Lottie, scornfully. “I do not believe a single word of your story. You have prepared a scheme to rob us of our home—to drive us away from the only shelter we have; but you will not succeed in your wicked plans. I intend to keep possession here, until father comes back, and will defend his home against claim jumpers as long as there is life in my body.”
Lottie had risen as she made this declaration, and stood cool and resolute before the man whom she knew had determined to drive her out of her father’s house. Her cheeks glowed, her eyes gleamed, her form seemed taller by an inch, and she looked quite unlike the bright-faced, merry girl that she usually was.
Eva clung to her hand and looked up at her in wonder. What had this hateful visitor said that had made Lottie so angry? She was not able to understand the meaning of his words, but Eva knew he had offended her dear sister, and she bent her brows and sent indignant glances in his direction.
But Mart Highton paid little heed to the child; he was wondering how this young girl, whom he had expected so easily to impose upon, had penetrated his scheme, and how long she would hold out against him.
He knew nothing of the solitary night watch when those words of his which had put her on her guard had reached her ears.
That a young girl like this should “show fight,” as he phrased it to himself, was a complete surprise, and for a moment he stared at her silently. Then he burst into a loud laugh, and, when he had laughed long enough, he said, jocosely:
“An’ so you’re a-goin’ to hold on to my quarter-section, be you? You’re a mighty peart sort of a girl! I declar’ I admire your spunk! But if I was you, I wouldn’t look too strong fer that father o’ yourn. You’ll never set eyes on him till Gabriel blows his horn: an’ that’ll be a middlin’ long spell to hold out agin me an’ the land office.”
And Mart Highton laughed again at his own wit.
Lottie was too indignant at his brutality to make any answer. She felt her limbs trembling beneath her, and sat down again quickly that it might not be noticed, for she really feared the man.
But the gentleman in the arm-chair made no offensive movement, as she had thought he might do; for in her eyes he was a wretch capable of any crime, and, knowing that she and Eva were utterly alone and friendless in this isolated spot, might he not have it in his heart to kill them and so get them out of his way?
She knew instinctively that he was a man who would hesitate at nothing that would serve to gain his ends. If he could not get possession of the property he coveted in any other way, what was there to hinder him if he chose to take their lives? There was not a friend, not even an acquaintance, within miles of them who would be interested to inquire into their fate. And then a dreadful fear flashed upon her. Perhaps he had murdered Jimmy—had lured him away from home with fair promises, and had then killed him.
Her face blanched at the thought as she turned and looked searchingly at the hateful countenance confronting her, and, almost without knowing that she spoke, Lottie uttered the words, very nearly like those with which she had first greeted him:
“What have you done with my brother Jimmy?”
Mart Highton sprang to his feet, pale with anger, and, with one great stride, came to where Lottie was sitting.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
[ [This Story began in No. 45.]
Ephraim Clark’s
First and Only Voyage.
BY E. SHIPPEN, M.D.
CHAPTER XVII.
EPH SEES GREAT PEOPLE.
At midday the big “dug-out,” called La Belle Acadienne, paddled up to the landing, under the charge of an old creole, who was to take Eph Clark to New Orleans and then to lodgings at a French house, when Eph was to seek an interview with the governor and carry out the instructions he had received.
The Belle Acadienne had an awning over her after part, where the passengers would be protected from the night-damp; and there were lots of things to eat, with a cooking place forward, presided over by a grizzled old negro, who produced some very nice dishes from his few pots and pans.
The “padron,” or head of the boat, and six paddlers, made up, with Eph and Eric and the old Creole, ten in all.
As soon as the passengers were on board, the canoe went away, almost north, up the bay.
By nightfall they had entered a deep but narrow bayou, and then there was a fresh surprise for Eph and Eric.
In the bow of the canoe, hanging well over the water, was an iron crane, which supported a grating, on which was kept burning, after dark, chunks of fat pine, which lit up everything around with a rich, yellow light.
As they got farther into the bayou, the banks seemed to disappear, and they were, as it appeared to Eph—who had never been in such a country—navigating between rows of huge trees, gray with moss, which hung from the branches in long festoons, like giant cobwebs.
The fire-light, glowing on the surroundings, showed the most surprising things to the boys, although the crew seemed to think nothing of them. Out of the darkness, among the trees and bushes, would peer two bright marks, which the men said was a deer.
Then would come a great plash in the still water of the bayou, and the pine knots showed a huge alligator, sulkily sinking, and apparently uncertain whether to make fight or not, at this invasion of his territory.
Great gar-fish shot away from the canoe as she went on, and big owls hooted at being disturbed, sometimes flapping almost into the burning knots. Herons, and other large birds flopped up from points where they had been fishing, and sailed away up the bayou with great croaks and hoarse calls, which were answered from the darkness of the dense bush and high trees by paroquets and many other birds and animals, disturbed in their slumbers by the unusual invasion.
The canoe paddled steadily on, until some time late in the night they reached a curious formation in the middle of the swampy forest.
It was an island, not more than an acre in extent, and quite high, where the padron said they were accustomed to stop to cook and sleep, for the men had had a long pull.
As soon as they had eaten the hot supper, which the cook served shortly after landing, the boys lay down in the canoe on soft mats and slept until the daylight began to show through the tops of the trees.
The old padron soon had the cook up, and he made a pot of coffee such as the boys, in their experience of ship’s cooking, had never tasted, and off they went again, threading the tortuous channels, which would be entirely impassable to any one not accustomed to them.
Once or twice they came into a great lake, full of cypress stumps and knees, and of alligators also, and several times, on the edges of the cane-brakes which they sometimes passed, were bears and deer and quantities of smaller animals, as well as birds.
Eph was so interested at all this that he almost forgot his new position as a messenger carrying important letters, and it was only, at last, when they pulled into a small canal, that he began to think about it.
This canal led up to a place where the water communication seemed to stop. The padron left them for a few moments, and then returned with a dozen negroes, who came from some huts in a grove of trees, and they quickly ran her up an incline, and were ready to launch her down again.
Then Eph and Eric were really astonished. They were on a great embankment, or levee, which seemed to hold in the water of a mighty river, running with resistless force.
The Mississippi, the padron told them; and then pointed to the other side, below, where there appeared the buildings of a large town, with towers and the masts of vessels.
It seemed strange to Eph to emerge from a wilderness and to see such evidences of civilization, but, young as he was, he had already passed through many strange scenes, and braced himself up for the business with which he was charged.
The men launched the canoe down into the brimming river on the other side of the levee—they were kept there for that purpose by Lafitte, Eph found out—and then they paddled away for the city.
It was a very different business from the navigation in the slack waters of the bayous. The current of muddy water ran with great swiftness, and great swirls, as of a whirlpool, sometimes almost turned the canoe round.
But she had Lafitte’s best crew, and they shot her across the wide, yellow expanse of water in a way which surprised Eph, as much as he had seen of boats and canoes.
As it was, they only brought up at the lower part of the town, where they landed.
There were some people there who seemed to know the canoe very well, and one long-bearded old Frenchman led Eph and Eric up to his house, where he gave them some dinner, and then told them they had better go to bed and rest.
He was Lafitte’s principal agent, and when he had read the letter his chief had sent him he at once began to prepare for an interview with the governor.
Everybody in New Orleans knew that an invasion by the British forces was now near at hand.
Governor Claiborne called his council together on the very day after Eph Clark got there.
Governor Claiborne was the first American governor of Louisiana, and he had a pretty hard time to reconcile American notions and laws with the long-settled customs of the district.
But he had a powerful advocate in Judge Edward Livingston, who spoke the language perfectly, and was a thorough lawyer.
Then there was General Villere, of the Louisiana militia, a brave and honest man.
When the governor heard that there was a messenger from Lafitte, he was at first much put out; but he called his council together, and summoned Eph Clark to appear.
Eph was under a sort of arrest—as two men followed him about—but he kept up a good face, and at ten o’clock appeared before the governor and his council with the letter Lafitte had charged him to deliver.
With it he delivered the letter of the English Captain Lockyer, with its proposals.
They were opened and read aloud by a clerk, while Eph stood at the foot of the table, gazed at by all the council. Then a member of the council spoke and said:
“I do not believe in making terms with pirates. This story about the English captain is no doubt merely a scheme to get his brother, who is a prisoner here, released. He is here on a charge of smuggling, as you all know.”
Eph Clark’s temper rose at hearing this speech, and, losing all shyness, he replied:
“If it pleases your excellency and the rest of the gentlemen, I may say that I know there are some bad men at Barataria, who are there from choice; but I was taken there against my will. I could not help myself. I am no particular champion of Lafitte, but he means right in this matter, I know, and I myself went with him to meet the Englishmen and bring them in. Captain Lockyer’s letter is genuine, and they mean all they say. Gambio and Johannot are bad men, but I believe Lafitte is not, and, if the enemy come here, will be willing to do all he can for our side.”
When Eph had got this far, and all the gentlemen had turned to listen, he stopped and stammered and blushed, astonished at his own temerity.
A thin, grave gentleman, whom he afterward knew to be Governor Claiborne, answered at once:
“Well spoken, lad! very well spoken!”
And then two other gentlemen, whom he afterward knew to be Judge Edward Livingston and General Villere, of the Louisiana militia, chimed in.
Judge Livingston said that he believed that Lafitte was well disposed, and that, as for his irregular trade, that was what was going on under the old state of things, and must be put a stop to gradually.
While he was speaking, a messenger hastily entered and gave the governor a written dispatch which announced the arrival of the enemy’s fleet, with troop ships, at the passes of the Mississippi.
In a few moments the feeling of the gentlemen who had opposed having anything to do with Lafitte, suffered a change, and it was agreed that Eph should hurry back by the way he came and bear a message accepting Lafitte’s offers of assistance in the defense of the city, as well as thanks for having declined the British advances.
When the letter was delivered to Eph, the governor and Judge Livingston and General Villere asked him about himself, and when Eph modestly and shortly told them his story, they were more astonished than ever.
“All right, lad!” said the governor. “Do you come back with any force which may be sent, and, after this trouble is over, these gentlemen and myself will promise to look out for you. Tell Lafitte that we know General Jackson is close at hand, with a force of Tennessee and Kentucky riflemen; but we need artillery for our works and men used to serving large guns. Let him send us those, and we shall be glad. Go now, and when you come back, let me see you.”
Eph was off at once to the agent’s, where he found Eric and the canoe’s crew, and was across the river and winding through the bayous before the sun went down. So full was he of his important message that he hardly allowed a halt of a few hours to cook and rest, and arrived at Barataria on the second morning after leaving New Orleans.
CHAPTER XVIII.
CONCLUSION.
When the Belle Acadienne was announced as coming down the bay, Lafitte himself went to the landing, so anxious was he to hear the news of which Eph Clark was the bearer.
As they walked back together to the chief’s house, Eph told him all that had occurred in the council. And Lafitte told him that Johannot had reported the arrival of the British fleet, for he had been sent out to reconnoiter, and that he had also sent a message to the English captain which would prevent him from being certain whether they would be guided through the bayous or not.
While Eph got some needed refreshment, orders were sent to assemble all the guns’ crews of the pirate vessels in the fort.
There were about two hundred selected, the best and most capable gunners, and they were at once put under vigorous drill—Eph being made a lieutenant of the battery.
In the meantime canoes and boats were prepared to take the cannon and their carriages, with ammunition and stores and utensils of all kinds, through the secret route, and up to the plain of the east side of the river, where great works had been thrown up to resist the invaders, which works stretched between the river and the swamp on the left.
When the artillery and men arrived they were immediately sent to this work, where they found the battery of an American gun-boat, the Carolina, also stationed. There was another gun-boat, the Louisiana, afloat on the river, with a powerful battery of guns, which did good service in the approaching fight.
The long row of earth-works which the Americans occupied had not been quite finished, so the top of a great deal of the line was made of cotton bales, which protected the riflemen from the enemy’s bullets to a great extent, but were easily disarranged and set on fire by artillery. Some people thought that they would have been better without the cotton bales, but they were then, and they were always afterwards, associated with the battle.
When the firing actually began it was discovered that the British had found a quantity of sugar hogsheads in the plantations, and had used them in building their batteries, but they were not as good as the cotton bales at resisting fire, as it turned out.
Eph Clark had Eric as a sergeant in the battery of which he was lieutenant, on the night of the 7th of January, 1814, by which time all was ready.
They lay in a rough hut, back of the battery, and the men were talking and smoking, all around them, as they speculated on the chances of next day’s battle, for everybody knew it would occur then, probably at daylight.
At last they dropped off into an uneasy doze, and were roused from that by the order passed to turn out and man the battery.
They were hardly at their guns when General Jackson came along with a large staff, carefully inspecting the preparations by the light of the camp fires in the rear of the intrenchments.
General Villere, of the New Orleans militia, who had seen Eph Clark before, and who was accompanying General Jackson, said:
“Here are Lafitte’s men, general. And here is the youth I spoke to you about, an American boy.”
General Jackson had too many weighty matters on his mind that morning to do more than glance at Eph, in answer to the officer’s remark. But he did say:
“All right! Glad to see such pluck and determination.”
Then he passed on to the left of the lines—and all stood firm—peering into a dense mist, which had arisen as the day was near and obscured the field in front.
It was known that the flower of the British army was in front, and eager eyes and ears kept open to detect the first movement. The invaders had boasted that they would walk straight over the half-drilled riflemen from Kentucky and Tennessee and the militia of Louisiana. They had not quite heard of the artillery of Commodore Patterson and of Lafitte’s batteries, and were not prepared for them, while they had little idea of what the riflemen could do, although they wore no such gorgeous uniform.
Suddenly, before the sun had risen and while the haze still hung upon the ground like a curtain, a gun was heard from the left of the batteries—the one in which Eph Clark had charge of the guns.
His sharp sailor-eyes and ears had detected the advance of the enemy before any others, and, according to orders given beforehand, he fired a round of grape-shot slap into the advancing foe.
Just then the mist lifted a little, and, by the early light, could be seen the serried lines of the British force, advancing to the attack in magnificent order.
There were two columns of troops, one on the right and one on the left. At the head of each column was a regiment, bearing fascines for filling up the ditch and scaling-ladders for reaching the crest of the defense. Between the two columns were marching a thousand Highlanders, in their picturesque garb, ready to support either column on their flanks, as might be needed.
At once the riflemen, with their unerring aim, began a rolling fire, while the artillery, served with great steadiness and coolness, joined in the battle.
There was great slaughter and confusion among the attacking troops, but, like veterans as they were, they rallied and came on again.
At first, Eph Clark was shocked by the effect of the fire; but he soon became excited, and, going from gun to gun of his battery, saw that each was well loaded and well pointed.
Up to the very ditch surged the brave men in front of them, and one officer, a lieutenant, came over the breastwork uninjured. Seeing Eph and a captain of infantry standing by their guns, close to him, he called out:
“Surrender! surrender! The place is ours!”
Rather surprised at this speech from a single man, Eph replied:
“Look behind you, sir!”
The young English officer, whose name was Lavack, did as he was told, and saw his troops either dead or wounded or in full retreat, and already some distance away.
“I’ll have to trouble you for your sword, sir!” said Eph, after showing him this sight.
“And to whom do I surrender?” said the young officer, gazing at Eph’s rig of silk shirt and sash and loose white trowsers.
“To Lieutenant Clark, of Lafitte’s Battery.” And the young officer was led away, to be well treated.
In the meantime, while the surviving British troops were retreating from the front, Eph Clark and those about him heard the “advance” blown from a bugle in front of them, and, seeing no one standing so near as the notes seemed to come from, at last discovered, perched up in a small tree—which must have been exposed to all the storm of balls and bullets, for many of its branches were cut away—a small music-boy of one of the British regiments, who had sat up there, sounding the “advance,” all the time the fight was going on, and continued to do so when his regiment was half a mile away.
Amused at the curious courage and persistency of the little fellow, Eph and a lieutenant of Kentucky riflemen dropped down into the ditch, and went out and captured the courageous lad, who was not more than fourteen.
When they brought him in, the stolid little Englishman, who was entirely unhurt, was much astonished at the praises he received from those he considered deadly enemies.
The English did not renew their attack, but at once began preparations for retreat to their ships. And there was good reason, for the actual fighting had only lasted twenty-five minutes, and they had twenty-six hundred men killed, wounded or prisoners, while the American loss was just seventeen.
General Packenham, the English commander, General Gibbs, Colonel Keene and Colonel Dale, among the leaders, all lost their lives in that fatal assault.
And the worst of it all was that the battle was fought after a treaty of peace had been made between England and the United States. But there was no means of knowing that, as there would be in these days of steam and electricity.
That night Eph had the guard in his battery, for vigilance was not relaxed, as the enemy, though beaten, had not yet retired entirely, and he was pacing up and down the parapet, and wishing he could go to sleep, after all the long excitement and labor, when he heard a challenge of a sentinel at the rear, and soon a written order was brought by an orderly, directing him to report at headquarters on the following day at ten o’clock.
This official notice made him uneasy, but he did not know anything wrong which he had done, and he knew he had served his guns well. So, when the time came for him to be relieved, he quietly lay down and slept the sleep of a tired boy, until roused for the rough camp breakfast.
At the appointed time he went to the headquarters in a plantation-house in the rear of the lines, and reported himself.
An aid-de-camp came out and said:
“General Jackson wants to see you.”
Without a word, but with much inward perturbation, Eph followed the officer into the room, where a large, rawboned man, with hair standing straight up from his scalp, and clad in general’s uniform and high boots, was sitting at a table filled with papers.
Several officers were standing about the room, and Eph recognized General Villere and one or two others he had seen before.
The general looked up sharply from his writing—he had a piercing gray-blue eye—and said:
“My lad, you have been much commended for your conduct. You are an American?”
“Yes, sir. I did not go to Lafitte’s place of my own accord; but when I saw that I could do some good for my country, I worked as hard as I could.”
The general waved his hand and nodded approvingly.
“Yes,” he continued; “I have heard how you acted from Governor Claiborne and Judge Livingston and General Villere. You are a sailor, I believe?”
“Yes, sir. I have been a sailor for four years.”
“Do you like the life?”
“I have not had such success that I should like it. I think I would rather be a soldier.”
“Well said, lad,” and the grim general chuckled. “You shall be a soldier. They will listen to me after this work, and I promise you a lieutenantcy in one of the regular regiments. In the meantime I take you on my staff as a volunteer, and you may go to any tailor in New Orleans and be fitted out.”
“There is one thing I would like to say, general.”
“What is it? Speak quickly, for I have much to do.”
“There is a Danish youth, older than I am, who served in the battery, and was taken out of the brig with me. I should like to see what becomes of him.”
“Very good! I will give an order for his enlistment, and meantime he can remain with you.”
Two months after this Ephraim Clark received his commission as second lieutenant in the Second Regiment of United States Infantry, and Eric Ericcsson was transferred as a private to the same regiment, the headquarters of which were at the frontier town of St. Louis, in the Territory of Missouri.
[THE END.]
