New Orleans or have some other target in mind.”
Then he tore open the packet and quickly scanned the several pages, his taut face lightening considerably. “By sea,” he announced, eyes glowing. “And soon. It also says that the British plan to enlist the aid of Jean Lafitte. The Baratarian gulf is an important approach to New Orleans and they need the cooperation of Lafitte to gain access.”
“I am aware of the contents,” said Philippe. “Both Captain Giscard and myself read the document as a precaution. But isn’t Lafitte a pirate?”
“He goes under many names and pirate is one of them. But if he agrees to help the British we are as good as defeated.”
“Do you think he will?”
“I wouldn’t blame him if he did,” grunted Jackson. “Governor Clairborne recently ordered American Navy ships to Barataria, Lafitte’s Stronghold, where they shelled the island, sank several of Lafitte’s ships and captured some of his men. What is amazing is that Lafitte did not fire back. He later sent a message to the governor saying that he considered himself an American and would not fire upon his own country’s ships. Then he offered to help fight the British when the time came.”
“And did the governor accept Lafitte’s offer?”
“The stupid man still does not trust Lafitte, but I intend to deal with him myself to judge if he is sincere in his wish to aid us. One of his lieutenants has agreed to guide two of my men to Barataria to learn where Lafitte’s loyalties lie.”
“Is the city prepared to fight?” asked Philippe. “What of the citizenry?”
“Most do not believe the British are a threat. I’m sure they would rather be under British rule than American. But now that I have proof of the imminent attack I will redouble my efforts to alert the people and prepare them to defend their city.”
“On my way here I saw stockpiles of weapons and supplies along the levee. Seems like you have a good start.”
“Were that only true,” sighed Jackson wearily. “We are woefully short of certain arms and of musket flints and are now in the process of scouring the countryside for our needs. According to this,” he said, indicating the secret papers in his hand, “I have little enough time in which to fortify and arm the city and prepare its citizens to fight.” He sighed again and ran his long, bony fingers through his thatch of white hair. Philippe sensed his preoccupation with war and its portents and rose to leave. Jackson noticed Philippe’s movement from the chair and seemed startled to see him still in his office, as if thought of war had banished all else from his mind. Graciously, he offered his hand once more to Philippe.
“St. Cyr, again, I thank you on behalf of the American people. I only wish I had the power to bring your wife back. If there is anything I can do, please feel free to ask.”
Philippe grasped the gnarled hand, moved by the sincerity of the great man and said, “There is one thing, General.”
“Anything within my power, St. Cyr, anything,” replied Jackson sincerely.
“There is a remote chance that my wife may have washed ashore on one of the many islands and cays dotting the mouth of the river and might still be alive. If you could alert your men to be on the lookout for her I would be more than grateful. I am prepared to offer a five thousand dollar reward for information leading to her discovery, if alive, and her body, if dead.”
General Jackson’s deepest eyes were full of pity as they regarded Philippe. He knew the man’s wife had not one chance in a million of surviving. Even if she had washed ashore alive she would immediately become alligator bait. But he had not the heart to say those words. Instead, he said, “Very generous of you, St. Cyr. I will be glad to circulate a description of your wife among my men. You can rest assured that if she makes her way into the city I will know it.” Though his voice remained optimistic his eyes betrayed him.
Then he tore open the packet and quickly scanned the several pages, his taut face lightening considerably. “By sea,” he announced, eyes glowing. “And soon. It also says that the British plan to enlist the aid of Jean Lafitte. The Baratarian gulf is an important approach to New Orleans and they need the cooperation of Lafitte to gain access.”
“I am aware of the contents,” said Philippe. “Both Captain Giscard and myself read the document as a precaution. But isn’t Lafitte a pirate?”
“He goes under many names and pirate is one of them. But if he agrees to help the British we are as good as defeated.”
“Do you think he will?”
“I wouldn’t blame him if he did,” grunted Jackson. “Governor Clairborne recently ordered American Navy ships to Barataria, Lafitte’s Stronghold, where they shelled the island, sank several of Lafitte’s ships and captured some of his men. What is amazing is that Lafitte did not fire back. He later sent a message to the governor saying that he considered himself an American and would not fire upon his own country’s ships. Then he offered to help fight the British when the time came.”
“And did the governor accept Lafitte’s offer?”
“The stupid man still does not trust Lafitte, but I intend to deal with him myself to judge if he is sincere in his wish to aid us. One of his lieutenants has agreed to guide two of my men to Barataria to learn where Lafitte’s loyalties lie.”
“Is the city prepared to fight?” asked Philippe. “What of the citizenry?”
“Most do not believe the British are a threat. I’m sure they would rather be under British rule than American. But now that I have proof of the imminent attack I will redouble my efforts to alert the people and prepare them to defend their city.”
“On my way here I saw stockpiles of weapons and supplies along the levee. Seems like you have a good start.”
“Were that only true,” sighed Jackson wearily. “We are woefully short of certain arms and of musket flints and are now in the process of scouring the countryside for our needs. According to this,” he said, indicating the secret papers in his hand, “I have little enough time in which to fortify and arm the city and prepare its citizens to fight.” He sighed again and ran his long, bony fingers through his thatch of white hair. Philippe sensed his preoccupation with war and its portents and rose to leave. Jackson noticed Philippe’s movement from the chair and seemed startled to see him still in his office, as if thought of war had banished all else from his mind. Graciously, he offered his hand once more to Philippe.
“St. Cyr, again, I thank you on behalf of the American people. I only wish I had the power to bring your wife back. If there is anything I can do, please feel free to ask.”
Philippe grasped the gnarled hand, moved by the sincerity of the great man and said, “There is one thing, General.”
“Anything within my power, St. Cyr, anything,” replied Jackson sincerely.
“There is a remote chance that my wife may have washed ashore on one of the many islands and cays dotting the mouth of the river and might still be alive. If you could alert your men to be on the lookout for her I would be more than grateful. I am prepared to offer a five thousand dollar reward for information leading to her discovery, if alive, and her body, if dead.”
General Jackson’s deepest eyes were full of pity as they regarded Philippe. He knew the man’s wife had not one chance in a million of surviving. Even if she had washed ashore alive she would immediately become alligator bait. But he had not the heart to say those words. Instead, he said, “Very generous of you, St. Cyr. I will be glad to circulate a description of your wife among my men. You can rest assured that if she makes her way into the city I will know it.” Though his voice remained optimistic his eyes betrayed him.
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