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WITH WOLFE IN CANADA
THE WINNING OF A CONTINENT
BY
G. A.s HENTY
AUTHOR OF “WITH CLIVE IN INDIA,” “ THE DRAGON AND THE RAVEN,”
“IN THE REIGN OF TERRoR,” “By ENGLAND's AID,” ETC.
NEW YORK
THE MERSHON COMPANY
PUBLISHERS

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PREFACE.
MY DEAR LADs: In the present volume I have
endeavored to give the details of the principal events in
a struggle whose importance can hardly be overrated.
At its commencement 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 becom-
ing 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 com-
merce of England increased enormously, and with her
commerce her wealth and power of extension, 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 connec-
tion with the old country, but they still remained Eng-
All
IV PREFACE,
lish, still continued to be the best market for our goods
and manufactures.
Never was the short-sightedness of human beings
shown more distinctly than when France wasted her
strength and treasure in a sterile contest on the conti-
nent 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 Wolfe,”
by Mr. Francis Parkham, and from the detailed history
of the Louisbourg and Quebec expeditions, by Major
Knox, who served under Generals Amherst and Wolfe.
Yours very sincerely,
G. A. HENTY.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER PAGE
I. A RESCUE, . . . . . . . . • I
II. THE SHow MAN's GRANDCHILD, . o tº º I6
III. THE JUSTICE-RooM, . & ſº tº & e • 34
IV. THE SQUIRE's GRANDDAUGHTER, . * º g 5O
V. A QUIET TIME, . O tº * g is . . , 66
VI. A STORM, ſº e dº wº º & tº {} 84
VII. PRESSED, . * e © CŞ gº * • IOI
VIII. DISCHARGED, . O * tº o º © º 117
IX. THE DEFEAT of BRADDock, . º * º • I33
X. THE FIGHT AT LAKE GEORGE, . te wº O I48
XI. ScouTING, . e * > & * > o * & • 165
XII. A CoMMISSION, ſº º © e * Ö o I8O
XIII. AN ABORTIVE ATTACK, . wº ſº * tº • IQ7
XIV. SCOUTING ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN, . & & & 2I2
XV. THROUGH MANY PERILs, . º º tº o . 228
XVI. THE MAss&CRE AT FoRT WILLIAM HENRY, tº 242
XVII. LouisBourg AND TICONDEROGA, & º wº . 257
XVIII. QUEBEC, . © © ſº º e tº º . . 269
XIX. A DANGEROUs ExPEDITION, o e tº tº • 293
XX. THE PATH Down THE HEIGHTs, º t; O 309
XXI. THE CAPTURE OF QUEBEC, • . . . . 326
y
WITH WOLFE IN CANADA ;
OR,
THE WINNING OF A CONTINENT.
CHAPTER I.
A RESCUE.
Most of the towns standing on our seacoast have
suffered a radical change in the course of the last cen-
tury. Railways and the fashion of summer holiday-
making have transformed 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 be-
comes smaller as the iron roads throw out fresh
branches. With the advent of these comes the specula-
tive 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 fash-
ionable 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 fifteen
years back would have seen it almost as it stood when
our story opens a century ago.
2 WITH WOLFE IN \-ANADA.
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 coun-
try 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 cliffs, which on either side rise from the water's
edge, are neither white like those to the east, nor gray
as are the rugged bulwarks to the west. They are of a
deep red, warm and pleasant to the eye, with clumps of
green showing 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 sloping 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
popular 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
laborers will look as if they had been at work in a brick-
field.
But a century since the march of improvement had
nowhere 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
A RESCUE. 3.
waves broke along the shore with a low rustle like that
of falling leaves. Some fishermen were at work re-
calking a boat hauled up on the shore, others were lay-
ing out Some nets to 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 dis-
cussing 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 wrong like stealing, and lying, and that sort of
thing; still it's wrong because it's against the law, and
the revenue men if they come upon a gang landing the
tubs fight with them, and if any are killed they are not
blamed for it, so 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 simple, as won’t buy some of the stuff if he
gets a chance, so it can’t be so very wrong. It must be
great fun to be a smuggler, to be always dodging the
king's cutters, and running cargoes under the 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 excite-
ment as you liked. For twelve hours we expected to
go down every minute, and we were half our time bail-
ing for our lives.”
An approving murmur broke from the others, who
were all, with the exception of the one addressed as Jim
Walsham, 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 that a distinction existed. James Wal-
4 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
sham was indeed the son of the late doctor of the vil-
lage, who had died two years previously.
Dr. Walsham had been clever in his profession, but
circumstances were against him. Sidmouth and its
neighborhood were so healthy that his patients were
few and far between, and when he died of injuries re-
ceived 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 tradesmen of the place and the
farmers of the neighborhood, and announced her inten-
tion 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 had 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 backward and forward
to their homes. Her evenings she devoted to her son,
and though the education which she was enabled to
give him would be considered meager 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 les-
sons, 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 gen-
eral favorite among the boatmen. He had not as yet
made up his mind as to his future. His mother wanted
him to follow his father's profession; he himself longed
A RESCUE. 5
to go to sea, but he had promised his mother that he
would never do so without her consent, and that con-
sent he had no hope of obtaining.
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 greatly by association with the fisherboys, and
more than once 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 down 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 inno-
CenCe.
The parson had once called upon Mrs. Walsham,
and had talked to her gravely over her son's delin-
quencies, 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.
Allanby, but it is the nature of boys to do so. James is
a good boy, upright and honorable, and would not tell
a lie under any consideration. What is he to do? If
I could afford to send 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 boats with the fishermen
than be hanging about the place doing nothing. If any-
thing happened to me before he is started 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 a fishing-
boat and nets. I trust that it may not come to that, but
I see nothing derogatory in his earning an honest living
with his own hands; he will always be something better
than a common fisherman. The education I have
6 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
striven to give him, and his knowledge that he was born
a gentleman, will nerve him to try and rise. As to what
you say about mischief, so far as I know all boys are
mischievous. I know that my own brothers were
always getting into scrapes, and I have no doubt, Mr.
Allanby, that when you look back upon your own boy-
hood you will see that you were not an exception to the
general rule.”
Mr. Allanby smiled. He had come rather against his
own inclinations; but his wife had urged him to speak
to Mrs. Walsham, her temper being ruffled by the disap-
pearance of two favorite pigeons, whose loss she, with-
out a shadow of evidence, most unjustly put down to
James Walsham.
The parson was by no means strict with his flock.
He was a tall man, inclined to be portly, a good shot
and an ardent fisherman, and although he did not hunt
he was frequently seen on his brown cob at the “meet”
whenever it took place within a reasonable distance of
Sidmouth, and without exactly following the hounds
his knowledge of the country often enabled him to see
more of the hunt than those who did. As Mrs. Wal-
sham spoke, the memory of his old school and college
days came across him.
“That is the argumentum ad hominem, Mrs. Walsham,
and when a lady takes to that we can say no more.
You know I like your boy, there is much that is good in
him; but it struck me that you were letting him run a
little too wild. However, there is much in what you
say, and I don’t believe that he is concerned in half the
mischief that he gets credit for. Still you must remem-
ber that a little of the curb, just a little, is good for us
all. It spoils a horse to be always tugging at his mouth,
but he will go very badly if he does not feel that there is
a hand on the reins. I have said the same thing to the
squire. He spoils that boy of 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.”
A RESCUE. 7
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 sail-
ing, Jim; but I wish you would give up your mis-
chievous 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 cot-
tage at supper time. You know I wouldn't have any-
thing 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 your-
self 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 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
8 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
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 pro-
ceedings. 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 sun-
bonnet 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 whatever 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 some-
times; or following the plow from year's end to year's
end, as happens to some. We have got to make the
best of it whatever it is. I have got a grand new set of
pictures from Exeter. They came all the way down
from London town for me by wagon. London Bridge,
and Windsor Castle, with the flag flying over it, telling
A RESCUE. 9
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 I 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 Sidmouth, and went on all the way up the
Channel, our little ships hanging on to the great Span-
iards 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
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 favorites at Sidmouth, and the news of his arrival
IO WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
had traveled quickly round the place. Four years be-
fore he had appeared there for the first time, and since
then had come every few months. He traveled round
the southwestern counties, Dorset and Wilts, Somerset,
Devon, and Cornwall, and his cheery good temper made
him a general favorite 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 traveling peep-shows. There was some murmur-
ing 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 peep-show 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 Sergeant 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 thou-
sands of pounds if they traveled to see them, and all
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.”
It was not the boys and girls only who were the ser-
geant's patrons. Picture-books were scarce in those
days, and grown-up girls and young men were not
ashamed to pay their pennies to peep into the ser-
geant's box. There was scarcely a farm-house through-
A RESCUE. •w 1 I
out his beat where he was not known and welcomed.
His care of the child, who, when he first came around,
was but a year old, won the hearts of the women, and
a bowl of bread and milk for the little one, and a mug
of beer and a hunch of bread and bacon for himself,
were always at his service before he opened his box
and showed its wonders to the maids and children of
the house.
Sidmouth was one of his regular halting places, and,
indeed, he visited it more often than any other town
on his beat. There was always a room ready for him
there in the house of a fisherman’s widow when he
arrived on the 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 his custom of a Saturday evening, after
the little one was in bed, to go and smoke his pipe in
the tap-room of the Anchor, where he would some-
times relate tales of his adventures to the assembled
fishermen. But, although chatty and cheery with his
patrons, Sergeant Wilks was a reticent rather than a
talkative man. At the Anchor he was, except when
called upon for a story, a listener rather than a
talker.
As to his history, or the county to which he belonged,
he never alluded to it, although communicative enough
as to his military adventures; and any questions which
were asked him he quietly put on one side. He had
intimated, indeed, that the father and mother of his
grandchild were both dead; but it was not known
whether she was the child of his son or daughter; for
under his cheerful talk there was something of military
strictness and sternness, and he was not a man of whom
idle questions would be asked.
“Now, boys and girls,” he said, “step up; the show
is 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
I 2 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
their sisters. The bravest men are always the most
courteous and gentle with women.”
Four 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
homes to coax their parents out of the necessary coin.
James Walsham listened a while, and then walked
away to the sea, for there would be several sets of girls
before it came to the turn of the boys. He strolled
along, and as he came within sight of the beach stopped
for a moment suddenly, and then with a shout ran for-
ward at the top of his speed.
The little girl, after playing some time with the sea-
weed, 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 anothe'.
A few minutes after she had got into it, the rising tide
floated the boat, and it drifted out a few yards, as far
as its headrope allowed it. Ignorant of what had hap-
pened, the child was kneeling up at the stern, leaning
over, and dabbling her hands in the water. No one
had noticed her; the boys had all deserted the beach.
None of the fishermen were near the spot. Just before
James Walsham came within sight of the sea the child
had overbalanced herself. His eye fell on the water just
as two 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,
sprang down the beach, and rushing a few yards into
the water, dived down. He knew which way the tide
was making, and allowed for the set. A few vigorous
strokes, and he reached something white on the surface.
It was the sun-bonnet which had, in the child's strug-
gles, become unfastened. He dived at once, and almost
immediately saw a confused mass before him. Another
stroke, and he seized the child's clothes, and grasping
A RESCUE. I3
her firmly, rose to the surface and swam toward shore.
Although the accident had not been perceived, his shout
and sudden rush into the water had called the atten-
tion of some of the men, and two or three of them ran
into the water waist deep to help him out with his little
burden.
“Well done, Master Walsham! the child would have
been drowned if you had not seed it. None of us
noticed her fall over. She was playing on the beach
last time I seed her.”
“Is she dead?” James asked, breathless from his
exertions.
“Not she,” the fisherman said; “she could not have
been under water a minute. Take her into my cottage,
it’s one of the nighest; my wife will put her between
the blankets, and will soon bring her round.”
The fisherman's wife met them at the door, and, tak-
ing the child from the lad, carried her in, and soon had
her wrapped up in blankets. But before this was done
she had opened her eyes, for she had scarcely lost con-
sciousness when James had seized her. The lad stood
outside the door waiting for the news when the ser-
geant hurried up, one of the fishermen having gone to
tell him what had happened as soon as the child had
been carried into the cottage—assuring him, as he did
so, that the little one would speedily come around. Just
as he came up the door of the cottage opened, and one
of the women who had run in to assist the fisherman's
wife put her head out.
“She has opened her eyes,” she said. “The little
dear will soon be all right.”
“Thank God for his mercies!” the sergeant said,
taking off his hat. “What should I have done if I
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! and reward you for having saved my
darling. They tell me she must have been drowned
but for you, for no one knew she had fallen in. Had
it not been for you I should come around to look for
I4 * WITH WOLFE IN CANADA. *
her and she would have been gone—gone forever!”
and the showman dashed the tears from his eyes with
the back of his hand.
“I was only just in time,” the lad said. “I did not
see her fall out of the boat. She was only a few yards
away from it when she came up—just as my eyes fell
on the spot. I am very glad to have saved her for you;
but, of course, it was nothing of a swim. She could
not have been many yards out of my depth. Now I
will run home and change my things.”
James Walsham was too much accustomed to be wet
through to care anything about his dripping clothes,
but they served him as an excuse to get away, for he
felt awkward and embarrassed at the gratitude of the
old soldier. He pushed his way through the little
crowd which had now gathered round, and started
at a run; for the news had brought almost all those
gathered around the peep-show to the shore, the excite-
ment of somebody being drowned being superior even
to that of the peep-show to the great majority, though
a few, who had no hope of obtaining the necessary
pennies, had lingered behind and seized the opportunity
for a gratuitous look through the glasses.
James ran upstairs and changed his clothes without
seeing his mother, and then, taking down one of his
lesson books, set to work, shrinking from the idea of
going out again and being made a hero of. Half an
hour later there was a knock at the front door, and a
few minutes after his mother called him down. He
ran down to the parlor, and there found the showman.
“Oh, I say,” the boy broke out, “don’t say anything
more about it! I do hate being thanked, and there was
nothing in swimming ten yards in a calm sea. Please
don’t say anything more about it. I would rather you
hit me ever so much.”
The sergeant smiled gravely, and Mrs. Walsham
exclaimed:
“Why didn't you come in and tell me about it, Jim?
53
I could not make out at first what Mr.—Mr.—
A RESCtjF. 15-
“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,
im.”
“Oh, mother; don't!” the boy exclaimed. “It is
horrid going on so. If I had swum out with a rope
through the surf there might be something in it; but
just to jump in at the edge of the water is not worth
making a fuss about one way or the other.”
“Not to you, perhaps, young gentleman, but it is to
me,” the showman said. “The child is the light of my
life, the only thing I have to care for in the world, and
you have saved her. If it had only been by stretching
out your 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 is 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 saving the life of the
granddaughter of a traveling showman will not be with-
out its reward.”
“Is she all right now?” James 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
her. 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 ser-
geant had told the little crowd that if they left it alone
16 WITH WOLFE IN CAN AIDA.
he would, on his return, let all see without payment,
and during the rest of the afternoon he was fully occu-
pied 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 congratulations 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 Sid-
mouth. On these occasions 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 criti-
cisms on the folly of the old showman in dressing his
child out in clothes fit for a lady.
CHAPTER II.
THE SHOWMAN’s GRANDCHILD.
THREE months later the showman again appeared at
Sidmouth, but did not set up his box as usual. Leav-
ing it at his lodging he went at once with his grandchild
to Mrs. Walsham’s.
“I have come, madam,” he said, after the first
inquiries about the child had been answered, “on a par-
ticular business. It will seem a strange thing to you
for a man like me to ask, but things are not quite as they
seem, though I can't explain it now. But I am beating
about the bush, and not getting any nearer. I have
come to ask, madam, whether you would take charge
of the child for two years. Of course I am ready to
pay anything that you 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;
THE SHOWMAN’s GRANDCHILD. 17
besides, they are all a good many years older than your
grandchild. 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 teach-
ing 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 find no difficulty in getting his grandchild taken
care of 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 think-
ing what her neighbors 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 favor to the
farmers' 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 answered 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 school,
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 the question. But surely
18 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
you will have no difficulty in finding plenty of good
women 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 be with a lady like yourself. So
far as money goes I could afford to pay fifty pounds
a year, and perhaps you might get a girl who could
look after Aggie while you are busy.”
“Fifty younds a year!” Mrs. Walsham said, greatly
surprised. “That is a large sum, a great deal too large
a sum for you to pay for the care of such a little child.
For half that there are scores of farmers' wives who
would be happy to take her, and where she would be
far more happy 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 wish to place her with a lady for two years. I cannot
explain 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 other reasons of my own for wishing that she should
be at Sidmouth rather than at any other place; and
I have another reason,” and a slight smile stole across
his face, “for preferring that she should be with you
rather than anyone 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 were 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 shall be as I tramp the country without her
pretty prattle to listen to; but I have got to do it sooner
or later, and these two years, when I can see her some-
THE SHOWMAN's GRANDCHILD. I9
times, will be a break, and accustom me to do without
her sweet face. Please, madam,” he urged, “do not
give me a final answer to-day. I shall not go till Mon-
day, and will call again, if you will let me, that morning;
and believe me, if I could tell you all, I could give you
reasons which would, I think, induce you to change
your mind.”
So saying he made a military salute, took the child's
hand in his, and was soon striding along toward the Sea.
Mrs. Walsham was some time before she recovered
from her surprise. This was, indeed, a mysterious
affair. The earnestness with which the old soldier
pleaded his cause had moved her strongly, and had
almost persuaded her to accept the proposal which had
at first seemed preposterous. Fifty pounds a year, too,
was certainly a handsome sum. She could get a girl
from the village for two or three shillings a week to
look after the child and go out with her during school
hours, and a hundred pounds would be a very handsome
addition to the sum which she had begun, little by
little, to lay by for Jim's preparation for the medical
profession.
In the five years which would elapse before it would
be time for him to enter upon his studies for it she
could hardly hope to lay by more than that sum, and
this would at a stroke double it. Certainly it was a
tempting offer. She could not do justice to the child,
could not give her the care and attention which she
ought to have, and which she could have for such
a sum elsewhere; but the sergeant knew exactly how
she was placed, and if he was willing and anxious for
her to assume the charge of the child why should she
refuse this good offer? However, her pupils were wait-
ing for her in the next room, and with an effort Mrs.
Walsham put the matter aside, and went in to them.
When James returned home to dinner his mother related
to him the whole conversation. James was more
amused than puzzled.
“It seems a rum idea, mother; but I don't see why
2O * WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
you shouldn't take her. She is a sweet little thing, and
will be a great amusement. Fifty pounds a year seems
a tremendous sum for a man like that to pay; but I
suppose he knows his own business, and it will be a
great pull for you. You will be able to have all sorts
of comforts. I should like it very much. I have often
wished I had had a little sister, and she can go out
walks with me, you know; it would be like having
a big dog with one, only much jollier.”
“Yes,” his mother said smiling; “and I shouldn't
be surprised if you wanted to throw sticks into the water
for her to fetch them out, and to be taking her out
for a night's fishing, and be constantly bringing her
home splashed with that nasty red mud from head to
foot. You would be a nice playmate for a little girl,
Jim. Perhaps it is that special advantage that the ser-
geant had in his mind's eye when he was so anxious to
put her with me.”
James laughed.
“I would see that she didn't come to any harm,
anyhow, you know; and, after all, I suppose it was my
picking her out of the sea that had something to do
with his first thinking of putting her with you.”
“I suppose it had, Jim,” she said more seriously.
“But what do you think, my boy? You know there are
disadvantages in it. There will be a good deal of talk
about my taking this showman's grandchild, and some
of the farmers' wives won’t like it.”
“Then let them dislike it,” James said indignantly.
“The child is as good as their daughters any day.
Why, I noticed her in church looking like a little lady.
There was not a child there to compare to her.”
“Yes, I have noticed her myself,” Mrs. Walsham
said. “She is a singularly pretty and graceful child;
but it will certainly cause remark.”
“Well, mother, you can easily say, what is really the
fact, that you naturally felt an interest in her because
I picked her out of the water. Besides, if people make
remarks they will soon be tired of that; and if not, I can
THE SHOWMAN’s GRANDCHILD. 2I
get into some scrape or other and give them something
else to talk about.”
Accordingly when Sergeant Wilks called on Monday
morning for his answer, Mrs. Walsham told him that
she had decided to accept his offer.
“You are aware how I am placed,” she said, “and
that I cannot give her the care and time which I could
wish, and which she ought to have for such a liberal
payment as you propose; but you know that before-
hand, and you see that for two years' payments I could
not sacrifice my school connection, which I should have
to do if I gave her the time I should wish.”
“I understand, madam,” he said, “and I am grateful
to you for consenting to take her. She is getting too
old now to wander about with me, and since the narrow
escape she had last time I was here I have felt anxious
whenever she was out of my sight. It would not suit
me to put her in a farmhouse. I want her to learn
to speak nicely, and I have done my best to teach her;
but if she went to a farmhouse she would be picking
up all sorts of country words, and I want her to talk
like a little lady. So that is settled, ma'am. I am going
on to Exeter from here, and shall get her a stock of
clothes there, and will bring her back next Saturday.
Will it suit you to take her then?”
Mrs. Walsham said that would suit very well; and
an hour later the sergeant set out from Sidmouth with
his box, Aggie trotting alongside talking continu-
ously.
“But why am I to stop with that lady, grampa, and
not to go about with you any more? I shan’t like it.
I like going about, though I get so tired sometimes
when you are showing the pictures, and I like being
with you. It isn't 'cause I have been naughty, is it?
'cause I fell out of the boat into the water? I won’t
never get into a boat again, and I didn’t mean to fall
out, you know.”
“No, Aggie, it's not that,” the sergeant said. “You
are always a good girl—at least, not always, because
22 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
sometimes you get into passions, you know. Still, alto-
gether you are a good little girl. Still, you see, you
can't always be going about the country with me.”
“But why not, grampa’”
“Well, my dear, because great girls can’t go about
the country like men; it wouldn't be right and proper
they should.” • *
“Why shouldn’t it, grampa’” the child persisted.
“Well, Aggie, I can't exactly explain to you why,
but so it is. Men and boys have to work; they go
about in ships, or as soldiers to fight for their country,
just as I did. Girls and women have to stop at home
and keep house and nurse babies and that sort of thing.
God made man to be hard and rough and to work and
go about; he made woman gentle and soft to stop at
home and make things comfortable.”
Aggie meditated for some distance in silence upon
this view of the case. “But I have seen women working
in the fields, grampa, and some of them didn’t seem very
soft and gentle.”
“No, Aggie, things don't always go just as they
Ought to do; and you see when people are poor, and
men can’t earn enough wages, then their wives and
daughters have to help; and then you see they get
rough, more like men, because they are not doing their
proper work; but I want you to grow up soft and gentle,
and so for a time I want you to live with that lady with
the nice boy who pulled you out of the water, and they
will make you very happy, and I shall come and see
you sometime.”
“I like him,” the child said with a nod; “but I would
rather be with you, you know.”
“And the lady will teach you to read, Aggie; you
have learned your letters, you know.”
Aggie shook her head, to show that this part of the
programme 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;
and you must never forget, you know, that he saved
THE SHowMAN's GRANDCHILD. 23
your life. Just think how unhappy I should be if he
had not got you out of the water.”
“The water was cold and nasty,” Aggie said, “and
it seemed so warm and nice to my hands. Aggie won't
go near the water any more. Of course if the boy is
with me, I can go, because he won't let me tumble in.
Shall I get into the basket now, grampa P I is tired.”
“Oh, nonsense, little woman! you have not walked
half a mile yet. Anyhow, you must trot along until
you get to the top of this hill, then you shall have a lift
for a bit.”
And so, with the child sometimes walking and some-
times riding, sometimes asleep in her basket and some-
times chatting merrily to her grandfather, the pair made
their way across the country toward Exeter.
There was no little talk in Sidmouth when on the
following Sunday the showman's grandchild appeared
in Mrs. Walsham's pew in church, and it became known
that she had become an inmate of her house. It was
generally considered that Mrs. Walsham had let herself
down greatly by taking the showman's grandchild, and
one or two of the mothers of her pupils talked about
taking them away. One or two indeed called upon her
to remonstrate personally, but they gained nothing by
the step.
“I do not understand what you mean,” she said
quietly, “by saying that the child is not fit to associate
with my other pupils. She is singularly gentle and
taking in her manner. She expresses herself better
than any child of her own age in Sidmouth, so far as
I know. There are few so neatly and prettily dressed.
What is there to object to? Her grandfather has been
a sergeant in the army; he bears a good character, and
is liked wherever he goes. I do not consider that
James or myself are in any way demeaned by sitting
down to meals with the child, who indeed behaves as
prettily and nicely as one could wish, and I certainly
do not see that any of my pupils can be injuriously
affected by the fact that for an hour or two in the day.
24 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
she learns her lessons in the same room with them.
Had I thought that they would be, I should not have
received her. I shall, of course, be sorry if any of my
pupils are taken away, but as I have several girls only
waiting for vacancies, it would make no difference to
me pecuniarily.”
And so it happened that Mrs. Walsham lost none of
her pupils, and in a short time the wonder died out;
indeed the child herself was so pretty and taking in her
ways that it was impossible to make any objection to
her personally. Mrs. Walsham had been struck by the
self-command which she showed at parting with her
grandfather. Her eyes were full of tears, her lip quiv-
ered, and she could scarcely speak; but there was no
loud wailing, no passionate outburst. Her grandfather
had impressed upon her that the parting was for her
own good, and child though she was, she felt how great
a sacrifice he was making in parting with her, and
although she could not keep the tears from streaming
down her cheeks, or silence her sobs as she bade him
good-by, she tried hard to suppress her grief. The
pain of parting was indeed fully as great to Sergeant
Wilks as to his granddaughter, and it was with a very
husky voice that he bade her good-by, and then putting
her into Mrs. Walsham's arms, walked hastily away.
Aggie was soon at home. She and James very
quickly became allies, and the boy was ever ready to
amuse her, often giving up his own plans to take her for
a walk to pick flowers in the hedgerow, or to sail a tiny
boat for her in the pools left as the sea retired. Mrs.
Walsham found to her surprise that the child gave little
trouble. She was quiet and painstaking during the
half-hours in the morning and afternoon when she was
in the school-room, while at meal times her prattle and
talk amused both mother and son, and altogether she
made the house brighter and happier than it was before.
In two months the sergeant came around again. He
did not bring his box with him, having left it at his last
halting place, telling James, who happened to meet him
THE SHOWMAN’s GRANDCHILD. 25
as he came into Sidmouth, that he did not mean to
bring his show there again.
“It will be better for the child,” he explained. “She
has done with the peep-show now, and I do not want
her to be any longer associated with it.”
Aggie was delighted to see him, and sprang into his
arms with a scream of joy as he entered. After a few
minutes' talk Mrs. Walsham suggested that she should
put on her hat and go for a walk with him, and in high
contentment the child trotted off, holding her grand-
father's hand. Turning to the left the sergeant took
the path up the hill, and when he reached the top, sat
º On the short turf, with Aggie nestling up against
1111.
“So you are quite well and happy, Aggie?” he asked.
“Quite well, grampa, and very happy; but I do wish
so much that you were here. Oh, it would be so nice
to have you to go out with every day!”
“I am afraid that cannot be managed, Aggie. I
have been busy so long that I could not settle down
quietly here; besides, I must live, you know.”
“But wouldn't people give you money for the show if
you lived here, grampa: You always got money here
the same as other places.”
“Yes, my dear, but I could not get fresh pictures
every day, and should soon tire them by showing the
old house.”
“But you are sorry sometimes, grampa, not to have
me with you?”
“Yes, Aggie, very sorry. I miss you terribly some-
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
to 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 know
how to read nicely, shall I be able to go with you
again?” a
26 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
“We will see about that, Aggie, when the time
º 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 you will come to presently. But Mrs. Walsham
tells me that you are getting on nicely, and that you are
a very good 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 and quiet he will take me out in a big boat, like
that boat, you 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. And he said he won't let me tumble
over, and I am going to sit quite, quite still.”
“Yes, Aggie, I don't see any harm in your going
out with him. I am sure he will only take you when
it is fine, and he will look after you well. You like
him, don’t you?”
“Oh! I do, grampa; and you know it was him who
got me out of the water, else I should never have come
out, 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 James was sailing the toy
boat for Aggie's amusement in a pool, a boy sauntered
up. He was somewhat taller than James Walsham,
and at least two years older. He was well dressed,
and James knew him 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 deal of deference at the Hall, and to Order
THE SHOWMAN’s GRANDCHILD. 27
servants and grooms about pretty much as he chose,
and the indifference with which the fisherboys regarded
him offended him 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, provided that he did
not trouble him. As to any instruction beyond books, he
never thought of giving it.
The squire never interfered. He was a silent and
disappointed man. He attended to his duties as a
magistrate and to the management of his estate, but
seldom went beyond the lodge gates. He took his
meals by himself, and often did not see his nephew for
a week together, and had no idea but that he was pur-
suing his studies regularly with his tutor. Thus the
character of Richard Horton formed itself unchecked.
At best it was a bad 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 afterward. 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 good
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 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
28 - witH wolfE IN. CANADA, .
to admire his grandeur, and the days often passed
heavily, and there was a look of discontent and peevish-
ness 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 they looked so much happier and more con-
tented 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 squire.
Altogether he was out of sorts, and had walked down
to 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 sails. James had taken a good deal
of pains with it, and it was an excellent model. Pres-
ently in crossing she stuck in a shallow some twelve
feet from the edge. The intervening stretch of water
was a foot deep. - -
James picked up some, small stones and threw them
close to her, that the tiny wave they made might float
her off. He tried several times without success.
“What’s the use of such little stones as that?”
Richard said roughly; “you will never get her off like
that; ” and picking 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. James
Walsham uttered an angry exclamation.
“You are a bad boy!” Aggie said passionately.
“You are a bad boy to break my boat; ” and she burst
into tears. -
“I didn’t mean to do it, you little fool!” Richard
said angrily, vexed more at his own clumsiness than at
the damage it had caused. “What are you mak-
THE SHOWMAN’s GRANDCHILD. 29
ing such a beastly noise about?” and he gave her a
push.
It was not a hard one, but the ground was slippery,
and the child's foot slipped, and she fell at the edge of
* the pool, her dress going partly into the water. At the
same instant Richard reeled and almost fell beside her,
from a heavy blow between the eyes from James’
fist.
“You insolent blackguard!” he exclaimed furiously,
“I will pay you for this;” and he rushed at James.
The combat was not a long one. Hard work at row-
ing and sailing had strengthened Jim Walsham's
muscles, and more than balanced the advantage in
height and age of his adversary. He had had, too,
more than one fight in his time, and after the first sud-
den burst of passion caused by 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 to-
ward the beach, making for two fishermen who were
engaged in mending a net some distance away; but
before she could reach them to beg for aid for her cham-
pion the fight was over, terminating by a heavy right-
handed hit from James which landed Richard Horton
on his back in the pool. James stood quietly awaiting
a renewal of the conflict when he arose, but Richard had
had enough of it: one 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 red mud.
“I will pay you for this, you see if I don't!” Richard
gasped hoarsely.
“What! have you had enough of it?” James said
scornfully. “I thought you weren't any good; a fel-
low who would bully a little girl is sure to be a coward.”
Richard moved as if he would renew the fight, but he
thought better of it, and with a furious exclamation
hurried away toward the Hall. ~
James, without paying any further heed to him,
waded after the boat, and having recovered it, walked
3o - WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
off toward the child, who, on seeing his opponent had
Imoved off, was running down to meet him.
“Here is the boat, Aggie,” he said; “there is no great
harm done, only the mast and yard broken. I can
easily put you in fresh ones; ” but the child paid no
attention to the boat. *
“He is a wicked bad boy, Jim; and did he hurt
you?” -
“Oh, no, he didn't hurt me, Aggie, at least nothing
to speak of. I hurt him a good deal more; I paid him
Out well for breaking your boat and pushing you down,
the cowardly brute!”
“Only look, Jim,” she said, holding out her frock;
“what will she say?” º
James laughed.
“Mother won’t say anything,” he said; “she is accus-
tomed to my coming in all muddy.”
“But she said “Keep your frock clean,’ and it's not
clean!” Aggie said in dismay.
“Yes, but that is not your fault, little one; I will
make it all right with her, don't you fret. Come on,
we had better go home and change it as soon as pos-
sible.”
They passed close by the two fishermen on their way.
“You gave it to the young squire finely, Master Wal-
sham,” one of them said, “and served him right, too.
We chanced to be looking at the moment and saw it all.
He is a bad un’, he is, by what they say at the Hall.
I heard one of the grooms talking last night down at
the Ship, and a nice character he gave him. This
thrashing may do him some good; and look you, Mas-
ter Walsham, if he makes a complaint to the squire,
and it’s likely enough he will get up a fine story of how
it came about, the groom said he could lie like King
Pharaoh, you just send word to me, and me and Bill
will go up to the squire and tell him the truth of the
matter.”
Mrs. Walsham felt somewhat alarmed when her son
told her what had happened, for the squire was a great
THE SHOWMAN'S GRANDCHILD. 31
man at Sidmouth, a magistrate, and the owner of the
greater part of the place as well as of the land around it;
and although Mrs. Walsham did not hold the same
exaggerated opinion of his powers as did the majority
of his neighbors, who would scarcely have dreamed of
opposing it had the squire ordered anyone to be hung
and quartered, still she felt that it was a somewhat ter-
rible thing that her son should have thrashed the
nephew and heir of the great man. -
In the evening there was a knock at the door, and the
little maid came in with eyes wide open with alarm, for
she had heard of the afternoon’s battle, to say that the
constable wished to speak to Mrs. Walsham.
“Servant, ma'am,” he said as he entered. “I am
sorry to be here on an unpleasant business; but I have
got to say as the squire wishes to see Master Walsham
in the justice-room at ten o'clock on a charge of 'sault
and battery. Don't you be afeard, ma'am,” he went on
confidentially. “I don't think as anything is going to
be done to him. I aint got no warrant, and so I don't
look upon it as regular business. I expects it will
be a blowing up. It will be just the squire and
not the magistrate, I takes it. He told me to have
him up there at ten, but as he said nothing about
custody I thought I would do it my own way and
come to you quiet like; so if you say as Master
Walsham shall be up there at ten o'clock I'll just take
your word for it and won’t come to fetch him. The
doctor was allus very good to me and my missus, and
I shouldn't like to be walking through Sidmouth with
my hand on his son's collar.”
“Thank you, Hobson,” Mrs. Walsham said quietly.
“You can rely upon it my son shall be there punctu-
ally; he has nothing to be afraid or ashamed of.” -
Full of rage as Richard Horton had been as he
started for home, he would never have brought the
matter before the squire on his own account. His case
was too weak, and he had been thrashed by a boy
younger than himself. Thus he would have probably
32 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
chosen some other way of taking his vengeance; but it
happened that just as he arrived home he had met his
tutor coming out. The latter was astounded at Rich-
ard's appearance, his eyes were already puffed so much
that he could scarcely see out of them, his lips were cut
and swollen, his shirt stained with blood, his clothes
drenched and plastered with red mud.
“Why, what on earth has happened, Richard?”
Richard had already determined upon his version of
the story.
“A brute of a boy knocked me down into the water,”
he said, “ and then knocked me about till he almost
killed me.”
“But what made him assault you in this outrageous
manner?” his tutor asked. “Surely all the boys about
here must know you by sight; and how one of them
would dare to strike you I cannot conceive.”
“I know the fellow,” Richard said angrily; “he is the
son of that doctor fellow who died two years ago.”
“But what made him do it?” the tutor repeated.
“He was sailing his boat and it got stuck, and he
threw in some stones to get it off, and I helped him,
and I happened to hit the mast of his beastly boat, and
then he flew at me like a tiger, and that’s all.” -
“Well, it seems to be a monstrous assault, Richard,
and you must speak to the squire about it.”
“Oh, no, I shan’t,” Richard said hastily; “I don’t
want any row about it, and I will pay him off some other
way. I could lick him easy enough if it had been a fair
fight, only he knocked me down before I was on my
guard. No, I shan’t say anything about it.” -
But Richard's tutor, on thinking the matter over,
determined to speak to the squire. Only the evening
before Mr. Linthorne had surprised him by asking him
several questions as to Richard's progress and conduct,
and had said something about examining him himself,
to see how he was getting on. This had caused Mr.
Robertson no little alarm, for he knew that even the
most superficial questioning would betray the extent of
THE SHOWMAN’s GRANDCHILD. 33
%.
Richard’s ignorance, and he had resolved that hence-
forth he would endeavor to assert his authority and to
insist upon Richard's devoting a certain portion of each
day regularly to study. Should the squire meet the boy
anywhere about the house he must at once notice the
condition of his face, and even if he did not meet him
he could not fail to notice it on Sunday when he sat
beside him in the pew. It would be better, therefore,
that he should at once report the matter to him. With-
out saying a word to Richard of his intentions he there-
fore went to the squire's study and told him what had
taken place as he had learned it from Richard. The
squire listened silently.
“Very well, Mr. Robertson, you were quite right to
tell me about it; of course I cannot suffer my nephew
to be treated in this manner, at the same time I am
sorry that it was Walsham's son. I don’t know any-
thing about the boy, and should not know him even by
sight, but I had an esteem for his father, who was a
hard-working man, and I believe clever; he used to
attend here whenever any of the servants were ill, and
I had intended to do something for the boy. I am
sorry he has turned out so badly; however, I will have
him up here and speak to him. This sort of thing can-
not be permitted.”
And accordingly orders were given to the constable.
When in the evening Mr. Robertson informed Richard
what he had done, the boy flew into a terrible passion,
and abused his tutor with a violence of language which
shocked and astonished him, and opened his eyes to his
own culpability in allowing him to go on his way un-
checked. He in vain endeavored to silence the furious
lad. He had been so long without exercising any
authority that he had now no authority to exercise, and
after an angry scene Richard flung himself out of the
room and left his tutor in a state bordering on conster-
nation.
34 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.,
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 morning. 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; however, 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 standing by the side of James Walsham
at the other end of the room. Mr. Linthorne nodded
to his nephew. -
“I wish you to repeat the story which you told Mr.
Robertson yesterday.” -
Richard had thought over whether it would be better
to soften his story, but as it had already been told to the
THE JUSTICE ROOM. 35
squire he had concluded that there would be more
danger in contradicting his first version than in sticking
to it. Accordingly he repeated his story almost word
for word as he had told it to Mr. Robertson.
“What have you to say to this, James Walsham?”
the squire asked. “This is a serious charge, that you
without any provocation assaulted and maltreated my
nephew.” - t
“I say it is all a lie, sir,” James said fearlessly.
The squire uttered a short exclamation of surprise
and anger. He had been at first favorably impressed
with the appearance of the young prisoner, though he
had been surprised at seeing that he was younger than
i. nephew, for he had expected to see a much older
Oy.
“That is not the way to speak, sir,” he said sternly,
while the constable pressed a warning hand on James'
shoulder.
“Well, sir, it's not true, then,” the boy said; “it’s all
false from beginning to end, except that I did strike
him first; but I struck him, not because he had thrown
a great stone and broken my boat, but because he
pushed a little girl who was with me down into the
water.”
“She slipped down; I never pushed her,” Richard
broke in.
“Hold your tongue, sir,” the squire said sternly;
“you have given your evidence. I have now to hear
what the accused has to say. Now tell your story.”
James now gave his version of the affair.
When he had ended Mr. Linthorne said gravely,
“Have you any witnesses to call?”
º Yes, sir; there are two fishermen outside who saw
it.” *
“Bring them in,” the magistrate said to the constable.
Not a word was spoken in the justice room until the
constable returned. As James had told his story the
magistrate had listened with disbelief; it had not oc-
curred to him that his nephew could have told a lie,
36 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
and he wondered at the calmness with which this boy
told his story. Why, were it true, Richard was a cow-
ard as well as a liar, for with his superior age and
height he should have been able to thrash this boy in
a fair fight, yet James' face had not a mark, while his
nephew's showed how severely he had been punished.
But his eye fell upon Richard when James said that he
had witnesses; he saw an unmistakable look of terror
came Over his face, and the bitter conviction flashed
across him that James' story was the true one.
“There is no occasion to give him the book, Hob-
son,” he said, as the constable was about to hand the
Testament to one of the fishermen; “this is a private
investigation, not a formal magisterial sitting, and there
is º Occasion at this stage to take any evidence on
oath.”
“What is your name, my man?”
“John Mullens, your honor.”
“Well, just tell me, Mullens, what you know about
this business.” -
“I was a-mending my nets, yer honor, along with
Simon Harte, and young Master Walsham was a-sail-
ing his boat in a pool along with the little gal as lives at
his mother’s.” \
“How far were you from the spot where he was?”
the squire asked.
“Two hundred yards or so, I should say,” the fisher-
man replied; “we was working behind a boat, but we
could see over it well enough; presently we saw Master
Horton come down and stand alongside the others. I
said to Simon, ‘He is a good-looking young fellow, is
the squire's nephew,’” and the fisherman's eye twinkled
with a grim humor as he glanced at Richard's swollen
face. “The boat got stuck and Master Walsham threw
something in close to it to get it off; then I see Master
Horton stoop and pick up a chunk of stone and chuck
it hard, and it hit the boat and knocked it over; I see
the little girl turn around and say something to Master
Horton, and then she put her apron up to her face and
THE JUSTICE ROOM. 37
began to cry; he gave her a sort of shove and she tum-
bled down into the edge of the pool. I says to Simon,
‘What a shame!’ but afore the words was out of my
mouth Master Walsham he hits him, and hits him hard
too; then there was a fight, but Master Horton he
hadn't a chance with James, who gave him as sound
a licking as ever you see'd, and ending with knocking
him backward into the pool; then he gets up and shakes
his fist at James and then goes off as hard as he could.
That’s all I know about it.”
“It is a wicked lie!” Richard burst out; “they have
made it up between them. There was nobody there.” .
“Hold your tongue, sir, I tell you,” the squire said,
SO sternly that Richard, who had risen from his seat,
shrank back again and remained silent; while Simon
Harte gave his evidence, which was almost identical
with that of the other fisherman.
“Have you any other witnesses?” the magistrate
asked James. - Y.
“Only the little girl, sir; but I did not bring her up.
She is so little I thought it was better she should not
come, but I can send for her if you wish it.”
“It is not necessary,” Mr. Linthorne said. “I have
heard quite sufficient. The manner in which you and
these fishermen have given your evidence convinces me
that you are speaking the truth, and I am sorry that
you should have been placed in this position. You will
understand that this is not a formal court, and there-
fore that there is no question of discharging you. I
can only say that having heard the story of what took
place at this fight between you and my nephew, I am
convinced that you did 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
38 with wolfE IN CANADA.
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
geography and history showed that he was equally
deficient in these also.
“That will do,” the squire said. “Go up to your
room, and remain there until I send for you.”
An hour after this a dog-cart came around 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 knowl-
edge that Richard Horton was in disgrace. The exact
circumstances of the affair were unknown, for the fisher-
men 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 better 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 Horton had been thrashed, and that the
squire himself had said that it served him right, Sid-
mouth 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
THE JUSTICE ROOM, 39
had invented this falsehood against his opponent; 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 per-
mitted to run wild, his head was turned with the change
in his prospects, 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 mak-
ing 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 extent, 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 offense; he would give him one
more trial. The result of 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 remained 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 con-
clusion. My first impulse was to pack you off home
and have no more 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 offense, and that the lesson which
it has taught you may influence all your future life, and
that you may yet grow up an honorable man.
“But you will remember that henceforth you are on
4O witH wolfE IN CANADA.
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,
honorable, 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. I have just written to a friend of mine, a
post-captain 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 depend 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 every
respect an honorable 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
THE JUSTICE ROOM. 4I
imperiled 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 around to assure himself that
there were no witnesses who would contradict it, he
wandered diconsolate about the gardens and park, curs-
ing 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 notori-
ous 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 begging that he might be sent off
: once, as the vessel would probably put to sea in a few
ayS.
“Now, Richard,” the squire said that evening to him
in a kinder voice than he had used on the last occasion,
“you understand exactly how we stand toward each
other. That being so, I do not wish to maintain our
present uncomfortable relations. You have had your
punishment, 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
42 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
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 his 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 her questions. 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 hour's lesson, .
morning and afternoon, soon grew into two. She was
eager to learn, and rapidly gained ground on Mrs. Wal-
sham's older pupils. During the two years that lady
never had cause to regret that she had yielded to the
sergeant's entreaties. Aggie was no trouble in the
house, which she brightened with her childish laughter
and merry talk, and her companionship, James' mother
could not but think, did the boy much good. It soft-
ened his manner, and although he still often went out
with the fishermen, he was no longer thrown entirely
for companionship 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,
THE JUSTICE Room. 43
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 other-
wise 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 did not intend to continue the arrangement she
judged 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 thought 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 grand-
father, and yet he could hardly intend to take her about
with him, after placing her for two years in a comfort-
able home. She was but seven years old now—far too
young to go out into a place as servant-girl in a farm-
house. She doubted not that the sergeant had ex-
pended 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
44 witH wolfE IN CANADA. .
enough to take a place as a nurse girl. And yet while
she argued thus, Mrs. Walsham felt that the old show-
man had not acted without weighing the whole matter.
There must be something in it which she did not under-
stand. 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' 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 con-
sidered an extravagance, since the money she had re-
ceived for her would pay for the cost of her keep for
years to come. 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 parlor, as usual, with James and Aggie
present, he formally requested the favor of a conversa-
tion 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 traveling the country with a peep-
show, 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 grand-
daughter, but she is the granddaughter, too, of Squire
Linthorne up at the Hall.” -
THE JUSTICE ROOM. 45
“Bless me!” Mrs. Walsham ejaculated, too aston-
ished 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
Linthorne, 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 afterward we heard that he was dead, and there
was a report that his wife was dead too, but that was
Only a rumor. The squire went away just at the time,
and did not come back for months afterward, 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 acquaint-
ances, and never went outside the park gates except to
come down to church. 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 aston-
ished 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 vin-
dictive 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.” * -
46 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
“But why did you not tell him before?” Mrs. Wal-
sham 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 her 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 Saturday 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 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 had a narrow escape, and who could say what
might happen the next time she got into mischief?
Then I bethought 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, Smil-
ing, “though it was with some difficulty.”
“I expected it would be difficult, ma'am; but I 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 that 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.
THE JUSTICE ROOM. 47
“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.” s
“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 indi-
rectly.” 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, who, she knows, has saved her life, for
two years, she is sure to have a strong affection for
him.’ -
“Many things may happen afterward; 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 I 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 honorable
gentleman like his father; but he cannot look so high
as the granddaughter 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. I will agree that
48 - WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
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 daugh-
ter 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 obli-
gation, 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 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 and 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 toward preventing her 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. Thät
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
THE JUSTICE ROOM, g 49
here in church; but he regards me as responsible for
the folly of his son. He wrote 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, I can see the likeness strongly. Yes; I
should think 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 own son when he lay
dying, how could he care for a grandchild he had never
seen P”
“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 dis-
cuss it again to-morrow.”
5o WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
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 intro-
duced 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
misjudged 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 though for her good and happiness you are ready
to give her up, it is a heavy sacrifice for you to make.”
That afternoon the sergeant went for a long walk
alone with Aggie, and when they returned Mrs. Wal-
sham 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 seemed depressed and quiet.
He supposed that 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 approach-
ing termination of the stay with his mother. As they
came out of church Mrs. Walsham had waited for a
moment at the door, and had told the butler at the Hall
THE SQUIRE's GRANDDAUGHTER. 51
that she wished particularly to speak to him that after-
noon 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.
Walsham 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 I 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—placed 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 adver-
tise 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,
John. He tells me that the son wrote to his father over
and over again on his death-bed, 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 traveled about across the sea among
the foreigners, and when he was at a place they called
52 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
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 car-
riage was round to the door, and we posted as hard
as horses could take us right across England to Broad-
stairs, 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 hever answered
his letters. I had a terrible time with him, and then he
set to work to find the child; but, as I told you, we
never did find it, or hear a word of it from that time
to this, and the squire has never held up his head. He
will be pretty well out of his mind with joy.”
“I am very glad to hear what you say, John,” Mrs.
Walsham 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.”
“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
THE SQUIRE'S GRANDDAUGHTER. 53
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 for 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 been
brought up, and then the sergeant himself, who was
waiting 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
afterward the sergeant told her the history of her
parents, 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 grandpa 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 around 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
54 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
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 without 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
be 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 recon-
ciled. 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,
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 it was too late. You must think, dear, that
while I have been happy all these years with you, he
has been sorrowing 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.
3 y
THE SQUIRE's GRANDDAUGHTER, 55
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,
throwing her arms around 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 behavior 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 demeanor. That something 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 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 declared there was nothing. Altogether
the squire was puzzled. With any other servant he
would have thought he 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 ridicu-
lous to suppose that John, at his age, had fallen in love.
56 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
Altogether the squire failed to suggest to himself any
explanation of his old butler's conduct, and had just
concluded philosophically by the reflection that he sup-
posed 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 toward 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 appeal-
ing. Her hands were clasped before her, and she was
standing in doubt whether to advance. There was
something so strange in this apparition 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 con-
nection 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 toward him.
“Grandpapa,” she said, “I am Aggie Linthorne.”
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 toward him and
kissed her passionately, while the tears streamed down
his cheeks.
THE SQUIRE'S GRANDDAUGHTER. 57
“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. Wal-
sham 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 with a quickness that showed that he had been
waiting close to it, anxiously waiting a summons.
“John 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 eyer 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
58 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
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 3 y
John hesitated at the name, for he knew that perhaps the
only man in the world against whom his master cher-
ished 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 peep-show as they
calls it.”
The squire winced. W
“He is well spoken of, squire,” John said, “and I am
bound to say 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 what she was told to do, and was waiting
quietly for what was to come next. Her quick ear,
however, caught in the tones of John Petersham an
apolegetic 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
THE SQUIRE's GRANDDAUGHTER. 59
and the nicest, and iſ 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. I 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 of
him in future. We all make mistakes, you know, and
I have made terrible mistakes, and have been terribly
punished for them. I dare say I 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, grand-
papa?” 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, grandpapal’ she exclaimed joy-
fully, and she held up her face to kiss him. -
The squire lifted her in his arms and held her closely
to him. * . º:
“John,” he said, “you must tell Mrs. Morcombe to
get a room ready for my granddaughter at once, and
6o WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
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
grandfather, 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 quarreled over my granddaughter!”
“Yes, squire, and young Walsham came well out of
it!” John said heartily; for to him only had the squire
mentioned the circumstances of 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
the 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
lace.”
pla: 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 afterward.”
“There are many excuses to be made for him, John,”
the squire said, “and I have had good reports of him
THE SQUIRE's GRANDDAUGHTER. -> 6 I
since. Of course I shall see that, although he can no
longer be regarded as my heir here, he shall be well
provided 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 received her,
and take any 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
that 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 aston-
ishment. “I never saw a fire in a bedroom before.”
“I didn't light it for the cold, miss,” the housekeeper
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.” –
62 witH wolfE IN CANADA.
“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 assist-
ance being required 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
expecting 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 marry-
ing his 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 pitied rather than blamed in the matter.
The squire, on his part, was grateful 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 ser-
geant 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 heart-
less and unnatural a father as you 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
THE SQUIRE's GRANDDAUGHTER. 63
brought the child to you long ago—should never have
taken her away, indeed. Perhaps we have both mis-
judged 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 wish Aggie ever to come to
think ill of me in the future it is better to set it right.
When I left the army I had saved enough money to
furnish a house, and I took one at Southampton and
set up taking lodgers there. I had my pension, and .
lived well 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, I 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 fortnight; 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 honorably
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
64 witH wolfE IN CANADA.
the house at once and not see Agnes again until he
came with your written consent to show me. -
“He went away at once. After a time he began to
write 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. However,
I 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 on her table for me,
saying that she had been married to him a week before,
when she went out, as I thought, 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 well-nigh broken my heart. She knew
that I had only refused my consent because it would
have seemed a dishonorable action to allow your son
to marry her without 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 father 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 that
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 employment. 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
THE SQUIRE'S GRANDDAUGHTER. 65
room without the necessaries of life.e I brought them
down home and nursed him for three months till he
died. -
“A week later Aggie was born. Ten days afterward
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, 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 travel-
ing 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 in London who sold such things. I left the
child for a year with some people I knew a few miles
Out of Southampton, 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 bring-
ing her to you, I thought she should have a 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 would not take her. I wanted to keep
her for myself; but my duty to her was clear; and now,
66 WITH WOLFE IN CAN AIDA,
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 I have done my duty as far as I could, and
that, though I have made many mistakes, my conscience
is clear that I did the best as far as it seemed to me at
the time.”
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 found 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 busi-
ness. 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 it freely after he was
first married. He would naturally wish to have every-
A QUIET TIME. * 67
thing 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
I 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 I have heard your story I trust that you will for-
give my past suspicions of you, and let me say how
much I honor and esteem you for your conduct. No
words can tell you how I 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 I 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 centered 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 she was delighted with these, the gardens and park
were an even greater excitement and pleasure. Danc-
68 witH wolfE IN CANADA.
ing, chattering, 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 neighbors, 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 fin-
ished, “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
both comfortably seated in the study. “You see, you
have been thinking and planning about the child for
years, while it has 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 teaching her, though, of course, she must be
taught, but as a companion for her.” -
“Yes,” the sergeant assented, “she must have a
governess,” -
5 5
A QUIET TIME. --- 69
“It will be a troublesome matter to find one to suit,”
the squire said thoughtfully. “I don’t want a harsh
sort of Gorgon to repress her spirits and bother 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 reluct-
ance 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
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
$.
76 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
and promptitude she must have been drowned. A
monent'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 off 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 and 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
usual,” 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 privi-
lege 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 squire exclaimed hotly. “You have been virtually
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
A QUIET TIME. 71
months! The idea is unnatural, it is downright mon-
strous! 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 honor 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
guardian of the child. -
“I will have no refusal, man,” he went on as the ser-.
geant 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 who 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 latter had really at heart the
proposal 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 seen the world, you have traveled and mixed with
men, you are fit to associate as an equal with anyone.
Don't you deceive yourself; you certainly do not de-
ceive me. It is pride that stands in your way. For
that you are going to risk the happiness of your grand-
daughter, to say nothing of mine; for you don't sup-
pose that either of us is going to feel comfortable and
happy when the snow is whirling round and the wind
72 - WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
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 deroga-
tory in the Offer. 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 hav-
ing 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 ser–
geant 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.
Aggie was wild with delight when she was called in
and informed of the arrangement. The thought of her
grandfather tramping the country alone had been the
one drawback to the pleasure of her life at Mrs. Wal-
A QUIET TIME. 73
sham'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 comfort, 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 I are the prince and princess; and James—and what
is to be done with James—is he to come up too?”
“No, my 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. Wal-
sham asked, bewildered, as the child poured out her
116 W.S.
“Aggie is too fast, madam,” the squire said, entering
the room accompanied by the sergeant. “She is taking
it all for granted while it has 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
74 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
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 inten-
tion of sending James to a good school at Exeter as an
installment 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. t
Mrs. Walsham was delighted with the offer, even
more for James' sake than her own, although the pros-
pect 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 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 sur-
prise of Sidmouth and the neighborhood 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 fish off the coast, or of troubles between the smug-
A QUIET TIME. 75
glers and the revenue officers, Sidmouth had few excite-
ments, 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 con-
vinced that the little girl at Mrs. Walsham's was some-
thing more than she seemed to be, and that the
showman was a man quite out of the ordinary way.
And when on the following Sunday the sergeant, who
had in the mean time been to Exeter, walked 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 Ser-
geant 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 favor-
able.
None had ever known the exact story of Herbert's
marriage. It was generally supposed that he had
married beneath him; but the opinion now was that this
must have been a mistake, for there was nothing in any
way vulgar about the quiet, military-looking gentleman
with whom the squire was evidently on terms of warm
friendship. -
The only person somewhat dissatisfied with the
arrangement 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 himself to utter a word in opposition. At heart,
however, he longed for a more stirring and more adven-
76 . WITH WOLFE IN CANADA. .
turous 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 pro-
fession, 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 years passed quietly. James Walsham worked
hard 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 pick-
ing 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 as 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, and 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 incapa-
A QUIET TIME. 77
ble 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 com-
rades he had gained the nickname of “The Dandy’—
a name which he accepted in good part, although it had
not been intended as complimentary, 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 had 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 and a very agreeable fellow when he liked,
he was not somehow 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. Accord- . .
ingly all the reports that his captain had sent home of
him had been favorable. 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 considerable dif-
ference in his prospects, he should still, if the reports of
78 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
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 sup-
posing that your conduct will be satisfactory, I shall
continue during my life-time the allowance you at pres-
ent 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.”
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 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 sātisfactory
reports from his captain, who can know very little of his
private character, and a soft-soldering letter like that,
to reinstate him in my good opinion. I will wager that
if you and I had been standing 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.’ Balh ' ' the old soldier
said scornfully, “I would lay all my pension to a shilling
A QUIET TIME. 70
that 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-humored 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 pro-
fession. He was full of life and anecdote; his manner to
the squire was admirable, affectionate, and quietly
respectful, without any air of endeavoring especially to
ingratiate himself with him; nor could the ex-sergeant
find anything to complain of in the young man’s manner
toward 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 friend and com-
panion in his lonely life, and to express a 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 increased rather than dimin-
ished by the young officer's conduct toward Aggie. It
might be, of course, that he was only striving to over-
come 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 mementos of travel which he picked up in the ports
of India and China, and from time to time sent home to
8o WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
his uncle, there was always a little box with some pretty
trinket “for my cousin.” She found him now a delight-
ful companion; he treated her as if she had been seven-
teen 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 humor all her whims and
fancies.
“Confound him and his pleasant manners!” the ex-
sergeant would mutter to himself as he watched them
together, and saw, as he believed, in the distance, the
Overthrow of the scheme he had at heart. “He is turn-
ing 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 outstretched hand.
“I am glad to meet you again,” he said. “I behaved
like a blackguard last time we met, and you gave me the
thrashing which I deserved. I hope we shall get on
better in the future.”
Aggie and her two grandfathers were present, and
James Walsham 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 remon-
strated 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.”
A QUIET TIME. 81
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 earnestness 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 distinguishing 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!
you are not really cross with me, are you?” and the
tears at once sprang into her eyes. “I have not been
doing anything wrong, have I?”
“No, my dear, not in the least wrong,” her grand-
father 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 Sid-
mouth 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 P’’
“I don’t think it's for that he stays away, Aggie. In
fact, you see Jim has only just left school, and he feels
he can't laugh, and talk, and tell you stories about
82 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
foreign countries as this young fellow can, and having
been SO long accustomed to have you to himself, he
naturally would not like the playing second fiddle to
Richard Horton.” t *
“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 as true as steel; he is an
honorable and upright young fellow. He is worth fifty
of this self-satisfied, pleasant-spoken young sailor.”
“I know James is good and kind, grampa,” the girl
said 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' 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 grand-
father's earnestness. She knew she liked her old play-
mate far better than Richard Horton, although the
latter's attentions pleased and flattered her. The old
soldier went straight off to the squire's study. º
“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 I 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,”
A QUIET TIME. 83
“Master Richard certainly is carrying on a sort of
flirtation 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
regained 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 go
away for a time. My box is still lying at Exeter, and I
would 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 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. I 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.”
84 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
CHAPTER VI.
A STORM.
AFTER breakfast 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 undesirable that Aggie should see much of
Richard until she is of an age to form a fair opinion for
herself, and to compare 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. You
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 mean time, 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 our-
selves about Aggie's future at present. Still in a matter
which concerns us both so nearly we cannot be too care-
ful. 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.”
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
A ST ORM. 85
order gave Richard extreme satisfaction. He was be-
ginning 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 favor, 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, assum-
ing, 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 ex-
pected 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 morn-
ing, intending to insist on his returning with him to the
Hall. As he went down toward Sidmouth the old
soldier noticed how strongly the wind was blowing, the
trees were swaying and thrashing in the wind, the clouds
were flying fast overhead. Everything portended a se-
vere gale. Finding at Mrs. Walsham'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
86 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
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 com-
ing 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 fishermen are just going to get life-lines 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 lunch,
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
saying 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 pres-
ently. 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. I
hear that fellow Horton went away last week.”
“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
A STORM. 87
*
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
to 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 willfully 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 toward
each other when she was at your mother's, and as you
have chosen to throw 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
88 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
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
succeeded by another almost equally furious, and this
seemed to increase in strength until the wind was blow-
ing a perfect 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 well-nigh
impossible 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, and four of them had hold of the other end of
the rope. When the boat was within fifty yards of the
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 he approached threw it far ahead.
The fishermen rushed waist deep into the water and
caught the end of it, which in a moment was knotted
to the one in his hand.
A STORM. 89
“Run along with her,” he shouted.
For a moment the boat towered on the top of a wave
which raced in toward 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 leaped out waist deep; all
were taken off their feet by the backward rush, but they
clung to the sides of the boat, while the men at the head-
rope, with their heels dug deeply into the sand, with-
stood 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 around, the next struck it broadside and rolled it
over and over toward 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 line of breakers. James Walsham had been
working with the fishermen in saving those already
brought to shore. He now fastened the end of a line
around 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.” ſº * rº
The lad waited for his opportunity, and then, rushing
90 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
down after the sheet of white foam, he stood waist deep
as a great wave, some twelve feet high, towered up like
a wall toward 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 for 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 toward 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 round
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
CarS.
“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 broken his arm,” one of the fishermen who
had just helped the man to his feet replied; “he may be
thankful it’s no worse.”
James was now helped to his feet.
A STORM. 91
“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 out from the spectators,
clustering 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 waist deep in the white foam, in which were scat-
tered here and there portions of the boat, Oars, sails, and
nets.
“Well done! well done!” 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
§
92 WITH WolfE IN CANADA.
waves—there, I can see a head. That's just about where
I 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.” - - -
Aggie looked again. “Oh, grandpapa, stop him!
stop him!'” she cried; “it’s James.” But at the same
ºnt the plunge was made and the figure lost to
Sight. - - •-
Aggie threw her arms around her grandfather and hid
her face. -
“I can't look, I can’t look!” she cried; “tell me about
it.” w -
“There, he 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 tightening the rope; now he is waving his
hand again and they 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 around. -
“Come along, grandpapa; let 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
fishermen grouped on the shore stooping Over the pros-
trate figures; then one of them stood up and waved his
hand, 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?”
*
A STORM. 93
*...
“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 around 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
exclaimed as they entered; “but don’t talk to him now,
but mix 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,
toward which the wind had blown her clong 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
consciousness.
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, while she set the squire to work to
chafe her hands. Aggie soon opened her eyes and re-
covered 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 were 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. I think, Mr. Linthorne, she had better get
back home. I 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. I will run up and see how James is, and
if he is all right I will come up with her and stop the
94 WITII WOLFE IN CANADA.
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 occu-
pants, he at once began to dress. He felt bruised and
sore from the blows he had received, and a red wheal
around his chest beneath the arms showed where the
rope had almost cut into the flesh. However, he soon
dressed himself and descended the stars, went into the
kitchen, and told the astonished 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.” Finding 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.
A STORM. 95
One of the grooms had come down from the Hall at
six o'clock to inquire how he was, and the message given
by the girl that he had been out, but that he had come
back 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 morning,
and that he thinks the symptoms are abating. Undoubt-
edly it is a sharp feverish attack brought on by excite-
ment 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 ad-
ministered are taking effect, and I trust she will soon
fall asleep. As you requested, I have made my arrange-
ments for staying here to-night, and I trust that by the
morning we shall have her convalescent.”
Mr. Wilks had gone down the first thing in the morn-
ing 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 inquire about her; and on his last
visit, late in the evening, he was told that she was sleep-
ing quietly, and that the doctor had every hope that she
would wake in the morning free from fever. This
proved to be the case; but she was ordered to keep her
bed for a day or two.
96 WITH WOLFE IN CAN AIDA.
On the morning after the storm the wind had gone
down much, although a tremendous sea was still break-
ing on the shore. Messages arrived in the course of
the day to say that all the missing boats, with one excep-
tion, 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 favorite 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
in which he was lying was a little distance down on the
slopes on the seaward side of the path, and as a screen of
bushes grew behind it he could not be seen by anyone
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 too late, and let them come up one
by one so as not to attract attention. Lipscombe's men
are to assemble at the same hour and march to meet us.
This time, I think, there is no mistake. The cargo is to
be landed where I 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 horseback 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.” º
The speakers then moved on Out of hearing, but James
A STORM. 97
Walsham recognized the voice as that of the revenue
officer 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 sympathies 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 fish-
ermen 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 adven-
tures, 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 smugglers of their danger. The question was,
Where was the 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 cliff, he rose to his feet and returned to Sidmouth.
He thought at first of telling some of the fishermen what
he had heard, but as, in the event of an affray, it might
come out how the smugglers had been warned of the
intention of the revenue officers, 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 the 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
98 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
lookout to stop anyone going toward 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 num-
ber 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 allow the friends of the smuggler to go down
to the water 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 dis-
appeared. 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,
A STORM. 99
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 of 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 darkness 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 trampling 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 yards 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,
I OO WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
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
standing 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 furi-
ous mélée began. The advantage in numbers was all on
the side of the smugglers. Those whe, had landed with
the 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 sud-
denly a shout was heard, and another party of sailors ran
up along the shore and joined in the fray. It was the
detachment from the other station, which had been wait-
ing at some little distance along the shore for the signal
from above.
“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 were beaten off with Oars and
cutlasses, and the boats were soon hauled out into deep
PRESSED. T C I
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 drop-
ping fire of pistol-shots from shore.
CHAPTER VII.
PRESSED.
MANY and deep were the maledictions uttered as the
smugglers climbed on board their vessel; but their cap-
tain 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
wounds had been bandaged.
“Who are you?” and he lifted a lantern to James’
face. “Why, it is young Mr. Walsham!” he exclaimed
in surprise.
T © 2 WITHI WOi,FE IN CAN AIDA.
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 affair, young
master?”
James related the conversation he had overheard, and
his determination to warn the smugglers of their danger.
“I 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
of 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 boat-loads.
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. He could faintly see the loom of the cliffs on his
right, and knew that the lugger was running west, keep-
ing as close inshore as she could to avoid the cutter
watching for her outside. He wondered what they
would say at home when it was found that he was miss-
PRESSED. Io.3
ing; but consoled himself by thinking that his mother,
who was still 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 signaling our where-
abouts 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 began 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 com-
mander 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 follow in the dark he would run the chance of miss-
ing us altogether. I 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. *
IO4 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA,
“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
sººn times already, but we have always given her the
S11p.
“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 an-
Swered, “ 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 will 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 look-
out for the cutter as the day-dawn 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 we are against
the light sky; but like ourselves she is becalmed.”
It was a quarter of an hour, however, before the posi-
tion 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.”
From the time when she had turned the lugger had
made only about eight miles along the coast to the east,
and an equal distance seaward, for the tide had set
against her.
The morning was bright and clear, the Sea was per-
fectly 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
PRESSED. IO5
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, 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
1 oë WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
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 some-
where 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 tear-
ing 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.”
“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, and then descended to the deck. It was a
quarter of an hour before the skipper spoke again.
“I think we 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;
“but with this wind it will want a fast boat to beat her.”
The hands were now set to work shifting the kegs
further aft.
“That's better,” the skipper said presently. “I am
sure we are gaining ground, and our masts will stand
it if the cutter's will.”
121&ESSE1D. ro7
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 sharpene bows and all her sails
forward 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 skip- “
er 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
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 the wind, and
was soon staggering along seaward with the lee bulwark
almost under water. The cutter instantly lowered her
Io8 WITH WOLFE IN CAN AIDA.
squaresail and followed her example, continuing to fire
a gun every minute. All eyes were turned toward 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 puff 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 pur-
suers. 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!”
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 toward each other, for the cutter
edged in so rapidly that the lugger was obliged to bear
off toward 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 her
rapidly down. Presently a heavy gun boomed out, and
a shot came dancing along the water a hundred yards
away. a
“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.” f
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
PRESSED. IO 9
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 tak-
ing sail off her. The instant she had passed and was
preparing to round to, the sails of the lugger flew up
like magic, and she was soon tearing along almost in
the eye of the wind as if to meet the cutter, which was
running down toward her.
“Down below, lads, every man of you,” the captain
shouted; “we shall llave 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
slowly round, and then, as her guns came to bear, shot
after shot was fired at the lugger, already three-quarters
of a mile to the windward. The shot hummed over-
head, 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 guns 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 traveling 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
11OWV.
“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 mizzen mast a few
feet above the deck, and the mast and sail fell over lee-
ward. There was a cry of rage and dismay.
3 y
I IO WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
“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 motion-
less 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?”
“Two hundred kegs of brandy,” the skipper replied,
“ and fifteen hundred pounds’ worth of lace and silks.”
“A good prize,” the officer 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 off
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 gun. “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 difference if you had,” the
officer replied. “The frigate would have overhauled
you; 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
PRESSE1D. If I ſº
stepped on board. “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
again.” 5 3.
“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 first lieutenant came up. The good-humor
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 hav-
ing 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 sur-
prise while the cargo was being landed.
“Well, my lads,” the captain said, “you are in the
same boat with the rest. You were engaged in an un-
lawful enterprise and in resisting His Majesty's officers.
You will get some months in prison anyhow, if you go
back. You had better stay on board and let me make
men of you.”
II 2 WITH wolfE IN CANADA.
T he, countrymen, however, preferred a prison to a
1113.11-O-War.
James Walsham had been turning over the matter in
his mind. He had certainly taken no part in the fray,
but that would be difficult to prove, and he could not
account for his presence except by acknowledging that
he was there to warn them. It would certainly be a
case of imprisonment. Surely it would be better to
volunteer than this. He had been longing for the sea,
and here an opportunity opened to him for abandoning
the career his mother intended for him without setting
himself in opposition to her wishes. Surely she would
prefer that he should be at sea for a year or two to his
being disgraced by imprisonment. He therefore now
stepped forward.
“I do not belong to the lugger'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 the 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 ways
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, the men cap-
tured in her were at once sent to prison, where they re-
mained until they were tried at assizes three months
afterward; 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
t
PRESSED. II.3
were sentenced to a year's imprisonment for smuggling.
Whether Jim's hurriedly written letter was thrown over-
board, 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
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 even-
ing, the old soldier sauntered down to the beach to
inquire 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 preparing to go out with their boats, and none
seemed inclined to enter into a conversation. Rather
wondering at their unusual reticence, Mr. Wilks strolled
along to where the officer of the revenue men was stand-
ing 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 smug-
glors, two of my men were shot and one of theirs, and
there were a good many cutlass wounds on each side,
I [4 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
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 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 cliffs, and when the boats came with the second
batch he was to rush forward 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.
“All 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 country-
men, 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 fishermen you see there were en-
gaged 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
daylight we made her out to the east. The cutter was
PRESSED. II5
giving chase, and at first ran down fast toward 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 as a
sailor. But I must say good-morning, for I am just
going to turn in.”
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 checked the question on his lips, and yet he
thought, as the officer walked away, it was not probable.
Had James been foolish enough to take part in such
business 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 hearing of that, and finding Jim is miss-
ing, I can’t help thinking there is some connection be-
tween 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 to do with this smuggling
II6 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
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 I know, but I have heard say this morning 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 heared
about the matter. How he came for to know of it or
how he got 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, see-
ing 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,”
DISCHARGED. 117
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
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 any-
thing 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, seeing 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 inquiries at all the houses
within a mile or so of the landing-place.”
CHAPTER VIII.
DISCHARGED.
CoNTRARY to his usual habits of punctuality, Mr.
Wilks did not return to luncheon at the Hall, and it was
two hours later before he came in, looking fagged and
anxious. He had been to all the farmhouses within
two miles of the scene of the fight, and had ascertained
for certain that Jim was not lying wounded at any of
them. At first his inquiries had everywhere been coldly
received. There was scarce a farmhouse near the coast
but the occupant had relations with the smugglers, assist-
ing with their carts and men at the landings, or having
hiding places where goods could be stowed away. At
first, therefore, all professed entire ignorance of the
events of the previous night; but when persuaded by
the earnestness of the old soldier's manner that his mis-
I 18 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
Sion was a friendly one they became more communica-
tive, and even owned that some of their men had been
taken prisoners and marched to Weymouth, but none
of them had heard of any wounded man being in hiding.
Convinced at last that James must have gone off to
the lugger, Mr. Wilks returned to Sidmouth a prey to
great anxiety. Everything depended now on whether
the lugger was captured. If so, James would have to
stand his trial for being concerned in the fight on the
beach, and as two of the revenue men had been killed
his sentence might be a heavy one.
If she got away all would be well. They would
doubtless hear by letter from Jim, and it would be bet-
ter 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
her first appearance. But you look tired and fagged.
Has anything gone wrong?”
“Things have gone very wrong, squire.” And he re-
lated 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 irri-
tably. “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, I suppose. He somehow or other learned
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.”
DISCHARGIED. I IQ
“Well, I suppose they would,” the squire agreed
reluctantly; “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
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 her-
self ill again. When she was somewhat pacified the
matter was discussed in every light, but the only con-
clusion 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. I 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 mitiga-
tion anyhow of a sentence. If they find out that it was
he who gave the alarm there will be no hope of a par-
don; 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 indig-
nantly, “for him to risk being shot, and imprisoned,
1 2 O WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
and all sorts of dreadful things, just to save other
eople.”
“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.”
“Oh, grandpapa, how can you say such a thing!”
the girl said; “burglars and smugglers are quite dif-
ferent. Burglars are wicked men, and thieves and
robbers; smugglers 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 gen-
eral estimation the smugglers are looked upon in a more
favorable 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’
absence, and after taking some refreshment 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 chanee of sending it
ashore by the revenue cutter Thistle, which is lying
alongside 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
DISchARGED. I 2 I
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
of them chose the former alternative, among them James
Walsham, of which I was glad, as his mother will be
spared the disgrace of his being placed in the dock with
his associates. I need not say that if I could have
obtained his release I 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
Sidmouth, 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
glad 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 is 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' 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
I 2.2 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
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 otherwise?”
“It will be a blow to know that the lugger has been
captured,” Mr. Wilks said—“a severe blow, no doubt,
for her escape is what 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 I 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 inclinations were altogether for a life of
activity and adventure; but that, as his mother's heart
was so set upon his following 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 oppor-
tunity 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 I show her
that letter, squire?”
DISCHARGED, I23
“No,” the squire replied; “ of course you can tell her
what's in it; but I will keep the letter myself. I would
give a good deal if he had not written it. It is certainly
badly worded, though why he should feel any malice
toward the other is more than I can tell.”
His companion was about to speak, but thought better
of 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 dis-
tress 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 tell you now what you
would never have known had this affair never occurred.
Jim at heart hates his father's profession. He is a duti-
ful 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 sur-
prised that a lad of spirit should long for a more adven-
turous life. I should have told you this long ago, and
advised you that 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 for 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 honored him for his filial spirit;
but frankly I think he was wrong. An eagle is not made
to live in a hen-coop, 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 as an
unmixed evil that the force of circumstances has taken
him out of the course marked out for him, and that he
will have an opportunity of seeing life and adventure.”
I 24 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA,
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 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 obtained a midshipman's
berth for him or a commission 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 send 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 that
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 profession, and that, should he
see anything that he thinks will suit him in America,
you would not wish him to come home immediately if
he has a fancy for staying 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.”
Mrs. Walsham agreed to carry out the suggestion,
and that afternoon the squire sent off a letter to his friend
at the Admiralty, and three letters were also posted to
James himself.
DISCHARGED. - I 25
The voyage of the Thetis was uneventful. Her des-
tination was Hampton, at the opening of Chesapeake
Bay, where the troops on board would join the expedi-
tion under General Braddock, which was advancing up
the Potomac. When she arrived there they found
several ships of war under Commodore Keppel. Brad-
dock's force had marched to Wills Creek, where a mili-
tary post named Fort Cumberland 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 tak-
ing 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 willingness rendered him a general
favorite. 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, for there seemed little chance at present of
fighting at sea, and the excitement of a march on shore,
with adventures 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 Eng-
land, and an hour afterward an order was passed forward
that the first lieutenant wanted James Walsham upon
the quarter-deck. -
“Walsham,” he said, “an order has just come from
I 26 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
the Admiralty for your discharge, and you are to have
a passage in the first ship returning, if you choose to 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.” sº
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 around 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 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. I am very thankful to him for
having opened my eyes, for I 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 your-
self; 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
DISCHARGED. 127
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 profession you have the oppor-
tunity of seeing something of the world.
“I inclose bank-notes for a hundred pounds, so that
if you like you can stay for 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, 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 Horton, saying that you were on
board the Thetis. Mr. Wilks tells me it was an abomina-
bly 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 four 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.”
The squire's was a very cordial letter, and he too
inclosed 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
128 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
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 approach-
ing—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 can 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 mixing 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 hav-
ing 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 honor 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 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 thanked 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
DISCHARGED. I29
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
Braddock'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 fight-
ing, 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 fun. Perhaps by the time it is over I may get
a letter from you saying that I have got my commis-
sion. 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.”
After finishing his letters and giving them to the ship's
corporal to place in the next post-bag, James said
good-by 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 Wal-
sham 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.”
I3o WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
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' 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' liberty rendered
him well-nigh 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 passage up the
river to Alexandria, where the transports which had
brought 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
wagons, officers were superintending the operations, the
men of the Virginia corps, who wore no uniform, but
were attired in the costume used by hunters and back-
woodsmen, namely, a loose hunting shirt, short trousers
or breeches and gaiters, were moving about uncon-
cernedly, 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.”
DISCHARGED, I3 I
“Why, he looks only two or three and twenty,” James
said in surprise. *
“He is not more than that,” the man said; “but age
don't go for much here, and Colonel Washington is
adjutant-general of the Virginian militia. Only a few
months back he made a journey with dispatches 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 Virginian
militia.
He accordingly went up to him and touched his hat.
“If you please, sir, I am anxious to join the Virginian
militia, and, as they tell me that you are adjutant-
general, I have come to ask you if I can do so.”
“I see no difficulty in it, my lad,” the colonel said;
“but if you have run away from home in search of
adventure 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
commission. I would rather, if I could, join as a volun-
teer, 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?”
I 32 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
“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
because, if you like, I can attach you to myself. I often
want a mounted messenger, and, of course, as a volun-
teer, you would mess with me.”
“I should like it above all things,” James said
thankfully.
“Then we will at once go to the tent of the officer
commanding 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 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 aid-de-camp to me.” &
Captain Hall at once entered James' 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
store-keeper I spoke of and deposit the best part of your
money with him. I should only take a pound or two,
if I were you, for you will find no means of spending
THE DEFEAT OF BRADDOCK. 1 33
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.”
CHAPTER IX.
THE DEFEAT OF BRADDOCK.
ENGLAND 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 mis-
tress 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 territory 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 Alleghenies,
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 con-
nection between Canada and Louisiana would be thereby
Cut. -
The English colonists were greatly superior to the
I 34 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
French in number; but they labored under the disadvan-
tage that the Colonies were wholly independent of each
other, with strong mutual jealousies, which paralyzed
their action and prevented their embarking upon any
concerted Operations. Upon the other hand, Canada
was governed by the French as a military colony. The
governor was practically absolute, and every man capa-
ble 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
employing the Indians in harrassing the border; but until
the middle of the eighteenth century there had been
nothing like a general trouble. In 1749 the Marquis of
Galissonière was governor-general of Canada; the treaty
of Aix-la-Chapelle had been signed; but this had done
nothing to settle the vexed questions of the boundaries
between 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 Céloron de Bienville. He had with him
fourteen officers, twenty French soldiers, a hundred and
eighty Canadians, and a band of Indians. They em-
barked in twenty-three birch-bark canoes, and, pushing
up the St. Lawrence, reached Lake Ontario, stopping
for a time, at the French fort of Frontenac, and avoiding
the rival English port of Oswego on the southern shore,
where a trade in beaver skins disastrous to French inter-
ests was being carried on, for the English traders sold
THE DEFEAT OF BRADDOCK. I35
their goods at vastly lower prices than those which the
French had charged. sº-
On the 6th of July the party reached Niagara, where
there was a small French fort, and thence, carrying their
canoes around 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 fer-
tile country here was inhabited by the Delawares, Shaw-
anoes, 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 confederacy of the Miamis and their kin-
dred 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 labored hard to bring these
Indian tribes into close connection with France. The
missionaries had failed signally; but the presents 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 Alleghenies. They carried
their goods 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 enterprises, and some of them pushed
as far west as the Mississippi.
As the party of Céloron proceeded they nailed plates
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 English trad-
I36 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
ers, who were warned at once to leave the country, and
by Some of them letters were sent to the governor of
Pennsylvania, in which Céloron 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 govern-
ment of Canada. 2
At Chiningué, 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 Céloron 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 pro-
ceeded on their way, putting up the coats of arms and
burying the lead inscriptions. At Scioto a large num-
ber of Indians were assembled, and the French were very
apprehensive of an attack, which would doubtless have
been disastrous to them, as the Canadians of the party
were altogether unused to war. A council was held,
however, at which Céloron could obtain no satisfaction
whatever, for the interests of the Indians were bound
up with the English.
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 Eng-
lish colonies. Had France remained master of America
the Indians might even now be roaming free and unmo-
lested on the lands of their forefathers. France is not
a colonizing nation; she would have traded with the
THE DEFEAT OF BRADIDOCK, 137
Indians, would have endeavored 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.
Céloron’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 vil-
lage 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 Eng-
lish traders there withdrew at the approach of the
French. The usual council was held, and Céloron 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 ac-
cepted 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 gathered the greater part of the members of the
confederation on that spot, until, in less than two years
after the visit of Céloron, its population had increased
eightfold, and it became one of the gre test Indian towns
of the west and the center of English trade and influence.
Céloron reached Miami, and then returned northward to
Lake Erie, and thence back to Montreal, when he
reported to the governor that English influence was
supreme in the valley of the Ohio. &
In the following year a company was formed in Ver- .
ginia for effecting a settlement in Ohio, and a party pro-
ceeded west to the village of the chief called Old
Britain, by whom they were received with great friend-
ship, and a treaty of peace was solemnly made between
the English and the Indians. While the festivities con-
138 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
sequent on the affair were going on, four Ottawa Indians
arrived from the French with the French flag and gifts,
but they were dismissed 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 endeavored to purchase their friend-
ship, a permanent peace with the Indians might have
been established, but the mutual jealousies of the colo-
nies and the nature of the various colonial assemblies
rendered any common action impossible. Pennsylvania
was jealous of the westward advance of Virginia, and
desired to thwart rather than to assist her.
The governors of New York, Pennsylvania, and Vir-
ginia 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 con-
tinuous opposition to the governor, who represented the
royal authority. Virginia and Pennsylvania quarreled
about their respective 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. -
Thus neither in the valley of the Ohio nor on the
boundaries 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 discontented with their new friends and again
turned their eyes toward France. Old Britain, how-
ever, 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. tº
The French in vain tried to stir up the friendly tribes
THE DEFEAT OF BRADDOCK. I39
to attack Oswego, on Lake Ontario, and the village of
Old Britain, which were the two centers to which the
Indians went to trade with the English, but they were
unsuccessful until, in June, 1752, Charles Langdale, 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
250 Ottawa and Ojibwa warriors. They stopped a while
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 weaned the latter from
cannibalism, and Old Britain was boiled and eaten.
The Marquise of Duquesne, who had succeeded
Galissonière as governor, highly praised Langdale for
the enterprise, 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 con-
tinued to build forts, and Dinwiddie, governor of Vir-
ginia, sent George Washington to protest in his name
against their building forts on land notoriously belong-
ing to the English crown.
I46 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
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 gov-
ernor of Virginia, seeing the approaching danger, 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,
received orders to march to Virginia. The governor
had raised with great difficulty 300 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
regiment. Washington with the other half had pushed
forward to the storehouse at Wills Creek, which was to
form 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 Ensign Ward with forty men at work
upon the fort, when, on the 17th of April, a swarm of
canoes came down the Allegheny with over five hundred
Frenchmen, who planted cannon against the unfinished
stockade and summoned the ensign to surrender; he
had no recourse but to submit, 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
Virginia 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 communi-
cation 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
England and France, the colonists, after this seizure by
French soldiers of a fort over which the English flag
THE DEFEAT OF BRADDock. I4 I
was flying, henceforth acted as if the two powers were
at war. Washington 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 com-
mander of Fort Duquesne sent dispatches to France to
say that he had sent this party out with a communication
to Washington, and that they had been treacherously
assassinated. This obscure skirmish was the com-
mencement of a war which set two continents on fire.
Colonel Fry died a few days after this fight, and Wash-
ington succeeded to the command of the regiment, and
collected his 300 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 killed in the skirmish
with Washington. He at once advanced against the
English, who had fallen back to a rough breastwork
which they called Fort Necessity, Washington hav-
ing but 400 men against 500 French and as many
Indians.
For nine hours the French kept up a hot fire on the
intrenchment but without success, and at nightfall
Villiers proposed a parley. The French ammunition
was running short, the men were fatigued by their
marches and drenched by the rain which had been fall-
ing 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. ... • - --
After a parley it was agreed that the English should
march off with drums beating and the honors 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.
* -
I 42 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
This action left the French masters of the whole coun-
try beyond the Alleghenies. The two mother nations
were now preparing for war, and in the middle of Janu-
ary, I755, Major-General Braddock, with the 44th and
48th Regiments, each 500 strong, sailed from Cork
for Virginia, while the French sent eighteen ships of
war and six battalions to Canada. Admiral Bosca-
wen, 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 pretense of negotia-
tions had been maintained between England and France,
but the capture of the French ships brought the nego-
tiations to a sudden end, and the war began.
A worse selection than that of Major-General Brad-
dock could hardly have been made; he was a brave
officer and a good soldier, but he was rough, coarse, and
obstinate; 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
authorities, and the delays caused by the indecision or
obstinacy of the colonial assemblies chafed him to mad-
ness. 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 50 men and the 30 sailors
lent by Commodore Keppel. General Braddock had
three aids-de-camp—Captain Robert Orme, Captain
Roger Morris, and Colonel George Washington.
It was the 1st 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-
THE Df FEAT OF BRAIDDOCK, 143
tempted to drill the Virginians in the manner of English
troops.
“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 Fort Duquesne until we arrive, I have
no doubt we shall beat them, but if they attack us in the
woods it will go hard with us.”
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 wagoners, and bringing back reports as
to their position and progress. On the Ioth of June the
army started; 3OO axmen led the way, cutting and clear-
ing the road, the long train of pack-horses, wagons, 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 Allegheny 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 kill-
ing a straggler who fell behind. On the 18th 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
144 - witH wolf E IN CANADA.
guard under Colonel Dunbar while he advanced with
I2Oo 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
country 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 approached the Monongahela a
party under Captain Beaujeu set out to meet them. His
force consisted of 637 Indians, Ioo French officers and
soldiers, and I46 Canadians, in all about 900 men. At
one o'clock in the day Braddock crossed the Mononga-
hela for the second time; the troops had all the 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. s -
Braddock made every disposition for preventing a
surprise. Several guides with six Virginian light horse-
men led the way, then came the advanced column con-
sisting of 300 soldiers under Gage, and a large body of
axmen under Sir John Sinclair with two cannon. The
main body followed close behind. The artillery and
wagons 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 between 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
place 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
THE DEFEAT of BRADDock. I45
little party of guides and Virginian light horsemen.
These at once fell back, the Indians raised their war-
whoop, and spreading right and left among the trees
opened a sharp fire 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
artillery, began also to fall back. The English advanced
in regular lines, cheering loudly. Beaujeu fell dead;
but Captain Dumas, who succeeded him in command,
advanced at the head of his small party of French sol-
diers 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
forests 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.
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 can-
non and fell back in confusion. This threw the advanc-
ing 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 officers were alike new to warfare
like this; they had been taught to fight in line against
solid masses of the enemy, and against an invisible foe
I46 WITH wolfE IN CANADA.
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 fighting be-
hind trees was at once cowardly and opposed to all mili-
tary discipline, and he dashed forward on his horse and
with fierce oaths ordered the Virginians to form line. A
body of them, however, under Captain Waggoner, made
a dash for a huge fallen tree far out toward 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 tar-
get for the enemy's bullets. Lieutenant-Colonel Burton
led IOO of them toward 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 afterward 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. - a -
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 tC)
the confusion by dashing madly hither and thither,
Praddock behaved with furious intrepidity; he dashed
hither and thither shouting and storming at the men
THE DEFEAT OF BRAID DOCK. I47
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 behaved with equal courage
and self-devotion, and in vain attempted to lead on the
men, sometimes advancing in parties toward the Indians
in hopes that the soldiers would follow them. Sir Peter
Halket was killed; Horne and Morris the two aids-de-
camp, Sinclair the quartermaster-general, Gates, Gage,
and Gladwin were wounded. Of 86 officers 63 were
killed or disabled, while of 1373 non-commissioned
Officers and privates only 459 came off unharmed.
James Walsham had been riding by the side of Wash-
ington when the fight began, and followed him closely
as he galloped among the troops trying to rally and lead
them forward. 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 great trees growing close to each
other, one of which protected 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 puffs 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
148 witH wolfE IN CANADA.
- 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, baggage, and military chest a prey to
the Indians. -
Fortunately only about 50 of the Indians followed as
far as the ford, the rest being occupied in killing the
wounded and Scalping the dead. Dumas, who had now
but 20 Frenchmen left, fell back to the fort, and the
remnants of Braddock's force continued the flight
unmolested.
CHAPTER X.
~.
THE FIGHT AT LAKE GEORGE.
FORTUNATE was it for the remnant of Braddock's
force that the Indians were too much occupied in gather-
ing the abundant harvest of scalps, too anxious to return
to the fort to exhibit these trophies of their bravery, to
press on in pursuit; for had they done so few indeed of
the panic-stricken fugitives would ever have lived to tell
the tale. All night these continued their flight, expect-
ing every moment to hear the dreaded war-whoop burst
out again in the woods round them. - -
Colonel Washington had been ordered by the dying
general to press On on horseback to the camp of Dunbar,
and to tell him to forward wagons, provisions, and
ammunition; but the panic which had seized the main
force had already been spread by flying teamsters to
Dunbar's camp; many soldiers and wagoners at once
took flight, and the panic was heightened when the rem-
nants of Braddock's force arrived. There was no reason
to suppose that they were pursued, and even had they
been so their force was ample to repel any attack that
could be made upon it; but probably their commander
saw that in their present state of utter demoralization
THE FIGHT AT LAKE GEORGE. i49
they could not be trusted to fight, and that the first In-
dian war-whoop would start them again in flight. Still
it was clear that a retreat would leave the whole border
open to the ravages of the Indians, and Colonel Dunbar
was greatly blamed for the course he took.
A hundred wagons were burned, 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. Gen-
eral 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 consolation was
that the hundred and fifty Virginians who had accom-
panied the regulars had all, as was acknowledged 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 greatest part were killed not by the fire of the In-
dians, but by that of the troops, who, standing in masses,
fired in all directions, regardless of what was in front of
them.
But Colonel Dunbar, not satisfied with retreating to
the safe shelter of Fort 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 wait-
ing a short time at Philadelphia he marched slowly on to
join a force operating 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 provin-
cial regiments being under the control of the governors
of their own States. Washington therefore remained
156 WITH WOLFE IN CAN Af) A,
behind in Virginia with the regiment of 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 active and enterprising foe more numer-
Ous 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. Indi-
vidually they were brave, but being recruited among the
poor whites, the most turbulent and troublesome part of
the population, they were wholly unamenable to disci-
pline, and Washington had no means whatever for en-.
forcing 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 Wash-
ington, 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 Governor Dinwiddie 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.
“I do not know,” James said. “I certainly will not
continue with Dunbar, who seems to me to be acting like
a coward; nor do I wish to go into action with regulars
again, 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.”
THE FIGHT AT LAKE GEORGE. 151
“I should be very glad to have you with me,” Wash-
ington said; “but I do not think that you will see much
action here; it will be a war of forays. The Indians will
pounce upon a village or Solitary farmhouse, murder and
scalp the inhabitants, burn the buildings to the ground,
and in an hour be far away, beyond the 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, per-
force, abandon their homesteads and fly east until we are
strong enough to again take up the offensive. Were I
in your place I 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-fight-
ing, 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 Walsham 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
settlements, carrying murder, rapine, and ruin before
them. Scores of quiet settlements were destroyed, hun-
dreds of men, women, and children massacred, and in a
short time the whole of the 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 Penn-
sylvania were infinitely worse. They had for many
I52 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
years been on such friendly terms with the Indians that
many of the settlers had no arms, nor had they the pro-
tection in the way of troops which the government of
Virginia put upon the frontier. The government of the
colony was at Philadelphia, far to the east, and sheltered
from danger, and the Quaker assembly there refused to
vote money for a single soldier to protect the unhappy
colonists on the frontier. They held it a sin to fight,
and above all to fight with Indians, and as long as they
themselves were free from the danger, they turned a
deaf ear to the tales of massacre and to the pitiful cries
for aid which came from the frontier. But even greater
than their objection to war was their passion of resist-
ance to the representative of royalty, the governor.
Petition after petition came from the border for arms
and ammunition, and for a militia law to enable the
people to Organize and defend themselves; but the
Quakers resisted, declaring that Braddock's defeat was
a just judgment upon him and his soldiers for molesting
the French in their settlement in Ohio. They passed,
indeed, a bill for raising fifty thousand pounds for the
king's use, but affixed to it a condition to which they
knew well the governor 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,
for according to the constitution of the colony, to which
he was bound, the lands of William Penn and his
descendants were free of all taxation. For weeks the
dead-lock continued; every day brought news of mas-
sacres of tens, fifties, and even hundreds of persons, but
the assembly remained obstinate until the mayor, alder-
men, and principal citizens clamored against them, and
four thousand frontiersmen started on their march to
Philadelphia to compel them to take measures for
defense. *
Bodies of massacred men were brought from the
frontier villages and paraded through the town, and so
threatening became the aspect of the population that the
THE FIGHT AT LAKE GEORGE. 153
assembly of Quakers were at last obliged to pass a
militia law. It was, however, an absolutely useless one;
it specially excepted the Quakers from service, and con-
strained nobody, but declared it lawful for such as chose
to form themselves into companies, and to elect officers
by ballot. The company 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 subjected 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 ti.e people, and this
rose to such a height that the assembly must have
yielded unconditionally had not a circumstance occurred
which gave them a decent pretext for retreat. The gov-
ernor 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 de-
fense, 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-
sion, had at once taken the lead in preparation for war.
No less than 4500 men, being one in eight of her adult
I54 WITH wolfE IN CANADA.
males, volunteered to fight the French, 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 colo-
nist, was requested by his assembly to nominate the
commander. He did not choose an officer of that prov-
ince, as this would have excited the jealousy of the others,
but nominated William 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 I2Oo 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 the four days' speech-making, agreed to join.
Only 300 of them, however, took the field, for so many of
their friends and relatives were fighting for the French
that the rest, when they sobered down after the excite-
ment 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—
and the colonists assembled near Albany; but there were
great delays. The five colonial assemblies controlled
their own troops and supplies. Connecticut refused to
send her men until Shirley promised that her command-
ing officer should rank next to Johnson, and the whole
movement was for some time at a dead-lock because the
five governments could not agree about their contribu-
tions of artillery and store. -
The troops were a rough-looking body. Only one of
the corps had a blue uniform, faced with red; the rest
wore their ordinary farm clothing. All had brought their
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 exem-
THE FIGHT AT LAKE GEORGE. I55
*
plary. It is recorded that not a chicken was stolen. In
the camps of the Puritan soldiers of New England ser-
mons 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
preparations 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
defense of their 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 colo-
Inies 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 afterward 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
introduction from Colonel Washington, and who at once
offered him a position as one of his aids-de-camp. This
he found exceedingly pleasant, for Johnson was one of
the most jovial and open-hearted 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
156 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
discipline which had prevailed in Braddock's columns,
and James felt as if he were starting upon a great picnic
º than upon an arduous march against a superior
OſCe.
After some hesitation as to the course the army should
take, it was resolved to march for Lake George. Gangs
of axmen 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 four-
teen miles between Fort Lyman and the lake. They
were now in a country hitherto untrodden by white men
save by solitary hunters.
They reached the southern end of the beautiful lake,
which hitherto had received no English name, and was
now first called Lake George in honor of the king. The
men set to work 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 leis-
urely way which had marked the progress of the expedi-
tion. 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 wagons came up with provisions and boats.
On September 7 an Indian scout arrived about sunset
and reported that he had found the trail of a body of men
moving from South Bay, the southern extremity of Lake
Champlain, toward Fort Lyman. Johnson called for a
volunteer to carry a letter of warning to Colonel
Blanchard. A wagoner named Adams offered to under-
take the perilous service and rode off with the letter.
Sentries were posted and the camp fell asleep.
While Johnson had been taking his leisure on Lake
THE FIGHT AT LAKE GEORGE. I 57
George the commander of the French force, a German
baron named Dieskau, was preparing a surprise for him.
He had reached Crown Point 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 afterward called, Ticonderoga,
a promontory at the junction of Lake George with Lake
Champlain, where he would bar the advance of the Eng-
lish 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 4
a party of them came in bringing a scalp and an Eng-
lish 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 represented 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 Ly-
man, and they encamped close to the road which led to
Lake George. Just after they had encamped a man rode
by on horseback. It was Adams, Johnson's messenger.
He was shot by the Indians and the letter found upon
him. Soon afterward ten or twelve wagons appeared
in charge of ammunition drivers who had left the Eng-
lish camp without orders. *
Some of the drivers were shot, two taken prisoners,
and the rest ran away. The two prisoners declared that,
contrary to the assertion of the prisoner at Ticonderoga,
a large force lay encamped by the lake. The Indians
held a council, and presently informed Dieskau that they
would not attack the fort, which they believed to be pro-
I58 WITH WOLFE IN CAN AIDA.
vided with cannon, but would join in an attempt on the
camp by the lake. Dieskau judged from the report of
the prisoners that the colonists considerably outnum-
bered him, although, in fact, there was no great difference
in numerical strength, the French column numbering
I5OO and the Colonial force 22OO, besides 300 Mohawk
Indians. But Dieskau, emulous of repeating the defeat
of Braddock, and believing the assertions of the Cana-
dians that the colonial militia was contemptible, deter-
mined to attack, and early in the morning the column
moved along the road toward the lake.
When within four miles of Johnson's camp they
entered a rugged valley. On their right was a gorge
hidden in bushes, beyond which rose the rocky height
of French Mountain. On their left rose gradually the
slopes of West Mountain. The ground was thickly cov-
ered with thicket and forest. The regulars marched
along the road; the Canadians and Indians pushed their
way through the woods as best they could. When
within three miles of the lake their scout brought in
a prisoner, who told them that an English column was
approaching. The regulars were halted on the road;
the Canadians and Indians moved on ahead and hid
themselves in ambush among the trees and bushes on
either side of the road.
The wagoners who had escaped the evening before
had reached Johnson's camp about midnight and re-
ported that there was a 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 toward Fort Lyman, the other to catch the
enemy in their retreat. Hendrick, the chief of the Mo-
hawks, expressed 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 nevertheless resolved to accompany the column, and
THE FIGHT AT LAKE GEORGE. 1.59
mounting on a gun-carriage, he harangued his warriors
with passionate eloquence, and they at once prepared to
accompany them. He was too old and fat to go on foot,
and the general lent him a horse, which he mounted
and took his place at the head of the column.
Colonel Williams was in command, with Lieutenant-
Colonel Whiting as second. They had no idea of meet-
ing the enemy near the camp, and moved forward so
carelessly 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 fired 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 he climbed
the slope the enemy's fire flashed out from behind every
tree, and he fell dead. The men in the rear pressed for-
ward to support 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, how-
ever, bravely rallied a portion of Williams’ regiment,
and, aided by some of the Mohawks and by a detach-
ment 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 had looked for.
The obstinate defense of Whiting and his men had sur-
16o WITH WOLFE IN CAN Af) A.
*
prised 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 officer,
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 in-
stantaneous 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.
“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
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 around agreed that the
sound was approaching.
“To work, lads!” the general said; “there is no time
to be lost. Let all the axmen fell trees and lay them
end to end to make a breastwork; the rest of you range
the wagons in a line behind and lay the boats up in the
intervals. 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 axes and the
shouts of the men as they dragged the wagons to their
position. $
“I was a fool,” Johnson exclaimed, “not to fortify
33
THE FIGHT AT LAKE GEORGE. I6 I
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
reported that all was lost; but the heavy roll of fire in
the distance contradicted their words and showed that
a portion of the column at least was fighting sternly and
steadily, though the sound indicated that they were fall-
ing back.
Two hundred men had already been dispatched to
their assistance, and the only effect of the news was to
redouble the éfforts 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. By this time the hasty defenses were
well-nigh 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
descended 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 wagons or lay flat behind the logs and
boats, the Massachusetts men on the right, the Connecti-
cut 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 fight 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
showing between the boughs. At the same time Indian
162 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
war-whoops rose loud in the forest, and then dark forms
could be seen bounding down the slope through the trees
toward 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 officers, 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
Canadians 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 French soldiers
advanced steadily until the trees grew thinner. They
were deployed into line and opened fire in regular vol-
leys. Scarcely had they done so, however, when Captain
Eyre, who commanded the artillery, opened upon them
with grape from his three guns, while from wagon, 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 mus-
ketry fire was unbroken; from every tree, bush, and rock
the rifles flashed out, and the leaden llail flew in a storm
over 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 around
him. Save the Indians on the English side not a man
but was engaged, the wagoners taking their guns and
THE FIGHT AT LAKE GEORGE. 163
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 around 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 direc-
tion, and a few well-directed shells soon drove the
Indians from their vantage-ground. Dieskau directed
his first attack against the left and center; but the Con-
necticut men fought so stoutly that he next tried to force
the right, where the Massachusetts regiments of Tit-
comb, Ruggles, and Williams held the line. For an
hour he strove hard to break his way through the in-
trenchments, but the Massachusetts men stood firm,
although Titcomb was killed and their loss was heavy.
At length Dieskau, exposing 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 toward
their assailants. The movement 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, falling
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
I64 WITH WOLFE IN
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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SKETCH MAP OF LAKE CHAMPLAIN AND LAKE GEORGE,
To ILLUSTRATE OPERATIONS 1755–1759.







SCOUTING. 165
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 scout-
ing 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 con-
tinued 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 had nothing to eat from the morning
of the fight until they rejoined their comrades.
Johnson had the greatest difficulty in protecting the
wounded French general from the Mohawks, who,
although they had done no fighting in defense of the
camp, wanted to torture and burn Dieskau in revenge
for the death of Hendrick and their warriors who had
fallen in the ambush. He, however, succeeded in doing
so, and sent him in a litter under a strong escort to
Albany. Dieskau was afterward taken to England and
remained for some years at Bath, after which he returned
to Paris. He never, however, recovered from his numer-
ous wounds, and died a few years later. He always spoke
in the highest terms of the treatment 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.
166 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
The English loss in killed, wounded, and missing was
262, for the most part killed in the ambush in the morn-
ing. The French, according to their own account, lost
228, but it probably exceeded 400, the principal portion
of whom were regulars, for the Indians and Canadians
kept themselves so well under cover that they and the
provincials 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 gallantry and
coolness of Lyman; but Johnson, in his report of the
battle, made no mention of that officer's name, and took
all the credit to himself. He was rewarded by being
made a baronet and by being voted a pension by Parlia-
ment 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 fire at the trees and bushes behind which the enemy
were hiding. After the battle he had volunteered to
assist the overworked surgeons, whose labors 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
.* SCOUTING. 167
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 toward
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, outspoken men, and on
a service when a foot carelessly placed on a dry 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 himself if he were
On the scout with them, and you must not take offense
at any rough word that may be said.”
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 cannot go walking about 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
I68 - WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
Rogers went with him among the men, and selected a
well-finished rifle of which one of them had possessed
himself. . Its owner readily agreed to accept five 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 fired several shots at various distances
at it. r •
“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 first-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 good-by 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,
were 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 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
anyways 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 gray
eye. Jonathan, his comrade, was a 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. -
SCOUTING. 169
“Have you ever been in a canoe before?” Nat
inquired. -
“TNever,” James said; “but I am accustomed to boats
of all sorts, and can handle an oar fairly.” -
“Oars aint 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 for a beginner. Now, you hand in your traps and
I will stow them away; then you take your place in the
middle of 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. Jona-
than 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 incau-
tious movement would instantly knock a hole through
her.
Once under way she was steadier than he had expected,
and James could feel 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 posi-
tion in the bottom, and kneeling as the others were
doing, he began to dip his paddle quietly in the water in
time with their stroke. His familiarity with rowing ren-
dered 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. -
“Well done, young 'un. That's first-rate for a be-
ginner, 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
170 witH wolfE IN CANADA.
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
Inoiselessly 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 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 bis-
cuit and dry deer's 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 so well at the first attempt. He rowed all the
way, except just the narrows, and though I don't say as
he was noiseless, 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
SCOUTING. - 171
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.” ge
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 prevailing 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 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 shin-
ing 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 direction.”
James indulged in a silent hope that if he were ever
lost in the woods the sun would be shining, for look as
172 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
earnestly as he would he could not perceive the signs
which appeared so plain and distinct to the scout. Occa-
sionally, 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 dis-
cern 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,
* º: dipped its root down to look for moisture and
Ood.”
“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 I see all the others don’t seem to have any
difference 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 dis-
tance 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
SCOUTING. I 73
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 war-
rior Or a squaw, and how long they have passed by, and
whether they were walking fast or slow, while the ordi-
nary 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 the redskin's. I have
lived among the woods since I was 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 sev-
eral hours until, as James imagined, they had traversed
a greater distance by some miles than that which they
had made on the previous evening. He knew from
what he had learned during the day 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
I 74 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
the two lakes, and were then to be launched again on
Lake Champlain, 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 underwood. 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. After darkness fell the canoes were again
placed 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 Ticonderoga
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 mak-
ing 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
SCOUTING. 175
of the croaking of a frog, that a careful search had ascer-
tained the forest to be untenanted 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,
fatigued 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 hid-
den among the bushes, where, having done their work,
they would for the present be abandoned, to be recov-
ered 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
were lying dn the bank a few yards' distance 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 experi-
ence, Rogers felt sure that no neglect or carelessness 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
176 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
canoe could not have possibly come near the bank any-
wheres 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 where we landed.
He may have been in a tree overhead all the time, and
directly the canoes were hauled up he may have dam-
aged 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 fort, it
is one of saving our scalps.”
“How could it have been 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,
a redskin would make no more noise in cutting them
holes and gashes than you would in cutting a hunk of
deer's flesh for your dinner. He would lie on the
ground and wriggle from one to another like an eel; but
I reckon he didn’t begin till the camp was still. The
canoes wasn’t hauled up till we had sarched the woods,
as we thought, and then we was moving about close by
them till we lay down. I was standing there on the
water's edge not six feet away from that canoe. I never
moved for two hours, and quiet as a redskin may be he
must have taken time to do that damage, so as I never
heard a sound as loud as the falling of a leaf. No. I
reckon as he was at the very least two hours over that
job. He may have been gone four hours or a bit over,
but not more; but that don’t give us much of a start.
It would take him an hour and a half to get to the fort,
then he would have to report to the French chap in com-
mand, and then there might be some talk before he set
out with the redskins, leaving the French to follow.”
“It’s no use thinking of mending the canoes, I sup-
pose?” James asked.
scouTING. 177
The hunter shook his head. -
“It would take two or three hours to get fresh bark
and mend those holes,” he said, “and we haven’t got as
many minutes to spare. There, now, we are off.”
While they had been speaking Rogers had been hold-
ing a consultation with two or three of his most experi-
enced followers, and they had arrived at pretty nearly
the same conclusion as that of Rogers, namely, that the
Indian had probably taken two or three hours in damag-
ing the canoes and getting fairly away into the forest;
but that even if he had done so the Iroquois would be up
in the course of half an hour.
“Let each man pack his share of meat on his back,”
Rogers said; “don’t leave a scrap behind. Quick, lads,
there's not a minute to be lost—it's a case of legs now.
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 paus-
ing 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, -
178 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
They had been gone some twenty minutes only when
a distant war-whoop rose in the forest behind them.
“They have come down on the camp,” Nat said,
glancing 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 war-
whoop 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
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 keep-
ing 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 impor-
tance 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 be-,
fore 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 get-
ting my wind better now; but why only ten miles? We
must be seventy away from the fort.”
SCOUTING. I79
“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.”
“But there would surely be enough left,” James said,
“to hold the fort against us; and even if we could
take it we could not hold it an hour when they all
came up.”
“He aint 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 continue their flight until overtaken by the red-
skins, and that they must sooner or later succumb to the
rifles of the Iroquois 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 Sud-
denly halted and held up his hand, and the band simul-
taneously came to a halt. At first 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 whis-
pered, as Rogers, Swerving somewhat to the right and
making a sign that all should run as silently as possible,
continued his course.
I8o WITH WOLFE IN CANADA,
CHAPTER XII.
*
A COMMISSION.
PRESENTLY the noise made by the column of French
troops was heard abreast of the fugitives, then it died
away behind them, and they again directed their course
to the left. Ten minutes later they heard a loud succes-
Sion of Indian whoops and knew that the redskins pur-
suing 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 bur-
dened only with their rifles and ammunition. The
ground was rough and broken, for they were nearing the
steep promontory 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 themselves 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 de-
scended to within a short distance of the edge of the
lake in order to avoid the valleys and ravines running
down from the hills. The war-whoops rose frequently
in the forest behind them, the Indians yelling to give
those at the fort notice that the chase was approaching.
“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.”
A COMMISSION. 18 I
Great as were the exertions which the scouts were
making, they could tell by the sound of the war-whoops
that some 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 any 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
right and knew that the troops left in the fort had taken
the alarm; but they were 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 be-
fore 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 drop-
ping fire of musketry opened from the intrenchments.
“Smash the canoes,” Rogers said, setting the ex-
ample by administering a vigorous kick 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 mind the soldiers.” For the white-coated troops,
182 witH wolfE IN CANADA.
perceiving the scouts' intention, were now pouring out
from the intrenchments. - -
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 harmlessly 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 con-
tinued firing and several of their shots struck the boats,
one of the rowers being hit in the shoulder.
“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
A COMMISSION. 183
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 con-
tinued the rowing 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 Iro-
quois 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 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 con-
sultation as to whether they should continue their jour-
ney in the boats, some of the men pointing out that they
had 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
184 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
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
pursuit when night came on without their having over-
taken 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 ad-
dressed to him. He took with him a letter from Gen-
eral Johnson speaking in the warmest tones of his
conduct. On arriving at New York he found at the
post-office there a great pile of letters awaiting him.
They had been written 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 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
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 that he
too felt it very greatly. However, when your letter came
we were all made happy again, though of course we can-
not 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 sol-
diers. Mr. Wilks was quite angry at what you said
about the folly of making men stand in 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 dread-
A COMMISSION. 185
ful way in which the soldiers were slaughtered shows
that though that sort of 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 Lon-
don about your commission, and has arranged it all.
He has, as he will tell you in his letter, got you a com-
mission 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 aid-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, for 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 must put up with it; but Aggie agrees with
me and says it is too bad that she should never have seen
you once from the time when she saw you in that storm.
She is a dear little girl, and is growing fast. I think
she must have grown quite an inch in the five months
you have been away. She sends her love to you, and
says you must take care of yourself for her sake.”
The squire in his letter repeated the news Mrs. Wal-
“sham had given.
“You are now an ensign,” he said, “ and if you go
into any more fights before your regiment arrives you
must, Mr. Wilks said, get a proper uniform made for
you, and fight as a king's officer. I send you a copy of
the gazette, where you will see your name.”
Mr. Wilks' letter was a long one. “I felt horribly
guilty, dear Jim,” he said, “when the news came of Brad-
dock's dreadful defeat. I could hardly look your dear
mother in the face, and though the kind lady would not,
I86 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
I know, say a word to hurt my feelings for the world,
yet I could see that she regarded me as a monster, for
it was on my advice that, instead of coming home when
you got your discharge, you remained out there and
took part in this unfortunate expedition. I could see
Aggie felt the same, and though I did my best to keep
up their spirits, I had a terrible time of it until your letter
arrived saying you were safe. If it had not come I do
believe that I should have gone quietly off to Exeter,
hunted up my box again, and hired a boy to push it for
me, for I am not so strong as I was. But I would rather
have tramped about for the rest of my life than remain
there under your mother's reproachful eye. However,
thank God, you came through it all right, and after such
a lesson I should hope that we shall never have repeti-
tion of such a disaster as that. As an old soldier I can-
not agree with what you say about the uselessness of
drill, even for fighting in a forest. It must accustom
men to listen to the voice of their officers and to obey
orders promptly and quickly, and I cannot but think
that if the troops had gone forward at a brisk double
they 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 experi-
ence 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
side of the water, and the English ought to get the best
of it, for France seems at present to be thinking a great
A COMMISSION. - 187
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 labors; he remained for another week in New York
while his uniform was being made, and then took pas-
sage 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?” -
“I have been out here some time,” James replied.
“My name is Walsham. I believe I was gazetted to
your regiment some months ago, but I only heard the
news on my arrival in New York last week.” T
“Oh, you are Walsham!” the young officer said.
“My name is Edwards. I am glad to meet you. We
have been wondering when you would join us, and envy-
ing your luck in seeing so much of the fighting out here.
Our regiment is encamped about half a mile from here.
If you will let me I will go back with you and introduce
you to our fellows.”
James thanked him, and the two walked along talk-
ing together. James learned that there were already
five ensigns junior to himself, his new acquaintance
being one of them, as the regiment had been somewhat
short of officers, and the vacancies had been filled up
shortly before it sailed.
“Of course we must call on the colonel first,” Mr.
Edwards said. “He is a capital fellow, and very much
liked in the regiment.” - -
Colonel Otway received James with great cordiality.
“We are very glad to get you with us, Mr. Walsham,”
I88 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
he said, “ and we consider it a credit to the regiment to
have a young officer who has been three times men-
tioned in dispatches. You will, too, be of great service
to us, and will be able to give us a good many hints as
to this Indian method of fighting which Braddock's
men found so terrible.”
“It is not formidable, sir, when you are accustomed
to it; but, unfortunately, General Braddock forced his
men to fight in regular fashion—that is, to stand up
and be shot at, and that mode of fighting in the woods
is fatal. A hundred redskins would be more than a
match in the forest for ten times their number of white
troops who persisted in fighting in such a ridiculous
way; but fighting in their own way, white men are a
match for the redskins. Indeed, the frontiersmen can
thrash the Indians even if they are two or three to one
against them.”
“You have been in this last affair 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 surprised and at 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 defense. 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.” * º
James was well received by the officers of his regi-
A COMMISSION. 189
ment, 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 some-
what 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 insuring uniformity
of movement among large masses of men in an open
country. Otherwise the time passed very pleasantly.
James soon became a favorite in the regiment, and the
young officers never tired of questioning him concern-
ing the redskins and their manner of fighting. There
were plenty of amusements; the snow was deep on the
ground now, and the officers skated, practiced with
snow-shoes, and drove in sleighs. Occasionally they
got up a dance, and the people of Albany and the set-
tlers around 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 Louis-
bourg, in Cape Breton, the key of Canada; a considera-
ble 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 experi-
I90 witH wolfE IN CANADA,
ence in this forest warfare 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 use-
ful to the service and more pleasant 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
gratefully.
“The general is 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 volun-
teers 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 rivaling 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 com-
mand with very considerable freedom of action, you
would act in connection with the regular troops; the
scouts are often far away when wanted, leaving the posts
open to surprise. They are so impatient of any disci-
pline that they are averse 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 present, for in-
stance, Fort William Henry is the most exposed to
A COMMISSION. I9 I
dº
attack. You would take your command there, and
would report yourself to Major Eyre, who is in com-
mand. 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 to 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 defense. In the
event of the provincial scouts making any concerted
movement against a French post, you would be author-
ized to join them. You would then have the benefit
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 formed
a very high opinion of your judgment and discretion
from the talks which we have had together, and I have
spoken strongly in your favor to the general, who had
promised me that in the event of the army moving for-
ward you should have an appointment on the quarter-
master-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
service, and I should greatly like to be allowed to enlist
temporarily two of the scouts I have served with in the
192 `- WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
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 lieutenant. The men of the six companies of
the three regiments will be paraded to-morrow and asked
for volunteers 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. Upward of a hun-
dred 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, fix-
ing 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
A COMMISSION. I93
night, James felt that his men were beginning to have
some idea of forest fighting. The men themselves were
greatly pleased with their day's work. It was a wel-
come change after the long monotony of life in a stand-
ing 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 camping 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 around the bottom and ends; and how best to
arrange their fires and cook their food.
During the following days the same work was re-
peated, 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 satisfaction at the arrival of the
reinforcement.
“There are rumors brought here by the scouts,” he
said, “that a strong force 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 per-
manently. Sometimes one or other of them is here, but
often I am without any of the provincials, 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
T 94 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
your men inside the fort. I see you have brought no
baggage 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 practice them as much as possible in scouting
and camping in the woods, and although I shall always
be in the neighborhood of the fort, I do not propose
always to return here at night. Are any of Captain
Rogers’ 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 off duty. You see them at
their worst here. There is, of course, nothing like mili-
tary 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 enlisted,
they will be attached to the corps rather than be regular
members of it, I do not think I need insist upon the
uniform.”
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 toward a group of Scouts who were
watching his proceedings, and among whom he recog-
nized the two men for whom he was looking. He
received a cordial greeting from all who had taken part
in his previous adventures with Captain Rogers' band.
“And so you are in command of this party?” Nat
said. “I asked one of the men just now, and he said
you were the captain. You are young to be a captain,
A COMMISSION. I95
but at any rate it's a good thing to have a king's officer
here who knows something about the woods. The rest
aint 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.”
“I’m agreeable,” Nat said; and the two scouts walked
across to the tent with James. Lieutenant Edwards, 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 Jona-
than, 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 guard of a column of troops.”
“But what do they know of scouting?” Nat said
contemptuously. “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 sup-
plies of ball cartridge, 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
196 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
work, the same as with Captain Rogers, except that we
shall not make long expeditions as he does, but keep in
the neighborhood of the fort. I should want you to act
both as Scouts and instructors, to teach the men, as you
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 nomi-
nally you will be members of it. I know your ways, and
should not exact any observance of discipline more than
that which you have with Rogers, and should treat you
in the light of non-commissioned 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 hasn’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 red-coats.”
“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 aint very par-
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
AN ABORTIVE ATTACK. 197
authorized to take your discharge whensoever it pleases
you. -
“Very well, captain; then on those terms we join,
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 any-
thing like strictness. 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-commis-
sioned 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 new-comers were likely to be
highly popular characters in their mess.
wº
CHAPTER XIII.
AN AIBORTIVE 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 sur-
prise the other; and when they met a mimic fight would
198 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
take place, the men sheltering behind trees and firing
Only when they obtained a glimpse of an adversary.
“I did not think that these pipe-clayed 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 I9th of March Nat came into the officers' tent.
“Captain,” he said, “get up. There's something
afoot.”
“What is it, Nat?” James 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 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 quarters and
aroused him, and in a few minutes the garrison were all
AN ABORTIVE ATTACK, I99
under arms. Their strength, including James Wal-
sham's corps and some scouts of the company of John
Stark, numbered 346 men, besides which there were
I28 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 fire
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 aint
likely they would stop on the ice with the balls pound-
ing it up.” *
“Do you think they will attack before morning?”
James asked.
“It aint likely,” Nat replied. “They won't know the
positions, and such a dark night as this they wouldn't
be able to make out anything about them. If they
could have come straight along the ice to the head of
the lake here they would have made a dash, no doubt;
but now they find we aint 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
redskins 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 per-
haps yours, none of the others wouldn’t be no good at
all.”
Major Eyre shortly afterward sent for James, who
gave him the opinion of the scout, and the major then
ordered the troops to get under shelter again, leaving
2OO WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
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 1600 regulars, Cana-
dians, and Indians. Everything needful for their com-
fort had been provided—overcoats, blankets, bear-skins
to sleep On, and tarpaulins to cover them. They had
been provided with twelve days’ provisions, which were
placed on hand-sledges and drawn by the troops.
They marched over the ice of Lake Champlain down
to Ticonderoga, where they rested a week and con-
structed 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 French officers, and had
intrusted the command of the expedition to his brother
Rigaud.
The fire did no damage, as the garrison lay sheltered
behind their intrenchments, 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 aint likely to attack
at all. They meant to surprise us, and they haven’t, and
AN A BORTIVE ATTACK. 2OYi
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 around the intrenchments,
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 of
the two vessels lying in the ice close to the shore, and
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 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 them-
selves 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 mean 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 white
flag, and a party are coming forward.”
An officer and several men advanced toward 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
2O2 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
when the parties came together, and then the French
officer advanced toward 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 offi-
cers, was awaiting him. The handkerchief was then
removed from his eyes, and he announced to the com-
mandant that he was the bearer of a message from the
officer commanding the French force, who, being desir-
ous of avoiding an effusion of blood, begged the English
commander to abstain from resistance, which, against
a force so superior to his own, could but be useless.
He offered the most favorable terms if he would sur-
render the place peaceably, but said that if he were
driven to make an assault his Indian allies would unques-
tionably 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 fusilade from the border of the woods, which
they kept up for some hours, the garrison contemptu-
ously 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
wherever they could hear a sound. Presently a bright
light burst up; the redskins, provided with fagots of
resinous sticks, had crept up toward some buildings,
consisting of several store-houses, a hospital, and saw-
mill, and the huts and tents of the rangers, and having
placed their torches against them set them on fire and
instantly retreated. The garrison could do nothing to
save the buildings, as their efforts in the absence of water
must be unavailing, and they would have been shot
%
AN ABORTIVE ATTACK. 2O3
down by the foe lying beyond the circle of light. They
therefore remained lying behind the intrenchment, firing
wherever they heard the slightest sound, and momen-
tarily expecting an attack; but morning came without
the French advancing, and the garrison were then able
to give their whole attention to saving the buildings in
the fort.
Some great wood-stacks had now ignited, and the
burning embers fell thickly on the huts, and for some
hours it was only by the greatest 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 them-
selves, 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 snow-storm 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
moment.”.
“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 the 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 Tuesday 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
2O4. ..WITH WöLFE IN CANADA.
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 pull-
ing 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 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 con-
ducted or more futile expedition. -
After this affair the time passed slowly at Fort William
Henry. Until the sun gained strength enough to melt
the thick white covering of the earth James practiced
his men in the use of snow-shoes, 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 take 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 officer fitted for the post, instead of being
obliged, as usual, to fill up the appointment by a court
favorite. - º
The Marquis of Montcalm was born at the château
of Candiac, near Nimes, on the 29th of February, 1712.
At the age of fifteen, up to which time he had studied
hard, he entered the army. Two years later he became
a captain, and was first under fire at the siege of Philips-
bourg. In 1736 he married Mlle. Du Boulay, who
brought him influential connections and some property.
In 1741 Montcalm took part in the campaign in Bo-
hemia. 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
AN A BORTIVE ATTACK. 205
Italy, and in 1746 was wounded at the disastrous action
at Piacenza, where he twice rallied his regiment, received
five saber 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 for an officer of similar rank, rejoined the
army, and was again wounded by a musket shot.
Shortly afterward the peace of Aix-la-Chapelle was
signed, and Montcalm remained living quietly with his
family, to whom he was tenderly attached, until informed
by the minister of war that he had selected him to com-
mand 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 Vaud-
reuil, the governor, who had hoped to have himself
received 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
Montcalm, doing all in his power to injure him by re-
ports to France in his disfavor. 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,
I756, six months before the attack on Fort William
Henry, which had been arranged by Vaudreuil.
Three battalions of regular troops, with 700 Cana-
dians 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 neigh-
borhood for some time, and it was from Oswego that
Shirley had intended to act against Niagara and Fronte-
nac. That enterprise had fallen through owing to Shir-
ley having been deprived of the command; but a sharp
fight had taken place between Colonel Bradstreet and
2O6 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
. armed boatmen and I IOO French, who were beaten
Oii.
Oswego was a place of extreme importance. It was
the only English post on Ontario, situated as it was
toward the southwest 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 12th of August the Earl of Loudon sent Colo-
nel Webb with the 44th Regiment and some of Brad-
street'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 dis-
aster met him, and he at once fell back with the greatest
precipitation.
At midnight on the Ioth 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 careless 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 In-
dians 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 18O
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 pali-
sade of trunks of trees set upright in the ground, hewn
flat on both sides, and closely fitted together—an excel-
AN ABORTIVE ATTACK. 267
lent defense against musketry, but worthless against
artillery. The garrison of the fort, 370 in number, had
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 com-
mandant 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 the
fort alone than the fort and its garrison, he sent boats
across the river after nightfall, and the garrison having
spiked their guns and thrown their ammunition into the
well, crossed the river unperceived by the French.
But Oswego was in no position for defense. Fort
Pepperell stood on the mouth of the river facing Fort
Ontario. Toward the west and south the place was pro-
tected by an outer line of earthworks mounted with can-
non, 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. The next evening his whole
force set to work throwing up a battery at the edge of
the rising ground on which Fort Ontario stood, and by
daybreak twenty lieavy 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 destruc-
tion 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, and soon opened fire from all
sides.
Colonel Mercer, who had bravely led his men and
inspired them by his example, was cut in two by a can-
non-shot, and the garrison were seized with despair. A
council of officers was held, and the garrison surren-
dered as prisoners of war to the number of 1600,
which included sick, the sailors belonging to the ship-
208 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA,
ping, laborers, and upward of a hundred women.
Montcalm had the greatest difficulty in preventing the
Indians, by means of threats, promises, and presents,
from massacring the prisoners. Oswego was burned to
the ground, the forts and vessels on the stocks de-
stroyed, and the place having been made a desert, the
army returned with their prisoners and spoil to
Montreal.
The loss of Oswego had inflicted 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 failure 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 line and three frigates under
Admiral Holbourne, with 500 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 been delaying, the French government
had obtained information of its destination, and had
sent three French squadrons across the Atlantic to
Louisbourg. It was the Ioth of July before, the united
English force assembled at Halifax, and there fresh de-
lays arose. The troops, nearly 12,OOO 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 harbor 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
abandoned. Loudon with his troops sailed back to New
York, and Admiral Holbourne, who had been joined by
AN ABORTIVE ATTACK. 209
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 Septem-
ber 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 dis-
masted, and others threw their cannon into the sea.
Had Lamotte sailed out on the following day the Eng-
lish 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 Louisbourg, he was at liberty to utilize his army for
the invasion of the defenseless colonies, and he deter-
mined 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 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
2 I O WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
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 succeeded in distancing them.
“The news has just come in that the expedition has
sailed,” James said, as he one day, toward 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 a 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 enterprising 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 were encamped near Montreal; and
besides these there were the Mission Indians, and those
of the Five Nations who adhered to France. Early in
July the movement began. Day after day fleets of boats
AN ABORTIVE ATTACK. 2 I I
and canoes rowed up Lake Champlain, and toward the
end of the month the whole force was gathered at
Ticonderoga. Here were now collected 8000 men, of
whom 2000 were Indians, representing forty-one tribes
and sub-tribes. Among them were Iroquois, Hurons,
Nipissings, Abenakis, Algonkins, Micmacs, and Male-
cites; these were all nominal Christians, and counted
8oo warriors. With them were the Western Indians:
Ojibwas, Mississagas, Pottawattamies, Menomonies,
Sacs, Foxes, Winnebagoes, Miamis, and Iowas. 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 canni-
balism disgusted and shocked Montcalm and his officers;
but they 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 offense and
to march away to their distant 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 committed upon the colonists.
2 I 2 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
CHAPTER XIV.
SCOUTING ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN.
ONE morning Colonel Monro sent for James. “Cap-
tain Walsham,” he said, “there are rumors that the
French are gathering at Crown Point in considerable
force. Captain 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
rumors, for if they be true I must communicate at once
to the general, in order that he may get together a suffi-
cient 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
propose 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 enter-
rise.”
D 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 Jona-
than makes up the party. As to going trapesing about
round Crown Point with fifty soldiers, the thing aint 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 Scout-
SCOUTING ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN. 2 I 3
ing 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 be-
come of the company if it were to lose its two officers and
its two scouts at a blow ! No, Edwards, you will com-
mand during my absence, and I think you will soon have
more lively times here, for if it be true that Montcalm
will himself command 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 expedi-
tion is a risky one, and it is just as well to be prepared.”
Just as the sun was setting Nat came into the officers'
hut.
“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
214 with wolfe in cANADA.
on each side of the lake, and the water will be swarming
with their canoes. Jonathan and I have been talking it
over and trying to settle which would be the safest, to
foot it all the way or to go by water. We concluded as
there aint 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 recon-
noiter, 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 experience 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 won-
dered whether he 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 the three
vigorous pairs of arms. When they approached the
narrows connecting Lake George with Lake Champlain
the boat's head was directed toward 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
SCOUTING ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN. 2 I5
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 confident 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 con-
tinued 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 aint 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 aint
no object, for we shall be miles down Lake Champlain
before daylight; 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 goes 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 narrows without a
chase for it; if it comes to running, of course you 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
216 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
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, because the keenest lookout would be
kept on the right-hand side, as that would naturally be
thosen 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 alto-
gether 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.
“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 the boat and placed his hand on James'
shoulder as a sign for him to do the same. The time
scouting on Lake chAMPLAIN. 217
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 over-
head 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 of 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 around. 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.
“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 lake 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
218 WITH WOf_FE IN CAN Ai) A.
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
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?”
“Not more than ten miles,” Nat said; “it is thirty
miles from Ticonderoga. Ft lies out on a point just
where Champlain widens out. I reckon our safest way
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 dan-
ger won’t begin until we get ashore; in course then we
must act according to sarcumstances.”
This maneuver 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
scouting on LAKE chamPlain. 219
heading south again paddled boldly down toward 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 around 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 Cana-
dian when we have once landed. There aint much dif-
ference 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 Mo-
hawk'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.” -
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 Wil-
liam Henry James had laid aside his uniform and had
dressed himself in hunting-shirt 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 English 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 squirrel’s skins, which would
pass equally well on both sides of the frontier. The
fire-bag, in which tobacco, tinder, and other small
matters were carried, was of Indian workmanship, as was
22 O WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
the cord of his powder-horn and bullet-pouch. Alto-
gether his get-up was somewhat brighter and more pic-
turesque than that of English scouts, who, as a rule,
despised anything approaching 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 con-
sidered, 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
information 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 neces-
saries with them; and soon, in their Indian hunting-
shirts and fringed 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
walking they emerged from the forest, and the strong
fort of Crown Point lay before them. It was con-
structed of stone, and was capable of withstanding a long
siege by any force which could be brought against it.
Around 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
SCOUTING ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN. 22 I
****
allies by their plumed head-dresses and by the blankets
or long robes of skins which hung from their shoulders.
“I should put them down at 30OO.”
“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 aint no knowing, but we
may be sure that they will have got together as many
as they could. Put 'em down at 40OO, and that makes
7OOO altogether, enough to eat up Fort William Henry
and to march to Albany.”
“Ay, or to New York if they are well led and take
fancy to it—that is, if the colonists don’t bestir them-
selves smartly. Well, so far you have found out what
you came to seek, captain. What's the next thing?”
“We must discover, if we can, whether they mean to
go up the lakes in boats or to march through the woods,”
James replied. “They will have a tremendous job get-
ting 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 theºskºore and see what
tº tº g º - *** --
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 French 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 toward the camp.
Two hours passed. Several times he heard footsteps
in the wood near him, and, peering through the leaves,
222 - WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
caught sight of parties of Indians going toward the
camp, either late arrivals from Montreal or bands that
had been out Scouting or hunting. At the end of the
two hours, to his great relief, he saw two figures coming
from the other way through, the woods, and at once
recognized 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.” -
“I wish I had known the precise place where you
were hiding, I should have made a sign to you to keep
quiet; but it aint of no use now.”
“What's the matter then, Nat?”
“I aint quite sure as anything is the matter,” the
Scout replied; “but I am feared of it. As bad luck would
have 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 sea
the varmin was not satisfied, though, in course, he pre-
tended 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 moc-
casin 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 P ‘’ * I
“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?” .
SCOUTING ON £AKE CHAMPLAIN. 223
,”
“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 aint
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 hun-
dred of them down onto our track.”
“Why shouldn’t the Owl have denounced you at once
if he suspected you?” James asked.
“Because it aint redskin nature to do anything till you
are sure,” the scout replied. “There is nothing a red-
skin 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 aint 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
224 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
let down the lines we have got on board and begin to
fish. As long as we are quiet there the redskins may
not interfere 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 wander-
ing 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 faces toward 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 he restrained it, and sauntered
along as carelessly 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 watch-
ing 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 pad-
dles and begin to fish. There are several canoes fishing
further out, and the redskin will feel safe. He can cut
us off providing we don’t go beyond them.”
The Indian was, as Nat had said, puzzled. That
something was wrong he was sure; but as he was alone
he was unable to oppose their departure. He watched
, SCOUTING ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN. 225
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 the alarm, lose the honor 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 we 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 red-
skins 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
226 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA. \
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 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 hos-
tile 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 char-
acter 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 toward 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 well 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
toward us? It looks as if it were drifting, but I have
seen them dip a paddle in several times. The others are
pulling up their lines so as to be in readiness to join in,
SCOUTING ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN. 227
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. 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
fishing 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 leveled to the
shoulder and pointed at the Indians. The latter, taken
completely by surprise, and finding themselves with
three barrels leveled 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 toward 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 war-whoop rose at the edge of the
woods, and a minute later half a dozen canoes shot out
from shore.
228 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
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 traveling
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 redskins 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 aint
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 of 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 com-
ing up fast.”
The work was concluded just as the canoes with the
Owl and his warriors came up with the others, which,
having 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
THROUGH MANY PERIT.S. 229
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 keep-
ing 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 hoss! 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 tak-
ing effect. It was now rapidly becoming dusk.
“That will do, captain; we had best be showing them
Our heels now, and get as far ahead as we can by the time
it is quite dark.”
James laid by his rifle and again took his paddle, and
as all were rowing at the top of their speed they gradu-
ally increased 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.
23o witH wolfe in cANADA.
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' surprise Nat turned
the head of the canoe to the western shore. He asked
no questions, 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 ap-
proached the shore, and gliding in between the over-
hanging 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. \ º
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 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
THROUGH MANY PERILS. 23 I
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 vigor-
Ous until the canoe was flying along at full speed up the
lake, her course being laid so as to cross very gradually
toward 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 yhich 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 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 direc-
tion 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.”
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 be-
lieved 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
232 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
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 war-whoop 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 flat-boats
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 enough we couldn’t get ashore
without leaving tracks as they would make out, and they
would reckon to pick up our trail fast enough in the wood
and overtake us before we had gone many miles. Now
you see we have doubled on them. The varmint in the
woods will search the edge of the lake in the morning,
but it’s a good long stretch to go over, and if we have
luck they mayn't strike on our landing-place for some
hours after daylight. In course they may hit on it
earlier; still it gives us a chance anyhow. Another
thing is, we have twenty miles less to travel through the
woods than if we had to start up there, and that makes
all the difference when you've got redskins at your heels.
If we don’t have the bad luck to come across some of the
THROUGH MANY PERILS. 233
varmint in the woods I expect we shall carry our scalps
back to Fort William Henry. Now you had best sleep
till daybreak; we shan’t get another chance till we get
into the fort again.”
With the first dawn of morning they were on their way.
Striking straight back into the woods they walked fast,
but with the greatest care and caution, occasionally mak-
ing bends and detours to prevent the redskias following
their traces at a run, which they would have been able to
do had they walked in a straight line. Whenever the
ground was soft they walked without trying to conceal
their tracks, for Nat knew that however carefully they
progressed the Indians would be able to make out their
trail here. When, however, they came to rocky and
broken ground they walked with the greatest caution,
avoiding bruising any of the plants growing between the
rocks. After walking ten. miles in this direction they
turned to the south.
“We ought to be pretty safe now,” Nat said; “they
may be three or four hours before they hit on our landing-
place and find the canoe. I don’t say as they won’t be
able to follow our trail—there aint no saying what red-
skin eyes can do—but it 'll take them a long time any-
way. There aint much risk of running against any of
them in the forest now. I guess that most of them fol-
lowed the canoe down the lake last night. Anyway we
are well out from Lake Champlain now. When we have
gone another fifteen mile we shan’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 aint 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
234 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
few yards away. Pushing the thick foliage aside he
made his way into the center 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 have 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 aint 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.”
By night they reached the upper end of Lake Cham-
plain, the canoe was carefully hidden away again, and
they struck through the woods in the direction of Fort
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 aint 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
THROUGH MANY PERILS, 235
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 re-
ported 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 expe-
dition, 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
2600 men, chiefly provincials, was at Fort Edward, four-
teen miles away.
On the 25th of July that general visited Fort William
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 200 regulars under Lieutenant-Colonel
Young, and 8oo Massachusetts men under Colonel Frye.
This raised the force at Fort William Henry to 2200
men, and reduced that of Webb to I6OO. 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 3d 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 off message after message to New
York for help which could not possibly arrive in time.
Already the garrison of Fort William Henry had suf-
236 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
fered one reverse. Three hundred provincials, chiefly
New Jersey men, under Colonel Parker, had been sent
out to reconnoiter the French outposts. The scouts
under James Walsham were of the party. They were to
proceed in boats down the lake.
“I don't like this business no way, captain,” Nat said
as the company took their place in the boats. “This
aint neither One thing or the other. If Monro wants to
find out about the enemy Jonathan and I kin do it. If
he wants to fight the enemy, this lot aint enough; be-
sides, these New Jersey men know no more about the
forest than so many children. You mark my words, this
is going to be 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 here, captain; you know that I aint 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
aint 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, Nat,” 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
no more. Now, my advice is, on this here expedition
you go 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
aint 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 250 plowmen, for the red-
skins 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
THROUGH MANY PERILS. 237
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 aint no
hurry for us to begin that till we are on shore.”
“Look at us,” Nat grumbled in James' ear as the boats
started down the lake; “there we are rowing along the
middle instead of 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, captain,
if we aint ambushed as soon as we land I will grant I
know nothing of redskin ways.”
James had, in fact, before starting, suggested to Colo-
nel 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.
Toward daybreak the boats' heads were turned to
shore, and when they neared it Colonel Parker gave the
order for the men to lay in their oars, while the three
boats which happened to be in advance were told to ad-
vance 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?”
238 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
“It depended what sort of men they were,” Nat said
scornfully; “they wouldn’t surprise men that knew their
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 lot
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
to advance in a body.
“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 war-whoop rang in the air. Appalled by the sud-
denness 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
his voice; “get the boats' heads round and keep to-
gether. 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
THROUGH MANY PER11,S. 239
their arms, and let the boats follow each other in file, the
bow of one close to the stern of that ahead.”
The check which the volley had given to the canoes
gave time to the men in several of the boats close to those
of the scouts to turn. They were rowing past James’
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. 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, shud-
dered 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 In-
dians, 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, present-
ing 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 toward the shore, pur-
sued by a hearty cheer from the English. The oars were
then manned again, and the remains of Parker's flotilla
rowed up the lake to Fort William Henry.
Several of the prisoners taken by the Indians were
240 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
cooked and eaten by them. A few days afterward a
party of Indians, following the route from the head of
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 expedition
made its way down Lake George. General Levis had
marched by the side of the lake with 2500 men, Cana-
dians, regulars, and redskins, while the main body pro-
ceeded, the troops in 250 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, Bearn and Roussillon; the can-
nons were carried 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 8000 enemies were
gathered close to them. Monro was a brave soldier,
but wholly unfitted for the position he 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 was 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 marsh, so
that it could only be attacked from one side; beyond the
marsh lay the rough ground where Johnson had en-
camped two years before; while on a flat hill behind this
was an intrenched camp, beyond which again was an-
other marsh. -
As soon as the sun rose the column of Levis moved
THROUGH MANY PERILS. 24. I
through the forest toward 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, 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 endeavoring 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
rmeasures for defense, moving calmly about and abating
the disposition to panic by the calm manner in which he
gave his orders. Nat had scarcely finished his grum-
bling 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 intrenched camp.”
The company were already under arms waiting for
orders, and at the double James led them up the sloping
ground toward the forest, whence the war-whoops of the
Indians and the sharp cracks of the rifles were now ring-
242 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA,
ing out on all sides. James made for the spot where a
score 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 ad-
vantage of the training they had gone through, fighting
with the greatest steadiness and coolness, and keeping
well in shelter, until, when the soldiers and cattle had got
well on their way toward 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.
CHAPTER XVI.
THE MASSACRE AT FORT WILLIAM HENRY.
WHEN the skirmishing round Fort Henry was over,
La Corne, with a body of Indians, occupied the road that
led to Fort Edward, and Levis encamped close by to sup-
port him and check any sortie the English might make
from their intrenched camp. M, ntcalm reconnoitered
the position. He had at first intended to attack and carry
the intrenched camp, but he found that it was too strong
to be taken by a rush. He therefore determined to
attack the fort itself by regular approaches from the
western side, while the force of Levis would intercept
any succor 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
THE MASSAcRE AT Fort william HENRY. 243
cove about half a mile from the fort, and near this he .
* . . placed his main camp. He now sent one of his aids-de-
camp with a letter to Monro. - w
“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 circum-
stances, and an obstinate defense on your part could only
retard the capture of the place a few days and endanger
the unfortunate garrison, which cannot be relieved in
consequence of the dispositions I have made. I demand
a decisive answer within an hour.”
Monro replied simply that he and his soldiers would
defend themselves till the last.
The trenches were opened on the night of the 4th.
The work was extremely difficult, the ground being cov-
ered 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
themselves. Sharpshooters in the fort replied to their
fire, and all day the fort was fringed with light puffs of
smoke, while 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,
244 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA,
the interstices filled with earth; and this could ill support
the heavy cannonade to which it was exposed. The roar
of 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 mes-
sengers 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 could have advanced with 4500 men, but some
deserters from the French told him that Montcalm had
I2,OOO men, and Webb considered the task of advanc-
ing through the intervening forest and fields between
him and Fort Henry far too dangerous an operation
to be attempted. Undoubtedly 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 Mont-
calm 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, 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.
Two sorties were made—one from the fort, the other
from the intrenched camp; but both were repulsed with
loss. More than 300 of the defenders had been killed
THE MASSACRE AT Fort william HENRY. 245
and wounded. Small-pox was raging, and the case-
ments 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 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. g
James, with his company, had, after escorting the
cattle to the fort, crossed the marsh to the intrenched
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 proba-
bly be made the next morning Nat went to James.
“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
Montcalm’s army alone, do you?”
“No, I don’t,” Nat said testily; “there has been a deal
too much fighting already. I understand holding out
till the last when there's a hope of somebody coming to
relieve you; but what's the use of fighting and getting
a lot of your men killed 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
246 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
to-morrow there will be a massacre, and I for one aint
going to lay down my rifle and let the first redskin as
takes a fancy to my scalp tomahawk me.”
“Well, but what do you propose, Nat?”
“Well, captain, I have heard you say yours is an
independent 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
lieutenant.
“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 Mont-
calm will find it difficult, if not impossible, to keep his
Indians in hand; the French 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 aint
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 off, keeping under the trees on the right-hand
side. There aint 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
chance, but I think it’s a better chance than staying here,
THE. MASSACRE AT Fort william HENRY. 247
and if I should get into a row about it I can’t help it;
I am doing it for the best.” 6.
The corps were quietly mustered and marched out
through the gate of the intrenchments 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 moccasins as being better fitted for silent move-
ment 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 around 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 whis-
pered. “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’
last instructions as he stepped into the stern of a canoe,
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
248 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
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 upward of an hour before
James felt from the greater speed with which the canoe
was traveling 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 practiced arms of the leaders of the
file. After paddling for another hour and a half the
Scout stopped.
“We are far enough away now,” Nat said; “there
aint 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 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,”
|. said. “I can’t see my own hand close to my
ace.”
THE MASSACRE AT ForT willIAM HENRY. 249
“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 aint 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 aint nothing to be gained by making haste.”
James gave the order. The men felt about till each
found a space of ground sufficiently 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 danger-
ous to approach Fort Edward, around 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
don’t mind fighting, Walsham, but to be massacred by
those Indians is a hideous idea.”
“I am glad we are out of it, too,” James agreed; “but
I cannot think that Montcalm with 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 off,
and then there would be an end to any hope of the
French beating the colonists in the long run. Mont-
25o WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
calm daren't break with them. It's a horrible position
for an officer and a gentleman to be placed in. Mont-
calm did manage to prevent the redskins from mas-
Sacring the garrison of Oswego, but it was as much as
he could do, and it will be ten times as difficult now that
their blood is up with this week of hard fighting and the
loss of many of their warriors. Anyhow, I am glad I
am out of it, even if the big-wigs 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 somber predictions had been ful-
filled. 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 sur-
render with Montcalm. It was agreed that the English
troops should march out with the honors of war and be
escorted to Fort Edward by a detachment of French
troops, that they should 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 garrison were to be allowed to retain in recognition
of their brave defense. 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 promised to maintain order.
The garrison then evacuated the fort and marched to
join their comrades in the intrenched camp. No sooner
had they moved out than a crowd of Indians rushed into
THE MASSACRE AT ForT willIAM HENRY. 251
the fort through the breach and embrasures and butch-
ered 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 intrenched 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 insulting the terrified women, tell-
ing 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 ac-
cordance with the terms of surrender; and he should
have allowed the English troops to again fill their
pouches with cartridge, by which means they would have
been able to fight in their own defense.
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 the French surgeon, but as he was
not there in the morning the regimental surgeon, Miles
Whitworth, remained with them, attending to their
wants. The French surgeon had caused special senti-
nels 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 any-
thing to protect the wounded men. §
The Indians in the meantime had begun to plunder the
baggage of the column. Monro complained to the
252 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
officers of the French escort that the terms of the capitu-
lation 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, toma-
hawking 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 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 700 or 800 of the English were seized and
carried off by the savages, while some 70 or 80 were
massacred on the spot. The column attempted no re-
sistance, 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 400 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 inter-
vals 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 200 prisoners to
*
THE MASSACRE AT FORT WILLIAM HENRY. 253
N.
be tortured and murdered on their return to their
villages.
Few events cast a deeper disgrace on the arms of
France than this massacre, committed in defiance of their
pledged honor for the safety of their prisoners, and in
sight of 40OO 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 Rou-
baud, who was in charge of the Christianized Indians,
who, according to his own account, were no less ferocious
and cruel than the unconverted tribes.
The number of those who perished in the massacre is
uncertain. 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 700 who were captured, but this
is, of course, a gross exaggeration. General Levis and
Roubaud, who were certain to have made the best 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 200,
and besides these must be counted the 200 prisoners
carried off to be tortured by the Indians. The greater
portion of these were purchased from the Indians in
exchange for rum by Vaudreuil, the governor of Mon-
treal; but to the eternal disgrace of this man he suffered
many of them to be carried off, and did not even inter-
fere when publicly in the sight of the whole town the
Indians murdered some of the prisoners, and, not con-
tent with eating them themselves, forced their comrades
to partake of the flesh. Bouganville, one of the aids-de-
camp to Montcalm, 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 small-pox, and the savages took the infection
254 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
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 capitula-
tion by the French, the English government refused also
to be bound by it, and the French prisoners in their
hands were accordingly retained. Colonel Monro him-
self 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 reasons which had induced
him to quit the fort with his company. These reasons
were approved 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!
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
THE MASSACRE AT FORT WILLIAM HENRY. 255
of the fugitives as they can find. Let them take as much
provision and rum as they can carry, for many of the
fugitives will be starving.”
James executed his orders, and during the next five
days sent in a considerable number of exhausted men,
who, 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 Ticon-
deroga. This had been left on the retirement of Mont-
calm with a small garrison commanded by Captain
Hepecourt, who, during the winter, was continually
harrassed by the corps of Captain Rogers and James
Walsham's scouts.
Toward the spring, receiving reinforcements, Hepe-
court caught Rogers and 180 men in an ambush, and
killed almost all of them, Rogers himself and some 20 or
30 men alone escaping. In the spring there was a fresh
change of plans, the expedition against Ticonderoga 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 Abercrombie, the second in com-
mand, was intrusted the charge of the frces in the colo-
256 - WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
nies. Colonel Amherst was raised to the rank of major-
general, and appointed to command the expedition from
England against Louisbourg, having under him Briga-
dier-Generals Whitmore, 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 perfectly successful. Osborne prevented La Clue
from leaving the Mediteranean. Hawke drove the
enemy's vessels ashore at Rochefort, and completely.
broke up the expedition. 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 500 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
land-locked 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 40OO in-
habitants. The garrison consisted of the battalions of
Artois, Bourgogne, Cambis, and Volontaires Etrangers,
with two companies of artillery and twenty-four of colo-
J.OUISBOURG AND TICONIDEROGA. 257
nial troops, in all 308o men besides officers. In the
harbor lay five ships of the line and seven frigates, carry-
ing 544 guns and about 3OOO men, and there were 219
cannons and 17 mortars mounted on the ramparts and
outworks, and 44 in reserve. Of the outworks the
strongest were the grand battery at Lighthouse Point
at the mouth of the harbor, 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 harbor on the
right, and consisted of four strong bastions with connect-
ing works. The best defense of Louisbourg, however,
was the craggy shore, which for leagues on either side
was accessible 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 squad-
ron of nine ships of war had been cruising off the place,
endeavoring 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 2d of June, when
the English expedition came in sight, more than a year's
supply of provisions was stored up in the town.
CHAPTER XVII. ----.
LOUISBOURG AND TICONDEROGA.
ALL eyes in the fleet were directed toward 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,
258 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
A more difficult coast on which to effect 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 recon-
naisance of the shore. Generals Amherst, Lawrence,
and Wolfe all took part in it, and a number of naval
Officers 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.
“Why admiral,” he said, “the very children at home
would 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 Loram-
bec, 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 effect
a landing at one or all of them if it should be found
possible.
On the next day, however, the 3d 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
LOUISBOURG AND TICONDEROGA. 259
rolled tremendously at their anchors. Most of the
troops suffered terribly from sea-sickness. The next
day the weather continued thick and stormy. On the
6th there was fog, but toward noon the wind went
down, whereupon 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, anchor-
ing within easy range, opened fire soon after daylight,
while the boats in three divisions rowed toward the
shore.
The division under Wolfe consisted of twelve com-
panies of Grenadiers, with the Light Infantry, Fraser's
Highlanders, 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 IOOO Frenchmen under Lieutenant-Colonel
De St. Julien, with eight cannons on swivels planted to
sweep every part of the beach. The intrenchments
behind which the troops were lying were covered in front
by spruce and fir trees felled and laid on the ground with
the tops outward.
Not a shot was fired until the English boats ap-
proached 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 under Lieutenants Hopkins and Brown and
Ensign Grant, who, mistaking the signal, or willfully mis-
interpreting it, dashed for the shore directly before them.
It was a hundred yards or so east of the beach—a craggy
26o WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
coast, lashed by the breakers, but sheltered from the
cannon by a small projecting point.
The three young officers leaped ashore, followed by
their 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 the 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
most of the men scrambled ashore, and as soon as he
landed Wolfe led them up the rocks, where they formed
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 70 of them were taken prisoners and
50 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
Dnglish 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 Flat 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 accomplishing it, and none of the siege guns could
be landed till the 18th. While the sailors were so en-
gaged the troops were busy making roads and throwing
up redoubts to protect their position. -
I.OUISBOtjRG AND TICONDEROGA, 261
Wolfe, with I2Oo men, made his way right round the
harbor 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 harbor, 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
the 25th, the battery on the islet was silenced.
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 mean time Amherst had not been idle.
Day and night IOOO men had been employed mak-
ing a covered road across a swamp to a hillock less
than half a mile from the ramparts. The labor 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 harbor, 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, toward the sea, about a third of a mile from the Prin-
cess' 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 reinforced, they drove the French back into the
town. Each day the English lines drew closer to the
town. The French frigate Echo, under cover of a fog,
had been sent to Quebec for aid, but she was chased and
captured. The frigate Arethuse, on the night of the 14th
of July, was towed through the obstructions at the mouth
of the harbor, and passing through the English ships in a
fog succeeded in getting away. Only five vessels of the
French fleet now remained in the harbor, and these were
262 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA. **
but feebly manned, as 2000 of the officers and seamen had
landed and were encamped in the town.
On the afternoon of the 16th a party of English led by
Wolfe suddenly dashed forward, and driving back a com-
pany of French seized some rising ground within three
hundred yards of the ramparts and began to intrench
themselves there. All night the French kept up a furious
fire at the spot, but by morning the English had com-
pleted their intrenchment, and from this point pushed on
until they had reached the foot of the glacis. On the
21st the French man-of-war Célebre 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 Eng-
lish guns, of which a great number were now in position,
kept up a storm of fire night and day. On the night of
the 23d 600 English sailors silently rowed into the
harbor, cut the cables of the two remaining French
men-of-war, and tried to tow them out. One, however,
was aground, for the tide was low. The sailors there-
fore set her on fire, and then towed her consort out of the
harbor amid 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 Eng-
lish artillery, and there was no shelter either for the
troops or the inhabitants. On the 26th the last French
cannon was silenced and a breach effected in the wall, and
the French, unable longer to resist, hung out the white
flag. They attempted to obtain favorable conditions, but
Boscawen and Amherst insisted upon absolute surrender,
and the French, wholly unable to resist further, accepted
the terms. * *
Thus fell the great French stronghold on Cape Breton.
LOUISBOURG AND TICONDEROGA. 263
The defense 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 the 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 Abercrombie at Lake
George. Wolfe carried out the orders of the general to
destroy the French settlements on the Gulf of St. Law–
rence—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 he 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 toward 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 effort 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, main-
tained, and clothed out of her own resources, thus plac-
ing in the field one-fourth of her able-bodied men. Con-
necticut made equal sacrifices, although less exposed to
danger of invasion; while New Hampshire sent out one-
third of her able-bodied men.
In June the combined British and provincial force
under Abercrombie gathered on the site of Fort William
Henry. The force consisted of 6367 officers and soldiers
of the regular army and 9054 colonial troops. Aber-
crombie himself was an infirm and incapable man, who
owed his position to political influence. The real com-
264 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
mand 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 dis-
ciplinarian, but threw aside all the trammels of the tradi-
tions 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 bear-skin.
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
regulars 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 Lou-
don and Webb things did not look very bright, but this
is ... 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
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 center, the provincial
troops on 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-
LOUISBOURG AND TICONI).EROGA. 265
clad 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 wit-
nessed. 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
again 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.
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, I48 were captured, and the rest
killed or drowned in endeavoring 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 soul of General Abercrombie's army
seemed to expire. From the unhappy moment that the
266 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
general was deprived of his advice neither order nor dis-
cipline 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 I5,000 men. Abercrombie
seemed paralyzed 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. Vau-
dreuil, 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
Abercrombie 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
the whole front could be swept by a fire of musketry and
grape.
LOUISBOURG AND TICONDEROGA. 267
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
trees being felled so that their tops turned outward, form-
ing an almost impenetrable obstacle, while immediately
in front of the log wall the ground was covered with
heavy boughs overlapping and interlaced, their points
being sharpened. This position was in fact absolutely
impregnable against an attack in front by infantry.
It was true that Abercromby might have brought up
his artillery and battered down the breastwork, or he
might have planted a battery on the heights which com-
manded the position, or he might have marched a por-
tion 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
surrender, for they had but eight days’ provisions. But
Howe was dead, there was no longer leading or general-
ship, and Abercrombie, leaving his cannon behind him,
marched his army to make a direct attack on the French
intrenchment.
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 Bourlamaque, Berry and Royal Rous-
sillon in the center under Montcalm, La Reine, Bearn,
and Guienne on the right under Levis. A detachment of
volunteers occupied the low ground between the breast-
work and outlet of Lake George, while 450 Canadian
troops held an abattis on the side toward 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
pickets. 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.
268 WiTH WOLFE IN CANADA.
They could see the top of the breastwork but not the
men behind it, and as soon as they were fairly entangled
in the trees a terrific fire opened upon them. The Eng-
lish pushed up close to the breastwork, but they could
not pass the bristling mass of sharpened branches which
were swept by a terrific cross-fire from the intrenchment.
After striving for an hour they fell back. Abercrombie,
who had remained at the mill a mile and a half in the
rear, sent orders for them to attack again.
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 Eng-
lish 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 valor, and not retiring until its major and
25 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.
Abercrombie had lost in killed, wounded, and missing
1944 officers and men, while the loss of the French was
377.
Even now Abercrombie might have retrieved his re-
pulse, for with 13,000 men still remaining against 3300
unwounded Frenchmen he could still have easily forced
them to surrender by planting cannons on the heights or
by cutting off their communication and food. He did
neither, but at daybreak re-embarked his army and re-
tired with all speed down the lake.
Montcalm soon received large reinforcements and
sent out scouting parties. One of these caught a party
commanded by Captain Rogers in an ambush, but were
finally driven back with such heavy loss that from that
QUEBEC. 269
time few scouting parties were sent out from Ticon-
deroga. In October, Montcalm with the main portion
of his army retired for the winter to Montreal, while the
English fell back to Albany.
While Abercrombie was lying inactive at the head of
Lake George, Brigadier-General Forbes had advanced
from Virginia against Fort Duquesne, and after immense
labor and hardships succeeded in arriving at the fort,
which the French evacuated at his approach, having
burned the barracks and storehouses and blown up the
fortifications. A stockade was formed and a fort after-
ward built there; this was called Fort Pitt and the place
itself Pittsburg. A small garrison was left there, and the
army, after having r ted and buried the bones of
Braddock's men, retired to Virginia.
The general, who, though suffering terribly from dis-
ease, had steadfastly carried out the enterprise in the
face of enormous difficulties, died shortly after the force
returned to the settlements. Another successful enter-
prise during 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 I758 was on
the whole disastrous to the French; they had held their
own triumphantly 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
communication cut by the destruction of Fort Frontenac.
CHAPTER XVIII.
QUEBEC.
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.
270 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
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 ladened with sup-
plies 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 upward of IOOO
Indians, in all amounting to more than I6,OOO.
The position was an extremely strong one; the main
force was encamped on the high ground below Quebec
with their right resting pn the St. Charles River, and the
left on the Moniºmérènci, a distance of between seven
and eight miles. 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
crossing 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 bar-
ricaded. A hundred and six cannon were mounted on
the walls, while a floating-battery of twelve heavy pieces,
a number of gunboats, and eight fire-ships formed the
river defenses.
The frigates which had convoyed the merchant fleet
were taken higher up the river, and IOOO of their sea-
men came down from Quebec to man the batteries and
gunboats. Against this force of 16,000 men, posted
behind defensive works, on a position almost impreg-
nable by nature, General Wolfe was bringing less than
9000 troops. The steep and lofty heights that lined
QUEBEC, 27 r
the river rendered the cannon of the ships useless to him,
and the exigencies of the fleet in such narrow and diffi-
cult 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 intrenchments.
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 consisted 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 direct for the St. Lawrence to
intercept the ships from France, but arrived at its desti-
nation 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 Abercrombie; 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 I4,OOO 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 com-
mand 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
upward 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
272
WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
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He had had enough of scouting,
return to the regiment, his principal regret being that
had fallen, James now stood high on the list of lieuten-
he had to part from his two trusty scouts.
antS.
the regiment when the news
There was great joy in












QUEBEC. - 273
was received that they were to go with the expedition
against Quebec. They had formed part of Wolfe's divi-
sion at Louisbourg, and like all who had served with
him, regarded with enthusiasm and confidence the
leader whose frail body seemed wholly incapable of sus-
taining fatigue or hardship, but whose indomitable spirit
and courage placed him ever in the front, and set an
example which the bravest of his followers were proud
to imitate.
From time to time James had received letters from
home. Communication was irregular; but his mother
and Mr. Wilks wrote frequently, and sometimes he re-
ceived half a dozen letters at once. He had now been
absent from home for four years, and his mother told
him that he would scarcely recognize Aggie, who was
now as tall as herself. Mrs. Walsham said that the girl
was almost as interested as she was in his letters, and in
the dispatches from the war, in which his name had sev-
eral times been mentioned in connection with the
services rendered by his scouts.
Richard Horton had twice, during James' absence,
returned home. The squire, Mrs. Walsham said, had
received him very coolly in consequence of the letter he
had written when James was pressed as a seaman, and
she said that Aggie seemed to have taken a great objec-
tion to him. She wondered indeed that he could stay an
hour in the house after his reception there; but he
seemed as if he didn't notice it, and took especial pains
to try and overcome Aggie's feeling against him.
While waiting at the mouth of the St. Lawrence Ad-
miral Durell had succeeded in obtaining pilots to take
the fleet up the river. He had sailed up the river to the
point where the difficult navigation began, and where
vessels generally took on board river pilots. Here he
hoisted the French flag at the masthead, and the pilots,
believing the ships to be a French squadron which had
eluded the watch of the English, came off in their boats
and were all taken prisoners, and forced under pain of
death to take the English vessels safely up. The first
274 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
difficulty of the passage was at Cape Tourmente, where
the channel describes a complete zigzag.
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 astonishing 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 center of the camp the front was covered with earth-
works along the brink of a lofty height, and from Beau-
port to the St. Charles were broad flats of mud swept by
the fire of redoubts and intrenchments, 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 posi-
tion 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.
Montcalm was perfectly confident of his ability to re-
sist any attack which the British might make. Bougain-
QUEBEC. 275
ville had long before examined the position in view of the
possibility of an English expedition against it and re-
ported that with a few intrenchments the city would be
safe if defended by 300G or 4000 men. Sixteen thousand
were now gathered there, and Montcalm might well be-
lieve the position to be impregnable.
He was determined to run no risk by advancing to
give battle, but to remain upon the defensive till the
resources of the English were exhausted, or till the ap-
proach of winter forced them to retire. His only source
of uneasiness lay in the south, for he feared that Amherst
with his army might capture Ticonderoga and advance
into the colony, in which case he must weaken his army
by sending a force to oppose him.
On the day after the army landed on the island a sud-
den and very violent squall drove several of the ships
ashore and destroyed many of the flat-boats. On the
following night the sentries at the end of the island saw
some vessels coming down the river. Suddenly these
burst into flames. They were the fire-ships which Vau-
dreuil had sent down to destroy the fleet. They were
filled with pitch, tar, and all sorts of combustibles, with
shell and grenades mixed up with them, while on their
decks were a number of cannon crammed to the mouth
with grape-shot and musket-balls.
Fortunately for the English the French naval officer
in command lost his nerve, and set fire to his ship half
an hour too soon, the other captains following his
example. This gave the English time to recover from
the first feeling of consternation at seeing the fire-ships,
each a pillar of flame, advancing with tremendous explo-
sion and noise against them. The troops at once got
under arms lest the French should attack them, while
the vessels lowered their boats, and the sailors rowed up
to meet the fire-ships. When they neared them they
threw grapnels on board, and towed them toward land
until they were stranded, and then left them to burn out
undisturbed.
Finding that it would be impossible to effect a land-
276 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
ing 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. Lawrence, which is here less than a mile
wide. On the afternoon of the 29th Monckton's brigade
crossed in the boats to Beaumont on the south shore.
His advance guard had a skirmish with a party of
Canadians, but these soon fell back, and no further oppo-
sition was offered, to the landing.
In the morning a proclamation issued by Wolfe was
posted on the doors of the parish churches. It called
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 re-
sisted 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 intrench-
ments and to form batteries. Wolfe did not expect that
his guns here could do any serious damage to the forti-
fications of Quebec. His object was partly to dis-
courage 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. Al-
though he had no belief that they would succeed he
thought it better to allow them to try. Accordingly
some I5OO armed citizens and Canadians from the camp,
with a few Indians, and IOO volunteers from the regulars,
marched up the river and crossed on the night of the 12th
of July.
The courage of the citizens evaporated very quickly
now they were on the same side of the river as the Eng-
lish, although still three miles from them. In a short
QUEBEC. 277
time a wild panic seized them. They rushed back in
extreme disorder to their boats, crossed the river, and
returned to Quebec. The English guns soon opened
and carried destruction into the city. In one day eigh-
teen houses and the cathedral were burned by explod-
ing shells, and the citizens soon abandoned their homes
and fled into the country.
The destruction of the city, however, even if com-
plete, would have advanced Wolfe's plans but little. It
was a moral blow at the enemy, but nothing more. On
the 8th of July several frigates took their station before
the camp of General Levis, who, with his division of
Canadian militia, occupied the heights along the St.
Lawrence next to the gorge of Montmorenci. Here
they opened fire with shell and continued it till nightfall.
Owing to the height of the plateau on which the camp
was situated they did but little damage, but the inten-
tion of Wolfe was simply to keep the enemy occupied
and under arms.
Toward evening the troops on the island broke up
their camp, and, leaving a detachment of marines to hold
the post, the brigades of Townshend and Murray, 3OOO
strong, embarked after nightfall in the boats of the
fleet, and landed a little below the Montmorenci. At
daybreak they climbed the heights, and, routing a
body of Canadians and Indians who opposed them,
gained the plateau and began to intrench themselves
there.
A company of rangers supported by the regulars was
sent into the neighboring forests to prevent the par-
ties 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 aid-de-camp, a
Jacobite Scotchman named Johnston, was watching the
movements 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 intrench themselves, and Levis posted I IOO
278 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
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 be-
came impatient and attacked the rangers, and drove
them back with loss upon the regulars, who stood their
ground and repulsed the assailants; the Indians, how-
ever, carried thirty-six scalps across the ford. If
Repentigny had advanced 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 Mont-
calm 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 sepa-.
rated from each by a wide arm of the river. Any of the
three were liable to be attacked and overpowered before
the others could come to its assistance.
Wolfe, indeed, was soon well intrenched, but although
safe against attack he was powerless to take the offen-
sive. The fact, however, that he had taken up his posi-
tion so near their camp had discomfited the Canadians,
and his battery played with considerable effect on the
left of their camp. The time passed slowly. The deep
and impassable gulf of the Montmorenci separated the
two enemies, but the crests of the opposite cliffs were
within easy gunshot of each other, and men who showed
themselves near the edge ran a strong chance of being
hit.
QUEBEC. 279
Along the river from the Montmorenci to Point Levi
continued fighting went on between the guns of the
frigates and the gunboats and batteries on shore. The
Indians swarmed in the forest near the English camp
and constant skirmishing went on between them and
the rangers. The steady work of destruction going on
in the city of Quebec by the fire from Point Levi and the
ceaseless cannonade kept up by the ships and Wolfe's
batteries, added to the inactivity to which they were con-
demned, began to dispirit the Canadian militia, and
many desertions took place, the men being anxious to
return to their villages and look after the crops; and
many more would have deserted had it not been for the
persuasions of the priests and the fear of being mal-
treated by the Indians, whom the governor threatened
to let loose upon any who should waver in their resist-
3.11Ce.
On the 18th of July a fresh move was made by the
English. The French had believed it impossible for any
hostile ships to pass the batteries of Quebec; but, cov-
ered by a furious cannonade from Point Levi, the man-
of-war Sutherland, with a frigate and several small ves-
sels, aided by a favoring wind, ran up the river at night
and passed above the town. Montcalm at once dis-
patched 600 men under Dumas to defend the accessi-
ble 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 600
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 IOO
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
28o WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
-
made another attempt to burn the English fleet, send-
ing down a large number of schooners, shallops, and
rafts chained together and filled as before with com-
bustibles. -
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 with 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 deter-
mined to attack the camp in front. The plan was a
desperate one, for after leaving troops enough to hold
his two camps he had less than 5000 men to attack
a position of commanding strength, where Montcalm
could at an hour's notice collect twice as many to oppose
him.
At a spot about a mile above the gorge of the Mont-
imorenci 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 commanded by the musketry of
the intrenchments 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 was ex-
tremely 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 stormed with some chance of success.
At low tide it was possible to ford the mouth of the
Montmorenci, and Wolfe intended that the troops from
QUEBEC, 281
his camp on the heights above that river should cross
here, and advance along the strand to co-operate with
Monckton's brigade, who were to cross from Point
Levi.
On the morning of the 31st of July the Centurion of
sixty-four guns, and two armed transports each with
fourteen guns, stood close in to one of the redoubts and
opened fire upon it, while the English batteries from the
heights of the Montmorenci opened fire across the
chasm upon the French lines.
At eleven o'clock the troops from Point Levi put off 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 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 toward the ford at the mouth of the
Montmorenci.
The first to land were thirteen companies of Grena-
diers and a detachment of Royal Americans, who, with-
out waiting 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
Americans dashed forward and strove to climb the steep
ascent, swept as it was by a terrific hail of bullets and
buck-shot 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
282 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
threatening 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 ren-
dered the firelocks unserviceable.
The Grenadiers fell back into the redoubt. Wolfe,
who now arrived upon the spot, saw that it was abso-
lutely impossible to carry the heights under the present
conditions, and ordered the troops to retreat. Carrying
off many of the wounded with them, they fell back in
good order. Those of the Grenadiers and Americans
who survived recrossed in their boats to the island, the
I5th Regiment rowed back to Point Levi, and the 78th
Highlanders, who 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 Ameri-
cans, and was, in proportion to their number, enormous
—443, including I colonel, 8 captains, 2I lieutenants, and
3 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 sail-
ing home with the rest to 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 offers
of protection, and had practiced the most unchristian
barbarity against his troops on all occasions, he could
no longer refrain, in justice to himself and his army, in
chastising them as they deserved. The barbarities con-
sisted 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 two-
fold; first, to cause the militia to desert, and, secondly,
to exhaust the colony.
Accordingly the rangers, light artillery, and High-
landers were sent out in all directions to waste the settle-
ments wherever resistance was offered. Farmhouses
QUEBEC. 283
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 honor. “If
any violence is offered 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.
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 six hundred 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 gantlet of the bat-
teries of Quebec, and covered by a hot 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 I2OO troops marched overland under Briga-
dier Murray to embark in them.
To meet this danger above the town Bougainville was
sent from the camp at Beauport with I500 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
284 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
been kept just above the town they could have over-
powered the English vessels as they passed up.
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 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, ask-
ing 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 Mont-
morenci, ford the river, and fall upon the rear of the
enemy. The second was to cross the ford at the mouth
of the Montmorenci 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 consulta-
tion, and considered all the plans to be hopeless; but
they proposed that an attempt should be made to land
above the town, and so to place the army between
Quebec and its base of supplies, thereby forcing Mont-
QUEBEC. 285
calm to fight or to surrender. The attempt seemed a
desperate one, but Wolfe determined to adopt it. He
had not much hope of its succeeding, 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 perfectly 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 3d of September Wolfe took the first steps
toward the carrying out of his plans by evacuating the
camp at Montmorenci. Montcalm sent a strong force
to attack him as he was moving; but Monckton at Point
Levi saw the movement, and, embarking two battalions
in boats, made a feint of landing at Beauport. Mont-
calm recalled his troops to repulse the threatened attack,
and the English were able to draw off from Mont-
morenci 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 aban-
donment of Montmorenci and the embarkation of the
troops was a sign that the English were about to aban-
don 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 23d of June.
He now reinforced the troops under Bougainville
above Quebec to 3000 men. He had little fear for the
heights near the town, believing them to be inaccessible,
and that IOo men could stop a whole army. This he
said especially in reference to the one spot which pre-
286 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
sented at least a possibility of being scaled. Here
Captain de Vergor, with IOO Canadian troops, were
posted.
The battalion of Guienne had been ordered to en-
camp 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 qui 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 Monck-
ton'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 warfare, he could be trusted not to suffer him-
self to be surprised by the parties of Canadians or In-
dians, who were always on the watch to cut off detach-
ments 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 Indians 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 command of the detachment, or as a subal-
tern 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 Cana-
QUEBEC. 287
dians, 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 favorable reports
which had been made by Johnson, Monro, Lord Howe,
and Abercrombie 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
and was conducted to the general’s cabin. “General
Monckton has spoken to me in high terms of you, Lieu-
tenant Walsham, 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 Johnson, Howe, and Abercrombie, 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 accord-
ance 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 accompanying General Braddock as
a volunteer, in order to learn something of forest war-
fare; that, after that disastrous affair, he had served with
Johnson in a similar capacity, until on his regiment arriv-
ing 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
288 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
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 Cana-
dians 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. You 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 toward that side of the river
were always challenged and fired upon. The chancé
of landing 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
suspicion. But he knew nothing of French, and even
had he spoken the language fluently there was sufficient
difference between the Canadian French and the lan-
guage of the old country for the first Canadian who
QUEBEC. 289
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 difference; and, indeed,
it needed a far more intimate acquaintance with the vari-
ous tribes than he possessed for him to be able to paint
and adorn himself so as to deceive the vigilant 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 pros-
pect 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 the strand below. The first
step was the most difficult. How should he manage
to get himself taken prisoner? And this was the more
difficult as it was absolutely necessary that he should
fall into the hands of French regulars and not of the
Canadians, who would finish the matter at once by killing
and scalping him.
The next morning he again went off to the Suther-
land. He was in high spirits, for his name had appeared
in orders as captain and as appointed assistant quarter-
master-general on the headquarter staff. On entering
the general’s cabin he thanked him for the promotion.
“You have earned it over and over again,” the general
said; “there are no thanks due to me. Now, have you
thought out a plan?”
290 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
James briefly stated the difficulties which he perceived
in the way of any other scheme than that of getting him-
self taken prisoner by the French, and showed that that
was the Only plan that seemed to offer even a chance of
S11CCCSS.
“But you may not be able to escape,” Wolfe said.
“I may not,” James replied, “and in that case, sir,
I must of course remain a prisoner until you take Quebec
or I am exchanged. Even then you would be no worse
off than you are at present, for I must of course be taken
prisoner at some point where the French are in force
and where you do not mean to land. My presence there
would give them no clew whatever to your real inten-
tions, whereas were I taken prisoner anywhere along
the shore they would naturally redouble their vigilance,
as they would guess that I was looking for some way of
ascending the heights.”
“How do you propose being taken?” Wolfe asked.
“My idea was,” James replied, “that I should land
with a party near Cap Rouge as if to reconnoiter the
French position there. We should of course be speedily
discovered, and would then retreat to the boats. I
should naturally be the last to go, and might well manage
to be cut off.” –
“Yes,” Wolfe replied, “but you might also, and that
far more easily, manage to get shot. I 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 toward Cap Rotage 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 afterward 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 surren-
QUEBEC. 29 I
dered 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 con-
sidered; 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 path-
way, and bring me the news; and as the only chance of
the expedition being successful now depends upon our
discovering such a path, I am not justified in refusing
even this faint chance.”
The general touched a bell which stood on the table
before him.
“Will you ask the captain to come here?” he said to
the officer who answered the summons.
“Captain Peters,” he said, when the captain appeared,
“I want you to pick out for me four men upon whom
you can thoroughly rely. In the first place they must
be good swimmers, in the second place they must be able
to hold their tongues, and lastly they must be prepared
to pass some months in a French prison. A midship-
man with the same qualifications will be required to go
with them.”
. The captain naturally looked surprised at so unusual
a request.
“Captain Walsham is going to be taken prisoner by
the French,” General Wolfe explained, “and the only
way it can be done is for a whole boat's crew to be taken
with him,” and he then detailed the plan which had been
292 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
arranged. “Of course you can offer the men any reward
you may think fit, and can promise the midshipman
early promotion,” he concluded.
“Very well, general; I have no doubt I can find four
men and a midshipman willing to volunteer for the affair,
especially as, if you succeed, their imprisonment will be
a short one. When will the attempt be made?”
“If you can drift up the river as far as Cap Rouge
before daylight,” James said, in answer to an inquiring
look from the general, “we will attempt it to-morrow
morning. I should say that the best plan would be for
me to appear opposite their camp when day breaks, as
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
somewhere on the face of the heights. I will spread a
handkerchief 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 cannot 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 by dipping the ensign. At night I will
make my way down 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.”
A DANGEROUS fºxPEDITION, 293
CHAPTER XIX.
A DANGEROUS EXPEDITION.
THE details of the proposed expedition being thus
arranged the captain left the cabin with James, and the
latter paced to and fro on the quarterdeck while the
captain sent for the boatswain and directed him to pick
out four men who could swim well and who were ready
to volunteer for desperate service.
While the captain was so engaged James saw a naval
Officer staring fixedly at him. He recognized him
instantly, though more than four years had elapsed since
he had last seen him. He at once stepped across the
quarterdeck.
“How are you, Lieutenant Horton? it is a long time
since we last parted on the Potomac.”
Horton would have refused the proffered hand, but
he had already injured himself very sorely in the eyes of
the squire by his outburst of ill-feeling against James,
so he shook hands and said coldly:
“Yes; your position has changed since then.”
“Yes,” James said with a laugh, “but that was only
a temporary eclipse. That two months before the mast
was a sort of interlude for which I am deeply thankful.
Had it not been for my getting into that smuggling
Scrape I should have been at the present moment com-
mencing practice as a doctor instead of being a captain
in His Majesty's service.”
The words were not calculated to improve Horton's
temper. What a mistake he had made! Had he inter-
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 accident—he would have been released. He
had not spoken that word, and the consequence was he
had himself fallen into bad odor with the squire, and
James Walsham, instead of drudging away as a country
294 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
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
installed 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 oppor-
tune, namely, the pressing James as a seaman on board
the Thetis, 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 for procuring James' discharge, and
had now placed the latter in a position equal to his
OW11.
James, on his part, did not like Richard Horton, but
he felt no active animosity against him. He had got
the best of it in 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
Tichard Horton.
“You were at Sidmouth in the spring, I heard,” he
said; “you found my mother looking well, I hope?”
A DANGEROUS EXPEDITION. 295
“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 hare-brained
adventure, and they made no objection whatever when
I explained what they would have to do. Next to fight-
ing a Frenchman 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 amus-
ing place in the world. He knows, of course, that there
will be some considerable danger of his being shot before
he is taken prisoner; but I need hardly say that the dan-
ger adds to the interest in the scheme. It's a risky busi-
ness you have undertaken, Captain Walsham, terribly
risky; but if you succeed you will have saved the expedi-
tion from turning out a failure, and we shall all be under
obligations to you for the rest of our lives. Has Captain
Walsham told you what he is undertaking, 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 situa-
tion. 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 they 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 insure the success of this expedi-
tion.’
296 witH wolfE IN CANADA.
“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 your
ship alongside a Frenchman of twice her weight of metal,
or a boat expedition to cut out a frigate from under the
guns of a 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 honor 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 honored in the general
intrusting me with the mission. Besides, you must
remember that it is not so strange to me as it would
be to most men. I have been for four years engaged in
forest warfare, Scouting at night in the woods, and keep-
ing my ears open to the slightest sound which might
tell of a skulking redskin being at hand. My eyes have
become so accustomed to darkness, that, although still
very far short of those of the Indians, I can see plainly
where one unaccustomed 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.” w
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
Kºº.
A DANGEROUS EXPEDITION. 297
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 himself being too ill to be at table, and Admiral
Holmes having early in the morning gone down the
river to confer with Admiral Saunders.
“I drink good health and a safe return to you, Captain
Walsham, for our sake as well as your own. 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! 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 acquaintance-
ship commenced when we were boys with a fight. I got
298 WITH wolfE IN CANADA.
the best of it, and Horton has never, I think, quite for-
given me.” -
“I don’t like the young fellow,” Captain Peters said
shortly. “I know he was not popular in the Thetis, 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 favor 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
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 grieve the squire terribly if Horton failed in his
career. I 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 thoughtfully.
“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 some-
thing 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
A p.ANGEROUS EXPEDITION. 299
punished severely enough for that stupid business with-
out its counting against him afterward.”
“I like the way you speak up in his defense, Captain
Walsham, especially as you frankly say you don’t like
him, and henceforth I will dismiss the affair from my
mind, but I should say that he has never forgiven it,
although you may have done so.”
“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 honor and
credit, was bitter in the extreme, and the admiration
expressed by the other officers at his courage in under-
taking 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
enthusiasm with which the news of the successful termi-
nation 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 desired 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 resolved 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 friendli-
ness of a cousin, and somehow Richard instinctively felt
James Walsham was the cause.
300 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
In vain he had angrily told himself that it was absurd
to suppose that his cousin could care for this fellow,
whom she had only seen as an awkward boy, who had
been content to stop away from the house and never go
near her for weeks. Still, though he told himself it was
absurd, he knew that it was so. When the conversation
happened to turn upon James she seldom took any part
in it; but Richard knew that it was not from indiffer-
ence as to the subject. There was a soft flush on her
cheek, a light in her eyes, which he had never been able
to call up; and many a time he had ground his teeth in
silent rage when the squire and Mr. Wilks were discuss-
ing the news received in James' last letter, and express-
ing their hopes that ere long he would be back from
foreign service. *
Although by no means fond of encountering danger,
Richard felt that he would gladly pick an open quarrel
with the man he regarded as his rival and shoot him like
a dog—for in those days duels were matters of every-
day occurrence—but there was no possibility of doing
this at the present juncture; and, moreover, he knew
that this would be the worst possible way of ridding
himself of him; for, were James to fall by his hands, his
chances of winning Aggie would be hopelessly extin-
guished.
“No,” he said to himself, “that is out of the question;
but I will do something. Come what may, he shall
never go back to Sidmouth.”
The squadron drifted up beyond Cap Rouge and
anchored at the top of the flood an hour before day-
break. The gig was lowered, and James Walsham,
amid many good wishes and hearty farewells from the
officers, took his place in her by the side of the mid-
shipman.
“Look out for my signal,” he said. “Any time after
to-day you may see it.”
“We will see it if you make it, my boy,” said the cap-
tain, who had come on deck to see him off. “Don’t
*
A DANGEROUS EXPEDITION. 3o I
you fear about that. If you make your signal you 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 Rouge,
then they rowed in toward the French shore.
The day was just beginning to break in the east as
they neared the spot where the French camp was situ-
ated. 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 sol-
dier at once fired.
“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 num-
ber of French soldiers could be seen running at full
speed toward the shore. The shots fell thickly round
the boat, and one of the men dropped his oar as a bullet
struck him on the shoulder.
“Pull out the plugs,” James said.
The oakum was pulled out and thrown overboard,
and the water rushed in.
“Now turn her head from the shore, as if we were
trying to escape.” So rapidly did the water rush in
through the four holes that in a minute the gunwale was
nearly level with the water. “Turn her over now,”
James said, and in a moment the boat was upset and
the men clinging to the bottom. A shout of exultation
3O2 WITH WOLFE IN CAN AIDA.
rose from the shore as the boat was seen to upset, and
the firing at once ceased.
“Swim toward the shore and push the boat before
you,” the young midshipman said; “they won't fire any
more now, and we have finished the first part of our
business.”
Pushing the boat before them, the men made their
way slowly toward the shore, striking the land half a
mile below the point where they had overturned. The
French soldiers had followed them down the bank and
surrounded them as they landed. The holes in the
boat explained for themselves the cause of the disaster.
An officer stepped forward.
“You are our prisoners,” he said to James.
The latter bowed. “It is the fortune of war,” he
said; “your men are better shots than I gave them
credit for,” and he pointed to the holes in the boat. He
spoke in English, but the officer guessed his meaning.
Some of the Indians and Canadians soon came flock-
ing down, and with angry gestures demanded that the
prisoners should be shot; but the French officer waved
them off, and placed a strong guard of his own men
around them to prevent their being touched by the In-
dians. The young midshipman spoke French fluently,
having been specially selected by the captain for that
reason; but it had been agreed between him and James
that he should not betray his knowledge of the lan-
guage, as he might thereby pick up information which
might be useful. They were at once conducted before
Bougainville.
“Do you speak French?” he asked.
James shook his head. The midshipman looked as if
he had not understood the question.
“It is clear,” the French officer said to those stand-
ing around him, “that they came in to reconnoiter the
landing-place, and thought in the dim light they could
run the gantlet of our sentries' fire. It was more
accurate than they gave them credit for.”
“The boat was struck twice, you say?”
A DANGEROUS EXPEDITION. 3O3
“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 at-
tempt landing here,” Bougainville said. “We must
keep a sharp lookout. I will send them on to Quebec
for the general to question them. He will find some-
One there who speaks their 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 regu-
lars 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.”
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 that they could move about as they chose; but
significantly warned them by a gesture that if they ven-
tured beyond the tents the Indians would make short
work of them.
For a time the prisoners made no attempt to leave the
tent, for the Indians stood scowling at a short distance
off, and would have entered had not the sentry on duty
prevented them from doing so.
“Do not talk too loudly,” James said. “It is prob-
able that in a camp like this there is someone who
understands English. Very likely they are playing the
same game with us that we are with them. They pre-
tend there is no one who can speak to us; but very
likely there may be someone standing outside now try-
ing to listen to what we say.” Then raising his voice
3O4 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
he went on, “What abominable luck I have! Who
could have reckoned upon the boat being hit twice at
that distance? I thought we had fairly succeeded.
The general will be in a nice way when he finds we
don’t come back.”
“Yes,” Middleton rejoined, “and to think that we are
likely to spend the winter in prison at Quebec instead of
Old England. I am half inclined to try and escape!”
“Nonsense!” James, replied; “it would be madness
to think of such a thing. These Indians can see in the
dark, and the moment you put your foot outside the
lines of these French regulars you would be carried off
and scalped. No, no, my boy; that would be simply
throwing away our lives. There is nothing for it but to
wait quietly till either Wolfe takes Quebec or you are
exchanged.”
The prisoners were treated with courtesy by the
French officers, and comfortable meals were provided.
In the evening they went outside the tent for a short
time, but did not venture to go far, for Indians were
still moving about, and the hostile glances which they
threw at the prisoners were sufficient to indicate what
would happen to the latter if they were caught beyond
the protection of the sentry.
“Bougainville was right in supposing that prisoners
would not be likely to attempt to escape,” James said in
a low voice. “The look of those Indians would be
quite sufficient to prevent anyone from attempting it
under ordinary circumstances. It is well that my busi-
ness will take me down the river toward 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
midshipman remarked; “but all the same I wish I was
going with you instead of having to stick here in
rison.” 4,
“It would be running too great a risk of spoiling my
chance of success,” James said. “I am accustomed to
A DANGEROUS EXPEDITION. 305
, 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 find you are gone I shall 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
midshipman 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. “I am going
strictly to obey orders; but at the same time it is just
possible that something may turn up that you ought to
know, or that might make me want to bolt. Suppose, /
for instance, I heard them say that they meant to shoot
us both in the morning—it's not likely, you know; still
it's always as well to be prepared for whatever might
happen—if so, I should crawl out of camp and make my
way along after you. And if so, I shall walk along the
edge and sometimes give two little whistles like this;
and if you hear me, you answer me.”
“Don’t be foolish, Middleton,” James said seriously.
“You would only risk your life and mine by any non-
sense of that sort. There can’t be any possible reason
why you should want to go away. You have under-
taken to carry this out, knowing that you would have
306 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
perhaps to remain a prisoner for some time; and hav-
ing undertaken it, you must keep to the plans laid
down.”
“But I am going to, Captain Walsham. Still, you
know, something might turn up.”
“I don't see that anything possibly could turn up,”
James insisted; “but if at any future time you do think
of any mad–brained attempt of escaping, you must take
off your shoes, and you must put your foot down each
time as gently as if the ground were covered with nails; -
for if you were to tread upon a twig, and there were an
Indian within half a mile of you, he would hear it crack.
But don't you attempt any such folly. No good could
possibly come of it, and you would be sure to fall into
the hands of the Savages or Canadians; and you know
how they treat prisoners.”
“I know,” the boy said; “and I have no wish to
have my scalp hanging up in any of their wigwams.”
It was midnight before the camp was perfectly still,
and then James Walsham quietly loosened one of the
pegs of 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 tramping of feet. The sentry challenged,
the password was given, and the party passed on toward
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 lift-
ing the canvas he put his head out where James had
crawled through. The men had halted before the gen-
eral's tent, and the boy heard the general's voice from
inside the tent ask sharply, “What is it?”
“I regret to disturb you, M. le General; but we
A. DANGEROUS EXPEDITION, 307
have here one of the Canadian pilots who has swum
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 ex-
treme 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 midshipman, 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.
“Where do you come from?” Bougainville asked.
“I swam ashore two hours ago from the English ship
Sutherland,” the Canadian said.
“How did you manage to escape?”
“I would have swum 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 whis-
pered, “there is a rope from the port-hole 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
308 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA,
sentry on the quarterdeck 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 with-
out 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.
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
instant 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 exclama-
tions 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 him-
self down and crawled along on his hands and knees,
but he paused before he had gone many yards and lis-
tened intently. The 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 wagon.
At daybreak, Major D'Orsay, 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. Good-night!”
The midshipman kept his eyes anxiously on the dim
THE PATH DOWN THE HEIGHTS. 309
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 through
the camp.
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
Canadians 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 be-
side 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
accompany him.
31o 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 port-hole.”
“Impossible!” James Walsham said.
“It sounds impossible, sir; but I am 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 circum-
stances of his discovery.
“It is an extraordinary affair,” James said. “How-
ever, 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 accomplice 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 find 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
ground dry, and without boots we cannot have left any
tracks that would be followed, especially as bodies of
French troops have been marching backward and for-
ward along the edge of these heights for the last fort-
night. I won't say that it is impossible that they can
THE PATH DOWN THE HEIGHTS. 3 II
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 see 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 pro-
jecting 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 effectually hid them from anyone moving along
above.
“Is there any signature to that letter?” James asked
presently.
“No, there is no signature,” Middleton 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 consider that I am bound to obey you. This
concerns the honor of the officers of my ship, and I
should not be doing my duty if I did not, upon my re-
turn, 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 Suther-
land; 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 I would rather that it was he than anyone
312 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
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 cap-
tain, 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 blow 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
searching for him far and wide James Walsham had no
doubt, and indeed from their hiding-place he saw sev-
eral 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.”
“I hope they will keep on thinking so,” the midship-
man 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 clew 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 aint 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
THE PATH DOWN THE HEIGHTS. 3I3
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 the ascent again. James had impressed 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 off and descend the slope, he was at once
to follow his example. The midshipman kept close to
his companion, and marveled 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
possible tone, and proceeding a few paces down the
slope, noiselessly lay down behind the bush. The mid-
shipman imitated his example, though he wondered why
he was so acting, for he could hear nothing. Two or
three minutes later he heard a low footfall, and then the
sound of men speaking in a low voice in some strange
tongue. He could not see them, but held his breath as
they were passing. Not till they had been gone some
minutes did James rise and pursue his course.
“Two Indians,” he said, “and on the search for us.
One was just saying 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 sev-
eral 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 midship-
man in hiding a few paces from the edge James crawled
back. He soon saw by the fires that the battery was
3I4 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
manned by sailors from the French fleet, and he had
little fear of these discovering him. Keeping well be-
low them he came presently upon a narrow path.
Above him he could hear a French sentry walking. He
followed the path down with the greatest caution, step-
ping 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 obliterat-
ing 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 scarcely climb it
if unopposed, 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 midship-
man 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 reconnoitered. The way down, however, was
even more difficult 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 unencumbered 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; we must have been five or six hours
since we started, and the nights are very short. At
THE PATH DOWN THE HEIGHTS. 3I5
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 mid-
shipman 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
º time would be a round of beef and a gallon
of ale.” *
“Ah! you are an epicure,” James laughed. “If you
had had three or four years of campaigning in the forest,
as I have had, you would learn to content 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 shan’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 times before they could get down far enough to
reach a spot screened by bushes and hidden from the
sight of anyone 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 pos-
316 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
sible, take you down with me, and then we can take a
long drink at the river; but at any rate I will take the
bottle 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.” z
“Can't I go with you?” the midshipman said, “I
will be as quiet as a cat; and if you find it is a good path
and come up to fetch me down, you see there will be a
treble risk of being seen.”
“Very well,” James agreed; “only mind if you set a
stone rolling or break a twig it will cost us both our
lives, to say nothing of the failure of our expedition.”
“I will be as quiet as a mouse, you see if I aint,” the
midshipman said confidently; “and I will try not to
think even once of the water below there, so as not to
hurry.”
Together they crept cautiously along the edge of the
ridge until they came to a clump of some fifteen tents.
As they approached they could see by the light of the
fires that the encampment was one of Canadian troops.
James had not intended to move forward until all were
asleep, but the men were all chatting round the fires,
and it did not seem to him that a sentry had as yet been
placed on the edge of the descent. He therefore crept
forward at once, followed closely by the midshipman,
keeping as far as possible down beyond the slope of the
descent. -
Presently he came to a path; he saw at once
that this was very different from the others—it was
regularly cut, sloping gradually down the face of the
sharp descent, and was wide enough for a cart to pass.
He at once took his way down it, moving with the
greatest caution, lest a sentry should be posted some
distance below. It was very dark, for in many places
the trees met overhead. About halfway down he sud-
* sº.
THE PATH DOWN THE HEIGHTS. 317
denly came to a stop, for in front of him rose a bank
breast-high. .* -
Here, if anywhere, a sentry should have been placed,
and holding his companion's arm James listened in-
tently for some time.
“Mind what you are doing,” he said in a whisper;
“that is a breastwork, and probably the path is cut away
on the other side. Fortunately we are so far down the
hill 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 other 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 clam-
bered 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
keep along it until past the obstruction, then they got
on to the 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
anywhere near the bottom of this path.”
The time seemed terribly long to Middleton be-
fore 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.”
3.18 witH wolfE IN CANADA.
“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 along at the foot of the precipice till we are about
halfway, as far as we can tell, between Samos and
Sillery, and then we will climb up as high as we can get
and show our signal in the morning; but you must be
careful as we walk, for as I told you there are some sen-
tries posted by the water's edge higher up.”
“I will be careful, don’t you fear,” the midshipman
said. “There is not much fear of a fellow walking
about in the dark without boots not being careful. I
knocked my toe against a rock just now and it was as
much as I could do not to halloa. I will be careful in
future, I can tell you.” -
An hour's walking brought them to a spot where the
hill was rather less steep than usual; they climbed up
until they gained a spot some fifty feet above the level
of the river, and there sat down in a clump of bushes.
“As soon as it's daylight we will choose a spot where
we can show a signal without the risk of its being seen
from below,” James said. “We mustn't go to sleep, for
we must move directly the dawn commences, else those
sentries below might make us out.” -
At daybreak they shifted their position and gained a
spot completely hidden from below, but from which an
entire view of the river could be obtained.
“Tide will be low in a couple of hours,” the midship-
man said; “there are the fleet below, they will come
up with the first flood, so in three or four hours they
will be abreast of us. I hope they will make out our
signal.” …” -
“I have no fear of that,” James replied; “they are
sure to keep a sharp lookout for it.”
Presently the tide grew slacker, and half an hour
later the ships were seen to hoist their sails and soon be-
gan to drop slowly up the river. When they ap-
proached James fastened his handkerchief against the
*i'HE PATH DOWN THE HEIGHTS. ' 319
trunk of a tree well open to view from the river and
then stood with his eyes fixed on the approaching ships.
Just as the Sutherland came abreast of the spot where
they were standing the ensign was dipped. James at
once removed his handkerchief.
“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 hearing, and they sat down by the edge of the
river until suddenly 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 toward 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 “Qui vive?” came
sharply 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 said.
“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?”
“I am rather hungry, general,” James said quietly;
32O WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
“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, admirable!” 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 them to keep a better
lookout 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 sus-
picion should occur that we had been reconnoitring the
pathway.”
“That is right,” the general said. “Now tell me the
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
THE PATH DOWN THE HEIGHTS. 32 i
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 ques-
tion him yourself as to his reasons for escaping. I may
say they appear to me to be perfectly valid, as an occur-
rence took place upon which it was impossible for Cap-
tain 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 hon-
orably earned.” - .
The admiral rang a hand-bell.
“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 Mid-
dleton 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
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 carelessness 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
322 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
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 aloud. 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, seize 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. Middleton. 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
Captain Walsham set out, and indeed from what Captain
Walsham said when I questioned him, that it was a case
of 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 wit-
nesses who gave their account of the affair. Mr. Lin-
thorne considered his nephew—whom he had at that time
THE PATH DOWN THE HEIGHTS. 323
regarded 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 Suther-
land, 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, Cap-
tain 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
remember that at the time I asked Mr. Middleton to tear
up the note it had ceased to be jeopardized, for I had got
fairly away. I am under great obligations to Mr. Lin-
thorne, and would do much to save him pain. I regarded
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
Walsham, 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
324 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
marines had already taken his station there. The young
officer 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 discov-
ered. 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 having 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. “Cap-
tain Walsham is my enemy; he has for years intrigued
against me and sought to do me harm. He 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 coast-guards, 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 against me, an accusation I defy him to
prove.” f
“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 endeavoring to destroy the
principal evidence against you. Mr. Middleton over-
heard a conversation between the Canadian pilot and the
French general, and the former described how he had
been liberated by an English officer, who assisted him to
escape by a rope from the port-hole 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 men-
tioned my name why am I suspected more than any
other officer? And even if he did mention my name, my
THE PATH 10OWN THE HEIGHTS. 325
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
admiral 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 you. Captain Peters instantly recog-
nized your handwriting, as Mr. Middleton had done
before him.”
Richard Horton 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 desert; 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
326 ‘WITH WOf..FE IN CAN Ai).A.
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 accompany him, he would at once have car-
ried his purpose into execution; but, finding himself free,
he walked to his cabin, still determined to blow out his
brains before morning; 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 despairing in his cot. g
CHAPTER XXI.
THE CAPTURE OF QUEBEC.
ON the day on which he received James' 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 accord-
ingly marched to the spot indicated for embarkation after
nightfall with 1200 men.
As night approached, the main fleet, under Admiral
Saunders, below Quebec, ranged itself opposite Beau-
port, and opened a tremendous cannonade, while the
boats were lowered and 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
honor of leading the little party who were to suddenly
THE CAPTURE OF QUEBEC. 327
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 volun-
teered to follow them. Thirty large troop-boats and
some boats belonging to the ships were in readiness, and
I7Oo men took their places in them.
The tide was still flowing, and the better to deceive
the French the vessels and boats were allowed to drift
upward for a little distance as if to attempt a landing
above Cap Rouge. Wolfe had that day gained some
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 fav-
ored the English. Bougainville had watched the vessels
until he saw them begin to drift down again with the
stream, and thinking 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 régiment?”
“De la reine,” the officer replied, knowing that a part
of that regiment was with Bougainville. The sentry,
believing that they were the expected provision boats,
allowed them to pass On.
328 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
A few hundred yards further another sentry chal-
lenged them. The same officer replied in French, “Pro-
vision 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 the 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 cap-
tured. His men, taken by surprise, made little resist-
ance. 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 breath-
lessly 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, fol-
lowed by a loud British cheer. Then all leaped 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 impassable 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 sallied from the town on hearing the fir-
ing, and moved along the strand toward the landing
THE CAPTURE OF QUEBEC. 329
place, had been quickly driven back, and for the present
no other sign of the enemy was to be seen.
Wolfe reconnoitered 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
outflanked on this wing Brigadier Townshend was sta-
tioned here with two battalions drawn up at right angles
to the rest and facing the St. Charles. Webb's regiment
formed the reserve, the 3d battalion of Royal Americans
were left to guard the landing, and Howe's light infantry
occupied a wood far in the rear of the force 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 3500 men. &
Quebec was less than a mile distant from the spot
where the troops were posted in order of battle, but an
intervening ridge hid it from the sight of the troops. At
six o'clock the white uniforms of the battalion of Gui-
enne, 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
afterward there was an outbreak of hot firing in the rear,
where the light troops under Colonel Howe repulsed a
detachment of 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 Beau-
port, and its boats hovered near the shore threatening
33O’ WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
a landing. All night the French troops remained in their
intrenchments. Accompanied by the Chevalier Johns-
ton, he remained 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 officer 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 toward 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. Instantly he sent Johnston off
at full gallop to bring up the troops from the center 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 toward the seat of danger.
It must have been a bitter moment for him. The fruits
of his long care and watching were in a moment snatehed
away, and just when he had hoped that the 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 toward the field with a fixed look, uttering not a
word.
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. Nothing could have been stronger than the
contrast which the two armies afforded. 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 regu-
THE CAPTURE OF QUEBEC. 33 I
lar 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 coun-
termanded 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 Rame-.
say, 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 defense. 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 with-
out coming in contact with the English.
Upon the other hand, Montcalm had every reason to
believe that the 3500 men he saw before him formed
a portion only of the English army, that the rest were
still on board the fleet opposite Beauport, and that a
delay would bring larger reinforcements to Wolfe than
he could himself receive. He was, as we know, mis-
taken, but his reasoning was sound, and he had all along
believed 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 ardor, 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 canis-
ter, while I5OO Canadians and Indians crept up among
the bushes and knolls and through the cornfield, and
opened a heavy fire. Wolfe threw out skirmishers in
332 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
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 sharp-shooters 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.
Toward ten o’clock the French advanced to the attack.
Their center was formed of regular troops only, with
regulars and Canadian battalions on either flank. Two
field-pieces, which with enormous labor 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 regu-
lars 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 advanced some little distance to meet their foes,
and then halted.
Not a shot was fired until the French were within forty
paces, and then at the word of command a volley of mus-
ketry crashed out along the whole length of the line.
So regularly was the volley given that the French officers
afterward 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 dead and
wounded were thickly strewn.
All order and regularity had been lost under that terri-
ble fire, and in three minutes the line 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,
THE CAPTURE OF QUEBEC. 333
rose loud and fierce. The English regiments advanced
with leveled 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 Louis-
bourg Grenadiers. A shot shattered his wrist. He
wrapped his handkerchief around it and kept on. An-
other 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.”
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 toward the town. As he neared the gate a shot
passed through his body. It needed some hard work
before 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
334 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
in command was mortally wounded; on the English,
Wolfe, was dead and Monckton, second in rank, badly
wounded, and the command 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 intrench themselves on the field of
battle. Their loss had been 664 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
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 the 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 Beauport, 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, 300 men sent after us would have been sufficient 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 im-
pregnable 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,
THE CAPTURE OF QUEBEC. 335
and persuaded Vaudreuil to march back to join Bougain-
ville, 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 18th Ramesay had sur-
rendered. ©
The garrison was utterly dispirited and unwilling to
fight, the officers were even more anxious to surrender
than the men, and on the fleet approaching the walls
Ramesay obeyed Vaudreuil's orders and surrendered.
Townshend granted favorable 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 honors of war, and were to be carried
to France, and that the inhabitants should have pro-
tection in person and property and free exercise of
religion.
The day after the capture of Quebec James Walsham
returned on board ship. The thought of Richard Hor-
ton awaiting the court-martial, which would assuredly
award him the sentence of death for his treachery, was
constantly in his mind. He remembered the conversa-
tion between Captain Peters and the admiral, and General
Wolfe’s words: “I should say, keep as careless a watch
over him as possible,” 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 inquiry
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
336 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
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.
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 con-
fidence 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 grant-
ing 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 pur-
chased a large turn-screw, some ten yards of fine but
strong rope, and three or four bladders. When he pro-
cured the order he went to his cabin, took off his coat,
THE CAPTURE OF QUEBEC. 337
wound the rope around 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 pro-
ceeded to the 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 Wal-
sham, 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 humili-
ated 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 result
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 the nephew of the man who has
done so much for me. I have brought with me the
means of aiding your escape.”
“Of aiding my escape, Walsham! You must be mad!
338 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA.
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 inquiry will be made. In the next place,
your fastenings are not so very secure. The port-hole
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,
producing 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 had 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 toward
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 I will
do my best to retrieve my life. I shall never return to
England 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 hand with a silent
clasp, and James returned to his own cabin.
The next morning the officer of marines reported to
THE CAPTURE OF QUEBEC, 339
Captain Peters that the prisoner was missing. The
port-hole 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 dur-
ing the night, and that the only person who visited the
cabin, with the exception of the sergeant with the
ºr'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. Hor-
ton must have managed to unscrew the port-hole some-
how, perhaps with a pocket-knife, and he might have
had a coil of rope somewhere in his cabin. Great care-
lessness, 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 re-
marked briskly; “that’s the best thing that could
happen. Enter it so in the log-book, ‘Lieutenant Hor-
ton 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 ad-
miral took it that he more than suspected that the pris-
oner had escaped, and that James Walsham had had a
hand in getting him off.
Shortly after Quebec surrendered, Townshend re-
turned to England with the fleet, leaving Murray in com-
mand of the army at Quebec. In the spring Levis
advanced with 8000 or 9000 men against Quebec; and
Murray, with 3OOO, 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;
340 witH wolfe IN CANADA.
but the English, being outflanked by the superior num-
bers 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 of Quebec had cut them off from France.
Amherst invaded the country from the English colo-
nies, and the French were driven back to Montreal,
before which the united English forces, 17,000 strong,
took up their position; on the 8th of September, 1760,
Vaudreuil signed the capitulation by which Canada and
all its dependencies 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 opera-
tions 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 its 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 England. The voyage was a long
one, and by the time the fleet sailed with their convoy
into Portsmouth harbor James had recovered much of
his strength.
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 a raw young fel-
low 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 honor. He stopped
the vehicle at the lodge gate, had his baggage taken out
there, and proceeded on foot toward the Hall, for he was
THE CAPTURE OF QUEBEC. 34 I
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 me 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 leaped 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 the gate and walked up quietly. 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
as 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.
342 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA,
-
Major Walsham went no more to the wars, nor did he
follow his original intention of entering the medical pro- .
fession. 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 understanding. Before speaking to her James
had consulted his old friend.
“You 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
everything 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 day 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
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 ago,” she said de-
murely, “and I was quite aggrieved, I can tell you,
when, on your arrival, you just held out your hand to me
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 you neglected me in the same way.”
THE CAPTURE OF QUEBEC. 343
“I shan’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 afterward. The squire never asked any ques-
tions about his nephew. The official report had come
home that Lieutenant Horton had died of drowning
while under arrest, but the squire forbore all inquiry,
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 afterward
a few lines without signature or address came to James
from America. The writer said that he was sure that he
would be glad to hear that, under a changed name, he
was doing very well. “I shall never return to Eng-
land,” 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 neighborhood; 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 an-
other estate! We might get a little house up in Lon-
don. 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,”
344 WITH WOLFE IN CANADA,
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 pas-
sionate love for the Sea.
THE END.
#####
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