Nearer come the British regulars on the double-quick. The four lines of sturdy riflemen wait until three fourths of the distance is covered.
Suddenly the clear voice of General Carroll rings out, "Fire!"
A sheet of flame bursts from the earthwork. The advancing columns falter, stop, break, and run. Not a man reaches the redoubt.
{ 195} It was said that an old thirty-two-pounder had been loaded to the muzzle with musket balls, the first volley of which killed or wounded two hundred of the enemy.
"Here comes the Ninety-Third! Rally on the Ninety-Third!" shouts Pakenham, as this splendid regiment of eight hundred kilted Highlanders advances amid the confusion.
The brave men now rally for another desperate charge.
"Hurrah, boys! the day is ours!" shouts Colonel Rennie, as he leads the attack on the right flank.
But the day is not theirs. A few officers and men actually get across the ditch, but every one of them is shot dead the moment his head shows over the earthwork. The wavering columns stagger and give way.
Sir Edward leaves General Lambert in command of the reserve, and, with generals Gibbs and Keane, now leads the assault. The mud earthwork again belches its sheets of flame, as the backwoods riflemen fire their death-dealing volleys. Again the proud columns give way.
"Forward, men, forward!" cries Pakenham, ordering the bugler to sound the charge.
A rifle ball carries away the bugle before a note is sounded.
"Order up the reserve!" shouts the British commander, and leads his men to another deadly charge.
A rifle bullet shatters his right leg, another kills his horse, and finally a third, fired by a negro, instantly { 196} kills him. Gibbs and Keane are both severely wounded. The officers in the brilliant uniforms are easy targets for the sharpshooters.
It is what Bunker Hill might have been if the patriots had had stronger breastworks and plenty of ammunition.
The eight hundred Highlanders, with pale faces but firm step, advance to the ditch, and, too proud to run, stand the fire until few more than a hundred are left. These slowly retire with their faces still toward the Americans.
The battle lasted only twenty-five minutes. During this time the American flag was kept flying near the middle of the line. A military band roused the troops. Just after the fight, Jackson and his staff in full uniform rode slowly along the lines. The wild uproar of that motley army was echoed by thousands of spectators, who with fear and trembling had watched the issue of the contest.