Book 5: Within Quebec.

Chapter 1: The Impregnable City.

Within a lofty chamber, with narrow windows and walls of massive

thickness, stood a young, bright-haired girl, looking with dreamy

eyes across the wide waters of the great St. Lawrence, as it rolled

its majestic course some hundreds of feet below. Although that

mighty waterway narrowed as it passed the rocky promontory upon

which the city of Quebec was built, it was even there a wonderful

river; and looking westward, as the girl was doing, it seemed to

spread out before her eyes like a veritable sea. It was dotted with

ships of various dimensions bringing in supplies, or news of coming

help or peril--news of that great armament from distant England,

perhaps, whose approach was being awaited by all within the city

with a sense of intense expectancy, not entirely unmixed with fear.

True, the soldiers laughed to scorn the idea of any attack upon

Quebec. It stood upon its rocky tongue of land, frowning and

unassailable, as it seemed to them. All along the north bank of the

lower river the French were throwing up earthworks and intrenching

their army, to hinder any attempt at landing troops there; and the

guns of the town batteries would soon sink and destroy any vessel

rash enough to try to pass the town, and gain a footing upon the

shores above. Indeed, so frowning and precipitous were these that

nature herself seemed to be sufficient guard.

"Let the English come, and see what welcome we have got for them!"

was a favourite exclamation from soldiers and townsfolk; yet all

the same there was anxiety in the faces of those who watched daily

for the first approach of the English sails. Had not Louisbourg

said the same, and yet had fallen before English hardihood and

resolution? Those in the highest places in this Canadian capital

best knew the rotten condition into which her affairs had fallen.

The corruption amongst officials, the jealousy between Governor and

General, the crafty self seeking of the Intendant--these and a

hundred other things were enough to cause much anxiety at

headquarters. The grand schemes of the French for acquiring a whole

vast continent were fast dwindling down to the anxious hope of

being able to keep what they already possessed.

The girl gazing forth from the narrow window was turning over in

her mind the things that she had heard. Her fair face was grave,

yet it was bright, too, and as she threw out her hand towards the

vista of the great river rolling its mighty volume of water towards

the sea, she suddenly exclaimed:

"And what if they do come? what if they do conquer? Have we not

deserved it? have we not brought ruin upon our own heads by the

wickedness and cruelty we have made our allies? And if England's

flag should one day wave over the fortress of Quebec, as it now

does over that of Louisbourg, what is that to me? Have I not

English--or Scotch--blood in my veins? Am I not as much English as

French? I sometimes think that, had I my choice, England would be

the country where I should best love to dwell. It is the land of

freedom--all say that, even my good uncle, who knows so well. I

love freedom; I love what is noble and great. Sometimes I feel in

my heart that England will be the greatest country of the world."

Her eyes glowed; she stretched forth her hands in a speaking

gesture. The waters of the great river seemed to flash back an

answer. Cooped up within frowning walls, amid the buildings of the

fortress and upper town, Corinne felt sometimes like a bird in a

prison cage; and yet the life fascinated her, with its constant

excitements, its military environment, its atmosphere of coming

danger. She did not want to leave Quebec till the struggle between

the nations had been fought out. And yet she scarcely knew which

side she wished to see win. French though her training had been of

late years, yet her childhood had been spent in the stormy north,

amid an English-speaking people. She had seen much that disgusted

and saddened her here amongst the French of Canada. She despised

the aged libertine who still sat upon the French throne with all

the scorn and disgust of an ardent nature full of noble impulses.

"I hate to call myself his subject!" she had been known to say. "I

will be free to choose to which nation I will belong. I have the

right to call myself English if I choose."

Not that Corinne very often gave way to such open demonstrations of

her national independence, It was to her aunt, Madame Drucour, with

whom she was now making a home, that she indulged these little

rhapsodies, secure of a certain amount of indulgence and even

sympathy from that lady, who had reason to think and speak well of

English gallantry and chivalry.

Madame Drucour occupied a small house wedged in amongst the

numerous strongly-built houses and ecclesiastical buildings of the

upper town of Quebec. The house had been deserted by its original

occupants upon the first news of the fall of Louisbourg. Many of

the inhabitants of Quebec had taken fright at that, and had sailed

for France; and Madame Drucour had been placed here by her husband,

who himself was wanted in other quarters to repel English advances.

The lady had been glad to summon to her side her niece Corinne,

who, since the state of the country had become so disturbed, had

been placed by her father and uncle in the Convent of the

Ursulines, under the charge of the good nuns there.

Corinne had been fond of the nuns; but the life of the cloister was

little to her taste. She was glad enough to escape from its

monotony, and to make her home with her father's sister. Madame

Drucour could tell her the most thrilling and delightful stories of

the siege of Louisbourg. Already she felt to know a great deal

about war in general and sieges in particular. She often

experienced a thrill of pride and delight in the thought that she

herself was about to be a witness of a siege of which all the world

would be talking.

As she stood at the window today, a footstep rang through the quiet

house below, and suddenly the door of the little chamber was flung

wide open.

"Corinne!" cried a ringing voice which she well knew.

She turned round with a little cry of joy.

"Colin!" she cried, and the next minute brother and sister were

locked in a fervent embrace.

"O Colin, Colin, when did you come, and whence?"

"Just this last hour, and from Montreal," he answered. "Oh, what

strange adventures I have seen since last we met! Corinne, there

have been times when I thought never to see you again! I have so

much to say I know not where to begin. I have seen our triumphs,

and I have seen our defeat. Corinne, it is as our uncle said. There

is a great man now at the helm in England, and we are feeling his

power out here in the West."

"Do you think the tide has turned against the French arms?" asked

Corinne breathlessly.

"What else can I think? Has not Fort Frontenac fallen? Has not Fort

Duquesne been abandoned before the advancing foe? Our realm in the

west is cut away from Canada in the north. If we cannot reunite

them, our power is gone. And they say that Ticonderoga and Crown

Point will be the next to fall. The English are massing upon Lake

George. They have commanders of a different calibre now. Poor

Ticonderoga! I grew to love it well. I spent many a happy month

there. But what can we do to save it, threatened as we are now by

the English fleet in the great St. Lawrence itself?"

"Are they not brave, these English?" cried Corinne, with an

enthusiasm of admiration in her face and voice. "Colin, I am glad,

oh very glad, that you and I are not all French. We can admire our

gallant foes without fear of disloyalty to our blood. We have cause

to know how gallant and chivalrous they can be."

Colin's eyes lighted with eager pleasure.

"You remember that day in the forest, Corinne, and how we were

protected by English Rangers from hurt?"

"Ah, do I not! And I have heard, too, from our Aunt Drucour, of

their kindness and generosity to a conquered army--"

But she stopped, and waited for her brother to speak, as she saw

that he had more to say.

"You remember the big, tall Ranger, whose name was Fritz?" he said

eagerly.

"Yes, I remember him well."

"He is here--in Quebec--in this house at this very minute! He and I

have travelled from Montreal with my uncle."

Corinne's eyes were bright with eager interest.

Ah, Colin! is that truly so? And how came that about? You

travelling with an English Ranger!"

"Yes, truly, and we owe our lives to his valour and protection. It

is strange how Dame Fortune has thrown us across each other's path

times and again during these past few short years. First, he saved

us from attack in the forest. You need not that I should tell you

more of that, Corinne. Afterwards, some few of us from Ticonderoga

saved the lives of him and of a few other Rangers who had fallen

into the hands of the Indians after that defeat at Fort William

Henry, which had scattered them far and wide. We felt such shame at

the way our Indian allies had behaved, and at the little protection

given to the prisoners of war by our Canadian troops, that we were

glad to show kindness and hospitality to the wanderers, Rangers

though they were; and when I recognized Fritz, I was the more glad.

He was wounded and ill, and we nursed him to health ere we sent him

away. After that it was long before we met again, and then he came

to our succour when we were in the same peril from Indians as he

had been himself the year before."

"From Indians? O brother!" and Corinne shuddered, for she had that

horror of the red-skinned race which comes to those who have seen

and heard of their cruelties and treachery from those who have

dwelt amongst them.

"Yes, you must know, Corinne, that in the west, where our uncle

goes with the word of life and truth, the Indians are already

wavering, and are disposed to return to their past friendship with

the English. They are wonderfully cunning and far-seeing. They seem

to have that same instinct as men say that rats possess, and are

eager to leave the sinking ship, or to join themselves to the

winning side, whichever way you like to put it. Since we have seen

misfortune they have begun to change towards us. We cannot trust

them out in the west. They are becoming sullen, if not hostile. A

very little and they will turn upon us with savage fury--at least

if they are not withheld from it by the English themselves."

Corinne's cheek flushed; she flung back her head with an

indescribable gesture.

"And I believe the English will withhold them. To our shame be it

spoken, the French have made use of them. They have stooped to a

warfare which makes civilized man shudder with horror. England will

not use such methods; I am sure of it, And she will prosper where

we have failed; for God in the heavens rules the nations upon

earth, and He will not suffer such wickedness to continue forever.

If France in the west falls, she falls rather by her own act than

by that of her foes."

"That is what my uncle says," answered Colin earnestly; "it is what

he has striven all along to impress upon our leaders, but without

avail. He has been seeking, too, to show to the Indians themselves

the evil of their wicked practices. He has never been afraid of

them; he has always been their friend. But the day came when they

would no longer listen to him; when they drove us forth with hatred

and malice; when there came into their faces that which made me

more afraid than anything I have ever faced in my life before,

Corinne. We dared not stay. The chief dismissed us and bid us be

gone quickly, whilst he could still hold his people in check. He

did not wish harm to come to us; but savage blood is hard to check.

"We got away from the village, and hoped the danger was over. We

made our way as well as we could towards Montreal. But our uncle

was weak; he had had several attacks of fever. One day he could not

travel. That night we were set upon by a score of wandering

Indians. They would not listen to our words, We were white men,

that was enough. All white men were their enemies, they said. They

would roast us alive first and eat us afterwards, they declared,"

"O Colin!" cried Corinne, with widely-dilated eyes.

"Yes; I can see their eyes now, rolling and gleaming. They began

collecting light brushwood around the upright stakes they drove

into the ground. They laughed and yelled, and sprang about with

frightful contortions. They were working themselves up as they do

before they set to one of their frightful pieces of work. Our uncle

called me to him, and we prayed together. At least he prayed, and I

tried to follow his words; but I could do nothing but watch those

awful preparations. Then suddenly a shout arose from the forest

hard by, and the Indians seized their weapons. We sent up a shout,

caring little whether it was answered by English or French. We knew

that what we had heard was no Indian whoop; it came from the

throats of white men.

"Next minute a body of Rangers had dashed amongst us. The Indians

fled, scattering right and left like chaff before the wind. Next

minute I distinguished the friendly face of Fritz. He was kneeling

beside our uncle, and asking him tenderly if he were hurt."

"The same Fritz as saved us in the forest! Oh, I am glad it was

he!"

"So was I; and doubly glad when I found that he knew more about the

cure of these forest fevers than even our uncle himself. The

Rangers made a hut for us, and for three days Fritz doctored our

uncle, till he was almost well again. But they would not leave us

in the forest, with the bands of treacherous Indians prowling

around. They escorted us to within a short distance of Montreal

itself, and Fritz consented to come into the city as our guest; and

since he speaks French almost as well as English, he was a welcome

guest to all. He became so much attached to my uncle that he

consented to come with us to Quebec. For he is anxious to join the

English squadron when it reaches these waters, and my uncle gave

him his word of honour that no hindrance shall be placed in the way

of his doing so. Perhaps it may be even well for one who has seen

the extreme strength of the town, and the preparations made for its

defence by land and sea, to go to warn the bold invaders that the

task they contemplate is one which is well nigh if not quite

impossible."

"O Colin, it is good indeed to have you again, out of the very jaws

of death! Let me go myself and thank this noble Fritz for his good

offices. Colin, I fear me I am half a traitor to the cause of

France already; for there is that in my heart which bids me regard

the English as friends rather than as foes. And when I hear men

shake their heads and say that they may one day be the masters of

these broad lands of the west, it raises within me no feeling of

anger or grief. I cannot be a true daughter of France to feel so!"

"And yet I share that feeling, Corinne. I often feel that I am less

than half a Frenchman! My good uncle sometimes shakes his head over

me; but then he smiles, and says that the mother's blood always

runs strong in the firstborn son; and methinks, had our mother

lived, she would have been on the side of those who speak her

tongue and hail from the grey lands of the north."

"Ah, it is good that you feel the same, Colin! I had almost chided

myself for being half a traitor. And now take me to our good friend

Fritz, that I may thank him myself and see him again with mine own

eyes."

Brother and sister descended the stone stairway which divided the

various floors of that narrow house. As they reached the foot of

the staircase, they heard the sound of voices from a half-open

door, and Corinne said with a smile:

"It is our Aunt Drucour talking with the stranger. She is ever

eager for news of the war. A soldier is always a friend to her, so

as he brings her tidings."

The room into which Corinne and Colin stepped softly, so as not to

disturb the conversation of their elders, was a long and narrow

apartment, with the same small windows which characterized the rest

of the house. A table in the centre of the room took up the chief

of the space, and at this table sat a bronzed and stalwart man,

whom Corinne instantly recognized as her protector in that forest

adventure of long ago. He was seated with a trencher before him,

and was doing an justice to the fare set out; but he was also in

earnest conversation with Madame Drucour, who was seated opposite,

her elbows lightly resting upon the table, and her chin upon her

clasped hands.

Upon a couch beneath the window lay the Abbe himself, with a cup of

wine beside him. He looked like a man who has been through

considerable fatigue and hardship, though his brow was serene and

his eyes were bright as he followed the rapid conversation which

passed be tween the pair at the tables.

As the boy and girl entered it was Fritz who was speaking, and he

spoke eagerly.

"You have seen Julian Dautray, my friend and comrade who sailed

away to England several years since on an embassy from the town of

Philadelphia? Now this is news indeed. For I have heard no word of

him from that day to this; yet once we were like brothers, and we

made that long, long journey together from the far south, till our

souls were knit together even as the souls of David and Jonathan.

Tell me of him! Is he well? Is he still in this new world beyond

the dividing sea?"

"After the capture of Louisbourg," answered Madame Drucour, with

the little touch of shrinking in her tone which such words always

occasioned her, "he was to accompany the gallant Brigadier Wolfe

(to whose untiring energy and zeal much of England's success was

due) upon some mission of destruction on the coasts, little indeed

to that soldier's liking. After that, I heard that they were to

sail for England, since the brave officer's health stood in great

need of recruiting. But it was known to all of us that Monsieur

Wolfe would never rest content till he had seen whether he might

not repeat at Quebec what he had accomplished at Louisbourg. And if

not actually known, it is more than conjectured that the fleet from

England which brings our foes into these waters will bring with it

that gallant soldier Wolfe; and if so, you may be sure that your

good friend (and mine) Monsieur Julian Dautray will be with him."

"That is good hearing," cried Fritz, whose face was beaming with

satisfaction and pleasure; "it is like a feast to a hungry man to

hear news of Julian again!"

And he listened with extreme interest whilst the lady told him all

she knew of his friend--his daring dash into the fortress disguised

as a French soldier, and his many acts of chivalrous generosity at

the close of the siege.

"We have reason to be grateful to you English," said Madame

Drucour, with a gracious smile. "It is a happiness, when we have to

fight, to find such generous and noble foes. It is hard to believe

that this strong city of Quebec will ever open its gates even to so

brave a commander as the gallant Wolfe; and yet, if such a thing

were again to be here as was at Louisbourg, I, for one, shall be

able to welcome the victor with a smile as well as a sigh; for I

have seen how generous he is to sick and wounded, and how gently

chivalrous to women and children."

"Yet those were stern terms demanded from capitulating Louisbourg,"

spoke the Abbe thoughtfully.

"They were," said the lady, with a sigh; "and yet can we wonder so

greatly? England has suffered much from the methods we of France have

pursued in our warfare. But let us not think of that tonight; let us

remember only that English and French may be friends--individually--even

though our nations are at war. Let us entertain Monsieur with the best

at our command, and bid him Godspeed when he shall choose to leave us.

"Ah! and there I see my nephew Colin.

"Welcome, dear child; thou art child no longer.

"What a fine youth he has grown with the flight of years! I should

scarce have known him!"

Whilst aunt and nephew were exchanging amenities in one part of the

room, Corinne approached Fritz, who had risen to his feet at sight

of her, and putting out a hand said with a shy smile:

"I am glad to welcome you again, Monsieur."

"And I to see you once again, Mademoiselle," he replied. "I have

often wondered whether I should ever have that pleasure. The chance

of war has brought me and your brother face to face three times

already. But I scarce thought I should see you again. I thought

these troubled days would have sent you back to France. These are

strange places for tender maidens to abide in--these walled cities,

with guns without and within!"

"Ah, but I have no home in France," answered the girl, "and I would

not be sent away. I have grown to love this strange Western land

and the struggle and stress of the life here. I would fain see the

end of this mighty struggle. To which scale will victory incline,

think you, Monsieur? Will the flag of England displace that of

France over the town and fortress of this city of Quebec?"

"Time alone can show that," answered Fritz gravely; "and we must

not boast of coming victory after all the ignominious defeats that

we have suffered. But this I know--the spirit of England is yet

unbroken. She has set herself to a task, and will not readily turn

back from it. If the spirit of her sons is the same now as it was

in the days of which our fathers have told us, I think that she

will not quietly accept repulse."

Corinne's eyes flashed; she seemed to take a strange sort of pride

in anticipations such as these.

"I like that spirit," she cried; "it has not been the spirit of

France. She has boasted, boasted, boasted of all the wonders she

was to perform, and yet she has never made good her hold in the

south. Now the tide seems to have turned here in the north; and

though men speak brave words of defiance, their hearts are failing

them for fear. And have they not reason to fear--they who have done

so ignobly?"

"Do you remember what you told us when we met in the forest long

ago?" asked Fritz. "Do you remember the name you spoke--the name of

Pitt--and told us that when that man's hand was on the helm of

England's statecraft the turn of the tide would come? And so we

waited for news from home, and at last we heard the name of Pitt.

And, behold, since then the tide has turned indeed. Those words of

yours have upheld our hopes in many a dark hour. And now that the

fulfilment seems so near, shall we not feel grateful to those who

held out the torch of hope when all was darkness?"

Corinne smiled brightly, and held out her little hand again.

"We will be friends, come what will," she said; "for I love the

English as well as the French, and I have cause to know what

generous foes they can make!"

So Fritz became the guest of Madame Drucour in the narrow little

stone house; the Abbe likewise remained as an inmate whilst he

recruited the health that had been so sorely tried and shattered of

late. Fritz was in no haste to depart, if his hosts desired his

presence there. He would join the English fleet when it appeared;

but it mattered little to him how he passed the intervening time.

He could pass as well for a Frenchman as an Englishman, and did so

for the time he remained in the city; but he kept his eyes open,

and took careful note of what he saw, and, in truth, it seemed to

him that the English fleet had little or no chance of effecting any

landing in or near Quebec.

The fortifications of the town were immensely strong; so was its

position--so commandingly situated upon the little tongue of land.

There was a small camp upon the opposite point of land, which might

perhaps be strengthened with advantage; but the whole of the north

bank of the river was being fortified and intrenched, and was

manned by regulars and Canadian troops, all well armed and

munitioned. It was impossible to see how any attacking force could

obtain a foothold upon that strand; and if Fritz's hosts took care

to let him see all this, it seemed to him a proof that they well

understood the impregnable character of their position.

But it was no part of Fritz's plan to linger over long in Quebec,

although he was wishful to see the city for himself, and to judge

of the strength of its position. He knew that the fleet from

Louisbourg would be hanging about nearer the mouth of the great

estuary, and to a traveller of his experience the journey either by

land or water was a mere trifle.

Any day the sails of the English vessels might be expected to

appear. The seething excitement in the city, and the eager and

laborious preparations upon land, showed how public feeling was

being aroused. It might not be well for Fritz to linger much

longer. If his real connection with the English were discovered, he

might find himself in difficulties.

"I have arranged with a boatman to take you down the river tonight,

Monsieur," said Madame Drucour to him; when he had expressed a

determination to leave. "He is scouting for information as to the

English fleet, and we have heard that vessels have been seen in the

region of the Isle-aux-Coudres. He will land you there, and you

will then have no difficulty in rejoining your countrymen. If

Monsieur Wolfe has arrived, pray give him my best compliments, and

tell him that I hope his health is improved, and that if we should

meet once again it will be as friends."

"I will not forget to do so, Madame," answered Fritz. "I myself

look forward with pleasure to making the acquaintance of that great

soldier. I should not have dared to think that I might approach him

myself; but since Julian is his friend, I shall not be denied his

presence."

Corinne was listening to the talk with eager interest; now she

broke in with a smile:

"And tell Monsieur Julian that if he should repeat his strategy of

Louisbourg here at Quebec, and steal into the city in disguise, I

hope he will come to see us here. We are very well disposed towards

the English, my aunt and I. We should have a welcome for him, and

would see that he came to no harm."

Madame Drucour laughed, and patted the cheek of her niece.

"Make no rash promises, little one. The game of war is a fiercer

and more deadly and dangerous one than thou canst realize as yet.

It may be our privilege to shelter and succour a hunted foe; but

tempt not any man to what might be certain destruction. Spies meet

with scant mercy; and there are Indians in this city who know not

the meaning of mercy, and have eyes and ears quicker and keener

than our own. Monsieur and his friends had better now remain

without the city walls, unless the day should come when they can

enter them as conquerors and masters of all."

She drew herself together and gave a little, quick, shuddering

sigh, as though realizing as those never could do who had not seen

war what must inevitably be ere such an end could be accomplished.

Fritz took her hand and carried it to his lips.

"If such a day as that come, Madame," he said, "be very sure that

my first duty and privilege will be to protect you and yours from

harm. Adieu; and if I can ever repay your kindness to me, be sure

the opportunity shall not be neglected."

Chapter 2: The Defences Of Quebec.

Excitement reigned in the city. There had been a cry of fear

earlier in the day. Men had rushed through the streets, crying

aloud in every tone of consternation:

"The English fleet! the English fleet!"

But this had proved a false alarm. The sails seen advancing up the

great waterway were those of friendly vessels, laden with

provisions for the city, and great rejoicings were held as the

supplies were carried into the storehouses by the eager citizens

and soldiers. Colin, running hither and thither picking up news,

came running back at short intervals with tidings for his sister

and aunt.

"They all say the English fleet has sailed from England, and may be

here any day; but at least we shall not starve yet. We have a fine

consignment of provisions brought in today."

Next time he came he had another item of information to give.

"Our General, Monsieur de Montcalm, met me in the street just now,

and bid me say that he purposed to take his supper with us this

evening, as there are certain matters he would discuss with my

uncle, and with you, dear aunt, who have seen so much of warfare.

He asked me if it would be convenient for you to receive him, and I

said I was sure that it would."

"Quite right, my child," answered Madame Drucour; "I shall deem it

an honour to entertain the brave Marquis. I have a great respect

for him, both as a man and a soldier."

"Yes: they all speak well of him, and they say that the Governor,

Vaudreuil, treats him shamefully, or at least traduces him

shamefully behind his back to the Government in France. He is

jealous because Monsieur de Montcalm is so much better a soldier

than he. His jealousy is mean and pitiful. I hear things that make

my blood boil!"

"Yes: Monsieur de Montcalm has had to exercise great patience and

self restraint. We all honour him for it," said the Abbe, looking

up from his breviary. "His has been a difficult post from first to

last, and he has filled it with marked ability. The Governor seeks

to take to himself all the credit of success throughout the colony

and the war, and to heap upon Montcalm all the blame wherever there

has been discomfiture and defeat; but from what I can learn, the

Minister of France is not deceived. The powers of the campaign are

vested mainly in the hands of the General of the forces, let the

Governor rage as he will."

Colin and Corinne stood at the window watching the hubbub down in

the lower town and along the quays. They could obtain a fair view

from the upper window, where the girl spent so much of her time;

and whilst the Abbe and Madame Drucour talked of public matters and

the political outlook, Colin poured broadsides of information into

the ears of his sister.

"They say that the English ships can never navigate the waters of

this great river!" he cried. "I was talking with the sailors on the

vessels which have come in. They dare not bring their own ships up

without a pilot on board. If the English try to sail their great

battleships up through the shoals and other perils, they will

assuredly, say the men, run them upon the jagged edges of the

sunken reefs and wreck them hopelessly. I was telling them that the

English are better sailors than ever the French will be; but they

only laughed grimly, and bid them come and see what their sailor

craft could do without pilots in the mouth of the St. Lawrence. I

should grieve if the noble vessels were wrecked and stranded in the

Traverse, which they say is the most dangerous part of all. But the

sailors are very confident that that is what will happen."

"I don't believe it!" cried Corinne, with flashing eyes. "The

English have always been masters of the sea; have they not won

themselves the name of 'sea dogs' and 'sea rovers' even from their

enemies? The walls and guns of Quebec may prove too much for them,

but not the navigation of the St. Lawrence."

"So I think," answered Colin eagerly; "but that is what the men

say.

"The French are always something overconfident and boastful, I

think," said Corinne gravely. "They like to win their battles

before they fight them, and beat back the foe before he appears.

But we shall see--we shall see."

Colin and Corinne were both much interested in the General of the

forces, Monsieur the Marquis of Montcalm. In addition to being a

very excellent soldier--brave, capable, merciful, and modest--he

was a very delightful and charming companion in any social

gathering; and towards Corinne he showed himself especially tender,

telling her, with the tears standing in his eyes, how much she

reminded him of the little daughter he had left at home, Mirete;

whom he feared he should never see again.

"For my aide-de-camp, M. de Bougainville, lately returned from

France, has brought me sad news. One of my daughters has died--he

could not ascertain which; but I feel sure it is my little Mirete,

who was always delicate and fragile. I loved her very much; she was

such a clinging little thing, and had soft brown eyes like yours,

my dear. I did not think, when I left my wife and children in our

happy home at Candiac, that I should be detained here so long, or

that death would have visited my house ere I returned. We were so

happy in that far away home in France; my thoughts are ever turning

back thither. Pray Heaven I may soon bring this war to a successful

termination, and may then return to end my days in peace in that

fair spot, surrounded by those I love so well!"

This little speech touched Corinne's heart, and she lifted her face

and gave the bereaved father a kiss of sympathy, the tears hanging

upon her own long lashes. He squeezed her hand and returned the

salute with warmth. Yet the next minute he was the soldier and the

general all over, as he seated himself at table and proceeded to

discuss the situation of affairs with the Abbe and his hostess.

"My policy," he explained to them, "will be one of defence, not of

attack. What we must set ourselves to do is to prevent any landing

of English troops upon the north bank of this river anywhere near

the city. I had thought at first of making the Plains of Abraham,

behind the city, the basis of my encampment. But this, as you know,

has been given up, and the north bank of the river, through

Beauport and right away to the river and falls of the Montmorency,

has been selected.

"When you are sufficiently recovered, my friend, I should like to

take you to see our position. Our right rests upon the St. Charles,

our left upon the Montmorency. Quebec is thus secured from any

advance by land. Her own guns must protect her from any attempt by

sea. No vessel should or ought to pass the rock without being

instantly disabled, if not sunk. By disposing our forces in this

way, and remaining upon the defensive, we shall have our foes in a

vice, so to speak. The risk of disembarking and trying to fight us

will be immense. They will lose ten men to our one in every

encounter. And if we can play this waiting game long enough, the

storms of winter will come down upon us, and the Admirals will have

to withdraw their fleet to some safe harbourage, and we shall have

saved Quebec!"

"Yes," said the Abbe--"that sounds a wise and wary policy; but will

the Canadian militia be patient and obedient during the long period

of inaction? They are accustomed to a sort of fierce, short forest

warfare, quick marches, hand-to-hand fights, and the freedom to

return to their homes. How will they like the long imprisonment in

the camp, without being brought face to face with the foe? The

Canadian soldiers have always given trouble; I fear they will do so

again."

"If they become troublesome," said Montcalm, with a tightening of

the lips, "they will be told that the Indians shall be loosed upon

their lands and farms to harry and destroy! Mutineers are accorded

scant mercy. Monsieur de Vaudreuil has made up his mind how to deal

with them in such case."

The Abbe stroked his chin thoughtfully.

"If we alienate the Canadians, and have only the regulars to fall

back upon, we shall be very short handed."

"True; but I do not anticipate such a contingency. The Canadians

are no more desirous of seeing England's flag waving over their

lands than we are ourselves. They may be rebellious and

discontented, but they will hardly go further than that."

"It is ill work fighting with discontented soldiers," said Madame

Drucour thoughtfully.

"Very true, Madame. I often wish we had better material for our

army. I abhor the Indians, and distrust the Canadians. But what can

we do? France has sore need of all her soldiers for her European

wars. What can she do for us here out in the western wilds? She has

her hands full at home."

"And yet," said the Abbe, "if she loses her hold upon these same

western wilds, she will lose that new kingdom upon which her eyes

have been greedily fastened for two centuries or more. She has

claimed half the world as her own; will she lose all for the sake

of some petty quarrel with her neighbours?"

Montcalm smiled and slowly shook his head.

"Our royal master has his hands something too full at times," he

said; "yet we will do our best for him out here."

"And if General Amherst with his great army should succeed in

capturing Ticonderoga and Crown Point, and should advance upon us

by the interior, and steal upon us from behind, what then?" asked

the Abbe, who, having come from that part of the world, and knowing

the apprehensions of the French along the western border, was not

unmindful of this possible danger.

Montcalm's face was grave.

"That will be our greatest danger," he said. "If that should take

place, we shall have to weaken our camp along the river and send

reinforcements to the small detachments now placed along the upper

river. But the English were routed at Ticonderoga once; let us hope

it will happen so a second time."

"General Amherst is a very different commander from General

Abercromby," said the Abbe gravely; and Madame Drucour added her

testimony to the abilities of the General who had commanded at the

siege of Louisbourg, although the dash and energy of Wolfe had been

one of the main elements of strength to the besiegers.

"Yet I have confidence in our good Boulamaque," answered Montcalm.

"He will do all that can he done to check the advance of the

invaders and hold out fortresses against them. We have had our

disasters--far be it from me to deny it--but Ticonderoga is strong,

and has long held her own; I think she will do so once again."

"And will you remain within the walls of Quebec yourself, my dear

Marquis? or is it true what I hear--that your headquarters will be

with the camp at Beauport?"

"My place is here--there--everywhere!" answered Montcalm, with a

smile and a meaning gesture. "Within the city the Chevalier de

Ramesay will hold command with sixteen thousand men. For my part, I

shall occupy myself chiefly with the army along the river banks.

The first peril will certainly lie there. The town is unassailable,

but a landing will probably be attempted somewhere along there. The

enemy must be driven back with loss and confusion each time such an

attempt is made. That will discourage them, and inspire our men

with hope and courage. We have also prepared fire ships at no small

cost, to be launched and fired at convenient seasons, and sent

adrift amongst the enemy's ships. The sight of their burning

vessels will do something to discourage the English. They put their

trust in their ships. We will show them what a warm welcome we have

waiting for them here!"

"And our own vessels," asked the Abbe--"what of them? Will any

naval battle he attempted?"

"No. The Governor has given orders that they shall disembark their

men for the defence of the town, and the ships themselves will be

sent some distance up the river out of harm's way. We have kept

some of the best for fire ships; the rest will remain at a

distance, beyond the river Richelieu."

"You think, then, that no British ship can pass the guns of the

town?"

Montcalm's face was a study of calm confidence.

"I only wish they might attempt it," he said. "We would sink them

one by one, as a child's boats could be sunk by throwing stones

upon them. The English have a task before them the magnitude of

which they have little idea of. First they have the river itself to

navigate; then they have the guns of Quebec to settle with. Let

them take their choice between Scylla and Charybdis; for of a

certainty they lie betwixt the two."

Indeed the guns of Quebec were formidable enough. Next day Montcalm

took Madame Drucour and her niece and nephew a tour of inspection

about the town, and up to one of the heights which gave them a

panoramic view of the city and its defences, both within and

without. The batteries of the town bristled with formidable guns;

the town itself swarmed with soldiers--regulars, militia, Indians.

From the adjacent country men of all ages had come flocking in,

eager to bear arms against the foe. The Bishop had issued a mandate

to his flock, urging them to rally round their leaders, and never

surrender the fair domain of Canada to the heretic usurper.

There was plenty of enthusiasm now amongst the Canadians they came

flocking into the camp in great numbers. All were hardy fellows,

trained to a certain sort of rough fighting from their very

childhood. They were invaluable in forest warfare, as had been

proved again and again. But they lacked the stamina of the regular

soldier. They were invariably unsteady when exposed to fire in the

open, and they were impatient of discipline and control. Vaudreuil

was always loud in their praise, trying to give them the credit of

every successful engagement. But Montcalm reposed much more

confidence in his regular soldiers; although he gave these others

their due when they had proved of service to him.

It was a wonderful sight to see the lines of defence stretching

right away from the river St. Charles, close to the promontory on

which Quebec was built, to that other invisible gorge where the

wonderful cataract of the Montmorency flung its waters into the

greater St. Lawrence below. Opposite was the height of Point Levi,

with its smaller batteries; and away on the left, in the middle of

the vast, sea-like river, could be distinguished the western end of

the Isle of Orleans.

Earthworks, batteries, redoubts seemed to bristle every where.

Squadrons of men, like brilliant-hued ants, moved to and fro upon

the plains below. The tents of the camp stretched out in endless

white spots; and the river was dotted with small craft of all sorts

conveying provisions to the camp, and doing transport duty of all

kinds.

"He will be a bold man who faces the fire from our batteries, I

think," said Montcalm, looking with a calm complacency upon the

animated scene; and then he turned and pointed backwards behind him

to Cape Diamond, fringed with its palisades and capped by parapet

and redoubt.

A bold foe indeed to face the perils frowning from every height

upon which the eye could rest. Madame Drucour's face slowly

brightened as she took in, with eyes that were experienced in such

matters, the full strength of the position occupied by the city of

Quebec.

"In truth, I scarce see how the enemy could effect a landing

anywhere--could even attempt it," she said. "And yet we said the

same at Louisbourg--till they landed where none of us thought they

could do, and took us in the rear!"

And her eyes sought the steep, precipitous banks of the river after

the town had been passed, as though asking whether any landing

could be effected there, if some ships should succeed in the daring

attempt to pass the guns of the town, and find anchorage in the

upper river.

Montcalm followed her glance with his, and seemed to read the

thought in her heart.

"All these heights will be watched," he said. "Although I have no

fear of any vessel being foolhardy enough to attempt the passage, or

clever enough to succeed in passing the guns of the fortifications,

I shall leave no point unwatched or unguarded. Quebec shall not

fall whilst I have life and breath! If the victor marches into the

city, it will be across my dead body!"

Later upon that very day a fresh excitement occurred. Madame

Drucour and her niece and nephew were in the pleasant upper room of

their house, talking over the things they had seen and heard that

day, when the clamour in the street below roused them to the

consciousness that something unwonted was afoot; and Colin ran

below, eager to know what the matter could be. In a few minutes he

returned, his face full of animation and eager interest.

"They have taken three prisoners!" he exclaimed--"English

midshipmen all of them. You know our boats are scouting all round

the Isle-aux-Coudres, where Durell and his contingent of ships from

Louisbourg are lying waiting for the English fleet."

"Yes, yes," cried Corinne eagerly; "we know that! But where are the

prisoners?"

"They are below, in the house. They brought them to the Abbe, our

uncle. They profess not to speak French, these lads, but I think

they understand it fast enough.

"Come down and hear their story, my aunt; and you also, Corinne.

They have been left in our care by the order of Monsieur de

Montcalm, that we may win from them all that they know, respecting

the strength of the English fleet. Let us go and hear what they

say."

"How came they to be taken?" asked Madame Drucour, as she rose to

accompany Colin.

"They were taken on shore. They had left their ship, perhaps

without leave, and were amusing themselves upon the island. The men

in our boat watched them, and presently landed cautiously and

surrounded them. They made a gallant struggle, but were captured at

length. And now they have been brought to us that we may get from

them all the information we can. Our uncle is talking to them even

now. I want to hear, and I want Corinne also to hear what they

say."

"And the poor lads will doubtless be hungry," said Madame Drucour,

always thoughtful for the comfort of others; "we will set food

before them as they talk. They shall see that we are not harsh

captors."

It was three bright-faced, bronzed English lads that they found in

the lower room with the good Abbe. He had induced the rest of the

people to disperse, and was now alone with the captives. The lads

seemed quite disposed to be talkative, and when the lady entered

bearing food, their eyes brightened; they stood up and made their

bows to all, and fell upon the victuals with a hearty goodwill.

"Strong! I should think it was strong," cried the eldest of the

three, in response to a question from the Abbe respecting the

English squadron on the way: "why, there are more than thirty ships

of the line, and with frigates, sloops-of-war, and transports they

must number over fifty. Then we have ten fine ships under Admiral

Durell, waiting to join the main fleet when it comes; and there is

another squadron under Admiral Holmes, which has gone to New York

to take up the troops mustered in New England for the reduction of

Quebec. Oh, it will be a grand sight, a grand sight, when it comes

sailing up the waters of the St. Lawrence! Quebec, I dare wager,

has never seen such a sight before!"

The faces of all the lads were full of animation and pride. They

appeared to have no fears for their personal safety. They were

enthusiastic in their descriptions of the wonderful feats which the

world would soon see, and when once started on the subject were

ready to talk on and on.

"They have fifteen or sixteen thousand men--picked troops--with the

gallant Wolfe in command," cried another. "You have seen something

already of what Wolfe can do when he is set upon a task!"

Madame Drucour made a little sign of assent; she had learned that

lesson herself very fully. The lad made her a courtly bow, for he

knew her well, having been at the siege of Louisbourg, and having

seen her when he had entered the fortress to view it after the

surrender.

"Madame Drucour is herself a soldier; she can appreciate the

talents of the soldiers," he said. "Well, we have Wolfe coming, and

with him three gallant Brigadiers--Moncton and Townshend and

Murray. They all say that each one of these is as valiant as the

great Wolfe himself, and as full of ardour."

"And then our guns!" chimed in the third. "Why, we have guns enough

to batter down these old walls as children batter down their card

houses! You know what English guns did at Louisbourg, Madame! Well,

we have bigger and heavier ones coming from England--such guns as

have never been seen in this country before; and such shells--why,

you can hear the scream of them for miles. You will hear them soon

singing and screaming over Quebec if you try to hold it against

Wolfe!"

Corinne and Colin exchanged glances. It seemed indeed to bring the

thought of war very near when this sort of talk went on. The Abbe

was thoughtfully stroking his chin, debating within himself whether

all this was a bit of gasconade on the part of these middies, or

whether it represented the actual facts of the case. Madame Drucour

made quiet answer, saying:

"But Quebec has also its guns, my young friends; Quebec can make

fitting reply to English guns. And ships are more vulnerable than

our thick walls. The game of war is one that both nations can play

with skill and success. If you have a Wolfe on your side, we have a

Montcalm on ours!"

"Oh yes; we have heard of the Marquis of Montcalm. He is a fine old

fellow; I wish we could see him."

"You have your wish, gentlemen!" spoke a new voice from the shadowy

corner by the door, where the twilight was gathering.

The company started to their feet and saluted the great man, who

advanced smiling, motioning them to be seated. Corinne kindled the

lamp, and the General looked about him and sat down at the table

opposite to the three youths.

"I hear you are from the English squadron," he said; "I have come

to ask you as to its strength. Tell me frankly and candidly what

you know, and I will undertake that your captivity shall not be a

rigorous one."

He spoke in French, and the Abbe interpreted, although he suspected

that the lads understood a good deal more of that language than

they professed to do. They were willing enough to repeat what they

had said before as to the overwhelming size and equipment of the

fleet on its way from England--of the valour of men and officers,

of Wolfe's known intrepidity and military genius, and of the

excellent, far-carrying guns and their equally excellent gunners.

Montcalm listened with bent brow and thoughtful mien. The lads

appeared to speak with confidence and sincerity. They evidently

believed that the fall of Quebec was foreordained of Heaven; but it

was possible they might be misinformed as to the true strength of

the fleet, and had perhaps, consciously or unconsciously,

exaggerated that.

At any rate they were not reticent: they told everything they knew

and perhaps more. They gloried in the thought of the fighting to

come, and seemed to take their own captivity very lightly,

evidently thinking it only a matter of a few weeks before they

could be exchanged or released--before their countrymen would be

marching into Quebec.

"And as soon as General Amherst has got Ticonderoga, he will march

here to help us, if we are not masters here first!" was the final

shot of the senior midshipman. "Not that Wolfe will need his help

in the taking of Quebec, but he will want a share in the glory of

it. And all New England, and all those provinces which have been

asleep so long, are waking up, eager to take their share now that

the moment of final triumph is near. There are so many fine troops

waiting to embark that Admiral Holmes will probably have to leave

the half behind. But they will follow somehow, you will see. They

are thirsting to avenge themselves upon the Indians, and upon those

who set the Indians on to harry and destroy their brothers along

the borders!"

The Abbe translated this also into French, making a little gesture

with his hand the while.

"I knew that retribution must sooner or later follow upon that

great sin," he said. "Were it not for my feeling on that score, I

should have firmer hopes for Quebec. But God will not suffer

iniquity to go long unpunished. We have drawn down retribution upon

our own heads!"

Montcalm made a gesture similar to that of the Abbe.

"I have said so myself many a time," he replied. "I hated and

abhorred the means we have too often used. It may be that what you

say is right and just. And yet I know that I shall not live to see

Quebec in the hands of the English. I can die for my country, and I

am willing to do so; but I cannot and I will not surrender!"

"So they said at Louisbourg," muttered one of the midshipmen to

Colin, showing how easily he understood what was passing; "but they

sang to a different tune when they had heard the music of our guns

long enough!"

The Marquis was talking aside with the Abbe and Madame Drucour.

When the colloquy was over, the Abbe addressed the midshipmen.

"Monsieur de Montcalm is willing to release you on parole, and my

sister, Madame Drucour, will permit you to remain in this house

during your stay in the city. You must give up your dirks, and pass

your word not to try to escape; but after having done this, you

will be free to come and go as you will. And if the English should

take prisoners of our French subjects, you shall be exchanged upon

the first opportunity. These are the terms offered you by Monsieur

de Montcalm as the alternative to an imprisonment which would be

sorely irksome to youths such as you."

The lads looked at one another. It was a promise rather hard to

give, since there would be so many excellent opportunities for

escape; but the thought of imprisonment in some gloomy subterranean

portion of the fortress, even with the faint chance of effecting an

escape from thence, was too sombre and repelling. They accepted the

lenient terms offered, passed their word with frank sincerity, and

handed over their weapons with a stifled sigh.

"We will show you the city tomorrow," said Colin, when he took

their guests up to the lofty where they were to sleep in company.

"My sister and I are half English ourselves. I sometimes think that

in her heart of hearts Corinne would like to see the English flag

floating over the towers of Quebec."

"Hurrah for Mademoiselle Corinne!" cried the lad Peter, throwing

his cap into the air. "I thought you two looked little like the

dark-skinned Frenchies! We shall be friends then, and when the town

falls we will take care that no harm comes to you. But we mean to

have Quebec; so you may make up your mind to that!"

Chapter 3: Mariners Of The Deep.

"I must go! I must go!" shouted Colin, bursting into the house, mad

with excitement and impetuosity.

"My uncle, you will let me go! I must see this great and mighty

fleet for myself. They say it is coming up the mighty river's

mouth. Some say it will be wrecked ere it reach the Isle of

Orleans! Let me go and see it, I pray, and I will return and tell

you all."

The whole city was in a ferment. For long weeks had the English

fleet been watched and waited for--for so long, indeed, that

provisions were already becoming a little scarce within the town,

in spite of the convoy which had arrived earlier in the year. So

many mouths were there to feed that the question of supply was

causing anxiety already. Still with care there was enough to last

for a considerable time. Only the delay of the English vessels had

upset the calculations of the men in charge of the commissariat

department, and the people had to be put upon rations, lest there

should be a too quick consumption of the stores.

This had caused a little murmuring and discontent, and the long

waiting had tried the citizens more than active work would have

done. It had given Montcalm time to fortify his camp very strongly,

and make his position all that he desired; but it had been a

wearisome time to many, and the Canadian troops were already

discontented, and wearying to get away from the life of the camp,

back to their own homes and fields and farms.

But now hot midsummer had come, and with it the. English foe. A

fast-sailing sloop had brought word that the junction of the

squadrons was taking place just off Cape Tourmente, and Colin was

wild to take boat and go to see the great ships.

"They are saying that they must all be wrecked in trying to

navigate the Traverse," cried the boy; "but Peter and Paul and

Arthur laugh to scorn the notion, and say that we do not know what

sort of men the English mariners are. Some say that Admiral Durell

has already captured the pilots who live there, ready to take the

French ships up and down. Let me go and learn what is happening.

Let me take a boat, and take Peter and Paul and Arthur with me.

They know how to manage one as well as any sailor in the town. Let

us go, my uncle, and bring you word again."

The boy was set on it; he could not be withheld. Moreover, the Abbe

and Madame Drucour were keenly anxious for news.

"Be careful, my boy, be cautious," he said; "run not into danger.

But I think thou art safe upon the river with those lads. You will

take care of one another, and bring us word again what is

happening."

"Oh, I will come back safe and sound, never fear for me!" answered

the boy, in great delight. "We will bring you news, never fear! We

will see all that is to be seen. Oh, I am glad the day of waiting

is over, and that the day for fighting has come!"

"Would that I were a boy like you, Colin!" cried Corinne, with

sparkling eyes. "It is hard to be cooped up in the city when there

are such stirring things going on outside. But I will up to the

heights and watch for the sight of sails; and you will come back

soon, Colin, and tell us all the news."

Nevertheless it was a hard task for the eager girl to remain behind

when her brother and their three merry friends went forth in search

of news.

By this time the English midshipmen were quite at home in their new

home, and the blithest of companions for the brother and sister

there. They did much to foster the sympathies of Colin and Corinne

for the English cause. The boys told of England and the life there,

and were so full of enthusiasm for their country that it was almost

impossible not to catch something of the contagion of their mood.

Both Colin and his sister had seen much to disgust and displease

them amongst the French; whilst round their foes there seemed to be

a sort of halo of romance and chivalry which appealed to the

imaginative strain in both brother and sister.

Their British blood could not fail to be stirred within them. They

saw and heard of corruption, chicanery, and petty jealousy all

round them here. It was hardly to be wondered at that they inclined

to the other side. England and Scotland were uniting together for

the conquest of this Western world. Their mother's countrymen were

fighting the battle. They had the right to wish them success.

Corinne rehearsed all this to herself as she stood upon the lofty

heights behind the town that afternoon with her uncle and aunt.

They were looking with anxiety and grave misgivings at the

clustering sails dimly seen in the distance upon the shining water

of that vast estuary. Montcalm himself had come up to see, and

stood with his telescope at his eye, watchful and grave.

"We have made a mistake," he said to the Abbe in a low voice. "I

did speak to the Governor once; but he was against the measure, and

we permitted it to drop. But I can see now it was a mistake. We

should have planted a battery--a strong one--upon Cape Tourmente,

and bombarded the ships as they passed by. We trusted to the

dangerous navigation of the Traverse, but we made a mistake:

English sailors can go anywhere!"

The Abbe made a sign of assent. He remembered now how the General

had made this suggestion to the Governor, and pressed it with some

ardour, but had been met with opposition at every point. Vaudreuil

had declared that it would weaken the town to bring out such a

force to a distant point; that they must concentrate all their

strength around the city; that they would give the enemy the chance

of cutting their army in two. Montcalm had yielded the point. There

was so much friction between him and the Governor that he had to

give way where he could. Vaudreuil was always full of grand,

swelling words, and boasts of his great deeds and devotion; but men

were beginning to note that when face to face with real peril he

lost his nerve and self confidence, and had to depend upon others.

It was thus that he opposed Montcalm (of whose superior genius and

popularity he was bitterly jealous) at every turn when danger was

still distant, but turned to him in a fluster of dismay when the

hour of immediate peril had come, and had been made more perilous

by his own lack of perception and forethought whilst things were

less imminent.

"Yet look at our lines of defence!" he exclaimed, after he had

finished all the survey he could make of the distant sails crowded

about the Isle of Orleans. "Where could any army hope to land along

this northern shore? Let them fire as they like from their ships;

that will not hurt us. And we can answer back in a fashion that

must soon silence them. The heights are ours; the town is safely

guarded. The summer is half spent already. Let us but keep them at

bay for two months, and the storms of the equinox will do the rest.

When September comes, then come the gales--and indeed they may help

us at any time in these treacherous waters. You mariners of

England, you are full of confidence and skill--I am the last to

deny it--but the elements have proved stronger than you before

this, and may do so again."

Corinne listened to all this with a beating heart, and asked of her

aunt:

"What think you that they will first do--the English, I mean?"

"Probably land and make a camp upon the Isle of Orleans, which has

been evacuated. A camp of some sort they must have, and can make it

there without damage to us. It will make a sort of basis of

operations for them; but I think they will be sorely puzzled what

to do next. They cannot get near the city without exposing

themselves to a deadly fire which they cannot return--for guns

fired low from ships will not even touch our walls or ramparts--and

any attempt along the shore by Beauport will be repulsed with heavy

loss."

"Yet they will do something, I am sure," spoke the girl, beneath

her breath; and she was more sure still of this when upon the

morrow Colin returned, all aglow with excitement and admiration,

whilst the three midshipmen had much ado to restrain their whoops

of joy and triumph.

"I never saw such a thing!" cried Colin, his face full of delight

and enthusiasm, as he and the midshipmen got Corinne to themselves,

and could talk unrestrainedly together; "I feel as though I could

never take sides against the English again! If they are all such

men as that old sailing master Killick, methinks the French have

little chance against them."

"Hurrah for old Killick! hurrah for England's sailors!" cried the

midshipmen, as wildly excited as Colin himself; and Corinne pressed

her hands together, and looked from one to the other, crying:

"Oh tell me! what did he do?"

"I'll tell you!" cried Colin. "You have heard them speak of the

Traverse, and what a difficult place it is to navigate?"

"Yes: Monsieur de Montcalm was saying that no vessel ever ventured

up or down without a pilot; but he said that a rumour had reached

him that some pilots had been taken prisoners, and that the English

ships would get up with their help."

"With or without!" cried Peter, tossing his cap into the air. "As

though English sailors could not move without Frenchmen to help

them!"

"Some of them took pilots aboard; indeed they were sent to them,

and had no choice. But I must not get confused, and confuse you,

Corinne. I'll just tell you what we did ourselves.

"We heard a great talk going on on board one of the transport boats

called the Goodwill, which was almost in the van of the fleet, I

suppose because the old sailing master, Killick, was so good a

seaman; and so they had sent a pilot out to her, and he was

jabbering away at a great rate--"

"Just like all the Frenchies!" cut in Paul; "calling out that he

would never have acted pilot to an English ship except under

compulsion, and declaring that it was a dismal tale the survivors

would take to their own country--that Canada should be the grave of

the whole army, and the St. Lawrence should bury beneath its waves

nine-tenths of the British ships, and that the walls of Quebec

should be lined with English scalps!"

"The wretch!" cried Corinne. "I wonder the sailors did not throw

him overboard to find his own grave!"

"I verily believe they would have done so, had it not been for

strict orders from the Admiral that the pilots were to be well

treated," answered Arthur. "Our English Admirals and officers are

all like that: they will never have any advantage taken of helpless

prisoners."

"I know, I know!" answered Corinne quickly; "that is where they

teach the French such a lesson. But go on--tell me more. What about

old Killick? and where were you all the while?"

"Holding on to the side of the transport, where we could see and

hear everything, and telling the sailors who were near about Quebec

and what was going on there. But soon we were too much interested

in what was going on aboard to think of anything else.

"Old Killick roared out after a bit, 'Has that confounded French

pilot done bragging yet?' And when somebody said he was ready to

show them the passage of the Traverse, he bawled out:

"'What! d'ye think I'm going to take orders from a dog of a

Frenchman, and aboard my own vessel, too? Get you to the helm, Jim,

and mind you take no orders from anybody but me. If that Frenchman

tries to speak, just rap him on the head with a rope's end to keep

him quiet!'

"And with that he rolled to the forecastle with his trumpet in his

hand, and got the ship under way, bawling out his instructions to

his mate at the wheel, just as though he had been through the place

all his life!"

"Had he ever been there before?" asked Corinne breathlessly.

"No, never. I heard the commanding officer and some of the

gentlemen on board asking him, and remonstrating; but it was no

use.

"'Been through before! no, never,' he cried; 'but I'm going through

now.'

"Then they told him that not even a French vessel with an

experienced sailing master ever dared take the passage without a

pilot, even though he might know it well. Whereupon old Killick

patted the officer upon the back, and said, 'Ay, ay, my dear,

that's right enough for them; but hang me if I don't show you all

that an Englishman shall go at ease where a Frenchman daren't show

his nose! Come along with me, my dear, and I'll show you this

dangerous passage.'

"And he led him forward to the best place, giving his orders as

cool and unconcerned as though he had been in the Thames itself.

The vessel that followed, hearing what was going on, and being

afraid of falling into some peril herself, called out to know who

the rash sailing master was. 'I am old Killick!" roared back the

bold old fellow himself, hearing the question, 'and that should be

enough for you!'

"And he turned his back, and went on laughing and joking with the

officer, and bawling out his orders with all the confidence of an

experienced pilot."

"O Colin! And did he make no mistake? And what did the pilot say?"

"Oh, he rolled up his eyes, and kept asking if they were sure the

old fellow had never been there before; and when we had got through

the great zigzag with never so much as the ghost of a misadventure,

and the signalling boats pointed to the deeper water beyond, the

old fellow only laughed, and said, 'Ay, ay, my dear, a terrible

dangerous navigation! Chalk it down, a terrible dangerous

navigation! If you don't make a sputter about it, you'll get no

credit in England!'

"Then lounging away to his mate at the helm, he bid him give it to

somebody else; and walking off with him, he said, 'Hang me if there

are not a thousand places in the Thames fifty times worse than

that. I'm ashamed that Englishmen should make such a rout about

it!' And when his words were translated to the pilot, he raised his

hands to heaven in mute protest, and evidently regarded old Killick

as something not quite human."

"Hurrah for the old sea dog! That's the kind of mariner we have,

Mademoiselle Corinne; that's the way we rule the waves! Hurrah for

brave old Killick! We'll make as little of getting into Quebec as

he did of navigating the Traverse!"

The story of the old captain's prowess ran through Quebec like

lightning, and produced there a sensation of wonder not unmixed

with awe. If this was the spirit which animated the English fleet,

what might not be the next move?

It was quickly known that the redoubtable Wolfe had landed upon the

Isle of Orleans, and was marching in a westerly direction towards

the point three or four miles distant from the city where he would

be able to obtain a better view than heretofore of the nature of

the task to which he was pledged.

"Let him come," said the Marquis of Montcalm grimly; "let him have

from thence a good view of our brave town and its defences!

Perchance it will be a lesson to him, in his youthful pride. He

thinks he is a second Hannibal. It will cool his hot blood,

perchance, to see the welcome we are prepared to accord to the

invaders of our soil."

In effect there was another sort of welcome awaiting the English

fleet; for upon the next day one of those violent squalls for which

these northern waters are famous swept over the great river St.

Lawrence, and in the town of Quebec there were rejoicing and

triumph.

"Now let the British mariners look to themselves!" cried the

people, shaking fists in the direction of the invisible fleet,

which they knew was anchored off the south shore of the great

island. "We shall soon see what they can do against one of our

Canadian tempests! Pray Heaven and all the saints that it may sink

every one of them to the bottom, or grind them to pieces upon the

rocks!"

"Pooh! not a bit of it," cried the midshipmen in contempt, though they

watched the storm with secret anxiety. "As though English-built vessels

could not ride out a capful of wind like this! See, it is clearing off

already! in an hour's time it will have subsided. As though our anchors

would not hold and our sailors keep their heads in such a little mock

tempest as this!"

Luckily for the English fleet, the squall was as brief as it was

violent; nevertheless it did do considerable damage to the ships at

their anchorage, and flying rumours were brought in as to the

amount of harm inflicted. Certainly some considerable damage had

been done, but nothing beyond repair. It had not daunted one whit

the hearts of the invading foe.

Montcalm came into the city that evening, and supped with the Abbe

and Madame Drucour. He was not without anxiety, and yet was calm

and hopeful.

"The tempest did not last long enough to serve our turn as we

hoped. The Governor trusted it would have destroyed the whole

fleet; but from what I can learn, nothing was really lost except a

few of the flat-bottomed landing boats used in the disembarkation

of the troops. The English are certainly notable sailors; but it is

with her soldiers that we shall have more directly to deal. Still,

I wish we could have sunk her ships; it would have placed her on

the horns of a dilemma."

"I have heard," said the Abbe, "that the Governor talks of

destroying the fleet by fire. He has made considerable preparation

for such an attempt."

Montcalm smiled slightly.

"True; he has been busy with his fire ships for some while. For my

own part, I have but limited faith in them. They have cost us a

million, and I doubt whether they will prove of any service; yet

Vaudreuil is very confident."

"The Governor is wont to be confident--till the moment of actual

peril arrives," said the Abbe thoughtfully. "Well, we shall see--we

shall see. When are these notable fire ships to be sent forth?"

"I think tomorrow night," answered Montcalm, "but that is a matter

which rests with the Governor. I have no concern in it; and when

such is the case, I offer no advice and take no part in the

arrangements. Doubtless I shall see what is going on from some

vantage point; but Monsieur de Vaudreuil will not take counsel with

me in the matter."

"Fire ships!" cried the midshipmen, when Colin told them what he

had heard; "do they think to frighten English mariners with

fireworks and bonfires? Good! let them try and see. And O Colin,

good Colin, if they are going to send down fire ships upon the

fleet, let us be there to see!"

Colin desired nothing better himself. He was all agog to see the

thing through. And why should they not? It was not difficult to

obtain a boat, and in the darkness and confusion the four lads

would easily be able to follow the fire ships and see the whole

thing through. The midshipmen could navigate a boat with anyone,

and Colin had learned much of their skill. All day they were often

to be seen skimming about the basin of the St. Lawrence,

prospecting about for news, and watching the movements of the

English soldiers on shore, or of the fleet anchored a few miles

farther off. They had only to steal away unnoticed, and take to

their boat before the excitement began, and they could follow the

phantom ships upon their mysterious way, and watch the whole

attempt against the English fleet.

"Ah, but take me," cried Corinne, when she heard the

discussion--"do take me! It is so hard to be a girl, and see

nothing! I will not be in your way. I will not scream and cry, or

do anything like that. I only want to watch and see. I shall not be

afraid. And I want so much to see something! I know I could slip

away without anyone's knowing or missing me. Only say you will take

me!"

"Of course we will take you, Mademoiselle Corinne," cried Paul,

with boyish gallantry; "why should you not see as well as we? I

have a sister Margery at home who would be as wild to go as you can

be. She is as good as a boy any day. Wrap yourself well up in a

great cloak, so that you may keep warm, and so that nobody can

guess we have a lady on board, and we will take care of you, never

fear!"

Corinne clapped her hands gaily; although growing to maidenhood,

she had the heart of a child, and was full of delight at the

thought of anything that promised adventure and excitement.

"How good you are! And pray call me not 'Mademoiselle' any more;

call me Corinne--all of you. Let me be an English girl, and your

sister; for, in sooth, I feel more and more English every day of my

life. Sometimes I fear that I shall be hanged for a traitor to the

cause; for I find myself on the side of our English rivals more and

more every day!"

The compact thus sealed was easily carried out. The Abbe and his

sister, Madame Drucour, were keenly interested in the attempt of

the fire ships against the English fleet, and were to watch

proceedings from the steeple of the Recollet Friars. The daylight

lasted long now, and supper was over before the shadows began to

fall; and the excited lads were able to wait till the seniors had

started forth before they made their own escape down to the

harbour.

Corinne wrapped herself in a long black cloak, drawing the hood

over her head, and thus disguising herself and her sex completely

from any prying eyes; but indeed they scarcely met anyone as they

hurried along through the narrow streets to the unfrequented wharf,

where the boys had brought up the boat earlier in the day. Quickly

they were all aboard, and were gliding through the darkening water,

whilst the crowd gathered at quite a different part of the harbour

showed where the launch of the fire ships was going on.

Colin described them as well as he could.

"There are three or four big ones, and Monsieur Delouche is in

command; and then there is a great fire raft, as they call it--a

lot of schooners, shallops, and such like, all chained together--a

formidable-looking thing, for I got one of the sailors to show it

me. I suppose they are all pretty much alike, crammed with

explosives and combustibles; old swivels and guns loaded up to the

muzzle, grenades, and all sorts of things like that, some of them

invented for the occasion. We must give these fellows a wide berth

when once they are set alight; for they will burn mightily, and

shower lead and fire upon everything within reach. I only trust

they may not do fearful damage to the English ships!"

"Not they!" cried Peter, with a fine contempt in his voice. "The

Frenchies are safe to make a muddle of it somewhere; and our bold

jack tars won't be scared by noise and flame. You'll soon see the

sort of welcome they will give these fiery messengers."

The night darkened. There was no moon, and the faint wreaths of

vapour lay lightly upon the wide waste of waters. Corinne gazed

about her with a sense of fascination. She had never before been so

far out upon the river; and how strange and ghostlike it appeared

in the silence of the night!

Ten o'clock struck from the clocks in the town behind them, and

Colin turned back to look towards the harbour.

"They were to start at ten," he remarked. "Let us lie to now and

watch for them. We must give them a wide berth, but not be too far

distant to see what they do."

Corinne gazed, breathless with excitement, along the darkening

water. The silence and increasing darkness seemed to weigh upon

them like a tangible oppression. They could hear their own excited

breathing; and all started violently when Arthur's voice suddenly

broke the silence by exclaiming:

"I see them! I see them--over yonder!"

The boat in which the eager lads and equally eager girl were afloat

was drifting about not very far distant from the Point of Orleans,

where were an English outpost and some English shipping, although

the main part of the fleet was some distance further on. The

watchers expected that the ghostly ships, gliding upon their silent

way, would pass this first shipping in silence and under cover of

the darkness, and only begin to glow and fire when close to the

larger part of the hostile fleet. Yet as they watched the oncoming

vessels through the murk of the night, they saw small tongues of

flame beginning to flicker through the gloom, and run up the masts

and sails like live things; and all in a moment came a smothered

roar and a bright flashing flame which, for the few seconds it

lasted, showed the whole fire fleet stealing onwards, and the boats

by which the crews of them were making good their escape.

"They have fired them too soon!" cried Colin, in great excitement.

"I know they were not to have done it till they had passed the

Point and got well into the south channel, where all the shipping

lies."

"Hurrah!" cried Peter, waving his cap; "did we not say that the

Frenchies would make a mess of it? They may be good for something

on land; but at sea--"

There was no hearing the end of the sentence; for with a roar like

that of a volcano in eruption one of the ships burst into a mass of

flames, whilst the rest became lighted up by the glare, and were

soon adding to the conflagration--the fire racing up their masts

and rigging, and showing them against the black waters like vessels

of lambent flame.

"How beautiful, yet how terrible!" cried Corinne, as she gazed with

fascinated eyes. "But look--look--look--look how the water is torn

up with the shower of lead that falls from them! Are they not like

fiery dragons spouting out sheets of fire? Oh, and listen how they

hiss and roar! Are they not like live things? Oh, it is the most

terrible thing I have ever seen. How glad I am that they are not

running amongst the English ships! They are beautiful, terrible

creatures; but I think they are doing no hurt to anything."

"And look yonder!" cried Peter, pointing landwards in great

excitement; "see those long red lines drawn up on shore! Those are

our English soldiers, all ready to receive the foe should they seek

to land under cover of this noise and smoke and confusion. As

though our British grenadiers would be scared by false fire like

yon fireworks!"

"And see, see again!" yelled Paul, still more excited--"see our

sailors getting to their boats! They are going to row out and

grapple those flaming monsters. See if it be not so. They are

drifting down a little too near our few ships. You will see now for

yourself, Corinne, the stuff of which our mariners are made!"

"Oh surely, surely they will not go near those terrible vessels!"

cried Corinne.

"Yes, but they will," cried Arthur, watching their movements

keenly; "oh, would I were with them to help! See, see! they are

getting their grappling irons into the boats. That means they are

going to grapple these blazing ships, and tow them somewhere out of

harm's way. Hurrah for England and England's sailors! Now you will

see what our answer will be to these fiery messengers."

Corinne clasped her hands in mute wonder and amaze as the boats

shot off from shore, bearing straight down upon the great fire

raft--the most formidable of all the fleet--which was spouting

flame and lead, and blazing like a live volcano, roaring the while

like a veritable wild beast, as though animated by a demon of fury.

"They never can go near it; they will be burned alive!" cried the

girl, in affright.

But the midshipmen watched the tactics of the boats with eyes full

of eager comprehension.

"They will tackle it somehow, you will see," cried Peter. "See,

they are getting round to the leeward of it, and they will lie off

till it has finished its most deadly spouting. But it is drifting

down upon the ships at anchor. They will never let it get amongst

them. You will see--you will see! O brave jack tars, show the

mettle you are made of in the eyes of all Quebec this night!"

Corinne could scarcely bear to look, and yet she could not turn her

eyes away. The English sailors, laughing and joking the while,

swarmed round the fiery monster in their boats, singing out to one

another, and at favourable moments flinging their grappling irons

and sheering off again.

"All's well! all's well!" they kept calling out, as one after

another they fixed their hold; then with united and manful effort,

and with a sing-song sound which came rolling over the water with

strange effect, they commenced towing their blazing prize away from

the ships she was nearing rather too threateningly, whilst great

shouts and rounds of cheering went up from those afloat and ashore.

"Oh, well done, well done, brave men!" cried Corinne, roused to a

keen enthusiasm; and in one of the pauses of the cheering, when

silence had fallen upon the spectators owing to a sudden vicious

outrush of flame, which seemed for a moment as though it must

overwhelm the gallant English tars, a voice came from one of the

tow boats, calling out to a companion in another:

"I say, Jack, didst thou ever take hell in tow afore?"

The monster raft, flaming and sputtering, together with the other

fire ships beyond, was coolly towed ashore by the intrepid sailors,

and all were left to burn away harmlessly upon the strand, where

they could hurt nothing; whilst peals of laughter and cheering went

up from the English camp.

"Poor Monsieur de Vaudreuil!" exclaimed Colin, as he prepared to

sail back to the dark city, "I wonder if he has seen the fate of

his vaunted fire ships?"

Chapter 4: Hostilities.

"Alas! alas!" wailed the townsfolk, when the news of the fiasco of

the fire ships was made known, "those dogs of English are too much

for us upon the water; but let them attempt to meet us on land, and

we will show them what we can do!"

"Do they think French soldiers are the only ones who can fight?"

asked Arthur, with a note of wondering scorn in his voice, as the

sense of these words came to him. "Well, they will have their wish

fast enough, I doubt not! Wolfe is here; and if he cannot fight,

write me down an ass! They have seen what the sailors can do; now

we will show them what our soldiers are good for!"

"Don't boast, Arthur," quoth Peter, the eldest of the trio; "we can

do without great swelling words. The French boast themselves into

the belief that they hold this whole vast continent in possession.

We must not be like them, and seek to boast ourselves into Quebec!

We will wait till our flag is flying from yon battlement, and then

it will be time enough to talk."

"All right," answered Arthur gaily; "I'll wager it will not be long

before we see it there!"

"Only don't let our townsfolk hear you saying that," said Corinne,

laughing, "else they may be disposed to set you hanging there

instead!"

And at that retort a laugh was raised against Arthur, who was a

little disposed to gasconade, and to an unmerited scorn of the

valour of their French rivals.

"Nor will Quebec be taken in a day, nor a week, nor a month," added

Corinne, "if all we hear be true. Monsieur de Montcalm has no

intention, it is said, of meeting your Wolfe in battle. He means to

lie behind these strong walls, and yonder formidable earthworks

which protect his camp, and wear out the patience of the foe till

the autumn storms force them to leave these coasts for a safer

harbourage. There will be no fighting in the open, they say; all

will be done by the guns cannonading us, and by ours returning the

fire. It may be grand and terrible to watch, but it will not bring

things quickly to an issue."

"Yet Wolfe will contrive something to keep the foe busy, or I am

much mistaken," cried Peter. "Doubtless a pitched battle is what he

would most desire; but if that is not to be, he will find a way of

harassing his foes. Never fear, Corinne; you will see enough of war

before long--trust my word for that!"

"Enough, and too much, perchance," said the girl, with a little,

quick sigh; "my aunt tells me that war is a fearful game to behold.

Sometimes my heart sinks within me at what is about to befall. And

yet I am glad to be here; I would not be elsewhere. I long to see

this great struggle and watch it through. All say that Quebec is

the key of Canada. Whichever nation holds Quebec will be master of

the whole vast province."

"Ay, and Wolfe knows that as well as the French themselves. His cry

has always been, 'To Quebec!'

"And yonder he is, within a few miles of his goal! Now we shall see

what he can do."

In truth they were very soon to see and feel for themselves in the

city what Wolfe could and would do.

A day or two later sounds of excitement and alarm in the street

proclaimed that something fresh was afoot, and Colin with his

comrades darted out to learn the news. The citizens were gathering

together and running for places which commanded a view over the river,

and those who had telescopes or spyglasses were adjusting them with

trembling hands, pointing them all in one direction--namely, towards

the heights of Point Levi opposite, where the river narrowed itself

till it was less than a mile wide.

"What is it?" cried Colin to a man with a glass at his eye.

"The English soldiers are there!" he answered; "I can see their red

coats swarming up the heights. Holy Virgin protect us! They are

making fascines and gabions. They are going to bring up their guns.

They will be able to lay the houses of the Lower Town in ruins,

even if they cannot touch the fortifications. Why did not the

Governor leave a stronger force over yonder to protect us?"

That question was being passed from mouth to mouth by the anxious

and frightened townspeople. They had been full of confidence and

courage up till now; but the news that Wolfe had taken Point Levi,

and was bringing up guns and intrenching himself upon the heights,

filled them with apprehension.

"What are our guns doing that they do not open fire and dislodge

them?" cried one voice after the other. "Where is the Marquis of

Montcalm? Why does he not take steps for our defence?"

Montcalm was indeed coming post haste to the city, seeing clearly

the menace in this action of the English General. He bitterly

regretted having left the defence of Point Levi to the Canadian

contingent there; for the Canadians were very uncertain soldiers,

and were easily discouraged, though if well led and generalled they

could be of great service in certain kinds of warfare. But it was

known that the Canadians were already beginning to look upon the

English as their possible new rulers; and some of them were

disposed to regard a change of masters almost with indifference, so

long as they were not interfered with in their own possessions. It

was quite likely they had only made a very half-hearted resistance

to the English foe; at least one thing was certain--Wolfe had

gained possession of these heights with singularly little

difficulty.

But Montcalm was not going to let him remain there if he could by

any means dislodge him. Hardly had the General entered the fortress

before Corinne heard, almost for the first time, the strange

screaming noise of a shell hurtling through the air, and the next

moment there were gushes of smoke from a dozen places along the

fortifications, as the great guns were pointed and fired and the

balls and bombs went flying across the great river, to fall amongst

the busy toilers on the opposite height, carrying death and

destruction with them.

Eagerly was the result of the fire watched and waited for. The

citizens cried out to those with glasses to tell them the result.

"They take no notice," cried one man who was commandingly posted;

"they toil on without so much as a pause. The fire has not touched

them yet; the guns are pointed too low. They are bringing up their

own guns now; they have one battery almost complete. In a few hours

they will be ready to return our fire. Can nothing be done to stop

that? Our houses and churches will be knocked to pieces, and our

town destroyed! The General says that this will do them no

good--they cannot touch the citadel and fortifications; but are we

to have our homes destroyed about our ears? We men of Quebec will

not stand that!"

Fear and indignation were filling all hearts. Why had Point Levi

been so poorly defended? Why had it been left such an easy prey to

the foe? Who was to blame? Governor or General--Vaudreuil or

Montcalm? The balance of opinion was in favour of the General,

whose known ability and personal charm had rendered him popular

with the citizens, whilst Vaudreuil commanded but little respect or

confidence. Still, whoever was to blame, the fact remained. The

town was in terrible danger of a ruinous bombardment, and the

efforts now made to beat back and dislodge the enemy met with no

sort of success.

On and on they toiled. The shot and shell certainly fell amongst

them after a while, but seemed in no whit to disconcert them. The

Canadian soldiers regarded with amaze this cool intrepidity. They

themselves could be bold in forest warfare, with shelter all around

them; but they were never steady in the open under fire, and could

hardly credit how any soldiers could pursue their tasks unmoved by

the leaden rain descending upon and about them.

"The devil and his angels must be protecting them!" cried the

women, crossing themselves in fear; but the English midshipmen

laughed aloud.

"What do they think soldiers are for, if not to do their duty in

the teeth of danger and difficulty? They are a strange people,

these Canadians. Surely the French troops would face peril as

steadily if they were put to it?"

"Oh yes," answered Colin; "the French regulars fight exceedingly

well. Has not that been proved a thousand times on European soil?

But the plaint of our General is that France sends him so few men,

and that the Indians and Canadians are not of the same value, save

in certain classes of warfare and in their native forests. The

Governor is, however, so jealous for the honour of his Canadians,

that he seeks in his dispatches to give all the credit of victory

to them. So it is natural that the French minister should be chary

of sending out regulars, which are so urgently needed over there

for the war. Monsieur de Montcalm has told my uncle many things on

this very point. He is always urging the Government to send us more

men, but he can only get the half of what he needs. Perhaps, in

days to come, France may regret that she did not listen better to

his representations. We shall have need of good men if this city is

to be held for her against the English."

When the lads reached their home, they found the Abbe and his

sister deep in talk. Corinne had been listening with attention, but

now she turned eagerly to the lads, to ask what news they brought.

Their tale was soon told, and all faces were grave.

"It will be a disastrous thing for the city to be bombarded," said

the Abbe. "It may not bring the capitulation any nearer, but it

will harass and dishearten the citizens. I am truly sorry for them;

they will certainly suffer. It should have been better managed than

that those opposite heights should fall so easy a prey to the foe.

Again that is the mismanagement of the Governor."

"Several boats have come over from the opposite shore," whispered

Corinne to her brother, "bringing news of what happened there.

There has been little enough resistance to the English soldiers. A

party landed at Beaumont, sending in front a band of Rangers, who

had a little scuffle with some Canadians in the woods, and drove

them off. The soldiers landed, and a placard was posted upon the

door of the church. It was signed by Wolfe. It told the Canadians

that if they would stand neutral in the coming struggle, they

should have full protection both of their persons and property, and

undisturbed liberty of religion; but warned them that if they

presumed to take up arms against the English, their houses and

goods should be destroyed and their churches despoiled. This

placard the Canadians removed when the soldiers had gone, and have

brought it to Quebec for the Governor to see."

"And what says he?"

"Nay, we know not, but it has caused a great commotion in the town.

If the Canadians do not stand by the French in this struggle, the

English must needs be victors."

"Ay," spoke the Abbe, whose face was very grave, "and the case is

but an evil one for them, as they begin to see. Already they are

weary of the war. They love not the life of the camp or the waiting

which is now imposed upon them. They are longing already to get

back to their homes and their farms, and see after their crops and

harvests. Yet if they refuse service under their masters the

French, they are threatened with Indian raids; and if they fight

the English, they are now threatened with their fury and vengeance.

It is small wonder that they are perplexed and half-hearted. We

shall have trouble with them, I fear me, ere the battle has been

fought and won."

Trouble was certainly menacing the town. There was no immediate

danger of its falling into the enemy's hands; but he was putting

himself in a position from which he could inflict irritating and

harassing injury to the town, and was making evident and active

preparations to do so. The military authorities, who looked at the

larger issues of affairs, regarded with perhaps a little too much

coolness the prospect of the destruction of some churches and a

large number of houses and other buildings, consoling themselves

with the knowledge that the fortifications would not suffer

greatly, and that Wolfe would be no nearer taking Quebec after he

had laid in ruins the homes of the citizens. But the exasperation

of these individuals was great, and their fear rose with every hour

which passed. They saw that batteries were being erected,

intrenchments thrown up; that their fire was no check to the

activity of the foe; and that before very long the storm of shot

and shell would be returned with interest, and would fall upon

their city, making terrible havoc there.