An ALABAMA
or two on the Pacific would have been most destructive scourges of
the sea. The last days of opportunity glide by. The prosaic records
of the Federal Court in California tell of the evanescent fame of
Harpending, Greathouse, Rubery, Mason, Kent, and the other would-be
buccaneers. The "Golden Circle" is badly shattered.
Every inlet of the Pacific is watched, after the fiasco of the
Chapman. She lies at anchor, an ignoble prize to the sturdy old
Cyane. It is kismet.
Maxime Valois mourns over the failure of these last plans to save
the "cause." Heart-sick, he only wonders when a Yankee bullet will
end the throbbings of his unconquerable heart. All is dark.
He fears not for his wife and child. Their wealth is secured. He loses,
from day to day, the feelings which tied him once to California.
The infant heiress he hardly knows. His patient, soft-eyed Western
wife is now only a placid memory. Her gentle nature never roused
the inner fires of his passionate soul. Alien to the Pacific
Coast, a soldier of fortune, the ties into which he drifted were
the weavings of Fate. His warrior soul pours out its devotion in
the military oath to guard to the last the now ragged silken folds
of his regimental banner, the dear banner of Louisiana.
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