Cameron of Lochiel

by Philippe Aubert de Gaspé

At eight o'clock in the morning, April 28, 1760, the English army was drawn up in order of battle on the same field where it had moved to victory seven months before. General Murray, with this army of six thousand men and twenty guns, held a very strong position, while the French army, a little more numerous, but supported by only two guns, occupied the heights of St. Foy. The French were wearied with their painful march over the marshes of La Suède, but they burned to wipe out the memory of their defeat. The hate of centuries stirred the bosoms of both armies. The courage of both was beyond question, and fifteen thousand of the best troops in the world only awaited the word of their commanders to spring at each other's throats.

Jules D'Haberville, who had distinguished himself in the first battle on the Plains of Abraham, was with a detachment commanded by Captain d'Aiguebelle. By order of General de Lévis, this detachment had at first abandoned Dumont's mill under the attack of a much superior force. Jules was severely wounded by the explosion of a shell, which had shattered his left arm, but he refused to go to the rear. Presently the general concluded that the mill was a position of supreme importance, and, when he gave the order to recapture it, Jules led his company to the charge, carrying his arm in a sling.

Almost all Murray's artillery was directed to the maintenance of this position. The French grenadiers charged on the run. The bullets and grape decimated their ranks, but they closed up as accurately as if they were on parade. The mill was taken and retaken several times during this memorable struggle. Jules D'Haberville, "the little grenadier," as the soldiers called him, had hurled himself, sword in hand, into the very midst of the enemy, who yielded ground for a moment; but scarcely had the French established themselves, when the English returned to the attack in overwhelming numbers, and took the position after a most bloody struggle.

The French grenadiers, thrown for a moment into disorder, reformed at a little distance under a scathing fire; then, charging for the third time, they carried the position at the point of the bayonet, and held it.

One would have thought, during this last charge, that the love of life was extinct in the soul of Jules, who, his heart torn by what he thought the treason of his friend, and by the total ruin of his family, appeared to seek death as a blessing. As soon as the order for that third charge was given he sprang forward like a tiger with the cry of, "À moi grenadiers!" and hurled himself single handed upon the English. When the French found themselves masters of the position they drew Jules from under a heap of dead and wounded. Seeing that he was yet alive, two grenadiers carried him to a little brook near the mill, where he soon returned to consciousness. It was rather loss of blood than the severity of his hurt that had caused the swoon. A blow from a saber had split his helmet and gashed his head without fracturing the skull. Jules wished to return to the fight, but one of the grenadiers said to him:

"Not for a little while, my officer. You have had enough for the present, and the sun beats like the devil out there, which is very dangerous for a wound on the head. We are going to leave you in the shade of these trees." D'Haberville, too weak to oppose them further, soon found himself lying among a number of the wounded, who had had strength enough to drag themselves into the grove. Every one knows its result, this second battle of the Plains of Abraham. The victory was dear bought by the French and the Canadians, who suffered no less severely than their enemies. It was a useless bloodshed. New France, abandoned by the mother country, was ceded to England by the careless Louis three years after the battle.

Lochiel had cleared himself nobly of the suspicions which his foe, Montgomery, had sought to fix upon him. His wide knowledge, his zeal in the study of his profession, his skill in all military exercises, his sobriety, his vigilance when in guard of a post, all these had put him high in esteem. His dashing courage tempered with prudence in the attack on the French lines at Montmorency and on the field of the first Battle of the Plains had been noticed by General Murray, who commended him publicly.

On the defeat of the English army at this second battle, Lochiel, after tremendous fighting at the head of his Highlanders, was the last to yield a position which he had defended inch by inch. Instead of following the throng of fugitives toward Quebec, he noticed that Dumont's Mill was now evacuated by the French, who were pursuing their enemies with great slaughter. To conceal his route from the enemy, Archie led his men between the mill and the adjoining wood. Just then he heard some one calling his name; and turning, he saw an officer, his arm in a sling, his uniform in tatters, his head wrapped in a bloody cloth, staggering to meet him sword in hand.

"What are you doing, brave Cameron of Lochiel?" cried the unknown. "The mill has been evacuated by our brave soldiers, and is no longer defended by women and children and feeble old men. Return, valorous Cameron, and crown your exploits by burning it down."

It was impossible to mistake the mocking voice of Jules D'Haberville, although his face was unrecognizable for blood and powder.