"Aye, that I do, Black Bart!" said he; and I was sure he did.
"And yonder channel, once just wide enough for a yawl, is to-day
washed out wide enough for a fleet to pass through--though not deep
enough. In that fact now lies our safety."
"How do you mean, Black Bart?" demanded he.
"Why, that all this water over yonder west of us is so shallow that it
takes a wise oyster boat to get through to Morgan City. The shrimpers
who reap these waters, even the market shooting schooners who carry
canvasbacks out of these feeding beds in the marshes, have to know the
tides and the winds as well, and if one be wrong the boat goes aground
on these wide shoals. Less than a fathom here and here and here on the
chart soundings--less than that if an offshore wind blows."
"You mean we'll go aground?"
"No, I mean that any pursuer very likely would. The glass is falling
now. Soon the wind will rise. If it comes offshore for five hours--and
it will wait for five hours before it does come offshore--we shall be
safe, inside, at one of your old haunts, Jean Lafitte; and back of us
will lie fifty miles of barrier--yon varlet may well have a care."
"Yon varlet don't know where we have went," commented L'Olonnois in
his alarming grammar.
"No, that is true. The water leaves no trail. Most Northerners go to
Florida for the winter, and not to these marshes. Methinks they will
have a long chase."
"An' here," said Jean Lafitte, with much enthusiasm, "we kin lie
concealed an' dart out on passin' craft that strike our fancy as
prizes."
"We could," said I, "but we will not."
"Why not?" He seemed chilled by my reply.
"Oh, we shall not need to," I hastened to explain. "We have everything
we need for a long stay here. We can live chiefly by hunting and
fishing for a month or so, until----"
"Until the fair captive has gave her consent," broke in L'Olonnois,
also with enthusiasm.
"Yes," said I, endeavoring a like enthusiasm. "Or, at least, until we
find it needful to go inland to one of the live-oak islands. There are
houses there. I know some of the planters over yonder."
"Let's make them places scenes of rapeen!" suggested Jean Lafitte
anxiously. "They must have gold and jewels. Besides, I bear it well in
mind, many a time have I and my stout crew buried chests of treasure
on them islands. We c'd dig 'em up. Maybe them folks has a'ready dug
'em up. Then why not search their strongholds with a stout party of
our own hardy bullies, Black Bart?"
"No," said I mildly; "for several reasons I think it best for my
hardy bullies to go and eat some breakfast and then go to sleep. If we
go into the live-oak heights above Côte Blanche, I think we'll only
ask for salt. I am almost sure, for instance, that my friend Edouard
Manning, of Bon Secours plantation, would give me salt if I asked it.
He has done so before. Beshrew me, it should go hard with him if he
refused."