The sentry appeared satisfied, as the Queen's regiment formed part of Bougainville's command, which had been sent further up the bank in order to watch Wolfe's movements.
Shortly afterwards they were challenged again, but a few more adroit answers saved the situation.
"This is the spot," whispered Jamie, and the boat was run upon the bank in the little sandy cove beneath the cliffs, and a hundred men were quickly clustered upon the little beach. Wolfe was amongst the first to land, and as he looked up at the rugged heights he shook his head and coolly remarked--
"You can try it, but I don't think you'll get up."
The next moment Jamie and his companions, closely followed by twenty volunteers, were climbing the precipitous front, dragging themselves up by the roots and branches of the shrubs and trees which overhung the steep ascent. For another moment those below waited with breathless suspense. Then quick, ringing shots were heard, as those few determined men overpowered the small French guard at the top. This was followed by a thin British cheer, and immediately the Highlanders below, with the Light Infantry and the others, clambered up the apparently impossible heights and gained the plains above.
At dawn fifteen hundred men stood upon the Plains of Abraham, and then the ships, which had dropped down the river behind the boats, landed the rest of the army. When the sun rose on the 13th of September, the watch on the citadel beheld with amazement the red coats of the British army forming up into lines--and preparing for battle.
Swift couriers had carried the tidings across the St. Charles to Montcalm, and the roll of drums was heard amid his camp, and soon the French division were pouring across the bridge of boats. At nine o'clock, the armies were facing each other on the Plains above the city. Then the rattle of musketry began as the French sharpshooters lined the bushes and entrenchments previously prepared to the north-west of the city.
On came the columns of Montcalm, firing and shouting in an inspiriting manner, led by their renowned leader in person.
How different those thin red lines of Highlanders, Grenadiers and hardy colonial levies. An ominous silence hung like a cloud over the English ranks. It was the silence that presages the storm--the calm, still waters of a dam about to burst its bounds and spread havoc and death.
As the French fire became more effectual, the gaps in the English ranks became frequent, but they were filled in silence as the rear men stepped to the front. In those ranks scarce a word was spoken, and as yet not a shot had been fired. Officers of Montcalm have since said that this ominous silence cast a chill over the French columns that half decided the issues of the day.