Chapter 9

CONCLUSION.

When the Belle Acadienne was announced as coming down the bay, Lafitte himself went to the landing, so anxious was he to hear the news of which Eph Clark was the bearer.

As they walked back together to the chief's house, Eph told him all that had occurred in the council. And Lafitte told him that Johannot had reported the arrival of the British fleet, for he had been sent out to reconnoiter, and that he had also sent a message to the English captain which would prevent him from being certain whether they would be guided through the bayous or not.

While Eph got some needed refreshment, orders were sent to assemble all the guns' crews of the pirate vessels in the fort.

There were about two hundred selected, the best and most capable gunners, and they were at once put under vigorous drill--Eph being made a lieutenant of the battery.

In the meantime canoes and boats were prepared to take the cannon and their carriages, with ammunition and stores and utensils of all kinds, through the secret route, and up to the plain of the east side of the river, where great works had been thrown up to resist the invaders, which works stretched between the river and the swamp on the left.

When the artillery and men arrived they were immediately sent to this work, where they found the battery of an American gun-boat, the Carolina, also stationed. There was another gun-boat, the Louisiana, afloat on the river, with a powerful battery of guns, which did good service in the approaching fight.

The long row of earth-works which the Americans occupied had not been quite finished, so the top of a great deal of the line was made of cotton bales, which protected the riflemen from the enemy's bullets to a great extent, but were easily disarranged and set on fire by artillery. Some people thought that they would have been better without the cotton bales, but they were then, and they were always afterwards, associated with the battle.

When the firing actually began it was discovered that the British had found a quantity of sugar hogsheads in the plantations, and had used them in building their batteries, but they were not as good as the cotton bales at resisting fire, as it turned out.

Eph Clark had Eric as a sergeant in the battery of which he was lieutenant, on the night of the 7th of January, 1814, by which time all was ready.

They lay in a rough hut, back of the battery, and the men were talking and smoking, all around them, as they speculated on the chances of next day's battle, for everybody knew it would occur then, probably at daylight.

At last they dropped off into an uneasy doze, and were roused from that by the order passed to turn out and man the battery.

They were hardly at their guns when General Jackson came along with a large staff, carefully inspecting the preparations by the light of the camp fires in the rear of the intrenchments.

General Villere, of the New Orleans militia, who had seen Eph Clark before, and who was accompanying General Jackson, said:

"Here are Lafitte's men, general. And here is the youth I spoke to you about, an American boy."

General Jackson had too many weighty matters on his mind that morning to do more than glance at Eph, in answer to the officer's remark. But he did say:

"All right! Glad to see such pluck and determination."

Then he passed on to the left of the lines--and all stood firm--peering into a dense mist, which had arisen as the day was near and obscured the field in front.

It was known that the flower of the British army was in front, and eager eyes and ears kept open to detect the first movement. The invaders had boasted that they would walk straight over the half-drilled riflemen from Kentucky and Tennessee and the militia of Louisiana. They had not quite heard of the artillery of Commodore Patterson and of Lafitte's batteries, and were not prepared for them, while they had little idea of what the riflemen could do, although they wore no such gorgeous uniform.

Suddenly, before the sun had risen and while the haze still hung upon the ground like a curtain, a gun was heard from the left of the batteries--the one in which Eph Clark had charge of the guns.

His sharp sailor-eyes and ears had detected the advance of the enemy before any others, and, according to orders given beforehand, he fired a round of grape-shot slap into the advancing foe.

Just then the mist lifted a little, and, by the early light, could be seen the serried lines of the British force, advancing to the attack in magnificent order.

There were two columns of troops, one on the right and one on the left. At the head of each column was a regiment, bearing fascines for filling up the ditch and scaling-ladders for reaching the crest of the defense. Between the two columns were marching a thousand Highlanders, in their picturesque garb, ready to support either column on their flanks, as might be needed.

At once the riflemen, with their unerring aim, began a rolling fire, while the artillery, served with great steadiness and coolness, joined in the battle.

There was great slaughter and confusion among the attacking troops, but, like veterans as they were, they rallied and came on again.

At first, Eph Clark was shocked by the effect of the fire; but he soon became excited, and, going from gun to gun of his battery, saw that each was well loaded and well pointed.

Up to the very ditch surged the brave men in front of them, and one officer, a lieutenant, came over the breastwork uninjured. Seeing Eph and a captain of infantry standing by their guns, close to him, he called out:

"Surrender! surrender! The place is ours!"

Rather surprised at this speech from a single man, Eph replied:

"Look behind you, sir!"

The young English officer, whose name was Lavack, did as he was told, and saw his troops either dead or wounded or in full retreat, and already some distance away.

"I'll have to trouble you for your sword, sir!" said Eph, after showing him this sight.

"And to whom do I surrender?" said the young officer, gazing at Eph's rig of silk shirt and sash and loose white trowsers.

"To Lieutenant Clark, of Lafitte's Battery." And the young officer was led away, to be well treated.

In the meantime, while the surviving British troops were retreating from the front, Eph Clark and those about him heard the "advance" blown from a bugle in front of them, and, seeing no one standing so near as the notes seemed to come from, at last discovered, perched up in a small tree--which must have been exposed to all the storm of balls and bullets, for many of its branches were cut away--a small music-boy of one of the British regiments, who had sat up there, sounding the "advance," all the time the fight was going on, and continued to do so when his regiment was half a mile away.

Amused at the curious courage and persistency of the little fellow, Eph and a lieutenant of Kentucky riflemen dropped down into the ditch, and went out and captured the courageous lad, who was not more than fourteen.

When they brought him in, the stolid little Englishman, who was entirely unhurt, was much astonished at the praises he received from those he considered deadly enemies.

The English did not renew their attack, but at once began preparations for retreat to their ships. And there was good reason, for the actual fighting had only lasted twenty-five minutes, and they had twenty-six hundred men killed, wounded or prisoners, while the American loss was just seventeen.

General Packenham, the English commander, General Gibbs, Colonel Keene and Colonel Dale, among the leaders, all lost their lives in that fatal assault.

And the worst of it all was that the battle was fought after a treaty of peace had been made between England and the United States. But there was no means of knowing that, as there would be in these days of steam and electricity.

That night Eph had the guard in his battery, for vigilance was not relaxed, as the enemy, though beaten, had not yet retired entirely, and he was pacing up and down the parapet, and wishing he could go to sleep, after all the long excitement and labor, when he heard a challenge of a sentinel at the rear, and soon a written order was brought by an orderly, directing him to report at headquarters on the following day at ten o'clock.

This official notice made him uneasy, but he did not know anything wrong which he had done, and he knew he had served his guns well. So, when the time came for him to be relieved, he quietly lay down and slept the sleep of a tired boy, until roused for the rough camp breakfast.

At the appointed time he went to the headquarters in a plantation-house in the rear of the lines, and reported himself.

An aid-de-camp came out and said:

"General Jackson wants to see you."

Without a word, but with much inward perturbation, Eph followed the officer into the room, where a large, rawboned man, with hair standing straight up from his scalp, and clad in general's uniform and high boots, was sitting at a table filled with papers.

Several officers were standing about the room, and Eph recognized General Villere and one or two others he had seen before.

The general looked up sharply from his writing--he had a piercing gray-blue eye--and said:

"My lad, you have been much commended for your conduct. You are an American?"

"Yes, sir. I did not go to Lafitte's place of my own accord; but when I saw that I could do some good for my country, I worked as hard as I could."

The general waved his hand and nodded approvingly.

"Yes," he continued; "I have heard how you acted from Governor Claiborne and Judge Livingston and General Villere. You are a sailor, I believe?"

"Yes, sir. I have been a sailor for four years."

"Do you like the life?"

"I have not had such success that I should like it. I think I would rather be a soldier."

"Well said, lad," and the grim general chuckled. "You _shall_ be a soldier. They will listen to me after this work, and I promise you a lieutenantcy in one of the regular regiments. In the meantime I take you on my staff as a volunteer, and you may go to any tailor in New Orleans and be fitted out."

"There is one thing I would like to say, general."

"What is it? Speak quickly, for I have much to do."

"There is a Danish youth, older than I am, who served in the battery, and was taken out of the brig with me. I should like to see what becomes of him."

"Very good! I will give an order for his enlistment, and meantime he can remain with you."

Two months after this Ephraim Clark received his commission as second lieutenant in the Second Regiment of United States Infantry, and Eric Ericcsson was transferred as a private to the same regiment, the headquarters of which were at the frontier town of St. Louis, in the Territory of Missouri.

[THE END.]

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COLUMBUS AND THE SCHOOL CHILDREN

By Sidney.

October, 1892, will long be remembered as the quadricentennial anniversary of America. It has been a festival month, and hardly a town or hamlet in this country but has celebrated, in some way, the landing of Columbus. New York devoted almost an entire week to land and water pageants, and Chicago, in formally dedicating the Columbian Exposition, had three days of impressive ceremonies.

Two remarkable features are to be noted in connection with the October celebrations. One is, that the United States, by common consent, have monopolized the honors in connection with the discovery of this Western Continent.

Of course, Columbus did not discover the United States any more than Canada. Every one knows now that he never put foot on North America at all, his nearest approach being the West India Islands, and that he did discover South America.

Nevertheless it has always been recognized that here, if anywhere, rested his claims as a discoverer, and here, therefore, it was fitting that the quadricentennial should be celebrated.

The second feature was the zeal with which the school children entered into the celebration. Schools, we may be assured, were little known in the days of Columbus, when monarchs thought it no shame to be unable to write their own names. Nor had Columbus any special desire to educate or civilize the people whom he found in the new lands he annexed to the Spanish crown.

Yet it may be said, without exaggeration, that of all the benefits accruing to civilization that grew out of the discovery of America, not one bears any comparison with the public school system of the United States. Our forefathers were men who imbibed the love of liberty with every breath, and they early realized that liberty without intelligence was not possible, and that learning was a deadly foe to tyranny of any kind--not the learning which is confined to the few, but the learning which is free to all, without cost.

There are nations, even at the present day, which designedly keep the people in ignorance, for fear that they will know their rights and demand justice. America has no such fear. Every avenue of knowledge has been opened to the child of the humblest, and in the public schools all meet on a plane of equality.

So it was eminently fitting that the school children should celebrate the discovery of this new world where they are rightly considered the keystone of our national greatness. And they have celebrated it in a way such as the world has never seen.

In the great civic parade in New York city on October 10, twenty-five thousand school children marched to the music of a hundred bands, before the grand-stands, on which sat the dignitaries of the nation, and to the admiring plaudits of half a million spectators who crowded the sidewalks, balconies and windows along the route.

Shoulder to shoulder, the pampered darling of Murray Hill and the "kid" of the Bowery marched in accord, with flashing eyes and conscious pride in being what they are, and at their head marched the mayor of the Empire City.

It was a sight long to be remembered, and one calculated to make the dullest thrill with love of country.

Later in the month, on the twenty-first, the schools all over the land, from the primary to the high schools, joined in celebrating, each in its respective schoolhouse. Speeches were made, odes sung and flags raised.

Such a series of celebrations cannot fail to leave a deep impress on the youthful mind, and one that will tend to instruct and elevate.

In future years, when men and women, they will recall with justifiable pride that they were part of the quadricentennial festivities, and that the part they bore was second to none.

It will be a legacy to be cherished, and it is certain that in no portion of their lives will there be a brighter spot than when, as school children, they emphasized the power and dignity of the Republic.

CONDENSED FOOD.

By W. S. Bates.

In journeying through foreign lands, especially in the East, the English or American traveler is constantly amazed to observe upon what meagre diet the natives exist. Accustomed to meat at every meal, he sees thousands of people who eat meat perhaps not once a year; used to an abundance of vegetables and fruits of infinite variety, he encounters people who live on two or three vegetables and as many fruits.

In the mines of Hungary the workers dine on two slices of black bread and an apple; the Italians are content with a little oil and a handful of maccaroni; the Chinese exist almost entirely on rice, and the Arabs will live for weeks on dried dates. The surprise is not so much that these people exist, but that they are healthy and strong. Travelers again and again have noted that the Turkish porters in Constantinople will carry a burden that two strong Americans can hardly lift, and that coolies can tire a horse in running with the jinrikisha in China or Japan.

Doubtless most of this abstemiousness is due to poverty, since all nationalities soon fall into our ways of eating when they come to these shores, but their sparingness is none the less a proof that much of what we eat is an unnecessary burden to our stomachs. The primary purpose of eating is to sustain life, not to please the palate. We need material to replenish the waste of tissue, material to make blood and bone and flesh, and that is all.

Out of a pound of meat, not more than one tenth is of any value, and the same proportion holds good with many other articles of food. Now, it is evident that if some method existed by which the nutritious elements could be extracted and concentrated, the process of eating would be greatly simplified, and much to our advantage.

The first effort in this line was made thirty years ago in the shape of condensed milk, and the inventor was heartily laughed at. He lived, however, long enough to laugh at other people, and died worth seven millions of dollars. Now the condensing of milk has grown to be a very large industry.

The processes employed are very simple, the fresh milk being put into a great copper tank with a steam jacket. While it is being heated sugar is added, and the mixture is then drawn off into a vacuum tank, where evaporation is produced by heat.

The vacuum tank will hold, perhaps, nine thousand quarts. It has a glass window at the top, through which the operator in charge looks from time to time. He can tell by the appearance of the milk when the time has arrived to shut off the steam, and this must be done at just the right moment, else the batch will be spoiled.

Next the condensed milk is drawn into forty-quart cans, which are set in very cold spring water, where they are made to revolve rapidly by a mechanical contrivance in order that their contents may cool evenly.

When the water does not happen to be cold enough, ice is put in to bring it down to the proper temperature. Finally the tin cans of market size are filled with the milk by a machine, which pours into each one exactly sixteen ounces automatically, one girl shoving the cans beneath the spout, while another removes them as fast as they are filled.

People in cities nowadays use condensed milk largely in preference to the uncondensed, regarding it as more desirable because of the careful supervision maintained by the companies over the dairies from which they get their supplies.

For their consumption the product is delivered unsweetened, but even in this condition it will last fresh two or three times as long as the ordinary milk by reason of the boiling to which it has been subjected. Milk fresh from the cow contains eighty-eight per cent. of water, condensed milk twenty-eight per cent.

After condensed milks come condensed jellies. They are made in the shape of little bricks, each weighing eight ounces, and with an inside wrapper of oiled paper. According to the directions, the brick is to be put in one pint of boiling water, and stirred until it is dissolved.

The mixture is then poured into a mold or other vessel and put into a cool place. In a few hours the jelly is "set" and ready to use, a pint and a half of it. It never fails to "jell," which point is the cause of so much anxiety to amateur jelly-makers.

We have often heard that "one egg contains as much nourishment as one pound of meat," which shows that nature has condensed the food essentials in this instance. But man has condensed them still more, mainly, however, because eggs have a bad habit of getting stale.

Great quantities of eggs are bought up in summer when the price of them goes down to almost nothing. They are broken into pans, the whites and yolks separated and evaporated to perfect dryness. Finally, they are scraped from the pans and granulated by grinding, when they are ready for shipment in bulk.

Bakers, confectioners and hotels use eggs in this form, which is an important saving at seasons when they are dear in the shell.

Extract of beef, although a liquid, is condensed beef; the vanilla bean is now concentrated into an essence and cocoanuts are condensed by desiccation; cider and lime juice are also condensed, so that a spoonful mixed with water makes a pint of the original liquid.

Finally, some genius has condensed coffee into lozenges weighing only fifteen grains, one of which makes a generous cup of coffee. It is merely necessary to put the lozenge or tablet in the cup, pour boiling water on it and the coffee is made.

What a boon for the housewife as well as the camper-out, the more so since one hundred lozenges, weighing a little more than four ounces, will make one hundred cups.

The processes by which coffee is thus concentrated are very interesting. To begin with, the beans are roasted in an enormous oven and ground in a huge mill. Then they are put into a great iron vessel, which is nothing more nor less than a gigantic coffee-pot, holding two hundred and forty pounds at a time. Hundreds of gallons of filtered water are pumped into the coffee-pot, which acts on the drip principle, and the infusion is drawn off to an evaporating tank. A steam pump keeps the air exhausted from this tank, so that the coffee is in vacuo, being heated meanwhile to a high temperature by steam pipes. The water it contains rapidly passes off, and the coffee is of about the consistency of molasses when it is taken out. It is poured into trays of enameled ware, and these trays are placed on shelves in another evaporator.

When the trays are removed, a short time later, the coffee is a dry solid, which is scraped off the trays, ground to powder, and moulded into lozenges.

AN UNFORTUNATE EXPERIMENT.

Some weeks ago we chronicled in GOLDEN DAYS the particulars of a competition race in Europe, which was unique in its rules and intended to be scientific in its character. The Emperors of Austria and Germany arranged for a contest between the officers of their respective armies in the way of a long-distance ride between Berlin and Vienna, Austrian officers to ride from Vienna to Berlin, and German officers from Berlin to Vienna.

This entire distance of four hundred miles was to be covered in the shortest possible time, each rider using but one horse and choosing any route which suited his fancy.

Prizes were offered for the first man who covered the distance, and another prize was to be given to the contestant who brought his horse to the finish in the best condition.

It was a purely military race, and the outcome was expected to prove a great many things of value to Austria and Germany as to the endurance of man and horse, and naturally excited great interest, not only in Europe, but also in this country.

The result, however, has been far from gratifying. The start was made on time, and an Austrian officer was the first to cover the distance, in three days, one hour and forty-five minutes. A notable victory, no doubt, but at what a cost!

Hardly had the applause died away, when the noble horse which had accomplished the feat, died in his tracks; and this was only the beginning. Since then fifteen or twenty horses have died, and every one of the remainder are dying or rendered forever useless.

Stories of pitiless cruelty on the part of the riders have been reported--of whippings, spurrings, and even absolute torture, to urge on the poor animals.

Under the circumstances, it is not to be wondered that the press and people are now unanimous in condemning the race as brutal and barbarous, and claiming that no good purpose was served by the exhibition.

It is true that a prize was offered to the rider who brought in his horse in the best condition, but this chance seems to have been lost sight of completely, and not a single horse arrived in a state less than pitiable.

Public sentiment in this age is quick to put the stamp of disapproval on unnecessary cruelty of any kind, and however much the Emperors of Austria and Germany may regard the result with satisfaction, or crown the visitors with laurels, humane people everywhere will condemn the exhibition and protest against any repetition.

OUR NEW PACIFIC STATION.

By Anon.

In the days when the voyages and adventures of Captain Cook were read by every schoolboy, there was a great deal heard of the Navigators' Islands, in the Pacific. Lying between seven and eight hundred miles south of the equator, this group of nine islands and some small islets has been a favorite port for many years, and all seamen and explorers unite in calling it an earthly paradise. The climate is perfection, the soil is rich, and the natives always have been friendly.

Similar conditions doubtless prevail in other islands of the Pacific, but our interests at present centre on the islands just described, since they are now known as the Samoan Islands, and in them lies the harbor of Pago-Pago, which our government has at last acquired, after years of negotiation.

The chiefs of the Samoan Islands have more than once petitioned to be taken under the protectorate of Great Britain or the United States, and in 1878 a commercial treaty was concluded with this country, and in 1879 Great Britain and Germany made almost similar treaties.

Had the United States so desired, the Samoan group would have been ceded to us years ago, but there is always vigorous opposition to this country acquiring territory outside of its present coast lines. No such scruples prevail in England or Germany, and, in consequence, both those powers are industriously engaged in annexing stray islands, whether the inhabitants desire protection or not.

But they did not take Samoa, mainly because of a well defined idea that the United States, although opposed to annexing these islands herself, was as strongly opposed to any other nation taking them, and European nations have, of late years, a wholesome respect for this nation.

It is true that our trade in the Pacific is not large, but it is rapidly increasing, and the need of a harbor has been apparent for some time. Of course all the harbors in the Pacific are open to our ships in times of peace, but there may come a time of war, when the ports will be closed to our shipping, and we will sorely need some ports of our own.

Then we need coal and supply stations for our men of war, such as England has in all parts of the world, and such as we ought to have and would have were it not for the perverse public sentiment which is opposed to any acquisition of territory, however needful or just.

Now at least we have Pago-Pago, and it is believed that Pearl Harbor in Oahu, one of the Hawaiian Islands, will be acquired in somewhat the same way.

The Germans have a harbor in Samoa and the English are negotiating for one, but Pago-Pago is believed to be the largest and best of all.

Here a coaling, supply and repair station will be built, the title to the land being vested absolutely in the United States.

Other nations may use the harbor as they please, but the United States will control it, and in case of any trouble in the Pacific it will be a point of vantage of the greatest value to this country.

--On Mount Washington, in New Hampshire, lives a little colony of butterflies that never descend below 2000 feet from the summit. They are completely isolated from others of their kind, no butterflies being found in any other spot in their immediate vicinity. It is supposed that the remote ancestors of this curious race were stranded on the mountain at the close of the glacial period.

[_This Story began in No. 48._]

THE MUTINY On Board of the Sea Eagle

or, the Adventures of a Homeless Boy.

BY RALPH HAMILTON,

Author Of "Chespa," "Off To The Southwest," etc., etc., etc.