On the next day, however, the 3rd of June, the surf was so high that nothing could be attempted.  On the 4th there was a thick fog and a gale, and the frigate Trent struck on a rock, and some of the transports were nearly blown on shore.  The sea was very heavy, and the vessels rolled tremendously at their anchors.  Most of the troops suffered terribly from seasickness.

The next day, the weather continued thick and stormy.  On the 6th there was fog, but towards noon the wind went down, whereupon the signal was made, the boats were lowered, and the troops took their places in them.  Scarcely had they done so, when the wind rose again, and the sea got up so rapidly that the landing was postponed.

The next day the fog and heavy surf continued, but in the evening the sea grew calmer, and orders were issued for the troops to take to the boats, at two o’clock next morning.  This was done, and the frigates got under sail, and steered for the four points at which the real or pretended attacks were to be made, and, anchoring within easy range, opened fire soon after daylight; while the boats, in three divisions, rowed towards the shore.

The division under Wolfe consisted of twelve companies of Grenadiers, with the Light infantry, Fraser’s Highlanders, and the New England Rangers.  Fresh Water Cove was a crescent-shaped beach a quarter of a mile long, with rocks at each end.  On the shore above lay 1000 Frenchmen under Lieutenant Colonel de Saint Julien, with eight cannons, on swivels, planted to sweep every part of the beach.  The intrenchments, behind which the troops were lying, were covered in front by spruce and fir trees, felled and laid on the ground with the tops outward.

Not a shot was fired until the English boats approached the beach, then, from behind the leafy screen, a deadly storm of grape and musketry was poured upon them.  It was clear at once that to advance would be destruction, and Wolfe waved his hand as a signal to the boats to sheer off.

On the right of the line, and but little exposed to the fire, were three boats of the Light Infantry under Lieutenants Hopkins and Brown, and Ensign Grant, who, mistaking the signal, or wilfully misinterpreting it, dashed for the shore directly before them.  It was a hundred yards or so east of the beach—­a craggy coast, lashed by the breakers, but sheltered from the cannon by a small projecting point.

The three young officers leapt ashore, followed by their men.  Major Scott, who commanded the Light Infantry and Rangers, was in the next boat, and at once followed the others, putting his boat’s head straight to the shore.  The boat was crushed to pieces against the rocks.  Some of the men were drowned, but the rest scrambled up the rocks, and joined those who had first landed.  They were instantly attacked by the French, and half of the little party were killed or wounded before the rest of the division could come to their assistance.