Among the many incidents that are preserved of Frontenac’s second
administration, none is so well worthy of record as the defence of the
fort at Verchères by the young daughter of the seignior. Some years
later the story was written down from the heroine’s own recital.
Verchères is on the south shore of the St. Lawrence, about twenty miles
below Montreal. A strong blockhouse stood outside the fort, and was
connected with it by a covered way.
[Illustration: FRANCIS PARKMAN]
On the morning of the twenty-second of October, 1692, the inhabitants
were at work in the fields, and nobody was left in the place but two
soldiers, two boys, an old man of eighty, and a number of women and
children. The seignior was on duty at Quebec, and his wife was at
Montreal. Their daughter Madeleine, fourteen years of age, was at the
landing-place, not far from the gate of the fort, with a hired man.
Suddenly she heard firing from the direction where the settlers were at
work, and an instant after, the man cried out, “Run, Miss, run! here
come the Iroquois!” She turned and saw forty or fifty of them at the
distance of a pistol-shot. “I ran for the fort. The Iroquois who chased
me, seeing that they could not catch me alive before I reached the gate,
stopped and fired at me. The bullets whistled about my ears, and made
the time seem very long. As soon as I was near enough to be heard, I
cried out, ‘_To arms! To arms!_’ At the gate I found two women weeping
for their husbands, who had just been killed. I made them go in, and
then I shut the gate. I next thought what I could do to save myself and
the few people who were with me.
“I went to inspect the fort, and found that several palisades had fallen
down, and left openings by which the enemy could easily get in. I
ordered them to be set up again, and helped to carry them myself. When
the breaches were stopped, I went to the blockhouse where the ammunition
was kept, and here I found the two soldiers, one hiding in a corner, and
the other with a lighted match in his hand. ‘What are you going to do
with that match?’ I asked. He answered, ‘Light the powder and blow us
all up.’ ‘You are a miserable coward,’ said I; ‘go out of this place.’ I
spoke so resolutely that he obeyed.
“I then threw off my bonnet; and after putting on a hat and taking a
gun, I said to my two brothers: ‘Let us fight to the death. We are
fighting for our country and our religion. Remember, our father has
taught you that gentlemen are born to shed their blood for the service
of God and the King.’”
The boys, who were twelve and ten years old, aided by the soldiers, whom
her words had inspired with some little courage, began to fire from the
loopholes upon the Iroquois. They, ignorant of the weakness of the
garrison, showed their usual reluctance to attack a fortified place, and
occupied themselves with chasing and butchering the people in the
neighboring fields.
Madeleine ordered a cannon to be fired, partly to deter the enemy from
an assault, and partly to warn some of the soldiers, who were hunting
at a distance. Presently a canoe was seen approaching the landing-place.
It contained a settler named Fontaine, and his family, who were trying
to reach the fort. The Iroquois were still near, and Madeleine feared
that the newcomers would be killed if something were not done to aid
them. She appealed to the soldiers, but finding their courage was not
equal to the attempt, she herself went to the landing-place, and was
able to save the Fontaine family. When they were all landed, she made
them march before her in full sight of the enemy. They put so bold a
face on that the Iroquois thought they themselves had most to fear.
“After sunset a violent north-east wind began to blow, accompanied with
snow and hail. The Iroquois were meanwhile lurking about us; and I
judged by their movements that, instead of being deterred by the storm,
they would climb into the fort under cover of the darkness. I assembled
all my troops, that is to say, six persons, and spoke thus to them: ‘God
has saved us to-day from the hands of our enemies, but we must take care
not to fall into their snares to-night. I will take charge of the fort
with an old man of eighty, and you, Fontaine, with our two soldiers,
will go to the blockhouse with the women and children, because that is
the strongest place. If I am taken, don’t surrender, even if I am cut to
pieces and burned before your eyes. The enemy can’t hurt you in the
blockhouse, if you make the least show of fight.’
“I placed my young brothers on two of the bastions, the old man on the
third, while I took the fourth; and all night, in spite of wind, snow,
and hail, the cries of ‘All’s well’ were kept up from the blockhouse to
the fort, and from the fort to the blockhouse. The Iroquois thought the
place was full of soldiers, and were completely deceived, as they
confessed afterwards.
“I may say with truth that I did not eat or sleep for twice twenty-four
hours, but kept always on the bastion, or went to the blockhouse to see
how the people there were behaving. I always kept a cheerful and smiling
face, and encouraged my little company with the hope of speedy succor.
“We were a week in constant alarm, with the enemy always about us. At
last a lieutenant arrived in the night with forty men. I was at the time
dozing, with my head on the table. The sentinel told me that he heard a
voice from the river. I went up at once to the bastion and asked, ‘Who
are you?’ One of them answered, ‘We are Frenchmen, who come to bring you
help.’
“I caused the gate to be opened, placed a sentinel there, and went down
to the river to meet them. As soon as I saw the officer, I saluted him,
and said, ‘Sir, I surrender my arms to you.’ He answered gallantly,
‘They are already in good hands.’
“He inspected the fort and found everything in order, and a sentinel on
each bastion. ‘It is time to relieve them, sir,’ said I; ‘we have not
been off our bastions for a week.’”
--FRANCIS PARKMAN.