The Lady And The Pirate - The Lady and the Pirate Part 42
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The Lady and the Pirate Part 42

We found that the piling waters of Cote Blanche, erstwhile blown out to sea, were now slowly settling back again after the offshore storm.

The _Belle Helene_ had risen from her bed in the mud now and rode free. Our soundings showed us that it would be easy now to break out the anchor and reach the channel, just ahead. So, finding no leak of consequence, and the beloved engines not the worse for wear, Williams went below to get up some power, while Peterson took the wheel and I went forward to the capstan.

The donkey winch soon began its work, and I felt the great anchor at length break away and come apeak. The current of the air swung us before we had all made fast; and as I sounded with a long bow pike, I presently called out to Peterson, "No bottom!" He nodded; and now, slowly, we took the channel and moved on in opposite the light. We could see the white-capped gulf rolling beyond.

"Water there!" said Peterson. "We can go on through, come around in the Morrison cut-off, and so make the end of the Manning channel to the mainland. But I wish we had a local pilot."

I nodded. "Drop her in alongside this fellow's wharf," I added. "The ladies have sent some letters--to go out by the tender's boat, yonder--I suppose he'll be going back to-day."

"Like enough," said Peterson; and so gently we moved on up the dredged channel, and at last made fast at the tumble-down wharf of the lighthouse; courteously waiting for the little craft of the tender to make its landing.

We found the mooring none too good, what with the storm's work at the wharf, and as we shifted our lines a time or two, the gaping, jeans-clad Cajun who had come in with mail and supplies passed in to the lighthouse ahead of us; and I wonder his head did not twist quite off its neck, for though he walked forward, he ever looked behind him.

When at length we two, Peterson and myself, passed up the rickety walk to the equally rickety gallery at the foot of the light, we found two very badly frightened men instead of a single curious one. The keeper in sooth had in hand a muzzle-loading shotgun of such extreme age, connected with such extreme length of barrel, as might have led one to suspect it had grown an inch or so annually for all of many decades.

He was too much frightened to make active resistance, however, and only warned us away, himself, now, a pale saffron in color.

"Keep hout!" he commanded. "No, you'll didn't!"

"We'll didn't what, my friend?" began I mildly. "Don't you like my looks? Not that I blame you if you do not. But has the boat brought down any milk or eggs that you can spare?"

"No milluk--no haig!" muttered the light tender; and they would have closed the door.

"Come, come now, my friends!" I rejoined testily. "Suppose you haven't, you can at least be civil. I want to talk with you a minute.

This is the power yacht _Belle Helene_, of Mackinaw, cruising on the Gulf. We went aground in the storm; and all we want now is to send out a little mail by you to Morgan City, or wherever you go; and to pass the time of day with you, as friends should. What's wrong--do you think us a government revenue boat, and are you smuggling stuff from Cuba through the light here?"

"We no make hany smug'," replied the keeper. "But we know you, who you been!"

He smote now upon an open newspaper, whose wrapper still lay on the floor. I glanced, and this time I saw a half-page cut of the _Belle Helene_ herself, together with portraits of myself, Mrs. Daniver, Miss Emory and two wholly imaginary and fearsome boys who very likely were made up from newspaper portraits of the James Brothers! Moreover, my hasty glance caught sight of a line in large letters, reading:

TEN THOUSAND DOLLARS REWARD!

"Peterson," said I calmly, handing him the paper, "they seem to be after us, and to value us rather high."

He glanced, his eyes eager; but Peterson, while a professional doubter, was personally a man of whose loyalty and whose courage I, myself, had not the slightest doubt.

"Let 'em come!" said he. "We're on our own way and about our own business; and outside the three mile zone, let 'em follow us on the high seas if they like. She's sound as a bell, Mr. Harry, and once we get her docked and her port shaft straight, there's nothing can touch her on the Gulf. Let 'em come."

"But we can't dock here, my good Peterson."

"Well, we can beat 'em with one engine and one screw. Besides, what have we done?"

"Haint you was 'hrobber, han ron hoff with those sheep?" demanded the keeper excitedly.

"No, we are not ship thieves but gentlemen, my friend," I answered, suddenly catching at his long gun and setting it behind me. "You might let that go off," I explained. At which he went yellower than ever, a thing I had thought impossible.

"Now, look here," said I. "Suppose we are robbers, pirates, what you like, and suppose a price is put on our heads--a price which means a jolly nice libel suit for each paper printing it, by the way, or a jolly nice apology--none the less, we are a strong band and without fear either of the law or of you. Here you are alone, and not a sail is in sight. If any boat did come here, we could--well, we could blow her out of the water, couldn't we, Peterson? We could blow you out of the water, too, couldn't we, we and these ruffians of our crew?"--and I pointed at the two low-browed pictures of Lafitte and L'Olonnois.

A shudder was my only answer. I think the two portraits of my young bullies did the business.

"Very well, then," I resumed, "it is plain, Messieurs, that there is many a slip between the reward and the pocket, _voyez vous_? _Bien!_ But here--" and I thrust a hand into my pocket--"is a reward much closer home, and far easier to attain."

Their eyes bulged as they saw two or three thousand dollars in big bills smoothed out.

"_Ecoutez, Messieurs!_" said I. "Behold here not enemies, but men of like mind. I speak of men who live by the sea, men of the old home of Jean Lafitte, that great merchant, that bold soldier, who did so much to save his country at the Battle. Even now he has thousands of friends and hundreds of relatives in this land. You yourself, I doubt not, Messieurs, are distant cousins of Jean Lafitte? _N'est-ce pas?_"

They crossed themselves, but murmured "_Ba-oui!_" "Est ees the trut'!

How did Monsieur know?" asked the tender.

"I know many things. I know that any cousin descended from those brave days loves the sea and its ways more than he loves the law. And if money has come easy--as this did--what harm if a cousin should take the price of a rat-skin or two and carry out a letter or so to the railway, and keep a close mouth about it as well? To the good old days, and Messieurs, my friends!" I had seen the neck of a flask in Peterson's pocket, and now I took it forth, unscrewed the top, and passed it, with two bills of one hundred dollars each.

They poured, grinned. I stood, waiting for their slow brains to act, but there was only a foregone answer. The keeper drank first, as ranking his tender; the other followed; and they handed the flask--not the bills--back to Peterson and me.

"_Merci, mes amis!_" said I. "And I drink to Jean Lafitte and the old days! Perhaps, you may buy a mass for your cousin's soul?"

"_Ah non!_" answered the keeper. "Hees soul she's hout of _Purgatoire_ long hago eef she'll goin' get hout. Me, I buy me some net for s'rimp."

"An' me, two harpent more lan' for my farm," quoth the tender.

"Alas! poor Jean!" said I. "But he was so virtuous a man that he needs no masses after a hundred years, perhaps. As you like. You will take the letters; and this for the telegraph?"

"Certain'! I'll took it those," answered the tender. "You'll stayed for dish coffee, yass?" inquired the keeper, with Cajun hospitality.

"No, I fear it is not possible, thank you," I replied. "We must be going soon."

"An' where you'll goin', Monsieur?"

"Around the island, up the channel, up the old oyster-boat channel of Monsieur Edouard. The letters are some of them for Monsieur Edouard himself. And you know well, _mes amis_, that once we lie at the wharf of Monsieur Edouard, not the government even of the state will touch us yonder?"

"My faith, _non!_ I should say it--certain' not! No man he'll mawnkey wit' Monsieur Edouard, heem! You'll was know him, Monsieur?"

"We went to school together. We smoked the same pipe."

"My faith! You'll know Monsieur Edouard!" The keeper shook my hand.

"H'I'll was work for Monsieur Edouard manny tam hon hees boat, hon hees plantation, hon hees 'ouse. When I'll want some leetle money, s'pose those hrat he'll wasn't been prime yet, hall H'I'll need was to go non Monsieur Edouard, hask for those leetle monny. He'll han' it on me, yass, heem, ten dollar, jus' like as heasy Monsieur has gave it me hondred dollar now, yas, heem!"

"Yes? Well, I know that a cousin of Jean Lafitte--who no doubt has dug for treasure all over the dooryard of Monsieur Edouard----"

"But not behin' the smoke-house--nevair on dose place yet, I'll swear it!"

"--Very well, suppose you have not yet included the smoke-house of Monsieur Edouard, at least you are his friend. And what Acadian lives who is not a friend of the ladies?"

"Certain', Monsieur."

"Very well again. What you see in the paper is all false. The two ladies whose pictures you see here, and here, are yonder at our camp.

You shall come and see that they are well and happy, both of them.

Moreover, if you like another fifty for the mass for Jean Lafitte's soul, you, yourself, my friend, shall pilot us into the channel of Monsieur Edouard. We'll tow your boat behind us across the bay. Is it not?"

"Certain'! _oui!_" answered the tender. "But you'll had leetle dish coffee quite plain?" once more demanded the lonesome keeper; and for sake of his hospitable soul we now said yes; and very good coffee it was, too: and the better since I knew it meant we now were friends.

Ah! pirate blood is far thicker than any water you may find.