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Stories from the Verse
Con Version
Chapter 73: Brown 307
Table of Contents
Previous chapter: Takano 107
A late post-season small hurricane struck Biloxi, Mississippi, east of New Orleans. It brought Louisiana some serious rain, followed by a pleasant coolness and a drop in the constant humidity. The Living Colors, with ten other bands or smaller acts, gathered to play for a week of nights in the French Quarter to raise money for the stricken town. A great number of other groups raised money, or sent supplies or volunteers. Some of it was purely capitalistic as well, with merchants heading down the coast to sell needed supplies. But the shrimp boaters, and the stevedores union, and many churches sent aid and volunteers to help Biloxi get back on its feet. The Beaufoys and many others of the rich families of New Orleans also spent generously.
After they had played the first night, one of the organizers approached them, asking, “Do you have a preferred charity for your share of the receipts?”
Surprised, Derek glanced at the others, who apparently had not anticipated the question, either. “What,” he said, “are the options?”
“I think most people are just using the Mayor Devault Biloxi Relief Fund, but there are also representatives from the Catholic Relief Fund, the Baptist Missionary Society, several others.”
That created an issue. He looked from Pierre to Maurice and back again. Wasn’t Pierre Catholic, Maurice Baptist? Without asking that, he said, “What about the Mayor’s fund?” Maurice reacted immediately.
“Oh, Ah woul’nt trus’ the mayor. Las’ time he ran a relief thing, no one knows whether any uh the money got to the disasta.”
“I thought he was a pretty good mayor,” Pierre replied. “He’s done good things for the schools.”
“In yaw neighbo’hood, mebbe. Schools out mah way ha’ been cryin’ fo’ help fo’ yeahs, an’ gettin’ nothin’.”
“O.K.,” Derek interrupted, trying to curtail the argument. “Not the mayor. Who are some of the other choices?”
“Most of the churches have some effort,” the organizer said. “Presbyterians, Pentecostals, Methodists. There’s also the Salvation Army and the American Red Cross. Some people don’t like the one because it’s too new, and others don’t like the other because they want a church connection.”
“O.K., team, I think it’s either the Red Cross or the Salvation Army. Vote.”
Pierre voted for the Red Cross; Maurice and Lei both chose the Army. Vashti simply said, “I don’t know, you choose.”
“I think,” Derek said, “it’s the Salvation Army. Sorry, Pierre, but I see good things about them in the future, if that’s any consolation.”
Derek wanted to go help in Biloxi, but he felt uneasy about leaving New Orleans undefended. In the night he dreamed of Mister Scratch laughing uproariously as New Orleans burned, so, unhappily, he stayed put. While nothing untoward happened, he felt as if his presence had been a check on something bad that would have happened. He had had precognitive dreams before, so maybe it had been a warning from the King.
Biloxi got back going, and Derek went back to their regularly scheduled gigs at the now very crowded shack diner, and weekly gigs at Tenth Street. They didn’t play as much for Pascal Beaufoy every Friday as they did the first time, but got paid the same. Also, he heard a number of different acts with I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day and Joy To the World, and a dozen beautiful children, attended by their doting parents, who did a bell ringing of Carol of the Bells before leaving to go home in carriages hired by the patron of the hall. In addition, he and the others got to play for a birthday party for a young Chinaman, and a chance to play at the Beaufoy Mansion for a supper party. Fireworks attended the first one, and sparkling chandeliers the second.
One night as he was sleeping he heard a crack like thunder or cannonfire from the back yard. Rushing out, half dressed but carrying his laser rifle in his arms, he saw a triple masted ship pass down the river. It had a number of cannons, but it only fired one, off target, and then the captain of the ship raised his tricorn hat and saluted Derek. Derek waved back, and the ship faded from sight until one could see through it, and then was gone altogether. The next morning during practice when he mentioned the curious event, Pierre spoke.
“You have been given the signal honor of being noticed by Captain Jean Pierre Lafitte, former pirate, pardoned, and defender of New Orleans, now ghost, with his spectral flagship.”
Maurice added, “Story is, the Good Lor’ said he could come on up, but deh Cap’n asked to stay to protec’ New Orl’ns, and the Lawd, He said, yes, you can stay at yaw post with yaw loyal crew ‘til the City is overthrown by water, or Judgement Day comes, whichever is first.”
“Protective ghosts of ancestors is good,” Lei He added seriously.
On that note, they went back to playing.
Later that week, he saw his first frost. It did not last long, and the day turned warm, but considering it was past mid December, and getting toward Yule, and then Christmas, he regarded the frost with a bit of nostalgia. When his friends coming in for morning practice complained of the cold, he laughed at them. They tried to stare him down, but they were shivering, and he was ebullient in the refreshing cool, and so they failed, and grumpily got started playing.
Meanwhile, he remembered Widow Malcolm’s warning of the Rougarou at Yule. He had heard she had disowned her son, Marion, and even wanted to go to a voodoo woman to curse him, but his brothers had not let her. She was a truly awful woman, but that did not mean her tale of the creature was false. According to what stories he could find, it was white, and could be different animals, and had killed many people. More was not known, and some, well, they seemed to know more but were too frightened to tell him. So he waited for Yule, and practiced with his new knife, and hunted rabbit, and played music while regularly scorching his tongue at Missus Johnson’s. At least his stomach had given up fighting, and settled in with the new regime, but his tongue was still in rebellion.
There is a behind-the-writings look at the thoughts, influences, and ideas of this chapter, along with eleven other sequential chapters of this novel, in mark Joseph "young" web log entry #509: Character Challenges. Given a moment, this link should take you directly to the section relevant to this chapter. It may contain spoilers of upcoming chapters.
As to the old stories that have long been here:
