IRON AND STEEL.
The fortress was invested upon three sides: up the precipitous westward
slope swarmed the Senacas and Cayugas; the fan-shaped body of the
Onondagas advanced from the east, where the ground was broken; eastward
and westerly on the valley side, where the attackers hoped to strike
the victorious blow, the confederate bands of the Mohawks and Oneidas
lay hidden, awaiting the signal which had been agreed upon. The river
occupied the line to the south, and between its banks and the enemy
ambushed in the valley an outlet was left in order that the French
might be given the opportunity of vacating their position. Once in
open country, they might be broken up into bands and hunted down.
The attack from west and north had been arranged to draw the French
from the one point where the fortress was vulnerable. It appeared as
though the besieged were tumbling blindfold into the trap, which a
general of experience would have at once suspected. Every fighting-man
in the fortress assembled to hold the almost impregnable heights. In
the absence of the leader this mistake was pardonable. There the noise
of battle was terrific. The wild light of the bush fire beyond the
river flung its shadows over the grass hill and cast into detail
figures and flashing tomahawks. A storm of hissing arrows swept over
the rocks. The bronze-skinned warriors rushed up and climbed the
heights. The bravest of the Senacas, that hardy fighting race of the
highlands, were already within the fortress, tomahawking the gunners
with hideous yells.
The man-of-war was useless. Boats were let down, and the sailors flung
ropes round the ends of the logs which supported the fire-raft, and
towed the flaming peril away. Then the clumsy ship blundered up
stream, only to find herself helplessly cut off from the enemy by the
sheer wall of rock. She drifted back, and the master gave the order
for the guns to be beached and dragged up the slope to strengthen the
resources of the besieged.
"'Fore Heaven!" cried Van Vuren. "The natives win!"
The Dutchmen had perforce returned to watch the progress of the
assault. They saw the Cayugas dealing blows against the summit,
repulsed, but never actually losing ground. Each assault found the
height invested more strongly by the overwhelming host. Similar
success attended the ascent of the Onondagas. The rival factions
swayed upon the distant summit, lit by the fire of the cannon.
The Dutchmen hovered in uncertainty, until the opposition yielded and
the Indians began to burn the huts which looked down upon the river.
At this signal a shout went up from the valley, and the Mohawks and
Oneidas rushed out to complete the work. At the same time Van Vuren
gave the word, and the big men re-crossed the river, gained the level,
and joined the sachems and doctors who were dancing and screaming at
the foot of the hill.
Abruptly a line of soldiers formed upon the crest to the roaring of
cannon, and these trained fighters bore down through the smoke,
sweeping away the opposition as wind carries the snow. Immediately
yells of dismay sounded above, where the Indians who had been trapped
were being put to the sword. The blind repulse had at length given way
to method.
A report had passed about the fortress that Roussilac had been
assassinated, and the body deprived of its brains became thereupon
powerless to act. But Gaudriole came hopping from gun to gun, crying:
"Courage, my comrades! I have seen the commandant. He did but go down
to the chapel of Ste. Anne to confess his sins. See where he comes!
Long live our governor!"
The soldiers caught up his cry and fought with new energy when they
beheld Roussilac's slight figure wrapped in a long cloak. He passed
deliberately from east to north, issuing his orders and rapidly
altering the entire nature of the fight. The besieged became the
attackers; the hunters became the hunted. Roussilac's pale face
restored confidence. His contemptuous coolness brought victory within
sight. Before setting the trap for the Cayugas and Senacas his martial
eye had lingered upon the silent valley. There he concentrated his
best fighters, and despatched an order to the ship, directing the
master to bring up the naval guns. The sailors were soon at their
work, dragging the light guns into position and training the muzzles
upon the suspected valley, while powder-monkeys ran up with charge and
ball, and the gunners arranged their port-fire.
With the attack of the previously ambushed Mohawks, the battle for
possession may be said to have commenced. Skill, holding a position
which subsequent history proved to be practically impregnable, became
opposed by numbers blindly indifferent to death.
The Dutchmen fled at that repulse when the natives about them had been
flung back almost to the forest. They halted upon the beach and
deliberated on the practicability of flight through the smoking country
which hemmed the opposite shore. It was then that Dutoit made the
discovery that two of his men were missing.
"We cannot regain the bodies," said Van Vuren, when the announcement
was made. "The French mayhap have already discovered them, and thus
know that we have taken arms against them. Flight is now forced upon
us."
Dawn was near when Hough reached the scene of action. The din of
battle had carried over the land, driving the birds and beasts
northward in fear, and he and his stout comrade had started out at
once. Scarce a mile had been traversed when Penfold's leg gave way; he
sent his companion on, and hobbled slowly along his track, hoping to be
in before the end.
At a glance the Puritan perceived the flaw in the attack.
"Why do ye waste your men against that wall?" he shouted at the chiefs.
"Bring every man round to the east. Follow me, warriors. Follow, we
shall conquer yet."
He might as profitably have addressed the stones. He ran in among the
fighters, dealing blows with the flat of his sword, and pointing
through the shadows to the fierce conflict upon the edge of the valley.
"There!" he shouted, trying to recall some scattered words of the
language. "There, where the sun rises!"
At length he made himself clear, and a section of the fighters, more
cool-headed than the remainder, professed themselves willing to follow,
and some of the hot-headed chiefs, perceiving method in the
Englishman's madness, turned also calling back their men.
Twice had the Mohawks broken through the front line and been repulsed
before reaching the cannon, which spouted its hail down the valley. A
barrier of French dead piled the space beside the artillery. Roussilac
strode to and fro, withdrawing men from points where they could ill be
spared that he might throw them upon the side where the lines wavered.
Here the flower of the fighting-men struggled. Laroche fought here
like the brave man he undoubtedly was, swearing fearfully, but never
ceasing from the skilful sword-play which freed many a brown warrior
from the burden of the fight. A charm seemed to protect his great
body, the arrows leaving him unscathed, the blows of the tomahawks
seeming to deflect as they descended, until the soldiers fought for the
pride of place at the side of the priest, whom they believed to be
under the special protection of the saints.
"Infidels, unbelieving and unbaptised! Down, down!" shouted Laroche,
blinking the sweat from his eyes.
Repeatedly the Iroquois turned the line at the weak spot which Nature
had overlooked in her plan of fortification, but Roussilac was prepared
always with a band waiting to stem the rush. This could not last. His
soldiers were thinning, and there seemed to be no limit to the numbers
of the Indians. They pressed up in horde upon horde, their shouts
cleaving the moist wind, their arrows inexhaustible, their courage
undiminished. Then the word came that the Cayugas and Senacas were
giving way upon the west with the manifest intention of strengthening
their allies.
"Let them come," cried Roussilac loudly, for his men's benefit. "Only
send me as many soldiers as can be spared from that position." But to
himself he muttered: "The game is up," and he wrung his brain for a
_ruse de guerre_.
"Send me a dozen men with a cannon yonder to work round and attack
these savages in the rear," he said to one of his captains, who had
been put out of the fight by a wound in the arm. "If they can but
raise sufficient noise they may appear as a relieving force. It
disheartens even a brute to fight between two foes."
"We cannot spare the men, Excellency."
"They must be spared," replied Roussilac.
A messenger rushed up, breathless and triumphant.
"Excellency, the Algonquins are coming to our aid in force," he panted.
For the first time in many hours the commandant smiled.
"You spoke truly," he said to the captain. "We cannot spare those men."
He turned and recoiled with a shiver. St Agapit, a long, black figure,
stood beside him in the wet wreaths of the dawn.
"Your cousin is dead," said the priest. "He died but half an hour ago,
with a curse upon his tongue. You have lost me that man's soul."
He half lifted his hand and moved away, seeing nothing of the great
struggle, heeding the clamour not at all, because the sun was about to
rise and he had his Mass to say.
While light was breaking over the cliffs in the east, where the
fishermen of Tadousac hid themselves throughout that night, Oskelano
brought his men clear of the forest and disposed them upon the plain.
The old man was no mean general. He sent out his spies, and when the
men returned with the information that the French were being crushed by
superior numbers he divided his force into three bands. The first he
sent like a wedge between the Onondagas and the force advancing from
the west under Hough's leadership; the second he flung to the north of
the Mohawks and Oneidas; and, having thus completely separated the
allied forces, he threw his third band upon the rear of the men who
were slowly carrying the position from the valley.
The Cayugas and Senacas were beaten back to the river. The Onondagas,
attacked on two sides and at first mistaking foe for friend, were
shattered at a first charge and fled for the forest. The fighters in
the valley alone held their ground, until the light became strong; and
then Roussilac drew up his entire force and directed in person a charge
which hurled the stubborn Mohawks back upon the axes of the Algonquins
awaiting them upon the lower ground. The survivors fled and were
pursued by the northern tribe. The French flung themselves down
exhausted, while Laroche wiped his sword and streaming face, and panted
a benediction upon dead and wounded and living alike.
Thus the Iroquois Confederacy received a shattering blow from which it
never recovered; and the land was made secure to France for a long two
hundred years.