CHAPTER X.
At nine o'clock that evening I was seated on a balcony overhanging RoyalStreet, quietly chatting with Miss Summers, Kitty Carrington, andHarrod. Vinton was much better, the doctors had assured us; the feverwas broken; he had recognized Pauline during the afternoon, and was nowasleep. The doctor had advised her to lie down and rest, for, after allher anxiety and the excitement of her rapid journey, she was lookingvery white and wan; but after an hour in her room she had againappeared, pleading that she could not sleep, and Harrod had led her outto the balcony, where we sat enjoying the evening air. Colonel Newhallhad not returned from headquarters. We saw him for an instant atMoreau's, whither Harrod, Kitty, and I had gone for dinner, about sixo'clock, leaving Pauline to share the simple tea offered her by thesympathetic landlady. He had stopped just long enough to say that it wasnot probable that he would be home during the evening,--he was needed atthe office,--and then had walked briskly away. Coming home we could nothelp noticing how many men there were standing in quiet groups aboutthe Clay statue and all along Canal Street; but Royal Street, generallyso busy and bustling, was strangely quiet, wellnigh deserted. It was anexquisite night; the moon was at her full, and objects across the narrowthoroughfare were almost as distinct as in broad daylight. I couldeasily read the signs over the shops, and distinguish the features ofthe few people who passed. It was very still, too. Off to our left,towards Canal Street, the roar of wheels over the massive pavement wasto be heard, but few sounds broke the stillness near our balcony. Somedistance down the street a clear, ringing voice was carolling the page'ssong from "Mignon"; across the way two or three darkies were chatteringin that indescribable language that sounds like French, yet is no moreFrench than Siamese, the patois of the Creole negroes; but not a wheelor hoof awakened the echoes of the compact rows of old-fashioned houses.
Our landlady came out and looked uneasily up and down.
"I'm sure I don't know what to make of this," said she. "OrdinarilyRoyal Street is gay in the evening. To-night it is still as a cemetery.I know something is going to happen. A neighbor of mine on ChartresStreet, just back of us, says that hundreds of men have been going downthere for the last hour,--going down towards Jackson Square,--and theyhad guns, most all of them."
It was just then that somewhere near us a clock began striking nine.
Hardly had the last stroke died, quivering away through the still nightair, when from the direction of the great cathedral, opposite the verysquare she named, there came a sudden and startling uproar, a rattlingvolley of small-arms, a chorus of yells that made the welkin ring; thena pandemonium of shots, shouts, and yells all together. Instantly,people below could be seen rushing to close their shutters; thechattering darkies disappeared around the corner, and we had sprung toour feet and were listening excitedly to the clamor, which increasedwith every moment. Pauline quickly stepped in-doors; her first thoughtwas for her lover, and she had gone to his door. Kitty, very pale, wasgrasping the balcony rail and looking appealingly up in Harrod's face.He and I gazed questioningly at each other. Full a minute we stood therebefore any one spoke. Then Harrod pointed up Royal Street.
"Look! What is this?"
Leaning over the balcony I gazed eagerly up towards the white colonnadeof the St. Charles, glistening and brilliant in the moonlight. Comingtowards us in perfect silence at rapid, shuffling step, with themoonbeams glancing from their sloping arms and glistening bayonets, wasa column of soldiers. Another moment and they were directly under us,and with them, drawn by horses, was a large field-piece. I recognizedthe uniforms at a glance: they were the police. Rapidly, almost atdouble-quick, they filed under the balcony and marched on down thestreet. We followed them with our eyes until they turned to the right,some squares farther east, and waited further developments. The noise ofthe firing, the shouts and yells had partially died away, but notentirely. Suddenly there came a renewal of the clangor; the rattlingfusilade was resumed, then came a volley or two, delivered as though byword of command; then a deafening roar that shook the windows.
"By Jove, Brandon, I can't stand this," said Colonel Summers. "I _must_go and see what it means." Then came another tremendous bang. "That's atwelve-pounder!"
But Kitty and the landlady implored him not to go, and as a finalcompromise the latter agreed to guide him through her premises to herneighbor's house on Chartres Street, where he could find out all thatwas going on without being exposed to the danger of the street; and in afew moments more we were both, he and I, standing on a balcony thatoverhung the latter street. Royal Street had been wellnigh deserted.Chartres Street was a scene of excitement and confusion. Far down to theleft we could see the flash of small-arms and hear the shouts of theexcited men. Directly under us, numbers of citizens were running, sometowards Jackson Square, where the fighting was going on, others towardsCanal Street, as though eager to get out of the way. A man living in thehouse had just come in, pale and panting, and to our quick inquiries hereplied that at nine o'clock a great crowd of citizens had suddenlyassaulted the police station opposite Jackson Square; had whipped outthe police and completely gutted the building; that they had things alltheir own way until General Badger suddenly appeared with a big gun anda lot of reinforcements, and now there was going to be a tremendousfight. Crowds of citizens were coming from every direction and hemmingin the police, and no more reinforcements could reach them, said ourinformant.
Even as he spoke, we saw a large body of men in civilian garb, but manyor most of them armed with shot-guns and rifles, coming up ChartresStreet from the Square. Halting at the corner below us, some twenty orthirty of them were told off and left there; the others went on. Theirleaders spoke in low tones to the people they met in the street, and thelatter turned back as though in implicit obedience. In five minutes,except the silent groups of armed men at the corner, Chartres Street wasas deserted as at dawn of day. The firing and noise had ceased.
"There are crowds going down Custom-House Street and the levee," saidour still panting friend. "These parties are being thrown out in everydirection to prevent more of the police from getting in to help Badger;then in course of an hour we'll have five thousand citizens down therearound the Square, and if the United States troops don't interfere itwill be all up with the police."
In eager interest Harrod and I waited. Below us the party at the cornerhad posted two sentinels, who were pacing across the street in mostapproved soldierly fashion. Every now and then a distant cheer was heardover towards the levee,--fresh bodies of citizens were coming in orsomebody was making a speech perhaps. Harrod went back to the house toreassure Pauline, but speedily returned. Vinton was still sleepingquietly, and the doctor was there with the ladies. He said it wasunderstood on the street that at ten o'clock the citizens were going toresume the attack and with every prospect of success. Already they hadan overwhelming force.
I looked at my watch. It was just ten minutes of ten. Over on the leveethe hoarse shouts of the crowd could be heard at more frequentintervals. Far up the street, towards Canal, I could see a dense blackmass blocking the entrance, evidently a crowd of people drawn thither bycuriosity, but restrained by a sense of danger from coming farthertowards the scene of action. The sentries still paced the streets at thecorners above and below us. Two squares farther down towards thecathedral we could see the other sentries pacing to and fro. "Those arethe police pickets," said our previous informant; "just wait fiveminutes and you'll see them skip."
Again I nervously looked at my watch. I was trembling with suppressedexcitement. The police station was only four squares away to our left. Ithought I could see the moonbeams gleaming on the big gun that ourfriend and fellow-citizen said the police had run out in the middle ofthe street and pointed towards the levee.
Suddenly there came a racket towards Canal Street. We all leaned overthe balcony and gazed eagerly in that direction. A single black shadowcame swiftly down the middle of the street. We heard the loud clatter ofiron-shod hoofs on the stone-block pavement. A horseman ridin
g at fullgallop came flashing through the moonlight. "Who comes there?" shoutedthe sentries above us. "Don't stop him!" yelled some authoritative voiceas the horseman, never heeding either challenge or rebuke, thunderedalong almost at racing speed. As he sped under the balcony I did notneed to see the glittering aiguillettes and shoulder-knots, or hear theclank of the cavalry sabre, to recognize the youngest of the general'saides-de-camp. Again he was challenged at the lower corner, and someexcitable party in the crowd fired a gun. My nerves jumped in quickresponse, but on went the officer. Then we heard shouts farther down andtwo more shots, this time from the police, and then Harrod grabbed myarm.
"Come on; let's go and see it. I can't stand this." And leading the wayhe plunged down the stairs, I following.
"You can't get through there, gentlemen," said the leader of the partybelow us; "the police hold the street below." So we headed for thelevee, two squares away; found a surging crowd there, but, half running,half walking, we pushed ahead, speedily finding ourselves at theoutskirts of a great throng of men spreading out over the broad leveetowards Jackson Square. Under the gas-lamp at the corner, now surroundedby a dense throng, we could see the aide-de-camp, seated on his pantinghorse and in animated conversation with some of the citizens nearesthim. I had met the young officer and knew him slightly, and was eager tohear what he might say, but it was impossible to get nearer. In amoment, however, he turned away and rode back towards the policestation. A tall, gray-headed gentleman, of soldierly bearing andaddress, stepped upon a box or barrel and spoke briefly to the crowd,--
"Gentlemen,--General Emory sends word that in compliance with his ordersthe United States troops are now marching to the defence of the police.There is nothing further for us to do. You will therefore disperse."
And without a word, in perfect quiet and order, the crowd began to breakup and move off up and down the levee. Curious as usual to see all therewas to be seen, I suggested to Harrod that we should go to the station.He assented, and we elbowed our way through the crowd; reached thestreet that runs along the upper side of the Square from the levee toChartres Street; found it utterly deserted, and so, rapidly pushedahead. Presently we drew near enough to see that the head of the streetwas occupied by the cannon and its detachment, and a company of police.The next instant, half a dozen bayonets came flashing down upon us. Wewere surrounded by a squad of men under command of a darky sergeant, andwith loud summons to surrender, and much excited adjuration not toresist if we didn't want our heads blown off, Colonel Summers and myselfwere roughly seized and hustled towards the station.
"Here's two of the d--d scoundrels anyway," was our introduction to themen in the ranks as we were hurried along, and my very vehementprotestations were lost amid the chorus of jeers with which we weregreeted. Already we were within a few yards of the station-house door,when I caught sight of the aide-de-camp talking with the chief ofpolice. I shouted his name, despite the savage order from my captors toshut my mouth if I didn't want to be killed, and instantly he recognizedme, sprang forward, and ordered the police to stand back, which theysulkily did. I breathlessly introduced Colonel Summers, and he too wasfreed from the rude grasp of the two stalwart "peelers" who held him.Then the chief came up. Explanations followed, and despite myindignation we had a general laugh.
"My men are somewhat nervous to-night," said he, apologetically. "Eventhe full uniform of the captain here did not protect him, you see; thepickets up the street fired at him as he came to the rescue, but I willsend a sergeant with you to see you safely through the lines." So aftertaking a look at the demolished station-house, we were courteouslyescorted up Chartres Street, and in a few minutes we were laughinglytelling our adventures to the ladies on our gallery.
Even as Harrod was in the midst of the recital, there was heard therapid tramp of many hoofs up the street, and a troop of cavalry camesweeping down at rapid trot. Well out to the front, followed by histrumpeter, rode a tall, slender young officer, whose form was nowfamiliar to us all. He glanced up at our balcony as he passed beneathus, the moonlight shining full in his brave young face. Pauline wavedher handkerchief; a gauntleted hand returned the salute; and withKitty's eyes furtively following him Frank Amory swept by.