Meanwhile the tide of resolution, hope, and coming triumph was rising fast among the British. They were the attackers now; they had one distinct objective; and their leaders were men whose lives had been devoted to the art of war. Sheaffe took his time. Arrived near Queenston, he saw that his three guns and two hundred muskets there could easily prevent the two thousand disorganized American militia from crossing the river; so he wheeled to his right, marched to St David's, and then, wheeling to his left, gained the Heights two miles beyond the enemy. The men from Chippawa marched in and joined him. The line of attack was formed, with the Indians spread out on the flanks and curving forward. The British in Queenston, seeing the utter impotence of the Americans who refused to cross over, turned their fire against the Heights; and the invaders at once realized that their position had now become desperate. When Sheaffe struck inland an immediate change of the American front was required to meet him. Hitherto the Americans on the Heights had faced down-stream, towards Queenston, at right angles to the river. Now they were obliged to face inland, with their backs to the river. Wadsworth, the American militia brigadier, a very gallant member of a very gallant family, immediately waived his rank in favour of Colonel Winfield Scott, a well-trained regular. Scott and Wadsworth then did all that men could do in such a dire predicament. But most of the militia became unmanageable, some of the regulars were comparatively raw; there was confusion in front, desertion in the rear, and no coherent whole to meet the rapidly approaching shock. On came the steady British line, with the exultant Indians thrown well forward on the flanks; while the indomitable single gun at Vrooman's Point backed up Holcroft's two guns in Queenston, and the two hundred muskets under Dennis joined in this distracting fire against the American right till the very last moment. The American left was in almost as bad a case, because it had got entangled in the woods beyond the summit and become enveloped by the Indians there. The rear was even worse, as men slank off from it at every opportunity. The front stood fast under Winfield Scott and Wadsworth. But not for long. The British brought their bayonets down and charged. The Indians raised the war-whoop and bounded forward. The Americans fired a hurried, nervous, straggling fusillade; then broke and fled in wild confusion. A very few climbed down the cliff and swam across. Not a single boat came over from the 'petrified' militia. Some more Americans, attempting flight, were killed by falling headlong or by drowning. Most of them clustered among the trees near the edge and surrendered at discretion when Winfield Scott, seeing all was lost, waved his handkerchief on the point of his sword.