Wolfe led his troops to this spot and formed them in line, across the plateau and facing the city.  The right wing rested on the edge of the height, along the Saint Lawrence, but the left did not extend far enough to reach the slopes down to the Saint Charles.  To prevent being outflanked on this wing, Brigadier Townshend was stationed here, with two battalions, drawn up at right angles to the rest, and facing the Saint Charles.  Webb’s regiment formed the reserve, the 3d battalion of Royal Americans were left to guard the landing, and Howe’s light infantry occupied a wood, far in the rear of the force, to check Bougainville should he approach from that direction.  Wolfe, with his three brigadiers, commanded the main body, which, when all the troops had arrived, numbered less than three thousand five hundred men.

Quebec was less than a mile distant from the spot where the troops were posted, in order of battle, but an intervening ridge hid it from the sight of the troops.  At six o’clock, the white uniforms of the battalion of Guienne, which had marched up in hot haste from their camp on the Saint Charles, made their appearance on the ridge, and halted there, awaiting reinforcements.  Shortly afterwards, there was an outbreak of hot firing in the rear, where the light troops, under Colonel Howe, repulsed a detachment of Bougainville’s command, which came up and attacked them.

Montcalm had been on the alert all night.  The guns of Saunders’ fleet thundered unceasingly, opposite Beauport, and its boats hovered near the shore, threatening a landing.  All night, the French troops remained in their intrenchments.  Accompanied by the Chevalier Johnston, he remained all night in anxious expectation.  He felt that the critical moment had come, but could not tell from which direction the blow was to arrive.  He had sent an officer to Vaudreuil, whose quarters were near Quebec, begging him to send word instantly, should anything occur above the town.

Just at daybreak, he heard the sound of cannon from that direction.  This was the battery at Samos, opening fire upon the English ships.  But no word came from Vaudreuil and, about six o’clock, Montcalm mounted and, accompanied by Johnston, rode towards the town.  As he approached the bridge across the Saint Charles, the country behind the town opened to his view, and he presently saw the red line of British troops, drawn up on the heights above the river, two miles away.  Instantly, he sent Johnston off, at full gallop, to bring up the troops from the centre and left.  Vaudreuil had already ordered up those on the right.  Montcalm rode up to Vaudreuil’s quarters, and, after a few words with the governor, galloped over the bridge of the Saint Charles towards the seat of danger.

It must have been a bitter moment for him.  The fruits of his long care and watching were, in a moment, snatched away, and, just when he hoped that the enemy, foiled and exhausted, were about to return to England, he found that they had surmounted the obstacles he had deemed impregnable, and were calmly awaiting him on a fair field of battle.  One who saw him said that he rode towards the field, with a fixed look, uttering not a word.