Meantime the fighting along the line had been severe, and the enemy's artillery had told on us with such effect that at last our centre wavered and began to give way. Supported by a wood, our left stood firm within about twenty paces of the foe, when a flurried adjutant ran along the line with orders to make a half-turn to the right and retire to some houses in the rear.
M. Malartic, major of La Sarre, stood aghast; it virtually meant retreat, and retreat in such a position invited certain destruction. He hurried over to M. de Barroute, a captain of Béarn, which stood next to the right, and repeated the order. They agreed at once a mistake had been made, and an ominous murmur arose from the men as the news was whispered from one to another. On this M. Dalquier, their colonel, as fine and experienced an officer as ever drew sword, rode up, and, inquiring of their difficulty, swept it aside by crying, “I will take it upon me to disobey the order. Fix bayonets, mes enfants!” The command was executed in an instant; then, rising in his stirrups, he swung his sword above his head and roared in a voice that could be heard all along the line, “Charge!”
The effect was indescribable; there was one quick, sharp shout of “Vive le Roi!” and the men went on like so many demons.
“Look at La Sarre!” cried Poulariez, with the Royal Roussillon on the right, as we marked the sudden confusion and then the charge. “The English have advanced too far! Ride to the Canadians, Maxwell! Half-wheel to the left, and we fall on their flank!”
It was the deciding-point of the battle. The English line was thrown into complete disorder, and thence forward there was nothing but hand-to-hand fighting of the fiercest description, which lasted until it ended in the utter rout of the enemy.
At one point I saw M. de Boucherville, who carried the flag of the Montreal troops, go down in a mêlée, but the colours were saved by the determined gallantry of M. de Sarennes, who carried them off amid a storm of cheers.
“Bravo, Sarennes!” I called to him as he rode past a moment later. “Your lady-love should have seen that!”
“Go to the devil!” he roared back at me, with the voice and gesture of the boor he really was at bottom, but my hands were too full either to wonder at his insult or demand an explanation.
I will make no attempt to follow the detail of the action; it is enough to say the honours rested with us. We stood victorious over the same foe that had defeated us on the same ground six months before. We had regained the Heights, regained the General Hospital, and it remained to be seen how soon we might sweep over its ruined ramparts into Quebec and hold it once more for King Louis.
As I entered the Hospital towards evening to report to M. de Lévis, one of the sisters addressed me: “Pardon, monsieur, but are you the Chevalier de Maxwell?”