This done, he took possession of Point Levis, a promontory on the south bank of the St. Lawrence, where the current narrows into a deep stream of only a mile in breadth. General Monckton occupied this point with four battalions, and shelled the lower town across the river, but the citadel was beyond his reach. Wolfe’s army consisted of nine thousand troops: it should have amounted to fourteen thousand, but at the last moment the orders for some of the West Indian troops to join were countermanded; this was probably partly due to jealousy at Wolfe’s having been nominated to the chief command.

The two armies were stationed opposite each other on either side of the river. Vaudreuil, as Governor of Canada, still held command, and by his mistakes frequently hampered Montcalm’s action. Had he planted guns in such a manner as to fire down on the English fleet, it could never have taken up a position so near the city; he failed to do this, however, and the result was that the English fleet passed up the river in safety, to the astonishment of the Canadians, who, until then, had believed it impossible for large ships to be brought up the St. Lawrence.

Again, very shortly after the landing of the English army on the Island of Orleans, Vaudreuil made a desperate attempt to destroy the English fleet by launching fireships against it. The English sentries at the farther end of the island saw in the middle of the night vessels coming down the river. These ships were really filled with pitch, tar, and all sorts of combustibles mixed with shells and grenades, and the decks crowded with a number of cannon crammed with grape shot and musket balls. Suddenly they became like pillars of flame, and advanced with tremendous explosion and noise. But the French officers had lost their nerve, and set fire to the ships too soon. The English, after their first surprise, recovered their coolness, lowered their boats, and the sailors rowed out to meet the fireships, and by means of grapnels they towed them towards land, where they were stranded and left to burn themselves out.

Thus the fight might truly be said to have begun. To lookers on, and at this distance of time, it almost bears the aspect of a duel, the two principal actors standing out boldly in relief, fighting not for themselves, but for their countries, and, to a certain extent, for their religion. Catholic France, Protestant England! Noble men in every sense of the word, worthy of each other, their names have come down to posterity linked together—“Wolfe and Montcalm.”

CHAPTER XXVI
THE CHILD

General Montcalm was slowly pacing up and down the room he occupied at his headquarters on the St. Charles; the only other person present was Langlade, called by courtesy Captain Langlade. A look of great annoyance was on the General’s face.

“You cannot do this,” he said. “What you have engaged to accomplish you must carry out to the end. If you withdraw yourself from the Indians, you will do our cause incalculable harm. They know you; they obey you; you are a power with them. With the Canadians you are no one; they have their own officers. In my opinion, you are bound to retain your present position until the end of the campaign; the wrongs you deplore would be greatly increased if your influence were withdrawn. I entreat of you, make no change at the present critical moment. As far as lies in my power, I will lighten your duties; but you must remain with your Indians, to hold them in hand and to restrain them.”

“I have promised my people I would have nothing further in common with the Indians,” said Charles.

“You pledged yourself first to me,” said the General. “You cannot desert me; you would do far greater harm by withdrawing yourself. I entreat of you not to do this thing.” And he went up to the young man, and took his hand with the persuasive eloquence for which he was so noted.

Charles knew full well that the General was right; that, once his authority removed, the Indians would be more difficult than ever to hold under restraint, and that their natural cruelty would have free scope. Scalps without number! they had no other ambition. The Iroquois, if they were foremost in war and in eloquence, were also foremost in savage acts. They were proud to have a white man as their leader, and would revenge his desertion, perhaps even by withdrawing themselves from the French cause. He realised for the first time how difficult it is to retrace false steps, and to undo wrongdoing. He had joined himself to the Indians, he had sworn to serve the French cause, of his own free will and for his own personal ends: was he justified in withdrawing himself at so critical a moment for reasons equally personal? His sense of justice told him he was not. After a few minutes’ reflection, during which the General watched him anxiously, he said, in serious, measured tones, very different from the eager, impetuous voice of old,—