“Come, Marie, look less sad; soon will we reach the spot where our home is to be. Let me hold the little one.”
“Oh, Madame, little did I know of the horrors before us! Praise God that we still live, we and the little cat.”
“Truly the little cat and Annette seem to have fared better than the rest of us,” said Clemence, laughing. “Let us hope there will be fewer mice than you expect.”
“But, Madame, a cat is so comfortable, and in this wild land there be few enough comforts, I well know.”
Just at this moment Pierre hurried up to them, and said,—
“Come, Clemence, bring Annette, while Marie helps me, for the Captain says we are to go ashore and wait at the house of the Commandant till boats come for us from New Orleans.”
It was with scant ceremony that our little party and some of the other passengers were packed into the ship’s boats and taken to Dauphin Island. Here they were made comfortable, and during the week of their stay recovered somewhat from the sufferings on shipboard.
It was in two pirogues and two barges that they at last started on the trip up the river to New Orleans, and for discomfort the seven days passed in this journey far outdid all the fatigues sustained in the “Espérance.”
“Oh, Madame,” said Marie, “who ever saw ‘Messieurs les Maringouins’ of such size and with such stings before?” and as she spoke she waved again the huge fan with which she tried to protect Annette from the ravages of the mosquitoes.
An hour before sunset the rowers stopped each day, and the whole party encamped on shore, so as to get safely tucked in beneath the mosquito bars before “les Messieurs” should begin operations.