grounded in such a way that they could not bring their
guns to bear in reply. The stranded vessels soon became
a death-trap. Wolfe's cane was knocked out of his hand
by a cannon ball. Shells were bursting over the deck,
smashing the masts to pieces and sending splinters of
wood and iron flying about among the helpless grenadiers
and gunners. There was nothing to do but order the men
back to the boats and wait. The tide was not low till
four. The weather was scorchingly hot. A thunderstorm
was brewing. The redoubt could not be taken. The
transports were a failure. And every move had to be made
in full view of the watchful Montcalm, whose entrenchments
at this point were on the top of a grassy hill nearly
two hundred feet above the muddy beach. But Wolfe still
thought he might succeed with the main attack at low
tide, although he had not been able to prepare it at high
tide. His Montmorency batteries seemed to be pitching
their shells very thickly into the French, and his three
brigades of infantry were all ready to act together at
the right time. Accordingly, for the hottest hours of
that scorching day, Monckton's men grilled in the boats
while Townshend's and Murray's waited in camp. At four
the tide was low and Wolfe ordered the landing to begin.

The tidal flats ran out much farther than any one had
supposed. The heavily laden boats stuck on an outer ledge
and had to be cleared, shoved off, refilled with soldiers,
and brought round to another place. It was now nearly
six o'clock; and both sides were eager for the fray.
Townshend's and Murray's brigades had forded the mouth