"You may destroy the town," came the French message under the flag of truce, "but you will never get inside it."
"I will take Quebec," replied Wolfe, "if I stay here until November."
One plan only now remained: it was to creep up in the night and scale the heights. It was a desperate move, but the only one that remained that offered a chance of success. In the midst of his plans the young English commander fell ill. He had always been of a delicate constitution, ever struggling with sickness. Days elapsed, but his heroic spirit conquered, and on the 11th of September the English troops were directed to be ready to land and attack the enemy. While a portion of the troops made a feint to the eastward to disguise Wolfe's intentions from the enemy, Wolfe and his troops drifted up stream with the tide. When the tide began to ebb, boats full of soldiers were cast off, reaching in safety a little cove three miles above Quebec.
In the first boat to land was the young general himself, who, as the oarsmen plied their muffled oars, murmured softly to his officers, the famous lines in Gray's Elegy:—
The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,
Await alike the inevitable hour—
The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
"Gentlemen," said Wolfe, "I would rather have written those lines than take Quebec."
As the boat's prow touched the shore, the sentinel's challenge rang out in the darkness, "Qui vive." To hesitate was to be lost. Instantly a Scotch captain, who spoke French perfectly, answered, "La France!"
"A quel régiment?"
"De la Heine," replied the Highlander boldly.
His quickness averted a calamity. The sentry was satisfied; his comrades had been expecting provision boats from Montreal, and he thought they had arrived. Sentry after sentry was passed by Wolfe and his men with the same result.