In the meantime the mass of ice had drifted further down the St. Lawrence, to where the frigate Racehorse lay in her dock. The watch on the deck of the frigate also heard the sufferer and saw him put up an arm pleadingly.
“A castaway, sir,” said the sailor, running to Captain Macartney.
“Where?” demanded the master of the Racehorse.
“On a cake of ice, sir. He is about frozen.”
Captain Macartney wasted no time in ordering a small boat to the rescue, and, running along the shore, Dave and Barringford saw the man brought in and taken aboard of the frigate.
The man who was rescued proved to be a French cannoneer. At first he could not speak, but after being warmed up he let out the information that, while trying to land at Cap-Rouge with a number of others, the boat had been upset. He was closely questioned, and the news was obtained that General Lévis was marching upon Quebec with all possible speed, with a view to catching Murray unawares.
“Our commander must know of this at once,” said the master of the Racehorse, and he had some of his sailors carry the rescued Frenchman on a litter to General Murray’s headquarters at three o’clock Sunday morning.
Soon the drums and bugles were sounding, and Dave and Barringford, who had retired to sleep after seeing the Frenchman rescued, leaped up with the other soldiers. “The French are marching on Quebec!” was the cry. “They have already attacked the outposts at Lorette!”
By daybreak Murray was on the move, with about a thousand men and several pieces of cannon. Most of the field-pieces had to be pulled by the soldiers themselves, and when Dave and Barringford asked for permission to join the outgoing army, a captain of artillery immediately pressed them into service.
“Ye can’t go as soldiers,” he said, with a grin. “But come on as horses, and welcome.”