NEW ORLEANS.
Amid the exciting scenes which followed in such rapid succession, no one
had noticed that the weather had undergone a wonderful change. By the
time the prisoners were comfortably quartered the sun had set, and the
sky was obscured with dark clouds from which constant flashes of
lightning were emitted. The distant roll of thunder and the sighing of
the wind gave warning of the approach of a storm.
"The _Xenophon_ is in a poor condition to weather a storm to-night,"
said Lieutenant Willard. "With her hull raked fore and aft a dozen
times, her mizzen gone, her foremast shot through, and her rigging so
cut to pieces, she can hardly be managed in good weather. A storm would
surely drive her on the rocks."
The vessel could be seen by the flashes of lightning, struggling to get
to sea. At last she disappeared. The storm rose and the wind blew a
perfect hurricane. Fernando had gone to see Captain Lane to make a full
report. It was midnight, and he was still with the captain, when the
boom of a gun at sea was heard. That was no gun of battle but a signal
of distress.
"What is it?" cried Captain Lane.
"It's the _Xenophon_. I fear she cannot weather the storm."
Then they listened for an hour or more to the occasional boom of a
cannon.
"She's comin' right in on the stony point sou'east o' the bay," cried
Captain Lane.
Fernando started to his feet and said:
"We must go to their rescue."
At this Morgianna, who had been ministering to the wounded, entered and
said:
"Are they not enemies?"
"Yes, but fellow-creatures, also. Those signal guns call out humanity,
and the bravest are the most humane," said Fernando.
"I am glad you said that!" she remarked as Fernando hurriedly left the
shelter in which the captain lay.
Day dawned and the _Xenophon_ was a broken wreck scattered along the
Maryland coast. Occasionally a bruised and bleeding form was picked up
senseless or dead among the rocks, or on the beach. Sukey was busiest
among the searchers; but the scenes of horror and suffering which
everywhere met his view changed his hatred to pity.
At last he came upon a poor, bruised, thoroughly soaked,
wretched-looking man lying among some rocks, where the angry waves and
receding tide had left him. His once elegant uniform was now rotten,
dirty rags. One gold epaulet was gone, and the other was so
mud-besmeared that one could scarce tell what it was composed of.
[Illustration: SUKEY'S THUMB LIFTED THE HAMMER OF HIS GUN.]
It required a second look for Sukey to recognize in that miserable
creature, drawing every breath in pain, the haughty Captain Snipes, who
had scourged and disgraced him. Snipes had severe internal injuries and
was dying. Sukey's thumb lifted the hammer of his gun, then he gazed on
the agonized face of his enemy, and, the tears starting to his eyes, he
let down the hammer. At this moment Fernando came up, and Sukey cried:
"I can't do it, Fernando,--I can't do it! I've prayed for this, for
years, but now that it's given me, I can't. It's Captain Snipes, but
he's too bad hurt to kill."
"God has punished him," said Fernando, solemnly. "Verily, 'vengeance is
mine, I will repay, saith the Lord.'"
They lifted their enemy as gently as if he had been their dearest friend
and bore him to a fisherman's cottage, where Sukey did all in his power
to alleviate his suffering; but his time on earth was short. Captain
Snipes sank rapidly. That he was conscious and recognized his nurse no
one can doubt, for just half an hour before he died, he took Sukey's
hand and spoke the only words he was heard to utter after the wreck.
"Forgive me!" he said.
"I do, captain, God knows I do!" Sukey cried warmly, and the haughty,
cruel Captain Snipes passed away, the victim of God's vengeance.
The day after the wreck of the _Xenophon_, news came from Baltimore of
the repulse of the British fleet and army. It was a day of general
rejoicing. A squadron was to be sent to guard the coast and relieve
Fernando at Mariana. For some time he had been asking to be attached to
some western regiment with his recruits. He received official notice
that he had been assigned to a Kentucky regiment under Colonel Smiley,
and, with the notice, came a commission to the rank of major. Fernando
was ordered to join the regiment at Nashville, Tenn., to act under
General Jackson in the South.
The war was shifting to the South; and the western and southern troops
were hastening to its defence. Fernando notified his men of the order
and Sukey volunteered to go with them. Job also enlisted as cook; but
Terrence, having been notified that _Privateer Tom_ ready for sea, once
more bade them adieu, and departed for Philadelphia, taking Mr. Hugh St.
Mark the gunner with him.
Fernando went to the great white stone house, which had been repaired
and again occupied by Captain Lane and his daughter. Captain Lane and
Morgianna were alone in the large sitting-room when he entered. The
captain was convalescent, but not wholly recovered from his attack of
rheumatism.
"So you are going away?" said Captain Lane when Fernando had told him of
his last order.
"Yes, captain, a soldier belongs to his country."
"I know it. I don't blame you one bit. So you will serve under Jackson.
Well, I don't think another ship will venture to bombard Mariana. Have
you sent the prisoners to Baltimore?"
"Yes, sir, all save Lieutenant Matson. I took his parole, and he still
remains in the village, I presume, during his pleasure. He will be
required to report once a week to Baltimore, but that need not be
in person."
The captain was silent. While speaking, Fernando kept his eyes from the
face of Morgianna. He could not look at her and be a witness to the glow
of joy which he knew must warm her cheek on being informed that her
lover was to remain. She quietly left the apartment while he was
conversing with the captain, and when he left, he found her alone in
the hall.
It was almost dark; but her face in its beauty seemed to illumine the
hall. He took her hand in his own, and felt that same old thrill of five
years before.
"I am going away, Miss Lane," he said, "and I cannot go without bidding
you adieu and telling you how much I appreciate your brave, noble,
self-sacrificing efforts in caring for the wounded."
Fernando really had a different opinion of Morgianna from that he had
at first entertained. He had thought of her only as a gay, frivolous
girl, witty, brilliant and beautiful; but the scenes of death, the siege
and carnage had shown him a new Morgianna;--it was Morgianna the
heroine. She made several efforts to speak before she could fully
control herself.
"Major Stevens," she faintly said after a struggle, "the people of this
poor little village can never feel too grateful to you, for your brave
and unselfish defence of their homes!"
"I am a soldier, Miss Lane, and I trust I did my duty."
Then they stood silent. Fernando would have given worlds to speak the
promptings of his heart: but stubborn pride forbade him.
"Whither do you go?" she asked.
"To the South; what point I do not know, save that we join our regiment
at Nashville."
"Will you ever come back, major?"
"If duty calls me--"
"But have you no friends," she asked slowly, "no friends here, whom you
would like to see after the war is over?"
"Many, Miss Lane. These brave men and noble women, who have shared my
toils and dangers, are very dear to my heart, and when the Britons have
been driven from our country, nothing would give me greater pleasure
than to renew my acquaintance with them."
"You are always welcome, major," she said, deeply moved. "Will you make
me a promise?"
"What is the promise?"
"That you will come as soon as the war is over."
"It is only a polite way of inviting me to her wedding," he thought;
then he asked:
"Will you be here?"
"If heaven spares me, I shall."
"Then I will return, Miss Lane, if I live."
Their discourse had been friendly, but cold and formal. Fernando had
once overstepped the bounds when he declared his love; but he was
careful not to do so again. Notwithstanding she had leaped to the
redoubt amid screaming shells and whistling balls, to persuade him back
to the trenches, he could see nothing more tender than love of humanity
in her act. He was so thoroughly convinced that she would wed Lieutenant
Matson, that he was once on the point of asking her when the marriage
would take place, but the subject was too painful to mention.
She followed him quite to the door, and here he said in a voice that was
husky despite his efforts to prevent it:
"Miss Lane,--Morgianna, I had him paroled for your sake. He can remain
in the village."
He was gone before she could make any response. His men were mustered
at peep of day and marched away to Baltimore.
General Andrew Jackson, to whom Fernando Stevens was marching, was the
hero of the war of 1812 in the South. Having utterly crushed the Creek
power and wrung from them a treaty which extinguished them politically
as a nation, he set about securing that portion of the country against
further molestation. The belief that the war in the South was ended
proved a deception when the British suddenly appeared in a large force
in the Gulf of Mexico. By permission of the Spanish governor of Florida,
the British took possession of one of the forts at Pensacola, where they
fitted out an expedition for the capture of Fort Bowyer, [Footnote: Now
Fort Morgan.] on the eastern shore of the entrance to Mobile Bay. The
British attacked the fort, but were repulsed. Jackson, who was at
Mobile, hastened to Pensacola and demanded of the Spanish governor a
surrender of the forts. The officer sent with the flag to demand the
surrender was fired upon, and next day Jackson with his troops charged
into the town; when the frightened governor offered to surrender the
forts. This was done, and the British blew up one, and abandoned
the others.
On his return to Mobile, Jackson found a message from New Orleans,
urging him to hasten to the defence of that city, as the British
commander in the gulf had declared his intention to invade Louisiana,
and sent an inflammatory proclamation among the inhabitants.
Jackson arrived at New Orleans, December 2, 1814, and found the city
utterly defenceless, and the people filled with alarm and distracted by
petty factions. Danger was imminent. The British troops that left
Chesapeake Bay after their repulse at Baltimore had gone to the West
Indies, where they were joined by about four thousand veterans under the
brave Irish General Keane. The combined forces sailed in the direction
of New Orleans, late in November. The wives of many of the officers
accompanied them, for not a man doubted that the speedy conquest of
Louisiana would be the result of the expedition. The dullness of the
voyage was enlightened by music and dancing, and all anticipated
exquisite pleasures to be found in the paradise before them. It is said
that the British officers had promised their soldiers the privilege of
the city, when captured, for three days, and that "booty and beauty,"
was their watchword.
Fernando Stevens, with his experienced marksmen, joined Jackson at New
Orleans on the very day that Jean Lafitte, the pirate of the Gulf, came
to offer the services of himself and band to Jackson. The British
General had tried to engage the services of this band of outlaws.
Lafitte was a shrewd Frenchman, and he and his band had been outlawed by
legal proceedings, though their crimes were only violations of the
revenue and neutrality laws of the United States. When the invitation of
the British was put into his hands, he feigned compliance; but as soon
as the bearer had departed, he called his followers around him on the
border of the sea, and said:
"Comrades, I am an adopted citizen of the United States, and will never
violate the confidence placed in me by serving the enemies of my
country. We have been outlawed; perhaps we deserve it by our
irregularities. No matter; I am ready to serve my adopted country, and
ask you to join me. What say you, comrades?"
His brawny followers threw up their hats and responded:
"We will! we will!"
Fernando was at the headquarters of General Jackson when the famous
buccaneer held his interview with him. Fernando's regiment shortly after
his arrival was assigned to the brigade of General Coffee.
The British forces halted at the entrance to Lake Borgne, between which
and the Mississippi New Orleans stands. Here, on December 14th, they
captured a flotilla under Captain Jones, which secured to them complete
command of the lake.
Meanwhile Jackson placed New Orleans under martial law, and carried on
his measures of defence so vigorously, that the citizens began to pluck
up courage. When he heard of the capture of the flotilla, he sent
couriers to General Coffee and others at the head of Tennessee and
Kentucky troops, urging them to hasten to New Orleans. His efforts were
timely, for, on the 22d of December, General Keane, with more than two
thousand five hundred men, reached the banks of the Mississippi through
a bayou, nine miles below the city and prepared to take New Orleans by
surprise. Vigilant eyes were watching his movements; and a prisoner whom
he had taken, escaping, hastened to New Orleans and gave General Jackson
notice of the near approach of the foe. At the same time, Coffee and
Carroll arrived with the Tennesseeans, and Jackson put a column in
motion to meet the invaders. Early on the evening of the 23d of
December, they marched, eighteen hundred strong, led by Jackson in
person, and at the same time the armed schooner _Carolinia_ dropped down
the river to within musket range of the British camp. Shot from that
vessel first revealed the fact to the British that their presence was
known at New Orleans. The shells and shot from the vessel broke up
their camp, when they were attacked in the dark by Jackson and his
followers. The combat that followed was indecisive, except in making the
invaders more cautious and discreet. In this night conflict, the
Americans lost about two hundred men, while the British loss was
twice as many.
New Orleans was saved from surprise; now it had to be saved from open
invasion. The events of the 23d dispirited the British, and in this
condition General Packenham found the troops on his arrival on Christmas
day with reinforcements, to take the chief command. He was a veteran,
fresh from the Spanish peninsula, and was delighted to find under his
control some of the best of Wellington's regiments.
He immediately prepared to effect the capture of New Orleans and the
subjugation of Louisiana without delay. With hot shot the annoying
_Carolinia_ was burned, and the _Louisiana_ was the only American vessel
left on the river.
Jackson was wide awake, however, and began throwing up a line of
intrenchments from the banks of the Mississippi to an almost
impenetrable swamp in the rear, four miles from New Orleans.
There has been some dispute in regard to the redoubt which defended New
Orleans. There was an old story that a part of the redoubt was composed
of cotton bales taken from a rich planter named Mulanthy, and that the
cotton bales were afterward sold with hundreds of pounds of British
bullets in them. General Harney, in the Washington _Sunday Herald_,
several years ago denied this story. General Harney said:
"I asked General Jackson, General Adair and General Coffee, the latter
having the immediate command of a brigade of Tennessee and Kentucky
sharpshooters, whose long rifles mainly did the work of death, if there
were cotton bales used at all, and they all answered that the only works
the Americans had were of earth, about two and a half feet high, rudely
constructed of fence-rails and logs laid twenty-four inches apart, and
the space between them filled with earth, and if there had been any
works constructed from cotton bales they must have known it." General
Harney was made by the Washington _Herald_ to say that in 1825 he was
promoted to captain in the first infantry, and sent to Nashville,
Tennessee, to recruit for his regiment, and while there he met with
Generals Jackson and Coffee, from whom he obtained many points of the
battle which have never been in print.
Fernando had seen no service since leaving Mariana on the Maryland
coast. His riflemen were eager to meet the foe; but in the night
encounter they had been detailed to guard the city, and preserve the
peace. Day by day they had expected the enemy to advance to the attack;
but the 7th of January, 1815, passed, and the British had not yet moved
to the attack, further than some skirmishing and cannonading. On the
night of the 7th, the Americans slept on their arms, for they knew
Packenham would not long delay. The memorable morning of January 8,
1815, dawned at last.
There was a heavy fog on the river, and the British troops had actually
formed and were advancing before Jackson had made his arrangements.
Fernando had just roused Sukey, who, having been on guard most of the
night, slept late, when he saw General Jackson on his white horse gallop
up to where General Coffee and his staff stood. At this moment the fog
lifted a little, and the formation of the British army was seen, and
Fernando heard Jackson exclaim:
"By G--, they are ours!"
"They are coming, Sukey!" said Fernando. "Get your gun!".
"Won't they give me time to eat my breakfast?" Sukey asked.
"I am afraid not."
At this moment, Job, who was Fernando's cook, came running forward with
some broiled beefsteak on the end of a ramrod. He gave it to Sukey
and said:
"Heah, massa, take dis an' chomp um down foh dey git near enough to
fight. I's gwine ter git my gun an' teach 'em dis chile ain't got no
Angler Saxun blood in his veins."
Sukey presented an odd figure, for he wore no uniform. His head was
covered with an old, low, broad-brimmed hat. He sat on the carriage of a
brass gun near and ate his breakfast, while watching the enemy advance
to the attack.
Coffee's part of the line, to which Fernando was attached, was on the
flank extending to the swamp. About a quarter of a mile from it, there
was a huge plantation drainage canal, such as are common in Louisiana
lowlands. At this, General Packenham formed his first attacking column.
His formation was a column in mass of about fifty files front. This was
formed under the fire of the regular artillerists in a little redoubt in
Coffee's front and that of some cannon taken from a man-of-war, placed
in a battery on the river and served by sailors. Coffee, seeing the
direction of the attack, which was intended to turn his flank, dashed
down the line saying to his men:
"Hold your fire until you can see their belt-buckles."
The riflemen were formed in two ranks so that one rank would load while
the other was firing.
Fernando's position behind the earthworks was near an old oak tree,
which threw out its branches about his head. Sukey stood at his side
holding his long rifle in one hand and his broiled meat and sea-biscuit
in the other. The enemy came boldly forward, and a finer display was
never seen on review. Their lines were well dressed and Packenham, on
his snow white charger, rode as boldly as if he had no fear of death. As
Sukey munched his hard biscuit, his eyes were steadfastly fixed on Lord
Packenham.
"Say, Fernando, ain't that fellow on the big horse General Packenham?"
"No doubt of it, Sukey."
"He'd wipe out the score of what's left of one hundred and eight," said
Sukey, swallowing his last bite of biscuit at one gulp and examining the
priming in his gun.
Colonel Smiley was first to give orders to fire from Fernando's part of
the work, and there rang out a volley all along the line. The brass
pieces on their right began blazing away with the heavy iron cannon down
toward the river, which with the rattling of small arms almost made the
ground quake under their feet. Directly after the firing began, Captain
Patterson, from Knox County, Kentucky, came running along. He leaped on
the breastwork, and, stooping a moment to look through the darkness, as
well as he could, shouted:
"Shoot low, boys! shoot low! rake them! rake them! They're comin' on
their all-fours!"
It was so dark that little could be seen, until just about the time the
battle ceased. The morning had dawned, but the dense fog and thick smoke
obscured the sun. The Kentuckians did not seem to appreciate their
danger, but loaded and fired, and swore, laughed and joked as though it
were a frolic. All ranks and sections were soon broken and after the
first volley every man loaded and fired at will. Sukey did not fire as
often as some of the others, but at every shot he went up to the
breastwork, looked over until he could see a redcoat, and then taking
aim blazed away. After each shot he paused to write in his book.
Lieutenant Ashby, who had had a brother killed at the River Raisin,
seemed frantic with rage and fiendish glee. He ran up and down the
line yelling:
"We'll pay you now for the River Raisin! We'll give you something to
remember the River Raisin!" When the British came up on the opposite
side of the breastwork, having no gun, he picked up a rifle barrel which
had been broken from the stock and threw it over at them. Then finding
an iron bar he leaped upon the breastwork and threw it at the mass of
heads crowding forward to scale their works.
While the conflict was at its height, when Packenham was leading the
last grand charge against the earthworks. Major Stevens' attention was
directed by repeated and vociferous shouts to "come down," to an object
on his right. Turning his eyes in that direction, he saw Sukey, standing
coolly on the top of the breastwork peering into the darkness for
something to shoot at. The balls were whistling as thick as hail around
him, and cutting up the dirt at his feet.
"Come down, Sukey, come down!" Fernando commanded. Sukey turned round
and, holding up the flap of his old, broad-brimmed hat with one hand, to
see who was speaking to him, answered:
"Oh, never mind, Fernando--here's Sukey--I don't want to waste my
powder, and I'd like to know how I'm to shoot until I see something. I'm
watching for that man on the big white horse."
It was not long until Sukey got his eye on the man on the big white
horse, and leveling his rifle pulled the trigger. At that instant
Packenham fell, bleeding and dying, into the arms of Sir Duncan
McDougall, his favorite aid, who performed a similar service for General
Ross when he was mortally wounded a few months before. Sukey coolly
descended from the breastwork and, sitting down at the root of a tree,
took out his book and said:
"I've balanced the score. They flogged me; but, by the eternal, I'm more
than even."
During the action some of the Tennesseeans became mixed with Smiley's
regiment. One of them was killed about five yards from where Fernando
stood. A ball passed through his head, and from the range of British
bullets it seemed quite probable that he was accidentally shot by some
of the Americans. This was the only man killed near where Fernando
stood. The firing began to slacken when he fell. While three or four men
were carrying the body away, a white flag was raised on the opposite
side of the breastwork, and the firing ceased. The white flag was a
handkerchief on a sword or stick. It was raised by a British major, who
was cut off and unable to retreat with the main army. When the firing
ceased, he came over the breastwork. A little Tennesseean, who looked as
if he had spent his days in the fever-infested swamps, demanded his
sword; but the officer was looking about for some commissioned officer
to give it to, when Colonel Smiley, whose democratic principles were at
enmity with punctilio, ordered him to hand over the sword to "Paleface,"
as the youth was called. A great many who were unable to escape in the
retreat, came over and surrendered. Among them, Fernando saw a very
neatly dressed young man, standing on the edge of the breastwork
offering his hand as if for some one to assist him down. He was not over
nineteen years of age, and his language and manner indicated the
gentleman.
Major Stevens took his musket and set it against the breastwork and
assisted him to the ground. He at once began to take off his cartouch
box, and the major noticed a red spot on his clean, white under jacket.
"Are you wounded?" Fernando asked.
"Yes, sir, and I fear badly."
"Let me help you, my man!" said the major, unbuckling his belt.
"Please don't take my canteen, for it contains my water."
"I shall not take anything that does not encumber you."
Just then one of the Tennesseeans who had gone down to the river for
water came along with some in a coffee-pot. The wounded man saw him,
and said:
"I am very thirsty, sir, will you please give me a drop?"
"Oh, yes," said the Tennesseean. "I will treat you to anything I have
got." The young man took the coffee-pot and swallowed two or three
mouthfuls out of the spout, and handed it back. In an instant, Fernando
saw him sinking backward. He called to Sukey, who was near, and they
eased him down against the side of a tent, where he gave two or three
gasps and was dead. He had been shot through the breast.
A number of British soldiers and officers had sought shelter from the
fire of the Americans in the ditch on the other side of the breastwork.
These, of course, being unable to retreat came in and surrendered. When
the smoke lifted from the battlefield it disclosed a terrible spectacle.
The field looked like a sea of blood, for it was literally covered with
redcoats. Straight out before their position, the entire space occupied
by the British troops was covered with dead or wounded. In some places,
where the lines had made a stand, they lay in piles like winrows of hay,
while the intervals between were more thinly sprinkled. About two
hundred yards directly in front of their position, lay a large dapple
gray horse, which was said to have belonged to Packenham. Nearly half
way between the horse and the breastworks was a heap of slain, marking
the spot where Packenham fell; his horse having retreated some distance
before it went down.
The battle was over, and Sukey sat down to finish his breakfast which
had been interrupted by the stirring event.
The British left seven hundred dead and fourteen hundred wounded on the
field, while five hundred were made prisoners making a loss of
twenty-six hundred. The Americans lost eight killed and
thirteen wounded.
Packenham and three of his general officers slain in the fight were sent
to England in casks of rum for burial. The British troops under General
Lambert stole noiselessly away on the night of the 19th across Lake
Borgne, in small transports, and escaped to the fleet. They then
besieged Fort Bowyer for two days, February 20th and 21st, when Major
Lawrence, who was in command, was compelled to surrender, and the
victors were about to push on to Mobile, when they were arrested by
tidings of peace.
The treaty of peace was signed at Ghent on December 24th, 1814, but,
owing to the slow means of communication in those days, it was not known
in America until the following February, or the battle of New Orleans
would never have been fought.