FORT ST. LOUIS
The summer that followed the return of La Salle to Fort St. Louis was an
anxious one for the colony. Iroquois were still in the valley, and the
Indians about the fort were full of an apprehension that sometimes
almost amounted to panic. Yet they clung to their faith in their French
protectors; and the bands of invaders, not wishing to taste the
vengeance of so strong a union of their enemies, did not that summer
molest the group of villages.
But the months of waiting brought no aid or reinforcements to the fort
on the high rock, and each day made it more clear that La Salle’s
enemies were in power in Canada. More strongly than ever there grew upon
him the determination to go in person to France and fit out an
expedition which could come by sea to the mouth of the Mississippi and
thence with men and supplies to the fort on the Illinois. Finally he
could wait no longer; and so, late in August, accompanied by two Shawnee
Indians, he left the fort in charge of Tonty and started upon his long
journey.
La Salle had not gone far upon his way when he met a fleet of canoes
laden with Frenchmen and supplies. If there arose in his mind any
flicker of hope that these were his own men returning at last with
reinforcements, it soon died out, for the leader of the party, the
Chevalier de Baugis, brought with him a commission as commander of Fort
St. Louis in place of La Salle, to whom he presented an order from the
new governor of Canada commanding him to proceed at once to Quebec.
There was nothing to be done but submit. Before continuing his journey,
La Salle sent a letter to Tonty telling him to give up gracefully, but
to remain at the fort to take care of their private possessions.
When the Chevalier de Baugis arrived at the rock, Tonty turned over the
command of the fort; and the garrison, now reinforced but full of
unquiet, began to prepare for the winter season. It was not a period of
harmony at the fort, for the new officer had little ability in governing
a Western post and spent much of his time in trying to alienate the
followers of La Salle. Tonty, in spite of his leader’s orders to live at
peace with his successor, was not able to endure such performances, and
many and bitter were the clashes between the two men that winter.
But with the spring came an event which, for the time at least, made the
men at the fort put aside their quarrels and work side by side. Iroquois
bands, it appeared, still lingered in the Western country, particularly
around the headwaters of the Kankakee and over toward the Mississippi.
They had not had sufficient courage to attack the colony which La Salle
had founded; but they found other prey.
A group of fourteen Frenchmen, in canoes, was making its way, in March,
1684, toward the Illinois. The new governor, La Barre himself, had sent
them out to trade in that region in spite of the fact that the King of
France had given to La Salle exclusive control of the fur trade in the
valley of the Illinois. They were approaching some rapids in the
Kankakee River one day, little suspecting danger, when two hundred
Iroquois suddenly appeared on the bank.
Sixty Indians leaped into the water and captured the canoes, which with
little ado they drew to the bank. The terror-stricken Frenchmen wildly
protested as the dripping savages, their wet bodies glistening and their
faces lighted with the lust of plunder, pillaged the seven canoes and
carried off the owners. With fine contempt the Iroquois tore into pieces
the Frenchmen’s permits from the governor. A few of the Indians took
charge of the canoes with their valuable load of merchandise, while the
others drove their captives across country for nine days toward Fort St.
Louis.
As they went the white men were plied with questions as to the fort. Was
the Man with the Iron Hand there? Was La Salle at the fort? When the
French replied that a new commander was in charge and that La Salle had
been recalled, the wily savages said that they knew it, but were asking
to see if the French were telling the truth. They were going, they said,
to attack the fort. Finally they let the Frenchmen go, threatening to
break their heads, however, if they were found in the neighborhood of
the fort.
The Iroquois pushed on to their conquest. When they sighted the high
rock, they advanced cautiously, only to find the frowning citadel
prepared for battle. Runners had come to the fort the day before with
news of the Iroquois approach. Up to the base of the rock the invaders
crept and drove arrow and ball at the heights above. They even tried an
assault up the rugged pathway, but were repulsed with great loss. For
six days they besieged the wilderness castle, but all in vain. At length
they made a few captives from the neighboring tribes and tried to creep
off. But the bands of Shawnees and Illinois and Miamis had been waiting
their turn, and now hard upon the heels of the retreating foe they
pushed with eager weapons. They killed many and brought their scalps
home in triumph to the villages around the rock. Fort St. Louis had had
its baptism of fire—and the fire had only hardened the courage of the
garrison and the Indians of the colony.
Two months after this attack upon the fort, there came down the river a
fleet of French canoes under command of Sieur de la Durantaye and
containing sixty Frenchmen as reinforcements for the garrison upon the
rock. Durantaye was a brave officer who had been sent out the year
before by Governor La Barre to the posts on the Lake of the Illinois.
Many a time he had found it necessary to make trips to Fort St. Louis to
give assistance to the incapable Chevalier de Baugis. On this occasion
there came with him from Green Bay the priest Allouez, who gathered up
his black robe as he climbed the steep pathway to the fort.
Well did the Indians know this priest. Years before he had come to take
the place of their beloved Father Marquette. And then on Christmas Eve,
in the winter of their disaster, he had heard from the Miamis that La
Salle was coming and had vanished like a spirit into the night. In the
years that followed there had come from Green Bay, where he had gone,
constant rumors that La Salle was their enemy. Now was this man come
again to them when La Salle was gone and Tonty robbed of his power.
The visit of Durantaye was not alone to bring reinforcements, for he had
with him an order from Governor La Barre commanding Tonty to leave the
fort and go to Quebec. Tonty did not hesitate. Boisrondet, with a few
faithful followers, remained in the fort, while the Man with the Iron
Hand, taking leave of white and red friends, set off almost alone up the
river toward distant Canada. He had spent nearly six years in the
wilderness—faithful years in which he had followed his leader through
ill fate and fortune. He had made warm friends with a dozen tribes and
helped gather them together in the colony about Fort St. Louis. Now with
a great bitterness he saw fort and colony turned over to those who,
though French, were yet enemies of his friend La Salle.
Durantaye returned to the Lake, and De Baugis was left to do as he
pleased. The Indians did not find in him the qualities they had admired
in La Salle and Tonty. He knew little of their ways and perhaps cared
less to learn about them. Trouble soon arose in the colony and he was
powerless to check it. The Miamis, rising suddenly, fell upon the
Illinois with great slaughter; thus making probable a disruption of the
colony and the inevitable destruction of both nations by the Iroquois.
A year of incompetent rule went by. Then in the month of June, 1685,
word came to the tribes that Tonty had come back. Down the river which
he had ascended alone with sorrow in his heart, he now came in triumph,
and climbing the path to the fort held out in his left hand an order to
De Baugis to give him back the command of the fort and garrison.
La Salle in France had won the favor of the king. He had been given
ships to make a voyage to the mouth of the Mississippi and men to man
them, and guns and supplies and merchandise. All this had happened in
the spring and summer of 1684. La Forest, one of La Salle’s lieutenants,
was sent from Paris to Canada to take charge of Fort Frontenac, which La
Barre had seized, and to give to Tonty a commission as captain and the
governorship of Fort St. Louis. La Forest had gone out to Fort Frontenac
that fall, but winter prevented Tonty from reaching his far western post
until June of the following year.
After the disappointed De Baugis had left, Tonty set about conciliating
the tribes. This was no easy task. But the Illinois and the Miamis
finally listened to his persuasions, accepted his gifts, and agreed once
more to live in peace.
To Tonty it must have seemed that the vision which he cherished and
shared with La Salle was nearer realization than ever before. It was now
almost a year since La Salle had set sail from France. Perhaps by this
time he had already founded his fort at the mouth of the Mississippi and
was coming up the Great River to join the followers who so eagerly
waited for him at Fort St. Louis.