At Louisburg we found that Admiral Saunders and General Wolfe
were gone to Quebec. They had passed us as we came down, for we had
sailed inside some islands of the coast, getting shelter and better
passage, and the fleet had, no doubt, passed outside. This was a
blow to me, for I had hoped to be in time to join General Wolfe and
proceed with him to Quebec, where my knowledge of the place should
be of service to him. It was, however, no time for lament, and I
set about to find my way back again. Our prisoners I handed over
to the authorities. The two Provincials decided to remain and take
service under General Amherst; Mr. Stevens would join his own
Rangers at once, but Clark would go back with me to have his hour
with his hated foes.
I paid Mr. Stevens and the two Provincials for their shares in
the schooner, and Clark and I manned her afresh, and prepared
to return instantly to Quebec. From General Amherst I received
correspondence to carry to General Wolfe and Admiral Saunders.
Before I started back, I sent letters to Governor Dinwiddie and to
Mr. (now Colonel) George Washington, but I had no sooner done so
than I received others from them through General Amherst. They had
been sent to him to convey to General Wolfe at Quebec, who was, in
turn, to hand them to me, when, as was hoped, I should be released
from captivity, if not already beyond the power of men to free me.
The letters from these friends almost atoned for my past sufferings,
and I was ashamed that ever I had thought my countrymen forgot me in
my worst misery; for this was the first matter I saw when I opened
the Governor's letter:
By the House of Burgesses.
Resolved, That the sum of three hundred pounds be paid to Captain
Robert Moray, in consideration of his services to the country,
and his singular sufferings in his confinement, as a hostage, in
Quebec.
This, I learned, was one of three such resolutions.
But there were other matters in his letter which much amazed me.
An attempt, he said, had been made one dark night upon his
strong-room, which would have succeeded but for the great bravery
and loyalty of an old retainer. Two men were engaged in the
attempt, one of whom was a Frenchman. Both men were masked,
and, when set upon, fought with consummate bravery, and escaped.
It was found the next day that the safe of my partner had also
been rifled and all my papers stolen. There was no doubt in my mind
what this meant. Doltaire, with some renegade Virginian who knew
Williamsburg and myself, had made essay to get my papers. But they
had failed in their designs, for all my valuable documents--and
those desired by Doltaire among them--remained safe in the
Governor's strong-room.
I got away again for Quebec five days after reaching Louisburg.
We came along with good winds, having no check, though twice we
sighted French sloops, which, however, seemed most concerned to
leave us to ourselves. At last, with colours flying, we sighted
Kamaraska Isles, which I saluted, remembering the Chevalier de la
Darante; then Isle aux Coudres, below which we poor fugitives came
so near disaster. Here we all felt new fervour, for the British
flag flew from a staff on a lofty point, tents were pitched thereon
in a pretty cluster, and, rounding a point, we came plump upon
Admiral Durell's little fleet, which was here to bar advance of
French ships and to waylay stragglers.
On a blithe summer day we sighted, far off, the Island of
Orleans and the tall masts of two patrol ships of war, which in
due time we passed, saluting, and ran abreast of the island in the
North Channel. Coming up this passage, I could see on an eminence,
far distant, the tower of the Chateau Alixe.
Presently there opened on our sight the great bluff at the Falls
of Montmorenci, and, crowning it, tents and batteries, the camp of
General Wolfe himself, with the good ship Centurion standing off
like a sentinel at a point where the Basin, the River Montmorenci,
and the North Channel seem to meet. To our left, across the shoals,
was Major Hardy's post, on the extreme eastern point of the Isle
Orleans; and again beyond that, in a straight line, Point Levis on
the south shore, where Brigadier-General Monckton's camp was
pitched; and farther on his batteries, from which shell and shot
were poured into the town. How all had changed in the two months
since I left there! Around the Seigneur Duvarney's manor, in the
sweet village of Beauport, was encamped the French army, and
redoubts and batteries were ranged where Alixe and I and her brother
Juste had many a time walked in a sylvan quiet. Here, as it were,
round the bent and broken sides of a bowl, war raged, and the centre
was like some caldron out of which imps of ships sprang and sailed
to hand up fires of hell to the battalions on the ledges. Here swung
Admiral Saunders's and Admiral Holmes's divisions, out of reach of
the French batteries, yet able to menace and destroy, and to feed
the British camps with men and munitions. There was no French ship
in sight--only two old hulks with guns in the mouth of the St.
Charles River, to protect the road to the palace gate--that is,
at the Intendance.
It was all there before me, the investment of Quebec, for which
I had prayed and waited seven long years.
All at once, on a lull in the fighting which had lasted
twenty-four hours, the heavy batteries from the Levis shore opened
upon the town, emptying therein the fatal fuel. Mixed feelings
possessed me. I had at first listened to Clark's delighted
imprecations and devilish praises with a feeling of brag almost
akin to his own--that was the soldier and the Briton in me. But all
at once the man, the lover, and the husband spoke: my wife was in
that beleaguered town under that monstrous shower! She had said
that she would never leave it till I came to fetch her. For I knew
well that our marriage must become known after I had escaped; that
she would not, for her own good pride and womanhood, keep it secret
then; that it would be proclaimed while yet Gabord and the
excellent chaplain were alive to attest all.
Summoned by the Centurion, we were passed on beyond the eastern
point of the Isle of Orleans to the admiral's ship, which lay in
the channel off the point, with battleships in front and rear, and
a line of frigates curving towards the rocky peninsula of Quebec.
Then came a line of buoys beyond these, with manned boats moored
alongside to protect the fleet from fire rafts, which once already
the enemy had unavailingly sent down to ruin and burn our fleet.
Admiral Saunders received me with great cordiality, thanked me
for the dispatches, heard with applause of my adventures with the
convoy, and at once, with dry humour, said he would be glad, if
General Wolfe consented, to make my captured schooner one of his
fleet. Later, when her history and doings became known in the
fleet, she was at once called the Terror of France; for she did a
wild thing or two before Quebec fell, though from first to last
she had but her six swivel guns, which I had taken from the burnt
sloop. Clark had command of her.
From Admiral Saunders I learned that Bigot had recovered from
his hurt, which had not been severe, and of the death of Monsieur
Cournal, who had ridden his horse over the cliff in the dark.
From the Admiral I came to General Wolfe at Montmorenci.
I shall never forget my first look at my hero, my General, that
flaming, exhaustless spirit, in a body so gauche and so unshapely.
When I was brought to him, he was standing on a knoll alone,
looking through a glass towards the batteries of Levis. The
first thing that struck me, as he lowered the glass and leaned
against a gun, was the melancholy in the lines of his figure. I
never forget that, for it seemed to me even then that, whatever
glory there was for British arms ahead, there was tragedy for
him. Yet, as he turned at the sound of our footsteps, I almost
laughed; for his straight red hair, his face defying all
regularity, with the nose thrust out like a wedge and the chin
falling back from an affectionate sort of mouth, his tall
straggling frame and far from athletic shoulders, challenged
contrast with the compact, handsome, graciously shaped Montcalm.
In Montcalm was all manner of things to charm--all save that
which presently filled me with awe, and showed me wherein this
sallow-featured, pain-racked Briton was greater than his rival
beyond measure: in that searching, burning eye, which carried
all the distinction and greatness denied him elsewhere. There
resolution, courage, endurance, deep design, clear vision, dogged
will, and heroism, lived: a bright furnace of daring resolves and
hopes, which gave England her sound desire.
An officer of his staff presented me. He looked at me with
piercing intelligence, and then, presently, his long hand made
a swift motion of knowledge and greeting, and he said:
"Yes, yes, and you are welcome, Captain Moray. I have heard of
you, of much to your credit. You were for years in durance
there."
He pointed towards the town, where we could see the dome of the
cathedral shine, and the leaping smoke and flame of the roaring
batteries.
"Six years, your Excellency," said I.
"Papers of yours fell into General Braddock's hands, and they
tried you for a spy--a curious case--a curious case! Wherein were
they wrong and you justified, and why was all exchange refused?"
I told him the main, the bare facts, and how, to force certain
papers from me, I had been hounded to the edge of the grave. He
nodded, and seemed lost in study of the mud-flats at the Beauport
shore, and presently took to beating his foot upon the ground.
After a minute, as if he had come back from a distance, he said:
"Yes, yes, broken articles. Few women have a sense of national
honour, such as La Pompadour none! An interesting matter."
Then, after a moment: "You shall talk with our chief engineer;
you know the town you should be useful to me, Captain Moray. What
do you suggest concerning this siege of ours?"
"Has any attack been made from above the town, your Excellency?"
He lifted his eyebrows. "Is it vulnerable from there? From Cap
Rouge, you mean?"
"They have you at advantage everywhere, sir," I said. "A thousand
men could keep the town, so long as this river, those mud-flats,
and those high cliffs are there."
"But above the town--"
"Above the citadel there is a way--the only way: a feint from
the basin here, a sham menace and attack, and the real action at
the other door of the town."
"They will, of course, throw fresh strength and vigilance above,
if our fleet run their batteries and attack there; the river at Cap
Rouge is like this Montmorenci for defense." He shook his head.
"There is no way, I fear."
"General," said I, "if you will take me into your service, and
then give me leave to handle my little schooner in this basin and
in the river above, I will prove that you may take your army into
Quebec by entering it myself, and returning with something as
precious to me as the taking of Quebec to you."
He looked at me piercingly for a minute, then a sour sort of smile
played at his lips. "A woman!" he said. "Well, it were not the first
time the love of a wench opened the gates to a nation's victory."
"Love of a wife, sir, should carry a man farther."
He turned on me a commanding look. "Speak plainly," said he. "If
we are to use you, let us know you in all."
He waved farther back the officers with him.
"I have no other wish, your Excellency," I answered him. Then I told
him briefly of the Seigneur Duvarney, Alixe, and of Doltaire.
"Duvarney! Duvarney!" he said, and a light came into his look.
Then he called an officer. "Was it not one Seigneur Duvarney who
this morning prayed protection for his chateau on the Isle of
Orleans?" he asked.
"Even so, your Excellency," was the reply; "and he said that if
Captain Moray was with us, he would surely speak for the humanity
and kindness he and his household had shown to British prisoners."
"You speak, then, for this gentleman?" he asked, with a dry sort
of smile.
"With all my heart," I answered. "But why asks he protection at
this late day?"
"New orders are issued to lay waste the country; hitherto all
property was safe," was the General's reply. "See that the Seigneur
Duvarney's suit is granted," he added to his officer, "and say it
is by Captain Moray's intervention.--There is another matter of
this kind to be arranged this noon," he continued: "an exchange
of prisoners, among whom are some ladies of birth and breeding,
captured but two days ago. A gentleman comes from General Montcalm
directly upon the point. You might be useful herein," he added,
"if you will come to my tent in an hour." He turned to go.
"And my ship, and permission to enter the town, your Excellency?"
I asked.
"What do you call your--ship?" he asked a little grimly.
I told him how the sailors had already christened her. He
smiled. "Then let her prove her title to Terror of France," he
said, "by being pilot to the rest of our fleet, up the river, and
you, Captain Moray, be guide to a footing on those heights"--he
pointed to the town. "Then this army and its General, and all
England, please God, will thank you. Your craft shall have
commission as a rover--but if she gets into trouble?"
"She will do as her owner has done these six years, your
Excellency: she will fight her way out alone."
He gazed long at the town and at the Levis shore. "From above,
then, there is a way?"
"For proof, if I come back alive--"
"For proof that you have been--" he answered meaningly, with an
amused flash of his eyes, though at the very moment a spasm of pain
crossed his face, for he was suffering from incurable disease, and
went about his great task in daily misery, yet cheerful and
inspiring.
"For proof, my wife, sir," said I.
He nodded, but his thoughts were diverted instantly, and he went
from me at once abstracted. But again he came back. "If you
return," said he, "you shall serve upon my staff. You will care to
view our operations," he added, motioning towards the intrenchments
at the river. Then he stepped quickly away, and I was taken by an
officer to the river, and though my heart warmed within me to hear
that an attack was presently to be made from the shore not far
distant from the falls, I felt that the attempt could not succeed:
the French were too well intrenched.
At the close of an hour I returned to the General's tent. It was
luncheon-time, and they were about to sit as I was announced. The
General motioned me to a seat, and then again, as if on second
thought, made as though to introduce me to some one who stood
beside him. My amazement was unbounded when I saw, smiling
cynically at me, Monsieur Doltaire.
He was the envoy from Quebec. I looked him in the eyes steadily
for a moment, into malicious, unswerving eyes, as maliciously and
unswervingly myself, and then we both bowed.
"Captain Moray and I have sat at meat together before," he said,
with mannered coolness. "We have played host and guest also: but
that was ere he won our hearts by bold, romantic feats. Still, I
dared scarcely hope to meet him at this table."
"Which is sacred to good manners," said I meaningly and coolly,
for my anger and surprise were too deep for excitement.
I saw the General look at both of us keenly, then his marvellous
eyes flashed intelligence, and a grim smile played at his lips a
moment. After a little general conversation Doltaire addressed
me:
"We are not yet so overwhelmed with war but your being here
again will give a fillip to our gossip. It must seem sad to
you--you were so long with us--you have broken bread with so many
of us--to see us pelted so. Sometimes a dinner-table is disordered
by a riotous shell."
He bent on torturing me. And it was not hard to do that, for
how knew I what had happened? How came he back so soon from the
Bastile? It was incredible. Perhaps he had never gone, in spite
of all. After luncheon, the matter of exchange of prisoners was
gone into, and one by one the names of the French prisoners in
our hands--ladies and gentlemen apprehended at the chateau were
ticked off, and I knew them all save two. The General deferred to
me several times as to the persons and positions of the captives,
and asked my suggestions. Immediately I proposed Mr. Wainfleet,
the chaplain, in exchange for a prisoner, though his name was not
on the list, but Doltaire shook his head in a blank sort of way.
"Mr. Wainfleet! Mr. Wainfleet! There was no such prisoner in the
town," he said.
I insisted, but he stared at me inscrutably, and said that he
had no record of the man. Then I spoke most forcibly to the
General, and said that Mr. Wainfleet should be produced, or an
account of him be given by the French Governor. Doltaire then
said:
"I am only responsible for these names recorded. Our General
trusts to your honour, and you to ours, Monsieur le General."
There was nothing more to say, and presently the exchanges were
arranged, and, after compliments, Doltaire took his leave. I left
the Governor also, and followed Doltaire. He turned to meet me.
"Captain Moray and I," he remarked to the officers near, "are
old--enemies; and there is a sad sweetness in meetings like these.
May I--"
The officers drew away at a little distance at once before the
suggestion was made, and we were left alone. I was in a white heat,
but yet in fair control.
"You are surprised to see me here," he said. "Did you think the
Bastile was for me? Tut! I had not got out of the country when we a
packet came, bearing fresh commands. La Pompadour forgave me, and
in the King's name bade me return to New France, and in her own she
bade me get your papers, or hang you straight. And--you will think
it singular--if need be, I was to relieve the Governor and Bigot
also, and work to save New France with the excellent Marquis de
Montcalm." He laughed. "You can see how absurd that is. I have held
my peace, and I keep my commission in my pocket."
I looked at him amazed that he should tell me this. He read my
look, and said:
"Yes, you are my confidant in this. I do not fear you. Your
enemy is bound in honour, your friend may seek to serve himself."
Again he laughed. "As if I, Tinoir Doltaire--note the agreeable
combination of peasant and gentleman in my name--who held his hand
from ambition for large things in France, should stake a lifetime
on this foolish hazard! When I play, Captain Moray, it is for
things large and vital. Else I remain the idler, the courtier--the
son of the King."
"Yet you lend your vast talent, the genius of those unknown
possibilities, to this, monsieur--this little business of exchange
of prisoners," I retorted ironically.
"That is my whim--a social courtesy."
"You said you knew nothing of the chaplain," I broke out.
"Not so. I said he was on no record given me. Officially I know
nothing of him."
"Come," said I, "you know well how I am concerned for him. You
quibble; you lied to our General."
A wicked light shone in his eyes. "I choose to pass that by, for the
moment," said he. "I am sorry you forget yourself; it were better
for you and me to be courteous till our hour of reckoning, Shall
we not meet some day?" he said, with a sweet hatred in his tone.
"With all my heart."
"But where?"
"In yonder town," said I, pointing.
He laughed provokingly. "You are melodramatic," he rejoined. "I
could hold that town with one thousand men against all your army
and five times your fleet."
"You have ever talked and nothing done," said I. "Will you tell
me the truth of the chaplain?"
"Yes, in private the truth you shall hear," he said. "The man is
dead."
"If you speak true, he was murdered," I broke out. "You know
well why."
"No, no," he answered. "He was put in prison, escaped, made for
the river, was pursued, fought, and was killed. So much for serving
you."
"Will you answer me one question?" said I. "Is my wife well? Is
she safe? She is there set among villainies."
"Your wife?" he answered, sneering. "If you mean Mademoiselle
Duvarney, she is not there." Then he added solemnly and slowly:
"She is in no fear of your batteries now--she is beyond them. When
she was there, she was not child enough to think that foolish game
with the vanished chaplain was a marriage. Did you think to gull a
lady so beyond the minute's wildness? She is not there," he added
again in a low voice.
"She is dead?" I gasped. "My wife is dead?"
"Enough of that," he answered with cold fierceness. "The lady
saw the folly of it all, before she had done with the world.
You--you, monsieur! It was but the pity of her gentle heart, of
a romantic nature. You--you blundering alien, spy, and seducer!"
With a gasp of anger I struck him in the face, and whipped out
my sword. But the officers near came instantly between us, and I
could see that they thought me gross, ill-mannered, and wild, to
do this thing before the General's tent, and to an envoy.
Doltaire stood still a moment. Then presently wiped a little
blood from his mouth, and said:
"Messieurs, Captain Moray's anger was justified; and for the
blow he will justify that in some happier time--for me. He said
that I had lied, and I proved him wrong. I called him a spy and a
seducer--he sought to shame, he covered with sorrow, one of the
noblest families of New France--and he has yet to prove me wrong.
As envoy I may not fight him now, but I may tell you that I have
every cue to send him to hell one day. He will do me the credit
to say that it is not cowardice that stays me."
"If no coward in the way of fighting, coward in all other
things," I retorted instantly.
"Well, well, as you may think." He turned to go. "We will meet
there, then?" he said, pointing to the town. "And when?"
"To-morrow," said I.
He shrugged his shoulder as to a boyish petulance, for he thought
it an idle boast. "To-morrow? Then come and pray with me in the
cathedral, and after that we will cast up accounts--to-morrow,"
he said, with a poignant and exultant malice. A moment afterwards
he was gone, and I was left alone.
Presently I saw a boat shoot out from the shore below, and he
was in it. Seeing me, he waved a hand in an ironical way. I paced
up and down, sick and distracted, for half an hour or more. I knew
not whether he lied concerning Alixe, but my heart was wrung with
misery, for indeed he spoke with an air of truth.
Dead! dead! dead! "In no fear of your batteries now," he had
said. "Done with the world!" he had said. What else could it mean?
Yet the more I thought, there came a feeling that somehow I had
been tricked. "Done with the world!" Ay, a nunnery--was that it?
But then, "In no fear of your batteries now"--that, what did that
mean but death?
At this distressful moment a message came from the General, and
I went to his tent, trying to calm myself, but overcome with
apprehension. I was kept another half hour waiting, and then,
coming in to him, he questioned me closely for a little about
Doltaire, and I told him the whole story briefly. Presently
his secretary brought me the commission for my appointment to
special service on the General's own staff.
"Your first duty," said his Excellency, "will be to--reconnoitre;
and if you come back safe, we will talk further."
While he was speaking I kept looking at the list of prisoners
which still lay upon his table. It ran thus:
Monsieur and Madame Joubert.
Monsieur and Madame Carcanal.
Madame Rousillon.
Madame Champigny.
Monsieur Pipon.
Mademoiselle La Rose.
L'Abbe Durand.
Monsieur Halboir.
La Soeur Angelique.
La Soeur Seraphine.
I know not why it was, but the last three names held my eyes.
Each of the other names I knew, and their owners also. When I
looked close, I saw that where "La Soeur Angelique" now was
another name had been written and then erased. I saw also that
the writing was recent. Again, where "Halboir" was written there
had been another name, and the same process of erasure and
substitution had been made. It was not so with "La Soeur Seraphine."
I said to the General at once, "Your excellency, it is possible
you have been tricked." Then I pointed out what I had discovered.
He nodded.
"Will you let me go, sir?" said I. "Will you let me see this
exchange?"
"I fear you will be too late," he answered. "It is not a vital
matter, I fancy."
"Perhaps to me most vital," said I, and I explained my fears.
"Then go, go," he said kindly. He quickly gave directions to
have me carried to Admiral Saunders's ship, where the exchange
was to be effected, and at the same time a general passport.
In a few moments we were hard on our way. Now the batteries were
silent. By the General's orders, the bombardment ceased while the
exchange was being effected, and the French batteries also were
still. A sudden quietness seemed to settle on land and sea, and
there was only heard, now and then, the note of a bugle from a ship
of war. The water in the basin was moveless, and the air was calm
and quiet. This heraldry of war was all unnatural in the golden
weather and sweet-smelling land.
I urged the rowers to their task, and we flew on. We passed
another boat loaded with men, singing boisterously a disorderly
sort of song, called "Hot Stuff," set to the air "Lilies of
France." It was out of touch with the general quiet:
"When the gay Forty-Seventh is dashing ashore,
While bullets are whistling and cannons do roar,
Says Montcalm, 'Those are Shirleys--I know the lapels.'
'You lie,' says Ned Botwood, 'we swipe for Lascelles!
Though our clothing is changed, and we scout powder-puff,
Here's at you, ye swabs--here's give you Hot Stuff!'"
While yet we were about two miles away, I saw a boat put out
from the admiral's ship, then, at the same moment, one from the
Lower Town, and they drew towards each other. I urged my men to
their task, and as we were passing some of Admiral Saunders's ships,
their sailors cheered us. Then came a silence, and it seemed to me
that all our army and fleet, and that at Beauport, and the garrison
of Quebec, were watching us; for the ramparts and shore were
crowded. We drove on at an angle, to intercept the boat that left
the admiral's ship before it reached the town.
War leaned upon its arms and watched a strange duel. There was
no authority in any one's hands save my own to stop the boat,
and the two armies must avoid firing, for the people of
both nations were here in this space between--ladies and gentlemen
in the French boat going to the town, Englishmen and a poor woman
or two coming to our own fleet.
My men strained every muscle, but the pace was impossible--it
could not last; and the rowers in the French boat hung over their
oars also with enthusiasm. With the glass of the officer near
me--Kingdon of Anstruther's Regiment--I could now see Doltaire
standing erect in the boat, urging the boatmen on.
All round that basin, on shore and cliff and mountains,
thousands of veteran fighters--Fraser's, Otway's, Townsend's,
Murray's; and on the other side the splendid soldiers of La Sarre,
Languedoc, Bearn, and Guienne--watched in silence. Well they
might, for in this entr'acte was the little weapon forged which
opened the door of New France to England's glory. So may the little
talent or opportunity make possible the genius of the great.
The pain of this suspense grew so, that I longed for some sound
to break the stillness; but there was nothing for minute after
minute. Then, at last, on the halcyon air of that summer day
floated the Angelus from the cathedral tower. Only a moment, in
which one could feel, and see also, the French army praying, then
came from the ramparts the sharp inspiring roll of a drum, and
presently all was still again. Nearer and nearer the boat of
prisoners approached the stone steps of the landing, and we were
several hundred yards behind.
I motioned to Doltaire to stop, but he made no sign. I saw the
cloaked figures of the nuns near him, and I strained my eyes, but I
could not note their faces. My men worked on ardently, and presently
we gained. But I saw that it was impossible to reach them before
they set foot on shore. Now their boat came to the steps, and one by
one they hastily got out. Then I called twice to Doltaire to stop.
The air was still, and my voice carried distinctly. Suddenly one of
the cloaked figures sprang towards the steps with arms outstretched,
calling aloud, "Robert! Robert!" After a moment, "Robert, my
husband!" rang out again, and then a young officer and the other
nun took her by the arm to force her away. At the sharp instigation
of Doltaire, instantly some companies of marines filed in upon the
place where they had stood, leveled their muskets on us, and hid my
beloved wife from my view. I recognized the young officer who had
put a hand upon Alixe. It was her brother Juste.
"Alixe! Alixe!" I called, as my boat still came on.
"Save me, Robert!" came the anguished reply, a faint but
searching sound, and then no more.
Misery and mystery were in my heart all at once. Doltaire had
tricked me. "Those batteries can not harm her now!" Yes, yes, they
could not while she was a prisoner in our camp. "Done with the
world!" Truly, when wearing the garb of the Sister Angelique. But
why that garb? I swore that I would be within that town by the
morrow, that I would fetch my wife into safety, out from the
damnable arts and devices of Master Devil Doltaire, as Gabord had
called him.
The captain of the marines called to us that another boat's length
would fetch upon us the fire of his men. There was nothing to do,
but to turn back, while from the shore I was reviled by soldiers
and by the rabble. My marriage with Alixe had been made a national
matter--of race and religion. So, as my men rowed back towards our
fleet, I faced my enemies, and looked towards them without moving.
I was grim enough that moment, God knows; I felt turned to stone.
I did not stir when--ineffaceable brutality--the batteries on the
heights began to play upon us, the shot falling round us, and
passing over our heads, and musket-firing followed.
"Damned villains! Faithless brutes!" cried Kingdon beside me. I
did not speak a word, but stood there defiant, as when we first
had turned back. Now, sharply, angrily, from all our batteries,
there came reply to the French; and as we came on with only one
man wounded and one oar broken, the whole fleet cheered us. I
steered straight for the Terror of France, and there Clark and I,
he swearing violently, laid plans.