On the 18th of January, we embarked in the schooner Emblem, whose cabin was proportioned to her tonnage, (which was but fifty tons,) but comfortably high, and well ornamented. The sides were of mahogany and maple; on each side were two state-rooms, with two births each; the back part of the cabin, being something higher than the forward part, contained a birth on each side. Of these, the starboard was occupied by Mr. Bowdoin, the other by myself.
The shores of Mobile Bay, which is very wide, are low and overgrown with wood, before us lay a long island, called Isle Dauphine, by the unfortunate Delasalle, who discovered it. Mobile point lies to the left, where, after sunset, we beheld the light in the light-house. There stood on this point in the late war a small fort, called Fort Bowyer, which the present Lieutenant-Colonel, then Major Lawrence, gallantly defended, with a garrison of one hundred and thirty men, against eight hundred disembarked English sailors and Seminole Indians, under Major Nichols. The assailants were defeated, after their ordnance was dismounted, with considerable loss, and the English corvette Hermes, which covered the attack, was blown up by the well-directed fire of the fort. In February, 1815, this brave officer found himself obliged to yield to superior force, and to capitulate to Admiral Cockburn, who was on his return from the unsuccessful expedition to New Orleans. This was the last act of hostility that occurred during that war. Fort Bowyer is since demolished, and in its stead a more extensive fortress is erecting, which we would willingly have inspected, had the wind been more favourable, and brought us there earlier. We steered between Mobile Point and Dauphin Island, so as to reach the Mexican gulf, and turning then to the right, southward of the Sandy Islands, which laid along the coast, sailed towards Lake Borgne. Scarcely were we at sea, when a strong wind rose from the west, which blew directly against us. We struggled nearly the whole night to beat to windward, but in vain. The wind changed to a gale, with rain, thunder, and lightning. The main-topmast was carried away, and fell on deck. The mate was injured by the helm striking him in the side, and was for a time unfit for duty. On account of the great bustle on deck, the passengers could hardly close an eye all night. The motion of the vessel was violent, on account of her small size. A falling block broke out several of the panes in the sky-light of the cabin, so that the rain was admitted, and the furniture was tossed about by the rolling.
On the morning of the 19th of January, we were driven back to the strait between Dauphin Island and Mobile Point, and the anchor was dropt to prevent farther drifting. I was sea-sick, but had the consolation that several passengers shared my misfortune. The whole day continued disagreeable, cold, and cloudy. As we lay not far from Dauphin Island, several of our company went on shore, and brought back a few thrushes which they had shot. I was too unwell to feel any desire of visiting this inhospitable island, a mere strip of sand, bearing nothing but everlasting pines. Upon it, stands some remains of an old entrenchment and barrack. Besides the custom-house officers, only three families live on the whole island. We saw the light-house, and the houses at Mobile Point, not far from us. I wished to have gone there to see the fortification lately commenced, but it was too far to go on a rough sea in a skiff.
On the 20th of January, the wind was more favourable; it blew from the north-east, and dispersed the clouds, and we set sail. After several delays, caused by striking on sand-banks, we proceeded with a favourable wind, passed Dauphin Island and the islands Petit Bois, Massacre, Horn, and Ship Island.
These islands consist of high sand-hills, some of them covered with pine, and remind one strongly of the coasts of Holland and Flanders. Behind Horn and Massacre Islands lies a bay, which is called Pascagoula, from a river rising in the state of Mississippi, and emptying here into the sea. Ship Island is about nine miles long, and it was here that the English fleet which transported the troops sent on the expedition against New Orleans, remained during the months of December and January, 1814-15. At a considerable distance from us to the left, were some scattered islands, called Les Malheureux. Behind these were the islands De la Chandeleur, and still farther La Clef du Francmaçon. Afterwards we passed a muddy shallow, upon which, luckily, we did not stick fast, and arrived in the gulf Lac Borgne, which connects itself with Lake Ponchartrain, lying back of it, by two communications, each above a mile broad; of which one is called Chef Menteur, and the other the Rigolets. Both are guarded by forts, the first by the fort of Chef Menteur, the other by that of the Petites Coquilles, so called because it is built on a foundation of muscle shells, and its walls are composed of a cement of the same. We took this last direction, and passed the Rigolets in the night, with a fair wind. Night had already fallen when we reached Lake Borgne. After we had passed the Rigolets, we arrived in Lake Ponchartrain, then turned left from the light-house of Fort St. John, which protects the entrance of the bayou of the same name, leading to New Orleans.
I awoke on the 21st of January, as we entered the bayou St. John. This water is so broad, that we could not see the northern shore. We remained at the entrance one hour, to give the sailors a short rest, who had worked the whole night, and whose duty it was now to tow the vessel to the city, six miles distant. This fort, which has lost its importance since the erection of Chef Menteur, and Petites Coquilles, is abandoned, and a tavern is now building in its place. It lies about five hundred paces distant from the sea, but on account of the marshy banks cannot be thence attacked without great difficulty. The bank is covered with thick beams, to make it hold firm, which covering in this hot and damp climate perishes very quickly. The causeway which runs along the bayou, is of made earth on a foundation of timber. Behind the fort is a public house, called Ponchartrain Hotel, which is much frequented by persons from the city during summer. I recognized the darling amusements of the inhabitants, in a pharo and roulette table.
As the passage hence to the city is very tedious in stages, we proposed to hire a carriage, but there was none to be found; six dollars was asked for a boat; we therefore, decided to go on foot. The Colonel, Mr. Huygens, Mr. Egbert, Mr. Chew, and myself made up this walking party. The morning was beautiful spring weather; we passed through a shocking marshy country, along the right side of the bayou. The woods were hanging full of the hateful Spanish moss, and a number of palmettoes were the only variety afforded. The causeway was very muddy; there were good wooden bridges over little ditches, which conveyed the water from the surrounding marshes into the bayou.
After we had proceeded three miles in this manner, we came into a cultivated district, passed a sort of gate, and found ourselves quite in another world. Plantations, with handsome buildings, followed in quick succession; noble live oaks, which had been trimmed to regular shapes, young orange trees, pride of China, and other tropical trees and bushes, along the road. Several inns and public gardens were exhibited, for a population that willingly seeks amusement. We noticed several mansion-houses, ornamented with columns, piazzas, and covered galleries; some of these were of ancient style in building. It was naturally agreeable to me, after wandering a long time in mere wildernesses, once more to come into a long civilized country. We saw from afar, the white spires of the cathedral of New Orleans, also the masts of the ships lying in the Mississippi. The bayou unites itself, three miles from this city, with a canal leading thither, which we passed upon a turning bridge, to strike into the city by a nearer way.
This road carried us between well-built mansions, and over the streets were hung reflecting lamps. The first view of the city, as we reached, without knowing it, was really not handsome; for we came into the oldest section, which consisted only of little one-story houses, with mud walls, and wide projecting roofs. On the whole, the streets are regularly laid out, part parallel with the river, the rest perpendicular to it. The ancient town was surrounded by a wall, which is destroyed, in its room there is a boulevard laid out, called Rue de Remparts. Next to the old town below, lies the suburb Marigny, and above, that of St. Mary; then begins the most elegant part of the city.
Before we searched for lodgings, we looked about a little through the city, and went first to the Mississippi, to pay our homage to this “father of rivers.” It is about half a mile wide, and must be above eighty fathoms deep; it is separated from the city by a compost of muscle shells. This causeway defends it from inundations. There are no wharves, they cannot be fixed, as the river would sweep them away. The ships lay four and five deep, in tiers along the bank, as in the Thames, at London. Below them, were ten very large steam-boats, employed in the river trade. In a line with the bank stood houses, which were two or three stories high, and built of brick, also ancient massive Spanish houses, known by their heavy, solid style, and mostly white. We passed by a square, of which the river formed one side, opposite stood the cathedral, and on each side of it, a massive public edifice, with arcades. Along the bank stood the market-houses, built of brick, modelled after the Propylæa, in Athens, and divided into separate blocks. We saw in these, fine pine-apples, oranges, bananas, peccan-nuts, cocoa-nuts, and vegetables of different descriptions; also several shops, in which coffee and oysters were sold. The black population appeared very large; we were informed, that above one-half of the inhabitants, forty-five thousand in number, were of the darker colour. The custom-house on the Levée, is a pretty building.