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and had won each, notably at Ticonderoga, where with greatly inferior numbers he had inflicted a heavy defeat on the rash and headstrong Abercrombie. With the fall of Louisburg came the closing scene of the long struggle. For weary months in the summer of 1759 Wolfe, with the help of a fleet under Admiral Saunders—old ‘Dreadnought —had fruitlessly besieged Quebec, whose frowning battlements on the heights of Cape Diamond were deemed well nigh impregnable. His batteries on the heights of Levis across the St. Lawrence, under the command of General Monckton, had pounded the city until the lower town and the buildings along the steep slopes stretching from the waterside to the Citadel above had become a chaos of smoking ruins. Still Montcalm and the Governor, Vaudreil, refused to surrender. At Beauport Flats, where the Montmorency, after its prodigious leap of three hundred feet from the cliffs above, flows gently to mingle its foam-flecked waters with the St. Lawrence, Wolfe's veterans had been repulsed with the loss of over a thousand men, while the rocky cliffs for miles above the city seemed to mock at the idea of any successful enterprise in that direction. Winter was coming on apace when Admiral Saunders and his gallant fleet would be driven out of the river by the ice, and there would be nothing to do but to raise the siege. Without the ships the British commander would be helpless. All through the siege the fleet had had to encounter deadly peril from the French gunners on the summit of Cape Diamond and from the fire rafts which the garrison of Quebec sent floating down stream. It is recorded that upon one occasion, as the heroic sailors boldly grappled with the fire rafts and towed them away from the threatened ships, one gallant tar hailed a comrade with the strange query, ‘Hast ever had hell-fire in tow before, lad ' ' ‘No, replied his comrade, and then thinking probably of the bloody repulse at Beaufort Flats, he added, “but I’ve been in tow of Jimmy Wolfe's red head, and that's hell-fire enow for me.’ In truth the tall, ungainly Irishman with his angular figure and ugly features, surmounted by a mass of red hair, was a fiery leader, and those who followed him often had to encounter perils which almost justified the sailor's irreverent remark. The failure of all his plans for the reduction of the fortress at last induced Wolfe to conceive and adopt a final desperate resort which might well try the courage of the bravest troops. Upon it the success or failure of the great enterprise upon which the army had been engaged for months must depend. Admiral Saunders' ships had successfully run the gauntlet of fire from the French batteries, and a division under Admiral Holmes was cruising in the river above Quebec. This success encouraged Wolfe to determine upon the desperate plan of transferring his troops westward of the city, ferrying them across the St. Lawrence with the aid of the fleet, and bringing Montcalm to battle on the open ground west of the fortifications. Quebec, despite the courage with which the defence was maintained, was in sore straits, and Wolfe reasonably calculated that a defeat in the open would speedily bring about a surrender. The terrible and unquenchable batteries on Levis had rained death and destruction on the city. Churches and hospitals were in ruins and the streets were impassable, so encumbered were they with the débris of shattered buildings. Even the rampart batteries were in some cases buried beneath the fallen walls of demolished houses. To such condition was the city reduced that the wretched inhabitants had been forced to seek what scanty shelter they could find near the Hôpital Général, which stood beyond the range of the British guns in a bend of the St. Charles river. Every available spot was crowded with refugees, and even the chapel of the Hospital was filled with wounded so that Mass had to be said in the choir. The spectre of famine, too, had begun to stalk abroad. Wolfe's soldiers had laid the country waste in every direction, and Admiral Holmes' division, cruising in the St. Lawrence above Quebec, intercepted supplies approaching by way of the river from the west. No wonder that Montcalm and his hungry garrison prayed hard for the coming of winter to drive those terrible ships out of the river. They not only cut off all supplies, but they sorely taxed the energies of Bougainville and the fifteen hundred men whom Montcalm had detached to guard the left bank of the St. Lawrence above the city. General Murray with a small force had been placed aboard the ships of Holmes' division and had attempted landings at Pointaux-Trembles and La Mulitière, but was repulsed. He did, however, achieve some success at Deschambault, forty-one miles up the river, where he captured and burned a large depôt of provisions, without the loss of a man, before Bougainville could march to the spot. In the face of famine Montcalm’s militia were deserting in hundreds, and the fortitude of those who remained was weakened by the sight of their villages in the surrounding country being given to the flames by Wolfe's troops. Despite all this, the English made little impression on the grim fortress itself, whose defences still rose almost unimpaired upon the heights of Cape Diamond. September was at hand, and already chilly nights warned the besieging army of the approach of the Canadian winter, a more relentless foe than even Montcalm and his French regulars. It was in these circumstances that Wolfe decided as a last resort upon his desperate plan of crossing the river above Quebec, scaling the cliffs and attacking the defences of the city in rear, a task which Vaudreil declared impossible, unless the English grew wings. There was the additional reason for urgency in that the British general, although only thirty-two, was sorely stricken with disease and felt already the finger of death upon him. ‘I know perfectly well you cannot cure me,’ he said to his surgeon, “but pray make me up so that I may be without pain for a few days, and able to do my duty; that is all I want.” He wrote to Pitt about the same time—his last despatch—saying that he was ill and weak, but that he had resolved to throw four or five thousand men across the river and endeavour to draw the enemy to an action on the Plains of Abraham. So the camp at Montmorency was abandoned and only a few men were left at the Isle of Orleans to deceive the enemy. The position at Levis was also deprived of all but the men necessary to work the guns. Admiral Holmes' division was strengthened, and on the night of September 4 vessels carrying large stores of ammunition and supplies for the troops ran the gauntlet of the French batteries unobserved and anchored off Cap Rouge. Next day seven battalions were marched overland from Levis to a point opposite Sillery Cove, and presently Wolfe had twenty-two ships with nearly four thousand soldiers on board in the river above Quebec. This rearrangement was carried out so secretly that Montcalm had no knowledge of it. The movements of the fleet, however, aroused his suspicions. The ships drifted up and down the river with the tide day after day, apparently seeking for a suitable place to make a landing. Admiral Saunders in the lower bay was threatening to renew the landing at Beauport Flats. Montcalm was still confident that the cliffs were inaccessible to Wolfe's troops, and he retained the bulk of his forces between the St. Charles and the Montmorency. He did, however, increase Bougainville's division, which was watching Admiral Holmes, to about three thousand men, and on September 12 he ordered the regiment of Guienne to occupy the heights above the little bay, a mile and a half above Quebec, now known as Wolfe's Cove. The only guard at this all-important point, the only one for miles where there was any possibility of scaling the cliffs, was a dozen or so men under an officer named Vergor, who had the reputation of being somewhat timid. On the 12th Wergor, knowing perhaps that the regiment of Guienne had been ordered to relieve him, had given permission to the Canadian militiamen, who formed the bulk of his party, to go to their homes for a few days to assist with the harvest. The regiment of Guienne for some reason did not carry out its orders, and on the night of September 12, the very night on which Wolfe was to make his attempt, there were only two or three men at the point where the cliffs were to be scaled, and these went calmly to bed leaving one sleepy sentinel to watch the path leading up from the river. Had Montcalm’s orders been carried out Wolfe’s forlorn hope instead of finding only a single man to oppose them would have found a regiment, and the enterprise might have ended in disaster ere it had well begun. Montcalm's soldier instinct had made him uneasy about his western defences. Before dawn on the fatal September 13, he was riding hard for the city from Beauport, and at six in the morning, as he galloped up the slope of St. Charles, he was astounded to see the scarlet uniforms of the British on the spot where he had expected to find the regiment of Guienne. By the evening of September 12 Wolfe had completed all his preparations for the battle of the morrow, and night came down, starlit and serene. The camp fires of the two armies burned along the shores of the St. Lawrence, and the ships lay at anchor, their riding lights burning clear in the autumn gloom. But on board these ships everyone was alert and thrilling for the coming fight. Wolfe was in the flagship and waited impatient for the turning of the tide, which was to be the signal for the start. After darkness had settled down the ships' boats were lowered and filled with soldiers. The regiments chosen were the Light Infantry, Bragg’s, Lascelles', Kennedy's, and Anstruther's regiments, Fraser's Highlanders, the Royal Americans, and the Louisburg Grenadiers, the pick and flower of the besieging army. On shore, in the entrenchments of Cap Rouge, Bougainville's weary division watched the ships for a while, concluded there would be no move that night, and lay down to sleep. No word was spoken on board the fleet or in the crowded boats. The only sound that broke the stillness was the lapping rustle of the wavelets as they beat softly against the vessels' sides. The General paced the Sutherland's deck or leaned with arms folded on the rail watching the distant lights of Quebec. At ten o'clock a naval officer approached and said in low tones, ‘The tide has turned, sir.’ Wolfe straightened his pain-bowed figure, and for answer waved his hand towards the Sutherland's maintop shrouds. Instantly the signal lanterns, which stood ready lighted on the deck, swung aloft, and at the same moment the boats cast off and dropped slowly down stream on the ebbing tide. Wolfe stepped over the side of the flagship, took his place in his boat, and was rowed to the head of the flotilla. Before leaving the ship he had taken from his breast the portrait of his affianced wife and handing it to his old schoolfellow, Captain John Jarvis, of H.M.S. Porcupine (afterwards Lord St. Vincent), asked him to return it to her in the event of his death. As the boats passed slowly down the river Wolfe repeated aloud two stanzas from Gray's ‘Elegy, closing with the line— prophetic in his case—“The path of glory leads but to the grave.” Turning to the officers seated beside him in the boat he said, * Gentlemen, I would rather have written those lines than take Quebec.’ The boats swept onward, and after a time the ships weighed anchor and also dropped down stream with the troops of the second division on board. Bougainville's soldiers at Cap Rouge were too tired or too careless to march along the river bank to watch them. Two hours had elapsed, and the leading boats had drawn near the landing place. The foremost was carried somewhat past the selected spot when from the darkness of the cliff above a drowsy voice hailed ‘Qui vive ‘La France,’ replied an officer of Fraser's Highlanders, who had served in Flanders and had there learned to speak French. “A quel régiment o' queried the voice. “De la Reine,’ answered the Highlander, adding in warning tones, ‘Ne faites pas de bruit ; ce sont les vivres.’ The English had learned from a deserter that boats laden with supplies were expected that night to try and run the blockade of Holmes' division. Bougainville had countermanded the convoy, but he sent no intimation to Vergor. The sentry was satisfied, and the boats pulled in shore and the troops disembarking, hastily but

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