which was refused.

The battle was indeed disastrous for Quebec, though they were not to
know it until months afterward. Most of the emigrants Captain Kirke
despatched back to France, some of the least valuable vessels he burned,
and sailed home with his trophies, leaving Quebec for another attempt.

Meanwhile the little colony waited in ill-defined terror. Day after day
passed and no attack was made. Then they ventured to send out some boats
and found to their surprise the river was clear of the enemy, but every
little settlement had been laid waste. The stock of food was growing
low, the crops were not promising. Every consignment sent from France
had miscarried, and since the two nations were at war there was small
hope of supplies. What would they do in winter? Already the woods were
scoured for nuts and edible roots, and stores were hidden away with
trembling hands. There were many plans discussed. If they could send
part of their people out to find a Basque fishing fleet, and thus return
home.

No heart was heavier than that of the Sieur de Champlain. To be sure
there was his renown as a discoverer and explorer, but the city he had
planned, that was to be the crowning point of France's possessions, was
slowly falling to decay.

CHAPTER XV

HELD IN AN ENEMY'S GRASP

These were sad times for old Quebec and for the little girl who was
blossoming into a womanhood that should have been joyous and serene, she
asked so little of life.

When the news of the reverse and the loss of the stores reached them,
they were still more greatly burthened by the influx from Tadoussac and
the settlements around. Then, too, the wandering Indians joined in the
clamor for food. Trade was stopped. Mont Real took the furs and disposed
of them in other channels. No one knew how many English vessels were
lying outside, ready to confiscate anything valuable.

Madame Destournier was in a state of ungovernable terror.

"Why should we stay here and be murdered?" she would cry. "Or starve to
death! Let us return to France, as we planned. Am I of not as much
consideration as an Indian squaw, that you all profess so much anxiety
for?"

"It would not be prudent to cross the ocean now," her husband said. "We
might be taken prisoners and carried to England. You are in no state to
face hardships."

"As if I did not face them continually! Oh, I should have gone at once,
when Laurent died. And if the English take the town, where wi