All night the child floated and paddled down the silent and lonely Bayou, often terrified by the strange night sounds which came from the swamps, and occasionally cheered by the light glimmering in the window of some of the planters’ homes on the shore. When she was most alarmed, she would reassure her little trembling heart by putting her hand on the breast of her frock, beneath which lay the necklace, and by whispering to herself the beloved name of “father.”
The rising sun saw her heading her boat into the small channel which led into Bayou St. John, and it was late afternoon when the weary Annette saw frowning before her the rough palisades which enclosed Fort St. John.
The soldier on duty could scarcely believe his eyes when the little pirogue came alongside the quay, and was still more astonished when with trembling voice Annette said,—
“Sir, may I please see the Governor?”
“The Governor! why, what should the Governor do here? Who are you, and what would you with the Governor?”
“I have business with the Governor, sir.”
At this reply the man laughed long and loud, and poor Annette was ready to weep with disappointment and fatigue. Then remembering that at any rate her father was within those walls, she plucked up courage and began again.
“If Monsieur the Governor is not here, is there any great general here?” The soldier laughed again, and said below his breath,—
“Great general—no; but the great Sir Intendant is here, if you can do your business with him”; and there was another burst of laughter as the burly man looked at the slender form standing before him.
“Take me to him, please,” said she, and she gave one touch to the frock below which lay the precious heirloom as the soldier turned to lead the way within the enclosure.