Day after day all eyes, both French and British, looked
seaward from the heights and walls; though fleets had
never yet been known to come up the St Lawrence so early
in the season. At last, on May 9, the tops of a man-of-war
were sighted just beyond the Point of Levy. Either she
or Quebec, or both, might have false colours flying. So
neither besiegers nor besieged knew to which side she
belonged. Nor did she know herself whether Quebec was
French or British. Slowly she rounded into the harbour,
her crew at quarters, her decks all cleared for action.
She saluted with twenty-one guns and swung out her
captain's barge. Then, for the first time, every one
watching knew what she was; for the barge was heading
straight in towards the town, and redcoats and bluejackets
could see each other plainly. In a moment every British
soldier who could stand had climbed the nearest wall and
was cheering her to the echo; while the gunners showed
their delight by loading and firing as fast as possible
and making all the noise they could.

But one ship was not enough to turn the scale; and Levis
redoubled his efforts. On the night of the 15th French
hopes suddenly flared up all through the camp when the
word flew round that three strange men-of-war just reported
down off Beauport were the vanguard of a great French
fleet. But daylight showed them to be British, and British
bent on immediate and vigorous attack. Two of these
frigates made straight for the French flotilla, which
fled in wild confusion, covered by the undaunted Vauquelin