“It can be but a small party come to burn a few houses and retire.”
He sent at once to Vaudreuil, who was quartered near Quebec, but receiving no answer, at six o’clock he mounted, and, accompanied by Langlade and Johnstone, rode towards the town. As he crossed the St. Charles, he saw on the heights above Quebec the long red line of the English army calmly awaiting him. He knew now that it must be fought out. He turned his horse’s head to the Governor’s quarters; a short and sharp altercation ensued, and then Montcalm, joining his army, rode towards the battle-field, where already the battalion of Guienne had taken up its position. The white-and-blue uniforms of the regular French army, flanked by the sombre-clad Canadians, were clearly visible; whilst the Indians in their war-paint, with their waving plumes and steel hatchets, were stationed some twenty paces in advance, with orders to throw themselves into the first breach made in the English ranks by the French balls.
To the sound of the drums the five battalions of Grenadiers, in their long black gaiters, marched to the front. Arrived within forty paces of the English, they halted, and the two armies, face to face with each other, waited in solemn, silent hesitation. Old enemies on a new soil, on how many a European battle-field had their forefathers fought for dominion! And now they waited, awed, on this virgin soil, who should begin this mortal duel.
In a clear voice the word of command flew along the English line. A sound as of thunder broke forth, rolling along, to be repeated in continuous roar; and as the smoke cleared off, in the French ranks there were deep gaps, as if a scythe had passed through cutting them down. The battle was begun.
Another volley, and yet another. The militia, which was interspersed with the regular French troops, unable any longer to stand the fire, hesitated. Montcalm saw it.
“Forward, forward!” he cried, showing with the point of his sword the English ranks still unmoved. At the same moment a ball struck him.
“You are wounded, General,” said an officer beside him.
“It is of no account, sir. Ride forward and rally the Canadians; they are retreating.” Himself he sprang forward into their midst.
“Courage, my children, courage!” he cried; but another ball struck him, and his white uniform was stained with blood.