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He was alone and unarmed and weakened by long privation and hardship. He had not had a good, wholesome meal for years, and his frame was considerably emaciated, though he was a young man in the prime of his life. This stranger was No. 39, who escaped from the galleys at Quebec. He watched the sloop bear down to the spot where the three French pilots stood ready to sail to the English fleet to mislead them.

"God in heaven give me strength and show me the way to thwart their designs," he mentally groaned.

It had been years since he had seen his native country, and, now that a hope of being again on board an English craft was roused in his breast, that hope was to be blighted by the treachery of his enemies.

"But no; surely the commandant of the English fleet will not believe them. They are Frenchmen. They are enemies."

Breathless and panting with eagerness and anxiety, he leaned against the large shaft of stone and watched the sloop gliding swiftly to the point of rocks where the three Frenchmen stood.

"Tack ship, or you will crush in your larboard bow!" cried one of the pilots.

The sails were laid aback, the little sloop tacked, whirled gracefully past the point of rocks, and

then, coming around once more, gracefully lay along the stone on which the three pilots stood.

"Well done, Edmund!" cried one of the pilots to the man at the helm.

"Where are you going?" asked the helmsman. "To the British fleet.

"What!

arms!"

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We will be hanged at their yard

"We will pretend we are deserters and pilots." "I don't believe it will save you.

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"It must save us, or Quebec is lost.

The unfortunate Englishman fully comprehended their design, and all the patriotism in his noble soul was roused, so that, weak, alone and unarmed as he was, he resolved to prevent them.

Just as the three pilots stepped into the sloop, he ran toward it shouting wildly:

"You shall not! You shall not!" and he seized the gunwale of the little vessel.

"Whom have we here?" asked one of the pilots. "By the mass! it is some mad fellow, who has broken his chains," cried another, striking the unfortunate Englishman a blow, which knocked him to the ground.

The sloop shoved off at this moment and again spread her sails to catch the breeze. The three pilots ran into the narrow cabin and procured some muskets, with which they returned once

more to the deck. The sloop was now fully a hundred paces from the shore.

"You did not slay him, Jacquez,” remarked

one.

"No; it seems my blow only stunned the rascal."

"Who is he?"

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Merely some crack-brained fool, who seeks to meddle with our affairs.”

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The stunned Englishman was by this time on his feet and, shaking his fist at the receding boat, and uttering some vociferous threats against its occupants.

"The fool deserves a bullet; let us give it him."

The muskets were levelled, and he who seemed leader of the pilots cried:

"Fire!"

Stunning reports shook the air, and when the smoke had cleared away, No. 39 was lying on the great stone so still and motionless, that the pilots pronounced him dead. Without experiencing the least remorse at the deed, they continued their course toward the British fleet.

When the fleet of Admiral Walker arrived at the mouth of the St. Lawrence, they loitered by

the way, the admiral absolutely refusing the advice. of Lieutenant Stevens and other New England sailors, whose opinions were invaluable to him.

"I must have a native pilot," the admiral declared. "We dare not risk ourselves in French waters without a French pilot.".

"But, Sir Hovenden, do you reflect that a French pilot might lead us astray?" Lieutenant Stevens ventured to remark.

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Prythee; who commands this fleet?" cried the haughty admiral.

The young lieutenant bowed in mute submission and apologized for his suggestion, stating that he made it for the good of the fleet and the admiral.

"When I want your suggestions, I will ask for them," the pompous admiral declared.

Then, pacing the quarter-deck, he swore at the presumption of the American colonists.

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Why! if her majesty the queen of England were to come to America, these impudent fellows would seek to advise her."

In his anger, his wig became awry, his cocked hat was set on one side of his head, and the admiral cut a ridiculous figure. "I will send that have no dictating

fellow from my ship! I will

here!" he declared.

At this moment, one of the midshipmen came

up and, saluting the admiral, stated that he bore a message. The message was to the effect that a strange sloop was approaching the fleet.

"Zounds! rather odd!" growled the admiral. "Perchance it may be French pilots."

"What orders will you give, admiral?” asked the midshipman.

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Tell them to let the sloop come alongside, and we will see who they are."

The sloop approached the fleet under easy sail, and it was found that it had but five men aboard, all of whom were Frenchmen, though they spoke English.

"Bring them aboard my ship," the admiral commanded.

It was dark when the five Frenchmen were brought aboard the flag-ship of Admiral Walker. He at once proceeded to interrogate them about the gulf and river of St. Lawrence. They answered his questions in a way that was satisfactory to the foolish admiral, but which was anything but satisfactory to the young lieutenant, who was listening. They told a plausible story about deserting their countrymen on account of the cruelty of some officers, and of having determined to come over to the enemy.

This story was corroborated by some of the sailors, who had seen the smoke of guns from the

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