_La Salle's Second Exploring Tour._
Disasters. Energy of La Salle. The Embarcation. Navigating the Lakes.
Sunshine and Storm, Beauty and Desolation. Ruins at Crèvecoeur. Steps
Retraced. Christian Character of La Salle. Arrival at Mackinaw. The
Enterprise Renewed. Travelling on the Ice. Descent of the Illinois
River. Entering the Mississippi. Voyage of the Canoes. Adventures with
the Indians.
It will be remembered that late in February, 1680, La Salle left
Crèvecoeur for Frontenac, to obtain supplies. We have no record of
the details of that wonderful journey of four hundred leagues through
the wilderness. He reached the post after a long and exhausting
journey. There he encountered tidings of disaster sufficient to crush
the stoutest heart. The Griffin had foundered, when but a few days out
from Green Bay. All on board perished; and the whole of La Salle's
fortune, consisting of ten thousand dollars' worth of furs, had gone
down into the bottom of the lake.
The rumor reached Frontenac that La Salle had perished in his vessel.
He had sent quite a fleet of canoes, laden with articles for the Indian
trade, to purchase all the furs they could along the northern and
southern shores of Lake Ontario. The canoe men heard the rumor of the
death of La Salle, and treacherously appropriated to themselves all the
goods with which they had been intrusted. Before setting out on his
first excursion, he had sent to France for more goods, to the amount of
five thousand dollars; a very considerable sum in those days. The
vessel laden with these articles, after having safely crossed the
Atlantic, was driven upon one of the islands of St. Peter, and
everything was lost. There was no insurance in those days; La Salle did
indeed experience the truth of the adage that "sorrows come in troops."
Still the enterprise, energy, and noble character of the man was such
that friends came to the rescue. The Governor was very desirous of
continuing the exploration, to the mouth of the Mississippi, which La
Salle had begun. It was his great ambition there to unfurl the banner
of France, and there, in the name of his king, to take possession of
the most majestic valley on this globe.
Another small fleet of canoes was soon prepared, freighted with such
articles, for use and traffic, as he would need on the expedition. The
canoes, eight or ten in number, were large and strong. The party
consisted of twenty-three Frenchmen and thirty-one Indians; fifty-four,
in all. The statement seems almost incredible that, of these Indians,
ten were women, and three were children. But Father Zenobe, who
accompanied the expedition, mentions that the Indians insisted upon
taking the women, as servants, to cook their food, and to perform the
drudgery at their several encampments. Some of these women had children
whom they could not leave behind.
It was indeed an imposing spectacle, when, at an early hour of a still,
sultry summer morning, this gayly decorated fleet of canoes pushed out
from the little harbor at the fort, upon the mirrored surface of Lake
Ontario. It was, to a considerable degree, a national expedition. The
banners of France fluttered in the gentle breeze over all the
battlements of the fort. The forests and the hills resounded with the
roar of the salute from her heavy guns. Hundreds of Indians crowded the
shore to witness the departure. The Frenchmen returned the salute by a
discharge of their muskets and by three cheers. The canoes speedily
disappeared behind a headland, as the voyagers, with their paddles,
pressed forward upon one of the most extraordinary expeditions ever
undertaken by man.
The voyage along the southern shore of the lake proved to be very
stormy. Again and again the gale and the surging billows drove them
ashore. To the Indians, and to the Canadian boatmen generally, there
was no hardship in this. It was the customary life of these men; and to
the Indians, the life to which they had been inured from infancy, and
the only life they had ever known. Indeed the crew generally had no
more thought of yesterday or tomorrow than the few dogs who accompanied
them. The weight of responsibility rested only upon the minds of La
Salle and his gentlemanly, highly educated ecclesiastical companions.
When landing, for an encampment at night, or forced to take shelter
from the storm, they easily drew their canoes up upon the greensward;
turned them over to protect the freight from the rain, entered a little
distance, the dense, primeval forest, which from time immemorial had
fringed the shores of the lake, and there speedily reared a shelter
which, to them, presented all the comforts which the palatial mansion
offers to its lord. They spread their mats upon the floor. They built
their camp fires, whose brilliant blaze enlivened the scene. They
cooked their suppers, of corn-bread and venison steaks, which health
and hunger rendered luxurious. They sang songs, told stories, cracked
jokes, and enjoyed perhaps as much as the _mere animal man_ is capable
of enjoying.
This is indeed the sunny side of such a life. But it is a real side.
For such men it has a real charm; charms so great that they reluctantly
relinquish them for all that civilization can offer. But it must be
evident to every reader of these pages, that this wandering, homeless
life, has also its shady side. They, like all other men, had often
occasion to say in the beautiful verse of Longfellow:
"The day is cold, and dark, and dreary,
It rains, and the wind is never weary,
The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,
At every gust the dead leaves fall,
And the day is dark and dreary."
La Salle left Fort Frontenac on the 23d of July, 1680, about two months
before the abandonment of Crèvecoeur by Tonti. In consequence of the
series of storms, he was nearly three weeks in reaching the western
extremity of Lake Ontario. The canoes and the goods were then carried
around the falls, to the station called Fort Conti, which had been
established at the head of Niagara River. He did not reach this station
until about the middle of August.
Fort Conti had become quite a resort of the neighboring Indian tribes
for trade. Here La Salle intended to lay in fresh supplies of corn. The
season had been an unfavorable one. The small crop annually raised by
the thoughtless, indolent savages, was still smaller than usual,
affording but a scant supply for the winter. The Indians were not
disposed to sell. Many days passed away, and but little had been
brought in. La Salle had quite a store of French brandy. He offered to
exchange brandy for corn. The poor Indians, who would sell the clothes
from their backs for intoxicating liquors, brought the corn in so
abundantly, that the canoes were immediately filled. In one day sixty
sacks were urged upon him.
On the 28th of August, 1680, the voyagers reëmbarked in their canoes,
and beneath sunny skies and with a smooth expanse of water before them,
paddled joyously along the northern shores of Lake Erie, ascended the
Detroit River, crossed Lake St. Clair, passed through the Straits of
St. Clair, and coasted along the eastern and northern shores of Lake
Huron, a distance of two or three hundred miles, until they reached the
station at Mackinac, the latter part of September.
The voyage from the head of Niagara River had occupied nearly a month.
When the little fleet of birch canoes entered the harbor at Mackinac,
Lieutenant Tonti had just abandoned his dilapidated birch canoe on the
Illinois River, in his retirement from the fort, and, with his few
companions, was struggling on foot through the wilderness west of Lake
Michigan, seeking also the same refuge.
La Salle, entirely unconscious of the disasters which had overtaken his
garrison at Crèvecoeur, reëmbarked, on the 4th of October. Following
the same course he had pursued before, he paddled down the eastern
coast of Lake Michigan, to the River St. Joseph. At the head of which
river, it will be remembered, he had erected Fort Miami, on territory
inhabited by the Miami Indians. It was a long voyage, with many
obstructions from the autumnal storms, which seemed to be incessantly
sweeping that bleak and harborless lake. After the tempestuous voyage
of a month, he reached Fort Miami on the 3d of November.
Eleven months before, on the 3d of December, 1679, he had left that
station, on his route to the Illinois River. Le Clercq says that four
men were left in charge there. This is not sustained by other accounts.
It is not probable that so small a number would have been left in a
position so greatly exposed. But, however this may be, he found the
Miami village in ashes, and all who dwelt in it dispersed. His log fort
was also in utter ruin. It was a melancholy scene which met his eye;
another indication of man's inhumanity to man.
The St. Joseph's River takes its rise in Indiana. For nearly a hundred
miles before it empties its flood into Lake Michigan, it flows in a
course of narrow windings, almost directly from the south. By paddling
up this stream, in a canoe voyage of three or four days, or about
seventy miles of our measurement, they came to a portage, five or six
miles in length, by which they could reach the Kankakee River.
This was an important tributary of the Illinois River. It will be
remembered that it was by this stream that La Salle and his party, more
than a year before, prosecuted their voyage to Lake Peoria. It was
then, for much of its distance, rather a dismal stream, sluggishly
winding through marshes lined with alders. Rapidly they paddled on, day
after day, through a country of silence and solitude, until they
entered the broader, deeper waters of Illinois River.
Still, as they descended this beautiful stream, which presented as
attractive situations for happy homes as perhaps earth could afford,
they passed no Indian villages, no solitary wigwam, no sign whatever of
human life. They came to the site where the Indian village had formerly
stood in its picturesque beauty, with six or eight thousand inhabitants
swarming around, in the various costumes, and engaged in the
diversified employments of savage life. Naught remained but smouldering
ruins and trampled harvests. Man bitterest foe, his brother man, had
been there, and had left behind but the traces of desolation, blood and
woe. Neither wolf nor bear could have been more merciless, or could
have left behind them ravages so dreadful.
The dispersion of the garrison, and the destruction of all the works
commenced and the stores deposited at Crèvecoeur, was another blow
upon the head and the heart of La Salle, apparently frustrating all his
plans. He must have experienced emotions of the keenest anguish. But
this remarkable man, invincible by the reverses of fortune, presented
to his companions only a smiling aspect, and addressed them only with
cheerful words. Having lost everything which he had expected to find at
Crèvecoeur, it became necessary for him to return to Mackinac. This
required a journey by river, forest, prairie, and lake, of nearly five
hundred miles.
Immediately he reëmbarked his whole force, in his canoes, and
commenced the laborious ascent of the stream he had just descended so
pleasantly, borne along by the aid of the current. When they reached
the mouth of the Kankakee, instead of following up that stream, they
struck across the country, by a portage directly north, until they
reached the Chicago River. Here they again launched their canoes and
followed down the windings of the stream until they came to its
entrance into Lake Michigan, where Chicago now stands.
At this port La Salle found fragments of many war-scathed tribes, in a
half-starving condition. They informed him that the terrible Iroquois;
composed of five united savage nations, and whose central power was in
the vast territory south of Lake Ontario, had in overwhelming numbers
invaded the valley of the Illinois. Many of their warriors were armed
with guns purchased from the French. The feeble tribes fled in terror
before them. The ferocious bands wandered in all directions. By day and
by night the hideous war-whoop resounded. Villages were burned,
captives were seized, women and children were slaughtered, and
thousands of fugitives, war-bereaved, woe-stricken, fled to the western
side of the Mississippi to seek protection by being incorporated into
friendly tribes in those apparently limitless realms.
Around the lovely shores of Lake Peoria there had been seventeen
flourishing Indian villages. These were all destroyed, in awful scenes
of conflagration and massacre. The survivors fled beyond the
Mississippi, six hundred miles from their desolated homes. And even to
these regions the ferocious Iroquois pursued them, thirsting for blood
and scalps.
La Salle was a Christian. He was interested in the religious welfare of
the poor Indians, as the only instrumentality by which they could
secure for themselves pleasant homes on earth, and happy homes in
heaven. He agreed with the missionaries, that if they wished to
establish missions in those parts, with any hope of seeing Christianity
make progress among the natives, they must secure them immunity from
the horrors of war. This could only be done by uniting the remaining
tribes in a firm union for a common defence.
At the mouth of the Chicago River, La Salle was, as he thought, by the
route he had taken, about one hundred and twenty miles from Lake
Peoria. He reached this point probably some time in January 1681. The
lake, for some distance from the shore, was encumbered with ice. Fierce
wintry storms swept the bleak prairies, and piled the snow in drifts.
It was almost impossible to journey, either by land or water. La Salle
and his party went into encampment upon the banks of the Chicago River,
to wait a few weeks until the severity of winter was over. At the same
time, though he knew not of it, the few remaining members of the
garrison which he had left at Crèvecoeur were seeking shelter from
these piercing blasts, about a hundred miles north, in the wigwams of
the friendly Pottawattomies.
La Salle and his ecclesiastical companions improved these few weeks of
leisure in seeking interviews with the chiefs of the various tribes in
the vicinity, and in endeavoring to unite them in a strong confederacy.
He assured them that if they would thus be true to themselves, the
French would become their allies and send them efficient aid. It was
not until the 22d of May that he was able to launch his canoes upon the
lake. There was then a voyage of about two hundred and sixty miles
before him.
About the middle of June his fleet of canoes was seen, coming around a
point of land, as the boatmen rapidly paddled into the harbor at
Michilimackinac. Here La Salle met Lieutenant Tonti, Father Membré, and
their associates, as we have mentioned in the last chapter. The good
Father Membré writes:
"I leave you to conceive our mutual joy, damped though it was by
the narrative he made us of all his misfortunes, and of that we
made him of our tragical adventures. Though La Salle related to us
all his calamities, yet never did I remark in him the least
alteration. He always maintained his ordinary coolness and
self-possession. Any other person would have abandoned the
enterprise. But La Salle, by a firmness of mind and constancy
almost unequalled, was more resolute than ever to carry out his
discovery. We therefore left, to return to Fort Frontenac with his
whole party, to adopt new measures, to resume and complete our
course, with the help of heaven, in which we put all our trust."
We have no detailed account of the long voyage back to Frontenac, or of
the return voyage to the mouth of the Chicago River. In the meagre
narratives which have descended to us, there are slight discrepancies
which it is impossible to reconcile. Entering Lake Michigan at its
northern extremity through the Straits of Mackinac, they paddled down
the eastern coast, passed the mouth of St. Joseph's River, rounded the
southern curvature of the lake, and reached the mouth of the Chicago
River on the 4th of January, 1682. The winter in that region was short,
but very severe. The Chicago River presented a solid surface of ice.
Sledges were constructed, upon which the canoes were placed, and
dragged by the men over the ice of the river. This journey in
mid-winter, over a bleak and often treeless expanse, was slow and
toilsome. Having reached the point where the portage commenced, they
dragged their sledges, laden with the canoes, baggage, and provisions,
across the portage to the Illinois River. They reached this point on
the 29th of the month, having spent twenty-three days in the exhausting
journey. They were, at that point, according to Father Membré's
estimate, two hundred and forty miles from the mouth of the Illinois
where it enters into the Mississippi.
Drawing their sledges upon the ice, they day after day followed down
the lonely and silent stream, whose banks war had desolated. They
passed the smouldering sites of many former villages, where only
melancholy scenes of devastation met the eye. They reached Crèvecoeur
about the 1st of February. It would seem that La Salle, on his previous
visit, had repaired the ruins there, so as to provide a temporary home
for his party upon its arrival. He found all things as he had left
them.
The river below Crèvecoeur was free from ice. Having rested for about
a week, in the enjoyment of warm fires, in their log-cabins, they
launched their canoes into the Illinois River, and on the 6th of
February reached the mouth of the river. They found the swollen flood
of the Mississippi full of vast masses of ice, pouring down from the
distant regions of the north. This detained them till the 13th of the
month. They encamped at the same point where Father Hennepin had
tarried. A short voyage of a day bore them to the mouth of turbid and
turbulent Missouri.
Here they landed at an Indian village, where they seem to have been
very kindly received. It will be remembered that La Salle was still
intent upon finding some short passage across the continent, of whose
width he knew nothing, to the Pacific Ocean. He was much excited by the
strange tidings he heard from the Indians here. They assured him that
by ascending the river ten or twelve days he would come to a range of
mountains where the river took its rise; that numerous and populous
Indian villages were scattered all the way along the banks of the
river; that by ascending one of the mountain eminences, he would have a
view of the vast and boundless sea where great ships were sailing. We
cannot now tell whether this was the mere fabrication of some
imaginative savage, or whether such was the general opinion of the
tribe.
The next day, after a sail of about thirty miles, they reached another
Indian village on the bank of the river. Here again they landed
peacefully, and warmed the hearts of the savages by a few presents
which were to them of priceless value. They journeyed slowly. They
could not, in their crowded canoes, carry a large amount of provisions.
Consequently they were under the necessity of making frequent stops to
catch fish or to hunt for game. Not long after this visit of La Salle,
a mission was established in this little village, which was called
Marou. It is said that most of them were converted to, at least,
nominal Christianity.
Continuing their voyage one hundred and twenty miles down the river,
they came to the mouth of the Ohio. Here they made another stop to lay
in fresh supplies. The friendly Indians there informed them they could
find no suitable camping ground for a distance of nearly one hundred
and fifty miles, the banks were so low and so encumbered with rushes
and dense brush.
The voyagers remained at the mouth of the Ohio ten days, sending out
parties in various directions. One of the Frenchmen, Peter Prudhomme,
wandering from his companions, did not return. There were many fears
that he had been captured by the Indians, as some of the party had seen
fresh Indian trails. The heroic La Salle was not disposed to abandon
the man. He threw up some entrenchments for the protection of his
company, and despatched several well-armed Frenchmen, with Indian
guides, to follow vigorously the trail of the savages, for the recovery
of the captive if he had been taken by them. For four days La Salle
tarried in his encampment at the mouth of the Ohio.
On the 1st of March the detachment, sent in pursuit of the lost one,
returned. They had seen and heard nothing of Peter. Five Indians,
however, had been seen, two of whom were caught and brought into the
camp. They knew nothing of the lost man. Receiving only friendly
treatment, they seemed quite anxious that La Salle should visit their
village, which they falsely assured La Salle was distant but a day and
a half's journey from the point where they then were. These Indians
belonged to the Chickasaw tribe, which subsequently became quite
prominent in the history of our land.
With the Indians a day's journey was about thirty miles. La Salle and
Father Membré set out to visit the village, guided by the Indians. They
do not appear to have had any hesitation in thus placing themselves
entirely in the hands of the savages. But after having travelled day
and a half through a country diversified with forest, prairie, and
mountain, they became satisfied that the Indians were deceiving them,
and charged them with it.
They confessed the deception, made some lame apologies for it, and
confessed that their village was still at the distance of three days'
journey. Without any apparent reluctance they accompanied La Salle and
Membré back to the camp. La Salle then sent one of the Indians to the
Chickasaw village, with several presents, and to invite the chiefs to
meet him, some hundred miles below, as he descended in his canoes. The
other Indian consented to remain, and accompany his party down the
river.
Just as the voyagers were reëmbarking, the missing man appeared. He
had been lost in the forest and for nine days had wandered in the
unavailing search for his companions. Fortunately, the weather was
mild, game abundant, and, as he had his gun with him, he did not want
for food. Cheered by his return, they rejoicingly entered their canoes,
and, with cloudless skies overarching them, pushed out into the rapid
current, to be swept along through realms to them entirely unknown, and
to a point they knew not where.
It was a singular and a beautiful spectacle, which was presented by
this _flock_ of large birch canoes, eight or ten in number, filled
with Indians, and Frenchmen in Indian costume, gliding down the broad,
swift current of the river. The paddles glistened with the reflected
rays of the sun. All were in health. There was no toil. New scenes of
marvellous desolation, or beauty, or grandeur, were continually opening
before them. They were well fed. The mind was kept in a state of
delightful excitement. The French are proverbially good-natured and
mirthful. Each night's encampment presented a scene of feasting,
bonfires and innocent joyous revel. These were indeed sunny days, and
this was the poetry of travelling.
The 3d of March, 1682, came. They had then descended the river, as they
judged, about one hundred and twenty miles below the mouth of the Ohio.
They were approaching, though they knew it not, a large village of the
Arkansas Indians, situated on the western banks of the Mississippi. It
was concealed from them by a bluff, and by a turn in the stream. An
Indian, upon the lookout on the bluff, caught sight of the formidable
looking fleet, far up the river, and, supposing it to be filled with
hostile savages on the war-path, gave the alarm.
The whole village was instantly thrown into a state of great
excitement. The women and children fled back into the forest. The
warriors grasped their arms and rallied for battle. As the fleet drew
near, all unconscious of the commotion it had excited, the voyagers,
not seeing a single Indian, were surprised to hear, on the other side
of the bluff, the yells of apparently hundreds of savages. Their
piercing war-whoops were blended with the loud beatings of a kind of
drum which they had fabricated.
Warned by these hostile demonstrations, La Salle guided his canoes to
the other side of the river, which was here about a mile in width. He
landed in direct view of the village. With his customary caution, he
immediately threw up some intrenchments, behind which his men, with
their guns, could beat off almost any number of savages. He knew not
but that hundreds of warriors would cross the river in their canoes, to
make an impetuous assault upon him.
Having thus guarded against surprise, and afforded the Indians a little
time to recover from their first alarm, he then, unarmed, advanced to
the water's edge, and by friendly signs endeavored to invite some of
the chiefs to come over to meet him.
Several of the chiefs entered a large boat, called a periagua. It was
made of the trunk of an immense tree, hollowed out, and carved and
decorated with immense labor. Such a wooden canoe was capable of
holding a large number of warriors. The chiefs crossed the river until
they came to within a quarter of a mile of the shore, and then they
stopped, and beckoned the strangers to come and meet them.
La Salle sent one Frenchman, we infer from the narrative that it must
have been Father Membré, in a canoe, to meet them. Two of his Indians
paddled the boat, until they came alongside of the periagua of the
natives. Father Membré, familiar as he was with several Indian
dialects, could not speak their language. He however held out to them
the calumet of peace, which at once won their confidence; and he found
no difficulty in communicating with them by signs. He invited the
chiefs to accompany him back to the encampment. They were six in
number. Retaining him with them, in the large periagua, they speedily
paddled ashore, followed by Membré's canoe, with the two Indian
boatmen.
Without any hesitancy, the six Indian chiefs entered into the redoubt
which La Salle had thrown up. They appeared frank, unsuspicious, and
cordial, and were made very happy by several presents which La Salle
placed in their hands. They invited the whole party to cross the river
to their village. The canoes were launched, and all crossed the stream,
led by the chieftains in their wooden boat. The whole adult male
population of the village crowded the banks to receive them; and with
every demonstration of friendship. But the timid women and children
kept cautiously in the distance.
Eight or ten large birch canoes, from which more than fifty persons
landed upon the beach, presented a very imposing appearance. They were
nearly all armed with guns, not for aggressive warfare, but for hunting
and protection.
The natives crowded around the strangers, conducted them up to their
wigwams, which were very pleasantly situated on a rich and tolerably
well cultivated plain extending back from the river. The guests were
regaled with the greatest profusion of barbarian hospitality. These
Indians had attained a very considerable degree of civilization. They
had quite a large number of slaves, whom they had captured from tribes
with whom they were at war. The fertile fields around were quite well
cultivated with corn, beans, melons, and a variety of fruits. Peaches
were abundant. Large flocks of turkeys and other domestic fowls crowded
their doors. They were a very handsome race; and it was observed that,
while the northern Indians were generally moody and taciturn, these
savages, beneath more sunny skies, were frank, generous, and gay in the
extreme.