CHAPTER XV
THE LONE CHATEAU
Despite his courage and the new resolution that he had acquired duringhis long months on the island, Robert's heart often sank. They seemed tomake no progress with the siege of Quebec. Just so far had they gone andthey could go no farther. The fortress of France in the New Worldappeared impregnable. There it was, cut clear against the sky, the lightshining on its stone buildings, proud and defiant, saying with every newday to those who attacked it that it could not be taken, while Montcalm,De Levis, Bougainville, St. Luc and the others showed all their oldskill in defense. They heard too that Bourlamaque after his retreat fromTiconderoga and Crown Point was sitting securely within his lines andintrenchments at Isle-aux-Noix and that the cautious Amherst would delaylonger and yet longer.
It was now certain that no help could be expected from Amherst and hisstrong army that year. The most that he would do would be to keepBourlamaque and his men from coming to the relief of Quebec. So far asthe capital of New France was concerned the issue must be fought out bythe forces now gathered there for the defense and the offense, theFrench and the Indians against the English and the Americans.
Robert realized more keenly every day that the time was short andbecoming shorter. Hot summer days were passing, nights came on crisp andcool, the foliage along the king of rivers and its tributaries began toglow with the intense colors of decay, there was more than a touch ofautumn in the air. They must be up and doing before the fierce wintercame down on Quebec. Military operations would be impossible then.
In this depressing time Robert drew much courage from Charteris, who hadbeen a prisoner a long time in Quebec, and who understood even morethoroughly than young Lennox the hollowness of the French power in NorthAmerica.
"It is upheld by a few brave and skillful men and a small but heroicarmy," he said. "In effect, New France has been deserted by the Bourbonmonarchy. If it were not for the extraordinary situation of Quebec,adapted so splendidly to purposes of defense, we could crush the Marquisde Montcalm in a short time. The French regulars are as good as anytroops in the world and they will fight to the last, but the Canadianmilitia is not disciplined well, and is likely to break under a fierceattack. You know, Lennox, what militiamen always are, no matter to whatnation they belong. They may fight and die like heroes at one time, and,at another time, they may run away at the first fire, struck with panic.What we want is a fair chance at the French army in the open. GeneralWolfe himself, though cursed by much illness, never loses hope. I've hadoccasion to talk with him more than once owing to my knowledge of Quebecand the surrounding country, and there's a spirit for you, Lennox. It'sin an ugly body but no man was ever animated by a finer temper andcourage."
Robert and Charteris formed a great friendship, a true friendship thatlasted all their long lives. But then Robert had a singular faculty formaking friends. Charteris interested him vastly. He had a proud,reserved and somewhat haughty nature. Many people thought him exclusive,but Robert soon learned that his fastidiousness was due to a certain shyquality, and a natural taste for the best in everything. Under hisapparent coldness lay a brave and staunch nature and an absoluteintegrity.
Robert's interest in Charteris was heightened by the delicate cloud ofromance that floated about him, a cloud that rose from the hints thrownforth now and then by Zebedee Crane. The young French lady in Quebec wholoved him was as beautiful as the dawn and she had the spirit of aqueen. Charteris lived in the hope that they might take Quebec and herwith it. But Robert was far too fine of feeling ever to allude to suchan affair of the heart to Charteris, or in truth to any one else.
It was a period of waiting and yet it was a period of activity. Thepartisans were incessant in their ways. Robert heard that his oldfriend, Langlade, was leading a numerous band against the English, andthe evidences of Tandakora's murderous ferocity multiplied. Nor were theoutlying French themselves safe from him. News arrived that he intendedan attack upon a chateau called Chatillard farther up the river butwithin the English lines. A band of the New England rangers, led byWillet, was sent to drive him off, and to destroy the Ojibway pest, ifpossible. Robert, Tayoga and Zeb Crane went with him.
They arrived at the chateau just before twilight. It was a solid stonebuilding overlooking the St. Lawrence, and the lands about it had anarrow frontage on the river, but it ran back miles after the old Frenchcustom in making such grants, in order that every estate might have ariver landing. Willet's troops numbered about forty men, and, respectingthe aged M. de Chatillard, who was quite ill and in bed, they did notfor the present go into the house, eating their own supper on the long,narrow lawn, which was thick with dwarfed and clipped pines and othershrubbery.
But they lighted no fires, and they kept very quiet, since they wishedfor Tandakora to walk into an ambush. The information, most of which hadbeen obtained by Zeb Crane, was to the effect that Tandakora believed aguard of English soldiers was in the house. After his custom he wouldswoop down upon them, slaughter them, and then be up and away. It was atrick in which the savage heart of the Ojibway delighted, and he hadachieved it more than once.
The August night came down thick and dark. A few lights shone in theChateau de Chatillard, but Willet and his rangers stood in black gloom.Almost at their feet the great St. Lawrence flowed in its mightychannel, a dim blue under the dusky sky. Nothing was visible there savethe slow stream, majestic, an incalculable weight of water. Nothingappeared upon its surface, and the far shore was lost in the night. Itseemed to Robert, despite the stone walls of the chateau by their side,that they were back in the wilderness. It was a northern wilderness too.The light wind off the river made him shiver.
The front door of the house opened and a figure outlined against thelight appeared. It was an old man in a black robe, tall, thin andascetic, and Robert seeing him so clearly in the light of a lamp that heheld in his hand recognized him at once. It was Father PhilibertDrouillard, the same whom he had defeated in the test of oratory in thevale of Onondaga before the wise sachems, when so much depended onvictory.
"Father Drouillard!" he exclaimed impulsively, stepping forward out ofthe shadows.
"Who is it who speaks?" asked the priest, holding the lamp a littlehigher.
"Father Drouillard, don't you know me?" exclaimed Robert, advancingwithin the circle of light.
"Ah, it is young Lennox!" said the priest. "What a meeting! And underwhat circumstances!"
"And there are others here whom you know," said Robert. "Look, this isDavid Willet who commands us, and here also is Tayoga, whom you rememberin the vale of Onondaga."
Father Drouillard saluted them gravely.
"You are the enemies of my country," he said, "but I will not deny thatI am glad to see you here. I understand that the savage, Tandakora,means to attack this house to-night, thinking that it holds a Britishgarrison. Well, it seems that he will not be far wrong in his thought."
A ghost of a smile flickered over the priest's pale face.
"A garrison but not the garrison that he expects to destroy," saidWillet. "Tandakora fights nominally under the flag of France, but as youknow, Father, he fights chiefly to gratify his own cruel desires."
"I know it too well. Come inside. M. de Chatillard wishes to see you."
Willet, Robert, Tayoga and Zeb Crane went in, and were shown into thebedroom where the Seigneur Louis Henri Anatole de Chatillard, pastninety years of age, lay upon his last bed. He was a large, handsome oldman, fair like so many of the Northern French, and his dying eyes werefull of fire. Two women of middle years, his granddaughters, kneltweeping by each side of his bed, and two servants, tears on their faces,stood at the foot. Willet and his comrades halted respectfully at thedoor.
"Step closer," said the old man, "that I may see you well."
The four entered and stood within the light shed by two tall candles.The old man gazed at them a long time in silence, but finally he said:
"And so the English have come at last."
"We're not English,
M. de Chatillard," said Willet, "we're Americans,Bostonnais, as you call us."
"It is the same. You are but the children of the English and you fighttogether against us. You increase too fast in the south. You thrive inyour towns and in the woods, and you send greater and greater numbersagainst us. But you cannot take Quebec. The capital of New France isinviolate."
Willet said nothing. How could he argue with a man past ninety who layupon his dying bed?
"You cannot take Quebec," repeated M. de Chatillard, rising, strengthshowing in his voice. "The Bostonnais have come before. It was inFrontenac's time nearly three-quarters of a century ago, when Phipps andhis armada from New England arrived before Quebec. I was but a lad thennewly come from France, but the great governor, Frontenac, made readyfor them. We had batteries in the Sault-au-Matelot on Palace Hill, onMount Carmel, before the Jesuits' college, in the Lower Town andeverywhere. Three-quarters of a century ago did I say? No, it wasyesterday! I remember how we fought. Frontenac was a great man asMontcalm is!"
"Peace, M. de Chatillard," said Father Drouillard soothingly. "You speakof old, old times and old, old things!"
"They were the days of my youth," said the old man, "and they are notold to me. It was a great siege, but the valor of France and Canada werenot to be overcome. The armies and ships of the Bostonnais went backwhence they came, and the new invasion of the Bostonnais will have nobetter fate."
Willet was still silent. He saw that the old siege of Quebec was muchmore in M. de Chatillard's mind than the present one, and if he couldpass away in the odor of triumph the hunter would not willingly changeit.
"Who is the youth who stands near you?" said M. de Chatillard, lookingat Robert.
"He is Robert Lennox of the Province of New York," replied FatherDrouillard, speaking for Willet. "One of the Bostonnais, but a goodyouth."
"One of the Bostonnais! Then I do not know him! I thought for a momentthat I saw in him the look of some one else, but maybe I was mistaken.An old man cheats himself with fancies. Lad, come thou farther into thelight and let me see thee more clearly."
The tone of command was strong in his voice, and Robert, obeying it,stepped close to the bed. The old man raised his head a little, andlooked at him long with hawk's eyes. Robert felt that intent gazecutting into him, but he did not move. Then the Seigneur Louis HenriAnatole de Chatillard laughed scornfully and said to Father Drouillard:
"Why do you deceive me, Father? Why do you tell me that is one, RobertLennox, a youth of the Bostonnais, who stands before me, when my owneyes tell me that it is the Chevalier Raymond Louis de St. Luc, come asbefits a soldier of France to say farewell to an old man before hedies."
Robert felt an extraordinary thrill of emotion. M. de Chatillard, seeingwith the eyes of the past, had taken him for the Chevalier. But why?
"It is not the Chevalier de St. Luc," said Father Drouillard, gently."It is the lad, Robert Lennox, from the Province of New York."
"But it is St. Luc!" insisted the old man. "The face is the same, theeyes are the same! Should I not know? I have known the Chevalier, andhis father and grandfather before him."
The priest signed to Robert, and he withdrew into the shadow of theroom. Then Father Drouillard whispered into M. de Chatillard's ear, oneof the servants gave him medicine from a glass, and presently he sankinto quiet, seeming to be conscious no longer of the presence of thestrangers. Willet, Robert and the others withdrew softly. Robert wasstill influenced by strong emotion. Did he look like St. Luc? And why?What was the tie between them? The question that had agitated him sooften stirred him anew.
"Very old men, when they come to their last hours, have many illusions,"said Willet.
"It may be so," said Robert, "but it was strange that he should take mefor St. Luc."
Willet was silent. Robert saw that as usual the hunter did not wish tomake any explanations, but he felt once more that the time for thesolution of his problem was not far away. He could afford to wait.
"The Seigneur cannot live to know whether Quebec will fall," saidTayoga.
"No," said Willet, "and it's just as well. His time runs out. His mindat the last will be filled with the old days when Frontenac held thetown against the New Englanders."
The rangers were disposed well about the house, and they also watchedthe landing. Tandakora and his men might come in canoes, stealing alongin the shadow of the high cliffs, or they might creep through the fieldsand forest. Zeb Crane, who could see in the dark like an owl and who hadalready proved his great qualities as a scout and ranger, watched at theriver, and Willet with Robert and Tayoga was on the land side. But theylearned there was another chateau landing less than a quarter of a milelower down, and Tandakora, coming on the river, might use that, and yetmake his immediate approach by land.
Willet stood by a grape arbor with Robert and the Onondaga, and watchedwith eye and ear.
"Tandakora is sure to come," said the hunter. "It's just such a night ashe loves. Little would he care whether he found English or French in thehouse; if not the English whom he expects, then the French, and dead menhave nothing to say, nor dead women either. It may be, Tayoga, that youwill have your chance to-night to settle your score with him."
"I do not think so, Great Bear," replied the Onondaga. "The night is sodark that I cannot see Tododaho on his star, but no whisper from himreaches me. I think that when the time comes for the Ojibway and me tosee which shall continue to live, Tododaho or the spirits in the airwill give warning."
Robert shivered a little. Tayoga's tone was cool and matter of fact, buthis comrades knew that he was in deadly earnest. At the appointed timehe and Tandakora would fight their quarrel out, fight it to the death.In the last analysis Tayoga was an Indian, strong in Indian customs andbeliefs.
"Tandakora will come about an hour before midnight," said the Onondaga,"because it will be very dark then and there will yet be plenty of timefor his work. He will expect to find everybody asleep, save perhaps anEnglish sentinel whom he can easily tomahawk in the darkness. He doesnot know that the old Seigneur lies dying, and that they watch by hisbed."
"In that case," said the hunter with his absolute belief in all thatTayoga said, "we can settle ourselves for quite a wait."
They relapsed into silence and Robert began to look at the light thatshone from the bedroom of M. de Chatillard, the only light in the housenow visible. He was an old, old man between ninety and a hundred, andWillett was right in saying that he might well pass on before the fateof Quebec was decided. Robert was sure that it was going to fall, and M.de Chatillard at the end of a long, long life would be spared a greatblow. But what a life! What events had been crowded into his threegenerations of living! He could remember Le Grand Monarque, The Sun Kingand the buildings of Versailles. He was approaching middle age whenBlenheim was fought. He could remember mighty battles, great changes,and the opening of new worlds, and like Virgil's hero, he had been agreat part of them. That was a life to live, and, if Quebec were goingto fall, it was well that M. de Chatillard with his more than ninetyyears should cease to live, before the sun of France set in NorthAmerica. Yes, Willet was right.
A long time passed and Tayoga, lying down with his ear to the earth, waslistening. It was so dark now that hearing, not sight, must tell whenTandakora came.
"I go into the forest," whispered the Onondaga, "but I return soon."
"Don't take any needless risks," said Willet.
Tayoga slipped into the dusk, fading from sight like a wraith, but infive minutes he came back.
"Tandakora is at hand," he whispered. "He lies with his warriors in thebelt of pine woods. They are watching the light in the Seigneur'swindow, but presently they will steal upon the house."
"And find us on watch," said Willet, an exultant tone appearing in hisvoice. "To the landing, Robert, and tell Zeb they're here on our side."
The lank lad returned with Robert, though he left part of his men atthat point to guard against surprise, and the bulk of the force, underWillet, crowded beh
ind the grape arbor awaiting the onslaught ofTandakora who, they knew, would come in caution and silence.
Another period that seemed to Robert interminable, though it was notmore than half an hour, passed, and then he saw dimly a gigantic figure,made yet greater by the dusk. He knew that it was Tandakora and his handslid to the trigger and hammer of his rifle. But he knew also that hewould not fire. It was no part of their plan to give an alarm so early.The Ojibway vanished and then he thought he caught the gleam of auniform. So, a Frenchman, probably an officer, was with the warriors!
"They have scouted about the house somewhat," whispered Tayoga, "andthey think the soldiers are inside."
"In that case," Willet whispered back, "they'll break down the frontdoor and rush in for slaughter."
"So they will. It is likely that they are looking now for a big log."
Soon a long, dark shape emerged from the dark, a shape that looked likeone of the vast primeval saurians. It was a dozen warriors carrying thetrunk of a small tree, and all molded into one by the dusk. Theygathered headway, as they advanced, and it was a powerful door thatcould withstand their blow. One of the ambushed rangers moved a little,and, in doing so, made a noise. Quick as a flash the warriors droppedthe log, and another farther back fired at the noise.
"Give it to 'em, lads!" cried Willet.
A score of rifles flashed and the warriors replied instantly, but theywere caught at a disadvantage. They had come there for rapine andmurder, expecting an easy victory, and while Tandakora rallied them theywere no match for the rangers, led by such men as Willet and hislieutenants. The battle, fierce and sanguinary, though it was, lasted abare five minutes and then the Ojibway and those of his band whosurvived took to flight. Robert caught a glimpse among the fleeing menof one whom he knew to be the spy, Garay. Stirred by a fierce impulse hefired at him, but missed in the dusk, and then Garay vanished with theothers. Robert, however, did not believe that he had been recognized bythe spy and he was glad of it. He preferred that Garay should considerhim dead, and then he would be free of danger from that source.
The firing was succeeded by a few minutes of intense silence and thenthe great door of the Chateau de Chatillard opened again. Once moreFather Drouillard stood on the step, holding a lamp in his hand.
"It is over, Father," said Willet. "We've driven off part of 'em and theothers lie here."
"I heard the noise of the battle from within," said Father Drouillardcalmly, "and for the first time in my life I prayed that the Bostonnaismight win."
"If you don't mind, Father, bring the lamp, and let us see the fallen.There must be at least fifteen here."
Father Drouillard, holding the light high, walked out upon the lawn withsteady step.
"Here is a Montagnais," said Willet, "and this a St. Regis, and this aSt. Francis, and this a Huron, and this an Ojibway from the far west!Ah, and here is a Frenchman, an officer, too, and he isn't quite dead!Hold the lamp a little closer, will you, Father?"
The priest threw the rays of the lamp upon the figure.
"Jumonville!" exclaimed Robert.
It was in truth Francois de Jumonville, shot through the body and dying,slain in a raid for the sake of robbery and murder. When he saw thefaces of white men looking down at him, he raised himself feebly on oneelbow and said:
"It is you again, Willet, and you, too, Lennox and Tayoga. Always acrossmy path, but for the last time, because I'm going on a long journey,longer than any I ever undertook before."
Father Drouillard fell on his knees and said a prayer for the dying man.Robert looked down pityingly. He realized then that he hated nobody.Life was much too busy an affair for the cherishing of hate and theplotting of revenge. Jumonville had done him as much injury as he could,but he was sorry for him, and had he been able to stay the ebbing of hislife, he would have done so. As the good priest finished his prayer thehead of Francois de Jumonville fell back. He was dead.
"We will take his body into the house," said Father Drouillard, "prepareit for the grave and give him Christian burial. I cannot forget that hewas an officer of France."
"And my men shall help you," said Willet.
They carried the body of Jumonville into the chateau and put it on abench, while the servants, remarkably composed, used as they were toscenes of violence, began at once to array it for the grave.
"Come into the Seigneur's room," said Father Drouillard, and Robert andWillet followed him into the old man's chamber. M. de Chatillard laysilent and rigid. He, too, had gone on the longest of all journeys.
"His soul fled," said Father Drouillard, "when the battle outside was atits height, but his mind then was not here. It was far back in the past,three-quarters of a century since when Frontenac and Phipps foughtbefore Quebec, and he was little more than a lad in the thick of thecombat. I heard him say aloud: 'The Bostonnais are going. Quebec remainsours!' and in that happy moment his soul fled."
"A good ending," said Willet gravely, "and I, one of the Bostonnais, amfar from grudging him that felicity. Can my men help you with theburial, Father? We remain here for the rest of the night at least."
"If you will," said Father Drouillard.
Zeb Crane touched Robert on the arm a little later.
"Tayoga has come back," he said.
"I didn't know he'd gone away," said Robert surprised.
"He pursued Tandakora into the dark. Mebbe he thought Tododaho was wrongand that the time for him to settle score with the Ojibway had re'llycome. Any way he wuz off after him like an arrer from the bow."
Robert went outside and found Tayoga standing quietly by the front door.
"Did you overtake him?" he asked.
"No," replied the Onondaga. "I knew that I could not, because Tododahohad not whispered to me that the time was at hand, but, since I had seenhim and he was running away, I felt bound to pursue him. The legs ofTandakora are long, and he fled with incredible speed. I followed him tothe landing of the next chateau, where he ran down the slope, leapedinto a canoe, and disappeared into the mists and vapors that hang soheavily over the river. His time is not yet."
"It seems not, but at any rate we inflicted a very thorough defeat uponhim to-night. His band is annihilated."
The bodies of all the fallen warriors were buried the next day, anddecent burial was also given to Jumonville. But that of the Seigneur deChatillard was still lying in state when Willet and the rangers left.
"If you wish," said the hunter to Father Drouillard, "I can procure youa pass through our lines, and you can return that way to the city. Wedon't make war on priests."
"I thank you," said Father Drouillard, "but I do not need it. It is easyfor me to go into Quebec, whenever I choose, but, for a day or two, myduty will lie here. To-morrow we bury the Seigneur, and after that mustput this household in order. Though one of the Bostonnais, you are agood man, David Willet. Take care of yourself, and of the lad, RobertLennox."
The hunter promised and, saying farewell to the priest, they went backto Wolfe's camp, east of the Montmorency, across which stream De Levislay facing them. During their absence a party of skirmishers had beencut off by St. Luc, and the whole British army had been disturbed by theactivities of the daring Chevalier. But, on the other hand, Wolfe wasrecovering from a serious illness. The sound mind was finding for itselfa sounder body, and he was full of ideas, all of the boldest kind, totake Quebec. If one plan failed he devised another. He thought offording the Montmorency several miles above its mouth, and of attackingMontcalm in his Beauport camp while another force made a simultaneousattack upon him in front. He had a second scheme to cross the river,march along the edge of the St. Lawrence, and then scale the rock ofQuebec, and a third for a general attack upon Montcalm's army in itsBeauport intrenchments. And he had two or three more that werevariations of the first three, but his generals, Murray, Monckton andTownshend, would not agree to any one of them, and he searched hisfertile mind for still another.
But a brave general, even, might well have despaired. The siege ma
de noapparent progress. Nothing could diminish the tremendous strength thatnature had given to the position of Quebec, and the skill of Montcalm,Bougainville, and St. Luc met every emergency. Most ominous of all, thesummer was waning. The colors that betoken autumn were deepening. Wolferealized anew that the time for taking Quebec was shortening fast. Thedeep red appearing in the leaves spoke a language that could not bedenied.
Robert, about this time, received an important letter from BenjaminHardy. It came by way of Boston, Louisbourg and the St. Lawrence. Ittold him in the polite phrase of the day how glad he had been to hearfrom Master Jacobus Huysman that he was not dead, although Robert readeasily between the lines and saw how genuine and deep was his joy. Mr.Hardy saw in his escape from so many dangers the hand of providence, adirect interposition in his behalf. He said, from motives of prudence,no mention of Robert's return from the grave had been made to hisacquaintances in New York, and Master Jacobus Huysman in Albany had beencautioned to say as little about it as possible. He deemed this wise,for the present, because those who had made the attempts upon his lifewould know nothing of their failure and so he would have nothing to fearfrom them. He was glad too, since he was sure to return to some field ofthe war, that he had joined the expedition against Quebec. The risk ofbattle there would be great, but it was likely that in so remote atheater of action he would be safe from his unknown enemies.
Mr. Hardy added that great hopes were centered on Wolfe's daring siege.All the campaigns elsewhere were going well, at last. The full strengthof the colonies was being exerted and England was making a mightyeffort. Success must come. Everybody had confidence in Mr. Pitt, and inNew York they were hopeful that the shadow, hovering so long in thenorth, would soon be dispelled forever.
In closing he said that when the campaign was over Robert must come tohim in New York at once, and that Willet must come with him. His wildlife in the woods must cease. Ample provision for his future would bemade and he must develop the talents with which he was so obviouslyendowed.
The water was in Robert's eyes when he finished the letter. Aye, he readbetween the lines, and he read well. The old thought that he hadfriends, powerful friends, came to him with renewed strength. It wasobvious that the New York merchant had a deep affection for him and waswatching over him. It was true of Willet too, and also of Mr. Huysman.His mind, as ever, turned to the problem of himself, and once more hefelt that the solution was not far away.
The next day after he had received the letter Zeb Crane returned fromQuebec, into which he had stolen as a spy, and he told Robert andCharteris that the people there, though suffering from privation, werenow in great spirits. They were confident that Montcalm, thefortifications and the natural strength of the city would hold off theinvader until winter, soon to come, should drive him away forever.
August was now gone and Wolfe wrote to the great Pitt a letter destinedto be his last official dispatch, a strange mixture of despondency andresolution. He spoke of the help for Montcalm that had been thrown intoQuebec, of his own illness, of the decline in his army's strengththrough the operations already carried out, of the fact that practicallythe whole force of Canada was now against him, but, in closing, heassured the minister that the little time left to the campaign should beused to the utmost.
While plan after plan presented itself to the mind of Wolfe, to bediscarded as futile, Robert saw incessant activity with the rangers andfought in many skirmishes with the French, the Canadians and Indians.Tandakora had gathered a new band and was as great a danger as ever.They came upon his ruthless trail repeatedly, but they were not able tobring him to battle again. Once they revisited the Chateau deChatillard, and found the life there going on peacefully within theEnglish lines. Father Drouillard had returned to Quebec.
Another shade of color was added to the leaves and then Robert saw agreat movement in Wolfe's camp before the Montmorency. The whole armyseemed to be leaving the position and to be going on board the fleet. Atfirst he thought the siege was to be abandoned utterly and his heartsank. But Charteris, whom he saw just before he went on his ship withthe Royal Americans, reassured him.
"I think," he said, "that the die is cast at last. The general has somegreat plan in his head, I know not what, but I feel in every bone thatwe're about to attack Quebec."
Robert now felt that way, too. The army merely concentrated its strengthon the Heights of Levis and Orleans on the other side, then took shipagain, and in the darkness of night, heavily armed and provisioned, ranby the batteries of the city, dropping anchor at Cap Rouge, aboveQuebec.
Throughout these movements on the water Robert was in a long boat withWillet, Tayoga and a small body of rangers. In the darkness he watchedthe great St. Lawrence and the lights of the town far above them. Whatthey would do next he did not know, and he no longer asked. He believedthat Charteris was right, and that the issue was at hand.
The Sun of Quebec: A Story of a Great Crisis Page 17