by the French was, of course, on quite a different scale.
Every fortification and other building in Louisbourg,
with the remarkable exception of a single house, was at
least partly demolished by the nine thousand cannon balls
and six hundred shells that hit the target of a hundred
acres peopled by four thousand souls.

On the 29th the French marched out with the honours of
war, laid down their arms, and were put under guard as
prisoners, pending their transport to France. Du Chambon
handed the keys to Pepperrell at the South Gate. The
victorious but disgusted Provincials marched in by the
West Gate, and found themselves set to protect the very
houses that they had hoped to plunder. Was it not high
time to recoup themselves for serving as soldiers at
sixpence a day? Great Babylon had fallen, and ought to
be destroyed--of course, with due profit to the destroyers.
There was a regular Louisbourg legend, current in New
England, that stores of goods and money were to be found
in the strong rooms of every house. So we can understand
the indignation of men whose ideas were coloured by
personal contact with smuggling and privateering, and
sometimes with downright piracy, when they were actually
told off as sentries over these mythical hoards of wealth.
One diarist made the following entry immediately after
he had heard the news: 'Sabbath Day, ye 16th June [Old
Style] they came to Termes for us to enter ye Sitty to
morrow, and Poore Termes they Bee too.' Another added
that there was 'a great Noys and hubbub a mongst ye
Solders a bout ye Plunder: Som a Cursing, Som a Swarein.'