ceased and the flood came. So we heaved off our ship againe into five
fathoms water, and sent our boate to sound the bay, and we found that
there was three fathoms hard by the souther shoare. Our men went on
land there, and saw great store of men, women, and children, who gave
them tabacco at their comming on land. So they went up into the woods,
and saw great store of very goodly oakes and some currants. For one of
them came aboord and brought some dryed, and gave me some, which were
sweet and good. This day many of the people came aboard, some in
mantles of feathers, and some in skinnes of divers sorts of good
furres. Some women also came to us with hempe. They had red copper
tabacco pipes, and other things of copper they did weare about their
neckes. At night they went on land againe, so wee rode very quiet, but
durst not trust them.
The sixth, in the morning, was faire weather, and our master sent John
Colman, with foure other men in our boate, over to the north-side to
sound the other river[5], being foure leagues from us. They found by
the day shoald water, two fathoms; but at the north of the river
eighteen, and twentie fathoms, and very good riding for ships; and a
narrow river to the westward, between two ilands. The lands, they told
us, were as pleasant with grasse and flowers and goodly trees as ever
they had seene, and very sweet smells came from them....
The tenth, faire weather, we rode still till twelve of the clocke.
Then we weighed and went over, and found it shoald all the middle of
the river, for wee could finde but two fathoms and a halfe and three
fathomes for the space of a league; then wee came to three fathomes
and foure fathomes, and so to seven fathomes, and anchored, and rode
all night in soft ozie ground. The banke is sand.
The eleventh was faire and very hot weather. At one of the clocke in
the after-noone wee weighed and went into the river, the wind at south
south-west, little winde. Our soundings were seven, sixe, five, sixe,
seven, eight, nine, ten, twelve, thirteene, and fourteene fathomes.
Then it shoalded againe, and came to five fathomes. Then wee anchored,
and saw that it was a very good harbour for all windes, and rode all
night. The people of the country came aboord of us, making shew of
love, and gave us tabacco and Indian wheat, and departed for that
night, but we durst not trust them.
The twelfth, very faire and hot. In the afternoone, at two of the
clocke, wee weighed, the winde being variable betweene the north and
the north-west. So we turned into the river two leagues and anchored.
This morning, at our first rode in the river, there came eight and
twentie canoes full of men, women and children to betray us: but we
saw their intent, and suffered none of them to come aboord of us. At
twelve of the clocke they departed. They brought with them oysters and
beanes, whereof wee bought some. They have great tabacco pipes of
yellow copper, and pots of earth to dresse their meate in. It floweth
south-east by south within.
The thirteenth, faire weather, the wind northerly. At seven of the
clocke in the morning, as the floud came we weighed, and turned foure
miles into the river. The tide being done wee anchored. Then there
came foure canoes aboord: but we suffered none of them to come into
our ship. They brought great store of very good oysters aboord, which
we bought for trifles.[6] In the night I set the variation of the
compasse, and found it to be 13 degrees. In the after-noone we
weighed, and turned in with the floud, two leagues and a halfe
further, and anchored all night; and had five fathoms soft ozie
ground; and had an high point of land, which shewed out to us, bearing
north by east five leagues off us.
The fourteenth, in the morning, being very faire weather, the wind
south-east, we sayled up the river twelve leagues, and had five
fathoms, and five fathoms and a quarter lesse; and came to a streight
betweene two points,[7] and had eight, nine, and ten fathoms; and it
attended north-east by north, one league: and wee had twelve,
thirteene, and fourteene fathomes. The river is a mile broad: there is
very high land on both sides. Then we went up north-west, a league and
an halfe deepe water. Then north-east by north, five miles; then
north-west by north, two leagues, and anchored. The land grew very
high and mountainous. The river is full of fish.
The fifteenth, in the morning, was misty, untill the sunne arose: then
it cleered. So wee weighed with the wind at south, and ran up into the
river twentie leagues, passing by high mountaines.[8] Wee had a very
good depth, as sixe, seven, eight, nine, ten, twelve, and thirteene
fathomes, and great store of salmons in the river. This morning our
two savages got out of a port and swam away. I After wee were under
sayle, they called to us in scorne. At night we came to other
mountaines, which lie from the rivers side. There wee found very
loving people, and very old men: where wee were well used. Our boat
went to fish, and caught great store of very good fish....
The seventeenth, faire sun-shining weather, and very hot. In the
morning, as soone as the sun was up, we set sayle, and ran up sixe
leagues higher, and found shoalds in the middle of the channell, and
small ilands, but seven fathoms water on both sides. Toward night we
borrowed so neere the shoare, that we grounded: so layed out our small
anchor, and heaved off againe. Then we borrowed on the banke in the
channell, and came aground againe; while the floud ran we heaved off
againe, and anchored all night.[9]
The eighteenth, in the morning, was faire weather, and we rode still.
In the after-noone our masters mate went on land with an old savage, a
governor of the countrey; who carried him to his house, and made him
good cheere. The nineteenth, was faire and hot weather: at the floud,
being neere eleven of the clocke, wee weighed, and ran higher up two
leagues above the shoalds, and had no lesse water then five fathoms;
we anchored, and rode in eight fathomes. The people of the countrie
came flocking aboord, and brought us grapes and pompions, which wee
bought for trifles. And many brought us bevers skinnes and otters
skinnes, which wee bought for beades, knives, and hatchets. So we rode
there all night.
The twentieth, in the morning, was faire weather. Our masters mate
with foure men more went up with our boat to sound the river, and
found two leagues above us but two fathomes water, and the channell
very narrow; and above that place, seven or eight fathomes. Toward
night they returned: and we rode still all night. The one and
twentieth was faire weather, and the wind all southerly: we determined
yet once more to go farther up into the river, to trie what depth and
breadth it did beare; but much people resorted aboord, so wee went not
this day. Our carpenter went on land, and made a fore-yard. And our
master and his mate determined to trie some of the chiefe men of the
countrey, whether they had any treaeherie in them. So they tooke them
downe into the cabin, and gave them so much wine and aqua vita, that
they were all merrie: and one of them had his wife with them, which
sate so modestly, as any of our countrey women would doe in a strange
place. In the ende one of them was drunke, which had beene aboord of
our ship all the time that we had beene there: and that was strange to
them; for they could not tell how to take it. The canoes and folke
went all on shoare: but some of them came againe, and brought stropes
of beades: some had sixe, seven, eight, nine, ten; and gave him. So he
slept all night quietly.
The two and twentieth was faire weather: in the morning our masters
mate and foure more of the companie went up with our boat to sound the
river higher up. The people of the countrey came not aboord till
noone: but when they came, and saw the savages well, they were glad.
So at three of the clocke in the afternoone they came aboord, and
brought tabacco, and more beades, and gave them to our master, and
made an oration, and shewed him all the countrey round about. Then
they sent one of their companie on land, who presently returned, and
brought a great platter full of venison dressed by themselves; and
they caused him to eate with them: then they made him reverence and
departed, all save the old man that lay aboord. This night, at ten of
the clocke our boat returned in a showre of raine from sounding of the
river; and found it to bee at an end for shipping to goe in. For they
had beene up eight or nine leagues, and found but seven foot water,
and unconstant soundings.
The three and twentieth, faire weather. At twelve of the clocke wee
weighed, and went downe two leagues to a shoald that had two channels,
one on the one side, and another on the other, and had little wind,
whereby the tyde layed us upon it. So there wee sate on ground the
space of an houre till the floud came. Then we had a little gale of
wind at the west. So wee got our ship into deepe water, and rode all
night very well.
The foure and twentieth was faire weather: the winde at the
north-west, wee weighed, and went downe the river seven or eight
leagues; and at halfe ebbe wee came on ground on a banke of oze in the
middle of the river, and sate there till the floud. Then wee went on
land, and gathered, good store of chest-nuts. At ten of the clocke wee
came off into deepe water, and anchored....
The second, faire weather. At break of day wee weighed, the winde
being at north-west, and got downe seven leagues; then the floud was
come strong, so we anchored. Then came one of the savages that swamme
away from us at our going up the river with many other, thinking to
betray us. But we perceived their intent, and suffered none of them to
enter our ship. Whereupon two canoes full of men, with their bowes and
arrowes shot at us after our sterne: in recompence whereof we
discharged sixe muskets, and killed two or three of them. Then above
an hundred of them came to a point of land to shoot at us. There I
shot a falcon at them, and killed two of them: whereupon the rest fled
into the woods. Yet they manned off another canoe with nine or ten
men, which came to meet us. So I shot at it also a falcon, and shot it
through, and killed one of them. Then our men with their muskets
killed three or foure more of them.[10] So they went their way; within
a mile after wee got downe two leagues beyond that place, and anchored
in a bay, cleere from all danger of them on the other side of the
river, where we saw a very good piece of ground: and hard by it there
was a cliffe, that looked of the colour of a white greene, as though
it were either copper or silver myne: and I thinke it to be one of
them, by the trees that grow upon it. For they be all burned, and the
other places are greene as grasse; it is on that side of the river
that is called Mannahata. There we saw no people to trouble us: and
rode quietly all night; but had much wind and raine....
We continued our course toward England, without seeing any land by the
way, all the rest of this moneth of October: and on the seventh day of
November, stilo novo, being Saturday, by the grace of God we safely
arrived in the range of Dartmouth, in Devonshire, in the yeere 1609.
[1] Juet, on a previous voyage with Hudson, had been Hudson's
mate, but on the voyage to New York Harbor he was his clerk and
kept a journal. From this document, which is included in the "Old
South Leaflets," the account here given is taken. Hudson himself
also kept a journal, but this has been lost. It is curious that
Juet, on the last voyage which Hudson made--the one to Hudson Bay,
in which he was sent adrift in a small boat and left to
perish--became the leader in the mutiny.
Before coming to America, Henry Hudson, an Englishman in Dutch
service, had sailed to the east coast of Greenland, visited
Spitzbergen, and attempted to find a northeast passage from the
Atlantic to the Pacific. It was his attempt to find a northwest
passage which led him, in September, 1609, into the harbor of New
York and up the river named after him. In the following year he
sailed again from Holland, seeking a northwest passage and thus
entered Hudson Bay. Here he spent the winter. In the following
June, when about to return home, the crew mutinied; Hudson, and
eight others, were seized, bound and set afloat in a small boat
that was never heard from again.
[2] Sandy Hook.
[3] Probably Staten Island.
[4] Coney Island.
[5] The Narrows.
[6] Moulton, in his "History of New York," inclines to the view
that this point was near what is now known as Manhattanville in
New York City.
[7] This was in the neighborhood of Stony Point.
[8] The Catskill Mountains.
[9] The neighborhood of Albany.
[10] Moulton's view is that this encounter took place near Fort
Washington, New York City.
CHAMPLAIN'S BATTLE WITH THE IROQUOIS ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN
(1609)
BY CHAMPLAIN HIMSELF[1]
We continued our course to the entrance of Lake St. Peter, where the
country is exceedingly pleasant and level, and crossed the lake, in
two, three, and four fathoms of water, which is some eight leagues
long and four wide. On the north side, we saw a very pleasant river,
extending some twenty leagues into the interior, which I named St.
Suzanne; on the south side, there are two, one called Rivière du Pont,
the other Rivière de Gennes, which are very pretty, and in a fine and
fertile country. The water is almost still in the lake, which is full
of fish. On the north bank, there are seen some slight elevations at a
distance of some twelve or fifteen leagues from the lake. After
crossing the lake, we passed a large number of islands of various
sizes, containing many nut trees and vines, and fine meadows, with
quantities of game and wild animals, which go over from the main land
to these islands. Fish are here more abundant than in any other part
of the river that we have seen. From these islands, we went to the
mouth of the River of the Iroquois,[2] where we stayed two days,
refreshing ourselves with good venison, birds, and fish, which the
savages gave us. Here there sprang up among them some difference of
opinion on the subject of the war, so that a portion only determined
to go with me, while the others returned to their country with their
wives and the merchandise which they had obtained by barter.
I set out accordingly from the fall of the Iroquois River on the 2d of
July. All the savages set to carrying their canoes, arms, and baggage
overland, some half a league, in order to pass by the violence and
strength of the fall, which was speedily accomplished....
We set out the next day, continuing our course in the river as far as
the entrance of the lake.[3] There are many pretty islands here, low,
and containing very fine woods and meadows, with abundance of fowl and
such animals of the chase as stags, fallow-deer, fawns, roe-bucks,
bears, and others, which go from the main land to these islands. We
captured a large number of these animals. There are also many beavers,
not only in this river, but also in numerous other little ones that
flow into it. These regions, altho they are pleasant, are not
inhabited by any savages, on account of their wars; but they withdraw
as far as possible from the rivers into the interior, in order not to
be suddenly surprised.
The next day we entered the lake, which is of great extent, say eighty
or a hundred leagues long, where I saw four fine islands, ten, twelve,
and fifteen leagues long, which were formerly inhabited by the
savages, like the River of the Iroquois; but they have been abandoned
since the wars of the savages with one another prevail. There are also
many rivers falling into the lake, bordered by many fine trees of the
same kinds as those we have in France, with many vines finer than any
I have seen in any other place; also many chestnut-trees on the border
of this lake, which I had not seen before....
Continuing our course over this lake on the western side, I noticed,
while observing the country, some very high mountains on the eastern
side, on the top of which there was snow. I made inquiry of the
savages, whether these localities were inhabited, when they told me
that the Iroquois dwelt there, and that there were beautiful valleys
in these places, with plains productive in grain, such as I had eaten
in this country, together with many kinds of fruit without limit. They
said also that the lake extended near mountains, some twenty-five
leagues distant from us, as I judge. I saw, on the south, other
mountains no less high than the first, but without any snow.[4]
When it was evening, we embarked in our canoes to continue our course;
and, as we advanced very quietly and without making any noise, we met
on the 29th of the month the Iroquois, about ten o'clock at evening,
at the extremity of a cape which extends into the lake on the western
bank. They had come to fight. We both began to utter loud cries, all
getting their arms in readiness. We withdrew out on the water, and the
Iroquois went on shore, where they drew up all their canoes close to
each other and began to fell trees with poor axes, which they acquire
in war sometimes, using also others of stone. Thus they barricaded
themselves very well.
Our forces also passed the entire night, their canoes being drawn up
close to each other, and fastened to poles, so that they might not get
separated, and that they might be all in readiness to fight, if
occasion required.... After arming ourselves with light armor, we each
took an arquebuse, and went on shore. I saw the enemy go out of their
barricade, nearly two hundred in number, stout and rugged in
appearance. They came at a slow pace toward us, with a dignity and
assurance which greatly amused me, having three chiefs at their head.
Our men also advanced in the same order, telling me that those who had
three large plumes were the chiefs, and that they had only these
three, and that they could be distinguished by these plumes, which
were much larger than those of their companions, and that I should do
what I could to kill them. I promised to do all in my power, and said
that I was very sorry they could not understand me, so that I might
give order and shape to their mode of attacking their enemies, and
then we should, without doubt, defeat them all; but that this could
not now be obviated, and that I should be very glad to show them my
courage and good-will when we should engage in the fight.
As soon as we had landed, they began to run for some two hundred paces
toward their enemies, who stood firmly, not having as yet noticed my
companions, who went into the woods with some savages. Our men began
to call me with loud cries; and in order to give me a passage-way,
they opened in two parts, and put me at their head, where I marched
some twenty paces in advance of the rest, until I was within about
thirty paces of the enemy, who at once noticed me, and, halting, gazed
at me, as I did also at them. When I saw them making a move to fire at
us, I rested my musket against my cheek, and aimed directly at one of
the three chiefs. With the same shot, two fell to the ground; and one
of their men was so wounded that he died some time after. I had loaded
my musket with four balls. When our side saw this shot so favorable
for them, they began to raise such loud cries that one could not have
heard it thunder. Meanwhile, the arrows flew on both sides. The
Iroquois were greatly astonished that two men had been so quickly
killed, altho they were equipped with armor woven from cotton thread,
and with wood which was a proof against their arrows. This caused
great alarm among them. As I was loading again, one of my companions
fired a shot from the woods, which astonished them anew to such a
degree that, seeing their chiefs dead, they lost courage, and took to
flight, abandoning their camp and fort, and fleeing into the woods,
whither I pursued them, killing still more of them. Our savages also
killed several of them, and took ten or twelve prisoners. The
remainder escaped with the wounded. Fifteen or sixteen were wounded on
our side with arrow-shots; but they were soon healed.
After gaining the victory, our men amused themselves by taking a great
quantity of Indian corn and some meal from their enemies, also their
armor, which they had left behind that they might run better. After
feasting sumptuously, dancing and singing, we returned three hours
after, with the prisoners. The spot where this attack took place is in
latitude 43 degrees and some minutes, and the lake was called Lake
Champlain.
After going some eight leagues, toward evening they took one of the
prisoners, to whom they made a harangue, enumerating the cruelties
which he and his men had already practised toward them without any
mercy, and that, in like manner, he ought to make up his mind to
receive as much. They commanded him to sing, if he had courage, which
he did; but it was a very sad song.[5]
[1] From the "Voyages of Samuel de Champlain," as published by the
Prince Society of Boston in 1878, the translation being by Charles
Pomeroy Otis.
Samuel de Champlain, who has been called "The Father of New
France," was born in Brouage, France, in 1567, and died in Quebec
in 1635. Parkman accepts this title as just, and adds that in
Champlain were embodied the religious zeal of New France and her
romantic spirit of adventure. Champlain's first explorations in
America were made in 1603-07. Quebec was founded by him in 1608,
and Lake Champlain discovered in 1609.
[2] Now called the Richelieu River.
[3] Lake Champlain.
[4] The Adirondacks or the Green Mountains might have been here
referred to.
[5] Parkman, in his "Pioneers of France in the New World," adds to
this narrative the following: "At night the victors led out one of
the prisoners, told him that he was to die by fire, and ordered
him to sing his death-song, if he dared. Then they began the
torture, and presently scalped their victim alive, when Champlain,
sickening at the sight, begged leave to shoot him. They refused,
and he turned away in anger and disgust; on which they called him
back and told him to do as he pleased. He turned again and a shot
from his arquebuse put the wretch out of misery. The scene filled
him with horror; but, a few months later, on the Place de la
Grave, at Paris, he might have witnessed tortures equally
revolting and equally vindictive, inflicted on the regicide
Ravaillac by the sentence of grave and learned judges. [Ravaillac
was the assassin of Henry IV.]
"The allies made a prompt retreat from the scene of their triumph.
Three or four days brought them to the mouth of the Richelieu.
Here they separated; the Hurons and Algonquins made for the
Ottawa, their homeward route, each with a share of prisoners for
future torments. At parting they invited Champlain to visit their
towns, and aid them again in their wars, an invitation which the
paladin of the woods failed not to accept.
"The companions now remaining to him were the Montagnais. In their
camp on the Richelieu, one of them dreamed that a war party of
Iroquois was close upon them; on which, in a torrent of rain, they
left their huts, paddled in dismay to the islands above the Lake
of St. Peter, and hid themselves all night in the rushes. In the
morning they took heart, emerged from their hiding-places,
descended to Quebec, and went thence to Tadousac, whither
Champlain accompanied them. Here the squaws, stark naked, swam out
to the canoes to receive the heads of the dead Iroquois, and,
hanging them from their necks, danced in triumph along the shore.
One of the heads and a pair of arms were then bestowed on
Champiain,--touching memorials of gratitude, which, however, he
was by no means to keep for himself, but to present to the King.
"Thus did New France rush into collision with the redoubted
warriors of the Five Nations. Here was the beginning, and in some
measure doubtless the cause, of a long suite of murderous
conflicts, bearing havoc and flame to generations yet unborn.
Champlain had invaded the tiger's den; and now, in smothered fury,
the patient savage would lie biding his day of blood."
MARQUETTE'S DISCOVERY OF THE MISSISSIPPI
(1673)
MARQUETTE'S OWN ACCOUNT[1]
I embarked with M. Joliet, who had been chosen to conduct this
enterprise, on the 13th May, 1673, with five other Frenchmen, in two
bark canoes. We laid in some Indian corn and smoked beef for our
voyage. We first took care, however, to draw from the Indians all the
information we could, concerning the countries through which we
designed to travel, and drew up a map, on which we marked down the
rivers, nations, and points of the compass to guide us in our journey.
The first nation we came to was called the Folles-Avoines, or the
nation of wild oats. I entered their river to visit them, as I had
preached among them some years before. The wild oats, from which they
derive their name, grow spontaneously in their country....