The twenty-four volunteers led the way, climbing with what
silence they might, closely followed by a much larger body. When they
reached the top they saw in the dim light a cluster of tents at a short
distance, and immediately made a dash at them. Vergor leaped from bed
and tried to run off, but was shot in the heel and captured. His men,
taken by surprise, made little resistance. One or two were caught, the
rest fled.
[Footnote 775: See a note of Smollett, _History of England_, V. 56 (ed.
1805). Sergeant Johnson, Vaudreuil, Foligny, and the _Journal of
Particular Transactions_ give similar accounts.]
[Footnote 776: _Saunders to Pitt_, 20 Sept. _Journal of Sergeant
Johnson_. Compare Knox, II. 67.]
The main body of troops waited in their boats by the edge of the strand.
The heights near by were cleft by a great ravine choked with forest
trees; and in its depths ran a little brook called Ruisseau St.-Denis,
which, swollen by the late rains, fell plashing in the stillness over a
rock. Other than this no sound could reach the strained ear of Wolfe but
the gurgle of the tide and the cautious climbing of his advance-parties
as they mounted the steeps at some little distance from where he sat
listening. At length from the top came a sound of musket-shots, followed
by loud huzzas, and he knew that his men were masters of the position.
The word was given; the troops leaped from the boats and scaled the
heights, some here, some there, clutching at trees and bushes, their
muskets slung at their backs.
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