The progress of the fleet up the river, from the point at which it had
been so long delayed, had been slow, and greatly impeded by the
determined hostility of the settlers along the banks. The sailors at
their work were apt to be startled by the whiz of a bullet; and an
inquiry as to the cause would have probably discovered some crouching
sharp-shooter, his long rifle in his hand, hidden in a clump of bushes
along the shore. Bands of armed men followed the fleet up the stream,
keeping pace with the vessels, and occasionally affording gentle
reminders of their presence in the shape of volleys of rifle-balls
that sung through the crowded decks of the transports, and gave the
sailor lads a hearty disgust for this river fighting. Phipps tried
repeatedly to land shore parties to clear the banks of skirmishers,
and to move on the city by land. As often, however, as he made the
effort, his troops were beaten back by the ambushed sharp-shooters,
and his boats returned to the ships, bringing several dead and
wounded.

While the soldiery on the highlands of Quebec were eagerly examining
the hostile fleet, the invaders were looking with wonder and
admiration at the scene of surpassing beauty spread out before them.
Parkman, the historian and lover of the annals of the French in
America, thus describes it:--

"When, after his protracted voyage, Phipps sailed into the basin of
Quebec, one of the grandest scenes on the western continent opened
upon his sight. The wide expanse of waters, the lofty promontory
beyond, and the opposing Heights of Levi, the cataract of Montmorenci,
the distant range of the Laurentian Mountains, the warlike rock with
its diadem of walls and towers, the roofs of the Lower Town
clustering on the strand beneath, the Chateau St. Louis perched at the
brink of the cliff, and over it the white banner, spangled with
_fleurs de lis_, flaunting defiance in the clear autumnal air."

Little time was spent, however, in admiration of the scene. When the
click of the last chain-cable had ceased, and, with their anchors
reposing at the bottom of the stream, the ships swung around with
their bows to the current, a boat put off from the flag-ship bearing
an officer intrusted with a note from Phipps to the commandant of the
fort. The reception of this officer was highly theatrical. Half way to
the shore he was taken into a French canoe, blindfolded, and taken
ashore. The populace crowded about him as he landed, hooting a