The Span o' Life Part 35

When I was almost face to face with the guard I made out it was composed of sailors, and just as I expected to hear the words which meant discovery and disgrace, one said to the other in a tone of authority: "The Seventy-eighth. It's all right!" and without challenging me they presented arms. Had I even known the pa.s.sword I could not have p.r.o.nounced it, for my tongue clave to the roof of my mouth; but seeing my intent, the man who had spoken stepped before me and opened the wicket. I raised my hand in acknowledgment, and pa.s.sed through.

I was without the walls.

Part III

MAXWELL'S STORY

"_Adieu, paniers, vendange sont faite._" -- Old Proverb.

CHAPTER XXVI

I CLOSE ONE ACCOUNT AND OPEN ANOTHER

Portentous as were its results, I have never been able to look upon the battle of the 13th of September as adding anything of value to military knowledge. From a technical view it never attained the dignity of battle at any point, and only exceeded a skirmish in the heavy losses and the deaths of the leading generals on each side.

The recognition of their efforts, and of those who so ably replaced them by their respective governments and contemporaries, read as a sorry commentary on the popular distribution of honours.

Wolfe, almost a tyro, at one bound won immortality and immediate applause from his countrymen; Montcalm, almost a veteran, though mourned by those about him, was persistently vilified, even after death, by the very man who should have been his most loyal supporter; I do not hesitate to name M. de Vaudreuil--and I am not aware of even a head-stone having been raised to his memory.

On the other hand, his successor, the Chevalier de Levis, met with fitting reward and honourable advancement in his profession, and the t.i.tles of Duke and Marshal of France are now borne with dignity by one whose natural n.o.bility of soul renders him eminently worthy of such honours.

To complete the contrast, the Honourable James Murray, who succeeded Wolfe, held an unprotected city in an enemy's country throughout a distressing winter, handled his slender troops with contagious enthusiasm, fought and lost a desperate battle like a gallant soldier; later on he governed a conquered people with a consummate tact, and still serves his country with distinction--to meet with no other reward, that I ever heard of, than the approbation of his conscience and the admiration of all honest men.

In writing thus openly I must disclaim any intention of carping, for I would scorn to deprive either of the ill.u.s.trious dead of a single laurel in the crown so n.o.bly won, but the very generosity of contemporary admiration has a tendency to work injustice towards the survivors.

I know personally, for I afterwards had abundant opportunity of judging, with what stoutness of heart did that admirable soldier, General Murray, support his misgivings, when he saw the last English frigate sail from Quebec in the late autumn of '59, bearing his more fortunate comrades to the reward of their gallantry, while he and his little garrison were left in a ruined town to face all the chances of war, to which were added the unknown dangers of a dreaded winter season.

On our side we made our headquarters in Montreal, where the military were busy enough, while the officials and other unemployed cla.s.ses--priests, women, and school-boys--beguiled their inaction, and cheated themselves into hopefulness by the most chimerical and fantastical projects for the retaking of Quebec that ever deluded the human mind.

The truth is, we were as miserable a lot of devils on both sides as one could well imagine. In Quebec, the English were half-starved, half-frozen, wholly without pay, and without reliable information.

In Montreal, we had enough to eat, we were as gay as the clergy, M. de Vaudreuil, and our miserable plight would permit; we were without pay, it is true, but to that we had been long accustomed; but we had the most exact information as to what went on in Quebec, thanks to friends within its walls, while our non-fighting orders, ever at the height of certainty or the depth of despair, had so befooled themselves with their infallible schemes of conquest, that they looked forward to the spring campaign with a confidence almost pitiable in the eyes of thinking men.

Early in April, M. de Levis gathered together his motley army; the remnants of the brigades of Bearn La Reine, La Sarre, Royal Roussillon, Berri, and La Marine, less than four thousand in all, with about three thousand militia and volunteers, and, supported by a few miserable cannon, marched forth to sit down before Quebec.

We were disappointed in our first plan of attack, but on the 28th of April, 1760, we had the good fortune to meet Murray face to face almost on the very ground where Wolfe and Montcalm had fought in the previous September.

Murray's force was somewhat smaller than ours, but more than equalled it in quality, being all regular troops, besides which he had somewhat the advantage of position; but, falling into the same error as Montcalm, he abandoned this to begin the attack, and the same result followed.

The battle of Ste. Foye will always command the respect of men of discretion without regard to the side which may engage their sympathies.

There we met a foe as brave as the heart of soldier could desire who for hours disputed every foot of ground with us, and the one error of the action on our part was rectified with a precision so admirable that it but heightened the honours of the day. Before I record this, I must note a personal incident.

Immediately in front of our left, where the regiments of Bearn and La Sarre were stationed, stood a mill and its dependencies, belonging, I believe, to one called Dumont, and though its possession was not of the slightest strategical importance, by one of those strange chances of battle it became the centre of the most obstinate fighting on both sides. Our grenadiers took possession of it, and held it until driven out at the point of dirk and claymore by the Highlanders, who in turn were dislodged after a desperate hand-to-hand struggle, whereupon the whole contest recommenced. M. de Levis, annoyed by the useless waste of men and the danger of expending such effort and attention on so misleading an object, sent me with orders to have our men withdrawn.

When I arrived the struggle was again at its height, both sides were fighting with the simple ferocity of savages, unmindful of every rule of war. There was neither direction nor command; it was man against man in a mad, unmeaning struggle for the pleasure of mastery.

"Pardon, monsieur," I said to the Chevalier d'Aiguebelle, who commanded the grenadiers, "but M. de Levis sends positive orders that you must withdraw your men. You are distracting the attention of the whole left."

Then catching sight of the officer in command of Fraser's I rode forward and saluted. As he answered my salute I saw it was my once prisoner, Nairn.

"Call off your men, Captain Nairn!" I shouted. "This is simply murder! I have given orders for ours to withdraw. There is no loss of honour on either side."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Call off your men Captain Nairn."]

Without a moment's hesitation he rushed among them, commanding and striking up swords right and left, while we did the same. When our object was attained, he turned to me and said:

"Hark you, sir! I am ready enough to join in avoiding useless slaughter, but I have an account to square with you, for which there shall be no calling off when we meet. Remember that!"

I laughed and saluted, mightily intrigued at what his meaning might be, and then rode off to attend on the General.

Meantime the fighting along the line had been severe, and the enemy's artillery had told on us with such effect that at last our centre wavered and began to give way. Supported by a wood, our left stood firm within about twenty paces of the foe, when a flurried adjutant ran along the line with orders to make a half-turn to the right and retire to some houses in the rear.

M. Malartic, major of La Sarre, stood aghast; it virtually meant retreat, and retreat in such a position invited certain destruction.

He hurried over to M. de Barroute, a captain of Bearn, which stood next to the right, and repeated the order. They agreed at once a mistake had been made, and an ominous murmur arose from the men as the news was whispered from one to another. On this M. Dalquier, their colonel, as fine and experienced an officer as ever drew sword, rode up, and, inquiring of their difficulty, swept it aside by crying, "I will take it upon me to disobey the order. Fix bayonets, mes enfants!" The command was executed in an instant; then, rising in his stirrups, he swung his sword above his head and roared in a voice that could be heard all along the line, "Charge!"

The effect was indescribable; there was one quick, sharp shout of "Vive le Roi!" and the men went on like so many demons.

"Look at La Sarre!" cried Poulariez, with the Royal Roussillon on the right, as we marked the sudden confusion and then the charge.

"The English have advanced too far! Ride to the Canadians, Maxwell!

Half-wheel to the left, and we fall on their flank!"

It was the deciding-point of the battle. The English line was thrown into complete disorder, and thence forward there was nothing but hand-to-hand fighting of the fiercest description, which lasted until it ended in the utter rout of the enemy.

At one point I saw M. de Boucherville, who carried the flag of the Montreal troops, go down in a melee, but the colours were saved by the determined gallantry of M. de Sarennes, who carried them off amid a storm of cheers.

"Bravo, Sarennes!" I called to him as he rode past a moment later.

"Your lady-love should have seen that!"

"Go to the devil!" he roared back at me, with the voice and gesture of the boor he really was at bottom, but my hands were too full either to wonder at his insult or demand an explanation.

I will make no attempt to follow the detail of the action; it is enough to say the honours rested with us. We stood victorious over the same foe that had defeated us on the same ground six months before. We had regained the Heights, regained the General Hospital, and it remained to be seen how soon we might sweep over its ruined ramparts into Quebec and hold it once more for King Louis.

As I entered the Hospital towards evening to report to M. de Levis, one of the sisters addressed me: "Pardon, monsieur, but are you the Chevalier de Maxwell?"

"Yes, ma soeur."

"M. Dalquier wishes to speak with you. He lies here."

I found that fine old soldier lying on a bed faint from a wound he had received at the very moment he made his decisive charge, but which had not prevented him holding his place for some time later.

He smiled bravely as he held out his hand to me.

"These confounded surgeons will not allow me to speak in person, but I wish you, Chevalier, to thank the General for me. Did you hear about it? No? Then, listen. Just after our charge was made, and we had formed again, he rode up. 'Here is the devil to pay,'