CHAPTER XI

THE ADVENTURES OF A TRADER

A fur trader by the name of Alexander Henry was the first Englishman to reach Mackinac after the fall of New France. His story of his adventures gives a graphic picture of the course of events on the upper lakes during the years when the siege of Detroit and the Indian uprising under Pontiac left the northern forts isolated and unprotected.

Henry reached Fort Mackinac in September, 1761. For the latter part of his journey from Montreal he had adopted the disguise of a French trader, for the Indians stopped every party to inquire whether any Englishman was coming to the lakes. As soon as his nationality became known at Mackinac he was warned by the Canadians that he should lose no time in making his escape to Detroit, as the Indians would not tolerate the presence of an Englishman. Henry suspected that the Canadians had fostered this spirit to retain control of the fur trade, and were exaggerating the dangers of his position in the hope of frightening him away. Still, it did not add to his comfort to hear that a party of Indians was coming to pay him a visit. As he sat in his house one afternoon the door opened and an Indian chief, six feet tall, walked quietly in. Behind him were sixty more, each with a tomahawk in one hand and a scalping knife in the other. In absolute silence they stalked into the room in single file, seated themselves, at a sign from their leader, on the floor, and began to smoke their pipes. In the long pause that followed Henry had time to study his formidable visitors. Their faces were painted with charcoal mixed with grease, and their bodies, bare to the waist, were decorated with white clay plastered on in various patterns. Some had feathers thrust through their noses; others had them stuck into their hair. Unless their purpose was friendly these warriors would not be safe guests for a single trader to entertain. After a long time the chief began to address him. He told him that because of his bravery in venturing into this country alone he might stay among them, in spite of his being an Englishman, the hated enemy of their father, the king of France. The august assembly ended with a request that the young men be allowed to taste his “English milk,” meaning rum, and the trader was assured of his safety at Mackinac.

That week a detachment of English troops arrived from the lower lakes, and the trader’s protection was ensured. Henry fitted out expeditions to go into the interior to buy furs of the more remote Indian tribes, and prepared to spend the winter at the fort. During these months at Mackinac and the succeeding winter which he spent at Sault Ste. Marie he was much interested in the fisheries. In both these straits the whitefish were very abundant. At Sault Ste. Marie in the late autumn there was such a run of fish that two men would go out in a canoe, one paddling and the other handling a scoop-net on the end of a ten-foot pole, and would return in two hours with a catch of five hundred whitefish, each weighing from six to fifteen pounds. The steersman would guide the canoe in and out between the sharp rocks and rushing rapids; the fisherman would dip his net and throw in a pile of fish; and before long the canoe would be loaded down to the water’s edge. During the winter the fish were cured by drying them in smoke, and packed for transportation to the nearest frontier posts, and even for the markets of the St. Lawrence.

In May, 1763, when Henry returned to Mackinac, he found that the traders, who were gathering there, brought rumors of Indian hostility. These reports were disregarded by the officers of the garrison, who with their force of soldiers and their fort could not believe there was any cause for alarm. Henry himself received a warning. The year before, he had won the friendship of one of the Chippewa Indians, named Wawatam, who had surprised him one day by bringing his whole family to the trader’s house, offering a present of skins, sugar, and dried meat, and declaring his wish of adopting him into his family as a brother. Henry had accepted the honor and thought no more of the incident until now, in the spring of 1763, his Indian brother came to his house in a very sober mood, and begged him to go back to the Sault the next morning with himself and his family. He further inquired whether the commandant of the fort had not heard bad news, saying that he himself had been frequently disturbed by “the noise of evil birds.” He hinted that there were many more Indians about the fort than the English had seen. Henry paid little attention to the Indian’s words, but the next morning he returned with his wife and once more entreated the trader to go with him. Henry was not sufficiently familiar with the Chippewa language to follow all his figurative and elaborate speech, and unfortunately turned a deaf ear to his plea. After long effort the chief went sadly away. He had warned Henry that all the Indians were coming in a body one day soon to demand liquor of the commandant, and that before they became intoxicated he had better be gone. Henry kept careful watch, but except that a great many Indians came in the next day to purchase tomahawks, he saw nothing unusual. The next day, the 4th of June, was the king’s birthday, and from this time on we will let Henry tell his own story.

“The morning was sultry. A Chippewa came to tell me that his nation was going to play at baggatiway (called by the Canadians “la crosse”) with the Sacs, another Indian nation. He invited me to witness the sport, adding that the commandant was to be there, and would bet on the side of the Chippewas. In consequence of this information, I went to the commandant and expostulated with him a little, representing that the Indians might possibly have some sinister end in view; but he only smiled at my suspicions.

“I did not go myself to see the match, which was now to be played without the fort, because, there being a canoe prepared to depart on the following day for Montreal, I employed myself in writing letters to my friends; and even when a fellow-trader, Mr. Tracy, happened to call upon me, saying that another canoe had just arrived from Detroit, and proposing that I should go with him to the beach to inquire the news, it so happened that I still remained to finish my letters, promising to follow Mr. Tracy in the course of a few minutes. Mr. Tracy had not gone more than twenty paces from my door, when I heard an Indian war-cry, and a noise of general confusion.

“Going instantly to my window, I saw a crowd of Indians, within the fort, furiously cutting down and scalping every Englishman they found. I had, in the room in which I was, a fowling-piece, loaded with shot. This I immediately seized, and held it for a few minutes, waiting to hear the drum beat to arms. In this dreadful interval, I saw several of my countrymen fall.”

At length, realizing that there was no hope of a call to arms, and that one person could do nothing against four hundred Indians, Henry decided to seek shelter for himself. He saw that many of the Canadian inhabitants of the fort were calmly looking on, neither helping nor hindering the Indians, and conceived the hope that he might be safe in one of their houses. He climbed the low fence that separated his house from that of Mr. Langlade, his next neighbor, and found the whole family at the windows, gazing at the scene of blood before them. Henry begged Mr. Langlade to put him in some place of safety, but he paid no attention. “This,” says Henry, “was a moment for despair; but the next an Indian woman, a slave of Mr. Langlade’s, beckoned to me to follow her. She brought me to a door, which she opened, desiring me to enter, and telling me that it led to the garret, where I must go and conceal myself.” The woman locked the door after him, and from his hiding-place he looked out on the horrible scenes that were passing without. Soon every one who could be found had been massacred, and there was a general cry, “All is finished.” At the same instant Indians entered the house and asked Mr. Langlade whether there were any Englishmen in the house. The Canadian replied that he did not know of any,--for the Indian woman had kept her secret,--but that they might hunt for themselves. They were delayed in their search by a hunt for the key of the garret door, and in those few moments Henry hid himself under a pile of birchbark vessels. Four Indians came up with Mr. Langlade, walked round the dark garret so near to the fugitive that they might have touched him, told how many they had killed and how many scalps they had taken, and went off again, locking the door after them.

Exhausted by suspense Henry fell asleep, and was awakened in the evening by Mrs. Langlade, who came up to the garret and was much surprised to find him there. She gave him a little water to drink and told him she hoped he would escape. The next morning the Indians returned, and discovered the trader’s hiding-place. An Indian walked into the garret and seized him with one hand by the collar of his coat, while in the other he brandished a large carving-knife as if he meant to plunge it into him. For some seconds the Indian looked into Henry’s eyes, and then dropped his arm, saying, “I won’t kill you!” He added that he had once lost a brother, and that he would call his prisoner after him. He was going to take him to his cabin, but Henry begged Mr. Langlade to request that he be allowed to stay in the garret, as the Indians were so intoxicated that no Englishman would be safe among them. Once more the trader settled himself in the garret to await his fate, but in an hour an Indian came, purporting to be from his new master, and led him outside the fort among the bushes, where he tried to murder him. Henry managed to escape and ran with all speed to the fort, where he found his master, who gave him protection. The next morning three other Englishmen who had escaped massacre were brought to Mr. Langlade’s house. From them Henry learned that the game of “la crosse” had been a device to get as many Englishmen as possible outside the walls. It had been agreed that a ball should be tossed as if by accident over the pickets of the fort, and that it should be instantly followed by all engaged in the game. When a sufficient number were inside they could seize the fort. Twenty Englishmen had survived the massacre. They consulted together to see whether there was any hope of their regaining possession of the station, but were forced to decide that without the help of the Canadian inhabitants, who could not be counted upon, it was impossible.

The next day the prisoners went through a strange experience. They were put into canoes and told that they were to be taken to the Castor Islands in Lake Michigan, but a thick fog came up and their guards thought it safer to keep near shore and paddled towards an Ottawa village. Every half hour the Indians gave their war-whoops, one for every prisoner in the canoe, in order to notify all other Indians of the number of prisoners they were taking. At the Ottawa village they were greeted by an Ottawa chief, who made signs to them to land. When they came within a few hundred yards of the shore warriors rushed into the water, dragged the prisoners from the canoes, and carried them ashore. The English thought that their last moments had come, but the Ottawas hastened to assure them that they were their friends. The Ottawas were indignant because they had not been consulted by the Chippewas about destroying the English. Therefore they had rescued the prisoners from the Chippewas, who were taking them to the Castor Islands to kill them. Before long the bewildered prisoners were returning to Mackinac in the canoes of the Ottawas, and were marched by their new masters into the midst of the astonished Chippewas.

While their captives slept the two nations held a long conference, and the Ottawas were unfortunately persuaded to relinquish their grievance and return the prisoners to their former conquerors. The prospect for the Englishmen was now dark indeed, and several of them were to lose their lives that day; but as preparations were being made for the slaughter, Wawatam, Henry’s adopted brother, walked into the council. By presents he bought the trader,--all the Indians recognizing his right to do so,--and took him away with him into the interior. There Henry spent the winter hunting with the Indians. He was often in danger from hostile tribes who brought tales of the siege of Detroit and summons from Pontiac to help in the war, but his position in the family of Wawatam protected him, and in the spring of 1764 he returned with a party of Canadian traders to Sault Ste. Marie.

While Henry was at the Sault a canoe arrived one day from Niagara. A council was assembled to meet the strangers and receive their message. They proved to be the ambassadors of Sir William Johnson, who warned the tribes of the great English army that was coming, and advised them to hasten to Niagara to make peace. Such a weighty matter could not be settled by mere human knowledge and wisdom; so the Indians made solemn preparations to consult their guiding spirit, the “Great Turtle.”

They built a large wigwam, within which they placed a small moose-skin tent for the use of the priest. At nightfall the whole village assembled in the wigwam. Several fires had been kindled near the tent, and their flames lighted up the expectant faces of this strange assemblage. The priest entered the tent, and as the skins fell over him many voices were heard. Some were barking like dogs, some howled like wolves, and others sobbed as if in pain. After a time these frightful sounds died away, and a perfect silence followed. Then a voice not heard before seemed to show the arrival of a new character in the tent. Henry describes this as “a low feeble voice, resembling the cry of a young puppy.” When it was heard the Indians clapped their hands for joy, for now the chief spirit, the “Turtle,” the spirit that never lied, had come to them. The others had been evil and lying voices. For half an hour sounds of conversation were heard from the tent, and then the priest spoke, saying that the “Great Turtle” was come and would answer such questions as should be asked. The chief of the village desired the priest to inquire whether the English were preparing to make war on the Indians, and whether there were at Fort Niagara large numbers of English troops. When the priest put these questions the tent began to shake violently, and soon a voice announced that the “Turtle” had departed.

A quarter of an hour elapsed in silence, and then the voice of the “Turtle” was heard again. After it had talked for some time in a language unintelligible to the audience, the priest gave an interpretation of what it had said. The spirit had, during its short absence, crossed Lake Huron, been to Fort Niagara, and thence to Montreal. At Fort Niagara he had seen no great number of soldiers, but on the St. Lawrence he had found the river covered with boats, and the boats filled with soldiers, “in number like the leaves of the trees,” and these were coming to make war on the Indians. The chief had a third question to ask, and the spirit, “without a fresh journey to Niagara,” gave an immediate and most satisfactory answer. “If,” said the chief, “the Indians visit Sir William Johnson, will they be received as friends?” “Sir William Johnson,” said the spirit, “will fill their canoes with presents; with blankets, kettles, guns, gunpowder and shot, and large barrels of rum, such as the stoutest of the Indians will not be able to lift; and every man will return in safety to his family.”

“At this,” writes Henry, “the transport was universal; and amid the clapping of hands, a hundred voices exclaimed, ‘I will go, too! I will go, too!’”

On the 10th of June, Henry embarked with the Indian deputation of sixteen men, leaving the scene of his long captivity. The party went down Georgian Bay, across the country where the great Huron missions had been built to Lake Simcoe, and out past the site of Toronto to Lake Ontario. There they built canoes to take the place of those they had left on Georgian Bay, completing two large boats in two days. They spent their last night encamped four miles from Fort Niagara. In the morning the Indians feared to start lest they should be going into a trap set by the English. Henry assured them of a friendly welcome, and at length, after painting themselves in their gayest colors to show their peaceable intent, and singing the song which they used on going into danger, they embarked. “A few minutes after,” says Henry, “I crossed to the fort; and here I was received by Sir William Johnson, in a manner for which I have ever been gratefully attached to his person and memory.”

The Indians joined in the great council, and Henry conferred with General Bradstreet, who with three thousand men was preparing to go up Lake Erie and raise the siege of Detroit. Bradstreet informed him that it was his plan when he reached Detroit to send a body of troops to Mackinac, and that they should assist the trader to recover his property there, should he care to accompany them. Henry was given command of a corps of Indians of the upper lakes, ninety-six in number, who were to proceed with the army. Among them were the sixteen men with whom he had come to Niagara. Henry comments on the reversal of conditions which made him their leader, he “whose best hope it had very lately been, to live through their forbearance.” Most of the Indians promptly deserted, not caring to march against their own nation at Detroit, but Henry went on with Bradstreet and landed at Detroit on the 8th of August. He proceeded up Lake Huron with two companies of troops and three hundred Canadian volunteers to Mackinac, where peace was concluded with the Indians and the fort was reoccupied by English soldiers.