Eight days pass by in Indian file, and Sir Edward Pakenham with his English feels that, for his safety as much as his honor, he must attack the General, whose mud walls increase with each new sunset. The General foresees this, and has reports of Sir Edward's movements brought him every hour.
On the morning of the eighth the General's scouts wake him at two o'clock and say that the English are astir. He is instantly abroad; the word goes down the line; by four o'clock every rifle is ready, each hunting-shirt man at his post.
The weak spot, the one at which Sir Edward will level his utmost force, is where the General's line finds an end in the moss-hung cypress swamp. It is there he stations the reliable Coffee with his hunting-shirt men. To the rear, as a reserve, is General Adair with what Kentuckians the good, unerring offices of those night-prowling hunting-shirt men have armed at the red expense of the English.
In the center is the redoubtable Papa Plauche and his “Fathers.” The “Fathers” are between the pirates Dominique and Bluche and Captain Humphries of the regular artillery.
Papa Plauche is rejoiced at being thus thrust into the center.
“For my heroes!” cries Papa Plauche, in a speech which he makes the “Fathers,” the center is the heart--the home of honor! “On us, my Fathers, devolves the main defense of our beloved city, where sleep our wives and children. Wherefore, be brave as vigilant--vigilant as brave!”
Papa Plauche's voice is husky, but not from fear. No, it is husky by reason of a cold which, despite certain woolen nightcaps wherewith the excellent Madam Plauche equipped him for the field, he has contracted in sleeping damply among the stubble and the river fogs.
Six hundred yards in front of the General's mud walls, and near the river, are a huddle of plantation buildings. The English, he argues, will mask a part of their advance with these structures. The forethoughtful General prepares for this, and has furnaces heating shot, to set those buildings blazing at the psychological moment.
Also, in response to a comic cynicism not usual with him, he has out the brass band of Papa Plauche, with instructions to strike up “Yankee Doodle” as the first gun is fired. The band, in compliment to the General, has been privily rehearsing “'Possum up a Gum Tree,” which it understands is the national anthem of Tennessee, and offers to play that.