The Pyrate Page 5

  By this time, the men had passed a row of whitewashed houses, and just up the way was a two story house made of brick and painted white. Surrounding the house and grounds was a tall wrought iron fence. Before the men got to the gate, two men were walking out of the house and down the steps.

  “That’s Jean and Pierre LaFitte,” Taylor whispered.

  The LaFittes paused, seeing their visitors approach. A big smile broke out on Jean’s face when he recognized Taylor. “Eli,” he said, “are you back to reclaim that beautiful Debbie Russell from my clutches?” The two men shook hands and embraced each other with a hug.

  After shaking hands with Pierre, Taylor introduced Cooper and Mac. Pierre took his leave but Jean invited the men inside. Huge open windows allowed a cool breeze to flow through the main room. Fruits were brought out and sherry was offered. The men sat down to enjoy the refreshments. LaFitte and Taylor were talking business, ships’ cargoes, and slaves. The discussion then turned to Cooper and Mac.

  Afterwards, LaFitte stood up and toasted Cooper, “I will forever be in your debt for saving my friend. Should you ever need anything you call on Jean LaFitte.”

  A few minutes later, the conversation returned to the slaves and cargoes. “There will be a slave auction at the Temple tomorrow,” LaFitte informed Taylor. “You can take your slaves there or I’ll give you five hundred each for them now.”

  This was a good price Taylor knew, as LaFitte could buy slaves in Cuba. However, you had to add the cost of transporting the slaves. Still, some of the slaves would sell for as much as a thousand dollars or more.

  Taylor thought about it for a minute and said, “Agreed, provided you send men and boats to unload them tonight.” LaFitte stuck out his hand and the men shook on the deal.

  “Now about the ships,” LaFitte began. “I still have one waiting to be sold. You might find a buyer if you’re willing to give them away. Otherwise, I’d send them to South Carolina. Your former navy fellow there could surely sail one there with a skeleton crew.”

  “I’ll think on it,” Taylor said. “They still have to be stripped and cleaned.” Seeing the look on Cooper’s face, Taylor explained, “A man was once hung trying to sell a ship to its previous owner. The man had carved his wife’s name on the bulkhead next to his cot. Seeing this, he brought charges on the seller and he was hung. Those are former British ships but they will be stripped and every mark will be removed, so that way there’s no incrimination.”

  “You’ll be my guest tonight,” LaFitte offered as a servant came into the room. “I have business that needs attending to,” he said. The servant must have reminded him of a task that had been forgotten with Taylor’s arrival.

  “Thank you,” Taylor replied, “but I have two ladies I need to take to Grand Isle.”

  “Ah yes! The lovely Cindy Veigh,” LaFitte said with a smile. “Until you return then. I will stop by the barracoon and have Jacques set about unloading the black ivory.”

  “Another term for slaves,” Mac whispered to Cooper.

  ***

  The girls’ chest was loaded into one pirogue while Cooper, Captain Taylor, Lucy, and Linda filled up the other, larger pirogue. Taylor gave a running narrative as they made their way in the pirogues. Cooper was unsure about the stability of the craft, but his fears were soon gone as Taylor talked of the island.

  “Grand Isle and several other islands are what the French call Cheniers. Rooster pronounces it ‘shin ear.’ They started with oak groves that rose up from the numerous marshlands. The place where LaFitte sells his plunder, the Temple, is a Chenier. Grand Isle is the highest and rises about six or seven feet above sea level. Since I’ve been coming to the area these past several years, I’ve seen significant erosion to some of these islands and a few are all awash at high tide.”

  As they grew close to the island, Cooper could see wind-bent oaks, a fishing boat with women and two children tugging on a shrimp or crab net.

  “Cindy has been able to raise a few cattle on the island,” Taylor continued. “One of her slaves came up with the idea of feeding the cattle dried salt grass. LaFitte is a steady customer now that the herd has multiplied. She can’t afford to amass to large a herd or she would run out of feed. Another one of her slaves, an old fellow called Gus, makes one of the best wines you’ve ever tasted. It is made from a type of grape on the island that grows natural and plentiful. His wife, Belle, who has to be twenty years younger than Gus, is the cook. She cooks the best meals I’ve ever tasted. If I could steal her away, I’d never go back to sea. Humph! I couldn’t anyway, I’d be so fat I would sink any boat trying to take me to the ship.”

  Lucy and Linda, who’d only spoke in whispers, giggled at this. Taking a breath and getting her courage up, Lucy asked, “Are we to be slaves on this tiny island?”

  “No,” Taylor answered. “You are being brought here for your safety. I’m sure you caught a glimpse of the rogues at Barataria.”

  Cooper had noticed how elusive Taylor had been keeping the girls on Raven until he was ready to depart. He had then quickly loaded Rooster and McKemie in the pirogue with the baggage before bringing the girls out and into the boat. Rooster and McKemie were both fully armed, including a musket a piece. Of course, he, Mac, and Captain Taylor were also armed with blades and pistols. Taylor expertly steered the pirogue into a small creek that led further inland. Cindy’s house was almost in the center of the island surrounded by a small stand of sea oaks. They tied up to a small dock that jutted out into the creek. The house could be seen from the dock, it was a two story affair of brick, painted white not unlike LaFitte’s house. The roof, though, seemed much different. It looked almost like a masonry roof. The second floor had a balcony that covered the breadth of the house.

  Beyond the main house nestled among the oaks, Cooper could see several cottages. For the servants and slaves, he guessed. The main house was set in such a manner that part of the veranda faced the open path to the creek, while the other end was shaded by huge moss filled oaks. A barn was off to one side and milk cows must have been in the barn or a paddock behind the barn, as he could hear lowing.

  “Ready for milking,” McKemie volunteered, climbing the steps. He could see a square of neatly tilled dirt. A vegetable garden in the making, he decided.

  Chickens ran about scratching for some morsel. A faint breeze drifted their way and held the smell of a pig sty. A set of six columns held up the balcony of the plantation house, which sat high off the ground. Ten wide steps led up to the porch.

  “Cap’n, is that you done come back from the sea,” a voice called.

  “Jumper, you rascal, some gator ain’t done got you?”

  “Nah suh, and they ain’t. Had a close call wid a cottonmouth but ain’t had no gator come eben close.”

  “Jumper,” Taylor said, speaking to Cooper, Mac, and the girls, “is Gus’ son. He is the fisherman in the family. Keep’s Belle, his mama, supplied with oysters, crabs, crawfish, gator tail, catfish, and shrimp. Of course, he’s always pestering me to go to sea, just for one cruise to see if he likes being a real seaman. I bought him the little fishing yawl you saw tied up at the dock. It has a shallow draft but it’s stable enough for the bay.”

  The next person to see them was Cindy Veigh, a woman Cooper took to be in her late thirties or early forties. Dressed in a plain dress and blouse, the woman exuded sophistication. Her face was striking. The off-the-shoulder blouse showed her skin to be very tan. Not an indoor person. The blouse was tight across a full bosom. When she walked the shapeliness of her hips and legs were evident. A few strands of gray could be seen in her hair when she moved and the sun hit it just right. A widow, Cooper had heard LaFitte say. She was certainly a prize in her day, Cooper thought to himself. If she fixed herself up she’d still turn every head, envious males and jealous females alike, should she walk across the floor of a ballroom.

  “I’ve come to impose on your generosity,” Taylor volunteered.

  “I see,” Cindy said. “Who are th
ey?”

  “Lucy and Linda Williams, their father is the lieutenant governor of Antigua.”

  Nodding, Cindy spoke to the girls. “I have no part in the captain’s deeds. I will allow you to stay here solely to keep you safe from the vermin on Grand Terre and in New Orleans. If you do not wish to stay, you may go back with Captain Taylor. If you stay you will remain on the island with me. If you are still under my care when the hurricane season approaches, we will go inland. I have a plantation about twenty-five miles from New Orleans.” Turning back to Taylor, she said, “Lord Willoughby played the devil getting his daughter to return. In the end, she married one of the Rigaud boys in New Orleans. He repaid her father his ransom money and now Lord Willoughby is his partner in a fleet of shrimp boats and the Hotel Rigaud. The couple lives on the top two floors. Lord Willoughby says it’s the best thing that could have happened.”

  Those comments had the girls looking at each other with smiles on their faces. “We will be allowed to attend balls and parties?” Lucy asked.

  “Yes, dear, properly chaperoned,” Cindy replied.

  “Oh, we’ll stay with Miss Cindy,” they eagerly responded.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  A young Negro woman, who Cindy called Mimi, brought glasses of iced tea. It was sweet and surprised Cooper, Mac, and the girls at how delicious and refreshing it was.

  Munching on a ginger cookie, Cooper asked, “How do you keep ice so long?”

  “Beneath the house, we’ve dug down a few feet and store it there, packed in sawdust. It doesn’t keep long but it’s the best we can do.”

  “Could you dig deeper?” Mac asked.

  “No, we would have ground seepage if we did. I’m sure you noticed the roof. We have lined the ice hole with the same material. We tried wood but termites ate it up in a year.”

  “What is the material?” Mac asked.

  “It’s a mixture of crushed seashells really. It was used on forts in Saint Augustine, Florida. We bought a shipload of it, and after experimenting with it came upon a way to make a paste. We brushed it on the roof and that has solved our leaks. Gus is the genius behind it. He decided to cut the material into blocks and then fitted them together and made the ice house.”

  “You have a smart slave,” Mac said.

  Cindy took a breath, and with a cold stare, spoke sharply, “Gus and his family are not slaves, and they are free. They live here year round unless a bad storm approaches; they then come to the plantation.”

  “I apologize and stand corrected, madam,” Mac replied.

  Cindy smiled, “No need, sir, it would be easy to assume they were.”

  ***

  Just at dusk, Jumper knocked on the door of the room Cooper and Mac were to share for the night. “Miz Cindy say it time to get ready to eat.” Seeing Cooper look at his watch, Jumper continued, “We eat early on the island, not like them folks in Naw Arleans that don’t eat until nine o’clock. We usually in bed by dat time. Of course, we usually up wid the sun.”

  After getting washed up, Cooper and Mac met Captain Taylor in the hall and followed him down the stairs to the dining room. A door was open and Cooper could see a breezeway separating the main house from the kitchen. Keeps the house cooler, he thought to himself.

  The smells coming from the kitchen had his mouth watering and stomach growling. No wonder Taylor wanted to steal Belle. A shadow in the hall caused Cooper to look up; standing in the doorway was a goddess. The soft light outlined a shapely silhouette. Her cheekbones were high; her skin was a creamy tan. The emerald green thin cotton dress had a neckline that plunged to the top of perfectly shaped breasts thrusting out so that her nipples were outlined through the material. Her moist lips were sensual, her teeth were white. Her hair was the color of a raven and hung down to a waist that was slender and inviting. She had a sexually mature body but also had an innocent, even childlike vulnerability that made her even more desirable. She held a biscuit in her hand and crumbs on her mouth that she licked off, causing Cooper to groan inwardly.

  While everyone noticed Cooper staring, it was the braver of the two sisters, Lucy, who spoke out. “God, Coop, close your mouth, you’re embarrassing. You never looked at me that way. Of course, she is one beautiful creature.”

  Cindy started to speak, to introduce everyone but stopped what she was about to say as she looked at the girl. She, too, had stopped dead in her tracks, taking in the man at the end of the table. Not overly tall but not short, a strong pair of shoulders. His nose had a bit of a Roman curve, an almost Nordic face. His ruffled hair was sandy-colored. He also had a scar on his cheek that marred the left side of his face. The scar went from just above his eyebrow to down on his cheek. The sun had tanned his face but the scar stood out white, an imperfection that added character to his face. Not handsome, but not ugly, one that caused a woman to take a second look. In men, it would instill fear.

  Clearing her throat to gain attention, Cindy made the introductions. “Sophie Lemoyne.”

  The goddess is Sophie Lemoyne, Cooper thought to himself. Somewhere in the back of his mind the command to “please be seated” registered.

  “Eli, would you say grace.”

  That had Cooper’s attention. Captain Eli Taylor, pirate, saying grace, and a good job of it too. Peeking about, Cooper saw all heads were bowed, including McKemie’s and Rooster’s. From what Rooster had said, Taylor was a gentleman, unlike some of the rogues he’d heard of and met. Almost on cue, once ‘amen’ was said, Belle and Mimi came filing in with the food. With so many guests, they used a little cart. While Belle sat down a huge bowl with a ladle, Mimi filled glasses with either tea or lemonade. Cindy surprised Cooper again by asking for half and half. Sophia did the same, so when Mimi came to his side he decided to try it and followed suit. Hot bread was then laid out.

  “The corn pone sticks taste better if you smear them with butter while they’re hot,” Sophia advised.

  The bread was a brown crusted and slightly crunchy affair cooked in an iron frying skillet that was oblong and not round. The bread came out in little sticks.

  “We like the corn pone sticks better when we have jambalaya,” Cindy volunteered as she placed rice in a bowl and passed it to Sophia, who poured the dark, murky, spicy smelling liquid on top of the rice. The bowls were then passed around until everyone had a bowl.

  “Belle has prepared an oyster stew for you, Eli. Would you care for it first or the jambalaya first?

  Eli responded, “A bowl of the oyster stew first, if you please.”

  When Mac and Cooper got their bowls of jambalaya, they stared at its contents. They looked at each other, neither of them sure that they wanted to partake of the dish but not wanting to insult anyone either. Taking a quick glance at Sophia, Cooper found her looking at him.

  “Have you never eaten jambalaya, Mr. Cain?” Sophia inquired.

  So formal, he thought. “No, I, we,” indicating Mac and himself, “have never had the pleasure.”

  “Oh, it’s very good. Belle is the best cook in all of New Orleans. She starts with a vegetable soup, and then adds peeled shrimp, crawfish tails, a bit of spice and there you are. Some cooks put too much pepper and spice in their jambalaya, but Belle’s is just right.” To emphasize this she took a spoonful.

  When in Rome…Cooper decided and was delighted at the concoction. Soon a dessert was offered, pecan pie or beignets. Rooster sheepishly asked if any of Belle’s café au lait was ready. When she said it was, he chose the beignets.

  “Beignets are sweet bread deep fried and then sprinkled with powdered sugar. They go good with café au lait,” Cindy explained.

  Belle’s café au lait was a mixture of French roasted coffee and chicory. This was mixed half and half with milk. The chicory taste complimented the sweet beignets. A heaping platter of the warm beignets was brought out with a huge pot of the coffee. Rooster dipped his pastry in the coffee and swallowed half of it. In two bites it was gone, and he reached out for another beignet. Talk died down as everyone st
uffed themselves.

  Before he realized it, his belly was full and Cooper felt the need to loosen a button. Damn, he thought, for the first time in my life, food has taken my mind off…well temporarily off a beautiful woman.

  Cindy rose up from the table and said, “If you’d like we can retire to the veranda, where you men can light up a pipe or a cigar. That way, Belle and Mimi can get their chores done.”

  On the veranda, Jumper was sitting out small pails filled with a yellow fragrant substance. “Citronella,” he said, “keeps the skeeters away.”

  Gus walked up with a box under one arm, a jug in one hand and a guitar in the other. Rooster and McKemie sat on the porch with their legs dangling down. Gus sat on the steps to one side while Mac and Cooper sat across from him. Cindy and Taylor sat in a swing while the girls filled up rocking chairs.

  Gus opened the box and offered cigars. “Crooks, I calls them,” he said. “After I roll them, I soak them in bourbon.” He accentuated this comment by tapping the jug. “I stack them on racks to dry and when I take them off they have little uniform bends, a crooked cigar.” He handed the box to Taylor first, who took one and then passed the box around.

  “I’ve been experimenting with rum and cognac,” Gus said. “So far I don’t have the mixture right. Close but not perfect.”

  “You still selling the crooks in New Orleans?” Taylor asked.

  “Yes sir, every stick as fast as I can make them. This man gives me ten cents a stick at the cigar factory. Of course, he sells them for fifteen cents.”

  “I have never heard of paying more than a nickel for a cigar,” Rooster exclaimed.

  “That’s because they smell like dog turds,” McKemie shot back. “Looks like 'em, too.”

  Cooper rolled a cigar around in his mouth amazed at the flavor. He reached for the stick Jumper was using to light the citronella wicks with.

  Gus reached over and touched his arm, “You don’t want to do that. That stick is a sliver of pine lighter. It’s full of turpentine. That’s why it burns so good. Stick it to the cigar and it’ll taste like turpentine. Here, use this,” Gus said, passing a small tinder box he built.