Shirley’s pertinacity, however, prevailed in the end. Pepperell’s own personal stake in the successful issue of the expedition was known to be as great as any man’s in the province, hence, his putting himself at the head of it did much to induce others of like good standing and estate to join him heart and hand, and their example, again, drew into the ranks a greater proportion of the well-to-do farmers and mechanics than was probably ever brought together in an army of equal numbers, either before or since. Hence, at Louisburg, as in our own time, when any extraordinary want arose, the general had only to call on the rank and file for the means to meet it. Several gentlemen, who had the success of the undertaking strongly at heart, volunteered to go with Pepperell to the scene of action. Among them were that William Vaughan, previously mentioned, and one James Gibson, a prominent merchant of Boston, who wrote a journal of the siege from observations made on the spot, besides contributing five hundred pounds toward equipping the army for its work.[8] A Crusade preached. Pepperell’s appointment soon justified Shirley’s forecast. It gave general satisfaction among all ranks and orders of men. On the day that he accepted the command Pepperell advanced five thousand pounds to the provincial treasury. He also paid out of his own pocket the bounty money offered to recruits in the regiment he was raising in Maine. Orders were soon flying in every direction, and very soon everything caught the infection of his energy. The expedition at once felt an extraordinary momentum. Volunteers flocked to the different rendezvous. In fact, more offered themselves than could be accepted. Again the loud burr of the drum, “The drums that beat at Louisburg and thundered in Quebec,” was heard throughout New England. The one question of the day was “Are you going?” In fact, little else was talked of, for, now that the mustering of armed men gave form and consistency to what was so lately a crude project only, the fortunes of the province were felt to be embarked in its success. True to its traditions, the clergy preached the expedition into a crusade. Again the old bugbear of Romish aggression was made to serve the turn of the hour. Religious antipathies were inflamed to the point of fanaticism. One clergyman armed himself with a large hatchet, with which he said he purposed chopping up into kindling wood all the Popish images he should find adorning the altars of Louisburg. Still another drew up a plan of campaign which he submitted to the general. “Carthage must be destroyed!” became the watchword, while to show the hand of God powerfully working for the right, the celebrated George Whitefield wrote the Latin motto, embroidered on the expeditionary standard,— “Never despair, Christ is with us.”