Meantime the besieging line crept closer and closer about us. Building after building went crashing down, or was swept heavenward in a tower of flame; our weakened ramparts crumbled day and night before the never-ceasing storm of shot and shell breaking on them, and the very earth trembled under the incessant thunder of the bombardment.
Our one hope lay in the appearance of Sarennes, who had been ordered to our relief with a sufficient force of Canadians and Indians. Not that the latter are by any means the formidable foe generally imagined, but the terror of their name was great in European ears, and any diversion on the part of so dreaded an ally would give us instant relief. This was the hope that supported us; our gallant fellows stood by their guns on their crumbling ramparts, and as they fell beside them more than one man said: “Our turn next. Wait till they see the savages!”
“Courage, my children! We only need Sarennes to show himself,” Drucour repeated, as an incentive when he marked our fire slacken.
“There is another signal for M. de Sarennes!” cried his intrepid lady, undauntedly, as she daily fired her three cannon with her own brave hands, and day by day men and officers uncovered and cheered her as she passed.
Within the crowded casemates by the King's Bastion, the only place of safety now left, terrified women and children wept and prayed, and wounded men cried and raved for the delayed succour; every time the enemy's fire slackened for an instant—it was Sarennes who had attacked them in rear; every time the thunder redoubled in the vaulted chambers—it was our support of Sarennes's attempt; but as day after day came and went without relief, the weeping, prayers, crying, and ravings were hushed into a dull despair, and on the ramparts and in the casemates men cursed at the very mention of that name which had so long been their sole support.
One night in the middle of July, Nairn, in discussing the probable length of our resistance, said to me:
“Chevalier, What will you do when this is at an end?”
Although it was a question which had been perplexing me constantly, I answered, carelessly enough, “If this bombardment keep up, the chances are that I shall not be called upon to settle so important a point.”
“Chances enough,” he responded, gravely; “it is never the number of men who fall, but the number who escape, at which I am astonished. But that is not the point. I have been thinking much, and am much troubled about your future.”
“So am I, for that matter, though I have never found that I have advanced it a hair's-breadth by losing a night's sleep over it. No, no, Captain Nairn, the best thing that can happen to me is to do the grande culbute.”