FIRE AND SWORD ON THE BORDER
The departure of the New England fleet left the French colony in a
condition of great exhaustion, and, for a time, of poignant anxiety.
Three vessels were on their way out from France laden with military and
other supplies, and were due just about this time. Should Phipps
encounter them in the lower St. Lawrence, they would assuredly become
his prey, and what the country would do in that case it was painful to
speculate. Frontenac writing after Phipps had left, and before he had
news of the safety of the expected vessels, gives a vivid account of the
situation. There had been a serious failure of the crops. Early in the
season the grain had looked very promising; but cold and rainy weather
during the harvest had almost ruined it. What made matters worse was
that there had been a short crop the year before, so that they were
already, in November, consuming the little grain they had just
harvested. Unless a supply is received by the ships, there will be
hardly any to be got in the country for love or money. Everything else
is at the lowest ebb, wine, brandy, goods of all kinds. The servants in
the chateau have for some time had only water to drink, and in a week
the governor himself will be brought to the same sad necessity. This
letter was written on the 11th November; fortunately before the week
expired the vessels had arrived; and the gallant count was not reduced
to being an involuntary total abstainer. The quantity of provisions
brought out, however, was very scanty, not exceeding a month's supply;
and as the colony managed to struggle through the winter, and had a
sufficiency of seed-grain for the following spring, perhaps things were
not quite so bad as represented. The ships owed their escape from
capture to measures wisely taken by the governor in sending boats down
the river to advise them to slip into the Saguenay till Phipps should
have passed down, which they did.
The arrival of Phipps in Boston with his shattered and diminished fleet,
and shrunken and disheartened forces, produced a feeling almost of
despair. The success of the expedition had been counted on with the
greatest certainty. Cotton Mather declares that he "never understood
that any of the faithful did in their prayers arise to any _assurance_
that the expedition should prosper in all respects; yet they sometimes
in their devotions uttered their persuasion that Almighty God had heard
them in this thing, that the English army should not fall by the hands
of the French enemy." The higher criticism would probably detect in this
declaration a large _ex post facto_ element. The English army did not
exactly fall by the hands of the French enemy; but between the French
enemy, cold, tempest and sickness, the expedition had been a most
disastrous failure, which "the faithful" had certainly been far from
thinking was, or could be, in the designs of Providence. There was no
money in the treasury with which to pay the troops, who soon began to be
clamorous and threatened mutiny. Finally, an issue of paper money was
decided on, and the difficulty was thus tided over; but it was long
before this questionable currency, which was only receivable in payment
of public debts, and which for a time circulated at a discount of from
twenty-five to thirty per cent., was fully redeemed.
The period now opening was destined to be one of savage border warfare.
The Iroquois--particularly the Mohawks--were still on the war-path, and
were resuming all their ancient boldness in their attacks on the French
settlements. In the spring of 1691 there were some informal and, as they
turned out, futile negotiations for peace, brought on by the fact that a
party of Mohawks who had captured ten mission Indians near Chambly, sent
them back a few days later by three of their own people, who entered the
fort at St. Louis unarmed, and began to talk of peace. Callieres, the
governor of Montreal, did not quite know what to make of it, and
meantime kept his troops scouring the neighbourhood. It seems probable
that the Mohawks were really more anxious to draw away their kinsmen of
the Laprairie mission from the French than to make peace with the
latter. On more than one occasion the mission Indians had shown
reluctance in making war on their own people, and something of the same
feeling existed on the side of the heathen warriors, who always hoped
that they might some day reclaim their separated brethren. Meantime the
raiding went on, but took the form chiefly of killing the cattle and
burning the houses of the settlers, though now and again one or two of
the latter would be killed or carried off. It was in the early summer of
1691 that a somewhat memorable incident in this wild warfare occurred. A
party of forty or fifty Oneidas had in one of their forays taken
possession of an abandoned house at Repentigny, a point on the north
shore of the river St. Lawrence, just opposite the north-eastern end of
the Island of Montreal. Possibly they had captured some brandy in their
prowlings round the country; but whatever the reason was, they were not
exercising their usual vigilance. They were observed by a certain
Captain de Mine in charge of a detachment of soldiers, who succeeded in
retreating from the spot and crossing over to some islands in the river
without attracting their attention. Here he was joined by M. de
Vaudreuil, at the head of a picked force of Canadians and some regular
soldiers; and the combined force then crossed over to the main-shore, a
little below the house which the savages were making their headquarters.
Approaching with the greatest caution, they found some Indians asleep
outside. These they killed with a volley at short range; then rushing
forward they surrounded the house. The Indians within fired from the
windows and killed four or five of the French, including M. de
Bienville. Their fate, however, was sealed. The French fired in at the
windows, and finally set fire to the house, when the unhappy savages,
driven forth by the flames, were, all save one, either killed or
captured. The sequel is not pleasant to relate. The captives numbered
five. One was given to the Ottawa Indians, for what purpose does not
appear; one, a lad of fourteen years, was spared, because his family had
protected the Jesuit father, Millet; and the remaining three were
distributed to the farmers of Pointe aux Trembles, Boucherville and
Repentigny, who burnt them in retaliation, it is said, for lost
relatives.
The attack on Quebec had awakened the French government to the necessity
of strengthening the forces in Canada. On the 1st July a frigate, the
_Soleil d'Afrique_, famous in her day as a very rapid sailer, arrived at
Quebec, bringing much needed stores and supplies, and twelve days later
a dozen more vessels, under the command of a M. du Tast, appeared in the
harbour. Just about the same time a deputation of Ottawas had made their
way to Quebec to discuss various matters, but particularly trade
questions, with the governor. The one dream of the Ottawas was cheap
goods. Probably had they been manufacturers their one dream would have
been a high tariff. It was a bad time to ask for cheap goods--no time,
indeed, in Canada was very good for that purpose--as the war between
France and England was interfering considerably with trade, and such
goods as there were in the country were held at exorbitant prices. Other
gratifications, however, were afforded them: the sight of the fourteen
vessels in the harbour, the drill of the soldiers and sailors, the
firing of salutes, the illumination of the ships and of the town--for
the arrival of the fleet was made an occasion for prolonged rejoicings
and festivities--produced a powerful impression on minds unaccustomed to
such wonders. They were also greatly charmed with an entertainment given
at the chateau on the 22nd of July to which they were invited, and at
which, according to the official narrative, "thirty beautiful ladies,
entering very properly into the views of their host, paid them every
attention." On the following day they were dismissed, laden with gifts,
but not before they had been shown the large stores of war material that
had been received from France, which it was hoped would give them a
lively idea of the resources Canada possessed for making successful war
upon her enemies. Early in the season Frontenac had despatched the Sieur
de Courtemanche to Michilimackinac to convey to the tribes of that
region the news of the defeat of the English before Quebec, and to
inquire what they were doing against the Mohawks. The reply given was to
the effect that a number of their bands had gone on the war-path, that
others were about to start, and that the Miamis and Illinois had also
moved against the enemy, and forced the Senecas to abandon some of
their towns. As regards the Ottawas and Hurons the case was probably
overstated; otherwise the deputation to Quebec, which started after
Courtemanche had left Michilimackinac, would have laid no little stress
on the sacrifices which their people were making.
The month of August of this year (1691) was marked by one of the most
important and stubborn engagements which had yet taken place between the
French of Canada and their English and Indian enemies. The Iroquois, who
since the massacre at Schenectady had been doing a good deal of fighting
at the instance of their English allies, began to get a little tired of
the business, in which, as they thought, the parties most concerned were
not taking their proper share. They spoke out so plainly on the subject
that it was decided at Albany to organize an expedition of whites to act
in concert with the Mohawks and Mohegans or Wolves. The entire force,
the command of which was given to Major Peter Schuyler, consisted of two
hundred and sixty men, one hundred and twenty being English or Dutch,
and the rest Indians. Going by way of Lake Champlain they descended the
Richelieu to within a few miles of Chambly, where they left a detachment
to guard their canoes, and then pushed on towards Laprairie de la
Madeleine, the scene of Captain John Schuyler's exploit of the year
before. Here a force of seven or eight hundred men, under Callieres,
was awaiting them, an English prisoner captured by an Indian party near
Albany having given information of their approach. As it happened,
however, Callieres had been smitten with a serious fever, and was not
himself in active command. The regular troops were encamped to the left
of the fort, which was close to the river, and the Canadians and Indians
to the right. If a contemporary historian, Belmont,[51] may be trusted,
the Canadians were well supplied with brandy, and used it only too
freely. However that may have been, Schuyler's men, about an hour before
dawn, attacked the Canadian camp, and drove the enemy before them into
the fort, killing two or three, and also six Ottawa Indians who were
sleeping under their canoes. The firing roused the regulars who, rushing
to the scene, were met by a deadly volley. They rallied, however, and
Schuyler, finding himself greatly outnumbered, retreated to a ravine,
where he made a stand, and, as he states, repulsed his assailants. What
seems to be certain is that he made a deliberate retreat towards his
base on the Richelieu without being pursued, notwithstanding the
superiority of the enemy. Amongst those who were killed on the French
side were M. de St. Cirque, second in command to M. de Callieres, M.
d'Hosta, a valuable officer who had accompanied Nicolas Perrot on his
mission to the Ottawas the year before, Captain Desquerat, and
Lieutenant Domergue.
This, however, was not the end. Could Schuyler have retired after having
inflicted comparatively heavy loss on the enemy, and sustained but
little himself, he might have boasted of a signal success as these
things went. This, however, was a case in which _recipere gradum_ was
destined to be much the harder part of his task. There was an enemy
posted on the line of his retreat, and a brave and determined one.
Valrennes, an officer of birth and of tried ability, former commandant
of Fort Frontenac, had been sent to Chambly with a force consisting of
one hundred and sixty regulars and militia, together with thirty or
forty Indians, his instructions being to defend that place if attacked;
but, should the enemy take the road to Laprairie, then to post himself
in their rear and cut them off from their canoes. It was hoped in this
way to catch them between two fires. Had this scheme been fully carried
out, Schuyler's whole force would indubitably have been killed or
captured. Owing, however, to the unexplained inactivity of the main body
at Laprairie, the brunt of the second fight had to be borne by the
detachment under Valrennes, which was somewhat, though not much,
inferior in number to Schuyler's command. Valrennes posted his men
behind two large trees that had fallen across the road on an acclivity,
and, from this position of vantage, inflicted considerable loss upon the
invaders. The latter, however, exhibited great bravery, and finally
fought their way through, but were compelled to leave their dead behind
to the number of nearly forty. Schuyler, in his narrative of the
expedition, admits that he was uncommonly glad to see the last of so
obstinate a foe. Why the small band of about twenty-five men left in
charge of the canoes was not first overpowered, as it might easily have
been, and the canoes destroyed, does not appear. Schuyler on reaching
the river found men and canoes safe, and, re-embarking with his
diminished force, succeeded in regaining Albany.
The courage and address displayed by Valrennes in this encounter won him
a great increase of reputation. As we have seen, the French lost a
number of valuable officers in the fight at Laprairie. The English loss
was almost entirely incurred in the second fight; in the first, Schuyler
says he lost but one Christian and one Indian. The reason given in the
French narrative for not pursuing the enemy is that, after an hour and a
half's fighting and some previous heavy marching, neither French nor
Indians had strength for any further exertion--that they could not even
have defended themselves had the fight been prolonged. This rather tends
to confirm Schuyler's statement that, after breaking through their
position, he turned about and forced them to retreat. He and his men
then effected their own retreat without molestation, carrying with them
their wounded, who must have been numerous.
The news of the advance of the English had caused Frontenac to proceed
to Three Rivers with such troops as could be spared from Quebec. He had
not been there many days when news of the actual fighting came to hand.
A couple of days later Valrennes himself arrived with fuller details;
and gave so glowing an account of the valour of his troops and the
losses inflicted on the enemy, that the depression which had at first
been caused by the serious list of casualties amongst the officers, was
in a large measure removed. He was accompanied by the famous Indian,
Orehaoue, previously mentioned as having been brought out by Frontenac
from France, and who during this summer had been rendering valuable
service in different expeditions. This chieftain had with him an
Onondaga Indian captured by him in the West, whom he presented to
Frontenac. This was the day of reprisals, and Frontenac handed over the
unfortunate to the Algonquins to be dealt with after their manner. The
Algonquins were in due course proceeding to burn him, when a Huron gave
him a _coup de grace_ with his tomahawk, which the writer of the
official narrative seems almost to think was a mistake, observing that
"the Algonquins are better judges of these things."
Notwithstanding the decisive repulse of the Boston expedition, no small
anxiety was felt lest there might be a renewal of attack from the same
quarter. Phipps had threatened to come back, and shortly after his
arrival at Boston had sailed for England in the hope of engaging the
king's interest and assistance in the matter. Frontenac thought it
prudent, all things considered, to detain two of the ships which came
out in July until the 3rd September. He then commissioned one of them to
convey to Acadia M. de Villebon, whom he was sending to that province as
lieutenant-governor. The New Englanders had taken no measures whatever
for securing their control of the country; no officer of any kind, no
garrison, however small, had been left there to represent English
authority, so that all Villebon had to do was to haul down an English
flag which he found peacefully flying, and run up a French one in its
place. Reporting to the minister, M. de Pontchartrain, in a despatch
dated 20th October 1691, the re-establishment of French control,
Frontenac takes occasion to recommend that Boston should be attacked by
sea. Not only would it make Canada more secure, but there would be a
great satisfaction in destroying such a nest of hardened
parliamentarians. Frontenac's sympathies, as may be supposed, were all
with the Stuarts and the divine right of kings. Unfortunately for the
realization of his wishes, neither Frontenac nor his master had any
ships available for the suggested undertaking. All that was possible at
the moment was to incite the Abenaquis to inflict as much damage as
possible on the hated enemy. In a despatch written a few months earlier,
Frontenac had given a very lively account of the services rendered by
these faithful and bloodthirsty allies. "It is impossible," he says,
"to describe the ravages these Indians commit for fifty leagues around
Boston, capturing daily their forts and buildings, killing numbers of
their people, and performing incredible deeds of bravery." A little
discount must, perhaps, be taken off the "incredible bravery," as the
Indian mode of warfare was rather stealthy than brave; but Frontenac in
his despatches could always heighten the effect with a little judicious
rhetoric. Villebon, too, after arriving in his government, wrote direct
to the minister, eulogizing the same allies, and observing how dangerous
it would have been to Canada, if the Boston people had succeeded in
making a solid peace with them. In that case, instead of having to sail
round by the gulf, they could at any time march direct from Pentagouet
to Quebec in about twelve days. It was therefore of the utmost
importance to cultivate the friendship of the savages by means of
presents, and to keep them well supplied with arms. The idea of
attacking Boston was also very close to Villebon's heart. There would be
no difficulty about it, if only there were a few ships to spare, as its
situation was a most exposed one; and no town could be more easily
burnt, the streets being very narrow, and the houses all of wood.
Canada at this time, there is no doubt, was suffering from severe
depression. Frontenac himself says that when the ships arrived in July,
"the colony was reduced to the greatest extremities." He estimated that
out of thirteen hundred soldiers maintained by the king at the date of
the attack on Quebec more than half had been "killed on divers occasions
or had died of disease." In all, he said, more than two thousand men,
"militia, regulars and veterans," had been lost in Canada since the war,
by which he probably means the war against the Iroquois commenced by his
predecessor. He asks that one thousand effective men should be sent "to
complete the twenty-eight companies his Majesty has hitherto maintained
here." The ships that arrived in July had not brought out any additional
troops. It must be confessed that it is a little difficult to understand
the loss of so many soldiers as Frontenac reports. The losses of men at
Quebec in repelling Phipps's attack--represented by the French accounts
as being very light, and which even the enemy did not pretend were very
heavy--fell chiefly on the militia; while, in the fights with Schuyler,
described by the French annalist as "the most obstinate battle that has
ever been fought in Canada since the foundation of the colony," the
acknowledged losses were only forty killed and about the same number
wounded. There is nothing on record to show that many perished in casual
skirmishes with the Indians, whose custom was to avoid troops whenever
possible.
An expedition that deserves to be recorded was undertaken in the month
of February of the following year (1692), when some three hundred men
were sent to attack a band of Iroquois, understood to be hunting
somewhere between the St. Lawrence and the Ottawa. The leader of the
party was M. Dorvilliers, an officer who had distinguished himself in
the fight under Valrennes. At the very outset, however, Dorvilliers was
accidentally disabled, and the command fell upon a youthful officer of
engineers named Beaucour. The march through the forest was a terrible
one: the cold was intense, and, accustomed as the men were to the
rigours of the Canadian winter, they were rapidly losing heart, while
some of the Indians were refusing to follow. Nothing but the indomitable
spirit and courage of the leader saved the expedition from failure. He
gathered the men round him and harangued them in terms and tones that
gave new life to the whole party. Guided by the snowshoe tracks of the
enemy, they followed on for four hours longer, when they caught up to
and surprised them in their bivouac on an island in the St. Lawrence
about a day's march below Cataraqui. Few of the savages escaped; most
were killed in the first onset, but some, less fortunate, were captured
and taken to Quebec, where three of them were tortured and burned. To
avoid the same fate another killed himself in prison.
It was in the month of October of the same year that an incident
occurred that has become the basis of what may be called one of the
classic tales of Canadian history, the defence of the fort at Vercheres
by Madeleine, the fourteen-year-old daughter of the seigneur of the
place, then absent on duty at Quebec. The story is so fully and
interestingly told by Parkman in his _Count Frontenac and New
France_,[52] and is otherwise so well known, that it seems needless to
repeat it here. A people may well be proud who know that the blood of
such heroes and heroines as gave lustre to the early annals of Canada
flows in their veins.
The conclusion to which Frontenac had come at this time was that the
raising of large levies of men and organizing formal campaigns against
so agile and elusive an enemy as the Iroquois was not a wise policy. He
states so distinctly in a letter to Pontchartrain, dated in October
1692. Such expeditions, he says, "make great noise and do little harm";
he believes in "small detachments frequently renewed." There are some
people, he continues, who think differently, and are always urging the
Indians to entreat him to attempt something on a large scale. Who these
are does not appear, but Frontenac says: "I put them off and endeavour
to amuse them by always giving them hopes that I shall grant their
desire." Possibly Callieres was the moving spirit. Strange to say, it
was only three months after writing thus that Frontenac gave his
sanction to an expedition of the very kind that he had objected to.
According to Champigny, indeed, he not only sanctioned but ordered it.
The campaign in question, like that undertaken by Courcelles
twenty-seven years before, was a midwinter one. The force raised
consisted of six hundred and twenty-five men, comprising over three
hundred of the most active young men of the country, one hundred picked
soldiers, and about two hundred Indians, chiefly mission Iroquois of the
Saut and the Mountain, but partly Hurons, Algonquins, and Abenaquis from
Three Rivers and the neighbourhood of Quebec. The expedition started
from Laprairie on the 25th January 1693, spent a night at Chambly, and
then pushed on for Lake Champlain, their destination being the country
of the Mohawks, for some time past their most troublesome enemies. Some
hunting was done by the Indians on the way, and it was not till the 16th
of February that they arrived within sight of the first of the Mohawk
forts. There was another fort less than a mile distant. Both were
attacked and captured simultaneously. There were only five defenders, we
are told, in the first and still fewer in the second. There was a more
important fort, however, about eight miles further away. This was taken
by surprise at night, though not without a skirmish in which one man was
killed on the French side, while some twenty or thirty of the Mohawks
were slaughtered; the rest, to the number of over three hundred,
two-thirds being women and children, surrendered.
Hereupon ensued a little misunderstanding between the French and their
Indian allies. The former wanted the latter to kill all the male
prisoners of fighting age, appealing to a promise they had made before
starting that they would do so. The Indians declined, and the French
did not like to do the business themselves; possibly there would have
been trouble had they attempted it. The only course that remained was to
make the best of their way home, taking their prisoners with them. Their
movements were hastened by learning that Peter Schuyler was on their
track with a party of English and Indians. Immediately following on this
news came the information that peace had been declared in Europe, and
that Schuyler wished to hold a parley. The French leaders placed little
faith in this statement, but their Indians insisted on waiting to see
what Schuyler had to say. As the savages could not be moved, it was
decided to fortify a position and wait. Schuyler arrived, and fortified
a position of his own not far off. Some skirmishing followed, but no
parleying; and after a few days' delay the French slipped away by night.
Schuyler could not pursue them effectively for want of provisions. The
retreat to Canada was marked by the greatest misery and suffering. Most
of the prisoners had to be abandoned. Provisions that had been stored by
the way were found on their return to have been totally destroyed by
water. Several members of the party died of starvation, and others
became perfectly helpless. News of their desperate condition was sent by
special couriers to Callieres, who at once despatched one hundred and
fifty men with provisions on their backs. "Never," says Champigny, "was
there such distress. They were four or five days without food. About one
hundred and twenty, overpowered and exhausted, remained behind till
they should be somewhat restored by the provisions we sent them. Two or
three died of hunger; many threw down their arms, and almost all arrived
without blankets, and scarcely able to drag their feet after them." The
general result might well have confirmed Frontenac in the opinion he had
previously expressed of such expeditions.
The Ottawa River had been so infested by Iroquois war parties for the
last three years that it had been impossible for the Indians or
_coureurs de bois_ to use it as a channel of commerce, and the trade of
the country was consequently at a standstill. The financial situation
was indeed so gloomy that Frontenac, whose courage never failed him in a
crisis, determined to try heroic measures of relief. He accordingly
despatched M. d'Argenteuil with eighteen Canadians in four canoes to
convey his orders to M. de Louvigny, commanding at Michilimackinac, to
send down as large a party as he could of French and Indians with all
the skins they could convey. The mission was a perilous one, and the men
who engaged in it had to be well paid. With M. d'Argenteuil was sent
another detachment of twenty men under M. de Lavaltrie to accompany him
over what was considered the most dangerous part of the route. It does
not appear at what point Argenteuil and Lavaltrie parted. The former
reached his destination safely; the latter, on his return, was attacked
by a party of Iroquois near the head of the Island of Montreal and
killed with three of his men. This was not encouraging for the safe
arrival of the men from the West. What was almost unhoped for, however,
happened; and, to the immense joy and relief of the inhabitants, a
flotilla of nearly two hundred canoes laden with goods arrived on the
4th August (1693) at Montreal. Frontenac heard the news at Quebec on the
17th. Three days later he set out for Montreal, arriving on the 28th.
Seldom, if ever, had Montreal seen so much gaiety and good spirits; and,
if we may trust the official narrative of events, profuse and unbounded
were the expressions of praise and gratitude directed towards the head
of the Canadian state, the brave old governor, who in the darkest days
had never lost heart, nor allowed others to lose heart if he could help
it, and whose prowess and resource the enemy was again being taught to
respect.
That one at least of the Iroquois nations was prepared for peace was
shown by the arrival at Montreal, in the month of June of this year, of
an Oneida chief, bringing with him a French captive named Damour, whom
he wished to exchange for a relative of his own in captivity at the
Saut. The main object of his visit, however, was evidently to talk about
peace. He was accordingly sent on to Quebec, where he had an interview
with the governor. He stated that the most influential of the Oneida
cabins were anxious for peace, and that the other nations were aware
that he had come to speak about it. Frontenac's answer was very firm.
If the nations wanted peace, he said, let them send duly authorized
delegates, and he would treat with them. The present chance was,
perhaps, the last they would have; and, if they did not seize it, he
would prosecute the war against them till they were exterminated. The
Oneida, Tareha by name, departed with this answer. In the month of
October he returned. He and his own people were still anxious for peace,
but the other nations wanted to have the negotiations carried on at
Orange. To this the count vehemently refused to assent. Meantime several
vessels had arrived from France with reinforcements and large supplies
of war material. M. d'Iberville also returned about the same time from
Hudson's Bay, bringing with him a couple of English trading ships that
he had picked up on the way, one being laden with a cargo of tobacco
from Virginia. The crops throughout the country were this year very
good, and, owing to the diminished activity of the enemy, had been saved
almost entire.
Following on the arrival of the western Indians, M. de Tonty, with a
large body of _coureurs de bois_, had come down from the Illinois and
lake country to discuss questions of trade and defence and receive the
governor's orders for their future movements. After being well
entertained and receiving all necessary instructions, they departed
laden with fresh supplies and equipments, as well as with presents for
the tribes amongst whom they were stationed. While New France was thus
strengthened in its distant outposts its home defences had not been
neglected. Extensive improvements had been made in the fortifications of
Quebec, according to plans prepared by the celebrated French engineer
Vauban, and carried out under the superintendence of M. de Beaucour, the
officer already mentioned as having conducted a winter expedition
against the Iroquois. A new and very strong palisade had been erected
around Three Rivers; and the forts at Sorel and Chambly, virtually
outposts of Montreal, had been greatly strengthened. Taking everything
into account, there was much to justify a more confident and hopeful
feeling throughout the country.
Meantime Frontenac's trusty allies, the Abenaquis, incited by the
governor of Acadia and their missionary priests, and led by M. de
Portneuf, a brother of M. de Villebon, had been fighting Canada's
battles on the New England frontier. In February 1692 a band of between
two and three hundred fell on the small frontier settlement of York,
situated on the Maine coast, not far from the New Hampshire border, and
killed, according to the French accounts, about a hundred persons,
chiefly women and children, taking at the same time about eighty
captives. New England authorities place the number of killed at
forty-eight, and that of the captives at seventy-three. Amongst the
slain was the minister of the parish, Dummer by name, a graduate of
Harvard, and a man greatly respected. His gown was carried off, and one
of the Indians afterwards, arraying himself in it, preached a mock
sermon to his companions. As soon as spring opened a body of the
warriors proceeded to carry the good news to Villebon, who had
established himself in a fort at a place called Naxouat, on the river
St. John, near the site of the present town of Fredericton, Port Royal,
as he thought, being too open to attack. Villebon received them right
royally. Speeches, drinking, and feasting were the order of the day, and
presents were distributed with calculated generosity. They had done
nobly, but there was more work of the same kind to be done. Their next
venture, however, was not equally successful. The settlement of Wells
was but a short distance from York, and thither they bent their steps in
the early summer. Some of the houses at Wells were fortified; one in
particular was defended by fifteen men under a militia captain named
Convers. Fourteen more men with supplies arrived in two sloops on the
9th June, the very day on which the enemy made their appearance. The
fourteen men managed to get into the fort, and the sloops, which were
stranded in the bay by the ebbing tide, were left with no defenders save
their crews. An unfortunate man named Diamond was captured in an attempt
to pass from the fort to the sloops. The latter were first attacked, but
the crew were well armed and shot two or three of the assailants, who
then desisted. Turning their attention to the fort they fired some
futile shots, and did not a little shouting and threatening. Enraged at
their want of success, they wreaked their fury on their unfortunate
captive, whom they mutilated horribly before putting him to death. Then,
after butchering all the cattle they could see, and burning some empty
houses, they departed. Some went to Naxouat to see Villebon, who
mentions in his journal that he "gave them a prisoner to burn, and that
it would be impossible to add anything to the tortures they made him
endure." Such was the frontier warfare of the time, and such were the
men who incited it and sanctioned its worst excesses.
The hostility of the Abenaquis to the English was largely a cultivated
one. The French could not afford to let it die out, and the influence of
the missionaries was exerted in the same direction. Left to themselves,
these savages, who, like their western brethren, wanted English goods,
which were still cheaper at Boston than at Albany, would doubtless have
come to terms with their English neighbours. Two circumstances at this
time were inclining them to a change of policy. One was their ill
success at Wells, and the second the fact that Phipps, who had returned
from England in May 1692 with a commission as governor of Massachusetts,
had proceeded, in the summer of that year, to rebuild and render much
stronger than before the fort at Pemaquid, opposite Pentagouet, which
had been destroyed in 1689, and also to erect another at the falls of
the Saco. The one at Pemaquid had scarcely been completed before two
French vessels under the command of Iberville were sent against it by
Frontenac; and why they did not capture it has never been satisfactorily
explained. True, the government of Massachusetts had received word of
the approach of the enemy, and had sent an armed vessel for its
protection; but the advantage was still greatly on the side of the
French, who were under the command, moreover, of a man noted both for
daring and for capacity. Whatever the reason, the French vessels sailed
away without accomplishing anything. In August of the following year,
both forts being garrisoned and equipped, most of the chiefs, including
Madocawando, father-in-law of the famous Saint-Castin,[53] recognizing
how seriously their own position had been weakened by the establishment
of these outposts, negotiated a peace on behalf of their respective
tribes. The French leaders, lay and clerical, alarmed at this
abandonment of their cause, set to work at once to repair the mischief.
Certain of the tribes were still disposed for war; and the final result
of prolonged debate and a profuse distribution of presents, together
with skilfully contrived appeals to the mutual jealousy of the
different chieftains, was that the peace was repudiated by those who had
signed it, and that all alike declared for hostilities.
This was in the month of June 1694. In July a force of over two hundred
Indians, accompanied by two missionaries, and conducted by Villieu,
successor to M. de Portneuf, who had been removed for peculation,
attacked by night the settlement of Oyster River, now Durham, some
twelve miles north-west of the present town of Portsmouth, New
Hampshire, and murdered one hundred and four persons, chiefly women and
children. A few days later a similar descent was made on the settlements
near Groton, fifty or sixty miles inland, where some forty persons were
killed. Then pushing on to Quebec, Villieu gratified Count Frontenac by
the exhibition of thirteen English scalps. More could have been had, but
these sufficed as samples. The scalps of many of the slain would have
been too pitifully small to add much grace to a warrior's belt. Villebon
himself says in his journal that "the slaughter did not stop even at
infants in the cradle."
These deeds were wrought, in part at least, by men who, a short time
before, had signed a peace with the English. Phipps, who had proclaimed
the peace through the settlements, felt a measure of responsibility for
having, to that extent, induced a false sense of security among the
inhabitants. He repaired to Pemaquid, and sent messengers to invite
delegates of the tribes to meet him there. A number came. He reproached
them for their bad faith, and secured from them expressions of regret
and promises to keep the peace in future. It was in vain, however; his
work was quickly undone by the same influences which had been active
before in the perpetuation of strife.
Phipps, whose appointment as governor had not been well received at
Boston, and who consequently found himself involved in constant
wrangling with some of the leading men of the place, was recalled about
this time to England, where he died in the following year (1695). His
successor, Stoughton, wrote a peremptory letter to the Abenaquis,
calling upon them to bring in the prisoners they had taken. Those on the
Kennebec returned a haughty answer; but a band from Father Thury's
mission approached Fort Pemaquid under a flag of truce, and entered into
a parley with the commandant, Chubb by name. Whether they sincerely
meant to treat for peace is uncertain; Villebon says they were only
pretending to do so. However this may have been, Chubb, without any
positive knowledge of treachery on their part, opened fire on them,
killed several, and made their chief, Egermet, a prisoner. A year later
two French vessels under command of Iberville appeared before Pemaquid,
landed cannon, and prepared to attack the place in concert with a large
band of Indians led by Saint-Castin. Chubb at first put on a bold front;
but scarcely had the firing begun before he offered to surrender,
stipulating only that the lives of the garrison should be spared, and
that they should be exchanged for French and Indian prisoners then at
Boston. Iberville honourably observed the conditions, though his Indian
allies, in their eagerness to be avenged on Chubb, were hard to
restrain. Their vengeance, however, was only deferred. Chubb was accused
at Boston of cowardice in surrendering the fort, and suffered
imprisonment there for some months. After his release he retired to his
home at Andover. Thither his relentless foes tracked him, and murdered
both him and his wife at their own fireside.
[Footnote 51: As Belmont was a very ardent enemy of the drink traffic he
may have been a little inclined to exaggerate in these matters.]
[Footnote 52: Chapter xiv.]
[Footnote 53: The Baron de Saint-Castin had come to Canada in 1665 as an
ensign in the Carignan-Salieres Regiment, being then only in his
seventeenth year. On the disbanding of the regiment he had gone to
Acadia, and betaken himself to the life of the woods. He became a famous
hunter and trader, and acquired great influence over the Indian tribes.
The chief Madocawando, as above mentioned, was his father-in-law, but he
had others.]