I left the village in which I was held captive, on Saint Ignatius’
day, to go with some Iroquois on an excursion for trading and
fishing. After we had finished our business with the Dutch we set
to fishing at a place on the river seven or eight leagues below the
Dutch village. While we were cleaning the fish we had caught, there
came a report that a band of Iroquois had returned from an expedition
against the Hurons, of whom they had killed five or six and captured
four. Of these four prisoners they had burned two in my village with
great cruelties. At this my heart was weighed down with a bitter
regret that I had neither been able to see these poor victims nor to
console and baptize them. I feared too that something of the sort
might happen again, and I therefore went to an old woman who had been
very kind to me and said to her:--
“My aunt, I wish to return to our village. I cannot stay here. It
is not that I expect to be treated more kindly at the village,
where indeed I am daily exposed to every species of torture and
am compelled to be witness of most horrible cruelties, but my
heart tells me that I should allow no man to suffer death without
endeavoring to offer him baptism.”
She approved of my words and gave me something to eat on the road.
I embarked in the first canoe that was going up the river to our
village, accompanied and conducted by five or six Iroquois. When we
had reached the Dutch on the river, I learned that our village was
much incensed against all the French, and that they only awaited my
return in order to burn me alive.
The cause of this was as follows. Some time ago, among all the bands
of Iroquois who were continually going upon the war-path against
the Algonquins, the Hurons, and the French, there was one band which
took the idea of going to spy out the French and their savage allies.
Among this band was a Huron who had been captured by the Iroquois
and had been adopted into the tribe. This man came to me to ask if I
had any letters to send to the French, hoping no doubt to get some
information in this way. But as I did not doubt that the French would
be upon their guard against him, and moreover as I thought it very
necessary that the French should know something of the plans and
designs of their enemies, I found means of procuring a bit of paper
upon which to write a message. I knew very well the danger to which
I exposed myself, and I knew too that if anything should happen to
these warriors the blame would fall upon me; that they would hold
me responsible and would accuse my letters. I foresaw that I should
be put to death, but death seemed to me easy and agreeable when I
reflected that it would be used for the well-being and consolation
of the French, and the poor Indians who learn from them the word of
the Lord. I gave, then, my letter to the young warrior, who never
returned. The story that his comrades brought back was that he had
carried the letter to the fort of Richelieu, and that as soon as
the French had caught sight of them they had fired a cannon at them
so that they had fled, scattering in all directions, leaving one of
their canoes, together with their guns and powder and ball and some
other baggage.
When these news were brought to the village they cried out that my
letters were the cause of this treatment. The report went around and
at last came to my ears; they reproached me with their bad luck and
spoke of nothing but burning me, and if I had been at the village at
the return of the warriors, fire, rage, and cruelty would have cost
me my life. Unhappily another band returning from Montreal, where
they had been beaten by the French, told of one of their men who had
been killed and two who were wounded. Everybody considered me the
cause of this ill-luck and was awaiting my return with impatience.
To resume my story. The Captain of the post of Dutch, where we were
at this time, knowing pretty well the state of the Indians’ mind
toward me, and knowing too that the Chevalier de Montmagny had
forbidden the Indians of New France to make any attacks upon the
Dutch, showed me the means of saving myself. “Here,” said he to me,
“here is a ship at anchor which is to sail in a few days. Get into
it quietly. It is going first to Virginia and then to Bordeaux or La
Rochelle.”
I thanked him much for the offer, but told him the Indians would
surely find out that he had assisted me to escape and might cause his
people some trouble.
“No, no,” said he, “fear nothing, get on board. The chance is good,
you will never find a better one.”
I was perplexed at his words, doubting whether it would not redound
more to the glory of God if I should expose myself to the danger of
fire and to the fury of the Iroquois, with the hope of saving some
poor soul. I said then to him that I held the occasion to be of such
importance that I could not immediately come to a decision, and I
begged of him to give me the night to think it over. He was much
astonished, but granted my request, and I promised to tell him on the
next morning what resolve I had come to.
I spent the night in meditation and prayer, and came at last to the
conclusion that it would be more agreeable to God if I should take
this chance which was offered me to escape.
When day was come, therefore, I paid my respects to the Dutch
Governor and told him my thoughts and the resolution to which I had
come. He called the owners of the vessel and told them his plan,
begging them to receive and hide me, and, in a word, to carry me back
to Europe. They replied that if I could once set foot on the deck of
the vessel I might be sure that I should not leave it until I landed
at the wharf at Bordeaux or La Rochelle.
“Very well, then,” said the Governor to me, “return with your
Indians, and towards evening or at night come quietly to the river.
You will find a little boat which I shall have placed there that you
may go secretly to the ship.”
After giving my humble thanks to these gentlemen I went away from
the Hollanders that I might the better conceal my plan. At night I
retired with ten or a dozen Iroquois into a barn where we were to
pass the night. Before lying down I went out of the place to see how
I might most easily escape. The dogs of the Hollanders, who were
roaming about, seeing me come out, fell upon me. One of them bit a
large piece out of my leg, which gave me such pain that I returned
as soon as possible into the barn. The Iroquois immediately shut the
door tightly and lay down round about me. There was one of them whose
duty it was to take especial care in guarding me, and he lay down in
front of the door of the barn.
Seeing myself shut up in this way I feared that I might never be
able to escape. I passed all this night without sleep, and in the
morning I heard the crowing of the cocks. Soon after, the servant of
a Dutch workman, who had given us shelter in his barn, entered by
some door, I know not what. I made him a sign softly, since I did not
understand Flemish, to drive away the dogs. He went out and I after
him, taking all my baggage, namely, a breviary and a crucifix. As
soon as I got out of the barn, without making any noise or awakening
my guards, I passed through the gate in the fence surrounding the
farm and ran straight to the river in which the ship was at anchor.
In doing this I had great difficulty, on account of my wounded leg,
but finally accomplished the distance, and found the boat, as the
captain had told me. But unfortunately the tide had gone down, and
the boat was high and dry on land. I could not push it into the water
on account of its weight, and so I shouted out to the ship. I do not
know whether they heard me or not; at any rate, nobody appeared.
The sun was by this time rising and would soon apprise the Iroquois
of the theft of myself which I had made. Fearing that they would find
me engaged in my innocent amusement I left off shouting, and, praying
God to increase my strength, I applied myself once more to the boat.
I did so well that I soon got the stern in the water and after that
the rest of it. Having got it afloat, I jumped into it, and rowed
quickly to the ship without being perceived by any of the Iroquois.
The sailors put me down in the hold to hide me, and I passed two days
in the ship in such an uncomfortable manner that I feared each minute
that I should die of suffocation. I remembered in this plight the
story of Jonas in the belly of the whale.
On the second night of my captivity the Dutch minister visited me to
tell me that the Iroquois were making a great disturbance about my
disappearance, and that the Hollanders living around were afraid that
they would burn down their houses and kill their beasts. They had
good ground for this fear, for the Indians were provided with good
arquebuses. I besought him to give me up to them if on account of me
all this tumult was arising, and told him that I never had wished to
save myself at the risk of others’ lives and goods.
Finally I came up from my hiding-place, and though the sailors were
much ashamed, saying that they had given their word that I should be
saved and that they must hold to it at all costs, I went on shore
to the Governor’s house, where they concealed me. These goings and
comings were achieved in the night so that I was not discovered. The
Dutch Captain told me that it was necessary to yield to the storm and
wait until the spirits of the Indians were a little calmed. So I am
now a voluntary prisoner in the house of the Governor. The ship in
which I was to sail has gone without me.