men, was thrown across to the left bank, where
General David Morgan had 450 Louisiana militia, reinforced at the last
moment by four hundred Kentuckians. Both British divisions were to
attack before dawn. But the dawn came before Thornton was ready. He was,
however, successful in his part of the programme. Morgan was driven
back, his guns taken, and the British on the west bank passed up the
river a mile beyond Jackson's line. Jackson never forgave the
Kentuckians, although military critics incline to think they did all
that should have been expected.

But on the east bank it was a different story. At six o'clock the main
body of the British rushed upon the American lines. General Gibbs, with
2200, sought to pierce the defenses near the swamp. General Keane led
1200 along the river bank. General Lambert, with the reserve, brought up
the rear. The whole force engaged was over 5000. Gibbs first came under
the American fire. The head of his division melted before it. Gibbs
himself fell, mortally wounded. Pakenham, dashing forward to rally the
column, was killed three hundred yards from the lines. Keane, on the
British left, was wounded and carried from the field. Nowhere did the
enemy pierce or break the line of defense. A brave major did indeed
cross the ditch and lift his head above the breastworks; but he lived
only long enough to send back word that he died on the parapet like an
English soldier. In truth, Pakenham's assault was a desperate venture,
such as British commanders, relying on the valor of their men, have been
too often led to make. At eight o'clock Jackson walked from end to end
of his works, and not a British soldier was anywhere to be seen in an
attitude of offence. The smoke of the artillery, clearing, discovered
the enemy far distant, in full retreat to his camp, and the battlefield
littered with piles of dead and wounded. "I saw," said Jackson, "more
than five hundred Britons emerging from the heaps of their dead
comrades, all over the plain, rising up, and still more distinctly
visible as the field became clearer, coming forward and surrendering to
our soldiers."

Here was revenge, indeed, for the sufferings of little Andy in the
Waxhaws, for the sabre cut on his head, for his brothers, for his
mother. But it is not known that any low word of vengeance passed his
lips at the awful sight before him. The British dead were seven hundred,
their wounded twice as many, and five hundred were taken. In the