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With Wolfe in Canada

BLACKIE & SON LIMITED

50 Old Bailey, LONDON
17 Stanhope Street, Glasgow

BLACKIE & SON (INDIA) LIMITED
Warwick House, Fort Street, BOMBAY

BLACKIE & SON (CANADA) LIMITFD
iu8 Bay Street, Toronto

"AGAIN AM) A(.AIN JAMl-S 1 IKKU

^' ^.

Ygih/t-C'

r - • - i,

With

.'./..

Wolfe in Canada

Or, The Winning of a Continent

G. A. HENTY

Author of «With Cliv. in Indi:.'- "The Lion of the North'

T:1l ^'""" "'T'^* '^"*°" »n«^ the Raven"
By Sheer Pluck ""Facing Death "&c

Illustrated

BLACKIE & SON LIMITED

LONDON AND GLASGOW

/^'z^^aS./V'^"^' V/- n.ci I

Printed in Great Britain by
Blackie & Son, Limited^ Glasgow

Preface

In the present volume I have endeavoured to give
the details of the principal events in a struggle whose
importance can hardly be overrated. At its com-
mencement the English occupied a mere patch of
land on the eastern seaboard of America, hemmed
in on all sides by the French, who occupied not
only Canada in the north and Louisiana in the south,
but possessed a chain of posts connecting them, so
cutting off the English from all access to the vast
countries of the west.

On the issues of that struggle depended not only
the destiny of Canada, but of the whole of North
America, and, to a large extent, that of the two mother
countries. When the contest began, the chances of
France becoming the great colonizing empire of the
world were as good as those of England. Not only
did she hold far larger territories in America than
did England, but she had rich colonies in the West
Indies, where the flag of England was at that time
hardly represented, and her prospects in India were
better than our own. At that time, too, she disputed
with us on equal terms the empire of the sea.

The loss of her North American provinces turned
the scale. With the monopoly of such a market the

'~7

I / o

.o7^-^

Preface

commerce of England increased enormously, and
with her commerce her wealth and power of exten-
sion, while the power of France was proportionately
crippled. It is true that in time the North American
colonies, with the exception of Canada, broke away
from their connection with the old country, but they
still remained English, still continued to be the best
market for our ^ods and manufactures.

Never was the shortsightedness of human beings
shown more distir. 'tly than when P'rance wasted her
strength and treasure in a sterile contest on the con-
tinent of Europe, and permitted, with scarce an effort,
her North American colonies to be torn from her.

All the historical details of the war have been
drawn from the excellent work entitled Montcalm,
and WolfCy by Mr. Francis Parkman, and from the
detailed history of the Louisbourg and Quebec ex-
peditions, by Major Knox, who served under Generals
Amherst and Wolfe

G. A. HENTY.

Contents

Chap.

11.

III.

IV.
V.
VI.
VII.
Vlll.
IX.
X.
XI.
XII.
XIII.
XIV.
XV.
XVI.

XV n.

XVI II.

XIX.

XX.

XXI.

A Rescue

Thk Showman's Grandchild

ThK Jt SriCE-ROOM ....

Thk .Sqiirks (Jranddalt.hter -
A QuiKT Time - - . .

A Storm

Tressed

DlSCHARGKD

The Defeat ok Braddock -
The Fight at Lake (George

Scouting

A Commission

An Abortive Attack ...
Scouting on Lake Champi.ain -

TirROUGII MANY PeRII.S -

The Massacre at Fort William Hen
LouisBouRG and Ticondkpoga -
Quebec

A Da.ngerous Expedition .
The Path down the Heights

Page
II

^7
46

80
99

The Capture of Ouebec

•35
•52
169

.87

222

237

254

270

287

301

327

345

365

Sk;

PLi

) 1 1

f I

Illustrations

Again and again James fired

Page

Colo u red fro n tispiece

A LOW CRV OF ASTONISHMENT BROKE FROM THE SQUIRE - 72
The SOLDIERS were HALF-STUPEFIED with ' TERROR

and confusion 168

Each placed himself behind one of the blackened

STUMPS AND opened FIRE 264

He saw several paktils of redskins moving along

on the river bank 352

Sketch Map of Lake Champlain and Lake George to

illustrate operations, 1755-9 186

Plan of Quebec and its neig-hbourhood to illustrate the

operations of Wolfe and Montcalm, 1759 - . - 303

I. I

I! i

1 !

WITH WOLFE IN
CANADA

CHAPTER I

A Rescue

Most of the towns standing on our seacoast have suffered
a radical change in the course of the last century. Rail-
ways and the fashion of summer holiday-making have trans-
formed them altogether, and great towns have sprung up
where fishing villages once stood. There are a few places,
however, which seem to have been passed by by the crowd.
The number yearly becomes smaller as the iron roads throw
out fresh branches. With the advent of these comes the
speculative builder, rows of terraces and shops are run up,
promenades are made, bathing machines and brass bands
become familiar objects, and in a few years the original
character of the place altogether disappears.

Sidmouth for a long time was passed by by the world of
holiday makers. East and west of her great changes took
place, and many far smaller villages became fashionable
seaside watering-places ; the railway which passed by some
twelve miles away carried its tens of thousands westward,
but left few of them for Sidmouth, and anyone who visited
the pretty little place some years back would have seen it

almost as it stood when our story opens over a century ago.

With Wolfe in Canada

!if

There are few places in England with a fairer site ; it lies
embosomed in the hills which rise sharply on either side of
it, while behind stretches a rich undulating country thickly
dotted with orchards and snug homesteads, with lanes
bright with wild flowers and ferns, with high hedges and
trees meeting overhead. The cold breezes which render so
bare of interest the walks round the great majority of our
seaside towns pass harmlessly over the valley of the Sid,
where the vegetation is as bright and luxuriant as if the
ocean lay leagues away instead of breaking on the shore
within a few feet of the front line of houses.

The cliff^s which on either side rise from the water's edge
are neither white like those to the east, nor grey as are the
rugged bulwarks to the west. They are of a deep red,
warm and pleasant to the eye, with clumps of green show-
ing brightly up against them on every little ledge where
vegetation can get a footing; while the beach is neither
pebble, nor rock, nor sand, but a smooth level surface slop-
ing evenly down, hard and pleasant to walk on when the
sea has gone down, and the sun has dried and baked it for
an hour or two, but slippery and treacherous when freshly
wetted, for the red cliffs are of clay. Those who sail past
in a boat would hardly believe that this is so, for the sun
has baked its face, and the wind dried it till it is cracked
and seamed, and makes a brave imitation of red granite ;
but the clammy ooze when the sea goes down tells its nature
only too plainly, and Sidmouth will never be a populai
watering-place for children, for there is no digging sand
castles here, and a fall will stain light dresses and pinafores
a ruddy hue, and the young labourers will look as if they
had been at work in a brickfield.

But a century since the march of improvement had no-
where begun, and there were few larger and no prettier
seaside villages on the coast than Sidmouth. It was an
afternoon in August; the sun was blazing down hotly,
scarce a breath of wind was stirring, and the tiny waves

lin

A Rescue

site; it lies
ither side of
ntry thickly

with lanes
hedges and
:h render so
ority of our

of the Sid,
nt as if the
n the shore

'ater's edge
' as are the
I deep red,
reen shou-
;dge where

is neither
irface slop-
1 when the
aked it for
len freshly
o sail past
or the sun
is cracked
d granite ;

its nature

a popular
jing sand

pinafores
as if they

t had no-
o prettier
t was an
vn hotly,
ny waves

roke along the shore with a low rustle like that of falling
leaves. Some fishermen were at work recaulking a boat
liauled up on the shore, others were laying out some nets
Jto dry in the sun ; some fisherboys were lying asleep like
dogs basking in the heat; and a knot of lads sitting under
the shade of a boat were discussing with some warmth the
question of smuggling.

'* What do you say to it, Jim Walsham?" one of the party
said, looking up at a boy some twelve years old, who was
leaning against a boat, but who had hitherto taken no part
in the discussion.

" There is no doubt that it's wrong," the boy said. "Not

V wrong like stealing, and lying, and that sort of thing; still

it's wrong because it's against the law, and the revenue

men it they come upon a gang landing the tubs fight with

them, and if any are killed they are not blamed for it, so

i there is no doubt about its being wrong. Then on the other

'^hand no one thinks any the worse of the men that do it,

and there is scarce a one, gentle or simplt, as won't buy

some of the stuff if he gets a chance, so it can't be so very

I wrong. It must be great fun to be a smuggler, to be always

4 dodging the king's cutters, and running cargoes under the

I nose of the officers ashore. There is some excitement in a

"^life like that."

•'There is plenty of excitement in fishing," one of the
boys said sturdily. ** If you had been out in that storm last
March you would have had as much excitement as you
liked. For twelve hours we expected to go down every
minute, and we were half our time bailing for our lives."
- An approving murmur broke from the others, who were
p all, with the exception of the one addressed as Jim Wal-
sham, of the fisher class. His clothing differed but little
from that of the rest; his dark- blue pilot trousers were old
and sea-stained, his hands and face were dyed brown with
exposure to the sun and the salt water; but there was
something in his manner and tone of voice which showed

With Wolfe in Canada

that a distinction existed. James Walsham was indeed
the son of the late doctor of the village, who had died two
years previously.

Dr. Walsham had been clever in his profession, but cir-
cumstances were against him. Sidmouth and its neighbour-
hood were so healthy that his patients were few and far
between, and when he died of injuries received from being
thrown over his horse's head when the animal one night
trod on a stone coming down the hill into Sidmouth, his
widow and son were left almost penniless. Mrs. Walsham
was fortunately an energetic woman, and a fortnight after
her husband's death she went round among the tradesme..
of the place and the farmers of the neighbourhood, and
announced her intention of opening a school for girls. She
had received a good education, being the daughter of a
clergyman, and she soon obtained enough pupils to enable
her to pay her way and to keep up the pretty home in which
her husband lived in the outskirts of Sidmouth.

If she would have taken boarders she could have obtained
far higher terms, for good schools were scarce, but this she
would not do, and her pupils all lived within distances where
they could walk backwards and forwards to their homes.
Her evenings she devoted to her son, and though the edu-
cation which she was enabled to give him would be con-
sidered meagre indeed in these days of universal cramming,
he learned as much as the average boy of the period.

He would have learned more had he followed her desires,
and devoted the time when she was engaged in teaching to
his books; but this he did not do; for a few hours in the
day he would work vigorously at his lessons, the rest of his
time he spent either on the seashore or in the boats of the
fishermen ; and he could swim, row, or handle a boat under
sail in all weather as well or better than any lad in the
village of his own age.

His disposition was a happy one, and he was a general
favourite among the boatmen. He had not as yet made up

lis

A Rescue

•5

was indeed
lad died two

iion, but cir-
s neighbour-
few and far

1 from being
il one night
dmouth, his
s. Walsham
tnight after

2 tradesmen,
irhood, and
r girls. She
ughter of a
ils to enable
me in which

ive obtained
3ut this she
inces where
leir homes,
jh the edu-
ild be con-
cramming,
jriod.
ler desires,

eaching to
)urs in the

rest of his
oats of the

3oat under

lad in the

a general
t made up

mind as to his future. His mother wanted him to fol-
■ his father's profession ; he himself longed to go to sea,
but he had promised his mother that he would never do so
Jirithout her consent, and that consent he had no hope of
^taining.

The better-class people in the village shook their heads
gravely over James Walsham, and prophesied no good
things of him. They considered that he demeaned himself

freatly by association with the fisherboys, and more than
nee he had fallen into disgrace with the more quiet-minded
of the inhabitants by mischievous pranks. His reputation
that way once established, every bit of mischief in the place
which could not be clearly traced to someone else was put
j|ovvn to him, and as he was not one who would peach upon
others to save himself, he was seldom in a position to prove
his innocence.

The parson had once called upon Mrs. Walsham, and
had talked to her gravely over her son's delinquencies, but
his success had not been equal to his anticipations. Mrs.
Walsham had stood up warmly for her son.

•* The boy may get into mischief sometimes, Mr. AUanby,
hut it is the nature of boys to do so. James is a good boy,
upright and honourable, and would not tell a lie under any
Oonsideration. What is he to do? If I could afford to
iend him to a good school it would be a different thing, but
that you know I cannot do. From nine in the morning
until five in the afternoon my time is occupied by teaching,
And I cannot expect, nor do I wish, that he should sit
moping indoors all day. He had far better be out in the
jboats with the fishermen than be hanging about the place
|3oing nothing. If anything happened to me before he is
^tarted in life there would be nothing for him but to take
to the sea. I am laying by a little money every month, and
if I live for another year there will be enough to buy him
fishing boat and nets. I trust that it may not come to
hat, but I see nothing derogatory in his earning an hop^st

I I

With Wolfe in Canada

living- with his own hands; he will always be somethin;
better than a common fisherman. The education I hav
striven to give him, and his knowledge that he was born
gentleman will nerve him to try and rise. As to what yo
say about mischief, so far as I know all boys are mis
.:hievous. 1 know that my own brothers were ahvav
getting into scrapes, and I have no doubt, Mr. AUanbv
that when you look back upon your own boyhood yc
will see that you were not an exception to the genera
rule."

Mr. Allanby smiled. He had come rather against hi
own inclinations; but his wife had urged him to speak t
Mrs. Walsham, her temper being ruffled by the disappear
ance of two favourite pigeons, whose loss she, without
shadow of evidence, most unjustly put down to Janie
Walsham.

The parson was by no means strict with his flock. H
was a tall man, inclined to be portly, a good shot and a
ardent fisherman, and although he did not hunt he was frf
quently seen on his brown cob at the "meet" whenever
took place within a reasonable distance of Sidmouth, an
without exactly following the hounds his knowledge of 11
country often enabled him to see more of the hunt tha
those who did. As Mrs. Walsham spoke, the memory c
his old school and college days came across him.

'•That is the arguvientuin ad hoinineviy Mrs. Walsliarr
and when a lady takes to that we can say no more. Yo
know I like your boy, there is much that is good in hiir
but it struck me that you were letting him run a little to
wild. However, there is much in what you say, and I don
believe that he is concerned in half the mischief that he get
credit for. Still you must remember that a little of th
curb, just a little, is good for us all. It spoils a horse tob
always tugging at his mouth, but he will go very badly i
he does not t'eel that there is a hand on the reins. I hav;
said the same thing to the squire. He spoils that boy o

(337)

l!^

A Rescue

be somethin;
ication I hav
he was born
IS to what yc
boys are mis
; were alway
Mr. Allanby
boyhood yr
to the genen

ler against hi
im to speak t
the disappear
she, without
own to Jame

his flock. Ht
3d shot and a
unt he was frt
't " whenever : .
Sidmouth, an;
owledge ot" th
he hunt tha
he memory c
)ss him.
Irs. Walsliarr
10 more. Yo
good in him
nm a little to
ay, and I doii
ief that he get
a little of th
s a horse to b
o very badly i
reins. I havt
ils that boy |

(337)

his, for whom, between ourselves, I have no great liking
The old man will have trouble with him before he is done,
or I am greatly mistaken."

Nothing came of Mr. Allanby's visit. Mrs. Walsham
told James that he had been there to remonstrate with her.
'• I do not want to stop you from going out sailing, Jim;
but I wish you would give up your mischievous pranks,
they only get you bad will and a bad name in the place.
Many people here think that I am wrong in allowing you
to associate so much with the fisherboys, and when you get
into scrapes it enables them to impress upon me how right
they were in their forecasts. I do not want my boy to be
named in the same breath with those boys of Robson's, or
young Peterson, or Blaine."

'• But you know I have nothing to do with them, mother,"
James said indignantly. "They spend half their time about
the public-house, and they do say that when Peterson has
been out with that lurcher of his he has been seen coming
back with his coat bulged out, and there is often a smell
of hare round his father's cottage at supper-time. You
know I wouldn't have anything to do with them."

*' No, Jim, I am sure you would not; but if people mix
up your name with theirs it is almost as bad for you as if
you had. Unfortunately people are too apt not to distinguish
between tricks which are really only the outcome of high
spirit and a lack of something better to do, and real vice.
; Therefore, Jim, I say, keep yourself from mischief. I know
that though you are out-of-doors so many hours of the day
you really do get through a good deal of work ; but other
people do not give you credit for this. Remember how
your father was respected here. Try to act always as you
would have done had he been alive, and you cannot go far
wrong."

James had done his best, but he found it hard to get rid
of his reputation for getting into mischief, and more than
once, when falsely suspected, he grumbled that he might

(337) 2

Ill

With Wolfe in Canada

just as well have the fun of the thing, for he was sure to have
the blame.

As Jim Walsham and his companions were chatting in
the shade of a boat their conversation was abruptly broken
off by the sight of a figure coming along the road. It was
a tall figure, with a stiff military bearing; he was pushing
before him a large box mounted on a framework supported
by four wheels; low down, close to the ground, swung a
large flat basket. In this on a shawl spread over a thick
bed of hay sat a little girl some five years old.

** It is the sergeant," one of the boys exclaimed. •• I
wonder whether he has got a fresh set of views ; the last
were first-rate ones."

The sergeant gave a friendly nod to the boys as he passed,
and then turning up the main street from the beach went
along until he came to a shaded corner, and there stopped.
The boys had all got up and followed him, and now stood
looking on with interest at his proceedings. The little girl
had climbed out of her basket as soon as he stopped, and
after asking leave, trotted back along the street to the beach,
and was soon at play among the seaweed and stones.

She was a singularly pretty child, with dark-blue eyes,
and brown hair with a touch of gold. Her print dress was
spotlessly clean and neat; a huge flapping sunbonnet
shaded her face, whose expression was bright and winning,

•'Well, boys," the sergeant said cheerfully, "how have
you been getting on since I was here last? Nobody drowned,
I hope, or come to any ill ; not that we must grumble what-
ever comes ; we have all got to do our duty, whether it
be to march up a hill with shot and shell screaming and
whistling round, as I have had to do ; or to be far out
at sea with the wind blowing fit to take the hair off your
head, as comes to your lot sometimes; or following the
plough from year's end to year's end, as happens to some.
We have got to make the best of it whatever it is. 1 have
got a grand new set of pictures from Exeter. They came

A Rescue

Lire to have

:hatting in
)tly broken
d. It was
as pushing
supported
i, swung a
ver a thick

limed. " 1
s; the last

J he passed,
beach went
ire stopped.
1 now stood
he little girl
topped, and
o the beach,
itones.
-blue eyes,
dress was
sunbonnet
nd winning,
how have
y drowned,
imble what-
whether it
aming and
be far out
air oflF your
lowing the
ns to some,
is. 1 have
They came

i'^

',1

all the way down from London town for me by wagon.
London Bridge, and Windsor Castle, with the flag flying
over it, telling that the king — God bless his gracious
majesty — is at home.

"Then I have got some pictures of foreign parts that
will make you open your eyes. There's Niagara. I don't
know whether you've heard of it, but it's a place where
a great river jumps down over a wall of rock as high as
that steeple there, with a roar like thunder that can be
heard, they say, on a still night, for twenty miles round.
I have got some that will interest you more still, because
you are sailors, or are going to be sailors. I have got
one of the killing of a whale ; he has just thrown a boat
with five sailors into the air, with a lash of his tail ; but
it's of no use, for there are other boats round, and the
harpoons are striking deep in his flesh. He is a big fish
and a strong one ; but he will be beaten, for he does not
know how to use his strength. That's the case with many
men. They throw away their life and their talents, just
because they don't know what's in them, and what they
might do if they tried.

•' And 1 have got a picture of the fight with the Spanish
Armada. You have heard about that, boys, surely ; for it
began out there over the water almost in sight of Sid-
mouth, and went on all the way up the Channel, our little
ships hanging on to the great Spaniards and giving them
no rest, but worrying them and battering them till they
were glad to sail away to the Dutch coast; but they were
not safe there, for we sent fire ships at them, and they had
to cut and run, and then a storm came on, and sunk many
and drove others ashore all around our coasts, even round
the north of Scotland and Ireland. You will see it all
here, boys, and as you know the price is only one penny."

By this time the sergeant had let down one side of the
box and discovered four round holes, and had arranged
a low stool in front, for any of those who were not tall

J»

With Wolfe in Canada

enough to look through the glasses, to stand upon. A
considerable number of girls and boys had now gathered
round, for Sergeant Wilks and his show were old-estab-
lished favourites at Sidmouth, and the news of his arrival
had travelled quickly round the place. Four years before
he had appeared there for the first time, and since then
had come every few months. He travelled round the
south-western counties, Dorset and Wilts, Somerset,
Devon, and Cornwall, and his cheery good temper made
him a general favourite wherever he went.

He was somewhat of a martinet, and would have no
crowding and pushing, and always made the boys stand
aside till the girls had a good look; but he never hurried
them, and allowed each an ample time to see the pictures,
which were of a better class than those in most travelling
peepshows. There was some murmuring at first because
the show contained none of the popular murders and blood-
curdling scenes to which the people were accustomed.

"No," the sergeant had said firmly, when the omission
was suggested to him; " the young ones see quite enough
scenes of drunkenness and fighting. When I was a child
I remember seeing in a peepshow the picture of a woman
lying with her head nearly cut off, and her husband with
a bloody chopper standing beside her, and it spoiled my
sleep for weeks. No, none of that sort of thing for Ser-
geant Wilks; he has fought for his country, and has seen
bloodshed enough in his time, and the ground half-covered
with dead and dying men, but that was duty — this is
pleasure. Sergeant Wilks will show the boys and girls
who pay him their pennies views in all parts of the world
such as would cost them thousands of pounds if they
travelled to see them, and all as natural as life. He will
show them great battles by land and sea, where the soldiers
and sailors shed their blood like water in the service of
their country; but cruel murders and notorious crimes he
will not show them."

A Rescue

upon. A
gathered
old-estab-
rjis arrival
ars before
since then
round the
Somerset,
iiper made

d have no
boys stand
^rer hurried
le pictures,
t travelling
rst because
and blood-
omed.
pe omission
lite enough
was a child
)f a woman
sband with
spoiled my
ng for Ser-
id has seen
lalf-covered
ty — this is
s and girls
the world
ids if they
e. He will
the soldiers
service of
s crimes he

It was not the boys and girls only who were the scr-
dj^ant'fe patrons. Picture books were scarce in those days,
tCid grown-up girls and young men were not ashamed to
fldy their pennies to peep into the sergeant's box. There
tias scarcely a farmhouse throughout his beat where he
lias not known and welcomed. His care of the child,
who, when he first came round, was but a year old, won
the heart of the women, and a bowl of bread-and-milk for
tht' little one, and a mug of beer and a hunch of bread and
IHcon for himself, were always at his service before ho
0j^( tied his box and showed its wonders to the maids and
^ildren of the house.

Sidmouth was one of his regular halting-places, and,
indeed, he visited it more often than any other town on
hfe beat. There was always a room ready for him there
to the house of a fisherman's widow when he arrived on
tllie Saturday, and he generally stopped till the Monday.
Thus he had come to know the names of most of the boys
of the place as well as of many of the elders; for it was
hll custom of a Saturday evening, after the little one was
ill bed, to go and smoke his pipe in the taproom of the
"Anchor", where he would sometimes relate tales of his
adventures to the assembled fishermen. But, although
clmtty and cheery with his patrons. Sergeant Wilks was
a teticent rather than a talkative man. At the "Anchor"
ho was, except when called upon for a story, a listener
rsther than a talker.

As to his history, or the county to which he belonged,
he never alluded to it, although communicative enough as
tOthis military adventures; and any questions which were
atited him he quietly put on one side. He had intimated,
io^eed, that the father and mother of his grandchild were
ht^h dead; but it was not known whether she was the
cUPd of his son or daughter; for under his cheerful talk
thire was something of military strictness and sternness,
90 he was not a man of whom idle questions would be asked.

With Wolfe in Canada

*' Now, boys and girls," he said, •• step up; the show ij
ready. Those who have got a penny cannot spend it
better. Those who haven't must try and get their father
or mother to give them one and see the show later on
Girls first, boys should always give way to their sisters
The bravest men are always the most courteous and gentle
with women."

P'our girls of various ages paid their pennies and took
their places at the glasses, and the sergeant then began
to describe the pictures, his descriptions of the wonders
within being so exciting that several boys and girls stole
off from the little crowd and made their way to their home*
to coax their parents out of the necessary coin.

James Walsham listened a while, and then walked avva)
to the sea, for there would be several sets of girls before i:
came to the turn of the boys. He strolled along, and a
he came within sight of the beach stopped for a momeii
suddenly, and then with a shout ran forward at the lop c
his speed.

The little girl, after playing some time with the seaweed
had climbed into a small boat which lay at the edge of the
advancing tide, and leaning over the stern watched the
little waves as they ran up one after another. A fev
minutes after she had got into it, the rising tide floatec
the boat, and it drifted out a few yards, as far as it:
neadrope allowed it. Ignorant of what had happened
the child was kneeling up at the stern, leaning over, anc
dabbling her hands in the water. No one had noticcc
her; the boys had all deserted the beach. None of tht
fishermen were near the spot. Just before James Wal
sham came within sight of the sea the child had o\er
balanced itself. His eye fell on the water just as twe
arms and a frightened little face appeared above it. There
was a little splash and a struggle, and the sea was bare
again.

At the top of his speed James dashed across the road

,.=4,

i ii

A Rescue

; the show b
inot spend i;
it their fathe:
low later on
their sisters
)us and ^^entlt

nies and tool
it then be^^ar
the wonders
md girls stok
to their home>
in.

1 walked avva)
girls before 1
along, and a
for a momeiv
1 at the top

1 the seaweed

e edge of tht

watched iht

ther. A fev

Ig tide floatet

as far as it:

d happened

|ing over, aiic

had notice

None of th

James Wai

lid had o\ei

just as twi

kve it. Then

Isea was bare

)ss the road

sprang down the beach, and rushing a few yards Into the
water, dived down. He knew which way the tide was
fnaking, and allowed for the set. A few vigorous strokes,
Und he reached something white on the surface. It was
|he sunbonnet which had in the child's struggles become
iinfastened. He dived at once, and almost immediately
^aw a confused mass before him. Another stroke, and he
■$fized the child's clothes, and grasping her firmly rose to
^|he surface and swam towards the shore. Although the
liccident had not been perceived, his shout and sudden
4riish into the water had called the attention of some of the
inen, and two or three of them ran into the water waist
illeep to help him out with his little burden.
I "Well done, Master Walsham! the child would have
|)een drowned if you had not seed it. None of us noticed
|»(r fall over. She was playing on the beach last time I
|eed her."

t" Is she dead?" James asked, breathless from his
xertions.
I "Not she," the fisherman said, "she could not have
Jbeen under wator a minute. Take her into my cottage,
|t's one of the nighest; my wife will put her between the
|)lankets, and will soon bring her round."
I The fisherman's wife met them at the door, and taking
|he child from the lad carried it In, and soon had her
^rapped up in blankets. But before this was done she
^yad opened her eyes, for she had scarcely lost conscious-
ness when James had seized her. The lad stood outside
|he door waiting for the news when the sergeant hurried
i|:p, one of the fishermen having gone to tell him what had
liappened as soon as the child had been carried Into the
cottage— assuring him as he did so that the little one
fvould speedily come round. Just as he came up the
door of the cottage opened, and one of the women who
^ad run in to assist the fisherman's wife put her head
jjpijt.

.11

'' I

(fjff*

With Wolfe in Canada

" She has opened her eyes," she said. *'The little dpar
will soon be all right."

*• Thank God for His mercies!" the sergeant said, taking
oflf his hat. ** What should I have done if 1 had lost her?
and I have to thank you next to God," he said, seizing the
boy's hand. " May God bless you, young gentleman ! anc
reward you for having saved my darling. They tell m
she must have been drowned but for you, for no one kneu
she had fallen in. Had it not been for you I should come
round to look for her and she would have been gone-
gone for ever!" and the showman dashed the tears froir
his eyes with the back of his hand.

** I was only just in time," the lad said. " I did not set
her fall out of the boat. She was only a few yards awa;
from it when she came up — ^just as my eyes fell on tht
spot. I am very glad to have saved her for you ; but
course it was nothing of a swim. She could not havt
been many yards out of my depth. Now I will run hom-
and change my things."

James Walsham was too much accustomed to be we
through to care anything about his dripping clothes, bu
they served him as an excuse to get away, for he fel
awkward and embarrassed at the gratitude of the ok
soldier. He pushed his way through the little crow
which had now gathered round, and started at a run ; fo
the news had brought almost all those gathered round tli
peepshow to the shore, the excitement of somebody bein;
drowned being superior even to that of the peepshow t
the great majority, though a few, who had no hope c
obtaining the necessary pennies, had lingered behind, an^
seized the opportunity for a gratuitous look through th
glasses.

James ran upstairs and changed his clothes witlioi
seeing his mother, and then, taking down one of Ik
lesson books, set to work, shrinking from the idea (
going out again and being made a hero of. Half a

:|hii

■^

rhe little dear

it said, taking
had lost herr
id, seizing the
ntleman ! anc
They tell m?

• no one kne\\
[ should come

been gone-
he tears froir

* I did not see
w yards awa;
es fell on the
)r you ; but o
3uld not havt
will run hom

led to be wt
g clothes, bu
ly, for he fel
de of the ok
little crowc
1 at a run ; fo
2red round th
)mebody beiri;
E peepshow t
id no hope c
;d behind, im
k through th

othes withou
/n one of In
n the idea o
of. Half a;

A Rescue

lOur later there was a knock at the front door, and a few
minutes after his mother called him down. He ran down
'Ito the parlour, and there found the showman.

"Oh, I say," the boy broke out, "don't say anything

Imore about it! I do hate being thanked, and there was

^nothing in sw mming ten yards in a calm sea. Please

don't say anything more about it. I would rather you

thit me ever so much."

I The sergeant smiled gravely, and Mrs. Walsham ex-
'ciaimed :
). " Why didn't you come in and tell me about it, Jim? I

kould not make out at first what Mr. — Mr.-
*' Sergeant Wilks, madam."

•'What Sergeant Wilks meant when he said that he
|had called to tell me how grateful he felt to you for saving
|his little grandchild's life. I am proud of you, Jim."
I '* Oh, mother, don't!" the boy exclaimed. '* It is horrid
4going on so. If I had swum out with a rope through the
jsurf there might be something in it; but just to jump in at
§the edge of the water is not worth making a fuss about
lone way or the other."

fl "Not to you perhaps, young gentleman, but it is to

fme," the showman said. "The child is the light of my

llife, the only thing I have to care for in the world, and

lyou have saved her. If it had only been by stretching out

tvyour hand I should have been equally grateful. However,

I will say no more about it, but I shall not think the less.

But don't you believe, madam, that there was no credit in

it. It was just the quickness and the promptness which

saved her life. Had your son hesitated a moment it would

^ have been too late, for he would never have found her. It

•?*jis not likely that your son will ever have any occasion for

help of mine, but should there be an opportunity he may

rely upon it that any service I can render him shall be his

to the death; and unlikely as it may seem, it may yet turn

out that this brave act of his in

savmg

the life of the

7"! I '^

With Wolfe in Canada

granddaughter of a travelling showman will not be with-
out its reward."

" Is she all right now?" Jan:es asked abruptly, anxious
to change the conversation.

"Yes. She soon came to herself, and wanted to tell
me all about it; but I would not let her talk, and in a few
minutes she dropped off to sleep, and there I left hei
The women tell me she will probably sleep till morning,
and will then be as well as ever. And now I must go and
look after my box, or the boys will be pulling it to pieces."

It was, however, untouched, for in passing the sergeant
had told the little crowd that if they left it alone he would
en his return let all see without payment, and during the
rest of the afternoon he was fully occupied with successive
audiences, being obliged to make his lectures brief in
order that all might have their turn.

After the sergeant had left, James took his hat and went
for a long walk in the country in order to escape the con-
gratulations of the other boys. The next day little Agnes
was perfectly well, and appeared with her grandfather in
the seat far back in the church which he always occupied
on the Sundays he spent at Sidmouth. On these occa-
sions she was always neatly and prettily dressed, and,
indeed, some of the good women of the place, comparing;
the graceful little thing with their own children, had not
been backward in their criticisms on the folly of the old
showman in dressing his child out in clothes fit for a lady.

I ,

not be with-

Dtly, anxious

inted to tell
and in a fe\v
; I left hei
:ill morning,
must go and
it to pieces."
the sergeant
>ne he would
d during the
Lh successive
res brief in

lat and went
ape the con-
' little Agnes
andfather in
lys occupied
these occa-
ressed, and,
, comparinj^
en, had not
y of the old
t for a lady.

CHAPTER II

The showman's Grandchild

HRFE months later the showman again appeared at Sid-
outh, but did not set up his box as usual. Leaving it at
is lodging he went at once with his grandchild to Mrs.
alsham's.

" I have come, madam," he said after the first enquiries

bout the child had been answered, **on a particular

usiness. It will seem a strange thing to you for a man

ike me to ask, but things are not quite as they seem,

hough I can't explain it now. But I am beating about

he bush, and not getting any nearer. I have come to

lisk, madam, whether you would take charge of the child

for two years. Of course I am ready to pay anything that

^ou may think proper.'"

" But I don't take boarders," Mrs. Walsham said, much
surprised at the proposition. *' I only take girls who
(Come in the morning and go away in the afternoon ; be-
jiides, they are all a good many years older than your
jgfrandchild. None of the girls who come to me are under
twelve."

** I know, ma'am, I know; and I am sure you must
think it a great liberty on my part to ask such a thing,"
the sergeant said apologetically. " It is not the teaching
I want, but just a home for her."

Mrs. Walsham felt puzzled. She did in her heart feel it
to be a liberty. Surely this wandering showman would
(ind no difficulty in getting his grandchild taken care of

^" I r

With Wolfe in Canada

among people of his own rank in life. It did seem most
singular that he should seek to place the child with her.
Mrs. Walsham was not given to thii.^king what her neigh-
bours would say, but she thought of the buzz of comment
and astonishment which her taking the charge of this
child would excite. She had been particular in keeping
her little school to some extent select, and as it was now
as large as she could manage unaided, she was able to
make it almost a favour to the farmer's wives to take
their girls.

But to do Mrs. Walsham justice this thought had less
influence with her than that of the time and care which
would be required by a child of that age in the house.
"Certainly," she thought, as she looked at her, sitting with
her eyes wide open and an expression of grave wonder in
her face, *' she is a little darling, and as Jim saved her life
I have a special interest in her; but this is out of the
question." It was two or three minutes before she an-
swered the showman's last words.

"No, it cannot be done. Sergeant Wilks. No money
that could be paid me would make up to me for the charge
of a child of her age. I am all day in schooi, and what
could a child, especially one accustomed to be out all day,
do with herself? The worry and anxiety would be immense.
Were it not for my school it would be different altogether.
A child of that age, especially such a sweet little thing as
your granddaughter seems to be, would be a pet and
amusement; but as it is, I am sorry to say that it is out
of ihe question. But surely you will have no difficulty in
finding plenty of good wcuen who would be glad to take
her, and to whom, having children of the same age, she
would be no trouble whatever."

"Yes," the sergeant said slowly, "I was afraid you
would say that, ma'am. Besides, though you are good
enough not to say it. I know that there must be other
objections. I know you must be surprised at my wanting

her to
I ooul
might
buiy.
M Fi

sueprii
a ium
F6f hr
be ha|
h#py
f'l
said,

I #ish
eiqplHJi
must
pound

from
otber I

Sidmo
aaothe
"Ibr I
suoifom
madar
what
were ;
■t* G(
a wrei
I aliall
ta iisti
these
break,
Please
t'OHday
you w
teH y(

tirink,

',■1'

I seem most
Id with her.
t her neigh-
of comment
irge of this
in keeping
it was now
was able to
ves to take

hi had less

care which

the house.

sitting with

e wonder in

Lved her life

out of the

ore she an-

No money
r the charge
i, and what
out all day,
36 immense.

altogether,
tie thing as

a pet and
lat it is out

difficulty in
[flad to take
ne age, she

afraid you
u are good
St be other
my wanting

The Showman's Grandchild 29

her lo be with a lady like yourself. So far as money goes
I <M)uld afford to pay fifty pounds a year, and perhaps you
m&pht get a girl who could look after Aggie while you are

buiy "

^* Fifty pounds a year!" Mrs. VValsham said, greatly
sui|)rised. "That is a large sum, a great deal too large
a $um for you to pay for the care of such a little child.
F«f half that there are scores of farmers' wives who would
be happy to take her, and where she would be far more
ha|)pv and comfortable than she would be with me."

*' I know I could get plenty to take her," the soldier
said, ** but I have reasons, very particular reasons, why
I Ivish to place her with a lady for two years. I cannot
ejqfilHin those reasons to you, but you may imagine they
must be strong ones for me to be willing to pay fifty
pounds a year for her. That money has been laid by
from the day she was born, for that purpose. I have
otikr reasons of my own for wishing that she should be at
Skbnouth rather than at any other place; and I have
another reason," and a slight smile stole across his face,
"fer preferring that she should be with you rather than
aiqfone else. All this must seem very strange to you,
madam ; but at the end of the two years, when you know
what my reasons were, you will acknowledge that they
w«re good ones.

"God knows," he went on, looking very grave, "what
a wrench it will be for me to part with her. How lonely
I dball be as I tramp the country without her pretty prattle
ta listen to; but 1 have got to do it sooner or later, and
these two years, when I can see her sometimes, will be a
break, and accustom me to do without her sweet face.
FAfease, madam," he urged, " do not give me a final answer
tcteday. I shall not go till Monday, and will call again, if
yell will let me, that morning; and believe me, if I could
you all, I could give you reasons which would, I
»k, induce you to change your mind."

With Wolfe in Canada

!'l'i

i!J|

So saying he made a military salute, took the chil(! Hbi.it
hand in his, and was soon striding along towards tts>i#r
s(ia. wHpc

Mrs. Walsham was some time before she recoverejoHfer
from her surprise. This was, indeed, a mysterious afTai ^^
The earnestness with which the old soldier pleaded hsufjj^n
cause had moved her strongly, and had almost persuade ^*^|^°
her to accept the proposal which had at first seemed pr
posterous. Fifty pounds a year, too, was certainly
handsome sum. She could get a girl from the village k^%J^
two or three shillings a week to look after the child ac*V^^
go out with her during school hours, and a hundred pounc^*
would be a very handsome addition to the sum which s^ M^
had begun, little by little, to lay by for Jim's preparatic ■ *
for the medical profession. Y^/^

In the five years which would elapse before it would b*^^°
time for him to enter upon his studies for it she cou
hardly hope to lay by more than that sum, and this wou
at a stroke double it. Certainly it was a tempting offe:
She could not do justice to the child, could not give ht"'
the care and attention which she ought to have, and whic*
she could have for such a sum elsewhere ; but the sergeac"'
knew exactly how she was placed, and if he was willlDi
and anxious for her to assume the charge of the child wh
should she refuse this good offer? However, her pupi.
were waiting for her in the next room, and with an effor^*
Mrs. Walsham put the matter aside, and went in to their
When James returned home to dinner his mother relate
to him the whole conversation. James was more amuse;
than puzzled.

'• It seems a rum idea, mother; but I don't see why yo *^*
shouldn't take her. She is a sweet little thing, and will bP***^^
a great amusement. Fifty pounds a year seems a tremer'*^
dous sum for a man like that to pay; but I suppose
knows his own business, and it will be a great pull for yot
You will be able to have all sorts of comforts. I shouli

,: 1

!ii:i,

The Showman's Grandchild 31

5ok the child Hbi, it very much. I have often wished I had had a little
g towards ttsirt^r, and she can go out walks with me, you know; it
wdttid be like having a big dog with one, only much
she recoverejoWitr."

^sterious affai Wes," his mother said, smiling; "and I shouldn't be
er pleaded h su^pr'^^*^ *^ y°" wanted to throw sticks into the water tor
nost persuade h**"**^ ^^^^^ ^^^'" '^"'» ^"*^ '° ^^ taking her out for - night's
•st seemed pr'firf*lb&. ^"^ ^^ constantly bringing her home splashed
as certainly ^w ^^^^ nasty red mud from head to foot. Vou would
the village f(be# nice playmate for a little girl, Jim. Perhaps it is that
r the child ai;*P*!^'^' advantage that the sergeant had in his mind's eye
mndred pouncwhin he was so anxious to put her with me."
sum which s^ ^"les laughed.

n's preparatic ^* ^ would see that she didn't come to any harm anyhow,
yCMI know ; and, after all, I suppose it was my picking her
are it would \^^4, °^ ^^^ ^^^ ^^^^^ ^^^ something to do with his first
)r it she cou^WSking of putting her with you."

and this wou ^^ suppose it had, Jim," she said more seriously,
emptinff offe **^^ what do you think, my boy? You know there are
d not eive hf*^**T^^^"^^&^^ '" '**• There will be a good deal of talk
ave and whic^^N'l'^ "^y taking this showman's grandchild, and some of
ut the sergeat^*^^'^'^^''^' ^^'^^^ won't like it."

he was willin *lThen let them dislike it," James said indignantly.
f the child wh'*ll^^ child is as good as their daughters any day. Why,
i^er her ouoi^ l^ticed her in church looking like a little lady. There

with an effor^*^ "^^ ^ child there to compare to her."
jnt in to their *l^^^» ^ have noticed her myself," Mrs. Walsham said.
mother relate **^^ '^ ^ singularly pretty and graceful child; but it will

more amuse<^'"^y ^^"se remark."

*fWell, mother, you can easily say, what is really the

t see why vc^*^» ^^^^ y^^ naturally felt an interest in her because I
ig" and will tP**"^*^^ ^^^ °"^ ^^ *^^ water. Besides, if people make
sems a tremer'^**'^'^^^ ^^^^ ^'^^ ^°°" ^^ t'ned of that; and if not, I can

I suppose ^^^' '"^° some scrape or other and give them something

It pull for yoi«4 ^" ^^^^ ^^°"^*"

rts. I shoul Accordingly when Sergeant Wilks called on Monday

V'li'

With Wolfe in Canada

morning for his answer Mrs. Walsham told liim that
had decided to accept his offer.

"You are aware how I am placed," she said, '* and t
I cannot give her the care and time which I could w
and which she ought to have for such a liberal payir
as you propose; but you know that beforehand, and
see that for two years' payments I could not sacrifice
school connection, which I should have to do if I gave
the time I should wish."

"I understand, madam," he said, "and I am grat;
to you for consenting to take her. She is getting too
now to wander about with me, and since the narrow esa
she had last time I was here I have felt anxious whene
she was out of my sight. It would not suit me to put
in a farmhouse. I want her to learn to speak nicely, c
I have done my best to teach her; but if she went t
farmhouse she would be picking up all sorts of coui:
words, and I want her to talk like a little lady. So tha
settled, ma'm. I am going on to Exeter from here, .
shall get her a stock of clothes there, and will bring
back next Saturday. Will it suit you to take her then;

Mrs. Walsham said that would suit very well; and
hour later the sergeant set out from Sidmouth with
box, Aggie trotting alongside talking continuously.

"But why am I to stop with that lady, grampa,
not to go about with you any more? I sha'n't like
I like going about, though I get so tired sometimes w
you are showing the pictures, and I like being with y
It isn't 'cause I have been naughty, is it? 'cause I tell
of the boat into the water? I won't never get into a t
again, and I didn't mean to fall out, you know."

"No, Aggie, it's not that," the sergeant said. "1
are always a good girl — at least, not always, beca
sometimes you get into passions, you know. Still, a
gether you are a good girl. Still, you see, you
always be going about the country with me."

10;

it y<

lada

old him that

said, ** and
:h I could w

liberal payir
rehand, and

not sacrifice

do if I gave

d I am grat:
5 getting too
le narrow esG
nxious whene
it me to put
peak nicely, i
if she went t(
sorts of couD
lady. So tha

from here, ;
d will bring
ake her then;
ry well ; and
mouth with
ntinuously.
y, grampa,

sha'n't like
sometimes u
being with y
'cause 1 tell

get into a b:
now."

fit said. "1
ilways, beoau
Dw. Still, a!

see, you c^i

me.

The Showman's Grandchild 33

But why not, grampa?"

ell, my dear, because great girls can't go about
country like men; it wouldn't be right and proper
should."
Why shouldn't it be, grampa?" the child persisted.
^^Vell, Aggie, I can't exactly explain to you why, but
Mij^ is. Men and boys have to work; they go about in
sh&s, or as soldiers to fight for their country, just as I did.
Gills and women have to stop at home and keep house and
ntipe babies and that sort of thing. God made man to be
httfti and rough and to work and go about ; He made
an gentle and soft to stop at home and make things
fortable." Aggie meditated for some distance in
ce upon this view of the case.

But 1 have seen women working in the fields, grampa,
some of them didn't seem very soft and gentle."
No, Aggie, things don't always go just as they ought
0; and you see when people are poor, and men can't
enough wages, then their wives and daughters have
elp ; and then you see they get rough, more like men,
use they are not doing their proper work ; but I want
to grow up soft and gentle, and so for a time I want
yWi to live with that lady with the nice boy who pulled
ydB out of the water, and they will make you very happy,
MO^ I shall come and see you some time."

** I like him," the child said with a nod; "but I would
ra|Hier be with you, you know."

'And the lady will teach you to read, Aggie; you have
[rned your letters, you know."
ggie shook her head, to show that this part of the
gramme was not particularly to her liking.
* Do you think the boy will play with me, grampa?"
' I dare say he will, Aggie, when you are very good ;
you must never forget, you know, that he saved your
Just think how unhappy I should be if he had not
It you out of the water."

(337) I

111

I '■

i ,'!'

With Wolfe in Canada

"The water was cold and nasty," Aggie said, "an^ liiN^i'
seemed so warm and nice to my hands. Aggie won^onf i
near the water any more. Of course if the boy is witl:'Wlfal
I can go, because he won't let me tumble in. Shall I*>*''NPEi
into the basket now, grampa? I is tired." f"^

"Oh, nonsense, little woman! you have not walked '''^■■'
a mile yet. Anyhow, you must trot along until you g**^''
the top of this hill, then you shall have a lift for a bit

And so, with the child sometimes walking and sc'
times riding, sometimes asleep in her basket and sc"^F^
times chatting merrily to her grandfather, the pair it'*'W"
their way across the country towards Exeter.

There was no little talk in Sidmouth when on the fol*
ing Sunday the showman's grandchild appeared in
Walsham's pew in church, and it became known that^^
had become an inmate of her house. It was gent:
considered that Mrs. Walsham had let herself down gre
by taking the showman's grandchild, and one or t\v
the mothers of her pupils talked about taking them a
One or two indeed called upon her to remonstrate „
sonally, but they gained nothing by the step. *' £V^

*' I do not understand what you mean," she said qiii'*'**'^
"by saying that the child is not fit to associate with
other pupils. She is singularly gentle and taking in
manner. She expresses herself better than any chil
her own age in Sidmouth, so far as I know,
few so neatly and prettily dressed. What is

There ^„
thert^tP^

object to? Her grandfather has been a sergeant in.*^*'^^
army; he bears a good character, and is liked whert®^#"^
he goes. I do not consider that James or myself ar ^^'
any way demeaned by sitting down to meals with*"^*""
child, who indeed behaves as prettily and nicely as » ^f ""
could wish, and I certainly do not see that any ot^^'^
pupils can be injuriously affected by the fact that lo: ^^'^
hour or two in the day she learns her lessons in the > r?
room with them. Had I thought that they would ^»"P

IIIHl

ada

The Showman's Grandchild 35

r until you gt*
lift for a bit. 'j
Ikingr and s*
)asket and si
ir, the pair it'

aid "an^WIW"'^ "°^ h^yc received her. I shall, of course, be
^ jg'^o,yio3f il any of my pupils are taken away, but as I have
e ^)V is with*^"**' ^'''"'^ °"'y waiting for vacancies, it would make no
in. Shall iWNe« ce to me pecuniarily."

„ * And so it happened that Mrs. Walsham lost none of her

t walked***^^' ''^"^ '" ^ short time the wonder died out; indeed

""■ ild herself was so pretty and taking in her ways that

impossible to make any objection to her personally.

alsham had been struck by the self-command which

owed at parting with her grandfather. Her eyes

ull of tears, her lip quivered, and she could scarcely

. ^ pMli; but there was no loud wailing, no passionate out-

the fol**"^ ^^^ grandfather had impressed upon her that the

J • artllg was for her own good, and child though she was,

\e that** ^^ '^°^ great a sacrifice he was making in parting

ith^ic, and although she could not keep the tears from

ing down her cheeks, or silence her sobs as she

im goodbye, she tried hard to suppress her grief.

, . ^ them a,""iy'" "^ parting was indeed fully as great to Sergeant

trate^*^ ^^ ^° '"^ granddaughter, and it was with a very

islQ^ voice that he bade her goodbye, and then putting

" h 'd aui^*^° ^^^' ^ii^^ham's arms, walked hastily away.

. with^^w*^ ^'^^ soon at home. She and James very quickly

J 4^*1 -.r^rv ;rC«Hle allies, and the boy was ever ready to amuse her,

and takmg in .. ' ^ 4...iur n^

j^j|t«iJij^ivmg up his own plans to take her for a walk to

'q.. ^^:k Ijowers in the hedgerow, or to sail a tiny boat for her

pools left as the sea retired. Mrs. Walsham found

It was gene
rself down gre
nd one or tw

<now.

Vhat is thert

ant ill ^"W^surprise that the child gave little trouble. She was
* I'k d whert**^!^ "*^ painstaking during the half-hours in the morning
,f ,^^1 ifternoon when she was in the schoolroom, while at

, , ■', alttimes her prattle and talk amused both mother and

L, meals with ^ , u .1 l j .. . i. • 1 . j

> • i„ o *» #"^ altogether she made the nouse brighter and

ind nicely a> rx .. .^ , - ^

that any oi^' ^h^" '^ '''''^ before.

f' that in°^'^^^° months the sergeant came round again. He
. ^j^^^ apt bring his box with him, having left it at his last
tl ev would ^""^'P'^^^' telling James, who happened to meet him as

I I I I

With Wolfe in Canada

liii

Iff!

i I

he came into Sidmouth, that he did not mean to bring k
show there again.

"It will be better for the child," he explained. "S:
has done with the peepshow now, and I do not want b:
to be any longer associated with it."

Aggie was delighted to see him, and sprang into i:
arms with a scream of joy as he entered. After a fe
minutes' talk Mrs. Walsham suggested that she shou
put on her hat and go for a walk with him, and in hij
contentment the child trotted off^ holding her grandfather
hand. Turning to the left the sergeant took the path.
the hill, and when he reached the top, sat down oti t;
short turf, with Aggie nestling up against him.

" So you are quite well and happy, Aggie?" he asked.

"Quite well, grampa, and very happy; but I do wish
much that you were here. Oh, it would be so nice to ha
you to go out with every day ! "

"I am afraid that cannot be managed, Aggie. I hai
been busy so long that I could not settle down quiet
here; besides I must live, you know."

" But wouldn't people give you money for the show
you lived here, grampa? You always got money heiet
same as other places."

"Yes, my dear, but I could not get fresh pictures eve
day, and should soon tire them by showing the old house

" But you are sorry, sometimes, grampa, not to ha
me with you?"

"Yes, Aggie, very sorry. I miss you terribly sort
times, and I am always thinking about you."

"Then why don't you take me away again, grampa?

" Because, as I told you, Aggie, I want you to learn
read, and to grow up quite a little lady."

" Does reading make one a lady, grampa?"

" No, Aggie, not by itself, but with other things."

"And when I am quite grown up and big, and knci
how to read nicely, shall I be able to go with you again

The Showman's Grandchild 37

ot want hi i

'* We will see about that, Aggie, when the time comes.
There is plenty of time yet to think about that."

'But I am getting on very fast, grampa, and the lady
[says I am a good girl. So it won't be such a very long
time before I can leave."

'• It will be some time yet. You have only got to read
little words yet, but there are lots of long words which
,ou will come to presently. But Mrs. Walsham tells me
that you are getting on nicely, and that you are a very
food girl, which pleases me very much, and when I am
[walking along with my box I shall like to be able to think
[of you as being quite comfortable and happy."

"And I go walks with Jim, grampa, and Jim has made
[me a boat, and he says some day when it is very fine
ind quiet he will take me out in a big boat, like that boat,
I'ou know; and he is going to ask you if he may, for the
lady said I must not go out with him till he has asked you.
ind he said he won't let me tumble over, and I am going
to sit quite, quite still."

"Yes, Aggie, I don't set ny harm in your going out
nth him. I am sure he will only take you when it is
ine, and he will look after you well. You like him, don't
^ou?"

"Oh! I do, grampa; and you know it was him who
Igot me out of the water else I should never have come
)ut, and never have seen grampa again; and he has made
\me a boat. Oh! yes, I do like him!"

"That's right, my dear; always stick to those who are
{good to you."

A few days after this, as Jim was sailing the toy boat
[for Aggie's amusement in a pool a boy sauntered up. He
Iwas somewhat taller than James Walsham, and at least
[two years older. He was well dressed, and James knew
jhim as the nephew and heir of the squire

It was not often that Richard Horton came down into
[the village. He was accustomed to be treated with a good

jIMj W

With Wolfe in Canada

-I '•!

r I

deal of deference at the Hall, and to order servants and
grooms about pretty much as he chose, and the indiffer-i
ence with which the fisherboys regarded him offended hini
greatly. He was a spoilt boy. His uncle had a resident
tutor for him, but the selection had been a bad one. The '^
library was large and good, the tutor fond of reading, and
he was content to let the boy learn as little as he chose,
providing that he did not trouble him. As to any instruc-l
tion beyond books he never thought of giving it.

The squire never interfered. He was a silent and dis-
appointed man. He attended to his duties as a magis-
trate and to the management of his estate, but seldom
went beyond the lodge gates. He took his meals by him-
self, and often did not see his nephew for a week together,
and had no idea but that he was pursuing iiis studies
regularly with his tutor. Thus the character of Richard
Horton formed itself unchecked. At the best it was a bad I
one, but under other circumstances it might have been
improved.

Up to the age of ten he had lived in London with his
father and mother, the latter a sister of the squire, who
having married beneath her, to the indignation of Mr.
Linthorne, he had never seen her afterwards. Four years
before the story begins she had received a letter from him
saying that as her eldest son was now his heir, he wished
him to come and live with him and be prepared to take his
place. The Hortons, who had a numerous family, at once
accepted the offer, and Richard, hearing that he was going
to a grand house, and would no doubt have a pony and
all sorts of nice things, left his father and mother without
a tear.

He was essentially selfish ; he was vain of his g\- J
looks, which were certainly striking; and with his changed
fortunes he became arrogant, and, as the squire's servants
said, hateful, and yet the change had brought him less
pleasure than he expected. It was true that he had the

vants and
e indiflfer-
;nded him
a resident
3ne. The
iding, and
he chose,
»y instruc-

t and dis-
a magi;?-
ut seldom
Is by him-
; together,
lis studies
>f Richard
was a bad
tiave been

1 with his
uire, who
n of Mr.
our years
from him
le wished
o take his
, at i>nce
vas going
pony and
r without

§'

his
5 changed
) servants
him less
; had the

The Showman's Grandchild 39

,: pony, that he was not obliged to trouble himself with

lessons, that he was an important person at the Hall;

but he had no playfellows, no one to admire his grandeur,
rand the days often passed heavily, and there was a

look of discontent and peevishness upon his handsome

face.
Perhaps the reason why he so seldom came down into

Sidmouth was not only because the fisherboys were not
^sufficiently impressed with his importance, but because
Xthey looked so much happier and more contented than he

felt in spite of his numerous advantages. On this day he
|;was in a particularly bad temper. He had lamed his pony

the day before by riding it furiously over a bad road after
^it had cast a shoe. The gardener had objected to his
^picking more than half a dozen peaches which had just
; come into perfection, and had threatened to appeal to the
jf squire.

» Altogether he was out of sorts, and had walked down
ito the sea with a vague hope that something might turn
|up to amuse him. He stood for some little time watching
*|James sail the boat, and then strode down to the edge of
^the pool. The boat was a model of a smack, with brown
fjsails. James had taken a good deal of pains with it, and
s^it was an excellent model. Presently in crossing she stuck
j|in a shallow some twelve feet from the edge. The inter-
it vening stretch of water was a foot deep.
J James picked up some small stones and threw them close
|to her, that the tiny wave they made might float her off.
^Ile tried several times without success.
I "What's the use of such little stones as that?" Richard
|said roughly; "you will never get her off like that?" and
Ipicking up one as large as his fist, he threw it with some
|force. It struck the mast and broke it asunder, and
*|knocked the boat on to her side. Jiimes Walsham uttered
gun angry exclamation.

" Vou are a bad boy," Aggie said passionately. " Yuu

I Ml

' !

ii!

1;. ''\'

f I

1,1

With Wolfe in Canada

are a bad boy to break my boat;" and she burst int(
tears.

*• I didn't mean to do it, you little fooll" Richard sak
angrily, vexed more at his own clumsiness than at tb
damage it had caused. "What are you making such;
beastly noise about?" and he gave her a push.

It was not a hard one, but the ground was slippery, am
the child's foot slipped, and she fell at the edge of the poo:;'
her dress going partly into the water. At the same instan
Richard reeled and almost fell beside her, from a hear
blow between the eyes from James's fist. /

"You insolent blackguard!" he exclaimed furiously, ".
will pay you for this;" and he rushed at James.

The combat was not a long one. Hard work at rowiii,
and sailing had strengthened Jim Walsham's muscles, an:
more than balanced the advantage in height and age of hb
adversary. He had had, too, more than one fight in hit
time, and after the first sudden burst of passion caused b;*
the overthrow of Aggie, he fought coolly and steadily
while Richard rained his blows wildly without attempting
to guard his face.

The child on regaining her feet ran crying loudly towari
the beach, making for two fishermen who were engaged ii|
mending a net some distance away; but before she couk
reach them to beg for aid for her champion the fight wi
over, terminated by a heavy right-handed hit from Jame:
which landed Richard Horton on his back in the poo!
James stood quietly av\^aiting a renewal of the conflic
when he arose, but Richard had had enough of it: on
of his eyes was already puffed and red, his nose bleeding:
and his lip cut ; his clothes were soaked from head to foot
and smeared with the red mud. "I will pay you out fo
this, you see if I don't," Richard gasped hoarsely.

" What! have you had enough of it?" James said scorr-
fully. ** I thought you weren't any good; a fellow whi
would bully a little girl is sure to be a coward."

lam,

'^'i^H

le burst int(

Richard sak
than at tfe
aking- such;
;h.

slippery, an;
e of the pod
same instac
rom a hear

furiously, "
s.

)rk at rowin.
muscles, an:
ind age of hi
J fight in hi
on caused b
and steadily
it attempting

►udly toward;,
e engaged i:
jre she couk
the fight wi
: from Jame
in the poo:
the confiic
h of it: 01
3se bleeding
head to foo:
r you out fc
sely.

!S said scorr
1 fellow wh
rard."

The Showman's Grandchild 41

ichard moved as if he would renew the fight, but he
ght better of it, and with a furious exclamation
led away towards the Hall.

mes, without paying any further heed to him, waded
r the boat, and having recovered it walked off towards
child, who on seeing his opponent had moved off was
ning down to meet him.

Here is the boat, Aggie," he said; •* there is no great
done, only the mast and yard broken. I can easily
you in fresh ones;" but the child paid no attention to
thl boat.
^*' He is a wicked bad boy, Jim; and did he hurt

yfi?"

•Oh, no, he didn't hurt me, Aggie, at least nothing to
ak of. 1 hurt him a deal more; I paid him out well for
aking your boat and pushing you down, the cowardly
te!"

'Only look, Jim," she said, holding out her frock;
'hat will she say?"
ames laughed.
J*'Mothei won't say anything," he said; "she is accus-
ed to my coming in all muddy."
f*'But she said 'Keep your frock clean', and it's not

an," Aggie said in dismay.
'^" Yes, but that is not your fault, little one; I will make
ii all right with her, don't you fret. Come on, we had
Wtter go home and change it as soon as possible."
'^They passed close by the two fishermen on their way.
■ "You gave it to the young squire finely. Master Wal-
Ham," one of them said, "and served him right, too.
We chanced to be looking at the moment and saw it all.
lie is a bad un, he is, by what they say up at the Hall.
V heard one of the grooms talking last night down at the
^hip', and a nice character he gave him. This thrashing
Hay do him some good ; and look you, Master Walsham,
If he makes a complaint to the squire, and it's likely

With Wolfe in Canada

enough he will get up a fine story of how it came at^
— the groom said he could He like King Pharaoh — youi
send word to me, and me and Bill will go up to the s(\\
and tell him the truth of the matter."

Mrs. Walsham felt somewhat alarmed when her
told her what had happened, for the squire was a g
man at Sidmouth, a magistrate, and the owner of
great^er part of the place as well as of the land arc
'i; u id although Mrs. Walsham did not hold the si
exaggerated opinion of his powers as did the majoj
of his neighbours, who would scarcely have dreamt i
opposing it had the squire ordered anyone to be hunj
quartered, still she felt that it was a somewhat terrl
thirg the.' iier som should have thrashed the nephew i<
heir of int ^<veal man.

In the eve.ijng tnere was a knock at the door, and:
little r/'ald can-'i •. with eyes wide open with alarm,
she had hccrd of th.: afternoon's battle, to say that
constable wished to speak to Mrs. Walsham.

*' Servant, ma'am," he said as he entered. ** I am son
to be here on an unpleasant business; but I have got
say as the squire wishes to see Master Walsham in il
justice-room at ten o'clock on a charge of 'salt and battel
Don't you be afeard, ma'am," he went on confidential <
" I don't think as anything is going to be done to hi:
I ain't got no warrant, and so I don't look upon it
regular business. I expects it will be just a blowing-i
It will be just the squire and not the magistrate, I tak
it. He told me to have him up there at ten, but as
said nothing about custody I thought I would do it rl
own way and come to you quiet like; so if you say:
Master Walsham shall be up there at ten o'clock I'll ji
take your word for it and won't come to fetch him. T:l
doctor was alius very good to me and my missus, and
shouldn't like to be walking through Sidmouth wiih n
hand on his son's collar."

- ••Wu.kV

ada

r it came at*
araoh — you |
up to the s(j|

when her
re was a gj

owner of
le land arc.'
hold the sal
d the majo;|
ave dreamtj

be hungii
lewhat terri
le nephew;

door, and'i
nth alarm,
> say that;
m.

** I am SO'

1 have got
alsham in t
t and batter
confidential
done to hi.
k upon it
I blowing-i
trate, I tak
sn, but as
uld do it r

The Showman's Grandchild 43

iThank you, Hobson," Mrs. Walsham said quietly.
)u can rely upon it my son shall be there punctually;
las nothing to be afraid or ashamed of."
ill of rage as Richard Horton had been as he started
lome, he would never have brought the matter before

[squire on his own account. His case was too weak,
he had been thrashed by a boy younger than himself.

|s he would have probably chosen some other way of
ig his vengeance ; but it happened that just as he
:ed home he met his tutor coming out. The latter was

funded at Richard's appearance, his eyes were already
id so much that he could scarcely see out of them, his

[were cut and swollen, his shirt stained with blood, his
les drenched and plastered with red mud.

[Why, what on earth has happened, Richard?"

lichard had already determined upon his version of the

lA brute of a boy knocked me down into the water,"
laid, "and then knocked me about till he almost killed

But what made him assault you in this outrageous
ner?" his tutor asked. "Surely all the boys about
must know you by sight; and how one of them would
to strike you I cannot conceive."

I know the fellow," Richard said angrily; "he is the
of that doctor fellow who died two years ago."
But what made him do it?" the tutor repeated,
e was sailing his boat and it got stuck, and he threw
some stones to get it off, and I helped him, and I
pened to hit the mast of his beastly boat, and then he
at me like a tiger, and that's all."

Well, it seems to be a monstrous assault, Richard,

you must speak to the squire about it."

iissus, am; ^^' Oh, no, I sha'n't," Richard said hastily; "I don't

uth wiih i^'ipnt any row about it, and I will pay him off some other

wiy. I could lick him easy enough if it had been a fair

you say;
:lock nip
h him, T;

ill

l|l

I ,

With Wolfe in Canada

-i, I

' ' i

fight, only he knocked me down before I was on my guai^
No, I sha'n't say anything about it."

But Richard's tutor on thinking the matter over dee
mined to speak to the squire. Only the evening befi
Mr. Linthorne had surprised him by asking him sevd
questions as to Richard's progress and conduct, and }.]
said something about examining him himself, to see k
he was getting on. This had caused Mr. Robertson
little alarm, for he knew that even the most superfic
questioning would betray the extent of Richard's ig:
ranee, and he had resolved that henceforth he wa;
endeavour to assert his authority and to insist up
Richard's devoting a certain portion of each day regula.
to study. Should the squire meet the boy anywhere abc
the house he must at once notice the condition of his fa.
and even if he did not meet him he could not fail to no!
it on Sunday when he sat beside him in the pew.
would be better, therefore, that he should at once rept J
the matter to him. Without saying a word to Richard
his intentions he therefore went to the squire's study a'
told him what had taken place as he had learned it frc!|
Richard. The squire listened silently.

** Very well, Mr. Robertson, you were quite right tot
me about it; of course I cannot suffer my nephew to
treated in this manner, at the same time I am sorry tha:
was Walsham's son. I don't know anything about t
boy, and should not know him even by sight, but I had
esteem for his father, who was a hard-working man, anc;
believe clever; he used to attend here whenever any oft;
servants were ill, and I had intended to do something ii
the boy. I am sorry he has turned out so badly; hoi
ever, I will have him up here and speak to him. Tr
sort of thing cannot be permitted."

And accordingly orders were given to the constab
When in the evening Mr. Robertson informed Richa
what he had done, the boy flew into a terrible passio

on my gua- m

The Showman's Grandchild 45

jd abused his tutor with a violence of language which
ior'rt,ed and astonished him, and opened his eyes to his

ai culpability in allowing him to go on his way un-
lecked. He in vain endeavoured to silence the furious lad.
le had been so long without exercising any authority that
had now no authority to exercise, and after an angry
jene Richard flung himself out of the room and left his
Iter in a state bordering on consternation.

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\tW. II

CHAPTER III

The Justice-room

Richard's feelings were not to be envied as he lay awake
that night thinking over what had taken place in the morn-
ing. It had never for a moment entered his mind that his
tutor would repeat his statement to the squire, and he
would have given a good deal if he had not made it ; how-
ever, there was nothing for him now but to stick to the
story, and he felt but little doubt of the result. He had no
idea that any but the actors in it had witnessed the scene
by the pool, and he felt confident that his uncle would,
as a matter of course, take his word in preference to that
of this boy, who would naturally tell lies to screen himself.
Of course the child was there, but no one would mind
what a baby like that said. Still it was a nuisance, and
he gnashed his teeth with rage at the interference of his
tutor in the matter.

" I will get rid of him somehow before long," he said.
" I will pay him out for his meddling as sure as my name's
Richard Horton. I will get him out of this before three
months are gone."

The next morning at breakfast Richard received a
message from the squire that he was to be present at ten
o'clock in the justice-room, and accordingly at that hour
he presented himself there with a confident air, but with
an inward feeling of misgiving. The squire was sitting
at his table with his clerk beside him. Mr. Robertson
was in a chair a short distance off". The constable was

The Justice-room

e lay awake
n the morn-
ind that his
Ire, and he
de it; how-
stick to the
He had no
d the scene
[icle would,
nee to that
jen himself,
i^ould mind
isance, and
ence of his

he said.
my name's
efore three

received a
sent at ten
that hour
but with
.^as sitting
Robertson
stable was

llanding by the side of James VValsham at the other end

the room. Mr. Linthorne nodded to his nephew.

•* I wish you to repeat the story which you told Mr.
[obertson yesterday."

Richard had thought over whether it would be better to

)ften his story, but as it had already been told to the

luire he had concluded that there would be more danger

contradicting his first version than in sticking to it.

:cordingly he repeated his story almost word for word as

had told it to Mr. Robertson.

'•What have you to say to this, James Walsham?" the
[iiire asked. "This is a serious charge, that you without
ly provocation assaulted and maltreated my nephew."

'* I say it is all a lie, sir," James said fearlessly.

The squire uttered a short exclamation of surprise and
li^^er. He had been at first favourably impressed with
le appearance of the young prisoner, though he had been
irprised at seeing that he was younger than his nephew,
\r he had expected to see a much older boy.

•'That is not the way to speak, sir," he said sternly,
Hiile the constable pressed a warning hand on James's

foulder.
••Well, sir, it's not true then," the boy said; "it's all
Iklse from beginning to end, except that I did strike him
frst; but I struck him, not because he had thrown a great
#one and broken my boat, but because he pushed a little
^rl who was with me down into the water."

•'She slipped down; I never pushed her," Richard
Iroke in.

•• Hold your tongue, sir," the squire said sternly; "you
Ifave given your evidence. I have now to hear what the
iccused has to say. Now tell your story."

James now gave his version of the affair.

When he had ended Mr. Linthorne said gravely, " Have

)u any witnesses to call?"

•• Ves, sir, there are two fishermen outside who saw it."

With Wolfe in Canadi

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" Bring them in," the magistrate said to the constabli

Not a word was spoken in the justice-room unti
constable returned. As James had told his story
magistrate had listened with disbelief; it had not occurr
to him that his nephew could have told a lie, and hi: w
dered at the calmness with which this boy told his sv
Why, were it true, Richard was a coward as well as a
for with his superior age and height he should have bi
able to thrash this boy in a fair fight, yet James's facei
not a mark, while his nephew's showed how severely
had been punished. But his eye fell upon Richard u
James said that he had witnesses; he saw an unmistaka:
look of terror come over his face, and the bitter convicu
flashed across him that James's story was the true one.

"There is no occasion to give him the book, HobsoM
he said as the constable was about to hand the Testamt
to one of the fishermen; •' this is a private investigate
not a formal magisterial sitting, and there is no occaji
at this stage to take any evidence on oath."

** What is your name, my man?"

"John Mullens, your honour."

** Well, just tell me, Mullens, what you know about
business."

" I was a-mending my netf, yer honour, along
Simon Harte, and young Master Walsham was a-sai
his boat in a pool along with the little gal as lives at
mother's."

*' How far were you from the spot where he was?"
squire asked.

"Two hundred yards or so, I should say," the fbhi
man replied; "we was working behind a boat, but
could see over it well enough; presently we saw MasI
Horton come down and stand alongside the others,
said to Simon, ' He is a good-looking young fellow is
squire's nephew, ' " and the fisherman's eye twinkled v
a grim humour as he glanced at Richard's swollen fa!

ST'
p.'i

t t

put

,e h(

e th

hin

hii

nd •.

e CO

It's

e it

Hol(

lyt

agi
vide

rfisl

Hav

les.

Only
litt

I ca:

It IS

d qi
fist

you

Idh
tha
is

havii

een }

(i37)

ill
1:1

The |ustice-room

ie constabit
Dom until •
his story
J not occur
;, and hv w
told his St'
i well as a
)uld have b^
mes's facefcrl
DW severely

Richard w i
n unmistaka
itter convicui
he true one.
)Ook, Hobso^

the Testaii /•'»
e investigaii?
I is no occas

<now about I

lur, along
■n was a-saic
as lives at)

■e he was?"

ay," the (\M
a boat, but
we saw MasI
the others,
mg fellow is
re twinkled w
's swollen fal

he boat pfot stuck and Master Walsham threw some-

ig in close to it to get it off, tlicn I see Master Horton

ip and pick up a chunk of stone and chuck it hard, and

lit the boat and knocked it over; 1 see the little girl

round and say something to Master Horton, and then

put her apron up to her face and began to cry ; he

,e her a sort of shove and she tumbled down into the

of the pool. 1 says to Simon, ' What a shame!' but

\c the words was out of my mouth Master Walsham he

him, and hits him hard too; then there was a fight,

Master Horton he hadn't a chance with James, who

him as sound a licking as ever you see'd and ending

knocking him backwards into the pool ; then he gets

ind shakes his fist at James, and then goes off as hard

Ie could. That's all I know about it."

It's a wicked lie," Richard burst out; "they have

Ie it up between them. There was nobody tht e."

Hold your tongue, sir, I tell you," the squire said so

Inly that Richard, who had risen from his seat, shrank

\ again and remained silent; while Simon H arte gave

ividence, which was almost identical with that of the

fisherman.

Have you any other witnesses?" the magistrate asked
|es.

Only the little girl, sir, but I did not bring her up ; she
little I thought it was better she should not come,
can send for her if you wish it.^'
It is not necessary," Mr. Linthorne said. '• I have
^d quite sufficient. The manner in which you and
fishermen have given your evidence convinces me
you are speaking the truth, and I am sorry that you
lid have been placed in this position. You will under-
that this is not a formal court, and therefore that
is no question of discharging you. I can only say
having heard the story of what took place at this fight
'een you and my nephew I am convinced that you did

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With Wolfe in Canada

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what any other boy of spirit would have done under the
same circumstances, and that the punishment which you
administered to him was thoroughly deserved. Good
morning!"

James Walsham and his witnesses left the room Mr.
Linthorne rose, and saying to his nephew, "Follow me,
sir," went to his study. Without saying a word as to
what had passed, he took down some books from the
shelves and proceeded to examine Richard in them. A
few minutes sufficed to show that the boy was almost
absolutely ignorant of Latin, while a few questions in geo-
graphy and history showed that he was equally deficient
in these also.

*• That will do," the squire said. " Go up to your room,
and remain th .re until I send for you."

An hour after this a dogcart came round to the door,
Mr. Robertson took his place in it with his trunk, and was
driven away to Exeter never to return. For two days
Richard remained a prisoner in his room. His meals were
brought up to him, but the servant who came with them
answered no questions, telling him that the squire's orders
were that he was not to hold any conversation with him.
There was indeed a deep pleasure among the servants at
the Hall at the knowledge that Richard Horton was in
disgrace. The exact circumstances of the affair were un-
known, for the fishermen had not been present when
Richard had told his story, and Mrs. Walsham, who was
much shocked when James told her the circumstances,
had impressed upon him that it was bettei to say nothing
more about it. "You are clear in the matter, Jim, and
that is enough for you. The squire will no doubt punish
his nephew for the wicked lies he has told Some day,
you know, the boy will be master here; don't let us set
everyone against him by telling this disgraceful story."

So beyond the fact that there had been a fight between
James Walsham and the squire's nephew, and that Richard

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The Justice-room

Horton had been thrashed, and that the squire himself had
said that it served him right, Sidmouth knew nothing of
what had taken place in the justice-room.

Mr. Linthorne's first impulse had been to send his
nephew at once back to his parents, with the message that
he would have nothing more to do with him ; but though
he had the reputation of being a stern man, the squire
was a very kind-hearted one. He was shocked to find
that the boy was a liar, and that to shield himself he had
invent^'^ this falsehood agair.s^ hij-cpponv'jiii", but Upon
reflection he acknowledged that he himself had been to
blame in the matter. He had taken the boy into his
house, had assigned to him the position of his heir, and
had paid no further attention to him.

Unfortunately the man he had selected as his tutor had
proved false to the trust. The boy had been permitted to
run wild, his head was turned with the change in his pros-
pects, his faults had grown unchecked. It was to be said
for him that he had not intended in the first place to bring
his opponent into disgrace by making this false accusation
against him, for his tutor had acknowledged that he had
said he did not intend to tell him or to take any step in the
matter, and his position of accuser had been to some ex-
tent forced upon him by the necessity of his confirming the
tale which he had told to account for his being thrashed
by a boy smaller than himself.

Yes, it would be unfair upon the boy utterly to cast him
off for this first oflfence; he would give him one more trial.
The result^^ the squire's reflection was that on the third
day of his imprisonment Richard was sent for to the study.
The squire did not motion to him to sit down, and he re-
mained standing with, as the squire said to himself, a
hang-dog look upon his face.

'* I have been thinking over this matter quietly, Richard,
for I did not wish to come to any hasty conclusion. My
first impulse was to pack you off home and have no more

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to do with you, but I have thought better of it. Mean
and despicable as your conduct has been, I take some
blame to myself for not having seen that your tutor did
his duty by you, therefore I have resolved to give you
another chance, but not here. I could not bear to have
a boy who has proved himself a despicable liar about me;
but I will try and think that this was a first offence, and
that the lesson which it has taught you may influence all
your future life, and that you may yet grow up an honour-
able man.

" But you will remember that henceforth you are on
trial, and that the position in which you will stand by my
will, will depend solely and entirely on your own conduct.
If you prove by that that this lesson has had its effect,
that you deeply repent of your conduct, and are resolved
to do your best to be henceforth straight, honourable, and
true, you will at my death occupy the position I have
intended for you; if not, not one single penny of my
money will you get. I am going to put you in a school
where you will be looked strictly after, and where you will
have every chance of retrieving yourself. 1 have just
written to a friend of mine, a postcaptain in his majesty's
service, asking him to receive you as a midshipman. I
have told him frankly that you have been somewhat over-
indulged, and that the discipline of the sea life will be of
great benefit to you, and have requested him to keep a
tight hand over you and let me know occasionally how
you are going on. I have told him that your position as
my heir will to a very large extent depei^ upon his
reports, and have asked him, in the name of our old
friendship, to be perfectly frank and open in them with
me. I have said * he is my eldest nephew, but I have
others who will take his place if he is unworthy of the
position, and although I should be sorry if he should be
found wanting, I will commit the interests of all the
tenants and people on my estate to no one who is not

in ever
sir. Y
will no
mouth
in the
each ot
There
Richard
answer
said the
his faul
had lied
A tho
imperille
to the d
for beinj
with his
having i
there we
dered di:
what he
It was
knew eve
discomfit
smile of s
disgrace '
outside, a
During tV
tor there
obnoxiou:
saunter li
that the
begging t
would pn
"Now,
in a kind(

'ft

*i1

low

The Justice-room

in every respect an honourable gentleman.' That will do,
sir. You need not remain longer in your room, but you
will not leave the grounds. My friend's ship is at Ports-
mouth at present, and doubtless I shall receive an answer
in the course of a few days. Until then the less we see
each other the more pleasant for us both."

There were few more miserable boys in England than
Richard Horton during the week which elapsed before the
answer to the squire's letter was received. It cannot be
said that in the true sense of the word he was sorry for
his fault. He was furious with himself, not because he
had lied, but because of the consequences of the lie.

A thousand times he called himself a fool for having
imperilled his position, and risked being sent back again
to the dingy house in London, merely to excuse himself
for being thrashed by a boy smaller than himself. Mad
with his folly, not in having invented the story, but in
having neglected to look round to assure himself that
there were no witnesses who would contradict it, he wan-
dered disconsolate about the gardens and park, cursing
what he called his fortune.

It was an additional sting to his humiliation that he
knew every servant in and about the house rejoiced at his
discomfiture, and he imagined that there was a veiled
smile of satisfaction at his bruised visage and his notorious
disgrace with the squire on the face of every man he met
outside, and of every woman who passed him in the house.
During the whole week he did not venture near the stables,
for there he knew that he had rendered himself specially
obnoxious, and there was nothing for him to do but to
saunter listlessly about the garden until the day arrived
that the letter came granting the squire's request, and
^c&&'"g" that he might be sent off at once, as the vessel
would probably put to sea in a few days.

"Now, Richard," the squire said that evening to him
in a kinder voice than he had used on the last occasion,

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With Wolfe in Canada

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you understand exactly how we stand towards eacli
other. That being so I do not wish to maintain our pre-
sent uncomfortable relations. You have had your punish-
ment, and unless I hear to the contrary I shall assume
that the punishment has had its effect. When you return
from sea after your first voyage you will come home here
as if nothing had happened, and this business need never
be alluded to between us. If you turn out as I have
hitherto believed you to be, I shall receive you as warmly
as if my opinion of you had never been shaken.

" I have requested Captain Sinclair to let me know what
is the average allowance that the midshipmen receive from
their parents, and shall see that you have as much as your
messmates. I have also asked him to kindly allow one of
his officers to order you a proper outfit in all respects, and
to have the bill sent in to me. So now, my boy, you will
have a fresh and a fair start, and I trust that you will turn
out everything that I can wish."

*• I will try, sir, I will indeed," Richard said earnestly;
and he spoke from his heart, for the inheritance was very
dear to him, and it would be a terrible thing indeed to
forfeit it.

For two years after Richard Horton's departure things
went on quietly at Sidmouth. James Walsham continued
to make a pet and a playmate of little Aggie. Her out-
of-door life had made her strong and sturdy, and she was
able to accompany him in all his rambles, while when he
was at work at home preparing fishing lines, making
boats, or otherwise amusing himself, she was content to
sit hours quietly beside him chattering incessantly, and
quite content with an occasional brief answer to the ques-
tions. When he was studying she too would work at her
lessons; and however much she might be puzzled over
these she would never disturb him by asking him questions
when so engaged.

She was an intelligent child, and the houi's lesson,

The Justice-room

ings
Inued
out-
was
n he
[king
t to
and
ues-
her
ver

Ison,

morning' and afternoon, soon grew into two. She was
eager to learn, and rapidly gained ground on Mrs. VVal-
sham's older pupils. During the two years that lady
never had cause to regret that she had yielded to the
sergeant'a^entreaties. Aggie was no trouble in the house,
which she brightened with her childish laughter and merry
talk, and her companionship, James's mother could not
but think, did the boy much good. It softened his
manner, and although he still often went out with the
fishermen, he was no longer thrown entirely for com-
panionship upon the boys on the beach.

The sergeant came and went, seldom being more than
two months without paying a visit to Sidmouth. The
child was always delighted to see her grandfather, and
James took to him greatly, and liked nothing better than
to stroll up with him to a sheltered spot on the hillside,
where he would throw himself down on the grass, while
the sergeant smoked his pipe and told him stories of his
travels and adventures, and Aggie ran about looking for
wild flowers, or occasionally sat down for a while to listen
also. The squire lived his usual lonely life up at the Hall.
The absence of his nephew, whose ship had sailed for a
foreign station, was a relief rather than otherwise to him.
It had from the first been a painful effort to him to regard
this boy as his heir, and he had only done it when heart-
sick from a long and fruitless search for one who would
have been nearer and dearer to him. Nor had he ever
taken to the lad personally. The squire felt that there
was not the ring of true metal in him. The careless way
in which he spoke of his parents showed a want of heart;
and although his uncle was ignorant how much the boy
made himself disliked in the household, he was conscious
himself of a certain antipathy for him, which led him to
see as little of him as possible.

The two years for which the sergeant had placed his
grandchild with Mrs. Walsham came to an end. That he

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With Wolfe in Canada

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III!

did not intend to continue the arrangement she judg-ed
from something he said on the occasion of his last visit
two months before the time was up, but he gave no hint
as to what he intended to do with her.

In those weeks Mrs. Walsham frequently taught the
matter over. That the sergeant had plans for the child
she could hardly doubt. The child herself had told her
that she knew of no other relations than her grandfather,
and yet he could hardly intend to take her about with him,
after placing her for two years in a comfortable home.
She was but seven years old now — far too young to go
out into a place as servant girl in a farmhouse. She
doubted not that the sergeant had expended the whole
of his savings, and she thought him foolish in not having
kept her with him for some little time longer, or if he
could not do that he might have placed her with some
honest people who would have kept her for the sum he
had paid until she was old enough to take a place as a
nurse girl. And yet while she argued thus, Mrs. Walsham
felt that the old showman had not acted without weighing
the whole matter. There must be something in it which
she did not understand. In fact, he had said so when he
placed the child with her. As the time approached she
became more worried at the thought of Aggie leaving
her. The little one had wound herself very closely round
her heart. The expense of keeping her was small indeed ;
the cost of her food next to nothing; while the extra girl
whom Mrs. Walsham had taken on when she first came
had been retained but a very short time, James's constant
companionship with her rendering the keeping of a nurse
altogether unnecessary.

At last she made up her mind that she would offer to
keep her on without pay. She and James would miss her
companionship sorely, and it could not be considered an
extravagance, since the money she had received for her
would pay for the cost of her keep for years to come.

"ui^.

The Justice-room

iir

When Mrs. Walsham's mind was once made up her only
fear was that these mysterious plans of the sergeant would
not allow him to leave Aggie with her.

Punctual to the day Sergeant Wilks arrived, and after a
little talk in the parlour, as usual, with James and Aggie
present, he formally requested the favour of a conversation
with Mrs. Walsham alone.

"Take Aggie for a walk, James; do not stay out above
three-quarters of an hour, as your tea will be ready for you
then."

••You must have wondered, ma'am, a good deal," the
sergeant began when they were alone, "why I, who get
my living by travelling the country with a peepshow,
wished to place my grandchild in a position above her,
and to have her taught to be a little lady. It is time now
that I should tell you. Aggie is my granddaughter, but
she is the granddaughter, too, of Squire Linthorne up at
the Hall."

••Bless me!" Mrs. Walsham ejaculated, too astonished
for any further expression of her feelings.

••Yes, ma'am, she is the daughter of the squire's son
Herbert, who married my daughter Cissie."

••Dear me, dear me," Mrs. Walsham said, "what an
extraordinary thing! Of course I remember Herbert Lin-
thorne, a handsome, pleasant young fellow. He was on
bad terms, as everyone heard, eight years ago, with his
father, because he married somebody beneath — I mean
somebody of whom the squire did not approve. A year
afterwards we heard that he was dead, and there was a
report that his wife was dead too, but that was only a
rumour. The squire went away just at the time, and did
not come back for months afterwards, and after that he
was altogether changed. Before, he had been one of the
most popular men in this part of the country, but now he
shut himself up, gave up all his acquaintances, and never
went outside the park gates except to come down to

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With Wolfe in Canada

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shurch. I remember it gave us quite a shock when we
saw him for the first time — he seemed to have grown an
old man all at once. Everyone said that the death of his
son had broken his heart. And Aggie is his granddaughter!
Well, well, you have astonished me. But why did you not
tell me before?"

"There were a good many reasons, ma'am. I thought
in the first place you might refuse me, if you knew, for it
might do you harm. The squire is a vindictive man, and
he is landlord of your house; and if he came to know that
you had knowingly taken in his granddaughter there was
no saying how he might have viewed it. Then, if you had
known it, you might have thought you ought to keep her
in, and not let her run about the country with your son;
and altogether it would not have been so comfortable for
you or her. I chose to put her at Sidmouth because I
wanted to come here often to hear how the squire was
going on ; for if he had been taken ill I should have told
him sooner than I intended."

"But why did you not tell him before?" Mrs. Walsham
asked.

"Just selfishness, ma'am. I could not bring myself to
run the risk of having to give her up. She was mine as
much as his, and was a hundred times more to me than
she could be to him. I took her a baby from her dead
mother's arms. I fed her and nursed her, taught her herj
first words and her first prayer. Why should I offer to
give her up to him who likely enough would not accept |
the offer when it was made to him? But I always intended
to make it some day. It was my duty to give her the chance \
at least ; but I kept on putting off the day till that Satur-
day when she was so nearly drowned; then I saw my duty]
before me.

"I had from the first put aside a hundred pounds to!
give her more of an education than I could do ; but if it
hadn't been for that fall into the sea it might have been!

■-^"li...

The Justice-room

years before I carried out my plan. Then I saw it could
not go on any longer. She was getting too old and too
bold to sit quiet while I was showing my box. She had
oad a narrow escape, and who could say what might
happen the next time she got into mischief. Then I be-
thought me that the squire was growing old, and that it
was better not to put it off too long, so, ma'am, I came to
you and made up my mind to put her with you."

"And you had your way," Mrs. Walsham said, smiling,
•'though it was with some difficulty."

*' I expected it would be difficult, ma'am; but 1 made
up my mind to that, and had you kept on refusing I
should as a last chance have told you whose child she
was."

•'But why me?" Mrs. Walsham asked. "Why were
you so particularly anxious thrt she should come to me of
all people?"

The sergeant smiled.

" It's difficult to tell you, ma'am, but I had a reason."

" But what was it?" Mrs. Walsham persisted.

The sergeant hesitated.

"You may think me an old fool, ma'am, but I will tell
you what fancy came into my mind. Your son saved
Aggie's life; he was twelve years old, she was five, seven
years' difference."

" Why, what nonsense, sergeant!" Mrs. Walsham broke
in with a laugh. "You don't mean to say that fancy
entered your head?"

"It did, ma'am," Sergeant Wilks said gravely. "I
liked the look of the boy much. He was brave and
modest, and a gentleman. I spoke about him to the
fishermen that night, and everyone had a good word for
him ; so I said to myself, ' I can't reward him for what
he has done directly, but it may be that I can indirectly.'
Aggie is only a child, but she has a loving, faithful little
heart, and I said to myself, ' If I throw her with this boy,

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With Wolfe in Canada

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who, she knows, has saved her life, for two years, she is
sure to have a strong affection for him.'

"Many things may happen afterwards; if the squire
takes her they will be separated. He may get to care for
someone, and so may she, but it's just giving him a chance.
Then, too, I thought a little about myself. I liked to fancy,
that even though she would have to go from me to the
squire, my little plan may yet turn out, and it would be I,
not he, who had arranged for the future happiness of my
little darling. I shouldn't have told you all this, ma'am;
but you would have it."

*' I am glad you brought her to me, Sergeant Wilks,
anyhow," Mrs. Walsham said, "for 1 love her dearly, and
she has been a great pleasure to me; but what you are
talking about is simply nonsense. My son is a good boy,
and will, I hope, grow up an honourable gentleman like
his father; but he cannot look so high as the grand-
daughter of Squire Linthorne."

" More unequal marriages have been made than that,
ma'am," the sergeant said sturdily; "but we won't say
more about it. I have thought it over and over many
a hundred times as I wheeled my box across the hills, and
it don't seem to me impossible. 1 will agree that the
squire would never say yes; but the squire may be in his
grave years before Aggie comes to think about marriage;
besides, it is more than likely that he will have nothing to
say to my pet. If his pride made him cast his son off
rather than acknowledge my daughter as his, it will keep
him from acknowledging her daughter as his grandchild.
I hope it will, with all my heart; I hope so."

"In that case. Sergeant Wilks," Mrs. Walsham said,
"let this be her home for the time. Before you told me
your story I had made up my mind to ask you to let her
remain with me. You need feel under no obligation, for
the money you have paid me is amply sufficient to pay for
the expenses of what she eats for years. It will be a real

The Justice-room

pleasure for me to keep her, for she has become a part of
the house, and we should miss her sorely indeed. She is
quick .ind intelligent, and I will teach her all I know, and
can train her up to take a situation as a governess in

a gentleman's family, or perhaps " and she laughed.

••Your little romance might come true some day, and she
can in that case stop in this home until James makes her
another."

•• You are very kind, ma'am," the sergeant said; •• truly
kind indeed; and I humbly accept your offer, except that
so long as I live she shall be no expense to you. I earn
more than enough for my wants, and can at any rate do
something towards preventing her from being altogether
a burden on your hands. And now, ma'am, how would
you recommend me to go to work with the vindictive old
man up at the Hall?"

•• I shouldn't have thought he was vindictive. That is
not at all the character he bears."

••No," the sergeant said, "I hear him spoken well of;
but I have seen in other cases men who have had the name
of being pleasant and generous were yet tyrants and brutes
in their own family. I judge him as I found him — a hard-
hearted, tyrannical, vindictive father. I think I had better
not see him myself. We have never met. I have never
set eyes on him save here in church; but he regarded me
as responsible for the folly of his son. He w^rote me a
violent letter, and said I had inveigled the lad into the
marriage; and although I might have told him it was false
I did not answer his letter, for the mischief was done then,
and I hoped he would cool down in time. However that
is all past now; but I don't wish to see him. I was thinK-
ing of letting the child go to the Hall by herself and drop
in suddenly upon him. She is very like her father, and
may possibly take his heart by storm."

"Yes," Mrs. Walsham assented. "Now I know who
she is, 1 can see the likeness strongly. Yes ; 1 should

;f.

'^1
11

With Wolfe in Canada

think that that would be the best way. People often yield
to a sudden impulse who will resist if approached formally
or from a distance. But have you any reason to suppose
that he will not receive her? Did he refuse at first to
undertake the charge of the child? Does he even know
that she is alive? It may be that all these years he has
been anxious to have her with him, and that you have
been doing- him injustice altogether."

'♦ I never thought of it in that light," the sergeant said
after a pause. •' He never came near his son when he lay
dying, never wrote a line in answer to his letters. If a
man could not forgive his son when he lay dying, how
could he care for a grandchild he had never seen?"

"That may be so. Sergeant Wilks; but his son's death
certainly broke him down terribly, and it may be that he
will gladly receive his granddaughter. But there are the
young ones back again. I will think over what you have
been telling me, and we can discuss it again to-morrow."

1:1

1;'

l" ' ■ ..^

CHAPTER IV

The Squire's Granddaughter

The following day another council was held, and Mrs.
Walsham told the sergeant that on thinking it over she
had concluded that the best way would be to take the old
butler at the Hall, who had served the family for forty-five
years, into their confidence, and to ask him to arrange
how best Aggie might be introduced to the squire.

"I have been thinking over what you said, ma'am, and
it may be that you are right, and that I have partly mis-
judged the squire. I hope so, for Aggie's sake, and yet
I cannot help feeling sorry. I have always felt almost
sure he would have nothing to say to her, and I have
clung to the hope that I should not lose my little girl. I
know, of course, how much better it will be for her, and
have done all I could to make her so that she should be
fit for it if he took her. But it will be a wrench, ma'am;
I can't help feeling it will be a wrench;" and the old
soldier's voice quivered as he spoke.

•' It cannot be otherwise, sergeant," Mrs. Walsham said
kindly. " You have been everything to each other, and
tiionp' for her good and happiness you are ready to give
leir it is a heavy sacrifice for you to make."

i afternoon the sergeant went for a long walk alone

v't^ ^^&>c> and when they returned Mrs. Walsham saw

by the flushed cheeks and the swollen eyes of the child

that she had been crying. James noticed it also, and saw

that she seem 1 depressed and quiet. He supposed that

With Wolfe in Canada

I!! i

!;:■,

f |i

fii

her grandfather had been telling her that he was going to
take her away, for hitherto nothing had been said in her
hearing as to the approaching termination of the stay with
his mother. As they came out of churoh Mrs. Walsham
had waited for a moment at the door, and had told the
butler at the Hall that she wished particularly to speak to
him that afternoon if he could manage to come down.
They were not strangers, for the doctor had attended
John's wife in her last illness, and he had sometimes called
with messages from the Hall when the doctor was wanted
there.

John Petersham was astonished indeed when Mrs. Wal-
sham informed him that the little girl he had seen in her
pew in church was his master's granddaughter.

" You don't say so, ma'am ; you don't say as that pretty
little thing is Master Herbert's child ! But why didn't you
say so afore? Why, I have caught myself looking at her,
and wondering how it was that I seemed to know her face
so well ; and now of course 1 sees it, she is the picture of
Master Herbert when he was little."

" I couldn't say so before, John, because I only knew it
myself last night. Her grandfather — that is, her other
grandfather, you know — p'aced her with me to educate,
and, as he said, to make a little lady of, two years ago;
but it was only last night he told me."

"Only to think of it!" the butler ejaculated. "What
will the squire say?"

" Yes, that is the point, John: what will the squire say?
Her grandfather thinks he will have nothing to say to
her."

** Nothing to say to her, ma'am! why, he will be off his
head with joy. Didn't he search for her, and advertise for
her, and do all he could to find her for months. It wasn't
till he tried for over a year that he gave it up and sent for
Richard Horton to come to him."

'* Her grandfather can only judge by what he knows,

The Squire's Granddaughter 65

John ; he tells me that the son wrote to his father over
and over again on his deathbed, and that he never came
near him or took any notice of the letters."

"That's true enough, ma'am," the butler said sadly;
"and it is what has pretty nigh broken the squire's heart.
He was obstinate like at first, and he took me with him when
he travelled about across the sea among the foreigners,
and when he was at a place they called Athens he got
a fever and he was down for weeks. We came home by
sea, and the winds was foul and we made a long voyage
of it, and when we got home there was letters that had
been lying months and months for us, and among them
was those letters of Master Herbert's. The squire wasn't
an hour in the house afore the carriage was round to the
door, and we posted as hard as horses could take us right
across England to Broadstairs, never stopping a minute
except to change horses, and when we got there it was a
month too late, and there was nothing to do but to go to
the churchyard and to see the stone under which Master
Herbert and his young wife was laid.

"The house where they had died was shut up. There
had been a sale, and the man who was the father of Master
Herbert's wife was gone, and we learned there had been a
baby born, and that had gone too. The squire was like
a madman, blaming himself for his son's death, and a-raving
to think what must Master Herbert have thought of him
when he never answered his letters. I had a terrible time
with him, and then he set to work to find the child; but,
ds 1 told you, we never did find it or hear a word of it
from that tim*^ to this, and the squire has never held up
his head. He will be prettv well out of his mind with
joy."

"I am very glad to her.r what you say, John," Mrs.
Walshani said. " I could hardly fancy the squire, who
always has borne such a name for kindness, being so hard
that he would not listen to his dying son's entreaties."

(337) 5

;

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With Wolfe in Canada

li!l !

]>u

" No, ma'am. The squire was hard for a bit. Master
Herbert's marriage was a sad disappointment to him ; he
had made up his mind he was going to do so well and to
cut such a figure in the world; but he would have come
round. Lord bless you, he only meant to hold out for a
bit. When he was ill at Athens he was talking all the
time about forgiving his son, and I could see how hard
it had been to him to keep separated from him. On the
voyage home he fidgeted ever so at the delay, and I knew
that the first thing he did when he got back would be to
write to Master Herbert and tell him to bring his wife
down to the Hall. There's not a hard corner in the squire's
heart. I thank the good God fdr the news you have told
me, ma'am; it's the best I ever heard in all my life."

Mrs. Walsham now told him how the child had becMi
brought up, and then the sergeant himself, who was wait-
ing in the next room, was brought in; and to him John
Petersham related the story of the squire's illness, the
reason of the letters not reaching him for months after
they had. been written, and his intense sorrow and self-
reproach at having arrived too late, and told him of the
efforts that had been made to find the child. The sergeant
listened in grave silence.

** I am glad it is so," he said after a pause. " I have
misjudged the squire, and I am glad of it. It will be a
blow to me to lose the child; I do not pretend that it
won't; but it is for her good, and I must be content. He
can hardly object to my seeing her sometimes, and if I
know that she is well and happy that is all I care for; and
now the sooner it's over the better. Can she come up this
evening?"

"Surely she can," John Petersham said. "The squire
dines at five; if you will bring her up at six I will take her
in to him."

And so it was arranged, and in his walk with Aggie
afterwards the sergeant told her the history of her parents,

The Squire's Granddaughter 67

and that Squire Linthorne was her other grandfather, and
that she was to go up and see him that evening.

Aggie had uttered her protest against fate ; she did not
wish to leave her granipa who had been so good to her,
and Mrs. Walsham, and James. The description of the
big house and its grandeurs, and the pleasures of a pony
for herself, offered no enticement to her, and weeping she
flung her arms round her grandfather's neck and implored
him not to give her up.

" I must, my dear, it is my duty; I wish to God that it
were not. You know how I love you, Aggie, and how
hard it is for me to part with you ; but it is for your good,
my darling. You mayn't see it now, but when you get
older you will know it. It will not be so hard now on me,
dear, nor on you, as it would have been had I given you
up two years ago, but we have learned to do a little with-
out each other."

"But you will come and see me just as you have here,
won't you?" Aggie said, still weeping.

** I hope so, my dear. You see the squire is your father's
father, while I am only your mother's father, and somehow
the law makes him nearer to you than I am, and he will
have the right to say what you must do."

** I won't stay with him, I won't," Aggie said passion-
ately, **if he won't let you come."

*' You must not say that, dear," the sergeant said. "We
must all do our duty even when that duty is hard to do,
and your duty will be to obey the squire's orders and to do
as he tells you. I have no doubt he will oe very kind, and
that you will be very happy with him, and I hope he will
let you see me sometimes."

It was a long time before the child was at all reconciled.
When her sobs began to cease, her grandfather told her
what she was to do when she saw the squire.

"You will remember, my dear, that I have been more
fortunate than he has. I have had you all these years,

ii'

I !

With Wolfe in Canada

and he has had no one to love or care for him. You must
remember that he was not to blame because he objected
to his son marrying- my daughter. They were not in the
same position of life, and it was only natural that he
should not like it at first, and as I told you, he was
coming home to make them both happy when he found f
it was too late. You must think, dear, that while I have
been happy all these years with you he has been sorrow-
ing and grieving, and you must try and love him and
make up to him for what he has suffered. I know you
will not forget your old friends ; you will love me whether
you see me often or not; and Mrs. Walsham, who has
been very kind to you; and James, you know, who saved
your life."

** I shall never forget anyone, grampa. I shall always
love you better than anyone," the child exclaimed, throw-
ing her arms round his neck with a fresh burst of
tears.

" There, there, my pet," the sergeant said soothingly;
" you must not cry any more. I want you to look your
best this evening, you know, and to do credit to us all.
And now I think we have settled everything, so we will
be going back to tea."

That evening the squire was sitting by himself in the
great dining-room, occasionally sipping the glass of port
which John Petersham had poured out before he left the
room ; the curtains were drawn and the candles lighted,
for it was late in September and the evenings were closing
in fast, and the squire was puzzling over John Petersham's
behaviour at dinner.

Although the squire was not apt to observe closely
what was passing around him, he had been struck with
the old butler's demeanour; that . mething was wrong
with him was clear. Usually he was the most quiet and
methodical of servants, but he had blundered several times
in the service, he had handed his master dishes when his

The Squire's Granddaughter 69

plate was already supplied, he had spilled the wine in
pouring it out, he had started nervously when spoken
to. Mr. Linthorne even thought that he had seen tears
in his eyes; altogether he was strangely unlike himself.
Mr. Linthorne had asked him if anything was the matter,
but John had with almost unnecessary earnestness de-
clared there was nothing. Altogether the squire was
puzzled; with any other servant he would have thought
lie had been drinking, but such a supposition in John's
case was altogether out of the question.

He could have had no bad news so far as the squire
knew, for the only children he had had, died young, and
he had no near relatives or connections. It was ridiculous
to suppose that John, at his age, had fallen in love.
Altogether the squire failed to suggest to himself any
explanation of his old butler's conduct, and had just con-
cluded philosophically by the reflection that he supposed
he should know what it was sooner or later, when the
door of the room quietly opened.

The squire did not look up. It closed again as quietly,
and then he glanced towards it. He could hardly believe
his eyes. A child was standing there — a girl with soft
smooth hair and large eyes and a sensitive mouth, with
an expression fearless but appealing. Her hands were
clasped before her, and she was standing in doubt whether
to advance. There was something so strange in this ap-
parition in the lonely room that the squire did not speak
for a moment. It flashed across him vaguely that there
was something familiar to him in the face and expression,
something which sent a thrill through him ; and at the
same instant, without knowing why, he felt that there
was a connection between the appearance of the child and
the matter he had just been thinking of — John Petersham's
strange conduct. He was still looking at her when she
advanced quietly towards him.

** Grandpapa," she said, " I am Aggie Linthorne "

i 1 I

With Wolfe in Canada

A low cry of astonishment broke from the squire. He
pushed his chair back.

"Can it be true," he muttered, "or am I dreaming?"

" Yes, grandpapa," the child said, close beside him now,
" I am Aggie Linthorne, and I have come to see you.
If you don't think it's me, grampa said I was to give you
this and then you would know;" and she held out a
miniature on ivory of a boy some fourteen years old, and
a watch and chain.

" I do not need them," the squire said in low tones,
'* I see it in your face. You are Herbert's child, whom
I looked for so long. Oh ! my child ! my child ! have
you come at last?" and he drew her towards him and
kissed her passionately, while the tears streamed down
his cheeks.

" I couldn't come before, you know," the child said,
"because I didn't know about you, and grampa, that's
my other grandpapa," she nodded confidentially, " did
not know you wanted me; but now he knows he sent
me to you. He told me I was to come because you were
lonely; but you can't be more lonely than he is," she
said, with a quiver in her voice. "Oh! he will be lonely
now!"

" But where do you come from, my dear, and how did
you get here, and what have you been doing all these
years?"

"Grampa brought me here," the child said. "I call
him grampa, you know, because I did when I was little,
and I have always kept to it; but I know, of course, it
ought to be grandpapa. He brought me here, and John—
at least he called him John — brought me in. And I have
been living for two years with Mrs. Walsham down in
the town, and I used to see you in church, but I did
not know that you were my grandpapa."

The squire, who was holding her close to him while she
spoke, got up and rang the bell, and John opened the door

tones, ■
whom

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The Squire's Granddaughter 71

with a quickness that showed that he had been waiting
close to it, anxiously waiting a summons.

"'ohn Petersham," the squire said, "give me your
hand; this is the happiest day of my life."

The two men wrung each other's hands. They had
been friends ever since John Petersham, who was twelve
years the senior of the two, first came to the house, a
young fellow of eighteen, to assist his father, who had
held the same post before him.

•'God be thanked, squire!" he said huskily.

"God be thanked, indeed, John!" the squire rejoined
reverently. "So this was the reason, old friend, why
your hand shook as you poured out my wine. How could
you keep the secret from me?"

" I did not know how to begin to tell you, but I was
pretty nigh letting it out, and only the thought that it
was better the little lady should tell you herself, as we
had agreed, kept it in. Only to think, squire, after all
these years! but I never quite gave her up. I always
thought somehow as she would come just like this."

"Did you, John? I gave up hope years ago. How
did it come about, John?"

" Mrs. Walsham told me as I came out of church to-day
as she wanted to speak to me, so I went down, and she
told me all about it, and then I saw him " John hesi-
tated at the name, for he knew that perhaps the only man
in the world against whom his master cherished a bitter
resentment was the father of his son's wife. " It seems
he never saw your advertisements, never knew as you
wanted to hear anything of the child, so he took her away
and kept her. He has been here off and on all these
years. I heard tell of him often and often when I had
been down into Sidmouth, but never dreamt as it was
him. He went about the country with a box on wheels
with glasses — a peepshow as they calls it."

The squire winced.

i.»'

With Wolfe in Canada

!':i

t!. '

"He is well spoken of, squire," John said, "and I am
bound to say as he doesn't seem the sort of man we took
him for at all, not by no means. He did not know you
wanted to have her, but he thought it his duty to give
her the chance, and so he put her with Mrs. Walsham,
and never told her till yesterday who she was. Mrs.
Walsham was quite grieved at parting with her, for she
says she is wonderfully quick at her lessons, and has been
like a daughter with her for the last two years."

The child had sat quietly down in a chair and was
looking into the fire while the two men were speaking.
She had done whitt she was told to do, and was waiting
quietly for what was to come next. Her quick ear, how-
ever, caught in the tones of John Petersham an apologetic
tone when speaking of her grandfather, and she was
moved to instant anger.

**Why do you speak like that of my grampa?" she
said, rising to her feet and standing indignantly before
him. *' He is the best man in the world, and the kindest
and the nicest, and if you don't like him I can go away
to him again. I don't want to stay here, not one minute.
You may be my grandpapa," she went on, turning to the
squire, '*and you may be lonely, but he is lonely too,
and you have got a great house and all sorts of nice
things, and you can do better without me than he can,
for he has got nothing to love but me, poor grampa!"
and her eyes filled with sudden tears as she thought of
him tramping on his lonely walks over the hills.

"We do not mean to speak unkindly of your grand-
father, my dear," the squire said gently. " I have never
seen him, you know, and John has never seen him but
once. 1 have thought all these years bitterly of him,
but perhaps I have been mistaken. He has ever been
kind and good to you, and, above all, he has given you
back to me, and that will make me think differently vf
him in future. We all make mistakes, you know, and

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The Squire's Granddaughter 73

I have made terrible mistakes, and have been terribly pun-
ished for them. I dare say 1 have made a mistake here;
but whether or no, you shall never hear a word from me
against the man who has been so kind to you."

"And you will let me see him sometimes, grandpapa?"
the child said, taking his hand pleadingly. " He said
if you said no I must do as you told me, because somehow
you are nearer to me than he is, though I don't know how
that can be; but you won't say that, will you? for, oh!
I know he is so lonely without me, and I should never
be happy thinking of him all alone, not if you were to
be ever so kind to me and to give me all sorts of grand
things."

" No, my dear, I certainly shall not say so. You shall
see him as often as you like."

"Oh, thank you, grandpapa!" she exclaimed joyfully,
and she held up her face to kiss him.

The squire lifted her in his arms and held her closely
to him.

"John," he said, "you must tell Mrs. Morcombe to get
a room ready for my granddaughter at once, and you had
better bring the tea in here, and then we will think of
other things^ I feel quite bewildered at present."

When John returned with the tea Aggie was sitting
on the squire's knee. She was perfectly at home now,
and had been chattering to him of her life with her grand-
father, and had just related the incident of her narrow
escape from drowning.

" Do you hear that, John?" the squire said. *' She was
nearly drowned here, within sight of our home, and I
might never have known anything about it. It seems
that lad of Dr. Walsham's saved her life. He is a fine
lad. He was her champion, you know, in that affair with
my nephew. How strange that the two boys should have
quarrelled over my granddaughter!"

"Yes, squire, and young Walsham came well out of

\. ^

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With Wolfe in Canada

it!" John said heartily; for fo him only did the squire
mention the circumstances ot the case, and he chuckled
now to himself as he thought that Richard Horton had
made an even greater mistake in that matter than he
thought of, for John detested the boy with all his heart,
and had only abstained from reporting his conduct to tht-
squire from fear of giving his master pain.

The squire's brow clouded a little at the allusion.

•* It will make a difference to him, John," he said, "for
of course now my granddaughter will take his place."

" And a good thing too!" John said heartily. •• I have
never said a word before, squire, because, as you had
chosen him as your heir, there was no use in setting you
against him, but a more hatefuller lad than Richard
Horton I never comed across, and so said everyone
here. You did not see much of him, squire, and natural
thought well of him, for he was a good-looking boy, and
could speak fair enough when he liked. I thought well
of him myself when he first came, but I larned better
afterwards."

*' There are many excuses to be made for him, John,"
the squire said, "and I have had good reports of him
since. Of course I shall see that, although he can no
longer be regarded as my heir here, he shall be well pro-
vided for. But there will be plenty of time to think of
this."

"Mr. Wilks asked me to say, sir," the butler said
as he prepared to leave them, "that he shall be staying
in Sidmouth to-morrow, and that if you wish to see him
he will come up here."

"Certainly I wish to see him," the squire replied. "I
have many things to ask him. Let the boy go down the
first thing in the morning, or — no, if you don't mind, John,
would you go down yourself to-night. He will naturally
be anxious to know how his grandchild is getting on. Tell
him with what joy I have received her, and take any

The Squire's Granddaughter 75

message she may give you. Is there anything" you would
like to say to your grandfather, child?"

'•Oh, yes; please tell him that I think I shall like it,
and that he is to come and see me when he likes, and
thai of course he is to see me when he comes in the
morning, and then I can tell him all about it."

" And say I shall be glad to see him the first thing after
breakfast," the squire added.

The housekeeper soon entered, and Aggie, very sleepy
after the excitements of the day, was taken off to bed.
Her sleepiness, however, disappeared in her wonder at the
size of the house and at the vastness of her bedroom.

•'Why, you have got a fire!" she exclaimed in astonish-
ment. " I never saw a fire in a bedroom before."

•• I didn't light it for the cold, miss," the hou^^ekeeper
said; "but because it is a long time since the room was
slept in before, and because I thought it would be cheerful
for you. I shall sleep in the next room till things are
settled, so that if you want anything you will only have
to run in."

••Thank you," Aggie said gratefully. '* It does all
seem so big; but I am sure not to want anything; thank
you."

•• Here is your box, miss. Would you like me to help
undress you?"

"Oh, no!" Aggie laughed. "Why, of course I can
undress myself;" and she laughed at the idea of assistance
being requ ired in such a matter.

"Then, good night!" the housekeeper said. "I shall
leave the door ajar between the two rooms when I come
to bed."

The next morning, soon after breakfast. Sergeant Wilks
was ushered into the study, where the squire was expect-
ing him. The two men had had hard thoughts of each
other for many years. The squire regarded the sergeant
as a man who had inveigled his son into marrying his

i,»'

With Wolfe in Canada

daughter, while the sergeant regarded the squire as a
heartless and unnatural father who had left his son to
die alone among strangers. The conversation with John
Petersham had taught the sergeant that he had wronged
the squire by his estimate of him, and that he was to be
p'tied rather than blamed in the matter. The squire, on
his part, v/as jrateful to the sergeant for the care he had
bestowed upon the child and for restoring her to him, and
was inclined, indeed, at the moment to a universal good-
will to all men. The sergeant was pale, but self-possessed
and quiet; while the squire, moved by the events of the
night before out of the silent reserve in which he had for
years enveloped himself, was agitated and nervous. He
was the first to speak.

"Mr. Wilks," he said, "I have to give you my heart-
felt thanks for having restored my granddaughter to me —
the more so as I know, from what she has said, how great
a sacrifice you must be making. John has been telling
me of his conversation with you, and you have learned
from him that I was not so wholly heartless and unnatural
a father as yo u must have thought me, deeply as I blame
myself, and shall always blame myself, in the matter."

"Yes," the sergeant said; " I have learned that I have
misread you. Had it not been so I should have brought
the child to you long ago — should never have taken her
away, Indeed. Perhaps we have both misjudged each
other."

" I fear that we have," the squire said, remembering the
letters he wrote to his son in his anger, denouncing the
sergeant in violent language.

" It does not matter now," the sergeant went on
quietly; "but as I do not wisi), Aggie ever to come to
think -111 of me in the future it is better to set it right.
When I left the army I had saved enough money to fur-
nish a house, and I took one at Southampton and set up
taking lodgers there. 1 had my pension, and lived well

The Squire's Granddaughter 77

until my wife died — a year before your son came down
from London with another gentleman and took my rooms.
My daughter was seventeen when her mother died, and
she took to managing the house. I was careful of her,
and gave her orders that on no account was she ever to
go into the lodgers' rooms. I waited on them myself.
How your son first saw her and got to speak to her,
1 don't know; but I am not surprised that when he did
he loved her, for there was no prettier or sweeter girl in
Hampshire. They took the rooms first only for a fort-
night, then the other gentleman went away and your son
stayed on.

**One day — it came upon me like a thunderbolt — your
son told me he wanted to marry my Agnes. I was angry
at first. Angry because it had been done behind my back,
and because I had been deceived. I said as much; but
your son assured me that he had never spoken to her in
the house, but had met her when she went out for her
walks. Still, it was wrong, and I told him so, and I told
her so, though in my heart I did not altogether blame
them, for young people will be young people, and, as he
had acted honourably in coming to me at once, I let that
pass. But, squire, though but a sergeant in His Majesty's
service, I had my pride as you had yours, and I told him
at once that I would not give my consent to my daughter's
marrying him until you had given yours, and that he must
leave the house at once and not see Agnes again until he
carne with your written consent to show me.

*' He went away at once. After a time he began to
v/rite to me, urging me to change my decision, and from
this, although he never said so, I was sure that you had
refused to sanction his marriage. Hov/ever, ! stuck to
what I had said, though it was hard for me to do so with
my child growing thin and pale before my eyes, with all
her bright happiness gone. So it went on for three months,
and then one morning she was gone, and I found a letter

i '

With Wolfe in Canada

h !

on her table for me, saying- that she had been married to
him a week before, when she went out, as I thou^jht, to
spend the day with a friend. She begged and prayed me
to forgive her, and said how miserable she had been, and
that she could not say no to her lover's pleadings.

** I wrote to the address she had given me, saying that
she had wellnigh broken my heart. She knew that 1 had
only refused my consent because it would have seemed a
dishonourable action to allow your son to marry her with-
out your consent, she knew how hard it had been for me
to do my duty when I saw her pining before my eyes, but
I forgave her wholly, and did not altogether blame her,
seeing that it was the way of Nature that young women,
when they once took to loving, should put their f. her
altogether in the second place, but that until you had
given way I could not see her or sanction her marriage.
It was hard to me to write that letter, for I longed to see
her bonny face again. But I thought it was my duty.
I thought so then ; but I think now it was pride.

'* From time to time she wrote to me. I learned thai
you still refused to see your son, and I gathered, though
she did not say much of this, that things were going badly
with them. At last she wrote that her husband was ill,
very ill, she feared ; he had in vain tried to get employ-
ment. I don't think he was naturally strong, and the
anxiety had broken him down. Then I went up to London
at once and found them in a little room without the neces-
saries of life. I brought them down home and nursed
him for three months till he died.

"A week later Aggie was born. Ten days afterwards
I laid her mother by the side of her father. No answer
had come to the letters he had written to you while he had
been ill, though in the later ones he had told you that he
was dying. So I looked upon the child as mine. Things
had gone badly with me. I had been able to take no
lodgers while they were with me. I had got into debt,

ri:

The Squire's Granddaughter 79

and even could I have cleared myself I could not well
have kept the house on without a woman to look after it.
I was restless, too, and longed to be moving about, so
I sold off the furniture, paid my debts, and laid by the
money that remained for the child's use in the future.

'* I had some time before met an old comrade travelling
the country with a show. I happened to meet him again
just as I was leaving, and he told me the name of a man
ill London who sold such things. I left the child for a
year with some people I knew a few miles out of South-
ampton, came up to London, bought a show, and started.
It was lonely work at first ; but after a year I fetched the
child away and took her round the country with me, and
for four years had a happy time of it.

*' I had chosen this part of the country, and after a time
I became uneasy in my mind as to whether I was doing
right, and whether for the child's sake I ought not to tell
you that she was alive, and offer to give her up if you were
willing to take her. I heard how your son's death had
changed you, and thought that maybe you would like
to take his daughter; but, before bringing her to you,
I thought she should have 2 better education than I had
time to give her, and that she should be placed with
a lady, so that if you took her you need not be ashamed
of her manners.

"I hoped you woulri not take her. I wanted to keep
her for myself; but my duty to her was clear; and now,
squire, you know all about it. I have been wrong to keep
her so long from you, I grant; but I can only say that
1 have done my duty as far as I could, and that, though
I have made many mistakes, my conscience is clear that
' did the best as far as it seemed to me at the time."

!:i.

||f

•''I

ii >

m
M

iii

CHAPTER V

A Quiet Time

As the sergeant was telling the story the squire had sat
with his face shaded by his hand, but more than one tear
had dropped heavily on the table.

•* I wish I could say as much," he said sadly when the
other ended. " I wish that I could say that my conscience
is clear, Mr. Wilks. I have misjudged you cruelly, and
that without a tithe of the reason which you had for
thinking me utterly heartless and cruel. You will have
heard that I never got those letters my son wrote me after
he was ill, and that when I returned home and received
them I posted to Southampton only to find that I was too
late, and that for a year I did all in my power to find the
child. Still all this is no excuse. I refused to forgive
him, returned his letters unanswered, and left him, as it
seemed, to his fate.

** It is no excuse to say that I had made up my mind
to forgive him when he was, as I thought, sufficiently
punished. He did not know that. As to the poverty in
which you fciuid him, I can only plead that I did not dream
that he would come to that. He had, I knew, some
money, for I had just sent him his half-year's allowance
before he wrote to me about this business-. Then there
was the furniture of his rooms in London, his horses,
jewels, and other matters. I had thought he could go on
very well for a year. Of course I was mistaken. Herbert
was always careless about money, and no doubt he spent

A Quiet Time

id sat
le tear

en the

science

y, and

ad for

II have

le after

iceived

as too

nd the

[forgive
as it

mind
iciently

[erty i"

dream

some

)vvance
there

Ihorses,

go on

lerbert

spent

it freely after he was first married. He would naturally
wish to have everything pretty and nice for his young wife,
and no doubt he counted upon my forgiving him long
before the money was spent.

" I am not excusing myself. God knows how bitterly
1 have condemned myself all these years. I only want
to show you that I had no idea of condemning him to
starvation ; he was my only son, and I loved him. I felt
perhaps his rebellion all the more, because he had never
before given me a day's trouble. I was harsh, obstinate,
and cruel. I have only the one old excuse. I never
thought it would turn out as it did. What would I give
if I could say, as you can, that you have a clear conscience,
and that you acted always as it seemed to be your duty!
And now, Mr. Wilks, now that 1 have heard your story

I trust that you will forgive my past suspicions of you,
and let me say, how much I honour and esteem you for
your conduct. No words can tell you how 1 thank you
for your goodness and kindness to my little granddaughter,
our little granddaughter I should say. You have the better

right a thousandfold to her than 1 have; and had I been

in your place I could never have made such a sacrifice.
'* We must be friends, sir, great friends. Our past has

been saddened by the same blow. All our hopes in the

future are centred on the same object."
The two men rose to their feet together, and their hands

met in a firm clasp, and tears stood in both their eyes.

Then the squire put his hand on the other's shoulder, and

said, ** We will talk again presently. Let us go into the

next room. The little one is longing to see you, and we

must not keep her."
For the next hour the two men devoted themselves to

the child. Now that she had her old friend with her she

felt no further misgivings, and was able to enter into the

full delight of her new home.
The house and its wonders were explored, and much as

( 337 ) f

« '

MM !

■t^:'

With Wolfe in Canada

she was delighted with these, the gardens and park were
an even greater excitement and pleasure. Dancing, chat-
tering, asking questions of one or the other, she was half-
wild with pleasure, and the squire was no less delighted.
A new light and joy had come into his life, and with it the
ten years which sorrow and regret had laid upon him had
fallen off, for although his habits of seclusion and quiet
had caused him to be regarded as quite an old man by his
neighbours, he was still three years short of sixty, while
the sergeant was two years younger.

It was a happy morning for them all three; and when
John Petersham went in after lunch to the kitchen he
assured his fellow servants that it was as much as he
could do to keep from crying with joy at the sight of the
squire's happy face, and to hear him laugh and joke as
he had not done for eight years now. The sergeant had
stopped to that meal, for he saw by the manner in which
the squire asked him that he should give pain if he refused,
and there was a simple dignity about the old soldier which
would have prevented his appearing out of place at the
table of the highest in the land.

"Now, pussy," the squire said when they had finished,
*'you must amuse yourself for a bit. You can go in the
garden again, or sit with Mrs. Morcombe in her room;
she will look you out some picture books from the library.
I am afraid there is nothing very suited to your reading,
but we will soon put all that right. Your grandfather and
I want to have another quiet chat together."

*' Now I want your advice," he said when they were
Doth comfortably seated in the study. "You see you
have been thinking and planning about the child for years,
while it has all come new upon me, so I must rely upon
you entirely. Of course the child must have a governess,
that is the first thing, not so much for the sake of teach'
ing her, though, of course, she must be taught, but as]
a companion for her."

way

A Quiet Time

«3

were
chat-

half-
hted.
it the
n had

quiet
by his

while

i when
len he

as he

of the
joke as
ant had
1 which
refused,
;r which
; at the

finished,
[o in the
:r room;
library,
[reading,
Ither and

^ey were
Isee you

3r years,
[ely uponj

3verness,
lof teach-
but a!

"Yes," the sergeant assented, "she must have a
governess."

•• It will be a troublesome matter to find one to suit,"
the squire said thoughtfully. " I don't wf t a harsh sort
of Gorgon to repress her spirits and bo( her life out
with rules and regulations; and I won't have a giddy
young thing, because I should like to have the child with
me at breakfast and lunch, and I don't want a fly-away
young woman who will expect all sorts of attention. Now,
what is your idea? I have no doubt you have pictured in
your mind the exact sort of woman you would like to have
over her."

" I have," the sergeant answered quietly. " I don't
know whether it would suit you, squire, or whether it
could be managed; but it does seem to me that you have
got the very woman close at hand. Aggie has been for
two years with Mrs. Walsham, who is a lady in every
way; she is very fond of the child, and the child is very
fond of her. Everyone says she is an excellent teacher;
she would be the very woman to take charge of
her."

"The very thing!" the squire exclaimed with great
satisfaction. "But she has a school," he went on, his
face falling a little, "and there is a son."

"I have thought of that," the sergeant said. "The
school enables them to live, but it cannot do much more,
so that I should think she would feel no reluctance at
giving that up."

"Money would be no object." the squire said. "I am
a wealthy man, Mr. Wilks, and have been laying by the
best part of my income for the last eight years. I would
pay any salary she chose, for the comfort of such an
arrangement would be immense, to say nothing of the
advantage and pleasure it would be to the child ; but how
about the boy?"

"We both owe a good deal to the boy, squire," the

» •

With Wolfe in Canada

II !

t:li

sergeant said gravely, "for if it had not been for him the
child would have been lost to us."

*' So she was telling me last night," the squire said.
"And he really saved her life?"

"He did," the sergeant replied. "But for his pluck
and promptitude she must have been drowned. A
moment's hesitation on his part and nothing could have
saved her."

" I made up my mind last night," the squire said, "to
do something for him. I have seen him before, and was
much struck with him."

"Then in that case, squire, I think the thing could be
managed. If the lad were sent to a good school his
mother might undertake the management of Aggie; she
could either go home of an evening or sleep here and
shut up her house, as you might arrange with her, living,
of course, at home when the boy was home for his holidays
and only coming up for a portion of the day."

"That would be a capital plan," the squire agreed
warmly; "the very thing. I should get cu all the bother
with strange women, and the child would have a lady she
is already fond of, and who, I have no doubt, is thoroughly
qualified for the work. Nothing could be better. I will
walk down this afternoon a^d see her myself, and I have
no doubt I shall be able to arrange it. And now about
yourself — what are your plans?"

" I shall start to-morrow morning on my tramp as
usuai," the sergeant answered quietly; "but I shall take
care in future that I do not come with my box within
thirty miles or so of Sidmouth. I do not want Aggie's
future to be in any way associated with a showman's
box. I shall come here sometimes to see her, as you
have kindly said I may, but I will not abuse the privilege
by coming too often; perhaps you won't think a day once
every three months to be too much?"

"I should think it altogether wrong and monstrous!"

the s
the c
cared
is eve
to her
away
the id(
you an
\vc hac
nobly
esteem
we hav
same r
you ha)
in her.
as my

sergeant
^ almost i
M 1- lonely
M f'le worl
now Iha
is a frie
could en
well as
equal to
The se
ness. H
posal he 1

"Vou
"but eve
bread as
^0. I an
^ posltior
"Pooh,
ten the ^

A Quiet Time

tlic squire exclaimed hotly. ** You have been virlually
the child's father for the last seven years. You have
cared for her, and loved her, and worked for her. She
is everything to you, and I feel how vast are your claims
to her compared to mine; and now you talk about going
away and coming to see her once every three months;
the idea is unnatural, it is downright monstrous! No,
you and I understand each other at last ; would to Heaven
we had done so eight years back ! I feel how much more
nobly you acted in that unhappy matter than I did, and I
esteem and honour you. We are both getting on in life,
we have one common love and interest, we stand in the
same relation to the child, and I say emphatically that
you have a right, and more than a right, to a half share
in her. You must go away no more, but remain here
as my friend and as joint g uardian of the child.

"I will have no refusal, man," he went on as the
sergeant shook his head. ' ' Your presence here will be
almost as great a comfort to me as to the child. I am
a lonely man. For years I have cut myself loose from
the world; I have neither associates nor friends. But
now that this great load is off my mind my first want
IS a friend; and v,'ho could be so great a friend, who
could enter into my plans and hopes for the future so
. well as yourself, who would have an interest in them
^ equal to my own?"

The sergeant was much moved by the squire's earnest-
ness. He saw that the lattei had really at heart the pro-
posal he made.

"You are very good, squire," he said in a low voice;

"but even if I could bring myself to eat another man's

'bread as long as I can work for my own, it would not

do. I am neither by birth nor education fitted for such

a position as that you offer to me."

"Pooh, nonsense!" the squire said hotly; "you have
een the world, you have travelled and mixed with men,

i '

ry pi ■'WWII

With Wolfe in Canada

I'll

you are fit to associate as an equal with anyone. Don't
you deceive yourself; you certainly do not deceive me.
It is pride that stands in your way. For that you are
going to risk the happiness of your granddaughter, to
say nothing of mine; for you don't suppose that either
of us is going to feel comfortable and happy when the
snow is whirling round and the wind sweeping the moors,
to think of you trudging along about the country while we
are sitting snugly here by a warm fire.

"You are wanting to spoil everything now that it has
all come right at last, by just the same obstinate pride
which wrecked the lives of our children. I won't have
it, man, I won't hear of it. Come, say no more; I want
a friend badly, and I am sure we shall suit each other.
I want a companion. Why, man, if I were a rich old
lady and you were a poor old lady, and I asked you to
come as my companion, you would see nothing derogatory
in the oflFer. You shall come as my companion now, or
If you like as joint guardian to the child. You shall have
your own rooms in the house; and when you feel inclined
to be grumpy and don't care to take your meals with the
child and me you can take them apart.

•*At any rate try it for a month, and if you are not
comfortable then I will let you go, though your rooms
shall always be in readiness for you whenever you are
disposed to come back. Come, give me your hand on
the bargain."

Sergeant Wilks could resist no longer. The last two
years' work without the child had indeed been heavy,
and especially in winter when the wind blew strong across
the uplands he began to feel that he was no longer as
strong as he used to be. The prospect of having Aggie
always near him was, however, a far greater temptation
than that of ending his days in quiet and comfort.

His hand and that of the squire met in a cordial grip,
and the matter was settled. Fortunately, as the sergeant

A Quiet Time

«7

t it has
te pride
I't have

I want
li other,
rich old
I you to
rogatory
now, or
lall have

inclined
with the

are not
rooms
you are
land on

last two
heavy,
across
jnger as

\g Aggie
iptation

kt.

^al grip,
iergeant

reflected, he had still his pension of ten shillings a week,
which would suffice to supply clothes and other little
necessaries which he might require, and would thus save
him from being altogether dependent on the squire.

A^^gie was wild with delight when she was called in and
informed of the arrangement. The thought of her grand-
father tramping the country alone had been the one draw-
back to the pleasure of her life at Mrs. Walsham's, and
many a time she had cried herself to sleep as she pictured
to herself his loneliness. That he was to be with her
always, was to give up his work to settle down in com-
tori. was indeed a delight to her. Greatly pleased was
she also to hear that Mrs. Walsham was to be asked to
come up to be her governess.

"Oh, it will be nice!" she exclaimed, clapping her
hands. "Just like the fairy stories you used to tell me,
grampa, when everyone was made happy at the end by
the good fairy. Grandpapa is the good fairy, and you
and 1 are the prince and princess; and James — and what
is to be done with James, is he to come up too?"

"No, rny dear," the squire said, smiling. "James is to
go to a good school, but you will see him when he comes
home for his holidays ; but that part of it is not arranged
yet, you know; but if you will put on your hat you can
walk down with us to the town and introduce me to Mrs.
Walsham."

Mrs. Walsham had just dismissed her pupils when the
party arrived, and was thinking how quiet and dull the
house was without Aggie, when the door opened and the
child rushed in and threw her arms round her neck.

"Oh, I have such good news to tell you! Grandpapa
is so good and kind, and grampa is going to live with
us, and you are to come up too, and James is to go to
school. Isn't it all splendid?"

'What are you talking about, Aggie?" Mrs. Walsham
asked bewildered, as the child poured out her news.

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23 WEST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, NY. 14S80

(716) 872-4503

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With Wolfe in Canada

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"Aggie is too fast, madam," the squire said, entering
the room accompanied by the sergeant. "She is taking
it all for granted while it h'as yet to be arranged. I must
apologize for coming in without knocking; but the child
opened the door and rushed in, and the best thing to do
was, we thought, to follow her. I have come, in the first
place, to thank you for your great kindness to my little
granddaughter, and to tell your son how deeply I feel
indebted to him for having saved her life two years ago.
Now, Aggie, you run away and look for your friend while I
talk matters over with Mrs. Walsham." .•

Aggie scampered away to find James, who was at work
at his books, and to tell him the news, while the squire
unfolded his plans to Mrs. Walsham.

His offers were so handsome that Mrs. Walsham accepted
them without an instant's hesitation. She was to have the
entire charge of the child during the day, with the option
of either returning home in the evening when Aggie went
in to dessert after dinner or of living entirely at the Hall.
The squire explained his intention of sending James to a
good school at Exeter as an instalment of the debt he
owed him for saving the child's life, and he pointed out
that when he was at home for his holidays Aggie could
have her holidays too, and Mrs. Walsham need only come
up to the Hall when she felt inclined.

Mrs. Walsham was delighted with the offer, even more
for James's sake than her own, although the prospect for
herself was most pleasant. To have only Aggie to teach
and walk with would be delightful after the monotony
of drilling successive batches of girls often inordinately
tiresome and stupid. She said at once that she should
prefer returning home at night — a decision which pleased
the squire, for he had wondered what he should do with
her in the evening. • >

The arrangement was at once carried into effect. The
school was broken up, and as the parents of the children

A Quiet Time %

were almost all tenants of the squire they offered no
objection to the girls being suddenly left on their hands
when they heard that their teacher was going to live as
governess at the Hall. Indeed, the surprise of Sidmouth
and the neighbourhood at learning that the little girl at
Mrs. Walsham's was the squire's granddaughter, and that
the showman was therefore a connection of the squire and
was going also to live at the Hall, was so great that there
was no room for any other emotion. Save for wrecks, or
the arrival of shoals of Bsh off the coast, or of troubles
between the smugglers and the revenue officers, Sidmouth
had few excitements, and the present news afforded food
for endless talk and conjecture.

On comparing notes it appeared that there was not a
woman in the place who had not been all along convinced
that the little girl at Mrs. Walsham's was something more
than she seemed to be, and that the showman was a man
quite out v *' the ordinary way. And when on the following
Sunday the s»,i--5an*-. who had in the meantime been to
Exeter, walke^i .quietly into church with the squire, all
agreed that the well-dressed military-looking man was a
gentleman, and that he had only been masquerading under
the name of Sergeant Wilks until somehow or other the
quarrel between him and the squire was arranged, and
the little heiress restored to her position; and Sidmouth
remained in that belief to the end.

The sergeant's military title was henceforth dropped.
Mr. Linthorne introduced him to his acquaintances — who
soon began to flock in when it was known that the squire's
granddaughter had come home, and that he was willing
to see his friends and join in society again — as " My friend
Mr. Wilks, the father of my poor boy's wife." And the
impression made was generally favourable.

None had ever known the exact story of Herbert's

marriage. It wp generally supposed that he had married

beneath him; but the opinion now was that this must

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With Wolfe in Canada

have been a mistake, for there was nothing in any way
vulgar about the quiet military^ooking gentleman with
whom the squire was evidently on terms of warm friend-
ship.

The only person somewhat dissatisfied with the arrange-
ment was James Walsham. He loved his mother so much
that he had never offered the slightest dissent to her plan
that he should follow in his father's footsteps. She was
so much set on the matter that he could never bring him-
self to utter a word in opposition. At heart, however,
he longed for a more stirring and more adventurous life,
such as that of a soldier or sailor, and he had all along
cherished a secret hope that something might occur to
prevent his preparing for the medical profession, and so
enable him to carry out his secret wishes. But the present
arrangement seemed to put an end to all such hopes, and
although grateful to the squire for sending him to a good
school, he wished with all his heart that he had chosen
some other way of manifesting his gratitude.

Four vears passed quietly. James Walsham worked
nard when at school, and during his holidays spent his
time for the most part on board the fishermen's boats.
Sometimes he went up to the Hall, generally at the
invitation of Mr. Wilks.

•'Why don't you come oftener, Jim?" the latter asked
him one day. "Aggie was saying only yesterday that
you used to be such friends with her, and now you hardly
ever come near her. The squire is as pleased as I am
to see you,"

"I don't know," Jim replied. "You see I am always
comfortable with you; I can chat with you, and tell you
about school, and about fishing, and so on. The squire
is very kind, but I know it is only because of that picking
Aggie out of the water, and I never seem to know what to
talk about with him ; and then, you see, Aggie is growing
a young lady, and can't go rambling about at my heels us

A Quiet Time

she used to do when she was a little girl. I like her,
you know, Mr. Wilks, just as I used to do; but I can't
carry her on my shoulder now and make a playfellow of
her."

"I suppose that's all natural enough, Jim," Aggie's
^grandfather said; ''but I do think it is a pity you don't
come up more often. You know we are all fond of you,
;iiid it will give us a pleasure to have you here."

Jim was, in fact, getting to the awkward age with boys.
When younger they tyrannize over their little sisters, when
older they may again take pleasure in girls' society; but
there is an age in every boy's life when he is inclined to
think girls a nuisance, as creatures incapable of joining
in games, and as being apt to get in the way. Still, Jim
was very fond of his former playmate, and had she been
still living down in Sidmouth with his mother they would
have been as great friends as ever.

At the end of the fourth year Richard Horton came back
after an absence of five years. He was now nearly twenty,
and had just passed as lieutenant. He was bronzed with
the Eastern sun^ and had grown from a good-looking boy
into a handsome young man, and was perfectly conscious
of his good looks. Among his comrades he had gained
the nickname of '* The Dandy" — a name which he accepted
in good part, although it had not been intended as com-
plimentary, for Richard Horton was by no means a popular
member of his mess. Boys are quick to detect each other's
failings, and several sharp thrashings when he first joined
nad taught Richard that it was very inexpedient to tell
a lie on board a ship if there was any chance of its being
detected.

As he had become one of the senior midshipmen his
natural haughtiness made him disliked by the younger lads,
while among those of his own standing he had not one
sincere friend, for there was a general feeling among them,
that although Richard Horton was a pleasant companion

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With Wolfe in Canada

liii '

and a very agreeable fellow when he liked, he was not some-
how straight, not the sort of fellow to be depended upon in
all emergencies.

By the captain and lieutenants, he was considered a smart
young officer. He was always careful to do his duty, quiet,
and gentlemanly in manner, and in point of appearance and
dress a credit to the ship. Accordingly all the reports thai
his captain had sent home of him had been favourable.
Great as was the rage and disappointment which Richard
had felt when he received the letter from his uncle telling
him of the discovery of his long-lost granddaughter, he had
the tact to prevent any signs of his feelings being visible
in the letter in which he replied. The squire had told him
that although the discovery would, of course, make a con-
siderable difference in his prospects, he should still, if the
reports of his conduct continued satisfactory, feel it his duty
to make a handsome provision for him.

"Thanks to my quiet life during the last ten years," the
squire had written, *' I have plenty for both of you. The
estate will, of course, go to her; but, always supposing
that your conduct will be satisfactory, I shall continue during
my lifetime the allowance you at present receive, and you
will find yourself set down in my will for the sum of twenty
thousand pounds."

Richard had replied in terms which delighted the squire.

**You see the boy has a good heart," he said, as he
handed the letter to Mr. Wilks. "No one could express
himself better." -.^ v

His companion read the letter over in silence.

** Charmingly expressed," he said as he returned it.
"Almost too charmingly it seems to me."

"Come, come, Wilks, you are prejudiced against the
young fellow for that business with Aggie and young
Walsham."

" I hope I am not prejudiced, squire," his friend replied;
** but when I know that a lad is a liar, and that he will bring

A Quiet Time

false accusations to shield himself, and when I know that
he was detested by all who came in contact with him — ^John
Petersham, the gardener, and the grooms — I require a good
deal more than a few satisfactory reports from his captain,
who can know very little of his private character, and a soft-
solderiuj letter like that, to reinstate him in my good
opinion. I will wager that if you and I had been standin^y
behind him when he opened your letter you would have
heard an expression of very different sentiments from those
he writes you here. Look at this: 'I regret indeed, my
dear uncle, that my new cousin must have such a bad
opinion of me, owing to my roughness in that unfortunate
affair, which I have never ceased to regret; but I hope
that when we meet I shall be able to overcome the dislike
which she must feel for me.' Bah!" the old soldier said
scornfully, *' I would lay all my pension to a shilling that
boy has already made up his mind that some day he will
marry Aggie, and so contrive to get the estates after all."
The squire burst into a good-humoured laugh.
"It's well I don't take up your wager. Such ideas as
that might occur to you and me, but hardly to a lad not yet
seventeen."

" Well, we shall see," the other said, cooling down.
" I hope I may be mistaken in him; we shall see when he
comes home."

When he did come home, the old soldier could find but
little fault with the young man. He had a frank and open
manner such as is common to men of his profession. He
was full of life and anecdote ; his manner to the squire was
admirable, affectionate, and quietly respectful, without any
air of endeavouring especially to ingratiate himself with
him; nor could the ex-sergeant find anything to complain
of in the young man's manner towards himself. He took
the first opportunity when they were alone to say how glad
he had been to hear that his grandfather had met with a
triend and companion in his lonely life, and to express a

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With Wolfe in Canada

hope that the bad opinion which he had doubtless formed
of him from his conduct when a boy would not be allowed
to operate against him now.

But though there was nothing he could find fault with,
the old soldier's prejudices were in no way shaken, and
indeed his antipathy was incf eased rather than diminished
by the young officer's conduct towards Aggie. It might
bC) of course, that he was only striving to overcome the
prejudiced feeling against him; but every time the old
soldier saw him with his granddaughter he felt angry.

In point of fact Aggie was disposed to like Richard even
before his arrival. Six years had eradicated every tinge of
animosity for that shove on the sand. His letters had been
long, bright, and amusing, and with the mementoes of travel
which he picked up in the ports of India and China, and
from time to time sent home to his uncle, there was always
a little box with some pretty trinket ** for my cousin". She
found him now a delightful companion ; he treated her as
if she had been seventeen instead of eleven, was ready to
ride or walk with her, or to tell her stories of the countries
he had seen, as she might choose, and to humour all her
whims and fancies.

"Confound him and his pleasant manners!" the ex-
sergeant would mutter to himself as he watched them to-
gether, and saw, as he believed, in the distance, the over-
throw of the scheme he had at heart. *' He is turning the
child's head ; and that foolish boy James is throwing away
his chances."

James indeed came home from school for the last time two
or three weeks after Richard Horton's return. He was now
nearly eighteen, and although a broad and powerful fellow
was still a boy at heart. He did not show to advantage
by the side of Richard Horton. The first time he went up
to the Hall after his return the latter had met him with out-
stretched hand.

*' I am glad to meet you again," he said; *^ I behaved like

A Quiet Time

a blackguard last time we met, and you gave me the thrash-
ing which I deserved. I hope we shall get on better in the
future."

Aggie and her two grandfathers were present, and James
VValsham certainly did not show to advantage by the side
of the easy and self-possessed young officer. He muttered
something about its being all right, and then found nothing
else to say, being uncomfortable and ill at ease. He made
some excuse about being wanted at home, and took his
leave ; nor did he again go up to call. Several times the
old soldier went down to Sidmouth to see him, and on one
occasion remonstrated with him for not coming up to the
Hall.

•'What's the use?" James said roughly. ** I have got
lots of reading to do, for in two months you know I am to
go up to London to walk the hospitals. No one wants me
up there. Aggie has got that cousin of hers to amuse her,
and I should feel only in the way if I went."

Mr. Wilks was fairly out of temper at the way things
were going. He was angry with James; angry with the
squire, who evidently viewed with satisfaction the good
understanding between his granddaughter and nephew;
angry for the first time in his life with Aggie herself.

" You are growing a downright little flirt, Miss Aggie,"
he said one day when the girl came in from the garden,
where she had been laughing and chatting with her cousin.
He had intended to speak playfully, but there was an earnest-
ness in his tone which the girl at once detected.

•'Are you really in earnest, grampa?" she asked, for she
still retained the childish name for her grandfather — so dis-
tinguishing him from the squire, whom she always called
grandpapa.

"No; I don't know that I am in earnest, Aggie," he
said, trying to speak lightly; "and yet perhaps to some
extent I am."

"I am sure you are," the girl said. "Oh, grampa I

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With Wolfe in Canada

you are not really cross with me, are you?" and the tears
at once sprang into her eyes. " I have not been doing any-
thing wrong, have I?"

" No, my dear, not in the least wrong," her grandfather
said hastily; " still, you know i don't like seeing Jim, who
has always been so good and kind to you, quite neglected,
now this young fellow, who is not fit to hold a candle to
him, has turned up."

"Well, I haven't neglected him, grampa; he has
neglected me. He has never been near since that first day,
and you know I can't very well go round to Sidmouth and
say to him, ' Please come up to the Hall.'"

" No, my dear, I know you can't, and he is behaving like
a young fool."

"Why is he?" Aggie asked, surprised. "If he likes
sailing about better than coming up here, why shouldn't
he?"

•• I don't think It's for that he stays away, Aggie. In fact,
you see Jim has only iust left school, and he feels he can't
laugh, and talk, and tell you stories about foreign countries
as this young fellow can, and having been so long ac-
customed to have you to himself, he naturally would not
like the playing second fiddle to Richard Horton."

"But he hasn't been here much," the girl said, "ever
since I came here. He used to be so nice and so kind in
the old days when I lived down there that I can't make out
why he has changed so."

" My dear, I don't think he has changed; he has been
only a boy, and the fact is, he is only a boy still. He is
fond of sailing and of the amusements boys take to, and he
doesn't feel at home and comfortable here as he did with
you when you were a little girl at his mother's. But mind,
Aggie, James is true as steel ; he is an honourable and
upright young fellow. He is worth fifty of this sell-
satisfied, pleasant-spoken young sailor."

" I know James is good and kind, grampa," the girl said

A Quiet Time

earnestly; "but you see he is not very amusing, and
Richard is very nice."

'•Nice! yes," the old soldier said; "a fair-weather sort
of niceness, Aggie. Richard Horton is the squire's nephew,
and I don't wish to say anything against him; but mark
my words, and remember them, there's more goodness in
James's little finger than there is in his whole body. But
there, I am a fool to be talking about it. There is your
cousin calling you in the garden. Go along with you."

The girl went off slowly, wondering at her grandfather's
earnestness. She knew she liked her old playmate far
better than Richard Horton, although the latter's atten-
tions pleased and flattered her. The old soldier went
straight off to the squire's study.

"Squire," he said, "you remember that talk we had
three years ago when your nephew's answer came to your
letter, telling him that Aggie was found. I told you that
1 would wager he had made up his mind to marry her.
You laughed at me; but I was right. Child though she
still is, he is already paving the way for the future."

•• Master Richard certainly is carrying on a sort of flirta-
tion with the little witch," the squire said, smiling; " but
as she is such a mere child as you say, what does it
matter?"

" I think it matters a great deal," the old soldier said
seriously. '* I see, squire, the young fellow has quite re-
gained your good opinion ; and unless I am mistaken you
have already thought to yourself that it would not be a bad
thing if they were to come together some day. I have
thought it over, and have made up my mind that, in spite
of your four years' continued kindness to me and of the
warm friendship between us, I must ifo away for a time.
My box is still lying at Exeter, and I wouid rather tramp
the country again and live on it and my pension than stay
here and see my darling growing up a woman with that
future before her. I am sorry to say, squire, that what you

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With Wolfe in Canada

call my prejudice is as strong as ever. I doubt that young
fellow as strongly as I did before he came home. Then I
only had his past conduct and his letter to go by; now I
have the evidence of my own senses. You may ask me
what I have against him. I tell you — nothing ; but I mis-
doubt him from my heart. 1 feel that he is false, that what
he was when a boy he is now. There is no true ring about
him."

The squire was silent for a minute or two. He had a very
sincere friendship and liking for his companion, a thorough
confidence in his judgment and principles. He knew his
self-sacrificing nature, and that he was only speaking from
his love for his grandchild.

"Do not let us talk about it now, old friend," he said
quietly. "You and I put before all other things Aggie's
happiness. Disagreement between us there can be none
on the subject. Give me to-night to think over what you
have said, and we will talk about it again to-morrow."

, -I

CHAPTER VI

A Storm

After breakrast next morning the squire asked his friend
to go with him into his study.

" I have been thinking this matter over," he said, " very
seriously, and upon reflection I agree with you that it is un-
desirable that Aggie should see much of Richard until she
is of an age to form a fair opinion for herself, and to com-
pare him with other young men. I agree with you also
that we have not yet sufficient proofs that he is completely
changed. I hope that he is. Vou think he is not. At any
rate he must have a longer trial, and until it is proved to
your satisfaction, as well as mine, that he is in every way
a desirable husband for Aggie, the less they see of each
other the better. I therefore propose to write at once to
my friend Admiral Hewson to ask him to use his influence
at the Admiralty to get the young fellow appointed to a
ship. Does that meet your approval, my friend?"

*' Quite so," the other said cordially ; " nothing could be
better. In the meantime, as you say, should Richard turn
out well, and the young people take a liking for each other,
no match could be more satisfactory. What I want is that
she should take no girlish fancy for him at present."

" So be it then," the squire said. " I think, you know,
that we are a couple of old fools to be troubling ourselves
about Aggie's future at present. Still in a matter which
concerns us both so nearly we cannot be too careful. If
we had a woman with us we could safely leave the matter
in her hands; as it is we must blunder on as best we may."

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With Wolfe in Canada

And so it was settled, and a week later Richard Horton
received an official letter from the Admiralty ordering him
to proceed at once to Portsmouth to join the Thetis, to
which he was appointed as fourth lieutenant. The order
gave Richard extreme satisfaction. He was beginning to
find his life desperately dull, and he was heartily sick of
playing the attentive nephew. He was well content with
the progress he had made ; nothing had gone wrong since
he returned, his uncle had clearly taken him back into his
favour, and he had no doubt that Aggie quite appreciated
the pains he had bestowed to gain her liking.

He detested the squire's companion, for he felt that the
latter disliked and distrusted him, and that his projects
would meet with a warm opposition on his part. Still,
with the squire and Aggie herself on his side he did not
fear the result. As to James Walsham, whom he had
come home prepared to regard as a possible rival from his
early intimacy with the child, and the fact that his mother
was her governess, he now regarded him with contempt
mingled with a revengeful determination to pay off" the
old score should a chance ever present itself.

He therefore started next day in high spirits, assuming,
however, a great reluctance to tear himself away. A few
days later a letter came from him, saying that he hoped
that he should be able to come back sometimes for a day
or two, as the Thetis was at present to be attached to the
Channel squadron, and it was not expected that she would
for some time proceed on foreign service.

Early in October James Walsham was to go up to
London to commence his medical course. A week before
he was to start Mr. Wilks went down in the morning,
intending to insist on his returning with him to the Hall.
As he went down towards Sidmouth the old soldier noticed
how strongly the wind was blowing, the trees were sway-
ing and thrashing in the wind, the clouds were flying past
overhead. Everything portended a severe gale. Finding

o^..•

A Storm

lOI

at Mrs. Walshatn's that James was down on the beach he
continued his course until he joined him there. James
was standing with a group of fishermen who were looking
seaward. Now that he was exposed to the full force of
the wind Mr. Wilks felt that not only was it going to blow
a gale, but that it was blowing one already. The heavy
clouds on the horizon seemed to lie upon the water, the
waves were breaking with great force upon the beach, and
the fishermen had hauled their boats up across the road.

"It's blowing hard, Jim," he said, laying his hand on
the young fellow's shoulder.

** It is blowing hard, and it will blow a great deal harder
before nightfall; the fishermen all think it is going to be
an exceptional gale. It is blowing dead on shore. It will
be bad work for any ships that happen to be coming up
Channel to-day. Eight or ten of our boats are out. We
thought we had made out three of them just before you
came, but the cloud closed down on them. The fisher-
men are just going to get lifelines ready. I am afraid
we are going to have a terrible night of it."

" I came down to ask you if you will come up to luach,
Jim, but I suppose you will not be able to tear yourself
away from here."

" I shouldn't like to leave now indeed. There is no say-
ing what may happen. Besides so many of the fishermen
are away that I may be useful here if a vessel comes
ashore, and there may be half a dozen before the morning.
Every hand will be wanted to give assistance."

" But you could not get a boat out through those
breakers, could you, Jim?"

'• Yes," Jim replied, *' we might get one of the big boats
through it now; but it's going to be worse presently.
When I went out last year with a boat to the brig which
was driven ashore, it was worse than this. I shall be
very glad to come up to-morrow if you will let me. 1
hear that fellow Horton went away last week."

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102

With Wolte in Canada

''! i

111

" Yes, he went away, Jim. But why his being there
should have kept you from going up is beyond me."

"I don't like the fellow, Mr. Wilks. He may mean
very well, but I don't like him. I have been in one row
about him with the squire, and I don't want another; but
I am quite sure if I had gone up much while he was there
it would have ended in my trying to punch his head again."

" In that case, perhaps," the old soldier said, smiling,
"you were wise to stay away, Jim. I don't like the lad
myself; still, punching his head would not have been a
desirable thing."

'• I am glad you don't like him," James said warmly.
*' Somehow I made up my mind that you were all sure tc
like him, and I don't suppose the idea made me like him
any the better. He was just the free-and-easy sort of
fellow to get along well, and I was quite sure that Aggie
would not want me when she had him to go about with
her. I saw him drive through in the pony carriage with
her two or three times, and it was easy to see how
thoroughly she was enjoying herself."

*'Well, it was your own fault, my boy. If you choose
to sulk down here and never to go up to the Hall you
can't blame Aggie for letting herself be amused by some-
one else."

"Oh! I don't blame her," James said hastily. "Of
course it is all right that she should enjoy herself with her
cousin ; only somehow you know after being great friends
with anyone one doesn't like to see someone else stepping
into your place."

" But as I have told you over and over again during the
last three years, Jim, you have wilfully stepped out of your
place. You know how often I have asked you to come up,
and how seldom you have come. You have never shown
Aggie that you have any wish to continue on the footing
of friendship on which you stood towards each other when
she was at your mother's, and as you have chosen to throw

A Storm

103

her over I don't see why she shouldn't take to anyone else
who takes pains to make himself pleasant to her."

"Oh! I don't blame her a bit, Mr. Wilks; how could
you think such a thing ! I was very fond of little Aggie
when she was at my mother's; but of course I was not
ass enough to suppose that she was going trotting about
the country with me when she once went up to the Hall as
the squire's granddaughter. Of course the whole thing
was changed. Ah! here comes the rain."

As he spoke a sudden splash of rain struck them. It
might have been noticed coming across the water in a
white line. With it came a gust of wind, to which that
which had already been blowing was a trifle. There was
no more talking, for nothing less than a shout could have
been heard above the roaring of the wind. It was scarcely
possible to stand against the fury of the squall, and they
were driven across the road, and took shelter at the corner
of some houses where the fishermen had already retired.

The squall lasted but a few minutes, but was soon suc-
ceeded by another almost equally furious, and this seemed
to increase in strength until the wind was blowing a per-
fect hurricane; but the fishermen now struggled across
the road again, for between the rain squalls a glimpse had
been caught of two of the fishing boats, and these were
now approaching the shore ; a mere rag of sail was set on
each, and yet they tore over the waves at tremendous
speed.

One was some two hundred yards ahead of the other,
and by the course they were making they would come
ashore nearly at the same spot. The news that two boats
were in sight spread rapidly, and many of the fishermen's
wives with shawls over their heads ran down and stood
peering out from behind shelter, for it was wellnigh im-
possible to stand exposed to the fury of the gale. An old
fisherman stood with a coil of rope in his hand close to the
water's edge. Several of the others stood close to him,

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104 With Wolfe in Canada

and four of them had hold of the other end of the rope.
When the boat was within fifty yards of shore the sail was
lowered; but she still drove straight on before the wind
with scarce an abatement in her speed. A man stood in
her bow, also with a coil of rope in his hand, and as lie
approached threw it far ahead. The fisherman rushed
waistdeep into the water and caught the end of it, which
in a moment was knotted to the one in his hand.

•• Run along with her," he shouted.

For a moment the boat towered on the top of a wave
which raced in towards the shore. The next as it came
took her stern, and she was in the act of swinging round
when the strain of the rope came upon her and brought
her straight again. Higher and higher the wave rose and
then crashed down, and the boat shot forward like an
arrow in the foam. The fishermen rushed forward and
caught it, those on board leapt out waistdeep; all were
taken off their feet by the backward rush, but they clung
to the sides of the boat, while the men at the headrope,
with their heels dug deeply into the sand, withstood the
strain, and kept her from being swept out again.

A few seconds and the boat was left dry, and the next
wave carried it high up on the beach amid a loud cheer
from the fishermen and lookers-on ; but there was no time
to waste, for the next boat was close at hand. Again the
rope was thrown to the shore, but this time the strain
came a moment too late, the following wave turned the
boat round, the next struck it broadside and rolled it over
and over towards the shore. The fishermen in an instant
joined hands, and rushing down into the water strove to
grasp the men.

Several times those in front were knocked down and
rolled up on the beach, but three of the crew were brought
in with them. There was one still missing, and there was
a shout as he was seen clinging to an oar just outside the
\\r ' breakers. James Walsham had been working with

A Storm

105

the fishermen in saving those already brought to shore.
He now fastened the end of a line round his body.

•'You can never get through those rollers — they will
break you up like an egg shell," the old fisherman shouted.

'• I will dive through them," Jim shouted back. " Give
me plenty of slack, and don't pull till you see I have got
him."

The lad waited for his opportunity, and then rushing
down after the sheet of white foam he stood waistdeep as
a great wave, some twelve feet high, towered up like a
wall towards him. It was just going to break when
James plunged head foremost into it. There was a crash
which shook the earth, a mass of wildly rushing foam, and
then, some ten yards beyond the spot where the wave had
broken, Jim's head appeared above the surface. It was
but tor a moment, for he immediately dived again under
the next wave and then came up within a few yards of the
floating oar. A stroke or two and he was alongside; he
seized the man and held up one arm as a signal. In a
moment the rope tightened and they moved towards shore.
When they were close to the edge of the breaking waves
Jim held up his hand and the strain stopped.

"Now," he said to the man, ** the moment they begin
to pull leave go of the oar and throw your arms around me."

He waited until a wave bigger than ordinary approached,
and just as it began to pass under him gave the signal.
Higher and higher they seemed to rise, then they were
dashed down with a tremendous shock ; there was a
moment's confusion as they were swept along in the white
water, Jim felt a terrific strain and it seemed to him that
the rope would cut him in sunder, then he was seized by a
dozen strong arms and carried high and dry before the
next wave could reach him. For a minute or two he was
scarce conscious ; the breath had been almost knocked out
of his body with the break of the wave, and the rushing
water seemed still singing in his ears.

iH:'*i|i:

io6 With Wolfe in Canada

**Are you hurt, my boy? are you hurt, James?" were
the first words he clearly heard.

'* No, I think I am all right," he said, trying to sit up.
" Is the other fellow all right?"

** He has broke his arm," one of the fishermen who had
just helped the man to his feet replied; " he may be thank-
ful it's no worse." .

James was now helped to his feet. - ' >

'•i am all right," he repeated to Mr. Wilks, *• except
that I feel as if I had a hot iron round my body ; that rope
has taken the skin off all round me, I fancy, and doesn't it
smart just with the salt water ! "

"Oh, James, how could you do it?" a girl's voice said
suddenly. The fishermen drew aside, and Aggie Linthorne
pressed forward.

The squire had gone into her schoolroom and had said,
"Mrs. Walsham, I think you had better give up your
lessons for the morning and get home ; it is blowing a gale
now, and we shall probably have the rain down before
long. I will walk down with you; the wind is dead on
the shore, and it will be a grand sight."

Aggie at once set her mind on going too ; but the squire
refused until Mrs. Walsham suggested that if it came on
wet Aggie could stop at her house until it cleared up, or,
if necessary, till morning. Whereupon the squire had
given way and the three had started together for Sidmouth,
leaving Mrs. Walsham at her house as they passed. The
others had struggled down against the wind until they
came within sight of the sea. The first boat had just been
run safely on shore when they arrived, and Aggie gave a
cry and put her hands over her face as the second boat
was seen to capsize. •

' "Cling to me, Aggie," the squire said. " See, they are
rushing in the water to save them; they will have them
yet!"

At the cheer which broke ou*^ from the spectators, clus-

:i'i

A Storm

107

tering thickly now, as the first of the shipwrecked crew
was brought to shore, Aggie looked out again. It was
a sight she never forgot; with the great waves crashing
down on the shore, and the line of straggling figures
waistdeep in the white foam, in which were scattered here
and there portions of the boat, oars, sails, and nets.

•' Well done, well donel" the squire exclaimed. " They
have dragged up three of them. I don't know whether
there are any more."

"Yes, yes, look!" Aggie cried; "there, out in the
waves — there, 1 can see a head. That's just about where
1 was nearly drowned. Oh, grandpapa, take me away,
I can't look at it."

•' There's someone going out to save him, Aggie; listen
to the cheer."

A^gie looked again. ** Oh, grandpapa, stop him, stop
him!" she cried, '* it's James." But at the same moment
the plunge was made and the figure lost to sight.

Aggie threw her arms round her grandfather and hid
her face.

"I can't look, I can't look," she cried; "tell me about
it."

"There, ne is up; bravo!" the squire exclaimed, almost
as excited as she was; " he has dived again, dear," — then
after a pause — " there he is close to him; he has got him,
Aggie ! Now he is waving his hand ; now they are tighten-
ing the rope; now he is waving his hand again and the}
are waiting. There ! "

There was a pause which seemed to the girl to be end-
less, then the squire cried :

"They have got them out, both of them;" and a loud
cheer broke from all standing round.

"Come along, grandpapa, lee us go down to them."

" Stay a moment, my dear, they may be hurt; it's better
you should not go."

The girl stood with her hands clasped gazing at the

i "'

io8

With Wolfe in Canada

;''■•

;l I

ij;

fishermen grouped on the shore stooping over the prostrate
figures, then one of them stood up and waved his hund,
and the spectators knew that all was well. Then the girl
ran down to join them.

"Why, Aggie!" James exclaimed in astonishment, as
she pressed forward; "why, my dear, what brings you
here in this storm? Whatever will the squire say?"

"The squire has brought her down himself," Mr. Lin-
thorne said, following closely behind his granddaughter;
"and he is glad he did, James, for she has seen a grand
sight. You are a fine fellow;" and he wrung the lad's
hand. "A grand fellow, Wilks, isn't he?"

" I always said so, squire," the old soldier said, his face
beaming with satisfaction; " but now let us get him home,
and Aggie, too, the child will be blown away." But for
a minute or two they could not carry James off, so closely
did the men and women press round him and shake him
by the hand. At last they got him away, and escorted
by a crowd of cheering boys led him back to his
mother's.

"Your son is a hero, Mrs. Walsham!" the squire ex-
claimed as they entered; "but don't talk to him now, but
mix him a glass of hot grog. Wilks, you get him between
the blankets directly. I will tell his mother all about it
while she is mixing the grog. Hallo, Aggie! why, bless
the child, she's fainted."

The girl had borne up till they reached the house, to-
wards which the wind had blown her along as she clung
to her grandfather's arm; but the excitement had been
too much for her, and the instant they entered the room
she had dropped into an armchair and at once lost con-
sciousness.

Mrs. Walsham kept her presence of mind in spite of her
bewilderment at these sudden occurrences. She at once
laid the girl on the sofa, removed her dripping bonnet and
cloak, and poured a few drops of brandy between her lips,

A Storm

109

while she set the squire to work to chafe her hands. Ag^ie
soon opened her eyes and recovered her consciousness.

•' Don't try to get up, Aggie," Mrs. Walsham said.
" You are faint and shaken with all this excitement. Your
grandpapa and I weie two very foolish people to let you
come out. Now, Mr. Wilks, the best thing you can do
is to find a boy outside, and send him up to the Hall with
a message that the carriage is to come down directly.
1 think, Mr. Linthorne, she had better get back home.
1 should be glad enough, as you know, to keep her here
for the night; but this house is rocking with the wind
now, and she would not be likely to get any sleep here.
1 will run up and see how Janies is, and if he is all right
I will come up with her and stop the night. She is very
much shaken, and had better not be alone."

Mrs. Walsham soon came downstairs again and said
that James said he never felt better in his life, and that by
all means she was to go up to the Hall. She then set
about and prepared a cup of tea, which greatly restored
Aggie, and by the time the carriage arrived the girl was
able to walk to the gate.

Mr. Wilks had offered to remain with James, but the
latter would not hear of it. The lad was indeed well
pleased to hear that they were all going up to the Hall, as
thereby he escaped hearing any more of his own praises.
Besides, he was most anxious to get down to the beach
again, for no one could say what might take place there
before morning.

As soon, therefore, as he heard the door close he jumped
out of bed, and when, peeping through the blinds, he saw
the carriage drive off with its four occupants he at once
began to dress. He felt bruised and sore from the blows
he had received, and a red wheal round his chest beneath
the arms showed where the rope had almost cut into the
flesh. However, he soon dressed himself and descended
the stairs, went into the kitchen and told the astonished

i *

'I'.-

►

no With Wolfe in Canada

girl that he was going out; then having made a hasty
meal of bread and cold meat he put on his oilskins again
and started for the shore.

He did not, however, wait long. So heavy was the sea
now that nothing whatever could be done should any
vessel drive ashore, and as for the fisher boats, the sailors
shook their heads as they spoke of them. "They were
farther away to the west, so the chaps as got ashore tells
us ; they may have got in somewhere before it got to the
worst; if not, it must have gone hard with them." Find-
ing that there was nothing to be done, and that he was
much more stiff and bruised than he had believed, Jim
made his way back again and turned into bed, where
he soon fell asleep and did not wake until the following
morning.

One of the grooms had come down from the Hall at six
o'clock to enquire how he was, and the message given by
the girl that he had been out, but that he had come bacl{
and was now sound asleep, satisfied Mrs. Walsham, and
enabled her to devote her undivided attention to her
charge, who needed her care more than her son. Before
night, indeed, the squire had sent down to Sidmouth for
Dr. Walsham's successor, who said that Aggie was very
feverish and must be kept perfectly quiet for some days.
He sent her up a soothing draught, and Mrs. Walsham
sat up with her all night. She slept but little, and talked
almost incessantly, sometimes rambling a little.

The first thing in the morning the doctor was again sent
for, and on his recommendation the squire at once sent off
a man on horseback to Exeter for the leading physician of
that town. When he arrived late in the afternoon Aggie
was somewhat quieter and his report was more cheering.

"Her pulse is very high," he said; "but Mr. Langford
tells me that it is not so rapid as It was in the morn-
ing, and that he thinks the symptoms are abating. Un-
doubtedly it is a sharp feverish attack brought on by

A Storm

III

excitement and exposure. A very little more and it would
have been a case of brain fever, but I trust now that it
will soon pass off. The sedatives that have been adminis-
tered are taking eifect, and I trust she will soon fall asleep.
As you requested, I have made my arrangements for stay-
ing' here to-night, and I trust that by the morning we
bhall have her convalescent."

Mr. Wilks had gone down the first thing in the morning
to see James, and found him up and about as usual. He
was very greatly concerned at hearing that Aggie had
passed a bad night, and came four times up to the Hall
during the day to enquire about her ; and on his last visit,
late in the evening, he was told that she was sleeping
quietly, and that the doctor had every hope that she would
wake in the morning free from fever. This proved to be
the case J but she was ordered to keep her bed for a day
or two.

On the morning after the storm the wind had gone
down much, although a tremendous sea was still breaking
on the shore. Messages arrived in the course of the day
to say that all the missing boats, with one exception, had
succeeded in gaining the shore before the storm was full
on. The missing boat was never heard of again.

Two days later James Walsham had strolled up the hill
to the east of the town, and was lying with a book before
him in a favourite nook of his looking over the sea. It
was one of the lovely days which sometimes come late in
autumn, as if the summer were determined to show itself
at its best before leaving. It could not be said that James
was studying, for he was watching the vessels passing far
out at sea, and inwardly moaning over the fact that he
was destined for a profession for which he had no real
liking, instead of being free to choose one of travel and
adventure.

Presently he heard voices behind him. The position iii
which he was lying was a little distance down on the

. '

mmw^:

!!|i !!

iia

With Wolfe in Canada

slopes on the seaward side of the path, and as a screen
of bushes grew behind it he could not be seen by any-
one passing along.

"All the men with their pistols and cutlasses are to
assemble here at ten o'clock to-night, Johnson, but do not
give them orders till late, and let them come up one by one
so as not to attract attention. Lipscombe's men arr tc
assemble at the same hour and march to meet us. Thi«'
time, 1 think, there is no mistake. The cargo is to be
landed where 1 told you. It will be high tide at twelve
o'clock, and they are sure to choose that hour, so that the
cutter can run close in. I have sent off a man on horse-
back to Weymouth for the revenue cutter to come round.
If she's in time we shall catch that troublesome lugger as
well as her cargo. She has been a thorn in our side for
the last year. This time I do hope we shall have her."

The speakers then moved on out of hearing, but James
Walsham recognized the voice as Lhat of the revenue
officei commanding the force at Sidmouth.

Smuggling was at that time carried on on a large scale
along the coast, and there were frequent collisions between
those engaged in it and the revenue officers. The sym-
pathies of the population were wholly with the smugglers,
and the cheating of the revenue was not at all considered
in the light of a crime. Many of the fishermen from time
to time took a hand in smuggling cruises, and the country
people were always ready to lend assistance in landing and
carrying the cargoes.

When out in their boats at night James had often heard
the fishermen tell stories of their smuggling adventures,
and more than once he had been with them when they had
boarded a lugger laden with contraband, to warn them
that the revenue cutter was on the cruising ground, and
it would not be safe to attempt to run cargo at present.
He now determined at once that he would warn the smug-
g^lers of their danger. The question was. Where was the

A Storm

cargo to be run? The officer had not mentioned the spot,
but as the force from the next station to the east was to
co-operate, it must be somewhere between the two.

Waiting till the speakers must have gone well along the
cliflF, he rose to his feet and returned to Sidmouth. He
thought at first of telling some of the fishermen what be
had heard, but as, in the event of an affray, it might conn-
out how the smugglers had been warned of the intention
of the revenue oflicers, he thought there would be less risk
in giving them warning himself. He knew every path
down the cliff for miles, and trusted that he should be
able to make his way down and give che boats notice of
their danger before the revenue men reached the shore.

At nine o'clock he dressed himself in the rough sailor's
suit he wore when he went out with the fishermen, and
started along the cliff. For some distance he kept well
inland, as the officer might have placed a man on the look-
out to stop anyone going towards the scene of action.
The spot he thought the most likely was a mile and a half
along the shore. There was a good landing-place, and
an easy path up the cliff, and he knew that cargoes had
been more than once run here. Accordingly, when he
reached this spot he sat down among some bushes on the
edge of the cliff, and waited for some sort of signal. Half
an hour later he heard the tramp of a number of men
passing along behind him.

"There go the revenue men," he thought to himself.
" I suppose they are going to meet those coming the
other way."

An hour passed without further sound, and James began
to get uneasy. If this was the spot fixed for the landing,
some of the country people ought to be arriving by this
time to help to carry off the cargo. They might, for aught
he knew, be already near, waiting for the signal before
they descended the path. No doubt the revenue men
would be lying in wait a short distance off, and would

(837) t

$■

it'

114 With Wolfe in Canada

allow the friends of the smugglers to go down to the watet
without letting them know of their presence.

He kept his eyes fixed on the water to the east, watch-
ing anxiously for the appearance of a light. Presently he
started. Immediately in front of him, about a mile at sea,
a bright light was shown. In a second it disappeared.
Three times it flashed out, and then all was dark. The
night was a very dark one. There was no moon, and the
stars were obscured, and although he strained his eyes to
the utmost he could not make out the vessel from which
the light had been shown.

*• How foolish to show such a bright light!" he said to
himself. '* It would have been almost sure to attract the
attention of anyone on the watch."

He made his way to the path, and descended to the edge
of the water, and waited, expecting momentarily to be
joined by people from above. But no one came. He
strained his ears listening for the fall of approaching oars;
but all was silent.

Half an hour passed, and then it flashed across him that
the signal must have been made to deceive the revenue
men and to cause them to assemble at that spot, and so
leave the point really determined upon free for operations.

With an exclamation of disgust at his own stupidity in
having been deceived James ran up the path again at the
top of his speed, and then took the road along the cliff.
For two miles he ran without interruption, and then saw
a dark mass in front of him. He turned off instantly to
the left. Doubtless he had been heard approaching, for
two or three men detached themselves from the rest, and
started to cut him off". James ran straight inland, and in
the darkness soon lost sight of his pursuers. Then he turned
and made for the cliff again. Two or three hundred yards
farther along there was another path to the shore, and
this he had no doubt now was the one the smugglers were
about to use. He struck the cliff within a few yards ut

A Storm

the spot. In an instant two men jumped up and seized
him.

"Who are you?"

For an instant James thought that his assailants were
revenue men, but even in the darlmess he saw that they
were countrymen.

"Quick!" he said. "The revenue men are close at
hand. They are watching two or three hundred yards
along. Listen! Here they come."

A tramping of feet coming rapidly along the cliff was
clearly heard, and the men with an oath released their
hold and ran off, giving a loud whistle, and made for their
carts, which were stationed a few hundred yards inland.
James dashed down the path, shouting at the top of his
voice. He had not gone many ya»-ds before he met a
number of men coming up with tubs of spirits on their
shoulders.

"Throw them down," he cried, "and make along the
shore. The revenue men are close behind."

His advice was taken at once. The tubs were thrown
down, and went leaping and bounding down to the shore,
while the men followed James at full speed down the path.

Their pursuers were close behind. There was no longer
any use in concealment. Their officer shouted to them to
press forward at full speed, while from the beach below
a hubbub of voices suddenly broke out, and at the same
moment a blue light was lit on the cliff above.

" Beat them back, my lads," one of the smugglers was
shouting, as James ran down to the little crowd of men
stanrling near two boats; "we are five to one against
them; come on."

" Surrender in the king's name," the revenue officer
shouted, as he rushed forward, followed by his men.

The answer was a pistol-shot," and in a moment a furious
m^Uv. began. The advantage in numbers was all on the
side of the smugglers. Those who had landed with the

^;*

fi6

With Wolfe in Canada

kegs were all armed with pistol and cutlass, and the
countrymen had heavy sticks and bludgeons. The ten
revenue men would have been overpowered, but suddenly
a shout was heard, and another party of sailors ran up
along the shore ^nd joined in the fray. It was the de-
tachment from the other station, which had been waiting
at some little distance along the shore for the signal from
above. i

*'To the boats, lads," the leader of the smugglers
shouted, "we are caught in a trap."

The smugglers rushed to the boats, and James, who
Was standing by the water's edge, leaped on board with
them. Most of the country people fled at once along the
shore, pursued by some of the revenue men, while the
others made a rush for the boats. These had been kept
afloat a few yards from the shore. Grapnels had been
dropped over their sterns, and as the men in charge hauled
out the moment the fight began, they were in water
shoulder-deep when the smugglers scrambled on board.

The revenue men dashed in after them and strove to
hold the boats; but they v/ere beaten off with oars and
cutlasses, and the boats were soon hauled out into deep
water. The grapnels were lifted, and the men, many of
whom were wounded more or less severely in the fray,
got out their oars and pulled to the lugger amid a dropping
fire of pistol shots from shore.

■f

CHAPTER Vil

Pressed

Many and deep were the maledictions uttered as the
smugglers climbed on board their vessel ; but their captain
said cheerily :

•'Never mind, lads, it might have been worse; it was
only the first cargo of tubs, and half of those weren't
ashore; the lace and silk are all right, so no great harm
is done. Set to work and get up sail as soon as you
can; likely enough there is a cutter in the offing; that
blue light must have been a signal. They seem to have
got news of our landing somehow."

The crew at once set to work to get up sail. Three
or four of the countrymen, who had, like James, got on
board the boats, stood in a group looking on confused
and helpless ; but James lent his assistance until the sails
were hoisted and the craft began to move through the
water.

"Now, then," the captain said, "let us go below and
look at the wounds; we daren't show a light here on
deck."

The wounds were for the most part slashes and blows
with cutlasses, for in the darkness and confusion of the
fight only two of the bullets had taken effect ; one of the
smugglers had fallen shot through the head, while one
of those on board had his arm broken by a pistol ball.

Now for our passengers," the captain said after the
I wounds had been bandaged.

117

* *

ii8

With Wolfe in Canada

*' Who are you?" and he lifted a lantern to James's face.

"Why, it is young Mr. Walsham!" he exclaimed in
surprise.

James knew the man now, for the lugger had several
times put in at Sidmouth, where, coming in as a peace-
able trader, the revenue officers, although well aware of
the nature of her vocation, were unable to touch her, as
vessels could only be seized when they had contraband
on board.

" Why, what brings you into this aflFair, young master?'

James related the conversation he had overheard, and
his determination tc warn the smugglers of their danger.

" 1 should have managed it in plenty of time if I had
known the exact spot on which you were going to land;
but I saw a signal light two miles down the coast, and
that kept me there for half an hour. It struck me then
it was a ruse to attract the officers from the real spot o(
landing, but though I ran as hard as I could I was only
just before them."

"Thank you heartily," the smuggler said. "I expect
you saved us from a much worse mess than we got into.
I have no doubt they meant to capture the tubs as they
were loaded without raising an alarm, and the fellows on
the shore would have come up quietly and taken us by
surprise as we were landing the last boatloads. Thanks
to you, we have got well out of it, and have only lost
one of our hands and a score or so of tubs."

" You can't put me ashore, I suppose?" James said.

"That I can't," the smuggler replied. "I have no
doubt that cutter from Weymouth is somewhere outside
us, and we must get well off the coast before morning.
If we give her the slip I will send you off in a boat some-
time to-morrow. I must go ashore myself to make fresh
arrangements for getting my cargo landed."

James went on deck again; the breeze was light, and
the lugger was slipping along quietly through the water.

Pressed

119

5 face,
led in

several
peace-
krare ot
her, as
;raband

aster?'
rd, and
danger,
if I had
to land;
last, and
me then
1 spot ot
was only

I expect
got into.

as they
"Uovvs on
|en us by

Thanks
[only lost

I said.

have no
le outside
Imorning.
)at some-
lake fresh

[ight, and
le water.

He could faintly see the loom of the cliflFs on his right, and
knew that the lugger was running west, keeping as close
inshore as she could to avoid the cutter watching for hei
outside. He wondered what they would say at home
when it was found that he was missing ; but consoled
himself by thinking that his mother, who was still up
at the Hall, would no doubt suppose that he had gone
out for a night's fishing, as he had often done before,
and that as she was away he had forgotten to leave word
with the servant.

Suddenly a blue light burned out on the top of the
cliff.

An angry exclamation broke from the captain, who was
standing at the helm.

'•Confound it!" he exclaimed; "they have caught sight
of us from the cliff, and are signalling our whereabouts to
the cutter."

As he spoke he turned the vessel's head seaward, and
for a quarter of an hour sailed straight out.

** Now," he said quietly, '* I think we must be out of
sight of those fellows on shore. Get her on the other tack,
lads, but be as quiet as you can about it ; there's no saying
how close the cutter may be to us."

The great sails were lowered as the boat's head paid off
to the east. The yards were shifted to the other sides of
the masts, and the sails hoisted again, and the lugger
be^'an to retrace her way back along the coast.

•'It's just a chance now," the captain said to James,
who was standing close by him, " whether the commander
of the cutter guesses or not that we shall change our
course; he will know we are likely enough to do it."

"What should you do if you were in his place?" James
said.

"I should run straight out to sea and lay to eight or
ten miles off; he would be able to make us out then at
daylight whichever course we take, whereas, by trying to

'1;

I(li'

'■\

I20

With Wolfe in Canada

follow in the dark he would run the chance of missing
us altogether. 1 wish the wind would get up a bit ; we
are not moving through the water more than three knots
an hour, and it's dying away. However, I fancy it will
blow up again in the morning."

"Do you know whether she is faster than you are?"
James asked.

"There is not much difference," the captain replied.
'* If the wind is strong we have the legs of her, but in
a light breeze she is the fastest. She has chased us half
a dozen times already, but we have always given her the
slip."

"Then, even if she does run out to sea, as you say,"
James said, "we ought to be safe, as we should be a
dozen miles or so along the coast."

" Yes, but not that ahead of her," the captain answered,
"for she would be so much to the seaward, still that
would be far enough; but she will begin to fire long
before we are in range, and will bring any other king's
ship within hearing down on us. However, I dare say we
shall give her the slip as we have done before."

The hours passed slowly. The wind continued to drop
until the vessel scarcely moved through the water, and
after a while the sweeps were got out and were worked
until the day broke. All eyes were on the lookout for the
cutter as the daydawn began to steal over the sky.

"There she is sure enough," the captain exclaimed at
length, "lying to on the watch some eight miles to the
west. She must have seen us, for v/e are against the
light sky; but like ourselves she is becalmed,"

It was a quarter of an hour, however, before the position
of the cutter was seen to change; then her head was
suddenly turned east.

"She has got the wind," the captain said; "now we
only want a good breeze and you'll have a lively day of
it, lads."

Pressed

121

issing
l; we
knots

it will

arer'

eplied.
but in
us half
tier the

X say,"
d be a

swered,
t\\\ that
re long
r king's

say we

to drop

ter, and

1 worked

for the

luned at
to the
tnst the

[position
\ad was

lOW we
day of

From the time when she had turned the Kigffjfer had
made only about eight miles along the coast to the east,
and an equal distance seaward, for the tide had set against
her. ' 'f

The morning was bright and clear, the sea was perfectly
smooth; as yet the sails hung idly down, but there were
dark lines on the water that showed that a breeze was
coming.

•' We shall have plenty of wind presently," the skipper
said. "See how light the sky is to the south; there will
be white tops on the waves in an hour or two. Here
comes a flaw. Haul in your sheets, lads, now she begins
to move."

The puff did not last long, dying away to nothing in
a few minutes, and then the lugger lay immovable again.
The men whistled, stamped the deck impatiently, and cast
anxious glances back at the cutter.

"She is walking along fast," the skipper said, as he
examined her through a glass. •* She has got the wind
steady and must be slipping along at six knots an hour.
This is hard luck on us. If we don't get the breeze soon it
will be a close thing of it."

Another quarter of an hour passed without a breath of
wind ruffling the water. The cutter was fully two miles
nearer to them than when she had first been seen, and was
holding the wind steadily.

" Here it comes, lads," the skipper said cheerfully.
"Another ten minutes and we shall have our share."

The time seemed long indeed before the dark line on
the water reached the lugger, and there was something
like a cheer from the crew as the craft heeled slightly
over and then began to move through the water. It
was the true breeze this time, and increased every moment
in force till the lugger was lying well over with a white
wave at her bow.

But the cutter had first gained by the freshening breeze,

iriBisr

1 1

!22

With Wolfe in Canada

and James Walsham, looking back at her, judged that
there were not more than four miles of water between
the boats. The breeze was nearly due west, and as the
lugger was headed as close as she would lie to it the
cutter had hauled in her sheets and lay up on the same
course, so that they were now sailing almost parallel to
each other.

"If we could change places," the skipper said, "we
should be safe. We can sail nearer the wind than she
can. but she can edge away now, and has all the advan-
tage of us."

James had already perceived this, and wondered that the
lugger did not pay off before the wind so as to make a
stern chase of it.

" I want to get a few miles farther out," the skipper
said. *' Likely enough there is another cutter somewhere
inshore. It is quite enough to have one of these fellows
at one's heels."

Another half-hour and the cutter, edging in, was little
over three miles distant; then the skipper gave the word,
the helm was. put down, the sheets slackened off, and in
a minute the lugger was running dead before the wind
with her sails boomed out one on either side. The cutter
followed her example, and hoisted a large square sail.
The wind was blowing fresh now, and the sea was getting
up. Not a cloud was to be seen in the sky, and the sun
shone brightly on the white heads which were beginning
to show on the water. The lugger was tearing along,
occasionally throwing a cloud of spray over her bows and
leaving a track of white water behind her.

" I think she still gains on us," the captain said to the
mate, who had taken the helm.

"Ay, she is gaining," the sailor agreed; "but the
wind is freshening every minute. She can't carry that
top-sail much longer. It's pressing her bows under
now,"

ili

that
iveen
5 the
t the
same
lei to

<« vve
n she
idvan-

lat the
mke a

jkipper
ewhere
fellows

IS little
e word,
and in
e wind
; cutter
e sail,
getting
he sun
Inning
along,
ws and

to the

)ut the

iry that

under

Pressed

123

but

((

kegfs

I am
stand

'•She will go almost as fast without it," the skipper
said.

The commander of the cutter seemed to be of the same
opinion, for just as he spoke the top-sail was seen to flutter
Hnd then descended to the deck. It was a quarter of an
hour before the skipper spoke again.

'• I think vve just about hold our own," he said. " I didn't
think the Polly could have held her running."

"She couldn't in a light wind," the mate replied;
with this wind it will want a fast boat to beat her."

The hands were now set to work shifting the
further aft.

"That's better," the skipper said presently.
sure we are gaining ground, and our masts will
it if the cutter's will."

With her stern low in the water the lugger was now
tearing along at a tremendous pace. Stout as were her
masts, and strong the stays, James Walsham wondered
at their standing the strain of the great brown sails, as
they seemed at times almost to lift her bodily out of the
water. Buoyant as the craft was, the waves broke over
her bows and flooded her decks and sheets of spray flew
over her.

The cutter with her sharper bows and all her sail for-
ward was feeling it still more severely, and the spirits
of all on board the lugger rose rapidly, as it was evident
that they were dropping their pursuers. Suddenly the
gaff of the cutter's mainsail was seen to droop, and the
boom was hauled on board.

'• I thought it would be too much for them," the skipper
said exultantly. "They are going to reef."

"We had better reef down too, I think," the mate said;
"she has had as much as she could bear for some time."

"I'll hold on ten minutes longer," the skipper said;
"every half-mile counts."

But before that time was up the sails were one after

-:'A

124

With Wolfe in Canada

another reefed, for the wind continued to freshen. The
sky was still cloudless, but there was a misty light in the
air, and a heavy sea was beginning to run.

Suddenly a gun flashed out from the cutter. The skipper
uttered an oath. Their pursuer was more than three miles
astern, and he knew that she could only be firing as a
signal. There were several large ships in sight on their
way up or down the Channel. To these little attention
had been paid. The skipper shaded his eyes with a hand,
and gazed earnestly at a large ship on the weather beam
some four miles away.

"That is a frigate, sure enough," he exclaimed. "We
are fairly caught between them. Haul in the sheets, lads,
we will have a try for it yet."

The lugger was brought sharp up into tht wind, and
was soon staggering along seaward with the lee bulwark
almost under water. The cutter instantly lowered her
square sail, and followed her example, continuing to fire
a gun every minute. All eyes were turned towards the
frigate, which was now on the port beam.

"We shall cross two miles to windward of her," the
skipper said. " If she keeps on her course, a quarter of
an hour will do it, but she is sure to notice the guns. The
wind will take them down to her." •

"Ah, there she goes." ;

As he spoke a puflF of smoke darted out from the frigate's
bow. Her sails fluttered, and her head bore round until
she was on the same tack as the lugger. The latter was
now about equidistant from her two pursuers. The cutter
and the lugger were nearly abreast, but the former being
to windward could edge down. The frigate was three
miles to leeward, but she was fully a mile ahead.

"There is no way out of it," the skipper said bitterly.
" In a light wind we could run away from the frigate, but
with this breeze we have no chance with her. Look how
she is piling on sail ! "

: 1

■n

Pressed

125

The
1 the

ipper
miles

as a

their
jntion
hand,

beam

«'We

i, lads,

id, and
ulwark
ed her
to fire
rds the

if," the
irter of
The

[rigate's
id until

Iter was

cutter

ir being

Is three

)itterly.

ite, but

lok how

The crew shared the captain's opinion; some shook
their fists and cursed vainly at their pursuers, some stood
sullenly scowling, while the French portion of the crew
gave way to wild outbursts of rage. Rapidly the three
vessels closed in towards each other, for the cutter edged
in so rapidly that the lugger was obliged to bear off
towards the frigate again. As a last hope the lugger's
course was changed, and she again tried running, but the
superior weight and power of the frigate brought het
rapidly down. Presently a heavy gun boomed out, and
a shot came dancing along the water a hundred yards
away.

•' Lower the sails," the skipper said. " It is no use
going farther. The inside of a prison is better than the
bottom of the sea anyhow."

Down came the sails, and the lugger lay rolling heavily
in the waves as the frigate bore down upon her with a
white roll of water on her stem.

"Get ready, lads," the skipper said. ** There is just
one chance yet. She will run by us. The instant she is
past, up sail again. We shall be a mile away before they
can get her round into the wind again. If she doesn't
cripple us with her shot we may weather her yet. We
needn't mind the cutter."

The frigate came foaming along, the crew busy in taking
sail off her. The instant she had passed, and was pre-
paring to round to, the sails of the lugger flew up like
mai^ic, and she was soon tearing along almost in the eye
of the wind as if to meet the cutter, which was running
down towards her.

"Down below, lads, every man of you," the captain
shouted; "we shall have a broadside in a minute."

In a moment the deck was clear of all save the skipper

and his mate, who stood at the tiller. The frigate swept

I slowly round, and then, as her guns came to bear, shot

[after shot was fired at the lugger already three-quarters

ia6

With Wolfe in Canada

ill «■

of a mile to the windward. The shot hummed overhead
one struck the water alongside, a yard or two away, but
still she was untouched.

" Some of her shots went as near the cutter as they did
to us," the skipper said. " She won't fire again."

They were now fast approaching the cutter, which, when
she was within a quarter of a mile, changed her course
and was brought up again into the wind, firing the four
j,'uns she carried on her broadside as she came round.
The lugger's head was paid off and this placed the cutter
on her starboard quarter, both going free. The former
was travelling the faster, but a gun was fired from the
cutter's bow, and the shot struck splinters from the lugger's
quarter. The crew were on deck again now.

** Train that gun over the stern," the skipper said. ♦• If
we can knock her mast out of her we are saved ; if not,
they will have us yet."

He had scarcely spoken when there was a crash, a shot
from the cutter had struck the mtzzen mast a few feel
above the deck, and the mast and sail fell over to leeward.
There was a cry of rage and dismay.

*• Luck's against us," the skipper said bitterly. '* Down
with the sail, lads; this time it is all up with us." The
sail was lowered, and the lugger lay motionless in the
water until the cutter came up and lay within fifty yards
of her.

A boat was at once lowered, and an officer was rowed to
the lugger.

"So we have caught you, my friends, at last," he said
as he sprang on board.

'•You wouldn't have done it if it had not been for the
frigate," the skipper said.

" No; I will say your craft sails like a witch," the officer
replied. " I wish we could have done it without her. It
will make all the difference to us ; the frigate will get the
lion's share of the prize. What is the value of your cargo?"

'^'i

Pressed

137

irhead
ay, but

hey did

h, when
course
:he four
! round.
ie cutter
J formei
from the
lugger's

lid. 'Mf

1; if not,

;h, a shot
few feet
leeward.

»' Down
Is." The
iS in the
Ifty yards

[rowed to

[' he said

for the

16 officer

her. It

|l get the

I cargo i'

••Two hundred kegs of brandy," the skipper replied,
"and fifteen hundred pounds' worth of lace and silks."

"A good prize," the oflicer said. "Not your own,
I hope, for you have made a brave chase of it."

" No," the skipper answered. *• Fortunately I only
took a very small share this time; it's bad enough to lose
my boat; I own two-thirds of her."

•' I am sorry for you," the officer said, for he was in
high spirits at the success of the chase, and could afford to
be pleasant. " Here comes a boat from the frigate. You
played them a rare trick, and might have got olT if it
hadn't been for that lucky shot of ours. I see you were
just getting out a stern-chaser," and he pointed to the
i;un. "It is well for you that you didn't fire it, as you
can't be charged with armed resistance."

•• I wish I had fired it, for all that. It might have been
my luck to cripple you."

•• It would have made no diff^erence it you had," the
officer replied. "The frigate would have overhauled
vou; with this wind she would sail five feet to your
four."

The boat from the frigate now came alongside.

'• How are you, Cotterel?" the officer said, as he stepped
onboard. "That was a lucky shot of yours; but I think
it's lucky for the lugger that you hit her, for the captain
was so savage at that trick they played him that I believe
he would have .sunk her when he came up to her again.
I heard him say to the first lieutenant, ' I won't give her
a chance to play me such a trick agairi.'"

" What orders have you brought?" the other asked.

"We are outward bound, so you are to put a crew on
board and take her into port; but as we are very short
[of hands we will relieve you of the prisoners."

All on board the lugger were at once ordered into the
[frigate's boat and were rowed off to the ship. On gaining
the deck they were drawn up in line, and the captain and

»'

|ii«-ii

ipif

mmm

j ■

,1
r

M ■■

l-\i

Si'h

128

With Wolfe in Canada

first lieutenant came up. The good humour of the former
had been restored by the capture of the lugger.

"Hallo!" he said, looking at the bandaged heads and
arms of some of the men, "so you have been having a
fight trying to run your cargo, I suppose; that will make
it all the worse for you when you get on shore. Now,
I might press you all without giving you a choice, but
I don't want unwilling hands, so I will leave it to you.
Which is it to be — an English prison for two or three
years, or a cruise on board the Thetis?"

The greater part of the men at once stepped forward
and announced their willingness to volunteer.

"Who have we here?" the captain asked, looking at
the three countrymen.

"They are passengers, sir," the skipper of the lugger
said with a half-smile.

A few questions brought to light the facts of the surprise
while the cargo w:is being landed.

"Well, my lads," the captain said, "you are in the
same boat with the rest. You were engaged in an unlawful
enterprise, and in resisting his majesty's officers. Voo
will get some months in prison anyhow, if you go back j
You had better stay on board and let me make meal
of you."

The countrymen, however, preferred a prison to a man-
o'-war.

James Walsham had been turning over the matter
his mind. He hud certainly taken no part in the fray, bull
that would be difficult to prove, and he could not accouD!
for his presence except by acknowledging that he \m
there to warn them. It would certainly be a case of im-
prisonment. Surely it would be better to volunteer thai
this. He had been longing for the sea, and here ail
opportunity opened for him for abandoning the career hisi
mother intended for him without setting himself in opposJ
tion to her wishes. Surely she would prefer that he shoulij

Pressed

129

e former

»ads and
tiaving a
v'xW make
;. Now,
loice, but
t to you,
I or three

d forward

looking at

the lugger

he surprise

are in t^«
an unlawful
cers. Vou
u go back.
make men|

matter if.

he fray, but

lot accounil

lat he vail

case ol m

^nteer that!

id here atl

|e career hii

f in oppos'i

t he sboulil

be at sea for a year or two to his being" disgraced by im-
prisonment. He therefore now stepped forward.

" I do not belong to the higger's crew, sir, and had
nothing to do with running their cargo, though I own
I was on the spot at the time. I am not a sailor, though
I have spent a good deal of time on board fishing boats.
Mr. Horton, whom I see there, knows me, and will tell
you that I am a son of a doctor in Sidmouth. But as
I have got into a scrape I would rather serve than go
back and stand a trial."

"Very well, my lad/' the captain said; "I like your
spirit, and will keep my eye on you."

The three countrymen and four of the French sailors
who declined to join the Thetis were taken back to the
cutter, and the Thetis at once proceeded on her way down
channel. James had given a hastily scribbled line on the
back of an old letter which he happened to have in his
pocket, to the men who were to be taken ashore, but he
had very little hope that it would ever reach his mother.
Nor indeed did it ever do so. When the cutter reached
Weymouth with the lugger, ii. ; men captured in her were
at once sent to prison, where they remained until they were
tried at assizes three months afterwards; and although
all were acquitted of the charge of unlawful resistance to
the king's officers, as there was no proof against any of
the six men individually, they were sentenced to a year's
imprisonment for smuggling. Whether Jim's hurriedly
written letter was thrown overboard, or whether it was
carried in the pocket of the man to whom he gave it until
worn into fragments, James never knew, but it never
reached his mother.

The news that James was missing was brought to her
upon the day after the event by Mr. Wilks. He had, as
usual, gone down after breakfast to report how Aggie
was "getting on, with a message from his mother that
her charge was now so completely restored that it was

(887) 9

k.i

\mm

130

With Wolfe in Canada

unnecessary for her to stay longer at the Hall, and that she
should come home that evening at her usual time. Hearing
from the girl that James had not returned since he went
out at nine o'clock on the previous evening, the old soldier
sauntered down to the beach to enquire of the fishermen in
whose boat James had gone out.

To his surprise he found that none of the boats had put
to sea the evening before. The men seemed less chatty
and communicative than usual; most of them were pre-
paring to go out with their boats, and none seemed in-
clined to enter into a conversation. Rather wondering at
their unusual reticence, Mr. Wilks strolled along to where
the officer of the revenue men was standing with his
boatswain watching the fishermen.

"A fine morning, lieutenant."

"Yes," the latter assented. "There will be wind
presently. Have you heard of the doings of last night?"

*• No," Mr. Wilks said in surprise, "I have heard
nothing. I was just speaking to the fishermen, but they
don't seem in as communicative a mood as usual this
morning. "

"The scamps know it is safest for them to keep their
mouths shut just at present," the officer said grimly. *' I
have no doubt a good many of them were concerned in
that affair last night. We had a fight with the smugglers,
two of my men were shot and one of theirs, and there
were a good many cutlass wounds on each side. We
have taken a score of prisoners, but they are all country
people who were assisting in the landing; the smugglers
themselves all got off. We made a mess of the affair
altogether, thanks to some fellow who rushed down and
gave the alarm and upset all the plans we had laid.

" It is too provoking. I had got news of the exact spot
and hour at which the landing was to take place. I had
my men all up on the cliff, and as the fellows came up with
kegs they were to have been allowed to get a hundred

Pressed

131

t she
aring
went
oldier
len in

id put
chatty
e pre-
led in-
:ing at
where
ith his

e wind
night?"
J heard
ut they
al this

ip their
•M
Irned in
^gglers,
there
We
:ountry
lofslers
affair
m and

Let spot

1 had

itli

undied

yards or so inland and would there have been seized, and
any shout they made would not have been heard below.
Lieutenant Fisher with his party from the next station was
to be a little way along at the foot of the cliflFs, and when
the boats came with the second batch he was to rush for-
ward and capture them while we came down from above;
then we intended to row off and take the lugger, there
was not wind enough for her to get away.

•* Ail was going well, and the men were just coming up
the cliff with the tubs, when someone who had passed
us on the cliff ran down shouting the alarm. We rushed
down at once, but arrived too late. They showed fight,
and kept us back till Fisher's party came up ; but by that
time the boats were afloat, and the smugglers managed
to get in and carry them off in spite of us. We caught,
as I tell you, some of the countrymen, and Fisher has
taken them off to Weymouth, but most of them got away.
There are several places where the cliff can be climbed by
men who know it, and I have no doubt half those fisher-
men you see there were engaged in the business."

"Then the smuggler got away?" Mr. Wilks asked.

** I don't know," the lieutenant said shortly. ** I had
sent word to Weymouth, and I hope they will catch her
in the offing. The lugger came down this way first, but
we made her out and showed a blue light. She must
have turned and gone back again, for this morning at day-
light we made her out to the east. The cutter was giving
chase, and at first ran down fast towards her. Then
the smugglers got the wind, and the last we saw of them
they were running up the Channel, the cutter some three
miles astern. I would give a couple of months' pay to
know who it was that gave the alarm. I expect it was
one of those fishermen. As far as my men could make
out in the darkness the fellow was dressed like a sailor.
But I must say good morning, for I am just going to turn
in."

I im^i

132

With Wolfe in Canada

Mr. Wilks had been on the point of mentioning that
James was missing, but a vague idea that he might in
some way be mixed up with the events of the previous
night checi^ed the question on his Ups, and yet he thought,
as the officer walked away, it was not probable. Had
James been foolish enough to take part in such a busi-
ness he would either have been taken prisoner, or would,
after he escaped, have returned home. He had evidently
not been taken prisoner, or the officer would have been
sure to mention it. Much puzzled, he walked slowly back
to the fishermen. Some of the boats had already pushed
off. He went up to three of the men, whose boat, being
higher up than the rest, would not be afloat for another
quarter of an hour.

** Look here, lads," he said. " My young friend Jim
Walsham is missing this morning, and hasn't been at
home all night. As none of the fishing boats put out in
the evening he cannot have gone to sea. Can any of you
tell me anything about him?"

The men gave no answer.

" You need not be afraid of speaking to me, you know,"
he went on, " and it's no business of mine whether any of
the men on the shore were concerned in that affair the
lieutenant has just been telling me of last night ; but hear-
ing of that, and finding Jim is missing, I can't help think-
ing there is some connection between the two things.
Nothing you say to me will go further, that I can promise
you ; but the lad's mother will be in a terrible way. I
can't make it out, for I know that if he had anything lo
do with this smuggling business he would have told me.
Again, if he was there and got away, he would naturally
have come straight home, for his absence would only throw
suspicion upon him."

"Well, Mr. Wilks," the youngest of the sailors said,
*' I don't know nothing about it myself. No one does,
so far as 1 know, but 1 have heard say this morning as

A-

Pressed

'33

that
ht in
ivious
lught,

Had

busi-
vould,
dently
B been
y back
pushed
, being
mother

nd Jim
been at
t out in
^ of you

know,"
|r any of

"air the
lut hear-
|p think-
things.

1 promise

[way. I
:hing io
;old me.
laturally
[y throw

^rs said,
le does,
rning as

how he was there or thereabouts; but don't you let out
as I told you, 'cause they would want to know who I heard
it from."

'•You can rely upon my silence, my lad, and here's half
a guinea to drink my health between you. But can't you
tell me a little more?"

"Well, sir, they do say as how it war Mr. Jim as came
running down into the middle of them on the beach,
shouting" the alarm, with the revenue men close at his
heels. I don't say as it were he — likely enough it weren't
—but that's the talk, and that's all I have beared about
the matter. How he came for to know of it or how he
gut there no one knows, for sartin he has had nought
to do with any landings afore. He was a lot among us,
but I know as he never was told about it; for, though
everyone would have trusted Jim, still, seeing how he was
placed with his mother up at the Hall, and the squire a
magistrate, it was thought better as he shouldn't be let
into it. Everyone on the shore here likes Jim."

** But if he was there, and he hasn't been taken prisoner

and I am sure the lieutenant would have told me if he
was— why shouldn't he have got home?"

•*We didn't know as he hadn't got home, did us, Bill?"
the fisherman appealed to one of his comrades.

"No," the other said. "We thought likely he had got
safely away with the rest. It war a dark night, and I
expect as everyone was too busy looking after himself to
notice about others."

"He may have been wounded," the old soldier said
anxiously, "and may be in hiding in some house near
the place."

The fisherman was silent. Such a thing was of course
possible,

"He might that," one of the sailors said doubtfully,
"and yet I don't think it. The chase was a hot one,
and I don't think anyone wounded so bad as he couldn't

tJ'

It,

¥M

'34

With Wolfe in Canada

make his way home would have got away. I should say
as it wur more likely as he got on board one of the boats.
It seems to me as though he might have come to warn
us — that is to say, to warn them, I mean — just to do em
a good turn, as he was always ready to do if he had the
chance. But he wouldn't have had anything to do with
the scrimmage, and might have been standing quiet like
near the boats when the other lot came along the shore,
and then, s«^''ng as the game was up, he might likely
enough have jumped on board and gone off to the lugger."
**That is possible," Mr. Wilks said. "Anyhow, I will
go off at once and make enquiries at all the houses within
a mile or so of the landing-place."

CHAPTER VI I r

Discharged

Contrary to his usual u^w. .

™. return to lun^ront ^'ir'"!;'''^' "^- '^■'»- did
ater before he came in.tokini^? ' ^"J* " "'^^ '"'o hou s
had been to all the farmhouses lith^^'" ""'' «"'='°«- He
of the fight, and had ascer ain^"'/" *^° ">"" of the scene
"otlyng wounded at a,^; o?7he„ ^ «"'" ""'J'™ ^^^
felr"^"''"" been coldly eceived T. "' ^'" ^"1"'"^-
farmhouse near the coast but thj '" "*^ «'=a'-ce a

i""!!! the smue^lers w .■ * occupants had relaf!^

.he landings, 'o'Z^^'tZ:^!' '"''^ ^^^''^ - "-- t
be stowed away. At first h!:'^^" ""''™ ff°ods could
'Snorance of the events of' the „'' ^" P™''«»«<1 «« e
persuaded by the earnestness of t^'^M "■■^'" • ""' ^hen
at h,s mission was a ?rie„d°v n *t """^'^^'^ "«»"ner
commun cative anH .. "™'"y one they becam» »,

had been taken ^5 '" °"'°"'' '^at some of Z^

V.U.1J idKen prisoners ^^ni^ ^ . °' their men

but none of them had heard of . '""" '° WeymouT

m h,d,„g. "^^fd of any wounded man beino:

l-onvinced at last th„t t "

;'::j"f- ^r. wi,i.fretird trs-d'^^K^""^ °^ ">

great anxiety. Everv h;« !, ^'Omouth a nrev f«

;^ j".ger w^as caS"^,/r"r ""^ '"' 'J^-" ^
"•"Id h,s trial for bein^ .„ ' •''""*'' ""ould have to
J^«h, and as two of "he re?""'" '" "'^ "^"t o„ th^
h';-'e„ce might be XZTZ'"'" """ '^-" ''"'ed
'f^he got away all would be weT Tl,

135 ■ ^''^y would do„bt.

i i'

■J

•

l^-

- 1

11, 1

136

With Wolfe in Canada

!»'

less hear by letter from Jim, and it would be better that
he should not return at present to Sidmouth, but should
at once take up his residence in London and commence
his studies there. He met the squire just as the latter
was starting for Sidmouth.

"Well, Wilks, we began to think that you were lost,"
he said cheerfully. "Aggie was downstairs to lunch, and
was mightily offended that you should not be there at lier
first appearance. But you look tired and fagged. Has
anything gone wrong?"

"Things have gone very wrong, squire." And he
related to his friend all the news that he had gathered,
and his conviction that James Walsham was on board
the lugger.

"This is a pretty kettle of fish," the squire said irritably.
" What on earth did the boy mean by getting himself
mixed up with such an affair as that?"

" It is a foolish business, squire," the old soldier agreed,
"But we can't expect wise heads on young shoulders, 1
suppose. He somehow or other learnt the surprise which
the revenue men intended, and as most of his friends, the
fishermen, would probably be concerned in it, he went to
give them notice, intending, no doubt, to go quietly back
again before the revenue men arrived. I don't know that
he's altogether to be blamed in the matter. Most young
fellows would do the same."

"Well, I suppose they would," the squire agreed re-
luctantly; "but it is a most awkward business. If the
lad gets caught and gets two or three years' imprison-
ment it will ruin his prospects in life. His mother will
be broken-hearted over the business, and I am sure Aggie
will take it terribly to heart. They were great friends of
old, though she hasn't seen much of him for the last two
or three years, and of course that affair of the other day
has made quite a hero of him."

"We must hope the lugger will get safely over to

Discharged

137

France," his companion said; "then no great harm will
have been done."

*'We must hope so," the squire assented moodily.
"Confound the young Jackanapes, turning everything
upside down and upsetting us all with his mad-brain
freaks."

Mrs. Walsham was greatly distressed when the news
was broken to her by Mr. Wilks, and Aggie cried so that
the squire at last said she must go straight up to bed
unless she stopped, for she would be making herself ill
again. When she was somewhat pacified the matter
was discussed in every light, but the only conclusion to
be arrived at was that their sole hope rested in the lugger
getting safely off.

'• Of course, my dear madam," the squire said, '* if they
are taken I will do my best to get a pardon for your son.
1 am afraid he will have to stand his trial with the rest ;
but I think that, with the representations I will make as
to his good character, I may get a mitigation anyhow of
a sentence. If they find out that it was he who gave the
alarm there will be no hope of a pardon ; but if that doesn't
come out one would represent his being there as a mere
boyish freak of adventure, and in that case I might get
him a free pardon. You must not take the matter too
seriously to heart; it was a foolish business, and that is
the worst that can be said of it."

'• I think it was a grand thing," Aggie said indignantly,
" for him to risk being shot, and imprisoned, and all sorts
of dreadful things, just to save other people."

'•And I think you are a goose, Aggie," the squire said.
"If everyone were to go and mix themselves up in other
people's business there would be no end of trouble. I
suppose next you will say that if you heard me arranging
with the constable to make a capture of some burglars,
you would think it a grand thing to put on your hat to run
off to warn them,"

'II:

i-.

With Wolfe in Canada

N ' *i

Itsiiii'

"Oh, grandpapa, how can you say such a thing?" the
girl said; "burglars and smugglers are quite different.
Burglars are wicked men, and thieves and robbers; smug-
glers are not, they are only trying to get goods in without
paying duty."

"They try to rob the king, my dear, and in the eyes
of the law are just as criminal as burglars ; both of them
are leagued to break the law, and both will resist and
take life if they are interfered with. I allow that in
general estimation the smugglers are looked upon in a
more favourable light, and that a great many people
who ought to know better are in league with them, but
that does not alter the facts of the case."

The girl did not argue the question, but the squire was
perfectly aware that he had in no way convinced her, and
that her feeling that James Walsham's action was a highly
meritorious one was in no way shaken. It was agreed
that nothing was to be said about James's absence, and
after taking some refrojjhment Mr. Wilks went down into
Sidmouth again to tell the girl at Mrs. Walsham's that
she was not to gossip about James being away.

Three days later a letter was received by the squire from
Richard Horton.

"I am taking the opportunity of writing a few lines
to you, my dear uncle, as I have a chance of sending it
ashore by the revenue cutter Thistle^ which is lying along-
side of us. Between us we have just captured a rascally
smuggling lugger, with a cargo of lace, silk, and spirits.
You will, I am sure, be surprised and grieved to hear that
among the crew of the lugger was James Walsham. I
could hardly believe my eyes when I saw him in such
disreputable company; it will be a sad blow for his poor
mother. As we were short of hands our captain offered
the crew of the lugger the choice of shipping with us,
or being sent on shore for trial. Most c <" them chose
the former alternative, among them James VValsham, of

Discharged

139

"the
irent.
mug-
thout

; eyes
them
;t and
lat in
1 In a
people
m, but

re was
er, and

highly

agreed
ce, and
ivn into
I's that

Ire from

lines
jding it

along-
i-ascally
[spirits,
lar that
lam. 1
In such
lis poor
] offered

lith us,
chose

lum, of

which I was glad, as his mother will be spared the dis-
grace of his being placed in the dock with his associates.
I need not say that if I could have obtained his release
1 should have done so, knowing that you had a high
opinion of him ; but it was, of course, out of my power
to interfere."

The squire was alone in his study when he received the
letter, for it was midday before the post arrived at Sid-
mouth, when a man from the Hall went down each day
with a bag to fetch the letters. He rang the bell and
ordered the servant to tell Mr. Wilks he should be g'lad if
he would step in to him. When his friend came he handed
him the letter without a word.

"That settles the matter," he said, as he threw the
letter angrily down upon the table. "A malicious young
viper! I wish I had him here."

"It is not nicely worded," the squire said gravely;
"but it was an unpleasant story to have to tell."

" It was not an unpleasant story for him to tell," the
old soldier said hotly. "There is malice in every line of
it. He speaks of the men as James's associates, talks
about the disgrace he would bring on his mother. There's
malice, squire, in every line of it."

"I'm afraid it's a bad letter," the squire assented gravely.

" It's a natural letter," Mr. Wilks said savagely. " It
is written in a hurry, and he's had no time to pick and
choose his words and round off his sentences as he
generally does in his letters to you. He was so full
of malicious exultation that he did not think how much
he was showing his feeling as he wrote."

" It's a bad letter and a nasty letter," the squire assented;
"but let that pass now. The first question is — How are
we to tell Jim's mother? Do you think it will be a relief
to her or otherways?"

" It will be a blow to know that the lugger has been
captured," Mr. Wilks said — "a severe blow, no doubt,

•

ii-

140

With Wolie in Canada

SPI^!;;;

for her escape is wliat we have been building our hopes
upon. It will be a heavy blow, too, for her to know that
James is a seaman before the mast, that it will be years
before she will see him again, and that all her plans for
his future are upset. But 1 think this will be much better
for her than if she knew he was a prisoner, and would
have to stand a trial.

•' Between ourselves, squire, as far as the lad himself is
concerned I am not sure that he will be altogether sorry
that events have turned out as they have. In our talks
together he has often confided to me that his own inclina-
tions were altogether for a life of activity and adventure;
but that, as his mother's heart was so set upon his follow-
ing his father's profession, he had resolved upon never
saying a word to her which would lead her to suppose
that his own wishes lay in any other direction. This
business will give him the opportunity he has longed for,
to see the world without his appearing in any way to
thwart his mother's plans."

*' At any rate," the squire said, ♦' I am heartily glad he
has got off being tried. Even if I had got a free pardon
for him, it would have been a serious slur upon him that
he had been imprisoned, and would have been awkward
for us all in the future. I think, Wilks, I will leave it to
you to break it to his mother."

''Very well," the other agreed. "It is an unpleasant
business, squire; but perhaps I had better do it. It may
console her if I tell her that at heart he always wanted to
go to sea, and that, accustomed as he is to knock about
in the fishermen's boats, he will find it no hardship on
board a man-o'-war, and will come back in the course of
two or three years none the worse for his cruise. She
may think he will take up doctoring again after that,
though I have my doubts whether he will do that; how-
ever, there is no use in telling her so. Shall 1 show her
that letter, squire?"

Discharged

141

"No," tlie squire replied, ••of course you can tell her
what's in it ; but I will keep the letter myself. I vould
jjive a good deal if he had not written it. It is certainly
biidly worded, thoug^h why he should feel any malice
towards the other is more than 1 can tell."

His companion was about to speak, but thought better
ol it, and without another word went to break the news to
Mrs. Walsham.

Mrs. Walsham was terribly upset. After suffering her
to cry for some time in silence, Mr. Wilks said:

" My dear madam, I know that this news must distress
you terribly; but it may be that in this, as in all things, a
providence has overruled your plans for your son for his
own good. I will teli you now what you would never
have known had this affair never occurred. Jim at heart
hates his father's profession. He is a dutiful son, and
rather than give you pain he was prepared to sacrifice
all his own feelings and wishes. But the lad is full of life
and energy; the dull existence of a country surgeon in a
little town like this is the last he would adopt as his own
choice; and I own that I am not surprised that a lad of spirit
hould long for a more adventurous life. I should have
.old you this long ago, and advised you th it it would be
well for you both to put it frankly to him, that although
you would naturally like to see him following his father's
profession, still that you felt that he should choose foi
himself; and that should he select any other mode of life
you would not set your wishes against his. But the lad
would not hear of my doing so; he said that, rather than
upset your cherished plans, he would gladly consent to
settle down in Sidmouth for life. I honoured him for his
filial spirit; but frankly I think he was wrong. An eagle
is not made to live in a hencoop, nor a spirited lad to settle
down in a humdrum village; and I own that although I
regret the manner of his going, I cannot look upon it
Hs an unmixed evil that the force of circumstances has

i> i>

142

With Wolfe in Canada

|i ill

taken him out of the course marked out for him, and that
he will have an opportunity of seeing life and adventure."

Mrs. Walsham had listened with a surprise too great to
admit of her interrupting the old soldier's remarks.

" I never dreamed of this," she said at last when he
ceased. ** I cannot remember now that I ever asked him,
but I took it for granted that he would like nothing better
than to follow in his father's steps. Had I known that he
objected to it I would not for a moment have forced him
against his inclinations. Of course it is natural that,
being alone in the world, I should like to have him with
me still, but I would never have been so selfish as to have
sacrificed his life to mine. Still, though it would be hard
to have parted from him in any way, it is harder still to
part like this. If he was to go he need not have gone as
a common sailor. The squire, who has done so much for
him, would no doubt, instead of sending him to school,
have obtain ,d a midshipman's berth for him or a commis-
sion in the army; but it is dreadful to think of him as a
common sailor, liable to be flogged."

"Well, Mrs. Walsham, perhaps we may set the matter
partly to rights. I will speak to the squire, and I am sure
he will write to his friend at the Admiralty, and have an
order sent out at once for Jim's discharge. At the same
time it would be better that he should not return here just
at present. His name may come out at the trial of the
smugglers as being concerned in the affair, and it would
be better that he should stay away till thai matter blows
over. At any rate, if I were you I should write to him,
telling him that you know now that he has no taste for the
medical prcfession, and that should he see anything thai
he thinks will suit him in America, you would not wish
Iiim to come home immediately if he has a fancy for stay-
ing out there; but that, if he chooses to return, you are
sure that the squire will exert himself to give him a start
in any other profession he may choose."

Discharged

143

hen he
ed him,
y better
that he
ced him
■al that,
lim with
; to have
i be hard
sr still to
; gone as
much for
:o school,
I commis-
him as a

Mrs. Walsham agreed to carry out the suggestion, and
that afternoon the squire sent oflf a letter to his friend
at the Admiralty, and three letters were also posted to
James himself.

The voyage of the Thetis was uneventful. Her destina-
tion was Hampton at the opening of Chesapeake Bay,
where the troops on board would join the expedition under
General Braddock, which was advancing up the Potomac.
When she arrived there they found several ships of war
under Commodore Keppel. Braddock's force had marched
to Wills Creek, where a military post named Fort Cum-
berland had been formed. The soldiers on board were at
once disembarked, and marched up the banks of the
Potomac to join the force at Fort Cumberland. The
sailors were employed in taking stores up the river in
boats.

James Walsham had done his best during the voyage to
acquire a knowledge of his duties. His experience in the
fishing boats was useful to him now, and he was soon able
to do his work as an able-bodied seaman. His good
spirits and v/illingnep.s rendered him a general favourite.
He was glad that he was not put in the same watch with
Richard Horton, as, after their first meeting, the young
lieutenant showed no signs of recognition. He was not,
James found, popular among the men. He was exacting
and overbearing with them, and some on board who had
served with him on his previous voyage had many tales
to his disadvantage.

A fortnight after the arrival of the Thetis at Hampton
orders were issued among the ships of war for thirty
volunteers for Braddock's expedition, of which the Thetis
was to furnish ten. So many sent in their names that the
first lieutenant had difficulty in choosing ten, who were
looked upon with envy by the rest of the ship's company,
lor there seemed little chance at present of fighting at sea,
land the excitement of a march on shore, with adventures

k.l

■:^

„

ffii

■I

!^i

\ii-:

144

With Wolfe in Canada

of all sorts, and encounters with the French and their
Indian allies, seemed delightful to the tars. Upon the
following- day a ship arrived from England, and an hour
afterwards an order was passed forward that the first
lieutenant wanted James Walsham upon the quarterdeck.

*• Walsham," he said, " an order has just come from the
Admiralty for your discharge, and you are to have a pas-
sage in the first ship returning, if you choose o take it.
I am sorry you are leaving the ship, for I have noticed
that you show great willingness and activity, and will
make a first-rate sailor. Still, I suppose, your friends in
England did not care about your remaining before the
mast."

James touched his hat and walked forward. He was
scarcely surprised, for he had thought that his mother
would probably ask the squire to use his influence to
obtain his discharge. He scarcely knew whether he was
glad or sorry. He was in a false position, and could not
hope for promotion except by some lucky chance, such as
was not likely to occur, of distinguishing himself.

At the same time he sighed as he thought that he must
now return and take up the profession for which his mother
had intended him. A quarter of an hour later, however,
the ship's corporal came round and distributed the mails,
and James to his delight found there were three letters for
him. He tore open that from his mother. It began by
gently upbraiding him for getting himself mixed up in the
fight between the smugglers and the revenue men.

" In the next place, my dear boy," she said, ** I must
scold you even more for not confiding in your mother as to
your wishes about your future profession. Mr. Wilks has
opened my eyes to the fact that, while I have all along
been taking it for granted that your wishes agreed with
mine as to your profession, you have really been sacrificing
all your own inclinations in order to avoid giving me pain.
1 am very thankful to him for having opened my eyes, for

d their
)on the
in hour
he first
jrdeck.
from the
e a pas-
take it,
! noticed
and will
riends in
^fore the

He was
s mother
luence to
jr he was
could not
e, such as

^t he must
lis mother
however,
;he mails,
letters for
[began by
up in the

« ' 1 must
Ither as to
Vilks has
[all along
reed with
[acrificing
me pain,
eyes, for

Discharged

145

r should have been grieved indeed had I found when too
late that I had chained you down to a profession you
dislike.

"Of course I should have liked to have had you with
me, but in no case would have had you sacrifice yourself;
still less now, when I have met with such kind friends and
am happy and comfortable in my life. Therefore, my boy,
let us set aside at once all idea of your becoming a doctor.
There is no occasion for you to choose immediately what
you will do. You are too old now to enter the royal navy,
and it is well that before you finally decide on a profes-
sion you have the opportunity of seeing something of the
world.

•• 1 enclose bank notes for a hundred pounds, so that if
you like you can stay lor a few weeks or months in the
colonies, and then take your passage home from New York
or Boston. By that time too all talk about this affair with
the smugglers will have ceased; but as your name is
likely to come out at the trial of the men who were taken,
so the squire thinks it will be better for you to keep away
for a time."

The rest of the letter was filled up with an account of
the excitement and alarm which had been felt when he was
first missed.

"We were glad, indeed," she said, "when a letter was
received from Richard Hoiton saying that you were on
board the Thetis. Mr. Wilks tells me it was an abomin-
ably spiteful letter, and I am sure the squire thinks so too
from the tone in which he spoke this afternoon about his
nephew; but I can quite forgive him, for if it had not been
for his letter we should not have known what had become
of you, and many months might have passed before we
might have heard from you in America. As it is, only
tour or five days have been lost, and the squire is writing
to-night to obtain your discharge, which he assures me
there will be no difficulty whatever about."

(387) to

^p^"-"

146

With Wolfe in Canada

3.. V

ipv

iMf

The squire's was a very cordial letter, and he too en-
closed notes for a hundred pounds.

"Mr. Wilks tells me," he said, "that you do not like
the thought of doctoring. I am not surprised, and I think
that a young fellow of such spirit and courage as you
have shown ought to be fitted for something better than
administering pills and draughts to the old women of
Sidmouth. Tell me frankly when you write what you
would like. You are, of course, too old for the royal
navy. If you like to enter the merchant service I have no
doubt I could arrange with some shipping firm in Bristol,
and would take care that by the time you get to be captain
you should also be part owner of the ship. If, on the
other hand, you would like to enter the army — and it
seems to me that there are stirring times approaching—
I think that through one or other of my friends in London
I could obtain a commission for you. If there is anything
else you would like better than this you may command my
best services. I never forget how much I am indebted to
you for my present happiness, and whatever I cdn do for
you still shall feel myself deeply your debtor."

The old soldier wrote a characteristic letter. In the first
place he told James that he regarded him as a fool for mix-
ing up in an affair in which he had no concern whatever.
Then he congratulated him on the fact that circumstances
had broken the chain from which he would never otherwise
have freed himself.

*' You must not be angry with me," he said, " for havino;
betrayed your confidence and told the truth to your mother,
I did it in order to console her, by showing her that things
were after all for the best; and I must say that madam
took my news in the very best spirit, and I am sure you
will see this by her letter to you. There is no one I honour
and esteem more than I do her, and I was sure all along
that you were making a mistake in not telling her frankly
what your wishes were. Now you have got a roving

Discharged

30 en-

ot like
1 think
as you
er than
men of
lat you
le royal
have no

Bristol,
; captain
, on the
— and it
aching—
1 London
anything
mand my
debted to

.n do for

the first

\\ for mix-

whatever.

imstances
[otherwise

lor having
\r mother.
fat things
it matl.'im
sure you
1 honour
[all along
jr frankly
la roving

'47

commission for a time, and it will be your own fault if you
don't make the best of it. There is likely to be an exciting
time in the colonies, and you are not the lad I take you for
if you dawdle away your time in the towns instead of seeing
what is going on in the forest."

These letters filled James with delight, and without an
hour's delay he sat down to answer them. In his letter
to the squire he thanktd him most warmly for his kind-
ness, and said that above all things he should like a
commission in the army. He wrote a very tender and
affectionate letter to his mother, telling her how much
he felt her goodness in so promptly relinquishing her own
plans and in allowing him to choose the life he liked.

"Thank Aggie," he concluded, "for the message she
sent by you. Give her my love, and don't let her forget
me." To the old soldier he wrote a gossiping account
of his voyage. "It was impossible," he said, "for the
news of my discharge to have come at a better moment.
Thirty sailors from the fleet are going with General Brad-
dock's force, and everyone else is envying their good luck
-I among them. Now I shall go up at once and join the
Virginian regiment which is accompanying them. I shall
join that instead of either of the line regiments, as I can
leave when I like. Besides, if the squire is able to get
me a commission, it would have been pleasanter for me
to have been fighting here as a volunteer than as a private
in the line.

"By the way, nobody thinks there will be much fighting,
so don't let my mother worry herself about me; but at
any rate a march through the great forests of this country,
with a chance of a brush with the redskins, will be great
un. Perhaps by the time it is over I may get a letter
from you saying that I have got my commission. As I
hear there is a chance of a regular war between the French
and us out here, the commission may be for a regiment
on this side."

i <■

f:.

.5 ■■

148

With Wolfe in Canada

After finishing his letters and giving: them to the ship's
corporal to place in the next postbag, James said good-
bye to his messmates and prepared to go on shore. The
ten men chosen for the expedition were also on the point
of starting. Richard Horton was standing near, in a
state of great discontent that he had not been chosen to
accompany them in their expedition. James Walshani
stepped up to him and touched his hat respectfully.

•' I wish to thank you, Lieutenant Horton, for your
extremely kind letter telling my friends that I was on
board this ship. It has been the means of my obtaining
my discharge at once, instead of having to serve for many
months before I could send the news home and obtain an
answer in return."

Without another word he turned, and walking to the
gangway took his place in a boat about starting with
some sailors for the shore, leaving Richard Horton in
a state of fury with himself for having been the means
of obtaining James's discharge. He had already more
than once felt uncomfortable as he thought of the word-
ing of the letter, and that this indulgence of his spite had
had the effect of restoring James's liberty rendered him
wellnigh mad with rage.

On landing, James Walsham at once disposed of his
sailor's clothes and purchased a suit similar to those worn
by the colonists ; then he obtained a passage up the river
to Alexandria, where the transports which had brougiit
the troops were still lying. Here one of the companies |
of the Virginia corps was stationed, and James, finding
that they were expecting every day to be ordered up to
Wills Creek, determined to join them at once.

The scene was a busy one. Stores were being landed
from the transports, teamsters were loading up their
waggons, oflicers were superintending the operations ; the
men of the Virginia corps, who wore no uniform, but were
attired in the costume used by hunters and backwoodsmen

Discharged

ship's

good-
;. The
e point
r, in a
osen to
ralsham
lly.
or your

was on
btaining
:or many
(btain an

ig to the
;ing with
lorton in
he means
ady more
he word-
spite had
ered him

led of hii'
lose worn
the river
brougbi
[ompanies
5, finding
red up to

y Umded

up their

lions; the

but were
)odsmen

149

namely, a loose hunting shirt, short trousers or breeches
and gaiters, were moving about unconcernedly, while a
few of them, musket on shoulder, were on guard over
the piles of stores. Presently a tall, slightly built young
man, with a pleasant but resolute face, came riding along
and checked his horse close to where James was standing.
James noticed that the men on sentry, who had for the
most part been sitting down on fallen logs of wood,
bales, or anything else which came handy, with their
muskets across their knees or leaning beside them, got
up and began pacing to and fro with some semblance of
military position.

"Who is that young man?" he asked a teamster
standing by.

"That is Colonel Washington," the man replied, "one
of the smartest of the colonial officers."

"Why, he only looks two or three and twenty," lames
said in surprise.

"He is not mere than that," the man said, "but acre
don't go for much here, and Colonel Washington is ad-
jutant-general of the Virginian militia. Only a few months
back he made a journey with despatches right through
the forests to the French station at Port de Boeuf, and
since then he has been in command of the party which
went out to build a fort at the forks of the Ohio, and
had some sharp fighting with the French. A wonderful
smart young officer they say he is, just as cool when the
bullets are flying as if sitting on horseback."

James resolved at once that he would speak to Colonel
Washington and ask him if he could join the Viro-inian
militia.

He accordingly went up to him and touched his hat.

" If you please, sir, I am anxious to join the Virginian
mihtia, and as they tell me that you are adjutant-general
1 have come to ask you if I can do so."

"I see no difficulty in it, my lad," the colonel said;

4 .-.

iliJHi

Ji
I 111

i|ii!'

150

With Wolfe in Canada

*'but if you have run away from home in search of ad-
venture I should advise you to go back again, for we
are likely to have heavy work."

*' I don't mind that, sir, and I have not run away.
I am English. I was pressed on board a frigate and was
brought over here, but my friends in England procured my
discharge, which came for me here a fortnight after my
arrival. They are, I believe, about to obtain for me a
commission in a king's regiment; but as I was here I
thought that I should like to see some service, as it may
be some months before I hear that I have got my com-
mission. I would rather if I could join as a volunteer,
as I do not want pay, my friends having supplied me
amply with money."

"You seem to be a lad of spirit," Colonel Washington
said, "and I will at once put you in the way of doing
what you desire. You shall join the Virginian corps as
a volunteer. Have you money enough to buy a horse?"

"Yes, plenty," Jim said. "I have two hundred
pounds."

'• Then you had better leave a hundred and fifty at least
behind you," the colonel said. " I will direct you to a
trader here with whom you can bank it. You can get
an excellent horse for twenty pounds. I asked you be-
cause, if you like, I can attach you to myself. I often
wpnt a mounted messenger; and of course, as a volunteer,
you would mess with me."

" I should like it above all things," James said thank-
fully.

" Then we will at once go to the tent of the officer com-
manding this company," Washington said, "and enroll
you as a volunteer."

On reaching the tent Washington dismounted and led
the way in. "Captain Hall," he said, "this is a young
English gentleman who will shortly have a commission
in the king's army, but in the meantime he wishes to see

Discharged

151

a little brisk fighting, so he is to be enrolled as a volunteer
in your company; but he is going to obtain a horse and
will act as a sort of aide-de-camp to me."

Captain Hall at once enteied James's name as a volun-
teer on the roll of his company,

"Do you know of anyone who has a good horse for
sale?" Washington asked.

••Yes," the captain replied, "at least there was a
farmer here half an hour ago with a good-looking horse
which he wants to sell. I have no doubt he is in the
camp still."

Captain Hall went to the door of the tent and told two
of the men there to find the farmer and tell him he had
a purchaser for his horse.

Ten minutes later the farmer came up and James bought
the horse, Captain Hall doing the bargaining for him.

"Now," Washington said, "we will go round to the
storekeeper I spoke of and deposit the best part of your
money with him. I shouid only take a pound or two,
if I were you, for you will find no means of spending
money when you once set forward, and should anything
happen to you the Indians would not appreciate the value
of those English notes of yours. You will want a brace
of pistols and a sword, a blanket, and cooking pot— that
is about the extent of your camp equipment."

;

ri f

>!'

CHAPTER IX

The Defeat of Braddock

HIngland and France were at this time at peace in Europe,
although the troops of both nations were about to engage
in conflict in the forests of America. Their position there
was an anomalous one. England owned the belt of
colonies on the east coast. France was mistress of
Canada in the north, of Louisiana in the south, and
moreover claimed the whole of the vast country lying
behind the British colonies, which were thus cooped up
on the seaboard. Her hold, however, of this great terri-
tory was extremely slight. She had strong posts along
the chain of lakes from the St. Lawrence to Lake Superior,
but between these and Louisiana her supremacy was little
more than nominal.

The Canadian population were frugal and hardy, but
they were deficient in enterprise; and the priests, who
ruled them with a rod of iron, for Canada was intensely
Catholic, discouraged any movements which would take
their flocks from under their charge. Upon the other
hand, the colonists of New England, Pennsylvania, and
Virginia were men of enterprise and energy, and their
traders, pushing in large numbers across the Alleghanies,
carried on an extensive trade with the Indians in the valley
of the Ohio, thereby greatly exciting the jealousy of the
French, who feared that the Indians would ally themselves
with the British colonists, and that the connection between
Canada and Louisiana would be thereby cut,

162

The Defeat of Braddock 153

irope,
ngage
I there
>eU of
ess of
1, and

J lying

ped up

.t terri-

along

perior,

s little

The English colonists were greatly superior to the
French in number; but they laboured under the disad-
vantage that the colonies were wholly independent of each
other, with strong mutual jealousies, which paralysed
their action and prevented their embarking upon any con-
certed operations. Upon the other hand, Canada was
governed by the French as a military colony. The
governor was practically absolute, and every man capable
of bearing arms could, if necessary, be called by him into
the field. He had at his disposal not only the wealth of
the colony but large assistance from France, and the
French agents were therefore able to outbid the agents
of the British colonies with the Indians.

For years there had been occasional troubles between
the New England States and the French, the latter em-
ploying the Indians in harassing the border; but until the
middle of the eighteenth century there had been nothing
like a general trouble. In 1749 the Marquis of Galis-
soni^re was governor- general of Canada; the treaty of
Aix-la-Chapelle had been signed; but this had done no-
thing to settle the vexed question of the boundaries
oetween the English and French colonies. Meanwhile
the English traders from Pennsylvania and Virginia were
poaching on the domain which France claimed as hers,
ruining the French fur trade, and making friends with
the Indian allies of Canada. Worse still, farmers were
pushing westward and settling in the valley of the
Ohio.

In order to drive these back, to impress the natives with
the power of France, and to bring them back to their
allegiance, the governor of Canada in the summer of 1749
sent C61onon de Bienville. He had with him fourteen
officers, twenty French soldiers, a hundred and eighty
Canadians, and a band of Indians. They embarked in
twenty-three birch-bark canoes, and pushing up the St.
Lawrence, reached Lake Ontario, stopping for a time at

I'P ,r

tit' '

I. ]

154

With Wolfe in Canada

the French fort of Frontenac, and avoiding the rival Eng-
lish port of Oswego on the southern shore, where a trade
in beaver skins disastrous to French interests was being
carried on, for the English traders sold their goods at
vastly lower prices than those which the French had
charged.

On the 6th of July the party reached Niagara, where
there was a small French fort, and thence, carrying their
canoes round the cataract, launched them upon Lake Erie.
Landing again on the southern shore of the lake, they
carried their canoes nine miles through the forest to
Chautauqua Lake, and then dropped down the stream
running out of it until they reached the Ohio. The fertile
country he'e was inhabited by the Delawares, Shawanoes,
Wyandots, and Iroquois, or Indians of the Five Nations,
who had migrated thither from their original territories
in the colony of New York. Further west, on the banks
of the Miami, the Wabash, and other streams, was a con-
federacy of the Miami and their kindred tribes ; still further
west in the country of the Illinois, near the Mississippi,
the French had a strong stone fort called Fort Chartres,
which formed one of the chief links of the chain of posts
that connected Quebec with New Orleans.

The French missionaries and the French political agents
had for seventy years laboured hard to bring these Indian
tribes into close connection with France. The missionaries
had failed signally; but the presents so lavishly bestowed
had inclined the tribes to the side of their donors, until
the English traders with their cheap goods came pushing
west over the Alleghanies. They carried their goodb on
the backs of horses, and journeyed from village to village,
selling powder, rum, calicoes, beads, and trinkets. No
less than three hundred men were engaged in these en-
terprises, and some of them pushed as far west
Mississippi.

As the party of C^loron proceeded they nailed , lates

where
ig their
ie Erie.
LC, they
)rest to

stream
le fertile
wanoes,
Nations,
irritories
le banks
IS a con-
11 further
isissippi,

hartres,

of posts

il agents
te Indian
Isionaries
)estowed
frs, until
pushing
Ifoodb M
village,
its. No
lese cs\'

The Defeat of Braddock 155

of tin stamped with the arms of France to trees, and
buried plates of lead near them with inscriptions, saying
that they took possession of the land in the name of
Louis XV, King of France. Many of the villages were
found to be deserted by the natives, who fled at their
approach. At some, however, they found Knglish traders,
who were warned at once to leave the country, and by
some of them letters were sent to the governor of Penn-
sylvania, in which Cdloron declared that he was greatly
surprised to find Englishmen trespassing in the domain
of France, and that his orders were precise, to leave no
foreign traders within the limits of the government of
Canada.

At Chiningu6, called Logstown by the English, a large
number of natives were gathered, most of the inhabitants
of the deserted villages having sought refuge there. The
French were received with a volley of balls from the shore;
but they landed without replying to the fire, and hostilities
were avoided. The French kept guard all night, and in
the morning C^loron invited the chiefs to a council, when
he told them he had come by the order of the governor to
open their eyes to the designs of the English against their
lands, and that they must be driven away at once. The
reply of the chiefs was humble ; but they begged that the
English traders, of whom there were at that moment ten
in the town, might stay a little longer, since the goods
they brought were necessary to them.

After making presents to the chiefs the party proceeded

on their way, putting up the coats of arms and burying

the lead inscriptions. At Scioto a large number of Indians

were assembled, and the French were very apprehensive

ack, which would doubtless have been disastrous

, as the Canadians of the party were altogether

ms to war. A council was held, however, at which

-^loi 11 could obtain no satisfaction whatever, for the

interests of the Indians were bound up with the English.

■$^

e ;

ti i

156

With Wolfe in Canada

There can be no doubt that had they been able to look
into the future every Indian on the continent would have
joined the French in their effort to crush the English
colonies. Had France remained master of America the
Indians might even now be roaming free and unmolested
on the lands of their forefathers. France is not a colo-
nizing nation; she would have traded with the Indians,
would have endeavoured to Christianize them, and would
have left them their land and freedom, well satisfied with
the fact that the flag of France should wave over so vast
an extent of country; but on England conquering the soil,
her armies of emigrants pressed west, and the red man
is fast becoming extinct on the continent of which he was
once the lord.

C^loron's expedition sailed down the Ohio until it reached
the mouth of the Miami, and toiled for thirteen days
against its shallow current until they reached a village
of the Miami Indians, ruled over by a chief called by the
French La Demoiselle, but whom the English, whose fast
friend he was, called Old Britain. He was the great chief
of the Miami confederation The English traders there
withdrew at the approach of the French. The usual
council was held, and C^loron urged the chief to remove
from this location, which he had but newly adopted, and
to take up his abode with his band near the French fort on
the Maumee. The chief accepted the Frenchman's gifts,
thanked him for his good advice, and promised to follow
it at a more convenient time; but neither promises nor
threats could induce him to stir at once.

No sooner, indeed, had the French departed than the
chief fc^athered the greater part of the members of the con-
federation on that spot, until, in less than two years after
the visit of C^loron, its population had increased eightfold,
and it became one of the greatest Indian towns of the
west, and the centre of English trade and influence.
C^loron reached Miami, and then returned northward to

to look
d have
English
ica the
»olested

a colo-
[ndians,
i would
,ed with

so vast
the soil,
red man
1 he was

; reached

;en days

a village

sd by the

hose fast

:eat chief

jrs there

he usual

) remove

(ted, and

h fort on

I's gifts,

follow
ises nor

than the

1 the con-
irs after
fghtfold,

of the
ifluence.
Iward to

The Defeat of Braddock 157

Lake Erie, and thence back to Montreal, when he re-
ported to the governor that English influence was supreme
in the valley of the Ohio.

In the following year a company was formed in Virginia
for effecting a settlement in Ohio, and a party proceeded
west to the village of the chief called Old Britain, by whom
they were received with great friendship, and a treaty of
peace was solemnly made between the English and the
Indians. While the festivities consequent on the affair
were going on, four Ottawa Indians arrived from the
French with the French flag and gifts, but they were dis-
missed with an answer of defiance. If at this time the
colonists could have cemented their alliance with the
Indians with gifts similar to those with which the French
endeavoured to purchase their friendship, a permanent
peace with the Indians might have been established,
but the mutual jealousies of the colonies and the nature
of the various colonial assemblies rendered any common
action impossible. Pennsylvania was jealous of the west-
ward advance of Virginia, and desired to thwart rather
than to assist her.

The governors of New York, Pennsylvania, and Virginia
were fully conscious of the importance of the Indian
alliance, but they could do nothing without their assem-
blies. Those of New York and Pennsylvania were largely
composed of tradesmen and farmers absorbed in local
interests, and animated but by two motives, the cutting
down of all expenditure and bitter and continuous opposi-
tion to the governor who represented the royal authority.
Virginia and Pennsylvania quarrelled about their respec-
tive rights over the valley of the Ohio. The assembly of
New York refused to join in any common action, saying,
"We will take care of our Indians, and they may take
care of theirs." The states further removed from the fear
of any danger from the action of the Indians and French
were altogether lukewarm.

158 With Wolfe in Canada

Thus neither in the valley of the Ohio nor on the boun-
daries of the New England states did the Indians receive
their promised gifts, and as the French agents were liberal
both in presents and promises, the Indians became dis-
contented with their new friends and again turned their
eyes towards France. Old Britain, however, remained
firm in his alliance, and the English traders by constant
presents, and by selling their goods at the lowest possible
rates, kept him and his warriors highly satisfied and
contented.

The French in vain tried to stir up the friendly tribes to
attack Oswego on Lake Ontario and the village of Old
Britain, which were the two centres to which the Indians
went to trade with the English, but they were unsuccessful
until, in June, 1752, Charles Langlade, a young French
trader, married to a squaw at Green Bay, and strong in
influence with the tribes of that region, came down the
lakes with a fleet of canoes manned by two hundred and
fifty Ottawa and Ojibwa warriors. They stopped awhile
at the fort at Detroit, then paddled up the Maumee to the
next fort, and thence marched through the forests against
the Miamis.

They approached Old Britain's village in the morning.
Most of the Indians were away on their summer hunt, and
there were but eight English traders in the place. Three
of these were caught outside the village, the remaining
five took refuge in the fortified warehouse they had built,
and there defended themselves.

Old Britain and the little band with him fought bravely,
but against such overwhelming numbers could do nothing,
and fourteen of them, including their chief, were killed.
The five white men defended themselves till the afternoon,
when two of them managed to make their escape, and the
other three surrendered. One of them was already wounded,
and was at once killed by the French Indians. Seventy
years of the teaching of the French missionaries had not

boun-
eceive
liberal
le dis-
i their
nained
mstant
ossible
:d and

■ibes to
of Old
Indians
ccessful
French
rong in
)wn the
red and
I awhile
[C to the
against

orning.
int, and
Three
laining
built,

gravely,
)thing,
killed,
fcrnoon,
md the
lunded,
[eventy
id not

The Defeat of Braddock

159

weaned the latter from cannibalism, and Old Britain was
boiled and eaten.

The Marquis of Duquesne, who had succeeded Galis-
soniere as governor, highly praised Langlade for the enter-
prise, and recommended him to the minister at home for
reward. This bold enterprise further shook the alliance of
the Indians with the English, for it seemed to them that
the French were enterprising and energetic, while the
English were slothful and cowardly, and neglected to
keep their agreements. The French continued to build
forts, and Dinwiddle, governor of Virginia, sent George
Washington to protest in his name against their build-
ing forts on land notoriously belonging to the English
crown.

Washington performed the long and toilsome journey
through the forests at no slight risks, and delivered his
message at the forts, but nothing came of it. The gover-
nor of Virginia, seeing the approaching Hanger, made the
greatest efforts to induce the other colonies to join in
common action; but North Carolina alone answered the
appeal, and gave money enough to raise three or four
hundred men. Two independent companies maintained
by England in New York, and one in South Carolina,
leceived orders to march to Virginia. The governor had
raised with great difficulty three hundred men. They were
called the Virginia Regiment. An English gentleman
named Joshua Fry was appointed the colonel, and Wash-
ington their major.

Fry was at Alexandria on the Potomac with half the
legiment. Washington with the other half had pushed
Ibrward to the storehouse at Wills Creek, which was to
lorm the base of operations. Besides these Captain Trent
with a band of backwoodsmen had crossed the mountain
to build a fort at the forks of the Ohio, where Pittsburg
now stands. Trent had gone back to Wills Creek, leaving
''.nsign Ward with forty men at work upon the fort, when,

?:!:

I "'

ill;

|!)^i

'! ,

1 60 With Wolfe in Canada

on the 17th April, a swarm of canoes came down the Alle-
ghany with over five hundred Frenchmen, who planted
cannon against the unfinished stockade, and summoned
the ensign to surrender; he had no recourse but to sub-
mit, and was allowed to depart with his men across the
mountains. *

The French at once set to to build a strong fort, which
they named Fort Duquesne. While the governor of Vir-
ginia had been toiling in vain to get the colonists to move,
the French had acted promptly, and the erection of their
new fort at once covered their line of communication to
the west, barred the advance of the English down the
Ohio valley, and secured the allegiance of all the wavering
Indian tribes.

Although war had not yet been declared between Eng
land and France, the colonists, after this seizure by French
soldiers of a fort over which the English flag was flying,
henceforth acted as if the two powers were at war. Wash-
ington moved forward from Wills Creek with his hundred
and fifty men, and surprised a French force which had
gone out scouting.

: Several of the French were killed, and the commander
of Fort Duquesne sent despatches to France to say that
he had sent this party out with a communication to Wash-
ington, and that they had been treacherously assassinated.
This obscure skirmish was the commencement of a war
which set two continents on fire. Colonel Fry died a few
days after this fight, and Washington succeeded to the
command of the regiment, and collected his three hundred
men at Green Meadow, where he was joined by a few
Indians, and by a company from South Carolina.

The French at Duquesne were quickly reinforced, and
the command was given to Coulon de Villiers, the brother
of an officer who had been killef* in the skirmish with
Washington. He at once advance,, against the English,
who had fallen back to a rough breastwork which they

■1, ,1

h ML ,

The Defeat of Braddock i6i

called Fort Necessity, Washington having but four hun-
dred men against five hundred French and as many
Indians.

For nine hours the French kept up a hot fire on the
entrenchment but without success, and at nightfall Villiers
proposed a parley. The French ammunition was run-
ning short, the men were fatigued by their marches, and
drenched by the rain which had been falling the whole
day. The English were in a still worse plight; their
powder was nearly spent, their guns were foul, and among
them they had but two cleaning rods. -';{ . .w

After a parley it was agreed that the English should
march off with drums beating and the honours of war,
carrying with them all their property, that the prisoners
taken in the previous affair should be set free, two officers
remaining with the French as hostages until they were
handed over. Washington and his men arrived utterly
worn out with fatigue and famine at Wills Creek. This
action left the French masters of the whole country be-
yond the Alleghanies. The two mother nations were now
preparing for war, and in the middle of January, 1755,
Major-general Braddock with the 44th and 48th Regi-
ments, each five hundred strong, sailed from Cork for
Virginia, while the French sent eighteen ships of war and
six battalions to Canada. Admiral Boscawen with eleven
ships of the line and one frigate set out to intercept the
French expedition. The greater part of the fleet evaded
him, but he came up with three of the French men-of-
war, opened fire upon them, and captured them. Up
to this time a pretence of negotiations had been main-
tained between England and France, but the capture of
the French ships brought the negotiations to a sudden
end, and the war began.

A worse selection than that of Major-general Braddock
could hardly have been made ; he was a brave officer and
a good soldier, but he was rough, coarse, and obstinate ;

(337) ,,

'» \f>

1 62

With Wolfe in Canada

:,t

he utterly despised the colonial troops, and regarded all
methods of fighting save those pursued by regular armies
in the field with absolute contempt. To send such a
man to command troops destined to fight in thick forests
against an enemy skilled in warfare of that kind was to
court defeat.

As might be expected Braddock was very soon on the
worst possible terms with the whole of the colonial author-
ities, and the delays caused by the indecision or obstinacy
of the colonial assemblies chafed him to madness. At last,
however, his force was assembled at Wills Creek. The
two English regiments had been raised by enlistment in
Virginia to 700 men each. There were nine Virginian
companies of fifty men and the thirty sailors lent by Com-
modore Keppel. General Braddock had three aides-de-
camp — Captain Robert Orme, Captain Roger Morris, and
Colonel George Washington. ■'■■> '■

It was the ist of June when James Walsham rode with
Colonel Washington into the camp, and three days later
the last companies of the Virginian corps marched in.
During the next week some of the English officers at-
tempted to drill the Virginians in the manner of English

troops. Ji'* 1 i> If^;

•'.uy^lii %.m;j-:-:'}i\ i'j'i! li.i

• It is a waste of time," Colonel Washington said to
James one day when he was watching them, **and worse.
These men can fight their own way, most of them are
good shots and have a fair idea of forest fighting; let
them go their own way and they can be trusted to hold
their own against at least an equal number of French and
Indians, but they would be hopelessly at sea if they were
called upon to fight like English regulars. Most likely the
enemy will attack us in the forest, and what good will
forming in line, or wheeling on a flank, or any of the
things which the general is trying to drum into their heads
do to them. If the French are foolish enough to wait at
ti'ort Duqiiesne until we £^rrive, I have no doubt we shall

I'he Defeat of Braddock 163

beat them, but if they attack us in the woods it will go
hard with us." w«u. . .i' •-

During the ten days which elapsed between his arrival
and the start James was kept hard at work, being for the
most part employed galloping up and down the road urging
up the waggoners, and bringing back reports as to their
position and progress. On the loth of June the army
started ; 300 axemen led the way, cutting and clearing
the road, the long train of pack horses, waggons, and
cannon followed; the troops marched in the forest on
either side, while men were thrown out on the flanks and
scouts ranged the woods to guard against surprise.

The road was cut but twelve feet wide, and the line of
march often extended four miles. Thus day by day they
toiled on, crossing the Alleghany Mountains, range after
range, now plunging down into a ravine, now ascending
a ridge, but always in the deep shadow of the forest. A
few of the enemy hovered round them, occasionally killing
a straggler who fell behind. On the i8th of June the army
reached a place called the Little Meadows. So weak were
the horses from want of forage that the last marches had
been but three miles a day, and upon Washington's advice
Braddock determined to leave the heavy baggage here
with the sick men and a strong guard under Colonel
Dunbar while he advanced with 1200 men, besides officers
and drivers. But the progress was still no more than
three miles a day, and it was not until the 7th of July that
they arrived within eight miles of the French fort.

Between them lay, however, an extremely difficult coun-
try with a narrow defile, and Braddock determined to ford
the Monongahela and then cross it again lower down. The
garrison of Fort Duquesne consisted of a few companies
of regular troops, some hundreds of Canadians, and 800
Indian warriors. They were kept informed by the scouts
of the progress of the English, and when the latter ap-
proached the Monongahela a party under Captain Beaujeu

^ y*

9«^

N h

In: I

till

!■;

164

With Wolfe in Canada

set out to meet them. His force consisted of 637 Indians,
100 French officers and soldiers, and 146 Canadians, in all
about 900 men. At one o'clock in the day Braddock crossed
the Monongahela for the second time; the troops had all
tho day been expecting the attack and had prepared for it.
At the second ford the army marched in martial order with
music playing and flags flying. Once across the river they
halted for a short time and then again continued their
advance. - .. » .^^.. ■■,.:.-!. ,,1; j, .;., , ,.;('; ..;..,.• .;

Braddock made every disposition for preventing a sur-
prise. Several guides with six Virginian light horsemen
led the way, then came the advanced column consisting of
300 soldiers under Gage, and a large body of axemen under
Sir John Sinclair with two cannon. The main body fol-
lowed close behind. The artillery and waggons moved
along the road, the troops marched through the woods on
either hand, numerous flanking parties were thrown out a
hundred yards or more right and left, and in the space be-
tween them and the line of troops the pack horses and
cattle made their way as they best could among the trees.
Beaujeu had intended to plaice his men in ambuscade at the
ford, but owing to various delays caused by the Indians he
was still a mile away from the ford when the British crossed.
He was marching forward when he came suddenly upon
the little party of guides and Virginian light horsemen.
These at once fell back, the Indians raised their warwhoop,
and spreading right and left among the trees opened a
sharp Are upon the British.

Gage's column wheeled deliberately into line and fired
volley after volley with great steadiness at the invisible
opponents. The greater part of the Canadians bolted at
once, but the Indians kept up their fire from behind the
shelter of the trees. Gage brought up his two cannon and
opened fire, and the Indians, who had a horror of artilleiy,
began also to fall back. The English advanced in regular
lines cheering loudly. Beaujeu fell dead; but Captain

The Defeat of Brad dock 165

lans,
n all
)ssed
id all
or it.

with
' they

their

a sur-
semen
:ing of

under
dy fol-
movcd
ods on
[\ out a
ace be-
jes and
trees,
at the
[ians he
trossed.

y Upon

semen,
hoop,

fened a

fired
ivisible
^Ited at
Ind the
Ion and
rtilleiy,
regular

'aptain

Dumas, who succeeded him in command, advanced at the
head of his small party of French soldiers and opened a
heavy fire.

The Indians, encouraged by the example, rallied and
again came forward, and while the French regulars and
the few Canadians who had not fled held the ground in
front of the column, the Indians swarmed through the
fore.sts along both flanks of the English, and from behind
trees, bushes, and rocks opened a withering fire upon
them. The troops, bewildered and amazed by the fire
poured into them by an invisible foe, and by the wild war-
whoops of the Indians, ceased to advance, and standing
close together poured fruitlessly volley after volley into the
surrounding forest. » i- '

On hearing the firing, Braddock, leaving 400 men in the
rear under Sir Peter Halket to guard the baggage, advanced
with the main body to support Gage ; but just as he came
up the soldiers, appalled by the fire which was mowing
them down in scores, abandoned their cannon and fell back
in confusion. This threw the advancing force into disorder,
and the two regiments became mixed together, massed in
several dense bodies within a small space of ground, facing
some one way and some another, all alike exposed without
shelter to the hail of bullets. Men and ofiicers were alike
new to warfare like this ; they had been taught to fight in
line against solid masses of the enemy, and against an in-
visible foe like the present they were helpless. The
Virginians alone were equal to the emergency. They at
once adopted their familiar forest tactics, and taking their
post behind trees began to fight the Indians in their own
way. • , .'«

Had Braddock been a man of judgment and temper the
fortunes of the day might yet have been retrieved, for the
Virginians could have checked the Indians until the English
troops were rallied and prepared to meet the difficulty; but
to Braddock the idea of men fighting behind trees was at

\. I

i!l

llili

i66 With Wolfe in Canada

once cowardly and opposed to all military discipline, and
he dashed forward on his horse and with fierce oaths
ordered the Virginians to form line. A body of them, how-
ever, under Captain Waggoner, made a dash for a huge
fallen tree far out towards the lurking-places of the Indians,
and crouching behind it opened fire upon them; but the
regulars seeing the smoke among the bushes took them for
the enemy, and firing killed many and forced the rest to
return.

A few of the soldiers tried to imitate the Indians and
fight behind the trees, but Braddock beat them back with
the flat of his sword and forced them to stand with the
others, who were now huddled in a mass forming a target
for the enemy's bullets. Lieutenant-colonel Burton led loo
of them towards a knoll from which the puffs came thickest,
but he fell wounded, and his men, on whom the enemy
instantly concentrated their fire, fell back. The soldiers,
powerless against the unseen foe, for afterwards some of
the officers and men who escaped declared that throughout
the whole fight they had not seen a single Indian, discharged
their guns aimlessly among the trees.

They were half stupefied now with the terror and con-
fusion of the scene, the rain of bullets, the wild yells which
burst ceaselessly from their 600 savage foemen ; while the
horses, wild with terror and wounds, added to the confusion
by dashing madly hither and thither. Braddock behaved
with furious intrepidity; he dashed hither and thither shout-
ing and storming at the men, and striving to get them in
order and to lead them to attack the enemy. Four horses
were one after the other shot under him; his officers be-
haved with equal courage and self-devotion, and in vain
attempted to lead on the men, sometimes advancing in
parties towards the Indians in hopes that the soldiers
would follow them. Sir Peter Halket was killed. Home
and Morris the two aides-de-camp, Sinclair the quarter-
master-general, Gates, Gage, and Gladwin were wounded.

The Defeat of Braddock 167

Of 86 officers 63 were killed or disabled, while of 1373 "on-
commissioned officers and privates only 459 came off un-
harmed.

James Walsham had been riding by the side of Washing-
ton when the fight began, and followed him closely as he
j,'alloped among the troops trying to rally and lead them
lorvvard. Washington's horse was pierced by a ball and,
staggering, fell. James leaped from his horse and gave it
to the colonel, and then seeing that there was nothing for
him to do withdrew a short distance from the crowd of
soldiers and crouched down between the trunks of two
^reat trees growing close to each other, one of which pro-
tected him for the most part from the fire of the Indians
and the other from the not less dangerous fire of the English.

Presently, seeing a soldier fall at a short distance from
him, he ran out and picked up his musket and cartridge
box and began to fire at the bushes where the puflfs of
smoke showed that men were in hiding. After three hours'
passive endurance of this terrible fire, Braddock, seeing
that all was lost, commanded a retreat, and he and such
officers as were left strove to draw off the soldiers in some
semblance of order; but at this moment a bullet struck
him, and passing through his arm penetrated his lungs and
he fell from his horse. He demanded to be left where he
lay, but Captain Stewart of the Virginians and one of his
men bore him between them to the rear.

The soldiers had now spent all their ammunition, and, no
longer kept in their places by their general, broke away in
a wild panic. Washington's second horse had now been
shot, and as, trying to check the men, he passed the trees
where James had taken up his position the latter joined
him. In vain Washington and his other officers tried to
rally the men at the ford. They dashed across it, wild
with fear, leaving their wounded comrades, cannon, bag-
gage, and military chest a prey to the Indians.

Fortunately only about fifty of the Indians followed a&

^. I

i68 With Wolfe in Canada

far as the ford, the rest being occupied in killing the
wounded and scalping the dead. Dumas, who had now
but twenty Frenchmen left, fell back to the fort, and the
remnants of Braddock's force coDtinued the flight uq.
molested.

i .

THE SOLDIliRS WKIU: HALF-STlPEFIF.l) \\ 1111 TERROR AND

CONFUSION "

I I

CHAPTER X

The Fight at Lake George

Fortunate was it fnr f k

-be Indians were too mu^VrZlL" i„''"'^'=-''''' ^"-^ "'^'
dan harvest of scalps, too aSs . ^"'^"•"S the abun-
e>:'..u.t these trophies of the^h '■''"™ *° "'^ f"" to
P"«mt; for had they done so IZ""^.' '° P™'^ "^ ■"
stncken fugitives would ever have ir h""''" "^ "'^ P^nic-
"■ght these continued the.r flith, ^ '° '"' "" '^'^ All
"> hear the dreaded wa who '' !""'"'"«■ ^"^'y -"oment
wood,- round them. "^'^''°°P b"rst out again in the

C;olonel Washington haH k
fereral to press on on horsebar. "'f""" ^^ '"e dying
''« ">. tell him to forward ' "'" '^"'"P °f ^unbarf

am^ munition; bu, the panfc whid'h^!,""'' P™^'»'°'"'. anj
f ">eady been spread by q'n.f '"''" ""= ■"""> f"'"
'•■anip; many soldiers and Lj'"^ teamsters to Dunbar's

-d the panic was heigh"ten:^X,rtL'l°"" '°'"' '"■^'■''
<tock s force arrived. There wZ '^"mnants of Brad-

Kv were pursued, and eTen had^th'" •'" '° ^PP"^'' "'-'
«s ample to repel any attack that ^^,."?" '° "'«i^ f<"-ce
"""t probably their commW ''°"''' ''^ ■"^''e "Pon if

2'^'^ "f utter demoral^a Ton iLf" 'I''" '" '"^'^ p'^ent
%ht, and that the first h,d?.",t^ T'" ""' ''^ '"'«ed to
•?-" in flight. Stil t :; r^'r '^"""^ ^'-' "-n
'ave the whole border openTo t . ^'" " '''"^^^ >™"ld
nd Coione, Dunbar wa7Z^,''lr'T' '"' ""= '""ians.
"=olt. S-reatly blamed lor the cour,e he

100

170

With Wolfe in Canada

I !

;i ■■;

A hundred waggons were buuned, the cannon and shells
burst, and the barrels of powder emptied into the stream,
the stores of provisions scattered through the woods, and
then the force began its retreat over the mountains to Fort
Cumberland, sixty miles away. General Braddock died
the day that the retreat began; his last words were, *' We
shall know better how to deal with them next time." The
news of the disaster came like a thunderbolt upon the
colonists; success had been regarded as certain, and the
news that some fourteen hundred English troops had been
utterly routed by a body of French and Indians of half
their strength seemed almost incredible. The only conso-
lation was that the hundred and fifty Virginians who had
accompanied the regulars had all, as was acknowle'i'yed by
the English officers themselves, fought with the greatest
bravery, and had kept their coolness and presence of mind
till the last, and that on them no shadow of the discredit
of the affair rested. Indeed it was said that the greater
part were killed not by the fire of the Indians, but by that
of the troops, who, standing in masses, fired in all direc-
tions, regardless of what was in front of them. ,

But Colonel Dunbar, not satisfied with retreating to the
safe shelter of P'ort Cumberland, to the amazement of the
colonists, insisted upon withdrawing with his own force to
Philadelphia, leaving the whole of the frontier open to the
assaults of the hostile Indians. After waiting a short time
at Philadelphia he marched slowly on to join a force operat-
ing against the French in the region of Lake George, more
than two hundred miles to the north. He took with him
only the regulars, the provincial regiments being under the
control of the governors of their own states. Washington
therefore remained behind in Virginia with the regiment ol
that colony. The blanks made in Braddock's fight were
filled up, and the force raised to a thousand strong. With
these he was to protect a frontier of three hundred and
fifty miles long against an ;ictive and enterprising foe mon

The Fight at Lake George 171

numerous than himself, and who, acting- on the other side
of the mountain, and in the shade of the deep forests, could
choose their own time of attack, and launch themselves
suddenly upon any village throughout the whole length of
the frontier.

Nor were the troops at his disposal the material which a
commander would wish to have in his hand. Individually
they were brave, but being recruited among the poor
whites, the most turbulent and troublesome part of the
population, they were wholly unamenable to discipline,
and Washington had no means whatever for enforcing
it. He applied to the House of Assembly to pass a law
enabling him to punish disobedience, but for months they
hesitated to pass any such ordinance on the excuse that
it would trench on the liberty of free white men.

The service, indeed, was most unpopular, and Washing-
ton, whose headquarters were at Winchester, could do
nothing whatever to assist the settlements on the border.
His officers were as unruly as the men, and he was further
hampered by having to comply with the orders of Gover-
nor Dinwiddle at Williamsburg, two hundred miles away.

"What do you mean to do?" he had asked James
Walsham the day that the beaten army arrived at Fort
Cumberland.

" 1 dc not know," James said. ** I certainly will not
continue with Di'nhar, who seems to me to be acting like
a coward ; nor do I wish to go into action with regulars
Hi^ain, not, at least, until they have been taught that if
they are to fight Indians successfully in the forests they
must abandon all their traditions of drill, and must fight
in Indian fashion. I should like to stay with you if you
will allow me."

" I should be very glad to have you with me," Washing-
ton s?id; "but I do not think that you will see much
action liere; it will be a war of forays. The Indians will
pounce upon a village or solitary farmhouse, murder and

HfU<

172

With Wolfe in Canada

scalp the inhabitants, burn the buildings to the ground,
and in an hour be far away beyond reach of pursuit. All
that I can do is to occupy the chief roads, by which they
can advance into the heart of the colony, and the people
of the settlements lying west of that must, perforce, aban-
don their homesteads, and fly east until we are strong
enough to again take up the offensive. Were I in your
place 1 would at once take horse and ride north. You
will then be in plenty of time, if inclined, to join in the
expedition against the French on Fort George, or in that
which is going to march on Niagara. I fancy the former
will be ready first. You will find things better managed
there than here. The colonists in that part have for many
years been accustomed to Indian fighting, and they will
not be hampered by having regular troops with them,
whose officers' only idea of warfare is to keep their men
standing in line as targets for the enemy.

" There are many bodies of experienced scouts, to which
you can attach yourself, and you will see that white men
can beat the Indians at their own game."

Although sorry to leave the young Virginian officer,
James Walsh".m thought that he could not do better than
follow his advice; and accordingly the next day, having
procured another horse, he set off to join the column
destined to operate on the lakes.

The prevision of Washington was shortly realized, and
a cloud of red warriors descended on the border settle-
ments, carrying murder, rapine, and ruin before them.
Scores of quiet settlements were destroyed, hundreds of
men, wonien, and children massacred, and in a short
time the whole of thi^ outlying farms were deserted, and
crowds of weeping fugitives flocked eastward behind the
line held by Washington's regiment.

But bad as affairs were in Virginia those in Pennsylvania
were infinitely worse. They had for many years been on
such friendly terms with the Indians that many of the

■%

, and
ettle-
them.
;ds of
short
, and
d the

Ivania

;n on

If the

The Fight at Lake George 173

se- tiers had no arms, nor had they the protection in thr
way of troops which the government of Virginia put upon
the frontier. 1 he government of the colony was at Phila-
delphia, far to the east, and sheltered from danger and
the Quaker Assembly there refused to vote money for a
smg e soldier to protect the unhappy colonists on the

rT'\u , J ^'^"^ " ^ ''" *° ^^^'^ ^"d «bove all to
fiirhl with ndians, and as long as they themselves were
Irce from the danger they turned a deaf ear to the tales
ot massacre and to the pitiful cries for aid which came
horn the frontier. But even greater than their objection
to war was their passion of resistance to the representa-
tive ot royalty, the governor.

Petition after petition came from the border for arms
and ammunition, and for a m'litia law to enable the peoole
to organize and defend themselves; but the Quakers re-
sisted, declaring that Braddock's defeat was a just judir-
ment upon him and his soldiers for molesting the French
... the.r settlement in Ohio. They passed, indeed, a'bill
lor raising fifty thousand pounds for the king's use, but
affixed to It a condition, to which they knew well the
Rcvernor could not assent, viz. that the proprietary lands
were to pay their share of the tax.

To this condition the governor was unable to assent
or according to the constitution of the colony, to which
he was bound, the lands of William Penn and his dr.
scendants were free of all taxation. For weeks the dead-
ock continued; every day brought news of massacres
ot tens fifties, and even hundreds of persons, but the
assembly remained obstinate until the mayor, aldermen,
iind principal citizens clamoured against them, and four
thousand frontiersmen started on their march to Phila-
delphia to compel them to take measures for defence

iiodies of massacred men were brought from the frontier
villages and paraded through the town, and so threatening
oecamc the aspect of the population that the Assembly of

m\i

', ?!

■ I

■■vi

>74

With Wolfe in Canada

Ii,'
■n

Quakers were at last obliged to pass a militia law. It
was, however, an absolutely useless one; it specially ex-
cepted the Quakers from service, and constrained nobody,
but declared it lawful for such as chose to form themselves
into companies, and to elect officers by ballot. The com-
pany officers might, if they saw fit, elect, also by ballot,
colonels, lieutenant-colonels, and majors. These last might
then, in conjunction with the governor, frame articles of
war, to which, however, no officer or man was to be sub-
jected, unless, after three days' consideration, he subscribed
them in presence of a justice of the peace, and declared his
willingness to be bound by them. , ' '

This mockery of a bill, drawn by Benjamin Franklin
while the savages were raging in the colony and the smoke
of a hundred villages was ascending to the skies, was
received with indignation by the people, and this rose to
such a height that the Assembly must have yielded un-
conditionally had not a circumstance occurred which gave
them a decent pretext for retreat. The governor informed
them that he had just received a letter from the proprietors,
as Penn's heirs were called, giving to the province five
thousand pounds to aid in its defence, on condition that
the money should be accepted as a free gift and not as
their proportion of any tax that was or might be laid by
the Assembly.

Thereupon the Assembly struck out the clause taxing
the proprietary estates, and the governor signed the bill.
A small force was then raised which enabled the Indians
to be to some extent kept in check ; but there was no
safety for the unhappy settlers in the west of Pennsyl-
vania during the next three years, while the French from
Montreal were hounding on their savage allies by gifts
and rewards to deeds of massacre and bloodshed. The
northern colonies had shown a better spirit. Massa-
chusetts, which had always been the foremost of the
northern colonies in resisting French and Indian aggres-

The Fight at I>ake

George 1/5

vv. It
illy ex-
obody,
nselves
le com-
ballot,
it might
[icles of
be sub-
bscribed
iared his

Franklin
le smoke
:ies, was
s rose, to
ilded Ull-
rich gave

informed
oprietors,

ince five
[ition that

,d not as

le laid by

Ise taxing
the bill.
[e Indians
le was no
Pennsyl-
;nch from
by gifts
led. The
Massa-
Ist of the
In aggres-

sion, had at once taken the lead in preparation for war.
No less than 4500 men, being one in eight of her adult
males, volunteered to fight the P'rench, and enlisted for
the various expeditions, some in the pay of the province,
some in that of the king.

Shirley, the governor of Massachusetts, himself a
colonist, was requested by his Assem^^'v to nominate the
commander. He did not choose an officer of that province,
as this would have excited the jealousy of the others, but
nominated WiMiam Johnson of New York — a choice which
not only pleased that important province, but had great
influence in securing the alliance of the Indians of the Five
Nations, among whom Johnson, who had held the post of
Indian commissioner, was extremely popular.

Connecticut voted 1200 men, New Hampshire 500,
Rhode Island 400, and New York 800, all at their own
charge. Johnson, before assuming the command, invited
the warriors of the Five Nations to assemble in council.
Eleven hundred Indian warriors answered the invitation,
and after four days' speechmaking agreed to join. Only
300 of them, however, took the field, for so many of thew
friends and relatives were fighting for the French, tliat
the rest, when they sobered down after the excitement
of the council, returned to their homes. :•*•

The object of the expedition was the attack of Crown
Point — an important military post on Lake Champlain —
ind the colonists assembled near Albany; but there were
g^reat delays. The five colonial assemblies controlled their
own troops and supplies. Connecticut had refused to
send her men until Shirle^ promised that her command-
ing officer should rank next to Johnson, and the whole
movement was for some time at a deadlock because the
five governments could not agree about their contributions
of artillery and stores.

The troops were a rough-looking body. Only one of
'he corps had a blue uniform, faced with red; the rest

!i:

176

With Wolfe in Canada

wore their ordinary farm clothing-. All had brought tlieir
own guns of every description and fashion. They had no
bayonets, but carried hatchets in their belts as a sort of
substitute. In point of morals the army, composed almost
entirely of farmers and farmers' sons, was exemplary, it
is recorded that not a chicken was stolen. In the camps
of the Puritan soldiers of New England sermons were
preached twice a week, and there were daily prayers and
much singing of psalms; but these good people were
much shocked by the profane language of the troops from
New York and Rhode Island, and some prophesied that
disaster would be sure to fall upon the army from this
cause. '.

Months were consumed in various delays; and on the
21st of August, just as they were moving forward, four
Mohawks, whom Johnson had sent into Canada, returned
with the news that the French were making great prepara-
tions, and that 8000 men were marching to defend Crown
Point. The papers of General Braddock, which fell with
all the baggage of the army into the hands of the French,
had informed them of the object of the gathering at
Albany, and now that they had no fear of any further
attempt against their posts in Ohio they were able to
concentrate all their force for the defence of r.?ir posts
on Lake Champlain.

On the receipt of this alarming news a council of war
was held at Albany, and messages were sent to the colonies
asking for reinforcements. In the meantime the army
moved up the Hudson to the spot called the Great Carrying-
place, where Colonel Lyman, who was second in command,
had gone forward and erected a fort, which his men called
after him, but was afterwards named Fort Edward.

James Walsham joined the army a few days before it
moved forward. He was received with great heartiness
by General Johnson, to whom he brought a letter of intro-
duction from Colonel Washington, and who at once offered

The Fight at Lake George

/ /

it their
had no

sort of

almost
^ry. It
; camps
iis were
'ers and
»le were
)ps from
lied that
roni this

d on the
ard, four

returned
: prepara-
id Crown

fell with
French,

ering at

y further
able to

?ir posts

111 of war
colonies

Ihe army
:arrying-
)mtnand,

len called

LI •

[before il

leartiness

[of intro-

e offered

him a position as one of his aides-de-camp. This he found
txceedingly pleasant, for Johnson was one of the most
jOvial and openhearted of commanders. His hospitality
was profuse, and his private means being large he was
able to keep a capital table, which, on the line of march,
all officers who happened to pass by were invited to share.
This was a contrast, indeed, to the discipline which had
prevailed in Braddock's columns, and James felt as if he
were starting upon a great picnic rather than upon an
arduous march against a superior force.

After some hesitation as to the course the army should
take, it was resolved to march for Lake George. Gangs of
axemen were sent to hew a way, and on the 26th 2000
men marched for the lake, while Colonel Blanchard of New
Hampshire remained with 500 to finish and defend Fort
Lyman. The march was made in a leisurely manner, and
the force took two days to traverse the fourteen miles
between Fort Lyman and the lake. They were now in
a country hitherto untrodden by white men save by soli-
tary hunters.

They reached the southern end of the beautiful lake,
wh'ch hitherto had received no English name, and was
now first called Lake George in honour of the king. The
men set to v/ork and felled trees until they had cleared
a sufficient extent of ground for their camp by the edge
of the water, and posted themselves with their back to
the lake. In their front was a forest of pitch-pine, on
their right a marsh covered with thick brushwood, on
their left a low hill. Things went on in the same leisurely
way which had marked the progress of the expedition.
No attempt was made to clear away the forest in front,
although it would afford excellent cover for any enemy
who might attack them, nor were any efforts made to
discover the whereabouts or intention of the enemy.

Every day waggons came up with provisions and boats.
On September 7th an Indian scout arrived about sunset

(337) IS

'I:

»,

! ' Ifti'^ M¥

r r

178

With Wolfe in Canada

and reported that he had found the trail of a body of men
moving from South Bay, the southern extremity of Lake
Champhiin, towards Fort Lyman. Johnson called for a
volunteer to carry a letter of warning to Colonel Blan-
chard. A waggoner nimed Adams offered to undertake
the perilous service and rode off with the letter. Sentries
were posted, and the camp fell asleep.

While Johnson had been taking his leis.ire on Lake
(ieorge, the commander of the French force, a German
baron named Dieskau, was preparing a surprise for iiim;
he had reached Crown Foint at the head of 3573 men-
regulars, Canadians, and Indians — and he at once moved
forward with the greater portion of his command on
Cariolon, or, as it was afterwards called, Ticonderoga,
a promontory at the junction of Lake George with Lake
Champlain, where he would bar the advance of the English
whichever road they might take. The Indians with the
French caused great trouble to their commander, doing
nothing but feast and sleep, but on September 4th a party
of them came in bringing a scalp and an English prisoner
caught near Fort Lyman.

He was questioned under the threat of being given over
to the Indians to torture if he did not tell the truth, but
the brave fellow, thinking he should lead the enemy into
a trap, told them that the English army had fallen back to
Albany leaving 500 men at Fort Lyman, which he repre-
sented as being entirely indefensible.

Dieskau at once determined to attack that place, and
with 216 regulars of the battalions of Languedoc and La
Reine, 684 Canadians, and about 600 Indians started in
canoes and advanced up Lake Champlain till they came
to the end of South Bay. Each officer and man carried
provisions for eight days in his knapsack. Two days'
march brought them to within three miles of Fort Lyman,
and they encamped close to the road which led to Lake
George, just after they had encamped a man rode by on

The Fight at Lake George 179

horseback It Nv-as Adams, Johnson's messenger. He
was shot by the Indians and the letter found upon him.
boon afterwards ten or twelve wag^^ons appeared in charge

oIitTrders "" '^^"^ ^""^ '^^' '''" ^"^''^^ ^^"^P ^'^h-

Some of the drivers were shot, two taken prisoners, and

he rest ran away. The two prisoners declared that/con-

rary to the assertion of the prisoner at Ticonderoga, a

large force lay encamped by the lake. The Indians hdd

a councl and presently informed Dieskau that they would

not attack the fort, which they believed to be provided

w.th cannon, but would join in an attempt on the camp

by the lake. D.eskau judged from the report of the

prisoners that the colonists considerably outnumbered him.

slength the French column numbering 1500 and the
colomal force 22CX), besides 300 Mohawk Indians. But
Jjeskau. emulous of repeating the defeat of Braddock.
and behevrng the assertions of the Canadians that the
oion.al mihtia was contemptible, determined to attack
and early ,n the morning the column moved along the
road towards the lake. '^

When within four miles of Johnson's camp they entered

bushes, beyond which rose the rocky height of French
Mountam. On their left rose gradually the slopes of
V St Mountam. The ground was thickly covered with
cket and forest The regulars marched along the road,
he Canadians and Indians pushed their way through the
lt".K ''' they could. When within three mUes of
1 1' l^^';.^^;;°"\brought in a prisoner, who told them
vere h"l. H^ 1 ''°^"?" ""^^ approaching; the regulars
n ahe'n h\ .' r'' '^' Canadians and Indians moved
ahead and hid themselves in ambush among the trees
and bushes on either side of the road.
The waggoners who had escaped the evening before had

«•

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WEBSTER, NY. 14580

(716) 872-4503

i8o With Wolfe in Canada

reached Johnson's camp about midnight and reported thav
there was a war party on the road near Fort Lyman.

A council of war was held, and under an entire mis-
conception of the force of the enemy and the belief that
they would speedily fall back from Fort Lyman, it was
determined to send out two detachments, each 500 strong,
one towards Fort Lyman, the other to catch the enemy in
their retreat. Hendrick, the chief of the Mohawks, ex-
pressed his strong disapproval of this plan, and accordingly
it was resolved that the thousand men should go as one
body. Hendrick still disapproved of the plan, but never-
theless resolved to accompany the column, and mounting
on a gun carriage he harangued his warriors with pas-
sionate eloquence, and they at once prepared to accompany
them. He was too old and fat to gu on foot, and the
general lent him a horse, which he m )unted and ^ook his
place at the head of the column.

Colonel Williams was in command, v^ii. Lieutenant-
colonel Whiting as second. They had no idea oi' meeting
the enemy near the camp, and moved forward so care-
lessly that not a single scout was thrown out in front or
flank. The sharp eye of the old Indian chief was the first
to detect a sign of the enemy, and almost at the same
moment a gun was flred from the bushes. It is said that
the Iroquois seeing the Mohawks, who were an allied
tribe, in the van, wished to warn them of danger; the
warning came too late to save the column from disaster,
but it saved it from destruction. From the thicket on
the left a deadly fire blazed out, and the head of the
column was almost swept away. Hendrick's horse was
shot, and the chief killed with a bayonet as he tried to
gain his feet.

Colonel Williams seeing rising ground on his right made
for it, calling his men to follow; but as ._ climbed the
slope the enemy's fire flashed out from behind every tree,
and he fell dead. The men in the rear pressed forward to

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The Fight at Lake George 18 1

kupport their comrades, when the enemy in the bushes on
the right flank also opened fire. Then a panic began;
some fled at once for the camp, and the whole column
recoiled in confusion, as from all sides the enemy burst
out, shouting and yelling. Colonel Whiting, however,
bravely rallied a portion of Williams' regiment, and aided
by some of the Mohawks and by a detachment which
Johnson sent out to his aid, covered the retreat, fighting
behind the trees like the Indians, and falling back in good
order with their faces to the enemy.

So stern and obstinate was their resistance that the
French halted three-quarters of a mile from the camp.
They had inflicted a heavy blow, but had altogether failed
in obtaining the complete success they looked for. The
obstinate defence of Whiting and his men had surprised
and dispirited them, and Dieskau, when he collected his
men, found the Indians sullen and unmanageable and the
Canadians unwilling to advance further, for they were
greatly depressed by the loss of a veteran ofiicer, Saint-
Pierre, who commanded them, and who had been killed
in the fight. At length, however, he persuaded all to
move forward, the regulars leading the way.

James Walsham had not accompanied the column, and
was sitting at breakfast with General Johnson on the stump
of a tree in front of his tent when on the still air a rattling
sound broke out.

" Musketry!" was the general exclamation. An instan-
taneous change came over the camp, the sound of laughing
and talking was hushed, and every man stopped at his
work; louder and louder swelled the distant sound, until
the shots could no longer be distinguished apart, the rattle
had become a steady roll. i! ;••

"It is a regular engagement!" the general exclaimed;
"the enemy must be in force, and must have attacked
Williams' column."

General Johnson ordered one of his orderlies to mount

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182

With Wolfe in Canada

and ride out at full speed and see what was going on.
A quarter of an hour passed, no one returned to his work,
the men stood in groups talking in low voices and listening
to the distant roar.

"It is clearer than it was," the general exclaimed.
Several of the officers standing round agreed that the
sound was approaching.

"To work, lads!" the general said; "there is no time
to be lost. Let all the axemen fell trees and lay them end
to end to make a breastwork; the rest of you range the
waggons in a line behind and lay the boats up in the inter-
vals. Carry the line from the swamp on the right there
to the slope of the hill." In an instant the camp was a
scene of animation, and the forest resounded with the
strokes of the axe and the shouts of the men as they
dragged the waggons to their position.

" I was a fool," Johnson exclaimed, "not to fortify the
camp before; but who could have supposed that the French
would have come down from Crown Point to attack us
here!"

In a few minutes terror-stricken men, whites and
Indians, arrived at a run through the forest and reported
that they had been attacked and surprised by a great force
in the forest^ that Hendrick and Colonel Williams were
killed, and numbers of the men shot down. They re-
ported that all was lost; but the heavy roll of fire in the
distance contradicted their words and showed that a por-
tion of the column at least was fighting sternly and
steadily, though the sound indicated that they were falling
back.

Two hundred men had already been despatched to their
assistance, and the only effect of the news was to redouble
the efforts of the rest. Soon parties arrived carrying
wounded; but it was not until an hour and a half after
the engagement began that the main body of the column
were seen marching in good order back through the forest.

The Fight at Lake George 183

By this time the hasty defences were wellnigh completed
and all the men were employed in cutting down the thick
brushwood outside so as to clear the ground as far as
possible, and so prevent the enemy from stealing up under
shelter to the felled trees.

Three cannon were planted to sweep the road that de-
scended through the pines, another was dragged up to
the ridge of the hill. Two hundred and fifty men were
now placed on each flank of the camp, the main body
stood behind the waggons or lay flat behind the logs and
boats, the Massachusetts men on the right, the Con-
necticut men on the left.

"Now, my lads," Johnson shouted in his cheery voice,
"you have got to fight. Remember, if they get inside
not one of you will ever go back to your families to tell
the tale, while if you flght bravely you will beat them back
sure enough."

In a few minutes ranks of white-coated soldiers could
be seen moving down the roads with their bayonets show-
ing between the boughs; at the same time Indian war-
whoops rose loud in the forest, and then dark forms could
be seen bounding down the slope through the trees towards
the camp in a throng. , .

There was a movement of uneasiness among the young
rustics, few of whom ever heard a shot fired in anger
before that morning; but the oflicers, standing pistol in
hand, threatened to shoot any man who moved from his
position. Could Dieskau have launched his whole force
at once upon the camp at that moment he would probably
have carried it, but this he was powerless to do. His
regular troops were well in hand ; but the mob of Cana-
dians and Indians were scattered through the forest,
shouting, yelling, and firing from behind trees.

He thought, however, that if he led the regulars to the
attack the others would come forward, and he therefore
gave the word for the advance. The Trench soldiers

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184

With Wolfe in Canada

#1'

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advanced steadily until the trees grew thinner. They were
deployed into line, and opened fire in regtilar volleys.
Scarcely had they done so, however, when Captain Eyre
who commanded the artillery, opened upon them with
grape from his three g^uns, while from waggon, and boat,
and fallen log the musketry fire flashed out hot and bitter,
and, reeling under the shower of iron and lead, the French
line broke up, the soldiers took shelter behind trees, and
thence returned the fire of the defenders.

Johnson received a flesh. wound in the thigh, and retired
to his tent, where he spent the rest of the day; Lyman
took the command, and to him the credit of the victory
is entirely due. For four hours the combat raged. The
young soldiers had soon got over their first uneasiness,
and fought as steadily and coolly as veterans, the musketry
fire was unbroken, from every tree, bush, and rock the
rifles flashed out, atid the leaden hail flew in a storm ovei
the camp, and cut the leaves in a shower from the forest
Through this Lyman moved to and fro among the men,
directing, encouraging, cheering them on, escaping as by
a miracle the balls which whistled round him. Save the
Indians on the English side not a man but was engaged,
the waggoners taking their guns and joining in the fight.
The Mohawks, however, held aloof, saying that they had
come to see their English brothers fight, but animated no
doubt with the idea that if they abstained from taking
part in the fray, and the day went against the English,
their friends the Iroquois would not harm them.

The French Indians worked round on to high ground
beyond the swamp on the left, and their fire thence took
the defenders in the flank.

Captain Eyre speedily turned his guns in that direction,
and a few well-directed shells soon drove the Indians from
their vantage ground. Dieskau directed his first attack
against the left and centre; but the Connecticut men
fought so stoutly that he next tried to force the right,

round
took

The Fight at Lake George 185

where the Massachusetts reg-iments of Titcomb, Ruggles,
and Williams held the line. For an hour he strove hard
to break his way through the entrenchments, hut the
Massachusetts men stood firm, although Titcomb was
killed and their loss was heavy. At length Dieskau, ex-
posing himself within short range of the English lines,
was hit in the leg. While his adjutant Montreuil was
dressing the wound the general was again hit in the knee
and thigh. He had himself placed behind a tree and
ordered Montreuil to lead the regulars in a last effort
against the camp. But it was too late, the blood of the
colonists was now up, and singly or in small bodies they
were crossing their lines of barricade and working up
among the trees towards their assailants. The move-
ment became general, and Lyman, seeing the spirit of
his men, gave the word, and the whole of the troops with
a shout leaped up and dashed through the wood against
the enemy, failing upon them with their hatchets and the
butts of their guns.

The French and their allies instantly fled. As the
colonists passed the spot where Dieskau was sitting on
the ground one of them, singularly enough himself a
Frenchman, who had ten years before left Canada, fired
at him and shot him through both legs. Others came up
and stripped him of his clothes, but on learning who he
was they carried him to Johnson, who received him with
the greatest kindness, and had every attention paid to
him>

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IKETCH MAP OF LAKE CHAMPLAIN AND LAKE GEORGf

TO ILLUSTRATE OPkRATIONI I759-I7S9

• I

CHAPTER XI

Scouting

It was near five o'clock before the final rout of the French
took place; but before that time several hundreds of the
Canadians and Indians had left the scene of action, and
had returned to the scene of the fight in the wood to
plunder and scalp the dead. They were resting after their
bloody work by a pool in the forest, when a scouting party
from Fort Lyman under Captains M'Ginnis and Folsom
came upon them and opened fire. The Canadians and
Indians, outnumbering their assailants greatly, fought for
some time, but were finally defeated and fled. M*Ginnis
was mortally wounded, but continued to give orders till
the fight was over. The bodies of the slain were thrown
into the pool which to this day bears the name, *' the
bloody pool ".

The various bands of French fugitives reunited in the
forest, and made their way back to their canoes in South
Bay, and reached Ticonderoga utterly exhausted and
famished, for they had thrown away their knapsacks in
their flight, and had nothing to eat from the morning of
the fight until they rejoined their comrades.

Johnson had the greatest diflliculty in protecting the
wounded French general from the Mohawks, who, although
they had done no fighting in defence of the camp, wanted
to torture and burn Dieskau in revenge for the death ot
Hendrick and their warriors who had fallen in the ambush.
He, however, succeeded in doing so, and sent him in a

187

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188

With Wolfe in Canada

litter under a strong escort to Albany. Dieskau was aftci
wards taken to England, and remained for some years at
Bath, after which he returned to Paris. He never, how-
ever, recovered from his numerous wounds, and died a
few years later. He always spoke in the highest terms
of the kindness he had received from the colonial officers.
Of the provincial soldiers he said that in the morning they
fought like boys, about noon like men, and in the afternoon
like devils.

The English loss in killed, wounded, and missing was
two hundred and sixty-two, for the most part killed in the
ambush in the morning. The French, according to their
own account, lost two hundred and twenty-eight, but it
probably exceeded four hundred, the principal portion of
whom were regulars, for the Indians and Canadians kept
themselves so well under cover that they and the pro-
vincials behind their logs were able to inflict but little
loss on each other.

Had Johnson followed up his success he might have
reached South Bay before the French, in which case the
whole of Dieskau's column must have fallen into his hands;
nor did he press forward against Ticonderoga, which he
might easily have captured. For ten days nothing was
done except to fortify the camp, and when at the end of
that time he thought of advancing against Ticonderoga
the French had already fortified the place so strongly that
they were able to defy attack. The colonists sent him
large reinforcements, but the season was getting late,
and after keeping the army stationary until the end of
November, the troops, having suffered terribly from the
cold and exposure, became almost mutinous, and were
finally marched back to Albany, a small detachment being
left to hold the fort by the lake. This was now christened
Fort William Henry.

The victory was due principally to the gallantr}^ and cool-
ness of Lyman; but Johnson in his report of the battle

Scouting

.'■J

189

maae no mention of that officer's name, and took all the
credit to himself. He was rewarded by being made n
baronet, and by being voted a pension by parliament of
five thousand a year.

James Walsham, having no duties during the fight at
the camp, had taken a musket and lain down behind the
logs with the soldiers, and had all the afternoon kept up a
lire at the trees and bushes behind which the enemy were
hiding. After the battle he had volunteered to assist the
over-worked surgeons, whose labours lasted through the
night. When he found that no forward movement was
likely to take place he determined to leave the camp. He
therefore asked Captain Rogers, who was the leader of
a band of scouts and a man of extraordinary energy and
enterprise, to allow him to accompany him on a scouting
expedition towards Ticonderoga.

" I shall be glad to have you with me,'' Rogers replied;
** but you know it is a service of danger ; it is not like work
with regular troops, where all march, fight, stand, or fall
together. Here each man fights for himself. Mind there
is not a man among my band who would not risk his life
for the rest; but scattered through the woods as each man
is, each must perforce rely principally on himself. The
woods near Ticonderoga will be full of lurking redskins,
and a man may be brained and scalped without his fellow
a few yards away hearing a sound. I only say this that
you may feel that you must take your chances. The men
under me are every one old hunters and Indian fighters,
and are a match for the redskin in every move of forest war.
They are true grit to the backbone, but they are rough out-
spoken men, and on a service when a foot carelessly placed
on a dried twig or a word spoken above a whisper may
bring a crowd of yelping redskins upon us, and cost every
man his scalp, they would speak sharply to the king him-
self if he were on the scout with them, and you must not
take offence at any rough word that may be said." >

M-

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190 With Wolfe in Canada

James laughed and said that he should not care how
much he was blown up, and that he should thankfully
receive any lessons from such masters of forest craft.

" Very well," Captain Rogers said. " In that case it is
settled. I will let you have a pair of moccasins. You can-
not go walking about in the woods in those boots. You
had better get a rifle. Your sword you had best leave
behind. It will be of no use to you, and will only be in
your way."

James had no difficulty in providing himself with a gun,
for numbers of weapons picked up in the woods after the
rout of the enemy were stored in camp. The rifles had,
however, been all taken by the troops, who had exchanged
their own firelocks for them. Captain Rogers went with
him among the men, and selected a well-flnished rifle of
which one of them had possessed himself. Its owner
readily agreed to accept Ave pounds for it, taking in its
stead one of the guns in the store. Before choosing it
Captain Rogers placed a bit of paper against a tree, and
Bred several shots at various distances at it.

" It is a beautiful rifle," he said. "Its only fault is that
it is rather heavy, but it shoots all the better for it. It is
evidently a French gun, I should say by a flrst-rate maker,
built probably for some French officer who knew what he
was about. It is a good workmanlike piece, and when you
learn to hold it straight you can trust it to shoot."

That evening James, having made all his preparations,
said goodbye to the general and to his other friends, and
joined the scouts who were gathering by the shore of the
lake. Ten canoes, each of which would carry three men,
V ere lying by the shore.

" Nat, you and Jonathan will take this young fellow with
you. He is a lad, and it is his first scout. You will find
him of the right sort. He was with Braddock, and after
that affair hurried up here to see fighting on the lakes. He
can't have two better nurses than you are. He is going

Scouting

191

to be an officer in the king's army, and wants to learn as
much as he can, so that if he ever gets with his men into
such a mess as Braddock tumbled into he will know what
to do with them."

"All right, captain! we will do our best for him. It's
risky sort of business ours for a greenhorn, but if he is any-
ways teachable we will soon make a man of him."

The speaker was a wiry active man of some forty years
old, with a weather-beaten face and a keen grey eye.
Jonathan, his comrade, was u head taller, with broad
shoulders, powerful limbs, and a quiet but good-tempered
face.

"That's so, isn't it, Jonathan?" Nat asked.

Jonathan nodded. He was not a man of many words.

" Have you ever been in a canoe before?" Nat enquired.

«• Never," James said; "but I am accustomed to boats
of all sorts, and can handle an oar fairly."

"Oars ain't no good here," the scout said. "You will
have to learn to paddle ; but first of all you have got to
learn to sit still. These here canoes are awkward things
fur a beginner. Now you hand in your traps and I will
stow them away, then you take your place in the middle ot
the boat. Here's a paddle for you, and when you begin to
feel yourself comfortable you can start to try with it, easy
and gentle to begin with, but you must lay it in when we
get near where we may expect that redskins may be in the
woods, for the splash of a paddle might cost us all our
scalps."

James took his seat in the middle of the boat. Jonathan
was behind him, Nat handled the paddle in the bow. There
was but a brief delay in starting, and the ten boats darted
noiselessly out on to the lake. For a time James did not
attempt to use his paddle. The canoe was of birch bark,
so thin that it seemed to him that an incautious movement
would instantly knock a hole through her.

Once under weigh she was steadier than he had expected.

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192 With Wolfe in Canada

and James could teel her bound forward with each stroke
of the paddles. When he became accustomed to the motion
of the boat he raised himself from a sitting position in tht
bottom, and kneeling as the others were doing, he began
to dip his paddle quietly in the water in time with theit
stroke. His familiarity with rowing rendered it easy for
him to keep time and swing, and ere long he found himself
putting a considerable amount of force into each stroke.
Nat looked back over his shoulder.

i, «« Well done, young 'un. That's first rate for a beginner,
and it makes a deal of difference on our arms. The others
are all paddling three, and though Jonathan and I have
beaten three before now, when our scalps depended on our
doing so, it makes all the difference in the work whether
you have a sitter to take along or an extra paddle going."

It was falling dusk when the boat started, and was by
this time quite dark. Scarce a word was heard in the ten
canoes as, keeping near the right-hand shore of the lake,
they glided rapidly along in a close body. So noiselessly
were the paddles dipped into the water that the drip from
them as they were lifted was the only sound heard.

Four hours' steady paddling took them to the narrows
about five-and-twenty miles from their starting-point. Here
on the whispered order of Nat, James laid in his paddle;
for, careful as he was, he occasionally made a slight splash
as he put it in the water. The canoes now kept in single
file almost under the trees on the right bank, for the lake
was here scarce a mile across, and watchful eyes might be
on the lookout on the shore to the left. Another ten miles
was passed, and then the canoes were steered in to the
shore.

The guns, blankets, and bundles were lifted out; the
canoes raised on the shoulders of the men, and carried a
couple of hundred yards among the trees; then, with
scarcely a word spoken, each man rolled himself in his
blanket and lay down to sleep, four being sent out as scouts

Scouting

193

in various directions. Soon after daybreak all were on
foot again, although it had been arranged that no move
should be made till night set in. No fires were lighted, for
they had brought with them a supply of biscuit and dry
deers' flesh sufficient for a week.

" How did you get on yesterday? ' Captain Rogers asked
as he came up to the spot where James had just risen to
his feet.

" First rate, captain !" Nat answered for him. ** I hardly
believed that a young fellow could have handled a paddle.
su well at the first attempt. He rowed all the way, except
just the narrows, and though I don't say as he was noise-
less, he did wonderfully well, and we came along with the
rest as easy as may be."

"I thought I heard a little splash now and then," the
captain said, smiling; " but it was very slight, and could do
no harm where the lake is two or three miles wide, as it is
here ; but you will have to lay in your paddle when we get
near the other end, for the sides narrow in there, and the
redskins would hear a fish jump half a mile away."

During the day the men passed their time in sleep, in
mending their clothes, or in talking quietly together. The
use of tea had not yet become general in America, and the
meals were washed down with water drawn from the lake,
where an overhanging bush shaded the shore from the
sight of anyone on the opposite bank, mixed with rum
from the gourds which all the scouts carried.

Nat spent some time in pointing out to James the signs
by which the hunters found their way through the forest ;
by the moss and lichens growing more thickly on the side
of the trunks of the trees opposed to the course of the pre-
vailing winds, or by a slight inclination of the upper boughs
of the trees in the same direction. " An old woodsman can
tell," he said, "on the darkest night, on running his hand
round the trunk of a tree, by the feel of the bark, which is

north and. south ; but it would be long before you can get
(887) 19

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4 k

194 With Wolfe in Canada

to such niceties as that ; but if you keep your eyes open as
you go along, and look at the signs on the trunks, which
are just as plain when you once know them as the marks
on a man's face, you will be able to make your way through
the woods in the daytime. Of course when the sun is
shining you get its help, for although it is not often a gleam
comes down through the leaves, sometimes you come upon
a little patch, and you are sure, now and then, to strike on
a gap where a tree has fallen, and that gives you a line
again. A great help to a young beginner is the sun, for a
young hand in the woods gets confused and doubts the
signs of the trees ; but in course when he comes on a patch
of sunlight he can't make a mistake nohow as to the direc
tion."

James indulged in a silent hope that if he were ever lost
in the woods the sun would be shining, for look as earnestly
as he would he could not perceive the signs which appeared
so plain and distinct to the scout. Occasionally, indeed,
he fancied that there was some slight difference between
one side of the trunk and the other; but he was by no
means sure that even in these cases he should have noticed
it unless it had been pointed out to him, while in the greater
part of the trees he could discern no difference whatever.

" It's just habit, my lad," Nat said encouragingly to him;
"there's just as much difference between one side of the
tree and the other as there is between two men's faces. It
comes of practice. Now just look at the roots of this tree;
don't you see on one side they run pretty nigh straight out
from the trunk, while from the other they go down deep
into the ground. That speaks for itself; the tree has thrown
out its roots to claw into the ground and get a hold on the
side from which the wind comes, while on the other side,
having no such occasion, it has dipped its root down to
look for moisture and food."

" Yes, I do see that," James said, *'that is easy enough
to make out ; but the next tree, and the next, and as far as

Scouting

195

open as
, which
i marks
through
: sun is
a gleam
Tie upon
itrike on
)U a line
an, for a
ubts the
1 a patch
he direc

ever lost
earnestly
appeared
r, indeed,
between
as by no
e noticed
e greater
atever.
y to him;
le of the
'aces. It
his tree;
ight out
iwn deep
,s thrown
lid on the
Iher side,
down to

enough
las far as

I see all the others don't seem to have any diflference in
their roots one side or the other."

"That is so," the scout replied. *'You see those are
younger trees than this, and it is like enough they did not
grow under the same circumstances. When a few trees
fall, or a small clearing is made by a gale, the young trees
that grow up are well sheltered from the wind by the forest,
and don't want to throw out roots to hold them up ; but
when a great clearing has been made by a fire or other
causes the trees, as they grow up together, have no shelter,
and must stretch out their roots to steady them.

" Sometimes you will find all the trees for a long distance
with their roots like this, sometimes only one tree among
a number. Perhaps when they started that tree had more
room, or a deeper soil, and grew faster than the rest, and
got his head above them, so he felt the wind more, and had
to throw out his roots to steady himself, while the others,
all growing the same height, did not need to do so."

"Thank you," James said. "I understand now, and
will bear it in mind. It is very interesting, and I should
like above all things to be able to read the signs of the woods
as you do."

'* It will come, lad; it's a sort of second nature. These
things are gifts. The redskin thinks it just as wonderful
that the white man should be able to take up a piece of
paper covered with black marks and to read off sense out
of them, as you do that he should be able to read every
mark and sign of the wood. He can see as plain as if the
man was still standing on it, the mark of a footprint, and
can tell you if it was made by a warrior or a squaw, and
how long they have passed by, and whether they were
walking fast or slow, while the ordinary white man might
go down on his hands and knees, and stare at the ground,
and wouldn't be able to see the slightest sign or mark.
For a white man my eyes are good, but they are not a patch
on a redskin's. I have lived among the woods since I was

196

With Wolfe in Canada

a boy ; but even now a redskin lad can pick up a trail and
follow it when, look as I will, I can't see as a blade of grass
has been bruised. No; these things is partly natur and
partly practice. Practice will do a lot for a white man;
but it won't take him up to redskin natur."

Not until night had fallen did the party again launch their
canoes on the lake. Then they paddled for several hours
until, as James imagined, they had traversed a greater dis-
tance by some miles than that which they had made on the
previous evening. He knew from what he had learned
during the day that they were to land some six miles below
the point where Lake George joins Lake Champlain, and
where, on the opposite side, on a promontory stretching
into the lake, the French were constructing their new fort.

The canoes were to be carried some seven or eight miles
through the wood across the neck of land between the two
lakes, and were then to be launched again on Lake Cham-
plain, so that, by following the east shore of that lake, they
would pass Ticonderoga at a safe distance. The halt was
made as noiselessly as before, and, having hauled up the
canoes, the men slept till daybreak, and then, lifting the
light craft on their shoulders, started for their journey
through the woods. It was toilsome work, for the ground
was rough and broken, often thickly covered with under-
wood. Ridges had to be crossed and deep ravines passed,
and although the canoes were not heavy the greatest care
had to be exercised, for a graze against a projecting bough
or the edge of a rock would suffice to tear a hole in the thin
bark.

It was not until late in the afternoon that they arrived
on the shores of Lake Champlain. A fire was lighted
now, the greatest care being taken to select perfectly dry
sticks, for the Iroquois were likely to be scattered far and
wide among the woods; the risk, however, was far less
than when in sight of the French side of Lake George.
•^fter darkness fell the canoes were again placed in the

Scouting

"97

4, •.

trail and
; of grass
latur and
lite man;

unch their
jral hours
reater dis-
ide on the
id learned
liles below
iplain, and
stretching
r new fort,
eight miles
;en the two
.ake Cham-
t lake, they
le halt was
lied up the
lifting the
[eir journey
the ground
ith under-
ics passed,
•eatest care
iting bough
in the thin

ley arrived

las lighted

Irfectly dry

l-ed far and

IS far less

^e George.

:ed in the

water, and striking across the lake they followed the right-
hand shore. After paddling for about an hour and a half
the work suddenly ceased.

The lake seemed to widen on their left, for they had
just passed the tongue of land between the two lakes,
and on the opposite shore a number of fires were seen
burning brightly on the hillside. It was Ticonderog-a they
were now abreast of, the advanced post of the French.
They lingered for some time before the paddles were
again dipped in water, counting the fires and making a
careful note of the position; they paddled on again until
some twelve miles beyond the fort, and then crossed the
lake and landed on the French shore. But the canoes
did not all approach the shore together as they had done
on the previous nights. They halted half a mile out, and
Captain Rogers went forward with his own and another
canoe and landed, and it was not for half an hour that the
signal was given, by an imitation of the croaking of a frog,
that a careful search had ascertained the forest to be un-
tenanted and the landing safe.

No sooner was the signal given than the canoes were
set in motion and were soon safely hauled up on shore.
Five men went out as usual as scouts, and the rest, fa-
tigued by their paddle and the hard day's work, were
soon asleep. In the morning they were about to start
and Rogers ordered the canoes to be hauled up and hidden
among the bushes, where, having done their work, they
would for the present be abandoned, to be recovered and
made useful on some future occasion. The men charged
with the work gave a sudden exclamation when they
reached the canoes.

"What is that?" Rogers said angrily. " Do you want
to bring all the redskins in the forest upon us?"

"The canoes are all damaged," one of the scouts said,
coming up to him.

There was a general movement to the canoes, which

;.»'

! il

l! 't:.|l;

198 With Wolfe in Canada

were lying on the bank a few yards' distani n from the
water's edge. Every one of them had been rendered
useless, the thin birch bark had been gashed and slit,
pieces had been cut out, and not one of them had escaped
injury or was fit to take the water. Beyond a few low
words, and exclamations of dismay, not a word was spoken
as the band gathered round the canoes.

'* Who were on the watch on this side?" Rogers asked.

" Nat and Jonathan took the first half of the night,"
one of the scouts said, " Williams and myself relieved
them." As all four were men of the greatest skill and
experience Rogers felt sure that no neglect or careless-
ness on their part could have led to the disaster.

"Did any of you see any passing boats or hear any
sound on the lake?"

The four men who had been on guard replied in the
negative.

" I will swear no one landed near the canoes," Nat said.
"There was a glimmer on the water all night; a canoe
could not have possibly come near the bank anywheres here
without our seeing it."

"Then he must have come from the land side," Rogers
said. " Some skulking Indian must have seen us out on
the lake and have hidden up when we landed. He may
have been in a tree overhead all the time, and directly the
canoes were hauled up he may have damaged them and
made off. There is nO time to be lost, lads; it is five
hours since we landed; if he started at once the redskins
may be all round us now. It is no question now of our
scouting round the French port, it is one of saving our
scalps."

" How could it have beer, done?" James Walsham asked
Nat in a low tone. "We were all sleeping within a few
yards of the canoes and some of the men were close to
them. I should have thought we must have heard it."

"Heard it!" the hunter said contemptuously; "why.

Scouting

A redskin would make «« '^

deer's flesh ^^^''^^''dTnnr T" '" ^"4 "'ILtTf

f... . standing- theer nn fk ''" we lav

feet away from that canoe r "a'"'* '^ge not six

and quiet as a redsWn ^ L ^T """'^ '°' '-» "o" "
to do that damaee so «T 7 ** ""■«* have talcen tim-
as the falling of fie:?. "V,,"-- "eard a sound as ltd
very least two hours over th« • k""'°" »* "'« *«« at the
|one four hours or a bTover C "/ ""^ "'"'«' "een
dont give us much of a sLrt i\ """'' ''« that

hour and a half to get to /h. r " *°"''' 'ake him an
'0 report to the Frenfh chaot '*' "'*'' ""^ '^ouwXve
•n«ht be some talk before h, •=°'"'"«"'d. and then thtre
'--f the French to tllow.l ''' "" *"" '"« ™0s«„"
JaJs'asTer *'""'''--°^-^....the canoes, , suppose "

"a would "T'""'""'"'- " '

a"ta7?''-*'^''''^°'^^"°hetw''rii° ^"k^™^" "--^
as many mmutes to soari. ti. ° "« haven't ent

While they had been'IeakiJ^r' °°*' "* »'« off.'? '
folLT""""°° '^"O '*o oT^^rfe o?^h" ''"'' ''«*° folding '
lonol^!"' '"^ ^^'y had arrived at Lt« '"'"' ^^Perienced

half an hou"r! " '"' '^°<'"-» -uld be up L'th'e cou'^ of

Ro.e« ,:S^ "dXeaveVf^ t ™^' °" "'•^ "ack "
"■ere's not a minute t„T f '"^P hehind. Quick l!w

' to be lost, it's a case of S' iow!

I-J

200

With Wolfe in Canada

IM' ''

There's no hiding* the trail of thirty men from redskin eyes."

In a couple of minutes all were ready for the start, and
Rogers at once led the way at a long slinging trot straight
back from the lake, first saying :

" Pick your way, lads, and don't tread on a fallen stick.
There is just one chance of saving our scalps, and only
one, and that depends upon silence."

As James ran along at the heels of Nat he was struck
with the strangeness of the scene and the noiselessness
with which the band of moccasin-footed men flitted among
the trees. Not a word was spoken. All had implicit
confidence in their leader, the most experienced bush
fighter on the frontier, and knew that if anyone could
lead them safe from the perils that surrounded them it
was Rogers.

James wondered what his plan could be; it seemed
certain to him that the Indians must sooner or later
overtake them. They would be aware of the strength
of the band, and confiding in their superior numbers
would be able to push forward in pursuit without pausing
for many precautions. Once overtaken the band must
stand at bay, and even could they hold the Indians in
check the sound of the firing would soon bring the French
soldiers to the spot.

They had been gone some twenty minutes only when a
distant warwhoop rose in the forest behind them.

"They have come down on the camp," Nat said, glanc-
ing round over his shoulder, "and find we have left it.
I expect they hung about a little before they ventured in,
knowing as we should be expecting them when we found
the canoes was useless. That warwhoop tells 'em all as
we have gone. They will gather there and then be after
us like a pack of hounds. Ah ! that is what I thought the
captain was up to."

Rogers had turned sharp to the left, the direction in
which Ticonderoga stood. He slacked down his speed

Scouting

301

somewhat, for the perspiration was streaming down the
faces even of his trained and hardy followers. From time
to time he looked round to see that all were keeping well
together. Although in such an emergency as this none
thought of questioning the judgment of their leader, many
of them were wondering at the unusual speed at which
he was leading them along. They had some two miles
start of their pursuers, and had evening been at hand
they would have understood the importance of keeping
ahead until darkness came on to cover their trail; but
with the whole day before them they felt that they must
be overtaken sooner or later, and they could not see the
object of exhausting their strength before the struggle
began.

As they ran on, at a somewhat slower pace now, an
idea as to their leader's intention dawned upon most of
the scouts, who saw by the direction they were taking
that they would again strike the lake shore near the
French fort. Nat, who, light and wiry, was running
easily, while many of his comrades were panting with
their exertions, was now by the side of James Walsham.

"Give me your rifle, lad, for a bit. You are new to
this work and the weight of the gun takes it out of you.
We have got another nine or ten miles before us yet."

** I can hold on for a bit," James replied; " I am getting
my wind better now; but why only ten miles? We must
be seventy away from the fort."

•'We should never get there," Nat said; *'a few of us
might do it, but the redskins would be on us in an hour or
two. I thought when we started as the captain would
have told us to scatter, so as to give each of us some
chance of getting off; but I see his plan now, and it's
the only one as there is which gives us a real chance.
He is making straight for the French fort. He reckons,
no doubt, as the best part of the French troops will have
marched out after the redskins."

i- '■

■( ' :■

202

With Wolfe in Canada

" But there would surely be enough left," James said,
" to hold the fort against as; and even if we could take it
we could not hold it an hour when they all came up."

" He ain't thinking of the fort, boy, he's thinking of the
boats. We know as they have lots of 'em there, and if we
can get there a few minutes before the redskins overtake
us we may get off safe. It's a chance, but I think it's a
good one."

Others had caught their leader's idea and repeated it to
their comrades, and the animating effect soon showed itself
in the increased speed with which the party hurried through
the forest. Before, almost every man had thought their
case hopeless, had deemed that they had only to con-
tinue their flight until overtaken by the redskins, and that
they must sooner or later succumb to the rifles of the Iro-
quois and their French allies. But the prospect that after
an hour's run a means of escape might be found animated
each man to renewed efforts.

After running for some distance longer Rogers suddenly
halted and held up his hand, and the band simultaneously
came to a halt. At flrst nothing could be heard save their
own quick breathing, then a confused noise was heard to
their left front, a deep trampling and the sound of voices,
and an occasional clash of arms.

** It is the French column coming out," Nat whispered,
as Rogers, swerving somewhat to the right and making a
sign that all should run as silently as possible, continued
his course. < .

/; «.

•/:i

I..

CHAPTER XII

A Commission

Presently the noise made by the column of French troops
was heard abreast of the fugitives, then it died away be-
hind them, and they again directed their course to the left.
Ten minutes later they heard a loud succession of Indian
whoops and knew that the redskins pursuing them had
also heard the French column on its march, and would
be warning them of the course which the band were taking.
The scouts were now but four miles from Ticonderoga, and
each man knew that it was a mere question of speed.

"Throw away your meat," Rogers ordered, "you will
not want it now, and every pound tells." The men had
already got rid of their blankets, and were now burdened
only with their rifles and ammunition. The ground was
rough and broken, for they were nearing the steep promon-
tory on which the French fort had been erected. They
were still a mile ahead of their pursuers, and although the
latter had gained that distance upon them since the first
start, the scouts knew that now they were exerting them-
selves to the utmost the redskins could be gaining but
little upon them, for the trained white man is, in point
of speed and endurance, fairly a match for the average
Indian. They had now descended to within a short dis-
tance of the edge of the lake in order to avoid the valleys
and ravines running down from the hills. The warwhoops
rose frequently in the forest behind them, the Indians
yelling to give those at the fort notice that the chase was
approaching. ,

SOS

'' 1

ao4 With Wolfe in Canada

"If there war any redskins left at the fort," Nat said
to James, "they would guess what our game was; but I
expect every redskin started out on the hunt, and the
French soldiers when they hear the yelling won't know
what to make of it, and if they do anything they will shut
themselves up in their fort."

Great as were the exertions which the scouts were
making they could tell by the sound of the warwhoops
that sonic at least of the Indians were gaining upon them.
Accustomed as every man of the party was to the fatigues
of the forest the strain was telling upon them all now.
For twelve miles they had run almost at the top of their
speed, and the short panting breath, the set faces, and
the reeling steps showed that they were nearly at the
end of their powers. Still they held on with scarcely
nny diminishing of speed. Each man knew that if he
fell he must die, for his comrades could do nothing for
him, and no pause was possible until the boats were
gained.

They were passing now under the French works, for
they could hear shouting on the high ground to the righl
and knew that the troops left in the fort had taken the
alarm ; but they wete still invisible, for it was only at the
point of the promontory that the clearing had been carried
down to the water's edge. A low cry of relief burst from
the men as they saw the forest open before them, and a
minute later they were running along in the open near the
shore of the lake at the extremity of the promontory, where,
hauled up upon the shore, lay a number of canoes and
flat-bottomed boats used for the conveyance of troops. A
number of boatmen were standing near, evidently alarmed
by the war-cries in the woods. When they saw the party
approaching they at once made for the fort a quarter of
a mile away on the high ground, and almost at the same
moment a dropping fire of musketry opened from the
entrenchments.

A Commission

ao5

"Smash the canoes," Rogers said, settinf^^ thr example
by administering a vigorous kici< to one of them.

The others followed his example, and in a few seconds
every one of the frail barks was stove in.

•'Two of the boats will hold us well," Rogers said;
*' quick into the water with them and out with the oars.
Ten row in each boat, let the other five handle their rifles
and keep back the Indians as they come up. Never ni'nd
the soldiers." For the white-coated troops, perceivmg
the scouts' intention, were now pouring out from the
entrenchments.

A couple of minutes sufficed for the men to launch the
boats and take their seats, and the oars dipped in the
water just as three or four Indians dashed out from the
edge of the forest.

•' We have won the race by three minutes," Rogers said
exultantly; ''stretch to your oars, lads, and get out of
range as soon as you can." The Indians began to fire as
soon as they perceived the boats. They were scarcely
two hundred yards away, but they, like the white men,
were panting with fatigue, and their bullets flew harm-
lessly by.

"Don't answer yet," Rogers ordered, as some of the
scouts were preparing to fire. ** Wait till your hands get
steady and then fire at the French ; there won't be many
of the redskins up yet."

The boats were not two hundred yards from shore when
the French soldiers reached the edge of the water and
opened fire, but at this distance their weapons were of
little avail, and though the bullets splashed thickly around
the boats no one was injured, while several of the French
were seen to drop from the fire of the scouts. Another
hundred yards and the boats were beyond any danger
save from a chance shot. The Indians still continued
firing and several of their shots struck the boats, one of
the rowers being hit on the shoulder.

•i |.;,

!■'

5!?'*i

206 With Wolfe in Canada

*' Lay in your rifles and man the other two oars in each
boat," Rogers said; "the French are launching some of
their bateaux, but we have got a fair start and they won't
overtake us before we reach the opposite point. They
are fresher than we are, but soldiers are no good rowing;
besides they are sure to crowd the boats so that they won't
have a chance."

Five or six boats, each crowded with men, started in
pursuit, but they were fully half a mile behind when the
two English boats reached the shore.

"Now it is our turn," Rogers said as the men, leaping
ashore, took their places behind trees. As soon as the
French boats came within range a steady fire was opened
upon them. Confusion was at once apparent among them,
oars were seen to drop, and as the fire continued the row-
ing ceased; another minute and the boats were turned,
and were soon rowing out again into the lake.

"There's the end of that," Rogers said, "and a close
shave it has been. Well, youngster, what do you think of
your first scout in the woods?"

" It has been sharper than I bargained for," James said,
laughing, "and was pretty near being the last as well as
the first. If it hadn't been for your taking us to the boats
I don't think many of us would have got back to Fort
Henry to tell the tale."

"There is generally some way out of a mess," Rogers
said, " if one does but think of it. If I had not thought of
the French boats we should have scattered, and a few of
us would have been overtaken, no doubt; but even an
Indian cannot follow a single trail as fast as a man can
run, and I reckon most of us would have carried our
scalps back to camp. Still with the woods full of Iroquois
they must have had some of us, and I hate losing a man
if it can be helped. We are well out of it. Now, lads,
we had better be tramping. There are a lot more bateaux
coming out, and I expect by the rowing they are manned

A Commission

207

in each
ome of
yr won't
They
owing;
y won't

irted in
ben the

leaping

as the

opened

g them,

he row-

turned,

[ a close
think of

les said,
well as
e boats
to Fort

Rogers
^ught of
few of
tven an
lan can
led our
jroquois
a man
r, lads,
gateaux
lanned

by Indians. The redskin is a first-rate hand with the
paddle, but is no good with an oar."

The man who had been hit in the shoulder had already
had his wound bandaged. There was a minute's consulta-
tion as to whether they should continue their journey in
the boats, some of the men pointing out that ;hey h94
proved themselves faster than their pursuers.

•'That may be," Rogers said; "but the Indians will
land and follow along the shore and will soon get ahead
of us, for they can travel quicker than we can row, and
for aught we know there may be a whole fleet of canoes
higher up Lake George which would cut us off. No,
lads, the safest way is to keep on through the woods."

The decision was received without question, and the
party at once started at a swinging trot, which was kept
up with occasional intervals of walking throughout the
day. At nightfall their course was changed, and after
journeying another two or three miles a halt was called,
for Rogers was sure that the Indians would abandon pur-
suit when night came on without their having overtaken
the fugitives. Before daybreak the march was continued,
and in the afternoon the party arrived at Fort William
Henry.

James now determined to leave the force and return at
once to New York, where his letters were to be addressed
to him. He took with him a letter from General Johnson
speaking in the warmest tones of his conduct. On arriv-
ing at New York he found at the post office there a great
pile of letters awaiting him. They had been vi^ritten after
the receipt of his letter at the end of July, telling those at
home of his share in Braddock's disaster.

•* I little thought, my boy," his mother wrote, " when
we received your letter saying that you had got your dis-
charge from the ship and were going with an expedition
against the French, that you were going to run into such
terrible danger. Fortunately the same vessel which

i: «^

9o8

With Wolfe in Canada

"11

I''

brought the news of General Braddock's defeat also
brought your letter, and we learned the news only a few
hours before your letter reached us. It was, as you may
imagine, a time of terrible anxiety to us, and the squire
and Aggie were almost as anxious as I was. Mr. Wilks
did his best to cheer us all, but I could see th..i. he too felt
it very greatly. However, when your letter came we were
all made happy again, though of course we cannot be but
anxious, as you say you are just going to join another
expedition ; still we must hope that that will do better, as
it won't be managed by regular soldiers. Mr. Wilks was
quite angry at what you said about the folly of making
men stand iii a line to be shot at, he thinks so much of
drill and discipline. The squire and he have been arguing
quite fiercely about it; but the squire gets the best of the
argument, for the dreadful way in which the soldiers were
slaughtered shows that though that sort ot fighting may
be good in other places it is not suited for fighting these
wicked Indians in the woods. The squire has himself
been up to London about your commission, and has
arranged it all. He has, as he will tell you in his letter,
got you a commission in the regiment commanded by
Colonel Otway, which is to go out next spring. He was
introduced to the commander-in-chief by his friend, and
told him that you had been acting as Colonel Washington's
aide-de-camp with General Braddock, and that you have
now gone to join General Johnson's army; so the duke
said that though you would be gazetted at once and would
belong to the regiment, you might as well stay out there
and see service until it arrived, and that it would be a
great advantage to the regiment to have an officer with
experience in Indian fighting with it. I cried when he
brought me back the news, foi I had hoped to have you
back again with us for a bit before you went soldiering for
good. However, the squire seems to think it is a capital
thing for you. Mr. Wilks thinks so too, so I suppose I

f7»Hlf"'

A Commission

must put up with it • hnf a • ^^

;s too bad .hat she ^hou d nfl^^f ^"^ ^'^^ me and ,ays it

he fme when she sa,v you i!Tu . ™ "'^" >'°" °nce from
'■"'e girl, and is groTvi^e fc« '1°™- ^he is a d^a^
grown quite an infh „ The fiv. "'T'' ^''^ "">" have
a«ay. She sends her love to vou "'T'" ''°" ''-^<= been
care of yourself for her slke° ^ ' """ ^^^^^ y°" '"ust take

,^es.^u.re in his letter repeated thenewsMrs.Walshan,
^ou are now an ensie-n " h^ -^

fif tasaking.s'o^ffioe,Ts:'nd""°™ ""«"^ f-youT^d

C ^^ilS rr- ~' '°" ^ '"'' "'^"^ ^^-^-
»»uKss letter wa« a i^

bI^H^' ^f''^ J™'" be s^id '°"i,r". "' «" horribly
Braddock's dreadful defeat I ?„ m u' """"^ <=«".* of
dear mother in the face Zh ,u u '"^ ''^"•'"y 'ook your
not, I know, say a word t^h,. ^"^'', "'<' '''"'^ 'ady would
yet I could see that she reearlr '""'"'^' '°' "'e'^wori^
was on my advice that, instfad 'f "" •'*' " "'°'""«r, for i
got your discharge vou r»i • 1 """"""B home when vol
■n this unfortunaf;;^; S:'"1 ""'ih""^ '""' '-"p^r?
^ame. and though I dfd m^st t„ t '^'^ ^^^'^ ^^'t the
had a terrible time of it Lh, ° ''^P "P 'heir spirits I
you were safe. If Tt hL /°" ''^«'=r arrived saWni
should have gone quietly off to p*""' ' <'° »<='--« that f
aga.n, and hired a bov to n u"-^'"' ''"""'d "P my box
^° strong as I was But T''' ll '°' '"'• ^r I am not

about for the rest of my lie 'thl°t "''■''"u "^^"^ *-mped
mother's reproachful eye H„, ^^"' "'«■■« ""der your

rough it all right, aTd after Ch'i J'""' '1'^ ^"^ ^^me
that we shall never have repet tTo„ ^'°? ' ^''°"'d hope

■It

'I I

ilMi

a m

!•«:■

m'¥\

210

With Wolfe in Canada

and to obey orders promptly and quickly, and I cannot but
think that if the troops had gone forward at a brisk double
thev would have driven the Indians before them. As to
the whooping and yells you talk so much about, I should
think nothing of them; they are no more to be regarded
than the shrieks of women or the braying of donkeys."

James smiled as he read this, and thought that if the
old soldier had heard that chaos of blood-curdling cries
break out in the still depth of the forest he would not
write of them with such equanimity.

"You will have heard from the squire that you are
gazetted to Otway's regiment, which with others is to
cross the Atlantic in a few weeks, when it is generally
supposed war will be formally declared. Your experience
will be of great use to you, and ought to get you a good
staff appointment. I expect that in the course of a year
there will be fighting on a large scale on your sid** of the
water, and the English ought to get the best of it, for
France seems at present to be thinking a great deal more
of her affairs in Europe than of her colonies in America.
So much the better, for if we can take Canada we shall
strike a heavy blow to her trade, and some day North
America is going to be an important place in the
world."

The letters had been lying there several weeks, and
James knew that Otway's regiment had with the others
arrived a few days before, and had already marched for
Albany. Thinking himself entitled to a little rest after his
labours, he remained for another week in New York while
his uniform was being made, and then took a passage in a
trading boat up to Albany. Scarcely had he landed when
a young officer in the same uniform met him. He looked
surprised, hesitated, and then stopped.

"I see you belong to our regiment," he said; "have
you just arrived from England? What ship did you
come in?"

A Commission

"i' -e -rwr^r/rf- '--•• ■'-- ^ep,"

your reg-imeui some m^n'.u ''^''^*'« ' "as gazettid t

-- °n my a.nvTrarNew ^r.' .t"! ' '^"^'^^^■^ ill

Oh, you are Walsham f" fu ^"^ ^^^J^-"

name is Edwards. I f ^ ' , 'if ^^""g' o^cer said - Lf
been wondering wh. ^'^"^ ^° '"eet you W u ^

your luck in 5 ^" >^°" ^ould join us ^' a ^ '^^^^

^7 to our fe„ows." '" ^° ""^"^ ^''^^ you and i„"oduce
James thanked him ,„m .u

fs-r.^ S;^^n --^^t:t «£

EdwardsTald "f „?" '"' "'' '"« Lionel first " ».

f li

I* »1

212

With Wolfe in Canada

ill

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the frontiersmen can thrash the Indians even if they are
two or three to one against them."

" Vcu have been in this last aflfair on the lake, have you
not, Mr. Walsham? I heard you were with Johnson."

" Yes, sir, I was, and at the beginning it was very nearly
a repetition of Braddock's disaster; but after being sur-
prised and ar first beaten, the column that went out made
such a stout fight of it that it gave us time to put the camp
in a state of defence. Had the Indians made a rush, I
think they would have carried it; but as they contented
themselves with keeping up a distant fire, the provincials,
who were all young troops quite unaccustomed to fighting,
and wholly without drill or discipline, gradually got steady,
and at length sallied out and beat them decisively."

" I will not detain you now," the colonel said; "but I
hope ere long you will give us a full and detailed account
of the fighting you have been in, with your idea of the best
way of training regular troops for the sort of work we have
before us, Mr Edwards will take you over to the mess
and introduce you to your brother officers."

James was well received by the officers of his regiment,
and soon found himself perfectly at home with them. He
had to devote some hours every day to acquiring the
mysteries of drill. It was to him somewhat funny to see
the pains expended in assuring that each movement should
be performed with mechanical accuracy ; but he understood
that, although useless for such warfare as that which they
had before them, great accuracy in details was necessary
for ensuring uniformity of movement among large masses
of men in an open country. Otherwise the time passed
very pleasantly. James soon became a favourite in the
regiment, and the young officers were never tired of
questioning him concerning the redskins and their manner
of fighting. There were plenty of amusements ; the snow
was deep on the ground now, and the officers skated,
practised with snowshoes, and drove in sleighs. Occasion-

A Commission

213

ally they got up a dance, and the people of Albany and the
settlers round vied with each other in their hospitality to
the officers.

One day in February an orderly brought a message to
James Walsham that the colonel wished to speak to
him.

"Walsham," he said, " I may tell you privately that the
regiment is likely to form part of the expedition which is
being fitted out in England against Louisbourg in Cape
Breton, the key of Canada ; a considerable number of the
troops from the province will accompany it."

" But that will leave the frontier here altogether open to
the enemy," James said in surprise.

"That is my own opinion, Walsham. Louisbourg is
altogether outside the range of the present struggle, and
it seems to me that the British force should be employed
at striking at a vital point. However, that is not to the
purpose. It is the Earl of Loudon's plan. However, it is
manifest, as you say, that the frontier will be left terribly
open, and therefore two companies of each of the regiments
going will be left. Naturally as you are the only officer in
the regiment who has had any experience in this forest war-
fare you would be one of those left here ; but as an ensign
you would not have much influence, and I think that it
would be at once more useful to the service and more plea-
sant for yourself if I can obtain for you something like a
roving commission. What do you think of that?"

'* I should greatly prefer that, sir," James said grate-
fully.

"The general js a little vexed, I know," the colonel
went on, "at the numerous successes and daring feats
gained by Rogers and the other leaders of the companies
of scouts, while the regulars have not had an opportunity
to fire a shot, and I think that he would at once accept the
proposal were I to make it to him, that a company to be
called the Royal Scouts should be formed of volunteers

, *

214 With Wolfe in Canada

taken from the various regiments, and that you should
have the command."

"Thank you, sir," James said, ''and I should like it
above all things; but I fear that we should have no chance
whatever of rivalling the work of Rogers and the other
partisan leaders. These men are all trained to the work
of the woods, accustomed to fight Indians, equally at home
in a canoe or in the forest. I have had, as you are good
enough to say, some experience in the work, but I am a
mere child by their side, and were I to lead fifty English
soldiers in the forest I fear that none of us would ever
return."

" Yes, but I should not propose that you should engage
in enterprises of that sort, Walsham. My idea is, that
although you would have an independent command with
very considerable freedom of action, you would act in con-
nection with the regular troops; the scouts are often far
away when wanted, leaving the posts open to surprise.
They are so impatient of any discipline that they are adverse
to going near the forts, except to obtain fresh supplies.
You, on the contrary, would act as the eyes of any post
which you might think threatened by the enemy. At pre-
sent, for instance, Fort William Henry is the most exposed
to attack.

" You would take your command there, and would
report yourself to Major Eyre, who is in command. As for
service there, your letter of appointment would state that
you are authorized to act independently, but that, while it
would be your duty to obey the orders of the commanding
officer, you will be authorized to offer such suggestions tc
him as your experience in Indian warfare would lead you
to make. You would train your men as scouts. It would
be their special duty to guard the fort against surprise, and
of course in case of attack to take part in its defence. In
the event of the provincial scouts making any concerted
movement against a French post, you would be authorized

A Commission

215

to join them. You would then have the bent^fit of their
skill and experience, and in case of success the army would
get a share of the credit. What do you think of my plan?"

'* I should like it above all things, "James replied. "That
would be precisely the duty which I should select had I the
choice."

"I thought so," the colonel said. "I have forced a
very high opinion of your judgment and discretion from the
talks which we have had together, and I have spoken
strongly in your favour to the general, who had promised
me that in the event of the army moving forward you
should have an appointment on the quartermaster-general's
staff as an intelligence officer.

"Since I heard that the main portion of the army is to
sail to Louisbourg I have been thinking this plan over, and
it certainly seems to me that a corps such as that that I
have suggested would be of great service. I should think
that its strength should be fifty men. You will, of course,
have another officer with you. Is there anyone you would
like to choose, as I may as well take the whole scheme cut
and dried to the general?"

"I should like Mr. Edwards, sir; he is junior to me in
the regiment, and is very active and zealous in the ser-
vice, and I should greatly like to be allowed to enlist
temporarily two of the scouts I have served with in the
force, with power for them to take their discharge when
they wished. They would be of immense utility to me in
instructing the men in their new duties, and would add
greatly to our efficiency."

"So be it," the colonel said. "I will draw out the
scheme on paper and lay it before the general to-day."

In the afternoon James was again sent for.

"The earl has approved of my scheme. You will have
temporary rank as captain given you in order to place your
corps on an equal footing with the provincial corps of
scouts. Mr. Edwards will also have temporary rank as

It'' ►

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11 M

2t6 With Wolfe in Canada

lieuttnant. The men of the six companies of the three
regiments will be paraded to-morrow and asked for volun-
teers for the special service. If there are more than fifty
offer you can select your own men."

Accordingly the next morning the troops to be left behind
were paraded, and an order was read out saying that a
corps of scouts for special service was to be raised, and
that volunteers were requested. Upwards of a hundred
men stepped forward, and being formed in line James
selected from them fifty who appeared to him the most
hardy, active, and intelligent looking. He himself had
that morning been put in orders as captain of the new
corps, and had assumed the insignia of his temporary rank.
The colonel had placed at his disposal two intelligent young
non-commissioned officers.

The next morning he marched with his command for
Fort William Henry. No sooner had he left the open
country and entered the woods than he began to instruct
the men in their new duties. The whole of them were
thrown out as skirmishers and taught to advance in Indian
fashion, each man sheltering himself behind a tree, scanning
the woods carefully ahead, and then, fixing his eyes on
another tree ahead, to advance to it at a sharp run and
shelter there.

All this was new to the soldiers, hitherto drilled only in
solid formation or in skirmishing in the open, and when, at
the end of ten miles skirmishing through the wood, they
were halted and ordered to bivouac for the night, James
felt that his men were beginning to have some idea of forest
fighting. The men themselves were greatly pleased with
their d&y's work. It was a welcome change after the long
monotony of life in a standing camp, and the day's work
had given them a high opinion of the fitness of their young
officer for command.

But the work and instruction was not over for the day.
Hitherto none of the men had had any experience in camp-

A Commission

217

ing in the open. James now showed them how to make
comfortable shelters against the cold with two forked sticks
and one laid across them, and with a few boughs and a
blanket laid over them, with dead leaves heaped round the
bottom and ends ; and how best to arrange their fires and
cook their food.

During the following days the same work was repeated
and when, after a week's marching, the force issued from
the forest into the clearing around Fort William Henry,
James felt confident that his men would be able to hold
their own in a brush with the Indians. Major Eyre, to
whom James reported himself and showed his appointment
defining his authority and duties, expressed much satisfac-
tion at the arrival of the reinforcement.

" There are rumours brought here by the scouts," he
said, "that a strong fofce will ere long come down from
Crown Point to Ticonderoga, and that we shall be attacked.
Now that the lake is frozen regular troops could march
without difficulty, and my force here is very inadequate
considering the strength with which the French will attack.
None of my officers or men have any experience of the
Indian methods of attack, and your experience will be very
valuable. It is a pity that they do not give me one of these
companies of scouts permanently. Sometimes one or other
of them is here, but often I am without any of the pro-
vincials, and although I have every confidence in my officers
and men, one cannot but feel that it is a great disadvantage
to be exposed to the attack of an enemy of whose tactics
one is altogether ignorant. You will, of course, encamp
your men inside the fort. I see you have brought no bag-
gage with you, but I have some spare tents here which are
at your service."

"Thank you, sir," James replied; "I shall be glad to
put the men under cover while they are here, but I intend
to practise them as much as possible in scouting and camp-
ing in the woods, and although 1 shall always be in the

2l8

With Wolfe in Canada

neighbourhood of the fort, I do not propose always to
return here at night. Are any of Captain Rogers's corps
at present at the fort?"

" Some of them came in last night," Major Eyre replied.

" I have authority," James said, ** to enlist two of them
in my corps."

Major Eyre smiled.

*• I do not think you will find any of them ready to submit
to military discipline or to put on a red coat."

•' They are all accustomed to obey orders promptly
enough when at work," James said, "though there is no
attempt at discipline when oflf duty. You see them at their
worst here. There is, of course, nothing like military
order in the woods, but obedience is just as prompt as
among our troops. As to the uniform, I agree with you,
but on that head I should not be particular. I can hardly
fancy any of the scouts buttoned tightly up with stiff
collars; but as, after all, although they are to be enlisted,
they will be attached to the corps rather than be regular
members of it, I do not think I need insist upon the uni-
form."

After leaving" the major, James saw to the pitching of the
tents and the comforts of his men, and when he had done
so strolled off towards a group of scouts who were watch-
ing his proceedings, and among whom he recognized the
two men for whom he was looking. He received a cordial
greeting from all who had taken part in his previous adven-
tures with Captain Rogers's band.

" And so you are in command of this party?" Nat said.
*' 1 asked one of the men just now, and he said you were
the captain. Vou are young to be a captain, but at any
rate it's a good thing to have a king's officer here who
knows something about the woods. The rest ain't no
more idea of them than nothing."

'* I want to chat to you, Nat, and also to Jonathan, if
you will come across with me to my tent,"

A Commission

aiQ

•' Pm agreeable," Nat said; and the two scouts walked
across to the tent with James. Lieutenant Kd wards, who
shared the tent with him, was inside arranging a few things
which Major Eyre had sent down for their use.

•• Edwards, these are the two scouts, Nat and Jonathan,
of whom you have often heard me speak. Now let us sit
down and have a chat. There is some first-rate rum in
that bottle, Nat, there are two tin pannikins, and there is
water in that keg.

'* Now, Nat," he went on when the party were seated on
blankets laid on the ground, •* this corps of mine has been
raised specially to act as scouts round this or any other fort
which may be threatened, or to act as the advanced ^^uard
of a column of troops."

•* But what do they know of scouting?" Nat said "^•
temptuously. "They don't know no more than children."

"They don't know much, but they are active fellows and
ready to learn. I think you will find that already they have
a pretty fair idea of fighting in Indian fashion in the woods,
and as I have authority to draw extra supplies of ball cart-
ridge, I hope in a few weeks to make fair shots of them.
You have taught me something of forest ways, and I shall
teach them all I know; but we want better teachers, and I
want to propose to you and Jonathan to join the corps."

"What, and put on a red coat, and choke ourselves up
with a stiff collar!" Nat laughed ; " nice figures we should
look! No, no, captain, that would never do."

"No, I don't propose that you should wear uniform,
Nat. I have got a special authority to enlist you and
Jonathan, with the understanding that you can take your
discharge whenever you like. There will be no drilling
in line, or anything of that sort. It will be Just scouting
work, the same as with Captain Rogers, except that we
shall not make long expeditions as he does, but keep in
the neighbourhood of the fort. I should want you to act
both as scouts and instructors, to teach the men, as you

; t

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220

With Wolfe in Canada

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have taught me, something of woodcraft, how to find their
way in a forest, and how to fight the Indians in their own
way, and to be up to Indian devices. You will be guides
on the line of march, will warn me of danger, and suggest
the best plan of meeting it. You will, in fact, be scouts
attached to the corps, only nominally you will be members
of it. I know your ways, and should not exact any obser-
vance of discipline more than that which you have with
Rogers, and should treat you in the light of non-com-
missioned officers."

"Well, and what do you say, Jonathan?" Nat said,
turning to his tall companion. "You and I have both
taken a fancy to the captain here, and though he has
picked up a lot for a young 'un, and will in time make
a first-rate hand in the woods, I guess he won't make
much hand of it yet if he hadn't got someone as knows
the woods by his side. We have had a spell of hard work
of it with Rogers lately, and I don't mind if I have a change
for a bit with the redcoats."

' I will go, of course," Jonathan said briefly.

" Very well, then, that's settled, captain," Nat said.
*• Rogers will be in to-night, and I will tell him we are
going to transfer ourselves over to you."

*' He won't mind, I hope," James said. , ? ■■.,

"He won't mind," Nat replied. "We ain't very p^ir-
ticular about times of service in our corps. We just comes
and goes pretty well as the fancy takes us. They would
never get us to join if they wanted to get us to bind down
hard and fast. Sometimes they start on an expedition fifty
strong, next time perhaps not more than thirty turns up.
Is there anything to do to join the corps?"

"Not much, Nat. I give you each a shilling and attest
you, that is to say, swear you in to serve the king, and in
your case give you a paper saying that you are authorized
to take your discharge whensoever it pleases you."
^.*,|Very well, captain; then on those terms we join,

V. i. :i':i

A Commission

221

always understood as we don't have to put on red
coats."

The two men were sworn in, and then Nat standing up
said:

"And now, captain, discipline is discipline; what's your
orders?" James went to the door of the tent and called
the sergeant.

"Sergeant, these two men are enlisted as scouts in the
corps, they will draw rations and be a regular part of the
company like the rest, but they will not wear uniform,
acting only as scouts. They will have the rank and posi-
tion of corporals, and will specially instruct the men in
woodcraft and in the ways of the Indians. They will, of
course, occupy the tent with the non-commissioned officers
and will mess with them. Being engaged as scouts only
they will in other respects be free from anything like strict-
ness. I trust that you will do what you can to make them
comfortable."

The sergeant saluted and led the two scouts over to the
tent occupied by himself and the other non-commissioned
officers, and the roars of laughter that issued from it in
the course of the evening at the anecdotes of the scouts
showed that the newcomers were likely to be highly popu-
lar characters in their mess.

I Will

., • ,., ,\

CHAPTER XIII

An Abortive Attack

Three weeks passed. James kept his men steadily at
work, and even the scouts allowed that they made great
progress. Sometimes they went out in two parties with
an officer and a scout to each, and their pouches filled with
blank cartridge. Each would do its best to surprise the
other ; and when they met a mimic fight would take place,
the men sheltering behind trees and firing only when they
obtained a glimpse of an adversary.

" I did not think that these pipeclayed soldiers could
have been so spry," Nat said to James. "They have
picked up wonderfully, and I wouldn't mind going into
an Indian fight with them. They are improving with
their muskets. Their shooting yesterday wasn't bad by
no means. In three months* time they will be as good
a lot to handle as any of the companies of scouts."

Besides the daily exercises the company did scouting
work at night, ten men being out by turns in the woods
bordering the lake. At one o'clock in the morning on
the 19th of March Nat came into the officers' tent.

"Captain," he said, "get up. There's something
afoot."

"What is it, Nat?' ^ames asked as he threw off his
rugs.

"It's the French, at least I don't see who else it can be.
It was my turn to-night to go round and look after our
sentries. When I came to Jim Bryan, who was stationed

S8S

An Abortive Attack

223

just at the edge of the lake, I said to him, ' Anything new,
Jim?' and he says, 'Yes; seems to me as I can hear a
hammering in the woods.' I listens, and sure enough
axes were going. It may be some three miles down ; the
night is still, and the ice brought the sound. 'That's
one for you, Jim,' says I. 'Them's axes sure enough.'
I stands and looks, and then a long way down the lake
on the left I sees a faint glare. They had had the sense
to light the fires where we couldn't see them; but there
were the lights sure enough. It's the French, captain,
the redskins would never have made fires like that, and
if it had been a party of our scouts they would have come
on here, and not halted an hour's tramp away.

"You had best get the troops under arms, captain.
Who would have thought they would have been such
fools as to light their fires within sight of the fort!"

James at once went to Major Eyre's^uarters and aroused
him, and in a few minutes the garrison were all under
arms. Their strength, including James Walsham's corps
and some scouts of the company of John Stark, numbered
three hundred and forty-six men, besides which there were
a hundred and twenty-eight invalids in hospital.

Two hours passed, and then a confused sound as of a
great body of men moving on the ice was heard. The
ice was bare of snow, and nothing could be seen, but
the cannon on the side facing the lake at once opened
Bre with grape and round shot in the direction of the
sound.

After firing for a few minutes they were silent. The
sound on the ice could no longer be heard.

"They have taken to the woods," Nat, who had taken
up his station next to James Walsham, said; "it ain't
likely they would stop on the ice with the balls pounding
it up."

"Do you think they will attack before morning?" James
asked.

i I

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214 With Wolfe in Canada

" It ain't likely," Nat replied. "They won't know thi
positions, and such a dark night as this they wouldn't be
able to make out anything about them. If they could
have come straigth along the ice to the head of the lake
here they would have made a dash, no doubt; but now
they find we ain't to be caught asleep I expect they will
wait till morning."

Again the sound of axes was heard in the wood, and the
glare of light appeared above the trees.

" There must be a tidy lot of 'em," Nat said.

" Do you think it will be any use to go out and try to
Surprise them?"

" Not a bit, captain; they are sure to have a lot of red-
skins with them, and they will be lurking in the woods in
hopes that we may try such a move. No ; we have got a
strong position here, and can lick them three to one ; but
in the woods, except Stark's men and perhaps yours, none
of the others wouldn't be no good at all."

Major Eyre shortly afterwards sent for James, who
gave him the opinion of the scout, and the major then
ordered the troops to get under shelter again, leaving
Stark's men to act as sentries, for the night was bitterly
cold.

It was not until ten o'clock next day that the French
appeared, and, surrounding the fort on all sides except
on that of the lake, opened heavy musketry fire upon it.
They were a formidable body. Vaudreuil, the governor
of Canada, had spared no pains to make the blow a
successful one. The force had been assembled at Crown
Point, and numbered sixteen hundred regulars, Canadians,
and Indians. Everything needful for their comfort had
been provided — overcoats, blankets, bearskins to sleep
on, and tarpaulins to cover them. They had been pro-
vided with twelve days' provisions, which were placed on
hand sledges and drawn by the troops.

They marched over the ice of Lake Champlain down

An Abortive Attack

225

enow the
tuldn't be
ley could
' the lake

but now

they will

i, and the

and try to

lot of red-
e woods in
have got a
one; but
rours, none

iimes, who

major then

in, leaving

as bitterly

the French
Ides except
]re upon it.
governot
le blow a
at Crown
'anadians,
tmfort had
to sleep
been pro-
placed on

llain down

to Ticonderoga, where they rested a week, and constructed
three hundred scaling-ladders. Three days' further march
up Lake George brought them to the English fort. The
weak point of the expedition was its leader, for Vaudreuil,
who was himself a Canadian, had the greatest jealousy of
the PVench officers, and had entrusted the command of the
expedition to his brother Rigaud.

The fire did no damage, as the garrison lay sheltered
behind their entrenchments, replying occasionally when-
ever the enemy mustered in force as if with an intention
of attacking.

"I don't think they mean business this time, captain,"
Nat said in a tone of disgust. "Why, there are enough
of them to eat us if they could but make up their minds
to come on. They don't suppose they are going to
take William Henry by blazing away at it half a mile
off!"

" Perhaps they are going to make a night attack,"
James said. "They will have learned all about the posi-
tion of our works."

"May be so," Nat replied; "but I don't think so.
When chaps don't attack at once, when there are four
or five to one, I reckon that they ain't likely to attack
at all. They meant to surprise us, and they haven't,
and it seems to me as it has taken all the heart out of
them."

As evening approached the fire ceased. At nightfall
strong guards were placed round the entrenchments, and
the troops retired to their quarters ready to turn out at
a minute's notice. About midnight they were called out ;
there was again a sound on the lake. The cannon at once
opened, and as before all was silent again. ,

" Look, Walsham, look!" Edwards exclaimed. "They
have set fire to the sloops."

As he spoke a tongue of flame started up from one ot
tlie two vessels lying in the ice close to the shore, and

(337) ti

226 With Wolfe in Canada

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almost simultaneously flames shot up from among the
boats drawn up on the beach.

"That's redskin work," Nat exclaimed.

•'Come, lads," James cried, leaping down from the low
earthwork into the ditch. '* Let us save the boats if we
can." The scouts followed him and ran down to the
shore; but the Indians had done their work well. The
two sloops and many of the boats were well alight, and
it was evident at once that long before a hole could be
broken through the ice, and buckets brought down from
the fort, they would be beyond all hopes of saving them.
The French, too, opened fire from the woods bordering
the lake, and as the light of the flames exposed his men
to the enemy's marksmen James at once called them back
to the fort, and the sloops and boats burned themselves
out. At noon next day the French filed out from the
woods on to the ice at a distance of over a mile.

"What now?" Edwards exclaimed. "They surely don't
n.ean to be fools enough to march across the ice to attack
us in broad daylight."

•' It looks to me," James replied, " as if they wanted to
make a full show of their force. See, there is a v^^hite flag,
and a party are coming forward."

An officer and several men advanced towards the fort,
and Major Eyre sent out one of his officers with an equal
number of men to meet them. There was a short parley
when the parties came together, and then the French
officer advanced towards the fort with the English, his
followers remaining on the ice.

On nearing the fort the French officer, Le Mercier, chief
of the Canadian artillery, was blindfolded and led to the
room where Major Eyre, with all the British officers, was
awaiting him. The handkerchief was then removed from
his eyes, and he announced to the commandant that he
was the bearer of a message from the officer commanding
the French force, who, being desirous of avoiding an

An Abortive Attack

227

long the

1 the low
ats if we
rn to the
rell. The
light, and
could be
own from
ing them,
bordering
d his men
them back
hemselves

from the
nile.
urely don't

to attack

wanted to
Afhite flag,

the fort,

an equal

)rt parley

le French

Iglish, his

:ier, chief
;d to the
:ers, was
Ived from
that he
Imanding
)ding an

effusion of blood, begged the English commander to ab-
stain from resistance, which, against a force so superior
to his own, could but be useless. He offered the most
favourable terms if he would surrender the place peace-
ably, but said that if he were driven to make an assault
his Indian allies would unquestionably massacre the whole
garrison.

Major Eyre quietly replied that he intended to defend
himself to the utmost.

The envoy was again blindfolded. When he rejoined
the French force the latter at once advanced as if to
attack the place, but soon halted, and leaving the ice,
opened a fusillade from the border of the woods, which
they kept up for some hours, the garrison contemptuously
abstaining from any reply. At night the French were
heard advancing again, the sound coming from all sides.
The garrison stood to their arms, believing that this time
the real attack was about to be made.

Nearer and nearer came the sound, and the garrison,
who could see nothing in the pitchy darkness, fired wher-
ever they could hear a sound. Presently a bright light
burst up; the redskins, provided with faggots of resinous
sticks, had crept up towards some buildings, consisting
of several storehouses, a hospital, and sawmill, and the
huts and tents of the rangers, and having placed their
torches against them set them on fire and instantly re-
treated. The garrison could do nothing to save the build-
ings, as their efforts in the absence of water must be
unavailing, and they would have been shot down by the
foe lying beyond the circle of light. They therefore re-
mained lying behind the etitrenchment, firing wherever they
heard the slightest sound, and momentarily expecting an
attack ; but morning came without the French advancing,
and the garrison were then able to give their whole atten-
tion to saving the buildings in the fort.

Some great woodstacks bad now ignited, and the burn-

ft-

228

With Wolfe in Canada

^■»'^

*ni'

'fel^

ing embers fell thickly on the huts, and for some hours ii
was only by the j^reatest exertions that the troops were
able to save the buildings from destruction. Every moment
they expected to be attacked, for had the French advanced
the huts must have been left to themselves, in which case
the garrison would have found themselves shelterless, and
all their provisions and stores would have been consumed;
but before noon the danger was over, for not only had the
fires begun to burn low, but a heavy «^nowstorm set in.
All day it continued.

'* Now would be the time for them to attack," James
Walsham said to his lieutenant; **we can scarce see
twenty yards away."

"Now is their chance," Edwards agreed; " but I don't
believe in their attacking. I can't think who they have
got in command. He ought to be shot, a man with such
a force as he has hanging about here for four days when
he could have carried the place with a rush any momcnl.'

"No, I don't think they will attack," James replied.
"Men who will stop to light a fire to warm themselves
within sight of an enemy's fort they want to surprise are
not likely to venture out of shelter of their blankets in such
a snow as this."

All day and all night the snow came down till the ground
was covered to a depth of over three feet. Early on Tues-
day morning twenty volunteers of the French regulars
made a bold attempt to burn a sloop building on the
stocks, with several storehouses and other structures near
the water, and some hundreds of boats and canoes which
were ranged near them. They succeeded in firing the
sloop and some buildings, but James with his scouts
sallied out and forced them to retreat with the loss of
five of their number, and by pulling down some of the
huts prevented the fire spreading.

Next morning the sun rose brightly, and the white sheet
of the lake was dotted with the French in full retreat

An Abortive Attack

329

ours Jl
s were
loment
vanced
:h case
ss, and
sumed;
tiad the
set in.

' James
rce see

; I don't
ey have
ith such
ys when
jmenl/'

replied,
pmselves
Drise are

in such

ground
an Tues-
regulars
on the
res near
|es which
ing the
scouts
loss of
e of the

lite sheet
I retreat

for Canada. Their total loss had been eleven killed and
wounded, while on the English side seven men had been
wounded, all slightly. Never was a worse conducted or
more futile expedition.

After this affair the time passed slowly at Fort William
Menry. Until the sun gained strength enough to melt
the thick white covering of the earth James practised his
men in the use of snowshoes, and as soon as spring had
fairly commenced resumed the work of scouting. This
was done only as an exercise, for there was no fear that
after such a humiliating failure the French would for some
time to come attempt another expedition against the fort.

In the autumn of 1756 General Montcalm had come out
from France to take the command of the French troops.
Few of the superior officers of the French army cared to
lake the command in a country where the work was hard
and rough and little glory was to be obtained. Therefore
the minister of war was able for once to choose an ofiicer
fitted for the post, instead of being obliged, as usual, to fill
up the appointment by a court favourite.

The Marquis of Montcalm was born at the chateau of
Candiac, near Nimes, on the 29th of February, 17 12. At
the age of fifteen, up to which time he had studied hard,
he entered the army. Two years later he became a cap-
tain, and was first under fire at the siege of Philipsbourg.
In 1736 he married Mademoiselle Du Boulay, who brought
him influential connections and some property. In 1741
Montcalm took part in the campaign in Bohemia. Two
years later he was made colonel, and passed unharmed
through the severe campaign of 1744.

In the following year he fought in the campaign in Italy,
and in 1746 was wounded at the disastrous action at
Piacenza, where he twice rallied his regiment, received
five sabre cuts, and was made prisoner. He was soon
liberated on parole, and was promoted in the following
year to the rank of brigadier-general, and being exchanged

V fiJ

PITT

330 With Wolfe in Canada

for an officer of similar rank rejoined the army, and was
again wounded by a musket-shot. Shortly afterwards the
peace of Aix-la-Chapelle was signed, and Montcalm re-
mained living quietly with his family, to whom he was
tenderly attached, until informed by the minister of war
that he had selected him to command the troops in North
America with the rank of major-general.

The Chevalier de Levis was appointed second in com-
mand. No sooner did Montcalm arrive in America than
difficulties arose between him and the Marquis de Vau-
dreuil, the governor, who had hoped to have himself re-
ceived the appointment of commander of the French forces,
and who, in virtue of his office, commanded the Canadian
militia.

From first to last this man opposed and thwarted Mont-
calm, doing all in his power to injure him by reports to
France in his disfavour. The misfortunes which befell
France during the war were in no slight degree due to
this divided authority and to the obstacles thrown in the
way of Montcalm by the governor. Montcalm's first blow
against the English was struck in August, 1756, six months
before the attack on Fort William Henry, which had been
arranged by Vaudreuil.

Three battalions of regular troops, with 700 Canadians
and 250 Indians, with a strong force of artillery, were
quietly concentrated at Fort Frontenac, and were intended
for an attack upon the important English post of Oswego.
Fighting had been going on in this neighbourhood for
some time, and it was from Oswego that Shirley had
intended to act against Niagara and Frontenac. That
enterprise had fallen through owing to Shirley having
been deprived of the command; but a sharp fight had
taken plao, between Colonel Bradstreet and his armed
boatmen and 1 100 French, who were beaten off.

Oswego was a place of extreme importance. It was
the only English post on Ontario, situated as it was

til

An Abortive Attack

231

towards the south-west corner of the lake. So long as
it remained in their possession it was a standing menace
against the whole line of communications of the French
with the south. Owing to gross neglect the fort had
never been placed in a really defensive condition. The
garrison was small, and crippled with the fever, which
had carried off great numbers of them. The remainder
were ill-fed and discontented.

On the 1 2th of August the Earl of Loudon sent Colonel
Webb with the 44th Regiment and some of Bradstreet's
boatmen to reinforce Oswego. They should have started
a month before, and had they done so would have been in
time; but confusion and misunderstanding had arisen from
a change in command. Webb had scarcely made half his
march when tidings of the disaster met him, and he at
once fell back with the greatest precipitation.

At midnight on the loth, Montcalm had landed his force
within half a league of the first English fort. Four cannon
were at once landed and a battery thrown up, and so care-
less of danger were the garrison that it was not till the
morning that the invaders were discovered. Two armed
vessels at once sailed down to cannonade them ; but their
light guns were no match for the heavy artillery of the
French, and they were forced to retire. The attack was
commenced without delay. The Indians and Canadians
swarming in the forest round the fort kept up a hot fire
upon it.

By nightfall the first parallel was marked out at 180
yards from the rampart. Fort Ontario, considered the
strongest of the three forts at Oswego, stood on a high
plateau on the right side of the river where it entered the
lake. It was in the shape of a star, and formed of a
palisade of trunks of trees set upright in the ground,
hewn flat on both sides, and closely fitted together — an
excellent defence against musketry, but worthless against
artillery. The garrison of the fort, 370 in number, had

^ P

232

With Wolfe in Canada

eight small cannon and a mortar, with which all next day
they kept up a brisk fire against the battery which the
French were throwing up and arming with twenty-six
pieces of heavy artillery. Colonel Mercer, the commandant
of Oswego, saw at once that the French artillery would,
as soon as they opened fire, blow the stockade into pieces,
and thinking it better to lose fort alone than the fort

and its garrison, he sent boats .ross the river after niglii-
fall, and the garrison having spiked their guns, and thrown
their ammunition into the well, crossed the river unper-
ceived by the French.

But Oswego was in no position for defence. Fort
Pepperell stood on the mouth of the river facing Fort
Ontario. Towards the west and south the place was
protected by an outer line of earthworks mounted with
cannon, but the side facing the river was wholly exposed,
in the belief that Fort Ontario would prevent any attack in
this direction.

Montcalm lost no time. Th next evening his whole
force set to work throwing up ttery at the edge of the
rising ground on which Fort v>» ario stood, and by day-
break twenty heavy guns were in position, and at once
opened fire. The grape and round shot swept the English
position, smashing down the mud-built walls, crashing
through the stockades, and carrying destruction among
the troops. The latter made a shelter of pork barrels,
three high and three deep, and planted cannon behind
them, and returned the enemy's fire; but the Canadians
and Indians had crossed the river by a ford two miles up,
i\n6 soon opened fire from all sides.

Colonel Mercer, who had bravely led his men and in-
spired them by his example, was cut in two by a cannon
shot, and the garrison were seized with despair. A council
of officers was held, and the garrison surrendered as pri-
soners of war, to the number of sixteen hundred, which
included sick, the sailors belonging to the shipping,

An Abortive Attack

233

labourers, and upwards of a hundred women. Montcalm
had the greatest difliculty in preventing the Indians, by
means of threats, promises, and pijsents, from massacring
the prisoners. Oswego was burned to the ground, the
forts and vessels on the stocks destroyed, and the place
having been made a desert, the army returned with their
prisoners and spoil to Montreal.

The loss of Oswego had inHicted a very severe blow to
the influence and prestige of England among the Indians
of the lake districts, but this was partly restored by the
tailure of the French expedition against William Henry
early in the following spring. The expedition against
Louisbourg, to strengthen which the western frontier had
been denuded of troops, proved a failure. A great delay
had taken place at home in consequence of ministerial
changes, and it was not until the 5th of May that fifteen
ships of the lin and three frigates under Admiral Hol-
bourne with 5000 troops on board sailed from England
for Halifax, where Loudon was to meet him with the
forces from the colony. But while the English fleet had
bten dela^ ing, the French government had obtained in-
formation of its destination, and had sent three French
squadrons across the Atlantic to Louisbourg. It was the
loth of July before the united English force assembled at
Halifax, and there fresh delays arose. The troops, nearly
twelve thousand in number, were landed, and weeks were
spent in idle drill.

At the beginning of August the forces were again
embarked, when a sloop came in from Newfoundland
bringing letters which had been captured on board a
French ship. From these it appeared that there were
twenty-two ships of the line besides several frigates in
the harbour of Louisbourg, and that 7000 troops were in
garrison in what was by far the strongest fortress on the
continent.

Success was now impossible, and the enterprise was

i'tt)

♦^

1 ■■

234

With Wolfe in Canada

abandoned. Loudon with his troops sailed back to New
York, and Admiral Holbourne, who had been joined by
four additional ships, sailed for Louisbourg in hopes that
the French fleet would come out and fight him.

He cruised for some time off the port, but Lamotte, the
French admiral, would not come out. In September a
tremendous gale burst upon the British fleet: one ship
was dashed on the rocks a short distance from Louisbourg,
and only a sudden shift of the wind saved the rest from a
total destruction. Nine were dismasted, and others threw
their cannon into the sea. Had Lamotte sailed out on
the following day the English fleet was at his mercy.
Fortunately he did not do so, and Holbourne returned to
England.

The French in Canada were aware that Loudon had
gathered all his troops at New York, and was preparing
for an expedition which was to be aided by a fleet from
England ; but thinking it probable that it was directed
against Quebec, the most vital point in Canada, since
its occupation by the English would entirely cut the
colony off from France, Montcalm was obliged to keep
his forces in hand near that town, and was unable to take
advantage of the unprotected state in which Loudon had
left the frontier of the colonies.

As soon, however, as, by dispatch received from France,
and by the statements of prisoners captured by the Indians
on the frontier, Montcalm learned that the expedition
which had just left New York was destined for Louis-
bourg, he was at liberty to utilize his army for the invasion
of the defenceless colonies, and he determined to commence
the campaign by the capture of Fort William Henry.

James Walsham with his company of Royal Scouts had
spent the spring at Fort William Henry. Loudon had at
first sent an order for the corps to be broken up, and the
men to rejoin their respective regiments and to accompany
them on the expedition ; but the earnest representations of

it;

An Abortive Attack

235

Colonel Monro of the 35th Regiment, who was now in
command, of the total inadequacy of the garrison to defend
itself should a serious attack be made from Ticonderoga,
and of the great value to him of the corps under Captain
Walsham, which was now thoroughly trained in forest
fighting, induced him to countermand the order.

James was glad that he was not obliged to rejoin his
regiment. The independent command was a pleasant
one, and although life at Fort William Henry had, since
the French repulse, been an uneventful one, there was
plenty of fishing in the lake and shooting in the woods to
vary the monotony of drill.

He and Edwards were now both expert canoemen, and
often ventured far down the lake, taking with them one or
other of the scouts, and keeping a sharp lookout among
the woods on either side for signs of the enemy. Once or
twice they were chased by Indian canoes, but always suc-
ceeded in distancing them.

"The news has just come in that the expedition has
sailed," James said as he one day, towards the end of
July, entered the hut which he now occupied with Edwards,
for the corps had long since been put under huts, these
being better suited for the hot season than tents.

"It is rather a nuisance," Edwards grumbled, "being
kept here instead of going and taking share in a big

siege.

"Don't be impatient, Edwards," James replied. " If I
am not greatly mistaken you will have quite as much
fighting as you want here before long. Montcalm's sudden
attack on Oswego last autumn showed that he is an enter-
prising general, and I have no doubt that as soon as he
learns that Loudon's expedition is not intended for Quebec
he will be beating us up on the frontier with a vengeance."

Montcalm indeed had already prepared to strike a blow.
A thousand Indians, lured by the prospect of gifts, scalps,
and plunder, had come in from the west and north, and

2^6

With Wolfe in Canada

Ik I

were encamped near Montreal; and besides these there
were the Mission Indians, and those of the Five Nations
who adhered to France. Early in June the movement
began. Day after day fleets of boats and canoes rowed
up Lake Champlain, and towards the end of the month the
whole force was gathered at Ticonderoga. Here were
now collected eight thousand men, of whom two thousand
were Indians, representing forty-one tribes and sub-tribes;
among them were Iroquois, Hurons, Nipissings, Abenakis,
Algonkins, Micmacs, and Malecites, these were all nominal
Christians, and counted eight hundred warriors. With
them were the western Indians; Ojibwas, Mississagas,
Pottawattamies, Menomonies, Sacs, Foxes, Winnebagoes,
Miamis, and lowas. These were still unconverted.

The French held these savage allies in abhorrence. Their
drunkenness, their turbulence, their contempt of all orders,
their cruelty to their captives, and their cannibalism, dis-
gusted and shocked Montcalm and his officers; but *^hey
were powerless to restrain them, for without them as scouts,
guides, and eyes in the forests, the French could have
done nothing, and at the slightest remonstrance the Indians
were ready to take offence and to march away to their dis-
tant homes.

The letters of Montcalm and his officers to their friends
were full of disgust at the doings of their savage allies, and
of regret that they could not dispense with their services or
restrain their ferocity. Vaudreuil and the Canadians, on
the other hand, accustomed to the traditions of savage
warfare, made no attempt whatever to check the ferocity
of the Indians, and were indeed the instigators of the raids
which the savages made upon the unprotected villages and
settlements on the frontier, offered rewards for scalps, and
wrote and talked gleefully of the horrible atrocities com-
mitted upon the colonists.

CHAPTER XIV

Scouting on Lake Champlain

One morning Colonel Monro sent for James. "Captain
Walsham," he said, "there are rumours that the French
are gathering" at Crown Point in considerable force. Cap-
tain Rogers is still disabled by his wound, and his band
have suffered so heavily in their last affair with the enemy
that for the time they are out of action. It is important
that I should learn the truth of these rumours, for if they
be true I must communicate at once to the general, in order
that he may get together a sufficient force to relieve us if
Montcalm comes down and lays siege to the fort. Will
you undertake the business?"

*' I will do my best, sir," James replied. '* Do you pro-
pose that I should take all my company, or only a picked
party?"

"That I will leave to you, Captain Walsham. I want
trustworthy news, and how you obtain it for me matters
little."

"Then I will take only a small party," James said.
" Fifty men would be useless for purposes of fighting if
the enemy are numerous, while with such a number it
would be hopeless to attempt to escape detection by the
Indians. The fewer the better for such an enterprise."

On leaving the commandant James at once summoned
the two hunters to his hut, and told them the mission he
had received.

" I am ready, captain, that is if you, and I, and Jonathan
makes up the party. As to going trapezing about round

387

I -m

'!»■

Hi.

238

With Wolfe in Canada

Crown Point with fifty soldiers, the thing ain't to be thought
of. We should be there no more than half an hour before
the Indians would know of it, and we should have no show
either for fighting or running away. No, captain, the lads
are good enough for scouting about round camp here ; but
as for an expedition of that sort, we might as well start
with a drove of swine."

"That is just what I thought, Nat: one canoe may
escape even the eyes of the Indians, but a dozen would
have no chance of doing so."

** We might get up the lakes," the scout said ; *' but the
mischief would be in the woods. No, it never would do,
captain. If we goes it must be the three of us and no
more. When do you think of starting?"

**The sooner the better, Nat."

" Very well, captain, I will go and get some grub ready,
and as soon as it gets dusk we will get the canoe into the
water."

" I suppose you can't take me with you?" Lieutenant
Edwards said when James told him of the duty he had been
requested to perform. *' It is dismal here."

*' Not exactly," James laughed. "What would become
of the company if it were to lose its two officers and its two
scouts at a blow ! No, Edwards, you will command during
my absence, and I think you will soon have more lively
times here, for if it be true that Montcalm will himself com-
mand the troops coming against us it will be a different
business altogether from the last. And now leave me alone
for an hour, I have some letters to write before I start,
they will be for you to send off in case we don't come back
again. Don't look serious, I have no intention of falling
into the hands of Montcalm's savages. Still there is no
doubt the expedition is a risky one, and it is just as well to
be prepared."

Just as the sun was setting Nat came into the officer's
hui.

Scouting on Lake Champlain 239

"Everything- is ready, captain," he said. "I hope you
have made a good dinner, for it's the last hot meal you will
eat till you get back. I have cooked enough meat for the
next four days, and that's about as long as it will keep
good ; after that dried deer's flesh will have to do for us.
I expect, I tell you, we shall have to be pretty spry this
time. If they are coming down in force they are sure to
send a lot of their Indians through the woods on each side
of the lake, and the water wi;I be swarming with their
canoes. Jonathan and I have been talking it over and try-
ing to settle which would be the safest, to foot it all the
way or to go by water. We concluded as there ain't
much difference, and the canoe will be the quickest and
easiest, so we had best keep to that plan."

*' I would certainly rather go that way, Nat, if you think
that the danger is no greater."

"No, I don't think there's much difference, captain; at
any rate we may as well go that way; like enough we shall
have to tramp back by the woods."

Half an hour later the canoe put out. Although they
had little fear that any of the Indian canoes would be so far
up Lake George there was scarce a word spoken in the
boat for some hours after starting. Jonathan was always
silent, and Nat, although talkative enough when in camp,
was a man of few words when once embarked upon a
serious expedition. As for James, he had little inclination
for conversation.

The enterprise was, he knew, one of extreme danger.
Had it been only a French force he was about to reconnoitre,
or even one composed of French and Canadians together,
he would have thought little of it; but he knew that the
redskins would be roaming thickly in the forest ahead of
the army, and much as he relied upon the skill and ex-
perience of the two scouts, he knew it would be difficult
indeed to elude their watchful eyes. He thought of the
letters he had been writing, and wondered whether he

i ^ *■ J.i ;* in
■;-i •!■

240 With Wolfe in Canada

should return to tear them up, or whether they would be
read at home.

All the time he was thinking he worked his paddle
vigorously and at a high rate of speed. The light canoe
bounded noiselessly over the water, impelled by three
vigorous pairs of arms. When they approached the nar-
rows connecting Lake George with Lake Champlain the
boat's head was directed towards the shore, for they could
not get past Ticonderoga before daylight broke, and it was
likely that a good watch would be kept in the narrows by
the enemy, and it would be dangerous to try to effect a
landing there. The canoe was carried ashore and hidden
in some bushes, and all lay down to sleep.

When day broke Nat rose and went down to the water
to see that in landing they had left no mark upon the shore
which might betray them to the eye of a passing redskin.

Going down on his hands and knees he obliterated every
sign of their footprints, raised the herbage upon which they
had trodden, cut short to the ground such stalks as they
had bruised or broken in their passage, and then, when
conf.dent that all was safe, he returned to his camp.
When it again became dark the canoe was carried down
and replaced in the water, and they continued their passage.
James had, at Nat's request, laid by his paddle.

*' You paddle wonderfully well, captain. I don't say you
don't ; but for a delicate piece of work like this one can't
be too careful. It ain't often I can hear your paddle dip in
the water, not once in a hundred times, but then you see
that once might cost us our scalps. We have got to go
along as silent as a duck swimming; speed ain't no object,
for we shall be miles down Lake Champlain before day-
light ; but if the French know their business they will have
half a dozen canoes in these narrows to prevent us scouting
on Lake Champlain, and you see they have got all the
advantage of us, 'cause they've got just to lie quiet and
listen and we have got to row on. As far as seeing go^^s

||.§^ 'M'-

Scouting on Lake Champlain 241

I can make them out as soon as they can make us out; but
they can hear us while they won't give our ears a chance.
I tell you, captain, I don't expect to get through this nar-
rows without a chase for it ; if it come to running, of course
vou will take your paddle again and we three can show our
heels to any canoe on the lakes, perviding of course as it's
only a starn chase; if there are three or four of them, then
I don't say as it won't be a close thing."

James accordingly lay quietly back in the boat while his
companions took the paddles. It was not necessary for
him either to look out or to listen, for he knew that his
companions' eyes and ears were quicker than his own. It
had been agreed before starting that they should go along
close to the trees on the left-hand side of the passage, be-
cause the keenest lookout would be kept on the right-
hand side, as that would naturally be chosen by any boat
going up as being farthest from the French fort.

"There is no fear whatever of our being seen from the
land," Nat had said; **the redskins would know that so
well that they wouldn't trouble to look out. It's only
canoes we have got to be afraid of, and as to them it's just
a chance ; they might see us out in the light waters in the
middle, but under the trees they can't make us out thirty
yards off. They will be lying there quiet if they are there
at all, and we shall either get past them safe or we shall
pretty nigh run into them. It's just chance, and there's
nothing to do for it but to paddle as noiselessly as fish and
trust to our luck."

Having crossed the lake to the left shore they entered
the narrows; the paddles were dipped so quietly into the
water that even James could scarcely hear their sound.
Every few strokes the scouts stopped paddling altogether
and sat listening intently. They were keeping close to the
trees, so close that at times it seemed to James that by
stretching out his hands he could touch the bushes.

After an hour's paddling they stopped longer than usual.

(337) 16

I' I

242 With Wolfe in Canada

"What is it?" James whispered in Jonathan's ear, for
Nat had taken the bow paddle.

"There are men ahead," the scout whispered back.
"We heard them speak just now."

Presently the boat began to move again, but so quietly
that it was only by looking at the dark masses of the boughs
that stretched out overhead that James knew the boat was
in motion. Jonathan now crouched in the bottom of tlie
boat and placed his hand on Nat's shoulder as a sign for
him to do the same. The time seemed endless to James as
he lay there ; it was too dark under the trees for him even
to see the outline of Nat's figure. The boat was, he was
sure, moving, for occasionally as he lay on his back it grew
lighter overhead as they passed under openings in the
trees.

Suddenly his heart gave a bound and he nearly started,
for a guttural voice spoke seemingly within a few feet
the canoe. He placed his hand on his rifle in readiness to
sit up and fire, but all was still again. It was a passing
remark made by one redskin to another in a canoe, for the
sound was to his right. Another long period passed and
then Jonathan sat up and took to his paddle again, and
James judged that the danger was over. Raising his head
he could see nothing except the vague light of the sheet of
water on his right; the boat was still keeping close under
the trees on the left shore of the lake, and he lay back
again and dozed off to sleep. He was awoke by Jonathan
touching his foot.

"You can take your paddle now, captain." He sat up
at once and looked round. They were far out now on a
broad sheet of water; there were some faint lights as of
fires burning low high up to the left behind them, and he
knew that they had already passed Ticonderoga and were
making their way along Lake Champlain. They paddled
for some hours and then landed on the right-hand side of
the lake.

s ear, for

red back.

so quietly
he boughs
s boat was
:om of the
a sign for
3 James as
r him even
as, he was
ick it grew
ngs in the

rly started,
few feet o
eadiness to
3 a passing
loe, for the
passed and
again, and
ig his head
he sheet of
lose under
|e lay back
Jonathan

I He sat up
now on a
Ights as of
)m, and he
and were
ky paddled
Ind side of

Scouting on Lake Champlain 243

"We are not likely to be disturbed here," Nat said as
they lifted the canoe from the water. "The Indians coming
down from Crown Point would keep on the other side of
the lake, they will all make for Ticonderoga and will not
think of keeping a lookout for anyone as far down the
lakes as this."

" That was a close shave with that canoe, Nat ; it startled
me when I heard the voice close to us. They must have
been within ten yards of us."

" About that," Nat said ; *' It was lucky they spoke when
we were coming along. I expect they had been watching
for some nights and hadn't much idea anyone would come,
or else they wouldn't have spoken. As it was it was easy
enough to pass them on such a dark night. Of course they
were looking outside and I just kept along as close as I
could to the bushes, only just giving a light stroke now and
then to take her along. Being inside them I got a sight of
'em some distance away, but I knew they couldn't see us,
sharp as their eyes are ; the only chance was their hearing,
and as there was no noise for them to hear I felt safe
enough after I had once caught sight of 'em and saw they
were lying out at the edge of the shadow. If they had been
close under the bushes, as they ought to have been, we
should have been in for a fight, for we mightn't have seen
each other till the boats touched. Let that be a lesson to
you, captain ; when you are on the lookout for a canoe at
night lie in among the bushes; it must pass between you
and the light then, and as they can't see you, you can either
grapple or shoot, just as you like. If they had a seen us
we should have had a hot time, for I could hear by their
calls right along the other side that they were looking out
for us in earnest, and if a rifle had been fired we should
have had half a dozen canoes down upon us in no time, and
like enough should have had to leave the boat and take to
the woods."

" How far is Crown Point away?"

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244

With Wolfe in Canada

•'Not more than ten miles," Nat said; "it is thirty
miles from Ticonderog-a. It lies out on a point just
where Champlain widens out. I reckon our safest wa\
to-night will be to scout along this side till we are well
past the point, then to paddle out well across the lake
and come up again and land to the left of Crown Point.
We shall then be in the track of boats coming up from
the lower end of the lake, and can paddle boldly on. No
one would be keeping any lookout that way. Our danger
won't begin until we get ashore; in course then we must
act according to sarcumstances."

This manoeuvre was carried out. They started as soon
as it became dark, and after paddling along the eastern
shore for nearly three hours struck out into the wide lake
till they approached the opposite shore, and then headiiij;
south again paddled boldly down towards the spot where,
at the end of a sweep of land which seemed to close in the
lake, stood the French fort of Crown Point.

Before starting the two scouts had stripped to the waist,
had laid aside their caps, and fastening a strip of leather
round their heads had stuck some feathers into it. They
then painted their faces and bodies.

"You needn't be particular about the flourishes, Jona-
than; it's only the redskin outline as one wants to get;
if we run against any other canoes coming up the lake,
or they get sight of us as we near the shore, so as we
look something like redskins that's near enough. Of
course we, can both speak Mohawk well enough to pass
muster, and the captain will lay himself down in the
bottom. Captain, you will do well enough for a Canadian
when we have once landed. There ain't much difference
between a hunter one side of the frontier and the other,
but it's as well that you shouldn't be seen till we land.
The less questions asked the better. Our MohaVk's
good enough with any of the other tribes, but it wouldn't
pass with a Mohawk if we got into a long talk with him."

Scouting on Lake Champlain 245

Fortunately, however, these precautions proved un-
necessary; no other canoes were seen on the lake, and
they landed unnoticed at a spot a mile and a half to
the west of Crown Point. Before starting from Fort
William Henry, James had laid aside his uniform and had
dressed himself in huntinj^ shin and leggings similar to
those worn by the scouts. He had adopted various little
details in which the Canadian hunters differed from those
on the Knglish side of the frontier. The latter wore
their hunting shirts loose in Indian fashion, while the
Canadians generally wore a leathern belt outside theirs at
the waist.

His cap was made of squirrels' skins, which would pass
equally well on both sides of the frontier. The firebag,
in which tobacco, tinder, and other small matters were
carried, was of Indian workmanship, as was the cord
of his powder horn and bullet pouch. Altogether his get-
up was somewhat brighter and more picturesque than
that of English scouts, who, as a rule, despised anything
kpproaching to ornament. He knew that by disguising
himself he would be liable, if captured, to be shot at once
as a spy; but this could not be considered, under the
circumstances, to add to the risk he ran, for in any case
he was certain to be killed if detected, and it would have
been out of the question to attempt to approach the French
camp in the uniform of a British officer. Could he have
spoken Canadian French the mission would have been
comparatively easy, but he knew only a few words of
the language, and would be detected the instant he opened
his lips.

The canoe was hauled up and carefully concealed on
land, and then they lay down until daylight, for no infor-
mation as to the strength of the enemy could be gained
in the dark. In the morning the two scouts very carefully
made their toilet. They had brought all necessaries with
them ; and soon, in their Indian hunting shirts and fringed

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246

With Wolfe in Canada

leggings, and with carefully painted faces, they were in a
position to defy the keenest scrutiny.

When, after a careful survey of each other, they felt
that their disguise was complete, they moved boldly for-
ward, accompanied by James. After half an hour's walk-
ing they emerged from the forest, and the strong fort
of Crown Point lay before them. It was constructed of
stone, and was capable of withstanding a long siege by
any force which could be brought against it. Round it
was the camp of the French troops, and James judged
from the number of tents that there must be some 1500
French soldiers there. A short distance away were a
large number of roughly constructed huts roofed with
boughs of trees.

"Them's the Canadians," Jonathan said. "The red-
skins never build shelters while on the warpath. There
are a heap of redskins about."

These, indeed, even at the distance of several hundred
yards, could be easily distinguished from their white allies
by their plumed headdresses and by the blankets or long
robes of skins which hung from their shoulders.

** I should put them down at three thousand."

" It is a big army," Nat said. " I should think there
must be quite as many Canadians as French. How many
redskins there are there ain't no knowing, but we may
be sure that they will have got together as many as they
could. Put 'em down at 40CX), and that makes 7000 al-
together, enough to eat up Fort William Henry and to
march to Albany."

*• Ay, or to New York if they a'
to it — that is, if the col( lis*
smartly. Well, so far y
to seek, captain. What le ne^

"We must discover, it we can, whether they mean to
go up the lakes in boats or to n*. ich through the woods,"
James replied. "They will have a tremendous jc getting

11 '

ad
.hint

and take fancy
stir themselves
what you came

Scouting on Lake Champlain 247

any guns through the woods, but if they are going by
water of course they can bring them."

'•Very well," Nat replied. " In that case, captain, my
advice is, you stop in the woods, and Jonathan and I will
go down past the fort to the shore and see what provision
they are making in that way. You see, the place swarms
with Canadians, and you would be sure to be spoken to.
Redskins don't talk much to each other unless there is
some need for words, and we can go right through the
P'rench camp without fear. The only danger is of some
loping Mohawk coming up to us, and I don't reckon there
are many of 'em in the camp, perhaps nary a one."

Although James did not like his followers to go into
danger without his sharing it, he saw that his presence
would enormously add to their risks, and therefore agreed
to their plan. Withdrawing some distance into the wood,
and choosing a thick growth of underwood, he entered,
and lay down in the bushes, while the two scouts walked
quietly away towards the camp.

Two hours passed. Several times he heard footsteps
in the wood near him, and, peering through the leaves,
caught sight of parties of Indians going towards the
camp, either late arrivals from Montreal or bands that
had been out scouting or hunting. At the end of two
hours, to his great relief he saw two figures coming from
the other way through the woods, and at once recog-
nized the scouts. He crawled out and joined them as
they came up.

"Thank God you are back again! I have been in a
fever all the time you have been away."

"1 wish I had known the precise place where you were
hiding, I should have made a sign to you to keep quiet;
but it ain't of no use now."

•'What's the matter then, Nat?"

" I ain't quite sure as anything is the matter," the scout
replied; '•but I am feared of it. As bad luck would have

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With Wolfe in Canada

it, just as we were coming back through the camp we
came upon a Mohawk chief. He looked hard at us, and
then came up and said : * The Owl thought that he knew
all his brothers ; but here are two whose faces are strange
to him.' Of course I told him that we had been living
and hunting for years in the English colony, but that
hearing that the Mohawks had joined the French we
had come to fight beside our brothers. He asked a few
questions, and then passed on. But I could see the var-
min was not satisfied, though, in course, he pretended
to be glad to welcome us back to the tribe. So we hung
about the camp for another half- hour, and then made a
sweep before we came out here. I didn't look round,
but Jonathan stooped as if the lace of his moccasin had
come undone, and managed to look back, but in course
he didn't see anything."

•'Then you have no reason to believe you are followed,
Nat?"

" Don't I tell you I have every reason?" Nat said. •' If
that redskin the Owl has got any suspicion — and suspicion
you may be sure he's got — he won't rest till he's cleared
the matter up. He is after us, sure enough."

"Then had we not better make for the canoe at full
speed?"

**No," Nat said. "If they are behind us they will be
watching our trail, and if they see we change our pace
they will be after us like a pack of wolves, while as long
as we walk slowly and carelessly they will let us go. If
it were dark we might make a run for it, but there ain't
no chance at present. If we took to the lake we should
have a hundred canoes after us, while the woods are full
of Indians, and a whoop of the Owl would bring a hundred
of them down on to our track."

" Why shouldn't the Owl have denounced you at once
if he suspected you?" James asked.

*' Because it ain't redsk.n nature to do anything till

-'.^M

n course

Scouting on Lake Champlain 249

you are sure," the scout replied. " There is nothing a
redskin hates so much as to be wrong, and he would
rather wait for weeks to make sure of a thing than run
the risk of making a mistake. I don't suppose he takes
us for whites. He expects we belong to some other tribe
come in as spies."

" Then what are you thinking of doing?" James asked.

•'We will go on a bit further," Nat said, **in hopes of
coming across some stream where we may hide our trail.
If we can't find that we will sit down before long and eat
as if we was careless and in no hurry."

For a time they walked on in silence.

"Do you think they are close to us?" James asked
presently.

"Not far away," the scout said carelessly. "So long
as they see we ain't hurrying they will go easy. They
will know by this time that we have a white man with
us, and like enough the Owl will have sent back for
one or two more of his warriors. Likely enough he only
took one with him at first seeing we were but two, and
that he reckoned on taking us by surprise; but when
he saw you joined us he would send back for perhaps a
couple more."

"Then what I would suggest," James said, "is, that
we should at once stroll down to our canoe, put it in the
water, and paddle out a few hundred yards, and there let
Jown the lines we have got on board and begin to fish.
As long as we are quiet there the redskins may not inter-
fere with us, and when it gets dark we can make off. At
the worst we have a chance for it, and it seems to me
anything would be better than this sort of wandering
about when we know that at any time we may have them
down upon us."

"Perhaps that is the best plan," Nat said. "What do
you think, Jonathan?"

Jonathan gave an assenting grunt, and they turned their

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250 With Wolfe in Canada

faces towards the lake, still walking at the same leisurely
pace. Not once did any of the three look back. As they
neared the water James found the temptation very strong
to do so, but h'i restrained it, and sauntered along as care-
lessly as ever. The canoe was lifted from its hiding-place
and put in the water. As they were about to step in the
bushes parted, and the Owl stood beside them.

*' Where are my brothers going?" he asked quietly.

'* We are going fishing," Nat answered. ** The noise in
the woods will have frightened game away."

"There is food in the camp," the Owl said. "The
French give food to their brothers the redskins."

'* My white brother wants fish," Nat said quietly, "and
we have told him we will catch him some. Will the Owl
go with us?"

The Indian shook his head, and in a moment the canoe
put off from the shore, the Indian standing watching them
at the edge of the water.

"That's a badly puzzled redskin," Nat said with a low
laugh. " His braves have not come up yet or he would
not have let us start. There, that is far enough ; we are
out of the range of Indian guns. Now lay in your paddles
and begin to fish. There are several canoes fishing further
out, and the redskin will feel safe. He can cut us off pro-
viding we don't go beyond them."

The Indian was, as Nat had said, puzzled. That some-
thing was wrong he was sure; but as he was alone he was
unable to oppose their departure. He watched them
closely as they paddled out, in readiness to give a war-
whoop which would have brought down the fishing canoes
outside, and given warning to every Indian within sound
of his voice; but when he saw them stop and begin to fish
he hesitated. If he gave the alarm he might prove to be
mistaken, and he shrank from facing the ridicule which a
false alarm would bring upon him. Should they really
prove, as he believed, to be spies, he would, if he gave

Scouting on Lake Champlain

2;!

the alarm, lose the honour and glory of their capture,
and their scalps would fall to other hands — a risk not
to be thought of. He therefore waited until six of his
braves came up. He had already retired among the trees
before he joined them ; but the canoe was still visible
through the branches.

"The men we tracked have taken to the water; they
are fishing. The Owl is sure that they are not of our
tribe; but he must wait till he sees what they will do.
Let three of my brothers go and get a canoe, and paddle
out beyond them, and there fish. I will remain with the
others here. If they come back again we will seize them.
If they go out further my brothers will call to the redskins
in the other canoes, and will cut them off. The Owl and
his friends will soon be with them."

"There is another canoe coming out, Nat," James said.
" Hadn't we better make a run for it at once?"

"Not a bit of it, captain. Dear me, how difficult it
is to teach men to have patience! I have looked upon
you as a promising pupil; but there you are, just as
hasty and impatient as if you had never spent a day in
the woods. Where should we run to? We must go
up the lake, for we could not pass the point, for fifty
canoes would be put out before we got there. We
couldn't land this side, because the woods are full of
redskins; and if we led them for ten miles down the
lake and landed t'other side scores of them would land
between here and there, and would cut us off. No,
lad; we have got to wait here till it's getting late. I
don't say till it's dark, but till within an hour or so of
nightfall. As long as we show no signs of going, the
chances is as they won't interfere with us. It's a part
of redskin natur to be patient, and as long as they see
as we don't try to make off they will leave us alone.
That's how I reads it. You agrees with me, Jonathan?
In course you do," he went on as his companion grunted

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252

With Wolfe in Canada

an assent. ** I don't say as they mayn't ask a question
or so; but I don't believe as they will interfere with
us."

"There is a fish on your line, captain. You don't seem
to me to be attending to your business."

James indeed found it difficult to fix his attention on his
line when he knew that they were watched by hostile eyes,
and that at any moment a conflict might begin.

The canoe that had come out last had shaped its course
so as to pass close to those fishing outside them, and a few
words had been exchanged with the occupants of each— a
warning, no doubt, as to the suspicious character of the
fishing party near them. Beyond this nothing had happened.
The Indians in the canoe had let down their lines, and
seemed as intent as the others upon their fishing. The
hours passed slowly. Under other circumstances James
would have enjoyed the sport, for the fish bit freely, and a
considerable number were soon lying in the canoe. Nat
and Jonathan appeared as interested in their work as if no
other boat but their own were afloat on the lake. Never
once did James see them glance towards the canoes. They
did not talk much, but when they spoke it was always in
the Indian tongue.

The time seemed endless before the sun began to sink
beyond the low hills on their left. It was an intense relief
to James when Nat said at last :

"The time is just at hand now, cap. The redskins are
tired of waiting. At least they think that they had better
not put it off any longer. They know as v/ell as we do that
it won't do to wait till it gets dark. Do you see that canoe
that came out last is paddling down towards us? It looks
as if it were drifting, but I have seen them dip a paddle in
sev al times. The others are pulling up their lines so as
to be in readiness to join in. Get your piece ready to pick
up, and aim the moment I give the word. They think they
are going to surprise us, but we must be first with them.

don't seem

Scouting on Lake Champlain 253

Go on with your fishing, and just drop your line overboard
when you pick up your gun."

The canoe approached slowly until it was within thirty
yards. James and his companions went on with their fish-
ing as if they did not notice the approach of the other
canoe, until one of the Indians spoke.

•* Have my Indian brothers caught many fish?"

"A goodish few," Nat replied. "One or two of them
are large ones. See here," and he stooped as if to select a
large fish.

** Now," he said suddenly.

In an instant the three rifles were levelled to the shoulder
and pointed at the Indians. The latter, taken completely
by surprise, and finding themselves with three barrels
levelled at them, as by one accord dived overboard.

"Now your paddles," Nat exclaimed.

Three strokes sent the canoe dancing up to that which
the Indians had just left. It struck it on the broad side
and rolled it instantly over.

" Those redskin guns are out of the way anyhow," Nat
said. ** Now we have got to row for it."

He gave a sharp turn to the canoe as he spoke, and it
bounded away towards the right, thereby throwing those
outside it on their quarter. Simultaneously with the upset
of the canoe half a dozen rifles rang out from the shore, an
Indian warwhoop rose at the edge of the woods, and a
minute later half a dozen canoes shot out from shore.

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11 I

CHAPTER XV

Through Many Perils

The course Nat was taking was not parallel to that of
the boats outside him. He was sheering gradually out into
the lake, and although the boat was travelling somewhat
faster than its pursuers James saw that its course would
carry it across their bows at a dangerously close distance.
The Indians were not long in seeing that the canoe was
outstripping them, and in each of the boats one of the red-
skins laid aside his paddle and began to fire. The balls
struck the water near the canoe, but no one was hit. '* Let
them fire," Jonathan said ; "it ain't every man as can shoot
straight from a canoe going at racing pace. The more
they fires the better; they will only fall further behind."

After firing two or three shots each the Indians appeared
to be of the same opinion, and resumed their paddles; but
they had lost so much ground that the canoe they were in
chase of shot out into the lake fifty yards ahead of the
nearest. Some more shots were fired, and then the Indians
began hastily to throw the fish with which their canoes
were laden into the water. After paddling two or three
hundred yards farther Nat laid in his paddle.

" Out with them fish," he said. " You can leave one or
two for supper, but the rest must go overboard. Be quick
about it, for those canoes from the shore are coming up
fast."

The work was concluded just as the canoes with the Owl
and his warriors came up with the others, which, having

264

Through Many Perils 255

now got rid of their fish, again set out, and in a close body
the ten canoes started in pursuit.

"Paddle steady," Nat said; "and whatever you do, be
keerful of your blades. If one was to break now it would
mean the loss of our scalps. Don't gain on 'em ; as long
as the redskins on shore think as their friends are going to
catch us, they won't care to put out and join in the chase ;
but if they thought we was getting away they might launch
canoes ahead of us and cut us off. The nearer we are to
them the better as long as we are keeping ahead."

For an hour the chase continued. The Indians, although
straining every nerve, did not gain a foot upon the fugitives,
who, although paddling hard, had still some reserve of
strength. The sun by this time was touching the tops of
the hills.

"Now, cap," Nat said, "it's time to teach 'em as we
can bite a bit. They won't be quite so hot over it if we give
them a lesson now. Do you turn round and pepper them
a bit. Now, old boss ! you and I must row all we know
for a bit."

Turning himself in the canoe, resting his elbow on his
knee to steady his rifle, James took as careful an aim as the
dancing motion of the boat permitted, and fired. A dull
sound came back like an echo to the crack of the piece, and
a paddle in the leading boat fell into the water; a yell arose
from the Indians, but no answering shout came back. The
Indians were now paddling even harder than before, in
hope of overtaking the canoe, now that it was impelled by
but two rowers. But the scouts were rowing their hardest,
and proved the justice of their fame as the best paddlers on
the lakes, by maintaining their distance from their pursuers.

Again and again James fired, several of his bullets taking
effect. It was now rapidly becoming dusk.

"That will do, captain; we had best be showing them
our heels now, and get as far ahtad as we can by the time
it is quite dark."

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256

With Wolfe in Canada

'\ I

I :%

James laid by his rifle and again took his paddle, and as
all were rowing at the top of their speed they gradually in-
creased the distance between themselves and their pursuers.
Rapidly the gap of water widened, and when darkness fell
on the lake the fugitives were more than half a mile ahead
of their pursuers. The night was dark, and a light mist
rising from the water further aided them. When night had
set in the pursuing canoes could no longer be seen.

For another half- hour they paddled on without inter-
mitting their efforts, then to James's surprise Nat turned
the head of the canoe to the western shore. He asked no
question, however, having perfect faith in Nat's sagacity.
They were nearly in the middle of the lake when they altered
their course, and it took them half an hour's hard paddling
before the dark mass of trees loomed up in the darkness
ahead of him. Ten minutes before Nat had passed the
word that they should paddle quietly and noiselessly. It
was certain that the chase would be eagerly watched from
the shore, and that any Indians there might be in the wood
would be closely watching near the water's edge.

Accordingly, as noiselessly as possible they approached
the shore, and gliding in between the overhanging trees
laid the canoe alongside a clump of bushes, then without a
word being spoken they laid in their paddles and stretched
themselves full length in the canoe. James was glad of the
rest, for, trained and hard as were his muscles, he was
exhausted by the long strain of the row for life.

He guessed that Nat would calculate that the Indian
canoes would scatter when they lost sight of them, and
that they would seek for them more closely on the eastern
shore. At the same time he was surprised that after once
getting out of sight of their pursuers Nat had not imme-
diately landed on the opposite shore and started on foot
through the woods.

After recovering his breath James sat up and listened
attentively. Once or twice he thought he heard the sound

Through Many Perils 257

of a dip of a paddle out on the lake, but he could not be
sure of it, while from time to time he heard the croak of a
frog", sometimes near, sometimes at a distance along the
shore. He would have thought little of this had not a slight
pressure of Jonathan's hand against his foot told him that
these were Indian signals.

Some hours passed before Nat made a move, then he
touched Jonathan and sat up in the canoe; the signal was
passed on to James, the paddles were noiselessly taken up,
and without a sound that could be detected by the most
closely-listening ear, the canoe stole out again on to the
lake. Until some distance from shore they paddled very
quietly, then gradually the strokes grew more vigorous
until the canoe was flying along at full speed up the lake,
her course being laid so as to cross very gradually towards
the eastern side.

It was not until, as James judged, they must have been
several miles from the point at which they had started that
they approached the eastern shore. They did so with the
same precautions which had been adopted on the other side,
and sat listening intently before they gave the last few
strokes which took them to the shore. Quietly they stepped
out, and the two scouts, lifting the canoe on their shoulders,
carried it some fifty yards into the forest and laid it down
among some bushes. Then they proceeded on their way,
Nat walking first, James following him so close that he
was able to touch him, for in the thick darkness under the
trees he could not perceive even the outlines of his figure.
Jonathan followed close behind. Their progress was slow,
for even the trained woodsmen could with difficulty make
their way through the trees, and Nat's only index as to the
direction to be taken lay in the feel of the bark of the
trunks. After an hour's progress he whispered :

"We will stop here till daylight; we can't do any good
at the work. We haven't made half a mile since we
started."

(887) t7

li;....^':;

258

With Wolfe in Canada

It was a positive relief to James to hear the scout's
voice, for not a single word had been spoken since they
lost sight of their pursuers in the darkness. The fact that
he had ventured now to speak showed that he believed
that they were comparatively safe.

"May I speak, Nat?" he asked after they had seated
themselves on the ground.

"Ay, you may speak, captain, but don't you raise your
voice above a whisper; there is no saying what redskin
ears may be near us. I guess these forests are pretty well
alive with them. You may bet there isn't a redskin or one
of the irregular Canadian bands but is out arter us to-
night. The warwhoop and the rifles will have put them
all on the lookout. They will have seen that we were
pretty well holding our own, and will guess that when
night came on we should give the canoes the slip. I guess
they will have placed a lot of canoes and flatboats across
the lake opposite Crown Point, for they will know that we
should either head back or take to the woods. I guess
most of the redskins near Crown Point will have crossed
over at this point, as in course we were more likely to land
on this side. I had a mighty good mind to land whar we
was over there, but there are sure to be such a heap of
Indians making their way up that side from Montreal that
I judge this will be the best; but we shall have all we can
do to get free of them."

"Why didn't you land at once, Nat, after we lost sight
of them instead of crossing over?"

"Because that's where they will reckon we shall land,
captain, that's where they will look for our tracks the first
thing in the morning, and they will know that we can't
travel far such a dark night as this, and they will search
every inch of the shore for three or four miles below where
they lost sight of us, to find where we landed. They
would know well e;:ough we couldn't get ashore without
leaving tracks as they would make out, and they would

*■• %

!ar the scout's

<en since they

The fact that

at he believed

ey had seated

>^ou raise your
what redskin
ire pretty well
■edskin or one
t arter us to-
ave put them
:hat we were
ss that when
slip. I guess
tboats across
inow that we
ds. I guess
have crossed
likely to land
and whar we
:h a heap of
lontreal that
'e all we can

Through Many Perils

reckon to pick ud ^

'0 overtake us before we "ad ^o' ^"""^^ '" "'« >vood and
«e we have doubled on them ^ T. """'^ '""«>'• Now ^ou

a good Jong stretch tr. ^ " ^"® mornini' hut .f

"-ayn't strike on our ,/h°'"'' """ '^ «^ have'"l'uck .h!
^i-y'ifht. ,„ courT; th;' ZT'h> '°' '"""^ ^-" aft^
f'"" "S a chance anyhol I i°" '' «'''««'•; ''till it
wenty miles less to trave7lhror^'"=u """'»' '''- ^e have
W to start up there, I,d?haf^ ' ^°°''' '^an if w*

the bad luck to come acrnL "' " »'« don't have

With the first dawn of m^ •
Stnking straight back into Tr^^ ''7 "^''^ °° ^^eir way
''"t with the irreatp!:^ "^""^^^ ^^ey walked Z^"

-^|n. bends aK: J^ prrentT""' --'-
'We to do had they walked in =, . ^^ *""''' have been
e ground was soft they wa Ld f5 ' ''"'■ Wheneve

?-^rf^iHHr?^^ri^5

:^p-.tenmLi:t^rdr:Xtn^^^

7ybe^hr"for fou'r'hrsV;'^ ""J'" '^^ -'<<: "they
,f ce and find the can': " do;." f *=^ ''t - our l^nd j!
'0 follow our trail-there a „ ', ^ "" ""^^ ^on't be able
'^" <fo-but it -ull tfke the" ",° "^^""^ ^''^' ^-dskL eyes
-' much risk of runrn'riiTi/r^ -/-ay. Thte

« against any of them in the

k »"

t»

■\^

26o

With Wolfe in Canada

forest now. I guess that most of them followed the canor
down the lake last night. Anyway we Are well out from
Lake Champlain now. When we have j^'one another fiftpcn
mile we sha'n't be far from the upper arm. There's a
canoe been lying hidden there for the last two years unless
some tramping redskin has found it, which ain't likely."

Twenty miles further walking brought them to the shore
of the lake. Following this for another hour they came
upon the spot where a little stream ran into the lake.

" Here we are," Nat said. •* Fifty yards up here we
shall find the canoe."

They followed the stream up for a little distance, and
then Nat, leaving its edge, made for a clump of bushes
a few yards away. Pushing the thick foliage aside he
made his way into the centre of the clump.

" Here it is," he said, "just as I left it."

The canoe was lifted out and carried down to the lake,
and taking their seats they paddled up Lake Champlain,
keeping close under the shore.

** We have had good luck, captain," Nat said. "I
hardly thought we should har got out without a scrim-
mage. I expect as the best part of the redskins didn't
trouble themselves very much about it. They expect to
get such a lot of scalps and plunder when they take the
fort that the chance of three extra wasn't enough induce-
ment for 'em to take much trouble over it. The redskins
in the canoes who chased us would be hot enough over it,
for you picked out two if not more of them ; but those
who started from the fort wouldn't have any particular
reason to trouble much, especially as they think it likely
that those who were chasing us would get the scalps.
When a redskin's blood's up there ain't no trouble too
great for him, and he will follow for weeks to get his
revenge ; but take 'em all in all they are lazy varmint, and
as long as there is plenty of deer's meat on hand they will
eat and sleep away their time for weeks."

Through Many Perils a6i

By nifi^ht they reached the upper end of F.akc Cham-
plain, the canoe was carefully hidden away again, and
they struck throuj,'h the woods in the direction of P'ort
William Henry. They were now safe from pursuit, and
after walking two or three miles halted for the night,
made a fire, and cooked some of the dried meat. When
they had finished their meal Nat said :

•' Now we will move away a bit and then stretch our-
selves out."

" Why shouldn't we lie down here, Nat?"

" Because it would be a foolish thing to do, captain.
There ain't no saying what redskins may be wandering
in the woods in time of war. A thousand nights might
pass without one of 'em happening to come upon that fire,
but if they did and we were lying beside it, all the trouble
we have taken to slip through their hands would be
chucked clean away. No, you cannot be too careful in
the woods."

They started early the next morning, and before noon
arrived at Fort William Henry, where James at once
reported to Colonel Monro what he had learned of the
strength of the French force gathering at Crown Point.

"Thank you. Captain Walsham,"the commandant said.
" I am greatly indebted to you for having brought us
certain news of what is coming. I will write off at once
and ask for reinforcements. This is a serious expedition,
and the colonies will have to make a great effort and a
speedy one if they are going to save the fort, for from
what we hear of Montcalm he is not likely to let the grass
grow under his feet. I shall report the services you have
rendered."

As soon as Colonel Monro received the report James
had brought him he sent to General Webb, who with two
thousand six hundred men, chiefly provincials, was at Fort
Edward fourteen miles away.

On the 25th of July that general visited Fort Will Jam

ii.

;t>

262

With Wolfe in Canada

'la

iir

Henry, and after remaining there four days returned to
Fort Edward, whence he wrote to the governor of New
York, telling him the French were coming, and urging
him to send forward the militia at once, saying that he
was determined to march himself with all his troops to the
fort. Instead of doing so, three days later he sent up a
detachment of two hundred regulars under Lieutenant-
colonel Young, and eight hundred Massachusetts men
under Colonel Frye.

This raised the force at Fort William Henry to two
thousand two hundred men, and reduced that of Webb to
sixteen hundred. Had Webb been a brave and determined
man he would have left a few hundred men only to hold
Fort Edward, and marched with the rest to assist Monro,
when on the morning of the 3rd of August he received a
letter from him, saying that the French were in sight on
the lake; but as he was neither brave nor determined,
he remained at Fort Edward sending oflF message after
message to New York for help which could not possibly
arrive in time.

Already the garrison of Fort William Henry had suffered
one reverse. Three hundred provincials, chiefly New Jersey
men, under Colonel Parker had been sent out to reconnoitre
the French outposts. The scouts under James Walsham
were of the party. They were to proceed in boats down
the lake.

" 1 don't like this business no way, captain," Nat said
as the company took their place in the boats. "This ain't
neither one thing or the other. If Monro wants to find
out about the enemy Jonathan and I kin do it. It he
wants to fight the enemy, this lot ain't enough ; besides,
these New Jersey men know no more about the forest than
so many children. You mark my words, this is going to
be a bad business. Why, they can see all these boats
halfway down the lake, and with all these redskins about
they will ambush us as soon as we try to land. Look

ry to two
if Webb to
determined
Illy to hold
iist Monro,
received a
in sight on
determined,
;ssage after
lot possibly

Through Many Perils 263

here, captain ; you know that I ain't no coward. I don't
think no one can say that of me. I am ready to fight
when there is a chance of fighting, but I don't see no
good in getting myself killed off when there ain't no good
in it. So what I says is this, don't you be in a hurry,
captain, with these boats of ours."

'* But I must obey orders, Na..," James said, smiling.

"Yes, you must obey orders, captain, no doubt; but
there's two ways of obeying orders, the one is to rush in
front and to do a little more than you are told, the other
is to take things quiet, and just do what you are told and
110 more. Now, my advice is, on this here expedition you
^0 on the last plan ; if you are ordered to land first, why
land first it must be. If you don't get orders to land first.
just let them as is in a hurry land afore you. I ain't been
teaching all these lads to know something about the woods
for the last six months jest to see them killed off like flies,
because a blundering wrong-headed colonel sends them
out with two hundred and fifty ploughmen, for the redskins
to see and attack jest when they fancies."

"Very well, Nat, I will take your advice, and for once
we won't put ourselves in the front unless we are ordered."

Satisfied with this Nat passed quietly round among the
men as they were taking their places in the boats, and told
them that there was no occasion for them to row as if they
were racing. " I shall be in the captain's boat," he said;
"you keep close to us, and don't you try to push on ahead.
When we are once fairly in the woods, then we will do the
scouting for the rest, but there ain't no hurry for us to
begin that till we are on shore."

" Look at us," Nat grumbled in James's ear as the boats
started down the lake; "there we are rowing along the
middle instead ot sneaking along close to the shore.
Does Parker think that the redskins .are as blind as he
IS, and that 'cause it's night a lot of big boats like these
can't be seen out in the middle of the lake. I tell you,

ii#

,, ._,

«i

S'l

264

With Wolfe in Canada

captain, if we ain't ambushed as soon as we land I will
grant I know nothing of redskin ways."

James had in fact, before starting, suggested to Colonel
Parker that it would be well to keep under the shelter of
the bushes; but the officer had replied stiffly: "When I
want your advice, Captain Walsham, I will ask for it."
After which rebuff James was more willing than he had
hitherto been to act in accordance with the advice of the
scout. Accordingly as they rowed down the lake the
boats with the Royal Scouts, although keeping up with
the others, maintained their position in the rear of the
column.

Towards daybreak the boats' heads were turned to shore,
and when they neared it Colonel Parker gave the order tor
the men to lay in their oars, while the three boats which
happened to be in advance were told to advance at once
and land. The boats passed through the thick curtain of
trees which hung down over the water's edge. A minute
passed, and then three others were ordered to follow them.

" Did you hear nothing?" Nat whispered to James.

"No, I didn't hear anything, Nat. Did you?"

" Well, I think I did hear something, captain. It seems
to me as I heard a sort of scuffle."

** But they never could surprise some thirty or forty men
without the alarm being given?"

** It depended what sort of men they were," Nat said
scornfully; "they wouldn't surprise men that knew llieir
business ; but those chaps would just jump out of their
boats as if they was landed on a quay at New York, and
would scatter about among the bushes. Why, Lord bless
you, the Indians might ambush and tomahawk the loi
before they had time to think of opening their lips to give
a shout."

The second three boats had now disappeared among the
trees, and Colonel Parker gave the word for the rest tc
advance in a body.

" I \L H ri.AcKii himm;i.i m.iiiM) onk oi nil. mi.ai kim:i) sii mivs

AM) t»i'i.M;i) I iRi; '

'fiii

ha
sit

fro
iva

dar

fnd

nes:

the

othe

iomi

voice

^Ve
keep

Hi;

lofhij

(to till

livho

truly

(upseti

I for ha
(to do
[bow o
(their
|bow oi
The
|?av'8 t
Ifhnse <

james'j
"Ste
front

you eai

Through Many Perils 265

"Look to your firelocks, lads," James said; "whatever
happens keep perfectly cool. You at the oars especially
sit still and be ready to obey orders."

The boats were within fifty yards of the trees when,
from beneath, the drooping boughs, a volley of musketry
was poured out, and a moment later a swarm of canoes
darted out from beneath the branches, and the terrible
Indian warwhoop rang in the air. Appalled by the sudden-
ness of the attack, by the deadly fire, and the terrible yells,
the greater portion of the men in the boats were seized with
the wildest panic. Many of them jumped into the water,
others threw themselves down in the bottom of the boats,
some tried to row, but were impeded by their comrades.

** Steady, men, steady!" James shouted at the top of hij
voice; "get the boats' heads round and keep together.
We can beat off" these canoes easy enough if you do but
keep your heads."

His orders were obeyed promptly and coolly by the men
of his company. The boats were turned with their heads
to the lake as the canoes came dashing up, and the men
who were not employed in rowing fired so steadily and
truly that the redskins in several of the leading canoes fell,
upsetting their boats.

"Don't hurry," James shouted; "there is no occasion
for haste, they can go faster than we can ; all we have got
to do is to beat them off^, lay in all the oars except the two
bow oars in each boat, all the rest of the men stand to
their arms, and let the boats follow each other in file, the
bow of one close to the stern of that ahead."

The check v/hich the volley had given to the canoes
gave time to tae men in several of the boats close to
those of the scouts, to turn. They were rowing past
James's slowly moving boats when he shouted to them:

" Steady, men, your only chance of escape is to show
a front to them as we are doing. They can overtake
you easily, and will row you down one after the other

It)

!«•

I'pw

266

With Wolfe in Canada

l|>

Fall in ahead of our line, and do as we are doing. You
need not be afraid; we could beat them off if they were
ten times as many."

Reassured by the calmness with which James issued his
orders, the boats took up the positions assigned to them.
James, who was in the last boat in the line, shuddered at
the din going on behind him. The yells of the Indians,
the screams and cries of the provincials, mingled with the
sharp crack of rifles or the duller sound of the musket.
The work of destruction was soon over. Save his own
company, and some fifty of the provincials in the boats
ahead, the whole of Colonel Parker's force had been
killed or were prisoners in the hands of the Indians, who,
having finished their work, set off in pursuit of the boats
which had escaped them.

James at once changed the order, the front boat was
halted, and the others formed in a line beside it, pre-
senting the broad side to the approaching fleet of canoes.
When the latter came within a hundred yards a stream
of fire opened from the boats, the men aiming with the
greatest coolness. The canoes were checked at once, a
score of the paddlers had sunk, killed or wounded, into
the bottom, and several of the frail barks were upset.
As fast as the men could load they continued their fire,
and in two minutes from the first shot the canoes were
turned and paddled at full speed towards the shore, pur-
sued by a hearty cheer from the English. The oars were
then manned again, and the remains of Parker's floliila
rowed up the lake to Fort William Henry.

Several of the prisoners taken by the Indians were]
cooked and eaten by them. A few days afterwards
party of Indians, following the route from the head of I
Lake Champlain, made a sudden attack on the houses |
round Fort Edward, and killed thirty-two men.

It was an imposing spectacle as the French expeditionj
made its way down Lake George. General Levis ha(i|

)ing. You
they were

3 issued hib
;d to them,
[luddered at
he Indians,
led with the
the musket.
ive his own
in the boats
e had been
ndians, who,
of the boats

Mit boat was
iside it, pre-
set of canoes,
rds a stream
ing with the
d at once, a
ounded, into
were upset.
,ed their fire,
canoes weic
,6 shore, pur-
he oars were
.rker'H floiiii^

[ndians were]

|afterward>

the head of I

the houses I

len.

:h expedition

il Levis liadi

Through Many Perils 267

marched by the side of the lake with twenty-five hundred
men, Canadians, regulars, and redskins, while the main
body proceeded, the troops in two hundred and fifty large
boats, the redskins in many hundreds of their canoes.

The boats moved in military order; there were six
regiments of French line: La Reine and Languedoc, La
Sarre and Guienne, Beam and Roussillon ; the cannons
were carri'-'i on platforms formed across two boats.
Slowly and regularly the procession of boats made its
way down the lake till they saw the signal fires of Levis,
who with his command was encamped near the water
at a distance of two miles from the fort. Even then the
English were not aware that near eight thousand enemies
were gathered close to them. Monro was a brave soldier,
but wholly unfitted for the position be held, knowing
nothing of irregular warfare, and despising all but trained
soldiers.

At daybreak all was bustle at Fort Henry. Parties of
men went out to drive in the cattle, others to destroy
buildings which would interfere with the fire from the
fort. The English position was now more defensible
than it had been when it ^v^as attacked in the spring.
The forest had been cleared for a considerable distance
round, and the buildings which had served as a screen
to the enemy had for the most part been removed.

The fort itself lay close down by the edge of the water,
one side and the rear were protected by the niarsh, so
that it could only be attacked (rom one side; beyond the
marsh lay the rough ground where Johnson had encamped
two years before ; while on a flat hill behind this was an
ntrenched camp, beyond which again was another marsh.

As soon as the sun rose the column of Levis moved

through the forest towards the fort, followed by Montcalm

with the main body, while the artillery boats put out from

[behind the point which had hid them from the sight of

the English, and surrounded by hundreds of Indian canoes

\i:

^ J' ^#

' 'iwH' ''"

m ^

'■V f? f 1:

268

With Wolfe in Canada

moved slowly forward, opening fire as they went. Soon
the sound of firing broke out near the edge of the forest
all round the fort, as the Indians with Levis opened fire
upon the soldiers who were endeavouring to drive in the
cattle.

Hitherto James Walsham, with Edwards and his two
scouts, was standing quietly watching the approaching^
fleet of boats and canoes, Nat expressing, in no measured
terms, his utter disgust at the confusion which reigned in
and around the fort.

"It looks more like a frontier settlement suddenly sur-
prised," he said, "than a place filled with soldiers who
have been for weeks expecting an attack. Nothing done,
nothing ready ; the cattle all over the place ; the tents on
that open ground there still standing; stores all about in
the open. Of all the pig-headed, obstinate, ignorant old
gentlemen I ever see, the colonel beats them all. One
might as well have an old woman in command. Indeed,
I know scores of old women on the frontier who would
have been a deal better here than him,"

But if Monro was obstinate and prejudiced, he was
brave, cool, and determined, and now that the danger
had come he felt secure of his ground, and took the
proper measures for defence, moving calmly about and
abating the disposition to panic by the calm manner in
which he gave his orders. Nat had scarcely finished his
grumbling when the colonel approached.

" Captain Walsham," he said, " you will take your com-
pany at once and cover the parties driving in the cattle.
You will fall back with them, and when you see all in
safety retire into the entrenched camp."

The company were already under arms waiting for
orders, and at the double James led them up the sloping
ground towards the forest, whence the warwhoops of the
Indians and the sharp cracks of the rifles were now ring-
ing out on all sides. James made for the spot where a

»*^..<* — w ~.

mtmmwtmil ■■Wtll it

nt. Soon
the forest
pened fire
ive in the

,d his two

jproaching

► measured

reigned in

ddenly sur-
)ldiers who
thing done,
he tents on
all about in
gnorant old
n all. One
id. Indeed,
who would

Through Many Perils 269

!«icore of soldiers were driving a number of cattle before
them, some hurrying the beasts on across the rough
ground, others firing at the Indians, who, as their num-
bers increased, were boldly showing themselves behind
the trees and advancing in pursuit.

As soon as they neared the spot James scattered his
men in skirmishing order. Each placed himself behind
one of the blackened stumps of the roughly cleared forest
and opened fire upon the Indians. Several of these fell,
and the rest bounded back to the forest, whence they
opened a heavy fire. Now the company showed the
advantage of the training they had gone through, fight-
ing with the greatest steadiness and coolness, and keeping
well in shelter, until, when the soldiers and cattle had got
well on their way towards the fort, James gave the order
to fall back, and the band, crawling among the stumps,
and pausing to fire at every opportunity, made their way
back without having lost a man, although several had
received slight wounds.

fed, he was
the danger
Id took the
about and
manner in
finished his

1.1

le your com-

the cattle.

see all in

waiting for

Ithe sloping

)ops of the

now ring-

)t where a

jti'

',: i

CHAPTER XVI

The Massacre at Fort William Henr

' 1.

When the skirmishing round Fort Henry was ov«t, La
Corne, with a body of Indians, occupied the road that
led to Fort Edward, and Levis encamped close b/ to
support him and check any sortie the English mi.^ht
make from their entrenched camp. Montcalm reconnoitr d
the posHion. He had at firs^ intended to attack an.l
carry the entrenched camp, but he found that it was tc)
strong to be taken by a rush. He therefore determini;d
to attack the fort itself by regular approaches from the
western side, while the force of Levis would intercept any
succour which might come from Fort Edward and cut off
the retreat of the garrison in that direction. He gave
orders that the cannon were to be disembarked at a small
cove about half a mile from the fort, and near this he
placed his main camp. He now sent one of his aides-de-
camp with a letter to Monro.

"I owe it to humanity," he said, "to summon you to
surrender. At present I can restrain the savages and make
them observe the terms of a capitulation, but I might not
have the power to do so under other circumstances, and
an obstinate defence on your part could only retard the
capture of the place a few days and endanger the un-
fortunate garrison, which cannot be relieved in conse-
quence of the dispositions I have made. I demand a
decisive answer within an hour."

Monro replied simply that he and his soldiers world
defend themselves till the last.

270

The Massacre

271

LS ovT, La
; road that
:lose b,' to
jlish mi/'ht
■econnoitr> d
attack an"
t it was tC')

determini;d
Ca from the
ntercept any

and cut off
He gave
at a small

lear this he

is aides-de-

liers vvo'.M

The trenches were opened on the night of the 4th. The
work was extremely difficult, the ground being covered
with hard stumps of trees and fallen trunks. All night
long 800 men toiled at the work, while the guns of the
fort kept up a constant fire of round shot and grape ; but
by daybreak the first parallel was made. The battery
on the left was nearly finished, and one on the right
begun. The men were now working under shelter, and
the guns of the fort could do them little harm.

While the French soldiers worked the Indians crept up
through the fallen trees close to the fort and fired at any
of the garrison who might for a moment expose them-
selves. Sharpshooters in the fort replied to their fire,
and all day the fort wi»s fringed with light puffs of
>moke, whilst the cannon thundered unceasingly. The
next morning the French battery on the left opened with
eight heavy cannon and a mortar, and on the following
morning the battery on the right joined in with eleven
other pieces.

The fort only mounted in all seventeen cannon, for the

most part small, and as some of them were upon the

other faces, the English fire, although kept up with spirit,

could reply but weakly to that of the French. The fort

was composed of embankments of gravel, surmounted by

a rampart of heavy logs laid in tiers crossing each other,

[the interstices filled with earth; and this could ill support

I the heavy cannonade to which it was exposed. The roar

jof the distant artillery continuing day after day was plainly

audible at Fort Edward; but although Monro had at the

commencement of the attack sent off" several messengers

[asking for reinforcements Webb did not move.

On the third day of the siege he had received 2000 men
[from New York, and by stripping all the forts below he
Icould have advanced with 4500 men, but some deserters
jfrom the French told him that Montcalm had 12,000 men,
land Webb considered the task of advancing through the

.*,.

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tkimi t

272 With Wolfe in Canada

intervening forests and defiles between him and Fort Henry
far too dangerous an operation to be attempted. Un-
doubtedly it would have been a dangerous one, for the
Indians pervaded the woods as far as Fort Edward. No
messenger could have got through to inform Monro of his
coming, and Montcalm could therefore have attacked him
on the march with the greater part of his force. Still,
a brave and determined general would have made the
attempt. Webb did not do so, but left Monro to his
fate. He even added to its certainty by sending off a
letter to him telling him that he could do nothing to
assist him, and advising him to surrender at once.

The messenger was killed by the Indians in the forest,
and the note taken to Montcalm, who, on learning that
Webb did not intend to advance, was able to devote his
whole attention to the fort. Montcalm kept the letter
for several days till the English rampart was half battered
down, and then sent it in by an officer to Monro, hoping
that it would induce the latter to surrender. The old
soldier, however, remained firm in his determination to
hold out, even though his position was now absolutely
hopeless. The trenches had been pushed forward until
within 250 yards of the fort, and the Indians crept up
almost to the wall on this side. - ^ ^i • ,

Two sorties were made — one from the fort, the other
from the entrenched camp; but both were repulsed with
loss. More than 300 of the defenders had been killed
and wounded. Smallpox was raging, and the casemates
were crowded with sick. All their large cannon had been
burst or disabled, and only seven small pieces were fit
for service. The French battery in the foremost trench
was almost completed, and when this was done the whole
of Montcalm's thirty-one cannon and fifteen mortars would
open fire, and as a breach had already been effected in the

The Massacre

273

Fort Henry
pted. U ri-
me, for the
iward. No
donro of his
.ttacked him
Force. Still,
e made the
lonro to his
ending off a
► nothing to
it once,
in the forest,
learning that
to devote his
Bpt the letter
1 half battered
lonro, hoping
ier. The old
ermination to
jw absolutely
forward until
lians crept up

wall, further resistance would have been madness. On
the night of the 8th it was known in the fort that a council
of war would be held in the morning, and that undoubtedly
the fort would surrender.

James, with his company, had, after escorting the cattle
to the fort, crossed the marsh to the entrenched camp, as
the fort was already crowded with troops. The company
therefore avoided the horrors of the siege. When the
report circulated that a surrender would probably be made
the next morning Nat went to James. • vt •

" What are you going to do, captain?"
*'Do, Nat? Why, I have nothing to do. If Monro
and his council decide to surrender, there is an end of
it. You don't propose that our company is to fight Mont-
calm's army alone, do you?"

"No, I don't," Nat said testily; "there has been a deal
^oo much fighting already. I understand holding out till
t»>e 'a'- w^an there's a hope of somebody coming to relieve
you , . at what's the use of fighting and getting a lot of
your men kiUed and raising the blood of those redskin
devils to boiling-point? If the colonel had given up the
place at once we should have saved a loss of 300 men,
and Montcalm would have been glad enough to let us
march off to Fort Edward."

"But probably he will agree to let us do that now?"
James said.

" He may agree," Nat said contemptuously; "but how
about the redskins? Do you think that after losing a lot
of their braves they are going to see us march quietly
away and go home without a scalp? I tell you, captain,
I know redskin nature, and as sure as the sun rises to-
morrow there will be a massacre, and I for one ain't
going to lay down my rifle and let the first redskin as
lakes a .ancy to my scalp tomahawk me."

(UT) It

i! ■?:i. I

274

With Wolfe in Canada

" Well, but what do you propose, Nat?"

"Well, captain, I have heard you say yours is an inde-
pendent command, and that you can act with the company
wherever you like. While you are here I know you are
under the orders of the colonel ; but if you had chosen to
march away on any expedition of your own you could have
done it."

"That is so, Nat; but now the siege is once begun I
don't know that I should be justified in marching away
even if I could."

" But they are going to surrender, I tell you," Nat
insisted. " I don't see as how it can be your duty to hand
over your company to the French if you can get them clear
away so as to fight for the king again."

"What do you say, Edwards?" James asked his lieu-
tenant.

" I don't see why we shouldn't march away if we could,"
Edwards said. "Now that the game is quite lost here I
don't think anyone could blame you for saving the company
if possible, and I agree with Nat that Montcalm will find it
difficult, if not impossible, to keep his Indians in hand ; the
French have never troubled much on that score."

"Well, Nat, what is your plan?" James asked after a
pause. ' •'- ^

" The plan is simple enough," Nat said; " there ain't no
plan at all. All we have got to do is to march quietly
down to the lake, to take some of the canoes that are hauled
up at the mouth of the swamp, and to paddle quietly otT,
keeping under the trees on the right-hand side. There
ain't many redskins in the woods that way, and the night
is as dark as pitch. We can land eight or ten miles down
the lake and then march away to the right so as to get clean
round the redskins altogether."

**VerY well, Nat, I will do it," James said; "it's a

The Massacre

2?5

is an indo-
le company
ow you are
d chosen to
I could have

ICC begun I
•ching away

1 you," Nat
duty to hand
it them clear

ked his lieu-

if we could,"
te lost here I

the company
Im will find it

in hand; the

re."
,sked after a

Ithere ain't no
larch quietly
lat are hauled
le quietly off,
[side. There
ind the night
In miles down
Is to get clean

[aid; "it's a

chance, but I think it's a better chance than staying here,
and if I should get into a row about it I can't help it; i am
doing it for the best."

The corps were quietly mustered and marched out through
the gate of the entrenchments on the side of the lake.

No questions were asked, for the corps had several times
gone out on its own account and driven back the Indians
and French pickets. The men had from their first arrival
at the fort laid aside their heavy boots and taken to moc-
casins as being better fitted for silent movement in the
forest. Therefore not a sound was heard as under Nat's
guidance they made their way down the slope into the
swamp. Here they were halted for the moment and told
to move with the greatest care and silence and to avoid
snapping a bough or twig. This, however, was the less
important as the cannon on both sides were still firing and
a constant rattle of musketry was going on round the fort.

Presently they reached the point where the canoes were
hauled up, and were told off three to a canoe.

•'Follow my canoe in single file," James said; '"not a
word is to be spoken, and remember that a single splash
of a paddle will bring the redskins down upon us ; likely
enough there may be canoes out upon the lake — there are
sure to be Indians in the wood."

" I don't think there's much fear, captain," Nat whispered.
" There's no tiring a redskin when he's out on the scout on
his own account, but when he's acting with the whites he's
just as lazy as a hog, and as they must be sure the fort can't
hold out many hours longer they will be too busy feasting
and counting the scalps they mean to take to think much
about scouting to-night."

" We shall go very slowly; let every man stop paddling
the instant the canoe ahead of him stops," were James's
last instructions as he stepped into the stern of a canoe,

')' f ' 'J/i

^ 3 '^|H

276

With Wolfe in Canada

while Nat and Jonathan took the paddles. Edwards was
to take his place in the last canoe in the line.

Without the slightest sound the canoes paddled out into
the lake and then made for the east shore. They were
soon close to the trees, and slowly and noiselessly they
kept their way just outside the screen afforded by the
boughs drooping down almost into the water. Only now
and then the slightest splash was to be heard along the line,
and this might well have been taken for the spring of a tiny
fish feeding.

Several times when he thought he heard a slight sound
in the forest on his right Nat ceased paddling and lay for
some minutes motionless, the canoes behind doing the
same. So dark was it that they could scarce see the trees
close beside them, while the bright flashes from the guns
from fort and batteries only seemed to make the darkness
more intense. It was upwards of an hour before James
felt from the greater speed with which the canoe was
travelling that Nat believed that he had got beyond the
spot where any Indians were likely to be watching in the
forest.

Faster and faster the boat glided along, but the scouts
were still far from rowing their hardest. For although the
whole of the men were accustomed to the use of the paddle
the other boats would be unable to keep up with that driven
by the practised arms of the leaders of the file. Aftui
paddling for another hour and a half the scout stopped.

'* We are far enough away now," Nat said ; "^ there ain't
no chance in the world of any redskins being in the woods
so far out as this, the hope of scalps will have taken them
all down close to the fort. We can land safely now."

The word was passed down the line of canoes, the boats
glided through the screen of foliage and the men landed.

*' Better pull the canoes ashore, captain. If we left them

III

The Massacre

277

wards was

ed out into
They were
lessly they
led by the
Only now
,ng the line,
ing of a tiny

slight sound
and lay for
I doing the
see the trees
jm the guns
the darkness
)efore James
5 canoe was
beyond the
:ching in the

in the water one might break adrift and float out beyond
the trees. Some redskin or other would make it out, and
we should have a troop of them on our trail before an hour
had passed."

''There's no marching through the forest now, Nat,"
James said. '* I can't see my own hand close to my
face."

"That's so, captain, and we'd best halt till daylight. I
could make my way along easy enough, but some of these
fellows would be pitching over stumps or catching their
feet in a creeper, and like enough letting off their pieces as
they went down. We may just as well stay where we are;
they ain't likely to miss us even in the camp, and sartin the
redskins can't have known we have gone. So there's no
chance whatever of pursuit, and there ain't nothing to be
gained by making haste."

James gave the order. The men felt about till each found
a space of ground sufTiciently large to lie down upon, and
soon all were asleep except the two scouts, who said at
once that they would watch by turns till daylight. As soon
as it was sufficiently light to see in the forest the band were
again in motion. They made due east until they crossed
the trail leading from the head of Lake Champlain to Fort
Edward, kept on for another hour, and then turning to the
south made in the direction of Albany, for it would have
been dangerous to approach Fort Edward, round which
the Indians were sure to be scattered thickly.

For the first two hours after starting the distant roar of
the guns had gone on unceasingly, then it suddenly stopped.

" They have hoisted the white flag," Edwards said. "It
is all over. Thank God, we are well out of it I I don't
mind fighting, Walsham, but to be massacred by those
Indians is a hideous idea." <'i /. • .^ Hm .'

" I am glad we arc out of it too," James agreed ; " but

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a78

With Wolfe in Canada

I cannot think that Montcalm tvith so large a force of
French regulars at his command will allow those fiendish
Indians to massacre the prisoners."

"I hope not," Edwards said. "It will be a disgrace
indeed to him and his officers if he does; but you know
what the Indians are better than I do, and you have heard
Nat's opinion. You see if Montcalm were to use force
against the Indians the whole of them would go oflf, and
then there would be an end to any hope of the French beat-
ing the colonists in the long run. Montcalm daren't break
with them. It's a horrible position for an officer and a
gentleman to be placed in. Montcalm did manage to pre-
vent the redskins from massacring the garrison of Oswego,
but it was as much as he could do, and it will be ten times
a5i difficult now that their blood is up with this week of
hard fighting and the loss of many of their warriors. Any-
how I am glad I am out of it, even if the bigwigs consider
we had no right to leave the fort and break us for it. I
would rather lose my commission than run the risk of being
massacred in cold blood."

James agreed with him.
' For two days they continued their march through the
forest, using every precaution against surprise. They saw,
however, nothing of the enemy, and emerged from the
forest on the evening of the second day's march at a distance
of a few miles from Albany.

They had not reached that town many hours when they
learned that Nat's sombre predictions had been fulfilled.
The council of war in the fort agreed that further resistance
was impossible, and Lieutenant-colonel Young went out
with a white flag to arrange the terms of surrender with
Montcalm. It was agreed that the English troops should
march out with the honours of war and be escorted to Fort
Edward by a detachment of French troops, that they should

1 1"

The Massacre

279

not serve for eighteen months, and that all French prisoners
captured in America since the war began should be given
up within three months.

The stores, ammunition, and artillery were to be handed
over to the French, except one field-piece which the garri-
son were to be allowed to retain in recognition of their
brave defence. Before signing the capitulation Montcalm
summoned the Indian chiefs before him and asked them to
consent to the conditions and to restrain their young braves
from any disorder. They gave their approval, and pro-
mised to maintain order.

The garrison then evacuated the fort and marched to
join their comrades in the entrenched camp. No sooner
had they moved out than a crowd of Indians rushed into
the fort through the breach and embrasures and butchered
all the wounded who had been left behind to be cared for
by the French. Having committed this atrocity the Indians
and many of the Canadians rushed up to the entrenched
camp where the English were now collected. The French
guards who had been stationed there did nothing to keep
them out; and they wandered about threatening and insult-
ing the terrified women, telling the men that everyone should
be massacred, and plundering the baggage.

Montcalm did his best by entreaty to restrain the Indians,
but he took no steps whatever to give effectual protection
to the prisoners, and that he did not do so will remain an
ineffaceable blot upon his fame. Seeing the disposition of
the redskins he should have ordered up all the regular
French troops and marched the English garrison under
their protection to Fort Edward in accordance with the
terms of surrender ; and he should have allowed the Eng-
lish troops to again fill their pouches with cartridge, by
which means they would have been able to fight in their
own defence.

■I

a8o With Wolfe in Canada

/):'

1:1

The next morning the English marched at daybreak.
Seventeen wounded men were left behind in the huts,
having been, in accordance with the agreement, handed
over to the charge of a French surgeon, but as he was not
there in the morning the regimental surgeon. Miles Whit-
worth, remained with them attending to their wants. The
French surgeon had caused special sentinels to be placed
for their protection, but these were now removed when
they were needed most.

At five in the morning the Indians entered the huts,
dragged out the inmates, tomahawked and scalped them
before the eyes of Whitworth, and in the presence of
La Corne and other Canadian officers, as well as of a
French guard stationed within forty feet of the spot — none
of whom, as Whitworth declared on oath, did anything to
protect the wounded men.

The Indians in the meantime had begun to plunder the
baggage of the column. Monro complained to the officers
of the French escort that the terms of the capitulation were
broken; but the only answer was that he had better give
up all the baggage to the Indians to appease them. But it
had no effect in restraining the passion of the Indians; they
rushed upon the column, snatching caps, coats, and weapons
from men and officers, tomahawking all who resisted, and
seizing upon shrieking women and children, carried them
away or murdered them on the spot. A rush was made
upon the New Hampshire men at the rear of the column,
and eighty of them were killed or carried away.

The Canadian officers did nothing at all to try to assuage
the fury of the Indians, and the officers of the Canadian
detachment, which formed the advance guard of the French
escort, refused any protection to the men, telling them they
had better take to the woods and shift for themselves.
Montcalm and the principal French officers did everything

The Massacre

281

short of the only effectual step, namely, the ordering up of
the French regular troops to save the English. They ran
about among the yelling Indians imploring them to desist,
but in vain.

Some seven or eight hundred of the English were seized
and carried off by the savages, while some seventy or eighty
were massacred on the spot. The column attempted no
resistance, none had ammunition, and of the colonial troops
very few were armed with bayonets. Had any resistance
been offered, there can be no doubt all would have been
massacred by the Indians.

Many of the fugitives ran back to the fort and took
refuge there, and Montcalm recovered from the Indians
more than four hundred of those they had carried off.
These were all sent under a strong guard to Fort Edward.
The greater part of the survivors of the column dispersed
into the woods, and made their way in scattered parties to
Fort Edward. Here cannon had been fired at intervals to
serve as a guide to the fugitives, but many no doubt
perished in the woods.

On the morning after the massacre the Indians left in a
body for Montreal, taking with them two hundred prisoners
to be tortured and murdered on their return to their vil-
lages. ' ., t'» I ,, r 1

Few events cast a deeper disgrace on the arms of France
than this massacre, committed in defiance of their pledged
honour for th6 safety of their prisoners, and in sight of four
thousand French troops, not a man of whom was set in
motion to prevent it. These facts are not taken only from
English sources, but from the letters of French officers,
and from the journal of the Jesuit Roubaud, who was in
charge of the Christianized Indians, who, according to his
own account, were no less ferocious and cruel than the un-
converted tribes, ^ ' -* ' * '> - ' '

i ••»

28a With Wolfe in Canada

The number of those who perished in the massacre is un-
certain. Captain Jonathan Carver, a colonial officer, puts
the killed and captured at 1500. A French writer, whose
work was published at Montreal, says, that they were all
killed, except seven hundred who were captured, but this
is, of course, a gross exaggeration. General Levis and
Roubaud, who were certain to have made the beiA of the
matter, acknowledged that they saw some fifty corpses
scattered on the ground, but this does not include those
murdered in the fort and camp.

Probably the total number killed was about two hundred,
and besides these must be counted the two hundred pri.
soners carried off to be tortured by the Indianst. The
greater portion of these were purchased from the Indians
in exchange for rum by Vaudreuil, the governor at Montreal;
but to the eternal disgrace of this man he suffered many of
them to be carried off, and did not even interfere when
publicly in the sight of the whole town the Indians
murdered some of the prisoners, and not content with eat-
ing them themselves, forced their comrades to partake of
the flesh. Bougainville, one of the aides-de-camp of Mont-
calm, was present, and testified to the fact, and the story
is confirmed by the intendant Bigot, a friend of the governor.
The ferocity of the Indians cost them dear. They had dug
up and scalped the corpses in the graveyard of Fort
William Henry. Many of these had died of smallpox, and
the savages took the infection home to their villages, where
great numbers perished of the disease.

As soon as their Indian allies had left, the French soldiers
were set to work demolishing the English fort, and the
operation was completed by the destruction by fire of the
remains. The army then returned to Crown Point.

In view of the gross breach of the articles of capitulation
by the French, the English government refused also to be

^-■

The Massacre

283

bound by it, and the French prisoners in their hands were
accordingly retained. Colonel Monro himself was one of
those who survived. He had made his way through the
savages back to the fort to demand that the protection of
the French troops should be given to the soldiers, and so
escaped the massacre.

Upon his arrival at Albany, James reported to the officer
in command there the reason which had induced him to
quit the fort with his company. These reasons were ap-
proved of, but the officer advised James to send in a written
report to General Webb, and to march at once to Fort
Edward and place himself under that officer's directions.

When he reached the fort the fugitives were coming in
from the woods. James at once reported himself to the
general, and handed in his written statement. At the same
time he gave his reasons in a few words for the course he
had taken. Webb was far too much excited by the news
of the terrible events which had taken place, and for which,
as he could not but be aware, he would be to some extent
held responsible by public opinion for having refused to
move to Monro's assistance, to pay much attention to the
young officer's statement.

*' You were quite right, sir, quite right to carry off your
command," he said hastily. "Thank God there are so
many the fewer of his majesty's troops sacrificed I You will
please take your company out at once into the woods, they
are accustomed to the work, which is more than any of my
troops here are ; divide them into four parties, and let them
scour the forest and bring in such of the fugitives as they
can find. Let them take as much provisions and rum
as they can carry, for many cf the fugitives will be
starving."

James executed his orders, and during the next five days
sent in a considerable number of exhausted men, who,

284

With Wolfe in Canada

hopelessly lost in the woods, must have perished unless
they had been discovered by his party.

Had Montcalm marched direct upon Fort Edward he
could doubtless have captured it, for the fall of Fort William
Henry had so scared Webb that he would probably have
retreated the moment he heard the news of Montcalm's
advance, although within a day or two of the fall of the
fort many thousands of colonial militia had arrived. As
soon, however, as it was known that Montcalm had retired,
the militia, who were altogether unsupplied with the means
of keeping the field, returned to their homes. •••

Loudon on his way back from the unsuccessful expedition
against Louisbourg, received the news of the calamity at
Fort William Henry. He returned too late to do anything
to retrieve that disaster, and determined in the spring to
take the offensive by attacking Ticonderoga. This had
been left on the retirement of Montcalm with a small garri-
son commanded by Captain Hepecourt, who, during the
winter, was continually harassed by the corps of Captain
Rogers and James Walsham's scouts.

Towards the spring, receiving reinforcements, Hepecourt
caught Rogers and a hundred and eighty men in an ambush,
and killed almost all of them, Rogers himself and some
twenty or thirty men alone escaping. In the spring there
was a fresh change of plans, the expedition against Ticon*
deroga was given up, as another attempt at Louisbourg
was about to be made.

The English government were determined that the
disastrous delays which had caused the failure of the last
expedition should not be repeated. Loudon was recalled,
and to General Abercromby, the second in command, was
entrusted the charge of the forces in the colonies. Colonel
Amherst was raised to the rank of major-general, and
appointed to command the expedition from England against

The Massacre

285

ihed unless

Edward he
ort William
)bably have
Montcalm's
; fall of the
Lf rived. As
had retired,
h the means

il expedition
calamity at
do anything
he spring to
, This had
, small garri-
», during the
s of Captain

s, Hepecourt
an ambush,
If and some
spring there
ainst Ticon-
Louisbourg

;d that the
J-e of the last
Ivas recalled,
Immand, was
les. Colonel
general, and
rland against

Louisbourg, having under him Brigadier-generals Whit-
more, Lawrence, and Wolfe. Before the winter was ended
two fleets put to sea: the one, under Admiral Boscawen,
was destined for Louisbourg; while the other, under
Admiral Osborne, sailed for the Straits of Gibraltar to
intercept the French fleet of Admiral La Clue, which was
about to sail from Toulon for America.

At the same time Sir Edward Hawke with seven ships of
the line and three frigates sailed for Rochefort, where a
French squadron with a fleet of transports with troops for
America were lying. The two latter expeditions were per-
fectly successful. Osborne prevented La Clue from leaving
the Mediterranean. Hawke drove the enemy's vessels
ashore at Rochefort, and completely broke up the ex-
pedition. Thus Canada at the critical period, when the
English were preparing to strike a great blow at her, was
cut off from all assistance from the mother country and
left to her own resources. As before, Halifax was the spot
where the troops from the colonies were to meet the fleet
from England and the troops who came out under their
convoy, and here on the 28th of May the whole expedition
was collected.

The colonies had again been partially stripped of their
defenders, and five hundred provincial rangers accompanied
the regulars. James Walsham's corps was left for service
on the frontier, while the regiments to which they belonged
sailed with the force destined for the siege of Louisbourg.
This fortress stood at the mouth of a landlocked bay on
the stormy coast of Cape Breton. Since the peace of Aix-
la-Chapelle vast sums had been spent in repairing and
strengthening it, and it was by far the strongest fortress in
English or French America.

The circuit of its fortifications was more than a mile and
a half, and the town contained about fa'ur thousand inhabi-

■» Il

«^'

I I II !"■

^'^h

f i

286

With Wolfe in Canada

tants. The garrison consisted of the battalions of Artois,
Bourgogne, Cambis, and Volontaires Etrangers, with two
companies of artillery and twenty-four of colonial troops,
in all three thousand and eighty men besides officers. In
the harbour lay five ships of the line and seven frigates,
carrying five hundred and forty-four guns and about three
thousand men, and there were two hundred and nineteen
cannons and seventeen mortars mounted on the ramparts
and outworks, and forty-four in reserve. Of the outworks
the strongest were the grand battery at Lighthouse Point
at the mouth of the harbour, and that on Goat Island, a
rocky islet at its entrance. '

The strongest front of the works was on the land side
across the base of the triangular peninsula on which the
town stood. This front, twelve hundred 'yards in extent,
reached from the sea on the left to the harbour on the right,
and consisted of four strong bastions with connecting
works. The best defence of Louisbourg, however, was the
craggy shore, which for leagues on either side was acces-
sible only at a few points, and even there a landing could
only be effected with the greatest difficulty.

All these points were watched, for an English squadron
of nine ships of war had been cruising off the place, en-
deavouring to prevent supplies from arriving; but they had
been so often blown off by gales that the French ships had
been able to enter, and on the 2nd of June, when the Eng-
lish expedition came in sight, more than a year's supply of
provisions was stored up in the town.

>f Artois,
with two
il troops,
cers. In

frigates,
lOut three
i nineteen
ramparts
outworks
use Point

Island, a

land side
which the
in extent,

the right,
:onnecting
T, was the
vas acces-
Jing could

squadron
3lace, en-
they had
ships had
the Eng-
supply of

CHAPTER XVII

Louisbourg and Ticonderoga

All eyes in the fleet were directed towards the rocky shore
of Gabarus Bay, a flat indentation some three miles across,
its eastern extremity, White Point, being a mile to the
west of Louisbourg. The sea was rough, and the white
masses of surf were thrown high up upon the face of the
rock along the coast as far as the eye could reach.

A more diflicult coast on which to eflect a landing could
not have been selected. There were but three points where
boats could even in fine weather get to shore — namely,
White Point, Flat Point, and Fresh Water Cove. To
cover these the French had erected several batteries, and
as soon as the English fleet was in sight they made vigorous
preparations to repel a landing. Boats were at once
lowered in order to make a reconnaissance of the shore.
Generals Amherst, Lawrence, and Wolfe all took part in
it, and a number of naval oflicers in their boats daringly
approached the shore to almost within musket-shot.

When they returned in the afternoon they made their
reports to the admiral, and these reports all agreed with
his own opinion — namely, that there was but little chance
of success. One naval captain alone, an old officer named
Fergusson, advised the admiral to hold no council of war,
but to take the responsibility on himself and to make the
attempt at all risks.

»r

1 »•

288

With Wolfe in Canada

. i^!"

fj ,*

"Why, admiral," he said, "the very children at home
^ould laugh at us if for a second time we sailed here with
an army and then sailed away again without landing a
man."

" So they would, Fergusson, so they would," the admiral
said. " If I have to stop here till winter I won't go till I
have carried out my orders and put the troops ashore."

In addition to the three possible landing-places already
named, was one to the east of the town named Lorambec,
and it was determined to send a regiment to threaten a
landing at this place, while the army, formed into three
divisions, were to threaten the other points and eflFect a
landing at one or all of them if it should be found possible.

On the next day, however, the 3rd of June, the surf was
so high that nothing could be attempted. On the 4th
there was a thick fog and a gale, and the frigate Trent
struck on a rock, and some of the transports were nearly
blown on shore. The sea was very heavy, and the vessels
rolled tremendously at their anchors. Most of the troops
suffered terribly from seasickness. The next day the
weather continued thick and stormy. On the 6th there
was fog, but towards noon the wind went down, where-
upon the signal was made, the boats were lowered, and
the troops took their places in them.

Scarcely had they done so when the wind rose again,
and the sea got up so rapidly that the landing was post-
poned. The next day the fog and heavy surf continued,
but in the evening the sea grew calmer, and orders were
issued for the troops to take to the boats at two o'clock
next morning. This was done, and the frigates got under
sail, and steered for the four points at which the real or
pretended attacks were to be made, and anchoring within
easy range opened fire soon after daylight, while the boats
in three divisions rowed towards the shore.

1 at home
here with
landing a

he admiral
I't go till I
shore."
:es already
Lorambec,
threaten a
into three
,nd effect a
nd possible,
he surf was
On the 4th
igate Trent
were nearly
i the vessels
f the troops
ixt day the
le 6th there
)wn, where-
>wered, and

rose again,
was post-
continued,
)rders were
Itwo o'clock
Is got under
the real or
^ring within
le the boats

Louisbourg and Ticonderoga 289

The division under Wolfe consisted of twelve companies
of Grenadiers, with the Light Infantry, Eraser's High-
landers, and the New England Rangers. Fresh Water
Cove was a crescent-shaped beach a quarter of a mile long,
with rocks at each end. On the shore above lay looo
Frenchmen under Lieutenant-colonel De St. Julien, with
eight cannons on swivels planted to sweep every part of
the beach. The entrenchments behind which the troops
were lying were covered in front by spruce and Br trees
felled and laid on the ground with the tops outward.

Not a shot was fired until the English boats approached
the beach, then from behind the leafy screen a deadly
storm of grape and musketry was poured upon them. It
was clear at once that to advance would be destruction,
and Wolfe waved his hand as a signal to the boats to
sheer off. On the right of the line, and but little exposed
to the fire, were three boats of the Light Infantry undet
Lieutenants Hopkins and Brown and Ensign Grant, who,
mistaking the signal, or wilfully misinterpreting it, dashed
for the shore directly before them. It was a hundred yards
or so east of the beach — a craggy coast, lashed by the
breakers, but sheltered from the cannon by a small pro-
jecting point.

The three young officers leapt ashore, followed by theii
men. Major Scott, who commanded the Light Infantry
and Rangers, was in the next boat, and at once followed
the others, putting his boat's head straight to the shore.
The boat was crushed to pieces against the rocks; some
of the men were drowned, but ihe rest scrambled up the
rocks and joined those who had first landed. They were
instantly attacked by the French, and half of the little
party were killed or wounded before the rest of the division
could come to their assistance.

Some of the boats were upset and others stove in, but

( S37 ) 18

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290 f/;

With Wolfe in Canada

I'-l! r

most of the men scrambled ashore, and as soon as he
landed Wolfe led them up the rocks, where they foknicd in
compact order and carried with the bayonet the nearest
French battery. The other divisions, seeing that Wolfe
had effected a landing, came rapidly up, and as the French
attention was now distracted by Wolfe's attack on the left,
Amherst and Lawrence were able to land at the other end
of the beach, and with their divisions attacked the French
on the right. These, assaulted on both sides, and fearing
to be cut off from the town, abandoned their cannon and
fled into the woods. Some seventy of them were taken
prisoners and fifty killed. The rest made their way through
the woods and marshes to Louisbourg, and the French in
the other batteries commanding the landing-places, seeing
that the English were now firmly established on the shore,
also abandoned the positions and retreated to the town.

General Amherst established the English camp just
beyond the range of the cannon on the ramparts, and
the fleet set to work to land guns and stores at F'lat
Point Cove. For some days this work went on; but
so violent was the surf that more than a hundred boats
were stove in in accoinplishing it, and none of the siege
guns could be landed till the i8th. While the sailors
were so engaged the troops were busy making roads
and throwing up redoubts to protect their position.

Wolfe, with 1200 men, made his way right round the
harbour and took possession of the battery at Lighthouse
Point which the French had abandoned, planted guns and
mortars there, and opened fire on the battery on the islet
which guarded the entrance to the harbour, while other
batteries were raised at different points along the shore
and opened fire upon the French ships. These replied,
and the artillery duel went on night and day, until, on
|;ljp aSth, the battery on the islet was silence^.

Louisbourg and Ticonderoga 291

Leaving a portion of his force in the batteries he had
erected, Wolfe returned to the main army in front of the
town. In the meantime Amherst had not been idle. Day
and night a thousand men had been employed making a
covered road across a swamp to a hillock less than half a
mile from the ramparts. The labour was immense, and
the troops worked knee deep in mud and water. ' •

When Wolfe had silenced the battery on the islet the
way was open for the English fleet to enter and engage
the ships and town from the harbour, but the French took
advantage of a dark and foggy night and sank six ships
across the entrance. On the 25th the troops had made
the road to the hillock' and began to fortify themselves
there under a heavy fire from the French; while on the
left, towards the sea, about a third of a mile from the
Princess's Bastion, Wolfe, with a strong detachment,
began to throw up a redoubt.

On the night of the 9th of July 600 French troops sallied
out and attacked this work. The English, though fighting
desperately, were for a time driven back ; but being rein-
forced, they drove the French back into the town. Each
day the English lines drew closer to the town. The
French frigate EchOy under cover of a fog, had been sent
to Quebec for aid, but she was chased and captured. The
frigate ArethusCy on the night of the 14th of July, was
towed through the obstructions at the mouth of the har-
bour, and passing through the English ships in a fog
succeeded in getting away. Only five vessels of the
French fleet now remained in the harbour, and these
were but feebly manned, as 2000 of the officers and
seamen had landed and were encamped in the town.

On the afternoon of the i6th a party of English led by
Wolfe suddenly dashed forward, and driving back a com-
pany of French seized some rising ground within three

■%

f -f

It f 1

.'I- .

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i ' >

i* f

29a With Wolfe in Canada

hundred yards of the ramparts and began to entrench
themselves there. All night the French kept up a furious
fire at the spot, but by morning the English had completed
their entrenchment, and from this point pushed on until
they had reached the foot of the glacis. On the 21st the
French man-of-war Calibre was set on fire by the explosion
of a shell. The wind blew the flames into the rigging of
two of her consorts, and these also caught fire, and the
three ships burned to the water's edge.

Several fires were occasioned in the town, and the
English guns, of which a great numksr were now in
position, kept up a storm of fire night and day. On the
night of the 23rd six hundred English sailors silently
rowed into the harbour, cut the cables of the two remain-
ing French men-of-war, and tried to tow them out. One,
however, was aground, for the tide was low. The sailors
therefore set her on fire, and then towed her consort out
of the harbour amidst a storm of shot and shell from the
French batteries.

The French position was now desperate. Only four
cannon on the side facing the English batteries were fit
for service. The masonry of the ramparts was shaken,
and the breaches were almost complete. A fourth of the
garrison were in hospital, and the rest were worn out by
toil. Every house in the place was shattered by the
English artillery, and there was no shelter either for thel
troops or the inhabitants. On the 26th the last French!
cannon was silenced and a breach effected in the wallj
and the French, unable longer to resist, hung out thel
white flag. They attempted to obtain favourable con|
ditions, but Boscawen and Amherst insisted upon absolute!
surrender, and the French, wholly unable to resist furtherj
accepted the terms.

Thus fell the great French stronghold on Cape Bretoni

entrench
p a furious

1 completed
ed on until
Lhe 2ist the
le explosion
B rigging of
ire, and the

irn, and the
i^ere now in
lay. On the
ilors silently
; two remain-
m out. One,
The sailors
jr consort out
shell from the

Only fouil
teries were fill
was shaken,
fourth of the
worn out by
[ttered by the
either for thel
le last French!
in the wall!
I hung out thel
Lvourable conl
upon absolutel
resist further!

Cape Bretoaj

Louisbourg and Ticonderoga 293

The detence had been a most gallant one; and Drucour,
the governor, although he could not save the fortress, had
yet delayed the English so long before the walls that it
was too late in the season now to attempt an attack on
Canada itself.

Wolfe indeed urged that an expedition should at once
be sent against Quebec, but Boscawen was opposed to
this, owing to the lateness of t^** season, and Amherst
was too slow and deliberate by nature to determine sud-
denly on the enterprise. He, however, sailed with six
regiments for Boston to reinforce Abercromby at Lake
George. Wolfe carried out the orders of the general to
destroy the French settlements on the Gulf of St. Lawrence
— a task most repugnant to his humane nature. After this
had been accomplished he sailed for England.

When Amherst had sailed with his expedition to the
attack of Louisbourg 'le had not left the colonists in so
unprotected a state as they had been in the preceding
year. They on their part responded nobly to the call
from England that a large force should be put in the
field. The home government had promised to supply
arms, ammunition, tents, and provisions, and to make
a grant towards the pay and clothing of the soldiers.

Massachusetts, as usual, responded most freely and
loyally to the demand. She had already incurred a very
heavy debt by her efforts in the war, and had supplied
2500 men — a portion of whom had gone with Amherst —
but she now raised 7000 more, whom she paid, maintained,
and clothed out of her own resources, thus placing in the
field one-fourth of her able-bodied men. Connecticut made
equal sacrifices, although less exposed to danger of in-
vasion; while New Hampshire sent out one-third of her
able-bodied men.

In June the combined British and provincial force under

"\\

1:1;

294

With Wolfe in Canada

Abercromby gathered on the site of Fort William Henry.
The force consisted of 6367 officers and soldiers of the
regular army and 9054 colonial troops. Abercromby
himself was an infirm and incapable man, who owed his
position to political influence. The real command was
in the hands of Brigadier-general Lord Howe — a most
energetic and able officer, who had during the past year
thoroughly studied forest warfare, and had made several
expeditions with the scouting parties of Rogers and other
frontier leaders. He was a strict disciplinarian, but threw
aside all the trammels of the traditions of the service. He
made both officers and men dress in accordance with the
work they had before them. All had to cut their hair
close, to wear leggings to protect them from the briars,
and to carry in their knapsacks thirty pounds of meal,
which each man had to cook for himself.

The coats of both the Regulars and Provincials were
cut short at the waist, and no officer or private was allowed
to carry more than one blanket and a bearskin. Howe
himself lived as simply and roughly as his men. The
soldiers were devoted to their young commander, and were
ready to follow him to the death.

"That's something like a man for a general," Nat said
enthusiastically as he marched with the Royal Scouts past
the spot where Lord Howe was sitting on the ground
eating his dinner with a pocket knife. *' I have never
had much hope of doing anything before with the regu-
lars in the forest, but I do think this time we have got a
chance of licking the French. What do you say, captain?"

** It looks more hopeful, Nat, certainly. Under Loudon
and Webb things did not look very bright, but this is a
different sort of general altogether."

On the evening of the 4th of July baggage, stores, and
ammunition were all on board the boats, and the whole

l; t il .

n Henry,
rs of the
ercromby
owed his
[land was
— a most
past year
de several
and other
but threw
rvice. He
;e with the
their hair
the briars,
Is of meal,

ncials were
was allowed
kin. Howe
men. The
gr, and were

I, Nat said
I Scouts past
I the ground
have never
Ih the regu-
have got a
r, captain?"
ider Loudon
)ut this is a

stores, and
the whole

Louisbourg and Ticonderoga 295

army embarked at daybreak on the 5th. It was indeed a
magnificent sight as the flotilla started. It consisted of
900 troop boats, 135 whale-boats, and a large number of
heavy flat-boats carrying the artillery. They were in three
divisions, the regulars in the centre, the provincial troops
oil either flank. > ^

Each corps had its flags and its music, the day was fair
and bright, and as the flotilla swept on past the verdure-
dad hills with the sun shining brilliantly down on the
bright uniforms and gay flags, on the flash of oars and
the glitter of weapons, a fairer sight was seldom witnessed.
At five in the afternoon they reached Sabbath-day Point,
twenty-five miles down the lake, where they halted some
time for the baggage and artillery.

At eleven o'clock they started again, and by daybreak
were nearing the outlet of the lake. An advanced party
of the French were watching their movements, and a de-
tachment was seen near the shore at the spot where the
French had embarked on the previous year. The com-
panies of Rogers and James Walsham landed and drove
them off", and by noon the whole army was on shore.
The troops started in four columns, but so dense was
the forest, so obstructed with undergrowth, that they
could scarcely make their way, and after a time even
the guides became confused in the labyrinth of trunks
and boughs, and the four columns insensibly drew near
to each other.

Curiously the French advanced party, 350 strong, who
had tried to retreat, also became lost in the wood, and
not knowing where the English were, in their wanderings
ag-ain approached them. As they did so Lord Howe, who
with Major Putnam and 200 rangers and scouts was at
the head of the principal column, suddenly came upon
them. A skirmish followed.

l^'

)»;

■ If li

ii''''--M-

l,-*iS'i'

296 With Wolfe in Canada \ *

Scarcely had it begun when Lord Howe dropped dead,
shot through the breast. For a moment something like
a panic seized the army, who believed that they had fallen
into an ambush and that Montcalm's whole force was
upon them. The rangers, however, fought steadily until
Rogers' Rangers and the Royal Scouts, who were out
in front, came back and took the French in the rear.
Only about 50 of these escaped, 148 were captured, and
the rest killed or drowned in endeavouring to cross the
rapids.

The loss of the English was small in numbers, but the
death of Howe inflicted an irreparable blow upon the army:
as Major Mante, who was present, wrote, " In Lord Howe
the sou! of General Abercromby's army seemed to expire.
From the i-nhappy moment that the general was deprived
of his advice neither order nor discipline was observed,
and a strange kind of infatuation usurped the place of
resolution."

The loss of its gallant young general was indeed the
destruction of an army of 15,000 men. Abercromby
seemed paralysed by the stroke and could do nothing,
and the soldiers were needlessly kept under arms all
night in the forest, and in the morning were ordered
back to the landing-place. At noon, however, Bradstreet
was sent out to take possession of the sawmill at the
falls which Montcalm had abandoned the evening before.
Bradstreet rebuilt the two bridges which had been de-
stroyed by the enemy, and the army then advanced and
in the evening occupied the deserted encampment of the
French.

Montcalm had for some days been indecisive as to his
course. His force was little more than a fourth of that of
the advancing foe. He had for some time been aware of
the storm which was preparing against him. Vaudreuil,

>pped dead,
lething like
y had fallen
! force was
teadily until
\o were out
in the rear,
iptured, and
to cross the

bers, but the
)onthe army:
n Lord Howe
led to expire,
was deprived
^as observed,
the place of

as indeed the
Abercromby
do nothing,
der arms all
were ordered
er, Bradstreet
awmill at the
|vening before,
had been de-
advanced and
pment of the

isive as to his
[urth of that of
Ibeen aware of
Vaudreuil,

Louisbourg and Ticonderoga 297

the governor, had at first intended to send a body of
Canadians and Indians under General Levis down the
valley of the Mohawk to create a diversion, but this
scheme had been abandoned, and instead of sending Levis
with his command to the assistance of Montcalm he had
kept them doing nothing at Montreal. Just about the
hour Lord Howe was killed Montcalm fell back with his
force from his position by the falls, and resolved to make
a stand at the base of the peninsula on which Ticonderoga
stands.

The outline of the works had already been traced, and
the soldiers of the battalion of Berry had made some
progress in constructing them. At daybreak, just as
Abercromby was drawing his troops back to the landing-
place, Montcalm's whole army set to work. Thousands
of trees were hewn down and the trunks piled one upon
another so as to form a massive breastwork. The line
followed the top of the ridge with many zigzags, so that
I the whole front could be swept by a fire of musketry and

It'rape.

The log wall was eight or nine feet high, and the upper
[tier 'was formed of single logs in which notches were cut
to serve as loopholes. The whole space in front was
cleared of trees for the distance of a musket-shot, the
Itrees being felled so that their tops turned outwards, form-
ling an almost impenetrable obstacle, while immediately in
front of the log wall the ground was covered with heavy
}oughs overlapping and interlaced, their points being
sharpened. This position was in fact absolutely impreg-
lable against an attack in front by infantry.

It was true that Abercromby might have brought up
lis artillery and battered down the breastwork, or he
light have planted a battery on the heights which com-
manded the position, or he might have marched a portion

■4.

> it
I

298

With Wolfe in Canada

\t '-'i

' 'f. f

of his army through the woods and placed them on the
road between Ticonderoga and Crown Point, and so have
cut off the whole French army and forced them to sur-
render, for they had but eight days' provisions. But
Howe was dead, there was no longer leading or general-
ship, and Abercromby, leaving his cannon behind him,
marched his army to make a direct attack on the French
entrenchment. ; .. '

In the course of the night Levis, with 400 of his men,
arrived, and the French were in readiness for the attack.
The battalions of La Sarre and Languedoc were posted
on the left under Bouriamaque, Berry and Royal Rous-
silloQ in the centre under Montcalm, La Reine, Beam, and
Guienne on the right under Levis. A detachment of
volunteers occupied the low ground between the breast-
work and the outlet of Lake George, while 450 Canadian
troops held an abattis on the side towards Lake Cham-
plain, where they were covered by the guns of the fort.

Until noon the French worked unceasingly to strengthen
their position, then a heavy fire broke out in front as the
rangers and light infantry drove in their piquets. As soon
as the English issued from the wood they opened fire, and
then the regulars, formed in columns of attack, pushed
forward across the rough ground with its maze of fallen
trees.

They could see the top of the breastwork but not lliei
men behind it, and as soon as they were fairly entangled
in the trees a terrific fire opened upon them. The English j
pushed up close to the breastwork, but they could not
pass the bristling mass of sharpened branches which were
swept by a terrific crossfire from the entrenchment. After
striving for an hour they fell back. Abercromby, who|
h..d remained at the mill a mile and a half in the reari
s(.nt orders for them to attack again.

Louisbourg and Ticonderoga 299

Never did the English fight with greater bravery. Six
times did they advance to the attack, but the task set
them was impossible. At five in the afternoon two English
columns made an assault on the extreme right of the
French, and although Montcalm hastened to the spot
with his reserves they nearly succeeded in breaking
through, hewing their way right to the very foot of the
breastwork, and renewing the attack over and over again,
the Highland regiment, which led the column, fighting
with desperate valour, and not retiring until its major and
twenty-five of the officers were killed or wounded and half
the men had fallen under the deadly fire.

At six o'clock another desperate attempt was made, but
in vain ; then the regulars fell back in disorder, but for an
hour and a half the provincials and rangers kept up a fire
while their comrades removed the wounded. Abercromby
had lost in killed, wounded, and missing 1944 officers and
men, while the loss of the French was 377. '•

Even now Abercromby might have retrieved his repulse,
for with 13,000 men stiU remaining against 3300 un-
wounded Frenchmen he co ild still have easily forced them
to surrender by planting cannons on the heights or by
cutting off their communication and food. Ke did neither,
but at daybreak re-embarked his army and retired with all
speed down the lake.

Montcalm soon received large reinforcements and sent
out scouting parties. One of these caught a party com-
manded by Captain Rogers in an ambush, but were finally
driven back with such heavy loss that from that time few
scouting parties were sent out from Ticonderoga. In
October, Montcalm with the main portion of his army
retired for the winter to Montreal, while the English fell
back to Albany.

While Abercromby was lying inactive at the head of

300

With Wolfe in Canada

Lake George, Brigadier -general Forbes had advanced
from Virginia against Fort Duquesne, and after immense
labour and hardships succeeded in arriving at the fort,
which the French evacuated at his approach, having burnt
the barracks and storehouses and blown up the fortifica-
tions. A stockade was formed and a tort afterwards built
there; this was called Fort Pitt and the place itself Pitts-
burg. A small garrison was left there, and the army,
after having collected and buried the bones of Braddock*s
men, retired to Virginia. ^. « . ?

The general, who, though suffering terribly from disease,
had steadfastly carried out the enterprise in the face of
enormous difficulties, died shortly after the force returned
to the settlements. Another successful enterprise durinjj
the autumn had been the capture of Fort Frontenac,
and the gaining of a foothold by the English on Lake
Ontario. Thus the campaign of 1758 was on the whole
disastrous to the French; they had held their own trium-
phantly at Ticonderoga, but they had lost their great
fortress of Louisbourg, their right had been forced back
by the capture of Fort Duquesne, and their line of com-
munication cut by the destruction of Fort Frontenac.

__s

;;l,!;-;v. ' •

'hi &-VH

advanced
jr immense
t the fort,
iving burnt
le fortifica-
wards built
itself Pitts-

the army,
Braddock's

•om disease,
the face of
rce returned
prise duriujj
Frontenac,
sh on Lake
n the whole
r own trium-
their great
forced back
[line of com-
itenac.

'V. U. I

v" ». •; '

CHAPTER XVIIl

. Quebec

i ■> ' -;//!

In the following spring the French prepared to resist the
serious attack which they expected would be made by way
of Lake Champlain and Ontario, but a greater danger was
threatening them, for in the midst of their preparations the
news arrived from France that a great fleet was on its
way from England to attack Quebec. The town was filled
with consternation and surprise, for the Canadians had
believed that the navigation of the St. Lawrence was too
difficult and dangerous for any hostile fleet to attempt.
Their spirits rose, however, when a few days later a fleet
of twenty -three ships laden with supplies from France
sailed up the river.

A day or two later the British fleet was at the mouth
of the St. Lawrence, and the whole forces of the colony,
except three battalions posted at Ticonderoga and a strong
detachment placed so as to resist any hostile movement
from Lake Ontario, were mustered at Quebec. Here were
gathered five French battalions, the whole of the Canadian
troops and militia, and upwards of a thousand Indians, in
all amounting to more than sixteen thousand.

The position was an extremely strong one, the main
force was encamped on the high ground below Quebec
with their right resting on the St. Charles River, and the
left on the Montmorenci, a distance of between seven and

801

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302 With Wolfe in Canada

eight ni:les. The front was covered by steep ground
which rose nearly from the edge of the St. Lawrence,
and the right was covered by the guns of the citadel of
Quebec.

A boom of logs chained together was laid across the
mouth of the St. Charles, which was further guarded by
two hulks mounted with cannon. A bridge of boats cross-
ing the river a mile higher up connected the city with the
camp. All the gates of Quebec except that of St. Charles,
which faced the bridge, were closed and barricaded. A
hundred and six cannon were mounted on the walls, while
a floating battery of twelve heavy pieces, a number of gun-
boats, and eight fire ships formed the river defences.

The frigates which had convoyed the merchant fleet
were taken higher up the river, and a thousand of their
seamen came down from Quebec to man the batteries and
gunboats. Against this force of sixteen thousand men
posted behind defensive works, on a position almost im-
pregnable by nature, General Wolfe was bringing less
than nine thousand troops. The steep and lofty heights
that lined the river rendered the cannon of the ships useless
to him, and the exigencies of the fleet in such narrow and
difficult navigation prevented the sailors being landed to
assist the troops. " ='

A large portion of Montcalm's army indeed consisted of
Canadians, who were of little use in the open field, but
could be trusted to fight well behind entrenchments.
Wolfe was unfortunately in extremely bad health when
he was selected by Pitt to command the expedition against
Quebec, but under him were Brigadier-generals Monckton,
Townshend, and Murray, all good officers. The fleet con-
sisted of twenty-two ships of war with frigates and sloops,
and a great number of transports. It was at first divided
into three squadrons; that under Admiral Durell sailed

eep ground

Laiwrencc,

e citadel of

across the
guarded by
boats cross-
ity with the
St. Charles,
ricaded. A
ivalls, while
iber of gun-
nces.

chant fleet
nd of their
itteries and
Lisand men
almost im-
nging less
fty heights
lips useless
larrow and

landed to

onsisted of
field, but
snchments.
lalth when
on against
Monckton,
3 fleet con-
nd sloops,
rst divided
rell sailed

kt'vi

I-

?*,

M ^

■ "^i-^ ?

304 With Wolfe in Canada

direct for the St. Lawrence to intercept the ships from
France, but arrived at its destination a few days too late.
That of Admiral Holmes sailed for New York to take on
board a portion of the army of Amherst and Abercromby;
that of Admiral Saunders sailed to Louisbourg, but finding
the entrance blocked with ice went on to Halifax, where
it was joined by the squadron with the troops from New
York. They then sailed again to Louisbourg, where they
remained until the 6th of June, 1759, and then joined
Durell at the mouth of the St. Lawrence.

Wolfe's force had been intended to be larger, and should
have amounted to fourteen thousand men ; but some regi-
ments which were to have joined him from the West Indies
were, at the last moment, countermanded, and Amherst,
who no doubt felt some jealousy at the command of this
important expedition being given to an officer who had
served under his orders at the taking of Louisbourg, sent
a smaller contingent of troops than had been expected.

Among the regiments which sailed was that of James
Walsham. After the fight at Ticonderoga, in which up-
wards of half of his force had fallen, the little corps had
been broken up, and the men had returned to duty with
their regiments. Owing to the number of officers who
had fallen, James now stood high on the list of lieutenants.
He had had enough of scouting, and was glad to return to
the regiment, his principal regret being that he had to part
from his two trusty scouts.

There was great joy in the regiment when the news was
received that they were to go with the expedition against
Quebec. They had formed part of Wolfe's division at
Louisbourg, and like all who had served with him, re-
garded with enthusiasm and confidence the leader whose
fraii body seemed wholly incapable of sustaining fatigue
C'l ii-^'d^^hip, but whose indomitable spirit and courage

Quebec

■ li I y

placed him ever in th. t ' ^05

"'!. "rave., of his foIW^:r;r' ''' ''" """'P''' -hich
From time ,o time Tames 1/''°"'' '" ™"^'=-

M . W,lks wrote frequently and ' V *"* "«>'her and

™ . h ^''=:; '"'^" '' once He haT'""'' "^ "''''''"'
ron. home for four vear« ! j ^f "'' "°'^' been absent

'•e would scarcely recoil ' / '"" ""'''er told him Z
=- "erself. Mrs. wlishaT !^''*' *''° ^''^ "ovv as ll
- '"'erested as s^^^ttri/hf 'f'' *"' ^''' "- a'mls
patches from the war l 1. I '"""' a"" » the d^s
'™f been mentioned i^ * '^ .'^ ""■"« "ad ''everai

"mSdV" "°"'' '"'°° ."'■"' ">« »«-'<:«.

-turnerhomr^Vul"'^"""^ J''"'"'* absence
received him very coollt^- ' **"• ^alsham said h»H
had written when T '" <=°"«quence of the W," t
she said that A„ • "'"""' *as pressed as a !. ' *"

^" "- -tt itt^^^^^^^^^^^ -- b^ ::!:: l^*;?

Durf.Il u J ^ '"^ mouth of th#> Qf r

"here the diffic" n'al^lt t' b" '"^ "^ '» 'he Voin"
generally took on boa"d r° T"' """^ "bere vessl
*e French flap- >.f ,k "'^'' P"o«s. Here h. i,

ih, .,K- ^ at the masthead =.„^ »■. . "* boisted

Passag-e was at Cape Tn,. ''"' difficulty of the

Z] " '=°"P'««'U"™'"'^' *""« 'be 'channel

T41

mifmxM

{ I

m " *i <

306

With Wolfe in Canada

Had the French planted some guns on a plateau high
up on the side of the mountains they could have done
great damage by a plunging fire; but Vaudreuil had
neglected to take this measure, and the fleet passed up
in safety, the manner in which they were handled and
navigated astdnishing the Canadians, who had believed
it to be impossible that large ships could be taken up.
On the 26th the whole fleet were anchored off the Island
of Orleans, a few miles below Quebec. The same night
a small party landed on the island. They were opposed
by the armed inhabitants, but beat them off, and during
the night the Canadians crossed to the north shore. The
whole army then landed.

From the end of the island Wolfe could see the full
strength of the position which he had come to attack.
Three or four miles in front of him the town of Quebec
stood upon its elevated rock. Beyond rose the loftier
height of Cape Diamond with its redoubts and parapets.
Three great batteries looked threateningly from the upper
rock of Quebec, while three others were placed near the
edge of the water in the lower town. On the right was
the great camp of Montcalm, stretching from the St.
Charles at the foot of the city walls to the gorge of the
Montmorenci.

From the latter point to the village of Beauport in the
centre of the camp the front was covered with earthworks
along the brink of a lofty height, and from Beauport to
the St. Charles were broad flats of mud swept by the fire
of redoubts and entrenchments, by the guns of a floating
battery, and by those of the city itself. Wolfe could not
see beyond Quebec, but above the city the position was
even stronger than below. The river was walled by a
range of steeps often inaccessible, and always so difficult
that a few men could hold an army in check.

plateau high
i have done
Ludreuil had
t passed up
handled and
liad believed
le taken up.
S the Island

same night
'ere opposed

and during
shore. The

see the full
e to attack,
n of Quebec
; the loftier
nd parapets.
m the upper
:ed near the
le right was
om the St.
jorge of the

* Quebec ,

Montcalm was perfectiv . c. ^°7

anr attack 'vhich't he Britirlt"' »' ''- '"""'^ '» resist

">«' with a few^'*" 'T*"°" ''ffainstT a^H 'P"''^'-
sand wer*» r,«, . "^ thousand mA« o- ® "

lav .n f I. ""^"^ '° '■etire. His oni ^ ^PProach of

"-•cH cafe he'^r' ^fn m" '"'^^"- '«°^h XH
^n the dav aft^r «.i -

»">ing- down h. • ' ""* "f 'he island saw' °"""«^

s uown the river. «;,„4w« i . ^^ some ves«!*»fc

vessels lowered their boats,

I i

>K '■:■'■

''\iW^ :<>

k\ ■ ii ' i'

i \

308 With Wolfe in Canada

and the sailors rowed up to meet the fire ships. When they
neared them they threw grapnels on board, and towed
them towards land until they were stranded, and then left
them to burn out undisturbed.

Finding that it would be impossible to effect a landinf>^
under the fire of the French guns, Wolfe determined as a
first step to seize the height of Point Levi opposite Quebec.
From this point he could fire on the town across the St. Law-
rence, which is here less than a mile wide. On the after-
noon of the 29th Monckton's brigade crossed in the boats
to Beaumont on the south shore. His advanced guard had
a skirmish with a party of Canadians, but these soon fell
back, and no further opposition was offered to the landing.

In the morning a proclamation issued by Wolfe was
posted on the doors of the parish churches. It caltcd upon
the Canadians to stand neutral in the contest, promising
them, if they did so, full protection to their property and
religion ; but threatening that if they resisted, their houses,
goods, and harvest should be destroyed, and their churches
sacked.

The brigade marched along the river to Point Levi, and
drove off a body of French and Indians posted there, and
the next morning began to throw up entrenchments and to
form batteries. Wolfe did not expect that his guns here
could do any serious damage to the fortifications of Quebec.
His object was partly to discourage the inhabitants of the
city exposed to his fire, partly to keep up the spirits of his
own troops by setting them to work.

The guns of Quebec kept up a continual fire against the
working parties, but the batteries continued to rise, and
the citizens, alarmed at the destruction which threatened
their houses, asked the governor to allow them to cross
the river and dislodge the English. Although he had no
belief that they would succeed he thought it better to aiiov

SSf

Quebec

njiV/

tnem to try a^ _.. 3O0

'•». ™irs s "t"'* ^"^''■» «Tr "'

Quebec. The p„ ^- u' "°"<=<' ""e river a^n ° "'™'»'
The destruction nf ♦!, • <

«"ip, and, leavW a rflf T "^ *''" '^'^nd broke n„ f^ •

2 :t:^ades^^Tt':r„ra„i r -- °° -^'' 'h:

,^'«k they climbed the h^V' **°'«'"0'enc° At div'

»' eau and beg^an to entrench f? ''^'"' Stained the

' ^-^-^ o^ -,e„ rpt^ r?"^; 'j'ere

' we regulars was

JH)'

f I '^

\(:

"A J^.

,r ^*

!/'■'

I 'i.

310 With Wolfe in Canada

sent into the neighbouring forests to prevent the parties
from cutting bushes for the fascines, to explore the bank
of the Montmorenci, and if possible to discover a ford
across the river. Levis with his aide-de-camp, a Jacobite
Scotchman named Johnston, was watching the movement:^
of Wolfe from the heights above the gorge. Levis believed
that no ford existed, but Johnston found a man who had
only that morning crossed.

A detachment was at once sent to the place with orders
to entrench themselves, and Levis posted eleven hundred
Canadians under Repentigny close by in support. Four
hundred Indians passed the ford and discovered the English
detachment in the forest, and Langlade, their commander,
recrossed the river and told Repentigny that there was a
body of English in the forest who might be destroyed if he
would cross at once with his Canadians. Repentigny sent
to Levis, and Levis to Vaudreuil, then three or four miles
distant.

Before Vaudreuil arrived on the spot the Indians became
impatient and attacked the rangers, and drove them back
with loss upon the regulars, who stood their ground and
repulsed the assailants; the Indians, however, carried
thirty-six scalps across the ford. If Repentigny had ad-
vanced when first called upon, and had been followed by
Levis with his whole command, the English might have
suffered a very severe check, for the Canadians were as
much superior to the regulars in the forest, as the regulars
to the Canadians in the open.

Vaudreuil called a council of war, but he and Montcalm
agreed not to attack the English, who were, on their part,
powerless to injure them. Wolfe's position on the heights
was indeed a dangerous one. A third of his force was six
miles away, on the other side of the St. Lawrence, and the
detachment on the island was separated from each by a

'.k-.

Quebec

^«de arm nf f !,-« • 3"

aiiii or tne river An., r •

-'acl^ed and overpoweredZ^o, "rJ"™^ ^^ '-"L to be
«s assistance. *'"« '^e others could come to

-re Snlt1«a;rh: ZTZl 1'"""''''"'' "'" «'">ou.h
The fact, however, thaTheTn '? '" ""'' "■« o«'e"'»"vV
near their camp h^d dTsco^fifVl'''" "" ""^ Position so
battery played with consTdemb, ^" '^'"«'««a„s. and his
oarnp The time passed fow;'"^ ^fd "^ '"' "^' "' '"e

of each ml, "PP""''* '^"fl's were with" """**' *""

ed/e „ *'• ^"^ ■"«" who showed Th f'^ S'""'''"'

:■;- Mti:r;::r:^:r:r '" """^ '-•. co„.

-rl-edfn tte^r ^--^--C. ^t IT'"
el,' • . . forest near thp Pn«r u "® 'ndians

skirmishing went on between !h^^'^ ''^"'P' «"d constant
steady work of destrurf ^^"^ ^"^ ^he rangers TU

^y the fire from' P^^^^^^^^ ^^e cit/oTg.el :

'rtjv?. '^ ^'^ ^^'p« -"d Wolf's bir''^*^^^ ^^""""ade

"activity to which they were nlli ^^"^'''es, added to the

after thT^ '""'^"^ '° return VtSV'^'' ''''''' '^^
a^ter the crops; and many mor^ Z "''"^S'es and look

'■^h." Th^'Fll^hiybettd"?' *"'' """"' "y 'he En..
f'ps to pass the batterks of o 'T''"''"'"'"* ''"^ a"y hostifj

""ous cannonade from P:„°L?r^r' ■""' =--ed ?;":
'"'"• """ « Wgate and severtrsma,! "^"-f— Sulr.

erai small vessels, aided by a

i*>

•Pi'

■ t ,:i* ■

312 With Wolfe in Canada

favouring wind, ran up the river at night and passed above
the town. Montcalm at once dispatched six hundred men
under Dumas to defend the accessible points in the line of
precipices above Quebec, and on the following day, when
it became known that the English had dragged a fleet of
boats over Point Levi, and had launched them above the
town, a reinforcement of several hundreds more was sent
to Dumas.

On the night of the 20th Colonel Carleton with six hun-
dred men rowed eighteen miles up the river and landed
at Pointe-aux-Trembles on the north shore. Here many
of the fugitives from Quebec had taken refuge, and a
hundred women, children, and old men were taken prisoners
by Carleton and brought down the next day with the retir-
ing force. Wolfe entertained the prisoners kindly, and
sent them on the following day with a flag of truce into
Quebec. On the night of the 28th the French made
another attempt to burn the English fleet, sending down
a large number of schooners, shallops, and rafts chained
together and filled as before with combustibles.

This time the fire was not applied too soon, and the
English fleet was for some time in great danger, but was
again saved by the sailors, who, in spite of the storm of
missiles vomited out by cannon, swivels, grenades, shell,
and gun and pistol barrels loaded up to the muzzle, grappled
v/ith the burning mass and towed it on shore.

It was now the end of July, and Wolfe was no nearer
taking Quebec than upon the day when he first landed
there. In vain he had tempted Montcalm to attack him.
The French general, confident in the strength of his
position, refused to leave it. Wolfe therefore determined
to attack the camp in front. The plan was a desperate
one, for after leaving troops enough to hold his two camps
he hud less than five thousand men to attack a position of

Quebec

313

sed above
idred men
the line of
lay, when
a fleet of
above the
» was sent

th six hun-
md landed
Here many
ige, and a
jn prisoners
th the retir-
kindly, and
if truce into
rench made
nding down
[afts chained
les.

»n, and the
•er, but was
;he storm of
lades, shell,
:le, grappled

W)mmanding str'.ngth, where Montcalm could at an hour's
aotice collect twice as many to oppose him. ' " • *

At a spot about a mile above the gorge of Montmorenci
a flat strip of ground some two hundred yards wide lay
between the river and the foot of the precipices, and at low
tide the river left a flat of mud nearly half a mile wide
beyond the dry ground. Along the edge of the high-water
mark the French had built several redoubts. From the
river Wolfe could not see that these redoubts were com-
manded by the musketry of the entrenchments along the
edge of the heights above, which also swept with their fire
the whole face of the declivity, which was covered with
grass and v^fSiS extremely steep. Wolfe hoped that if he
attacked one of the redoubts the French would come down
to defend it, and that a battle might be so brought on ; or
that if they did not do so he might find a spot where the
heights could be storme-d with some chance of success.

At low tide it was possible t'^ ford the mouth of the
Montmorenci, and Wolfe intended that the troops from his
camp on the heights above that river should cross here,
and advance along the strand to co-operate with Monck-
ton's brigade, who were to cross from Point Levi.

On the morning of the 31st of July the Centurion of 64
guns, and two armed transports each with 14 guns, stood
close in to one of the redoubts and opened fire upon it,
while the English batteries from the heights of the Mont-
morenci opened fire across the chasm upon the French
lines.

At eleven o'clock the troops from Point Levi put oflF in
their boats, and moved across the river as if they intended
to make a landing between Beauport and the city. For
some hours Montcalm remained ignorant as to the point
on which the English attack was to be made, but became
presently convinced that it would be delivered near the

I !

!m!)|

314 With Wolfe in Canada

Montmorenci, and he massed the whole of his army on that
flank of his position. At half-past five o'clock the tide was
low, and the English boats dashed forward and the troops
sprang ashore on to the broad tract of mud left bare by
the tide, while at the same moment a column 2000 strong
moved down from the height towards the ford at the mouth
of the Montmorenci.

The first to land were thirteen companies of Grenadiers
and a detachment of Royal Americans, who, without wait-
ing for the two regiments of Monckton's brigade, dashed
forward against the redoubt at the foot of the hill. The
French at once abandoned it, but the Grenadiers had no
sooner poured into it than a storm of bullets rained down
upon them from the troops who lined the heights above,

Without a moment's hesitation the Grenadiers and Ameri-
cans dashed forward and strove to climb the steep ascent,
swept as it was by a terrific hail of bullets and buckshot
from the French and Canadians. Numbers rolled dead or
wounded to the bottom of the hill, but the others struggled
on.

But at this moment the cloud which had been threaten-
ing all day suddenly opened and the rain poured down in
a torrent, the grassy slopes instantly became so slippery
that it was absolutely impossible to climb them, and the
fire from above died away as the wet rendered the firelocks
unserviceable.

The Grenadiers fell back into the redoubt. Wolfe, who
had now arrived upon the spot, saw that it was absolutely
impossible to carry the heights under the present conditions,
and ordered the troops to retreat. Carrying off many ol
the wounded with them they fell back in good order.
Those of the Grenadiers and Americans who survived re-
crossed in their boats to the island, the 15th Regiment
rowed back to Point Levi, and the 78th Highlanders, who

Quebec

belonged to Monckton's brigade, joined the column from
below the Montmorenci and slowly retired along the flats
and across the ford.

The loss fell entirely upon the Grenadiers and Americans,
and was, in proportion to their number, enormous — four
hundred and forty-three, including one colonel, eight cap-
tains, twenty-one lieutenants, and three ensigns, being
killed, wounded, or missing. The blow to the English
was a severe one, and even Wolfe began to despair, and
meditated leaving a portion of his troops on Isle-aux-
Coudres and fortifying them there, and sailing home with
the rest tc prepare another expedition in the following
year.

In the middle of August he issued a third proclamation
to the Canadians, declaring, as they had refused his oflfers
of protection, and had practised the most unchristian bar-
barity against his troops on all occasions, he could no
longer refrain, in justice to himself and his army, in chas-
tising them as they deserved. The barbarities consisted in
the frequent scalping and mutilating of sentinels and men
on outpost duty, which were perpetrated alike by the
Canadians and Indians. Wolfe's object was tw^ofold: first,
to cause the militia to desert, and secondly to exhaust the
colony.

Accordingly, the rangers light infantry, and Highlanders
were sent out in all directions to waste the settlements
wherever resistance was offered. Farmhouses and villages
were laid in ashes, although the churches were generally
spared. Wolfe's orders were strict that women and children
were to be treated with honour. "If any violence is
u.. red to a woman the offender shall be punished with
death." These orders were obeyed, and except in one
instance none but armed men in the act of resistance were
killed.

;|i

iil'i

■fti ■

-?',.

316 With Wolfe in Canada

Vaudreuil in his dispatches home loudly denounced these
barbarities; but he himself was answerable for atrocities
incomparably worse and on a far larger scale, for he had
for years sent his savages, red and white, along a frontier
of 600 miles to waste, burn, and murder at will, and these,
as he was perfectly aware, spared neither age nor sex.
Montcalm was not to be moved from his position by the
sight of the smoke of the burning villages. He would not
risk the loss of all Canada for the sake of a few hundred
farmhouses. ^ ■ ■

Seeing the impossibility of a successful attack below the
town, Wolfe determined to attempt operations on a large
scale above it. Accordingly with every fair wind and tide
ships and transports ran the gauntlet of the batteries of
Quebec, and covered by a liot fire from Point Levi generally
succeeded with more or less damage in getting above the
town. A fleet of flat boats was also sent up, and 1200
troops marched overland under Brigadier Murray to em-
bark in them.

To meet this danger above the town Bougainville was
sent from the camp at Beauport with 1500 men. Murray
made another descent at Pointe-aux-Trembles, but was
repulsed with loss. He tried a second time at another
place, but a body of ambushed Canadians poured so heavy
a fire into the boats that he was forced to fall back again
with considerable loss.

His third attempt was more successful, for he landed at
Deschambault and burned a large building filled with
stores, and with all the spare baggage of the officers of
the French regular troops. Vaudreuil now regretted
having sent the French frigates up the river and with-
drawing their crews to work in the batteries. Had they
been kept just above the town they could have overpowered
the English vessels as they passed upi

-RttwaaMB^aKSaj^

amxm^MesmMnaiirUfievua

Quebec

317

The sailors were now sent up to man their ships again;
but Admiral Holmes, who had taken command of the ships
of war above Quebec, was already too strong for them,
and the sailors were recalled to Quebec. Both armies were
suffering. Dysentery and fever had broken out in the
English camp, and the number of effective men was greatly
reduced. Upon the other hand the French were suffering
from shortness of supplies. The English frigates above
the town prevented food being brought down from Montreal
in boats, and the difficulties of land carriage were very
great. = < •'•" ■.* * • '-,„■...-.' ■•/ ■/ ■ /,

The Canadians deserted in great numbers, and Mont-
calm's force had been weakened by the dispatch of Levis
to assist in checking the advance of Amherst. The latter
had captured Ticonderoga and Crown Point. Niagara
had also been taken by the English. Amherst, however,
fell back again, and Levis was able to rejoin Montcalm.
But the greatest misfortune which befell the English was
the dangerous illness of Wolfe, who, always suffering from
disease, was for a time utterly prostrate.

At the end of August, however, he partially recovered
and dictated a letter to his three brigadier-generals, asking
them to fix upon one of three plans which he laid before
them for attacking the enemy. The first was that the
army should march eight or ten miles up the Montrnorenci,
ford the river, and fall upon the rear of the enemy. The
second was to cross the ford at the mouth of the Mont-
rnorenci and march along the shore until a spot was found
where the heights could be climbed. The third was to
make a general attack from the boats upon Beauport.

Monckton, Townshend, and Murray met in consultation,
and considered all the plans to be hopeless ; but they pro-
posed that an attempt should be made to land above the
town, and so to place the army between Quebec and its base

't" 1*

I '

lli'^if '

' * '

i< ^

,< -I

f ; ?

>iii|^

iifai.«

f> f','^

II ' r

I' i ' ^ " '

3i3 With Wolfe in Canada

of supplies, thereby forcing Montcalm to fight or to sur-
render. The attempt seemed a desperate one, but Wolfe
determined to adopt it. He had not much hope of its suc-
ceeding, but should it not do so there was nothing for him
but to sail with his weakened army back to England.

He therefore determined at last to make the attempt,
and implored his physician to patch him up, so that he
could in person take the command.

♦•I know per':. Ay well that you cannot cure me," he
wrote ; ' ' but pray make me up so that I may be without
pain for a few days and able to do my duty. That is all I
want."

On the 3rd of September Wolfe took the first steps
towards the car y ag out of his plans by evacuating the
camp at MontCioreicI. '.fonicalm sent a strong force to
attack him p.3 he was moving, but Monckton at Point
Levi saw th;^ movei'ieat, ana -.^iharking two battalions in
boats made a feint of '«iudin£-; at C '^ aport. Montcalm re-
called his troops to repulse the threatened attack, and the
English were able to draw off from Montmorenci without
molestation. -^

On the night of the 4th a fleet of flat boats passed above
the town with the baggage and stores. On the 5th the
infantry marched up by land, and the united force of some
3600 men embarked on board the ships of Admiral Holmes.
The French thought that the abandonment of Montmorenci
and the embarkation of the troops was a sign that the
English were about to abandon their enterprise and sail
for England. Nevertheless, Montcalm did not relax his
vigilance, being ever on the watch, riding from post to
post, to see that all was in readiness to repel an attack.

In one of his letters at this time he mentioned that he
had not taken off his clothes since the 23rd of June. '

He now reinforced the troops under Bougainville above

- -1- ' '
'if I

-«i»i;»iW*t,J>C(

iggliilW(<.«-Wj«-»H'-a:gte;<*:-t: *^

Quebec

319

Quebec to 3000 men. He had little fear for the heights
near the town, believing them to be inaccessible, and that
a hundred men could stop a whole army. This he said
especially in reference to the one spot which presented at
least a possibility of being scaled. Here Captain de Vergor,
with a hundred Canadian troops, was posted.

The battalion of Guienne had been ordered to encamp
close at hand, and the post which was called Anse-du-
Foulon was but a mile and a half distant from Quebec.
Thus, although hoping that the English would soon depart,
the French, knowing the character of Wolfe, made every
preparation against a last attack before he started. ' •'

From the 7th to the 12th Holmes' fleet sailed up and
down the river, threatening a landing now at one point
and now at another, wearing out the French, who were
kept night and day on the gut vive, and were exhausted by
following the ships up and down so as to be ready to
oppose a landing wherever it might be made.

James Walsham's regiment formed part of Monckton's
brigade, and his colonel had frequently selected him to
command parties who went out to the Canadian villages,
as from the knowledge he had acquired of irregular war-
fare, he could be trusted not to suffer himself to be sur-
prised by the parties of Canadians or Indians, who were
always on the watch to cut off detachments sent out from
the British camp. There were still ten men in the regiment
who had formed part of his band on the lakes ; these were
drafted into his company, and whatever force went out they
always accompanied him.

Although James had seen much and heard more of the
terrible barbarities perpetrated by the Canadians and their
Indian allies on the frontier, he lamented much the necessity
which compelled Wolfe to order the destruction of Canadian
villages; and when engaged on this service, whether in

> 1 :!

320 With Wolfe in Canada

command of the detachment, or as a subaltern if more
than one company went out, he himself never superintended
the painful work ; but with his ten men scouted beyond the
village and kept a vigilant lookout against surprise.

In this way he had several skirmishes with the Canadians,
but the latter never succeeded in surprising any force to
which he was attached. Walsham and his scouts were
often sent out with parties from other regiments, and
General Monckton was so pleased with his vigilance and
activity that he specially mentioned him to General Wolfe,
at the same time telling him of the services he had performed
on the lakes and the very favourable reports which had
been made by Johnson, Monro, Lord Howe, and Aber-
cromby of the work done by the corps which he had
organized and commanded.

'* I wish we had a few more officers trained to this sort
of warfare," General Wolfe said. "Send him on board
the Sutherland to-morrow. I have some service which he
is well fitted to carry out."

James accordingly repaired on board the Sutherland zxiA
was conducted to the general's cabin. " General Monckton
has spoken to me in high terms of you. Lieutenant Wal-
sham, and he tells me that you have been several times
mentioned in dispatches by the generals under whom you
served ; and you were with Braddock as well as with John-
son, Howe, and Abercromby, and with Monro at the siege
of Fort William Henry. How is it that so young an officer
should have seen so much service?"

James informed him how, having been pressed on board
a man-of-war, he had been discharged, in accordance with
orders from home, and hearing that his friends were going
to obtain a commission for him in a regiment under orders
for America he had thought it best to utilize his time by ac-
companying General Braddock as a volunteer, in order to

Quebec

321

rn if more
jerintended
beyond the
rise.

Canadians,
ny force to
icouts were
ments, and
gilance and
leral Wolfe,
,d performed
J which had
, and Aber-
lich he had

I to this sort
im on board
rice which he

.therland and
al Monckton
itenant Wal-
jeveral times
jr whom you

LS with John-
at the siege

ing an officer

^ed on board

jrdance with

were going

mder orders

time by ac-

in order to

learn something of forest warfare; that, after that disastrous
affair, he, had served with Johnson in a similar capacity,
until on his regiment arriving he had been selected to drill
a company of scouts, and had served with them on the
lakes until the corps was broken up when the regiment
sailed for Canada.

" In fact you have seen more of this kind of warfare than
any officer in the army," General Wolfe said. ''Your
special services ought to have been recognized before. I
shall have you put in orders to-morrow as promoted to the
rank of captain. And now I am about to employ you upon
a service which, if you are successful, will give you your
brevet majority. There must be some points at which
those precipices can be climbed; I want you to find out
where they are. It is a service of great danger. You will
go in uniform, otherwise if caught you would meet with
the fate of a spy; but at the same time, even in uniform,
you would probably meet with but little mercy if you fell
into the hands of the Canadians or Indians. Would you be
willing to undertake such a duty?"

" I will try, sir," James said. " Do you wish me to start
to-night?"

"No," the general replied; "you had better think the
matter over, and let me know to-morrow how you had best
proceed. It is not an enterprise to be undertaken without
thinking it over in every light. You will have to decide
whether you will go alone or take anyone with you, when
and how you will land, how you will regain the ships.
Vou will, of course, have carte blanche in all respects."

After James had returned on shore he thought the matter
over in every light. He knew that the French had many
sentries along the edge of the river, for boats which at
night went over towards that side of the river were
always challenged and fired upon. The chance of landing

(887) Z\

'■1*

i;-^!'

.rf.:.:.:

'i!

322 With Wolfe in Canada

undetected, therefore, seemed but slight; nor, even did he
land, would he be likely at night to discover the paths,
which could be little more than tracks up the heights.
' Had he been able to speak Canadian French the matter
would have been easy enough, as he could have landed
higher up the river and, dressed as a Canadian farmer,
have made his way through the French lines without sus-
picion. But he knew nothing of French, and even had he
spoken the language fluently there was sufficient difference
between the Canadian French and the language of the old
country for the first Canadian who spoke to him to have
detected the difference. Nor could he pass as an Indian;
for although he had picked up enough of the language to
converse with the redskin allies of the English on the lakes,
the first Indian who spoke to him would detect the differ-
ence; and, indeed, it needed a far more intimate acquain-
tance with the various tribes than he possessed for him to
be able to paint and adorn himself so as to deceive the vigi-
lant eyes of the French Indians.

Had his two followers, Nat and Jonathan, been with him
they could have painted and dressed him so that he could
have passed muster, but in their absence he abandoned the
idea as out of the question. The prospect certainly did not
seem hopeful.

After long thought it seemed to him that the only way
which promised even a chance of success would be for him
to be taken prisoner by the French soldiers. Once fairly
within their lines half the difficulty was over; he had learned
to crawl as noiselessly as an Indian, and he doubted not
that he should be able to succeed in getting away from any
place of confinement in which they might place him. Then
he could follow the top of the heights, and the position of
the sentries or of any body of men encamped there would
in itself be a guide to him as to the existence of paths to

Quebec

'he strand below Th. e . " ^'^

How sh,„,<, „^ manage to ;et''h"",^'"' "'°'' *«<=>"«.

He was inhigh sp"rL''for w'" **"' ""^ '° "" ^«M*r&W
"'captain and as appoint, a'"'."" "'" "PP*"™'' " o^'
o° the headquarterVstaff A ''"'''"''"*™^^'«^-ffenerII
-e Jhanfced hi. for tre'';;o ^oVor "^ '"^ ^-rarfcr„'

;aid,- "ther^reTo'thar/r" ""^ ''^^■■■'•" ">« renera.
'"ought out a p,a„?° "■'"'"' ""« '<> "ie. Now. have ^ou

^r-^::^.:t^^:i^^r'- - pe^eived

'"^'^ taken prisoner by the Frl 1 ^^^* °^ «•««'"& him-

s:rs' -'' "'- -^' -r -otr rrr "-i

UD, . ^ ^ Chance of

"'«t of course remaTn a d1 ' ^"^ '" '"at case, sir I

;~ -- p'<^rXe':L'pr:h°: ^°"t ^^ -- p-

f°" do not mean to land Ifv T ™ '" ^°''''' ^"^ where

wet "° f ^ '^"^'-^ 'o y^urT'tfr """"' ^'-
*ere I taken prisoner anywher/tT ""*""°''s. whereas
'"ould naturally redoublHr • • °''^ ">« shore, thev
fuess that I was lookl' f'tT/'^''«"ce, - 'hey U Jd

'T^'^-" . . ^ '°'"^ '"^^ °f ''seending the

" % '"-r,?;?.":: .•r j;^':-^" Woire as^ed.

if;

334

With Wolfe in Canada

position there. We should of course be speedily dis-
covered, and would then retreat to the boats. I should
naturally be the last to go, and might well manage to be
cut oflF."

"Yes," Wolfe replied, "but you might also, and that
far more easily, manage to get shot. 1 don't think that
would do, Captain Walsham; the risks would be twenty
to one against your escaping being shot. Can you think
of no other plan?"

"The only other plan that I can think of," James said,
"might involve others being taken prisoners. I might
row in towards Cap Rouge in broad daylight as if to
examine the landing-place, and should of course draw
their fire upon the boat. Before starting I should fire
two or three shots into the boat close to the water line
and afterwards plug them up with rags, then when their
fire became heavy I should take the plugs out and let the
boat fill. As she did so I could shout that I surrendered,
and then we could drift till we neared the shore in the
water- logged boat, or swim ashore, I can swim well
myself, and should, of course, want four men who could
swim well also picked out as the crew."

"The plan is a dangerous one," Wolfe said, "but less
so than the other."

"One cannot win a battle without risking life, sir,"
James said quietly. "Some of us might, of course, be
hit, but as we risk our lives whenever we get within range
of the enemy I do not see that that need be considered ; at
any rate, sir, I am ready to make the attempt if the plan
has your approval." '

" I tell you frankly. Captain Walsham, that I think your
chances of success are absolutely nil. At the same time
there is just a faint possibility that you may get ashore
alive, escape from the French, discover a pathway, and

peedily dis-
i. I should
Hnage to be

lo, and that
t think that
J be twenty
n you think

James said,
5. I might
ht as if to
ourse draw

should fire
'■ water line

when their
and let the
urrendered,
hore in the

swim well

who could

, **but less

f life, sir,"

course, be

within range

isidered; at

if the plan

Quebec

bring' me the news • a„rf .. ^^ ' ^^^

wimmers, i„ the second place 1' " "'^ "■"»' "egood

^>e. '"ra; w:,^: f "^ '?^ '""«" ""-"- "y .he
™ ^ Jone is for a whoTet'"' ' ^"^ ""= °"'^ -^^ it

promotion." he concluded "^ ""'"' ""^ ""^ship^'an earj
. Very well, general • r i,

»•» and a midshipman Ji^T. "° 1°'"" ' can find fou^
«pec.ally as if yo^ succ!^'"! ^ ]^T'' '°' '"« "^aT
*ort one. When will the atteLrr""""""' «'"' be a
J "If you can drift ud ,h. • P' ''* '"«''«?"
Wore daylight," Jan,es safd Z" "' "" "^ ^ap Roug-e
'»»k .from the general, ' wt wi., ?*' *" ■•" «"<l"irine
;°™»?. I should sa; th^tr^ ^''"""P' '" '"-'"orrow

'fit •■::-■

326

With Wolfe in Canada

if I was trying to obtain a close view of it in the early
morning."

"The sooner the better," General Wolfe said; "every
day is of importance. But how do you propose to get
back again, that is supposing that everything goes well?"

" I propose, general, that I should conceal myself some-
where on the face of the heights. I will spread a hand-
kerchief against a rock or tree so that it will not be seen
either from above or below, but will be visible from the
ships in the river. I caucot say, of course, whether it will
be near Cap Rouge or Quebec; but if you will have a
sharp lookout kept through a glass as the ships drift up
and down you are sure to see it, and can let me know that
you do so b' dipping the ensign. At night I will make
my way dow.' to the shore, and if at midnight exactly you
will send a boat for me I shall be ready to swim off to her
when they show a lantern as they approach the shore. Of
course I cannot say on what day I may be in a position to
show the signal, but at any rate if a week passes without
your seeing it you will know that I have failed to make my
escape, or that I have been killed after getting out."

^-Aki

H If
If -'.
H > 1

* V' .

'v^;

ida

' it in the early

fe said; "every
propose to get
ing goes well?"
;al myself some-
spread a hand-
ivill not be seen
i^isible from the
, whether it will
^ou will have a
e ships drift up
it me know that
l^ht I will make
Ight exactly you
swim off to her
I the shore. Of
in a position to
passes without
lied to make my
ting out."

CHAPTER XIX "^

A Dangerous Expedition

The details of f h-

•"« captain l.fttrZiTtunT'''"'' '"'"^ '"us arranged
'» and fro on the quartldecVS r' *"* '""^ P«ced
">e boatswain and directed Wn, To i I ' "^^P""" ^«« f°'
could swim well and wlo wTrl ^'^.^ »"* f""^ "«» who
desperate service. " ' "^dy to volunteer for

oWsLi''„;'S;dtaThL" H^^'" J^-"- -- a naval
*ough more%han four'l^s had T"^""'"' ''™ ■"^'aX
^«en him. He at once steo-H ^^"^ ''"'' ""e had J
. "How are you, LiLtlnTnt H '°'' "" "'"arterdeck.
™- we last Ud rthrSr " '^ ^ '""^ «"•«
Horton would have refi,../?u

ad already injured him's^fl '"irr""'" '"""'' """-e
"«« by his outburst of iS^r^ 1° 'h* ^J'e'' of the
'hook hands and said colZ^ ^ ''^^""' James, so he

' temporary eclipse. Thlt two ^ ' ?"' '"«' '^as only
;- a sort of interlude fo ^ch r*" ^""' '"^ ""^'^
«ad ,t not been for my gettinrint. L ™ "'"'''^ ""ankful.
'should have been at Cofe ° ° ^' """^^""^ ^C'-ape
P'ocfce as a doctor instead of t "'°'"'"* commencing
-ajesty's service." ^^ °^ "^'"S a captain in hi!

The words were n/.t i • ' ' ' '

''-- Whata;-l:tt^-7-Horton.s

naa he mter-

i...;

]£'

..V*

hi hi

328

With Wolfe in Canada

'U'

fered on James Walsham's behalf — and a word from him
saying that James was the son of a medical man and was
assuredly mixed up in this smuggling affair only by acci-
dent — he would have been released. He had not spoken
that word, and the consequence was he had himself fallen
into bad odour with the squire, and James Walsham, in-
stead of drudging away as a country practitioner, was an
officer of rank equal to himself, for he as second lieutenant
in the Sutherland ranked with a captain in the army.

Not only this, but whenever he went to Sidmouth he
had heard how James had been mentioned in the dis-
patches and how much he was distinguishing himself.
Everything seemed to combine against him. He had
hated James Walsham from the day when the latter had
thrashed him and had acted as Aggie's champion against
him; he had hated him more when he found Aggie in-
stalled as the squire's heiress, and saw how high James
stood in her good graces, and that he had been taken up
by the squire.

He had hoped that he had gained the advantage over
him when he had come back a naval officer, while James
was still a schoolboy and had kept aloof from the house
while he devoted himself to the young heiress. Every-
thing had seemed going on well with his plans until the
very circumstance which at the time seemed so opportune,
namely, the pressing James as a seaman on board the
ThetiSt had turned out so disastrous. The letter in which
he had suffered his exultation to appear had angered the
squire, had set Mrs. Walsham and her friend the ex-
sergeant against him, and had deeply offended Aggie-
It had, too, enabled the squire to take instant measures I
for procuring James's discharge, and had now placed thej
latter in a position equal to his own.

James, on his part, did not like Richard Hortoni but hei

KMi

A Dangerous Expedition 329

telt no active animosity against him. He had got the
best of it iu that first quarrel of theirs, and although
he had certainly felt very sore and angry at the time
Richard was staying at the Hall and seemed to have
taken his place altogether as Aggie's friend, this feeling
had long since died away, for he knew from the letters
of Mr. Wilks that Aggie had no liking whatever for
Richard Horton.

"You were at Sidmouth in the spring, I heard," he said;
**you found my mother looking well, I hope?"

"Yes, I was there a fortnight before we sailed," Richard
said. " I think she was looking about as usual."

For a few minutes they talked in a stiff and somewhat
constrained tone, for Richard could not bring himself to
speak cordially to this man whom he regarded as a dan-
gerous rival. Presently the captain came up to them.

** I have picked four volunteers for your work, Captain
Walsham. They were somewhat surprised at first to find
that they were required for a bout in a French prison ; but
sailors are always ready for any harebrained adventure,
and they made no objection whatever when I explained
what they would have to do. Next to fighting a French-
man there's nothing a sailor likes so much as taking him
in. Young Middleton goes in command of the boat ; he is
a regular young pickle, and is as pleased at the prospect
as if a French prison were the most amusing place in the
world. He knows, of course, that there will be some con-
siderable danger of his being shot before he is taken
prisoner; but I need hardly say that the danger adds to
the interest of the scheme. It's a risKy business you have
undertaken. Captain Walsham, terribly risky; but if you
succeed you will have saved the expedition from turning
out a failure, and we shall all be under obligations to you
for the rest of our lives,"

1^ I

il4t'

i I f

I'l ?

■*i .'

M' !

330 With Wolfe in Canada

** Has Captain Walsham told you what he is under-
taking, Mr. Horton?"

"No, sir."

" He is going to get taken prisoner in the gig in order
that he may, if possible, give the French the slip again,
find out some way down that line of cliffs, and so enable
the general to get into the heart of the French expedition.
It is a grand scheme, but a risky one. The chances are a
hundred to one against you, Captain Walsham.*'

••That is just what the general said," James replied
with a smile. •• I don't think myself there are more than
five to one against me ; but even if they were a thousand
it would be worth trying, for a thousand lives would be
cheaply sacrificed to ensure the success of this expedition."

"There are not many men who would like to try it,"
the captain said. •• I say honestly I shouldn't myself.
Anything in the nature of duty, whether it's laying yqur
ship alongside a Frenchman of twice her weight of metal,
or a boat expedition to cut out a frigate from under the
guns of the battery, I should be ready to take my share
in ; but an expedition like yours, to be carried out alone,
in cold blood and in the dark, I should have no stomach
for. I don't want to discourage you, and I honour your
courage in undertaking it; but I am heartily glad that
the general did not propose to me instead of to you to
undertake it."

•'You would have done it if he had, sir," James said,
smiling, ''and so would any officer of this expedition. I
consider myself most highly honoured in the general en-
trusting me with the mission. Besides, you must remem-
ber that it is not so strange to me as it would be to most
men. I have been for tour years engaged in forest war-
fare, scouting at night in the woods, and keeping my ears
open to the slightest sound which might tell of a skulking

tiiiiinM

under-

in order
p again,
o enable
pedition.
ces are a

s replied
lore than
thousand
would be
pedition."
o try it,"
t myself.
ying your

of metal,
[under the

my share

lut alone,
stomach

lOur your
I glad that

to you to

les said,
lition. I
bneral en-
^t remem-
to most
Irest war-
my ears
skulking

A Dangerous Expedition 331

redskin being at hand. My eyes have become so accus-
tomed to darkness, that, although still very far short of
those of the Indians, I can see plainly where one unaccus-
tomed to such work would see nothing. I am accustomed
to rely upon my own senses, to step noiselessly, or to
crawl along on the ground like an Indian. Therefore,
you see, to me this enterprise does not present itself in
the same light as it naturally would to you."

** You may make light of it," the captain said, " but it's
a dangerous business, look at it as you will. Well, if you
go through it safely. Captain Walsham, you will be the
hero of this campaign."

Late in the afternoon the tide turned, and the vessels
began to drift up the river. The four sailors had of course
mentioned to their comrades the service upon which they
were about to be engaged. The captain had not thought
it necessary to enjoin secrecy upon them, for there was no
communication with the shore, no fear of the knowledge
spreading beyond the ship; besides, the boat had to be
damaged, and this alone would tell the sailors when she
was lowered in the water that she was intended to be
captured. A marine was called up to where the captain's
gig was hanging from the davits, James pointed out a
spot just below the water line, and the man, standing a
yard or two away, fired at it, the ball making a hole
through both sides of the boat. Another shot was fired
two or three inches higher, and the four holes were then
plugged up with oakum.

All was now in readiness for the attempt. James dined
with Captain Peters, the first lieutenant and four officers of
the general's staff being also present, General Wolfe him-
self being too ill to be at table, and Admiral Holmes having
early in the morning gone down the river to confer with
Admiral Saunders.

■' . K'

If-ih:

if '

I %'

' If I

1 M

f
T

.1,5- f ■

33a

With Wolfe in Canada

" I drink good health and a safe return to you, Captain
Walsham, for our sake as well as yours. As a general
thing, when an officer is chosen for dangerous service he
is an object of envy by all his comrades; but for once I
do not think anyone on board would care to undertake
your mission."

" Why, sir, your little midshipman is delighted at going
with me. He and I have been chatting the matter over,
and he is in the highest glee."

** Ah I he has only got the first chance of being shot at,"
Captain Peters said. "That comes in the line of duty,
and I hope there isn't an officer on board a ship but would
volunteer at once for that service. But your real danger
only begins when his ends. By the way," he asked, as,
after dinner was over, he was walking up and down the
quarterdeck talking to James, '* have you and Lieutenant
Horton met before? I thought you seemed to know each
other when I came up, but since then I have noticed that
while all the other officers of the ship have been chatting
with you he has kept aloof."

** We knew each other at home, sir," James said, ** but
we were never very good friends. Our acquaintanceship
commenced when we were boys with a fight. I got the
best of it, and Horton has never, I think, quite forgiven
me." .>' '■■' '■'■.:■•

" I don't like the young fellow," Captain Peters said
shortly. " I know he was not popular in the ThettSf and
they say he showed the white-feather out in the East. I
wouldn't have had him on board, but the first lord asked
me as a personal favour to take him. I have had no
reason to complain of him since he joined, but I know that
he is no more popular among my other officers than he
was in the Thetis,"

*' I never heard a word against him, sir," James said

shot at,"
of duty,
)ut would
il danger
Lsked, as,
down the
lieutenant
:now each
►ticed that
p chatting

aid, *' but
tanceship
I got the
forgiven

A Dangerous Expedition 333

earnestly. "His uncle, Mr. Linthorne, has large estates
near Sidmouth, and has been the kindest friend to me and
mine. At one time it was thought that Horton would be
his heir, but a granddaughter, who had for years been
missing, was found; but still Horton will take, I should
think, a considerable slice of the property, and it would
g^rieve the squire terribly if Horton failed in his career.
1 think it's only a fault of manners, sir, if I may say so,
and certainly I myself know nothing whatever against him."

" I don't know," Captain Peters replied thoughtfally.
"Just before I sailed I happened to meet an old friend,
and over our dinner I mentioned the names of my officers.
He told me he knew this Mr. Linthorne well, and that
Horton had gone to sea with him for the first time as a
midshipman, and that there was certainly something queer
about him as a boy, for Linthorne had specially asked him
to keep his eye upon him, and had begged him frankly to
let him know how he conducted himself. That rather set
me against him, you know."

" I don't think that was anything," James urged. *' I
do not much like Horton, but I should not like you to
have a false impression of him. It was a mere boyish
affair, sir — in fact it was connected with that fight with
me. I don't think he gave a very strictly accurate account
of it, and his uncle, who in some matters is very strict,
although one of the kindest of men, took the thing up and
sent him away to sea. Horton was certainly punished
severely enough for that stupid business without its count-
ing against him afterwards."

•' I like the way you speak up in his defence, Captain
Walsham, especially as you frankly say you don't like him,
and henceforth i will dismiss the affair fiom my mind, but
I should say that he has never forgiven it, although you
may have done so."

'4>

With Wolfe in Canada

't f

!« 1 ■. ^

t ,

KM7 ^if! Tl

"That's natural enough," James laughed, "because I
came best out of it."

To Richard Horton the news that James Walsham was
about to undertake a desperate enterprise, which, if he
succeeded in it, would bring him great honour and credit,
was bitter in the extreme, and the admiration expressed
by the other officers at his courage in undertaking it added
to his anger and disgust. He walked moodily up and
down the quarterdeck all the afternoon to think the
matter over, and at each moment his fury increased.
Could he in any way have put a stop to the adventure he
would instantly have done so, but there was no possible
way of interfering. ,, > ;

The thought that annoyed him most was of the en-
thusiasm with which the news of the successful termination
of the enterprise would be received at Sidmouth. Already,
as he knew, Aggie regarded James as a hero, and the
squire was almost as proud of his mention in dispatches
as if he had been his own son ; but for this he cared but
little. It was Aggie's good opinion Richard Horton de-
sired to gain. James Walsham still thought of her as the
girl of twelve he had last seen, but Richard Horton knew
her as almost a woman, and although at first he had re-
solved to marry her as his uncle's heiress he now really
cared for her for herself.

On the visit before James had left home Richard had felt
certain that his cousin liked him ; but since that time he
had not only made no progress, but he felt that he had
lost rather than gained ground. The girl was always
friendly with him, but it was the cool friendliness of a
cousin, and somehow Richard instinctively felt James
Walsham was the cause.

In vain he had angrily told himself that it was absurd to
suppose that his cousin could care for this fellow, whom

fti^^

, "because I

iValsham was
which, if he
ir and credit,
on expressed
king- it added
odily up and
:o think the
'y increased,
adventure he
s no possible

s of the en-
il termination
h. Already,
ero, and the
n dispatches
he cared but
'■ Horton de-
of her as the
iiorton knew
It he had re-
B now really

Iiard had felt
that time he
that he had
was always
dliness of a
felt James

IS absurd to
How, whom

A Dangerous Expedition ,„

she had only cpp„ ^^ ^^5

content to st'op aL^ fZT^:' ""^ '^"^ "^-^ "een
her for weeks. Still, though he toW h' ""t'!''" e° '"^'
"e knew that it was so. When th^. "^ " *"' ""*"'<».
to turn upon ;«„,, ^^ seldo ' , . *""^"'°" '''PPened
K-chard knew that it was „o° fro ° h "/ ""'' '" '"' "ut
subject. There was a soft flushTn '""''^T'''^' "'' *° ">•
her eyes, which he had never L J. "''"''"• « "ff"" ''»
2"y ^'™e he had ground his tee"th •," ''" "P= «""
"-^ squ-re and Mr. Wilks we e dt •"'"" "^^ *'""'
ce.ved in James's last letter T^'^'"^ "'^ "ews re-
"•at ere ,o„^ t,, .omtuTfr7''T''"^ ""='' ""P^''

Although by no means f„^H J ^°'"^" *«'-"«.
Richard felt that he would ^1? ""^"""t^""? danger,
» th the man he regarded as^hu''- '","='' "" °P«" O'^^^'^l
adog-for in those'^days duels "'" "*"' '"'°°' ^im like
occurrence-but there iJ ™ "*"«" of everyday

«>e present Junctur:? and mor"""^^ "' '"'"^ '^^ 't

iqe^:£rt:^-?;ES^'4^j^^^

'he gig was lowered LT, ^°"' ^^°'^ daybreak

Ud wishes and h^a^y ffre^:?,?^ T'^''"'"'^' -'d many

"7'-« in her by the's d Tfthe mTd h-^ '""'''^' '°°k

Look out for my signal "1. •?'''"P'"*°- !'
hay you may see'itT"' "' ^'"'- "^ny time after
I tVe will see if 'f ' ' '•

N". who had come rdTct'to' "^ ^'" '^'^ "-« <=aP-
h fear about that. If you m'/fc '"" °'^- "I>°'^'

you make your signal you

f^m^

336

With Wolfe in Canada

Mi'

^Jl!> ,.

[ \

may rely upon it our boat will be ashore for you that
night."

Another moment and the boat pulled away from the side
of the ship.

"Take it easy, lads," young Middleton said, "only just
dip your oars in the water. We have but three miles to
row with the stream, and don't want to be there till the
day begins to show." ,

The oars had been muffled, and noiselessly the boat
dropped down the stream until she neared Cap Rou§;e,
then they rowed in towards the French shore.

The day was just beginning to break in the east as they
neared the spot where the French camp was situated, it
stood high up on the plateau; but there were a small
number of tents on the low ground by the river, as some
batteries had been erected here. They were but two
hundred yards from the shore when a French sentry
challenged. They gave no answer, and the soldier at
once fired. 1 < •*• v ,

" Keep about this distance out," James ordered. " Row ;
quietly. I will stand up as if I were watching the shore."

As soon as the shot was fired it was answered by shots!
from other sentries. A minute later a drum was heard to
beat sharply, and then in the faint light a number ofi
French soldiers could be seen running at full speed towards
the shore. The shots fell thickly round the boat, and onel
of the men dropped his oar as a bullet struck him on the]
shoulder. ,;,v , ^.t , -

" Pull out the plugs," James said. • • « v

The oakum was pulled out and thrown overboard, and]
the water rushed in. ^ ., . >.

" Now turn her hea- from the shore, as if we were try^
ing to escape." So rap.^iy did the water rush in through
the four holes that in a minute the gunwale was nearly

for you that

from the side

id, "only just

three miles to

there till the

ssly the boat
Cap Rouge,
jre.

e east as they
situated. It
were a small
iver, as some
;^ere but two
''rench sentry
he soldier at

ered. "Row
g: the shore."
ered by shots]
was heard to |
a number of]
peed towards
boat, and one]
k him on the

A Dangerous Expedition

'•vel with the water. ..Turn h ^^'

a"d ,n a moment the boat was uo', T*"";""' " J*""" »aid.

as he boat was seen to up^ t a"?^" ^^'^ ^o-" the sLf

Swim towards the shor» J !• ^""S a' once ceased

'he youn^ midshipman t?d'"' fr' """"^ "eforeyou":
"ow, and we have finished the first''' """"'' "^"^ «"^ "-ore

slow"; ."^ "'' "<"" "ofo'-e hem hf " °' °"^ ""»!"««• "
^'owly towards the shore ,tr,^' '"*"' """de their wav
"e'ow the point where the'vh"?'"^ ""= '""^ half a m^e

-«^-s the cause o?^n?£r%-:St^^

your men are better shots th» ? "' °^ *«•■'" he said-
-d he p„i„,,, ^^ the hofes t ' ^r '"«■" "edit fo ,"
E-ffhsh, but the officer gTelsl. h ' ""'• "« ^P°''e n
, Some of the Indians fnd r J? '"*^'""^-
"•f down, and with an^"^^;"^''-''"^ -""n came flock,
prisoners should be TJ^J^"'^' demanded thatTh.
'hem off, and placed citron' "' """<='' "mJt'J^',
"ound them to prevent their b!^ ^"""^ °^ his own me„
Jhe young midshipman '00^'°"'=''*'"'^ 'he Indians
"leeD specially selected ( T^ ^'^""^ fluently hj;"

■' had been agre " tt/en ,r'''''t "" """ ~ ^uf
;<" betray his know ^e of Thel ^'"^ '"«' he should
*e-by pick up informatbn which mirf' '' "« --^ht
"-ere at <,„^^ conducted before Z -^ , ^^ "^e"''- They
Do you speak French?" h ^°"«^""""^- , ^

Jamesshookhishead T^ ""'"''•

*'.i, 'H

1 i

338

With Wolfe in Canada

around him, "that they came in to reconnoitre the land-
ing-place, and thought in the dim light they could run the
gauntlet of our sentries' fire. It was more accurate than
they gave them credit for."

** The boat was struck twice, you say?"

** Yes, general," the officer who conducted them into
the tent replied; " two balls right through her, and one of
the men was hit on the shoulder."

" The reconnaissance looks as if Wolfe meant to attempi
a landing here," Bougainville said. "We must keep a
sharp lookout. I will send them un to Quebec for the
general to question them. He will find someone there
who speaks the'r language. I will send at once to tell
him we have captured them. But I can't very well do so
till we have a convoy going with regulars to guard it. If
they were to go in charge of Canadians the chances of
their arriving alive in Quebec would be slight. Let the
sailors be placed in a tent in your lines, Chateaudun, and
place a sentry over them to see that the Indians don't get
at them. The two officers can have the tent that Le Boeuf
gave up yesterday; you can put a sentry there, but they
can go in and out as they like. There is no fear of their
trying to escape ; for if they once went outside the lines of
the regulars the Indians and Canadians would make short
work of them." ^^ 'v ,■

The officer led James and the midshipman to a tent in
the staff lines, whose owner had ridden to Quebec on the
previous night with dispatches, and motioned to them
that it was to be theirs. He also made signs to them thai
they could move about as they chose; but significantly
warned them by a gesture that if they ventured beyond the
cents the Indians would make short work of them.

For a time the prisoners made no attempt to leave
tent, for the Indians stood scowling at a short distance 0.

t*:.

A Dangerous Expedition „„

English. Very likely they are nr°"' "'.''° """^'^'ands
y us that we are whh them rit"""^ ""= ''""' ^""^
"no who can speak to us bJt J''*^.''™'"'''' ""^ '" "o
™„eo„e standing, oatsid/l-owl"^ 't'' '"-« -a^ "«
"^y- Then raising his voice h. ^ '*'*" '° "hat we
aWe luck / have! Who could r°°' " ^^at abomj
boat being hit twice at that d statlp T^" "P°" '"e
faTly succeeded. The general wmh- "'°"^'" *<= had
he finds we don't come Lk " '" " ""^ ^^^ "hen

'^■'e'y t:';'^rdtrw[„t:t'o':^"'' '° «''-'' «>« w. are
" <^ England. , an, half „ "i^eTto" t"" ^"f" ''«'*-'' "

"Nonsense I" James repltd .. v "^ ?'' "<=»?«'"
""nk of such a thing. S ' ,'ndl " """•'" "* "'a"""- 'o
»"d the moment yfu put your fonT ''" '" '" '"e dark,
'hese French regulars youUuM /r outside the lines of

"rlt rrt:„e^rrrre°S ^ -^^^ "" '^''-

officers, and comTr aMe ^eaTs' V°"'"^ "^ '"« ''-"ch
evenmg they went outside The' nf? "'"^l""''- '" «he
i'^ not venture to go far tr ^ ^ ' ""»« *™e. but

s~'r. - :£ er? -«' «" ct:s

ville was rio-Ki- : ► -

>'<^e- "The look of those TnT ' •'^'"^' '^'^ »'" a

tiiose Indians would be qu.Jte

low

li'*'

. ! 1

;|(

Jl.rt)

iJii'

"Iv

,i '

1-31

1 ■

!'■ ''I

^1/
I''

I),
li

■

340

With Wolfe in Canada

sufficient to prevent anyone from attempting it under
ordinary circumstances. It is well that my business will
take me down the river towards Quebec, while they will
make sure that I shall have made up the river with a view
of making my way off to the ships the next time they go
up above Cap Rouge."

'* It will be risky work getting through them," the mid-
shipman remarked; "but all the same I wish 1 was going
with you instead of having to stick here in prison."

"It would be running too great a risk of spoiling my
chance of success," James said. " I am accustomed to
the redskins, and can crawl through them as noiselessly
as they could themselves. Besides, one can hide where
two could not. I only hope that when they find I have
gone they won't take it into their heads to revenge my
escape upon you."

"There is no fear of that," the midshipman said. " I
shall be sound asleep in the tent, and when they wake me
up and fmd you ate gone I shal! make a tremendous fuss,
and pretend to be most indignant that you have deserted me."

The two prisoners had eaten but little of the meals
served to them that day, putting the greater portion aside
and hiding it in the straw which served for their beds, in
order that James might take with him a supply, for it
might be three or four days before he could be taken off
by the ships' boats.

"I suppose you won't go very far to-night?" the mid-
shipman said suddenly.

"No," James replied; "I shall hide somewhere along
the face of the cliff, a mile or so away. They are not
likely to look for me down the river at all ; but if they do
they will think I have gone as far as I can away, and the
nearer I am to this place the safer."

"Look here," the midshipman said. "1 am going

:v »

t?" the mid-

l am going I 'hen

A Dangerous Expedition

*'"ctly to obey orders- h . **'

Po-iWe that sLefht; ^"' t ''' ^-- '™e it is just

know, or that might marei." "^ "'^' ^°" ""ffht to
for instance ( i,. j . ™* "'"nt to bolt «.

"^ both r;hl 2 ""•" ^"^ "''" they mtnt t'^r^'
if« 1 "'ornme— it's „„* i:, , -^ ""=*n' to shoot

'ts always as well to be n„ J^'^' y°" ''""w; still
happen-if so, I should c'awl „T'. '°' ^"^'^^^ "ih '
;7 alon^ after you. Andl^ f ^""^ ^"^ "'^ke my
edge and sometimes givftwo ,i ,.' f^^" '^""^ "'ong the

'•Don-rH'"%^°" afsZ: me!""' "'"''"^'' '"'^ '"isf and

L.ont be foolish, Middleton " i
you would only risk your iffl "L •'"•'"" "^''^ "^^onsly.
of that sort. There can't be tvl^'M ''^ '"^ """^n^
"hould want to go away. Vol uf '"' ''=''^°'' *''y you
'h-^out, knowing that you would h ""^'='-''"'en to carry
a prisoner for some time anrt i^ -^"^ ^^'^""P' to remain
-f ^keep to the planst;, dotn"^,"'"*^ '■"<^««^''- CT.

James insistedf ''but IZTZ f""""^. ^""''i turn up,"
of any mad-brained attempt of "1^- """^ ^"^ ^° thbk
off your shoes, and you Zst ^T'''"^' ^°" ™"^t take
■me as gently as if the g" un/ ^°" '"°°' <'°>vn each
or .f you were to tread fZt T"' '°'"'"' ^''^ nafls;

possibly oo^oftr ;t w^d T'- ^° ^°- - d

.. " "" ™idnight before thedl. ^^""""^•"
-James Walsham .uietl; l^CdT *f ir^"'- -^

; '''(:• it.

'^l

! !

r,',,

of th

e pegs 0/

i ,

y.tj sit J

r^i;

I' y;

Mi'
i^ 'I > ■

¥,

342 With Wolfe in Canada

the canvas at the back of the tent, and with a warm grasp
of the midshipman's hand crawled out. The lad listened
attentively, but he could not hear the slightest sound.
The sentinel was striding up and down in front of the
tent, humming the air of a French song as he walked.
Half an hour passed without the slightest stir, and the
midshipman was sure that James was by this time safely
beyond the enemy's camp.

He was just about to compose himself to sleep when he
heard a trampling of feet. The sentry challenged, the
password was given, and the party passed on towards
the general's tent. It was some thirty yards distant, and
the sentry posted there challenged. "I wonder what's
up?" the midshipman said to himself; and lifiing the
canvas he put his head out where James had crawled
through. The men had halted before the general's tent,
and the boy heard the general's voice from inside the tent
ask sharply, '< What is it?"

"I regret to disturb you, Monsieur le General; but we
have here one of the Canadian pilots who has swam ashore
from the enemy's fleet higher up the river, and who has
important news for you."

The midshipman at once determined to hear what
passed. He had already taken off his shoes ; and he now
crawled out from the tent, and moving with extreme
caution made his way round to the back of the general's
tent, just as the latter, having thrown on his coat and
lighted a candle, unfastened the entrance. The midship-
man, determined to see as well as hear what was going
on, lifted up the flap a few inches behind, and as he lay
on the ground peered in. A French officer had just
entered, and he was followed by a Canadian, whom the
midshipman recognized at once as being the one who
piloted the Sutherland up and down the river.

[i::U-

m'i

— , ^

rm grasp
i listened
it sound.
It of the
J walked.
, and the
me safely

) when he
inged. the
n towards
istant, and
der what's
litiing the
id crawled
eral's tent,
de the tent

•al; but we

ram ashore

id who has

A Dangerous Expedition 343

"Where do you come from?" Bougainville asked.

** I swam ashore two hours ago from the English ship
Sutherlandy^* the Canadian said.

" How did you manage to escape?"

** I would have swam ashore long ago, but at night I
have always been locked up, ever since I was captured, in
a cabin below. To-night the door opened quietly, and
someone came in and said:

"'Hush! — can you swim?'

*' ' Like a fish,' I said.

*' 'Are you ready to try and escape if I give you the
chance?'

•* ' I should think so,' I replied.

" 'Then follow me, but don't make the slightest noise.'

" I followed him. We passed along the main-deck,
where the sailors were all asleep in their hammocks. A
lantern was burning here, and I saw by its light that my
conductor was an officer. He led me along till we entered
a cabin — his own, I suppose. ' Look,* he whispered,
' there is a rope from the porthole down to the water. If
you slide quietly down by it and then let yourself drift till
you are well astern of the ship the sentry on the quarter-
deck will not see you. Here is a letter, put it in your
cap. If you are fired at, and a boat is lowered to catch
you, throw the paper away at once. Will you swear to
do that?' I said I would swear by the Virgin. * Very
well,' he went on; 'if you get away safely and swim to
shore, make your way without a minute's delay to the
French camp at Cap Rouge and give this letter to the
general. It is a matter of the most extreme importance.'
This is the letter, general."

He handed a small piece of paper, tightly folded up, to
Bougainville, who opened it and read it by the light of the
candle-

>1 ^i

■ i ■ !

.IC

l#i

t I

\ '.

344

With Wolfe in Canada

He gave a sharp exclamation.

"Quick!" he exclaimed; "come along to the tent of
the prisoners. I am warned that the capture was a ruse,
and that the military officer is a spy, whose object here is
to discover a landing-place. He is to escape the first
opportunity."

The three men at once ran out from the tent. The in-
stant they did so the midshipman crawled in under the
flap, rushed to the table on which the general had thrown
the piece of paper, seized it, and then darted out again
and stole quietly away in the darkness. He had not gone
twenty yards when a volley of angry exclamations told
him that the French general had discovered that the tent
was empty.

The night was a dark one, and to prevent himself from
falling over tent ropes the midshipman threw himself down
and crawled along on his hands and knees, but he paused
before he had gone many yards and listened intently. 1 he
general was returning to his tent.

'* It is no use doing anything to-night," he said. ** Even
an Indian could not follow the track of a waggon. At
daybreak, Major Dorsay, let the redskins know that the
prisoners have escaped, and offer a reward of fifty crowns
for their recapture, dead or alive — I care not which. Let
this good fellow turn in at the guard tent. I will talk to
him in the morning. Goodnight!"

The midshipman kept his eyes anxiously on the dim
light that could be faintly seen through the tent. If the
general missed the paper he might guess that it had been
taken by the fugitives, and might order an instant search
of the camp. He gave a sigh of relief when he saw the
light disappear the moment the French officer had entered
the tent, and then crawled away th*'0ugh the camu.

ic tent of
as a ruse,
jct here is
J the first

. The in-
under the
lad thrown
out again
d not gone
ations told
lat the tent

imself from
imself down
t he paused .
ently. The

lid. ** Even

aggon. At

w that the

|fifty crowns

hich. Let

will talk to

m the dim
bnt. If the
tt had been

tant search
|he saw the

kad entered

CHAPTER XX

The Path down the Heights

As the midshipman crawled away from the tent of the
French general he adopted the precautions which James
had suggested, and felt the ground carefully for twigs or
sticks each time he moved. The still glowing embers of
the camp fires warned him where the Indians and Cana-
dians were sleeping, and carefully avoiding these he made
his way up beyond the limits of the camp. There were no
sentries posted here, for the French were perfectly safe
from attack from that quarter, and once fairly beyond
the camp the midshipman rose to his feet and made his
way to the edge of the slopes above the St. Lawrence.
He walked for about a mile, and then paused on the very
edge of the sharp declivity and whistled as agreed upon.

A hundred yards further he repeated the signal. The
fourth time he whistled he heard just below him the
answer, and a minute later James Walsham stood beside
him.

•'You young scamp, what are you doing here?"

" It was not my fault, Captain Walsham, it wasn't
indeed; but I should have been tomahawked if I had
stayed there a moment longer."

"What do you mean by you would have been toma-
hawked," James asked angrily, for he was convinced that
the midshipman had made up his mind all along to accom-
pany him.

•'.,.

1 ,„ !

I ,,•.!

|J!

*<^l:>

'¥.

346

With Wolfe in Canada

" The pilot of the Sutherland swam ashore with the
news that you had been taken prisoner on purpose, and
were really a spy."

"But how on earth did he know that?" James asked.
•' I took care the man was not on deck when we made
the holes in the boat, and he does not understand a word
of English, so he could not have overheard what the men
said."

*' I am sorry to say, sir, that it is a case of treachery,
and that one of our officers is concerned in it. The man
said that an officer released him from his cell, and took
him to his cabin, and then lowered him by a rope through
the porthole."

•• Impossible!" James Walsham said.

"It sounds impossible, sir; but I'm afraid it isn't, for
the officer gave him a note to bring to the general, telling
him all about it, and that note I have got in my pocket
now."

The midshipman then related the whole circumstances of
his discovery.

" It is an extraordinary affair," James said. ** However,
you are certainly not to blame for making your escape
when you did. You could not have got back into your
tent till too late; and even could you have done so it
might have gone hard with you, for of course they would
have known that you were what they would call an accom-
plice in the affair."

" I will go on if you like, sir," the boy said, "and hide
somewhere else^ so that if they track me they will not iliid
you."

" No, no," James said, " I don't think there's any fear
of our being tracked. Indian eyes are sharp; but they
can't perform miracles. In the forest it would be hope-
less to escape them, but here the grass is short and the

with the
DOse, and

es asked.
we made
id a word
t the men

treachery,

The man

, and took

pe through

it isn't, for

eral, telling

my pocket

mstances of

** However,
our escape
into your
done so it
they would
11 an accom-

••and hide
rill not liad

's any fear

; but they

id be hope-

)rt and the

The Path down the Heights 347

ground dry, and without boots we cannot have left any
tracks that would be followed, especially as bodies of
French troops have been marching backwards and for-
wards along the edge of these heights for the last fort-
night. I won't say that it is impossible that they can
find us, but it will not be by our tracks. Now, come
down to this bush where I was lying, we will wait there
till daylight breaks ; it is as far down as I dare go by this
light, but when we can we will find a safer place further
down."

Cautiously they made their way down to a clump of
bushes twenty feet below the edge, and there, lying down,
dozed until it became light enough to see the ground.
The slope was very steep, but bushes grew here and
there upon it, and by means of these and projecting
rocks they worked their way down some thirty feet lower,
and then sat down among some bushes which screened
them from the sight of anyone who might be passing
along the edge of the river, while the steep slope effec-
tually hid them from anyone moving along above.

"Is there any signature to that letter?" James asked
presently.

The midshipman took the piece of paper out and looked
at it.

"No, there is no signature," he said; "but I know the
handwriting. I have seen it in orders over and over again."

James was silent a few minutes.

"I won't ask you who it is, though I fear I know too
well. Look here, Middleton, I should like you to tear
that letter up and say no more about it."

" No, sir," the boy said, putting the paper in his pocket,
" I can't do that. Of course I am under your orders for
this expedition; but this is not an affair in which I con-
sider that I am bound to obey you. This concerns the

'"■f!

I i>,

■ i
I

i^^

ii* ■ /

I- T :n;/

348

With Wolfe in Canada

honour of the officers of my ship, and I should not be
doing my duty if I did not, upon my return, place this
letter in the hands of the captain. A man who would
betray the general's plans to the enemy would betray the
ship, and I should be a traitor myself if I did not inform
the captain. I am sorry, awfully sorry, that this should
happen to an officer of the Sutherland \ but it will be for
the captain to decide whether he will make it public or
not. There is one thing, if it was to be anyone 1 would
rather that it was he than anyone else, for there isn't a
man on board can abide him. No, sir, I am sorry, but
I cannot give up the letter, and even if you had torn it
up when you had it in your hand just now I should have
reported the whole thing to the captain, and say I could
swear to the handwriting."

James was silent. The boy was right, and was only
doing his duty in determining to denounce the act of
gross treachery which had been perpetrated. He was
deeply grieved, however, to think of the consequences
of the discovery, and especially of the dIow that it would
be to the squire to hear that his nephew was a traitor,
and indeed a murderer at heart, for had not his flight taken
place before the discovery was made he would certainly
have been executed as a spy.

The day passed quietly. That the Indians were search-
ing for him far and wide James Walsham had no doubt,
and indeed from their hiding-place he saw several parties
of redskins moving along on the river bank carefully
examining the ground.

*' It's lucky we didn't move along there," he said to his
companion, *'for the ground is so soft that they would
assuredly have found our tracks. I expect that they
think it possible that we may have been taken off in a
boat during the night."

•:|P*

not be
ace this
) would
tray the
t inform
s should
n be for
jublic or

1 would
e isn't a
9rry, but
d torn it
)uld have
y I could

was only

he act of

He was

sequences

t it would

a traitor,

tght taken

certainly

Ire search-
|no doubt,
pal parties
carefully

laid to his

Ley would

(that they

off tn a

The Path down the Heights 349

** I hope they will keep on thinking so," the midshipman
said, "then they will give up looking for us."

"They won't do that," James replied; "for they will
be sure that they must have seen our tracks had we passed
along that muddy bank. Fortunately they have no clue
to where we really are. We might have gone east, west,
or north, and the country is so covered with bush that
anything like a regular search is absolutely impossible."

" I hope we ain't going to be very long before we get
on board again," the midshipman said, as he munched
the small piece of bread James served out to him for his
dinner. "The grub won't last more than two days, even
at this starvation rate, and that one bottle of water is a
mockery, I could finish it all straight off". Why, we shall
be as badly off as if we were adrift at sea in a boat."

" Not quite so bad," James replied; "we can chew the
leaves of some of these bushes; besides people don't die
of hunger or thirst in four days, and I hope before that to
be safely on board."

Not until it was perfectly dark did they leave their
hiding-place, and by the aid of the bushes worked their
way up to the top of the ascent again. James had im-
pressed on his companion that on no account was he to
speak above a whisper, that he was to stop whenever he
did, and should he turn of!' and descend the slope, he was
at once to follow his example. The midshipman kept
close to his companion, and marvelled how assuredly the
latter walked along, for he himself could see nothing.

Several times James stopped and listened. Presently he
turned off to the right, saying " hush!" in the lowest pos-
sible tone, and proceeding a few paces down the slope,
noiselessly lay down behind the bush. The midshipman
imitated his example, though he wondered why he was so
acting, for he could hear nothing. Two or three minutes

r,.;

:' I

1,-1

ISO

With Wolfe in Canada

later he heard a low footfall, and then the sound of men
speakin'^ in a low voice in some strange tongue, lie
could not see them, but held his breath as they were
passing. Not till they had gone some minutes did James
rise and pursue his course.

••Two Indians," he said, "and on the search for us.
One was just sayii '^ to the other he expected when they
got back to camp to find that some of the other parties
had overtaken us."

Another mile further and they saw the light of several
fires ahead.

••That is a French battery," James said; ''we must
make a detour and get to the other side of it, then I
will crawl back and see if there is any path down to the
river."

The detour was made, and then leaving the midshipman
in hiding a few paces from the edge James crawled back.
He soon saw by the fires that the battery was manned by
sailors from the French fleet, and he had little fear of
these discovering him. Keeping well below them he came
presently upon a narrow path. Above him he could hear
a French sentry nalking. He followed the path down
with the greatest caution, stepping with the most extreme
care to avoid displacing a stone. He found the path was
excessively steep and rugged, little more indeed than a
sheep track. It took him half an hour to reach the
bottom, and he found that in some places sappers had
been lately at work obliterating the path, and that it
could scarcely be considered practicable for men hampered
with their arms and ammunition. Another half- hour's
work took him to the top again, and a few minutes later
he rejoined his companion.

•'That won't do," he said ; " we must try again. There
is a path, but the troops could scarcelv climb it if un-

If '•

of men
ic. He
ey were
d James

I for us.
hen they
r parties

if several

we must
t, then I
ivn to the

dshipman
;led back,
rianned by
\e fear of
n he came
:ould hear
ath down
t extreme
path was
ed than a
reach the
ipers had
id that it
hampered
lalf- hour's
utes later

There
it if un-

The Path down the Heights 351

opposed, and certainly could not do so without making
such a noise as would attract the notice of the sentinels
above."

"That is the battery they call Sillery," the midshipman
said; "they have fired at us over and over again from
there as we went up or down the river. There is another
about a mile further on; it is called Samos."

Upon reaching the Samos battery James again crept
up and reconnoitred. The way down, however, was even
more difticult than at Sillery. There was indeed no regular
path, and so steep was the descent that he doubted whether
it would be possible for armed men to climb it. Even he,
exceptionally strong and active as he was and unencum-
bered with arms, had the greatest difficulty in making
his way down and up again, and indeed could only do
so by grasping the trunks of trees and strong bushes.

*' It can't be done there," he said to the midshipman
when he joined him again. "And now we must look
for a hiding-place; it must have been five or six hours
since we started, and the nights are very short. At
any rate we cannot attempt another exploration before
morning."

" I wish we could explore the inside of a farmhouse and
light upon something to eat and drink," the midshipman
said.

"It's no use wishing," James replied; "we can't risk
anything of that sort, and probably all the farmhouses
are full of troops. We have got a little bread left, that
will hold us over to-morrow comfortably."

"It may hold us," Middleton said; "but it certainly
won't hold me comfortably. My idea of comfort at the
present time would be a round of beef and a gallon of
ale."

•'Ah! you are an epicure," James laughed. "If you

I' I

i^ii

» ' '

352

With Wolfe in Canada

tin

had had three or four years of campaigning in the forest,
as I have had, you would learn to contant yourself on
something a good deal less than that."

" I might," the boy said; " but I have my doubts about
it. There's one comfort, we shall be able to sleep all day
to-morrow, and so I sha'n't think about it. As the Indians
did not find our tracks yesterday they are not likely to do
so to-day."

They were some time before they found a hiding-place,
for the descent was so steep that they had to try several
t'mes before they could get down far enough to reach a
spot screened by bushes and hidden from the sight of any-
one passing above. At last they did so, and soon lay
down to sleep, after partaking of a mouthful of water
each and a tiny piece of bread. They passed the day
for the most part in sleep, but the midshipman woke
frequently, being now really parched with thirst. Each
time he chewed a few leaves from the bush in which
they were lying, but derived but small comfort from it.

"It's awful to think of to-morrow," he said as evening
approached. *' Even supposing you find a way down to-
night it must be midnight to-morrow before we are taken
off."

" If I find a way down," James said, ** I will, if possible,
take you down with me, and then we can take a lon^'
drink at the river ; but at any rate I will take the bottlii
down with me and bring it up full for you. The next
place to try is the spot where we saw some tents as we
went up the river. There is no battery there, and the
tents can only have been pitched there because there
was some way down to the water. It cannot be more
than half a mile away, for it was not more than a mile
from Fort Samos."

"Can't I go with you?" the midshipman said, "I will

\e forest,
urself on

bts about
jp all day
»e Indians
icely to do

iing-place,
ry several
Lo reach a
rht of any-
1 soon lay
1 of water
;d the day
iman woke
irst. Each
[) in which
[rt from it.
as evening
ly down to-
are taken

if possible,
ike a long
the bottle
The next
lents as we
le, and the
lause there
J)t be more
Ihan a mile

lid, "I wi»l

" Hli SAW SKVKRAI- PAKTIKS OF RKDSKINS MOVING ALONH ON TIIK

KIVKR BANK "

'i'r

The Path down the Heights 3„

be as quiet as a cat • r,n^ -r ^ ^^^

come up to (etcuL^lnZT 'L'' " ^""^ P^'" -'"
nsk of being seen." ' ^°" '''^^ ^''"^ will be a treble

"Very well," ja^es agreed- ■.„„■ • .
stone rolling or break a tS' „ ^ '"""'^ "'^ y°" '*'' a

™-dshipn,an said confidentr""!!'/^" .^f^ '' ' -"'V the
->-- once of the water below there. /' "'^ "°' '° ""■'"'

fo^ether they creot ca„t;„ . f "^ ""' '° hurry."
"%e until they' caZ to a XI r^ ""= ^"^'^ °' '"e
As they approached they couW^ u""" '''''««" '^nts.
■res that the encampmem wa „ " rV"= "^'" "f 'he
J-^es had not intended to move T '"r^'"''" '™°Ps.
: sleep, but the men were ^1 T.l '^"'"'"'^ "«" ^H were
.t d.d not seem to him that a sent 'T h™""" ""^ "^O"- «"d
on the edge of the descent He th'.^f" ''' ^^ "«*=" P'aced
once, followed closely by he mid r°'' ""P' ''"^a'-d a.
as possible down beyond Clpr^f'TT' ''^^P-ff as far
he came to a path; he s,w T f""=^"'- '''•'^sently

different from the mhe ' t """' "'"' ">'" '^as very
gradually down the fa^^^f the'h"^"'^'''^ ■=«' ^'op'"^
w.de enough for a cart to p'sV 7 ''"""'• ="'^ -as
"'ay down it, „,ovi„„ „; ° P^"" "« at once took his
sentry should be noftT e^atest caution, lest ,

-y dark, for i: Z^y ZZ tlT ''"'''■ " -'
About halfway down he suddenit "'' '""' °^^^''^ad.

"''^'^;st::;:strrk::nd'::v;,^%-'-'' ■•- « whisper..

- 'he other side. F„rna^ J"^^ ^ Tf " ?' ''^'^

(say) ^ ^^^ »ire so far down ihe

;f'l

!!"':.i

■•!;';:

,«■

354

With Wolfe in Canada

P;t

hUl now that there is not much risk of their hearing any
slight noise we might make. You stand here till I find
out what's on the otiier side."

James climbed over the breastwork and cautiously let
himself go on the other side; he fell some five or six
feet.

♦•Come on," he said in a low voice; "lower yourself
down by your arms, I can reach your legs then."

The gap cut in the path was some ten feet across and
six feet deep. When with some difficulty they clambered
up on the other side they found the path obstructed by a
number of felled trees, forming a thick abattis. They
managed to climb the steep hillside and kept along it
until past the obstruction, then they got on to ^ne path
again and found it unbroken to the bottom.

"So far, so good," James said. "Now do you stop
here while I crawl forward to the water. The first thing
to discover is whether they have a sentinel stationed any-
where near the bottom of this path."

The time seemed terribly long to Middleton before James
returned, though it was really but a few minutes.

"All right!" he said as he approached him; "there is
no one here, though I can hear some sentries farther up
the river. Now you can come forward and have a drink,
fortunately the river is high."

After having satisfied their thirst Middleton asked :
"Where are you going now? I don't care how far we
have got to march, for after that drink I feel ready for
anything."

" It won't do to hide anywhere near," James said; " for
if the boat which comes to take us off were to be seen it
would put them on their guard, and there would be plenty
of sentries about here in future. No, we will keep alouj;
at the foot of the precipice till we are about halfway, as

ve or SIX

^rst thiriL''

The Path down the Heights

far as we can tell h., -^'^^g^HCS 355

^- -iii clinch uo\sTT ^^"^°^ ^"^ Siilery and th

^'■§-"al in the Z ^^ ^" ^« ^an .-et and u ^"

, II / ^ niornine-' hnf „ *> ^"° show our

";^"^. for as I told you there T "'"'' ''' '='"«f"' as we

; Tl.ere is ^oTL"^^ IZ'J^ rT" "" -'dsWpman said
dari. without boots not "e^L IfT "^"^'"^ -"' ut 1„ t fe"
"Sa-nst a rock just now Z;,^"'^"'- ' ''""clced my toe
"Ot to halloa. , wi„ be ca "f Tf' "' '""^'' «» ' c°"ld do
An hour's walicing brought m "'""' ' <="" '«" you ••

:z IT. ''-' --P "han'u tr. ';: r-' '^'"^- "■"i'"'

'ney g-ained a spot some fift„ r ^^ '='""''«d up until
"ver and there'sat Zn^ tlTV!!' '^'"" ' "
As soon as it's daylight „, T^ "'^ ''"^''es.

Tide will be low In o V obtained.

to Ijeep a shai-o I i James replied ■ "fi,„

Presentl fh ' ^°'' ''• " ^ "'"''' ""'^

-''e Ships wcre^s::'n\rh:isftf "' ^"^ '^'^ - "our later
drop slowly up the river m T'' """ '""'" "e Jn to
asj_ened his handkerchief aS^ the^'t ''T°'"='"=^ ^^ -
°Pe.. .0 vew f.on, the river !1h,- """^ "^ » ""ee well

""' °" '"^ -pp'oachin;:;,;:' "z^T'ir'' "- «=.-'

P • J "SI as the ^«//«.,^„^

«l'';.

K'.'

r «*Tr|:?

356

With Wolfe in Canada

came abreast of the spot where they were standing the
ensign was dipped. James at once removed his handker-
chief.

•* Now," he said, '• Middleton, you can turn in and take
a sleep; at twelve o'clock to-night there will be a boat
below for us."

Two or three hours after darkness had fallen James and
his companion made their way down the slope and crawled
out to the water's edge. There was no sentry within hear-
ing, and they sat down by the edge of the river until sud-
denly a light gleamed for an instant low down on the water
two or three hundred yards from the shore.

They at once stepped into the river, and wading out for
some little distance struck out towards where they had
seen the light. A few minutes' swimming and they saw
something dark ahead, another few strokes took them
alongside, and they were hauled into the boat. The slight
noise attracted the attention of a sentry some little distance
along the shore, and his gut vive casne sharp across the
water, followed a few seconds later by the flash of his gun.

The crew now bent to their oars, and a quarter of an
hour later the boat was alongside the Sutherland^ which
with her consorts was slowly drifting up the stream.
General Wolfe and the admiral were on deck and anxiously
waiting the arrival of the boat. The former in his anxiety
hailed the boat as it approached.

'* Is Captain James Walsham on board?"

** Yes, sir," James replied.

*' Bravo, bravo!" the general cried, delighted. *' Bravo!"
he repeated, seizing James Walsham's hand as he stepped
on deck. " I did not expect to see you again. Captain
Walsham, at least until we took Quebec. Now, come to
my cabin at once and tell me all about it. But perhaps
you are hungry."

Ik.

12 the
ndker-

id take
a boat

leb and
crawled
in hear-
itil sud-
fje water

r out for
hey had
they saw
ok them
'he slight
; distance
cross the

his gun.
iter of an
nd, which
stream,
[anxiously

is anxiety

• Bravo!
le stepped

Captain
I, come to

perhaps

The Path down the Heights 357

"I am rather hungry, general," James said quietly;
"we have had nothing to eat but a crust of bread for three
days."

"We? who are we?" the general asked quickly.

" Mr. Middleton and myself, sir. He escaped after I had
left, and joined me."

"The galley fires are out," the admiral said, "but you
shall have some cold meat in my cabin instantly."

James was at once led to the cabin, where in two or
three minutes food and a bottle of wine were placed before
him. The general would not allow him to speak a word
till his hunger was satisfied. Then when he saw him lay
down his knife and fork he said :

"Now, Captain Walsham, in the first place, have you
succeeded — have you found a practicable path down to the
river?"

" I have found a path, sir. It is cut in one place and
blocked with felled trees, but the obstacles can be passed.
There are some Canadians in tents near the top of the
path, but they seem to keep a very careless watch, and no
sentry is placed at the bottom or on the edge of the river
anywhere near."

"Admirable, admirablii!" Wolfe exclaimed. "At last
there is a chance of our outreaching Montcalm. And you
were not seen examining the path? nothing occurred to
excite their suspicion and lead th^^m to keep a better look-
out in future?"

"No, sir," James replied, "they have had no suspicion
of my presence anywhere near. The spot where I was
taken off was two miles higher. I moved away in order
that if we were seen swimming off to the boat no suspi-
cion should occur that we had been reconnoitring the
pathway."

"That is right," the general said. "Now tell me the

jf;'*™!

358

With Wolfe in Canada

p: -

i 'l

■ 'i^

1
1

|fr-

whole story of what you have been doing, in your own
way."

James related his adventures up to the time when he was
joined by the midshipman.

"But what made Mr. Middleton escape?" the admiral
asked. " I thought that his instructions were precise that
he was to permit himself to be taken prisoner, and was to
remain quietly in Quebec until we could either exchange
him or take the place."

'*That was how he understood his instructions, sir,"
James said; "but I would rather that you should question
him yourself as to his reasons for escaping. I may say
they appear to me to be perfectly valid, as an occurrence
took place upon which it was impossible for Captain Peters
to calculate when he gave them." James then finished the
report of his proceedings, and General Wolfe expressed his
great satisfaction at the result.

•' I will put you in orders to-morrow for your brevet-
majority," he said, " and never was the rank more honour-
ably earned."

The admiral rang a handbell.

•' Send Mr. Middleton to me. Where is he?"

*• He is having supper in Captain Peters' cabin."

' * Ask Captain Peters if he will be good enough to come
in with him."

A minute later Captain Peters entered, followed by the
midshipman.

** I suppose, Peters, you have been asking young Middle-
ton the reason why he did not carry out his instructions?"

" I have, admiral," Captain Peters said gravely, "and I
was only waiting until you were disengaged to report the
circumstance to you. He had better tell you, sir, his own
way."

Captain Peters then took a seat at the table, while the

lur own

I he was

admiral
cise that
d was to
ixchange

ins, sir,"
question
may say
ccurrence
lin Peters
lished the
ressed his

ur brevet-
^e honour-

Ih to come
fed by the

ig Middle

ictions

<' and I
report the

-, his own

while l^ie

The Path down the Heights 359

midshipman related his story in nearly the same words in
which he had told it to James. When he told of the
account the Canadian pilot had given of his escape the
admiral exclaimed:

" But it seems altogether incredible. That someone has
unbolted the man's cabin from the outside seems manifest,
and it is clear that either gross treachery or gross careless-
ness enabled him to get free. I own that although the
sergeant of marines declares positively that he fastened
the bolts, I think that he could not have done so, for
treachery seems almost out of the question. That an
officer should have done this seems impossible; and yet
what the man says about the cabin and being let out by a
rope would seem to show that it must have been an officer."

** I am sorry to say, sir," Middleton said, " that the man
gave proofs of the truth of what he was saying. The
officer, he said, gave him a paper, which I heard and saw
the general reading loud. It was a warning that Captain
Walsham had purposely allowed himself to be captured,
and that he was, in fact, a spy. The French officer in his
haste laid down the paper on the table when he rushed
out, and I had just time to creep under the canvas, Leize
it, and make off with it. Here it is, sir; I have shown it
to Captain Peters."

The admiral took the paper and read it, and handed it
without a word to General Wolfe.

"That is proof conclusive," he said. "Peters, do you
know the handwriting?"

"Yes," Captain Peters said gravely. "I recognized it
at once, as did Mr. Middit;ton. It is the handwriting of
Lieutenant Horton."

" But what on earth could be the motive of this unhappy
young man?" the admiral asked.

" I imagine, sir, from what I saw on the evening before

'It.

Ilk

360

With Wolfe in Canada

)

4'.^

1 '

Captain Walsham set out, and indeed from what Captain
Walsham said when I questioned him, that it was a case
ot private enmity against Captain Walsham."

" Is this so, Captain Walsham?" General Wolfe asked.

" I have no enmity against him, sir," James said,
"though I own that his manner impressed me with the
idea that he regarded me as an enemy. The fact is we
lived near each other as boys, and we had a fight. I got
the best of it. He gave an account of the affair, which
was not exactly correct, to his uncle, Mr. Linthorne, a
wealthy landowner and a magistrate. The latter had me
up at the justice-room; but I brought forward witnesses
who gave their account of the affair. Mr. Linthorne con-
sidered that his nephew — whom he had at that time re-
garded as his heir — had not given a correct account, and
was so angry that he sent him to sea. I would say, sir,"
he said earnestly, "that were it possible I should have
wished this unhappy affair to be passed over."

** Impossible!" the admiral and general said together.

"I fear it is impossible now, sir," James said gravely;
" but it might have been stopped before."

" Captain Walsham wanted me to tear up the note," the
midshipman put in ; *' but though I was awfully sorry such
a thing should happen to an officer of the Sutherlxnd, i was
obliged to refuse to do so, as I thought it was my duty to
hand the note to you."

•'Certainly it was, Mr. Middleton," the admiral said.
"There can be no question about that."

** I wonder that you even suggested such a thing,
Captain Walsham," the general remarked. "This was
not a private affair. The whole success of the enterprise
was jeopardized."

"It was, sir," James said quietly; "but you must re-
member that at the time I asked Mr. Middleton to tear

'4j. ■ >:

The Path down the Heights 361

up the note it had ceased to be jeopardized, for I had
got fairly away. I am under great obligations to Mr.
Linthorne, and would do much to save him pain. I re-
garded this act not as one of treason against the country,
but as one of personal enmity to myself, and I am sure
that Lieutenant Horton himself did not think of the harm
that his letter might do to the cause, but was blinded by
his passion against me."

** Your conduct does credit to your heart, Captain Wul-
sham, if not to your head," General Wolfe said.

The admiral rang the bell. "Tell Lieutenant Horton
that I wish to speak to him, and order a corporal with
a file of marines to be at the door."

The messenger found Lieutenant Horton pacing the
quarterdeck with hurried steps. On the receipt of the
message, instead of going directly to the admiral's cabin,
he ran down below, caught something from a shelf by his
berth, placed it in the breast of his coat, and then went to
the admiral's cabin. The corporal with the two marines
had already taken his station there. The young otticer
drew a deep breath and entered.

A deadly fear had seized him from the moment he saw
the signal of James Walsham, although it seemed impos-
sible to him that his treachery could have been discovered.
The sudden summons at this hour of the night confirmed
his fears, and it was with a face almost as pale as death
that he entered the cabin.

"Lieutenant Horton," the admiral said, "you are accused
of ha/ing assisted in the escape of the pilot who was our
prisoner on board this ship. You are further accused of
releasing him with the special purpose that the plans
which General Wolfe had laid to obtain information might
be thwarted."

"Who accuses me?" Richard Horton asked. "Captain

[;?,
I»'''

362

With Wolfe in Canada

Walsham is my enemy ; he has for years intrigued aj^ainst
me and sought to do me harm. Ho was the companion
of smugglers, and was captured by the Thetis^ and had
the choice of being sent to prison and tried for his share
in the killing of some of the coastguards, or of going
before the mast. I was a lieutenant in the Thetis at the
time, and I suppose because I did not then interfere on
his behalf he has now trumped up this accusation ag.iinsl
me, an accusation I defy him to prove."

"You are mistaken, Lieutenant Horton," the admiral
said. "Captain Walsham is not your accuser; nay more,
he has himself committed a grave dereliction of duty in
trying to screen you, and by endeavouring to destroy the
principal evidence against you. Mr. Middleton overheard
a conversation between the Canadian pilot and the French
general, and the former described how he had been libe-
rated by an English officer, who assisted him to escape by
a rope from the porthole in his cabin."

"I do not see that that is any evidence against me,"
Richard Horton said. " In the first place, the man may
have been lying ; in the second place, unless he mentioned
my name, why am I suspected more than any other officer?
And even if he did mention my name, my word is surely
as good as that of a Canadian prisoner? It is probable
that the man was released by one of the crew — some man,
perhaps, who owed me a grudge — who told him to say
that it was I who freed him, in hopes that some day this
outrageous story might get about."

"Your suggestions are plausible, Mr. Horton," the ad-
miral said coldly. " Unfortunately it is not on the word
of this Canadian that we have to depend. There, sir," he
said, holding out the letter; "there is the chief witness
against yoi. Captain Peters instantly recognized your
handwriting, as Mr. Middleton had done before him."

The Path down the Heights 363

Richard Morton stood gazing speechlessly at the letter.
So confounded was he by the unexpected production of
this fatal missive that he was unable to utter a single word
of explanation or excuse.

'* Lay your sword on the table, sir," the admiral said,
"and retire to your cabin, where you will remain under
close arrest till a court martial can be assembled."

Richard Horton unbuckled his sword and laid it on the
table, and left the cabin without a word.

•* It would have been better to send a guard with him,"
Captain Peters said; **he might jump overboard or blow
his brains out."

"Quite so, Peters," the admiral said; "the very thing
that was in my mind when I told him to retire to his cabin
—the very best thing he could do for himself and for the
service. A nice scandal it would be to have to try and
hang a naval officer for treachery. I am sure you agree
with me, general?"

"Thoroughly," the general said; "let him blow his
brains out or deu^rt ; but you had best keep a sharp look-
out that he does not desert at present. After we have once
effected our landing, I should say keep as careless a watch
over him as possible; but don't let him go before. It is
bad enough that the French know that Captain Walsham
went ashore for the purpose of discovering a landing-place;
but it would be worse were they to become aware that he
has rejoined the ships, and that he was taken off by a boat
within a couple of miles of the spot where we mean to
land."

The admiral was right. Richard Horton had, when
summoned to the cabin, hastily placed a pistol in his
bosom with the intention of blowing out his brains should
he find that the discovery he dreaded had been made.
Had the marines posted outside the cabin been ordered to

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3^4

With Wolfe in Canada

accompany him, he would at once have carried his purpose
into execution ; but finding himself free, he walked to his
cabin, still determined to blow out his brains before morn-
ing; but the impulse once past, he could not summon up
resolution to carry his resolve into effect. He would do
it, he said to himself, before the court martial came on.
That would be time enough. This was the decision he
arrived at when the morning dawned upon him lying de-
spairing in his cot.

V''1

■<'*

1*1

CHAPTER XXI

The Capture of Quebec

On the day on which he received James's report Wolfe
issued his orders for the attack. Colonel Burton at Point
Levi was to bring up every man who could be spared to
assist in the enterprise, and that officer accordingly marched
to the spot indicated for embarkation after nightfall with
1 200 men.

As night approached, the main fleet, under Admiral
Sau Inrs, belo^v Quebec, ranged itself opposite Beauport,
and opt-n A a tremendous cannonade, while the boats were
lowered a.id filled with sailors and marines. Montcalm,
believing that the movements of the English above the
town were only a feint, and that their main body was still
below it, massed his troops in front of Beauport to repel
the expected landing.

To Colonel Howe of the Light Infantry was given the
honour of leading the little party who were to suddenly
attack Vergor's camp at the head of the path. James
Walsham, knowing the way, was to accompany him as
second in command. Twenty-four picked men volunteered
to follow them. Thirty large troop boats and some boats
belonging to the ships were in readiness, and 1700 men
took their places in them.

The tide was still flowing, and the better to deceive the
French tb'' "^'essels and boats were allowed to drift upwards
for a little distance as if to attempt to efifect a landing

a«6

366

With Wolfe in Canada

'If Ik -

iSi

above Cap Rouge. Wolfe had that day gained sonie
intelligence which would assist him to deceive the enemy,
for he learned that a number of boats laden with provisions
from Quebec were coming down with the tide.

Wolfe was on board the Sutherland. He was some-
what stronger than he had been for some days, but felt
a presentiment that he would die in the approaching battle.
About two o'clock the tide began to ebb, and two lanterns
— the signal for the troops to put off — were shown in the
rigging of the Sutherland. Fortune favoured t!ie English.
Bougainville had watched the vessels until he saw them
begin to drift down again with the stream, and think-
ing that they would return again with the flood, as
they had done for the last seven days, allowed his weary
troops to retire to their camp. The battalion of Guienne,
instead of encamping near the heights, had remained on
the St. Charles; and Vergor, an incapable and cowardly
officer, had gone quietly to bed, and had allowed a number
of the Canadians under him to go away to their village to
assist in getting in the harvest.

For two hours the English boats drifted down with the
stream. As they neared their destination they were sud-
denly challenged by a French sentry. An officer who
spoke the language replied, " France."

"A quel regiment?"

" De la reine," the officer replied, knowing that a part
of that regiment was with Bougainville. The sentry, be-
lieving that they were the expected provision boats,
allowed them to pass on.

A few hundred yards further another sentry challenged
them. The same officer replied- in French, "Provision
boats. Don't make a noise; the English will hear us."
A few minutes later the boats rowed up to the strand at
the foot of the heights. Vergor had placed no sentry on

provisions

The Capture of Quebec 367

thr shore, and the troops landed unchallenged. Guided
by James Walsham, Colonel Howe, with his twenty-four
volunteers, led the way. As silently as they could they
moved up the pathway until they gained the top and saw
before them the outline of the tents. They went at them
with a rush. Vergor leaped from his bed and tried to run
off, but was shot in the heel and captured. His men,
taken by surprise, made little resistance. One or two
were caught, but the rest fled.

The main body of the troops were waiting for the most
part in the boats by the edge of the bank. Not a word
was spoken as the men listened almost breathlessly for a
sound which would tell them whether the enterprise had
succeeded. Suddenly the stillness was broken by the
musketry on the top of the heights, followed by a loud
British cheer. Then all leapt from the boats, and each
man, with his musket slung at his back, scaled the rocks
as best he might. The narrow path had been made im-
passable by trenches and abattis, but the obstructions
were soon cleared away, and the stream of soldiers poured
steadily up.

As soon as a sufficient number had gained the plateau
strong parties were sent off to seize the batteries at Samos
and Sillery, which had just opened fire upon the boats and
ships. This was easily done, and the English footing
on the plateau was assured. As fast as the boats were
emptied of the men they rowed back to the ships to fetch
more, and the whole force was soon on shore. The day
began to break a few minutes after the advanced troops
had gained the heights, and before it was fairly daylight
all the first party were drawn up in line ready to resist
attack ; but no enemy was in sight. A body of Canadians
who had sallied from the town on hearing the firing, and
rnoved along the strand towards the landing-place, had

368

With Wolfe in Canada

been quickly driven back, and for the present no other
sign of the enemy was to be seen.

Wolfe reconnoitred the ground, and found a suitable
place for a battle at a spot known as the Plains of
Abraham, from a pilot of that name who had owned a
piece of land there in the early days of the colony. It was
a tract of grass, with some cornfields here and there,
and studded by clumps of bushes. On the south it was
bounded by the steep fall down to the St. Lawrence; on
the north it sloped gradually down to the St. Charles.

Wolfe led his troops to this spot and formed them in
line across the plateau and facing the city. The right
wing rested on the edge of the height along the St.
Lawrence, but the left did not extend far enough to reach
the slopes down to the St. Charles. To prevent being out-
flanked on this wing Brigadier Townshend was stationed
here with two battalions drawn up at right angles to the
rest and facing the St. Charles. Webb's regiment formed
the reserve, the 3rd battalion of Royal Americans were left
to guard the landing, and Howe's light infantry occupied
a wood far in the rear of the forc6 to check Bougainville
should he approach from that direction. Wolfe with his
three brigadiers commanded the main body, which, when
all the troops had arrived, numbered less than three
thousand five hundred men.

Quebec was less than a mile distant from the spot where
the troops were posted in order of battle, but an inter-
vening ridge hid it from the sight of the troops. At six
o'clock the white uniforms of the battalion of Guienne,
which had marched up in hot haste from their camp on
the St. Charles, made their appearance on the ridge and
halted there awaiting reinforcements. Shortly afterwards
there was an outbreak of hot firing in the rear, where the
lig-ht troops under Colonel Howe repulsed a detachment of

no other

suitable
Plains of
owned a
It was
nd there,
th it was
rence; on
Charles.
I them in
rhe right
r the St.
\ to reach
being- out-
stationed
les to the
nt formed
were left
occupied
[ugainville
with his
ch, when
an three

)ot where
Ian inter-
At six
iGuienne,
[camp on
|dge and
Iterwards
^here the
iment of

The Capture of Quebec 369

Bougainville's command which came up and attacked them.
Montcalm had been on the alert all night. The guns of
Saunders' fleet thundered unceasingly opposite Beauport,
and its boats hovered near the shore threatening a landing.
All night the French troops remained in their entrench-
ments. Accompanied by the Chevalier Johnston, he re-
mained all night in anxious expectation. He felt that
the critical moment had come, but could not tell from
which direction the blow was to arrive. He had sent an
oflicer to Vaudreuil, whose quarters were near Quebec,
begging him to send word instantly should anything occur
above the town. Just at daybreak he heard the sound
of cannon from that direction. This was the battery at
Samos opening fire upon the English ships. But no word
came from Vaudreuil, and about six o'clock Montcalm
mounted and, accompanied by Johnston, rode towaras
the town. As he approached the bridge across the St.
Charles the country behind the town opened to his view,
and he presently saw the red line of British troops drawn
up on the heights above the river two miles away. In-
stantly he sent Johnston off at full gallop to bring up the
troops from the centre and left. Vaudreuil had already
ordered up those on the right. Montcalm rode up to
Vaudreuil's quarters, and after a few words with the
governor galloped over the bridge of the St. Charles
towards the seat of danger. It must have been a bitter
moment for him. The fruits of his long care and watch-
ing were in a moment snatched away, and just when he
hoped that thft enemy, foiled and exhausted, were about
to return to England, he found that they had surmounted
the obstacles he had deemed impregnable, and were calmly
awaiting him on a fair field of battle. One who saw him
said that he rode towards the field with a fixed look, utter-
ing not a word.

(»7) S4

370 With Wolfe in Canada

mil

til it i

The army followed in hot haste, crossed the St. Charles,
passed through Quebec, and hurried on to the ridge where
the battalion of Guienne had taken up its position. No-
thing could have been stronger than the contrast which
the two armies afTorded. On the one side was the red
English line, quiet and silent, save that the war-pipes of
the Highlanders blew loud and shrilly; on the other were
the white-coated battalions of the regular army of France,
the blue-clad Canadians, the bands of Indians in their war-
paint and feathers, all hurried and excited by their rapid
march and by the danger which had so unexpectedly burst
upon them. Now the evils of a divided command were
apparent. Vaudreuil countermanded Montcalm's orders
for the advance of the left of the army, as he feared that
the English might make a descent upon Beauport.

Nor was the garrison of Quebec available, for Ramesay,
its commander, was under the orders of Vaudreuil, and
when Montcalm sent to him for twenty-five field guns from
one of its batteries he only sent three, saying that he
wanted the rest for his own defence. Montcalm held a
council of war with all his officers and determined to attack
at once. For this he has been blamed. That he must
have fought was certain, for the English in the position
which they occupied cut him off from the base of his
supplies; but he might have waited for a few hours, and
in that time he could have sent messengers and brought up
the force of Bougainville, which could have marched by a
circuitous route, and have joined him without coming in
contact with the English.

Upon the other hand, Montcalm had every reason to
believe that the thirty-five hundred men he saw before him
formed a portion only o^ the English army, that the rest
were still on board the flebt opposite Beauport, and that
a delay would bring larger reinforcements to Wolfe than

The Capture of Quebec 371

he could himself receive. lie was, as we know, mistAken,
but his reasoning was sound, and he had all along be-
lieved the English army to be far more numerous than
it really was.

He was doubtless influenced by the fact that his troops
were full of ardour, and that any delay would greatly
dispirit the Canadians and Indians. He therefore deter-
mined to attack at once. The three field pieces sent by
Ramesay opened fire upon the English line with canister,
while fifteen hundred Canadians and Indians crept up
among the bushes and knolls and throvjgh the cornfield,
and opened a heavy fire. Wolfe threw out skirmishers
in front of the line to keep these assailants in check, and
ordered the rest of the troops to lie down to avoid the fire.
On the British left the attack was most galling. Bands
of the sharpshooters got among the thickets just below
the edge of the declivity down to the St. Charles, and
from these, and from several houses scattered there, they
killed and wounded a considerable number of Townshend's
men.

Howe was called up with his light troops from the rear,
and he and the two flank battalions of Townshend dashed
at the thickets, and, after some sharp fighting, partially
cleared them, and took and burned some of the houses.

Towards ten o'clock the French advanced to the attack.
Their centre was formed of regular troops only, with
regulars and Canadian battalions on either flank. Two
field pieces, which with enormous labour the English had
dragged up the path from the landing-place, at once
opened fire with grape upon the French line.

The advance was badly conducted. The French regulars
marched steadily on, but the Canadians, firing as they
advanced, threw themselves on the ground to reload,
and this broke the regularity of the line. The English

37a

With Wolfe in Canada

■u

advanced some little distance to meet their foes, and then
halted.

Not a shot was fired until the French weie within forty
paces, and then at the word of command a volley of
musketry crashed out along the whole length of the line.
So regularly was the volley given that the French ofiicers
afterwards said that it sounded like a single cannon shot.
Another volley followed, and then the continuous roar of
independent firing. When the smoke cleared off a little
its effects could be seen. The French had halted where
they stood, and among them the d«ad and wounded were
thickly strewn.

All order and regularity had been lost under that terrible
fire, and in three minutes the \ine of advancing soldiers
was broken up into a disorderly shouting mob. Then
Wolfe gave the order to charge, and the British cheer
mingled with the wild yell of the Highlanders rose loud
and fierce. The English regiments advanced with levelled
bayonets; the Highlanders drew their broadswords and
rushed headlong forward. The charge was decisive, the
French were swept helplessly before it, and the battle was
at an end, save that the scattered parties of Canadians and
Indians kept up for some time a fire from the bushes and
cornfields.

Their fire was heaviest on the British right, where
Wolfe himself led the charge at the head of the Louisbourg
Grenadiers. A shot shattered his wrist. He wrapped his
handkerchief around it and kept on. Another shot struck
him, but he still advanced. When a third pierced his
breast he staggered and sat down. Two or three officers
and men carried him to the rear, and then laid him down
and asked if they should send for a surgeon.

"There is no need," he said. "It is all over with
me. ■ , , ■■;■■■,. 1 )■ -

The Capture of Quebec 373

A moment later one of those standing by him cried out :

••They run, see how they run!"

•• Who run?" Wolfe asked.

•'The enemy, sir; they give way everywhere."

••Go, one of you, to Colonel Burton," Wolfe said; "tell
him to march Webb's regiment down to the Charles River
to cut off their retreat from the bridge ; " then turning on
his side he said :

•• Now, God be praised, I will die in peace!" and a few
minutes later he expired. • (

Montcalm, still on horseback, was borne by the tide of
fugitives towards the town. As he neared the gate a shot
passed through his body. It needed some hard work be-
fore the Canadians, who fought bravely, could be cleared
out from the thickets. The French troops did not rally
from their disorder till they had crossed the St. Charles;
the Canadians retired in better order.

Decisive as the victory was, the English, for the moment,
were in no condition to follow it up. While on the French
side Montcalm was dying and his second in command was
mortally wounded ; on the English, Wolfe was dead and
Monckton, second in rank, badly wounded, and the com-
mand had fallen upon Townshend at the moment when
the enemy were in full flight. Knowing that the French
could cut the bridge of boats across the St. Charles, and
so stop his pursuit, and that Bougainville was close at
hand, he halted his troops and set them to work to
entrench themselves on the field of battle. Their loss
had been six hundred and sixty-four of all ranks, killed
and wounded; while the French loss was estimated at
about double that number.

In point of numbers engaged and in the total loss on
both sides the fight on the Plains of Abraham does not
deserve to rank as a great battle, but its results were of

374

With Wolfe in Canada

the most extreme importance, for the victory transferred
Canada from France to England.

Vaudreuil, after joining his force with that of Bougain>
ville, would have still vastly outnumbered the English,
and could, by taking up a fresh position in their rear,
have rendered himself impregnable, until the winter forced
I he English to retire, while the latter had no means of
investing or besieging Quebec. But his weakness was
now as great as his presumption had been before, and on
the evening of the battle he abandoned the lines of Beau-
port, and leaving all his tents and stores behind him
retreated hastily, or rather it may be said fled, for as the
Chevalier Johnston said of it:

** It was not a retreat but an abominable flight, with
such disorder and confusion that, had the English known
it, three hundred men sent after us would have been sufl^-
cient to have cut all our army to pieces. The soldiers were
all mixed, scattered, dispersed, and running as hard as
they could, as if the English army were at their heels."

The flight was continued until they reached the impreg-
nable position of Jacques-Cartier on the brink of the St.
Lawrence thirty miles from the scene of action.

Montcalm died in Quebec the next morning. Levis
soon arrived at Jacques-Cartier from Montreal, and took
the command, and at once attempted to restore order, and
persuaded Vaudreuil to march back to join Bougainville,
who had remained firmly with his command at Cap Rouge
while the horde of fugitives swept by him. Vaudreuil,
before leaving, had given orders to Ramesay to surrender
if Quebec was threatened by assault, and Levis on his
march to its relief was met by the news that on the
morning of the i8th Ramesay had surrendered.

The garrison was utterly dispirited and unwilling to
fight, the officers were even more anxious to surrender

iferred

ugain-
ngflish,
r rear,
forced
sans of
ss was
and on
f Bcau-
id him
■ as the

It, with

known

en suffi-

ers were

hard as

heels."

impreg-

the St.

Levis
id took
ler, and
linville.

Rouge

idreuil,

irrender

on his
1 on the

lling to
Irrender

The Capture of Quebec 375

than the men, and on the fleet approaching the wails
Ramesay obeyed VaudreuiKs orders and surrendered.
Townshend granted favourable conditions, for he knew
that Levis was approaching and that his position was
dangerous in the extreme; he therefore agreed that the
troops and sailors of the garrison should march out from
the place with the honours of war, and were to be carried
to France, and that the inhabitants should have protection
in person i^nd property and free exercise of religion.

The day after the capture of Quebec James Walsham
returned on board ship. The thought of Richard Horton
awaiting the court martial, which would assuredly award
him the sentence of death for his treachery, was constantly
in his mind. He remembered the conversation between
Captain Peters and the admiral and General Wolfe's words:
" I should say, keep as careless a watch over him as pos-
sible," and he determined if possible to aid him in making
his escape, confident that in the general exultation at the
success of the enterprise no one would trouble greatly
about the matter, and that the admiral would be only too
pleased that an enquiry should be avoided which could
but end in the disgrace and execution of a naval officer.
James was relieved when on his arrival he found that
Richard Horton was still in confinement, for he feared
that he might have carried out the other alternative spoken
of by the admiral, and might have committed suicide.

"Captain Peters," he said, going up to that officer,
'* I should be obliged if you would give me an order to
see Lieutenant Horton."

"Can't do it, my lad; the admiral's orders are precise,
nobody is to be admitted to see him without an order
signed by himself."

James accordingly sought the admiral's cabin.

"What do you want to see him for, eh? "the admiral asked.

376

With Wolfe in Canada

i ^

uih

James hesitated; he would not tell an untruth in the
matter, and yet he could think of no excuse which could
answer without doing- so.

" I want to see him, sir, to have some conversation with
him."

"Ah!" the admiral said, looking at him keenly, "con-
versation, eh! You are not going to take him a pistol, or
poison, or anything of that sort, to help him to put an end
to his wretched existence?"

" No, indeed, sir," James said warmly.

" Humph! You are not thinking, I hope," he said with
a twinkle of the eye, " of helping him to escape?"

James was silent.

"Well, well," the admiral said hastily, "that's not a
fair question to ask. However, I will tell you in conti-
dence that if he should escape, which is the most unlikely
thing in the world, you know, no one would be particularly
sorry, and there would be no great fuss made about it.
Everyone in the navy here would feel it cast a slur upon
the service if, at a time like this, a naval officer were tried
and shot for treachery. However, if it must be it must;
here is an order for you to see him. If it was anyone else
I might have my doubts about granting it, but as you are
the man against whom he played this scurvy trick, I feel
safe in doing so. There you are, my lad ; give me your
hand, you are a fine fellow. Major Walsham, a very fine
fellow."

Immediately upon entering Quebec James had purchased
a large turn-screw, some ten yards of fine but strong rope,
and three or four bladders. When he procured the order
he went to his cabin, took off his coat, wound the rope
round his body, and then putting on his coat, placed the
flattened bladders under it and buttoned it up, slipping
the turn-screw up his sleeve, and then proceeded to the

\ in the
;h could

ion with

', **con-
listol, or
t an end

aid with

;'s not a

in confi-

unlikely

rticularly

ibout it.

lur upon

ere tried

it must;

one else

you are

|k, I feel

e your

ery fine

irchased

ig rope,

le order

le rope

d the

slipping

to the

The Capture of Quebec 377

prisoner's cabin. The sentry at once admitted him on
producing" the admiral's order.

Richard Horton was lying down on his berth, and
started with surprise as his visitor entered.

** I am glad you have come to see me, James Walsham,
for I have been wishing to speak to you, and I thought
you would come. I have been thinking much for the last
two days. I know that it is all up with me; the proofs
are too strong, and I will not face a court martial, for
I have the means — I know I may tell you safely — of
avoiding it. The hour that brings me news that the court
is ordered to assemble I cease to live. When a man is at
that point he sees things more clearly, perhaps, than he
did before. I know that I have wronged you, and when
the admiral said that you had done all in your power to
shield me, I felt more humiliated than I did when that
fatal letter was produced. I know what you have come
for — to tell me that you bear me no malice. You are a
fine fellow, Walsham, and deserve all your good fortune,
just as I deserve what has befallen me. I think if it had
not been for the squire taking me up I should never have
come to this, but might have grown up a decent fellow.
But my head was turned; I thought I was going to be
a great man, and this is what has come of it."

•* I have come partly, as you suppose, to tell you that I
bear you no malice, Richard Horton. I too have thought
matters over, and understand your feeling against me.
That first unfortunate quarrel, and its unfortunate res^'lt,
set you against me, and perhaps I never did as much as
I might to turn your feelings the other way. However,
we will not talk more of that, all that is past and over.
I come to you now as you are the nephew of the man who
has done so much for me. I have brought with me the
means of aiding your escape."

378

With Wolfe in Canada

"Of aiding my escape, Walsham! You must be mad!
I am too securely fastened here ; and even were it not so,
I would not accept a kindness which would cost you your
commission were it known."

"As to the second reason you may make your mind
easy. From words which dropped from the admiral I am
sure that everyone will be so glad at your escape that no
very strict enquiry will be made. In the next place, your
fastenings are not so very secure. The porthole is screwed
down as usual."

** Yes," Horton said ; '* but in addition there are a dozen
strong screws placed round it."

•' Here is a long turn-screw which will take them out as
quickly as the carpenter put them in," James said, produc-
ing the tool; " and here," and he opened his coat, "is a rope
for lowering yourself down into the water."

** You are very good, James," Horton said quietly; " but
it is no use, I can't swim."

•' I know you could not as a boy," James replied, " and
I thought it likely enough that you have not learned since,
but I think with these you may make a shift to get ashore,"
and he produced four bladders and some strong lashing;
" if you blow these out, fasten the necks tightly, and then
lash them round you, you can't sink. The drift of the tide
will take you not very far from the point below, and if you
do your best to strike out towards the shore I have no doubt
you will be able to make it. You must lower yourself into
the water very quietly, and allow yourself to float down till
you are well astern of the vessel."

Richard Horton stood for a minute or two with his hand
over his eyes ; then he said in a broken voice :

"God bless you, Walsham, I will try it; if I am shot 'tis
better than dying by my own hand; if I escape 1 will do my
best to retrieve my life. I shall never return to England

}

be mad!
it not so,
you you!'

our mind
kiral I am
>e that no
lace, your
s screwed

re a dozen

em out as
d, produc-
is a rope

!tly; "but

ied, *' and
ned since,
ashore,"
lashing ;
and then
f the tide
nd if you
no doubt
rself into
down till

his hand

shot 'tis
ill do my

(England

The Capture of Quebec 379

again, but under a new name may start afresh in the colonies.
God bless you, and make you happy."

The young men wrung each other's hands with a silent
clasp, and James returned to his own cabin.

The next morning the officer of marines reported to Cap-
tain Peters that the prisoner was missing. The poi thole
was found open, and a rope hanging to the water's edge.
The captain at once took the report to the admiral.

" A bad job," the admiral said with a twinkle of the eye,
'• a very bad job! How could it have happened?"

*' The sentries report, sir, that they heard no noise during
the night, and that the only person who visited the cabin,
with the exception of the sergeant with the prisoner's food,
was Major Walsham with your own order."

" Yes, now I think of it, I did give him an order; but of
course he can have had nothing to do with it. Horton
must have managed to unscrew the porthole somehow,
perhaps with a pocket knife, and he might have had a coil
of rope somewhere in his cabin. Great carelessness, you
know. However, at a time like this we need not bother
our heads about it; he's gone, and there's an end of it."

" He could not swim, sir," the captain said; " I heard him
say so once." . - ' ,

"Then most likely he's drowned," the admiral remarked
briskly; "that's the best thing that could happen. Enter
it so in the logbook, ' Lieutenant Horton fell out of his
cabin window while under arrest for misconduct ; supposed
to have been drowned.' That settles the whole matter."

Captain Peters smiled to himself as he made the entry.
He was convinced by the calm manner in which the admiral
took it that he more than suspected that the prisoner had
escaped, and that James Walsham had had a hand in getting
him off.

Shortly after Quebec surrendered, Townshend returned

38o With Wolfe in Canada

to England with the fleet, leaving Murray in command of
the army at Quebec. In the spring Levis advanced with
eight or nine thousand men against Quebec; and Murray,
with three thousand, advanced to meet him, and gave battle
nearly on the same ground on which the previous battle
had been fought. The fight was a desperate one ; but the
English, being outflanked by the superior numbers of the
French, were driven back into Quebec with the loss of a
third of their number.

Quebec was now besieged by the French until, in May,
an English fleet arrived and destroyed the vessels which
had brought down the stores and ammunition of Levis from
Montreal. The French at once broke up their camp and
retreated hastily; but all hope was now gone, the loss o<
Quebec had cut them off" from France.

Amherst invaded the country from the English colonies,
and the French were driven back to Montreal, before which
the united English forces, 17,000 strong, took up their
position; and on the 8th of September, 1760, Vaudreuil
signed the capitulation by which Canada and all its depen-
dencies passed to the English crown. All the French
officers, civil and military, and the French troops and
sailors, were to be sent back to France in English ships.

James Walsham was not present at the later operations
round Quebec. He had been struck in the side by a shot
by a lurking Indian when a column had marched out from
Quebec a few days after it' capture, and for three or four
weeks he lay between life and death on board ship. When
convalescence set in he found that he was already on blue
water, all the serious cases being taken back by the fleet
when, soon after the capture of Quebec, it sailed for Eng-
land. The voyage was a long one, and by the time the fleet
sailed with their convoy into Portsmouth harbour James
had ' ered much of his strength.

imand of
ced with
Murray,
Lve battle
us battle
; but the
rs of the
loss of a

In May,
:1s which
Bvis from
:amp and
le loss o<

colonies,

Dre which

up their

i^audreuil

ts depen-

; French

ops and

ships.

erations

y a shot

ut from

or four

When

on blue

he fleet

r Eng-

ithe fleet

James

The Capture of Quebec 381

An hour after landing he was in a post-chaise on his way
home. It seemed strange, indeed, to him as he drove
through the little town on his way up to the Hall. He had
left it in the beginning of 1755 * ^^^ young fellow of
eighteen; he returned in the last month of 1759 a man of
twenty-three, with the rank of major and no inconsiderable
share of credit and honour. He stopped the vehicle at the
lodge gate, had his baggage taken out there, and proceeded
on foot towards the Hall, for he was afraid that if he drove
straight up to the door the sudden delight of seeing him
would be too much for his mother.

John Petersham opened the door, and recognizing him
at once was about to exclaim loudly, when James made a
motion for him to be silent.

"Show ijie quietly into the squire's study, John," he
said, grasping the butler's hand with a hearty squeeze,
" and don't say anything about my being here until he has
seen my mother. They are all well, I hope?"

"All well, sir, and right glad they will be to see
you; for Mrs. Walsham and all of them have been
fretting sorely since the news came that you were badly
wounded."

" I have had a narrow shave of it," James said; "but
thank God I am as well now as ever ! "

As he spoke he opened the door of the study and entered.

The squire, who was reading the paper, looked up, and
leapt to his feet with a cry of satisfaction.

• ' My dear boy, I am glad — thank God you are back
again! What a relief your coming will be to us all!"
And he shook James warmly by both hands. "I should
hardly have known you, and yet you are not so much
changed either. Dear, dear, how delighted your mother
will be! You have not seen her yet?"

" No, sir," James said. " I dismissed the post-chaise at

382

With Wolfe in Canada

- i"

the gate and walked up qu.etly. I was afraid if I drove
suddenly up the shock might be too much for her."

••Quite right!" the squire said; ••we must break it to
her quietly. Wilks must do it — or no, he shall tell Aggie,
and she shall tell your mother."

He rang the bell, and John, who had been expecting a
summons, instantly appeared.

*'Tell Mr. Wilks I want to speak to him, John."

The old soldier speedily appeared, and his delight was an
great as if James had been his son. He went off to break
the news, and in a short time Mrs. Walsham was in the
arms of her son.

Major Walsham went no more to the wars, nor did he
follow his original intention of entering the medical profes-
sion. Indeed there was no occasion for him to do either.
For Aggie insisted on his leaving the army; and she had a
very strong voice in the matter. James had not long been
home before he and the young lady came to an understand-
ing. Before speaking to her James had consulted his old
friend. > i ,

••Vou know how I feel," he said; "but I don't know
whether it would be right. You see, although I am major
in the service, I have nothing but my pay. I owe every-
thing to the squire, and he would naturally look very much
higher for a husband for his granddaughter."

•'Don't you be a fool, James Walsham," Mr. Wilks
said. " I made up my mind that you should marry Aggie
ever since the d?iy when you got her out of the sea. The
squire has known for years what I thought on the subject.
You will meet with no opposition from him, for he is almost
as proud of you as I am ; besides, he thinks only of Aggie's
happiness, and unless I am greatly mistaken that young
lady has fully made up her mind on the subject."
-} This was indeed the case, for Aggie, when James had

drove

know

major

every-

much

Wilks
Aggie
The
ibject.
Imost
ggie's
young

The Capture of Quebec 383

settled the point with her, made no hesitation in telling him
that she had regarded him as her special property since she
had been a child.

*' I considered it all settled years and years ago," she
said demurely, "and I was quite aggrieved, I can tell you,
when, on your arrival, you just held out your hand to nie
instead of — well, instead of doing the same to me as to your
mother."

** You shall have no reason for complaint that way in the
future, Aggie, I promise you; but how could I tell? The
last time I saw you you were flirting as hard as you could
with someone else."

** Well, sir, whose fault was that? You chose to make
yourself disagreeable and stay away, and what was I to do?
I should do the same in the future, I can tell you, if yota
neglected me in the same way."

" I sha'n't give you the chance, Aggie, you can rely upon
that."

The squire was fully prepared for the communication
which James had to make to him, and as there were no
reasons for waiting the ceremony took place very shortly
afterwards. The squire never asked any questions about
his nephew. The official report had come home that Lieu-
tenant Horton had died of drowning while under arrest,
but the squire forbore all enquiry, and to the end of his life
remained in ignorance of the disgraceful circumstances.
Perhaps in his heart the news was a relief to him. He had
never been fond of Richard as a lad, and his confidence
once shaken had never been restored. He had intended to
carry out his promise to leave him twenty thousand pounds;
but he was well pleased that all that belonged to him should
descend to his granddaughter. Mr. Wilks was the only
resident at the Hall who ever learned from James the facts
of Richard Horton's disgrace. Years afterwards a few

£v\«

384 With Wolfe in Canada

lines without signature or address came to James from
America. The writer said that he was jure that he would
be glad to hear that, under a changed name, he was doing
very well. " I shall never return to England," he ended,
** nor ever forget your kindness and generosity."

The marriage of the young people made but few changes
at the Hall. The squire proposed to give Aggie at once a
sum which would have purchased an estate in the neighbour-
hood ; but he was delighted to find that she and James had
made up their minds that the party at the Hall should not
be broken up.

" What do you want to send us away for, grandpapa?"
she asked. ** You three will be happier for having us with
you, and James and I will be happier for having you with
us. What nonsense to talk about buying another estate !
We might get a little house up in London. It would make
a change for James and me to spend two or three months
every year there, but of course this will be our home."

And so it was arranged, and so matters continued until,
in the lapse of time, the seniors passed away, and James
Walsham and his wife, and it may be said their children,
became the sole occupants of the Hall, the estate having
been largely increased by the purchase of adjoining property
by the squire before his death. James Walsham might
have represented his county in Parliament had he chosen,
but he was far too happy in his country life, varied by a
few months passed every year in town, to care about taking
part in the turmoil of politics. He did much for Sidmouth,
and especially for its fishermen, and to the end of his life
retained a passionate love for the sea.

,>i,',-

ada

to James from
re that he would
ie, he was doing
land," he ended,
3sity."

but few changes
Aggie at once a
in the neighbour-
e and James had
Hall should not

>r, grandpapa?"
• having us with
liaving you with
another estate I
It would make
)r three months
our home."
continued until,
^ay, and James
their children,
estate having
fining property
^alshani might
lad he chosen,
varied by a
e about taking
for Sidmouth,
end of his life

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