Suddenly the smoke puffed out from the batteries in front.  There was a flash of fire, and in a few seconds a dull roar, with strange, screaming noises interspersed.  The water became lashed by a storm of shot, and shrieks of human agony mingled with the noise of the battle.  It was a deadly fire which fell hot around the devoted little fleet; but Humphrey and Julian, away to the right, were a little out of range, and slightly protected by a craggy ridge.  No man of their company had been killed; but they saw that along the line of boats terrible havoc was being wrought.

They saw Wolfe’s tall, thin figure standing up and making signs.  He was waving his hand to them now, and Humphrey exclaimed in his keen excitement: 

“We are to land behind the crag and rush the guns!”

In a moment the half-dozen or more boats of this little detachment were making for the shore as hard as the rowers’ arms could take them.  It was hard work to land amongst the breakers, which were dashing into snowy surf along the beach; but perhaps the surf hid them from their enemies a little, for they were not hindered by any storm of shot or shell.  They landed on the beach, formed into a compact body, and headed by Major Scott and some bold Highland soldiers, they dashed up the slope towards the battery.

But now they were in the midst of a hail of bullets.  It seemed to Humphrey as though hell’s mouth had opened.  But there was no thought of fear in his heart.  The battle fury had come upon him.  He sprang within the battery and flung himself upon the gunners.  Others followed his example.  There was a tremendous hand-to-hand fight—­French, Indians, English, Scotch, all in one struggling melee; and then above the tumult Wolfe’s clarion voice ringing out, cheering on his men, uttering concise words of command; and then a sense of release from the suffocating pressure, a consciousness that the enemy was giving way, was flying, was abandoning the position; a loud English cheer, and a yell from the Highlanders, the sound of flying footsteps, pursuers and pursued; and Humphrey found himself leaning against a gun, giddy and blind and bewildered, scarcely knowing whether he were alive or dead, till a hand was laid upon his shoulder, and a familiar voice said in his ear: 

“Well done, Ensign Angell.  They tell me that we owe our victorious rush today to your blunder!”

“My blunder?”

“Yes; you mistook my signal.  I was ordering a retreat.  It would not have been possible to land the men under that deadly fire.  I could not see, from my position, the little shelter of the crag.  I had signalled to draw out of the range of the guns.  But your mistake has won us the day.”

Humphrey, half ashamed, half exultant, was too breathless to reply; Julian came hastening up; and Wolfe hurried away to see to the landing of the guns and stores, now that the enemy had made a full retreat upon the fortress.