Page 47

A fter studying the maps and riding around the farms, swamps, and bayous surrounding the city of New Orleans, the strategist in Andrew Jackson had reached the same conclusion as Lafitte.

There were three possible ways the British could take to mount an attack, and all three were vulnerable, the current defenses woefully inadequate.

“Three routes,” Jackson said, studying the map before him.

He had set up a temporary headquarters in the city, in offices previously occupied by the absent Governor Claiborne.

He had called a meeting with Lafitte and the leader of the militia, Rodney Lamb, who fought with the Kentuckians but had been born and raised in New Orleans.

Also present were the captains of the two gunboats currently patrolling the Mississippi, the Louisiana and the Carolina .

Fonteyne and Rose, along with their second in commands stood quietly around the large table, their faces lit by the twin lanterns that hung over half a dozen maps and charts.

“The first point of attack, and the most obvious, would be for the British to attempt a direct approach up the Mississippi.”

“Bloody well impossible for any heavy frigates to make it through the delta,” Lamb reiterated.

He was an older man with a face like a barnacle, who, like Jackson, had fought in the war for independence.

“Won’t stop the bastards sending lighter schooners or gunboats as a diversion, to take men away from the main assault.

But that’s all they’d be. A bloody diversion, mark my words.

An’ they’d have to get past Fort St. Philip to make any headway up the river. ”

“Armaments?”

“Twenty-nine long guns, two six pounders and a small mortar, thirteen-inch calibre. Also, a couple of thirty-twos mounted on shore, fairly well concealed behind a stone wall. The fort won’t be easy to get past.”

He marked the location of the shore guns by leaning over and putting an X on the chart with a stick of charcoal.

“The second point of possible attack,” Jackson said as he dragged his finger across the map, “is by way of the Chef Menteur Road. That route would enable them to bring some of their lighter ships through the Rigolets passage into Lake Pontchartrain. Once there, they would be able to land their army a scant two miles from the city, but in order to get through the Rigolets, they would have to pass the fort at Petit Coquilles. I’m told it is neither a large nor imposing fort. ”

“Not worth the bricks it were built with as I recollect,” Lamb declared, “but it stands where the river takes a sharp bend and I reckon some men with a few cannons might bottle them up for a goodly time. But it won’t hold ‘em, which is why, if I were the one making the decisions, that’s where I would t’row all my forces. ”

Jackson frowned, not liking the pessimism, but inwardly agreeing with Lamb’s assessment.

He turned his attention to the plantations south of the city. “Am I reading these distances and routes correctly?”

Jean Lafitte answered before Lamb could gather enough spittle. “The maps you have are as accurate as we could make them. However, the British have been given … somewhat altered maps, obtained when they captured one of my men who was foolishly caught too close to the British encampment.”

“How altered?” Fonteyne asked.

Lafitte waved his hand. “A few extra bends in the river, the bayou sketched little larger, roads removed or leading in the wrong direction. Without such discrepancies, the Rigolets canal might well be the clear choice.”

General Jackson stared at the pirate for a moment before looking down at the map again. “That leaves the third option, which would involve crossing a lake and cutting through two bayous to the Villere Canal and would bring them to a point several miles south of the city.”

“Seven miles to be precise,” Lafitte said.

“On the map they now have in their possession, however, the distance is marked as four. Moreover, the two largest farms in the area, Villere and Lacosta, would be tempting to an army more comfortable fighting on land than on canals or rivers. It offers flat, open fields to march across, especially since I expect they will be bringing artillery, yes?”

“Field pieces, I should think.”

“Heavy and cumbersome.” Lafitte smiled and touched a forefinger to the map where the Mississippi curved to follow the canal road, and beside it, the western boundary of the Villere farm.

“Here, opposite the Chalmette Plantation, the levee is built closest to the road to prevent the river from overflowing the embankment. As I mentioned before, should it be blown open at an opportune moment, the force of the water as it comes around this bend will burst through the opening and flood the land as far as the cypress swamps a mile to the east. The British would find their temptingly flat fields turned to mud and their artillery pieces mired to the wheel axels. Should that become the apparent choice to mount an assault, I would suggest you place one of our ships on the river at that precise bend. After they blow the levee, they could remain in place to discourage the British from slogging out of the swamp and attempting to come up the canal road to attack your flank.”

Jackson nodded, agreeing with everything Lafitte was saying.

He looked around the circle of faces until he found the three he sought and waved them forward into the brighter light.

The first belonged to Bryant Kelly, the captain of the war sloop, Carolina .

He was short and stout with sparse bits of hair sprouting over his ears in a fuzzy circle that left the dome bald.

Beside him was the captain of the schooner Louisiana , William Dollor, who was tall and skeletally thin, with an elongated face like a horse’s snout.

The third face Jackson touched on belonged to Rose St. Clare.

“The three of you have met?”

Kelly har-rumphed and scratched his head. “Aye, that we have. Moored side by each in the river as we speak. The Carolina will go wherever she is needed.”

“Aye,” Doll0r agreed. “As will the Louisiana .”

“When the time comes, it will be up to the pair of you to ensure the British do not get past Fort St. Philip.”

The two captains looked at each other, nodded, and puffed up their chests a little fuller.

“Rose? I’m going to post you upriver to blow the levee when and if the time comes it needs to be done.

From there, you will be able to go downriver, should the Louisiana and the Carolina need assistance, or, indeed, stay put and defend the road should the English find the field approach too tempting to resist.”

“It will be imperative that all three of you hold the river,” Jackson continued. “If just one British gunboat breaks through, and gets behind us, we could find ourselves caught in an enfilade.”

Kelly snorted and gave Rose’s arm a little backhanded smack. “I’ve heard you have experience with blockade lines, lass. You can break through ‘em, but can you hold ‘em?”

He was at least a head shorter than Rose so she had to tip her head down to look at him. “I can hold them,” she said with a smile. “As long as I don’t have to ram anyone who gets in my way.”

Kelly’s eyebrows shot up. He was not entirely convinced that a woman could or should be included in any military actions.

Despite having heard the astounding rumours concerning her capture of Sebastien Fonteyne’s ship, he still was not completely convinced, although he had no solid grounds to argue.

He was, however, fairly certain the giant, Duardo, whose eyes were glowering at him from the shadows, would crush him like a bug if he voiced any of those doubts.

“Aye, we’ll hold the river, General,” he muttered. “To the last shot and cask of powder, we’ll hold it.”

Jackson nodded, gave Rose half a wink to acknowledge her restraint at not boxing Kelly’s ears, then looked at Lafitte.

“Everything you’ve said makes sense so far, apart from the fact that in order to reach these fields you’ve made look so appealing, Generals Keane and Packenham will have to row their entire army, including any artillery, across a lake 30 miles wide, in boats that hold perhaps twenty men each trip. That will take days, weeks!”

“Time we will need,” Fonteyne said, “to reinforce the defenses around the city which, at the moment, are non-existent. We can bring cannon ashore from our ships, but we need somewhere to put them.”

“Once again, if I may?” Lafitte moved the map a quarter turn and ran his finger along a line marked in broken dashes of ink.

“You see this line? It is known to the locals as the Rodriguez Canal, though it is not much more than a dry, shallow ditch and no one remembers who Rodriguez was. There are partial earthworks that run along the northern edge. They rise about four feet and were kept mainly as a property demarcation line for the Chalmette Plantation, which is now adjoined to the Villere land. If the British take the bait and choose to come across those fields, the best … and possibly only defensive position to take would be along the Rodriguez Canal. Much work would have to be done, of course, to build the wall to a secure height, but as you pointed out, we would have time while the English ferry their men across the lake.”

“ If they decide to come that way.” Jackson’s craggy face looked even more sunken as he sucked in his cheeks and studied the map to ponder his options.

“Today is December sixteen. The British generals will undoubtedly be flush with their victory at Lake Borgne and will want to press their advantage.

I am acquainted with the reputations of both men and surmise that Keane will urge haste, whereas Packenham is more experienced and, like me, not one to rush into a situation he does not control and has not thoroughly examined.

“I dislike guesswork, gentlemen. Before I am prepared to commit every resource we have to building up those earthworks, we need to know for a certainty which of the three alternatives they have decided on to launch their main assault. We could build ramparts twenty feet high, but they would be useless if the British attack from the north and our guns were facing south.”

“My best scouts are Choctaw Indians,” Lafitte said.

“They move like wraiths in the darkness and can smell Englishmen … and Americans …a hundred paces away. I will send them out tonight to glean what information they can. But as a betting man, General, I would put my coin here.” He stabbed the long straight double line of the Rodriguez Canal.

“Along with my heaviest guns. When they cross that open field with no cover, nowhere to run? The earth will be red with their blood.”