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R ose did not catch so much as a distant glimpse of Fonteyne during the following two weeks.

The Cygnet and the Carolina moved downriver and took up positions opposite Fort St. Philip.

There, they were joined by the schooner Louisiana and the three ships kept up a steady barrage of shots day and night to discourage the British who attempted several times to creep up the canal road under cover of darkness.

Rose had men hidden in the trees on shore to send warnings to the vessels, at which time, full broadsides would be unleashed and maintained until the threat passed and the British retreated.

On Christmas Day, General Edward Packenham finally landed with another four thousand soldiers and took charge of the army.

Angered by the cat and mouse games Keane was playing with the Americans, he had the hot-shot furnace moved closer to the Mississippi riverbank along with nine large artillery guns.

Two days later, under cover of darkness, the guns were placed behind a temporary fieldstone redoubt where they could see the river and the three anchored American ships through the trees, but their location would not be so easily visible from the other side of the canal.

That same night he sent a trio of British gunboats up the river with express orders to turn Fort St. Philip into a pile of rubble.

“Captain, we’ve got company.”

The gray mist was drifting slowly across the river like shreds of a torn bridal veil, sometimes thin enough to reveal shapes and shadows, other times as dense as clouds.

The air was heavy with moisture, barely starting to lighten with the approach of dawn.

Rose had placed lookouts at the top of all three masts in the hope of seeing above the wafting layers of fog, for they had been hearing sounds throughout the night that suggested the British were getting bolder in their effort to claim the canal road.

The crews on board the Louisiana and the Carolina were on full alert.

Similarly, on board the Cygnet , there was absolute silence broken only by the creaking of the cables and the slap of wavelets on the ships hull.

They were positioned slightly behind the two American ships, only lightly moored so they could move at a moment’s notice.

The guns were loaded, brass monkey racks were filled with shot.

Barrels held felt charges full of black powder while smaller casks were filled with Billy’s pre-filled quills.

She prowled up and down the line of guns, checking and rechecking, but she knew her crews were the absolute best.

Stubb stalked up and down the deck as well, hopping up onto every cask or coil of rope as if willing the fog to speed on its way.

Captain Bryant Kelly had claimed the forward position on the Carolina ; thus he was two hundred yards in front of the Louisiana and four hundred yards in front of the Cygnet . It was the muffled sound of one of his lookouts that broke the oppressive silence.

What the lookout saw was three British gunboats advancing through the purplish haze of dawn.

When they caught sight of the Carolina , they made no attempt to hail.

Two of the gunboats split from the other and maneuvered into position.

Their forward guns were run out and fired, leaving no doubt as to their intentions.

The first few shots fell harmlessly into the dark water, but with the second volley the guns were adjusted, the range was found.

Shots found their marks and punched into the Carolina , tearing through sails, cracking yards and rails, lifting guns off their carriages.

The third gunboat began firing at the walls of the fort, their shots exploding in sprays of stone and mortar.

The big guns mounted on the fort boomed out their answer. Jackson had increased their number from six to fourteen and placed Baratarian gunners on each cannon with the result that few of the shots fired from the fort missed their mark and the gunboat was quickly rocked back with repeated strikes.

Before the Americans had a chance to cheer, the crews of the Louisiana and the Carolina came under heavy fire from the second threat on shore.

The twenty-four-pounder naval guns were close enough to inflict serious damage, but what raised the hairs on the back of every sailor’s neck was the sight of red hot cannon balls screaming through the air and exploding in a fountain of fiery sparks on deck.

“Bastards are using the hot-shot furnace,” Billy said.

“Can you see where it’s coming from?” Rose asked.

They heard another screaming shriek and caught the direction of the arc as it came over the trees.

This one landed squarely on the main deck of the Carolina , blowing a hole through the boards and lifting the ship with a tremendous series of explosions.

At the same time, the naval guns concentrated on her masts and rigging, tearing both to shreds.

In under two minutes, her masts were gone and fires were raging from bow to stern.

While the war sloop burned, the British guns took aim on the Louisiana .

Her captain was firing broadsides as quickly as his crews could reload but from his angle on the river he had trouble pinpointing the location of the guns firing the hot shots.

Chain shot cracked the top of his main mast and slashed through the sails.

Shot smashed into the rails and sprayed her crews with dagger-like shards of wood.

But they kept firing and the mist was soon thick with clouds of acrid white sulphur smoke.

Rose had agreed to hang back until and unless Kelly and Dollor needed help, but seeing they were under heavy fire, she was not about to wait for any signal to bring the Cygnet forward.

“Away aloft,” she shouted. “Cut the anchor and reset the top gallants to give me steerage!”

Duardo took an axe to the anchor cable, splitting it in one strike.

The helmsman, Mercado, cursing a steady stream of Spanish epithets, spun the huge, spoked wheel to bring the Cygnet downriver to join the fray where the two British were concentrating their fire on the Carolina and the Louisiana , sensing easy kills.

The gunners seemed not to be aware of the Cygnet until she broke through the clouds of drifting smoke.

With a shout and the drop of her arm, Rose’s crew unleashed a tremendous broadside firing from both decks at once, exploding along the riverbank where red-coated soldiers had crept out of the shadows.

A second thunderous broadside loaded with chain and bar shot scythed through a stand of trees that had concealed the position of the naval artillery.

“Billy!”

“Aye, I see it!”

Rose heard the crunch of the Cygnet’s foremast taking a hit as the gunners on shore found their new target. One of the heated, red hot balls came screaming toward the ship and landed in a spout of hissing steam a mere arm’s width from the hull.

Billy cursed at the insult and ran over to where the Beast was crouched by the rail. She had ordered the big carronade loaded earlier with no real thought of having to fire it, but now she knew it was the only gun with a high enough arc to clear the trees and smash down behind the British position.

She snatched up a burning linstock and held it close to the priming hole.

For the smallest moment of hesitation, she held her breath, hoping she’d put enough reinforcement under the deck boards so she didn’t blow her own ship to smithereens.

Using the rule of three, she had estimated a charge of twenty pounds of powder was needed to fire a sixty-pound shot, but she had no real way of knowing if the force of the recoil would propel the gun up or down…

“Fuck it,” she said, and lowered the linstock.

The powder caught with a spark and puff of acrid smoke followed by a loud hiss and fizzle as it scorched its way to the barrel where the charge of powder ignited.

The BOOM was like ten cracks of thunder exploding simultaneously.

Billy was thrown back on a surge of hot air as the heavy gun reared back on its haunches.

The shot—loaded with iron cuttings, nails, bolts, spikes, and incendiaries that would combust on impact—erupted from the muzzle in a blaze of shooting flames.

It flew on an angle that sent it four hundred yards up and over the trees, landing almost on top of the artillery position.

The enormous explosion that followed sent a towering orange fireball into the sky, accompanied seconds later by two, three more explosions as casks of powder and shot were struck and ignited.

The hot shot furnace was lifted into the air by the impact, crashing down and scattering its red-hot contents in a deadly spray.

The stone barrier was ruptured, exposing the gun emplacement.

Men screamed as sprays of shrapnel spread out in a circle dozens of feet wide.

Most staggered away with hideous wounds, their clothing on fire, their bodies scorched from the heat and flames.

Using the current to build her speed, Rose maneuvered the Cygnet past the burning hulk of the Carolina .

Remembering something Fonteyne had told her about Nelson’s strategy at Trafalgar, she aimed her bow at the gap between the two gunboats.

Instead of backing her sails and slowing to present her broadside, as the British gunners expected, Rose kept her ship moving forward.

The gunboats started firing at the Cygnet, but she was moving too fast and presented too narrow of a target to inflict much damage.

When she had closed the gap and was about to cut through the two ships, Rose passed a signal to Billy, who.

ordered both the starboard and larboard batteries on both decks to open fire, blasting full broadsides at the two British ships at the same time.