The Freebooters: A Story of the Texan WarAimard, Gustave
History
The Freebooters: A Story of the Texan War
Aimard, Gustave
Texas -- History -- Revolution, 1835-1836 -- Fiction; Western stories
Two young gentlemen, dressed in the simple but graceful uniform of
officers of the United States Navy, who were coming from the interior of
the town, forced their way with some difficulty through the crowd that
impeded their every step on the port, as they proceeded toward the pier,
where a large number of boats of all shapes and sizes were tied up. They
had scarce reached the landing place ere they were surrounded by some
twenty boatmen, who offered their services, while exaggerating in their
praiseworthy fashion the surprising qualities and unparalleled speed of
their boats, doing so in the bastard patois which belongs to no
language, but is formed of words culled haphazard from all, and by means
of which, in every seaport, the people of the country and strangers
contrive to understand each other, and which is called in the Scales of
the Levant the linguafranca.
After giving a careless glance at the numerous skiffs dancing before
them, the officers abruptly dismissed the boatmen by peremptorily
declining their services; but they did not get rid of them till they had
told them they had a boat of their own, and scattered some small change
among them. The boatmen withdrew, half vexed, half satisfied, and the
officers were at length left alone on the jetty.
We have said that the sun had set for some time, and hence the night was
gloomy. Still, the two officers, in order, doubtless, to assure
themselves that the darkness concealed no spy, walked several times up
and down the jetty, while conversing together in a low voice, and
examining with the most scrupulous attention those spots which might
have afforded shelter to anyone. They were certainly alone. One of them
then drew from his breast one of those silver whistles, such as
boatswains employ on board ships, and then produced a soft and prolonged
note thrice repeated. A few moments passed, and nothing proved to the
officers that their signal had been heard. At last, a soft whistle
traversed the air and expired on the ears of the two men who were
listening, with bodies bent forward and faces turned to the sea.
"They are coming," said one.
"We will wait," his comrade answered laconically.
They carefully wrapped themselves in their cloaks to guard themselves
against the damp sea breeze; they leant against an old gun that served
to tie boats up, and remained motionless as statues, without exchanging
a syllable. A few minutes passed thus; the darkness grew gradually
denser; the noises of the town insensibly died out, and the promenaders,
driven away by the coolness of the night, quitted the seashore for the
interior of the town. The beach was soon completely deserted--the two
officers alone remained leaning against the gun.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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