“You should find yourself
another mount,” Lafitte chuckled.
“This one isn’t mine,” Yank
said. “He’s to be tonight’s supper and I was granting him his last
wish.” He dismounted and held fast to the reins.
“I found Mrs. Van
Buskirk.”
“What about the tools you
were supposed to find?”
“I found them too.” He
pointed to a hay wagon, laden with men and tools that was just
crossing the levee.
The
Louisiana
let go a 24-pounder and
Yank let go of the horse’s reins, then drew his pistol and fired
into the air.
Lafitte chuckled as the
horse bolted toward the British lines. “I thought you were going to
shoot him.”
“I intended to but since you
mentioned my wife I had second thoughts. I once shot an alligator
and she never forgave me.”
Lafitte slipped off his
horse. “Where do you want these men?”
Yank pointed. “That little
sergeant can place them. We’re going to drive fence posts along the
bank and pile dirt against them to build a wall.”
Lafitte waved at the wagon
then used elaborate hand signals to direct the driver.
“Now that’s a handy skill,”
Yank said admiringly.
“Much more efficient than
flags when ships are close enough to use them.” Lafitte took a
brass telescope from inside his coat and extended it toward the
British. “They’ve grown since I left.”
“They’ve doubled their
strength.”
“That’s not
good.”
“Not so bad. We can move
General Carroll and Pierre Lacoste’s battalion up to maintain
parity.”
“General Pakenham arrived
from Cuba last night,” Lafitte said. “There’s talk in town that
General Keane is to be relieved by him.”
“That’s not unusual. He’s
the overall commander. Did this talk you mentioned say when
Pakenham might take command?”
“Perhaps as soon as
tomorrow.
“Good. Keane won’t be
anxious to do anything until he’s relieved and it will take
Pakenham a few days to get oriented.”
“Do you know
him?”
“Pakenham? No. I do know
that he’s Wellington’s brother-in-law, but that could mean nothing.
Did you hear who Pakenham’s second in command will be?”
“Sir Samuel Gibbs, but Keane
will remain as a brigade commander.”
“What else did you
hear?”
“Besides what your wife told
me?”
“Yes.”
“I heard that British are in
desperate need of pack animals.”
“Damn. I should have shot
that horse.”
“From what I saw of him we
want him there, causing trouble.”
Yank took a deep breath.
“Okay, Lafitte, what did she say?”
“She says that she wishes to
see you.”
Yank laughed dryly. “Did you
remind her that there’s a war going on and that I’m in the middle
of it?”
“Yes I did. In almost those
exact words. I said: Are you aware, madam, that there is a war
going on and your husband is in the middle of it? To this she
answered: Yes.”
Yank laughed. “How did she
look?”
“If I were to answer you
honestly you would challenge me to a duel and I would choose
pistols.”
The
Carolina
fired, followed immediately
by the
Louisiana
and Yank turned back toward the enemy. “They’re testing our
range.”
“Then your theory that Keane
will not advance is wrong.”
“I think I said he wouldn’t
be anxious to advance. That isn’t to say that he’ll stop looking
for an easy way to kill us.”
“
Do you subscribe to
General Jackson’s concerns about a secondary attack directly on New
Orleans?” Lafitte asked.
“With each boatload of
reinforcements and materiel that arrives here, I’m less concerned
about that. In fact I think it would be safe by now to say that
there are too many British troops committed to this battlefield for
them to risk a second front.”
“They would have been wiser
to do exactly what General Jackson fears they will do.”
“Yes. But they’re British,
don’t you see?” Yank said in a bad aristocratic English
accent.
Lafitte shook his head. “No.
I don’t see.”
“They’re arrogant bastards,”
Yank answered. “They can’t turn their backs on a fight with a bunch
of farmers led by an ill-bred bumpkin. That’s why we’re going to
defeat them.”
December 27,
1814
Rodriguez Canal,
Louisiana
On Christmas Day, General
the Honorable Sir Edward Michael Pakenham took command of the
British forces. The British celebrated and the Americans continued
to build their mud wall.
On December
26
th
,
the Americans watched as the British struggled to haul heavy guns
to their position.
“What in the name of God are
they doin’?” Jackson asked. He gave the telescope to
Yank.
Yank focused on the
activity, trying to see through the screen of trees.
“It’s some kind of fire,”
Jackson said.
“Yes.”
“I could see a glow but I
couldn’t make it out.”
Yank lowered the telescope
and bellowed toward the campfire. “Lieutenant McCoy?”
“Sir?” The aide leaped to
his feet.
“Urgent to
Commanders
Carolina
and
Louisiana
,” he shouted. “Pull back. I say again, pull back. The
British are heating shot. Fast as you can, man.”
“Yes, sir.” The young
Tennessean had his horse running before he was in the
saddle.
Jackson was watching the
glow in the trees with a horrified look on his face. “We should
have anticipated this.”
“I couldn’t have, General,”
Yank replied. “That they could have built a hot shot furnace over
there is hard to believe. That they could haul howitzers and
mortars through the swamp is impossible.”
“Yet they surely have done
it.”
“They didn’t get their
reputation as the best army in the world illegitimately.” Yank
watched Jackson’s aide run his horse through the trees toward
the
Louisiana.
“Good lad.”
“What’s that?” Jackson
asked.
“I gave your aide a bad
order. I said ‘
Carolina
and
Louisiana’.
But the boy was smart enough to tell
Louisiana
first.
Telling
Carolina
first with
Louisiana
in her way would have wasted precious
minutes.”
“Remind me to promote
him.”
“Yes, sir. I will, if the
British canister fire doesn’t shred him.”
The two men cringed as the
British batteries opened fire.
The crew of the
Louisiana
was already in
the process of hauling their ship out of range, but Jackson’s aide
had just hailed the
Carolina’s
lookout when the first, red hot cannonball tore
through the ship’s rigging.
Jackson had his telescope
back up to his eye and was watching
Carolina
as the British cannonade
continued to rain hot iron onto her and into her. “What’s he
doing?”
“He’s abandoning ship,” Yank
answered. “She must be afire below decks.”
“Why are they pushing the
cannons overboard?”
“To protect them from
destruction so we can recover them later.”
Jackson was about to ask
something else when the deck of
Carolina
seemed to ignite. “Sweet
Jesus.”
“Tar and pine pitch are
lovely accelerants. Her magazine will blow any time now. You may
want to hold your horse tight.”
The ship suddenly vanished
in a flash of light, the heat reached them next like a blow, then
the sound was heard all the way to New Orleans.
Yank waited until his ears
stopped ringing and the British soldiers stopped cheering before
speaking to Jackson. “Pakenham will be coming tonight. I’ll pass
the word.”
“Very well.” Jackson turned
in his saddle toward Yank. “Tell the outposts to place charges in
Chalmette’s buildings. They’ll block our field of fire.”
“Do you want them blown now
or tonight when they pull back?”
“Tonight. But make sure the
commanders understand the importance. I’d rather have them pull
back early than leave those buildings standing.”
“Yes, sir.”
~
The British struck soon
after dark and drove the American outposts back so easily that,
even though they blew up the buildings of Chalmette’s plantation,
Pakenham suspected a trap and held back.
December 28,
1814
Rodriguez Canal,
Louisiana
When the dawn mist cleared,
Pakenham’s artillery was within range of the American lines. He
sent his troops forward in two columns with skirmishers between
them.
Jackson, Yank and Lafitte
were standing together when the first artillery rounds whistled
over their heads. The McCarty plantation house, which served as
Jackson’s headquarters, was immediately struck by several
shots.
“Do you suppose they think
I’m there or are they just lousy shots?” Jackson asked.
“Twenty-three,” Lafitte
said.
“What’s that?” Jackson
turned toward him.
“I count twenty-three
cannons,” Lafitte replied.
“Well, Captain? Take them
out,” Jackson said.
Lafitte swept off his hat,
bowed deeply and then raced away toward the nearest makeshift gun
platform which held one of Carolina’s salvaged guns, manned by one
of Lafitte’s gun crews.
“I cannot decide if I like
or hate that man,” Jackson said.
Yank was watching the
British guns. “I’ll tell you what I think in a few
seconds.”
The first American cannon
fired.
Jackson heard the cheers
along his line and grinned at Yank. “I suppose I like him. First
shot, dead on target. Gunners don’t get any better than
that.”
Yank’s reply was drowned
out by the nearly simultaneous reports of all the American guns. A
moment later, the
Louisiana
joined the cannonade and the earth
trembled.
The British gunners were
indeed very poor and the few rounds that they managed to slam into
the unfinished American breastworks did no damage.
The American gunners, on the
other hand, were deadly in their accuracy and in very short time,
the British infantry on the river side broke and ran.
As the lopsided artillery
duel continued, General Carroll sent Colonel Hutchinson with a
detachment along the swamp to confront the remaining British
column. As they reached musket range, Hutchinson raised his sword
and was shot out of his saddle. Seeing him fall, his troops
faltered and then withdrew in confusion leaving the American left
open.
While witnessing the
increasing destruction of his cannons but failing to see his
victory at the swamp and disheartened by the shameful retreat of
his river column, Pakenham, to the great consternation of his
officers, ordered a general retreat.
January 1, 1815
Rodriguez Canal,
Louisiana
The sun rose over the river,
turning the dense fog to moving shades of pink, red and orange.
Yank was seated at his desk in the McCarty plantation house while a
military band played outside his window. He looked out at the
soldiers who were preparing to parade in their best uniforms and
saw a coach beyond them unloading men, women and children who would
be attending today’s New Year celebration. He was about to look
away when a woman with long black hair stepped gracefully from the
coach and started toward the house. “Damn.” He stood up, found his
hat, and walked out to meet her.
Marina saw Yank come out of
the house but pretended that she didn’t and turned toward the
breastworks where Dominique You was overseeing the installation of
cotton bales at a gun position. “Good morning, Dom,” she called,
raising her hand.
He turned toward her, smiled
broadly, waved and then saw Yank coming toward them and immediately
became very busy.
Marina gave up the pretense
and turned to wait for her husband.
“What the hell are you doing
here?” he said with no preamble. “Get back on that coach right
now.”
“That’s a fine greeting
after nearly two years.”
He took her arm and began
walking her toward the assembling spectators. “Of all the stupid,
lame-brained ideas. You of all people should know how dangerous
this is.”
He was walking so fast that
Marina was forced to trot or to be dragged. “If it’s so dangerous,
why are you doing it?”