When they arrived at the edge of the bayou,
they saw that the work of removal had been resumed already. All the boats
had been tied up securely, and a mongrel lot of new men had joined the
Spanish force, shiftless and half-civilized Houma and Natchez Indians,
coal black negroes, some from the West Indies and some from Africa,
Acadians, and fierce-looking adventurers from Europe. Most of them seemed
to be laborers, however, and they worked with the arms and baggage taken
from the boats. Among these laborers were several stalwart negro women
with blazing red handkerchiefs tied around their heads.
Alvarez came off one of the boats, followed by Braxton Wyatt. The Spanish
commander had attired himself with great care, and he was a really
splendid figure in his glittering uniform and plumed hat. His gold-hilted
small sword swung by his side. He bore himself as a lord proprietor, and
in fact he was such at this moment. He was about to go, surrounded by his
retainers, to his own house on a huge grant of land made to him by the
Spanish King--Spanish kings granted lands very freely in America to
favorites, and the relatives of favorites.
Braxton Wyatt also showed pride. Was he not the most trusted friend of an
able man who was dreaming a great dream, a dream that would come true? The
last remnants of his border attire had disappeared and he, too, was
dressed wholly as a Spanish officer, though by no means so splendidly as
his chief.
Pages:
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170