Chapter 4: In The Hour Of Victory.
"Qui vive?"
It was the French sentry upon the shore, as the boats glided slowlyby in the darkness. Julian was waiting for the challenge, and wasready with the answer.
"France!"
"A quel regiment?" came the voice again.
"De la Reine," answered Julian, who had not spoken in vain with thedeserting Canadians, and knew a good deal about Bougainville'scamp. Then afraid of being asked the password, he hastily added,still speaking French, "Have a care; the English will hear us! Theprovision boats from the camp!"
That hint was enough. The sentry knew that provision boats wereexpected, and that English vessels were anchored not far off. Helet the fleet of English boats pass by in the darkness.
The strong current swept them along. Now they had reached theappointed place--passed it, indeed before they could get out of thecurrent; but there was a narrow strand, wide enough fordisembarkation, and the band of picked men who had volunteered forthe task were already out, preparing to scale the lofty heights andsee what lay beyond.
Up they went in the close darkness of the autumn night, thefour-and-twenty selected men leading the way, closely followed by alarger band of comrades. No word was spoken, no cry was raised. Thetense excitement of the moment seemed to preclude any suchdemonstration. It was believed that at this point there would belittle resistance. There was no sentry on the shore, and noappearance of any camp along the top. It was believed that theFrench officer Vergor, with a small detachment of troops, wassomewhere in the vicinity; but the renown of that worthy was notsuch as to check the ardour of the English troops.
Wolfe remained below, silent and motionless. His hands were lockedtogether, and his pale face upturned towards the towering heightsabove. The gurgle and plash of the river was in his ears, mingledwith those other sounds--the sounds of scrambling as his soldiersmade their way up the rugged heights in the uncertain light of thewaning stars. It was a moment never to be forgotten in his life.The presentiment of coming death was forgotten--everything wasforgotten but the wild, strong hope of victory; and when from thetop of the gorge there came at last the ring of a British cheer,the sound of brisk musket firing, and then another ringing shout asof triumph, the blood rushed into his white face, and he sprangfrom the boat on to the strand, exclaiming:
"They have won the foothold. Form up, men, and follow. We haveEngland's honour in our keeping this day. Never let her say wefailed her at the moment of greatest need."
It was a precipitous gorge up the sides of which the men had toclimb. Julian looked anxiously up it and then at Wolfe, and said:
"It is too steep; do not try it. Let me find an easier path for youif I can."
He smiled as he scanned the sides of the gorge.
"I doubt if I shall get up," he answered; "but I mean to try."
And so strong was the resolution which inspired him that he foundstrength to drag himself up the steep declivity, with only a littleassistance from Julian; and found himself, with the first breakingof the dawn, breathless, giddy, exhausted, upon the summit of thoseHeights of Abraham which today he was to make famous.
Instantly he took the command of the situation. Cannon were heardopening fire close on the left. It was the battery of Samos firingupon the English boats in the rear, now just visible in thebroadening daylight.
"Silence that battery!" said Wolfe to an officer whose men werejust forming up.
Their response was a cheer, as they moved away in orderly array;and when the distant battery of Sillary opened its mouth anduttered its menacing roar, there was another battalion ready tostart off to capture and silence it. Soon the great guns utteredtheir voices no more. The English were masters of the covetedheights, and still their troops continued to land and clamber up tojoin their comrades upon the top.
The hearts of the soldiers beat high with pride and joy; but theface of Wolfe was inscrutable as he stood surveying the plain whichformed a sort of tableland on the western side of the city ofQuebec.
The town itself he could not see, though he knew where it lay, andhow beyond it extended the camp of Beauport, from which Montcalmcould march battalion after battalion to meet him in battle. Heknew, too, that behind him lay Bougainville and his thousands, who,by joining in a concentrated action with Montcalm, could hem him inbetween two fires, and cut his gallant little army to pieces. Herealized all this right well, if others did not, and knew thatvictory or death--even annihilation--lay before them. And knowingthis, he made his survey of the place with a concentratedattention, and issued his orders without hesitation or delay.
The grassy plain was pretty level. Quebec bounded it on the east,the precipices on the St. Lawrence on the south, the declivities tothe basin of the St. Charles on the north. In one place theplain--called the Plains of Abraham, from the old settler who oncemade a home there--was little more than a mile wide. When Wolfereached it, he halted, and after a careful survey said:
"This will be the place to make our stand. Here we will meet ourfoe in battle. Fight they must now; and if heaven will grant us thevictory, let the praise and glory of the day be to God above. If Hethink well to withhold His countenance from us, let us sell ourlives as dearly as may be, and die sword in hand, with our face tothe foe!"
Then the orders were issued. The brigades and battalions weremarshalled into position. The Brigadiers received their orders fromtheir young General, and took up the positions allotted to them.Each of them grasped him by the hand before quitting his side. Toeach one he spoke a word of praise for his gallantry during thetedious campaign, and of thanks for the personal friendship shownto one who felt so unworthy of it, having been so often a care anda trouble instead of a source of strength to those about him.
Julian stood near, a strange mistiness before his eyes; and asFritz turned away to take up his position at the head of his men,he said in a husky voice to his friend:
"You will stay beside him and guard him from ill. I know not why,but my heart is full of misgiving. Quebec will be dearly won if itlose us the gallant Wolfe!"
"He will not think so," said Julian. "And his life has been so fullof trouble and pain. I think few know how he has suffered. Perhapsthere is some truth in the old heathen saying, 'Those whom the godslove die young.' Perhaps it has a better fulfilment andsignificance now that the Light has come into the world, and thatthere is no sting now in death."
They pressed each other by the hand, and Fritz swung away. It was amoment of deep though suppressed emotion. Both men knew that theymight have looked their last upon the face of the other, and aftermany years of close and brother-like companionship such partingscannot be without their thrill of pain and wonder.
"Why must these things be?" spoke Julian, beneath his breath. "Whymust men stand up to kill and be killed? How long will it be beforethe reign of the Prince of Peace, when all these things shall bedone away?"
Light showers were scudding over the landscape, sometimes blottingout the view, sometimes illumined by shafts of golden sunlight,which gave a curious glory to the scene. The battle was set inarray. Every disposition which military genius could suggest hadbeen made to avoid surprise or outflanking or any other peril.Puffs of smoke from over the plains denoted the presence ofambushed Indians or Canadians, and skirmishers were scouring hitherand thither to dislodge any parties who approached unpleasantlynear.
The soldiers were bidden to lie down, to be safer from accident,and to rest themselves in preparation for what was coming. The mainbody of the army was quiet, but to the left, where some woods andhouses gave cover to the enemy, the fire be came galling, and somelight infantry were sent out to make an end of the foes there, totake and burn the houses and scatter the marksmen.
This was successfully done, and again there was quiet. Wolfe, whoseemed to be everywhere at once, went round the field once again,cheered lustily wherever he appeared; grave, watchful, with the airof a man who knows that the crisis of his life is at hand, and thatupon the issue of the day hang r
esults greater than he can reckonor comprehend.
It was about ten in the morning before his quick eye saw signs thatthe enemy was at last advancing to take up the gage of battle sogallantly thrown down. Hitherto the French had succeeded inavoiding a pitched encounter with their foe; now they must fight,or have their city hopelessly cut off from the basis of theirsupplies. Wolfe knew that at last the hour had come, and his paleface flushed with a strange exultation as he saw the first whitelines advancing towards him.
"At last!" he exclaimed--"at last! We have waited many months forthis moment; now that it has come, pray Heaven we may strike a blowfor England's honour which France shall never forget!"
Julian's attention was distracted by the sight of a little knot ofmen coming slowly towards the rear, where the surgeons werestationed to care for the wounded, who were to be carried therewhen possible.
"It is Fritz!" he exclaimed; "he has been wounded!"
Wolfe uttered an expression of concern, and stepped forward toinquire. It had been the regiment in command of Fritz which hadbeen sent to silence the sharpshooters in the farms and copses.John Stark had gone with him, their former life as Rangers havingwell qualified them for this species of warfare. Fritz was nowbeing led back, white and bloody, one ball having lodged in hisshoulder, and another in his foot. He walked with difficulty,supported by two of his men.
"I am grieved to see you so!" cried Wolfe, with the ready concernhe showed in any sufferings not his own.
"It is naught," answered Fritz, faintly but cheerfully; "I wouldcare no whit but that it will keep me from the fight.
"I have left John Stark in command, sir," he added to the General;"the men are perfectly steady when he directs their movements."
Wolfe nodded. He knew the intrepidity and cool courage of theRanger. There would be no blundering where Stark held the command.
"Care for your patient well," said the young General to a surgeonwho came hurrying up at the moment; "Captain Neville is too good asoldier and officer for us to lose."
Then turning to Humphrey, who was acting in the capacity ofaide-de-camp, he said in a quick undertone:
"If anything should happen to me in the battle, let BrigadierMoncton know that I recommend Captain Neville for promotion."
Then he turned his attention towards the oncoming tide of battle,knowing that the great crisis for which he had been waiting allthese long months was now upon him.
The French were forming up along the opposite ridge, which hid thecity from view. Wolfe took in their disposition at a glance, and agrim smile formed itself upon his lips. He saw that though thecentre of the three bodies forming up into order was composedentirely of regular troops, both flanks were regulars intermixedwith Canadians; and for the Canadian militia in the open he had anunbounded contempt. Moreover, he noted that instead of waitinguntil they were in good and compact order, they began almostimmediately to advance, and that without any of the method andprecision so necessary in an attack upon a well-posted andstationary foe.
He passed along the word of command to his own officers,instructing them how to act, and stood watching with the breathlessintensity of a man who knows that the crisis of a mighty destiny isat hand.
The moment the French soldiers got within range they commenced tofire; not as one man, in a crashing volley, but wildly,irregularly, excitedly, uttering cries and shouts the while--atrick caught from their Indian allies, who used noise as one oftheir most effective weapons.
"Bah!" cried Wolfe, with a sudden exclamation of mingled contemptand amusement; "look there! Saw you ever such soldiers as these?"
Those about him looked, and a hoarse laugh broke from them, andseemed to run along the ranks of immovable red-coats drawn up likea wall, and coolly reserving their fire.
The gust of laughter was called forth by the action of the Canadianrecruits, who, immediately upon discharging their pieces, flungthemselves down upon the ground to reload, throwing theircompanions into the utmost confusion, as it was almost impossibleto continue marching without trampling upon their prostratefigures.
"I would sooner trust my whole fate to one company of regulars,"exclaimed Wolfe, "than attempt to fight with such soldiers asthese! They are fit only for their native forests; and were I incommand, back they should go there, quick march."
Yet still the oncoming mass of French approached, the dropping firenever ceasing. Nearer and nearer they came, and now were not fiftypaces distant from the English lines.
"Crash!"
It was not like a volley of musketry; it was like a cannon shot.The absolute precision with which it was delivered showed theperfect steadiness and nerve of the men. Upon Wolfe's face might beseen a smile of approbation and pride. This was the way Englishsoldiers met the foe; this was the spirit in which victory was won.
Another crash, almost as accurate as the first, and a few minutesof deafening clattering fire; a pause, in which nothing could beseen but rolling clouds of smoke; and then?
The smoke rolled slowly away, and as the pall lifted, a wild,ringing cheer broke from the English ranks, mingled with the yellof the Highlanders beyond. The ground was covered with dead andwounded; the ranks of the oncoming foe were shattered and broken.The Canadians had turned, and were flying hither and thither, onlycaring to escape the terrible fire, which in open country theycould never stand. In a few more seconds, as soon as the regularssaw that the red-coats were preparing to charge, they too flungdown their muskets and joined the rout.
"Charge them, men, charge them!"
Wolfe's voice rang like a clarion note over the field. He placedhimself at the head of one of the columns. Julian and Humphrey wereon either side of him. The yell of the Highlanders was in theirears, and the huzzah of the English soldiers, as they dashed uponthe retreating foe.
Their line had been a little broken here by the fire of the foe,and still from ambushed sharpshooters hidden upon the plain a moreor less deadly fire was kept up. Wolfe led where the danger wasgreatest and the firing most galling and persistent.
"Dislodge those men!" was the order which had just passed his lips,when Julian noticed that he seemed to pause and stagger for amoment.
"You are hurt!" he exclaimed anxiously, springing to his side; butWolfe kept steadily on his way, wrapping his handkerchief round hiswrist the while. The blood was welling from it. Julian insistedupon tying the bandage, finding that the wrist was shattered.
"You are wounded--you will surely go back!" he said anxiously; butWolfe seemed scarcely to hear.
The next moment he was off again with his men, directing theirmovements with all his accustomed skill and acumen. Once again hestaggered. Julian dashed to his side; but he spoke no word. If hewould but think of himself! But no; his soul was in the battle. Hehad no care save for the issue of the day.
A sudden volley seemed to open upon them from a little unseen dipin the ground, masked by thick underwood. Julian felt a bullet whizso near to his ear that the skin was grazed and the hair singed.For a moment he was dizzy with the deafening sound. Then a low cryfrom Humphrey reached him.
"The General! the General!" he said.
Julian dashed his hand across his eyes and looked. Wolfe wassitting upon the ground. He was still gazing earnestly at thebattle rushing onward, but there had come into his eyes a strangedimness.
"He is struck--he is wounded!" said Humphrey in a low voice,bending over him. "Help, Julian; we must carry him to the rear."
Julian half expected resistance on the part of Wolfe; but no wordpassed his lips. They were growing ashy white.
With a groan of anguish--for he felt as though he knew what wascoming--Julian bent to the task, and the pair conveyed the light,frail form through the melee of the battlefield towards the placewhere the wounded had been carried, and where Fritz still lay. Asurgeon came hastily forward, and seeing who it was, uttered anexclamation of dismay.
Wolfe opened his dim eyes. He saw Julian's face, but all the restwas blotted out in a haze.
"Lay me down," he said
faintly; "I want nothing."
"The surgeons are here," said Julian anxiously as they put him outof the hot rays of the sun, which was now shining over heights andplains.
"They can do nothing for me," said Wolfe, in the same faint, dreamyway; "let them look to those whom they can help."
A death-like faintness was creeping over him. The surgeon put astimulating draught to his lips; and when a part had beenswallowed, proceeded to make a partial examination of the injuriessustained. But when he had opened the breast of his coat and sawtwo orifices in the neighbourhood of the heart, he shook his head,and laid the wounded man down to rest.
Julian felt a spasm of pain shoot through his heart, like a thrustfrom a bayonet.
"Can you do nothing?" he asked in a whisper.
"Nothing," was the reply. "He has not an hour to live."
"To be cut off in the very hour of victory!" exclaimed Humphrey,with a burst of sorrow. "It is too hard--too hard!"
"Yet it is what he desired for himself," said Julian, in a lowvoice. I think it is what he himself would have chosen."
"He has suffered more than any of us can well imagine," said thesurgeon gravely. "We can scarcely grudge to him the rest and peaceof the long, last sleep."
Humphrey turned away to dash the tears from his eyes. In hissilent, dog-like fashion, he had loved their young General with agreat and ardent love, and it cut him to the heart to see him lyingthere white and pulseless, his life ebbing slowly away, withouthope of a rally.
A sign from somebody at a little distance attracted his attention.He crossed the open space of ground, and bent over Fritz, who laybandaged and partially helpless amongst the wounded, but with allhis faculties clear.
"What is it they are saying all around?" he asked anxiously. "Howgoes the battle? how is it with our General?"
"The battle truly is won--or so I believe," answered Humphrey, in ahusky voice. "God grant that the gallant Wolfe may live to knowthat success has crowned his efforts--that the laurel wreath willbe his, even though it be only laid upon his tomb!"
"Is he then wounded?"
"Mortally, they say."
A spasm of pain contracted Fritz's face.
"Then Quebec will be dearly purchased," he said. "Humphrey, help meto move; I would look upon his face once again!"
Humphrey gave the desired assistance. They were bringing in thewounded, French and English both, to this place of shelter; but thespot where Wolfe lay was regarded as sacred ground. It was stilland quiet there, though in the distance the din of battle sounded,and the sharp rattle of musketry or the booming of artillery couldbe heard at this side and that.
Fritz limped slowly across the open space, and halted a dozen pacesfrom where Wolfe lay; half supported in the arms of Julian, whoseface was stern with repressed grief.
The ashen shadow had deepened upon the face of the dying man. Heseemed to be sinking away out of life. The long lashes lay upon thewaxen cheek; the deep repose of the long, last sleep seemed to befalling upon the wasted features. Fritz felt an unaccustomed mistrising before his eyes. He thought he had never before seen anobler countenance.
The few standing about the wounded General looked from him to thedistant plain, where the battle tide was rolling farther away, andfrom which, from time to time, arose outbursts of sudden sound--thewild screech of the Highlanders, the answering cheer of theEnglish, the spattering, diminishing shots, and now and again asharp volley that told of some more determined struggle in oneplace or another.
"Look how they run! look, look--they run like sheep!" criedHumphrey, breaking into sudden excitement, as his trained sight,without the aid of glasses, took in the meaning of that confusedmass of men.
Julian felt a thrill run through the prostrate form he was holding.The eyes he had never thought to look upon again opened wide. Wolferaised his head, and asked, with something of the old ring in hisvoice:
"Who run?"
"The enemy, sir," eagerly replied those who stood by. "They aremelting away like smoke. They give way everywhere. The day isours!"
The young General half raised himself, as though he would fain haveseen the sight; but his dim eyes took in nothing.
"Tell Colonel Burton," he said, speaking with his old decision, "tomarch Webb's regiment down to the St. Charles, and cut off theirretreat from the bridge."
Humphrey was off almost before the words had left his lips. Hewould be the one to carry the General's last message. Wolfe heardhim go, and smiled. He knew that Humphrey was the trustiest ofmessengers. He looked up into Julian's face.
"Now lay me down again," he said faintly. "Farewell, my trustyfriend and comrade. Take my love to those at home; remember my lastmessages. God be thanked; He has given us the victory. I can die inpeace."
He drew a long sigh, and his eyes closed. A little thrill ranthrough the worn frame.
Julian laid it down, and reverently covered the peaceful face;whilst a stifled sob went up from those who saw the action.
James Wolfe had gone to his rest--had died the death of a hero uponthe victorious battlefield.