19
Montreal lay like a threatening warship against the darkening sky, its river wall punctuated by cannon ports along the top and its lighted windows lined up like a row of portholes below. Duncan had been filled with foreboding the first time he surveyed the city eight years earlier. Then it had been filled with French soldiers who would have killed him and his companions had they been discovered infiltrating its walls. This time it was British soldiers who would seek his death.
Conawago touched his arm, and he followed his friend’s gaze toward the file of canoes that hugged the south bank of the broad St. Lawrence. They had traveled with the Abenaki refugees from St. Francis for the past two days, and had waited on the island for darkness to fall before parting for their respective jou
