French and English: A Story of the Struggle in America

"What a fine youth he has grown with the flight of years! I should scarce have known him!"

Whilst aunt and nephew were exchanging amenities in one part of the room, Corinne approached Fritz, who had risen to his feet at sight of 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 have often wondered whether I should ever have that pleasure. The chance of war has brought me and your brother face to face three times already. But I scarce thought I should see you again. I thought these troubled days would have sent you back to France. These are strange 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 would not be sent away. I have grown to love this strange Western land and the struggle and stress of the life here. I would fain see the end of this mighty struggle. To which scale will victory incline, think you, Monsieur? Will the flag of England displace that of France over the town and fortress of this city of Quebec?"

"Time alone can show that," answered Fritz gravely; "and we must not boast of coming victory after all the ignominious defeats that we have suffered. But this I know-the spirit of England is yet unbroken. She has set herself to a task, and will not readily turn back from it. If the spirit of her sons is the same now as it was in the days of which our fathers have told us, I think that she will not quietly accept repulse."

Corinne's eyes flashed; she seemed to take a strange sort of pride in anticipations such as these.

"I like that spirit," she cried; "it has not been the spirit of France. She has boasted, boasted, boasted of all the wonders she was to perform, and yet she has never made good her hold in the south. Now the tide seems to have turned here in the north; and though men speak brave words of defiance, their hearts are failing them for fear. And have they not reason to fear-they who have done so ignobly?"

"Do you remember what you told us when we met in the forest long ago?" asked Fritz. "Do you remember the name you spoke-the name of Pitt-and told us that when that man's hand was on the helm of England's statecraft the turn of the tide would come? And so we waited for news from home, and at last we heard the name of Pitt. And, behold, since then the tide has turned indeed. Those words of yours have upheld our hopes in many a dark hour. And now that the fulfilment seems so near, shall we not feel grateful to those who held 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 the English as well as the French, and I have cause to know what generous foes they can make!"

So Fritz became the guest of Madame Drucour in the narrow little stone house; the Abbe likewise remained as an inmate whilst he recruited the health that had been so sorely tried and shattered of late. Fritz was in no haste to depart, if his hosts desired his presence 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 so for 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 to him that the English fleet had little or no chance of effecting any landing in or near Quebec.

The fortifications of the town were immensely strong; so was its position-so commandingly situated upon the little tongue of land. There was a small camp upon the opposite point of land, which might perhaps be strengthened with advantage; but the whole of the north bank of the river was being fortified and intrenched, and was manned by regulars and Canadian troops, all well armed and munitioned. It was impossible to see how any attacking force could obtain a foothold upon that strand; and if Fritz's hosts took care to let him see all this, it seemed to him a proof that they well understood 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 judge of the strength of its position. He knew that the fleet from Louisbourg would be hanging about nearer the mouth of the great estuary, and to a traveller of his experience the journey either by land or water was a mere trifle.

Any day the sails of the English vessels might be expected to appear. The seething excitement in the city, and the eager and laborious preparations upon land, showed how public feeling was being aroused. It might not be well for Fritz to linger much longer. If his real connection with the English were discovered, he might 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 a determination to leave. "He is scouting for information as to the English fleet, and we have heard that vessels have been seen in the region of the Isle-aux-Coudres. He will land you there, and you will then have no difficulty in rejoining your countrymen. If Monsieur Wolfe has arrived, pray give him my best compliments, and tell him that I hope his health is improved, and that if we should meet once again it will be as friends."

"I will not forget to do so, Madame," answered Fritz. "I myself look forward with pleasure to making the acquaintance of that great soldier. I should not have dared to think that I might approach him myself; but since Julian is his friend, I shall not be denied his presence."

Corinne was listening to the talk with eager interest; now she broke in with a smile:

"And tell Monsieur Julian that if he should repeat his strategy of Louisbourg here at Quebec, and steal into the city in disguise, I hope he will come to see us here. We are very well disposed towards the English, my aunt and I. We should have a welcome for him, and would 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 fiercer and more deadly and dangerous one than thou canst realize as yet. It may be our privilege to shelter and succour a hunted foe; but tempt not any man to what might be certain destruction. Spies meet with scant mercy; and there are Indians in this city who know not the meaning of mercy, and have eyes and ears quicker and keener than our own. Monsieur and his friends had better now remain without the city walls, unless the day should come when they can enter them as conquerors and masters of all."

She drew herself together and gave a little, quick, shuddering sigh, as though realizing as those never could do who had not seen war 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 that my first duty and privilege will be to protect you and yours from harm. Adieu; and if I can ever repay your kindness to me, be sure the opportunity shall not be neglected."

Chapter 2: The Defences Of Quebec

Excitement reigned in the city. There had been a cry of fear earlier in the day. Men had rushed through the streets, crying aloud in every tone of consternation:

"The English fleet! the English fleet!"

But this had proved a false alarm. The sails seen advancing up the great waterway were those of friendly vessels, laden with provisions for the city, and great rejoicings were held as the supplies were carried into the storehouses by the eager citizens and soldiers. Colin, running hither and thither picking up news, came running back at short intervals with tidings for his sister and aunt.

"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 assuredly, 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 noble 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 pass 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 anticipate 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.