At this moment, Job, who was Fernando's cook, came running forward with some broiled beefsteak on the end of a ramrod. He gave it to Sukey and said: "Heah, massa, take dis an' chomp um down foh dey git near enough to fight. I's gwine ter git my gun an' teach 'em dis chile ain't got no Angler Saxun blood in his veins." Sukey presented an odd figure, for he wore no uniform. His head was covered with an old, low, broad-brimmed hat. He sat on the carriage of a brass gun near and ate his breakfast, while watching the enemy advance to the attack. Coffee's part of the line, to which Fernando was attached, was on the flank extending to the swamp. About a quarter of a mile from it, there was a huge plantation drainage canal, such as are common in Louisiana lowlands. At this, General Packenham formed his first attacking column. His formation was a column in mass of about fifty files front. This was formed under the fire of the regular artillerists in a little redoubt in Coffee's front and that of some cannon taken from a man-of-war, placed in a battery on the river and served by sailors. Coffee, seeing the direction of the attack, which was intended to turn his flank, dashed down the line saying to his men: "Hold your fire until you can see their belt-buckles." The riflemen were formed in two ranks so that one rank would load while the other was firing. Fernando's position behind the earthworks was near an old oak tree, which threw out its branches about his head. Sukey stood at his side holding his long rifle in one hand and his broiled meat and sea-biscuit in the other. The enemy came boldly forward, and a finer display was never seen on review. Their lines were well dressed and Packenham, on his snow white charger, rode as boldly as if he had no fear of death. As Sukey munched his hard biscuit, his eyes were steadfastly fixed on Lord Packenham. "Say, Fernando, ain't that fellow on the big horse General Packenham?" "No doubt of it, Sukey." "He'd wipe out the score of what's left of one hundred and eight," said Sukey, swallowing his last bite of biscuit at one gulp and examining the priming in his gun. Colonel Smiley was first to give orders to fire from Fernando's part of the work, and there rang out a volley all along the line. The brass pieces on their right began blazing away with the heavy iron cannon down toward the river, which with the rattling of small arms almost made the ground quake under their feet. Directly after the firing began, Captain Patterson, from Knox County, Kentucky, came running along. He leaped on the breastwork, and, stooping a moment to look through the darkness, as well as he could, shouted: "Shoot low, boys! shoot low! rake them! rake them! They're comin' on their all-fours!"