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the silence of the night air under the flowing tide, he
repeated:
The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, Sept.
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,
Await alike the inexorable hour;
The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
Every officer knew his appointed duty, when, at one o'clock in the morning of the thirteenth of September,
Wolfe, with
Monckton and
Murray, and about half the forces, set off in boats, and, without sail or oars, glided down with the tide.
In three quarters of an hour the ships followed, and, though the night had become dark, aided by the rapid current, they reached the cove just in time to cover the landing.
Wolfe and the troops with him leaped on shore; the light infantry, who found themselves borne by the current a little below the intrenched path, clambered up the steep hill, staying themselves by the roots and boughs of the maple and spruce and ash trees that covered the precipitous declivity, and, after a little firing, dispersed the picket which guarded the height.
The rest ascended safely by the pathway.
A battery of four guns on the left was abandoned to
Colonel Howe.
When
Townshend's division disembarked, the
English had already gained one of the roads to
Quebec, and, advancing in front of the forest,
Wolfe stood at daybreak with his invincible battalions on the plains of Abraham, the battlefield of empire.
‘It can be but a small party, come to burn a few houses and retire,’ said
Montcalm, in amazement as the news reached him in his intrenchments the other side of the
St. Charles; but, obtaining better
