"Wait a moment." Chekilie raised his hand to interrupt Father Vigne. "Are you saying you want us to attack New Orleans Port?"
He exchanged glances with several tribal elders nearby, then burst out laughing.
A muscular, middle-aged man with concentric circle tattoos glared coldly at Vigne. "You were sent by the Spaniards, weren't you?
"I know your tricks—once our warriors step onto Biloxi, your ambush will spring out. Hmph, the Americans already pulled this stunt on us."
Vigne quickly waved his hands. "No, no, you won't encounter any soldiers, I promise.
"Once you reach New Orleans Port, you can loot as you please—especially American ships.
"Everything you seize belongs to you. But try not to kill anyone."
Chekilie laughed even louder. "Your promise? You think I'll believe you?"
Vigne gestured to the six priests behind him. "We'll all stay here until your people safely return to the tribe. If anything goes wrong, you can kill us anytime.
