That was all. This General Wolfe, a keen organiser himself, was one of those officers who had the happy knack of rapidly discovering the good points of those who served him. Once assured of an officer's discretion, he could give an order and leave it to the officer in question to carry it out in every detail without interference. And now he sent his final orders to Steve, intimating to him that on his discretion depended the success or failure of the whole expedition.
"Then we will make our preparations," said our hero, when he had read the note. "We already have a canoe, and I advise that we put some provisions into her, for the troops may be delayed. We will go alone, and will take knives and tomahawks. A musket might go off accidentally, and in any case we shall be glad to be free of the weight."
"Another o' Steve's 'cute ideas," cried Jim. "This 'ere game as we've got air the biggest I reckon of any as we've ever tackled, 'cos, yer see, ef we make jest the smallest mistake and the French hear us, waal, what's the good of troops? They'll be down upon us at once."
"But not in force," answered Steve quickly. "Remember, Jim, that Montcalm has the majority of his men either in the city or in the Beauport lines. There are men at Cap Rouge, but only posts along the cliff we are to climb. We will find the path, clamber up it, and leave two at the top to watch. If a French sentry should come along and hear the noise made by the men as they disembark, those two must silence him. After that it will take only a few minutes to get some of our fellows up, and then Montcalm will want an army. Our boys will not be turned off the cliff by anything less. Jim, you and Mac will take that post up at the top. Father and I will descend and give the signal."
Darkness had fallen barely more than a quarter of an hour when the party of four prepared to leave the sloop. Those aboard her now knew what was about to happen. Indeed, the English troops aboard the fleet were aware of the attempt about to take place, and were already silently embarking in the boats secured to the ships' sides. As to the French, they still believed that an attack in force was impending at the mouth of the St. Charles, or against the Beauport lines, for the feints of the fleet at Cap Rouge had ceased entirely, while Montcalm did not even suspect that the bulk of Wolfe's army was aboard. There was a curious calm up the river, where there had been so much energy a few days ago, while down stream, at Point Lévis, the guns thundered even more loudly than before, and there was very obvious activity at the camp on the Isle of Orleans. Indeed, perched as they were high up in Quebec, and the ridge on either hand, the French could see every movement of the English, unless cloaked by the darkness. Montcalm had been an attentive watcher, and on this very night his charger stood ready saddled, so that the commander might gallop along the Beauport lines, wherever circumstances might call him. Little did Montcalm think that it was towards the opposite direction that his horse's hoofs would carry him.
"Good luck, boys. Remember we're waiting. Remember that every man aboard the fleet looks to you to-night, and that every mother's son in Old England will sing your praises if you are successful."
The captain of the sloop, a rough old sea dog, gripped each one of the party by the hand as they prepared to step into the canoe. Then he gave Steve a bag containing a dark lantern, flint, and steel.
"Light it ashore," he said earnestly. "Even the best lamp of this sort might show a glimmer, and the French would see it. Get under cover when you strike the flint, lad. Don't forget. Under cover."
There was a faint murmur from the men as Steve dropped gently into the canoe, while the clatter of booted troops lowering themselves into the boats of the fleet came softly to the ear.
"Push off," he whispered. "Out paddles. Jim, take post in the stern."