s the fire of his men. There was nothing to do, but to turn
back, while from the shore I was reviled by soldiers and by the rabble.
My marriage with Alixe had been made a national matter--of race and
religion. So, as my men rowed back towards our fleet, I faced my
enemies, and looked towards them without moving. I was grim enough
that moment, God knows; I felt turned to stone. I did not stir
when--ineffaceable brutality--the batteries on the heights began to
play upon us, the shot falling round us, and passing over our heads, and
musket-firing followed.

"Damned villains! Faithless brutes!" cried Kingdon beside me. I did not
speak a word, but stood there defiant, as when we first had turned back.
Now, sharply, angrily, from all our batteries, there came reply to the
French; and as we came on with only one man wounded and one oar broken,
the whole fleet cheered us. I steered straight for the Terror of France,
and there Clark and I, he swearing violently, laid plans.

XXIV. THE SACRED COUNTERSIGN

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. The shore could not be seen
distinctly, but I knew by a perfect instinct the cleft in the hillside
where was the path leading up the mountain. I bade Clark come up the
river again two nights hence to watch for my signal, which was there
agreed upon. If I did not come, then, with General Wolfe's consent,
he must show the General this path up the mountain. He swore that all
should be as I wished; and indeed you would have thought that he and his
Terror of France were to level Quebec to the water's edge.

I stole softly to the shore in a boat, which I drew up among the bushes,
hiding it as well as I could in the dark, and then, feeling for my
pistols and my knife, I crept upwards, coming presently to the passage
in the mountain. I toiled on to the summit without a sound of alarm from
above. Pushing forward, a light flashed from the windmill, and a man,
and then two men, appeared in the open door. One of them was Captain
Lancy, whom I had very good reason to remember. The last time I saw
him was that famous morning when he would have h