But this was one of the cases where Napoleon gave up something. He dared not send a fleet to New Orleans, for the reason that England, with whom he was at war, had a stronger fleet than his in the West Indian waters.
On November 30th the banner of Spain was lowered for the last time at the Cabildo, and the tricolor of France went up in its place. But the sight of it brought little joy to the Creoles, for the rumor of the transfer of Louisiana to the United States was now confirmed.
The French were taking possession merely to legalize the transfer. General Victor and the fleet were not coming.
As the Spanish troops were now withdrawn, and the French representative had no troops with him to police the city, lawlessness would have held full sway if the arksmen and rivermen had not offered their services to M. Laussat, and, forming a volunteer company, patrolled the streets day and night, in armed bands. These were stirring times for the arksmen from Fish Creek. Marion was about again, and Jimmy was everywhere in evidence, jealously guarding the city as if he were its sole custodian until the arrival of the American commissioners, Wilkinson and Claiborne. He knew, now, that the letter he had carried so long had held the first intimation to the governor that he would be chosen, in case the purchase was successfully brought about, to receive it from France. To whom the letter was addressed, Jimmy never knew; but it was evidently to some close personal friend of the President’s and the young Governor of Mississippi.
City life had made some change in Jimmy’s appearance. He had taken the governor’s hint and visited the barber. His own heart was so jubilant that he marveled at the despair of the Creoles. Women, and even men, were seen weeping in the shops and doorways. To them this transfer was but one more mocking irony of fate.
The time fixed for the entrance of the commissioners and the American troops was Tuesday, December 20; but the great event began for Jimmy the evening before, when, walking out by the Gate of France to the ark, he met Governor Claiborne and the French commissioner, M. Laussat, returning on horseback from a visit to one of the plantations.
“By Jupiter, but it seems to me that I see my young cousin from up the Ohio,” exclaimed the governor, reining in his horse. “Monsieur Laussat, permit me to present a young kinsman of mine from the West.”
He turned to his companion, and at that moment a bullet whizzed past his head. Turning back quickly, he saw that Jimmy’s upflung hand had caught the wrist of a swarthy little Creole. The pistol fell from the Creole’s hand.
“You would, would you?” said Jimmy, pinning him, now that he was unarmed, and taking him by the throat. “What shall I do with him, sir? He tried to shoot you!”
The governor looked down at the dark-skinned little partisan who had tried to kill him. “He seems to have no love for the idea of an American occupation,” he said. “I hope the city isn’t full of such patriotism for France. Let him go, cousin. My friend,” he added to the Creole, “if you were as good an American as you are a Frenchman, I would like to have a thousand of you at my back. As it is, I will ask you to walk in front of us; is it not so, M. Laussat?”