The last belated stars twinkled out of sight and there was that brief
period of darkness that precedes the first flush of dawn. Although as yet
invisible, the fields stretching out before the American lines ... that
long line of earthworks; timber, sand-bags, fence rails, and cotton bales
... was sparkling with frost, for this, it must not be forgotten, was the
27th of December. And even the southern state of Louisiana has a bowing
acquaintance with winter.
At length the sun rose, dispelling the early-morning mists with an
impatient hand, and revealing, to these equally impatient Americans,
an amazing sight. There, not more than a half mile in front of the
lines, in as perfect alignment as though on parade, was the British
army, perhaps eight thousand strong, a blaze of scarlet. The contrast
was indeed striking. On one side, the well-ordered legions of the
British, aflush with all the pomp and panoply of war; on the other, the
comparative handful of defenders intrenched behind—cotton bales. Even as
the surprised Americans watched this awe-inspiring sight there was heard
the silvery shrill of the British bugles, sounding the advance, and the
muffled roar of the kettle-drums.
As they marched within range of the American guns a loud explosion was
heard, and a group of plantation buildings which masked Jackson’s front
were blown up. Now it was the turn of the invaders to feel surprise, for
they suddenly found themselves face to face with a row of ships’ cannon,
which were manned as seldom guns are manned on land.
Around each gun was clustered a crew of lean, fierce-faced men with red
shirts and kerchiefs, caked with mud and sweat. Farther down the line was
Captain Beluche, Lafitte’s second in command, the same man—by the way—who
became in after years an admiral of Venezuela.
The scarlet host steadily moved onward—and onward.
But it was not until he could make out the brass buttons on the tunics of
the advancing redcoats that Lafitte gave the command to fire. Then it was
that the great guns of the pirate-patriots flashed and thundered, mowing
down the ranks of the scarlet invaders as the sickle cuts the grain. On
all sides men could be seen dropping, first by twos and threes, and then
by dozens and scores.
The bugles shrilly sounded the retreat, which was a rather useless
proceeding, as the redcoats were already in sullen retreat....