“No, no, Tenny. I hope to see you soon again,” said Jeanne warmly for she had conceived a real regard for the faithful creature. “And I won’t forget about Snowball.”
“Bress yer haht, I knows yer won’t. Ole Tenny nebber cease ter gib thanks dat she hab met yer. Good-bye, honey.”
“Good-bye,” said Jeanne again and then she followed the Captain down the cotton platform, which was raised above the levee for the convenient loading of cotton, to the levee itself, and along the banks to DeLord Street where they were joined by Admiral Farragut. Jeanne bade the Captain adieu and then walked slowly by the Admiral’s side through the busy streets en route for the St. Charles Hotel where General Butler had his headquarters. The city had recovered something of its former activity, and wore its accustomed garb of careless gaiety and business bustle.
The markets were bright once more with red bandannas and noisy with the many-tongued chatter of the hucksters: Creole, Spanish, French, German and English. A perfect babel of tongues, and louder, more obstreperous and broader mouthed than all others rose the gleeful negro laughter.
The day was warm and bright, and the mulatto women with baskets of cakes, figs, pomegranates, bananas, crape myrtles and oleanders, filled the air with their musical negro cries as they vended their wares. Nurses with children wearing Madras kerchiefs of bright colors, wrinkled negro mammies, Creoles with French or Spanish descent plainly delineated upon their features and soldiers, clad in the United States uniform, thronged the banquettes and streets.
Jeanne looked about her with curiosity, for the quaint old city presented a thoroughly different aspect to the cities of the North. Many of the people were of sullen countenance, some of them taking no pains to conceal their dislike to their conquerors. The stars and stripes hung everywhere. Hundreds of flags hung over the banquettes and in some places ropes of them were stretched across the streets. To her amazement Jeanne saw a well dressed woman go out into the street to avoid walking under a flag which hung over the banquette. A soldier seized her unceremoniously and forced her to pass under the emblem. With freezing hauteur the woman raised her parasol and interposed its shelter between her and the offending flag.
“Verily, Butler hath his hands full,” quoth the Admiral, and then he added: “You wished to find your uncle, did you not?”
“Yes, sir,” replied Jeanne, trying to overcome her astonishment at what she saw. “And yet I don’t know whether I should find him first or not.”
“Why?” asked the Admiral in surprise.
“You know, sir, that I came down here on business,” and as he nodded assent she continued. “My father sent some papers to be given to a man here in the service of the government. I have always said that I was going to Uncle Ben, but he is not the man. Father told me not to mention the name until I reached New Orleans and then only to some one I could trust. The man’s name is John Archer. Now do you think I should go to him or to Uncle Ben first? I suppose Uncle Ben would help me find him.”