King William's War Page 10
For a solution to their current problem the Hudson Bay Company turned to an unlikely source, Radisson. Radisson’s enterprise, although in line with French policy, had made him a questionable figure in the minds of the French government, which now faced something of a diplomatic incident that had to be resolved. As such, there was no expedition given to Radisson the following year. It was at this point that the Hudson Bay Company came to recruit Radisson back into their ranks. Feeling that he had been treated unjustly, Radisson once again became an employee of the Hudson Bay Company.
Delighted, the company purchased and equipped three vessels and gave Radisson directive to reestablish the trading post at Fort Nelson. When Radisson arrived with his little fleet off the Nelson River in 1684 he was surprised to find two vessels at anchor, one of which carried the new governor of the Hudson Bay Company, William Phips. With such a force behind him, Radisson quickly convinced the French commander at Fort Bourbon, his nephew, that any resistance was futile. Fort Nelson, much to the complaints of the French, was now back in Hudson Bay Company’s hands.12
The merchants of Montreal noticed a decline in furs from 1684 and 1685 and suspected that a good portion of their trade was being taken to the English trading posts on James Bay. Coupled with the issues associated with Fort Nelson the new French governor, Denonville, sought to address these problems by sending Captain Troyes to arrest the interlopers on the French claimed lands, particularly Radisson, who had changed allegiance one too many times.
Troyes organized his party of thirty marines and seventy-eight Canadians over the winter and early spring of 1686. His officers consisted of three Le Moyne brothers, Iberville, St. Helen, and Marincourt, the first two of whom were to play prominent roles in the French and English conflicts to come. The planned path to James Bay called for ascending the Ottawa River and, after navigating around the waterway’s obstacles, pressing on to Lake Temiskaming. From here they would portage over to Lake Abitibi where they would construct a small stockade fort as a rendezvous point should the expedition go wrong. The party would then descend the Abitibi River to its conjunction with the Moose River and from the Moose River sail to James Bay.
Troyes left Montreal in March 1686, and almost three months later, after a grueling trek in which only one man was lost, he was within striking distance of Moose Fort. The English stronghold was a typical palisade fort, with curtain walls some 18 feet high and 130 feet in length. Four bastions occupied the corners of the fortification, constructed with earth packed between two rows of stakes, making them much more difficult to batter down. The fort was also defended by a dozen cannon. Fortunately for the attackers, the garrison was only a little over a dozen men.
Without cannon to conduct a siege, there was only one way to secure Moose Fort—by storm. Still possessing the element of surprise Troyes launched an attack on the post the morning of June 21, 1686, and within a few minutes he had overrun the stronghold. Leaving forty men behind to secure his prisoners and the fort, the French commander set off across the bottom of the bay for Rupert’s House. By July 1, he was in position. His scouts confirmed that the English post looked like a smaller version of Moose Fort but without the cannon. Troyes watched the fort for two days and when no activity was noticed he attacked at dawn on July 3. The handful of surprised Hudson Bay Company employees at Rupert’s House immediately surrendered. Iberville Le Moyne, who launched an attack on an English vessel lying at anchor before the fort, had a much harder time. A brief firefight broke out, leaving four English dead before the vessel surrendered. Thus far Troyes had seized two English posts without any French casualties and hardly any opposition.13
Troyes was particularly delighted to have taken the schooner Craven. He immediately loaded a few small cannon found at Rupert’s House onboard and sent it to Moose Fort to gather up the guns found there while he and his men returned to the fort by canoe. By late July Troyes had sent the Craven north toward Fort Albany while his troops canoed up the west shore of the bay. Fort Albany was built much like Moose Fort but in low-lying ground that was prone to flooding. Some two-dozen cannon bristled from the firing platforms on the fort’s four bastions while others were mounted behind the fort’s gates to prevent any opponent from forcing entry in this fashion. As impressive as it may have looked for a frontier fort, Troyes was not dissuaded by the strength of the English post. After encircling the structure the marine captain called upon the fort’s commander, Governor Henry Sloughter, to surrender. When Sloughter refused Troyes ordered several batteries to be erected, and on the next morning, July 26, he gave the order to open fire. His troop’s gunnery and their rate of fire was not impressive, but it did not have to be. As Troyes suspected, after a few hours of cannonading Sloughter lowered his colors and surrendered the fort.
In a little over a month Troyes had seized the Hudson Bay Company’s three posts on James Bay, essentially crippling English operations in the area. He and Iberville had contemplated moving on Fort Nelson as well, but a suitable pilot could not be found for the captured English ships, so the idea was abandoned. Troyes returned to Quebec with his prisoners and some fifty thousand beaver pelts to show for his efforts, leaving Iberville and forty men to oversee the three captured posts. James Bay was now firmly in French hands, but the question remained as to whether or not they could hold on to their gains.14
CHAPTER SIX
Denonville’s Expedition
BEFORE TROYES EVEN departed Denonville turned his attention to greater matters—those concerning Iroquois threats to destabilize the west. After seeing the status of the colony firsthand and reviewing the information through interviews with colonial officials, what the governor found worried him. To the west, the Seneca were still attacking French-allied tribes and, disgusted with La Barre’s treaty, the Great Lakes tribes were on the verge of breaking their alliance with the colony. In addition, New York was pressing its claims over all lands south of the Great Lakes through its links to the Iroquois. The weak and scattered French colony was besieged, and it seemed only a matter of time before the entire situation erupted into a general conflict. Should this happen, Denonville wrote the minister of the marine, nothing short of a miracle could save New France.
Denonville was convinced that “war with the Iroquois is inevitable, and if we do not make it against them, they will declare it after they will have done all in their power to rid themselves of the Indians who are friends of the French.” Denonville also rightly assessed that the real threat was not just the Iroquois but also New York and its policy of exciting the confederacy to act against the French. For the French leader there seemed only two ways to save the colony. The first called for Louis XIV to buy the colony of New York. This, the governor argued, “would make us masters of the Iroquois without a war.” The second approach was to deal the Seneca a major blow. Doing so would not only undermine the intrigues of New York but would bring the disaffected lake tribes back into the French fold. As might be expected Louis was not interested in buying anything, which left only the second course of action. But at the moment the colony was too weak to do anything. Denonville needed time to organize an expedition. “The only thing which I think I can do at present” he wrote regarding the Iroquois, “is to seek to temporise and spin out as well as can be done, seeking to negotiate until next year.”1
The governor also ended up spending a significant amount of time exchanging quarrelsome letters with Dongan in regard to the Iroquois and English involvement with them. The two parties argued the merits of their cases, traded insults, and made threats. Both were correct in assessing the other’s motives, and neither seemed willing to yield.
By the summer of 1687 Denonville was ready to attack the Seneca. Louis had sent both troops and money along with instructions to take whatever steps were necessary to subdue the tribe. “If war must be waged,” The king informed him, “it is necessary to take good measures to promptly exterminate that nation and avoid prolonging the war.” In June the militia was called out, and some 930 an
swered the rolls led by some of the more famous families in New France. When added to the colonial troops on hand, some 1,800 French and 300 allied Indians departed for Fort Frontenac. It was a sizeable army, greater than anything seen to date in the colony, and there was every belief that it would be reinforced by tribes allied to the French. Added to this were some eight hundred Troupes de la Marine who arrived at Quebec days before the army set off from Montreal. Denonville was relieved to see the reinforcements, who he left behind to see to the defenses of the colony.
Dongan had received news of the expedition and warned the Iroquois who, upon hearing the numbers involved, pleaded for his help. He gave them powder and shot but could do little else. The governor had recently received instructions from the king to maintain cordial relations with New France. A treaty signed in Europe had left matters in America in the hands of a court-appointed commission, and James, now king, did not want to jeopardize these proceedings. The representatives of the Five Nations were desperate enough to assert their English citizenship but to no avail. The New York governor warned them not to negotiate with the French, but otherwise his hands were tied.2
As the French army in 350 canoes and bateaux moved upriver from Montreal to La Galette (Ogdensburg, New York) the governor executed a plan which worked well but that he would later regret. At the end of the French and Iroquois negotiations the previous year Denonville had invited the principal Iroquois sachems to meet with him the following summer at Fort Frontenac to continue their dialog. The governor also used Jesuit father Jacques de Lamberville, whose mission was in an Onondaga village, to promote the meeting by pledging his and the governor’s word for the Iroquois delegate’s safe return.
Denonville, however, had no intentions of negotiating anything. The meeting was simply a ruse, in part to mask his military operations and in part to seize the Iroquois chieftains who came. When the governor reached the rapids at La Galette he received a message from the Intendant Bochart Champigny. Champigny and a small escort had sped ahead of the army to see to the scheduled meeting with the Iroquois delegation, part of which was led by Father Lamberville. The news was as Denonville had hoped. Champigny had taken the entire delegation captive. Officially this was done to prevent these individuals from warning and reinforcing their Seneca brethren but just as importantly to “serve as hostages for the safety of any prisoners they may take from us.”3
Although such deception might have been justified by military and political necessity, it was a major mistake on the part of the governor. The Iroquois he had seized, perhaps as many as 120, with a good number being women and children, were not involved in his current problems with the Seneca. Nor were the scores of others his troops took prisoner along their march, mostly under false pretenses. Denonville had feared that a move against the Seneca might lead to a larger conflict with the Five Nations as a whole, and with this act of treachery he had taken a major step to seeing this fear realized. It is likely that he had not discussed these matters with one of the leading colonial figures, for someone like Le Moyne would have surely pointed out to him the affront the entire Iroquois Confederacy would take toward such a move and the inevitable repercussions that would follow.
Denonville’s troops reached Fort Frontenac on July 1, and while they busied themselves in repairing their bateaux and seeing to their encampments, the governor awaited word from du Lhut and Durantaye, who were to have rendezvoused at Niagara with as many coureurs de bois and native warriors as they could muster. Denonville had also hoped that there might be word from Tonty as well, whom he had sent to the Illinois to secure yet more forces. The next day a messenger arrived with news that both groups were at Niagara with some 180 Frenchmen and 400 allies, waiting on the supplies Denonville had promised them. The marquis was pleased to hear the report, as he had already dispatched a small bark loaded with munitions and supplies to Niagara, but there was troubling news as well. Durantaye had seized two English trading parties on the Great Lakes bound for Michilimackinac. For the moment they, and their Iroquois escorts, were being held prisoner.4
The presence of these trading parties was worrisome news to the governor. Du Lhut and Durantaye had difficulties convincing the Ottawa of Michilimackinac to join the expedition, in part because of Iroquois peace overtures, and now the governor had in his hands some sixty Englishmen and their Iroquois guides. Denonville clearly understood that with their cheaper goods, if these English traders were allowed access to the high country they would undermine the fragile array of Franco-native alliances. He also understood that it was forbidden by treaty, and as such he ordered the two parties and their Iroquois guides arrested and their cargoes impounded. Their fate would become a matter to be settled with Governor Dongan.5
Denonville ordered the army into their boats on July 4 and, after a storm-strewn voyage, arrived at the designated rendezvous point, Irondequoit Bay, on July 10. When a quick reconnaissance of the south shore showed no signs of the enemy the governor ordered the army to land. A few hours later, to the delight of all, Durantaye’s forces were seen on the horizon. The following day was spent erecting field fortifications and landing supplies. The marquis’s army reflected the stratum of Canada. Members of the king’s government, colonial regulars, Canadian militia, led by the gentry of the colony, as well as bands of native allies dressed in their scalp locks and war paint swirled about the landing site. The French numbers soon increased as well, as several hundred Ottawa who had initially declined Durantaye’s request changed their minds and paddled to the rendezvous.
Satisfied with the arrangements, on the afternoon of July 12 Denonville detached four hundred men to guard the camp and marched south in three columns toward the Seneca village of Gannagaro. After a dozen miles without incident the army encamped for the evening under the watchful eyes of a double guard and then resumed their trek the next morning. Late that afternoon, after a sweltering march through the forest, the French army descended a ridge a little over a mile from the Seneca village. The vanguard, consisting of three columns of coureurs de bois and native allies under Durantaye, du Lhut, and Tonty had just caught a glimpse of the fields about the town through the thinning trees when the woods to their right erupted in a volley of three hundred muskets. The initial shock had fallen upon Tonty and his detachment of Illinois and Ottawa warriors. Tonty’s lieutenant and several of his men fell to the hail of musket balls as the Seneca raised a war whoop and charged.
A second smaller volley soon followed in front of the French advance guard as another 150 Seneca warriors launched their assault to complete the trap. The ambush, however, had been sprung too soon. Mistaking the tail of the vanguard for the end of the main French column, the Seneca on the French right had opened fire at, to make matters worse, too great a distance. Tonty’s troops recoiled under the shock but responded well to the surprise and quickly returned fire. The governor of Montreal, Louis-Hector de Callières, who was in command of the advance guard in the centermost column, then ordered his men and the 260 mission Indians on his left flank to attack. In the dense forest the battle quickly became a confused melee. Flashes of muskets, war whoops, drifting clouds of smoke, and figures darting from tree to tree became the order of the moment.
To the rear the sound of the fighting sent a shiver through the dense formations of Canadian militia and blue-coated regulars. “Had you but seen, Sir,” one witness wrote of the incident, “what Disorder our Troops and Militia were in amidst the thick Trees, you would have joined with me, in thinking that several thousands of Europeans are no more than a sufficient number to make head against 500 Barbarians.” The nervous formations soon merged with one another into greater and lesser groups. With the sound of fighting seemingly nearer, and a panicked force of 1,800 with no man able to see more than a few dozen paces in any direction, the inevitable happened. Someone fired. Soon patches of men were firing at random or in some cases upon one another. A battalion of militia near the front of the French lines broke but was quickly rallied by veteran captains su
ch as Philippe Valrenne, who would later fight one of the most contested battles of the conflict. The firing was brought to an end by hoarse shouts and the threat of the sword. With a shaky ordered restored, Denonville ordered the drums to sound the charge, and the army advanced toward the fighting.
It was not necessary. The French advance guard, which significantly outnumbered the attacking Seneca, struck back after absorbing the initial attack and had all but broken Seneca resolve. When the sound of French drums echoed throughout the forest it finished the job. The warriors of the longhouse, many of them just boys, as a good number of the village’s warriors were on raiding parties or hunting, broke and fled. Some reportedly went so far as to throw away their arms “to escape under favor of the woods.”6
Although pressed by his allies, Denonville made no attempt to pursue the retreating Seneca. His army had marched in unusual heat all day, fought a skirmish, and just as importantly had no idea what lay before them. Rest was called for and the troops set about making camp while the two dozen or so dead and wounded were attended to, including Father Jean Enjalran, who was wounded by a musket ball in the opening volley. Twenty-seven Seneca dead and trails left by wounded warriors covered the battlefield, implying that the enemy seemed to have suffered more casualties in the brief but decisive encounter.7
After being delayed the next morning by heavy rains, the French army marched on Gannagaro only to find smoldering ruins. Denonville spent the next few days demolishing the village’s palisade walls, destroying the nearby cornfields, and rounding up fugitives to interrogate. On the morning of the nineteenth, the governor marched on the village of Totiakto approximately twelve miles to the west. The Seneca had fled and burned this village as well. The army spent the next few days laying the surrounding countryside to waste. All the livestock was killed, old crops were burned, and the new crops were hacked down with an angry glee. By now Denonville had spoken with enough captives to realize that the Seneca had fled. Just like with Tracy and the Mohawk a generation before, the Seneca had sacrificed their villages to avoid a pitched confrontation with the French. Turning back toward the landing site, the army destroyed a small village a few miles from Totiakto. While the well-practiced work of destroying the nearby crops proceeded, one French soldier handed the marquis an English coat of arms that had been posted near the entrance to the village. The document had been issued by Dongan, which no doubt reminded the governor of his bitter correspondence with his New York counterpart.