CHAPTER XI.
Wolfe had now been five weeks before Quebec; not a few lives had been lost, a vast quantity of ammunition expended, and, above all, the season of action was already half consumed. But, as yet, no important step, in a military point of view, had been gained. The high grounds which he occupied beyond Montmorency and Point Levi had scarcely been disputed by the enemy. From day to day the hostile parapets were strengthened and extended. He had carefully examined the north bank of the Great River above and below the city, and could discover no one spot where either nature or art did not forbid his landing. Whatever discontent or distress might exist in the Canadian camp, there appeared no diminution of numbers or slackening of zeal in the defense. Montcalm had neither suffered himself to be provoked by insult or to be tempted by brilliant but dangerous opportunity. He rendered assurance doubly sure by keeping his superior force in a superior position; his raw provincial levies, when behind breast-works, were far from inefficient, and his numerous savage allies were terrible in their forest warfare; with the first he manned his lines, with the latter he lost no opportunity of harassing the invaders. On the other hand, the state of affairs in the British camp was by no means promising: under Wolfe's circumstances, inaction was almost equivalent to defeat.
It was true that, before leaving England, he was instructed that his expedition was only auxiliary to that of Amherst. To the main army, which was advancing by the inland lakes, England looked for the conquest of the country. Wolfe had already occupied the most important points in the neighborhood of Quebec, and might well be excused had he awaited the arrival of the general-in-chief for an attack upon the great stronghold. In this situation, many a brave and experienced veteran would probably have written "a most eloquent and conclusive apology for being beaten or for standing still."[177] But Wolfe had been happily chosen. He deeply felt that his unusual selection should be justified by unusual achievements, and that it was his duty to risk his reputation, as well as his life, rather than fail the sanguine hopes of his country.
Before narrating Wolfe's determination in this crisis, and the events consequent thereupon, it will, perhaps, be well to recall the reader's attention to the position of the Canadian army. The north shore of the basin of Quebec is a curve of about eight miles long. The waters shoal as they approach this shore, and at low tide a muddy bank is exposed, in some places nearly half a mile in breadth. The long-crested height, mentioned in a former description, at some parts of the line overhangs high-water mark, at others recedes into the country, and leaves some rich alluvial fields between its base and the river's banks. Wherever this height was not sufficiently precipitous to form a natural defense, the face was scarped, the summit crowned with a parapet, and the foot pallisadoed or armed with abattis. The irregular line of this formidable front shaped itself here and there into projections and inclinations, as if traced in flank and ravelin by the skill of the engineer. The extreme left of the French army rested on the rocky banks of the Montmorency. The beautiful cataract, and the foaming rapids for three miles up the stream, forbade the passage of an enemy: there was, indeed, a ford, but it was well defended; beyond that, the tangled bush defied the strength of battalions. Below the falls, however, the waters spread themselves in numerous shallow channels over the sands, and the stream is fordable except at high tide. To strengthen this weak point, Montcalm had thrown up a four-gun redoubt at the foot of the overhanging cliff. Although defiladed from the British artillery, these cliffs were altogether exposed to that of the French, and therefore untenable in case of falling into the assailants' hands.
Toward the right of the French position the crested ridge subsides in a gentle slope upon a valley, through the center of which winds the St. Charles or Little River. The entrance to this stream is deep, and forms a small harbor; here the French had run their ships of war aground, and these powerful wooden batteries, with their heavy guns, swept the slopes on either side, both toward the city walls and the right shoulder of the crested height.
The almost desperate course upon which Wolfe at length determined, was that of attacking the enemy in these intrenchments. He maturely weighed his plans; the skill and caution of the execution could alone justify the temerity of the resolve. The redoubt on the low ground, in front of the French left, and near the Falls of Montmorency, offered the most vulnerable point; detached from the main defenses, and within reach of guns from the shipping, he doubted not that he could easily master it, or bring on a general action for its possession. On the other hand, this redoubt could not be held when taken, for it lay exposed to the artillery of the French. However, there were difficulties on every side; Wolfe chose that which he considered the least. He well knew that, even were he to carry the crested hill over the redoubt, and to force the enemy from their works, the River St. Charles and the inner intrenchments still lay between him and the city; "But," said he, "a victorious army meets with no difficulties."
Wolfe's available force was less by one third than that of the defenders of this almost impregnable position. He had to risk the confusion of a debarkation, the despotism of the tides, and the caprice of the winds. The undertaking was all but desperate, and yet an overweening confidence in their chief and in themselves was more fatal to the British troops than the guns and parapets of the enemy.
Wolfe concerted the plan of attack with the admiral. A small frigate, the Centurion, was to sail toward the shore, as near as the depth of water would permit, and open fire upon the redoubt. Two armed transports received orders to second the frigate, and, if necessary, to run aground in a favorable position. In one of these the general himself embarked. The boats of the fleet were directed to take on board the greater part of Monckton's brigade at Point Levi, with the available troops from Orleans, and to muster at an early hour in the forenoon off the northwestern point of that island. In the mean time, the British batteries from Point Levi, and the heights over Montmorency Falls, were to open upon the city and the intrenchments with every gun and mortar. Townshend's and Murray's brigades were commanded to form in close columns eastward of the ford below the falls, and there to await the general's orders.
At ten o'clock on the morning of the 31st of July, the 15th and 78th Regiments, 200 men of the Royal Americans, and all the Grenadiers of Monckton's brigade, embarked in the boats of the fleet at Point Levi: they made for the northwest point of the island of Orleans, where they were joined by four more companies of Grenadiers. The whole flotilla then pushed out into mid-channel and awaited orders. At eleven o'clock the two armed transports stood in for the Point de Lest, and grounded; one, under Lieutenant Garnier, within musket-shot of the French redoubt. At the same time, Admiral Saunders, in the Centurion, brought to a little further from the shore, opposite the ford, and all three vessels opened fire. This gave the signal to the gunners at Point Levi and on the east bank of the Montmorency: they also began to work; the enemy replied; and in a few minutes the whole of the vast amphitheater resounded with the roar of artillery.
Wolfe was in the transport which had first grounded. He promptly observed that the redoubt, if taken, was too distant from the water to allow of effectual support by the guns and the small arms of the shipping. He saw, moreover, that his threatening movements had caused an unusual stir in the French lines; bodies of troops were moving to and fro, between the several points of defense, with that degree of irregularity which usually attends the sudden re-formations of undisciplined men: two battalions of the enemy were observed marching from the roar of their left in the direction of the ford, three miles up the Montmorency River: their object was evidently to cross the stream, and fall upon the British batteries on the left bank, while the mass of Wolfe's army was occupied in the attack upon the intrenchments. This movement was immediately met by a counter-demonstration: the 48th Regiment, which had been left in the works at Point Levi, was ostentatiously pushed up the right bank of the St. Lawrence, as if about to cross and attempt the French position above the city. Montcalm, upon this, gave up his flank attack, and dispatched the two battalions to watch the 48th from the opposite side of the river.
For several hours, during these demonstrations, the firing on all sides had slackened; the flotilla still lay motionless in the center of the northern channel of the St. Lawrence. A great part of the day had thus passed without any thing of importance having been attempted. The clouds gathered heavily over the hills, and the receding tide warned Wolfe that only brief space was left for action. He hesitated for a time; circumstances were very adverse; but, unfortunately, the slight disorder in the enemy's lines confirmed the bolder counsel, always most congenial to his mind. At four o'clock he signaled for a renewal of the cannonade; at five his barge put off from the second transport, and rowed toward the flotilla, and at the same moment a red flag ran up to the mizen peak of the stranded ship: it was the signal to advance.
With a loud cheer the sailors bent to the oar, and the long-motionless flotilla sprung into life. A few strokes somewhat disordered the regularity of the line; some boats were faster, some crews more vigorous than others. As they approached, the French gunners tried the decreasing range; the shot fell near, hissed over head, and at length fell in among the boats. Some few struck with fatal effect, for the weak frames were easily shivered, and then sunk with all on board. While still pressing on through the fire, the leading boats grounded on a ledge of unseen rocks at short musket-shot from the beach. The disorder then became dangerous.
Wolfe was now in action: hesitation was at an end. He gave orders that the flotilla should re-form in rear of the rocks, and, when the boats were again afloat, signaled to Townshend to stop the advance of his brigade, which was already in motion upon the ford; he then sprang into a cutter with some navy officers, and skirted the reef in search of an opening. He soon succeeded. It was now half past five; the storm threatened close at hand; battalion after battalion the French were crowding from right to left; but Wolfe was not to be daunted; he renewed the signal of attack, and himself pointed out the way through the rocks. A few strokes carried the flotilla to the shore; while the eager troops sprang upon land, the French gave a parting volley, and abandoned the redoubt and the detached battery which defended the ford.
The thirteen companies of Grenadiers and the Royal Americans were first ashore; they had received orders to form in four columns on the beach, there to await the support of the remainder of Monckton's brigade from the boats, and Townshend's from beyond the ford. But these chosen men were flushed with an overweening confidence: proud of their post of preference, proud of their individual strength, and exasperated by long delay, they burst like bloodhounds from the leash. Despite the orders of their officers, they raced across the intervening fields, and, without any order or formation, threw themselves against the crested height.
Wolfe soon saw that this rash valor had ruined the fortunes of the day: nothing remained but to make such preparations for retreat as might mitigate the inevitable disaster. Monckton's remaining regiments, the 15th and 78th, were now landed, and formed in admirable order upon the beach, while Townshend and Murray crossed the ford of the Montmorency and advanced to join them. Instead of risking this unbroken array in supporting the unfortunate attack of the advance, Wolfe kept his men in hand, and strove to recall the disordered assailants. Meanwhile the storm burst, and when the Grenadiers reached the steep slope, they found it impossible to keep their footing on the muddy side; their ammunition was soon rendered useless by the teeming rain; but, still trusting to the bayonet, they tried to make good their ground upon the hill. The position was far stronger than they had anticipated; they were out of breath, and exhausted by their hurried advance; by the time they had clambered within reach of the enemy's parapets they were already beaten. One close and steady volley of the French sufficed to roll them back from off the crested hill.
In tumultuous disorder, the Grenadiers fell back upon the abandoned redoubt, and sought shelter under its parapets from the stinging fire of the French. The works had, however, been so constructed that little or no protection was afforded against the neighboring heights. Officers and men were rapidly struck down in vain endeavors to re-form the broken ranks, but still, with sullen tenacity, they held the unprofitable position. At length, in obedience to peremptory orders, they retired, and took post in the rear of Monckton's line.
The slope of the fatal hill now presented a melancholy scene to the British army. More than 200 of the Grenadiers had fallen; the track of the rash advance and disastrous retreat was marked by the dying and the dead. Some red coats lay almost under the enemy's parapets, where a few of these impetuous men had won their way; others were seen dragging their maimed limbs to seek shelter behind rocks or trees from the vindictive fire which the French still poured upon their fallen foes. Among the wounded lay Captain Ochterlony and Ensign Peyton, of the second battalion of the Royal Americans: they had refused the proffered aid of their retreating soldiers, and, being bound by ties of the closest friendship, determined to meet together the desperate chances of the field. They sat down side by side, bade each other farewell, and awaited their fate. In a few minutes a Frenchman and two Indians approached, plundered the wounded officers, and were about to murder Ochterlony, when Peyton shot one of the savages with a double-barreled gun which he still held; the other then rushed upon him, and, although receiving the contents of the second barrel, closed in mortal struggle. The Englishman succeeded, after a moment, in drawing a dagger, and with repeated stabs, brought the Indian to the ground. In the mean time, the French soldier had carried Ochterlony as a prisoner to his lines.[178]
Peyton now started up, and, although his leg was broken, ran for forty yards toward the river; there he sank exhausted. Presently a crowd of Indians, reeking from their work of butchery, approached him from the extreme left. Peyton reloaded his musket, leaned upon his unwounded limb, and faced the savages; the two foremost hesitated before this resolute attitude, when, to the deep disgrace of the French, they opened a fire of musketry and even cannon from their breast-works upon the maimed and solitary officer. However, at this desperate moment relief was nigh; the Indians, who before had hesitated, now turned and fled like scared vultures from their prey. A detachment of the gallant 78th Highlanders, undismayed by the still murderous fire, chased the marauders from the field, and bore the wounded Englishman in safety to the shore. This extraordinary scene occurred in full view of both armies.
The evening was now far advanced; the tide was beginning to flow; the ammunition of the whole army was damaged by the heavy rains; the waters looked angry beneath a threatening gale; the enemy's strength was concentrated; they had suffered little or no loss, while the British were weakened by 33 officers and 410 men. Wolfe had learned by painful experience the prodigious advantage of the French position, which, although nearly invulnerable to attack, yet afforded admirable facilities for retreat. He was baffled; all that now remained was to conduct the re-embarkation with safety and regularity. Such of the wounded as could be yet saved were carried from the field; the stranded transports were abandoned and burned, and the flotilla rowed away from the fatal shore. Townshend and Murray, whose untouched brigades had covered the embarkation, then recrossed the ford without interruption, and resumed their position on the heights east of the Montmorency.
Wolfe knew that the enterprise of the 31st of July was of such a nature that nothing but success could justify its temerity. By failure his military error had been thrown into strong light, and yet it was probable that he would have succeeded but for a strange adversity of circumstances. The officers of the fleet had remained in unaccountable ignorance of the reef of rocks which delayed and disordered the attack. The storm of rain not only injured the ammunition of his men, but rendered the steep ascent of the enemy's position so slippery that they could not find firm footing, and the ill-timed audacity of the Grenadiers had confounded all his calculations. The leading fault of his plan was undoubtedly the attempt of a combined attack by land and water. Had Monckton's brigade been landed beyond the falls, and the whole army crossed the ford together, the fatal embarrassments of the disembarkation would have been avoided. Wolfe suffered intense mental distress from this mishap; his mind preyed upon his feeble frame; his chronic ailment attacked him with unusual violence; fever supervened, and for some weeks he lay absolutely helpless, to the grief of the whole army. In the mean time, however, he issued the following merited rebuke to the corps whose indiscretion had led to results so disastrous:
"The check which the Grenadiers met with will, it is hoped, be a lesson to them for the time to come. Such impetuous, irregular, and unsoldierlike proceedings destroy all order, and put it out of the general's power to execute his plan. The Grenadiers could not suppose that they alone could beat the French army; therefore it was necessary the corps under Brigadiers Townshend and Monckton should have time to join them, that the attack might be general. The very first fire of the enemy was sufficient to have repulsed men who had lost all sense of order and military discipline. Amherst's (the 15th) and the Highland (the 78th) regiment, by the soldier-like and cool manner in which they formed, would undoubtedly have beaten back the whole Canadian army, if they had ventured to attack them. The loss, however, is very inconsiderable, and may be easily repaired when a favorable opportunity offers, if the men will show a proper attention to their officers."
Immediately after the repulse at Montmorency, Wolfe had dispatched 1200 men, under Brigadier Murray, to assist Admiral Holmes in the Upper River, and with orders to attempt the destruction of the French shipping which had passed up the stream. The brigadier was directed, at the same time, to take every favorable opportunity of engaging the enemy, and to endeavor, by all means in his power, to provoke them to attack him. In obedience to these orders, Murray proceeded up the left bank of the river with his detachment, consisting of the 15th Regiment, three companies of the Royal Americans, two of Marines, and one of Light Infantry. At a convenient place above the Chaudière River, he embarked under Admiral Holmes, and the squadron then made sail up the stream. The French ships easily avoided the danger by sending all their guns and stores ashore, and, when thus lightened, taking refuge in the shallows toward Montreal; one brigantine of 200 tons was, however, abandoned and burned in their retreat.
Murray found every place fortified where a landing might be effected, and the enemy always on the alert. After two vain attempts to disembark, he at length only succeeded by a surprise: he then pushed to the village of Dechambault, which was close at hand, carried it with scarcely any resistance, and burned some stores of provisions, clothing, and ammunition. Several prisoners of some note were taken in the onslaught, and a few important letters fell into the hands of the English. Through these letters Murray first heard of the occupation of Crown Point by Amherst, and of Johnson's victory at Niagara. Finding that he could effect nothing further, he hastened to convey this cheering news to his general.
Meanwhile fruitless damage was inflicted by each party upon the other: the Indians frequently surprised and scalped English stragglers, and the English batteries at Montmorency and Point Levi kept up a continued fire upon the lines and upon the city. On the morning of the 10th of August, at one o'clock, a shell pitched upon the vaulted roof of a cellar in the lower town, broke through, and burst; a large quantity of brandy which was there stored instantly ignited, the flames spread rapidly, and nearly the whole of the quarter, including the Church of Nôtre Dame de la Victoire, was burned to the ground. A fire broke out simultaneously in the Upper Town, but was extinguished without having spread to any great extent.
The intelligence of Amherst and Johnson's progress, although satisfactory in itself, gave Wolfe no hope of their assistance before the close of the campaign: defeat could hardly have been more disastrous to the general interests of the war than their inactivity. Almost the whole force of Canada still mustered behind the formidable defenses of Quebec. Nothing, however, could shake the resolution of the British general; while life remained, he determined to persevere in the enterprise. Far from being disheartened, he was only stimulated by increasing difficulties. The fate of the campaign now hung upon him alone: the disaster at Montmorency had endangered his reputation; it only remained to clear away the cloud by success, or to silence censure by a soldier's death.
While Wolfe lay stricken with fever and unable to bear the presence of his officers, he meditated unceasingly upon plans of attack. At length, when somewhat recovered, but still incapable of leaving his bed, he dictated the following letter to the brigadiers under his command:
"That the public service may not suffer by the general's indisposition, he begs the brigadiers will meet and consult together for the public utility and advantage, and consider of the best method to attack the enemy.
"If the French army be attacked and defeated, the general concludes that the town would immediately surrender, because he does not find that they have any provision in that place.
"The general is of opinion that the army should be attacked in preference to the place, because of the difficulties of penetrating from the Lower to the Upper Town; in which attempt neither the guns of the shipping nor of our own batteries could be of much use."
The letter then proceeds to suggest three different modes of attack—all, however, upon the enemy's lines between the city and Montmorency.
The brigadiers assembled in consequence of this communication, and, after having maturely deliberated, agreed in recommending the remarkable plan which Wolfe unreservedly adopted. The merit of this daring and skillful proposition belongs to Colonel George Townshend, although long disputed, or withheld by jealousy or political hostility. This able officer had left every happiness that domestic life could bestow, and every gratification which fortune and position could procure, to face the hardships and seek the honors of his country's service. When the ministry's determination to prepare the expedition against Quebec became known, he successfully exerted his powerful interest to obtain employment, and was appointed to the third post of seniority in Wolfe's army.
The general plan of operations being arranged, preparations were commenced to carry it into execution. The prospect of action revived the drooping spirits of the British troops, and tended considerably to improve their health; fever had been rife among them: a number of men and officers had already died, and the temporary hospitals were still crowded. Supplies had become so scant that horseflesh was frequently served out as rations. The duties were rendered peculiarly harassing by the subtle and dangerous hostility of the savages: although invariably defeated, they seldom failed in the first instance to surprise and massacre some hapless stragglers; and no outpost was ever safe from their attacks. The Canadians were scarcely less dangerous and vindictive; their knowledge of the country, and activity in forest warfare, gave them a great advantage over the British soldiers in irregular encounters; but, whenever they ventured to act in bodies, they were sure to meet with severe chastisement. The invaders, however, were not backward in revenging these injuries; for miles round their camp, and on the banks of the river, they devastated the country without mercy.
Stimulated by the sight of the ruin wrought in neighboring parishes, the unfortunate priest of Château Richer armed some eighty of his flock, and fortified himself in a large stone house, about ten miles eastward of the British camp, at Montmorency; from thence he sent a message, defying to the combat an English detachment posted in his neighborhood. At the same time, however, conveying in a note a polite request for the favor of the commanding officer's company at dinner, with an assurance of a safe-conduct. The strange but simple courtesy was of course rejected. In a short time a detachment of light troops, with a field-piece, was sent against the fortified house; the English took post in an adjoining road, and by a stratagem contrived to draw the little garrison from their defenses, and surrounded thirty of them, who were slain and scalped, including the unhappy priest himself. The excuse pleaded for this atrocious barbarity was, that the victims were disguised as Indians.
On the 29th of August the British troops began to evacuate their positions east of the Montmorency, in pursuance of the new plan of operations. The sick, the women, and the heavy baggage were first embarked in the boats of the fleet, and conveyed past the enemy's batteries, at a respectful distance, to the camp at Point Levi: some of the heavy guns followed on the 31st. On the 2d of the following month Wolfe sent home an admirable dispatch, with an account of his operations and failures. By the 3d of September he was prepared to move the whole of his force from the north shore. Montcalm had anticipated this step from the stir in the British lines, and from the activity of the British light troops in burning houses and laying waste the country. He therefore marched two strong columns into the woods to make for the ford of the Montmorency, and, passing by it, to attack Wolfe while in the act of embarkation. From the distant hills of Point Levi, Brigadier Monckton observed the enemy's movements: he immediately ordered his brigade under arms, hurried two regiments on board of boats supplied by the admiral, supported by some sloops and frigates, rowed toward the Beauport shore, and formed within a safe distance, as if preparing to land. This demonstration was successful; the French columns were recalled from the ford, and the British embarked unmolested.
During the 7th, 8th, and 9th, Admiral Holmes maneuvered his fleet in the upper river, harassing the enemy by constant menaces of their different posts. At the same time, Wolfe, now somewhat recovered, was, with his brigadiers, busily occupied in reconnoitering the northern bank of the St. Lawrence. At length he discovered a narrow path winding up the side of the steep precipice from the water's edge: at this spot, about three miles above the city, the lofty banks were slightly carved inward. At that time the place was known by the name of Le Foullon; it now bears a name that may never be forgotten—Wolf's Cove. At the top of the path the enemy had a small post; however, by the number of tents, which did not exceed a dozen, the British general concluded that its strength could not be more than 100 men. For miles on either side there was no other possible access to the heights than by that narrow path; but that narrow path sufficed to lead Wolfe to victory and to death.
As before stated, Quebec stands on the slope of the eastern extremity of that lofty range which here forms the left bank of the St. Lawrence; a table-land extends westward for about nine miles from the defenses of the city, occasionally wooded and undulating, but from the top of the narrow path to the ramparts open and tolerably level: this portion of the heights is called the Plains of Abraham. Wolfe's plan was to ascend this path secretly with his whole army, and make the plains his battle ground. The extraordinary audacity of the enterprise was its safety: the wise and cautious Montcalm had guarded against all the probable chances of war: he was not prepared against an attempt for which the pages of romance can scarcely furnish a parallel.
It was on the 9th of September that Wolfe addressed to the Secretary of State a letter which bears a deep and melancholy interest. His own view of the prospects of the expedition was most gloomy, and he seemed anxious to prepare the public mind in England for his failure.[179] The letter conveys the impression that he only continued his operations to divert the attention of the enemy from other points: it concludes in the following desponding words: "I am so far recovered as to do business, but my constitution is entirely ruined, without the consolation of having done any considerable service to the state, or without any prospect of it." But while he wrote almost in despair, he acted as if he had never doubted of success.
On the 11th of September, Wolfe issued general orders to the army, from which the following are extracts:
"The troops on shore, except the Light Infantry and Americans, are to be upon the beach to-morrow morning at five o'clock, in readiness to embark; the Light Infantry and Americans will re-embark at, or about, eight o'clock. The detachment of Artillery to be put on board the armed sloop this day. The army to hold themselves in readiness to land and attack the enemy.
"The troops must go into the boats (from the ships) about nine to-morrow night, or when it is pretty near high water; ... and as there will be a necessity for remaining some part of the night in the boats, the officers will provide accordingly.
"When they (the boats) are to drop away from the Sutherland, she will show two lights in the main-top-mast shrouds, one over the other. The men to be quite silent, and, when they are about to land, must not, upon any account, fire out of the boats."
Great preparations were made throughout the fleet and army for the decisive movement, but the plans were still kept secret; a wise caution was observed in this respect, for the treachery of a single deserter might have imperiled the success of the expedition had its exact object been known. On the morning of the 12th, a soldier of the Royal Americans did desert: happily, he was unable to warn the enemy of their danger. Almost at the same time, one of the French regulars deserted to Wolfe, and brought a clear account of the state of affairs in Montcalm's camp. "The main force is still below the town," said he; "our general will not believe that you meditate an attack any where but on the Montmorency side. The Canadians are dissatisfied, alarmed by the fall of Niagara, and in great distress for provisions. M. de Levi, with a large detachment, has left us for Montreal, to meet Amherst; and M. de Bougainville, with 1500 men, watches the motions of your fleet in the Upper River."
From on board the Sutherland man-of-war, Wolfe issued his last orders to the army on the evening of the 12th of September:
"The enemy's force is now divided, great scarcity of provisions is now in their camp, and universal discontent among the Canadians, which gives us reason to think that General Amherst is advancing into the colony: a vigorous blow struck by the army at this juncture may determine the fate of Canada ... the troops will land where the French seem least to expect it. The first body that gets on shore is to march directly to the enemy ... the battalions must form on the upper ground with expedition, and be ready to charge whatever presents itself.... The officers and men will remember what is expected from them, and what a determined body of soldiers, inured to war, is capable of doing, against five weak French battalions, mingled with a disorderly peasantry."
The heavier ships of the line moved this evening toward the Beauport shore, anchoring as near the enemy's lines as the depth of the water would permit. While daylight yet remained, all the boats of that portion of the fleet were lowered, filled with marines and seamen, and ranged in order, threatening a descent upon the shore. At the same time, the remaining ships suddenly hoisted sail; and, with a favoring breeze, swept proudly past the batteries of Quebec, and joined Holmes's squadron at Cape Rouge, eight miles above the city. Monckton and Murray, who, with their brigades, still occupied Point Levi and the village of St. Michael's, now pushed rapidly up the left bank of the St. Lawrence till they arrived opposite the fleet, and there embarked without being observed by the enemy. At nine o'clock at night the first division of the army, 1600 strong, silently removed into flat-bottomed boats; the soldiers were in high spirits; Wolfe led in person. About an hour before daylight the flotilla fell down with the ebb tide. "Weather favorable; a star-light night."