The Lady and the Pirate - Page 177/199

We passed on steadily to the northward until mid-afternoon, making no

great headway with one propellor missing, but leaving the main gulf

steadily, and at length, raising, a faint blue loom on the sky, the

long oak-crowned heights of those singular geological formations, the

heights known as "islands", that bound the head of this great bay.

Here the land, springing out of the level marshes and alluvial wet

prairies, thrusts up in long reefs, hundreds of feet above the sea

level. On the eminences grow ancient and mossy forest trees, as well

as much half-tropic brake in the lower levels. Here are wide and rich

acres also, owned as hereditary fees by old proud families, part of

whose wealth comes from their plantations, part from their bay

fisheries, and much from the ancient salt mines which lie under these

singular uplifts above the great alluvial plain. As of right, here

grow mansion homes, and here is lived life as nearly feudal and as

wholly dignified and cultured as any in any land. Ignorant of the

banal word "aristocracy," here, uncounting wealth, unsearching of self

and uncritical of others, simple and fine, folk live as the best

ambition of America might make one long to live, so far above the

vulgar northern scramble for money and display as might make angels

weep for the latter in the comparison.

Perhaps it was Edouard Manning, planter, miner, sportsman, gentleman,

traveler, scholar and host, who first taught me what wealth might

mean, may mean, ought to mean. Always, before now, I had approached

his home with joy, as that of an old friend. There, I knew, I would

find horses, guns, dogs, good sport and a simple welcome; and I could

read or ride as I preferred. A king among all the cousins of Jean

Lafitte, Monsieur Edouard. Hereabouts ran the old causeway by which

the wagon reached the "importations" of Jean's barges, brought inland

from his schooners hid in the marshes far below. Here, too, as is well

known in all the state, was the burying-ground of Jean Lafitte's

treasure-chests: for, though the old adventurer sold silks and

tobaccos and sugars very cheap to the planters and traders, he

secreted, as is well known, great store of plate, bullion and minted

coins, at divers points about the several miles of forest covered

heights; so that the very atmosphere thereabout--till custom stales it

for the visitor who comes often there--reeks with the flavor of pieces

of eight, Spanish doubloons, and rare gems of the Orient. Laughingly,

many a time Monsieur Edouard had agreed to go a-treasure hunting with

me, even had showed me several of the curious old treasure-keys, maps

and cabalistic characters which tell the place where Lafitte and his

men buried their gold--such maps as are kept as secret heirlooms in

many a Cajun family.

But now, as I saw myself once more approaching this pleasant spot so

well known to me, I felt little of the old thrill of eagerness come

over me. True, Edouard would be there, and the dogs, and the birds,

and the horses, and the quiet welcome. True, also, I could, either in

truth or by evasion, establish a pleasant and conventional footing for

all my party--it would be easy to explain so natural and pleasant an

incident as a visit during a yacht cruise, and to laugh at all that

silly newspaper sensation which by now must fully have blown over.

True, Monsieur Edouard would be charmed to meet the woman whose

influence on my life he knew so well. Yes, I could tell him

everything easily, nicely, except the truth; which was, that I was

bringing to another man's arms the woman whom he knew I loved. No, the

blue loom of Manning's Island gave me no joy now. I wished it three

thousand miles away instead of thirty. I wished that almost anything

might prevent my arrival--accident, delay.