Under cover of this heavy fire the boats rowed to shore, and the men in waiting upon the stranded transports leaped out and joined their comrades.  The grenadiers were the first to land; and though Moncton’s brigade and Fraser’s Highlanders were close behind, the eagerness of the men could not be restrained.  They did not wait for their companions; they did not even wait to form up in very orderly fashion themselves.  They made a gallant dash upon the redoubt, and so strong was the onrush that the French, after a very brief resistance, fled; and with a shout and cheer of triumph the English gained their prize.

Julian, standing beside Wolfe on the vessel, could not refrain from a shout of triumph; but the face of the General was grave and stern.

“They are wrong—­they are wrong!” he said; “they are too impetuous.  Their rash gallantry will cost them dear.  See, they are not even waiting now for their companions to join them; they are trying to rush the heights alone!  Folly—­madness!  They will lose everything by such rashness!  There! did I not say so?”

At that moment the batteries on the brink of the height opened their murderous crossfire.  The men were mown down like grass before the scythe; but so full were they of fury and desire of victory that they heeded nothing, and pressed onward and upward, as though resolved to carry everything before them.

Had they been able to see the heights above, they would have noted that across the ford above the Montmorency a compact body of men was passing in perfect order, to fall upon the French from behind, and effect a junction with them.  But at that moment, whilst the fortunes of the day seemed hanging in the balance, the very floodgates of heaven seemed to open, and a deluge of rain descended, whilst the blackness of a terrific thunderstorm fell upon the combatants.

The slippery grass no longer gave foothold, and the men rolled down the steep heights—­dead, wounded, and unhurt in one medley.  The ammunition grew soaked, and the guns refused their task.  The glare of the lightning lit up a scene of utter confusion.

Wolfe saw all, standing with grave face and stern, watchful eyes.  At last he spoke.

“Sound the retreat,” he said, and then bit his lip; and Julian, by a glance into his face, knew what it had cost him to speak those words.

The retreat was made in good order, and was distinguished by a few acts of personal gallantry; for the Indians swooped down, as they always did when they saw their chance, to scalp the wounded and the dead.  Soldiers risked their lives to save their fallen comrades from this fate, dragging the wounded with them, at risk of their own lives.  The guns of the captured redoubt did some service in beating off the savages; and the boats were launched once more, though their load was a far lighter one than when they had brought up their eager crews an hour before.  The strand and the height above were covered with the dead who had paid for their rash gallantry with their lives.  It was a scene upon which Wolfe’s eyes dwelt with sadness and pain, as he ordered a boat to be got ready for him, that he might address the men on their return to quarters.