French and English: A Story of the Struggle in America

Moncton's eyes glistened. It was a daring project, but it was not without promise of success. Such things might be done, and yet there was serious risk.

"It will weaken us in one way," pursued Wolfe, speaking in his quiet, meditative fashion. "As it is, we are divided into three camps-one here, one at Montmorency, and one on the Isle of Orleans. If we carry out this plan, we shall be divided into four; and should any pressing danger menace any one of those four camps, it might be some while before assistance could be sent. And yet I am more than half disposed to try. Montcalm does not appear to have any intention of attacking us. And if we weaken ourselves, we shall also weaken him by this movement. At present he is concentrating his whole strength in and below the city. If we get a footing on the upper river, he will have to send a contingent there to watch us. Whether we have any reasonable hope of getting at the city in that way, I cannot yet tell; I know too little of the character of the ground. But at least we shall have won a strategic victory in getting our ships past the guns of Quebec; and we shall cause consternation and alarm there, even if nothing else."

"I will cover the movement with all the power of my guns," cried Moncton eagerly; "and if the thing can be done, our sailors will do it; they are in no whit afraid of the enemy's guns. And look-if the ships get through, why not let our red-coats and blue-jackets drag a fleet of boats across the base of this Point Levi, along the low ground yonder, and launch them in the river above, where they can join the ships and bring them reinforcements of men? Then we shall have means of transporting men and provisions to these vessels, and the sight of them upon their upper river will further dishearten the citizens of Quebec, who have been very well punished already by our guns."

"Yes," answered Wolfe. "I would sooner have shattered the citadel than the houses and convents; but we must e'en do what we can in this game of war. But your idea is excellent, Moncton. If the ships succeed in making the passage, the boats shall certainly be brought across, as you suggest. It will be a strategic triumph for us, even though we do not reap immediate fruit from it. And if once Amherst can march to join us, it will be everything to have shipping in the upper river."

"And you are hopeful that he will?"

"If he can make good his position upon the lakes and in the west. I have information that things are going well for us there; but so far no definite news of the capture of Ticonderoga has reached us. It is rumoured that Niagara is attacked, and is likely to pass into our hands. There is no doubt that the French all along the western boundary are in extremity. If Quebec goes, all will go; they will have no heart to hold out. But, on the other hand, if we are beaten here, and are forced to retreat unsuccessfully, it will have a great moral effect throughout Canada."

"Canada is becoming very half-hearted towards its French masters," said Moncton. "We hear a good deal from prisoners brought to the camp by our scouts. We had one brought in the other day-a cunning old rascal, but by no means reticent when we had plied him with port wine. He said that they were sick to death of the struggle, and only wished it over one way or the other. They would be glad enough to stand neutral, and serve either French or English according as the victory went; but their priests threaten them with spiritual terrors if they do not fight for the cause of Holy Church, as they term it, whilst the military authorities threaten them with the Indians, and we, on the other side, with the destruction of their farms and houses if they interfere in any way with us. Their case is certainly a hard one."

"It is," answered Wolfe; "but, all the same, I am not going to permit any infringement of the orders I have laid down. If the people will stand neutral or help us, they shall have protection and all reasonable help if the Indians attack them; but if they prefer to obey their French masters or their priestly tyrants, and harry and worry us, I keep my word, and I send out harrying parties to drive off their cattle and bring themselves prisoners to our camps. No violence shall be done them; no church shall be violated; not a finger shall be laid upon any woman or child. If outrages are committed by my soldiers, the men shall instantly be hanged or shot. But I will have no infringement of my commands. What I say I mean. I have posted up my intentions. The people know what they have to expect. The free choice is theirs. If they will not take the offered protection, they must abide by the consequences."

Inflexible firmness was written upon the thin face of the young General. Cruelty was abhorrent to him whatever form it took; but he could be stern and rigorous in the prosecution of any plan which had been adopted after careful consideration. He knew that the greatest blessing to the Canadians would be the termination of this long and wearing war. From his heart he believed that transference from French to English rule would be the happiest possible change of fortune for them. Therefore he did not shrink from any measures which should tend to bring about this consummation; and whilst giving them every opportunity to save themselves and their property by aiding or at least not interfering with or opposing his measures, he made it abundantly plain that, if they persisted in inimical courses, they would be treated as enemies.

The idea of effecting a passage of the city and forming a camp, or at least a flotilla, above the town was a matter which afforded much discussion and excitement throughout the English ranks. The daring of it appealed to all hearts, and the sailors when they heard it were keen for the enterprise, confident of success were only a dark night to be chosen for the attempt. Old Killick, with his hands in his pockets, rolled up and down his deck, chewing a quid of tobacco, and giving his opinions on the subject.

"Pass Quebec! bless you, my dears, I'll undertake to pass the town guns any hour of the day or night you like to send me. What a rout they did make, to be sure, about their old river! They make just such a rout about their precious guns! What English ship ever feared to pass a French battery yet? Give me a capful of wind, and I'll undertake to get my boat past whilst the Frenchies are trying to get their guns pointed low enough to sink me! The soldiers have been having their turn for a bit; it's time we had one now. We've had nothing to amuse us since those pretty fireworks the Frenchies were kind enough to get up for us the other week! Oh that they should think to scare us with such toys as that! Oh my, what fools some men can be!"

With Wolfe resolution was speedily followed by action. No sooner had he made up his mind what he meant to do than preparations were instantly set on foot. He came down in person to inspect the fleet, and discuss with the Admirals what ships should be chosen for the service. Finally, the Sutherland was selected as the ship to run the gauntlet, on account of her sailing capacities and the excellence of her sailing master and crew. A frigate was to accompany her, and several smaller vessels, one of which, to his great satisfaction, was Killick's; and he was permitted to lead the way, as his shrewdness and skill in nautical matters were well known throughout the fleet.

Colonel Carleton, a promising and experienced officer, was in charge of the troops. But Wolfe himself could not be far away. He was to watch everything from Point Levi, and in the event of success to superintend the passage overland of the flotilla of boats; and in one of these he purposed himself to join the expedition in the upper river, and make a careful survey of the defences there.

Dearly would he have liked to make one of the daring party who were to run the gauntlet of the French batteries, but he knew his responsibilities as General of the forces too well to expose himself rashly where he could not take the lead. He must trust to the sailors for this thing; his turn would come later.

All was in readiness. The selected vessels were lying at anchor, ready to loose from their moorings when the sun had sunk. Wolfe in his light boat, managed by Humphrey and Fritz, had made a tour of inspection, and was now speeding across the water towards Point Levi, up the heights of which several additional powerful guns had been carried earlier in the day to assist in the cannonade planned for the night.

Little was spoken by the General or his subordinates. Wolfe had been suffering much during the past days from acute rheumatism, and from the inward malady which gave him little rest night or day. His face looked very thin and drawn, but the fire in his eyes was unquenchable, and it was plain that his mind was not with himself, but with the enterprise, carefully thought out and courageously planned, which was to be attempted that night.

"Take me as near to the town batteries as is safe," he said; and the boat's head was directed towards the northern shore.

"I believe it will be done," he said, after a keen inspection of the batteries through his glass. "The guns are almost all pointed towards Point Levi. If the ships make good way with wind and tide, as they should, they will glide so fast along that, even if sighted, they will almost have passed before the guns can be depressed sufficiently to be dangerous."

Then they made for Point Levi, and Wolfe stepped ashore, to be received by Moncton, who escorted him to the batteries to see their preparations. The three friends, released from attendance upon him, took up a position from which they could command a view of what passed, in so far as the darkness of night should permit them any view. A pall of cloud hung in the sky, and the shades of evening fell early. Yet it seemed long to the anxious watchers before the darkness blotted out the view of the distant city, and of the panorama of dancing water beneath.

Generally the guns from Point Levi boomed all day, but were silent at night, leaving the camp to repose. But though they had ceased to fire at sundown, darkness had no sooner fallen than the iron mouths opened in a prolonged and terrific roar, a blaze of yellow light glowed along the batteries, and the watchers from the strand heard the huge shells screaming overhead as they hurtled through the air, carrying with them their terrible messages of death and destruction.

The noise was terrific; the sight was terrible in its fierce grandeur. The three companions had seen many strange and fearful things during the past years, but perhaps they had never before been quite so near to a battery spouting out its leaden rain in great broad flashes of lambent flame.

Julian and Fritz could not turn their eyes from the magnificent sight; but Humphrey, after one glance, turned his upon the dark waterway, and it was his voice that spoke at last in accents of keen emotion.

"Here come the ships."

The others could not see for a while-their eyes were dazzled; and in the roar and rattle of artillery overhead nothing could be heard of the silent advance of those darkened hulls as they slipped like ghosts through the water. They were as close to the south bank as it was safe to keep, and followed Killick's sloop with as much precision as possible. The strong tide beneath them, and the light, favouring wind, bore them past at a rate that the spectators had scarcely expected. They could just descry the dark, looming objects gliding swiftly and silently along. But would the gunners in Quebec see them? The onlookers held their breath as the phantom ships sailed upon their way. They were passing the blazing batteries now, and the cannonade was more furious than ever. The guns of Quebec were blazing back. But was the fire directed only at the opposite heights? or had the flitting sails been seen, and would the iron rain pour upon the gallant vessels making the daring passage?

Fritz felt such an oppression upon his heart that he could scarce draw his breath; but moments came and moments went, and the ships glided unharmed upon their way. They had all passed the batteries now. They were in the very narrowest part of the channel, just where the town batteries commanded the passage. Humphrey could stand it no longer.

"To the boat," he cried, "to the boat! yonder she lies! Let us follow and make sure, and bring the General word!"

In a moment the three had rushed down, and were running their boat into the water. Next minute the sail was up, and the light little craft was cutting through the black river at a gallant pace. Now she had caught up the last of the silent string of daring cruisers; now she was gliding by the large warship. All was safe, all was silent on the water; only overhead the hurtling bombs and balls roared and boomed. The gunners of Quebec had not sighted the stealthy ships. The town knew nothing of what was being done under cover of that furious cannonade. And now the batteries had been safely passed; the lights of the town upon the right were beginning to fade in the distance.

A sudden rift in the clouds let through a glancing beam of moonlight, which fell full upon the figure of old Killick as he stood upon the forecastle of his vessel, preparing to let down the anchor as arranged when a safe place had been found. The old sea-dog had convoyed the party as cleverly as he had navigated the dangerous channel of the Traverse. He pulled out his battered sou'wester and waved it in the direction of Quebec.

"Bless you, my dears! how well you do sleep! You ought to be sound and hearty, I'm sure. Good luck to you, every man of you at the guns! Bless my soul! if I were the Markiss of Montcalm, when I awoke in the morning to see the English ships in the basin above the town, I'd hang every mother's son of them each to his own gun! But poor fellows, it would be hard to blame them. They can't help being born Frenchmen and fools after all!"

A laugh and a cheer from those who heard greeted old Killick's sally; and Humphrey, quickly turning round the prow of the boat, sent her speeding back to Point Levi, to bring certain tidings of the success to Wolfe.

Chapter 2: Days Of Waiting

"I am sorry that you should have to be disturbed, dear ladies, but it is no longer safe for you to remain where you were. My soldiers require the ground. But tomorrow you shall be sent in safety to Quebec, under a flag of truce. You will be safer there than at Pointe-aux-Trembles, now that my ships are in the upper river."

Wolfe spoke thus at the conclusion of a supper party, which he had hastily got up for the benefit of the prisoners brought to Point Levi by his fleet of boats. The soldiers had landed along the upper river, and in spite of a faint resistance from Indians and Canadians, had effected a landing. Though they had not found much in the way of stores or cattle, they had taken what they could, and had brought a number of prisoners to Wolfe's camp. These were mostly French-a great number being women and children and old men who had left Quebec during the bombardment, and sought refuge in the outlying village.

The idea of being sent back to town was not exactly palatable, but it was plain that there was now no safety along the upper river; the English troops seemed to be everywhere at once.

"You are such dreadful people, you English!" sighed one lady, looking, not without admiration, towards the youthful General, who was entertaining them at his own table, and who had given the strictest orders that the humbler of the prisoners should be equally well treated elsewhere: "you seem to fly from point to point, to divide your army as you will, and conquer wherever you appear. It is wonderful, but it is terrible, too! And yet with all this, how are you to get into Quebec? For it seems to me you are no nearer that than you were a month ago."

Wolfe smiled his slight, peculiar smile.

"Madame," he answered, "we have a proverb in En gland which says that 'where there's a will there's a way.' I have been sent out by the government of my country to take Quebec, and here I stay till I have carried out that order. How and when it will be accomplished I do not yet know; what I say is that I am here to do it, and that I mean to do it. When you return to the city, present my respects to the Marquis of Montcalm, and tell him what I say."

The ladies looked at one another, and lifted eyes and hands. In the aspect of the young General, despite his physical feebleness, there was an air of such calm, confident power that they were deeply impressed; and one of them, looking earnestly at him, cried:

"You make us admire you as much as we fear you, Monsieur Wolfe. But if you are to have Quebec, pray take it quickly; for this long, cruel war wears us out."

"Madame," he answered, "I would that I could; but Monsieur de Montcalm gives me no chance of fighting. If he were not so cautious, I should greatly rejoice. I give him all sorts of chances to attack me, but he will not avail himself of them. If caution could save Quebec, assuredly it would never fall!"

"If he take not care, his caution will be his undoing," said a Canadian dame of sprightly turn. "As for us of the country, we are weary to death of uncertainty. They tell me that the Canadian militia will not long remain loyal if kept in such inactivity. We Canadians do not understand this sort of warfare. Quick raids, sharp fighting, quick return home is what our men are used to. They can be brave enough in their native forests; but this sitting down in camps for weeks and months together, whilst their harvests are lying uncut in the fields, or left a prey to Indian marauders-no, that they do not understand or appreciate. They are almost ready to welcome English rule sooner than go on like this. I doubt not you have heard as much from your prisoners before."

"Something like it," answered Wolfe, with a slight curl of the lip. "I confess I have no great opinion of the militia of Monsieur de Montcalm. His regular troops are fine soldiers; but for the rest, they would give us little trouble, I take it. Perhaps the Marquis knows that, and therefore will not fight."

"In the woods one Canadian soldier is worth three regulars," remarked the lady, with a shrewd glance at Wolfe, and a smile upon her face; "but in the open one regular is worth half a dozen Canadians. We do not understand standing firm under fire. Give us a tree to run behind, and we will be as valiant as you wish, and shoot down our foes with unerring aim; but we must have cover. We have been used to it, and we do not understand being without it. I am sure I well understand the feeling. I should make a good enough Canadian militiaman, but I should never have the nerve to be a regular soldier."

Wolfe smiled and made a little bow to his guests.

"I believe, Mesdames, that ladies have a higher courage than men when the hour of peril really comes. I had the honour to become acquainted with Madame Drucour at the siege of Louisbourg. I was told, and can well believe, that it was in great part her heroic example which inspired the men there to that courage which they showed, and which gave us such hard work. Courage is by no means the prerogative of the soldier or of man. The women of the world have again and again set the loftiest examples of it to those who come after."

The ladies returned his bow, and drank to his health before they retired to their tents for the night.

"If we see you within Quebec, Monsieur Wolfe, we shall know how generous a victor we have to deal with. Madame Drucour has told us the same; but now we have seen it with our own eyes."

"Pray give my best compliments to Madame Drucour," said Wolfe earnestly, "and tell her that not the least pleasant element in the anticipation of getting into Quebec is the thought that in so doing I shall have the honour and pleasure of renewing acquaintance with her."

Wolfe was on the strand upon the following morning to see his captives safely off to Quebec, whilst a flag of truce was hoisted, and the batteries ceased to fire.

"Farewell, my dear ladies; I hope soon to meet you all again," said the young General, with playful geniality, as he handed them to their seats. "If Monsieur de Montcalm will but give me the chance of coming to conclusions with him, I will do my utmost to bring this uncomfortable state of affairs to a close."

"Ah, Monsieur, you are very complaisant! but the only way that you want to take is the capture of our poor city."

"Very true, dear ladies; that is the only end I am willing to contemplate. And yet, believe me, in desiring this I desire nothing that shall be for your final discomfiture. I know what the rule of France is in these parts, and what that of England is also. Believe me that beneath English government peace and prosperity such as she has never known before will come to Canada. I believe that the day will speedily come when you will see this for yourselves."

"I should not wonder," answered the Canadian dame, with a light laugh; "I am half disposed to think the same myself. His Majesty of France has not endeared himself to us these many years past. I should not be broken hearted to see a change of monarch."

The boats pushed off, and Wolfe stood watching them on their way across the river. His face was grave and thoughtful, and he turned presently to Fritz with a sigh.

"Poor ladies! I am sorry to send them back to the horrors of the siege; but it is the only safe place for them.

"And now we must think seriously of our next step. The time is flying, and we must not let the grass grow under our feet. It is true what they said last night: we are no nearer taking Quebec than when we sailed from England months ago. We have frightened and harassed the foe, but we are not one step nearer the goal."

"And yet we have one ship and several smaller vessels in the upper river," said Julian; "and where one ship has passed others may do so."

"Yes; I shall try to bring up other vessels. One never knows what the chances of war will be. It is well to have the command of the river both above and below; and if Amherst should form a junction with us, we may find the fleet above the town of great use. But we are now at the end of July, and Ticonderoga, though threatened, has not yet fallen, so far as we know; and even were it to do so quickly, there will be much for Amherst to do there and at Crown Point, and a long, long march before he could reach us. We must face the possibility of having to accomplish this matter with the forces now at command; and we are in the position now that our camp is split up into four, and we have no great muster of troops at any one point. If Montcalm were to make a determined dash at any one of our camps, he could destroy it before the rest of the army could be mustered for its defence. Why he does not avail himself of the chances given him I do not know. But his policy of inaction has its drawbacks too for us, since I would sooner face him in a pitched battle than be kept here inactive, waiting upon chances that never offer."

The army was certainly getting rather weary of this inaction. It was not idle, for Wolfe's manifesto to the Canadians was now being enforced. Supplies were wanted for the troops, and the inimical Canadians were forced to supply them. Indeed, great numbers of these harassed and undecided inhabitants of the disputed territory were glad enough to be made prisoners by the English and sent on board their transports for safety. Their cattle, of course, fell a prey to the invaders; but they were in so much peril of robbery from the Indians that this was a small matter. When once within Wolfe's camp their lives were safe, and no ill treatment was permitted; and to some of the wretched Canadians this had become a boon. It was small wonder they were growing sick and weary of the war, and would have welcomed either nation as conqueror, so that they could only know again the blessings of peace and safety.

Yet something more definite must be attempted; Wolfe was more and more determined upon that. It was difficult to know how best to attack an enemy so strongly intrenched and so well able to repulse attack; yet his men were burning with ardour, and his own spirit was hot within him. He sometimes felt as though his feeble body would not much longer be able to endure the strain put upon it. The cracked pitcher may go once too often to the well. To die in the service of his country was what Wolfe desired and expected for himself; but he wished that death might come to him in the din and excitement of the battle, and in the hour of victory; not by the hand of disease, whilst his aim and object was yet unaccomplished.