Chapter 3: A Daring Design
Ticonderoga fallen! The news was like new wine in the veins of Wolfe. Ill as he was, he insisted that Stark should be brought to his bedside, and he eagerly entreated the bold Ranger to tell him the whole story.
"There is not so much to tell as there might be," said Stark, "for the French made no fight, either at Ticonderoga or at Crown Point. We came with a gallant array against their fortresses, only to find that the enemy had evacuated them. They tried to blow up Ticonderoga before they left; but only one bastion was destroyed. Crown Point was deserted without a blow being struck. I waited for that, and then made good my word. I said I would be the first to take the news of the fall of Ticonderoga to General Wolfe at Quebec."
Wolfe's eyes were shining with excitement.
"Then is General Amherst on his way here with his army?" he asked eagerly.
Stark shook his head.
"Alas, no! there is still much work to be done. If the French have abandoned these two forts, it is only that they may concentrate all their strength at Isle-aux-Noix, where the General must now attack them. And to do this he must build a brigantine and other vessels; and though there is a sawmill at Ticonderoga, the work will still take somewhat long to accomplish. I fear that many weeks will elapse before he can advance; and meantime-"
He paused, for he scarce knew how to conclude the sentence. He had heard as he passed through the camp towards Wolfe's quarters that the outlook was not altogether a bright one, despite the fact that success had crowned many of the enterprises hitherto undertaken.
Wolfe took up the unfinished sentence and spoke.
"Meantime the winter gales will be threatening us, and if the walls of Quebec still shut us out, we may be forced to sail to England with our task yet uncompleted, or to take up our winter quarters in one of the islands, and wait for better things next spring. Was that the thought in your mind, John Stark?"
"In truth, sir, as I came along and surveyed the position of the notable city of Quebec, it seemed to me that it would be a hard task to bring it to surrender; but then we all know that General Wolfe can accomplish the impossible if any man can."
A slight smile crossed Wolfe's worn face.
"I look like a man to perform the impossible, don't I, good Stark?" he said; and the Ranger's eyes filled with pitiful sympathy as he made answer:
"Indeed, sir, I grieve to find you so; and yet men say that Wolfe sick is better than half a dozen other generals in full health and strength. Believe me, we have faith in you, and believe that you will win the day even single handed, though all the world should look on in scornful amaze, and say that you had set yourself the impossible."
Wolfe's eyes flashed. A flush rose for a moment in his pale cheek. Julian saw that such words as these moved him and braced his spirit like a tonic. He was half afraid lest it should be too much excitement, and he signed to Fritz to take Stark away.
"But I will see him again anon," said Wolfe; "I must hear more of these things. Let him be fed and well looked to, and presently I will ask him to come to me again."
And when the two had left him, Wolfe turned to Julian and said:
"I see now that I have nothing to hope for in a junction with Amherst. He will have his hands full till the close of the season. If Quebec is to be taken, we must take it ourselves, unaided from without. I think I would rather die out here, and leave this carcass of mine in a Canadian grave, than return to England with the news that Quebec still holds out against the English flag!"
"Nay, say not so," answered Julian earnestly, "for the greatest general may be baffled at some point. And think of your mother-and-Miss Lowther!"
A softer look came into Wolfe's eyes. Upon his lips there hovered a slight, strange smile. Instinctively his hand sought for something beneath his pillow. Julian well knew what it was: a case containing miniature portraits of the two beings he loved best in the world-his mother, and the fair girl who had promised to become his wife.
He did not open it, but he held it in his hand, and spoke with a dreamy softness of intonation.
"There be times when I think that men of war should have no mothers or sisters or lovers," he said. "We leave so sad a heritage behind for them so oft. And we are not worth the sacred tears that they shed over us when we fall."
"And yet I think they would scarce be without those sacred memories to cherish," answered Julian, thinking of Mrs. Wolfe's idolization of her son, and of Kate Lowther's bright eyes, overflowing with loving admiration. "But why speak you so, as though you would see them no more? Your health is slowly mending now, and you have been through perils and dangers before now, and have come safe out of them."
"That is true," answered Wolfe thoughtfully; "and yet a voice in my heart seems to tell me that I shall see those loved faces no more. It may be but the fantasy of a troubled and fevered brain; but in dreams I have seen them, tears in their eyes, weeping for one unworthy of such grief, who lies in a far-off grave beneath the frowning battlements of yon great city. I wonder ofttimes whether we are given to know something of that which is about to befall; for in my heart a voice has spoken, and that voice has said that Quebec shall be ours, but that these eyes shall never see what lies within the ramparts, for they will be sealed in death before that hour shall arrive."
Julian had no reply ready; he knew not what to say. It did indeed seem little likely that that frail form could survive the perils and hardships of this great siege, should it be prosecuted to the end, and should some daring assault be successfully made against the impregnable city.
From the day upon which Stark arrived in the camp at Montmorency with the news from Ticonderoga Wolfe began to mend. It seemed as though the certainty that the English arms were prevailing in the west, though no help could be looked for this season from Amherst, combined to put a sort of new vigour and resolution into the heart of the dauntless young General. If anything were to be accomplished, he must now do it by his own unaided efforts; and since August was well-nigh past, if he were to act at all it must be soon, or the winter storms might come sweeping down, and render his position untenable.
He had had plenty of time whilst lying helpless in bed to think out various plans of attack upon the city. Each one seemed desperate and hopeless, whether, as before, the assault were made by means of boats along the Beauport shore, or by crossing the upper ford above Montmorency and fetching a compass behind the French position, or by storming the lower town, now almost in ruins, for it was commanded by the batteries in the citadel and upper town. In fact, the French position was so strong everywhere that it was difficult to see how any enterprise could possibly prove successful.
In his hours of comparative ease Wolfe had thought out, and Julian had written out at his dictation, a sketch of one or two alternative plans for attack, which he sent in the form of a letter to the Brigadiers commanding the various detachments of the army, asking them to take counsel together over them, and to meet at the farmhouse as soon as he was well enough to see them, and let them discuss the matter together. All Wolfe's projects were for attack from the lower river; for lying ill and helpless as he was, he had hardly realized what had been going steadily on ever since that first successful attempt to get shipping past the town guns and into the upper reach of the St. Lawrence. Every time there was a suitable night, with a favouring wind, vessels had run the gauntlet of the batteries, always covered by a heavy fire from Point Levi; and now quite a fleet of warships, frigates, and transports lay in the reach above the town, whilst Montcalm had had to weaken his camp at Beauport to watch the heights there. For though these were steep and rugged and inaccessible, it would not do to leave them unguarded.
When the Brigadiers met in the old farmhouse, Wolfe was up and dressed for almost the first time, looking gaunt and haggard, his face lined with pain and care, but full of calm and steadfast purpose, and with a mind as clear as ever. He was touched by the warm greetings of his officers, and by their tales as to the enthusiastic delight in the ranks at the news that their General was better.
The army was animated by a spirit of great courage and confidence. The news from Ticonderoga had done good. This had been followed by tidings of the capture of the Niagara fort. Even though Amherst could not coalesce with them, they were feeling that English arms were everywhere invincible, and that even Quebec would not long stand against them. It would be the greater glory to vanquish it single-handed; and had they not Wolfe to lead them?
Wolfe could not but smile as he heard this, and then the discussion began. The Brigadiers had read his alternative proposals; but they had another to lay before him which they thought more likely of success. This was to make the real attack above the town, transporting men and munitions by means of their ships now lying in the upper reach, and seeking to obtain a footing upon the heights, from whence they might bombard the upper city, or even carry it by an impetuous assault.
"We can make a feint of attacking at Beauport, to keep the Marquis upon the alert there, and his troops from being detached to the defence of the heights. But let our real assault be on that side," advised Moncton, whose position at Point Levi gave him considerable knowledge of affairs upon the upper river. "It is true that the heights are watched and guarded, but the force there is not large. They trust to the nature of the ground, which is inhospitable to the last degree, to hinder any attempt at landing. And our vessels in the river below are leading poor Bougainville a fine dance up and down the banks. He has some twenty miles to protect with less than two thousand men-so far as we can learn-and Admiral Holmes, who commands the fleet, takes care that he shall have no rest night or day. The men begin to know the ground; they are full of desire for the attack. It sounds desperate, we are well aware; but then so do all the plans. Yet if we are to make one great dash upon Quebec before we give up the hope of taking it this season, we must attempt the apparently impossible!"
Into Wolfe's eyes had sprung the battle light. Desperate it might be to scale almost perpendicular cliffs and plant batteries on the top whilst exposed to the fire of a sleepless enemy there, who could send for reinforcements by thousands when once aware of the threatened peril. And yet now that he knew his strength in the upper river, and the wishes of his officers, he hesitated not one instant.
"It shall be tried," he said, "and it shall be tried quickly. The issues of life and death, of battle and victory, are in higher hands than ours. It is for us to do our utmost to brave all. We can do no more, but we can do that!"
The meeting broke up. The Brigadiers went back to their respective stations to announce the decision and to make preparation. Eager enthusiasm prevailed throughout the ranks of the army, and the question in all mouths was, would the General be fit to lead them in person.
This was Wolfe's own great anxiety. His physician shook his head, but received this characteristic admonition:
"I know perfectly well you cannot cure me; but pray make me up so that I may be free from unbearable pain for a few days, able to do my duty by my brave soldiers, That is all I ask or want."
As soon as ever he was able, Wolfe visited the Admirals on their ships and discussed his plan with them. They were all becoming rather anxious at the lateness of the season, and were thinking of moving away. But they consented to remain till this attempt should be made; Wolfe, on his part, agreeing that if it failed he must abandon the hope of reducing Quebec this season, and not expose his soldiers to the needless hardships of a winter in these inclement latitudes,
As it was, there was a good deal of sickness amongst the men, and the number of able-bodied soldiers was considerably reduced. Wolfe visited those in hospital, and spoke kind and cheering words to them. He knew what it was to be laid aside from active service, and how hard inactivity was when there was work to be done.
The camp on the Montmorency was broken up first. Wolfe wanted his soldiers elsewhere, and he thought it no bad move to take this step, as the French would probably think it the first move in the evacuation of the whole position. Montcalm, indeed, would have fallen upon them in the rear and inflicted heavy damage, if Moncton at Point Levi had not seen the danger, and sent a number of men in boats to make a feint of attacking Beauport; upon which the troops were hastily recalled.
All was activity and secret industry in the English lines, A whole fleet of baggage boats was laden and smuggled past the town guns into the upper river; more craft followed, till quite an armament lay in that wider reach above; and yet the French were not permitted to have any exact notion as to what was to be done, nor that any serious attack was meditated in that direction.
Wolfe himself was taken up the river in one of the vessels. He was still weak and suffering, but he could no longer give any thought to his own condition.
"I can rest when the battle is fought," he said to Julian, who would fain have bidden him spare himself more; and it seemed to his friend as though there were more in those words than met the ear.
News was daily brought in of the strength of the French position. Montcalm, very uneasy at the action of the English fleet, sent as many reinforcements as he could spare to man the heights and gorges of the upper river. Batteries were planted, and every step taken to guard against the danger of attack. Rain and wind hindered the English from putting their plan into immediate execution, and the men suffered a good deal from close crowding on the transports, and from various brushes with the enemy which enlivened the monotony of those days of waiting.
Wolfe's eyes were everywhere. He was in the Admiral's vessel, and although sometimes hardly able to drag himself upon deck, he would note with all his old keenness every nook and cranny in the precipitous shores, every movement of the enemy, every natural advantage which could possibly be made use of in his attempt.
All this time the ships were drifting to and fro with the tide from the basin of the upper river, just above Quebec itself, right away to Cap Rouge, where the French had their headquarters, and were always ready for an assault. This action on the part of the ships was a very politic one, for it kept the French troops ceaselessly upon the march and the watch, wearing them out with fatigue; whilst the English soldiers on board their vessels were at their ease, save that they were rather uncomfortably crowded.
The long delay was over at last. The weather had improved; Wolfe had made up his mind as to every detail of the attack; the troops at Point Levi and on the Isle of Orleans had been instructed as to the parts they were to play in drawing off the enemy's attention from the real point of attack.
"I should like to address the men once more," said Wolfe to Julian, upon a still September morning. "I should like them to take one last charge from my own lips; perhaps it may be the last I shall ever give them!"
For Wolfe seemed to have upon his spirit the presentiment of coming doom. He looked round upon the eager, expectant faces, and his own kindled with a loving enthusiasm. He had loved these men, and they loved him. The sight of his tall, gaunt form and thin, white face evoked cheer after cheer from soldiers and sailors alike. He had to wait till the tumult subsided before he could speak, and then his voice rang out clear and trumpet-like as he briefly described to the listening host the position of affairs and what was expected of them.
"The enemy's force is now divided, great scarcity prevails in their camp, and universal discontent among the Canadians. Our troops below are in readiness to join us, all the light artillery and tools are embarked at Point Levi, and 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 and drive them from any little post they may occupy; the officers must be careful that the succeeding bodies do not by any mistake fire on those who go before them. The battalions must form on the upper ground with expedition, and be ready to charge whatever presents itself. When the artillery and troops are landed, a corps will be left to secure the landing place while the rest march on and endeavour to bring the Canadians and French to a battle. The officers and men will remember what their country expects of 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."
Cheer after cheer rent the air as these words were heard. The enthusiasm of the men had suffered no diminution during the days of waiting. They loved their General; they respected and admired their officers. They were full of eagerness to find themselves at last face to face with the foe. They knew that upon the issue of this enterprise hung the whole fate of the long campaign. If they failed in their design, they must return to England with a story of failure so far as Quebec was concerned; and no one would understand the full difficulties of the situation, or appreciate all the solid work that had already been accomplished towards the attainment of that object.
Everything that could be done had been done. Admiral Saunders, in the Basin of Quebec, was deceiving Montcalm by preparations which convinced that General that the real point of attack was to be along the Beauport shore, where he therefore massed his troops in readiness; whilst Admiral Holmes, with his bateaux and flat-bottomed troop boats, was deluding Bougainville with the notion that his camp at Cap Rouge was to be the immediate object of the English assault. But all the while Wolfe and a few of his officers-only a few-were in the secret of the real basis of action; though the men knew that all was decided upon, and that they would be led with consummate skill and address.
In the grey of the morning, Julian, too excited to sleep, heard the soft plash of oars alongside the Sutherland, and raising his head to look over the bulwarks, he heard his name pronounced in a familiar voice.
"Humphrey, is that you?"
"Yes," he answered. "I have gleaned some news. I want to impart it to the General."
Wolfe was lying on deck looking up at the quiet stars overhead, worn out with the long strain, yet free from acute pain, and thankful for the boon. He heard the words, and sat up.
"Bring him to me," he ordered; "I will hear his report."
The next minute Humphrey was on deck and beside him. Humphrey was often employed to carry messages from ship to ship. He had built himself a light, strong canoe; and could shoot through the water almost like an Indian. He stood beside Wolfe's couch and told his tale.
"I went up to the French camp as close as possible. I heard there that some boatloads of provisions were to be sent down tonight upon the ebb to Montcalm's camp. They have done this before, and will do it again. Later on I came upon two Canadians, seeking to escape from the French camp. I took them across to our vessels for safety. They confirmed what I had overheard. Boats laden with provision will be passing the French sentries along the coast tonight. If our boats go down in advance of these, they may do so almost unchallenged."
Wolfe's eyes brightened before he had heard the last word. He instantly perceived the advantage which might accrue to them from this piece of information luckily hit upon. He grasped Humphrey's hand in a warm clasp, and said:
"You bring good news, comrade. I think the star of England is about to rise upon this land. Go now and rest yourself; but be near to me in the time of struggle. You are a swift and trusty messenger. It is such as you" – and his eyes sought Julian and Fritz, who were both alert and awake-"that I desire to have about me in the hour of final struggle."
Then, when Humphrey had gone below with Fritz, Wolfe turned to Julian and said, speaking slowly and dreamily:
"There is something I would say to you, my friend. I have a strange feeling that the close of my life is at hand-that I shall not live to see the fruit of my toil; though to die in battle-in the hour, if it may be, of victory-has been ever the summit of my hopes and ambition. Something tells me that I shall gain the object of my hope tomorrow, or today perchance. I have one charge to give you, Julian, if that thing should come to pass."
Julian bit his lip; he could not speak. He was aware of the presentiment which hung upon Wolfe's spirit, but he had fought against it might and main.
The, soldier placed his hand within the breast of his coat, and detached and drew out that miniature case containing the likeness of his mother and his betrothed. He opened it once, looked long in the dim light at both loved faces, and pressed his lips to each in turn.
"If I should fall," he said, "give it to Kate; I think she will like to have it. Tell her I wore it upon my heart till the last. I would not have it shattered by shot and shell. Give it her with my dying blessing and love, and tell her that my last prayer will be for her happiness. She must not grieve too much for me, or let her life be shadowed. I am happy in having known her love. I desire that happiness shall be her portion in life. Tell her that when you give her that case."
He closed it and placed it in Julian's hands, and spoke no more; though throughout that day of preparation and thought a gentle quietude of manner possessed him, and struck all with whom he came in contact.
Even when at last all was in readiness and the General in one of the foremost boats was drifting silently down the dark river, with the solemn stars overhead, it was not of battles or deeds of daring that he spoke with those about him. After the silence of deep tension his melodious voice was heard speaking words that fell strangely on the ears of the officers clustered about him.
"The curlew tolls the knell of parting day" spoke that voice; and in the deep hush of night the whole of that "Elegy" was softly rehearsed in a strangely impressive manner, a thrill running through many at the words:
"The paths of glory lead but to the grave."
When the recitation was over there was a long, deep silence, broken at last by Wolfe himself, who said:
"Gentlemen, I would rather have written that poem than take Quebec!"