Patterson was a good fighter. On June the eleventh he departed from New Orleans with seventy members of the 44th regiment of infantry. On the sixteenth he made for the Island of Barrataria, with some six gun-boats, a launch mounting one twelve pound carronade; the Sea Horse (a tender carrying one six-pounder) and the schooner Carolina.
“We must fight, Boys,” cried Lafitte to his ill-assorted mates. “Come, take to our schooners and show these officers that the followers of Lafitte can battle like Trojans.”
A cheer greeted these noble sentiments.
“Lead on!” yelled his cut-throats. “Lead on and we’ll sink these cocky soldiers as we’ve done to many an East Indiaman!”
So, about two o’clock in the afternoon, the privateers and pirates formed their vessels, ten in number (including their prizes) near the entrance of the harbor.
Crash!
A shell from the forward gun of the leading gun-boat spun across the bows of Lafitte’s flagship and buried itself in the gray water with a dull sob.
Up went a huge white flag upon the foremost mast-head of the king pirate and these words could be plainly seen:
“Pardon for all Deserters.”
“Ah, ha,” chuckled Patterson. “The arch ruffian has heard that some of my men are ashore and this is the way he would hire them.”