snatched sleep, booted and spurred, and in the ebb of a losing game,
longed for his adored Candiac, grieved for a beloved daughter's
death, sent cheerful messages to his aged mother and to his wife,
and by the deeper protests of his love foreshadowed his own doom.
At Cap Rouge, a dying commander, unperturbed and valiant, reached
out a finger to trace the last movements in a desperate campaign of
life that opened in Flanders at sixteen; of which the end began
when he took from his bosom the portrait of his affianced wife,
and said to his old schoolfellow, "Give this to her, Jervis, for
we shall meet no more."

Then, passing to the deck, silent and steady, no signs of pain
upon his face, so had the calm come to him, as to Nature and this
beleaguered city, before the whirlwind, he looked out upon the
clustered groups of boats filled with the flower of his army,
settled in a menacing tranquillity. There lay the Light Infantry,
Bragg's, Kennedy's, Lascelles's, Anstruther's Regiment, Fraser's
Highlanders, and the much-loved, much-blamed, and impetuous
Louisburg Grenadiers. Steady, indomitable, silent as cats, precise
as mathematicians, he could trust them, as they loved his awkward
pain-twisted body and ugly red hair. "Damme, Jack, didst thee ever
take hell in tow before?" said a sailor from the Terror of France
to his fellow once, as the marines grappled with a flotilla of
French fire-ships, and dragged them, spitting destruction, clear
of the fleet, to the shore. "Nay, but I've been in tow of Jimmy
Wolfe's red head; that's hell-fire, lad!" was the reply.

From boat to boat the General's eye passed, then shifted to the
ships--the Squirrel, the Leostaff, the Seahorse, and the rest--and
lastly to where the army of Bougainville lay. Then there came