On the evening of the 4th of July baggage, stores, and ammunition were all on board the boats, and the whole army embarked at daybreak on the 5th.  It was indeed a magnificent sight, as the flotilla started.  It consisted of 900 troop boats, 135 whale boats, and a large number of heavy flatboats carrying the artillery.  They were in three divisions, the regulars in the centre, the provincial troops on either flank.

Each corps had its flags and its music, the day was fair and bright, and, as the flotilla swept on past the verdure-clad hills, with the sun shining brilliantly down on the bright uniforms and gay flags, on the flash of oars and the glitter of weapons, a fairer sight was seldom witnessed.

At five in the afternoon, they reached Sabbath Day Point, twenty-five miles down the lake, where they halted some time for the baggage and artillery.  At eleven o’clock they started again, and by daybreak were nearing the outlet of the lake.

An advanced party of the French were watching their movements, and a detachment was seen, near the shore, at the spot where the French had embarked on the previous year.  The companies of Rogers and James Walsham landed, and drove them off, and by noon the whole army was on shore.

The troops started in four columns, but so dense was the forest, so obstructed with undergrowth, that they could scarcely make their way, and, after a time, even the guides became confused in the labyrinth of trunks and boughs, and the four columns insensibly drew near to each other.

Curiously, the French advanced party, 350 strong, who had tried to retreat, also became lost in the wood, and, not knowing where the English were, in their wanderings again approached them.  As they did so Lord Howe, who, with Major Putnam, and 200 rangers and scouts, was at the head of the principal column, suddenly came upon them.  A skirmish followed.  Scarcely had it begun when Lord Howe dropped dead, shot through the breast.  For a moment, something like a panic seized the army, who believed that they had fallen into an ambush, and that Montcalm’s whole force was upon them.  The rangers, however, fought steadily, until Rogers’ Rangers and the Royal Scouts, who were out in front, came back and took the French in the rear.  Only about 50 of these escaped, 148 were captured, and the rest killed or drowned in endeavouring to cross the rapids.

The loss of the English was small in numbers, but the death of Howe inflicted an irreparable blow upon the army.  As Major Mante, who was present, wrote: 

“In Lord Howe, the soul of General Abercromby’s army seemed to expire.  From the unhappy moment that the general was deprived of his advice, neither order nor discipline was observed, and a strange kind of infatuation usurped the place of resolution.”

The loss of its gallant young general was, indeed, the destruction of an army of 15,000 men.  Abercromby seemed paralysed by the stroke, and could do nothing, and the soldiers were needlessly kept under arms all night in the forest, and, in the morning, were ordered back to the landing place.