But this threatened assault was never made. In the early morning of June 27 the non-combatants in Louisbourg unanimously petitioned du Chambon to surrender forthwith. They crept out of their underground dungeons and gazed with mortal apprehension at the overwhelming forces that stood arrayed against their crumbling walls and dwindling garrison. Noon came, and their worst fears seemed about to be realized. But when the drums began beating, it was to a parley, not to arms. A sigh of ineffable relief went up from the whole of Louisbourg, and every eye followed the little white flutter of the flag of truce as it neared that terrible breaching battery opposite the West Gate. A Provincial officer came out to meet it. The French officer and he saluted. Then both moved into the British lines and beyond, to where Warren and Pepperrell were making their last arrangements on Green Hill. After a short consultation the British leaders sent in a joint reply to say that du Chambon could have till eight the next morning to make his proposals. These proved to be so unacceptable that Pepperrell refused to consider them, and at once sent counter-proposals of his own. Du Chambon had now no choice between annihilation and acceptance, so he agreed to surrender Louisbourg the following day. He was obliged to guarantee that none of the garrison should bear arms against the British, in any part of the world, for a whole year. Every one in Louisbourg was of course promised full protection for both property and person. Du Chambon's one successful stipulation was that his troops should march out with the honours of war, drums beating, bayonets fixed, and colours flying. Warren and Pepperrell willingly accorded this on the 28th; and the formal transfer took place next day, exactly seven weeks since the first eager New Englanders had waded ashore through the thundering surf of Gabarus Bay.