My scheme was as simple as his own. Hardly had we got clear of the house before my mind was made up. When I judged we were at the open space between the end of the barricaded street and the ramparts I uttered a terrifying yell and flapped the lid. It was enough. The chest went crashing to the ground, and I crawled out, bruised but otherwise unhurt, and my valiant porters were out of sight. [Illustration: "I crawled out bruised, but otherwise unhurt."] Without delay I made my way to M. Bois de la Mothe, in charge of the fleet, and stated the case, carefully suppressing, however, all mention of my personal adventure, and by morning was in possession of the desired stores, extracted from the Commissary by a peremptory threat to put him in irons and send him to France if they were not forth-coming. Long before our preparations could be made for leaving the town, the sound of musketry reached us from La Cormorandiere, and we knew the landing was attempted. I was all impatience to be off, but our scanty stores could not be risked if the attempt were successful; so with the others I anxiously awaited the result. But, alas! our stoutest hopes were dashed by the sight of white uniforms straggling over the crest of the hill in full flight, and, instead of a hospital train, I was soon heading a sortie to support the retreat of our troops, with the cannon thundering over our heads to cover their entry into the threatened town. CHAPTER XI "A FRIEND AT ONE'S BACK IS A SAFE BRIDGE" One after another our positions were abandoned or driven in, until the plan of defence by our outlying works entirely failed, and we were forced to fall back on the sorry defences of the town itself. Our ships did little or no effective service, and though we succeeded in closing the mouth of the harbour and were comparatively safe on that side, the English crept closer and closer, until they hemmed us in between their ever-contracting lines and the sea. On the evening of the 8th of July the colonel of the regiment of Bourgogne called for volunteers, and leaving the town by night, six hundred strong, we hurled ourselves upon the enemy's southern line, only to be driven back with heavy enough losses on each side, and at daybreak to see the English General, Wolfe, in a more advanced position. Among the prisoners we carried in with us was a young officer of the 78th, a Highland regiment. My services as interpreter were not required, as he spake French perfectly, so it was not until after his interview with M. de Drucour that I met him in company with my colonel. "Chevalier, a countryman of your own, an unwilling guest on our poor hospitality. Captain Nairn, the Chevalier de Kirkconnel." We bowed, but I supplemented the courtesy by extending my hand, for I was in no doubt for a moment as to his identity, his likeness to his sister Margaret being remarkable. "Captain Nairn is well known to me," I said, laughing. "I could even name him more intimately."