o ships are left to the French,
and the deep bomb-proof casemates inside the fort between outer and
inner walls, where the families and the wounded have been sheltered,
are now in flame. Amherst loads his shells with combustibles and pours
one continuous rain of fiery death on the doomed fort. The houses,
which are of logs, flame like kindling wood, and now the timber work of
the stone bastions is burning from bombs hurtling through the roofs.
The walls crash down in masses. The scared surgeons, all bloody from
amputating shattered limbs, no longer stand in safety above their
operating tables. It is said that Madame Drucourt, the Governor's
wife, actually stayed on the walls to encourage the soldiers, with her
own hands fired some of the great guns, and, when the overworked
surgeons flagged from terror and lack of sleep, it was Madame Drucourt
who attended to the wounded. Drucourt is for holding out to the death,
until one dark night the English row into the harbor and capture his
two last ships. Then Drucourt asks for terms, July 26; but the terms
are stern,--utter surrender,--and Drucourt would have fought till every
man fell from the walls, had not one of the civil officers rushed after
the commander's messenger carrying {256} the refusal, and shouted
across the ditches to the English: "We accept! We surrender! We
accept your terms!"

Counting soldiers, marines, and townspeople, in all five thousand
French pass over to Amherst, to be carried prisoners on Boscawen's
fleet to England. Wolfe was for proceeding at once to Quebec, but
Amherst considered the season too late and determined to complete the
work where he was. One detachment goes to receive the surrender of
Isle St. John, henceforth known as Prince Edward Island. Another
division proceeds up St. John River, New Brunswick, burning all
settlements that refuse unconditional surrender. Wolfe's grenadiers
are sent to reduce Gaspe and Miramichi and northern New Brunswick. And
now, lest blundering statecraft for a second time return the captured
fort to France, Amherst and Boscawen order the complete disarmament and
destruction of Louisburg. What cannon cannot be removed are tumbled
into the marsh or upset into the sea. The stones from the walls are
carried away to Halifax. By 1760, of Louisburg, the glory of New
France, the pride of America, there remains not a vestige but grassed
slopes overgrown by nettles, ditches with rank growth of weeds, stone