The awfulness of that last detail appeared to shock Jacques into lucidity.
Catherine continued, “Tell him how significant he is to you, and that you’ll miss him terribly but that you’ll be all right. And then, when it’s your time to go, he’ll be waiting for you and you’ll be together again.”
Jacques looked at her, shaking his head. “I’m not sure I can . . .”
“You need to do this, Jacques; you need to do this for Tobias.”
Jacques hesitated, then put his mouth down to Tobias’s ear and whispered his final farewell to his slave.
Within seconds, Tobias’s discomfort seemed to cease; his face looked serene. He took his last few breaths and passed.
Jacques began weeping silently.
“He’s at peace now,” Catherine said, closing the dead man’s eyes and again putting her arm around Jacques. “How very fortunate he was to have you, his good friend, with him when he died.”
Jacques looked at her, smeared the tears away with his sleeve, and managed a small smile. Then he shook his head. He gazed back down at the dead man and reached out to gently caress his cheek. “Ah, Catherine,” he said, “Tobias was more than just my friend; he was my love.”
Tarot: THE PAGE OF SWORDS
Revelation: Irritability; indicates vigilance and scrutiny.
January 4, 1815
“Finally, Major General Thomas, you and your two thousand very tired volunteers from Kentucky have arrived in New Orleans. But you say that only five hundred have guns?”
“Yes, sir, and not only no muskets but almost no clothes, never mind blankets or tents.”
“It’s January fourth. The weather is cold and rainy. They’re not reinforcements; they’re handicaps!” Jackson was livid as he paced haltingly in his tent.
“Since we were sent at the request of the secretary of war, the governor of Kentucky believed that the federal government would provide weapons, equipment, and supplies. In fact, we passed a steamer carrying such. It’s reported to be moored at Natchez.”
“What? Corporal Madden, have General Coffee send one hundred of his men on his best horses up there, find this ignorant captain, and arrest him on my authority. Tell Coffee to put his ablest officer in charge of commandeering the ship and bring it here immediately!”
Jackson shook his head and took a deep breath. “Well, we’re glad you’re here,” he said. “We need all the help we can get.”
“Sir, the women of our city were embarrassed for the men,” said Captain Beale. “They saw them shivering as they marched through the city. Some of those men were even clutching their pants and shirts together with their hands to keep from being immodest.”
“From what I hear, the city’s females are most grateful for that thoughtfulness,” said Corporal Madden, with a restrained chuckle.
Captain Beale continued, “Our ladies have volunteered to sew clothing for the men. They’re gathering materials now.”
“Well, it’s gratifying to know that all of the citizens of Louisiana are supporting us in this war,” said Jackson. “I just wish Washington would do the same.” Jackson was still seething, but then he softened.
“Major Thomas, I want you to take your suitable Kentucky militiamen who are armed to the rear of the line at the Rodriguez Canal. The others can go to backup positions closer to the city. That way, they should be able to rest and hopefully will soon get the clothing they need.”
“Yes, sir,” said Thomas.
“I’m going to make the rounds again of our lines, encourage the men, and then head to the Macarty mansion. The Brits’ artillery made a mess of the house, but I can still climb to the top and look out through my telescope at their camp. Meanwhile, I want all troops to continue fortifying our positions and stay on the alert. Is that flag in the center of the line still in one piece?”
“Yes, sir,” responded Major Hinds.
“Good. I want it to continue flying so that both armies can see it. Let me know immediately when Colonel Reuben Kemper and his scouts return. They may have information about possible English reinforcements and their supplies. Meanwhile, we’ll just have to wait and watch.”
Tarot: THE QUEEN OF CUPS
Revelation: Wives having the gifts of vision,
imagination, and dreams of love.
Several Creole women were gathered around Claudia’s dining room table, measuring out long sheets of cotton and then threading their needles. Five slaves were kneeling on the floor, placing patterns onto fabric and cutting the pieces, to be fitted into shirts, trousers, and coats.
“Ladies, I have a plan. I think we’ll be able to make our items faster if we individually do the same piece every time,” said Sheila.
“What do you mean, Sheila?” asked Annabelle.
“We’ll each have a pile of the same shirt sections. For example, Annabelle, you will always sew the front to the back of each shirt at the shoulders. Then you’ll pass your finished part to Elizabeth, who will put in the right sleeve. Then she’ll give it to Claudia, who will sew in the left sleeve.”
“I see,” said Clara. “Then I’ll sew up one side of each shirt, and you can finish the other side.”
“Exactly. I think it will save time, which is just as precious as these clothes are for the troops from Kentucky,” said Sheila.
“Such a good idea, Sheila,” said Annabelle.
“Let’s get going, then,” said Sheila.
The servants brought the cut-up shirt and trouser sections separately to the Creole women, who began to assemble the clothing, passing the progressing pieces along.
“Ah!” said Henriette, as she completed the last stitch and snipped the knot’s tail. She held up the first finished shirt. “Well done, ladies!”
“I don’t believe I will ever have sewn so much or so quickly in my life!” exclaimed Elizabeth, looking at the stack of woolen sleeves a servant set before her.
“True,” said Sheila. “And these shirts aren’t exactly high fashion!”
The ladies laughed.
“But,” continued Sheila, “they’ll be just fine for those poor men from Kentucky now wearing rags. Plus, I heard that Monsieur Louis Louaillier was quite persuasive in winning approval from the Louisiana legislature to appropriate six thousand dollars for further equipping these troops.”
“And many of our citizens agreed to donate another six thousand dollars to support the army,” added Henriette.
“Contributions, not only from our city, but also from surrounding counties. All in all, Père Antoine told me that over sixteen thousand dollars has been raised to help these needy men,” said Claudia.
Two hours later, along with having acquired the latest news and gossip, the women also had a large stack of completed shirts and trousers. They heard a female voice from the street call out, “Whoa, Bella!”
Sheila got up to look out the window. “I see Millie’s arrived with another load of cottons and woolens,” she said, smiling.
“I’ll help you bring them in,” said Henriette.
“It’s a good time for us all to take a little break. Perhaps a drink, ladies?” said Claudia.
While the servants withdrew to the back kitchen to prepare the beverages, Sheila and Henriette went outside to assist in unloading some of the supplies. Millie jumped down from her wagon with an armful of coverlets.
“Thank you for your help,” she said, as she handed the pile to Sheila. “I have some wool fabric here, too, and more is on the way.” She reached into her cart and grabbed another stack of woolen material that she handed to Henriette.
“Whew! Heavy stuff,” said Henriette. “And it’s so humid today, especially riding in your wagon. Why don’t you come in for some lemonade, Millie?” asked Henriette.
“No, thank you, madame. I have one more delivery to make this afternoon, and then I will be visiting a friend who is in mourning.”
“Would that friend be Madame Suzanne Bonet?” asked Sheila softly.
Millie nodded, adding, “I app
reciate your offer, though.”
“Wait just a moment, then,” said Henriette. “I’ll get some biscuits and fruit for you to take to your friend’s home.”
While Henriette hurried into the house, Sheila said, “Poor dear. I know how hard it is to lose a child and a husband. And so close together! Please give her my sincere condolences, and do let me know if there is anything I can do.”
“I will, madame. Thank you.”
Henriette returned with a small basket full of persimmons, oranges, and baked goods. “Here, Millie. The biscuits just came out of the oven.”
Taking the container, Millie lowered her head to sniff the contents. “Mmm! They smell wonderful!”
“Next time, perhaps, you can join us for some refreshments. Take care, now!” said Sheila, as Millie climbed into her wagon.
“I’ll be back tomorrow,” said Millie, smiling. Lightly tapping her mule with the reins, she said, “Let’s go, Bella!”
Making their way into the house, Henriette said, “That young girl is priceless, Sheila. Not only is she pleasant, but she’s also reliable and talented. I certainly wouldn’t know how to drive a wagon! And I can see why she wears those trousers—so much easier to do her job.”
“True,” said Sheila. She set the blankets down on the dining room’s sideboard. “I remember when she volunteered to help that day at the church. I noticed several eyebrows were raised when she spoke out. But I have to give her credit. And I agree with you: she certainly is unique!”
“Are you talking about Millie?” asked Elizabeth. “I saw her at the New Year’s Day parade, all dressed up.”
“In a dress?” asked Claudia.
“Yes, and she looked lovely! I do believe she was meeting one of our troops.”
“Why, I saw her, too,” said Clara. “And I agree—I suspect she was planning to get together with someone. I saw her carrying a picnic basket.”
“Well, now,” said Claudia, “who do you think our Millie has in mind?”
“I know!” said Annabelle, with a smile.
“Do tell,” the women exclaimed.
“I saw Millie reach out to embrace . . .” Annabelle paused.
“Come on, Annabelle! Tell us!” said Elizabeth.
“A Baratarian!”
The women gasped.
“Really! A pirate!”
“Yes, and a handsome one!”
“And . . . ?”
“Well, that’s all I saw. The shooting started, and, as you all know, the whole parade ground turned into chaos.”
The women nodded, some with disappointment at not knowing any more about Millie’s beau, others remembering the horror of that day.
Just then, they heard a baby’s cry. At a gesture from Sheila, one of Claudia’s servants put down her scissors and went to the second floor.
“Oho, Grand-mère! What’s the latest on le petit prince?” asked Adelaide, who, along with Henriette, was rapidly stitching the inseams of pants.
“He is just beautiful,” Sheila replied. “Eats and sleeps well. And sometimes, after he’s nursed, he’s a bit fussy, but after I burp him, he smiles at me.”
“Because he has passed the gaz,” said Elizabeth, laughing.
“And Marguerite?” asked Annabelle. “How is she responding to motherhood?”
“I have seldom seen her so happy,” said Sheila. “Of course, she’s still worried about Jacques’s safety and is very much looking forward to presenting him with his son.”
“May that happen soon,” said Claudia. “And may it be a joyful time for us all.”
The women nodded, and a quiet descended over them as they continued sewing, absorbed in their hopes and fears for family and friends.
Tarot: THE KING OF WANDS
Revelation: A new leadership idea that will
promote powerful change in the immediate setting.
January 6, 1815
“General, we have guests,” announced Captain Pierre Jugeat, as he forced the sailors inside Jackson’s tent.
The English seamen had been captured in a small supply boat seen sailing to Bayou Bienvenue.
“Welcome, gentlemen,” Jackson said, grinning. Turning to Captain Jugeat, he asked, “And to what do we owe this pleasure?”
The captain answered, “One of my scouts, Nakni, observed their boat leaving the English fleet, headed for the supply base on Lake Borgne. I sent a messenger to our navy commander at Petites Coquilles, who dispatched three brigs to intercept the boat. And voilà—the navy has a cargo of gunpowder and cannonballs, and we have nine impressed sailors and one arrogant lieutenant.”
“Send the lieutenant away, and we’ll talk with the sailors.”
The nine British seamen happily revealed everything they knew in exchange for the promise that they could remain in the United States.
After the sailors were taken away, Jackson conferred with his staff.
“We now know from the English sailors that the Redcoats are enlarging the Villeré Canal to move their barges from Bayou Bienvenue to the Mississippi. That tells me two things. First, the Redcoats still plan to take the city by advancing along the river. Second, they may use the barges to ferry troops and artillery to the south bank for a two-pronged advance.”
“That’s quite an undertaking,” said Colonel Butler. “Widening the canal and pulling the barges two miles to the river.”
Jackson looked glum. “Yes. What we need is to get a better look at this canal work.”
Commodore Patterson spoke up. “General, I’ll take a couple of my sailors with telescopes down the south bank to a point opposite where the Villeré Canal meets the river. We’ll see what the English are up to.”
“Good, Commodore; please make that a priority and report back as soon as possible.”
“Yes, I understand.”
“I’ll have a couple of my Choctaw scouts circle east through the cypress swamps tonight, observe the enemy activity on the Villeré Canal tomorrow, and report back,” volunteered Captain Jugeat.
“All right. We can never have too much information about the enemy. Let’s meet again at ten tomorrow night. Please see to your troops. Good evening, gentlemen.”
Tarot: STRENGTH
Revelation: A clash—spiritual power overcomes
physical power through trust.
January 7, 1815
Sister Angelique stood at the doorway of the convent, quietly greeting the city’s women who had come to make a novena in the chapel. They were a somber assembly, some silently hugging one another, others discreetly wiping away tears, worrying about their men. They had been gathering for the past seven days, since the assault on New Year’s Day. The full strength of the invading army had not yet been employed against the city.
The late-afternoon sun shone on the large golden statue of Our Lady of Prompt Succor, making it glow. There was a humble hush as the faithful and hopeful knelt before her image, praying their rosaries, petitioning the mother of Jesus for help in their time of need.
Two years before, Sister Angelique and the other Ursuline nuns had gathered before another, smaller image of Mary and her baby son. They had placed the figure in a window of the convent and prayed for the Madonna to intercede on their behalf and save their home from a horrific fire that was heading their way. It had already destroyed most of the city’s buildings. Sister Angelique would never forget the words “Oh, Lady of Prompt Succor, ask your son to save us, or we are lost.”
Suddenly, the wind had shifted direction. The flames had blown back into the burned area and soon died out. The nuns had all been quite certain that because of Our Lady’s intercession, the convent remained unscathed.
Word of the marvel spread. Our Lady of Prompt Succor was her title; Mary of Immediate Help was the claim. Many considered this saintly woman’s renown miraculous, perhaps even magical.
Now, New Orleans was desperate for another miracle. As Sister Angelique knelt down in a pew in the crowded chapel, she perceived a peculiar solidarity among these divers
e women: upper-class Creoles, free women of color, immigrants, slaves, and even a few Yankee Protestants.
Like the troops, regardless of background or social position, they had joined together and done everything they could to help the effort: donating mattresses, blankets, food, and clothing; mobilizing supplies and coordinating pickups and deliveries; organizing themselves to work in shifts, as well as providing childcare; and nursing the wounded in their homes and the convent.
So far, General Jackson had foiled the English invasion. His mostly inexperienced army had held its ground and forced the English to withdraw from the field, all while suffering far fewer casualties than their enemy. However, despite their difficulties, the English had not given up. Rumor had it they were awaiting reinforcements.
The women had seen the sorry reinforcements that General Jackson had received. They knew the outlook was grim and were afraid not only for their men, but also for themselves and their families. “Beauty and booty,” the British motto, terrified them.
And so they gathered to seek divine intervention through this novena. Sister Angelique closed the chapel door and led the women in prayer. “Please, Our Lady of Prompt Succor, intervene with your son, Jesus, to provide us Americans a bloodless victory.”
Courage. Commitment. Love. Sacrifice.
Please! A miracle! Victory!
As the evening wore on, more candles were lit and the votive lights gleamed. When various women left, some genuflected, but many simply took a last look at the statue and breathed a final appeal, imploring her aid not just for their husbands, sons, brothers, and neighbors, but also for those volunteer courageous countrymen who were fighting valiantly for their fair city.
Sister Angelique made her personal prayer: “Our Lady of Prompt Succor, help all of us in our time of need. Please make the battle short and the deaths few, and bring victory to our side.”
Her conscience pricked her a bit, so she added, “And don’t be too hard on the enemy troops; just send them all back to England. Quickly. Amen.”
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