tread of men about
the capstan. Thirty-two vessels of the squadron floated lightly on the
calm waters of the bay; and darting in and out among them were light
craft carrying pleasure-seekers who had come down to witness the
sailing of the fleet, friends and relatives of the sailors who were
there to say farewell, and the civic dignitaries who came to wish the
expedition success. One by one the vessels beat their way down the
bay, and, rounding the dangerous reef at the mouth of the harbor, laid
their course to the northward. It was a motley fleet of vessels. The
"Six Brothers" led the way, followed by brigs, schooners, and many
sloop-rigged fishing-smacks. With so ill-assorted a flotilla, it was
impossible to keep any definite sailing order. The first night
scattered the vessels far and wide, and thenceforward the squadron was
not united until it again came to anchor just above the mouth of the
St. Lawrence. It seemed as though the very elements had combined
against the voyagers. Though looking for summer weather, they
encountered the bitter gales of November. Only after they had all
safely entered the St. Lawrence, and were beyond injury from the
storms, did the gales cease. They had suffered all the injury that
tempestuous weather could do them, and they then had to chafe under
the enforced restraints of a calm.

Phipps had rallied his scattered fleet, and had proceeded up the great
river of the North to within three days' sail of Quebec, when the calm
overtook him. On the way up the river he had captured two French
luggers, and learned from his prisoners that Quebec was poorly
fortified, that the cannon on the redoubts were dismounted, and that
hardly two hundred men could be rallied to its defence. Highly elated
at this, the Massachusetts admiral pressed forward. He anticipated
that Quebec, like Port Royal, would surrender without striking a
blow. Visions of high honors, and perhaps even a commission in the
royal navy, floated across his brain. And while thus hurrying forward
his fleet, drilling his men, and building his air-castles, his further
progress was stopped by a dead calm which lasted three weeks.

How fatal to his hopes that calm was, Phipps, perhaps, never knew. The
information he had wrung from his French prisoners was absolutely
correct. Quebec at that time was helpless, and virtually at his mercy.
But, while the Massachusetts armada lay idly floating on the unruffled
bosom of the river, a man was ha