Wolfe had now been five weeks before Quebec; not a few lives had been
lost, a vast quantity of ammunition expended, and, above all, the season
of action was already half consumed. But, as yet, no important step, in
a military point of view, had been gained. The high grounds which he
occupied beyond Montmorency and Point Levi had scarcely been disputed by
the enemy. From day to day the hostile parapets were strengthened and
extended. He had carefully examined the north bank of the Great River
above and below the city, and could discover no one spot where either
nature or art did not forbid his landing. Whatever discontent or
distress might exist in the Canadian camp, there appeared no diminution
of numbers or slackening of zeal in the defense. Montcalm had neither
suffered himself to be provoked by insult or to be tempted by brilliant
but dangerous opportunity. He rendered assurance doubly sure by keeping
his superior force in a superior position; his raw provincial levies,
when behind breast-works, were far from inefficient, and his numerous
savage allies were terrible in their forest warfare; with the first he
manned his lines, with the latter he lost no opportunity of harassing
the invaders. On the other hand, the state of affairs in the British
camp was by no means promising: under Wolfe's circumstances, inaction
was almost equivalent to defeat.
It was true that, before leaving England, he was instructed that his
expedition was only auxiliary to that of Amherst. To the main army,
which was advancing by the inland lakes, England looked for the conquest
of the country. Wolfe had already occupied the most important points in
the neighborhood of Quebec, and might well be excused had he awaited the
arrival of the general-in-chief for an attack upon the great stronghold.
In this situation, many a brave and experienced veteran would probably
have written "a most eloquent and conclusive apology for being beaten
or for standing still."[177] But Wolfe had been happily chosen. He
deeply felt that his unusual selection should be justified by unusual
achievements, and that it was his duty to risk his reputation, as well
as his life, rather than fail the sanguine hopes of his country.
Before narrating Wolfe's determination in this crisis, and the events
consequent thereupon, it will, perhaps, be well to recall the reader's
attention to the position of the Canadian army. The north shore of the
basin of Quebec is a curve of about eight miles long. The waters shoal
as they approach this shore, and at low tide a muddy bank is exposed, in
some places nearly half a mile in breadth. The long-crested height,
mentioned in a former description, at some parts of the line overhangs
high-water mark, at others recedes into the country, and leaves some
rich alluvial fields between its base and the river's banks. Wherever
this height was not sufficiently precipitous to form a natural defense,
the face was scarped, the summit crowned with a parapet, and the foot
pallisadoed or armed with abattis. The irregular line of this formidable
front shaped itself here and there into projections and inclinations, as
if traced in flank and ravelin by the skill of the engineer. The extreme
left of the French army rested on the rocky banks of the Montmorency.
The beautiful cataract, and the foaming rapids for three miles up the
stream, forbade the passage of an enemy: there was, indeed, a ford, but
it was well defended; beyond that, the tangled bush defied the strength
of battalions. Below the falls, however, the waters spread themselves in
numerous shallow channels over the sands, and the stream is fordable
except at high tide. To strengthen this weak point, Montcalm had thrown
up a four-gun redoubt at the foot of the overhanging cliff. Although
defiladed from the British artillery, these cliffs were altogether
exposed to that of the French, and therefore untenable in case of
falling into the assailants' hands.
Toward the right of the French position the crested ridge subsides in a
gentle slope upon a valley, through the center of which winds the St.
Charles or Little River. The entrance to this stream is deep, and forms
a small harbor; here the French had run their ships of war aground, and
these powerful wooden batteries, with their heavy guns, swept the slopes
on either side, both toward the city walls and the right shoulder of the
crested height.
The almost desperate course upon which Wolfe at length determined, was
that of attacking the enemy in these intrenchments. He maturely weighed
his plans; the skill and caution of the execution could alone justify
the temerity of the resolve. The redoubt on the low ground, in front of
the French left, and near the Falls of Montmorency, offered the most
vulnerable point; detached from the main defenses, and within reach of
guns from the shipping, he doubted not that he could easily master it,
or bring on a general action for its possession. On the other hand, this
redoubt could not be held when taken, for it lay exposed to the
artillery of the French. However, there were difficulties on every side;
Wolfe chose that which he considered the least. He well knew that, even
were he to carry the crested hill over the redoubt, and to force the
enemy from their works, the River St. Charles and the inner
intrenchments still lay between him and the city; "But," said he, "a
victorious army meets with no difficulties."
Wolfe's available force was less by one third than that of the defenders
of this almost impregnable position. He had to risk the confusion of a
debarkation, the despotism of the tides, and the caprice of the winds.
The undertaking was all but desperate, and yet an overweening confidence
in their chief and in themselves was more fatal to the British troops
than the guns and parapets of the enemy.
Wolfe concerted the plan of attack with the admiral. A small frigate,
the Centurion, was to sail toward the shore, as near as the depth of
water would permit, and open fire upon the redoubt. Two armed transports
received orders to second the frigate, and, if necessary, to run aground
in a favorable position. In one of these the general himself embarked.
The boats of the fleet were directed to take on board the greater part
of Monckton's brigade at Point Levi, with the available troops from
Orleans, and to muster at an early hour in the forenoon off the
northwestern point of that island. In the mean time, the British
batteries from Point Levi, and the heights over Montmorency Falls, were
to open upon the city and the intrenchments with every gun and mortar.
Townshend's and Murray's brigades were commanded to form in close
columns eastward of the ford below the falls, and there to await the
general's orders.
At ten o'clock on the morning of the 31st of July, the 15th and 78th
Regiments, 200 men of the Royal Americans, and all the Grenadiers of
Monckton's brigade, embarked in the boats of the fleet at Point Levi:
they made for the northwest point of the island of Orleans, where they
were joined by four more companies of Grenadiers. The whole flotilla
then pushed out into mid-channel and awaited orders. At eleven o'clock
the two armed transports stood in for the Point de Lest, and grounded;
one, under Lieutenant Garnier, within musket-shot of the French redoubt.
At the same time, Admiral Saunders, in the Centurion, brought to a
little further from the shore, opposite the ford, and all three vessels
opened fire. This gave the signal to the gunners at Point Levi and on
the east bank of the Montmorency: they also began to work; the enemy
replied; and in a few minutes the whole of the vast amphitheater
resounded with the roar of artillery.
Wolfe was in the transport which had first grounded. He promptly
observed that the redoubt, if taken, was too distant from the water to
allow of effectual support by the guns and the small arms of the
shipping. He saw, moreover, that his threatening movements had caused an
unusual stir in the French lines; bodies of troops were moving to and
fro, between the several points of defense, with that degree of
irregularity which usually attends the sudden re-formations of
undisciplined men: two battalions of the enemy were observed marching
from the roar of their left in the direction of the ford, three miles up
the Montmorency River: their object was evidently to cross the stream,
and fall upon the British batteries on the left bank, while the mass of
Wolfe's army was occupied in the attack upon the intrenchments. This
movement was immediately met by a counter-demonstration: the 48th
Regiment, which had been left in the works at Point Levi, was
ostentatiously pushed up the right bank of the St. Lawrence, as if about
to cross and attempt the French position above the city. Montcalm, upon
this, gave up his flank attack, and dispatched the two battalions to
watch the 48th from the opposite side of the river.
For several hours, during these demonstrations, the firing on all sides
had slackened; the flotilla still lay motionless in the center of the
northern channel of the St. Lawrence. A great part of the day had thus
passed without any thing of importance having been attempted. The clouds
gathered heavily over the hills, and the receding tide warned Wolfe that
only brief space was left for action. He hesitated for a time;
circumstances were very adverse; but, unfortunately, the slight disorder
in the enemy's lines confirmed the bolder counsel, always most congenial
to his mind. At four o'clock he signaled for a renewal of the cannonade;
at five his barge put off from the second transport, and rowed toward
the flotilla, and at the same moment a red flag ran up to the mizen peak
of the stranded ship: it was the signal to advance.
With a loud cheer the sailors bent to the oar, and the long-motionless
flotilla sprung into life. A few strokes somewhat disordered the
regularity of the line; some boats were faster, some crews more vigorous
than others. As they approached, the French gunners tried the decreasing
range; the shot fell near, hissed over head, and at length fell in among
the boats. Some few struck with fatal effect, for the weak frames were
easily shivered, and then sunk with all on board. While still pressing
on through the fire, the leading boats grounded on a ledge of unseen
rocks at short musket-shot from the beach. The disorder then became
dangerous.
Wolfe was now in action: hesitation was at an end. He gave orders that
the flotilla should re-form in rear of the rocks, and, when the boats
were again afloat, signaled to Townshend to stop the advance of his
brigade, which was already in motion upon the ford; he then sprang into
a cutter with some navy officers, and skirted the reef in search of an
opening. He soon succeeded. It was now half past five; the storm
threatened close at hand; battalion after battalion the French were
crowding from right to left; but Wolfe was not to be daunted; he renewed
the signal of attack, and himself pointed out the way through the rocks.
A few strokes carried the flotilla to the shore; while the eager troops
sprang upon land, the French gave a parting volley, and abandoned the
redoubt and the detached battery which defended the ford.
The thirteen companies of Grenadiers and the Royal Americans were first
ashore; they had received orders to form in four columns on the beach,
there to await the support of the remainder of Monckton's brigade from
the boats, and Townshend's from beyond the ford. But these chosen men
were flushed with an overweening confidence: proud of their post of
preference, proud of their individual strength, and exasperated by long
delay, they burst like bloodhounds from the leash. Despite the orders of
their officers, they raced across the intervening fields, and, without
any order or formation, threw themselves against the crested height.
Wolfe soon saw that this rash valor had ruined the fortunes of the day:
nothing remained but to make such preparations for retreat as might
mitigate the inevitable disaster. Monckton's remaining regiments, the
15th and 78th, were now landed, and formed in admirable order upon the
beach, while Townshend and Murray crossed the ford of the Montmorency
and advanced to join them. Instead of risking this unbroken array in
supporting the unfortunate attack of the advance, Wolfe kept his men in
hand, and strove to recall the disordered assailants. Meanwhile the
storm burst, and when the Grenadiers reached the steep slope, they found
it impossible to keep their footing on the muddy side; their ammunition
was soon rendered useless by the teeming rain; but, still trusting to
the bayonet, they tried to make good their ground upon the hill. The
position was far stronger than they had anticipated; they were out of
breath, and exhausted by their hurried advance; by the time they had
clambered within reach of the enemy's parapets they were already beaten.
One close and steady volley of the French sufficed to roll them back
from off the crested hill.
In tumultuous disorder, the Grenadiers fell back upon the abandoned
redoubt, and sought shelter under its parapets from the stinging fire of
the French. The works had, however, been so constructed that little or
no protection was afforded against the neighboring heights. Officers and
men were rapidly struck down in vain endeavors to re-form the broken
ranks, but still, with sullen tenacity, they held the unprofitable
position. At length, in obedience to peremptory orders, they retired,
and took post in the rear of Monckton's line.
The slope of the fatal hill now presented a melancholy scene to the
British army. More than 200 of the Grenadiers had fallen; the track of
the rash advance and disastrous retreat was marked by the dying and the
dead. Some red coats lay almost under the enemy's parapets, where a few
of these impetuous men had won their way; others were seen dragging
their maimed limbs to seek shelter behind rocks or trees from the
vindictive fire which the French still poured upon their fallen foes.
Among the wounded lay Captain Ochterlony and Ensign Peyton, of the
second battalion of the Royal Americans: they had refused the proffered
aid of their retreating soldiers, and, being bound by ties of the
closest friendship, determined to meet together the desperate chances of
the field. They sat down side by side, bade each other farewell, and
awaited their fate. In a few minutes a Frenchman and two Indians
approached, plundered the wounded officers, and were about to murder
Ochterlony, when Peyton shot one of the savages with a double-barreled
gun which he still held; the other then rushed upon him, and, although
receiving the contents of the second barrel, closed in mortal struggle.
The Englishman succeeded, after a moment, in drawing a dagger, and with
repeated stabs, brought the Indian to the ground. In the mean time, the
French soldier had carried Ochterlony as a prisoner to his lines.[178]
Peyton now started up, and, although his leg was broken, ran for forty
yards toward the river; there he sank exhausted. Presently a crowd of
Indians, reeking from their work of butchery, approached him from the
extreme left. Peyton reloaded his musket, leaned upon his unwounded
limb, and faced the savages; the two foremost hesitated before this
resolute attitude, when, to the deep disgrace of the French, they opened
a fire of musketry and even cannon from their breast-works upon the
maimed and solitary officer. However, at this desperate moment relief
was nigh; the Indians, who before had hesitated, now turned and fled
like scared vultures from their prey. A detachment of the gallant 78th
Highlanders, undismayed by the still murderous fire, chased the
marauders from the field, and bore the wounded Englishman in safety to
the shore. This extraordinary scene occurred in full view of both
armies.
The evening was now far advanced; the tide was beginning to flow; the
ammunition of the whole army was damaged by the heavy rains; the waters
looked angry beneath a threatening gale; the enemy's strength was
concentrated; they had suffered little or no loss, while the British
were weakened by 33 officers and 410 men. Wolfe had learned by painful
experience the prodigious advantage of the French position, which,
although nearly invulnerable to attack, yet afforded admirable
facilities for retreat. He was baffled; all that now remained was to
conduct the re-embarkation with safety and regularity. Such of the
wounded as could be yet saved were carried from the field; the stranded
transports were abandoned and burned, and the flotilla rowed away from
the fatal shore. Townshend and Murray, whose untouched brigades had
covered the embarkation, then recrossed the ford without interruption,
and resumed their position on the heights east of the Montmorency.
Wolfe knew that the enterprise of the 31st of July was of such a nature
that nothing but success could justify its temerity. By failure his
military error had been thrown into strong light, and yet it was
probable that he would have succeeded but for a strange adversity of
circumstances. The officers of the fleet had remained in unaccountable
ignorance of the reef of rocks which delayed and disordered the attack.
The storm of rain not only injured the ammunition of his men, but
rendered the steep ascent of the enemy's position so slippery that they
could not find firm footing, and the ill-timed audacity of the
Grenadiers had confounded all his calculations. The leading fault of his
plan was undoubtedly the attempt of a combined attack by land and water.
Had Monckton's brigade been landed beyond the falls, and the whole army
crossed the ford together, the fatal embarrassments of the
disembarkation would have been avoided. Wolfe suffered intense mental
distress from this mishap; his mind preyed upon his feeble frame; his
chronic ailment attacked him with unusual violence; fever supervened,
and for some weeks he lay absolutely helpless, to the grief of the whole
army. In the mean time, however, he issued the following merited rebuke
to the corps whose indiscretion had led to results so disastrous:
"The check which the Grenadiers met with will, it is hoped, be a lesson
to them for the time to come. Such impetuous, irregular, and
unsoldierlike proceedings destroy all order, and put it out of the
general's power to execute his plan. The Grenadiers could not suppose
that they alone could beat the French army; therefore it was necessary
the corps under Brigadiers Townshend and Monckton should have time to
join them, that the attack might be general. The very first fire of the
enemy was sufficient to have repulsed men who had lost all sense of
order and military discipline. Amherst's (the 15th) and the Highland
(the 78th) regiment, by the soldier-like and cool manner in which they
formed, would undoubtedly have beaten back the whole Canadian army, if
they had ventured to attack them. The loss, however, is very
inconsiderable, and may be easily repaired when a favorable opportunity
offers, if the men will show a proper attention to their officers."
Immediately after the repulse at Montmorency, Wolfe had dispatched 1200
men, under Brigadier Murray, to assist Admiral Holmes in the Upper
River, and with orders to attempt the destruction of the French shipping
which had passed up the stream. The brigadier was directed, at the same
time, to take every favorable opportunity of engaging the enemy, and to
endeavor, by all means in his power, to provoke them to attack him. In
obedience to these orders, Murray proceeded up the left bank of the
river with his detachment, consisting of the 15th Regiment, three
companies of the Royal Americans, two of Marines, and one of Light
Infantry. At a convenient place above the Chaudiere River, he embarked
under Admiral Holmes, and the squadron then made sail up the stream. The
French ships easily avoided the danger by sending all their guns and
stores ashore, and, when thus lightened, taking refuge in the shallows
toward Montreal; one brigantine of 200 tons was, however, abandoned and
burned in their retreat.
Murray found every place fortified where a landing might be effected,
and the enemy always on the alert. After two vain attempts to disembark,
he at length only succeeded by a surprise: he then pushed to the village
of Dechambault, which was close at hand, carried it with scarcely any
resistance, and burned some stores of provisions, clothing, and
ammunition. Several prisoners of some note were taken in the onslaught,
and a few important letters fell into the hands of the English. Through
these letters Murray first heard of the occupation of Crown Point by
Amherst, and of Johnson's victory at Niagara. Finding that he could
effect nothing further, he hastened to convey this cheering news to his
general.
Meanwhile fruitless damage was inflicted by each party upon the other:
the Indians frequently surprised and scalped English stragglers, and the
English batteries at Montmorency and Point Levi kept up a continued fire
upon the lines and upon the city. On the morning of the 10th of August,
at one o'clock, a shell pitched upon the vaulted roof of a cellar in the
lower town, broke through, and burst; a large quantity of brandy which
was there stored instantly ignited, the flames spread rapidly, and
nearly the whole of the quarter, including the Church of Notre Dame de
la Victoire, was burned to the ground. A fire broke out simultaneously
in the Upper Town, but was extinguished without having spread to any
great extent.
The intelligence of Amherst and Johnson's progress, although
satisfactory in itself, gave Wolfe no hope of their assistance before
the close of the campaign: defeat could hardly have been more disastrous
to the general interests of the war than their inactivity. Almost the
whole force of Canada still mustered behind the formidable defenses of
Quebec. Nothing, however, could shake the resolution of the British
general; while life remained, he determined to persevere in the
enterprise. Far from being disheartened, he was only stimulated by
increasing difficulties. The fate of the campaign now hung upon him
alone: the disaster at Montmorency had endangered his reputation; it
only remained to clear away the cloud by success, or to silence censure
by a soldier's death.
While Wolfe lay stricken with fever and unable to bear the presence of
his officers, he meditated unceasingly upon plans of attack. At length,
when somewhat recovered, but still incapable of leaving his bed, he
dictated the following letter to the brigadiers under his command:
"That the public service may not suffer by the general's indisposition,
he begs the brigadiers will meet and consult together for the public
utility and advantage, and consider of the best method to attack the
enemy.
"If the French army be attacked and defeated, the general concludes that
the town would immediately surrender, because he does not find that they
have any provision in that place.
"The general is of opinion that the army should be attacked in
preference to the place, because of the difficulties of penetrating from
the Lower to the Upper Town; in which attempt neither the guns of the
shipping nor of our own batteries could be of much use."
The letter then proceeds to suggest three different modes of
attack--all, however, upon the enemy's lines between the city and
Montmorency.
The brigadiers assembled in consequence of this communication, and,
after having maturely deliberated, agreed in recommending the remarkable
plan which Wolfe unreservedly adopted. The merit of this daring and
skillful proposition belongs to Colonel George Townshend, although long
disputed, or withheld by jealousy or political hostility. This able
officer had left every happiness that domestic life could bestow, and
every gratification which fortune and position could procure, to face
the hardships and seek the honors of his country's service. When the
ministry's determination to prepare the expedition against Quebec became
known, he successfully exerted his powerful interest to obtain
employment, and was appointed to the third post of seniority in Wolfe's
army.
The general plan of operations being arranged, preparations were
commenced to carry it into execution. The prospect of action revived the
drooping spirits of the British troops, and tended considerably to
improve their health; fever had been rife among them: a number of men
and officers had already died, and the temporary hospitals were still
crowded. Supplies had become so scant that horseflesh was frequently
served out as rations. The duties were rendered peculiarly harassing by
the subtle and dangerous hostility of the savages: although invariably
defeated, they seldom failed in the first instance to surprise and
massacre some hapless stragglers; and no outpost was ever safe from
their attacks. The Canadians were scarcely less dangerous and
vindictive; their knowledge of the country, and activity in forest
warfare, gave them a great advantage over the British soldiers in
irregular encounters; but, whenever they ventured to act in bodies, they
were sure to meet with severe chastisement. The invaders, however, were
not backward in revenging these injuries; for miles round their camp,
and on the banks of the river, they devastated the country without
mercy.
Stimulated by the sight of the ruin wrought in neighboring parishes, the
unfortunate priest of Chateau Richer armed some eighty of his flock, and
fortified himself in a large stone house, about ten miles eastward of
the British camp, at Montmorency; from thence he sent a message, defying
to the combat an English detachment posted in his neighborhood. At the
same time, however, conveying in a note a polite request for the favor
of the commanding officer's company at dinner, with an assurance of a
safe-conduct. The strange but simple courtesy was of course rejected. In
a short time a detachment of light troops, with a field-piece, was sent
against the fortified house; the English took post in an adjoining road,
and by a stratagem contrived to draw the little garrison from their
defenses, and surrounded thirty of them, who were slain and scalped,
including the unhappy priest himself. The excuse pleaded for this
atrocious barbarity was, that the victims were disguised as Indians.
On the 29th of August the British troops began to evacuate their
positions east of the Montmorency, in pursuance of the new plan of
operations. The sick, the women, and the heavy baggage were first
embarked in the boats of the fleet, and conveyed past the enemy's
batteries, at a respectful distance, to the camp at Point Levi: some of
the heavy guns followed on the 31st. On the 2d of the following month
Wolfe sent home an admirable dispatch, with an account of his operations
and failures. By the 3d of September he was prepared to move the whole
of his force from the north shore. Montcalm had anticipated this step
from the stir in the British lines, and from the activity of the British
light troops in burning houses and laying waste the country. He
therefore marched two strong columns into the woods to make for the ford
of the Montmorency, and, passing by it, to attack Wolfe while in the act
of embarkation. From the distant hills of Point Levi, Brigadier Monckton
observed the enemy's movements: he immediately ordered his brigade
under arms, hurried two regiments on board of boats supplied by the
admiral, supported by some sloops and frigates, rowed toward the
Beauport shore, and formed within a safe distance, as if preparing to
land. This demonstration was successful; the French columns were
recalled from the ford, and the British embarked unmolested.
During the 7th, 8th, and 9th, Admiral Holmes maneuvered his fleet in the
upper river, harassing the enemy by constant menaces of their different
posts. At the same time, Wolfe, now somewhat recovered, was, with his
brigadiers, busily occupied in reconnoitering the northern bank of the
St. Lawrence. At length he discovered a narrow path winding up the side
of the steep precipice from the water's edge: at this spot, about three
miles above the city, the lofty banks were slightly carved inward. At
that time the place was known by the name of Le Foullon; it now bears a
name that may never be forgotten--Wolf's Cove. At the top of the path
the enemy had a small post; however, by the number of tents, which did
not exceed a dozen, the British general concluded that its strength
could not be more than 100 men. For miles on either side there was no
other possible access to the heights than by that narrow path; but that
narrow path sufficed to lead Wolfe to victory and to death.
As before stated, Quebec stands on the slope of the eastern extremity of
that lofty range which here forms the left bank of the St. Lawrence; a
table-land extends westward for about nine miles from the defenses of
the city, occasionally wooded and undulating, but from the top of the
narrow path to the ramparts open and tolerably level: this portion of
the heights is called the PLAINS OF ABRAHAM. Wolfe's plan was to ascend
this path secretly with his whole army, and make the plains his battle
ground. The extraordinary audacity of the enterprise was its safety: the
wise and cautious Montcalm had guarded against all the probable chances
of war: he was not prepared against an attempt for which the pages of
romance can scarcely furnish a parallel.
It was on the 9th of September that Wolfe addressed to the Secretary of
State a letter which bears a deep and melancholy interest. His own view
of the prospects of the expedition was most gloomy, and he seemed
anxious to prepare the public mind in England for his failure.[179] The
letter conveys the impression that he only continued his operations to
divert the attention of the enemy from other points: it concludes in the
following desponding words: "I am so far recovered as to do business,
but my constitution is entirely ruined, without the consolation of
having done any considerable service to the state, or without any
prospect of it." But while he wrote almost in despair, he acted as if he
had never doubted of success.
On the 11th of September, Wolfe issued general orders to the army, from
which the following are extracts:
"The troops on shore, except the Light Infantry and Americans, are to be
upon the beach to-morrow morning at five o'clock, in readiness to
embark; the Light Infantry and Americans will re-embark at, or about,
eight o'clock. The detachment of Artillery to be put on board the armed
sloop this day. _The army to hold themselves in readiness to land and
attack the enemy._
"The troops must go into the boats (from the ships) about nine to-morrow
night, or when it is pretty near high water; ... and as there will be a
necessity for remaining some part of the night in the boats, the
officers will provide accordingly.
"When they (the boats) are to drop away from the Sutherland, she will
show two lights in the main-top-mast shrouds, one over the other. The
men to be quite silent, and, when they are about to land, must not, upon
any account, fire out of the boats."
Great preparations were made throughout the fleet and army for the
decisive movement, but the plans were still kept secret; a wise caution
was observed in this respect, for the treachery of a single deserter
might have imperiled the success of the expedition had its exact object
been known. On the morning of the 12th, a soldier of the Royal Americans
did desert: happily, he was unable to warn the enemy of their danger.
Almost at the same time, one of the French regulars deserted to Wolfe,
and brought a clear account of the state of affairs in Montcalm's camp.
"The main force is still below the town," said he; "our general will not
believe that you meditate an attack any where but on the Montmorency
side. The Canadians are dissatisfied, alarmed by the fall of Niagara,
and in great distress for provisions. M. de Levi, with a large
detachment, has left us for Montreal, to meet Amherst; and M. de
Bougainville, with 1500 men, watches the motions of your fleet in the
Upper River."
From on board the Sutherland man-of-war, Wolfe issued his last orders to
the army on the evening of the 12th of September:
"The enemy's force is now divided, great scarcity of provisions is now
in their camp, and universal discontent among the Canadians, which gives
us reason to think that General Amherst is advancing into the colony: _a
vigorous blow struck by the army at this juncture may determine the fate
of Canada_ ... the troops will land where the French seem least to
expect it. The first body that gets on shore is to march directly to the
enemy ... the battalions must form on the upper ground with expedition,
and be ready to charge whatever presents itself.... The officers and men
will remember what is expected from them, and what a determined body of
soldiers, inured to war, is capable of doing, against five weak French
battalions, mingled with a disorderly peasantry."
The heavier ships of the line moved this evening toward the Beauport
shore, anchoring as near the enemy's lines as the depth of the water
would permit. While daylight yet remained, all the boats of that portion
of the fleet were lowered, filled with marines and seamen, and ranged in
order, threatening a descent upon the shore. At the same time, the
remaining ships suddenly hoisted sail; and, with a favoring breeze,
swept proudly past the batteries of Quebec, and joined Holmes's squadron
at Cape Rouge, eight miles above the city. Monckton and Murray, who,
with their brigades, still occupied Point Levi and the village of St.
Michael's, now pushed rapidly up the left bank of the St. Lawrence till
they arrived opposite the fleet, and there embarked without being
observed by the enemy. At nine o'clock at night the first division of
the army, 1600 strong, silently removed into flat-bottomed boats; the
soldiers were in high spirits; Wolfe led in person. About an hour before
daylight the flotilla fell down with the ebb tide. "Weather favorable; a
star-light night."
[Footnote 177: Lord Mahon's _History of England from the Peace of
Utrecht_, vol. v., p. 228.]
[Footnote 178: "Captain Ochterlony, who is wounded and a prisoner, had
the good fortune to be protected from the savages by a French Grenadier,
to whom it is confidently reported that General Wolfe sent twenty
guineas as a reward for his humanity. M. Montcalm returned the money,
saying the man had not particularly merited such a gratuity, having done
no more than his duty, and what he hoped every Frenchman in his army
would do under the like circumstances.... A flag of truce came down
to-day (August 24th) with an account of the death of the gallant Captain
Ochterlony, who was wounded and taken prisoner, July 31st; his baggage,
that had been forwarded to him at his request, was faithfully
returned."--Knox's _Historical Journal_, vol. ii., p. 31.]
[Footnote 179: "In short, you must not be surprised that we have failed
at Quebec, as we certainly shall. You may say, if you please, in the
style of modern politics, that your court[180] never supposed it could
be taken; the attempt was really made to draw off the Russians from the
King of Prussia, and leave him at liberty to attack Daun. Two days ago
came letters from Wolfe, despairing, as much as heroes can despair. The
town is well victualed; Amherst is not arrived, and 15,000 men encamped
defend it. We have lost many men by the enemy, and some by our
friends--that is, we now call our 9000 only 7000. How this little army
will get away from a much larger, and in this season, and in that
country, I don't guess--Yes I do."--- Walpole's _Letters to Sir H.
Mann_, Oct. 16, 1759.]
[Footnote 180: Sir Horace Mann was then British envoy to the court of
Tuscany.]