“Thou hast my promise.”
[Illustration]
DEFENCE OF CASTLE DANGEROUS
_1692_
I
The sun shone bright and warm on the little frontier settlement of
Verchères one crisp October morning in the year 1692.
Though the settlement was small, it was pleasantly placed on the south
shore of the St. Lawrence River, not more than twenty miles from
Montreal, which was considered but a short distance from a place of
safety in those days when homes were being hewn out of the wilderness.
The Seignior or Governor of the place was an old soldier, formerly a
captain in the renowned regiment of Carignan, which was sent to New
France to give aid and protection to the settlers, and to assist them in
repelling the Iroquois. The officers of this great regiment were
rewarded for their services by large grants of land along the rivers,
which were for many years the great highways. The officers in turn
rented out the land to the soldiers under them, and none save the
Colonel himself was allowed to return to France, so anxious was that
country to increase the population of its colonies.
When our story opens, Seignior Verchères was on military duty at Quebec,
his wife had gone on a visit to Montreal, and they had left the little
family at home in charge of Madelon, the only daughter, a girl about
fourteen years old. There were two young brothers,—Louis, a lad of
twelve, and Alexander, who was about a year younger. There were,
besides, the settlers who looked on Madelon as the representative of her
father.
We can hardly picture to ourselves what a very rude place the settlement
was, and as it lay near the trail of the Iroquois, it had become known
throughout New France as “Castle Dangerous.”
At this time the Iroquois, containing the strong and invincible Five
Nations, had two motives which swayed their savage breasts most
powerfully; these were love of fighting and love of gain. They were
dependent on the Dutch and English at Albany for guns, powder, lead,
brandy, and many other things which the white man had brought with him
from the Old World, and which these children of the woods had come to
regard only too quickly as necessary to their comfort.
True, beaver skins could buy these things which they coveted, but with
the Iroquois the supply was limited. The great forests stretching to the
west and northwest, and those of the upper lakes, were occupied by
tribes who were bound to French interests, and it was the French traders
who controlled their immense annual product of furs.
Every summer there was a great Fair at Montreal, where the trading for a
whole year took place, and the remote tribes brought in their
accumulated beaver skins. The Iroquois saw and envied these furs and the
strong waters which they enabled their possessors to buy, so they became
more than ever bent on mastering all this traffic by first conquering
the tribes. The Dutch and English urged them on, for the Hurons,
Ottawas, and other tribes were the “children” of the French, working in
their interests and protected by them, while French and Indians alike
were enemies of the Iroquois.
Thus it was no accidental attack that the French had to fear at “Castle
Dangerous,” but a determined effort by a race that could put nearly
three thousand warriors in the field, and that constantly increased this
force by adopting captives into the tribes.
The settlement at Castle Dangerous consisted of the blockhouse, a strong
building made of timbers; of the house of the Seignior; some rude
shacks, and the fort itself, which was connected with the blockhouse by
a covered way. All the settlers lived in these buildings for safety,
since their pitiless enemy the Iroquois had always to be guarded
against. There were as well bands of wandering Indians that were
constantly passing up and down the trail that lay along the St. Lawrence
River.
Rude and dangerous as the place seemed, Madelon loved it, since it was
home to her. She was brave, and had been trained by her father in the
use of firearms, to be cool in the face of danger and quick to meet
emergencies.
The morning of the twenty-second of October broke fair, the sun rose
amid banks of purple and gold clouds, and as there was still work to be
done in the fields, the men of the settlement started off directly after
the morning meal, leaving the women and children, two soldiers, one old
man of eighty, and Madelon in charge of the fort.
For a long time Verchères had been unmolested. The settlers had come to
feel that perhaps there was not much further danger to be feared from
the foe, and with this feeling of fancied security they had grown less
vigilant. Madelon, attracted by the beauty of the day, started to go
down to the landing-place, which hung over the river and made an
admirable spot from which to fish, the river being noted for the
excellence and number of fine fish to be found there.
“Come, Laviolette,” she called to a French half-breed who was hired to
work about the fort, “bring some lines and perhaps we can catch fish
enough to serve for a meal.”
They were busily engaged in this peaceful sport, when suddenly the sound
of firing was heard in the neighbourhood of the place where the settlers
were at work in the fields.
“Run, Mademoiselle, run! The Iroquois are coming,” screamed Laviolette,
and taking her by the hand, they fled towards the fort.
“Can we reach it, dost thou think?”
“Courage, Mademoiselle! we are almost there,” replied Laviolette; and so
the Iroquois thought also, since they gave up the chase of the flying
girl, and contented themselves with firing at her and her companion. As
the bullets whistled by, she prayed aloud,—
“Holy Marie, save us!” and as the words inspired her with fresh courage,
she shouted as she neared the fort,—
“Help, help, to arms!” Her wild call was not heard, and at the very gate
itself were two sobbing women who from the battlement of the fort had
seen their husbands murdered in the field, and stood wringing their
hands in misery.
“Oh, come within, come in, think of the children”; and as she spoke,
Madelon pushed the two women in before her, and with the aid of
Laviolette shut the heavy gate.
“Where are the soldiers?” was her next question.
“Hidden in the blockhouse, sister”; and Louis, the elder of the two
boys, came to meet his sister with a gun in his hand. They ran together
to the blockhouse, and there, sure enough, were the two men, crazed with
fear, and one of them holding in his hand a lighted fuse.
“What do you with that fuse?”
“Light the powder and blow us all up,” cried the soldier, while his
companion, huddling in the corner, only moaned.
“Miserable coward, go from this place at once!” and Madelon’s voice rang
with such determination and command that the man obeyed.
“See, since none of you dare, I myself will defend this fort, for my
father would have shame if his daughter could not keep it, when there
are arms and powder and those that can use them.”
“Sister,” said Alexander, “give me a gun, for I too can load and fire
one.”
“Truly thou shalt have one, little brother. We shall fight to the death.
Remember what our father hath taught us, that men are born to shed their
lives for their country and their king. Though I be but a girl, I shall
do as he would wish, since neither of you is old enough to take command
here.”
Even the craven soldiers, inspired with some small degree of courage,
agreed to follow their intrepid commander, whose first order was that
they should make a round of the palisades, that high fence of great logs
with pointed ends that surrounded the forts and blockhouses planted in
the wilderness, and to which many owed their safety, since they were
wellnigh impossible to climb, and the garrison within had those that
climbed at their mercy. As they hurried to the palisades, Madelon put on
her head one of the soldier caps which she saw in the blockhouse.
“Why do you put that cap on, sister?” asked Louis, with a curiosity
which he could not repress even at that critical time.
“So that the Iroquois shall not think that it is a girl making the
rounds. You put one on also, and give one to Alexander.”
The feeble band hurried to go around the inside of the palisades to see
that all was secure, for on this defence of heavy logs their very lives
depended.
“Thank the Holy Virgin that we came,” Madelon exclaimed; for they found
not one, but half a dozen of the logs gone at different places, and had
this been discovered by the Indians, there would have been little chance
for the small band to have escaped being slain.
“Help, Louis; push, Alexander! We can get this log into place while the
soldiers set up those that have wholly fallen down.” As she spoke, the
brave girl and the two little brothers tugged with might and main, and
got the heavy log in place, and held it while the soldiers drove it into
the ground, so that no opening was left in the palisades. All the other
weak spots were mended under her direction, the two men working as she
ordered, since they seemed incapable of taking charge themselves. When
the palisades were well repaired, and Madelon thought there was no
further danger to be feared from that direction, she said,
“Now must we make the cowardly Iroquois believe that there is a strong
garrison within, and never let them think that my father is from home.
So let each one in turn fire from the loopholes, and see to it, boys,
that there is no shot wasted.”
Finding that the firing was scattering but continuous, the Indians, ever
averse to making an attack on a fortified place, withdrew to the woods.
Shortly, however, they discovered some of the settlers who had escaped
the morning assault, creeping back to the fort, and with horrid yells
the savages pursued and killed them. The women and children in the fort
cried and screamed without ceasing, knowing that their loved ones were
being killed without mercy. At last Madelon, fearing that they would be
heard by the Indians, and their distress taken as a sign of weakness,
ordered them to stop, and tried to busy them about the defence.
“Load and fire the cannon, Laviolette; it will serve as a warning to any
of the settlers that may have escaped, and I have heard my father say
that Indians ever fear a cannon.”
So the cannon was fired, and Madelon from her loophole saw the tall,
painted forms of the enemy take refuge in the forest. But this was not
the last duty of the little commander that night. From her place on the
bastions of the fort she saw a canoe with a settler whom she knew well,
named Fontaine, coming towards the landing. He was not alone, but had
his wife and family with him.
“I must save them if it be the will of God. Laviolette, dost thou see
any of the Indians lurking at the woods’ edge?”
“There be none very near at hand, Mademoiselle. Perhaps the cannon
affrighted them.”
“I pray that it may be so, since there is none but thou and I to save
our friends, I fear.”
“Nay, there are the soldiers. Sure, it is their business to venture to
the dock and bring in Sieur Fontaine.”
“Listen thou, Laviolette, the while I ask them to do this.”
The soldiers summoned before their little commander, though testifying
their willingness to follow all her orders within the palisades,
absolutely refused to risk their lives by going beyond its shelter.
“’Twas as I feared; thou and I must save them, Laviolette. Thou shalt
keep guard at the gate, and I will to the landing and bring them
hither.”
“Pray, Mademoiselle, bid me to go, and thou stay and keep the gate.”
“Nay, for I have heard my father say that the Indian is ever wary about
that which he doth not understand. They will marvel why I go alone to
the landing, and doubtless think it but a ruse to draw them hither, so
that we may train the cannon on them again. If they appear, go thou in
and bar the gate, since we must save the fort at any cost, and as many
lives as is possible.”
So Madelon, with a bravery that might have put to shame the soldiers
skulking within the fort, alone and in full sight, walked down to the
landing, assisted Fontaine to take his family and goods from the canoe,
and placing the party in front of her, marched back to the fort entirely
unmolested. As she hoped, the Indians, seeing her put so bold a face on
the matter, suspected that they had something to fear from the occupants
of the fort; so, while they hesitated, Madelon acted. Once within the
stronghold, how the little party wept and prayed with joy!
“Now indeed I feel as if there was hope, since thou art here to help me,
Sieur Fontaine. There are enough so that we may divide the watch, and as
long as daylight lasts, to fire on the enemy if ever one is seen to show
himself. Thou, Louis, and Alexander as well, shalt take turns at the
loopholes, and see that thy aim go not astray.”
The rest of the day was spent in making all the defences as strong as
possible, in which Fontaine gave valuable assistance, for he was a brave
man, accustomed to the wiles of the murderous enemy, and wise in the
ways of border warfare.
At sunset a fierce northeast wind began to blow, and the first snow of
the season mixed with hail filled the air, making it deadly cold and a
night to try the spirits of the small band who were fighting for their
lives. At first Madelon hoped that the storm would drive the Indians to
shelter for the night, but they were constantly seen appearing at the
edge of the woods, and, as it seemed, making preparations for an attack
under cover of the darkness, and to gain entrance into the fort that
night.
“Go, Louis, and tell all the men that I would speak with them.”
When the whole force was mustered, there were but six in all, two of
them boys and one an old man over eighty. Madelon spoke to them thus,—
“God has saved us to-day from the hands of our enemies, and let us pray
that we shall escape their snares to-night. As for me, know that I am
not afraid. See, I will keep the fort with the old man and my brothers,
whilst you, Pierre Fontaine, and the two soldiers, La Bonté and Gachet,
go into the blockhouse with the women and children, as it is the safest
place. If I am taken, do not you surrender, even if the horrible
Iroquois cut me to pieces and burn me before your eyes. I am but one,
and in the blockhouse they cannot reach you if you care for yourselves
as you should. So all to your places, and may God keep us through the
night.”
Madelon tramped off to her chosen place of duty, with the old man and
her young brothers.
“Louis,” she said, “choose thou the place on the bastion where thou wilt
serve, Alexander shall choose next, then the old man, and I shall take
the last.”
Each did as he was bidden, and all night through the wind and storm the
two little boys, the aged man whose fires of life had burned so low, and
the young girl kept vigil. All night long the cries of “All’s well” rang
from bastion to blockhouse, making it appear as if the place was fully
manned by a large garrison. At about one o’clock the old man who was on
guard at the place on the bastion nearest the gate, called out,—
“Mademoiselle, I hear something, mayhap the enemy.”
His voice quavered with fear and fatigue, and as Madelon hurried to him
she feared the worst had come.
“Where is it that thou hearest something?” asked Madelon, hardly above
her breath.
“There, just below, at the gate of the fort.”
“Surely I see them too, and well I know the poor creatures, since for
many a day this summer past have I driven them to pasture.”
The snow had whitened the ground, so that Madelon’s bright eyes had been
able to distinguish that the dark forms huddled at the gate were the
poor remnant of the cattle that had not been killed or driven off by the
Iroquois. Summoning the others from the blockhouse, they took counsel
together as to whether they should open the gate and let the cattle in.
The men were all anxious to do this, but Madelon feared the crafty foe.
“How canst thou tell but what we let in the savages also? Such creatures
of wile are they, that we know not if they be not concealed in the hides
of the beasts already slaughtered, and if we are simple enough to open
the gate they may enter the fort.”
An hour passed, and still the cattle stood there, and there were no
signs that the enemy was among them. So at last Madelon called Louis and
Alexander.
“Brothers,” she said, “we must get in the cattle if it be possible. You
shall stand on either side of the gate and have your guns cocked, while
I go forth and drive the beasts in. If the Indians make a rush, shoot,
and then shut the gate as quickly as thou canst.”
The heavy gate was swung back, and Madelon stepped out. It did not take
long for her to drive in the few cattle that remained of the generous
herd that had gone to pasture that morning.
The remainder of the night passed away without any further alarms, and
when darkness disappeared, many of the fears and anxieties of the small
garrison disappeared also, as it is always easier to face the fears that
may be seen than those that are born of the imagination.