“That is our course,” he said, quietly but firmly. On the bluff at this point were but a dozen soldiers’ tents, so he concluded that the French guard there could not be a heavy one.
But to have given the French an inkling of what was in his mind would have ruined everything, so once again Wolfe set to work to fool the enemy. His ships sailed still further up the river, as if looking for a landing, and the French batteries opened with vigor, but without doing any harm.
A heavy downpour of rain now made further operations impossible for two days. It was a cold, raw storm, and the soldiers in the transports could not stand it, and had to be landed once more on the south shore, where they built camp-fires, sought such shelters as were handy, and did what they could to make themselves comfortable. The weather was very trying on General Wolfe, but he refused to take again to his bed, declaring that he was now going to see the campaign to a finish.
On the 12th of September all seemed in readiness for the attack. The French soldiers were worn out through following the passage of the English ships up and down the river, while the stay on the south shore had rested the grenadiers and others in the English ranks.
For the daring expedition Wolfe selected forty-eight hundred men. He knew that the enemy must be at least twice as strong, and to engage Montcalm’s attention once again in a different direction, he had Admiral Saunders make a move as if to land at Beauport. This deception was carried on in grand style, with signals flashing from ship to ship, cannons roaring, and boatload after boatload of sailors and marines putting off as if to dash upon the mud flats. In great haste Montcalm massed his men at the Beauport batteries, satisfied at last that this was to be the real point of attack, while the movement up the river was only a blind.
Fortune now seemed to be at last in Wolfe’s favor. He was ten miles away from the din at Beauport, with nearly five thousand of his soldiers, and creeping upon the north shore of the river with the silence of a shadow. There was no moon, but otherwise the night was clear. Wolfe occupied a place in one of the foremost boats. Behind him came a long procession, containing the Highlanders and grenadiers and also a handful of Colonials, including Henry and Silvers, who had been armed, and who were just as anxious to aid in the taking of Quebec as anybody.
Once or twice from out of the darkness came a challenge.
“Who comes?” was the question, put in French.
“France!” was the answer, of one who could speak the language well.
“What boats are those?”