Major Stevens took his musket and set it against the breastwork and assisted him to the ground.  He at once began to take off his cartouch box, and the major noticed a red spot on his clean, white under jacket.

“Are you wounded?” Fernando asked.

“Yes, sir, and I fear badly.”

“Let me help you, my man!” said the major, unbuckling his belt.

“Please don’t take my canteen, for it contains my water.”

“I shall not take anything that does not encumber you.”

Just then one of the Tennesseeans who had gone down to the river for water came along with some in a coffee-pot.  The wounded man saw him, and said: 

“I am very thirsty, sir, will you please give me a drop?”

“Oh, yes,” said the Tennesseean.  “I will treat you to anything I have got.”  The young man took the coffee-pot and swallowed two or three mouthfuls out of the spout, and handed it back.  In an instant, Fernando saw him sinking backward.  He called to Sukey, who was near, and they eased him down against the side of a tent, where he gave two or three gasps and was dead.  He had been shot through the breast.

A number of British soldiers and officers had sought shelter from the fire of the Americans in the ditch on the other side of the breastwork.  These, of course, being unable to retreat came in and surrendered.  When the smoke lifted from the battlefield it disclosed a terrible spectacle.  The field looked like a sea of blood, for it was literally covered with redcoats.  Straight out before their position, the entire space occupied by the British troops was covered with dead or wounded.  In some places, where the lines had made a stand, they lay in piles like winrows of hay, while the intervals between were more thinly sprinkled.  About two hundred yards directly in front of their position, lay a large dapple gray horse, which was said to have belonged to Packenham.  Nearly half way between the horse and the breastworks was a heap of slain, marking the spot where Packenham fell; his horse having retreated some distance before it went down.

The battle was over, and Sukey sat down to finish his breakfast which had been interrupted by the stirring event.

The British left seven hundred dead and fourteen hundred wounded on the field, while five hundred were made prisoners making a loss of twenty-six hundred.  The Americans lost eight killed and thirteen wounded.

Packenham and three of his general officers slain in the fight were sent to England in casks of rum for burial.  The British troops under General Lambert stole noiselessly away on the night of the 19th across Lake Borgne, in small transports, and escaped to the fleet.  They then besieged Fort Bowyer for two days, February 20th and 21st, when Major Lawrence, who was in command, was compelled to surrender, and the victors were about to push on to Mobile, when they were arrested by tidings of peace.