by Roy Adkins
Once again the British were forced to withdraw, and Pakenham was said to be ‘much mortified at being obliged to retire the army from a second demonstration and disposition to attack’,45 but Codrington was too harsh in putting all the blame on the artillerymen. Even before it started raining, the ground was sodden and unstable, and ‘if you dug eight inches, water followed: hence to erect batteries with earth was impracticable’.46 Sandbags were used to try to stabilise the ground, but there were just not enough, and it proved impossible to maintain an accurate fire. Jackson had solved this problem by requisitioning bales of cotton to form a firm base for his gun batteries, which did not become bogged down, and he had used every minute of the time to strengthen his defences while the British were bringing up cannons from their ships. Despite Codrington’s poor opinion, the British artillerymen had actually scored at least as many direct hits as the Americans: it was lack of ammunition that was the main problem.
If Pakenham had brought up all his forces and pressed home the attack during his reconnaissance on 28 December, the Americans may have failed to hold their weak defences, but three days later the situation had changed. After a second withdrawal it was not just Pakenham who was dispirited, as Gleig recorded: ‘Of the fatigue undergone during these operations by the whole army, from the General down to the meanest sentinel, it would be difficult to form an adequate conception. For two whole nights and days, not a man had closed an eye, except such as were cool enough to sleep amidst showers of cannon-ball, and during the day scarcely a moment had been allowed, in which we were able so much as to break our fast. We retired, therefore, not only baffled and disappointed, but in some degree disheartened and discontented.’47 This was a drastic change from the ‘confident anticipation of success’ Gleig had experienced barely two weeks earlier. Jackson’s delaying tactics had paid off, for now time was on the side of the Americans, who grew stronger and more confident as the British forces became increasingly despondent.
More British reinforcements were expected: a brigade commanded by Major-General John Lambert was coming from the West Indies, after stopping there for water and provisions. Pakenham decided to wait for Lambert’s men before trying another assault, but he also decided on another plan of attack. He proposed crossing the river to capture the American gun batteries, and for this task he turned to the navy, as Codrington explained: ‘A particular feature in the plan of attack was our cutting a canal into the Mississippi, into which river we were to take our boats in order to convey a force to the right bank, which, assisted by some of them as gun-boats, might surprise the enemy’s batteries on that side by which our front was enfiladed, and turn them upon their line instead.’48
By 8 January the canal was dug and Lambert had arrived with reinforcements, but over two thousand men from Kentucky had arrived at New Orleans, and although they were poorly armed and so ragged that they had to be given clothes by the inhabitants of the city, the British advantage was once again lost. On the morning of the 8th the attack began with the naval operation to cross the river, but even Codrington was unclear whether or not this was merely a diversion: ‘I do not know how far this measure was relied on by the General [Pakenham]. But as he ordered and made his assault at daylight [dawn], I imagine he did not place much dependence on it. By exertion which is beyond belief, we dragged in fifty boats during the night, and Colonel Thornton, with his remaining 85th (of about 300), and some seamen and marines amounting to nearly as many more, were on shore by daylight. The whole operation succeeded beautifully, and the guns in the enemy’s batteries were unspiked.’49
The Battle of New Orleans had begun, and the sailors led the attack on the American gun battery on the other side of the river, as Gleig described:The bugle sounded, and our troops advanced. The sailors raising a shout, rushed forward, but were met by so heavy a discharge of grape and cannister, that for an instant they paused. Recovering themselves, however, they again pushed on, and the 85th dashing forward to their aid, they received a heavy fire of musketry, and endeavoured to charge. A smart firing was now for a few minutes kept up on both sides, but our people had no time to waste in distant fighting, and accordingly hurried on to storm the works, upon which, a panic seized the Americans, they lost their order, and fled.50
Sixteen guns were captured, and despite some last-minute strengthening of the defences on that side of the river by Jackson, the batteries were abandoned before the guns were properly spiked. From Codrington’s point of view, it was a complete success, but it came too late to be effective. Pakenham seems to have intended the gun batteries to have been captured before his assault began, but he had not been informed that this operation was running late because of the sheer effort needed to drag the boats against the current along the new canal and into the river. Despite the fact that these batteries could create havoc on one wing of the British advance, Pakenham still began the attack at dawn, rather than wait until the guns were captured.
The delay in capturing the guns on the opposite bank was not the only problem. Gleig observed the reaction of Pakenham when he surveyed his troops:Instead of perceiving every thing in readiness for the assault, he saw his troops in battle array, indeed, but not a ladder or fascine upon the field. The 44th, which was appointed to carry them, had either misunderstood or neglected their orders, and now headed the column of attack, without any means being provided for crossing the enemy’s ditch or scaling his rampart. The indignation of poor Pakenham on this occasion may be imagined, but cannot be described. Galloping towards Colonel Mullens, who led the 44th, he commanded him instantly to return with his regiment for the ladders, but the opportunity of planting them was lost, and though they were brought up, it was only to be scattered over the field by the frightened bearers. For our troops were by this time visible to the enemy. A dreadful fire was accordingly opened upon them, and they were mowed down by hundreds, while they stood waiting for orders. Seeing that all his well-laid plans were frustrated, Pakenham gave the word to advance, and the other regiments, leaving the 44th with the ladders and fascines behind them, rushed on to the assault.51
Sergeant John Spencer Cooper noted the terrible outcome: ‘At the word “Forward!” the two lines approached the ditch under a murderous discharge of musketry; but crossing the ditch and scaling the parapet were found impossible without ladders. These had been prepared, but the regiment that should have carried them left them behind, and thereby caused, in a few minutes, a dreadful loss of men and officers.’52 The attacking troops were faced with a hopeless task, and crucially Pakenham was killed, as Codrington told his wife:It certainly required the best of the very Wellington stuff to stand up through such a fire as the enemy opened upon their near approach. The head of the assaulting column, however, shook, and in the endeavour to rally it and profit by the loss thus far sustained by a little further advance into the enemy’s line, the gallant Pakenham received his mortal wound. General Gibbs, whose division was destined to assault, shared the same fate at about the same moment, each within fifty paces of the enemy’s line, and General Keane received two musket-ball wounds and a severe contusion. Besides these, you will see a heartrending [casualty] list of the most gallant soldiers in our army. Lambart [Lambert], our only remaining General, had but to retreat in the best manner he could, leaving the ground in front of the enemy’s lines covered with killed and wounded. There never was a more complete failure.53
It was not long before Lambert, left as commanding officer, ordered a full retreat. Afterwards Captain Harry Smith of the 95th Regiment was sent to arrange a truce, which he recorded:Late in the afternoon I was sent to the enemy with a flag of truce, and a letter to General Jackson, with a request to be allowed to bury the dead and bring in the wounded lying between our respective positions. The Americans were not accustomed to the civility of war, like our old associates the French, and I was a long time before I could induce them to receive me. They fired on me with cannon and musketry, which excited my choler somewhat, for a round shot tore away the ground under
my right foot, which it would have been a bore indeed to have lost under such circumstances. However, they did receive me at last, and the reply from General Jackson was a very courteous one.54
That the American gunners came so close to hitting with a cannonball a single man advancing on foot is testimony to their great accuracy, which was responsible for the majority of the British casualties. After a truce had been agreed about three hundred wounded men were left in the care of the Americans and were treated well, but British losses in killed and wounded were terrible. Smith was with the burial party and commented that ‘there were some awful wounds from cannon shot, and I dug an immense hole, and threw nearly two hundred bodies into it. To the credit of the Americans not an article of clothing had been taken from our dead except the shoes. Every body was straightened, and the great toes tied together with a piece of string. A more appalling spectacle cannot well be conceived than this common grave, the bodies hurled in as fast as we could bring them.’55 On another part of the field, Gleig observed, ‘within a small compass of a few hundred yards, were gathered together nearly a thousand bodies, all of them arrayed in British uniforms. Not a single American was among them; all were English, and they were thrown by dozens into shallow holes.’56
Many others were badly wounded, and Midshipman Bluett was one of those responsible for transporting them back to the warships. He was horrified by their suffering:I have just heard from the wounded I am employed in carrying down to the fleet, the account of our defeat; within ten minutes from the commencement of the attack, the first and last gun was fired. And two thousand brave fellows were stretched on the field. I have now 350 of the wounded soldiers on board. I shall be three days going down, and the poor fellows wounds cannot be dressed for want of a surgeon. Having given up my cabin to the wounded & my decks being covered with them, I had last night no place to lie down; but placing a ladder against the mainmast, seated myself on one of the steps, and with my arms through another dozed away a bitter cold night, raining all the while, but what was my situation compared to that of the poor soldiers, whose miseries were increased by the torture of the wounds.57
The whole campaign against New Orleans proved to be a disaster made even more tragic by the fact that, unknown to them, the opposing sides were no longer at war. Gradually the British slipped away in a carefully planned retreat, and Jackson made no serious attempt to pursue them. By the end of January they were once again on board the ships of the fleet and Lambert was considering the next move - an attack on Fort Bowyer at Mobile Point, which the navy had unsuccessfully bombarded at the start of the campaign. This time troops were landed with artillery and siegeworks were dug to avoid any risk of unnecessary casualties. By 11 February everything was in position and once again it was Captain Smith who was sent in under a flag of truce. He found that ‘the Major was as civil as a vulgar fellow can be. I gave him my version of his position, and cheered him on the ability he had displayed. He said, “Well, now, I calculate you are not far out in your reckoning. What do you advise me to do? You, I suppose, are one of Wellington’s men, and understand the rules in these cases.” “This,” I said, “belongs to the rule that the weakest goes to the wall, and if you do not surrender at discretion in one hour, we, being the stronger, will blow up the fort and burn your wooden walls about your ears”.’58 After some discussion it was agreed that the fort would formally surrender on the following day, and at midday the Americans marched out and laid down their arms. Later that afternoon about a thousand troops arrived by ship to reinforce the garrison, but once they saw that the fort had surrendered, they returned to Mobile. Two days later news of the peace treaty arrived and hostilities ceased.
TWENTY-ONE
SWANSONG
How far is St Helena from the field of Waterloo?
A near way - a clear way - the ship will take you soon.
A pleasant place for gentlemen with little left to do.
(Morning never tries you till the afternoon)
From ‘A St Helena Lullaby’ by Rudyard Kipling
The war with America lasted through the early years of the Regency in Britain. This was a time of distinctive styles and fashions, and while British armies were fighting on American soil the architect John Nash was redesigning London - the construction of Regent Street and Regent’s Park had begun in 1811. It was also the world of Jane Austen, whose work the Prince Regent enthusiastically admired. Her first published novel, Sense and Sensibility, appeared in 1811, followed by Pride and Prejudice in 1813, Mansfield Park in 1814 and Emma in 1815. She died on 18 July 1817 and the rest of her writing was published posthumously. With two brothers in the navy, Jane Austen was very well informed about the war with America. Charles Austen served for over six years in North American waters, ending as Flag Captain to Admiral John Borlase Warren, and in 1812 Francis was taken off blockade duty in Europe and his battleship was deployed against American privateers. Despite this, the war is barely mentioned in her books, because to the British it was never more than a sideshow, always upstaged by the situation in Europe.
Nevertheless, when news of the peace arrived it was a good excuse for a celebration in times that continued to be austere, and in Newcastle on 28 December 1814 ‘the news of peace with America was received with great joy. The Mayor immediately caused a salvo of 21 guns to be fired from the old castle, and the bells struck up a merry peal. A number of commercial travellers at Grieveson’s, the Crown and Thistle inn, to demonstrate their joy on the occasion, were at the expence of illuminating the whole of the front of the inn, “G.R.” and “United States” being displayed in variegated lamps, and sat down, at five o’clock, to an elegant dinner.’1
Throughout the winter Captain Charles Napier in the Euryalus was cruising off the North American coast, and from January 1815 he blockaded the frigate USS Constellation in Norfolk, Virginia. On 28 January, in emulation of Broke, Napier issued a challenge in writing to Captain Charles Gordon of the Constellation: ‘I cannot help expressing my wish to meet the Constellation, and request you will inform me your terms and place of meeting, which I shall accept of, if in my power. Our force is twenty-six 18-pounders, twelve 32-pounders carronades, and 29-pounder. Complement, 294 men and boys. I trust, sir, you will believe that I have no personal hostility to you, and I have no other wish than to perform a grateful service to my country.’2 Captain Gordon accepted the challenge, and Napier remarked: ‘I have challenged the American frigate Constellation, and she has accepted of it. We shall meet in a few days. God grant us victory! I willingly will sacrifice my life to ensure it.’3 The duel did not take place, as news of the peace arrived in time to stop it.
John Bluett, recently appointed as lieutenant, was in Cuba when the news reached him: ‘Peace with America is considered as already ratified. I wish they could have continued the war a little longer, merely to give me an opportunity of recovering by prize money my losses in the Hornet’4 - the Hornet had been shipwrecked, and Bluett had lost all his possessions. After hoping for war to continue he immediately felt remorse for what he had written: ‘When I come to look at the above wish, it surprises me that I could commit so selfish an idea to paper.’5
The frigate Pactolus with the impressed American seaman James Durand had been in Bermuda after a stint blockading New London, Connecticut. The ship returned to the blockade of New London with dispatches on 25 February 1815, to be greeted by news of the peace - the Treaty of Ghent had been signed in America three days earlier, on George Washington’s birthday: ‘On our arrival there all the ships were dressed in their colors. A grand salute was fired by the ships and complemented by the forts in return. Our officers went on shore by invitation of the American officers, to attend a ball, the most superb that had been exhibited since the Revolution. Both parties were in full military uniform and attended by their guards. They convened at the hotel, with bells ringing and everything illuminated.’6 After so much hostility, friendship was resumed surprisingly quickly.
In Britain the American prisoners-o
f-war had been following the negotiations at Ghent with intense interest, not least because peace in Europe had made the lives of these prisoners worse rather than better. After the French prisoners were repatriated in 1814, it had been decided to concentrate most of the Americans in the hated prison on Dartmoor. A seaman from Massachusetts, Henry Torey64, was twenty-one when he was captured off Martha’s Vineyard in May 1813. He was first imprisoned at Melville Island, Halifax, but was subsequently sent to England, where he was held in a prison hulk at Chatham. In late 1814 he was moved to Dartmoor and was very dispirited on his arrival:This is the latter part of the month of November; and the weather has been generally rainy, dark, dismal and foggy. Sometimes we could hardly see the sentinels on the walls. Sorrow and sadness within, gloom, fog, or drizzly rain without. If the commissioners at Ghent do not soon make peace, nor establish an exchange, we shall be lost to our country and to hope. The newspapers now and then enliven us with the prospect of peace . . . Whenever we see in the newspapers an article captioned ‘News from Ghent,’ we devour it with our eyes, but instead of substance, generally find it empty wind. We are wearied out. I speak for myself, and I hear the same expression from others. Winter is commencing, to add to our miseries. Poor clothing, miserable lodging, poor and inadequate food, long, dismal nights, darkness, foul air, bad smells, the groans of the sick and distressed, the execrations and curses of the half distracted prisoner, the unfeeling conduct of our keepers and commander— all, all, all conspire to fill up the cup of our sorrow.7
