Prisoners of Chance | Page 5

everything,
desirous only to leave all of my own race, and seek amid savage
environment and excitement forgetfulness of the past.
It was in September of the year 1769--just forty-eight years ago as I
write--that I found myself once again in New Orleans, feeling almost a
stranger to the town, except for the few rough flatboat-men in company
with whom I had floated down the great river. Five years previously,
heartsick and utterly careless of life, I had plunged into the trackless
wilderness stretching in almost unbroken virginity to north and east,

desiring merely to be left alone, that I might in solitude fight out my
first grim battle with despair, saying to myself in all bitterness of soul
that never again would I turn face to southward or enter the boundaries
of Louisiana Province. During those years, beyond reach of news and
the tongue of gossip, I wandered aimlessly from village to village, ever
certain of welcome within the lodges of Creeks and Shawnees, or
farther away amid those little French border towns dotting the Ohio and
the Illinois, constantly feeling how little the world held of value since
both my parents were gone, and this last blow had fallen. I loved the
free, wild life of the warriors with whom I hunted, and the voyageurs
beside whom I camped, and had learned to distrust my own race; yet no
sooner did I chance to stand again beside the sweeping current of the
broad Mississippi, than I was gripped by the old irresistible yearning,
and, although uninspired by either hope or purpose, drifted downward
to the hated Creole town.
I had left it a typical frontier French city, touched alike by the glamour
of reflected civilization and the barbarism of savagery, yet ever alive
with the gayety of that lively, changeable people; I returned, after those
five years of burial in forest depths, to discover it under the harsh rule
of Spain, and outwardly so quiet as to appear fairly deserted of
inhabitants. The Spanish ships of war--I counted nineteen--lay
anchored in the broad river, their prows up stream, and the gloomy,
black muzzles of their guns depressed so as to command the landing,
while scarcely a French face greeted me along the streets, whose rough
stone pavements echoed to the constant tread of armed soldiers.
Spanish sentries were on guard at nearly every corner. Not a few halted
me with rough questioning, and once I was haled before an officer, who,
hearing my story, and possibly impressed by my proficiency in his
language, was kind enough to provide me with a pass good within the
lines. Yet it proved far from pleasant loitering about, as drunken
soldiers, dressed in every variety of uniform, staggered along the
narrow walks, ready to pick a quarrel with any stranger chancing their
way, while groups of officers, gorgeous in white coats and gold lace,
lounged in shaded corners, greeting each passer-by with jokes that
stung. Every tavern was crowded to the threshold with roistering blades

whose drunken curses, directed against both French and English,
quickly taught me the discretion of keeping well away from their
company, so there was little left but to move on, never halting long
enough in one place to become involved in useless controversy.
It all appeared so unnatural that I felt strangely saddened by the change,
and continued aimlessly drifting about the town as curiosity led,
resolved to leave its confines at the earliest opportunity. I stared long at
the strange vessels of war, whose like I had never before seen, and
finally, as I now remember, paused upon the ragged grass of the Place
d'Armes, watching the evolutions of a battery of artillery. This was all
new to me, representing as it did a line of service seldom met with in
the wilderness; and soon quite a number of curious loiterers gathered
likewise along the edge of the parade. Among them I could distinguish
a few French faces, with here and there a woman of the lower orders, ill
clad and coarse of speech. A party of soldiers, boisterous and
quarrelsome from liquor, pressed me so closely that, hopeful of
avoiding trouble, I drew farther back toward the curb, and standing thus,
well away from others, enjoyed an unobstructed view across the entire
field.
The battery had hitched up preparatory to returning to their quarters
before I lost interest in the spectacle and reluctantly turned away with
the slowly dispersing crowd. Just then I became aware of the close
proximity of a well-dressed negro, apparently the favored servant in
some family of quality. The fellow was observing me with an
intentness which aroused my suspicion. That was a time and place for
exercising extreme caution, so that instinctively I turned away, moving
directly across the vacated field. Scarcely