For several hours, during these demonstrations, the firing on all sides had slackened; the flotilla still lay motionless in the center of the northern channel of the St. Lawrence. A great part of the day had thus passed without any thing of importance having been attempted. The clouds gathered heavily over the hills, and the receding tide warned Wolfe that only brief space was left for action. He hesitated for a time; circumstances were very adverse; but, unfortunately, the slight disorder in the enemy's lines confirmed the bolder counsel, always most congenial to his mind. At four o'clock he signaled for a renewal of the cannonade; at five his barge put off from the second transport, and rowed toward the flotilla, and at the same moment a red flag ran up to the mizen peak of the stranded ship: it was the signal to advance. With a loud cheer the sailors bent to the oar, and the long-motionless flotilla sprung into life. A few strokes somewhat disordered the regularity of the line; some boats were faster, some crews more vigorous than others. As they approached, the French gunners tried the decreasing range; the shot fell near, hissed over head, and at length fell in among the boats. Some few struck with fatal effect, for the weak frames were easily shivered, and then sunk with all on board. While still pressing on through the fire, the leading boats grounded on a ledge of unseen rocks at short musket-shot from the beach. The disorder then became dangerous. Wolfe was now in action: hesitation was at an end. He gave orders that the flotilla should re-form in rear of the rocks, and, when the boats were again afloat, signaled to Townshend to stop the advance of his brigade, which was already in motion upon the ford; he then sprang into a cutter with some navy officers, and skirted the reef in search of an opening. He soon succeeded. It was now half past five; the storm threatened close at hand; battalion after battalion the French were crowding from right to left; but Wolfe was not to be daunted; he renewed the signal of attack, and himself pointed out the way through the rocks. A few strokes carried the flotilla to the shore; while the eager troops sprang upon land, the French gave a parting volley, and abandoned the redoubt and the detached battery which defended the ford. The thirteen companies of Grenadiers and the Royal Americans were first ashore; they had received orders to form in four columns on the beach, there to await the support of the remainder of Monckton's brigade from the boats, and Townshend's from beyond the ford. But these chosen men were flushed with an overweening confidence: proud of their post of preference, proud of their individual strength, and exasperated by long delay, they burst like bloodhounds from the leash. Despite the orders of their officers, they raced across the intervening fields, and, without any order or formation, threw themselves against the crested height.