ent, cannot be doubted; for has it not been said, "I
care not who makes the laws of a nation, let me but write its songs"?

But the manifestation of the growing ill-feeling towards France was
not confined to poor but harmless poetizing. The first open rupture
took place at Savannah. In the port of that city were lying two long,
rakish schooners flying the French tricolor. Their decks were crowded
with men, whose rough actions and brutal countenances showed them to
be no respecters of law or order. It did not need the rows of cannon
protruding from the ports, nor the carefully covered "long Toms"
amidships, to indicate to the good people of Savannah that their
harbor sheltered two French privateers. Among the seafaring people of
the city, the sight of these two vessels aroused the greatest anger.
Were they not representatives of the nation whose ships were seizing
and burning American vessels in the West Indies almost daily? Perhaps
these very vessels were then fresh from an action with some American
ship. Who could tell that the holds of the privateers did not at that
very minute contain the best part of the cargo of some captured
American vessel? Probably the last shot fired from that "long Tom" had
crashed into the side of some little brig flying the stars and
stripes, and perhaps ended the career of many an American sailor. From
suspicions and conjectures, positive statements soon grew. It was
whispered about that the two privateers had recently plundered and
burned a Yankee ship returning from the West Indies with a goodly
store of specie in exchange for her cargo. Those cut-throat-looking
Frenchmen were even then stained with the blood of true Americans. The
money they threw on the bars of water-side dram-shops, in exchange for
the vile rum which was the worst enemy of too many a good jack-tar,
was looked upon with suspicion. "What Yankee's pockets did Johnny
Crapaud pick to get all that money?" growled the American sailors.

The Frenchmen were not slow in discovering the dislike manifested by
the people of Savannah; and like true soldiers of fortune, as they
were, they did nothing to make friends of their enemies. They came
ashore in troops instead of singly. Cutlasses hung at their sides.
Their tight leather belts held many a knife or clumsy pistol. Their
walk on the street was a reckless swagger; and a listener who could
understand French could catch in their loud conversation many a
scornful sneer or braggart