Czytaj książkę: «Kitty's Conquest», strona 7
"General Emory can't help himself, sir. His orders from Washington do not permit him to act unless called upon by the marshal or by the State authorities. The whole thing will be over and done with before they can make their demand, and our people will have dispersed before the troops get there."
"But suppose they get wind of it and call upon him to station his men to meet the move?"
"Why, that ends it, of course. We are helpless in that case. We don't mean to raise a finger against the general government. Let him send a corporal's guard to any one of the places and it's safe; but as for this infernal mottled police – "
"Steady!"
And then both speakers looked up at the party of infantry officers, who had risen and were quietly leaving. Then they looked at me, and the rest of the conversation was in too low a tone for any one to hear.
The day was one of restless anxiety, yet of apparent quiet and order. The broad "banquette" of Canal Street was thronged with ladies and children as is customary on bright afternoons. The matinées at the Varieties and the St. Charles Theatre were crowded. At half-past four, as I strolled up the street under the friendly shade of the awnings, that made the wide sidewalks one long arcade, I was struck by the perfectly peaceful aspect of the scene. From the Custom-House to Rampart Street, on the lower side of the way, I did not see a policeman, much less a soldier in uniform; but at all the corners, the knots of unoccupied men were much larger than usual; this being especially the case around Dumonteil's and Lopez's confectioneries, and the well-known establishment of "Dr. Sample."
On the opposite side and grouped around the brown-stone building of the Shakespeare Club, half a dozen men in civilian dress were lolling about, and less than one hundred yards up Dryades Street, as many more were sitting or standing around the entrance of the massive Mechanics' Institute, now used as a State-House and place of meeting of one at least of the rival Legislatures; but there was nothing in its exterior to indicate the state of siege as described in the daily press. In all, there might have been one hundred loungers scattered from Victor's marble-columned restaurant on the lower side down to "Dr. Sample's," in the middle of the next block; but absolute quiet and order reigned. Some of the windows in the second story of the Institute were open, and occasionally the features of some colored legislator could be seen peering curiously and cautiously out towards Canal Street.
Now that demon of curiosity that has always possessed me, prompted me to stroll across the broad thoroughfare and to approach the entrance of Dryades Street. As a neutral, I felt serenely confident that neither side would take exceptions to my movements, but looking behind me as I reached the car-tracks, I saw that the listless loungers on the banquette had crowded forward to its edge, and were watching me with interest. Keeping on, however, I soon reached the upper side, and deliberately walked ahead as though bent on going to the State-House. The instant I got beyond the Canal Street pavement, however, one of the men I had noticed at the upper corner stepped quickly in front of me and said, —
"Pardon me, Mr. Brandon, where did you wish to go?" Then, seeing my look of surprise, he smilingly added, "Of course I know you, sir, though you do not know me; I'm a detective."
"Why," said I, "if there be no objections, I would like to go to the State-House, just to see what is going on."
"I'm sorry, sir," was the civil reply; "at this moment our orders are to admit nobody."
Now, I hated to go back. I knew well that all those estimable fellow-citizens of mine on the other side were watching the scene, and that they would be sure to hold me in lighter estimation if I had to retire. I put a bold face on the matter and whipped out my card-case.
"There are two batteries of foot artillery in there, I'm told, and among their officers is a gentleman whom I used to know in New York and would like to see. Can you send this to him?" I hastily scrawled "Late N. Y. 7th Regt." under my name. The detective took the card; whistled to a boy who stood near; the youngster seized it and was off like a shot; while my detective and I walked slowly towards the building. Before we reached the stone steps, a fine-looking fellow in the fatigue uniform of the United States artillery came out and looked inquiringly around. I stepped forward at once and introduced myself; was most courteously greeted and invited to walk in; the police official smilingly nodded "All right now," and, guided by the lieutenant, I entered the mysterious portals of the besieged halls of government.
It was an extraordinary sight that met my eyes. Grouped inside the vestibule, where they could not be seen from Canal Street, or indeed from any point on Dryades except directly in front, were some fifty Metropolitan police in complete uniform and the equipments of infantry soldiers; belts, cartridge-boxes, bayonet-scabbards, and all. Their officers, with drawn swords and wearing shoulder-straps like those of the regular service, were gathered in front. Stacks of Winchester rifles stood close by, many of the men having their muskets still in their hands. All the lower hall and the staircases were crowded with these improvised troops, some white, some colored, there being white men in the rank and file, and colored men among the officers. All were very quiet, orderly, and apparently well disciplined. Some of those who were seated on the stairway rose rather slowly to make way for us, and a colored officer in the shoulder-straps of a captain spoke in a quick, sharp tone to them; and, black and white, they sprang to their feet and respectfully drew aside. At the head of the stairs were sentries and an officer of the guard, all in police uniform, and they saluted my artillery guide with all the precision of regulars.
"Would you like to look in at your Legislature?" asked he, with a mischievous grin. I assented. The officer of the guard opened a door, and we found ourselves in an inner hall or vestibule. Here we came upon a dozen colored men surrounding a low wooden counter or table covered with pies, cakes, sandwiches, and fruit. Behind the counter sat an old negress in vehement expostulation.
"It's no use talkin', gen'lemen, you's just wastin' yo' time. Las' year I done trus' de gen'lemen of de Senate an' Representives, an' dey ain't paid me yit."
"But fo' de Lawd's sake, Mis' Fontelieu, I ain't had nuffin to eat sence day befo' yis'day mawnin', an' I's starvin', I is. Yo' ought ter have some consideration fo' gen'lemen of de Legislature what's sufferin' here fo' you an' de people. Soon's we done git our salaries we's goin' to pay you fus' thing. Ain't we, gen'lemen?" said the spokesman appealingly to his brother Solons.
"Of co'se we is, Mis' Fontelieu," was the chorus, but all to no purpose. Miss Fontelieu's experiences with previous Legislatures and legislators had undermined her faith in the stability of their financial condition, and nothing but cash in hand would induce her to part with any of her stock in trade.
"I'd buy them a breakfast myself," said my lieutenant, laughingly, "for I know very well that they have had nothing to eat except what they could pick up here; but we contributed all our spare greenbacks yesterday, and they'd be just as hungry by ten o'clock to-night."
We pushed on through the lobby and entered the main room, the temporary hall of representatives, and here another odd sight greeted our eyes.
The room was large, rectangular in shape; a raised platform being at the farther end; rows of cane-bottomed chairs were arranged in semicircular order across the hall; a desk for the presiding officer was on the platform; and tables and desks for clerks and reporters stood below it. Scattered in groups all about the room were upwards of an hundred men, some white, some colored, stretched at length upon the chairs, others were lying asleep. The instant we entered, conversation ceased, and all looked eagerly and inquiringly at my companion; even some of the recumbent figures straightened up and gazed at him. Several stepped forward from the nearest group and asked if there were any news, receiving with evident disappointment his civil reply that he had heard nothing.
"They have been cooped up here for nearly forty-eight hours," the lieutenant explained. "You see, they've just got a quorum, and the Governor knows blessed well that if they once get out, the chances are ten to one they'll never get back. Either the other crowd will mob them, or, in fear of the attack on the State-House, they will keep in hiding somewhere around town."
The Governor, with his officers, was in his private room down-stairs, my friend explained; and the Senate was likewise blockaded in another part of the building; and this was the shape in which one Governor, at least, of the sovereign State of Louisiana was "holding the fort" against all would-be adversaries.
Then we left the hall of unwilling representatives; clambered another flight of stairs, and came upon what the local press had not inaptly termed "the citadel." Here, in an upper room, half a dozen officers of artillery of the regular service were killing time, reading, writing, or dozing; and most disgusted they looked with their occupation. On being presented to the commanding officer and his comrades I was courteously greeted and invited to make myself at home, "if," said the major, "you can find any comfort in the situation. I've only once in my life been on more distasteful duty, and that was when we were sent to break up illicit distilleries in Brooklyn."
Their orders, I learned, were that both officers and men should remain in the State-House, and not leave, even for meals, which were to be sent from a neighboring restaurant; and there they had been for two nights and days, in readiness to defend the place if attacked, yet having every assurance that so long as there remained a "regular" soldier in the building it would not be molested. No wonder they yawned and looked bored to death; and my proffer of services was gladly accepted. "Send us anything you may have in the way of reading matter, and we'll be only too thankful," was the major's half-laughing, half-rueful reply, and after an hour's chat I left. The lieutenant accompanied me to the entrance, where he bade me good-by. The knot of detectives drew aside and passed me out without remark. Once more I crossed Canal Street, and in an instant found myself surrounded by a bevy of eager reporters, note-book and pencil in hand, clamoring for information. From the obscurity of yesterday, Mr. G. S. Brandon had suddenly leaped into prominence.
CHAPTER X
At nine o'clock that evening I was seated on a balcony overhanging Royal Street, quietly chatting with Miss Summers, Kitty Carrington, and Harrod. Vinton was much better, the doctors had assured us; the fever was broken; he had recognized Pauline during the afternoon, and was now asleep. The doctor had advised her to lie down and rest, for, after all her anxiety and the excitement of her rapid journey, she was looking very white and wan; but after an hour in her room she had again appeared, pleading that she could not sleep, and Harrod had led her out to the balcony, where we sat enjoying the evening air. Colonel Newhall had not returned from headquarters. We saw him for an instant at Moreau's, whither Harrod, Kitty, and I had gone for dinner, about six o'clock, leaving Pauline to share the simple tea offered her by the sympathetic landlady. He had stopped just long enough to say that it was not probable that he would be home during the evening, – he was needed at the office, – and then had walked briskly away. Coming home we could not help noticing how many men there were standing in quiet groups about the Clay statue and all along Canal Street; but Royal Street, generally so busy and bustling, was strangely quiet, wellnigh deserted. It was an exquisite night; the moon was at her full, and objects across the narrow thoroughfare were almost as distinct as in broad daylight. I could easily read the signs over the shops, and distinguish the features of the few people who passed. It was very still, too. Off to our left, towards Canal Street, the roar of wheels over the massive pavement was to be heard, but few sounds broke the stillness near our balcony. Some distance down the street a clear, ringing voice was carolling the page's song from "Mignon"; across the way two or three darkies were chattering in that indescribable language that sounds like French, yet is no more French than Siamese, the patois of the Creole negroes; but not a wheel or hoof awakened the echoes of the compact rows of old-fashioned houses.
Our landlady came out and looked uneasily up and down.
"I'm sure I don't know what to make of this," said she. "Ordinarily Royal Street is gay in the evening. To-night it is still as a cemetery. I know something is going to happen. A neighbor of mine on Chartres Street, just back of us, says that hundreds of men have been going down there for the last hour, – going down towards Jackson Square, – and they had guns, most all of them."
It was just then that somewhere near us a clock began striking nine.
Hardly had the last stroke died, quivering away through the still night air, when from the direction of the great cathedral, opposite the very square she named, there came a sudden and startling uproar, a rattling volley of small-arms, a chorus of yells that made the welkin ring; then a pandemonium of shots, shouts, and yells all together. Instantly, people below could be seen rushing to close their shutters; the chattering darkies disappeared around the corner, and we had sprung to our feet and were listening excitedly to the clamor, which increased with every moment. Pauline quickly stepped in-doors; her first thought was for her lover, and she had gone to his door. Kitty, very pale, was grasping the balcony rail and looking appealingly up in Harrod's face. He and I gazed questioningly at each other. Full a minute we stood there before any one spoke. Then Harrod pointed up Royal Street.
"Look! What is this?"
Leaning over the balcony I gazed eagerly up towards the white colonnade of the St. Charles, glistening and brilliant in the moonlight. Coming towards us in perfect silence at rapid, shuffling step, with the moonbeams glancing from their sloping arms and glistening bayonets, was a column of soldiers. Another moment and they were directly under us, and with them, drawn by horses, was a large field-piece. I recognized the uniforms at a glance: they were the police. Rapidly, almost at double-quick, they filed under the balcony and marched on down the street. We followed them with our eyes until they turned to the right, some squares farther east, and waited further developments. The noise of the firing, the shouts and yells had partially died away, but not entirely. Suddenly there came a renewal of the clangor; the rattling fusilade was resumed, then came a volley or two, delivered as though by word of command; then a deafening roar that shook the windows.
"By Jove, Brandon, I can't stand this," said Colonel Summers. "I must go and see what it means." Then came another tremendous bang. "That's a twelve-pounder!"
But Kitty and the landlady implored him not to go, and as a final compromise the latter agreed to guide him through her premises to her neighbor's house on Chartres Street, where he could find out all that was going on without being exposed to the danger of the street; and in a few moments more we were both, he and I, standing on a balcony that overhung the latter street. Royal Street had been wellnigh deserted. Chartres Street was a scene of excitement and confusion. Far down to the left we could see the flash of small-arms and hear the shouts of the excited men. Directly under us, numbers of citizens were running, some towards Jackson Square, where the fighting was going on, others towards Canal Street, as though eager to get out of the way. A man living in the house had just come in, pale and panting, and to our quick inquiries he replied that at nine o'clock a great crowd of citizens had suddenly assaulted the police station opposite Jackson Square; had whipped out the police and completely gutted the building; that they had things all their own way until General Badger suddenly appeared with a big gun and a lot of reinforcements, and now there was going to be a tremendous fight. Crowds of citizens were coming from every direction and hemming in the police, and no more reinforcements could reach them, said our informant.
Even as he spoke, we saw a large body of men in civilian garb, but many or most of them armed with shot-guns and rifles, coming up Chartres Street from the Square. Halting at the corner below us, some twenty or thirty of them were told off and left there; the others went on. Their leaders spoke in low tones to the people they met in the street, and the latter turned back as though in implicit obedience. In five minutes, except the silent groups of armed men at the corner, Chartres Street was as deserted as at dawn of day. The firing and noise had ceased.
"There are crowds going down Custom-House Street and the levee," said our still panting friend. "These parties are being thrown out in every direction to prevent more of the police from getting in to help Badger; then in course of an hour we'll have five thousand citizens down there around the Square, and if the United States troops don't interfere it will be all up with the police."
In eager interest Harrod and I waited. Below us the party at the corner had posted two sentinels, who were pacing across the street in most approved soldierly fashion. Every now and then a distant cheer was heard over towards the levee, – fresh bodies of citizens were coming in or somebody was making a speech perhaps. Harrod went back to the house to reassure Pauline, but speedily returned. Vinton was still sleeping quietly, and the doctor was there with the ladies. He said it was understood on the street that at ten o'clock the citizens were going to resume the attack and with every prospect of success. Already they had an overwhelming force.
I looked at my watch. It was just ten minutes of ten. Over on the levee the hoarse shouts of the crowd could be heard at more frequent intervals. Far up the street, towards Canal, I could see a dense black mass blocking the entrance, evidently a crowd of people drawn thither by curiosity, but restrained by a sense of danger from coming farther towards the scene of action. The sentries still paced the streets at the corners above and below us. Two squares farther down towards the cathedral we could see the other sentries pacing to and fro. "Those are the police pickets," said our previous informant; "just wait five minutes and you'll see them skip."
Again I nervously looked at my watch. I was trembling with suppressed excitement. The police station was only four squares away to our left. I thought I could see the moonbeams gleaming on the big gun that our friend and fellow-citizen said the police had run out in the middle of the street and pointed towards the levee.
Suddenly there came a racket towards Canal Street. We all leaned over the balcony and gazed eagerly in that direction. A single black shadow came swiftly down the middle of the street. We heard the loud clatter of iron-shod hoofs on the stone-block pavement. A horseman riding at full gallop came flashing through the moonlight. "Who comes there?" shouted the sentries above us. "Don't stop him!" yelled some authoritative voice as the horseman, never heeding either challenge or rebuke, thundered along almost at racing speed. As he sped under the balcony I did not need to see the glittering aiguillettes and shoulder-knots, or hear the clank of the cavalry sabre, to recognize the youngest of the general's aides-de-camp. Again he was challenged at the lower corner, and some excitable party in the crowd fired a gun. My nerves jumped in quick response, but on went the officer. Then we heard shouts farther down and two more shots, this time from the police, and then Harrod grabbed my arm.
"Come on; let's go and see it. I can't stand this." And leading the way he plunged down the stairs, I following.
"You can't get through there, gentlemen," said the leader of the party below us; "the police hold the street below." So we headed for the levee, two squares away; found a surging crowd there, but, half running, half walking, we pushed ahead, speedily finding ourselves at the outskirts of a great throng of men spreading out over the broad levee towards Jackson Square. Under the gas-lamp at the corner, now surrounded by a dense throng, we could see the aide-de-camp, seated on his panting horse and in animated conversation with some of the citizens nearest him. I had met the young officer and knew him slightly, and was eager to hear what he might say, but it was impossible to get nearer. In a moment, however, he turned away and rode back towards the police station. A tall, gray-headed gentleman, of soldierly bearing and address, stepped upon a box or barrel and spoke briefly to the crowd, —
"Gentlemen, – General Emory sends word that in compliance with his orders the United States troops are now marching to the defence of the police. There is nothing further for us to do. You will therefore disperse."
And without a word, in perfect quiet and order, the crowd began to break up and move off up and down the levee. Curious as usual to see all there was to be seen, I suggested to Harrod that we should go to the station. He assented, and we elbowed our way through the crowd; reached the street that runs along the upper side of the Square from the levee to Chartres Street; found it utterly deserted, and so, rapidly pushed ahead. Presently we drew near enough to see that the head of the street was occupied by the cannon and its detachment, and a company of police. The next instant, half a dozen bayonets came flashing down upon us. We were surrounded by a squad of men under command of a darky sergeant, and with loud summons to surrender, and much excited adjuration not to resist if we didn't want our heads blown off, Colonel Summers and myself were roughly seized and hustled towards the station.
"Here's two of the d – d scoundrels anyway," was our introduction to the men in the ranks as we were hurried along, and my very vehement protestations were lost amid the chorus of jeers with which we were greeted. Already we were within a few yards of the station-house door, when I caught sight of the aide-de-camp talking with the chief of police. I shouted his name, despite the savage order from my captors to shut my mouth if I didn't want to be killed, and instantly he recognized me, sprang forward, and ordered the police to stand back, which they sulkily did. I breathlessly introduced Colonel Summers, and he too was freed from the rude grasp of the two stalwart "peelers" who held him. Then the chief came up. Explanations followed, and despite my indignation we had a general laugh.
"My men are somewhat nervous to-night," said he, apologetically. "Even the full uniform of the captain here did not protect him, you see; the pickets up the street fired at him as he came to the rescue, but I will send a sergeant with you to see you safely through the lines." So after taking a look at the demolished station-house, we were courteously escorted up Chartres Street, and in a few minutes we were laughingly telling our adventures to the ladies on our gallery.
Even as Harrod was in the midst of the recital, there was heard the rapid tramp of many hoofs up the street, and a troop of cavalry came sweeping down at rapid trot. Well out to the front, followed by his trumpeter, rode a tall, slender young officer, whose form was now familiar to us all. He glanced up at our balcony as he passed beneath us, the moonlight shining full in his brave young face. Pauline waved her handkerchief; a gauntleted hand returned the salute; and with Kitty's eyes furtively following him Frank Amory swept by.
