"They all say the English fleet has sailed from England, and may be here any day; but at least we shall not starve yet. We have a fine consignment of provisions brought in today."

Next time he came he had another item of information to give.

"Our General, Monsieur de Montcalm, met me in the street just now, and bid me say that he purposed to take his supper with us this evening, as there are certain matters he would discuss with my uncle, and with you, dear aunt, who have seen so much of warfare.

He asked me if it would be convenient for you to receive him, and I said I was sure that it would."

"Quite right, my child," answered Madame Drucour; "I shall deem it an honour to entertain the brave Marquis. I have a great respect for him, both as a man and a soldier."

"Yes: they all speak well of him, and they say that the Governor, Vaudreuil, treats him shamefully, or at least traduces him shamefully behind his back to the Government in France. He is jealous because Monsieur de Montcalm is so much better a soldier than he. His jealousy is mean and pitiful. I hear things that make my blood boil!"

"Yes: Monsieur de Montcalm has had to exercise great patience and self restraint. We all honour him for it," said the Abbe, looking up from his breviary. "His has been a difficult post from first to last, and he has filled it with marked ability. The Governor seeks to take to himself all the credit of success throughout the colony and the war, and to heap upon Montcalm all the blame wherever there has been discomfiture and defeat; but from what I can learn, the Minister of France is not deceived. The powers of the campaign are vested mainly in the hands of the General of the forces, let the Governor rage as he will."

Colin and Corinne stood at the window watching the hubbub down in the lower town and along the quays. They could obtain a fair view from the upper window, where the girl spent so much of her time; and whilst the Abbe and Madame Drucour talked of public matters and the political outlook, Colin poured broadsides of information into the ears of his sister.

"They say that the English ships can never navigate the waters of this great river!" he cried. "I was talking with the sailors on the vessels which have come in. They dare not bring their own ships up without a pilot on board. If the English try to sail their great battleships up through the shoals and other perils, they will a.s.suredly, say the men, run them upon the jagged edges of the sunken reefs and wreck them hopelessly. I was telling them that the English are better sailors than ever the French will be; but they only laughed grimly, and bid them come and see what their sailor craft could do without pilots in the mouth of the St. Lawrence. I should grieve if the n.o.ble vessels were wrecked and stranded in the Traverse, which they say is the most dangerous part of all. But the sailors are very confident that that is what will happen."

"I don't believe it!" cried Corinne, with flashing eyes. "The English have always been masters of the sea; have they not won themselves the name of 'sea dogs' and 'sea rovers' even from their enemies? The walls and guns of Quebec may prove too much for them, but not the navigation of the St. Lawrence."

"So I think," answered Colin eagerly; "but that is what the men say.

"The French are always something overconfident and boastful, I think," said Corinne gravely. "They like to win their battles before they fight them, and beat back the foe before he appears.

But we shall see--we shall see."

Colin and Corinne were both much interested in the General of the forces, Monsieur the Marquis of Montcalm. In addition to being a very excellent soldier--brave, capable, merciful, and modest--he was a very delightful and charming companion in any social gathering; and towards Corinne he showed himself especially tender, telling her, with the tears standing in his eyes, how much she reminded him of the little daughter he had left at home, Mirete; whom he feared he should never see again.

"For my aide-de-camp, M. de Bougainville, lately returned from France, has brought me sad news. One of my daughters has died--he could not ascertain which; but I feel sure it is my little Mirete, who was always delicate and fragile. I loved her very much; she was such a clinging little thing, and had soft brown eyes like yours, my dear. I did not think, when I left my wife and children in our happy home at Candiac, that I should be detained here so long, or that death would have visited my house ere I returned. We were so happy in that far away home in France; my thoughts are ever turning back thither. Pray Heaven I may soon bring this war to a successful termination, and may then return to end my days in peace in that fair spot, surrounded by those I love so well!"

This little speech touched Corinne's heart, and she lifted her face and gave the bereaved father a kiss of sympathy, the tears hanging upon her own long lashes. He squeezed her hand and returned the salute with warmth. Yet the next minute he was the soldier and the general all over, as he seated himself at table and proceeded to discuss the situation of affairs with the Abbe and his hostess.

"My policy," he explained to them, "will be one of defence, not of attack. What we must set ourselves to do is to prevent any landing of English troops upon the north bank of this river anywhere near the city. I had thought at first of making the Plains of Abraham, behind the city, the basis of my encampment. But this, as you know, has been given up, and the north bank of the river, through Beauport and right away to the river and falls of the Montmorency, has been selected.

"When you are sufficiently recovered, my friend, I should like to take you to see our position. Our right rests upon the St. Charles, our left upon the Montmorency. Quebec is thus secured from any advance by land. Her own guns must protect her from any attempt by sea. No vessel should or ought to pa.s.s the rock without being instantly disabled, if not sunk. By disposing our forces in this way, and remaining upon the defensive, we shall have our foes in a vice, so to speak. The risk of disembarking and trying to fight us will be immense. They will lose ten men to our one in every encounter. And if we can play this waiting game long enough, the storms of winter will come down upon us, and the Admirals will have to withdraw their fleet to some safe harbourage, and we shall have saved Quebec!"

"Yes," said the Abbe--"that sounds a wise and wary policy; but will the Canadian militia be patient and obedient during the long period of inaction? They are accustomed to a sort of fierce, short forest warfare, quick marches, hand-to-hand fights, and the freedom to return to their homes. How will they like the long imprisonment in the camp, without being brought face to face with the foe? The Canadian soldiers have always given trouble; I fear they will do so again."

"If they become troublesome," said Montcalm, with a tightening of the lips, "they will be told that the Indians shall be loosed upon their lands and farms to harry and destroy! Mutineers are accorded scant mercy. Monsieur de Vaudreuil has made up his mind how to deal with them in such case."

The Abbe stroked his chin thoughtfully.

"If we alienate the Canadians, and have only the regulars to fall back upon, we shall be very short handed."

"True; but I do not antic.i.p.ate such a contingency. The Canadians are no more desirous of seeing England's flag waving over their lands than we are ourselves. They may be rebellious and discontented, but they will hardly go further than that."

"It is ill work fighting with discontented soldiers," said Madame Drucour thoughtfully.

"Very true, Madame. I often wish we had better material for our army. I abhor the Indians, and distrust the Canadians. But what can we do? France has sore need of all her soldiers for her European wars. What can she do for us here out in the western wilds? She has her hands full at home."

"And yet," said the Abbe, "if she loses her hold upon these same western wilds, she will lose that new kingdom upon which her eyes have been greedily fastened for two centuries or more. She has claimed half the world as her own; will she lose all for the sake of some petty quarrel with her neighbours?"

Montcalm smiled and slowly shook his head.

"Our royal master has his hands something too full at times," he said; "yet we will do our best for him out here."

"And if General Amherst with his great army should succeed in capturing Ticonderoga and Crown Point, and should advance upon us by the interior, and steal upon us from behind, what then?" asked the Abbe, who, having come from that part of the world, and knowing the apprehensions of the French along the western border, was not unmindful of this possible danger.

Montcalm's face was grave.

"That will be our greatest danger," he said. "If that should take place, we shall have to weaken our camp along the river and send reinforcements to the small detachments now placed along the upper river. But the English were routed at Ticonderoga once; let us hope it will happen so a second time."

"General Amherst is a very different commander from General Abercromby," said the Abbe gravely; and Madame Drucour added her testimony to the abilities of the General who had commanded at the siege of Louisbourg, although the dash and energy of Wolfe had been one of the main elements of strength to the besiegers.

"Yet I have confidence in our good Boulamaque," answered Montcalm.

"He will do all that can he done to check the advance of the invaders and hold out fortresses against them. We have had our disasters--far be it from me to deny it--but Ticonderoga is strong, and has long held her own; I think she will do so once again."

"And will you remain within the walls of Quebec yourself, my dear Marquis? or is it true what I hear--that your headquarters will be with the camp at Beauport?"

"My place is here--there--everywhere!" answered Montcalm, with a smile and a meaning gesture. "Within the city the Chevalier de Ramesay will hold command with sixteen thousand men. For my part, I shall occupy myself chiefly with the army along the river banks.

The first peril will certainly lie there. The town is una.s.sailable, but a landing will probably be attempted somewhere along there. The enemy must be driven back with loss and confusion each time such an attempt is made. That will discourage them, and inspire our men with hope and courage. We have also prepared fire ships at no small cost, to be launched and fired at convenient seasons, and sent adrift amongst the enemy's ships. The sight of their burning vessels will do something to discourage the English. They put their trust in their ships. We will show them what a warm welcome we have waiting for them here!"

"And our own vessels," asked the Abbe--"what of them? Will any naval battle he attempted?"

"No. The Governor has given orders that they shall disembark their men for the defence of the town, and the ships themselves will be sent some distance up the river out of harm's way. We have kept some of the best for fire ships; the rest will remain at a distance, beyond the river Richelieu."

"You think, then, that no British ship can pa.s.s the guns of the town?"

Montcalm's face was a study of calm confidence.

"I only wish they might attempt it," he said. "We would sink them one by one, as a child's boats could be sunk by throwing stones upon them. The English have a task before them the magnitude of which they have little idea of. First they have the river itself to navigate; then they have the guns of Quebec to settle with. Let them take their choice between Scylla and Charybdis; for of a certainty they lie betwixt the two."

Indeed the guns of Quebec were formidable enough. Next day Montcalm took Madame Drucour and her niece and nephew a tour of inspection about the town, and up to one of the heights which gave them a panoramic view of the city and its defences, both within and without. The batteries of the town bristled with formidable guns; the town itself swarmed with soldiers--regulars, militia, Indians.

From the adjacent country men of all ages had come flocking in, eager to bear arms against the foe. The Bishop had issued a mandate to his flock, urging them to rally round their leaders, and never surrender the fair domain of Canada to the heretic usurper.

There was plenty of enthusiasm now amongst the Canadians they came flocking into the camp in great numbers. All were hardy fellows, trained to a certain sort of rough fighting from their very childhood. They were invaluable in forest warfare, as had been proved again and again. But they lacked the stamina of the regular soldier. They were invariably unsteady when exposed to fire in the open, and they were impatient of discipline and control. Vaudreuil was always loud in their praise, trying to give them the credit of every successful engagement. But Montcalm reposed much more confidence in his regular soldiers; although he gave these others their due when they had proved of service to him.

It was a wonderful sight to see the lines of defence stretching right away from the river St. Charles, close to the promontory on which Quebec was built, to that other invisible gorge where the wonderful cataract of the Montmorency flung its waters into the greater St. Lawrence below. Opposite was the height of Point Levi, with its smaller batteries; and away on the left, in the middle of the vast, sea-like river, could be distinguished the western end of the Isle of Orleans.

Earthworks, batteries, redoubts seemed to bristle every where.

Squadrons of men, like brilliant-hued ants, moved to and fro upon the plains below. The tents of the camp stretched out in endless white spots; and the river was dotted with small craft of all sorts conveying provisions to the camp, and doing transport duty of all kinds.

"He will be a bold man who faces the fire from our batteries, I think," said Montcalm, looking with a calm complacency upon the animated scene; and then he turned and pointed backwards behind him to Cape Diamond, fringed with its palisades and capped by parapet and redoubt.

A bold foe indeed to face the perils frowning from every height upon which the eye could rest. Madame Drucour's face slowly brightened as she took in, with eyes that were experienced in such matters, the full strength of the position occupied by the city of Quebec.

"In truth, I scarce see how the enemy could effect a landing anywhere--could even attempt it," she said. "And yet we said the same at Louisbourg--till they landed where none of us thought they could do, and took us in the rear!"

And her eyes sought the steep, precipitous banks of the river after the town had been pa.s.sed, as though asking whether any landing could be effected there, if some ships should succeed in the daring attempt to pa.s.s the guns of the town, and find anchorage in the upper river.

Montcalm followed her glance with his, and seemed to read the thought in her heart.