by G. A. Henty
Chapter 21: The Capture Of Quebec.
On the day on which he received James' report, Wolfe issued his ordersfor the attack. Colonel Burton, at Point Levi, was to bring up everyman who could be spared, to assist in the enterprise, and that officeraccordingly marched to the spot indicated for embarkation, afternightfall, with 1200 men.
As night approached, the main fleet, under Admiral Saunders, belowQuebec, ranged itself opposite Beauport, and opened a tremendouscannonade, while the boats were lowered, and filled with sailors andmarines. Montcalm, believing that the movements of the English abovethe town were only a feint, and that their main body was still belowit, massed his troops in front of Beauport, to repel the expectedlanding.
To Colonel Howe, of the Light Infantry, was given the honour of leadingthe little party, who were to suddenly attack Vergor's camp, at thehead of the path. James Walsham, knowing the way, was to accompany himas second in command. Twenty-four picked men volunteered to followthem. Thirty large troop boats, and some boats belonging to the ships,were in readiness, and 1700 men took their places in them.
The tide was still flowing, and, the better to deceive the French, thevessels and boats were allowed to drift upwards for a little distance,as if to attempt to effect a landing above Cap Rouge. Wolfe had, thatday, gained some intelligence which would assist him to deceive theenemy, for he learned that a number of boats, laden with provisionsfrom Quebec, were coming down with the tide.
Wolfe was on board the Sutherland. He was somewhat stronger than he hadbeen for some days, but felt a presentiment that he would die in theapproaching battle. About two o'clock, the tide began to ebb, and twolanterns--the signal for the troops to put off--were shown in therigging of the Sutherland.
Fortune favoured the English. Bougainville had watched the vessels,until he saw them begin to drift down again with the stream, and,thinking that they would return again with the flood, as they had donefor the last seven days, allowed his weary troops to retire to theircamp. The battalion of Guienne, instead of encamping near the heights,had remained on the Saint Charles; and Vergor, an incapable andcowardly officer, had gone quietly to bed, and had allowed a number ofthe Canadians under him to go away to their village, to assist ingetting in the harvest.
For two hours, the English boats drifted down with the stream. As theyneared their destination, they suddenly were challenged by a Frenchsentry. An officer, who spoke the language replied, "France."
"A quel regiment?"
"De la reine," the officer replied, knowing that a part of thatregiment was with Bougainville. The sentry, believing that they werethe expected provision boats, allowed them to pass on.
A few hundred yards further, another sentry challenged them. The sameofficer replied in French, "Provision boats. Don't make a noise; theEnglish will hear us."
A few minutes later, the boats rowed up to the strand, at the foot ofthe heights. Vergor had placed no sentry on the shore, and the troopslanded unchallenged. Guided by James Walsham, Colonel Howe, with histwenty-four volunteers, led the way. As silently as they could, theymoved up the pathway, until they gained the top, and saw before themthe outline of the tents. They went at them with a rush. Vergor leapedfrom his bed, and tried to run off, but was shot in the heel andcaptured. His men, taken by surprise, made little resistance. One ortwo were caught, but the rest fled.
The main body of the troops were waiting, for the most part, in theboats by the edge of the bank. Not a word was spoken as the menlistened, almost breathlessly, for a sound which would tell themwhether the enterprise had succeeded. Suddenly the stillness was brokenby the musketry on the top of the heights, followed by a loud Britishcheer. Then all leapt from the boats, and each man, with his musketslung at his back, scaled the rocks as best he might. The narrow pathhad been made impassable by trenches and abattis, but the obstructionswere soon cleared away, and the stream of soldiers poured steadily up.
As soon as a sufficient number had gained the plateau, strong partieswere sent off to seize the batteries at Samos and Sillery, which hadjust opened fire upon the boats and ships. This was easily done, andthe English footing on the plateau was assured. As fast as the boatswere emptied of the men, they rowed back to the ships to fetch more,and the whole force was soon on shore. The day began to break a fewminutes after the advanced troops had gained the heights, and, beforeit was fairly daylight, all the first party were drawn up in line,ready to resist attack. But no enemy was in sight. A body of Canadians,who had sallied from the town on hearing the firing, and moved alongthe strand towards the landing place, had been quickly driven back,and, for the present, no other sign of the enemy was to be seen.
Wolfe reconnoitred the ground, and found a suitable place for a battle,at a spot known as the Plains of Abraham, from a pilot of that name whohad owned a piece of land there, in the early days of the colony. Itwas a tract of grass, with some cornfields here and there, and studdedby clumps of bushes. On the south, it was bounded by the steep falldown to the Saint Lawrence; on the north, it sloped gradually down tothe Saint Charles.
Wolfe led his troops to this spot and formed them in line, across theplateau and facing the city. The right wing rested on the edge of theheight, along the Saint Lawrence, but the left did not extend farenough to reach the slopes down to the Saint Charles. To prevent beingoutflanked on this wing, Brigadier Townshend was stationed here, withtwo battalions, drawn up at right angles to the rest, and facing theSaint Charles. Webb's regiment formed the reserve, the 3d battalion ofRoyal Americans were left to guard the landing, and Howe's lightinfantry occupied a wood, far in the rear of the force, to checkBougainville should he approach from that direction. Wolfe, with histhree brigadiers, commanded the main body, which, when all the troopshad arrived, numbered less than three thousand five hundred men.
Quebec was less than a mile distant from the spot where the troops wereposted, in order of battle, but an intervening ridge hid it from thesight of the troops. At six o'clock, the white uniforms of thebattalion of Guienne, which had marched up in hot haste from their campon the Saint Charles, made their appearance on the ridge, and haltedthere, awaiting reinforcements. Shortly afterwards, there was anoutbreak of hot firing in the rear, where the light troops, underColonel Howe, repulsed a detachment of Bougainville's command, whichcame up and attacked them.
Montcalm had been on the alert all night. The guns of Saunders' fleetthundered unceasingly, opposite Beauport, and its boats hovered nearthe shore, threatening a landing. All night, the French troops remainedin their intrenchments. Accompanied by the Chevalier Johnston, heremained all night in anxious expectation. He felt that the criticalmoment had come, but could not tell from which direction the blow wasto arrive. He had sent an officer to Vaudreuil, whose quarters werenear Quebec, begging him to send word instantly, should anything occurabove the town.
Just at daybreak, he heard the sound of cannon from that direction.This was the battery at Samos, opening fire upon the English ships. Butno word came from Vaudreuil and, about six o'clock, Montcalm mountedand, accompanied by Johnston, rode towards the town. As he approachedthe bridge across the Saint Charles, the country behind the town openedto his view, and he presently saw the red line of British troops, drawnup on the heights above the river, two miles away. Instantly, he sentJohnston off, at full gallop, to bring up the troops from the centreand left. Vaudreuil had already ordered up those on the right. Montcalmrode up to Vaudreuil's quarters, and, after a few words with thegovernor, galloped over the bridge of the Saint Charles towards theseat of danger.
It must have been a bitter moment for him. The fruits of his long careand watching were, in a moment, snatched away, and, just when he hopedthat the enemy, foiled and exhausted, were about to return to England,he found that they had surmounted the obstacles he had deemedimpregnable, and were calmly awaiting him on a fair field of battle.One who saw him said that he rode towards the field, with a fixed look,uttering not a word.
The army followed in hot haste, crossed the Saint Charles, pas
sedthrough Quebec, and hurried on to the ridge, where the battalion ofGuienne had taken up its position. Nothing could have been strongerthan the contrast which the two armies afforded. On the one side wasthe red English line, quiet and silent, save that the war pipes of theHighlanders blew loud and shrilly; on the other were the white-coatedbattalions of the regular army of France, the blue-clad Canadians, thebands of Indians in their war paint and feathers, all hurried andexcited by their rapid march, and by the danger which had sounexpectedly burst upon them.
Now the evils of a divided command were apparent. Vaudreuilcountermanded Montcalm's orders for the advance of the left of thearmy, as he feared that the English might make a descent upon Beauport.Nor was the garrison of Quebec available, for Ramesay, its commander,was under the orders of Vaudreuil and, when Montcalm sent to him fortwenty-five field guns from one of its batteries, he only sent three,saying that he wanted the rest for his own defence.
Montcalm held a council of war with all his officers, and determined toattack at once. For this he has been blamed. That he must have foughtwas certain, for the English, in the position which they occupied, cuthim off from the base of his supplies; but he might have waited for afew hours, and in that time he could have sent messengers, and broughtup the force of Bougainville, which could have marched, by a circuitousroute, and have joined him without coming in contact with the English.
Upon the other hand, Montcalm had every reason to believe that thethirty-five hundred men he saw before him formed a portion, only, ofthe English army, that the rest were still on board the fleet oppositeBeauport, and that a delay would bring larger reinforcements to Wolfethan he could himself receive. He was, as we know, mistaken, but hisreasoning was sound, and he had, all along, believed the English armyto be far more numerous than it really was. He was doubtless influencedby the fact that his troops were full of ardour, and that any delaywould greatly dispirit the Canadians and Indians.
He therefore determined to attack at once. The three field pieces, sentby Ramesay, opened fire upon the English line with canister, whilefifteen hundred Canadians and Indians crept up among the bushes andknolls, and through the cornfield, and opened a heavy fire. Wolfe threwout skirmishers in front of the line, to keep these assailants incheck, and ordered the rest of the troops to lie down to avoid thefire.
On the British left, the attack was most galling. Bands of thesharpshooters got among the thickets, just below the edge of thedeclivity down to the Saint Charles, and from these, and from severalhouses scattered there, they killed and wounded a considerable numberof Townshend's men.
Howe was called up, with his light troops, from the rear; and he, andthe two flank battalions of Townshend, dashed at the thickets, and,after some sharp fighting, partially cleared them, and took and burnedsome of the houses.
Towards ten o'clock, the French advanced to the attack. Their centrewas formed of regular troops, only, with regulars and Canadianbattalions on either flank. Two field pieces which, with enormouslabour, the English had dragged up the path from the landing place, atonce opened fire with grape upon the French line.
The advance was badly conducted. The French regulars marched steadilyon, but the Canadians, firing as they advanced, threw themselves on theground to reload, and this broke the regularity of the line. TheEnglish advanced some little distance, to meet their foes, and thenhalted.
Not a shot was fired until the French were within forty paces, andthen, at the word of command, a volley of musketry crashed out alongthe whole length of the line. So regularly was the volley given, thatthe French officers afterwards said that it sounded like a singlecannon shot. Another volley followed, and then the continuous roar ofindependent firing.
When the smoke cleared off a little, its effects could be seen. TheFrench had halted where they stood, and, among them, the dead andwounded were thickly strewn. All order and regularity had been lostunder that terrible fire, and, in three minutes, the line of advancingsoldiers was broken up into a disorderly shouting mob. Then Wolfe gavethe order to charge, and the British cheer, mingled with the wild yellof the Highlanders, rose loud and fierce. The English regimentsadvanced with levelled bayonets. The Highlanders drew their broadswordsand rushed headlong forward.
The charge was decisive. The French were swept helplessly before it,and the battle was at an end, save that the scattered parties ofCanadians and Indians kept up, for some time, a fire from the bushesand cornfields.
Their fire was heaviest on the British right, where Wolfe himself ledthe charge, at the head of the Louisbourg Grenadiers. A shot shatteredhis wrist. He wrapped his handkerchief around it and kept on. Anothershot struck him, but he still advanced. When a third pierced hisbreast, he staggered and sat down. Two or three officers and mencarried him to the rear, and then laid him down, and asked if theyshould send for a surgeon.
"There is no need," he said. "It is all over with me."
A moment later, one of those standing by him cried out:
"They run, see how they run!"
"Who run?" Wolfe asked.
"The enemy, sir. They give way everywhere."
"Go, one of you, to Colonel Burton," Wolfe said. "Tell him to marchWebb's regiment down to the Charles River, to cut off their retreatfrom the bridge;" then, turning on his side, he said:
"Now, God be praised, I will die in peace!" and, a few minutes later,he expired.
Montcalm, still on horseback, was borne by the tide of fugitivestowards the town. As he neared the gate, a shot passed through hisbody.
It needed some hard work before the Canadians, who fought bravely,could be cleared out from the thickets. The French troops did not rallyfrom their disorder till they had crossed the Saint Charles. TheCanadians retired in better order.
Decisive as the victory was, the English, for the moment, were in nocondition to follow it up. While on the French side Montcalm was dying,and his second in command was mortally wounded; on the English, Wolfewas dead and Monckton, second in rank, badly wounded, and the commandhad fallen upon Townshend, at the moment when the enemy were in fullflight. Knowing that the French could cut the bridge of boats acrossthe Saint Charles, and so stop his pursuit, and that Bougainville wasclose at hand, he halted his troops, and set them to work to intrenchthemselves on the field of battle.
Their loss had been six hundred and sixty-four, of all ranks, killedand wounded; while the French loss was estimated at about double thatnumber. In point of numbers engaged, and in the total loss on bothsides, the fight on the Plains of Abraham does not deserve to rank as agreat battle, but its results were of the most extreme importance, forthe victory transferred Canada from France to England.
Vaudreuil, after joining his force with that of Bougainville, wouldhave still vastly outnumbered the English, and could, by taking up afresh position in their rear, have rendered himself impregnable, untilthe winter forced the English to retire; while the latter had no meansof investing or besieging Quebec. But his weakness was now as great ashis presumption had been before, and, on the evening of the battle, heabandoned the lines of Beauport, and, leaving all his tents and storesbehind him, retreated hastily, or rather it may be said fled, for asthe Chevalier Johnston said of it:
"It was not a retreat, but an abominable flight, with such disorder andconfusion that, had the English known it, three hundred men sent afterus would have been sufficient to have cut all our army to pieces. Thesoldiers were all mixed, scattered, dispersed, and running as hard asthey could, as if the English army were at their heels."
The flight was continued, until they reached the impregnable positionof Jacques Cartier on the brink of the Saint Lawrence, thirty milesfrom the scene of action.
Montcalm died in Quebec the next morning. Levis soon arrived at JacquesCartier from Montreal, and took the command, and at once attempted torestore order, and persuaded Vaudreuil to march back to joinBougainville, who had remained firmly with his command, at Cap Rouge,while the horde of fugitives swept by him. Vaudreuil, before leaving,had given orders to Ramesa
y to surrender, if Quebec was threatened byassault, and Levis, on his march to its relief, was met by the newsthat, on the morning of the 18th, Ramesay had surrendered.
The garrison was utterly dispirited, and unwilling to fight. Theofficers were even more anxious to surrender than the men, and, on thefleet approaching the walls Ramesay obeyed Vaudreuil's orders, andsurrendered. Townshend granted favourable conditions, for he knew thatLevis was approaching, and that his position was dangerous in theextreme. He therefore agreed that the troops and sailors of thegarrison should march out from the place, with the honours of war, andwere to be carried to France, and that the inhabitants should haveprotection in person and property, and free exercise of religion.
The day after the capture of Quebec, James Walsham returned on boardship. The thought of Richard Horton, awaiting the court martial, whichwould assuredly award him the sentence of death for his treachery, wasconstantly in his mind. He remembered the conversation between CaptainPeters and the admiral, and General Wolfe's words: "I should say, keepas careless a watch over him as possible," and he determined, ifpossible, to aid him in making his escape, confident that, in thegeneral exultation at the success of the enterprise, no one wouldtrouble greatly about the matter, and that the admiral would be onlytoo pleased that an inquiry should be avoided, which could but end inthe disgrace and execution of a naval officer.
James was relieved when, on his arrival, he found that Richard Hortonwas still in confinement, for he feared that he might have carried outthe other alternative spoken of by the admiral, and might havecommitted suicide.
"Captain Peters," he said, going up to that officer, "I should beobliged if you would give me an order to see Lieutenant Horton."
"Can't do it, my lad. The admiral's orders are precise. Nobody is to beadmitted to see him, without an order signed by himself."
James accordingly sought the admiral's cabin.
"What do you want to see him for, eh?" the admiral asked.
James hesitated. He would not tell an untruth in the matter, and yet hecould think of no excuse which could answer, without doing so.
"I want to see him, sir, to have some conversation with him."
"Ah!" the admiral said, looking at him keenly. "Conversation, eh! Youare not going to take him a pistol, or poison, or anything of thatsort, to help him to put an end to his wretched existence?"
"No, indeed, sir," James said warmly.
"Humph! You are not thinking, I hope," he said, with a twinkle of theeye, "of helping him to escape?"
James was silent.
"Well, well," the admiral said hastily, "that's not a fair question toask. However, I will tell you in confidence that, if he should escape,which is the most unlikely thing in the world, you know, no one wouldbe particularly sorry, and there would be no great fuss made about it.Everyone in the navy here would feel it cast a slur upon the serviceif, at a time like this, a naval officer were tried and shot fortreachery. However, if it must be it must.
"Here is an order for you to see him. If it was anyone else, I mighthave my doubts about granting it, but as you are the man against whomhe played this scurvy trick, I feel safe in doing so.
"There you are, my lad. Give me your hand. You are a fine fellow, MajorWalsham, a very fine fellow."
Immediately upon entering Quebec, James had purchased a largeturn-screw, some ten yards of fine but strong rope, and three or fourbladders. When he procured the order, he went to his cabin, took offhis coat, wound the rope round his body, and then, putting on his coat,placed the flattened bladders under it and buttoned it up, slipping theturn-screw up his sleeve, and then proceeded to the prisoner's cabin.The sentry at once admitted him, on producing the admiral's order.
Richard Horton was lying down on his berth, and started with surpriseas his visitor entered.
"I am glad you have come to see me, James Walsham, for I have beenwishing to speak to you, and I thought you would come. I have beenthinking much for the last two days. I know that it is all up with me.The proofs are too strong, and I will not face a court martial, for Ihave the means--I know I may tell you safely--of avoiding it. The hourthat brings me news that the court is ordered to assemble, I cease tolive.
"When a man is at that point, he sees things more clearly, perhaps,than he did before. I know that I have wronged you, and, when theadmiral said that you had done all in your power to shield me, I feltmore humiliated than I did when that fatal letter was produced. I knowwhat you have come for--to tell me that you bear me no malice. You area fine fellow, Walsham, and deserve all your good fortune, just as Ideserve what has befallen me. I think, if it had not been for thesquire taking me up, I should never have come to this, but might havegrown up a decent fellow. But my head was turned. I thought I was goingto be a great man, and this is what has come of it."
"I have come partly, as you suppose, to tell you that I bear you nomalice, Richard Horton. I, too, have thought matters over, andunderstand your feeling against me. That first unfortunate quarrel, andits unfortunate result, set you against me, and, perhaps, I never didas much as I might to turn your feelings the other way. However, wewill not talk more of that. All that is past and over. I come to you,now, as the nephew of the man who has done so much for me. I havebrought with me the means of aiding your escape."
"Of aiding my escape, Walsham! You must be mad! I am too securelyfastened here; and, even were it not so, I would not accept a kindnesswhich would cost you your commission, were it known."
"As to the second reason, you may make your mind easy. From words whichdropped, from the admiral, I am sure that everyone will be so glad, atyour escape, that no very strict inquiry will be made. In the nextplace, your fastenings are not so very secure. The porthole is screweddown as usual."
"Yes," Horton said; "but, in addition, there are a dozen strong screwsplaced round it."
"Here is a long turn-screw which will take them out as quickly as thecarpenter put them in," James said, producing the tool; "and here," andhe opened his coat, "is a rope for lowering yourself down into thewater."
"You are very good, James," Horton said quietly; "but it is no use. Ican't swim."
"I know you could not, as a boy," James replied, "and I thought itlikely enough that you have not learned since; but I think, with these,you may make a shift to get ashore," and he produced four bladders andsome strong lashing. "If you blow these out, fasten the necks tightly,and then lash them round you, you can't sink. The drift of the tidewill take you not very far from the point below, and, if you do yourbest to strike out towards the shore, I have no doubt you will be ableto make it. You must lower yourself into the water very quietly, andallow yourself to float down, till you are well astern of the vessel."
Richard Horton stood for a minute or two, with his hand over his eyes;then he said in a broken voice:
"God bless you, Walsham. I will try it. If I am shot, 'tis better thandying by my own hand. If I escape, I will do my best to retrieve mylife. I shall never return to England again, but, under a new name, maystart afresh in the colonies. God bless you, and make you happy."
The young men wrung each other hands, with a silent clasp, and Jamesreturned to his own cabin.
The next morning, the officer of marines reported to Captain Petersthat the prisoner was missing. The porthole was found open, and a ropehanging to the water's edge. The captain at once took the report to theadmiral.
"A bad job," the admiral said, with a twinkle of the eye. "A very badjob! How could it have happened?"
"The sentries report, sir, that they heard no noise during the night,and that the only person who visited the cabin, with the exception ofthe sergeant with the prisoner's food, was Major Walsham, with your ownorder."
"Yes, now I think of it, I did give him an order; but, of course, hecan have had nothing to do with it. Horton must have managed to unscrewthe porthole, somehow, perhaps with a pocketknife, and he might havehad a coil of rope somewhere in his cabin. Great carelessness, youknow. However, at a time like this, we ne
ed not bother our heads aboutit. He's gone, and there's an end of it."
"He could not swim, sir," the captain said. "I heard him say so, once."
"Then most likely he's drowned," the admiral remarked briskly. "That'sthe best thing that could happen. Enter it so in the log book:'Lieutenant Horton fell out of his cabin window, while under arrest formisconduct; supposed to have been drowned.' That settles the wholematter."
Captain Peters smiled to himself, as he made the entry. He wasconvinced, by the calm manner in which the admiral took it, that hemore than suspected that the prisoner had escaped, and that JamesWalsham had had a hand in getting him off.
Shortly after Quebec surrendered, Townshend returned to England withthe fleet, leaving Murray in command of the army at Quebec. In thespring, Levis advanced with eight or nine thousand men against Quebec;and Murray, with three thousand, advanced to meet him, and gave battlenearly on the same ground on which the previous battle had been fought.The fight was a desperate one; but the English, being outflanked by thesuperior numbers of the French, were driven back into Quebec, with theloss of a third of their number.
Quebec was now besieged by the French until, in May, an English fleetarrived, and destroyed the vessels which had brought down the storesand ammunition of Levis from Montreal. The French at once broke uptheir camp, and retreated hastily; but all hope was now gone, the lossof Quebec had cut them off from France.
Amherst invaded the country from the English colonies, and the Frenchwere driven back to Montreal, before which the united English forces,17,000 strong, took up their position; and, on the 8th of September,1760, Vaudreuil signed the capitulation, by which Canada and all itsdependencies passed to the English crown. All the French officers,civil and military, and the French troops and sailors, were to be sentback to France, in English ships.
James Walsham was not present at the later operations round Quebec. Hehad been struck, in the side, by a shot by a lurking Indian, when acolumn had marched out from Quebec, a few days after its capture; and,for three or four weeks, he lay between life and death, on board ship.When convalescence set in, he found that he was already on blue water,all the serious cases being taken back by the fleet when, soon afterthe capture of Quebec, it sailed for England.
The voyage was a long one, and, by the time the fleet sailed with theirconvoy into Portsmouth harbour, James had recovered much of hisstrength. An hour after landing, he was in a post chaise on his wayhome. It seemed strange, indeed, to him, as he drove through the littletown, on his way up to the Hall. He had left it, in the beginning of1755, a raw young fellow of eighteen. He returned, in the last month of1759, a man of twenty-three, with the rank of major, and noinconsiderable share of credit and honour.
He stopped the vehicle at the lodge gate, had his baggage taken outthere, and proceeded on foot towards the Hall, for he was afraid that,if he drove straight up to the door, the sudden delight of seeing himwould be too much for his mother.
John Petersham opened the door, and, recognizing him at once, was aboutto exclaim loudly, when James made a motion for him to be silent.
"Show me quietly into the squire's study, John," he said, grasping thebutler's hand with a hearty squeeze, "and don't say anything about mybeing here, until he has seen my mother. They are all well, I hope?"
"All well, sir, and right glad they will be to see you; for Mrs.Walsham, and all of them, have been fretting sorely since the news camethat you were badly wounded."
"I have had a narrow shave of it," James said; "but, thank God, I am aswell now as ever!"
As he spoke, he opened the door of the study, and entered. The squire,who was reading the paper, looked up, and leapt to his feet with a cryof satisfaction.
"My dear boy, I am glad--thank God you are back again! What a reliefyour coming will be to us all!"
And he shook James warmly by both hands.
"I should hardly have known you, and yet you are not so much changed,either. Dear, dear, how delighted your mother will be! You have notseen her yet?"
"No, sir," James said. "I dismissed the post chaise at the gate, andwalked up quietly. I was afraid, if I drove suddenly up, the shockmight be too much for her."
"Quite right!" the squire said. "We must break it to her quietly. Wilksmust do it--or no, he shall tell Aggie, and she shall tell yourmother."
He rang the bell, and John, who had been expecting a summons, instantlyappeared.
"Tell Mr. Wilks I want to speak to him, John."
The old soldier speedily appeared, and his delight was as great as ifJames had been his son. He went off to break the news, and, in a shorttime, Mrs. Walsham was in the arms of her son.
Major Walsham went no more to the wars, nor did he follow his originalintention of entering the medical profession. Indeed, there was nooccasion for him to do either. For Aggie insisted on his leaving thearmy; and she had a very strong voice in the matter. James had not longbeen home before he and the young lady came to an understanding. Beforespeaking to her, James had consulted his old friend.
"You know how I feel," he said; "but I don't know whether it would beright. You see, although I am major in the service, I have nothing butmy pay. I owe everything to the squire, and he would naturally lookvery much higher for a husband for his granddaughter."
"Don't you be a fool, James Walsham," Mr. Wilks said. "I made up mymind that you should marry Aggie, ever since the day when you got herout of the sea. The squire has known, for years, what I thought on thesubject. You will meet with no opposition from him, for he is almost asproud of you as I am. Besides, he thinks only of Aggie's happiness,and, unless I am greatly mistaken, that young lady has fully made upher mind on the subject."
This was indeed the case, for Aggie, when James had settled the pointwith her, made no hesitation in telling him that she had regarded himas her special property since she had been a child.
"I considered it all settled, years and years ago," she said demurely,"and I was quite aggrieved, I can tell you, when, on your arrival, youjust held out your hand to me, instead of--well, instead of doing thesame to me as to your mother."
"You shall have no reason for complaint, that way, in the future,Aggie, I promise you. But how could I tell? The last time I saw you,you were flirting, as hard as you could, with someone else."
"Well, sir, whose fault was that? You chose to make yourselfdisagreeable, and stay away, and what was I to do? I should do the samein the future, I can tell you, if you neglected me in the same way."
"I sha'n't give you the chance, Aggie. You can rely upon that."
The squire was fully prepared for the communication which James had tomake to him, and, as there were no reasons for waiting, the ceremonytook place very shortly afterwards.
The squire never asked any questions about his nephew. The officialreport had come home that Lieutenant Horton had died of drowning, whileunder arrest, but the squire forbore all inquiry, and, to the end ofhis life, remained in ignorance of the disgraceful circumstances.
Perhaps, in his heart, the news was a relief to him. He had never beenfond of Richard as a lad, and his confidence, once shaken, had neverbeen restored. He had intended to carry out his promise to leave himtwenty thousand pounds; but he was well pleased that all that belongedto him should descend to his granddaughter. Mr. Wilks was the onlyresident at the Hall who ever learned, from James, the facts of RichardHorton's disgrace.
Years afterwards a few lines, without signature or address, came toJames from America. The writer said that he was sure that he would beglad to hear that, under a changed name, he was doing very well.
"I shall never return to England," he ended, "nor ever forget yourkindness and generosity."
The marriage of the young people made but few changes at the Hall. Thesquire proposed to give Aggie, at once, a sum which would havepurchased an estate in the neighbourhood; but he was delighted to findthat she, and James, had made up their minds that the party at the Hallshould not be broken up.
"What do you want to send
us away for, grandpapa?" she asked. "Youthree will be happier for having us with you, and James and I will behappier for having you with us. What nonsense to talk about buyinganother estate! We might get a little house up in London. It would makea change, for James and me to spend two or three months every yearthere, but of course this will be our home."
And so it was arranged, and so matters continued until, in the lapse oftime, the seniors passed away, and James Walsham and his wife, and itmay be said their children, became the sole occupants of the Hall, theestate having been largely increased, by the purchase of adjoiningproperty, by the squire before his death. James Walsham might haverepresented his county in Parliament had he chosen, but he was far toohappy in his country life, varied by a few months passed every year intown, to care about taking part in the turmoil of politics. He did muchfor Sidmouth, and especially for its fishermen, and, to the end of hislife, retained a passionate love for the sea.