towards cliffs and breakers. He then went to bed. Soon one of the
military officers rushed to his cabin and begged him to come on
deck as the ships were among breakers. Walker, who was an
irascible man, resented the intrusion and remained in bed. A
second time the officer appeared and said the fleet would be lost
if the Admiral did not act. Why it was left for a military rather
than a naval officer to rouse the Admiral in such a crisis we do
not know. Perhaps the sailors were afraid of the great man.
Walker appeared on deck in dressing gown and slippers. The fog
had lifted, and in the moonlight there could be seen breaking
surf to leeward. A French pilot, captured in the Gulf, had
taken pains to give what he could of alarming information. He now
declared that the ships were off the north shore. Walker turned
his own ship sharply and succeeded in beating out into deep water
and safety. For the fleet the night was terrible. Some ships
dropped anchor which held, for happily the storm abated. Fog guns
and lights as signals of distress availed little to the ships in
difficulty. Eight British transports laden with troops and two
ships carrying supplies were dashed to pieces on the rocks. The
shrieks of drowning men could be heard in the darkness. The scene
was the rocky Isle aux Oeufs and adjacent reefs off the north
shore. About seven hundred soldiers, including twenty-nine
officers, and in addition perhaps two hundred sailors, were lost
on that awful night.

The disaster was not overwhelming and Walker might have gone on
and captured Quebec. He had not lost a single war-ship and he had
still some eleven thousand men. General Hill might have stiffened
the back of the forlorn Admiral, but Hill himself was no better.
Vetch spoke for going on. He knew the St. Lawrence waters for he