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Updated: June 29, 2025
Wolfe's friend, Captain Howe, brother of the popular young nobleman who fell at Ticonderoga, with a small body of picked soldiers, was to lead the ascent, and as the boats touched the narrow beach of the Anse du Foulon he and his volunteers leaped rapidly on shore.
"No, no," said the governor quickly. "I don't want to hear that cough again. Nor look on such a wreck," he added. Two days before Christmas the warden sent to the hospital ward for No. 874. No. 874, that being Anse Dugmore, came shuffling in and kept himself upright by holding with one hand to the door jamb.
That night, at nine o'clock, the Terror of France, catching the flow of the tide, with one sail set and a gentle wind, left the fleet, and came slowly up the river, under the batteries of the town. In the gloom we passed lazily on with the flow of the tide, unquestioned, soon leaving the citadel behind, and ere long came softly to that point called Anse du Foulon, above which Sillery stood.
"Ef you had the strength to git thar, the Tranthams would shoot you down like a fice dog." Anse nodded weakly. He sank down again on the floor, face to the boards, coughing hard. It was the droning voice of his cousin that brought him back from the borders of the coma he had been fighting off for hours.
"Looky here, you thinkin’ of grub stakin’? I ain’t gonna—" "Suppose you had yourself a stack of cart wheels and my pockets were to let?" Drew retorted. "I think I remember me some times when we had one blanket and a hunk of hardtack between us, and there weren’t any ’yours’ or ’mine’ about it! Or don’t you think back that far?" Anse laughed.
The Pima slipped ahead with a speed and efficiency of motion his companions envied. He had the two nearest horses in hand, leading them toward the bushes. "Looks like we ride bareback." Anse caught at a hackamore, then mounted. "Move!" Drew waved Running Fox to the other horse. "We can’t wait to get another horse. You ride for the Stronghold, make it straight to Rennie and report.
If it hadn't been for that fool row we had and 'twas all my fault and I know it you never would have let that da that miserable Anse Coffin come near you. And when 'twas too late and you'd married him, the mean, drunken, cruel " "Hush, Nat! hush! Stop it!" "He was, and you know he was. Yes, and worse besides.
He wore the gray shell jacket of a Confederate cavalryman, and the light glinted on the cords of a field officer’s hat. "Who are you, boy?" He faced to the left and Drew looked in the same direction. Anse stood there, the barrel of a Colt pushed against him just above the belt line. "Anson Kirby." Shannon laughed again. "’Nother big man—says he rode with General Forrest!"
"But where they came from doesn’t matter as much as why Helms chose to use them the way he did. However—and now I’m giving it to you straight, Kirby—this is once I’d follow Bayliss’ orders. You and your cousin here had better make yourselves scarce." "An’ jus’ why?" Anse demanded. "We ain’t givin’ you any double-tongue wag over this——" "I’m not saying you are.
"Don’t see as how they’d be fool enough to try chewin’ back on their trail again, though," Anse commented. "They need water. Accordin’ to what this guide of theirs says, they’ll need it doubly bad before they finish that road of his. They might just be crazy enough to try here—men have gotten away with tricks such as that before." "Drew."
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