How Canada Was Won: A Tale of Wolfe and Quebec

by F. S. Brereton

  Chapter XV

  Off to Quebec

  "You have to thank a very fine and robust constitution, and theopen-air life which you have lived for your excellent progress,monsieur," said the French colonel one morning, some six weeks afterSteve had been taken prisoner, as the two sat in front of a cozy logfire in the speaker's hut, "and I have to thank fortune--bad fortunefor you, perhaps, monsieur--that some weeks of what would have been aweary time for me have passed so very pleasantly. It is the fortuneof war, good for me, bad for you, and in either case to be takenphilosophically."

  "For myself, I admit that I am sorry to have been taken prisoner,"replied Steve with a smile, "but then I might have been in the handsof Monsieur Jules, instead of in yours, colonel, and then----"

  "Monsieur Steve would not have been here. You have not forgotten thefiring party and the wall. Yes, that wretch would have had you shot,for he has some spite against you. Tell me, Monsieur Steve, have youever done this compatriot of mine an injury, other than defeating himin the course of this war?"

  Steve shook his head emphatically. "None," he said.

  "Then there must be some other reason for his enmity. You speak Frenchlike a native, monsieur, while you are an English colonist born andbred. That is curious."

  "My mother was French," explained Steve. "She was a MademoiselleDespelle before her marriage. More than that I do not know, for shedied when I was an infant, and my father has always been very reticentabout such matters. It is to him that I owe my knowledge of French,for he speaks the language like a native."

  "And your name is Mainwaring. Monsieur Steve Mainwaring. Yes, theremust be some other reason for this Jules to have such spite againstyou, and I shall endeavour to unravel the cause. Meanwhile, monsieur,allow me to warn you most solemnly. For the moment this man is atCrown Point, and therefore harmless; nor will he have a post ofauthority again while I am able to prevent it. Still, beware of him,monsieur. He is dangerous. And now to give you some information. In amonth perhaps the ice will have broken. Even now there are signs thatthe end of this terrible winter is coming, and as soon as the springputs in an appearance you and I will go to Quebec, where I can promisea welcome. For I do not forget that I owe my life to you. Monsieurwill be a prisoner on parole till the end of the war, while I--well,I am a lame dog, and of little further use, I fear, and besides, Ihave given my word to you--I am on oath not to fight again during thecourse of this conflict."

  The tall colonel looked down woefully at his thigh, still heavilybandaged, and then glanced at the crutch which lay beside his chair,and which up till then he had never dared to use. Then he sighed,brushed a tear away, and smiled.

  "I spoke of accepting fortune good or bad philosophically," he said."_Bien!_ I will act up to my words, but my fighting days are done."

  It was only too true, and none but those who have seen the keensoldier struck down in his prime can realise what this gallant colonelmust have felt. For his prospects were brilliant; he was in command ofone of the most important advanced posts, and had everything beforehim. Then a chance ball had fractured his thigh, and here he was,one leg some two inches shorter than the other, lamed for life, andunfitted for further service. But he did not permit his disappointmentto take the place of his gratitude to the young man who had befriendedhim, who had discovered him deserted in the forest and restored him tohis friends, and to this colonel alone Steve owed his comfort duringthe last few weeks. For his wound had proved to be a severe one, andwas followed by some amount of fever. However, he was practicallyrecovered now, and for quite a time had constituted himself nurse tothe colonel. As to his friends, Jim and Pete and the others, he hadbeen able to send them a few brief lines, telling them of his safety,and promptly a note had come back, scrawled on a dirty piece of paper,and conspicuous for its brevity.

  "You ain't dead yet, cap'n, and whilst there's life there's hope. Lookout fer a rescue."

  That was all. There was a blurred letter at the end which might havebeen Jim's signature, or Pete's, or even Mac's. But the words wereclear enough, and somehow they gave Steve much comfort.

  "I am sure they will do something for me," he said, when he hadread the note, "but rescue here is hopeless, for there are too manyIndians. Then, when I reach Quebec I shall be still further away,so that there is little hope of seeing them there. On the way upthough----"

  He considered the matter for a few seconds, for he had learned fromthe colonel already that when he was removed from Ticonderoga it wouldbe by water.

  "No, I will send them no information of the move," he said. "It wouldnot be fair to do so, and besides, I shall be travelling with a manwho is unfit to fight. No, I fear that they will be able to do nothingfor me, and I shall have to rely on myself alone."

  With that Steve had to banish all thought of help from his friends,and resigned himself to a long imprisonment in Quebec. A few weekslater the frosts broke up, the sun melted the ice, and ere long thegreen of a gorgeous country began to be seen again.

  "We will make for the headquarters of our Government," said thecolonel, now promoted to a chair outside the hut, where he couldbask in the spring sunshine and listen to the twitter of the birds."Anything will be better than to remain here, unable to stir a foot,while others are active and busy. For you, Steve, I fear it meansremoval from friends. But then it is inevitable."

  Ten days later Steve and the colonel were carried by road to CrownPoint, at the foot of Lake Champlain, and from there were conveyedby canoe to the reaches of the Richelieu river. An escort of Indianspaddled beside them, and swept their own craft along at a pace whichvery soon brought them to the mighty St. Lawrence. They turned intothe river, and in due course sighted the promontory on which the cityof Quebec is built, then a small and straggling place made up ofprivate residences and churches, and of numerous batteries, barracks,and forts. As Steve's eyes rested on what is now, and was even then,a queen of cities, bathed in the spring sunshine, he realized whatWolfe and many another was to realize after him, namely, that this wasno trading place, a mart given over to business men and the tradeof the country. It was a stronghold devoted to the military and tothe church, for the predominant features were barracks and batteries,spires and belfries, all clinging like flies to the steep cliff.

  "A jewel than which there is none more beautiful in the crown ofFrance," said the colonel, as he pointed out the various places toSteve. "Quebec is the most regal-looking city I have ever seen, and Inever know whether she looks best as we see her now, with the springsunshine smiling on her, or in the winter, when she is clad in hermantle of white. Monsieur, this struggle between our two nations mayend in victory for England, but whatever happens, this jewel I amshowing you will never fall. Quebec is impregnable. Look east and westand you will see why I am so confident."

  It seemed indeed as if no other opinion could have been given, foras Steve approached this fair Canadian city he, too, declared tohimself that nothing but starvation could cause it to surrender. ForQuebec stands on a steep promontory, as has been described, and hasto its immediate east the river St. Charles, and beyond that again along ridge continuing for some six miles and ending abruptly in thebeautiful falls of Montmorency, at that time of the year in theirfull grandeur, for the melted snow and ice had added to the volume ofthe river. This ridge, which was the southern extremity of an uplandplateau, fell sheer into the river, and a glance at it was sufficientto discover the obstacles which would at once confront any foe boldor rash enough to attempt to clamber to the top. Standing on thatsame ridge on many a day after, Steve looked down upon the garden ofCanada, the Isle of Orleans, which the first navigator of the mightySt. Lawrence had called the Island of Bacchus.

  To the west Quebec is even more strongly protected by naturalobstacles, for the ridge on the edge of which the fair city is builtruns westward for many miles, falling almost perpendicularly into theriver, while the St. Lawrence, just opposite the town, is suddenlyconstricted by a projecting spit of land, known as Point Levis, whichnarrows the bed till i
t is barely three-fourths of a mile across, adistance which the French rightly considered could be commanded bytheir batteries.

  "This will be your prison, Steve," said the colonel, kindly, as thecanoes made in for the wooden stage, "and I think that you couldcome to no more charming spot. I shall take you to see Montcalm, ourmilitary leader, and shall advise you to give him your promise notto attempt an escape. No. Do not refuse, I beg of you," he went on,seeing Steve pull a long face. "After all, you can but try it for atime, and can then formally declare your intention not to remain onparole any longer. It will make all the difference to you just now,for if you give your word, you will be allowed much liberty, andyou will be therefore out in the open. On the other hand, you willbe placed in confinement, which will be irksome, to say the least ofit, and not the best thing for your health. Then, too, consider thecircumstances. Miles and miles of forest now lie between you and yourfriends, and there is not the smallest chance of your getting down tothem, or they up to you, for the country swarms with our backwoodsmenand Indians. Such an attempt would be sheer madness. You must wait,my lad, and, later, if your friends beat us back, perhaps it will beworth your while to withdraw your parole and make that attempt ofwhich all prisoners dream. There, I am honest with you, am I not? Ifmatters were in my hands I should aid you to escape."

  He laughed heartily, patted Steve on the back, and then held outhis hand for our hero to help him ashore. For Steve had becomeindispensable to the wounded colonel, and was more like his son thananything else.

  "I suppose you are right, colonel," said the lad some little whilelater, when they were ascending the steep hill. "I will give my paroleand try the arrangement for a time."

  A little later they were ushered into the presence of Montcalm, asoldier whose memory is still kept green, and who, though an enemy ofours, was undoubtedly one of the bravest and most honourable of foesEnglishmen have ever met. He shook hands gaily with Steve, askedafter his wound, and gripped his hand again when the colonel had toldhim how this prisoner had saved his life.

  "Monsieur," said Montcalm, swinging round and regarding Steve withshining eyes, "such an act of generosity should earn for you yourfreedom. But I dare not give it, and I must ask you to reconcileyourself to captivity here. You will give me your word?"

  "I will, general. For the present and until further notice I promisenot to attempt an escape, and to obey any orders as to my behaviourwhich you may choose to give."

  "Good! Ha, ha, monsieur le colonel. You hear him? You hear this youngofficer? _Bien!_ He promises not to escape till he warns us. Truly,you English are droll! But I understand, monsieur, and I know howhonourably you will keep your promise. Now for quarters. You will beposted with the colonel, at his express wish, and will be allowed thesame rations as our captains. As for pay, perhaps monsieur le colonelwill permit you to draw on him, and afterwards you can refund. Ihope you will find the time pass pleasantly. There are many here toentertain you."

  That indeed proved to be the case, for Quebec in those days was filledwith young officers, and with a sprinkling of wealthy men. Balls androuts were of frequent occurrence, and for a time Steve was a lion atthese entertainments, thanks again to the honesty of the colonel, whohad told his tale everywhere.

  "We hear, monsieur, that our beloved colonel owes his life to you,"said one of the numerous ladies then resident in the city. "Tell usyour story of this venture."

  Steve bowed in courtly manner, a trick which he had learned since hisarrival, flushed to his hair, and looked embarassed.

  "Madame must know, surely," he answered, desperately. "I saw thecolonel speaking with her a little while ago, and she is good enoughnow to admit that she has heard this tale."

  "True, monsieur. But it is your version that I require," was thelaughing answer. "Come, monsieur, I will not permit you to disappointme."

  Thus pressed, Steve shuffled uneasily, admitted that there might betruth in the colonel's tale, and then blurted out his own explanation,as if he had need to make an excuse for performing what had been avery generous action.

  "You see, madame, I was there," he said. "I chanced upon the colonel,and could I leave him to die? I brought him in, and since we did notdesire to be troubled with a wounded man, why--well, we took him tohis friends."

  There was laughter at that, for some half-dozen other people hadgathered, amongst them the colonel, who leaned on his crutch.

  "You hear that, monsieur le colonel?" called madame, with a laugh,catching sight of the wounded officer. "I thought I should like tohear what this prisoner of yours had to say as to your rescue. Youshould listen to him. Ladies and gentlemen, I declare that theseEnglish are naive. Monsieur tells me that having chanced upon ourwounded friend he brought him back to his friends for one reason only.Guess at it, if you please. No. You cannot, mon colonel. Very well,monsieur has the effrontery to say that he feared you would be a greattrouble to them. He would not be bothered with so useless a person asour colonel."

  There was loud laughter at that, laughter which sent Steve flying fromthe group, his cheeks aglow, while the gallant and merry colonel whohad so befriended him stood leaning on the back of a chair, shakinghis crutch after him.

  "Ah! Let me catch the rogue," he called out, and then, "Madame. Itis like the lad. Honest as the day. He says what he means wheneverpossible, and at other times keeps silent lest he should give offence.Despite what he says, I know him to be a brave and a generous lad."

  Many and many a time in the months which followed did Steve take rodand line and cross to the river St. Charles. He was even given theuse of a gun and a canoe, and permitted to go on the St. Lawrence, oreven into the forest on the southern bank. But he was always carefulto return before dusk, and made a point of reporting his arrival.And while he was a prisoner only in name, and the weeks grew intomonths, the reader may wonder what had been happening in other andmore familiar quarters, for the war with France was now more than evera fact, and the two nations were preparing for the struggle which bothknew well must end in victory for one, and the consequent mastery ofthis huge continent.

  Steve had gone to Fort William Henry in the winter of 1756, and thespring of 1757 found him in Quebec. It will be remembered that he hadtaken part in more than one of _les petites guerres_ at the foot ofLake St. George. These conflicts had been of frequent occurrence, andthroughout the winter they continued, Jim and his friends, as wellas those in Fort William Henry, often sending out small parties toattack the French. The winter months passed, in fact, without otherincident, save for one attempt made by the garrison of Ticonderoga. OnMarch 18, 1757, they descended over the ice of Lake St. George, hopingto take the garrison of Fort William Henry by surprise. They wereeasily driven back, and retired to their own fort, having accomplishednothing. Elsewhere nothing of moment occurred, so that this longwinter season may be described as being barren of incident.

  Meanwhile the British Government had determined to support thecolonial troops, and regiments had been collecting at Cork, inIreland, preparatory to sailing for America. On the eighth of Maysome hundred sail set out with these reinforcements, and finallyarrived at Halifax, in Nova Scotia, which the Earl of Loudon, nowin command of our forces in America, had recently reached with histroops. Of these he had now under his immediate command some eleventhousand, and with them he hoped to be able to attack and capture thevery formidable fortress of Louisbourg, which, it will be remembered,had been erected at great cost on Cape Breton Isle, just north ofNova Scotia. But information now came to hand that there were seventhousand Frenchmen in Louisbourg, two-thirds being regulars, whileIndians swarmed in the vicinity. This formidable force, added to aFrench fleet of no mean proportions, was considered too powerful forthe troops under Loudon's command, and in consequence the idea of anattack on Louisbourg was given up, and on August 16 Loudon embarkedwith the bulk of his troops, leaving the 27th, the 28th, the 43rd, andthe 46th regiments as a garrison for Nova Scotia.

  Valuable months had been wasted, and the projected descent on thef
ormidable French fortress had ended in fiasco. But Loudon cannot beblamed alone for such a result. If reinforcements had been collectedearlier and despatched without delay, they would have reached CapeBreton Isle before the French fleet put in an appearance. It was thisdelay, together with the prompt crossing of the Atlantic by the Frenchfleet, which caused the expedition to be countermanded. But we lostfar more than valuable time and money in this useless movement. Bywithdrawing his troops from America proper to Halifax, Loudon leftthe disputed country south of the great lakes and west of the linedrawn north from the Alleghany mountains almost denuded of men. Therewere some three to four thousand to hold this huge country, a forceinsufficient even to keep back the French in the neighbourhood of LakeSt. George, if they wished to press south in that direction.

  It may readily be seen that Loudon was guilty of a serious error inthus denuding an important stretch of country, and it may equallybe anticipated that the French were quick to take advantage of thewithdrawal of our soldiers. Montcalm had been busily gathering Indiansfrom far-off portions of Canada, Indians attracted to the French aftertheir victory at Oswego. These, with numerous regulars and Canadians,he poured down the Richelieu river, massing them at Ticonderoga, tillhe had nearly 8000 there. Some forty different Indian tribes wererepresented, and if the native element had been cruel and bloodthirstybefore, it promised to be even more so now. For these sons of Canadawho crowded the huts at Ticonderoga were pure savages, vastlyimpressed by the French, and more than ever eager to join in thisfray now that they had heard the tales of their brethren who had beenalready engaged.

  On the British side General Webb, who had been left in command inthis area, had some 1600 troops in Fort Edward, while Munroe hadtwo thousand five hundred in Fort William Henry, or encamped in itsimmediate neighbourhood. This latter force was surrounded by the hugenumbers at the disposal of Montcalm, and prepared to defend itselfas well as possible. The French had forty guns, and made no activeattempt upon the place till these were in position. Then, at a rangeof two hundred yards, they opened such a fire that the fortificationswere splintered and flying in fragments before many hours had passed.Munroe and his men made a gallant defence, but their ammunition soonbegan to run out, while some of their cannon burst. They attempted twosorties, which were repulsed, and waited in vain for some action onthe part of Webb and his men at Fort Edward. But no one came to helpthem, and finally, when some hundred and fifty of the defenders hadfallen, Munroe agreed to surrender, further resistance being useless.Terms were arranged, the garrison to march out with the honours ofwar, and to proceed under escort to Fort Edward, there to remain tillthey should be exchanged.

  What followed will for ever be a stain on the annals of New Franceand a warning to all who employ the help of such ruffians as theIndians had already proved themselves to be. The numerous braveswith Montcalm, accustomed to murder all their prisoners, seemed tothink that these men who had surrendered were theirs, with whom theythought they could do as they wished. They were already nearly out ofhand, and as an earnest of what was coming, the miscreants promptlyslaughtered a dozen or more unfortunate fellows who from illnessor wounds had been left in the hospital. On the following morningthe British troops were to set out under escort, and seventeen moreunfortunate and helpless men were slaughtered by the Indians in thesight of Canadian officers, who did not even venture to remonstrate.Indeed, the Canadians engaged in this war looked upon the methodsand desires of the Indians with favour. They considered that thescalps of the enemy were the natural reward for the services of thesemiscreants, and there is not a shadow of doubt that at the surrenderof Fort William Henry they were, with few exceptions, if not activelysympathetic with the Indians, at least callous onlookers at a tragedyto which energy on their part could have put a summary end. Be that asit may, the march had no sooner begun than the Indians got completelyout of hand. Montcalm, in place of drawing a cordon of his regularsaround the prisoners, endeavoured to arrest the excitement by hisown unaided efforts. Almost at once the war-whoop sounded, and ina few seconds the howling demons were busy amongst the prisoners,tomahawking them, or dragging them into the forest to slaughter attheir leisure when opportunity offered. It was a horrible exhibitionof cruelty and inhumanity, and it is a wonder that, seeing thehelpless methods adopted, Montcalm and his officers contrived to savea single one of the unfortunates who had surrendered to them. Perhapsa hundred were slain, and some six hundred carried off, of whom abouthalf were returned on heavy payment. The remainder were taken away bythe Indians on the following day, and who knows what happened to them?Suffice it to say that this disgraceful and cruel affair shocked allwho heard of it, and raised such a storm of feeling in the breastsof all who boasted British blood, that "Remember Fort William Henry"became the cry of our soldiers in the future, and when the opportunitycame they remembered. The trigger finger which in days before mighthave been steadied and withdrawn pressed sternly and without mercyin the future. The Canadian who begged for his life, had to beg mostearnestly before he was sure that his captor would be merciful. Forbitterness had entered into this war, and the British were face toface now with the fact that it was one of life and death, one whichaimed at their very existence in America.

  Another summer had gone and still the war was not ended, while theFrench may be said to have been victorious all along the line. Theyheld the Ohio valley securely, their Indians and trappers stillranged the forests along the Alleghany border, while their troopsoccupied Ticonderoga, whither they had retired after the captureand destruction of Fort William Henry. In other quarters also theypredominated, for Louisbourg constantly threatened Nova Scotia, whilethe island of Cape Breton on which it was erected, offered immediatelyin the neighbourhood of the huge fort a most excellent harbour to aFrench fleet which was ever ready to descend upon our American ports.

  England wanted fresh troops, new and more enlightened leaders, anda far more energetic policy if she was ever to raise her head fromthe mire and despondency into which she had fallen. She wanted oneparamount general at home, to rouse the people in England from theirlethargy, to stimulate their zeal in the cause of the Americancolonists, and to reinforce our men already in the field not bydriblets, but by a big army capable of coping with the difficultieswhich stared us in the face. That able leader appeared early in theyear 1758, when Steve had been almost twelve months a prisoner.The great Pitt came into power, and the nation at once felt thechange which he exerted. There was enthusiasm now, where there hadbeen apathy before, and men spoke of the end of this campaign withconfidence, forgetting that but a few months gone by the utter lossof America had been prophesied. New energies were concentrated in theconflict, money was voted with a freer hand, and the best that Englandand her American colony could give in brains and generalship wassought for.

  Ticonderoga was to be attacked, and Abercromby was to command, for itwas urgently necessary that this route to Canada should be opened andthe defeat at Fort William Henry wiped out. Then Fort Duquesne, forsome time a stinging thorn in our side, was selected for an expeditionwhich Brigadier Forbes was to lead to glory. Amherst was selectedfor the most important of the expeditions, that to Louisbourg, inwhich operation the fleet was to help also. With Amherst Lawrence andWhitmore were to act as Brigadiers, while James Wolfe was selectedin the same capacity. At home preparations were made to capture ordestroy the provision fleets preparing to sail from France to Canada,and Hawke and Osborn did excellent service in this respect.

  In fact, thanks to Pitt's energy, England showed her teeth duringthis spring of 1758, and took up the struggle in a manner whichthoroughly alarmed Montcalm and his forces. There was less gaiety nowat Quebec, for matters wore a serious aspect. Preparations were evenmade to resist an attack by the British, while all prisoners, of whomthere were many, who had hitherto enjoyed considerable liberty, wereconfined to the fort and placed under a guard.

  "I offer you many apologies on behalf of the commandant, monsieur,"said the officer who brought the orders to Steve. "But you willunderstan
d. There are certain necessary preparations. Work is going onin the batteries which you must not see. You will remain in this fort,and will leave it at the risk of your life. Also, you will confineyourself to the front face of the fort, and will not venture to walkalong the other walls. I wish to warn you formally that the sentriesare under orders to fire the instant they detect an attempt at escape.Pardon, monsieur. It is unpleasant to have to speak so to such afriend as you are."

  Steve bowed, and thanked the officer, saying that he fully understoodthe necessity for the order.

  Two months later, when the spring weather had fully set in and theriver was entirely free of ice, an Indian entered the courtyard of thefort in which Steve was located. There were always numbers of braveshovering about the batteries and barracks, and the presence of thisone was therefore not remarkable. Steve had not even seen him, for hewas leaning on the wall staring out at the green woods on the Isle ofOrleans. Suddenly the tinkle of some metal instrument attracted hisnotice, and he swung round to catch sight of the Indian trudging pasthim, and of a tomahawk which had fallen on to the stone paving of thecourtyard.

  "Stop," he called out in the Mohawk tongue. "Stop, brother, you havedropped your tomahawk."

  Picking it up Steve followed the Indian and handed the weapon to him.Then only did he look into his face. It was Silver Fox, painted anddaubed as a Huron Indian, cool and absolutely unruffled as of yore.

  "Greeting, chief. Silver Fox delights to look into the eyes of theHawk. Read this, and be ready to-night. I have spoken."

  He took his tomahawk, grunted his thanks, and passed on, leaving atiny note in Steve's hand.

  "My lad, my dear, dear lad," ran the note, which our hero carefullyopened when out of sight of the sentry, "we have tracked you to thefort at Quebec, and have completed our arrangements for a rescue. Beready to-night. Listen for a voice beneath the front wall where youare accustomed to walk. Your father."

  A rescue! That very night, too! Steve thrust the note into his pocketand straightway commenced to whistle merrily, for he was tired of thiscaptivity, and longed to be free again, fighting and hunting with hisfriends in the forest.