FIGHTING THE IROQUOIS INDIANS
The earliest white inhabitants of Canada, who have remained and helped
to build up the Canadian nation, were settlers from France. There
were, indeed, earlier arrivals from Europe, but they did not make
anything like a permanent settlement. These were certain adventurous
Norsemen who sailed out from Iceland in the year 1000, or even a little
earlier, and returned with tales of a fertile country which they had
discovered somewhere across the Western sea, and to which they gave the
name of Vinland (which means the "Land of Wine"), but a country
inhabited by Skraellings, which may be interpreted as meaning "Wicked
Men." This Land of Wine is supposed to have been what is now Nova
Scotia, or the country to the south-west of it, and the Wicked Men are
believed to have been American Indians, who gave the hardy Icelanders a
hostile reception, so that they did not obtain any real footing in the
country.
The intrepid leaders of the earliest adventurers from France who
attempted to establish themselves permanently in what is now Canada
were a Breton sailor named Jacques Cartier, who set sail from St. Malo
in April, 1534, and Samuel de Champlain, who, towards the close of the
same century, and well on into the next, spent nearly forty years in
devoted labour for the planting of a French colony on the banks of the
St. Lawrence, founding the city of Quebec, exploring the rivers and
lakes which help to make the great river the magnificent stream it is,
assisting the Huron Indians to fight their inveterate foes, the
intrepid and brave Iroquois, and striving to convert the Indians to the
faith of Christ by sending French Catholic missionaries in amongst them.
For many a long year, however, the new colony, weak and scattered, had
to wage a harassing war against the fierce red men--to wit, the Five
Nations of the Iroquois. The stirring history of this frontier warfare
is braided with many a tale of bravery, many an heroic episode. But of
all the great deeds of this long, persistent struggle none shines with
a more radiant glory than the self-sacrifice of Adam Dollard, or
Daulac, the lord of the Manor of Des Ormeaux, and commander of the
garrison of Montreal.
For more than twenty years the Iroquois had waged unrelenting war upon
the colonists. These last were few in number, and were only able to
hold their ground at all in the vicinity of the three fortified posts
of Quebec, Three Rivers, and Montreal. Outside their stockades and
away from these three fortified posts there was no certainty of safety.
Everywhere lurked the Iroquois. Mercy they had none; fiendish they
were in their cruelty, and never for an instant did they grant the
sorely harassed settlers the least rest or freedom from attack. In
fact, they were become a veritable scourge, and a sort of universal
panic seized the people. At last intelligence was brought by a
friendly Indian of the tribe of the Hurons that a force of 1,200
Iroquois were setting out to swoop down upon Montreal and Quebec with
the object of destroying the forts and utterly wiping out the French
settlements. When the tidings came to the ears of Dollard, the young
commandant of the garrison of Montreal, he was instantly fired with the
Crusader's enthusiasm. He conceived the idea of dedicating himself, as
Leonidas, the King of ancient Sparta, did, for the good of his country.
He called for volunteers to go out with him and waylay the Iroquois on
the Ottawa River, and there fight them to the bitter death.
Sixteen of the young men of Montreal caught Dollard's enthusiasm. They
sought and obtained the Governor's consent, made their wills, solemnly
dedicated themselves in the cathedral to the sacrifice they were
willing to make of their lives, received the Sacrament, and bound
themselves by oath to fight the Iroquois to the death, and to accept no
quarter.
Having said adieu to their friends, they embarked in their canoes, and
paddled downstream until they came to the mouth of the Ottawa. Turning
into this river, they came, about May 1, 1660, to the formidable rapids
called the Long Sault, where their further advance was stopped. Here
they resolved to await the foe, more especially as among the bushes
that stretched down to the shore was a palisade fort, which had been
made the autumn before by a band of friendly Algonquin Indians. The
palisade was, however, in ruins. The first task of the young Frenchmen
was therefore to repair it. Whilst they were engaged upon this task,
they were joined by forty Huron Indians and four Algonquins. During
the second afternoon after their landing, their scouts brought in the
intelligence that two Iroquois canoes were shooting the Sault. As soon
as the Iroquois reached the foot of the rapids they were received with
a volley, which killed some of them. But one or two escaped, and
hastened to report the disaster to the vanguard of the Iroquois
braves--namely, a band of 200 who were paddling along the upper reaches
of the river above the rapids.
[Illustration: THE IROQUOIS ATTACKING DOLLARD'S STOCKADE.]
Very soon Dollard and his companions saw a large fleet of the enemy's
canoes racing down the rapids, and filled with savage Iroquois all
thirsting for revenge. The first attack of the Indians was easily
beaten back. They had looked for an easy conquest, and attacked in
only a half-hearted manner. Then they set to work to build a rude fort
for themselves. This gave the little garrison further time in which to
strengthen their own defences. This work was still uncompleted when
the Iroquois advanced to the attack a second time. They had seized the
canoes of the allied French, Hurons, and Algonquins, and having broken
them to pieces and set them on fire, now rushed forward and piled the
blazing slabs of birch bark against the palisade. But they were met by
such a withering volley from the sixty rifles that they were staggered,
and glad to retreat.
A third time they made the attempt to rush Dollard's palisaded
enclosure, but a third time they were driven back, leaving a large
number of slain, and amongst them one of their most important chiefs.
This daunted their spirits, and they hastily sent off for
reinforcements.
In the meantime, until the reinforcements came up, which they did on
the fifth day, the first band of Iroquois kept up an unceasing fire and
constant menace of attack. In this way they gradually wore out the
little garrison, who dare not sleep, who were unable to get water from
the river, and were at last even in want of food.
Now, among the Iroquois were several Hurons, renegades from their own
tribe. These men now tried to win over the Hurons who were fighting
with Dollard, and at last hunger and thirst so told upon the latter
that they all slipped away and deserted the young Frenchman except one
man, their chief. He and the four Algonquins stood firm and loyal.
On the fifth day the yells of the fierce Iroquois and the firing of
muskets told the doomed defenders of the palisade that the expected
reinforcements had arrived. The Iroquois, having learnt from the Huron
deserters how small in numbers the little garrison was, now made sure
of an easy victory. Ostentatiously they advanced to the attack, but
the result was the same as before. They were forced to fall back
before the persistent and well-directed fire of the defenders.
Three days more were spent in this way, the Iroquois attacking from
time to time, but always falling back before the steady fire of the
heroic colonists. Dollard and his companions fought and prayed by
turns, and hungered, thirsted, and snatched fragments of broken sleep,
and were wellnigh utterly worn out by fatigue and exhaustion. At last
the spirit of the Iroquois began to quail. Some talked of abandoning
the attack, but others grew all the fiercer in their desire for
revenge, while their pride revolted at the thought of so many warriors
being beaten by so few of the hated palefaces. In the conflicting
councils the authority of the latter party prevailed. It was resolved
that, before finally abandoning the attack, they should make a general
assault, and volunteers were called for to lead the attack. To protect
themselves against the deadly fire of the little garrison they made
large wooden shields 4 or 5 feet high, and capable of covering each
three or four men. Under cover of these shields the volunteers were
able to rush close up to the palisades, which they immediately began to
hack to pieces with their hatchets.
Now, in anticipation of some such eventuality as this, Dollard had
filled a large, wide-mouthed blunderbuss with gunpowder and plugged up
the muzzle. Igniting the fuse which he had inserted into this
home-made "hand-grenade," Dollard tried to throw it over the palisade
amongst the Iroquois. But it was too heavy for him, and catching on
the top of one of the pointed palisades, it fell back among his own
friends, and killed or wounded several of them and nearly blinded
others. In the confusion arising out of this mishap the Iroquois
succeeded in effecting a breach in the palisade. Dollard and his
followers rushed to meet the inpouring foe, and slashing, striking,
stabbing at them with the energy of despair, succeeded in holding them
momentarily in check. But the Iroquois broke through at a second
place, and poured a volley into the devoted band of Frenchmen, and
Dollard fell; broke through a third breach, broke through a fourth,
and--all was soon over. The young French heroes, refusing to cease
fighting, refusing to accept quarter, bleeding, staggering, half
demented with exhaustion, weakness, and hopeless despair, were shot
down to a man. Not one was left on his feet.
This brave and stubborn fight proved to be the salvation of the French
settlements strung along the St. Lawrence. The Iroquois, although they
were the victors, were so thoroughly disheartened that they turned
their canoes about and paddled back by the way they had come, and for
many a day the white men had rest from their attacks.
Thirty-two years later, in the autumn, when the woods were beginning to
shed their leaves, and the men were gathering in the last lingering
remnants of their harvest, another heroic deed was done, which still
lives fresh and green in Canadian song and story. Twenty miles from
Montreal, on the south bank of the River St. Lawrence, was the
blockhouse of Verchères, enclosed within a palisade of palings. The
lord of the manor was absent from home, and within the blockhouse the
only persons were Madeline, the daughter of the lord of the manor, a
girl of fourteen, her two little brothers, one of them twelve years of
age, the other younger, and two old men-servants. The rest of the men
were at work in the fields, outside the stockade, and at some distance
from it.
It was a beautiful morning, and Madeline, attended by one of the old
men, started out for the river. But before she had advanced very far
her quick young eyes caught sight of a band of painted savages
approaching the farm. She at once started to run back to the stockade,
at the same time shouting a warning to the harvesters in the fields.
And she had barely time to get within the shelter of the palisade and
close the gates when the Iroquois were upon it. Both the men-servants
were old soldiers, and as soon as the gate of the stockade was closed
one of them went straight to the powder-magazine, intending to blow up
himself and all who were inside the stockade, to prevent them from
falling into the hands of the ruthless red men. Death by their own
hands would, he was convinced, be preferable to torture and a horrible
death at the hands of the savages. But Madeline Verchères thought
there was a third alternative, and she checked the old man, and
prevented him from blowing up the magazine.
Being herself animated by the loftiest and stanchest courage, she made
her little garrison promise to obey her, and then proceeded to give to
each a fixed and definite duty to perform. The fort possessed one
cannon. This Madeline bade one of the old soldiers discharge at the
enemy. The report alarmed them, but did not drive them away.
Almost immediately after this the beleaguered garrison saw a canoe
approaching on the river. Madeline at once guessed that the occupants
were women friends of her own. As there was no one else to go down to
the water's edge to meet them, Madeline determined to go herself, for
the two old men could not be spared from the defence of the stockade.
The Indians, seeing the young girl going down to the river alone, were
afraid to attack her, for they suspected a trap or stratagem of war.
Madeline was therefore able to get her friends safely within the
stockade.
But though there was no stratagem in this act, there was stratagem in
the method of defence which Madeline adopted. She took care to have a
relay of sentinels, challenging each other at stated intervals and at
stated places; she made signals, which the Indians were able to see, as
though issuing orders to a full garrison; she practised every device
she could think of to deceive the enemy into the belief that the
defenders were a numerous and undaunted band. And for a whole week
this brave-hearted girl, with two old men, two little boys, and three
or four women, kept a whole band of fierce and remorseless Iroquois
successfully at bay. At the end of that time help, summoned by the
escaped harvesters of the manor, arrived from Montreal, and the little
beleaguered garrison was relieved.