VII
JOLLY ROGER
Guarding the Port of the Mississippi beside the Buccaneer Pilot, Lawrence de Graaf—A Queer Flag at the Mast
THE Badine was the name of a ship dancing over the Atlantic to her port at Santo Domingo of the West Indies. Behind her came her sister ship, the Marine, a small frigate. In their wake, wavering gull-like in the sunshine, sailed a couple of store vessels.
The commander of the fleet was the Sieur de Iberville, a Canadian, lately the hero of the battle of Hudson Bay. With the sweep and dash of some North Sea Viking, he had plunged with his ship, the Pelican, into the frost and fog of that Arctic harbor. He fell upon those ancient rivals of the French, the English traders, and took them by surprise. To their man-of-war he gave a slashing fight and sank it. Two consort ships were captured. Fort Nelson could not hold out against his impetuous onslaught. It was taken and renamed Fort Bourbon.
For this maritime conquest France hailed him as a brilliant genius. The court fêted and idolized him. The king gave him a patent, two hundred colonists, and supplies enough to found a colony at the mouth of the Great River.
The first fleet sent from the mother country to the sea entrance of the Mississippi had over-sailed the estuary and had been wrecked upon the coast of Texas. The brave La Salle, leader of the expedition, had perished tragically while going back overland to search for what was called his "fatal river."
The Sieur de Iberville's fleet had crossed the ocean safely. The decks of the Badine and Marine were crowded with folks in their best array. Land had been sighted. They longed for a view of that New World which was to be their home.
One of the commander's retinue, an adventurer of France, Anthony Auguelle, the Picard du Gay, set his scarlet heels upon the boards where his buckles glittered finely. His hair was parted in the middle and hung in heavy curls on his shoulders. In those days he who had good hair wore it thus; he who had it not bought a wig and achieved the same effect. A plumed hat adorned the curls. This was the fashion of that Paris Anthony had so lately quitted for the Spanish Main. His velvet coat which concealed a shirt of mail, his laces and ruffles, his knee breeches and sword were exactly as they should be. He was proud of himself.