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An attack from the mutineers—interview with the
British officers—secret expedition.

The business of Lafitte on board the Lady of the
Gulf relating to the private disposition of some specie,
which, unknown to his crew, the captain had
smuggled into his state-room, having no immediate
connexion with our story, we shall leave him to
transact without our supervision, and return to the
prisoners confined in the guard-room of the fortalice.

“Well, Williams, we are in a fine pickle, cooped
up in this seven-by-nine bit of a box, at the tender
mercies of Lafitte and his merciful crew,” said the
naval officer, getting up from the rude bench on
which he had been sometime seated in silence, and
looking forth from the grated window.

“Damme,” he continued, “if I ever saw such a
swarm of gallows-looking cut-throats as were assembled
on the shore to honour our debarkation!
They need neither change of place nor body, to be
fiends incarnate.

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“You say true, Lockyer,” replied the military officer
addressed; “such black-browed villains would
shame the choicest corps of Beelzebub's infantry.
I have no doubt he would set up a rendezvous on
this blessed island of Grand Terre, Barrita, or whatever
else it is called, if he did not apprehend his
new recruits would corrupt his old soldiers.”

“But then,” replied the naval officer, “their
chief seems to be a man of other metal. I could
hardly believe I was looking upon the celebrated
Lafitte, when I gazed upon his elegant, even noble,
person and fine features, in which, in spite of their
resolute expression, there is an air of frankness,
which assures me that he never would be guilty of
a mean action, however familiar bold deeds of blood
and battle may be to his hand. I have seldom seen
a finer countenance nor a nobler presence than that
of this same buccaneer. What a devil he must be
among the women?” he added in a gay tone, passing
his hand complacently over his own fine face.
“I will wager my epaulettes against a middle's warrant,
if he has not broken more hearts than heads.”

And as he ceased speaking he stroked his whiskers,
and glanced with much apparent self-approval
upon his bright breastplate which reflected his handsome
features as in a mirror.

“What think you,” he continued, turning to the
other naval officer by his side, “can we trust Lafitte
in this matter? He seems to care for our welfare,
nor would he have sent that fierce Spaniard
to breakfast with his infernal highness this morning,
if he had determined to sacrifice us. He might
have suffered our massacre, without being charged
with foul play. We are in his power safe enough!
What fatal temerity could have induced us to let
him inveigle us within reach of his guns? For such
a blind piece of folly, if it does not end better than
I foresee, I will throw up my commission and run a

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lugger between Havana and Matanzas, with a
young savage before the mast, and a bull-headed
Congo negro, for officers and crew. Curse me,”
he added, with much apparent chagrin, “but Captain
Lockyer, you have run your craft hard aground;
if you get clear this time, you may thank any thing
but your own wits.”

“Hark! there's a gun—another—a volley!” exclaimed
the military officer.

“Good God! can these infernal fiends be attacking
the Sophia?” exclaimed Captain Lockyer; “ho,
there, guard! what, ho! what is that firing and commotion
without?” he cried, springing to the barricaded
window which only overlooked the court.

The guard, who was a heavily armed and tall
Portuguese, with an air half-military, half-naval,
preserved in keeping by a tall chasseur's cap, a sailor's
jacket, and loose trowsers, paused a moment,
while he took a huge quid from a roll of tobacco he
held in his fist, and then turned to the window and
replied, while a malign expression lighted up his
full black eyes—

“Holy St. Antoine, caballeros, but you need not
be so warm! it is only a bit of a trial among the
men, to see who is the stronger.”

“How mean you, guard?”

“I mean, sigñores, that the party that proves
the strongest below on the beach there, will either
let you remain peaceably where you are till El
Sigñor Captain Lafitte returns, or take you forth to
dangle by the necks from the live oak before the
gate.”

“What! how you jest,” exclaimed, in great perturbation,
the officer of his majesty's royal colonial
marines. “Villain, you jest!” and the fingers of
his gloved hand, involuntarily sought the precincts
of his windpipe, with tender solicitude.

“Jest! do you call that jest, señor?” as a loud

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shout filled the air, mingled with cries of “seize
them! spies! swing them! down with the gates!”
above which was heard the voice of Capt. Getzendanner,
in vain exerted to quell the turmoil.

The officers, like resolute men determined to
sell their lives dearly as possible, drew each a concealed
dirk from his bosom, and stood with folded
arms, facing the window which commanded the
main entrance to the court from without, and towards
which the noise was rapidly approaching.

The guard himself, mounted a flight of steps
leading to the flat roof of the guard-house, not
only commanding a view of the ground outside
of the defences, but of the whole island, the southern
sea to the horizon, the passes, and the bay, with
its fleet riding quietly at anchor.

“By St. Josef!” he exclaimed, as he gained the
summit, and cast his eye beneath upon the tumultuous
scene.

The whole green esplanade, or terrace, which
sloped from the fort to the beach, was dark with a
dense crowd of men, all under the intensest excitement,
which they manifested by shouts, execrations,
and brandishing various weapons in the air. The
crowd, consisting of persons of all nations, tongues,
and hues, mostly in the garb of seamen, seemed to
the eye of the guard divided into two unequal divisions,
one of which was assembled with arms in
their hands around the gate, and near a large oak,
growing by the fort, under the command of Getzendanner,
who with loud oaths, a sabre in one
hand and a cocked pistol in the other, was standing
before another party, pressing towards the gate,
some of whom were armed with pistols, harpoons,
and heavy spars. The last, slung between eight or
ten men, by ropes, in rude imitation of the ancient
battering ram, threatened destruction to the barred
gate, for which it was evidently designed.

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The two hostile bands, with ready weapons, were
eyeing each other with looks of hatred.

“Den tousand teyfils, and py all de shaints, you
sall not pass into de camp, Miles Cosgrove—to pe
shure!” continued the lieutenant, his face livid with
rage, and an eye full of determination, as a huge
seaman, with an Irish physiognomy advanced,
with a handspike, a little in advance of the mutineers,
“you once shaved mein life, Miles, and I
don't forget it; put, py Got himself, I vill make a
port hole in your tam long carcass, if you move anoder
step forward.”

“Misther lieutenant,” replied the Irishman calmly,
lifting his hand to his hat, “we mane to hoort
not wone hair of your head, but we are resolved,”—
and he raised his voice so that all, even the prisoners
in the guard-room heard his words,—“we are
resolved to seize them British officers—they are
spies! and they have either desaived Captain Lafitte,
or he himself is a traithor! So stand aside,
Captain dear, an' let us pass. You have but a
handful of men to oppose us!” and he cast his eyes
contemptuously over the small party of better disciplined
buccaneers who rallied around their officer, to
aid him in upholding that discipline, which they
knew, could alone hold their dangerous community
together. The number that met his eye was indeed
small, for most of those who had at first opposed
the measure, when they saw the popularity
of the cause, espoused by the other party, like sager
politicians on more distinguished theatres, wisely
went over to the stronger side.

The Irishman then turned his eye back upon his
own followers, numbering six to one of his opponents.
“Be discreet captain, and let us pass peaceably
into the fort,” he said, with some show of sullen
earnestness; “See you these men sir?” he
added with increased ferocity, pointing to his rude

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and undisciplined force, “they will pass through
that gate, if they pass over your dead bodies.”

Captain Getzendanner finding resistance vain
against such a fierce and overwhelming torrent, replied:

“On one condition shall you pass de gate: dat
you give me your vord, Miles Cosgrove—and I
know de value you place on dat—dat you vill only
mount one guard from your mutinous crew over
dem prisoners, till Lafitte comes on shore; and
den refer de decisions of dis matter to him. Dis
ish mein vish—to pe shure!”

“I give you the pledge, misther lieutenant, that
you ask,” said the Irishman, who was mate of one
of the pirate's cruisers.

“Den you sall pe admitted,” he replied, and a
cunning, treacherous expression glowed in his eye
as he spoke, requiring more than the Irishman's penetration
to detect. “Ho! dere Weshton, unbar de
gate and obey your first ordersh?”

With as rapid a step as was consistent with his
corporeal dignity, the Lieutenant with his men, who
might number about seventy, moved round the angle
of the building towards a stockade or exterior
fortlet, in the rear of the main defences, while the
besiegers rushed in a mass to the entrance. Too
impatient to wait the unlocking of bolts and bars,
those who bore the suspended spar, rushed at half
speed against the gate, which partly unbarred, gave
way before the tremendous power of the beam,
swung with tremendous momentum against it.

The forcing of the gate was followed by a shout,
and a rapid and tumultuous rush into the narrow
passage. All at once, a fearful cry burst from
twenty throats—

“Hold there! back! back! for God's sake hold!”
cried the Irish leader of the assault in a voice of
terror, and in another moment a match would have

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been applied to the long gun by Weston, in obedience
to the command of Lafitte, repeated, as he left
the passage to the gate open, by the wily lieutenant,
though not understood by the mutineers at the time.

The appalled men uttered a shriek of dismay, and
those who had the most presence of mind, fell flat
on their faces, while the rest, in wild confusion and
terror, crowded back upon each other uttering cries
and imprecations of despair and fury.

At this fearful crisis, the bars of the grated
window gave way as they were wrenched out, one
after another by an iron hand. Lockyer sprung from
the aperture grasping one of them, and overthrew
his guard who attempted to intercept him; and, just
as the torch was about to ignite the powder, to
send a shower of iron hail into that living mass of
human beings before its open mouth, the murderous
hand was arrested by his irresistible grasp, and the
flaming torch hurled far over the heads of the multitude,
and quenched in the sea.

“By the twelve apostles, sir Englishman, you
have saved your life by that bould act,” exclaimed
the astonished Irishman as soon as he could recover
from his momentary surprise, as amid the cheers
of his party, Lockyer drew back a step, and surveyed
with a firm manner and folded arms the motly
crew before him. “By St. Pathrick, men, but we
may thank that stranger that we did not make our
dinner on grape shot and slugs.”

A shout of “viva el Ingles!—viven los Ingleses!”
replied.

From the momentary check the mutineers received
at the sight of the long gun, standing open-mouthed
in their path, and on account of the sudden
change of sentiment produced by it among
those in advance, who had witnessed the bold and
humane act of the gallant Englishman, it was easy
to direct the current of their feelings.

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“Give back now my honies. You see this Englishman
is no spy or he'd have let that bloody
spalpeen Weston blow us into purgatory. Return
sir to the guard room,” he added, addressing the
officer, who was now as much the idol of their respect,
as he was before the object of their hatred,
“and you shall be protected until Captain Lafitte
comes on shore.”

The crowd acquiesced in the proposition of their
herculean leader, with a shout, and turned their
rage against Weston, who with his guard had retreated
into the quarters of their commander, constructed
both for strength and defence, and firmly
secured the entrance.

The English officer was once more shut up in
the guard-room with his fellow prisoners, while
Cosgrove after posting a guard of men by the door
and window, attempted to restore order among his
undisciplined associates, who, now finding a worthy
object upon which to vent the rage which the gallant
act of the Englishman had turned from himself
and his fellow prisoner, had brought the gun, so recently
directed against their own bosoms, to bear
upon the door of the building containing the guard,
and with cries of revenge, were only waiting for a
torch, for which one of the number had been sent,
to drive the whole charge of grape through the door
and force a passage to their victims.

Suddenly there was a movement among the privateers
at the gate, and “Lafitte!—the captain!”
passed hurriedly from mouth to mouth.

“Holy devil! what means all this?” cried the
chief, pressing through the crowd, who shrunk
back before his lightning eye and upraised sabre.
“Take that, sir,” and the hand which was about to
apply the burning brand to the priming of the cannon,
fell, still grasping the blazing wood, severed

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from the arm, by a single blow from the sabre of
the outlaw.

The next moment he stood upon the gun, with a
drawn pistol in each hand;—his eye flashing, and
his tall athletic figure expanded with rage, while a
broad circle was made around him, as the men involuntarily
drew back from the summary justice of
his ready hand.

“How is it!” he continued, vehemently, “that I
cannot leave the camp half an hour but there is
mutiny among ye knaves! By the holy St. Peter,
you shall remember this morning's work! Who
are the ringleaders of this fray? Who, I say?” and
his voice rung in their ears. “Come forward!”
and his eyes passed quickly over the silent and
moody multitude, each man, as he dropped his own,
felt that they were fixed individually upon himself.

“What—Cosgrove! my trusty Miles Cosgrove!”
exclaimed the pirate, as the tall Irishman stepped
forth from among his fellows,—“and yet I might
have thought it,” he added; “it were a miracle to
find one of you a stranger to treachery. What
could have led you,” he continued, raising his voice,
“thus boldly to despise the authority of your Captain,
and throw off the discipline of our community?”
Speak, sir! what was your object in this mad
assault upon the garrison of the fortress—a small
one indeed, for we thought friends and not traitors,
were around us? What have you to answer, sir?”

“Captain Lafitte! I have this defence,” said
Cosgrove, coming forward and speaking with a firm
countenance and a clear eye, which shrunk not beneath
the stern gaze of his superior. And in a few
words he detailed the circumstances as they had
happened.

“Cosgrove, I believe you. You are impulsive
and headstrong, but I think, in the main, faithful,”

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said, as he concluded, Lafitte, who had calmly
listened to the recapitulative defence of the
ringleader, which from the mutterings and pleasurable
exclamations that proceeded from various
quarters of the fort, differently affected his hearers.

“Well, my men,” he said, raising his voice,—
“will you all return to your duty and your vessels,
if no further notice is taken of this matter?”

“Aye, aye! all, all!” came unanimously from
the multitude.

“Will you freely leave me to deal with these
prisoners?”

“Freely, captain, freely,” said a hundred voices.

“I thank you, one and all. I hope a scene like
this witnessed to-day, will never be repeated.—
Return each man to his duty. To each officer under
my command, I would suggest the expediency
of preparing for the threatened attack from the
squadron, said to be fitting out against us at New-Orleans;
and laying aside private animosities and
prejudices, party feelings, or unjust suspicions, let
us adopt for our own the wary motto of the States.

His address was received with acclamations by
his men, who, in a few moments, each under his
respective officer, departed for the fleet, leaving behind
only the regular guard of the garrison.

“Gentlemen,” said Lafitte, stepping from his elevated
station upon the gun, and approaching the
window of the guard-room, from which his guests had
been silent and deeply interested spectators of the
scene passing before them,—“Gentlemen, I congratulate
you on your safety amidst this wild commotion
of human passions. Such tempests are
fiercer than the storms and waves of the ocean to
contend with. You may thank your own daring,
and not my authority, that this storm is allayed. It
would have cost me the lives of many brave men

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to have quelled it. Gentlemen, you are no longer
under restraint. I hailed, as I came under the
stern of your brig, and your pinnace is now approaching
the shore.”

Here he whispered to Théodore, who hastened
into his room.

“Allow me, Messieurs, to express my sincere
regret at the unpleasant situation in which you have
been placed. You have seen that I can scarcely
control the wild spirits around me, except by what
may be thought cruel and unnecessary severity.—
But should I abate for a moment, a feather's weight
of my discipline or authority, I should lose my
command or my head.”

Théodore now approached, with the swords of
the officers, which were courteously tendered them
by Lafitte, with an apology for detaining them; and
after doing ample justice to the sparkling stores of
the Barratarian, presented on a richly chased salver,
by his slave, accompanied by Lafitte, they left the
garrison; and after crossing the green terrace,
stretching before it quite to the beach, they were
in a few moments at their boat.

“Messieurs,” said the outlaw, with dignity and
address, as the British officer, before stepping into
his boat, desired to be told what conclusion he had
formed in relation to the proposals of Admiral
Percy,—“Messieurs, in reference to this important
subject, some delay is indispensable. The confusion
which prevailed in my camp this morning, has
prevented me from considering with that attention
I should wish to, the offers made me by your government.
If you will grant me a fortnight's delay,—
such a length of time is necessary to enable me
to put my affairs in order, and attend to other things
which peremptorily demand my present attention,—
at the termination of this period, I will be entirely
at your disposal. You may communicate with

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me then by sending a boat to the eastern pass, an
hour before sunset, where I shall be found. You
have inspired me, Captain Lockyer, with more confidence,”
he said, sincerely, “than the admiral,
your superior officer, himself could have done.
With you alone I wish to deal, and from you also
I will reclaim in due time, the reward of the services
which I may render you.”

The decided tone and manner of Lafitte gave
Capt. Lockyer no hope of being able to draw from
him a present decisive reply; he therefore merely
said:—

“I must, I find, though reluctantly enough, comply
with your request, Captain Lafitte. On the
evening of the fourteenth day from the present, we
will ask again, your determination, which, I trust,
will be that, which will give you an opportunity of
securing a high and honourable name among men,
and that, which will add Louisiana to his majesty's
crown. Good morning, sir.”

“Good morning, Messieurs,” replied Lafitte; and
the pinnace moved swiftly away from the beach,
and the outlaw stood alone—the sea-breeze playing
coolly upon his brow—the broad gulf with a low
murmur unrolling its waves at his feet—the rich
forest rising in majesty behind him, and the deep
blue skies above him—yet, all unseen, unheard,
unfelt by him. After gazing thoughtfully a few
moments after the receding boat, he folded his arms
upon his breast, and walked slowly back to the
camp.

The sun had just set on the evening of the day
in which the events we have recorded, transpired,
when Lafitte, his tall and commanding figure
enveloped in a gray cloak, issued from the gate
of the fortress, after giving several brief orders
to Captain Getzendanner, who was stationed with
his portly mien, and goodly corporeal dimensions,

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just within the gate as he passed. Cudjoe's low,
deformed figure also wrapped in a cloak followed
him with an awkward rolling gait, as he walked
rapidly towards a point at the extremity of the anchorage
on the north side of the island, closely engaged
in conversation with Théodore, who moved
by his side with a light step. After a rapid walk
of about forty minutes the three stopped under a
broad tree, casting a deep shadow over a narrow
inlet, penetrating a little way into the island, in
which a small, gracefully shaped boat could be indistinctly
seen through the obscurity of the night.

Just as they entered the dark shadow of the tree,
they were challenged by a seaman, who, with a
drawn cutlass in his hand was pacing fore and aft
under the tree, with that habitual tread learned by
that class of men, in their lonely watch upon their
vessels' decks.

“Our country!” replied the deep voice of Lafitte.
“What ho! Corneille, is all still in the fleet?” he
added.

“Aye, aye, sir; there is nothing moving within a
mile of us.”

“Are you all ready?”

“All, sir.”

Théodore, see that the oars are muffled. I choose
not that the fleet should mark our movements.
They will be in chase of us for another God-send
of English spies, and I prefer passing unnoticed.
Cudjoe, place yourself in the bows,” he said playfully,
“and show your tusks generously; if they
should spy us, they will take us for an in-shore
fisherman, with his bow-lights hung out, and so let
us pass.”

In a few moments the little boat shoved noiselessly
out from the creek in which it had been hitherto
concealed, and after a few light but skilful
strokes by the four oarsmen by whom it was

[figure description] Page 075.[end figure description]

manned, shot rapidly out into the open bay, or, as it has
been more recently denominated, Lake, of Barritaria.

For an hour they steered by the lonely polar star,
which, in that southern latitude, hung low in the
northern skies, and leaving the anchored squadron
far in shore to the left, they raised their dark brown
sail—so painted, to be less easily distinguished
through the night haze — and shipping their oars,
glided swiftly towards the narrow mouth of a deep
bayou, which, after many intricate windings terminated
in the Mississippi river, nearly opposite to the
city of New-Orleans.

As they approached, long after the hour of midnight,
the secret and scarcely discernable outlet,
nearly lost in the dark shadow of the shore, they
lowered their sail; and, yielding once more to the
impulse of the oars, the little boat shot into the
mouth of the creek, and suddenly disappeared in
the deep gloom which hung over it.

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