The Bastonnais: Tale of the American Invasion of Canada in 1775-76Lespérance, John
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The Bastonnais: Tale of the American Invasion of Canada in 1775-76
Lespérance, John
Canadian Invasion, 1775-1776 -- Fiction
The contest was keen and animated. The riflemen of Virginia poured
volley after volley against the artillerists, while the latter hurled
their solid balls against the massive masonry. At first they fired low,
battering in doors, splintering wood-work, unhinging shutters, and
ploughing the floors. The old walls of the town were shrouded in clouds
of white smoke. The Palace appeared like a ring of fire from the red
barrels of the riflemen. At length, one of the British militia officers
stepped forward and pointed a nine-pounder direct on the cupola.
Cary spied the movement and exclaimed:
"This is our last chance. Fire!"
Loud and clear boomed the roar of that fatal cannon shot amid the rattle
of musketry. There was a crash, a shivering of timbers, and then a heavy
fall. When the smoke cleared away, the Intendant's Palace was a heap of
ruins. The cupola had entirely disappeared. Wounded men crept out of the
debris as well as they could, some limping, some holding a broken arm,
others bandaging their damaged scalps, but all trailing their muskets.
Cary Singleton was borne away by two of his men badly hurt in both legs.
The British officer who had aimed the victorious shot stood towering on
the walls surveying his achievement. It was Roderick Hardinge.
"Well done, Captain," said Caldwell, commander of the militia regiment
to which Roderick belonged, and who had entrusted his young friend with
the destruction of the Palace. "That is a good work. I have watched it
from the bastion yonder and come to congratulate you. I shall recommend
you for immediate promotion."
And so he did. Before that day had ended Roderick Hardinge was breveted
a Major. He was overjoyed, and after receiving the congratulations of
his friends, he hurried off to tell Pauline of his good fortune. Her
father was out of the house and she was quite alone. When she opened the
door to Hardinge, her eyes were red with weeping, and she held a bit of
written paper in her hand. There is no need to describe the meeting.
Suffice it to say that the note had informed her of Cary Singleton's
fall.
XIV.
LITTLE BLANCHE.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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