The Conquest of Canada, Vol. 2

by George Warburton

Wolfe concerted the plan of attack with the admiral. A small frigate, the Centurion, was to sail toward the shore, as near as the depth of water would permit, and open fire upon the redoubt. Two armed transports received orders to second the frigate, and, if necessary, to run aground in a favorable position. In one of these the general himself embarked. The boats of the fleet were directed to take on board the greater part of Monckton's brigade at Point Levi, with the available troops from Orleans, and to muster at an early hour in the forenoon off the northwestern point of that island. In the mean time, the British batteries from Point Levi, and the heights over Montmorency Falls, were to open upon the city and the intrenchments with every gun and mortar. Townshend's and Murray's brigades were commanded to form in close columns eastward of the ford below the falls, and there to await the general's orders.

At ten o'clock on the morning of the 31st of July, the 15th and 78th Regiments, 200 men of the Royal Americans, and all the Grenadiers of Monckton's brigade, embarked in the boats of the fleet at Point Levi: they made for the northwest point of the island of Orleans, where they were joined by four more companies of Grenadiers. The whole flotilla then pushed out into mid-channel and awaited orders. At eleven o'clock the two armed transports stood in for the Point de Lest, and grounded; one, under Lieutenant Garnier, within musket-shot of the French redoubt. At the same time, Admiral Saunders, in the Centurion, brought to a little further from the shore, opposite the ford, and all three vessels opened fire. This gave the signal to the gunners at Point Levi and on the east bank of the Montmorency: they also began to work; the enemy replied; and in a few minutes the whole of the vast amphitheater resounded with the roar of artillery.

Wolfe was in the transport which had first grounded. He promptly observed that the redoubt, if taken, was too distant from the water to allow of effectual support by the guns and the small arms of the shipping. He saw, moreover, that his threatening movements had caused an unusual stir in the French lines; bodies of troops were moving to and fro, between the several points of defense, with that degree of irregularity which usually attends the sudden re-formations of undisciplined men: two battalions of the enemy were observed marching from the roar of their left in the direction of the ford, three miles up the Montmorency River: their object was evidently to cross the stream, and fall upon the British batteries on the left bank, while the mass of Wolfe's army was occupied in the attack upon the intrenchments. This movement was immediately met by a counter-demonstration: the 48th Regiment, which had been left in the works at Point Levi, was ostentatiously pushed up the right bank of the St. Lawrence, as if about to cross and attempt the French position above the city. Montcalm, upon this, gave up his flank attack, and dispatched the two battalions to watch the 48th from the opposite side of the river.

For several hours, during these demonstrations, the firing on all sides had slackened; the flotilla still lay motionless in the center of the northern channel of the St. Lawrence. A great part of the day had thus passed without any thing of importance having been attempted. The clouds gathered heavily over the hills, and the receding tide warned Wolfe that only brief space was left for action. He hesitated for a time; circumstances were very adverse; but, unfortunately, the slight disorder in the enemy's lines confirmed the bolder counsel, always most congenial to his mind. At four o'clock he signaled for a renewal of the cannonade; at five his barge put off from the second transport, and rowed toward the flotilla, and at the same moment a red flag ran up to the mizen peak of the stranded ship: it was the signal to advance.

With a loud cheer the sailors bent to the oar, and the long-motionless flotilla sprung into life. A few strokes somewhat disordered the regularity of the line; some boats were faster, some crews more vigorous than others. As they approached, the French gunners tried the decreasing range; the shot fell near, hissed over head, and at length fell in among the boats. Some few struck with fatal effect, for the weak frames were easily shivered, and then sunk with all on board. While still pressing on through the fire, the leading boats grounded on a ledge of unseen rocks at short musket-shot from the beach. The disorder then became dangerous.

Wolfe was now in action: hesitation was at an end. He gave orders that the flotilla should re-form in rear of the rocks, and, when the boats were again afloat, signaled to Townshend to stop the advance of his brigade, which was already in motion upon the ford; he then sprang into a cutter with some navy officers, and skirted the reef in search of an opening. He soon succeeded. It was now half past five; the storm threatened close at hand; battalion after battalion the French were crowding from right to left; but Wolfe was not to be daunted; he renewed the signal of attack, and himself pointed out the way through the rocks. A few strokes carried the flotilla to the shore; while the eager troops sprang upon land, the French gave a parting volley, and abandoned the redoubt and the detached battery which defended the ford.

The thirteen companies of Grenadiers and the Royal Americans were first ashore; they had received orders to form in four columns on the beach, there to await the support of the remainder of Monckton's brigade from the boats, and Townshend's from beyond the ford. But these chosen men were flushed with an overweening confidence: proud of their post of preference, proud of their individual strength, and exasperated by long delay, they burst like bloodhounds from the leash. Despite the orders of their officers, they raced across the intervening fields, and, without any order or formation, threw themselves against the crested height.

Wolfe soon saw that this rash valor had ruined the fortunes of the day: nothing remained but to make such preparations for retreat as might mitigate the inevitable disaster. Monckton's remaining regiments, the 15th and 78th, were now landed, and formed in admirable order upon the beach, while Townshend and Murray crossed the ford of the Montmorency and advanced to join them. Instead of risking this unbroken array in supporting the unfortunate attack of the advance, Wolfe kept his men in hand, and strove to recall the disordered assailants. Meanwhile the storm burst, and when the Grenadiers reached the steep slope, they found it impossible to keep their footing on the muddy side; their ammunition was soon rendered useless by the teeming rain; but, still trusting to the bayonet, they tried to make good their ground upon the hill. The position was far stronger than they had anticipated; they were out of breath, and exhausted by their hurried advance; by the time they had clambered within reach of the enemy's parapets they were already beaten. One close and steady volley of the French sufficed to roll them back from off the crested hill.

In tumultuous disorder, the Grenadiers fell back upon the abandoned redoubt, and sought shelter under its parapets from the stinging fire of the French. The works had, however, been so constructed that little or no protection was afforded against the neighboring heights. Officers and men were rapidly struck down in vain endeavors to re-form the broken ranks, but still, with sullen tenacity, they held the unprofitable position. At length, in obedience to peremptory orders, they retired, and took post in the rear of Monckton's line.

The slope of the fatal hill now presented a melancholy scene to the British army. More than 200 of the Grenadiers had fallen; the track of the rash advance and disastrous retreat was marked by the dying and the dead. Some red coats lay almost under the enemy's parapets, where a few of these impetuous men had won their way; others were seen dragging their maimed limbs to seek shelter behind rocks or trees from the vindictive fire which the French still poured upon their fallen foes. Among the wounded lay Captain Ochterlony and Ensign Peyton, of the second battalion of the Royal Americans: they had refused the proffered aid of their retreating soldiers, and, being bound by ties of the closest friendship, determined to meet together the desperate chances of the field. They sat down side by side, bade each other farewell, and awaited their fate. In a few minutes a Frenchman and two Indians approached, plundered the wounded officers, and were about to murder Ochterlony, when Peyton shot one of the savages with a double-barreled gun which he still held; the other then rushed upon him, and, although receiving the contents of the second barrel, closed in mortal struggle. The Englishman succeeded, after a moment, in drawing a dagger, and with repeated stabs, brought the Indian to the ground. In the mean time, the French soldier had carried Ochterlony as a prisoner to his lines.[178]