How Canada Was Won: A Tale of Wolfe and Quebec

by F. S. Brereton

"We will charge now," he sang out, standing there before the column as cool as an iceberg, while he swished the air with his ridiculous little cane. "There are batteries, with some hundreds of men to defend them. We are about to take those batteries and to chase the French back to the walls of their fort."

There was a shout from the officers, who had by now got their companies into order, a shout which was taken up deliriously by the men. The brigadier turned, waved a signal, and set off steadily round the spit of rock. Then he broke into a trot, and as soon as the companies swung round from the shelter, they wheeled so as to face the enemy's position, opened out a little, preserving wonderful steadiness in spite of the bullets and round shot hurtling about their ears, and then broke into a fast run which very soon changed into a most determined and furious charge. The men's blood was undoubtedly up. All thought of personal safety was gone. They forgot the fact that bullets were flying, forgot that they were drenched to the skin, and that their powder was wet, for they had no need for it now. This was a day for cold steel, and the thought of that, the determination to get up to those batteries, to fling the French back and punish those who had fired at the flotilla alone filled the minds of the men.

"It 'ud do a lot of trappers a power of good to see 'em," shouted Jim, as with Steve beside him he swung out from the shelter of the rocks. "This air fightin'! This I 'low would take all the grit a backwoodsman's got, 'cos there's no cover. Air yer ready?"

He turned to find that Steve was not only ready, but was already rushing away from him. For our hero had caught the infection spread by these gallant fellows under Wolfe's command. He had no wish to kill. He felt only a huge desire to be amongst the very first to reach those batteries, come what might, and when he was there, not a Frenchman would dare to remain. He would see to that. He was armed with a sabre on this occasion, and dressed in the red coat and pantaloons of an officer who had died on the voyage from England. He felt more than ever now that he was an officer, to whom the men would look. And that thought, as well as his own natural dash and gallantry, stimulated him. He shouted with the loudest, swung his sabre above his head, and then raced through the bullets and the cannon shot. A low wall of rock stood in his way, and Brigadier Wolfe was in the act of scaling it. With one leap Steve stood on the summit. Then he turned, caught the brigadier by the arm and hoisted him up. The two were now ahead of the charging column.

Brigadier Wolfe faced the tall young officer for a second, and coolly shook him by the hand, gripping his left, for Steve had his hilt in the right. The sight of such an act of coolness brought a frantic shout from the men. Steve turned to look at them for one brief moment, and noted the set expression of their faces, the grim, determined looks, the gaping nostrils and the heaving chests. Then, as the brigadier waved his cane, he faced the enemy again, and with a shout went on at the head of the men. A huge Frenchman, armed with a ponderous musket, suddenly shot up from behind a barricade, brought his piece to his shoulder, and aimed at our hero. There was a flash, the powder in the pan spluttered up into smoke, while the bullet swept within an inch of Steve's head, thudding heavily on something just behind him.

"Ef I don't get even with that ere chap, why, I ain't Huntin' Jim," shouted a voice at his elbow. "Jest wait a minute. Ha! Yer'd shoot me down. That's jest to make yer remember that I ain't so soft as to fall 'cos a bullet's happened to strike me."

"IN ANOTHER SECOND HE HAD BAYONETTED THE FRENCHMAN"

It was Jim undoubtedly, all his old backwoods coolness gone, all his cunning and his Indian ways forgotten in the excitement of this moment. His eyes were wide open, his lips set close together, while rage was written on every feature. The stolid hunter had been struck through the fleshy part of one arm, and the sting of the wound had served only to increase his excitement. With a bound he passed Steve, and in another second he had bayonetted the Frenchman, bringing the grenadier to the ground with a terrific crash. By then the head of the column was up at the batteries, and for a few moments a desperate hand to hand contest was fought, while the gunners endeavoured to fire their charges of grape into the midst of the rear of the column. However, English bayonets had before then driven the French off the field, and on this occasion our gallant fellows were not to be denied. They drove those of the enemy who dared to remain out of their rifle pits with their murderous bayonets, broke down and shattered their defence, and sent them racing for the fortress. Nor did that entirely satisfy them. They broke into more open order, and with Jim and Mac and Steve to lead, chased those fugitives to the very gates of the fortress, till reinforcements poured out of Louisbourg, and until the cannon of the fortress began to ply them with shot. Only then did they deign to retire, showing a defiant face to the enemy, now outnumbering them by many hundreds.

"Very gallantly done, lads," said the general, when the column was again drawn up, and the wounded had been seen to. "I congratulate officers and men on the brilliant dash which they have shown, and on having won a most valuable landing-place for our army. To-night you will have the place of honour in the general's published orders. Let me not forget to thank those gentlemen who have so recently come from a visit paid to the French in Quebec. Their gallantry and dash were most stimulating, while I myself owe some help to their leader."