At the time of the affray there is good reason to believe that Charles
was seriously wounded, and at any event he had lost quantities of blood.
His situation was as critical as it is possible to imagine, yet he shot
like an expert in a target range. The circumstance shows the desperate
character of the fiend, and his terrible dexterity with weapons makes
him one of the most formidable monsters that has ever been loose upon
the community.

Wednesday New Orleans was in the hands of a mob. Charles, still sought for
and still defending himself, had killed four policemen, and everybody knew
that he intended to die fighting. Unable to vent its vindictiveness and
bloodthirsty vengeance upon Charles, the mob turned its attention to other
colored men who happened to get in the path of its fury. Even colored
women, as has happened many times before, were assaulted and beaten and
killed by the brutal hoodlums who thronged the streets. The reign of
absolute lawlessness began about 8 o'clock Wednesday night. The mob
gathered near the Lee statue and was soon making its way to the place
where the officers had been shot by Charles. Describing the mob, the
_Times-Democrat_ of Thursday morning says:

The gathering in the square, which numbered about 700, eventually became
in a measure quiet, and a large, lean individual, in poor attire and
with unshaven face, leaped upon a box that had been brought for the
purpose, and in a voice that under no circumstances could be heard at a
very great distance, shouted: "Gentlemen, I am the Mayor of Kenner." He
did not get a chance for some minutes to further declare himself, for
the voice of the rabble swung over his like a huge wave over a sinking
craft. He stood there, however, wildly waving his arms and demanded a
hearing, which was given him when the uneasiness of the mob was quieted