Book 5: Within Quebec.
Chapter 1: The Impregnable City.
Within a lofty chamber, with narrow windows and walls of massivethickness, stood a young, bright-haired girl, looking with dreamyeyes across the wide waters of the great St. Lawrence, as it rolledits majestic course some hundreds of feet below. Although thatmighty waterway narrowed as it passed the rocky promontory uponwhich the city of Quebec was built, it was even there a wonderfulriver; and looking westward, as the girl was doing, it seemed tospread out before her eyes like a veritable sea. It was dotted withships of various dimensions bringing in supplies, or news of cominghelp or peril--news of that great armament from distant England,perhaps, whose approach was being awaited by all within the citywith a sense of intense expectancy, not entirely unmixed with fear.
True, the soldiers laughed to scorn the idea of any attack uponQuebec. It stood upon its rocky tongue of land, frowning andunassailable, as it seemed to them. All along the north bank of thelower river the French were throwing up earthworks and intrenchingtheir army, to hinder any attempt at landing troops there; and theguns of the town batteries would soon sink and destroy any vesselrash enough to try to pass the town, and gain a footing upon theshores above. Indeed, so frowning and precipitous were these thatnature herself seemed to be sufficient guard.
"Let the English come, and see what welcome we have got for them!"was a favourite exclamation from soldiers and townsfolk; yet allthe same there was anxiety in the faces of those who watched dailyfor the first approach of the English sails. Had not Louisbourgsaid the same, and yet had fallen before English hardihood andresolution? Those in the highest places in this Canadian capitalbest knew the rotten condition into which her affairs had fallen.The corruption amongst officials, the jealousy between Governor andGeneral, the crafty self seeking of the Intendant--these and ahundred other things were enough to cause much anxiety atheadquarters. The grand schemes of the French for acquiring a wholevast continent were fast dwindling down to the anxious hope ofbeing able to keep what they already possessed.
The girl gazing forth from the narrow window was turning over inher mind the things that she had heard. Her fair face was grave,yet it was bright, too, and as she threw out her hand towards thevista of the great river rolling its mighty volume of water towardsthe sea, she suddenly exclaimed:
"And what if they do come? what if they do conquer? Have we notdeserved it? have we not brought ruin upon our own heads by thewickedness and cruelty we have made our allies? And if England'sflag should one day wave over the fortress of Quebec, as it nowdoes over that of Louisbourg, what is that to me? Have I notEnglish--or Scotch--blood in my veins? Am I not as much English asFrench? I sometimes think that, had I my choice, England would bethe country where I should best love to dwell. It is the land offreedom--all say that, even my good uncle, who knows so well. Ilove freedom; I love what is noble and great. Sometimes I feel inmy heart that England will be the greatest country of the world."
Her eyes glowed; she stretched forth her hands in a speakinggesture. The waters of the great river seemed to flash back ananswer. Cooped up within frowning walls, amid the buildings of thefortress and upper town, Corinne felt sometimes like a bird in aprison cage; and yet the life fascinated her, with its constantexcitements, its military environment, its atmosphere of comingdanger. She did not want to leave Quebec till the struggle betweenthe nations had been fought out. And yet she scarcely knew whichside she wished to see win. French though her training had been oflate years, yet her childhood had been spent in the stormy north,amid an English-speaking people. She had seen much that disgustedand saddened her here amongst the French of Canada. She despisedthe aged libertine who still sat upon the French throne with allthe scorn and disgust of an ardent nature full of noble impulses.
"I hate to call myself his subject!" she had been known to say. "Iwill be free to choose to which nation I will belong. I have theright to call myself English if I choose."
Not that Corinne very often gave way to such open demonstrations ofher national independence, It was to her aunt, Madame Drucour, withwhom she was now making a home, that she indulged these littlerhapsodies, secure of a certain amount of indulgence and evensympathy from that lady, who had reason to think and speak well ofEnglish gallantry and chivalry.
Madame Drucour occupied a small house wedged in amongst thenumerous strongly-built houses and ecclesiastical buildings of theupper town of Quebec. The house had been deserted by its originaloccupants upon the first news of the fall of Louisbourg. Many ofthe inhabitants of Quebec had taken fright at that, and had sailedfor France; and Madame Drucour had been placed here by her husband,who himself was wanted in other quarters to repel English advances.The lady had been glad to summon to her side her niece Corinne,who, since the state of the country had become so disturbed, hadbeen placed by her father and uncle in the Convent of theUrsulines, under the charge of the good nuns there.
Corinne had been fond of the nuns; but the life of the cloister waslittle to her taste. She was glad enough to escape from itsmonotony, and to make her home with her father's sister. MadameDrucour could tell her the most thrilling and delightful stories ofthe siege of Louisbourg. Already she felt to know a great dealabout war in general and sieges in particular. She oftenexperienced a thrill of pride and delight in the thought that sheherself was about to be a witness of a siege of which all the worldwould be talking.
As she stood at the window today, a footstep rang through the quiethouse below, and suddenly the door of the little chamber was flungwide open.
"Corinne!" cried a ringing voice which she well knew.
She turned round with a little cry of joy.
"Colin!" she cried, and the next minute brother and sister werelocked in a fervent embrace.
"O Colin, Colin, when did you come, and whence?"
"Just this last hour, and from Montreal," he answered. "Oh, whatstrange adventures I have seen since last we met! Corinne, therehave been times when I thought never to see you again! I have somuch to say I know not where to begin. I have seen our triumphs,and I have seen our defeat. Corinne, it is as our uncle said. Thereis a great man now at the helm in England, and we are feeling hispower out here in the West."
"Do you think the tide has turned against the French arms?" askedCorinne breathlessly.
"What else can I think? Has not Fort Frontenac fallen? Has not FortDuquesne been abandoned before the advancing foe? Our realm in thewest is cut away from Canada in the north. If we cannot reunitethem, our power is gone. And they say that Ticonderoga and CrownPoint will be the next to fall. The English are massing upon LakeGeorge. They have commanders of a different calibre now. PoorTiconderoga! I grew to love it well. I spent many a happy monththere. But what can we do to save it, threatened as we are now bythe English fleet in the great St. Lawrence itself?"
"Are they not brave, these English?" cried Corinne, with anenthusiasm of admiration in her face and voice. "Colin, I am glad,oh very glad, that you and I are not all French. We can admire ourgallant foes without fear of disloyalty to our blood. We have causeto know how gallant and chivalrous they can be."
Colin's eyes lighted with eager pleasure.
"You remember that day in the forest, Corinne, and how we wereprotected by English Rangers from hurt?"
"Ah, do I not! And I have heard, too, from our Aunt Drucour, oftheir kindness and generosity to a conquered army--"
But she stopped, and waited for her brother to speak, as she sawthat he had more to say.
"You remember the big, tall Ranger, whose name was Fritz?" he saideagerly.
"Yes, I remember him well."
"He is here--in Quebec--in this house at this very minute! He and Ihave travelled from Montreal with my uncle."
Corinne's eyes were bright with eager interest.
Ah, Colin! is that truly so? And how came that about? Youtravelling with an English Ranger!"
"Yes, truly, and we owe our lives to his valour and protection. Itis strange how Dame Fortune has
thrown us across each other's pathtimes and again during these past few short years. First, he savedus from attack in the forest. You need not that I should tell youmore of that, Corinne. Afterwards, some few of us from Ticonderogasaved the lives of him and of a few other Rangers who had falleninto the hands of the Indians after that defeat at Fort WilliamHenry, which had scattered them far and wide. We felt such shame atthe way our Indian allies had behaved, and at the little protectiongiven to the prisoners of war by our Canadian troops, that we wereglad to show kindness and hospitality to the wanderers, Rangersthough they were; and when I recognized Fritz, I was the more glad.He was wounded and ill, and we nursed him to health ere we sent himaway. After that it was long before we met again, and then he cameto our succour when we were in the same peril from Indians as hehad been himself the year before."
"From Indians? O brother!" and Corinne shuddered, for she had thathorror of the red-skinned race which comes to those who have seenand heard of their cruelties and treachery from those who havedwelt amongst them.
"Yes, you must know, Corinne, that in the west, where our unclegoes with the word of life and truth, the Indians are alreadywavering, and are disposed to return to their past friendship withthe English. They are wonderfully cunning and far-seeing. They seemto have that same instinct as men say that rats possess, and areeager to leave the sinking ship, or to join themselves to thewinning side, whichever way you like to put it. Since we have seenmisfortune they have begun to change towards us. We cannot trustthem out in the west. They are becoming sullen, if not hostile. Avery little and they will turn upon us with savage fury--at leastif they are not withheld from it by the English themselves."
Corinne's cheek flushed; she flung back her head with anindescribable gesture.
"And I believe the English will withhold them. To our shame be itspoken, the French have made use of them. They have stooped to awarfare which makes civilized man shudder with horror. England willnot use such methods; I am sure of it, And she will prosper wherewe have failed; for God in the heavens rules the nations uponearth, and He will not suffer such wickedness to continue forever.If France in the west falls, she falls rather by her own act thanby that of her foes."
"That is what my uncle says," answered Colin earnestly; "it is whathe has striven all along to impress upon our leaders, but withoutavail. He has been seeking, too, to show to the Indians themselvesthe evil of their wicked practices. He has never been afraid ofthem; he has always been their friend. But the day came when theywould no longer listen to him; when they drove us forth with hatredand malice; when there came into their faces that which made memore afraid than anything I have ever faced in my life before,Corinne. We dared not stay. The chief dismissed us and bid us begone quickly, whilst he could still hold his people in check. Hedid not wish harm to come to us; but savage blood is hard to check.
"We got away from the village, and hoped the danger was over. Wemade our way as well as we could towards Montreal. But our unclewas weak; he had had several attacks of fever. One day he could nottravel. That night we were set upon by a score of wanderingIndians. They would not listen to our words, We were white men,that was enough. All white men were their enemies, they said. Theywould roast us alive first and eat us afterwards, they declared,"
"O Colin!" cried Corinne, with widely-dilated eyes.
"Yes; I can see their eyes now, rolling and gleaming. They begancollecting light brushwood around the upright stakes they droveinto the ground. They laughed and yelled, and sprang about withfrightful contortions. They were working themselves up as they dobefore they set to one of their frightful pieces of work. Our unclecalled me to him, and we prayed together. At least he prayed, and Itried to follow his words; but I could do nothing but watch thoseawful preparations. Then suddenly a shout arose from the foresthard by, and the Indians seized their weapons. We sent up a shout,caring little whether it was answered by English or French. We knewthat what we had heard was no Indian whoop; it came from thethroats of white men.
"Next minute a body of Rangers had dashed amongst us. The Indiansfled, scattering right and left like chaff before the wind. Nextminute I distinguished the friendly face of Fritz. He was kneelingbeside our uncle, and asking him tenderly if he were hurt."
"The same Fritz as saved us in the forest! Oh, I am glad it washe!"
"So was I; and doubly glad when I found that he knew more about thecure of these forest fevers than even our uncle himself. TheRangers made a hut for us, and for three days Fritz doctored ouruncle, till he was almost well again. But they would not leave usin the forest, with the bands of treacherous Indians prowlingaround. They escorted us to within a short distance of Montrealitself, and Fritz consented to come into the city as our guest; andsince he speaks French almost as well as English, he was a welcomeguest to all. He became so much attached to my uncle that heconsented to come with us to Quebec. For he is anxious to join theEnglish squadron when it reaches these waters, and my uncle gavehim his word of honour that no hindrance shall be placed in the wayof his doing so. Perhaps it may be even well for one who has seenthe extreme strength of the town, and the preparations made for itsdefence by land and sea, to go to warn the bold invaders that thetask they contemplate is one which is well nigh if not quiteimpossible."
"O Colin, it is good indeed to have you again, out of the very jawsof death! Let me go myself and thank this noble Fritz for his goodoffices. Colin, I fear me I am half a traitor to the cause ofFrance already; for there is that in my heart which bids me regardthe English as friends rather than as foes. And when I hear menshake their heads and say that they may one day be the masters ofthese broad lands of the west, it raises within me no feeling ofanger or grief. I cannot be a true daughter of France to feel so!"
"And yet I share that feeling, Corinne. I often feel that I am lessthan half a Frenchman! My good uncle sometimes shakes his head overme; but then he smiles, and says that the mother's blood alwaysruns strong in the firstborn son; and methinks, had our motherlived, she would have been on the side of those who speak hertongue and hail from the grey lands of the north."
"Ah, it is good that you feel the same, Colin! I had almost chidedmyself for being half a traitor. And now take me to our good friendFritz, that I may thank him myself and see him again with mine owneyes."
Brother and sister descended the stone stairway which divided thevarious floors of that narrow house. As they reached the foot ofthe staircase, they heard the sound of voices from a half-opendoor, and Corinne said with a smile:
"It is our Aunt Drucour talking with the stranger. She is evereager for news of the war. A soldier is always a friend to her, soas he brings her tidings."
The room into which Corinne and Colin stepped softly, so as not todisturb the conversation of their elders, was a long and narrowapartment, with the same small windows which characterized the restof the house. A table in the centre of the room took up the chiefof the space, and at this table sat a bronzed and stalwart man,whom Corinne instantly recognized as her protector in that forestadventure of long ago. He was seated with a trencher before him,and was doing an justice to the fare set out; but he was also inearnest conversation with Madame Drucour, who was seated opposite,her elbows lightly resting upon the table, and her chin upon herclasped hands.
Upon a couch beneath the window lay the Abbe himself, with a cup ofwine beside him. He looked like a man who has been throughconsiderable fatigue and hardship, though his brow was serene andhis eyes were bright as he followed the rapid conversation whichpassed be tween the pair at the tables.
As the boy and girl entered it was Fritz who was speaking, and hespoke eagerly.
"You have seen Julian Dautray, my friend and comrade who sailedaway to England several years since on an embassy from the town ofPhiladelphia? Now this is news indeed. For I have heard no word ofhim from that day to this; yet once we were like brothers, and wemade that long, long journey together from the far south, till oursouls were knit together even as the souls of David and Jonathan.Tell me of him
! Is he well? Is he still in this new world beyondthe dividing sea?"
"After the capture of Louisbourg," answered Madame Drucour, withthe little touch of shrinking in her tone which such words alwaysoccasioned her, "he was to accompany the gallant Brigadier Wolfe(to whose untiring energy and zeal much of England's success wasdue) upon some mission of destruction on the coasts, little indeedto that soldier's liking. After that, I heard that they were tosail for England, since the brave officer's health stood in greatneed of recruiting. But it was known to all of us that MonsieurWolfe would never rest content till he had seen whether he mightnot repeat at Quebec what he had accomplished at Louisbourg. And ifnot actually known, it is more than conjectured that the fleet fromEngland which brings our foes into these waters will bring with itthat gallant soldier Wolfe; and if so, you may be sure that yourgood friend (and mine) Monsieur Julian Dautray will be with him."
"That is good hearing," cried Fritz, whose face was beaming withsatisfaction and pleasure; "it is like a feast to a hungry man tohear news of Julian again!"
And he listened with extreme interest whilst the lady told him allshe knew of his friend--his daring dash into the fortress disguisedas a French soldier, and his many acts of chivalrous generosity atthe close of the siege.
"We have reason to be grateful to you English," said MadameDrucour, with a gracious smile. "It is a happiness, when we have tofight, to find such generous and noble foes. It is hard to believethat this strong city of Quebec will ever open its gates even to sobrave a commander as the gallant Wolfe; and yet, if such a thingwere again to be here as was at Louisbourg, I, for one, shall beable to welcome the victor with a smile as well as a sigh; for Ihave seen how generous he is to sick and wounded, and how gentlychivalrous to women and children."
"Yet those were stern terms demanded from capitulating Louisbourg,"spoke the Abbe thoughtfully.
"They were," said the lady, with a sigh; "and yet can we wonder sogreatly? England has suffered much from the methods we of France havepursued in our warfare. But let us not think of that tonight; let usremember only that English and French may be friends--individually--eventhough our nations are at war. Let us entertain Monsieur with the bestat our command, and bid him Godspeed when he shall choose to leave us.
"Ah! and there I see my nephew Colin.
"Welcome, dear child; thou art child no longer.
"What a fine youth he has grown with the flight of years! I shouldscarce have known him!"
Whilst aunt and nephew were exchanging amenities in one part of theroom, Corinne approached Fritz, who had risen to his feet at sightof her, and putting out a hand said with a shy smile:
"I am glad to welcome you again, Monsieur."
"And I to see you once again, Mademoiselle," he replied. "I haveoften wondered whether I should ever have that pleasure. The chanceof war has brought me and your brother face to face three timesalready. But I scarce thought I should see you again. I thoughtthese troubled days would have sent you back to France. These arestrange places for tender maidens to abide in--these walled cities,with guns without and within!"
"Ah, but I have no home in France," answered the girl, "and I wouldnot be sent away. I have grown to love this strange Western landand the struggle and stress of the life here. I would fain see theend of this mighty struggle. To which scale will victory incline,think you, Monsieur? Will the flag of England displace that ofFrance over the town and fortress of this city of Quebec?"
"Time alone can show that," answered Fritz gravely; "and we mustnot boast of coming victory after all the ignominious defeats thatwe have suffered. But this I know--the spirit of England is yetunbroken. She has set herself to a task, and will not readily turnback from it. If the spirit of her sons is the same now as it wasin the days of which our fathers have told us, I think that shewill not quietly accept repulse."
Corinne's eyes flashed; she seemed to take a strange sort of pridein anticipations such as these.
"I like that spirit," she cried; "it has not been the spirit ofFrance. She has boasted, boasted, boasted of all the wonders shewas to perform, and yet she has never made good her hold in thesouth. Now the tide seems to have turned here in the north; andthough men speak brave words of defiance, their hearts are failingthem for fear. And have they not reason to fear--they who have doneso ignobly?"
"Do you remember what you told us when we met in the forest longago?" asked Fritz. "Do you remember the name you spoke--the name ofPitt--and told us that when that man's hand was on the helm ofEngland's statecraft the turn of the tide would come? And so wewaited for news from home, and at last we heard the name of Pitt.And, behold, since then the tide has turned indeed. Those words ofyours have upheld our hopes in many a dark hour. And now that thefulfilment seems so near, shall we not feel grateful to those whoheld out the torch of hope when all was darkness?"
Corinne smiled brightly, and held out her little hand again.
"We will be friends, come what will," she said; "for I love theEnglish as well as the French, and I have cause to know whatgenerous foes they can make!"
So Fritz became the guest of Madame Drucour in the narrow littlestone house; the Abbe likewise remained as an inmate whilst herecruited the health that had been so sorely tried and shattered oflate. Fritz was in no haste to depart, if his hosts desired hispresence there. He would join the English fleet when it appeared;but it mattered little to him how he passed the intervening time.He could pass as well for a Frenchman as an Englishman, and did sofor the time he remained in the city; but he kept his eyes open,and took careful note of what he saw, and, in truth, it seemed tohim that the English fleet had little or no chance of effecting anylanding in or near Quebec.
The fortifications of the town were immensely strong; so was itsposition--so commandingly situated upon the little tongue of land.There was a small camp upon the opposite point of land, which mightperhaps be strengthened with advantage; but the whole of the northbank of the river was being fortified and intrenched, and wasmanned by regulars and Canadian troops, all well armed andmunitioned. It was impossible to see how any attacking force couldobtain a foothold upon that strand; and if Fritz's hosts took careto let him see all this, it seemed to him a proof that they wellunderstood the impregnable character of their position.
But it was no part of Fritz's plan to linger over long in Quebec,although he was wishful to see the city for himself, and to judgeof the strength of its position. He knew that the fleet fromLouisbourg would be hanging about nearer the mouth of the greatestuary, and to a traveller of his experience the journey either byland or water was a mere trifle.
Any day the sails of the English vessels might be expected toappear. The seething excitement in the city, and the eager andlaborious preparations upon land, showed how public feeling wasbeing aroused. It might not be well for Fritz to linger muchlonger. If his real connection with the English were discovered, hemight find himself in difficulties.
"I have arranged with a boatman to take you down the river tonight,Monsieur," said Madame Drucour to him; when he had expressed adetermination to leave. "He is scouting for information as to theEnglish fleet, and we have heard that vessels have been seen in theregion of the Isle-aux-Coudres. He will land you there, and youwill then have no difficulty in rejoining your countrymen. IfMonsieur Wolfe has arrived, pray give him my best compliments, andtell him that I hope his health is improved, and that if we shouldmeet once again it will be as friends."
"I will not forget to do so, Madame," answered Fritz. "I myselflook forward with pleasure to making the acquaintance of that greatsoldier. I should not have dared to think that I might approach himmyself; but since Julian is his friend, I shall not be denied hispresence."
Corinne was listening to the talk with eager interest; now shebroke in with a smile:
"And tell Monsieur Julian that if he should repeat his strategy ofLouisbourg here at Quebec, and steal into the city in disguise, Ihope he will come to see us here. We are very well disposed towardsthe English, my aunt and I. We sho
uld have a welcome for him, andwould see that he came to no harm."
Madame Drucour laughed, and patted the cheek of her niece.
"Make no rash promises, little one. The game of war is a fiercerand more deadly and dangerous one than thou canst realize as yet.It may be our privilege to shelter and succour a hunted foe; buttempt not any man to what might be certain destruction. Spies meetwith scant mercy; and there are Indians in this city who know notthe meaning of mercy, and have eyes and ears quicker and keenerthan our own. Monsieur and his friends had better now remainwithout the city walls, unless the day should come when they canenter them as conquerors and masters of all."
She drew herself together and gave a little, quick, shudderingsigh, as though realizing as those never could do who had not seenwar what must inevitably be ere such an end could be accomplished.
Fritz took her hand and carried it to his lips.
"If such a day as that come, Madame," he said, "be very sure thatmy first duty and privilege will be to protect you and yours fromharm. Adieu; and if I can ever repay your kindness to me, be surethe opportunity shall not be neglected."
French and English: A Story of the Struggle in America Page 17