King William's War Page 19

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Winthrop’s Folly

  WHILE PHIPS AND HIS MEN CRAWLED TOWARD QUEBEC, the expedition against Montreal was moving forward in the west. Differences of opinion had delayed the appointment of a commander for this expedition, but after some debate, Fitz-John Winthrop of Connecticut was selected for the task. The product of a prominent Massachusetts family, Winthrop briefly attended Harvard but found that his interests lay elsewhere. In 1658 he accepted a lieutenancy in Read’s Regiment, then stationed in Scotland. He was later promoted to captain and, along with the majority of the army, supported the restoration of Charles II. When his regiment was disbanded in 1660, Winthrop returned to New England, where, through his family’s influence, he obtained the post of magistrate for the colony of Connecticut in 1664. His military experience led to his appointment as commander of the New London militia in 1672, and the next year he commanded a Connecticut contingent, which successfully repelled a Dutch attack on Southold. During King Philip’s War, he was commissioned a major and was active throughout the conflict that raged across New England in the mid-1670s. At the conclusion of hostilities, Winthrop returned to politics, and upon the creation of the Dominion of New England, he was appointed Governor Andros’s sole councilor from the colony of Connecticut. Although he supported the king’s dominion plan and was a friend of Andros, neither association seems to have affected his popularity when the Glorious Revolution swept both away in 1689. Destined to become governor of Connecticut, Winthrop was somewhat self-indulgent, which was hardly an uncommon trait for a prominent man of the day, and although jovial with his friends, he was known to hold a grudge. By the time the Montreal campaign was over, the old grudges he held would seem minor when compared to his new ones.1

  The basic plan for the campaign called for Winthrop and his New England troops to rendezvous with the New York and part of the Iroquois contingents at Albany in late June. From there the entire force would march to South Bay and embark via Wood Creek on canoes and small boats for Lake Champlain. The army would then negotiate its way down the length of the lake to the abandoned Fort La Motte. Here the remaining Iroquois elements would join the expedition. The force would then descend the Richelieu River until it reached Fort Chambly, where it would disembark. The French stronghold there would be seized and used as a staging point for the final march on Montreal a few miles away. It was a simple plan that, by using the South Bay and Wood Creek route, afforded the invaders an almost continuous water route to Montreal. It was true that the narrow confines of Wood Creek allowed for numerous ambuscades, but with over a thousand Iroquois warriors patrolling the flanks and van of the army, an enemy ambush along this route seemed unlikely. The only obstacle to be overcome along the march was Fort Chambly, but even this was not much of a hindrance. Designed primarily against small arms and Indian excursions, the wooden structure was untenable before a handful of cannon.

  The venture faltered almost from the onset. The Massachusetts troops had started for Albany in early June, but about halfway to their destination an express reached them to order their return. News of the fall of Fort Loyal was to blame. With French raiders about, and so many men involved in the expedition to Quebec, the decision was made to recall the troops and deploy them along the frontier. Thus, before the campaign had even started, Winthrop found his colonial forces reduced by nearly a third. The slow recruitment of the Connecticut forces delayed Winthrop’s departure from Hartford until mid-July, but by the twenty-first he and the remaining Connecticut troops had reached Albany. “Here,” he wrote in his journal, “I found the design against Canada poorly contrived and little prosecuted, all things confused and no readiness or posture for marching the forces towards Canada.” Upon surveying the muster rolls he found the New York detachment deficient by 250 men. Not that it got any better. Only a handful of Iroquois were to be seen, provisions were low, and the promised boats and canoes had not been constructed.2

  It was a dismal beginning. Still, Winthrop held out hope. He was told that the Iroquois braves would meet him on the lake and that sufficient canoes could be built there. With less than half the colonial troops originally slated for the expedition, Winthrop pushed forward. By August 2, the army was encamped near the Dutch blockhouse at Saratoga. Here a pair of letters reached the commander. The first, from Boston, signaled the departure of the fleet for Quebec, and the second, from the mayor of Albany, Peter Schuyler, informed him that additional provisions were being forwarded to his position.

  The good news was that the provisions reached the army the next day. The bad news was that they were not enough. To make things worse, a number of smallpox cases had broken out among the troops. Thus far the numbers infected had been small, but it was alarming enough that Winthrop decided to hold a council of war on August 4 to consider his next step. The council voted to proceed, and the force moved forward, crossing over the Hudson at what was known as the Great Carrying Place. By the sixth they had reached the headwaters of Wood Creek. Here the terrain changed to shallow swamps of scattered birch and stately white pines “fit to mast any ship.” Not being able to pass farther, the horses were sent back for provisions while the army made camp. Winthrop, along with a number of his officers and a company of troops, descended the river in the few canoes that were available. The party, which included Peter Schuyler and a number of Mohawk sachems, encamped at South Bay on the evening of the seventh.3

  Here the expedition floundered. With the bulk of his Iroquois contingent nowhere to be found, his provisions running low, and not enough canoes to transport half his troops, Winthrop asked the Mohawk chieftains for their advice. They had none. When he pressed them on the subject, they shrugged and said the army should move forward. Frustrated with their answer, he ignored it. A few days later a letter from Albany explained his missing Iroquois braves. The same smallpox that was eroding his army had struck a number of Iroquois villages, particularly those of the Seneca. The actual number of braves affected was small, but to the Iroquois it was an omen. The Great Spirit had barred their way. With news that there were no more provisions to be had at Albany, and with the number of sick increasing daily, Winthrop made one more attempt to salvage the expedition. On the eleventh, he sent Schuyler and a small detachment down the lake in search of materials to construct more canoes. It proved fruitless. It was mid-August, too late in the year to peel the required birch bark.

  It was all Winthrop needed to hear. As far as he was concerned the campaign was over. On August 13, he suspended operations and ordered a return to Albany. With the army breaking camp, Captain Johannes Schuyler approached Winthrop with an offer to launch a raid against La Prairie. With little to show for their effort, the general agreed to the plan in hopes that it might divert enemy troops from the upcoming attack against Quebec. He gave Schuyler part of his provisions and ordered him to proceed down the lake against the enemy in whatever manner he thought fit.4

  As Winthrop moved south, Schuyler and his band of 29 colonials and 120 Indians moved north. Near Ticonderoga they met up with a scouting detachment led by Captain Sanders Glen. Glen’s party was on its way back to Albany, but Schuyler managed to convince eighteen of their number to join his cause. They moved up the lake, traveling at night to avoid detection. By August 21, the group had passed the ruins of Fort La Motte and lay a mile below Fort Chambly. Here they hid their canoes and proceeded by land along the trail to La Prairie.5

  Frontenac had arrived in Montreal in late July to inspect its defenses. Throughout the spring and early summer months, teams of men had cut trees, dug ditches, and worked on erecting strong points. The governor had been in the town but a few days when news arrived that Lake St. Louis was covered with canoes. The alarm was sounded, but soon it was realized that the canoes, some 110 in number, were not Iroquois. They were manned by Ottawa, Huron, Cree, and Nipissing braves coming down from the lakes to trade their furs. The cries of alarm changed to cries of rejoicing. The five hundred visitors were met with complete fanfare. But the news
was even better. A few days later, French traders brought in another fifty-five furladen canoes. It was one of the greatest fur convoys in the history of the colony, and the economy of Canada, so long paralyzed by the Iroquois siege, exploded. Frontenac smiled at the sight. His message, backed by the successful raids on the English frontier, had paid off. His allies were back in the fold.

  A grand council was held the next day. The Huron took the lead and pledged themselves to Frontenac. They called upon him to fight not only the English but the Iroquois as well. “If this is not done,” their orator bellowed out, “my father and I shall both perish; but, come what may, will perish together.” This was followed by thunderous shrieks and calls of approval. Ever the Indian diplomat, Frontenac saw his moment. He seized a tomahawk and, swinging it over his head, began to chant the war song. It was the strange mark of the count. Here was a seventy-year-old man brandishing a hatchet and performing the war dance with the same ease that he socialized with royalty in the halls of Versailles. He was a man comfortable with the company of kings or woodland warriors. For in truth, he found elements of himself in both, a courtier of either court and master of both. Soon the mission Indians took up the dance. Then the Nipissing drew their tomahawks and joined in, followed by the rest of the native allies and the French officers a short time later. It was a frenzied pack of madmen hopping about, whooping, and hollering in a bond of allegiance that would last another seventy years.6

  The ceremonies continued for the next several days until they were interrupted by the arrival of a scout from Lake Champlain. He had seen a large number of canoes on the lower portion of Lake Champlain making for Montreal. A second scout was sent out to verify the report and returned with news that the enemy was already upon the Richelieu River. Frontenac mustered his troops and, with his Indian allies, crossed over to the south bank of the St. Lawrence. At La Prairie he encamped with 1,200 men and awaited the English advance. After several days of inactivity, it became apparent that the reports were false. The western tribes were impatient to go home, and Frontenac saw no reason not to let them go. He gave them the customary gifts and sent them on their way, delighted in how events had unfolded. The next day he broke camp and returned to Montreal. The troops were redistributed back to their posts while a small detachment was left at La Prairie in case the English attack should actually materialize.7

  Had Schuyler arrived a day earlier, it is doubtful whether he or any of his party would have escaped. But the Dutchman was fortunate. His party had heard a great deal of musketry the night before but had no idea that it was the departing troops firing a salute to the governor. As he and his men peered out of the dim morning woods about La Prairie they saw nothing unusual. The citizens of the town were leaving the fort to tend to their fields. They were escorted by a handful of troops, weary after the long alarms of the last several days. The plan had been to cut the French off from the fort, but a handful of eager braves and soldiers let lose a war cry and rushed forward before the trap was set. Schuyler was furious, but at this point there was nothing to do but order the entire detachment forward. It was over quickly. The escort was overwhelmed before it knew what happened. Six Frenchmen fell to musket balls and hatchet, and nineteen were captured, including four women. The remaining citizens and soldiers took flight and reached the safety of the fort before the attackers could reach them. Having missed a larger opportunity, the raiders took to killing livestock and burning the surrounding homes. Schuyler and several of his comrades wanted to attack the fort, but the natives, content with their plunder, would have none of it. With the countryside warned to their presence, the detachment leisurely retraced its steps. By the end of the day, they were back in their canoes and well on their way home before any pursuit was even contemplated.8

  By the end of August, Schuyler and his men were back in Albany. His report was welcomed, but these were hardly the results envisioned when the project was first broached in May. Winthrop was here as well, explaining his reasons for calling off the expedition to Governor Leisler. Leisler, however, was not convinced of Winthrop’s sincerity. The problem stemmed in part from Winthrop’s association with Robert Livingston, a prominent local citizen, brother-in-law of Peter Schuyler, and leader of Leisler’s political opposition. When Winthrop first arrived in Albany in July, he met with Livingston at his headquarters. There was nothing sinister about the meeting. Livingston was thoroughly acquainted with the logistics of the operation and the obstacles to be overcome. He offered his advice to Winthrop, and the general listened. Beyond this, the meeting was more a social call than anything else. Leisler’s associates, however, had been looking for Livingston and possessed instructions to arrest him. They approached Winthrop’s headquarters in an attempt to carry out their orders but found the general in no mood to comply. By the time the orders were verified and the issue resolved, Livingston had made good his escape.

  This, coupled with Winthrop’s former ties to Andros, painted a dark picture in the governor’s mind. He pressed Winthrop for a detailed account of why he had not proceeded with the campaign. Winthrop stated that he had already made such an account both to Leisler and the government of Connecticut, but Leisler was looking for a scapegoat. He accused Winthrop of conspiring with his political enemies, of purposely mismanaging the affair, and of bribing the Iroquois not to join the expedition in order to discredit Leisler’s government. It was, of course, absurd. The governor was giving his political adversaries far too much credit. The campaign was a dismal collection of miscues and misfortunes, nothing more. Unconvinced, he placed Winthrop under house arrest and confined him to Fort Albany until such time as he felt that his questions had been answered. It was a colossal political blunder. Winthrop was an extremely well-connected man both in New England and abroad. Nor had he done anything that might taint this reputation. The governments of Connecticut and Massachusetts were aghast at the news and demanded Winthrop’s immediate release. As it turned out, this was not necessary. Livingston and Schuyler had already arranged to have a number of Mohawk smuggle the general out of the fort. By the end of September, Winthrop was back in Connecticut, and Leisler had made a new set of powerful enemies.9

  So ended the first English campaign against Montreal. From the start it was ill organized and ill conceived. No one involved seemed to have understood the logistical requirements of the expedition and the political problems that might arise from an inter-colonial undertaking. There was a unified command but no unified logistic effort. Each colony was responsible for meeting its own supply needs, and as a result, items were missed and shortages resulted. It was true that misfortune played a large part in the failure. The smallpox that struck the army and held back the involvement of the Iroquois was an unfortunate stroke of bad luck, but the lack of adequate transportation was an unforgivable oversight. Even with Schuyler’s success, the expedition failed to accomplish any of its goals. When Phips launched his attack on Quebec in mid-October, the French were free to shift several hundred troops from Montreal to help counter the threat. Alone, against the combined might of New France and the natural defenses of the city, the seaborne invasion never stood a chance. After a number of skirmishes and useless bombardments of the city, Phips gave up. By the end of the month, he set sail for home, having accomplished little more than Winthrop. “Thus, by an evident hand of heaven,” Boston minister Cotton Mather wrote of the campaign, “as well-founded an enterprise, as perhaps was ever made by the New Englanders, most unhappily miscarried.”10

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The Battles of La Prairie

  WITH PHIPS AND WINTHROP BUSY LEADING ATTACKS against Quebec and Montreal, Massachusetts turned to its nearest and most immediate problem, the Maine-New Hampshire frontier. Governor Simon Bradstreet and his council quickly agreed to strike back at the Wabanaki Confederacy. Major Benjamin Church, who had recently led an expedition along the Maine coast and had an excellent reputation as an Indian fighter, was chosen to lead the expedition. After securing transport Church arrived in
Portsmouth, New Hampshire, in early September 1690. Some three hundred militia and volunteers had rendezvoused here where Major Robert Pike, stationed at Fort Castle, was to issue the expedition additional transportation and supplies.

  Church’s orders were to seek out the enemies’ villages and destroy them, and he was given a great deal of latitude in how to accomplish this task. Church decided to land at Casco Bay, march overland to the Androscoggin River, and ascend this waterway to Fort Pejepscot, which had been reported as captured. By mid-September Church and his men were standing before an abandoned Fort Pejepscot. With nothing to be found, the major ordered his troops farther up the river to a location referred to by the English as Amerascogin, where two Wabanaki villages were known to be located. A few days later Church ordered a halt when the expedition was within a mile of the Indian villages. Sixty of the “meanest men” were selected to guard the doctor and the detachment’s supplies while the rest advanced with Church.

  When they approached the village Church divided his men into two parties and attacked. There was no opposition, because the village was nearly deserted. A few of the fleeing natives where shot down and a handful captured. Better news was the liberation of five English captives, one of which soon informed the major that the warriors had all gone to the Saco River to help transfer supplies to natives from the Bay of Fundy who had taken up the hatchet against the English. Church was appalled by the prisoners’ treatment, and although a few of the captured natives were spared either by request or hopes of them being used in a future exchange, “the rest,” Church wrote, “were knock’d on the head.” The expedition spent a day hacking down corn and destroying what they could before departing downriver.