een engaged, had reduced the troops to five
thousand effective men. Insufficient as this army seemed, Wolfe
determined to remain idle no longer; and a plan of attack on the town
was agreed upon. Accordingly, the following morning (September 11th),
the ships of the line, with the exception of two or three, and all the
frigates, suddenly hoisted sail, and, exposed to a cannonade from all
the batteries, sailed up the river past Quebec. The troops had
previously been landed on the southern side of the river, and in perfect
safety they marched in the same direction. When they had proceeded about
nine miles, they found the fleet riding at anchor, already beyond the
reach or observation of the enemy. The point of attack Wolfe had chosen
lay within a mile and a half of Quebec, and consequently this march had
no other purpose in view than to mislead the enemy as to his intentions.
No sooner had the tide turned, and evening set in, than the surface of
the river suddenly swarmed with boats, which had secretly been brought
to this distant mustering-place. Then the signal for the ships to sail
was hung out, and they immediately began proudly to descend the channel,
leaving the flotilla boats behind them.

Before midnight, the fleet had reached its first anchorage, and the
troops up the river could hear the thundering of their guns, as they
cannonaded at long shot the fortifications below the St. Charles. The
cheering sound told them that the ships had repassed the town safely;
while the French naturally concluded, that from the ships a descent
was about to be attempted.

During the interval, the troops had silently and in complete order
taken their places in the boats; and, as soon as it became quite dark,
like a huge flock of waterfowl, they glided down the stream. Not a
word was spoken; the soldiers sat upright and motionless; and the
sailors scarcely dipped their oars, lest the splash should reach the
ears of the French placed along the shore at short distances. Wolfe
sat in the leading boat, surveying attentively each headland, to
prevent the hazard of shooting beyond the point at which he purposed
landing. Unobserved, he gained the little cove which has since borne
his name, and shortly before midnight all the men were landed.

The troops now stood upon a narrow beach. Above them rose a precipice,
nearly perpendicular, to the height of two hundred and fifty feet. A
winding path, broad enough to admit four men abreast, led to