In the end the beaten English are all departed. That tremendous invasion which, with “Beauty and Booty!” for its cry, sailed out of Negril Bay six weeks before to the sack of New Orleans, is abandoned, and the last defeated man jack once more aboard the ships and mighty glad to be there. The fleet sails south and east; but not until the tallest ship is hull down in the horizon does the General march into New Orleans.
The General cannot bring himself to believe that the retreat of the English is genuine. They have still, as they sail away, full thirteen thousand fighting men aboard those ships, with a round one thousand cannon, and munitions and provisions for a year's campaign. He judges them by himself, and will not be convinced that they have fled. With this on his mind, he plants his pickets far and wide, and insists on double vigilance.
Now when fear of the English is rolled like a stone from their breasts, the folk of New Orleans fret under the General's iron rule. With that the prudent General tightens his grip. Even so excellent a soldier as Papa Plauche complains. He says that the hearts of the “Fathers of Families” are bursting with victory. His valiant “Fathers” burn to express their joy.
The General suggests that the joy-swollen “Fathers” repair to the Cathedral, and hear the Abbé Duborg conduct a Te Deum.
Papa Plauche points out that, while a Te Deum is all very well in its way, it is a rite and not a festival. What his “Fathers”—who are thunderbolts of war!—desire is to give a ball.
The General says that he has no objections to the ball.
Papa Plauche explains that a ball is not possible, with the city held fast in the controlling coils of military law. The rule that all lights must be out at nine o'clock, of itself forbids a ball. As affairs stand the “Fathers” are helpless in their happiness. No one may dance by daylight; that would be too fantastic, too bizarre! And yet who, pray, can rejoice in the dark? It is against human nature, argues Papa Plauche.
The General refuses to be moved; but continues to hold the city in his unrelenting clutch—maintaining the while a wary eye for sly returning English, with an occasional glance at the local treason which is simmering about him.
The public murmur grows louder and deeper. A rumor of the peace comes ashore, no one knows how. The General refuses the rumor, fearing an English ruse to throw him off his guard. At the peace whisper, the popular discontent increases. The General, in the teeth of it, remains unchanged.
Citizen Hollander expresses himself with more heat than prudence. The General locks up the vituperative Citizen Hollander. M. Toussand, Consul for France, considers such action high-handed; and says so. The General marches Consul Toussand out of town, with a brace of bayonets at the consular back. Legislator Louaillier protests against the casting out of Consul Toussand. The General consigns the protesting Legislator Louaillier to a cell in the calaboose. Jurist Hall of the District Court issues a writ of habeas corpus for the relief and release of the captive Louaillier. The General responds by arresting Jurist Hall, who is given a cell between captives Louaillier and Hollander, where by raising his voice he may condole with them through the intervening stone walls.