Canada

by Beckles Willson

But within the walls of Quebec dwelt a doughty patriot, the town-major, named Joannès. He called upon the soldiers and citizens to fight with their last breath, to die as Montcalm had done rather than let Quebec pass into the hands of the enemy. In his rage at the cowardice about him he beat two of the garrison with the flat of his sword. When the white flag was raised Joannès, the bravest man in the city, instantly hauled it down with his own hands. But alas! it was but fighting a battle against fate. His superior officer, Ramésay, commanded him sternly to repair to the English camp and get the best terms of peace he could. Through the pelting rain the town-major of Quebec, his head thrown back defiantly, his hand on his empty scabbard, sought the quarters of General Townsend. There he spun out the hours in a parley, hoping against hope that the recreant Vaudreuil would return and try to succour the city. Joannès kept up the negotiations as long as he could. Losing patience at last, Townsend sent him back to the French general with the message that if Quebec were not surrendered before eleven o'clock, he would capture it by assault. Ramésay, seeing all was lost, put his name to the articles of capitulation, and Joannès, with a heavy heart, carried the document back to the English commander. Scarcely had he put the walls of the city he loved behind him, when a troop of sixty Canadian horsemen appeared with the news that the Chevalier de Lévis was on the way with troops and provisions to rescue Quebec. The tidings came too late! The French general had surrendered; he would not now break his word. Ramésay dreaded too much the vengeance of the English in case the news borne by the sixty horsemen was not true, but false. How shall we picture the feelings of the town-major Joannès? When he returned he hid himself in a cellar and wept, while the blood-red cross of St. George was flaunted from the summit of the citadel. Thus at length, on the 18th September 1759, the capital town and rock-bound fortress of New France fell into the hands of the English.

General Townsend recognised too well the danger of his position not to grant favourable terms to the enemy, whose troops and sailors were allowed to march out of the garrison with the honours of war and granted passage in English ships to France. The persons and property of the inhabitants were promised protection, and their religion was not to be interfered with.

But now the question was with the English, should they keep Quebec or destroy it, as they had destroyed Louisburg? For a moment the city's fate trembled in the balance, and then it was resolved to keep it. Ten battalions of the artillery and a company of Rangers were ordered to remain behind and through the long Canadian winter hold the ruins of Quebec against the efforts of Lévis and the French, for little more than ruins much of Quebec now was. It needed enormous labour to make the town secure against the enemy, or even habitable.

While Townsend sailed away to England, leaving General Murray in charge, many working parties of soldiers were distributed through the town to clear the streets of rubbish and to repair the buildings for occupation. The palace of the Intendant was turned into winter quarters for an English regiment, which found there quantities of unused firearms, iron-mongery, blankets, cloths and linen, trinkets and lace, furs, wine, sugar, moccasins, and other stores. These were seized upon with alacrity. Nearly 7000 English, with insufficient food and clothing, made ready to face the approaching winter. Outposts in the neighbourhood of Sillery, St. Foye, and Lorette were established in order to guard against a surprise and to cover the safety of the detachments sent out to gather fuel in the surrounding woods. Canadian winters are cold, and the English soldiers were not yet hardened to their severities, and this gathering of firewood became a very serious business. Each detachment could make only one trip a day to the forest, returning with a fair-sized load on a sled drawn by hand. The soldiers were obliged to go armed as they worked, and keep a sharp lookout for fear of attacks by the Indians, who were always skulking in the neighbourhood. Winter this year set in even earlier than usual, and the brave soldiers who had served in India and Europe were now face to face with an enemy more terrible than the French. Their faces, hands, and feet were often frost-bitten, and on some occasions half the force of a detachment would be borne back entirely disabled. As if this were not enough, fever and scurvy prevailed in the garrison the whole winter long, and the brave fellows perished by scores and hundreds. Those who died were buried in the deep snow to await interment in the spring, for the ground was fast locked by frost.

Meanwhile the inhabitants of the province were disarmed and required to take the oath of allegiance to King George. But they could not all be trusted. The English lived in constant insecurity, and during the winter many rumours came of a projected attack by the French, and several skirmishes took place. Once in November it was reported that Lévis was about to march upon Quebec with 15,000 men the next month, for had he not sworn an oath to eat his Christmas dinner under the French flag within the walls? So the half-frozen English, each man hugging his musket in his frost-bitten fingers, waited for the enemy. The enemy had a fine sense of humour. In February a party of French and Indians sent a message to the English officers that a large company of expert hairdressers were prepared to wait upon them whenever their services were required! Needless to say, the English took no notice of this handsome offer to deprive them of their scalps.

Not until April did the long-expected battle occur. For months Lévis had been gathering his forces, and now, with an army of 8000 men and many redskins, he set out to recover the lost city of Quebec. At the village of St. Foye, five or six miles away, he halted. So wary had been his approach, that Murray and his garrison were ignorant of danger. They might have learnt it too late but for a strange and fortunate accident. It so happened that a frigate called the Racehorse had wintered in the dock at Quebec Lower town. On board this frigate soon after midnight the watch heard a faint cry of distress proceeding from the river. He ran at once to the captain, who, believing that some one was drowning, ordered a boat to be put out to save him. Guided by the cries, the sailors found a man lying on a large cake of ice, wet through and half dead with cold. Carrying him to the ship and pouring hot cordials down his throat, the man at last found strength to mutter that he was a soldier in Lévis's army; he and his companions had been trying to land just about Cap Rouge, but the boat had overturned, and he was the sole survivor. His life had been saved by his clambering upon a cake of floating ice. "The army of Lévis?" echoed the puzzled ship captain. "Just so," answered the soldier; "there are 12,000 of us. We are coming to retake Quebec."

Although it was between two and three o'clock in the morning, the rescued soldier was wrapped up warmly, slung in a hammock, and carried straightway up the heights to the commander's quarters. General Murray was fast asleep, but, having risen and heard the man's story, he ordered the troops under arms on the instant. By daybreak half the English garrison, with ten pieces of cannon, were hurled on the French columns at St. Foye. But in his rashness and thirst for renown, Murray had not counted well the cost. The French had thrice as many soldiers, and although the English fought gallantly and doggedly, they were compelled at last to fall back. When the English columns withdrew again to the city, they had left 1000 dead and dying men on the field of St. Foye.

Then began what Murray dreaded most—a new siege of Quebec. Weak his men were with sickness, and feeble with toil, fighting, and hunger, but their spirit was as unquenchable as ever. While Lévis set up his siege guns in position and began a steady bombardment of the city, the English garrison worked unceasingly, officers and privates handling spade and pickaxe in the same trenches together. Not a man of them all was idle. Even the sick in hospital filled sandbags or made wadding for the cannons. The English fire grew hotter every day from the 150 cannon which had been planted upon the walls.

All depended now on the reinforcements of troops expected by both sides from England and from France. Whichever arrived first would settle the question of victory. It was on a bright May morning, as Murray sat pondering over his despatches at headquarters, that an officer burst in to tell him that a ship of war had been sighted far down the river. The news spread through the town; all were divided between hope and fear. Was this warship French or was she English? Every eye was strained on the approaching ship, which displayed no colours at her mast-head. Slowly, slowly she drew near, and then hurrah! there unfurled to the wind the crimson flag of England, and the first boom of a salute of twenty-one guns reverberated across the mighty river. She turned out to be the Lowestoft bringing news that a British squadron was at the mouth of the St. Lawrence and would reach Quebec in a few days. "The gladness of the troops," wrote home one of the garrison, "is not to be expressed. Both officers and soldiers mounted the parapet in the face of the enemy and huzzaed, with their hats in the air, for almost an hour. The garrison, the enemy's camp, the bay resounded with our shouts and the thunder of our artillery, and the gunners were so elated that they did nothing but load and fire for a considerable time."