In
a line of boats, six miles long, the great English host came down
the lake and, early on the morning of the sixth, landed before
the fort which Montcalm was to defend. The soul of the army had
been a brilliant young officer, Lord Howe, who shared the
hardships of the men, washed his own linen at the brook, and was
the real leader trusted by the inept Abercromby. It was a tragic
disaster for the British that at the outset of the fight Howe was
killed in a chance skirmish. Montcalm's chief defense of
Ticonderoga consisted in a felled forest. He had cut down
hundreds of trees and, on high ground in front of the fort, made
a formidable abbatis across which the English must advance.
Abercromby had four men to one of Montcalm. Artillery would have
knocked a passage through the trunks of the trees which formed
the abbatis. Abercromby, however, did not wait to bring up
artillery. He was confident that his huge force could beat down
opposition by a rapid attack, and he made the attack with all
courage and persistence. But the troops could not work through
the thicket of fallen trunks and, as night came on, they had to
withdraw baffled.
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