"You speak, then, for this gentleman?" he asked, with a dry sort of smile.
"With all my heart," I answered. "But why asks he protection at this late day?"
"New orders are issued to lay waste the country; hitherto all property was safe," was the General's reply. "See that the Seigneur Duvarney's suit is granted," he added to his officer, "and say it is by Captain Moray's intervention.—There is another matter of this kind to be arranged this noon," he continued: "an exchange of prisoners, among whom are some ladies of birth and breeding, captured but two days ago. A gentleman comes from General Montcalm directly upon the point. You might be useful herein," he added, "if you will come to my tent in an hour." He turned to go.
"And my ship, and permission to enter the town, your Excellency?"
I asked.
"What do you call your—ship?" he asked a little grimly.
I told him how the sailors had already christened her. He smiled. "Then let her prove her title to Terror of France," he said, "by being pilot to the rest of our fleet, up the river, and you, Captain Moray, be guide to a footing on those heights"—he pointed to the town. "Then this army and its General, and all England, please God, will thank you. Your craft shall have commission as a rover—but if she gets into trouble?"
"She will do as her owner has done these six years, your
Excellency: she will fight her way out alone."
He gazed long at the town and at the Levis shore. "From above, then, there is a way?"
"For proof, if I come back alive—"
"For proof that you have been—" he answered meaningly, with an amused flash of his eyes, though at the very moment a spasm of pain crossed his face, for he was suffering from incurable disease, and went about his great task in daily misery, yet cheerful and inspiring.