The King's Warrant Part 18

"We have scarce three or four thousand men to Amherst's twelve or fourteen thousand, and he is not an Abercromby to run his head against a wall for nothing. I believe we are not even going to hold Crown Point, strong as it is. No, no; forty or fifty leagues of well-nigh impa.s.sable country lie between this and the St. Lawrence, as you ought to know, Master Isidore, and that will fight for us without our losing a man. Amherst can only advance by water, and as we have armed vessels on the lake and he has not, why there is as much chance of his doing anything before the winter sets in again, as there is of my being made a Field Marshal."

Thanks to the Indian's simple medicines, and the subsequent care of the regimental surgeon, Boulanger was doing well, and was able, on the following day, to accomplish the short march made by the detachment.

Nor was Isidore at first sufficiently strong to do more. They accordingly accompanied the troops as far as Crown Point, and then pushed forward alone. The journey which the travellers had undertaken was long and difficult. On reaching the northern end of Lake Champlain, however, they obtained a small canoe, in which they descended the Richelieu River, and thus reached Sorel.

Here Isidore, to his great disappointment, found that Baron de Valricour was no longer commandant of the place, and had quitted it for Quebec early in June. During the three months that had elapsed the little garrison had been changed, and the few guarded inquiries which he ventured to make respecting any persons formerly detained in the fort proved fruitless.

There was nothing for it but to go on to Quebec, where Boulanger indeed was anxious to rejoin his family, and they accordingly continued their journey, traversing Lake St. Peter, and pa.s.sing down the St. Lawrence in their canoe. To their surprise and mortification they now found that for a considerable distance above Quebec small vessels belonging to the English fleet had the command of the river. Still they made their way onward, once or twice narrowly escaping capture by an English cutter, until they reached a spot called Le Foullon, about three miles above the great fortress, where a rugged and winding footpath led to the top of the lofty and precipitous cliff not far from the Canadian's cottage.

Arrived at the summit, they were instantly challenged, and then taken to the officer in command of the detachment posted there. De Montenac had taken the precaution to obtain for Isidore a despatch from General de Bourlemaque to Montcalm, and he was at once allowed to pa.s.s, as was Boulanger also when it was found that he was actually the proprietor of the house which had been appropriated as the captain's quarters. As to Bibi and the little ones, the Canadian ascertained that they had taken refuge in a less exposed locality near the city.

On entering the fortress, Isidore at once made his way through the town, and was then directed to the citadel. There, on the extreme and loftiest point, where the white flag of France still waved, stood Montcalm, "that little body with a mighty soul," surveying the vast landscape spread out below. In front lay the great lake-like sheet of water, six miles in length, and nearly half as broad, formed by the confluence of the St. Lawrence on the right, and the smaller river, St.

Charles, on the left. Far away the united streams are again divided into a northern and southern channel by the picturesque Isle of Orleans. To the right hand is seen Point Levi, and the almost perpendicular banks of the St. Lawrence; on the left the more gradually sloping sh.o.r.e presents a long line of intrenchments and redoubts, reaching to a distance of seven or eight miles, ending at the great chasm into which the Montmorency River hurls down its waters in a fall of two hundred and fifty feet. Ranges of lofty mountains on every side form the fitting background of this unrivalled scene.

Montcalm's eyes were riveted on the English fleet, whose countless masts bristled all across the further end of the bay, and down the diverging channels beyond it; so deeply indeed was he buried in thought that he did not seem aware of Isidore's approach until the latter was close to him. He then turned abruptly and looked at the new-comer, but it was only for a moment.

"Welcome, welcome indeed!" said he, extending his hand, "not as Claude Breton however, but as my valued friend and comrade-in-arms, Isidore de Beaujardin."

"I can well believe that I have to thank Monseigneur for that," replied Isidore, bowing.

Montcalm waved his hand: "It was no more than was due to you," said he.

"Fortunately a certain M. de Crillon, who seems to have been your evil genius, has been disgraced at last, and the task became an easy one.

But whence do you now come, and what news do you bring?"

"As for myself, I must report to you, _pro forma_, that I duly reached Fort Duquesne, where I was made prisoner, but subsequently escaped, and made my way to Ticonderoga. I left the army on this side of Crown Point, which has been evacuated, and I have to hand to you a despatch from de Bourlemaque. There is not a chance of Amherst reaching the St.

Lawrence in time to co-operate with Wolfe."

"Thanks for that, at all events. My news is less cheering: Niagara is lost."

"I had hoped," said Isidore, "that Pouchot would have been able to hold out."

"Not so. The English General Prideaux was killed by the bursting of a sh.e.l.l in his own intrenchments, but Sir William Johnson took the command, and nothing could withstand that brave and skilful fellow.

Aubrey came to Pouchot's relief with at least a thousand men collected from the other forts, but was beaten in a pitched battle before the place, which had to surrender at discretion, and the governor and garrison were made prisoners, but were allowed to march out with the honours of war. This and the loss of Frontenac make the English masters of all the upper country."

"But here," exclaimed Isidore, eagerly, "here we may yet retrieve it all."

"If it so please G.o.d," replied Montcalm; "but though all hope is not yet gone, our chance is but slender. We have kept the enemy at bay for nearly two months and a half, and on the last day of July we foiled a desperate attack which Wolfe made on the Montmorency redoubts yonder.

If we could hold out till winter comes to our aid all would be well, but I have little hope."

"They are masters of all the right bank, are they not?" interposed Isidore.

"Yes, for many miles up the river. If I had had my way I would have thrown a couple of thousand men across and stopped that game, but de Vaudreuil overruled me at the outset. He is a traitor, and has ruined us. What can I do with barely three thousand regulars? The Canadian militia are indeed some five or six thousand strong, but I cannot rely on them with any certainty, and with such a fleet at his command it is impossible to say where Wolfe may next a.s.sail us. Look at it! A score of ships of the line, with frigates and transports out of number."

"But they have been here since the end of June and have done nothing.

This bank of the river is absolutely impregnable, and it seems they cannot force the Montmorency lines."

"It is our last and only chance," replied Montcalm, "and if the worst should come, a battle before Quebec might save us. I have had, however, to send away a couple of thousand Canadians to try and save some of the harvest, which is sorely needed, for our commissariat is reduced almost to the last extremity. Yes, de Beaujardin," he added, "there is nothing left for me but to hold out and fight to the last, and die a soldier's death. I would not wish to live to see the fall of New France, but that must surely come. But de Valricour has of course told you----"

"I have not seen him yet. I came direct to you to report myself," said Isidore.

"Not seen him!" cried Montcalm in amazement; "but I might have expected that from you. Go--go at once--good news is in store for you at all events, and you are worthy of it." Then turning to an officer who had just come up, he added, "Send an orderly with this gentleman to Colonel de Valricour's quarters. Stay; Colonel de Beaujardin is reappointed to his old position on the staff. See to this at once."

Isidore would have thanked him, but Montcalm was already reading the despatch just brought to him, and with a full heart the young soldier bent his steps towards his uncle's quarters.

Pa.s.sing out of the citadel, he had proceeded but a short distance when the orderly stopped.

"Here!" exclaimed Isidore, with some agitation, for the house pointed out to him was the very one in which Madame de Rocheval had resided, and where he had seen Marguerite for the first time.

Another orderly at the door bade him enter. He did so, and ascended the stairs as if in a dream. He did not even hear the man announce him, and as he stood at the open door of the saloon his eyes grew dim, and he could see nothing; but he heard a voice cry out, "Isidore! my husband!" and Marguerite was clasped in his arms.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Tailpiece to Chapter VI]

[Ill.u.s.tration: Headpiece to Chapter VII]

CHAPTER VII.

It will be remembered that when M. de Valricour quitted France in order to return to Canada he promised the Marquis de Beaujardin that he would do his best to find Isidore, and report whatever he might learn respecting him. In those days, however, the communication between New and Old France was slow and uncertain enough, and it was not until the ensuing spring that the marquis received any tidings respecting his son. From what he then heard it could scarcely be doubted that Isidore was in Canada, and de Valricour was able to inform his brother-in-law not only that Marguerite had been a prisoner at Sorel, and had subsequently escaped through the devotion of Amoahmeh, but that Jasmin was actually a prisoner there. He was further enabled to send to the marquis the mutilated letter supposed to have been destroyed by Isidore, and this circ.u.mstance not only cleared away that imputation, but proved beyond question that Isidore had had grounds for supposing that his father had no objection to his union with Marguerite.

Full of remorse for his unjust suspicions, the marquis felt his old affection for his son revive more strongly than ever, and when he subsequently received further accounts to the effect that Isidore had gone to Fort Duquesne, but that he had not since been heard of, he could no longer restrain his ardent longing to seek out his lost son, and do him at least some tardy justice. In the first place, however, he proceeded to Paris in order that he might use all his influence to ascertain how matters stood in regard to the _lettre de cachet_, and, if possible, to obtain its revocation. To his astonishment he found that, through the influence of Montcalm, the king's warrant had already been cancelled; but about Isidore himself he could learn nothing, and he consequently resolved to proceed at once to Canada in search of him.

He had, however, by this time learned by experience that any plan of his might be thwarted if it once came to the ears of Madame de Valricour, and without even communicating his intentions to the marchioness, he returned home by way of Nantes, where he made arrangements for his voyage to Quebec. This was no easy matter; it was well known that the English fleet was already on its way up the St.

Lawrence with General Wolfe's army to undertake the siege of Quebec, and French vessels could no longer hope to reach that place. But the marquis was prepared to pay almost any sum for the accomplishment of his object, and with the help of Jean Perigord the innkeeper he at last prevailed on a certain Maitre Duboscq to undertake the task, and endeavour at least to land the marquis as near Quebec as possible.

This being settled, M. de Beaujardin proceeded home to take leave of his wife and inform her of his purpose.

He had reckoned without his host, and little knew that Madame de Valricour was well informed of all his movements. No sooner had he reached the chateau than that lady calmly informed him that she had resolved to go out and join her husband, and would feel indebted to him if he would write to Nantes and procure a pa.s.sage for her.

Thoroughly convinced that the object of the voyage could only be to search out or to meet with Isidore, she felt that if she allowed the marquis to proceed alone her long cherished schemes would be wrecked at last and she resolved, come what might, to accompany him. Argument and persuasion were alike unavailing. There was nothing for it but to offer to take her out in the "Pompadour." Nor was she the only person who was destined to accompany the marquis, for on hearing of his intention old Perigord besought him with tears in his eyes to let him go too: "Monseigneur," said he, "I have served you faithfully from my cradle, do not compel me to leave yon. Let me, too, see my young master once more before I die."

It was not the first time, by a score, that Duboscq had threaded the mazy channels of the St. Lawrence, or that he had baffled the pursuit of an English cruiser. The "Pompadour" was a tight little ship, and well in hand, swift, and drawing but little water, but much caution was required, and the voyage was a long one. Pa.s.sing northwards through the Straits of Belle Isle to avoid the track of the English fleet, the "Pompadour" made a splendid run up the St. Lawrence, eluding one British vessel, and fairly out-sailing another, and at last came in sight of the rugged bluffs of Cape Tourment, about a dozen leagues below Quebec. It was, however, late in the afternoon, and as there was no hope of their reaching Quebec that evening the "Pompadour" hove to, and was about to anchor for the night, when Duboscq descried an English sloop of war about a couple of miles off, right ahead and standing towards them, and he at once went below to consult with the marquis, who immediately returned with him on deck.

It was evident that they had been seen by the English sloop, and the danger was imminent. The marquis took in the situation at a glance: "The 'Pompadour' cannot escape, but we may yet do so," said he to Duboscq. "You have done your best hitherto, and I will indemnify you for the loss of your vessel. Lower your boat at once, and we may all reach the sh.o.r.e before the Englishman comes up. We may as well be captured on sh.o.r.e, if we are to see the inside of an English prison, but we may be able to make our way by land to Quebec."

The boat was soon lowered, but it would only hold three persons besides the two men required to row it; and Duboscq, as steersman, who, after landing their pa.s.sengers, would have to return to fetch off the remainder of the crew. The marquis, with Madame de Valricour and Perigord, at once stepped into the boat, and as the beach was not far off, they were quickly rowed to the sh.o.r.e. "Now," said Duboscq, when they were fairly landed, "push on into the wood straight ahead, and I will join you there. We shall give our friends the slip after all, thanks to monsieur's suggestion."

The little party did as they were told, and presently stopped to await the coming of the others; but they waited in vain, and were destined soon to find out that they had only escaped one danger to rush upon another. From a lofty point overhanging the river an Indian scout had watched all that had occurred. Suddenly the wood rang with a terrible war-whoop, and half a dozen savages darted through the trees and came upon the panic-stricken group. The chief, who was a little in advance, sprang towards Perigord, but on perceiving that the party consisted only of two unarmed men and a woman, stopped short, making a sign to his followers to do the same. Then, contemptuously flinging old Perigord down, he s.n.a.t.c.hed from him an ornamented casket which he was clutching in his hands: it was his master's strong box, which he had rescued at the last moment, and brought away with him from the ship.

Wrenching it open the savage drew out the first thing that came to hand: it was the ribbon and order of St. Louis.

With an exclamation of surprise he held it up and examined it. He had seen the like once or twice before, but only on the b.r.e.a.s.t.s of Montcalm and Governor de Vaudreuil.

"Whose is this? Who are you?" said he, quickly regarding the old _chef_ with evident astonishment.

"It belongs to the Marquis de Beaujardin," replied Perigord, piteously.