Wolfe makes his Last Attempt
"Listen to that, boys. There is music for you," said Mr. Mainwaring
some weeks after he, Steve, and the two trappers had set out for New
York. "Listen to our guns, and do not say after this that we shall be
too late. Quebec is not to be taken in a day. The city is one of the
very strongest, and has a big army to defend it. I said long ago that
we should be in time to see and take part in the crowning act of this
campaign."
"And you've stuck to that through thick and thin, Judge," chimed
in Jim, standing at the rail of the ship, and looking his old self
again, for the hunter was dressed at this moment just as he had been
on that day when we first made his acquaintance. Steve, too, was in
his trapper's clothing, looking taller and broader now after his many
months of campaigning, and bearing on his face more character perhaps
than ever before, for the anxieties of command had developed the
natural self-assurance which he had possessed from the first.
"I am delighted to feel that we are here at last, and in time, too,
father," he said. "I confess that I had doubts about reaching Quebec
before the city was taken, for we have been so long delayed. But
here we are, and, of course, the very first thing will be to seek an
interview with the general. I have my letter, and that should gain an
interview for me. As to the city being easily captured, I am sure that
our troops have their work cut out for them."
The little party was gathered on the deck of a small transport which
they had picked up at Louisbourg. For having arrived at New York in
accordance with the wish expressed in General Wolfe's letter, they had
taken the first trader for Louisbourg, and had had the huge misfortune
of running into big seas and nasty weather. Indeed, as if to make the
task of our general harder, this season proved to be an extremely late
one. Spring was very long in coming, and the expedition, which sailed
from England early in the year, was much delayed by contrary winds.
Even when it did arrive in the harbour of Louisbourg the seas were
encumbered with ice floes, and ice was floating thickly in the harbour.
The same difficulties had been encountered by the ship on which Steve
and his friends sailed, and when at length they reached Louisbourg
the fleet had sailed for Quebec some weeks before, while their own
arrival there was delayed further by having to await a transport. But
here they were at last, and within a few hours were landed at the huge
camp which the general had pitched on the western end of the Isle of
Orleans. Promptly they went to the quartermaster-general to report
themselves.
"Better late than never, gentlemen," he said, as Steve handed him his
letter, "and I can promise you a very warm welcome from our leader,
that is, as soon as he is recovered. He has very bad health as a
general rule, as you may know, and now I regret to say that he is
down with an attack of fever, and lies in bed over at the camp by
the Montmorenci. Now, I shall allot tents for you, and you will draw
rations in the ordinary course. You must find wood for yourselves, and
must appoint your own cook."
"That ain't no difficulty to men as has been cooking their own grub
all their lives," said Jim, with a laugh. "Reckon I'll take that 'ere
job till the time comes for fightin'. Then I'm off to try what a
charge feels like again. General, fightin' in the forest ain't nothin'
for excitement compared with the rush of these 'ere soldiers. A man
feels a man when he sees the enemy plain before him, and when he's
made up his mind to reach 'em and turn 'em out whatever their numbers."
"The kind of spirit which I fancy fills our gallant fellows," came the
smiling answer. "If I make no mistake you are Hunting Jim."
"You've struck it, General. That's me."
"Then I have heard of your dash at the landing on Cape Breton Island.
You will have other chances, my man, for Quebec has still to be
taken. Now I wish to warn you. Those guns are being fired from Point
Lévis, just opposite the city, and should you make in that direction
you will do wisely to keep well in rear of our batteries. The work
there is rather warm at times. As to your duties. You will, of course,
wait till you have seen the general. But there is much for you to
do. We have Rogers, a gallant colonial, and Stark, and others, too,
in command of bands of trappers and scouts like yourselves, and for
weeks they have been in the forests, meeting the French irregulars and
their Indians. There have been some very fierce encounters between
the different parties, and I am glad to say that our men have driven
the French and their allies back, and have penetrated even as far as
Montreal. You might very well join one of those bands."
"And what of the fighting here, sir?" Steve ventured to ask. "We
rather feared that we should arrive too late, for we have been very
much delayed. It is already September."
"And very soon we shall have to be returning, for the winter will be
upon us. But it will not come to that, I hope. Frankly, gentlemen,
we are face to face with what would appear to be an insuperable
difficulty. We have made attempts on the city without success, and
our leader is almost in despair. As to what we have actually done, we
brought our fleet right up the river, much to the amazement of the
French, who have never dared to do such a thing with their own ships.
That proves that our navy is very capable, and, indeed, we owe a
tremendous amount to it. We pitched our camp here promptly, while the
fleet lay off the island, and were almost at once in difficulties, for
the French sent down fire ships. However, our tars made short work of
the flaring ships, and, indeed, enjoyed the fun of towing them away.
Then we captured Point Lévis, and commenced to build batteries. Our
guns have been at work, just as you hear them now, almost incessantly
for eight weeks, and the lower parts of the city are crushed to
pieces. But still the garrison is there, with strongly entrenched
lines stretching east from the city to the Montmorenci, and known to
us as the lines of Beauport, while there is also a force watching
the ford which exists higher up the river Montmorenci. Our aim is,
of course, to get on to that plateau, and on one occasion we landed
troops below it, close to the falls, and failed to gain a footing
above, though our men made a gallant and very reckless charge, without
having received orders to do so.
"At the present moment we are contenting ourselves with a constant
cannonade, and with feints here and there, while our ships, some of
which have passed Point Lévis, and run up above the city, drift down
during the night, thus making the French think that we may attack
at any moment. Prideaux has captured Niagara, which has resulted in
a movement of Montcalm's troops, Bougainville having been sent with
1500 men to Cap Rouge, which, you know, is some seven miles west
of Quebec, at the end of the ridge which faces the river there, and
offers an insuperable barrier to us."
"The one on which we lay hidden for a week, or rather where my friends
took me after they had rescued me from prison," broke in Steve. "I
remember the ridge well. The heights above are known as the Plains of
Abraham."
"You recollect the ridge, sir? How do you mean?" demanded the
quartermaster-general suddenly, a faint flush spreading over his face.
"We descended to the river that way," came the answer. "There is a
rough path, which we scrambled down during the darkness. A canoe was
waiting for us at the bank, and we set off in her. After that we
captured a ship and----"
"Stop! One moment!"
To Steve's amazement the quartermaster-general came a step closer, and
stared at him with a curious expression of excitement.
"You clambered down that ridge, sir?" he asked. "Up to this we have
considered that an impossible feat. Are you sure?"
"Certain. I was a prisoner for some months, and was allowed great
liberty. I have scrambled down from the plains many a time, and could
clamber up again. What defences do they have there?"
"None. There are fifteen hundred men at Cap Rouge, as I have just
explained, and here and there are guards to watch the ridge. But
Montcalm believes, just as we have always believed, that to scale
those heights is impossible. You could clamber up? You are certain?
You could find a place?"
"I am positive," came the swift answer. "Give me a boat in which to
run up river and inspect, and I am sure I can find a place."
[Illustration: QUEBEC in 1759.]
By now there was little doubt of the excitement into which the officer
had worked himself. His face was red and white by turns, his hands
were clenched, and he strode to and fro as if he could not remain
still.
"I will do it," he said. "The general is ill, very ill, I fear,
though he is reported to be a little better this morning. But this is
important information, and he must have it at once. Be good enough to
accompany me."
He beckoned to Steve, turned, and strode to the river, where there was
a boat belonging to one of the men-of-war, fully manned, and at once
the officer stepped into her, Steve taking his place beside him.
"Pull for the Montmorenci, lads," he cried. "This is urgent business,
and your officer must excuse my taking his boat. Let one of your
number stay behind to tell him that the quartermaster-general was
compelled to borrow it."
The oars splashed and the boat put off into the river. Then she surged
over to the far shore, for the sailors could see that something urgent
was afoot. And presently the bows struck the far bank, and Steve found
himself walking beside the general to a hut situated in the English
camp.
"Tell the general I am here and wish to see him on the most urgent
business," said the officer. "I know he is ill, but this news cannot
wait."
A minute later Steve was gripping the feeble hand of his old
commander, who lay in a camp bed, prostrate with fever. But even
though he was ill and suffering he could remember old friends, and at
once greeted our hero.
"Our escaped prisoner," he smiled, somewhat wanly, "come at my
bidding, but very late, I fear."
"We were delayed, sir," answered Steve. "We feared that we should
arrive too late."
"Would that you had, my lad. But Quebec is still not ours, and I have
grave doubts about taking it. Montcalm has sixteen thousand men to
defend the place, to say nothing of the enormous natural obstacles
which aid him. I have seven thousand men, gallant fellows every one,
and finely equipped and disciplined. If it were possible they would
have captured the city for us by now. But it is not. I see no way out
of the difficulty."
"Knowing that, I ventured to bring this young officer with me," said
the quartermaster suddenly. "General, Steve Mainwaring was a prisoner
at large and knows every foot of the surroundings of Quebec. He can
tell you of a place where an attempt might be made."
Wolfe shot up on his couch as if he had been stung, and stared at our
hero with blood-shot eyes, which plainly showed the fever from which
he was suffering.
"You know of a place!" he cried eagerly. "Where? Where?"
"I mentioned that I had escaped down the cliff which falls from the
Plains of Abraham. There are several tracks down it, and one I often
used when I was a prisoner is known as the Anse du Foulon. Men could
climb there, General, if the place were pointed out to them."
"Will you find it? Will you lead the men there?"
The hollow eyes of the general stared at Steve eagerly, while the sick
man sat on the edge of his couch as if about to stand.
"I could," was Steve's emphatic answer, "I or any of the three friends
with me, one of whom is my father. If you will give us the order, sir,
we will carry out the duty, and will do our best to take a party to
the top so as to hold the place. Then others can ascend."
"You shall go at once. The quartermaster-general will make all
arrangements for me. You shall be taken aboard one of the sloops of
war, and sail up the river. That will allow you to get your bearings.
When you have identified the place come back to Point Lévis. I shall
be there, and we will make final preparations."
The general dismissed them with a nod, and as they left the hut they
heard him calling to his servant.
"A gallant gentleman, cursed with execrable health, but possessed
of wonderful spirit and ability," said the quartermaster-general.
"Captain, your news will do more for him than any amount of rest or
physic. Find this path for him, and our leader will be happy."
Indeed, our hero seemed to have arrived in the very nick of time, and
as a result perhaps of his news, the general was soon out of his bed,
and making his way from point to point, inspecting the batteries and
camps, infusing new spirit into the men, and causing the enemy many a
qualm. The news of a possible attempt on the Heights of Abraham was
kept a dead secret while Steve was engaged on his search, and every
effort made to harass the French. In order to carry out this programme
effectively the camp at Montmorenci was broken up, and the troops
brought to Point Lévis or to the Isle of Orleans. Then a garrison
was selected for these two posts, and all save a regiment of seven
hundred men secretly embarked upon the ships of the fleet, the men
who remained being posted close to Point Lévis. Thenceforward, for a
few days the French had many an alarm, for fleets of boats, filled
with troops from the camp at Orleans, or from that at Point Lévis,
put off from the bank as if about to make an attack, only, however,
to return as promptly, for it must be remembered that they were the
only available garrison now for those points. Ships opened fire on the
city from various stations, while the fleet massed up by Cap Rouge,
and so many feints were made that Bougainville was severely harassed.
As for Montcalm, the brave and able commander of the French, he saw in
all these feints a projected attempt on the mouth of the St. Charles
river, under the very shadow of Quebec, and disposed his troops
accordingly.
Meanwhile Steve, his father, and the two trappers had embarked on a
sloop, and having sailed during the night up to Cap Rouge, drifted
down river on the following day. Twice in succession they repeated the
performance.
"I am satisfied now that we have found the place," said our hero,
when sent for by the general. "From the river here the land looks so
different that at first we were a little uncertain. But we have picked
up our bearings, and there can be no doubt. It remains now only to
make sure that the enemy is not above, and if they are there, to get
such a hold that they cannot drive us down before reinforcements
arrive. May we have a canoe, General? and whenever you select the
night for the attack, we will slip ashore, find the path, and signal
to the men."
"We are ready now," came the answer, for Wolfe was nothing if not
eager and impetuous. "But the weather is against us. It is dull and
inclined to rain, and that, in my opinion, would spoil our chances. We
want a fine night. Return to the sloop, Steve, and when the hour comes
I will send for you."
Steve left the general stalking restlessly backwards and forwards in
front of his tent, looking wan and ill after his attack of fever. But
Wolfe was full of energy and determination. This coming attempt, he
felt, was to be his last. It was to be the one great stroke upon which
the success of the whole campaign depended, and nothing should cause
failure that care and attention beforehand could obviate. He went
aboard the fleet, and himself studied the face of that cliff up which
his battalions were to clamber. Then he published his orders, gave his
final instructions, and sent a short note to Steve.
"The weather is settled now, and the night will be fine," he wrote on
the twelfth of September. "Carry out your plan to-night. As soon as it
is dark make for the shore, and find this path. When you are sure that
you are near it lie close down by the water and listen. My men leave
three hours after it is dark. Show them a lantern as they pass you."
That was all. This General Wolfe, a keen organiser himself, was one
of those officers who had the happy knack of rapidly discovering the
good points of those who served him. Once assured of an officer's
discretion, he could give an order and leave it to the officer in
question to carry it out in every detail without interference. And
now he sent his final orders to Steve, intimating to him that on his
discretion depended the success or failure of the whole expedition.
"Then we will make our preparations," said our hero, when he had
read the note. "We already have a canoe, and I advise that we put
some provisions into her, for the troops may be delayed. We will go
alone, and will take knives and tomahawks. A musket might go off
accidentally, and in any case we shall be glad to be free of the
weight."
"Another o' Steve's 'cute ideas," cried Jim. "This 'ere game as we've
got air the biggest I reckon of any as we've ever tackled, 'cos, yer
see, ef we make jest the smallest mistake and the French hear us,
waal, what's the good of troops? They'll be down upon us at once."
"But not in force," answered Steve quickly. "Remember, Jim, that
Montcalm has the majority of his men either in the city or in the
Beauport lines. There are men at Cap Rouge, but only posts along the
cliff we are to climb. We will find the path, clamber up it, and leave
two at the top to watch. If a French sentry should come along and hear
the noise made by the men as they disembark, those two must silence
him. After that it will take only a few minutes to get some of our
fellows up, and then Montcalm will want an army. Our boys will not be
turned off the cliff by anything less. Jim, you and Mac will take that
post up at the top. Father and I will descend and give the signal."
Darkness had fallen barely more than a quarter of an hour when the
party of four prepared to leave the sloop. Those aboard her now knew
what was about to happen. Indeed, the English troops aboard the fleet
were aware of the attempt about to take place, and were already
silently embarking in the boats secured to the ships' sides. As to the
French, they still believed that an attack in force was impending at
the mouth of the St. Charles, or against the Beauport lines, for the
feints of the fleet at Cap Rouge had ceased entirely, while Montcalm
did not even suspect that the bulk of Wolfe's army was aboard. There
was a curious calm up the river, where there had been so much energy
a few days ago, while down stream, at Point Lévis, the guns thundered
even more loudly than before, and there was very obvious activity at
the camp on the Isle of Orleans. Indeed, perched as they were high up
in Quebec, and the ridge on either hand, the French could see every
movement of the English, unless cloaked by the darkness. Montcalm had
been an attentive watcher, and on this very night his charger stood
ready saddled, so that the commander might gallop along the Beauport
lines, wherever circumstances might call him. Little did Montcalm
think that it was towards the opposite direction that his horse's
hoofs would carry him.
"Good luck, boys. Remember we're waiting. Remember that every man
aboard the fleet looks to you to-night, and that every mother's son in
Old England will sing your praises if you are successful."
The captain of the sloop, a rough old sea dog, gripped each one of the
party by the hand as they prepared to step into the canoe. Then he
gave Steve a bag containing a dark lantern, flint, and steel.
"Light it ashore," he said earnestly. "Even the best lamp of this sort
might show a glimmer, and the French would see it. Get under cover
when you strike the flint, lad. Don't forget. Under cover."
There was a faint murmur from the men as Steve dropped gently into the
canoe, while the clatter of booted troops lowering themselves into the
boats of the fleet came softly to the ear.
"Push off," he whispered. "Out paddles. Jim, take post in the stern."
It was a silent party which floated down the mighty St. Lawrence, for
up above there might be many listening ears. The paddles dipped ever
so gently, while at the stern Jim sat stolidly, his nerves strung to
high tension, for this was new work again, his paddle deep in the
river, and his eyes following the faint line of the ridge.
"Put her in. We have floated far enough, and, I think, are nearly
opposite. H-u-u-s-h!"
There was a sound high up above the river, and close at hand, for the
canoe was now within a few yards of the bank. Then, startlingly loud
on this calm night came the voice of a sentry.
"_Qui va là?_ Who goes there? Reply or I fire."
"Be silent. We are a provision boat. You will show the enemy our
position."
Quick as thought Steve gave the answer in French, and at once the
figure which had stood dimly silhouetted against the clear sky and the
stars above disappeared.
"Paddle back a little," whispered Steve, when the man had gone. "Now
lie off the bank for a while, dipping your paddles gently. In a few
minutes we will drop down again."
They took their frail craft some two hundred yards up stream again,
making out into the river as they did so. Then, having allowed some
minutes to pass, they struck for the bank again, floated down without
using a paddle, and grounded noiselessly. There was no need now
for talking. Steve stepped softly ashore, and was followed by his
comrades. Together they lifted the canoe, and laid it on the bank some
yards from the brink. Then they turned their faces to the cliff, crept
over the grass, and between bushes and brambles till they were at its
foot, and then separated. Five minutes later they had gathered again
at the same spot.
"Struck it, Cap'n," whispered Jim, a thrill of excitement in his
usually even voice. "I jest hit nicely on it. Come."
On hands and knees now the four crept along at the foot of the cliff
till Jim stopped them. They turned to the left abruptly, and as Steve
felt the ground his fingers detected the hollow track which he had
used on former occasions when a prisoner at Quebec. They were on
it now, Jim leading still, and Mac in rear, clambering through the
darkness.
"H-u-u-u-sh! What in thunder air thet?"
Jim spoke in a whisper, and Steve, who followed closely after him,
squeezed up to his side. There was a mass of wood and earth clinging
to the face of the cliff, and entirely blocking a portion of the
zig-zag Anse du Foulon.
"Get round it," whispered Steve, when he had run his fingers over the
obstruction. "Quietly! I think I heard someone moving up above."
Creeping to the right, and making use of every possible stump and
rock, Jim clambered round the obstruction, and reached the path again.
Another minute and he had gained the summit of the cliff, here some
two hundred feet in height, and was stretched on the grass which clad
the edge. And there the four lay listening for some few minutes.
"There's a sentry or two 'way over thar," whispered Jim, after a
little while. "I can hear the tap of his boots, and what's thet?"
"A song. He is doing what many a sentry does to pass the hours of
darkness. Humming a little tune all to himself. It's company to a man
posted on such a lonely beat. Well, Jim, we'll go. Keep a bright
look-out."
Steve and his father slipped from the edge, past Mac and Jim, and
groped their way down the steep path. On any other occasion they would
have placed their heels against the earth and slid, for the path gave
little holding, while its steepness was lessened by the fact that it
ran zig-zag across the face of the cliff. But a slide now would bring
the sentries to that quarter, and so the two groped their way down
till they reached the bottom. Then Mr. Mainwaring unstrapped a blanket
which he had carried attached to his back, and he and Steve sat down
beneath it, dragging the edges close to the grass. The rasp of a flint
on steel followed, and within a few seconds the candle in their dark
lantern was alight.
"Close the dark slide now, Steve," whispered Mr. Mainwaring. "I will
take charge of the lamp while you watch. Then you can sing out when
I am to expose the light. Remember, lad, you are in command of this
little party."
He took the lamp and sat down close to the edge of the water, his
eye fixed on the dark figure of his son. As for Steve, he stood
like a rock, listening intently and watching the river. Ah! A voice
broke from the summit of the cliff, the sing-song tones of which he
recognised. It was the sentry again.
"Who goes there? Halt, or I fire!"
And almost at once, in the most excellent French, came the answer.
"Silence, fool, can you not see that we are provision boats floating
down to Quebec. Silence, I say!"
The sentry was satisfied. He shouldered his arm and strode off,
complimenting himself on his sharpness. As for the boats which he
had detected, they were, in fact, the leading craft of the flotilla
which bore our troops, and the officer who answered in such excellent
French was a Highlander, sent in advance for the very purpose, in
case the necessity to reply to a challenge should arise. The time had
come. Steve clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, a signal
which his father instantly followed. There was the low squeak of the
moving slide, and then a pencil of light shot out from the bank, to be
extinguished in less than five seconds.
One, two, three, Steve counted the boats as they ran in to the bank
and grounded. He ran forward, greeted the officer in command, and then
turned to lead them. They reached the cliff, gained the track, and
commenced to ascend. Hark! Above the faint noise made by the boots of
this advance party, above the deep breathing of the men there came a
sharp challenge from above.
"Who is there? Ah! I hear men moving down below, and there are boats.
Fire!"
Then followed a sudden shriek, there was the sound of a conflict
above, and within a few seconds a body crashed on the path some yards
beneath the top of the ridge, rebounded, and fell with a sickening
thud to the bank below. At the same instant a shot was fired, while
shouts arose in the distance.
"Charge. Up with yer, boys. We've got 'em. There ain't more then a
score here. Up yer come, every one of yer."
Jim shouted the words, and as Steve clambered to the top, he came
across the trapper standing to his full height, jubilant at the
success of the leading party.
"Did yer hear that air varmint strike?" he asked coolly. "Yer did.
Then you've nothing more to fear. It air that fellow Jules Lapon,
who's come up against us this many times. Reckon he won't be troubling
no longer."
Steve had barely time in which to grasp his meaning before the first
of the men were up. And after them, struggling up the track and at a
hundred and more other spots, came the rest of the troops, excited
and eager, fiercely determined to win on this occasion. Reckless
of danger, staunch to a man, and with childish confidence in their
officers, these gallant fellows gained the heights, paused to gather
breath, and then fell into their companies. When the daylight came,
Montcalm looked with consternation to the Plains of Abraham. For Wolfe
was there with four thousand three hundred seasoned and determined
men, who stood eagerly awaiting the expected battle.