9
The sound of musketry echoed from the low clouds, muted by distance.
“Something’s happening.” MacKim peered over the parapet of the Diamond Battery at the very corner of Quebec’s defences. Only the distant stars penetrated the intense dark.
“Somewhere,” Butler said. “Not in our parish, though. That was well upstream.”
“I thought we had conquered this country,” Ramsay complained. “Don’t the French know that we beat them?”
“Maybe they haven’t learned yet,” Parnell said. “Maybe we have to teach them all over again.”
MacKim nodded. “Lieutenant Kennedy is the man for that,” he said.
It was two days before the news filtered through that the Royal Navy had sent a small bomb-ketch upriver with ammunition and stores for the Quebec garrison. The bomb-ketch had become iced in, and the French
