As I turn over the diary in which I recorded my journey through this
wilderness, I find myself remembering many little incidents which I
never set down.
It rained or snowed almost daily. The rivers were swollen, so that
we had to swim our horses, an art which soldiers should be taught.
Although Van Braam much enlivened the way by his songs and very
doubtful tales of his wars, I was very tired and my new buckskin
coat in tatters when we arrived at the mouth of Turtle Creek on the
Monongahela. There we found Frazier, a trader whom the French had
driven out of the Indian town of Venango. With two canoes he lent me
I sent our baggage down the Monongahela to the fork, where, with the
Alleghany River, it joins the Ohio, and set out on a bad trail to meet
them.
We got to the Forks of the Ohio before the canoes. There, I settled in
my mind, was the place for a fort, nor could I better that judgment
to-day. It came afterwards to be chosen by the French engineer Mercier
to be Fort Duquesne. On the rise of ground we made camp, and paid a
visit to Shingiss of the Delawares, who pretended to favour us, but
proved later a savage foe.
Gist insisted that he could tell from their faces how the Indians felt
towards us, but to me they told nothing, and are in this respect unlike
the faces of white men.
We got to Logstown, fifteen miles down the Ohio, on November 24. Here
I met the Indian known as the Half-King. He was angry at the French
claims, and I did not too strongly put forward those of the King, which
were not much better founded; but that was for my superiours to decide.
I found him hard to satisfy, but if I spoke of the French he was at
once angered, and eager to help. I watched with interest as he drew
with charcoal on birch bark the plan of their forts at French Creek and
on Lake Erie, while Davidson interpreted his words.
The nearest way was impassable because of marshy savannas, and I found
I must needs travel north so as to reach the lake, by passing through
Venango. This, the Half-King informed me, was five sleeps distant, and
expressed it by five times drawing up his hands, as a man does when
pulling up his blankets before sleeping.
It was fortunately arranged that the Half-King, White Thunder, and two
more chiefs should go with me. It was but seventy miles to Venango, but
the weather could not have been worse, and so it was December 4 before
we rode into the clearing the French had made around the big log house
out of which they had driven the trader John Frazier.
I recall what is not set down in my diary, the anger and shame with
which I saw the flag of France flying over the big cabin. As I came out
of the woods, a lean, dark-faced man came forward with three French
officers, and I learned that he was Captain Joncaire, the worst enemy
we had, for he was a half-breed and had the tongues of the Indians.
He said he had command on the Ohio, but we must push on to see his
general. He was very merry, and laughed every minute or two, but was on
his guard like the others.
Three days passed before I could get away, with La Force, the guide
they gave me, and three soldiers for escort. Meanwhile Joncaire
entertained us at a supper. I never had better cause to be thankful for
my sobriety, which was a rare virtue at that day, and even later, among
all classes. The big log cabin had a great table set out with game
and French kickshaws, such as were strange to me. None of the French
spoke English nor understood it, and of my people Van Braam alone had
any French. They all dosed themselves freely with wine and brandy, and
pretty soon the French felt it and began to give their tongues license
and to brag and talk loosely. I was never more amused in all my life,
for as Joncaire boasted of what they meant to do, Van Braam, who was
an old soldier with a head used to potations, chattered what seemed to
be a kind of French, which set the drunken fools a-laughing. Amid all
the noise, and the smoke which nearly choked me, Van Braam now and then
spoke to me, telling me what they said, and of their mind to seize and
hold the country. Next day he was still more full as to their talk,
and did me a service, which, in spite of the hurt he innocently did me
later, I never forgot.
I was glad to get away at last, for when Joncaire found the Half-King,
who was hid away in my camp, which I had made in the woods at a
distance, he got the poor savage drunk with rum and loaded him with
gifts. Four days later, and very tired, I was at French Creek, where
was a great fort, fifteen miles from Lake Erie. Much against my will,
Joncaire had sent with me La Force, as great a lover of mischief
as could be found. This fellow was the leanest man I ever saw, and
saddle-coloured. When he spoke to me he stared constantly, which is as
unpleasant as to avoid entirely to meet a man’s gaze. He made no end of
trouble, and had later his reward, and perhaps more punishment than he
deserved.
I met at this station many educated French officers, such as I was to
make welcome at another time. I could not avoid to be pleased with the
commandant, by name Legardeur de St. Pierre, a chevalier of St. Louis.
He was an old soldier, very tall and straight, and with much grey hair,
and had lost an eye in battle. This gentleman was most courteous, and
had brisk, pleasing ways, very frank and outspoken. He desired to be
remembered to Lord Fairfax, whom he had known in Paris long ago.
The chevalier, by good fortune, spoke English enough to make his
company very agreeable, and I became sure, as I spent some days in his
society, that he made no attempt to deceive me; for nothing could have
been more plain than that he meant to hold the country for his king.
He was pleased to relate his campaigns in Europe, and, although he was
apt, like old soldiers, to be lengthy as to these, I found him to be
instructive.
He talked lightly of women, but so did his officers, and in a manner we
in Virginia should have considered to be unmannerly or worse. Also he
told me that the French encouraged their soldiers to take wives among
the young squaws, a thing our people never inclined to do. He seemed to
have known many English gentlemen who had been in Paris, and even why
Lord Fairfax had left England, all of which story I could have heard
from him if I had thought proper so to do, which I did not. He did
say, and was very merry about it, that if a woman drove his lordship
to America, another might drive him back, for, after all, we were only
shuttlecocks, and were knocked to and fro by the women――and I might
say so to his lordship with the chevalier’s compliments.
I remember that when, after this journey, I had returned home, my
sister Betty was agreeably interested to hear what the chevalier had
said of the old lord, who was the only person who could keep Betty
quiet for five minutes. I had to answer that I had not seen fit to
inquire further. Upon this she declared that some day she should ask
his lordship all about it. When I laughed and made no other reply, she
declared that I was as silent as my lord, and that I had lost a fine
opportunity. I contented myself with the chevalier’s compliments to
Lord Fairfax, who said if that was all the old fellow had said he must
have changed, for he was a gossiping old reprobate and fit to corrupt
me. But for my part I liked him and found him a gallant gentleman, and
only of a mind to serve his king, as I was to serve mine.
There was no unreasonable delay, for the chevalier made clear to me
that nothing could be done until after they had held a council. I
arrived on the 12th, and on the 14th they were able to give me a sealed
reply to the governor’s summons. Meanwhile I had been left free to
inspect the fort and count the canoes made ready for use in the spring.
I must admit that they seemed careless as to what I saw. There were
many Indians and French and half-breeds coming and going. The fort was
square, of logs, with palisadoes, a forge, and a chapel, all very neat
and clean, and much ceremony when we came in and went out.