CHAPTER VII

OLD QUEBEC

The old town of Quebec in 1757 was a picturesque and romantic spot. Clusters of pretty white Canadian cottages, many of them surrounded by gardens and orchards, filled with apples, pears and vines, transplanted from Old France, lined the margins of the St. Charles River, and even the lower town, about the banks of the St. Lawrence. Half-a-hundred churches and convents already raised their spires heavenward. The upper town contained the governor's house, and many palatial edifices of timber and stone, while high over all, the frowning citadel crowned the lofty eminence, looking down upon town and river.

For over two hundred years the children of the French king had dwelt here, and no white men had as yet seriously disputed their possession of this mighty fortress, which was the key to half a continent; but the sands were running low. In her late wars with the sea-dogs of Britain, France had lost the command of the seas; her navies, her maritime commerce had been well-nigh destroyed, and the sea-girt island, where dwelt the sons of the Saxon and the Viking, had become the "Mistress of the Seas."

The penalty to be paid by France for this was shortly to be the cession of all her North American colonies to the victors, for she that had failed to command the narrow seas at home, could not hope to retain her Empire abroad. Thus has it ever been with the citadel of Mansoul; the heart of the Empire. Make these impregnable, and all is well. Weaken these, through slothfulness, carelessness or ease, and the borders of the Empire, like dead branches, are soon lopped away.

As our heroes were compelled to remain in Quebec for some nine months or more before they had an opportunity to leave, they did not grumble, but made the most of their time. For the first three months they were more or less the guests of Captain Alexandre, but after the Sapphire put to sea again with a convoy, they entered the service of a Major Ridout, a retired army officer, who had become a fur-trader, which at that time was a very lucrative business, and entailed an adventurous career.

Major Ridout saw that they were two likely youths, who would be of great service, out in the wilds, collecting furs from the Indians. These distant tribes dwelt hundreds of leagues in the forests, far away on the shores of the great lakes, which at this time were practically unknown, save by a few bold and reckless adventurers, who frequently paid dearly for their temerity.

He promised them that when the spring unlocked the rivers and lakes, they should accompany him on his travels into the unknown forests and wilds of the interior, and as this was the only method that had as yet offered them a chance of earning a living or making a fortune, they gladly accepted it. They were also anxious to leave Quebec, as measures were already being concerted to prepare for a siege; for ugly rumours had come to hand that Admiral Boscawen in command of a British squadron had annihilated a French fleet, and captured a convoy destined for Quebec.

Every preparation, therefore, was made by General Montcalm and his assistants, lest they should be besieged by ces Anglais perfides. The lads were, therefore, doubly anxious to leave the city, lest they should be treated as prisoners of war, for refusing to take up arms against their countrymen.

During their stay here they had much leisure, and made many excursions about Quebec. Sometimes they paddled down stream in one of the major's canoes and visited the Ile of Orleans, or the Falls of Montmorency, or up the rapid stream of the River Charles, to visit some of the friendly Indians. One day they were returning down-stream from a visit to Cape Rouge, some leagues above the city, on the St. Lawrence, where they had been camping some three days, fishing for salmon and hunting the red deer, when suddenly, and without the slightest warning, a fearful yell burst from a point of the southern bank, scarce a hundred yards away.

"Indians!" exclaimed Jack, striking his paddle into the water with all his might.

"Iroquois!" said Jamie coolly.

A shower of bullets and a flight of arrows flicked up the water about the canoe.

"Pull for your life, Jamie! They've been lying in wait for us. Lucky we didn't land there as we had intended."

"Lucky indeed! They would have had our scalps by now, and they may have them yet. Look there! One, two, three canoes! coming as fast as they can. It's all over unless we can beat them."

They were in a tight corner. They had been warned that the Iroquois were watching the river above Quebec, but they had never dreamt that they were so near.

The Indians were gaining upon them, although they were flying rapidly downstream. They had ceased to yell now, for the city was only two leagues away, and they were straining every nerve to overtake the lads before they could reach safety. An occasional bullet struck the canoe, but they did not look around, for they could hear the splash of the Iroquois' paddles, and the sound seemed to come nearer and nearer.

"I can do no more, Jack! My arm's still painful from the wound," and Jamie drew in his paddle.

"Hold on, Jamie! Don't give in. In another five minutes we shall be out of danger. There's the little cove where we've landed many a time, just there on the northern bank. If we can only reach that spot, we can quickly climb up to the heights, and the Indians will not dare to follow us there. Hold on for another few minutes!"

This was the only chance that offered an escape from the foe, and Jamie, despite his wound, which at times of great exertion still pained him, put in his paddle again. They were running rapidly down under the precipitous northern bank now, and with a skilful twist of his paddle Jack sent the nose of the canoe quickly ashore, right up on the narrow strand, in the cove, at the foot of the cliffs.

The Indians had perceived their intentions, and with a loud yell had changed their course to prevent them and cut them off. The first canoe was not a dozen yards away, and in another three seconds would have been beached alongside theirs, when Jack seized his rifle and, without taking any precise arm, fired point-blank into the canoe. It was loaded with heavy buck-shot, and the Iroquois at the steering paddle received half the contents of it.

Nothing could have been better done had the aim been more skilfully taken. The paddle dropped helplessly from his hand, and the rapid current carried the canoe past the landing-point. A savage yell burst from every Indian within sight. The lads responded with a shout of defiance, and then, abandoning canoe, outfit, rifles and everything they possessed, they leapt from the boat and swiftly climbed the steep and narrow ascent, pulling themselves up by the roots and branches of trees that grew on this precipitous bank.

This clever and successful shot had gained them but a few seconds of time, but they reached the summit unharmed, and after a brief pursuit, the Indians, who were getting too near the settlements, retired and gave up the fruitless chase, and from the Heights of Abraham, as they looked down upon the river, they had the satisfaction of seeing their late enemies pursued in turn by a party of Algonquins, the active allies of the French.

Spring came at last, unlocking the rivers and the lakes, and the half-wild fur-traders, with their Indian guides, were already preparing to ascend the St. Lawrence, up past Mont Royale, and the Thousand Islands, across the great inland sea called Ontario, to the rude fort of Niagara.

Even here the fatiguing journey would not end, for after a brief respite, they must shoulder their packages, and carry their long birch-bark canoes over the rough portage that led past the mighty, thundering cataract of Niagara, near by the hunting-grounds of the fierce and warlike Senecas. Then they must place their canoes again on the upper reaches of the swift Niagara River, and from thence enter Lake Erie, pass the outposts of Presqu' Isle, Miami and Fort Detroit, to the rivers, the lakes and the forts beyond, where in the surrounding forests the red man in all his primeval simplicity hunted, fished, lived and died. Even to the far-off lands of the Kickapoos, the Ojibways and the Winnebagos these brave fur-traders often ventured, drawn partly by a desire for gain, and partly, no doubt, by the added spice of danger and adventure.

Such, then, was the adventure to which our heroes were committed, as soon as the rivers were clear of the dangerous ice-floes, and the Algonquin chief Wabeno arrived with a dozen of his braves to accompany them as guides and scouts. Here was a prospect of adventure which thrilled the lads, and they anxiously awaited the arrival of the chief, which was to be on the first day of the new moon. They were to have a share in the enterprise, as a reward of their services.

"Wake up, Jack! Here comes the chief, in all his warpaint, with moccasins and deer-skin hunting-shirt, and with a girdle of scalps hanging from his belt," cried Jamie one morning, rushing into the apartment that served them both for sleeping purposes.

"Hurrah!" cried his friend. "I'm coming. Are the canoes ready?"

"Yes, they're all loaded up and waiting in the river, by the lower town."

"Glad we're leaving Quebec at last, aren't you? By all the preparations that the Governor's pushing forward, there's going to be a dreadful fight here some day, and the side that wins will have Canada for a prize."

"So you want to be out of the fighting, do you, old boy? That isn't a bit like you."

"Ah, don't misunderstand me, old fellow. I mean that I don't want to be cooped up in here when the fighting takes place, because our fellows will be outside. I wouldn't mind a hand in the storming, fighting under the British flag, for although the French have been pretty good to us--at least, some of them--they didn't treat the rest of the Duncan's crew too well, when they shipped them all back to England in that leaky old tub."

They had now reached the lower part of the town, and were approaching the river by one of the narrow steep streets of which Quebec has so many, when Jamie, casting up a look at the frowning, embattled citadel, said--

"That place will want some storming! A handful of brave men, well supplied with ammunition and provisions, might sit tight up there for years, and defy the armies of the world."

"You're right, Jamie, and yet, I confess, I'd like to see another flag up there, wouldn't you?"

Turning to his companion, Jamie looked him full in the face, and replied--

"I would, Jack! And who knows? We may help to plant it there, some day. And, then, what would they think of us in Burnside?"

"Ah, they'd forget that they once put us in the lock-up for taking a few trout, and they'd all turn out to welcome us home; or if we died they'd put a tablet to our memory in the old church. Ha! ha!" laughed Jack.

At this point their conversation, which had been partly serious and partly jocular, was interrupted by a sound somewhat unusual at this early hour, for it was only about five o'clock in the morning, and the sun had not long been risen. Sounds of laughter and much shouting greeted them, and the next moment they turned a corner and came upon the voyageurs, as these rough, half-wild fur-traders are called. A dozen or so of rough but sturdy Canadians were bidding good-bye to their wives and sweethearts, though there seemed to be more excitement and laughter than tears and sadness of farewell. These men, hard as nails, used to the terrors of the wilderness, and the hardships of the forests, were dressed nearly like their Indian allies, who stood by--Wabeno and his braves.

They wore fur caps, deer-skin hunting-shirts, moccasins and leggings, worked by the Indian squaws. They were all armed with rifles and long hunting-knives, and one or two of them, who were probably half-castes, carried tomahawks as well. Moored to the bank close beside them were three very long canoes, loaded with all the requirements for a six months' trading outfit, and ready to start.

"Ah, mes camarades! Voici ils vient," cried Major Ridout, the leader of the expedition, and then in loud, ringing tones, he shouted, "Aux bateaux!"--"To the boats!"

In a moment the canoes were filled, Wabeno and three of his men entering the first, and the others distributing themselves as arranged. There were twenty-three all told, and the youths along with the leader, who was a genial man, of great experience, born of a Canadian father and a Scotch mother, entered the last boat, which was rather larger than the other two, and had several buffalo robes spread in the stern sheets.

The last good-bye was said, and to the stirring notes of a Canadian boat song, the rowers paddled away, and soon left their friends and their homes behind. Alas! how few of them were ever to see those homes or those friends again.

They were a merry party at present, however, and the Indians took turns with the hardy voyageurs, as they paddled quickly against the rapid stream. The canoes were very light, being made of birch bark, for they had to be carried over rough and sometimes long portages. Yet they were very strong and roomy, and at present were loaded so deeply that the water was only a few inches below the gunwales.

After two hours' hard work, pulling against the stream, the leader gave a quick, sharp command--

"À terre! À terre!"

This order to land for breakfast was obeyed with alacrity. Camp-fires were lit. The "billies" were soon boiling, and a hearty meal of pemmican and bread was washed down with a drink of water from the river. After an hour's rest, they continued their journey.

That night they camped on the northern bank, in a little clearing of the forest, about thirty miles above Quebec. They had hardly yet approached the danger zone, though small parties of the Iroquois did sometimes penetrate thus far. A watch was set, however, and campfires were permitted, and after supper the men chatted and laughed and smoked. Then a song was called for--a song with a chorus. And while the flames from the burning logs lit up the surrounding pines, one after another trolled forth a song, and the voyageurs took up the chorus, till the woods resounded with their voices, and the creatures of the forest must have wondered what strange beings these were that disturbed their haunts.

The Indians looked on at all this merriment with stoic countenances, as though they disapproved of such light-heartedness, but at last one of the men cried out--

"Wabeno! Give us a war-dance!"

Instantly the expression of every Indian changed. Wabeno readily acceded to the request. A post was driven into the ground, and a circle formed around it. A few minutes sufficed to arrange their fluttering feathers and scalp-locks, and to paint their faces with red ochre and white lead. Then, suddenly, Wabeno, their chief, with a loud, blood-curdling yell, leapt into the circle, brandishing his tomahawk, and began reciting, in a fierce tone, all the deeds of prowess accomplished by himself and his ancestors.

A second warrior imitated his example, and then another, until at length the war-dance began in real earnest, and the whole pack of Indians were yelling and whooping, like so many demoniacs, hacking and tearing at the wooden post as though they were scalping an enemy. When they had thus worked themselves up into a frenzy, a final whoop from the chief ended the wild frolic, and instantly every warrior assumed a mask of boredom and indifference. A few minutes more, and all except the watch were fast asleep, wrapped in blankets or buffalo robes.

Thus passed the days and nights, until after they had passed the small fort of Mont Royale. Then the merriment ceased, for they were in an enemy's country. The watch was doubled every evening, and fires were left unlit, or extinguished as soon as possible. Once or twice, suspecting the near presence of an enemy, they slept in the canoes.

When they had passed the rapids of La Chine and Long Sault, several Indian scouts were thrown out in advance, along either bank, in order to prevent a sudden attack from an ambushed foe. All went well for some days, although the subdued manner of the voyageurs, and the keen alertness of the redskins, created an uneasy feeling in the minds of the youths. Towards sunset one afternoon Jack, who had been examining the river bank some distance ahead of the first canoe, suddenly exclaimed--

"Look! Wabeno is signalling! What has he seen?"