"Look thar," cried Jim, in no way abashed by the gold lace and smart uniform of the young officer. "Yer'll never set yer toe on the beach, but yer'll get to hand grips with them ere Frenchies ef yer'll make away where I'm pointin'."
The officer was on his feet in a moment, scanning the rock to which the trapper had drawn his attention. Then he gave a sharp word of command, which caused the tiller to be put over and the bows of the boat to sheer off in that direction, while the crew, who had lain on their oars and looked doubtfully about them after the last discharge of cannon, bent to their work again with a will. Another boat near at hand followed their example, and a third was not slow to do the same. It became a race, and the water was churned into froth at the bows of the boats.
"Steady! That's near enough. Over we go. Hurrah!"
A wild cheer burst from the men as they leaped into the surf, and with their young officer and Steve ahead made for the shore.
"Make way for the other men and just get your breath, my lads," sang out the officer. "Sit down and keep close to the rock. They cannot see us here, and we shall be able to form up for a charge. Ha! Look at the brigadier. He is following. Did anyone see his signals?"
He looked round anxiously, passing his eyes from face to face till he came to Steve. The latter nodded, while a smile played on his lips.
"I fancy I did," he laughed. "The brigadier was in a hot place, and saw that his men would be shot to pieces. I rather think I saw him signal to the whole flotilla to retire."
This, in fact, was the case. General Wolfe, seeing the narrowness of the beach, its difficult approach, and the batteries which commanded it, had signalled for the flotilla of boats to retire at once, for he was fearful of losing his men. But he was not the officer to allow a breach of discipline of this sort to arouse his anger. His boat came surging up to the rock upon which the first party had landed, and in a trice he was being carried ashore on the shoulders of a stalwart sailor.