French and English: A Story of the Struggle in America

Chapter 3: Victory

"Julian! Is that you I see? Truly I had begun to fear that some misfortune had befallen you. So you have been within the walls of the town, and have returned safe and sound? Your face is a very welcome one, my friend!"

Wolfe stretched out his hand, which was eagerly grasped by Julian. It was a still, close evening, and the sullen booming of the guns continued without abatement. So used had the ears of besiegers and besieged grown to that sound of menace, that it was hardly heeded more than the roar of the surf upon the shore.

Wolfe was lying in his tent, looking white and worn, as was generally the case after the labours of the day were ended. His indomitable spirit bore him gallantly through the working hours of the long, hot days; but night found him exhausted, and often too suffering to sleep. Julian had been his best companion at such times as these, and he had missed him a good deal these past days.

"I have been within the city and citadel, and have returned safe and sound," answered Julian, throwing off the cloak he wore over his white French uniform. "It cannot be long before the place surrenders. Our guns are doing fearful havoc. Fires break out, as you must see, continually. The King's Bastion was almost all consumed yesterday. The hearts of the townspeople are growing faint within them. The officers and soldiers are bold, and show a cheerful front; but they begin to know that sooner or later they will have to throw up the game."

Wolfe's eyes kindled with martial joy.

"It is the turn of the tide, the turn of the tide!" he exclaimed, his whole face instinct with anticipation of triumph. "The English flag has been trailed in the dust, humiliated, vanquished; but she shall wave aloft over yon proud fortress, which men have called impregnable. And if there, why not over Quebec itself?"

Then, whilst he made Julian refresh himself with food and drink, he bid him tell all the story of his visit to Louisbourg: how he had obtained entrance, what he had seen and heard, and what opinion he now held as to the position of the foe and the chances of the siege.

Wolfe was much delighted with the anecdotes related of the courage and kindness of Madame Drucour.

"The Commander shall hear of that. Brave lady! I would not that she should suffer needless hurt. Tell me, Julian, are they in need of food or wine or any such thing within the walls? I would gladly send to the brave Madame some token of goodwill and appreciation."

"They are well victualled; but I heard Madame say that the sick were suffering somewhat from scurvy, and that she wished she had fruit to distribute amongst them. Some of them have come off the ships, where the illness is frequent. Madame Drucour visits the sick constantly, and dresses their wounds with her own hands when the surgeons are busy. And, indeed, they need all the help they can get, for the sick and wounded increase upon their hands daily."

"They shall have fruit!" cried Wolfe eagerly. "We had a ship arrive to help the squadron, and she came laden with pines from the West Indies. We will send in a quantity to Madame Drucour under a flag of truce. We may be forced to fight our fellow men, but we need not forget that they are of the same flesh and blood as ourselves. An honourable foe is second only to a friend."

"Madame will be grateful for any such act of courtesy, I am sure," replied Julian. "She is a noble lady-gracious, beautiful, and brave. She spoke good words to me, little knowing who I was. It made me feel something treacherous to accept her courtesies, knowing myself for a spy. But yet I have not hurt them by my spying; I can see that the defence cannot long be maintained by those within the walls. Beyond that I have little to say. The fires by day and night tell of the destruction and havoc our guns are making. It needs no spy to report that."

General Amherst was keenly interested next day in hearing the story Julian had to tell, and was ready and eager to send a present of fruit and other dainties for the sick to Madame Drucour. Under cover of a flag of truce the convoy was dispatched, and for half a day the guns on both sides ceased firing.

In addition to the fruit the General sent a very polite letter to the lady, expressing his regret for the annoyance and anxiety she must be experiencing, and sending a number of small billets and messages from wounded Frenchmen in their hands to their friends in the city.

The messengers returned bearing with them a basket and a note. The basket contained some bottles of choice wine for the General's table, and the letter, written by Madame Drucour herself, was couched in terms of courtesy and gratitude. She declared that the fruit for the sick was just the very thing she had been most desiring, and wondered what bird of the air had whispered the message into the ear of the noble English officer. As for the war itself, deplorable as it must always be, the knowledge that they were fighting against a generous and worthy foe could not but be a source of happiness; and, in conclusion, the lady added that they had within the walls of Louisbourg a surgeon of uncommon skill with gunshot wounds, and that his services should always be at the command of any English officer who might desire them.

"That is like her!" exclaimed Julian to Wolfe, when the terms of the letter were made known. "She is a very noble and gracious lady, and I trust and hope no hurt will come to her. But she exposes herself to many perils in the hope of cheering and heartening up the men. They all fight better for the knowledge that she is near them; and she goes her daily rounds of the ramparts, be the firing ever so hot!"

The cannon were roaring again now from both lines of batteries. The doomed fortress was holding out gallantly, and had as yet given no sign of surrender.

Wolfe was hard at work, day after day, drawing his lines closer and closer. His military genius showed itself in every disposition of his lines and batteries. He saw at a glance exactly what should be done, and set to work to do it in the best possible way.

"How many ships have they in the harbour?" he asked of Julian, two days after his return from the town.

"Only two of any size-the Bienfaisant and the Prudent. The rest have been sunk or destroyed."

"I think we had better make an end of those two," said Wolfe thoughtfully.

"It might not be a task of great difficulty, if it could be done secretly," said Julian. "The soldiers are mostly on land. They need them more in the citadel than on board; and they think the ships are safe, lying as they do under their own batteries. If we could get a dull or foggy night, we might make a dash at them. We can enter the harbour now that the Island battery is silenced and the frigate Arethuse gone. They say the sailors on board the ships are longing for a task. They would rejoice to accomplish something of that sort."

"Get me ready a boat, and you and Humphrey row me out to our fleet yonder," said Wolfe, looking out over the wide expanse of blue beyond the harbour. "I will speak of this with the Admiral, and see what he thinks of the undertaking."

They rowed him out from Flat Point to the flagship, and put him on board. It was a fine sight to see the great battleships anchored in the bay, ready to take their part in the struggle at a word of command. But the French fleet had done little or nothing to harass them. They were complete masters of the deep. Even the ships in the harbour had not ventured out, and now only two of them remained.

"There will be none tomorrow, if this sea mist comes down," said Wolfe, with a little grim smile, as he entered the boat again. "Row me to the harbour's mouth; I would take a look for myself at the position of the vessels."

The sun was shining brilliantly upon land, but over the sea there was a little haze, which seemed disposed to increase. It had been so for two or three days, the fog coming thicker at night. Wolfe looked keenly about him as he reached the mouth of the harbour. He did not attempt to enter it, but sat looking before him with intent, critical gaze.

"I see," he remarked, after a pause. "Now row me once more to the flagship, and so back. The thing can be done."

Promptitude was one of Wolfe's characteristics; he never let grass grow under his feet. If the thing was to be done, let it be done at once; and the British tar is never a laggard when there is fighting or adventure to be had!

Julian and Humphrey volunteered for the service. Humphrey was a favourite with the sailors, having been employed almost constantly in carrying messages to and from the fleet, or in helping to land transports. He was as expert now in the management of a boat as the best of the jack tars, and was eager to take part in the daring enterprise which was to be carried out that night.

Six hundred sailors, collected from different vessels, were to be told off for the task. They set to work with hearty goodwill, muffling their oars, and preparing for their noiseless advance into the harbour. The guns would roar ceaselessly overhead. That would do much to drown any sound from the water. Still, care and caution would have to be exercised; for the batteries of the fortress commanded the harbour, and the ships lay beneath their protecting guns. If the little flotilla betrayed its approach by any unguarded sound, it might easily be annihilated before ever it could approach its goal. So that the task set the hardy sailors was not without its distinct element of peril, which was perhaps its chiefest attraction.

The shades of night gathered slowly over land and sea. It seemed to Humphrey and some of those waiting in the boats as though night had never fallen so slowly before. But their eyes were gladdened by the sight of the soft fog wreaths which crept over the water as the dusk fell, lying upon it like a soft blanket, and blotting out the distance as much as the darkness could do.

It was not a heavy fog. The sailors were in no danger of losing their way as they rowed, first for the harbour mouth, and then for the two French warships at anchor beneath the batteries. But it was thick enough to hide their approach from those on land. It was not probable that even the crews of the vessels would be aware of their close proximity till the word to board was given. Unless some accidental and unguarded sound betrayed their advance, they might in all likelihood carry all before them by a surprise movement.

Julian was in the same boat as the officer in command of the expedition. His intimate knowledge of the position of the war vessels would be of use in this murk and darkness. Humphrey took an oar in the same boat; and the little fleet got together, and commenced its silent voyage just as the clocks of the fortress boomed out the midnight hour.

It was a strange, ghostly voyage. There was a moon in the sky overhead, and the outlines of the hills and batteries, and even of the fortress itself, could be distinguished wherever the ground rose high enough; but wreaths of white vapour lay lazily along the water, or seemed to curl slowly upwards like smoke from some fire, and the boats rowed along in the encircling mist, only able to gain glimpses from time to time of the moonlit world as a puff of wind drove the vapour away from their path and gave them a transitory outlook upon their surroundings.

The dull roar of the guns filled the air. Sometimes the batteries were silent at night; but Wolfe kept things alive on this occasion, in order to cover the approach of the boarding party. Now the mouth of the harbour was reached, and the little fleet gathered itself more compactly together, and the muffling of the oars was carefully looked to. Directions as to the order to be observed had been given before, and the boats fell into their appointed position with quickness and accuracy.

Julian took the helm of the leading boat, and steered it across the harbour towards the anchored vessels. He knew exactly where and how they lay. And soon the little flotilla was lying compactly together, its presence all unsuspected, within a cable's length of the two battleships.

Now the time for concealment was over. The men seized their arms in readiness. The boats dashed through the water at full speed. The next moment hundreds of hardy British sailors were swarming up the sides of the French vessels, uttering cheers and shouts of triumph the while.

Humphrey and Julian were amongst the first to spring upon the deck of the Bienfaisant. The startled crew were just rushing up from below, having been made aware of the peril only a few seconds earlier. Some of them were but half dressed; few of them knew what it was that was happening. They found themselves confronted by English sailors with dirk and musket. Sharp firing, shouts, curses, cries, made the night hideous for a few minutes, and then a ringing voice called out in French:

"Surrender the vessels, and your lives shall be spared."

It was Julian who cried these words at the command of the officer, and there was no resistance possible for the overpowered crew. The soldiers were on shore within the fort. They were but a handful of men in comparison with their English assailants. It was impossible to dispute possession.

"Take to your boats and go ashore, and you shall not be molested," was the next cry; and the men were forced to obey, the fighting having lasted only a very brief space: for it was evident from the first that the English were masters, and needless carnage was not desired by them.

Nevertheless the peril to the English sailors was by no means over yet. The guns in the battery now opened fire upon the fleet of boats, and a hailstorm of shot and shell raged round them; so that the French sailors dared not leave the vessel, but crowded below out of the hot fire, preferring to trust to the tender mercies of their captors rather than to the guns of their countrymen.

"Tow her away under one of our own batteries," was the order, given as coolly as though this leaden rain were nothing but a summer shower.

Humphrey sprang to the side, and cut the cable which anchored her to her moorings. Just at that moment a glow of light through the fog fell across the deck, and looking up he saw a pillar of flame rising from the water close at hand, and casting strange lights and shadows upon the shifting mists which enwrapped them.

"They have fired the Prudent!" exclaimed Julian. "Now we shall have light for our task; but we shall be a better target for the enemy's fire. We must lose no time. Cut loose the second cable; we should be moving. See that the boats are all ready to tow us along. What a grand sight that burning ship is!

"Ah, I see now. She is aground with the ebb tide. They could not move her, so they have fired her instead. There are her boats rowing for shore with her crew in them!"

It was a strange, grand sight, watching the flames enwrap the doomed vessel from stem to stern, till she was one sheet of rosy light. Even the guns from shore had ceased to fire for a brief space, as though the gunners were watching the weird spectacle of the illuminated fog, or were perhaps afraid lest their fire should hurt their own comrades in the boats. But the English sailors took advantage of the lull to set to their task of towing the Bienfaisant with hearty goodwill.

"She moves! she moves!" cried Humphrey excitedly, standing at the wheel to direct her course. "Well pulled, comrades-well pulled indeed! Ah, their guns are going to speak again! They will not let us go without a parting salute."

The batteries on shore opened their mouths, and belched forth flame and smoke. The ship staggered beneath the leaden hail; but the guns were too high to do mischief to the boats upon the water, and the sailors replied by a lusty cheer. Julian wiped away a few drops of blood that trickled down his face from a slight cut on his temple; but for the most part the shot struck only the spars and rigging, whistling harmlessly over the heads of the men on deck, who laughed and cheered as they encouraged their comrades in the boats to row their hardest and get beyond reach of the enemy's fire.

Wolfe had planted a battery himself just lately which commanded a part of the harbour, and beneath this sheltering battery the Bienfaisant was towed, whilst the sailors cheered might and main; and once out of reach of the enemy's fire, rested on their oars and watched the grand illumination of the flame-wrapped Prudent.

"If war is a horrible thing," said Julian reflectively to Humphrey, "it has at least its grand sights. Look at the red glare upon the shifting fog banks! Is it not like some wild diabolic carnival? One could fancy one saw the forms of demons flitting to and fro in all that reek and glare."

Humphrey's grave young face wore a rather stern look.

"I have seen other fires than that, and heard of those I have not seen-fires the memory of which will live in my heart for years and years! If we burn the vessels of the French, is it not because they have hounded on the Indians to burn our homesteads, ay, and with them our defenceless wives and children, mothers and sisters? Shall not deeds like these bring about a stern retaliation? Are we not here to take vengeance upon those who have been treacherous foes, and shamed the Christian profession that they make? Shall we pity or spare when we remember what they have done? The blood of our brothers cries out to us. We do but repay them in their own coin."

"Yes," returned Julian thoughtfully; "there is a stern law of reaping and sowing ordained of God Himself. We may well believe that we are instruments in His hands for the carrying out of His purpose. Yet we must seek always to be led of Him, and not to take matters into our own hands. 'Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord.'"

"I believe He will," said Humphrey, with a flash in his eyes; "but give it to me to be there to see!"

"As I think we shall," answered Julian, "for I believe that the key of the war will lie next at Quebec. Whoever holds that, holds the power in Canada, and from Canada can command the western frontier. And the taking of Quebec is the object upon which the mind of Wolfe is firmly set. You know how often he has said to us, 'If I could achieve that, I could say my Nunc Dimittis with joy and thankfulness.' I believe in my heart that he will live to see that glorious victory for England's arms."

Wolfe was waiting upon the strand for the boat which brought Julian and Humphrey back with the details of the victorious enterprise. He grasped them both by the hand.

"Now I think that surrender cannot much longer be delayed, and, in truth, I hope it will not be. News has reached us from the west of some great disaster at Ticonderoga. It is but the voice of rumour. A light fishing smack brought letters to the General this evening, dated from Albany, and sent by special messenger. Nothing definite is known; but they report a disastrous defeat, attributed to the untimely death of Lord Howe quite early in the expedition. I cannot say what truth there may be in this, but I fear some great disaster has recently taken place. It has made the General and his officers very stern and resolved. England's honour has been sorely tarnished by these many defeats. But I believe her star will rise again. Louisbourg at least must fall ere long."

Julian and Humphrey were both filled with sorrow and anxiety at this piece of news. Charles and Fritz were both likely, they thought, if living still, to be there with the army; and one was anxious for news of his brother, and the other of his comrade and friend.

"When Louisbourg is taken," said Humphrey, "I shall ask leave of absence to go to seek my brother. My sister in Philadelphia will give me tidings of him. I shall go thither, and come back when the attempt upon proud Quebec is made."

"If I had my way, we should sail from Louisbourg straight for Quebec," cried Wolfe, with a flash in his eyes. "I would follow up one blow by another. Yet I know not whether our instructions will carry us thus far. Nevertheless, I hope to live to see the day when the English flag shall wave over the ramparts of that city and fortress which has been called the Impregnable."

The news, rumour though it was and unconfirmed, of fresh disaster to the English arms in the interior excited much feeling in the English ranks. Had there been another massacre, such as had disgraced the struggle at Fort William Henry? What would be the next tidings which would reach them of their brethren in arms?

There had been so many tales of horror told out in the wild west that strong men often shuddered at the bare thought of what they might have to bear. So the faces of men and officers were alike stern and dark; and when the white flag fluttered at last from the walls of Louisbourg, and the news ran like wildfire through the camp that the fortress was about to surrender, there was a feeling in all hearts that the terms granted should not be too easy. France owed England a deep and mighty debt, which sooner or later she must pay.

Wolfe was sent for to be with General Amherst when he received the deputation of the French, and he returned to his quarters looking grave and thoughtful.

"We have told them that they must surrender as prisoners of war, and send their reply within an hour. If they refuse, we attack at once both by land and sea. We are all resolved that the siege shall be brought to an end. If we could have been here a month earlier, we might have effected a junction with our friends in the west, and have averted the calamity which has overtaken them there."

"Will they accept?" asked Julian eagerly. "They are in a sore strait, but yet they are brave men. They might, perhaps, have looked to be permitted to march out with the honours of war after their bold defence."

"Yes; and this would have been granted them had it not been for what happened at Fort William Henry. But the memory of that day cannot be wiped out from the memory of our officers, The General was supported by the bulk of his officers. They will have no conditions. They will treat the sick and the wounded and the towns people with every consideration, but they will be absolute masters. The Admiral was there, and he and the General signed the note. They are resolved to abide by its contents."

Excitement reigned everywhere. The firing had ceased, and the stillness of the air was like that which sometimes precedes the bursting of a thunderstorm, What reply would the fort return? and how quickly would it arrive? It was understood that, in the event of delay, a general assault would be made, and some of the soldiers would have eagerly welcomed the order for the advance.

Keen excitement prevailed when it became known that a messenger had come, not bringing the expected reply, but one asking for less rigorous terms.

"The General would not see him," was the cry. "He was sent back to say that nothing would be changed from the last letter addressed to the Governor. The Admiral and General are alike agreed. There will be no wavering from that."

It was plain that there was some variance in the city itself. In the ranks of the besieging force there was intense excitement and stir. Every man was looking to his arms, save when he was asking news and gazing towards the walls of the city. That something decisive must soon be settled was apparent to all.

The white flag again! A messenger was coming out towards the camp with the reply. He appeared in no haste, and paused again and again to look back. Suddenly another man appeared running hastily after him. The first messenger paused, consulted with him, and then turned back towards the city. The second man ran on alone, making vehement signs, as though afraid there might yet be some misunderstanding.

"We accept! we accept!" he shouted out, waving a paper above his head, beside himself with excitement.

Two men followed him; they were taken into the tent of the General, who, with the Admiral, was awaiting the final answer. But the first messenger remained without, panting and exhausted, and Julian instantly recognized him as an officer who had shown him some kindness during his short stay within the fortress.

He came up to him now, and the recognition was mutual.

"So you were a spy all the while, my friend!" said the Frenchman, with something like a grim laugh. "Had we known that, you would have received a different welcome. Ah well, it matters little now. And it is a pity for brave men to die like dogs. We were in a sad pass before. You could not have told much that was not already known."

"The fortress is ready to capitulate?"

"Not the fortress, but the town. Bad as our condition is, we would not have surrendered on those terms. We had indeed dispatched a messenger to say as much. But the Provost and the citizens were too many for us. They ran to the citadel, and made such work that the Governor yielded, and I offered, being fleet of foot, to run after the messenger and stop him if it could be done. Luckily his own heart misgave him, and he had not hurried. And close upon my heels were sent others with more definite instructions. And thus Louisbourg passes into the hands of gallant foes. But I trust they will show every courtesy to our brave Madame."

"Have no fear on that score," answered Julian; "I have told in the English camp of the bravery and gracious kindness of Madame le General. Our commander will see that she is treated with every consideration; as also the sick and wounded, her special charge. It is well not to drive us to assault the weakened town. Now we shall enter as friends rather than foes."

"So said the Provost, remembering that the English have much cause of complaint against us. We cannot deny that ourselves. Ah me! it is the chance of war. We have had our triumphs, and now you have your turn. It is not here but at Quebec that the real trial of strength will be. I think, my friends, you will find that you have a hard nut to crack there."

"So they said of Louisbourg, and yet that has been done," answered Julian, with a smile. "But come in, and refresh yourself in my tent here whilst the messengers are conferring with our General. They will have to draw up terms of capitulation. There will be time to get a good meal whilst that is being done."

At dawn the following morning the drums beat. The English soldiers got into order, and marched through the Dauphin gate into the town. The French soldiers, drawn up in array, threw down their muskets, and with tears of mortification marched away, leaving the victors in possession.

The English flag was run up, amid wild cheering, and floated over the grim and shattered ramparts. The turn of the tide had come at last, and Louisbourg had fallen into the hands of the English.