the Algonquin Indians. Chief among these were the Ojibwas and the
Pottawottomies. These tribes, though related by marriage and on friendly
terms, had separate chiefs. But gradually they came to recognize the
great Pontiac as their principal ruler.
Among the Indians of his own tribe Pontiac's word was law. Among kindred
tribes his friendship was sought and his displeasure feared. Through all
the Algonquin territory, from the Lakes to the Gulf, from the mountains
to the river, the great chief's name was known and respected.
Pontiac was no doubt proud and ambitious. But if he was glad to gain
glory for himself he considered the good of his people also. To unite
them and overpower the palefaces was the end toward which he planned.
By this time he had learned that all palefaces were not alike. There
were two great nations of them, the French and the English, and the
Indians had found a great difference between them. The English had
treated them with contempt and helped themselves to their lands. The
French had come among them as missionaries and traders, with kind words
and gifts. To be sure, they had built forts in the land, but they told
the Indians they did this for their sake that they might protect them
from the English, who wished to take their lands. The French seemed to
hate the English no less than the Indians did.
It is said that Pontiac planned to use the French to help him conquer
the English, and then intended to turn upon them and drive them away. No
doubt if the French had openly claimed the territory of the Indians, or
in any way had shown that their professions of friendship were false,
Pontiac would have been their enemy. But he evidently took them at their
word and looked upon them as friends who wished to help his people.
In all his dealings with the French, Pontiac was true and honorable. He
joined them in their wars against the English. He and his Ottawas helped
to defeat the British regulars under General Braddock at Fort Duquesne.
He saved the French garrison at Detroit from an attack by hostile
Indians. He trusted them when all appearances were against them. His
acceptance of the peace offered by Major Rogers on the shore of Lake
Erie was not a betrayal of the French. Pontiac did not forsake their
cause until they had given it up themselves. He took a step which seemed
for the best interests of his own people, and, at the same time, not
hurtful to the French. We have seen that he was disappointed in the
reward he expected.
The English, having subdued the French, felt able to manage the Indians
without difficulty. They were, therefore, more careless than ever about
pleasing them. They refused to give the supplies which the French had
been accustomed to distribute among the Indians. The Indians were
obliged to provide for themselves, as in the days of Pontiac's
childhood. They had no powder or bullets and the young men had lost
their skill with the bow. There was suffering and death for want of
food.
Even Pontiac had been willing to profit by the generosity of the French.
He had not only cheered himself with their firewater, but, like other
Indians, he had been glad to give up his bow and arrow for a gun; he had
been ready to accept corn and smoked meats in winter when game was
scarce, and to protect himself from the cold with the Frenchmen's
blankets.
[Illustration: INDIAN WEAPON]
He realized now that in adopting the white men's customs, in using their
food and blankets and arms, his people had become dependent upon them.
He remembered the stories he had heard in his childhood about the might
of the Ottawas in the days when they depended on the chase for their
food, and fought their battles with bows and arrows and stone hatchets.
He wished his people would return to the old customs. In that way only
could they regain their native hardihood and independence.
[Illustration: INDIAN WEAPON]
While Pontiac's hatred of the English grew more bitter daily, other
Indians were not indifferent. Through all the Algonquin tribes spread
this hatred for the English. The insolence of the garrisons at the forts
provoked it; the cheating, the bad faith, and the brutality of the
English trappers and traders increased it; the refusal of supplies, the
secret influence of the French, the encroachments of English settlers,
fanned it into fury. And when at last, in 1762, word came that the
English claimed the land of the Algonquins their rage could no longer be
restrained.
V. THE PLOT
The time was ripe for rebellion and Pontiac was ready. All over the land
should council fires be lighted. All over the land should the hatchet be
raised. By wile and treachery the forts should fall. By fire and
bloodshed the settlements should be laid waste and the Englishmen driven
into the sea. Thus spoke Pontiac, and thus spoke his messengers, who
with war belts of black and red wampum and hatchets smeared with blood
sought out the villages of the Algonquins. Far and wide this dark
company went its way through forests, across prairies, in spite of storm
or flooded stream, or mountain barrier. No camp was so secret, no
village so remote, that the messengers of war did not find it out.
Wherever they went the bloody plan found favor; the tokens of war were
accepted and pledges of warlike purpose sent to Pontiac.
Not far from the summering place where clustered the lodges of Pontiac
and his kinsmen rose the walls of Fort Detroit. There Pontiac had
suffered humiliation at the hands of the English, and upon it he planned
to visit his vengeance.
The little French military station planted on the west bank of the
Detroit River had reached half a century's growth. It had become a place
of some importance. Both banks of the river were studded with farmhouses
for miles above and below the "fort," as the walled village where the
soldiers lived was called.
The fort consisted of about one hundred small houses surrounded by a
palisade, or wall of heavy stakes, twenty-five feet high. Since gates
are easily broken down, over every gate a block house had been built,
from which soldiers could fire upon the approaching enemy. At the four
corners of the palisade were bastions, or fortified projections, from
which the inmates could see the whole length of the wall and shoot any
one attempting to climb it, set fire to it, or do it any harm.
The small log houses within were crowded together with only narrow
passage-ways between. They were roofed with bark or thatched with straw.
To lessen the danger of fire a wide road was left between the wall and
the houses. Besides dwelling houses, there were in the fort the barracks
where the soldiers stayed, the church, shops, and the council house,
where meetings with the Indians were held.
At this time the garrison consisted of about one hundred and twenty
men. But counting the other inmates of the fort and the Canadians who
lived along the river, there were about two thousand five hundred white
people in the Detroit settlement. On the outskirts of the settlement
hung the Indian villages, much as the Indian villages crowd around the
white settlements of Alaska to-day.
In the midst of the wilderness this little band of English lived
protected by their log walls. No friends were near. Their nearest
neighbors were the conquered French, who regarded them with jealousy and
dislike. Not far away were their Indian enemies. Yet they thought little
of danger.
Occasionally some story of Indian treachery, some rumor of Indian
hostility, or some omen of evil filled the garrison with vague alarm. In
October, 1762, dense clouds gathered over the fort, and soon rain black
as ink fell from them. This strange occurrence stirred up the fears of
the settlers. Some said that it was a sign that the end of the world was
at hand; others, that it was a sign of war. But by the spring of the
next year the settlers of Detroit had ceased to think of the black rain
and war.
If a few had suffered unrest because of the Indians, their fears were
put to flight by a visit which Pontiac made to Detroit late in April.
With forty of his chiefs he came to the fort asking to be allowed to
perform the peace dance before the commander. The request was granted,
and a good-natured crowd gathered near Major Gladwin's house to see the
Indian dance.
No one thought anything of the fact that ten of the party took no part
in the dance, but strolled around the fort prying into everything. Those
who noticed them at all, thought their conduct showed nothing more than
childish curiosity.
No one dreamed that these men were spies, and that the sole purpose of
the visit was to discover the strength of the garrison. The Indians left
with promises to come again to smoke the calumet with the English when
all their chiefs should assemble after the winter's hunt.
After visiting Detroit, Pontiac sent swift-footed runners to all the
tribes in the neighboring country, calling the chiefs to a council to be
held in the village of the Pottawottomies.
When the day for the great council arrived, all the women were sent away
from the village so that they could not overhear the plans of the
chiefs. At the door of the great bark lodge where the chiefs met,
sentinels were posted to prevent interruption.
When all had taken their places in the council room Pontiac rose and
laid before his trusted chiefs his crafty plans. On the seventh of May
the young warriors should gather on the green near Detroit to play ball,
while the older men lay on the ground looking on, or loitered in and
about the fort. The squaws should go about the streets with guns and
tomahawks hidden under their blankets, offering mats and baskets for
sale, or begging. Later Pontiac, with the principal chiefs would arrive,
and ask to hold a council with the commander and his officers. While
speaking in the council he would suddenly turn the wampum belt that he
held in his hand. At that signal the chiefs should throw off the
blankets that hid their weapons and war paint, and butcher the English
before they could offer resistance. When the Indians outside heard the
clamor within the council house they should snatch the guns and knives
that the squaws carried, fall upon the surprised and half-armed
soldiers, kill them and plunder and burn the fort, sparing only the
French.
From the Indians' point of view this seemed a brave plot. No one
objected to the treachery. All the guttural sounds that broke from the
throng of listeners were made for approval and applause.
VI. THE SEVENTH OF MAY
The Indians kept their secret well. A Canadian saw some Indians filing
off their guns to make them short enough to hide under their blankets.
But if his suspicions were aroused he held his peace and said no word of
warning to the English. The appointed seventh of May was at hand and no
alarm had been taken at the garrison.
But on the evening of the sixth, Major Gladwin talked long in secret
with his officers, then ordered half the garrison under arms. He doubled
the guard and himself went from place to place to see that every man was
at his post. The soldiers did not know the reason for this unusual
watchfulness, but they understood that it meant danger.
It is said that in the afternoon an Indian girl who was deeply attached
to the English Major had brought him a pair of moccasins she had been
embroidering for him. She lingered at the fort and seemed unwilling to
leave. At last she begged Gladwin to go away from the fort for a day or
two. Her conduct and request excited suspicion. The Major questioned her
closely and discovered Pontiac's plot.
[Illustration: BETRAYAL OF PONTIAC'S PLOT]
Be that as it may, on the night of the sixth Major Gladwin was on the
alert.
Nothing disturbed the peace of the mild May night. In the morning one
watchman on the walls said to another, "See, yonder they come."
The man addressed looked up the stream and saw many birch canoes rapidly
approaching the fort. "A perfect fleet!" he exclaimed.
"Yes; plenty of boats, but not many Indians; only two or three in each
canoe," replied the first.
"That's true. But see how deep the canoes are in the water, and what
heavy paddling those fellows are doing! A dozen beaver skins to one,
every canoe's got a load of those red rascals stretched on their backs
well out of sight."
"You may be right," said the other, shaking his head. "It looks as if
there might be some ugly work before us. They say the Major has ordered
the whole garrison under arms. Even the shops are closed and the traders
armed to the teeth."
Most of the Indians who came in the boats went to a green near the fort
and began a game of ball. Soon Pontiac himself was seen approaching
along the river road at the head of sixty of his chiefs. They wore
blankets and marched in single file without a word. When they reached
the gate Pontiac, with his accustomed dignity, asked that he and his
chiefs might meet their English brothers in council to discuss important
questions.
In answer to his request the gates swung open. Lines of armed soldiers
appeared on either side. The Indians, trained to read signs, knew at
once that their plot was discovered. Perhaps they felt that the
treachery they had planned would be visited on their own heads. But if
they feared, they gave no token; they said no word. They walked
undaunted through the narrow streets, meeting armed soldiers at every
turn.
At the council house they found Major Gladwin, his assistant, Captain
Campbell, and other officers already assembled and waiting for them. If
any Indian had doubted the discovery of their plot, he was certain of
it when he saw that the officers wore swords at their sides and pistols
in their belts. It was with some reluctance that they seated themselves
on the mats arranged for them.
This was a trying moment for Pontiac. He stood there discovered,
defeated. But he did not quail before the steady gaze of the English.
His brow was only more haughty, his face more stern.
"And why," he asked, in a severe, harsh voice, "do our brothers meet us
to-day with guns in their hands?"
"You come among us when we are taking our regular military exercise,"
answered the commander calmly.
With fears somewhat soothed, Pontiac began to speak: "For many moons the
love of our brothers, the English, has seemed to sleep. It is now
spring; the sun shines bright and hot; the bears, the oaks, the rivers
awake from their sleep. Brothers, it is time for the friendship between
us to awake. Our chiefs have come to do their part, to renew their
pledges of peace and friendship."
Here he made a movement with the belt he held in his hand, as if about
to turn it over. Every Indian was ready to spring. Gladwin gave a
signal. A clash of arms sounded through the open door. A drum began
beating a charge. Within the council room there was a startled,
breathless silence. Pontiac's hand was stayed. The belt fell back to its
first position. The din of arms ceased. Pontiac repeated his promises of
friendship and loyalty, and then sat down.
[Illustration: PONTIAC'S SPEECH]
Major Gladwin answered briefly: "Brothers, the English are not fickle.
They do not withdraw their friendship without cause. As long as the red
men are faithful to their promises they will find the English their
steadfast friends. But if the Indians are false or do any injury to the
English, the English will punish them without mercy."
The one object of the Indians was now to turn aside the suspicion of the
English. After Gladwin's speech presents were exchanged, and the meeting
broke up with a general hand-shaking. Before leaving, Pontiac promised
that he would return in a few days with his squaws and children that
they might shake hands with their English brothers.
"Scoundrels!" laughed one officer, when the last Indian had left. "They
were afraid to sit down. They thought they had been caught in their own
trap. It's a pity to let them off so easily."
"No," replied another, more seriously. "The Major is right. If there is
an outbreak, the Indians must take the first step. They depend more on
treachery than force for success; now that their plan is foiled, the
whole trouble will probably blow over."
The next day this opinion seemed verified by the appearance, of Pontiac
with three of his chiefs. He brought a peace-pipe and approached the
commander with smooth speeches: "Evil birds have whistled in your ears,
but do not listen to them. We are your friends. We have come to prove
it. We will smoke the calumet with you."
Pontiac then offered his great peace-pipe. After it had been smoked in
all solemnity, he presented it to Captain Campbell as a high mark of
friendship.
VII. HOSTILITIES BEGUN
Bright and early the next morning hordes of naked savages gathered on
the pasture land near the fort. A long quadrangle was marked out on the
grass with lines across it. At each end of this "gridiron" two tall
posts were erected five or six feet apart. This, as you may have
guessed, was to prepare for an Indian game of ball.
When all was ready the young men of the Ottawa tribes took their places
on one side of the field. Opposite to them were the Pottawottomies. Each
Indian had a long racket or bat with which he tried to drive the ball to
the goal against the opposition of the players of the other nation. Such
a yelling as they kept up, running and pushing and plunging and prancing
the while! Small wonder that squaws, warriors, and chiefs should have
come to watch so exciting a game!
[Illustration: INDIANS PLAYING BALL]
Still the men in the fort kept the gates closed and stayed behind their
walls, as if they took no interest in the game. They were really
watching with some uneasiness the vast crowd of Indians so close at
hand.
When the game was finished Pontiac went to the gate of the fort. His
chiefs attended him and a motley crowd of warriors, squaws, and
children came trooping after. The great chief shouted in a loud voice,
demanding admission. He received answer that he might come in if he
wished, but the rest would have to keep out. With injured dignity he
asked if his followers were not to be allowed to enjoy the smoke of the
calumet.
The English commander, tired of false speech, gave a short answer,
refusing flatly to let the Indians in. Thereupon Pontiac's brow darkened
and he strode off to the river in high dudgeon.
The others withdrew a little and stood in groups, muttering and
gesticulating. Then with wild whoops they bounded off to join their
comrades who lay stretched on the earth around the ball grounds. After a
brief parley, some started with blood-curdling yells toward a house
across the fields where an English woman lived with her children; others
leaped into their canoes and paddled off to an island where an English
farmer lived alone.
Before sunset the men at the fort heard the exultant scalp yell of the
Indians, and knew that the first blood of the war had been shed.
In the meantime Pontiac hastened with gloomy rage to his own village
across the river. It was deserted by all but a few squaws and old men.
These Pontiac ordered to pack the camp luggage and make all ready for
removal, as soon as the men came with their canoes to carry the camp
equipment to the Detroit side of the river.
All labored to do their chief's will, while he went apart and blackened
his face.
At nightfall the braves came in with the scalps they had taken. A pole
was driven into the ground in the open space where the tents had been.
The warriors gathered about it, their bodies decked with paint and eagle
feathers.
Pontiac sprang into their midst, brandishing his hatchet and striking
violently at the pole. As he danced about, he recited the great deeds he
and his fathers had done in war. His appalling cries, his terrible
words, stirred the hearts of his Indians and fired their blood. All were
in a frenzy of excitement. With wild cries they joined their chief in
his war dance.
Even the faint echo of the din these blood-thirsty demons made struck
terror into the hearts of the watchers in Detroit. The soldiers kept
close guard all night, expecting an attack at any moment.
But not till early dawn did the war cry sound. Shrill and near it rose
from hundreds of throats. Strong men turned pale at the clamor of yells
and cracking rifles. It seemed that the Indians must be at the very
walls of the fort.
The guards on the ramparts, however, could see no enemy in the faint
gray light. From behind every tree, every stone, every rise of ground,
came the incessant flash of muskets. Bullets and blazing arrows rattled
against the palisades. The Indians aimed at the loopholes and succeeded
in wounding five of the English. The soldiers returned a cautious fire,
unwilling to waste powder on an invisible foe.
After an attack of six hours' duration the Indians, weary with their
night's activity, gradually withdrew to their camps, having suffered no
loss, but at the same time having inflicted little.
Gladwin, whose spirit was manly and humane, wished if possible to avoid
further bloodshed. The Canadians took no part in the war, and could,
therefore, be safely used as messengers. As soon as the battle had
subsided Major Gladwin sent a deputation of them to tell Pontiac that he
was willing to listen to any real grievance of the Indians, and do his
best to redress whatever wrongs they had suffered.
Pontiac knew that his chief charge of injustice against the English,
their presence in and claim to his lands, would not be considered by the
English a real grievance. He thought the hour for talking had passed;
the time for action had come. Treachery was his readiest weapon and he
used it. He replied that he could consent to no terms unless they were
made with the English in person, and asked that Captain Campbell, second
in command at the fort, come to a council in his camp.
Captain Campbell had no fear, and urged Major Gladwin to permit him to
go. He and another Englishman, accordingly, hastened to the Indian
village. The women and the warriors were so enraged at the sight of
their red coats, that they would have stoned them had not Pontiac
interfered and led them to his lodge.
After a long but fruitless talk around the council fire, the English
rose to go. But Pontiac said: "Brothers, you will sleep to-night on the
couches the red men have spread for you." He then gave orders that his
prisoners should be taken to the house of a Canadian, where they should
be treated with respect, but closely guarded.
VIII. THE TWO LEADERS
When the officers at Detroit learned that their deputies were detained
by the Indians, they realized that there was no hope of peace. Before
the fort two armed schooners rode at anchor. Most of the officers wished
to abandon the fort and seek safety by sailing away on these boats.
"There is no use trying to hold the old fort against eight times our
number," they said impatiently.
But Major Gladwin had no thought of surrender. "We could not," he
answered, "if the Indians should attempt to force the walls. But there
is no danger of their venturing within gunshot in any numbers. They
won't risk their red skins that way. They'll simply waste their powder
and lead in such firing as they did this morning, and pretty soon
they'll lose heart and drop off, leaving Pontiac to beg for peace."
"I don't suppose they will unite in a charge," assented one of the
officers. "But they will keep a sharp lookout day and night to do us
injury. We have four walls to guard and only one hundred and twenty men
to do it. The garrison will be exhausted in no time."
"Yes, we have hard work before us," agreed the commander, "but we can do
it. Our case is not so bad as you represent. The ship's guns protect two
walls, so that virtually only two sides of the fort are exposed to the
enemy. To me the most alarming feature of the siege is short rations."
"The supplies are low and we cannot hope for more within three weeks.
We'll starve to death, penned up here with no hunting and no provisions
from the Canadian farmers," complained some, ready in their alarm to
magnify every danger.
"By taking care to prevent waste we can make the supplies last," the
commander interrupted. "I shall buy up at once everything in the fort
that can serve as food, put it into a common storehouse, and give to
each person a daily allowance. If even with this care the food runs
short, Canadians may be found who love gold better than Indians." In
this way the courageous leader argued, until, at last, he overcame the
fears of his aids and roused in them a spirit of resistance.