Simon Hawke - The Nautilus Sanction

“Ever respectfully, I must still decline,” said Drakov.

Lafitte shook his head. “Foolish man. You would prosper here in Barataria. Your ship would be the crown of our fleet.”

“You mean of your fleet, Jean,” said Drakov.

“I respect your independence. We will speak no more of it. For now, at any rate. You must introduce me to your friends.”

Drakov performed the introductions. When he got to Andre, Lafitte looked at her admiringly, then bent down to kiss her hand. “A woman corsair! My respects, Ma’mselle. Anyone who can hold her own with Drako’s crew of cutthroats is deserving of admiration. Wherever did your find her, Drako?”

“In Marseilles,” said Drakov.” Andre was in some slight legal difficulties at the time.”

“You must tell me all about it later,” Lafitte said. “Come, we will take our wine on the veranda, where we can enjoy the breeze.”

Marie brought their wine to them and silently departed. Land couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“It appears you have been captivated, Mr. Land,” said Lafitte.

“Your pardon, sir,” Land said, awkwardly, having been caught staring. “I meant no offense to your wife, sir.”

Lafitte laughed. “Wife? She is my slave. You want her? I will sell her to you. But you will pay dearly.”

Land was too flustered to reply.

“Your men will be welcome ashore, as always,” Lafitte told Drakov, “however, I should caution you that Gambi is back. He and his crew have been a problem. I hope there will be no incidents.”

“There won’t be, so long as my men are not interfered with,” Drakov said.

“I am growing weary of Gambi,” Lafitte said. “He takes too much upon himself. We have enough problems already without him.”

“What sort of problems?” Drakov said, sipping his wine.

“Oh, that idiot Claiborne,” said Lafitte. “That fool of a governor who sits in his mansion on Toulouse Street and denounces me as a pirate to all and any who will listen. We must stop the smuggling, he says, over and over again. Stop the smuggling, indeed! He was only too happy to have this smuggler stop at his house and deliver goods to him on more than one occasion in the past. Now, he is a force for moral righteousness. The man is an insufferable ass. Do you know what he had the temerity to do? He posted a reward of five hundred dollars for my arrest! Can you imagine? I had the exact wording of the proclamation copied, substituting his name for mine, and I posted a reward for his arrest, only I offered fifteen hundred dollars. I sent him a challenge, offering my sword. Of course, I received no answer. Still, it caused some amusement in the city and the publicity is good for business.”

“Have you had more trouble with the British?” Drakov said.

Lafitte sneered. “Those imperialist pigs! Only the Spaniards are worse. I hear they have secured Detroit. Rumors have them heading toward us. They will find a warm welcome.”

The carriage returned with Dominique Youx and two men, who unloaded a chest and brought it into the house. Moments later, they had carried it up the stairs, grunting from the weight of it, and then out onto the veranda.

“Captain Drako comes bearing gifts, Jean,” said Youx. He opened the chest, revealing part of the treasure they had recovered from the sunken La Floridana. It was filled with pieces of eight, which Drakov’s crew had meticulously cleaned so they would not look as if they had been under water.

“Drako,” said Lafitte, reprovingly, “there is no need of this.”

“I know, Jean, but please accept the gift. Think of it as a token payment from my men for their entertainment.”

“In that case, I must present you with a gift, as well,” Lafitte said. “What will you have? Another ship, perhaps? We have recently brought in a prize, a Spaniard. She is only a merchantman, nothing like your Valkyrie, of course, but-”

“One ship is enough for me, my friend,” said Drakov. “From you, I will accept only hospitality and nothing more.”

“Well, then I must do something for your men, at least. Land, you like Marie? She’s yours. I give her to you. Marie!”

Land was thunderstruck.

“Now, Jean-” Drakov began.

“No, no, it is all settled! I have spoken. Ah, Marie, meet your new master, Mr. Ned Land. I have made him a present of you.”

Marie looked aghast. Her eyes filled with tears.

Drakov came to the rescue. “Jean, please, you will cause me problems if you do this. This girl is not made for a life at sea. If you give her to Land, it will only make the rest of my crew jealous.”

“Then I will give each of them a woman,” said Lafitte. “I have hundreds. Well, perhaps not hundreds, but certainly enough for each to take his pick.”

“Just what I need,” said Drakov. “A woman for every man aboard my ship.”

Lafitte grimaced. “Yes, I suppose that would be a problem, wouldn’t it?”

“She seems quite close to you, Captain Lafitte,” said Land. “I wouldn’t wish to cause her to be unhappy.”

“Bah! Women attach themselves to men like barnacles. If a man gives them any regard, he’ll have a devil of a time scraping them off. Very well, then. I shall think of something else. Never mind, Marie. It appears Mr. Land prefers for you to stay with me.”

“Oh, thank you, Monsieur!” Marie said, standing on tiptoe to kiss Land upon the cheek.

“Go and thank him properly, at least,” Lafitte said. She took his hand and led the bewildered Land away.

“Are you as cavalier with everyone, Captain Lafitte?” said Verne, in a reproving tone. “Or only with your slaves?”

“Do I offend you, sir?” Lafitte said.

Drakov quickly intervened. “Mr. Verne, though something of an aristocrat in France, is nevertheless rather liberal in his ideas, Jean.”

“Is it liberal to believe that people should not be considered property?” said Verne.

“Ah, yes, the Negro question,” said Lafitte. “I perceive you subscribe to this anti-slavery idea, sir. I will tell you something, quite sincerely. In principle, I am not against it. However, allow me to point out that this idea, whatever its merits, is not a very popular one, certainly not at present, in this region. In the future, things may well change. I suspect they will. For now, it is the Negroes’ misfortune to be slaves. This does not mean I mistreat them. As you have seen, Marie was quite reluctant to leave me. What is more, the slaves I bring to Barataria and sell in places such as Donaldsonville and Memphis are not Negroes I have captured and taken from their homeland. Those I take from Spanish ships bound for Havana and South America have already been thoroughly subdued and domesticated. There would be little point, assuming a great idealism on my part, in returning them to Africa. Such a voyage would be prohibitive and they would not survive, in any case. Africa is not a civilized country and their own tribes would doubtless kill them. If I were to set them free, where would I take them? Where could they enjoy such freedom? How would they survive? Or would you rather I leave them with the Spaniards, who are, I assure you, far less benevolent masters than they will find here? What would you have me do?”

“Your points are well taken, Captain,” Verne said. “Nevertheless, and meaning no offense, I cannot help but feel pity toward young Marie.”

Lafitte shook his head. “You know very little of our ways, Mr. Verne. I do not say this in rebuke, you understand. Allow me to explain. Marie is what we call a griffe, the daughter of a white man and a quadroon woman. Here in New Orleans, we frequently have quadroon balls, lavish affairs attended by all eligible quadroon women and most of the young New Orleans gentlemen. A quadroon is not considered a Negro, Mr. Verne. However, neither is a quadroon considered white. Their position in society is strictly defined. For years, the young men of this city have gone to the Quadroon Ballroom, as is the custom, in search of mistresses. Do not make the mistake of thinking we have made them prostitutes or whores. They are not that. Their best chance for a good life is to find a white man who will act as their protector and their mothers prepare them for this from childhood. A quadroon girl usually becomes the mistress of a young gentleman of means, who keeps her in a comfortable home or an apartment, cares for her, frequently has children by her. She lives a good life, devoted to one man, who provides for her in a manner that allows her to live quite comfortably. Sometimes this association is terminated when the young man marries, sometimes it continues. Quadroon men-free men of color, as we call them here-are not as fortunate. Sometimes their fathers provide an education for them, but more frequently they become laborers or musicians. They often marry former mistresses of white men and lead normal, happy lives. If they are light enough in color, they might leave New Orleans and travel far away, passing as white.