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CAPTAIN
SAZARAC
• By
Charles Tenney Jackson
illustrations by !rwfn Myers
Copyright by The Bobbs-Mercill Company
-A— BARATARIA! LAFITTEI"
•■I am Lafltte again—not Mon
sieur Sazarac! Irons, and then
t hfc yard-arm for the first fellow
who disputes my will. The older
!,• ads will not needs be told.
T.e English woman first after
t,;: t as it is Monsieur de Alrnon
aster’s honor to his fellow citi
zens of Louisiana —for Bona
parte. And then
“The seas are wide, grimaced
Ja is with a look at the mas
tor which drew, in turn, a glance
of impenetrable reserve.
This is a stirring tale of the
picturesque days when the young
Creole bloods of New Orleans
rallied around Lafltte —the re
el ’ibtable pirate of Baratarla
Bay who won imperishable fame
uv coming to the aid of Andrew
Jackson when that red-headed
warrior beat off the British at
Sew Orleans—and planned the
rescue of Napoleon from bt.
Helena.
“I have been hailed a hero by
the city, pardoned and acclaimed
for service in the new Republic,
denounced a'gain and harried
from the seas, to be once more
a fugitive!” says Lafltte—and
chooses to come back as “Cap
tain Sazarac,” only to have his
heart stirred by a lovely face—
which leads him to the Plot Na
pe leo-i). ? :- - J . t.
• The."* author—Charles Tenney
Jackson, has achieved a number
of deservedly popular and wide
read novels. Queerly enough,
though he is by birth and edu
cation a northerner, he has re
produced most wonderfuly the
atrans,piiero ol tl>ose New- Or-'
leads' dSys before*'the “Yankee
came to destroy romance—days
when fair ladies were still the
cause of many a duel and high
gambling went with high station.
K ..‘. Chapter'i '
If Jean Were Here.
The affair was one In which, to
this point, the young Count de Al
monaster had taken the slightest in
terest." But ho,Writhe name of’ his
aunt, the Baroness Pontalbh, was
upon the lips of the portly alderman
of Old New Orleans; and when, in
turn. Beluche, the swarthy admiral
of the Cartagenian privateers., ad
verted to* Jier, the languid aristocrat
shook with laughter.
“Ho, Monsieur Dominique! You,
the fat and prosperous counselor of
the American quarter who, they say,
finds the city’s politics even better
picking, than, ; jvere ■ your .days of.ipl
racv \v!tV Jean Lafitte—you, you,
then, it was, who enticed my good
aunt to giving ten thousand of the
new Yankee dollars to build the house
in which Napoleon is to spend his last
days on the rue Chartres I And you-
Beiucht—for whom, even today, any
flag will serve! A grand scheme, this,
to rescue Bonaparte from the Eng
lish : What next for us fantastic Cre
oles?”
“Monsieur! Not so loud, I beg! An
affair of state, this, and half the gen
try of Louisiana is in it. But the new
American governor—eh, blen ! At
Washington, where the English are
now g . we]] received, it might be em
barrassing— this plot—”
But De Almonaster shouted the
louder. The admiral of Cartagena
spluttered; the honest councilor
rubbed his velvet-clad paunch and
pleaded for silence. The young man’s
Ci nee went from the two one-time
JU'.runeers out the door of Maspero’s
exchange to the shining new plaster
nd srreen shutters of the House Na
rweon; his hand went to the black
~ k at bis neck- to check fur
tner amusement
,f'.'' ;,e short, dark, restlessly
r ■ ' r a b°ut, his black eyes nar-
T as be done with
;y • !to sea again — growled sur
w . liral of the New Granada
nic. \ “ might be, but to his old cro
jjW coffee-houses he was still
-■ rian gunner who fought the
-.r,r battery on the right of Jack
p“,. ' at Clialmette against the
as- ’ ie ma de as wry a face
■ Lafitte’s lieutenants when
X r " ful - voun S republic of the
R ., . pardoned the buccaneers en
r , worthy Alderman Doml
-8 ed at the younger man’s
U - . thought, Monsieur, that —
r -' ' 'bat is conceded to be the
Wo’' :, mily of Louisiana—you
• p . . • generously to the plot—”
A gam the Count Raoul
mocked as lie looked across the cob
bles at the fresh paint upon the huge
wooden shutters of the House Napo
leon; he flung his Jeweled Angers air
ily back to the shadowy tup-room:
“Ho, fellow! The rum and limes! Be
on with them, but tread softly—we
have a plot!”
The two old adventurers gazed at
the slender figure in some consterna
tion. “Plot!” De Almonaster made
the rafters ring with it: “Threescore
carpenters, plasterers and whatnot,
slaves and free men of color—labor
all summer at this royal domicile; the
very fig sellers of the Tlaco d’Armes
mewl away about it to sailormen of
every sea—l, myself, across the Carib
bean, or at Port Royal, am questioned
as to what the bravos of New Orleans
mean by this madness; and when I
come home I nm enticed to a public
house, and whispered to of a—plot!”
“Eh, blen! It Is a plot—” Old
Dominique rubbed his nose. “We have
the money, the ship, the spirit, the—
well, everything.”
“Except the emperor! Bonaparte,
cooped up on his isle with England
watching! Pray, good sirs—who will
bell the cat?”
The admiral shrugged and tasted
his limed rum of Barbadoes. The
young De Almonaster heard two dolo
rous sighs. It was, indeed, a quiet
life and a shameful pass when two
worthy buccaneers of but a decade
agone sat at their drink to be jibed
by an incredulous aristocrat.
“Eli, w 'll—” mumbled old Domi
nique absently.•. “If Jean were here
he would go rescue Napoleon for
these Creoles. Ho, old cutthroat, If
the Captain Lafltte walked these
streets again there would l>e an end
to chatter! Eli, the old days! The
good wine and the plunder down the
Baratarla passes! And I—name of
God ! —mn now the alderman for the
American quarter!”
The shadows lengthened across the
cobbles to the pretentious House Na
poleon. The dim front barroom of La
Bourne de Maspero was quite desert
ed, save for a table of provincial
planters from the river parishes here
and there. But suddenly the drone
of .voices from the gamiqg place in
the rear 'was cut off by u slamming
door.
A man had staggered out. Tall, un
couth, of disorderly attire, not at all
in the fashion, ragged at the sleeves
—he stared at them, with swollen eyes
“A Grand Scheme, This, to Rescue
Bonaparte From the English! What
Next for Us Fantastic Creoles?”
set in a drink-flushed face. The empty
scabbard of a small sword rattled at
his muddy boot-tops; bis silken-lined
cloak and round velvet cap gave him
the aspect of a rather solemn and
nervous poseur.
‘‘Devil take the dice!” He saw the
elegant De Almonaster, and came
briskly* nearer: “Back with me, Raoul
—watch! An affair, Raoul, that will
call me out to the Oaks sleepy-eyed
some morning this week. The stran
ger. Sazarac, has the English colonel
bewitched. A Sazarac! —I wish some
thing more than drink could draw all
eyes to me! A pistoling fellow, eh
blen!”
John Jarvis thrust his blinking eyes
nearer: “A rapier bully, Messieurs—
such as this S'azarac . . . there’s
a woman in it without doubt.
The town’s first bohemian of the
arts and letters, a graceless scribbler,
painter —wastrel of the wine-shops,
for all he was the nephew’ of the great
John Wesley in England. He slept,
worked and ate In a dirty studio up
on the rue Conti, where, unknown as
yet to thfi world, there labored a
voung assistant who painted back
grounds for Jarvis’ portraits, but who
was destined for fame when the game
sters and politicians of the New Or
leans of 1821 had been lone forgot
ten —Monsieur Audubon, but lately ar
tfved from the Indies.
Jarvis tipped the table for n drink,
looking about to see who might pav
the rcore. “Pistols—” he grunted. “C
trust this Sazarac wings the Britisher
at least, though If he does. I shall see
liquor from his veins and not blood.
The fellow can drink more than
THE DANIELSVILLE MONITOR, DANiELSVILLE, GEORGIA.
which Is Intolerable. It reflects on
my reputation. ... I shall chal
lenge, myself, If Sazarac does not!"
“They are to fight?” queried De
Almonaster languidly.
"They will. I know the course of
these affairs. I attend them all,
Raoul. lam the black buzzard who is
earliest to roost at the Dueling Oaks
and wish them bad luck —all.”
The first bohemian of the Vleux
Carre rubbed Ills nose: “Another
drink, Monsieur? Walt—we shall go in
presently when the affair becomes pro
vocative. This Sazarac has a steady
eye, and Colonel Carr Is bent upon
an Insult.”
De Almonaster shrugged h!s dis
taste: “I was speaking of the new
sugar process at Monsieur Bore’s —”
“Oh, no!” returned Jarvis airily.
“You were discussing the plot. Why
sit with Dominique, the niderman, and
Beiuche. the admiral, save upon our
nice intrigue? Ho!” he reared sud
denly, so that the glasses quivered:
“Be discreet! —our plot Napoleon I”
The two former buccaneers looked
wryly at him. “The devil take you,
Jarvis,” growled Beiuche. “It was of
old days, and our vanished captain.
You, yourself, whom Jean rescued
from perdition once—"
"The plot!” shouted Jarvis so loud
ly that even bystanders across the
cobbled way looked Into the shadowy
portals of Maspero’s. “Ah, I am go
ing to my studio, gentlemen! I have
an idea! My new assistant Is very
clever at painting, birds —Monsieur
Audubon is crazy to paint birds! He
sprinkles salt on their tails to catch
them. Now I shall take our plot to
the studio, and Monsieur Audubon
shall paint salt upon It to catch the
Emperor Napoleon.”
The two worthies glowered upon
him. De Almonnster’s Idle laugh rang
out. He, too, arose with Jarvis, and
the latter could not resist a last gibe
at his cronies. “The alderman nnd
the admiral—and In the one picture
that I cared about, done down at La
fitto’s red fort before the Americans
plundered it, I had the bad taste to
paint them In with my captain! What
a downfall!—from piracy to politics
for Dominique; and old IJeluehe blus
tering about having a lawful commis
sion!” He put an unsteady finger on
the laughing De Almonaster’s sleeve:
“Come on, Raoul! There is no more
romance since Lafltte abandoned the
■ town to the steamboat Yankees; and
Vet, last evening, upon the Esplanade,
I saw a woman’s face. I—Raoul —un-
shaven, dirty, idle —looked back at her
coach. I, Raoul —hanging to n lamp
post—made her smile!”
De Almonaster motioned the Jester;
‘toward'the gaming rooms. "The lady'
who arrived with the British colonel’s
party? Of course—l am told she had
the gallants astir when she drove.”
Jarvis nodded absently: “They are
wishing no bad luck to Colonel-Carr
‘beyond that this Sazarac shoots nlm'
tomorrow at the Oaks. Eli, well —
come!”
From the door they could see the
throng in La Bourse de Maspero. The
wide door of the. small room was
packed with silent, attentive youths-.
Jarvis twitched the coat of the
nearest. “What has happened, De
Marigny? Is the devil still dicing as
to which to take?”
“Carr loses steadily.” Young Ma
rfeny had but recently attained- farrie
by naming a street of the Faubourg
Marigny—his patrimony now being
cut into lots and sold to the Insatiable
Americans outside the city walls—
“ Rue de Bagatelle," to commemorate
his losses at, the game. He. therefore
parted the skirts of his bottle-green
coat, thrust his hands upon his
breeches of snow-white leather and
tapped them significantly: “A ruined
man. Eh, bien ! The British consul,
Langhorne, protested, seemingly wefy
uncomforta! le at Colonel Carr’s in
sistence at piay with this Captain
Sazarac, who, it Is said. Is a mere
professional gambler of the river
packets with the manners of a gentle
man. I will say he has acted so—he
tried in every way to avoid Carr's
game, but it appears that the British
officer Involved himself badly on'thO
way from St. Louis."
“How then?” ventured De Almonae
ter. “A professional gamester at Mas
pero’s?”
“Carr, himself, Introduced the fel
low; the game must continue," young
De Marigny shrugged; “and there is
talk of some rffalr of women between
the two!”
“The lady who looked back from
her coach—” mused Jarvis to himself.
“I must get mo anew waistcoat."
A massive silver candelabrum cast
a ruby light upon the cloth about
which sat a quartette. Langhorne,
His Majesty’s consul; a dealer of Mas
pero’s ; Colonel Carr of the newly ar
rived British mission en route to the
Mexicoes; and the stranger from the
West.
“Sazarac —" muttered De Marigny,
“whose fame at the cards lias over
leaped the town in one night. Mark
him. Raoul!—a peruke, whitened as
silver! Where has the fellow been
these years as to know not the fash
ions?”
“Three thousand dollars on
the red against the bond girl!"
(TO Bil CONTINUED.)
ksmmmms fTT
\ . .a- v
View of Mt. Ararat
(Prepared by the National Geographic So
ciety, Washington, D. C.)
The name “Armenia” has been used
so often that it is perhaps taken by
i many to lie an actual state. But there
ts no such entity; the political unit,
Armenia, lias not existed foj nearly
1,300 years.
Like Judea, Armenia fell long ago
under alien sway; and like the Jews,
though not so completely, the Armen
ians were scattered among all nations.
Still, in spite of misfortune, the largest
group of Armenians lias managed to
live on in their old home land, roughly
between the Black and Caspian seas on
the west and east, the Caucasus moun
tains on the north, and the headwaters
of the Tigris and Euphrates rivers on
the south and southwest. There, sur
rounded by people who have persecut
ed and oppressed them; divided politi
cally—long among Turkey rani Persia,
and more recently among those two
countries nnd Russia besides —they
have remained Armenians in blood,
culture and religion.
Retaining their,racial characteristics
with such tenacity w’hen the' world at
times seemed arrayed against them, It
Is little wonder that the Armenians
have been called “tlie Jews of the
East” and that it has even been sug
gested seriously that this people lias
sprung ’from ‘the “ten lost tribes of Is
rael.” Persecution seems to have whet
ted the Armenian’s intellect, and made
of him a natural trader. Whether in
Constantinople or Shanghai, London or
Buenos Aires, the Armenian competes
successfully with'native soli or with
Greek or Jew.
American interest in the Armenians
has always been heightened by the
fact that they are Christians —that
they make up an island of Christen
dom'in the huge sea of Islam. Ar
menian Christians are different from
those with whom either the Protestants
or Roman Catholics of America are
familiar. It is from the Armenian
church, perhaps, that one may get the
best reminder that Christianity, like all
other world religions, came out of the
East; for this essentially oriental peo
ple has preserved in its Eastern home
many of the customs and practices of
the primitive Christian church.
Not Like Western Christians.
Christianity was adopted by the Ar
menians early in the Fourth century,
and their bishops were present at the
Council of Nlcea In 325. After the
Council of Chalcedon In 451, however,
the Armenians broke away from the
more orthodox church to the west and
established an Independence that has
been maintained, with only the brief
est breaks, until today. It has been
said that when the pagan Armenian
king Tlridates had been baptized and
had made Christianity the official reli
gion, he ordered the pagan priests to
become priests of the new faith. This
they refused to do until assured that
the sacrifices of animals, which fur
nished meat for their families, would
be continued.
For a while such sacrifices actually
were carried out in conjunction with
the spiritual sacrifice of the euchnrlst,
the animal victims being slaughtered
before a crucifix in the porch of the
church. Later this unison of the two
vastly different forms of sacrifice was
abandoned, but still animal sacrifices
were made at other times.
Armenian Christians differ less from
Christians of the Greek church than
from Western Christians, both Catho
lic and Protestant. Politics and a
deep desire for Independence, rather
than tenacious adherence to tenets of
faith, have been the chief causes, prob
ably, of their failure to merge with
the Greek or Russian church. The
principal points of faith which set the
Armenians apart from Western Chris
tians are their belief In the single na
ture of Christ, their merging of the
Christinas and baptismal feasts In
January and their belief that Christ
became divine only upon his baptism
in the Jordan.
Subject to Other Nations.
When the Armenians were first
heard of about 1,000 years before
Christ they were a distinct people, but
from that time onward they were con
quered repeatedly by their stronger
neighbors: the Babylonians, the Modes
and Persians, the Seleuddae, the Ro
mans. From shortly after the begin
ning of the Christian era until G 32,
when the country fell to the Byzan
tines, was Armenia’s age of Independ
ence.
The apex of power and culture was
reached during the latter part of that
period. Then, as Viscount Bfyce put
it, with tragic suddenness "the devel
opment of the race was arrested just
when their capacities were beginning
to bear fruit.”
Since that time the Armenians have
really never had a chance. In 630
they were conquered by the Arabs and
ruled by governors appointed, by the
caliphs. They became part of the em
pire of the Seljuk Turks until. It split
up in 1157. They were raided and har
assed by the Asiatic nomads bound
westward, finally by the devastating
Tlmur-the-Lame. Tbolr nobility had
fled to Bysantlum with the coming of
the Arabs, After Timur many of the
common people migrated to Cilicia. la
the Sixteenth century the Osmnnll
Turks arid the Persians shared the
dominance of old Armenia. Then In
1828 the Russians pushed soutb to take
a hand in the division of the old Ar
menian territory. In 1878 Russia made
her farthest southward advance, con
quering the Turklsli-Armenian San
jnks of Batum, Ardahan and Kars.
Since then the Armenians have lived
with varying fortunes under the three
jurisdictions, those of Turkey, Persia
and Russia. >
* Independence Not Restored.
For a brief period after the armis
tice the Armenians dreamed of a re
stored independence In their old homo
ijind. But the patriotic fervor, which
this dream .aroused, only served to
draw down on their heads Increased
persecution from the Turks when the
scheme fell through. Hundreds of
thousands of refugees fled from Turk
ish Armenia to Russian Armenia and
augmented there famine conditions
which] In turn, took their toll of many
thousands.
What was recognized as Russian Ar
menia before the World war, the re
gion which served ns the refuge of Ar
menians, has been markedly lessened
in extent by a post-war treaty between
the Turkish nationalists and soviet
Russia. By this agreement, known as
the Treaty of Kars, Turkey has had re
stored to her most of the areas con
quered by imperial Russia In 1878. The
Sanjnk of Buturn Is practically Inter
nationalized, while the Sanjaks of Ar
dnhnn and Kars are ceded. Only the
Erlvan district, about 15,000 square
miles In extent, is retained under Rus
sian control. In this territory live L
-200,000 of the probably 2 500,000 Ar
menians. The district is organized as
the Armenian soviet republic and,
with the adjoining republics of Geor
gia and Azerbaijan, makes up the
Transcaucasian Socialist Federated
Soviet republic, one of the “associated
republics" of soviet Russia.
The vague region of Armenia, like
the spirit of its people, centers around
a noble mountain known to all the
world: Ararat, a thousand feet higher
than Mont Blanc. The tradition of
Noah Is a circumstantial story to the
Armenians. They will show one the
very spot where the ark grounded and
they assert that this most important
debarkation point Is still guarded by
genii with flaming swords. To the
southeast of Ararat Ties the town of
Nakhichevan, meaning "first dwelling,’’
which was founded, tradition has it,
by Noah after lie planted the first vine
on the slopes of Ararat. Besides its re
ligious and traditional significance,
Ararat Is a gigantic political marker.
It is a common “corner” of Russia,
Persia and Turkey