It
was now past the middle of June, and the siege had lasted
more than a month. The circle of fire was closing in on
the beleaguered garrison. Their total effectives had sunk
to only a thousand men. This thousand laboured harder in
its losing cause than might have been expected. Perhaps
the mutineers hoped to be pardoned if they made a firm
defence. Perhaps the militia thought they ought not to
be outdone by mutineers and hireling foreigners. But,
whatever the reason, great efforts were certainly made
to build up by night what the British knocked down by
day. Two could play at that game, however, and the British
had the men and means to win. Their western batteries
from the land were smashing the walls into ruins. Their
Royal Battery wrecked the whole inner water-front of
Louisbourg. Breaches were yawning elsewhere. British
fascines were visible in large quantities, ready to fill
up the ditch, which was already half full of debris. The
French scouts reported hundreds of scaling-ladders on
the reverse slopes of the nearest hillocks.
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