surrender the flotilla before the last possible moment,
arranged for his own escape in a whaleboat. It was with
infinite precaution that he made his preparations, as
the enemy, though confident of taking him, were still on
the alert to prevent such a prize from slipping through
their fingers. He dressed like a habitant from head to
foot, putting on a tasselled _bonnet rouge_ and an _etoffe
du pays_ (grey homespun) suit of clothes, with a red sash
and _bottes sauvages_ like Indian moccasins. Then the
whaleboat was quietly brought alongside. The crew got in
and plied their muffled oars noiselessly down to the
narrow passage between Isle St Ignace and the Isle du
Pas, where they shipped the oars and leaned over the side
to paddle past the nearest battery with the palms of
their hands. It was a moment of breathless excitement;
for the hope of Canada was in their keeping and no turning
back was possible. But the American sentries saw no
furtive French Canadians gliding through that dark November
night and heard no suspicious noises above the regular
ripple of the eddying island current. One tense half-hour
and all was over, The oars were run out again; the men
gave way with a will; and Three Rivers was safely reached
in the morning.

Here Carleton met Captain Napier, who took him aboard
the armed ship _Fell_, in which he continued his journey
to Quebec. He was practically safe aboard the _Fell_;
for Arnold had neither an army strong enough to take
Quebec nor any craft big enough to fight a ship. But the
flotilla above Sorel was doomed. After throwing all its
powder into the St Lawrence it surrendered on the 19th,
the very day Carleton reached Quebec. The astonished
Americans were furious when they found that Carleton had
slipped through their fingers after all. They got Prescott,
whom they hated; and they released Walker, whom Carleton
was taking as a prisoner to Quebec. But no friends and
foes like Walker and Prescott could make up for the loss
of Carleton, who was the heart as well as the head of
Canada at bay.

The exultation of the British more than matched the
disappointment of the Americans. Thomas Ainslie, collector
of customs and captain of militia at Quebec, only expressed
the feelings of all his fellow-loyalists when he made
the following entry in the extremely accurate diary he
kept throughout those troublous times:

'On the 19th (a Happy Day for Quebec!), to the unspeakable
joy of the friends of the