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Montcalm was now left with only his five French battalions five short, thick lines, four white and one blue, against Wolfe's long, six-jointed, thin red line.
It was a deadly fire which fell hot around the devoted little fleet; but Humphrey and Julian, away to the right, were a little out of range, and slightly protected by a craggy ridge. No man of their company had been killed; but they saw that along the line of boats terrible havoc was being wrought. They saw Wolfe's tall, thin figure standing up and making signs.
He paused, for he scarce knew how to conclude the sentence. He had heard as he passed through the camp towards Wolfe's quarters that the outlook was not altogether a bright one, despite the fact that success had crowned many of the enterprises hitherto undertaken. Wolfe took up the unfinished sentence and spoke.
On the tomb of the conqueror of Quebec it is written: "Here lies Wolfe victorious." The same epitaph might with entire justice be carved above the grave of Wolfe's historian. The muffled drum's sad roll has beat The soldier's last tattoo; No more on life's parade shall meet That brave and fallen few.
Yet even the troops that were rated as effective were in so bad a condition that the hyperbolical Sergeant Johnson calls them "half-starved, scorbutic skeletons." That worthy soldier, commonly a model of dutiful respect to those above him, this time so far forgets himself as to criticise his general for the "mad, enthusiastic zeal" by which he nearly lost the fruits of Wolfe's victory.
They smelled gunpowder and heard the noise of victory, and would have stormed heaven at that instant. They surrounded Jeannette without seeing her, every man looking up to the heights of glory, and passed her in fierce and panting emulation. Jeannette leaned against the rough side of Wolfe's Cove.
He simply made a plan which took proper account of all the facts and all the chances. Fools make lucky hits, now and then, by the merest chance. But no one except a genius can make and carry out a plan like Wolfe's, which meant at least a hundred hits running, all in the selfsame spot.
Lambert was below, and the errand upon which the two officers had come. In spite of himself, Lambert would be kind to him. In spite of Harry's ill-temper, and needless suspicion and anger, the good gentleman was determined to help him if he might to help him even against Mr. Wolfe's own advice, as the latter frankly told Harry, "For you were wrong, Mr.
McGilveray knew that it might be impossible to reach the fuse there was no time to spare, and he had set about to row the devilish machine out of range of the vessels which were carrying Wolfe's army to a forlorn hope. For minutes those on board the man-o'-war watched and listened. Presently nothing could be seen, not even the small glimmer from the burning fuse.
The first thing Wolfe's regulars did at Louisbourg was to scalp an Indian chief. The American rangers were scalpers when their blood was up and when nobody stopped them. They scalped under Wolfe at Quebec. They scalped whites as well as Indians at Baie St Paul, at St Joachim, and elsewhere. Even Washington was a party to such practices.
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