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.