“The Governor is wont to be confident—­till the moment of actual peril arrives,” said the Abbe thoughtfully.  “Well, we shall see—­we shall see.  When are these notable fire ships to be sent forth?”

“I think tomorrow night,” answered Montcalm, “but that is a matter which rests with the Governor.  I have no concern in it; and when such is the case, I offer no advice and take no part in the arrangements.  Doubtless I shall see what is going on from some vantage point; but Monsieur de Vaudreuil will not take counsel with me in the matter.”

“Fire ships!” cried the midshipmen, when Colin told them what he had heard; “do they think to frighten English mariners with fireworks and bonfires?  Good! let them try and see.  And O Colin, good Colin, if they are going to send down fire ships upon the fleet, let us be there to see!”

Colin desired nothing better himself.  He was all agog to see the thing through.  And why should they not?  It was not difficult to obtain a boat, and in the darkness and confusion the four lads would easily be able to follow the fire ships and see the whole thing through.  The midshipmen could navigate a boat with anyone, and Colin had learned much of their skill.  All day they were often to be seen skimming about the basin of the St. Lawrence, prospecting about for news, and watching the movements of the English soldiers on shore, or of the fleet anchored a few miles farther off.  They had only to steal away unnoticed, and take to their boat before the excitement began, and they could follow the phantom ships upon their mysterious way, and watch the whole attempt against the English fleet.

“Ah, but take me,” cried Corinne, when she heard the discussion—­“do take me!  It is so hard to be a girl, and see nothing!  I will not be in your way.  I will not scream and cry, or do anything like that.  I only want to watch and see.  I shall not be afraid.  And I want so much to see something!  I know I could slip away without anyone’s knowing or missing me.  Only say you will take me!”

“Of course we will take you, Mademoiselle Corinne,” cried Paul, with boyish gallantry; “why should you not see as well as we?  I have a sister Margery at home who would be as wild to go as you can be.  She is as good as a boy any day.  Wrap yourself well up in a great cloak, so that you may keep warm, and so that nobody can guess we have a lady on board, and we will take care of you, never fear!”

Corinne clapped her hands gaily; although growing to maidenhood, she had the heart of a child, and was full of delight at the thought of anything that promised adventure and excitement.

“How good you are!  And pray call me not ‘Mademoiselle’ any more; call me Corinne—­all of you.  Let me be an English girl, and your sister; for, in sooth, I feel more and more English every day of my life.  Sometimes I fear that I shall be hanged for a traitor to the cause; for I find myself on the side of our English rivals more and more every day!”