Deeds that Won the Empire | Page 9

have wings." The British ships were kept moving up and down
the river front for several days, so as to distract and perplex the enemy.
On September 12 Wolfe's plans were complete, and he issued his final
orders. One sentence in them curiously anticipates Nelson's famous
signal at Trafalgar. "Officers and men," wrote Wolfe, "will remember
what their country expects of them." A feint on Beauport, five miles to
the east of Quebec, as evening fell, made Montcalm mass his troops
there; but it was at a point five miles west of Quebec the real attack was
directed.
At two o'clock at night two lanterns appeared for a minute in the
maintop shrouds of the Sunderland. It was the signal, and from the fleet,
from the Isle of Orleans, and from Point Levi, the English boats stole
silently out, freighted with some 1700 troops, and converged towards
the point in the black wall of cliffs agreed upon. Wolfe himself was in
the leading boat of the flotilla. As the boats drifted silently through the
darkness on that desperate adventure, Wolfe, to the officers about him,
commenced to recite Gray's "Elegy":--
"The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, And all that beauty, all that
wealth e'er gave, Await alike the inevitable hour. The paths of glory
lead but to the grave."
"Now, gentlemen," he added, "I would rather have written that poem
than take Quebec." Wolfe, in fact, was half poet, half soldier. Suddenly
from the great wall of rock and forest to their left broke the challenge
of a French sentinel--"Qui vive?" A Highland officer of Fraser's

regiment, who spoke French fluently, answered the challenge.
"France." "A quel regiment?" "De la Reine," answered the Highlander.
As it happened the French expected a flotilla of provision boats, and
after a little further dialogue, in which the cool Highlander completely
deceived the French sentries, the British were allowed to slip past in the
darkness. The tiny cove was safely reached, the boats stole silently up
without a blunder, twenty-four volunteers from the Light Infantry
leaped from their boat and led the way in single file up the path, that
ran like a thread along the face of the cliff. Wolfe sat eagerly listening
in his boat below. Suddenly from the summit he saw the flash of the
muskets and heard the stern shout which told him his men were up. A
clear, firm order, and the troops sitting silent in the boats leaped ashore,
and the long file of soldiers, like a chain of ants, went up the face of the
cliff, Wolfe amongst the foremost, and formed in order on the plateau,
the boats meanwhile rowing back at speed to bring up the remainder of
the troops. Wolfe was at last within Montcalm's guard!
When the morning of the 13th dawned, the British army, in line of
battle, stood looking down on Quebec. Montcalm quickly heard the
news, and came riding furiously across the St. Charles and past the city
to the scene of danger. He rode, as those who saw him tell, with a fixed
look, and uttering not a word. The vigilance of months was rendered
worthless by that amazing night escalade. When he reached the slopes
Montcalm saw before him the silent red wall of British infantry, the
Highlanders with waving tartans and wind-blown plumes--all in battle
array. It was not a detachment, but an army!
The fight lasted fifteen minutes, and might be told in almost as many
words. Montcalm brought on his men in three powerful columns, in
number double that of Wolfe's force. The British troops stood grimly
silent, though they were tormented by the fire of Indians and Canadians
lying in the grass. The French advanced eagerly, with a tumult of
shouts and a confused fire; the British moved forward a few rods,
halted, dressed their lines, and when the French were within forty paces
threw in one fierce volley, so sharply timed that the explosion of 4000
muskets sounded like the sudden blast of a cannon. Again, again, and
yet again, the flame ran from end to end of the steadfast hue. When the

smoke lifted, the French column were wrecked. The British instantly
charged. The spirit of the clan awoke in Fraser's Highlanders: they
flung aside their muskets, drew their broadswords, and with a fierce
Celtic slogan rushed on the enemy. Never was a charge pressed more
ruthlessly home. After the fight one of the British officers wrote:
"There was not a bayonet in the three leading British regiments, nor a
broadsword amongst the Highlanders, that was not crimson with the
blood of a foeman." Wolfe himself charged at the head of the
Grenadiers, his bright uniform making him conspicuous. He was shot
in the wrist, wrapped a handkerchief round the wound, and