Great preparations were made throughout the fleet and army for the decisive movement, but the plans were still kept secret; a wise caution was observed in this respect, for the treachery of a single deserter might have imperiled the success of the expedition had its exact object been known. On the morning of the 12th, a soldier of the Royal Americans did desert: happily, he was unable to warn the enemy of their danger. Almost at the same time, one of the French regulars deserted to Wolfe, and brought a clear account of the state of affairs in Montcalm's camp. "The main force is still below the town," said he; "our general will not believe that you meditate an attack any where but on the Montmorency side. The Canadians are dissatisfied, alarmed by the fall of Niagara, and in great distress for provisions. M. de Levi, with a large detachment, has left us for Montreal, to meet Amherst; and M. de Bougainville, with 1500 men, watches the motions of your fleet in the Upper River."

From on board the Sutherland man-of-war, Wolfe issued his last orders to the army on the evening of the 12th of September:

"The enemy's force is now divided, great scarcity of provisions is now in their camp, and universal discontent among the Canadians, which gives us reason to think that General Amherst is advancing into the colony a vigorous blow struck by the army at this juncture may determine the fate of Canada . . the troops will land where the French seem least to expect it. The first body that gets on shore is to march directly to the enemy . the battalions must form on the upper ground with expedition, and be ready to charge whatever presents itself. The officers and men

will remember what is expected from them, and what a determined body of soldiers, inured to war, is capable of doing, against five weak French battalions, mingled with a disorderly peasantry.'

The heavier ships of the line moved this evening toward the Beauport shore, anchoring as near the enemy's lines as the depth of the water would permit. While daylight yet remained, all the boats of that portion of the fleet were lowered, filled with marines and seamen, and ranged in order,

threatening a descent upon the shore. At the same time, the remaining ships suddenly hoisted sail; and, with a favoring breeze, swept proudly past the batteries of Quebec, and joined Holmes's squadron at Cape Rouge, eight miles above the city. Monckton and Murray, who, with their brigades, still occupied Point Levi and the village of St. Michael's, now pushed rapidly up the left bank of the St. Lawrence till they arrived opposite the fleet, and there embarked without being observed by the enemy. At nine o'clock at night the first division of the army, 1600 strong, silently removed into flat-bottomed boats; the soldiers were in high spirits; Wolfe led in person. About an hour before daylight the flotilla fell down with the ebb tide. "Weather favorable; a starlight night."

CHAPTER XII.

WE must leave Wolfe for a while to take a brief review of the position of affairs in his enemy's camp. Montcalm's difficulties were also great. He knew not where to turn for a ray of hope, except, indeed, to the now rapidly advancing winter. The toils were spread on every side: the stately fleet riding below the town cut off all supplies from France; the fall of Niagara and Fort of Frontenac broke off the chain of communication with the distant West; Amherst, with an overwhelming force, hung over the weakest point of the Canadian frontier; Montreal, with neither army nor fortification, lay exposed to the British advance. But, worst of all, distrust of his colleague, and contempt of the prowess of his militia, paralyzed Montcalm's vigor and destroyed his confidence. You have sold your country," exclaimed he, in uncontrollable indignation, to M. de Vaudreuil, when the latter opposed his views; but, while I live, I will not deliver it up." And of the Canadian levies he writes to M. de Berryer, "My Canadians without discipline, deaf to the sound of the drum, and badly armed, nothing remains for

them but to fly; and behold me-beaten without resource!" But," continued he, in the same remarkable letter,* “of one thing I can assure you, I shall not survive the probable loss of the colony. There are times when a general's only

resource is to die with honor; this is such a time. No stain shall rest on my memory. But in defeat and death there is consolation left. The loss of the colony will one day be of more value to my country than a victory. The conqueror shall here find a tomb; his aggrandizement shall prove his ultimate ruin.”

Montcalm's utmost exertions failed to prevent desertion among the Canadians; he scourged some offenders, hanged others, threatened their villages with the vengeance of the savages, but still the unhappy peasantry were with difficulty held together. At the camp they were badly supplied with provisions, while their families almost starved at home. Their harvest, that which the English had not destroyed, remained unreaped. At length the general was obliged to yield to the urgent necessity of the case, and at a most critical period of the campaign he allowed 2000 of the militia to depart for the purpose of getting in their crops.

The Indians, however, still remained faithful: as long as a chance of blood and plunder offered, they were sure to be present; but in a pitched battle they were nearly useless, and the increased experience of the British troops rendered even their forest warfare now less dangerous.

Not only provisions, but even ammunition, were becoming scarce in Montcalm's camp: there was no hope of supplies from any quarter. The Lower Town and a large portion of the Upper Town were laid in ruins by the English artillery the defenses, it was true, still remained uninjured; but, except in natural advantages, they were by no means formidable. The repulse of the besiegers at Montmorency had for a time raised the spirits of the French, and given them a better opinion of Canadian prowess, for upon that occasion the peasantry had fired with great steadiness from behind their breast-works. But the daring though misdirected valor of the British Grenadiers, and the imposing

* See Appendix, No. LXXII.

front of their supports, failed not to confirm Montcalm's deep forebodings of the probable result of a battle. Then the incessant activity of the invaders, their pertinacious retention of any point which offered an apparent advantage, and their seemingly inexhaustible resources, showed that no stone would be left unturned for his destruction.

One only hope remained to the French general: the winter approached. In a few weeks the northern blast would scare away the stubborn enemy, against whom his arms and skill were ineffectual. Could he struggle on a little longer, the fate of Canada might be thrown upon the chances of another campaign, and a turn in European affairs yet preserve the splendid colony of France. "Unless Wolfe lands

above the town, and forces me to a battle, I am safe," writes Montcalm. But while, on the night of the 12th of September, he watched in confident expectation the deceitful preparations of the fleet below the town, the ebbing tide silently floated down the British army toward that position the occupation of which he knew must be his ruin.

Silently and swiftly, unchallenged by the French sentries,* Wolfe's flotilla dropped down the stream in the shade of the

* "The following circumstance had nearly proved fatal to the general's scheme of landing where he did. In the twilight of the evening preceding the battle, two French deserters from the Regiment of La Sarre came in, and, being carried on board a ship of war, commanded by Captain Smith, then lying near the north shore, gave information that that very night the garrison of Quebec expected a convoy of provisions from M. de Bougainville's detachment, which was higher up the river. These deserters, some time after, perceiving the English boats gliding down the river in the dark, supposed them to be the expected convoy; and on this a noise ensued, which General Wolfe fortunately heard time enough to prevent the resolution which occasioned it; for Captain Smith, not having been informed of the general's intentions, was making preparations to fire into the boats, believing that they were the convoy the deserters had been speaking of; and had he done so, would have not only considerably hurt his friends, but sufficiently alarmed the French to frustrate the attempt. Again, the French sentries posted along the shore were in expectation of the convoy, and, therefore, when the English boats came near their posts, and properly answered their usual challenge, they suffered them to pass without the least suspicion."-Mante's History of the Late Wars in America, p. 262.

overhanging cliffs. The rowers scarcely stirred the waters with their oars; the soldiers sat motionless. Not a word was spoken save by the young general; he, as a midshipman on board his boat afterward related,* repeated, in a low voice to the officers by his side, "Gray's Elegy in a Country Churchyard;" and as he concluded the beautiful verses, said, "Now, gentlemen, I would rather be the author of that poem than take Quebec!" But while Wolfe thus, in the poet's words, gave vent to the intensity of his feelings, his eye was constantly bent upon the dark outline of the heights under which he hurried past. He recognized at length the appointed spot, and leaped ashore. Some of the leading boats, conveying the light company of the 78th Highlanders, had in the mean time been carried about 200 yards lower down by the strength of the tide. These Highlanders, under Captain. Donald McDonald, were the first to land. Immediately over their heads hung a woody precipice, without path or track upon its rocky face; at the summit a French sentinel marched to and fro, still unconscious of their presence. Without a moment's hesitation, McDonald and his men dashed at the height. They scrambled up, holding on by rocks and branches of trees, guided only by the stars that shone over the top of the cliff; half the ascent was already won, when for the first time "Qui vive?" broke the silence of the night. "La France," answered the Highland captain, with ready self-possession, and the sentry shouldered his musket and pursued his round. In a few minutes, however, the rustling of the trees close at hand at length alarmed the French guard; they hastily turned out, fired one irregular volley down the precipice, and fled in panic. The captain, M. de Vergor, alone, though wounded, stood his ground. When summoned to surrender, he fired at one of the assailants, but was instantly overpowered; the Highlanders, incensed at his vain valor, tore from his breast a decoration which he bore, and sent him a prisoner to the rear. In the mean time, nearly 500 men landed and made their way up the height; those who had first reached the summit then took possession of the intrenched post at the top * Graham's History of the United States, vol. iv., p. 51.