CHAPTER XI.

1679.

LA SALLE ON THE UPPER LAKES.

The Voyage of the "Griffin."--Detroit.--A Storm.--St. Ignace of

Michilimackinac.--Rivals and Enemies.--Lake

Michigan.--Hardships.--A Threatened Fight.--Fort Miami.--Tonty's

Misfortunes.--Forebodings.

The "Griffin" had lain moored by the shore, so near that Hennepin could

preach on Sundays from the deck to the men encamped along the bank. She

was now forced up against the current with tow-ropes and sails, till she

reached the calm entrance of Lake Erie. On the seventh of August, La

Salle and his followers embarked, sang _Te Deum_, and fired their

cannon. A fresh breeze sprang up; and with swelling canvas the "Griffin"

ploughed the virgin waves of Lake Erie, where sail was never seen

before. For three days they held their course over these unknown waters,

and on the fourth turned northward into the Strait of Detroit. Here, on

the right hand and on the left, lay verdant prairies, dotted with groves

and bordered with lofty forests. They saw walnut, chestnut, and wild

plum trees, and oaks festooned with grape-vines; herds of deer, and

flocks of swans and wild turkeys. The bulwarks of the "Griffin" were

plentifully hung with game which the men killed on shore, and among the

rest with a number of bears, much commended by Hennepin for their want

of ferocity and the excellence of their flesh. "Those," he says, "who

will one day have the happiness to possess this fertile and pleasant

strait, will be very much obliged to those who have shown them the way."

They crossed Lake St. Clair,[130] and still sailed northward against the

current, till now, sparkling in the sun, Lake Huron spread before them

like a sea.

[Sidenote: ST. IGNACE.]

For a time they bore on prosperously. Then the wind died to a calm, then

freshened to a gale, then rose to a furious tempest; and the vessel

tossed wildly among the short, steep, perilous waves of the raging lake.

Even La Salle called on his followers to commend themselves to Heaven.

All fell to their prayers but the godless pilot, who was loud in

complaint against his commander for having brought him, after the honor

he had won on the ocean, to drown at last ignominiously in fresh water.

The rest clamored to the saints. St. Anthony of Padua was promised a

chapel to be built in his honor, if he would but save them from their

jeopardy; while in the same breath La Salle and the friars declared him

patron of their great enterprise.[131] The saint heard their prayers.

The obedient winds were tamed; and the "Griffin" plunged on her way

through foaming surges that still grew calmer as she advanced. Now the

sun shone forth on woody islands, Bois Blanc and Mackinaw and the

distant Manitoulins,--on the forest wastes of Michigan and the vast blue

bosom of the angry lake; and now her port was won, and she found her

rest behind the point of St. Ignace of Michilimackinac, floating in that

tranquil cove where crystal waters cover but cannot hide the pebbly

depths beneath. Before her rose the house and chapel of the Jesuits,

enclosed with palisades; on the right, the Huron village, with its bark

cabins and its fence of tall pickets; on the left, the square compact

houses of the French traders; and, not far off, the clustered wigwams of

an Ottawa village.[132] Here was a centre of the Jesuit missions, and a

centre of the Indian trade; and here, under the shadow of the cross, was

much sharp practice in the service of Mammon. Keen traders, with or

without a license, and lawless _coureurs de bois_, whom a few years of

forest life had weaned from civilization, made St. Ignace their resort;

and here there were many of them when the "Griffin" came. They and their

employers hated and feared La Salle, who, sustained as he was by the

governor, might set at nought the prohibition of the King, debarring him

from traffic with these tribes. Yet, while plotting against him, they

took pains to allay his distrust by a show of welcome.

The "Griffin" fired her cannon, and the Indians yelped in wonder and

amazement. The adventurers landed in state, and marched under arms to

the bark chapel of the Ottawa village, where they heard mass. La Salle

knelt before the altar, in a mantle of scarlet bordered with gold.

Soldiers, sailors, and artisans knelt around him,--black Jesuits, gray

Récollets, swarthy _voyageurs_, and painted savages; a devout but motley

concourse.

As they left the chapel, the Ottawa chiefs came to bid them welcome, and

the Hurons saluted them with a volley of musketry. They saw the

"Griffin" at her anchorage, surrounded by more than a hundred bark

canoes, like a Triton among minnows. Yet it was with more wonder than

good-will that the Indians of the mission gazed on the "floating fort,"

for so they called the vessel. A deep jealousy of La Salle's designs had

been infused into them. His own followers, too, had been tampered with.

In the autumn before, it may be remembered, he had sent fifteen men up

the lakes to trade for him, with orders to go thence to the Illinois and

make preparation against his coming. Early in the summer, Tonty had been

despatched in a canoe from Niagara to look after them.[133] It was high

time. Most of the men had been seduced from their duty, and had

disobeyed their orders, squandered the goods intrusted to them, or used

them in trading on their own account. La Salle found four of them at

Michilimackinac. These he arrested, and sent Tonty to the Falls of Ste.

Marie, where two others were captured, with their plunder. The rest were

in the woods, and it was useless to pursue them.

[Sidenote: RIVALS AND ENEMIES.]

Anxious and troubled as to the condition of his affairs in Canada. La

Salle had meant, after seeing his party safe at Michilimackinac, to

leave Tonty to conduct it to the Illinois, while he himself returned to

the colony. But Tonty was still at Ste. Marie, and he had none to trust

but himself. Therefore, he resolved at all risks to remain with his men;

"for," he says, "I judged my presence absolutely necessary to retain

such of them as were left me, and prevent them from being enticed away

during the winter." Moreover, he thought that he had detected an

intrigue of his enemies to hound on the Iroquois against the Illinois,

in order to defeat his plan by involving him in the war.

Early in September he set sail again, and passing westward into Lake

Michigan,[134] cast anchor near one of the islands at the entrance of

Green Bay. Here, for once, he found a friend in the person of a

Pottawattamie chief, who had been so wrought upon by the politic

kindness of Frontenac that he declared himself ready to die for the

children of Onontio.[135] Here, too, he found several of his advance

party, who had remained faithful and collected a large store of furs. It

would have been better had they proved false, like the rest. La Salle,

who asked counsel of no man, resolved, in spite of his followers, to

send back the "Griffin" laden with these furs, and others collected on

the way, to satisfy his creditors.[136] It was a rash resolution, for it

involved trusting her to the pilot, who had already proved either

incompetent or treacherous. She fired a parting shot, and on the

eighteenth of September set sail for Niagara, with orders to return to

the head of Lake Michigan as soon as she had discharged her cargo. La

Salle, with the fourteen men who remained, in four canoes deeply laden

with a forge, tools, merchandise, and arms, put out from the island and

resumed his voyage.

[Sidenote: POTTAWATTAMIES.]

The parting was not auspicious. The lake, glassy and calm in the

afternoon, was convulsed at night with a sudden storm, when the canoes

were midway between the island and the main shore. It was with

difficulty that they could keep together, the men shouting to each

other through the darkness. Hennepin, who was in the smallest canoe with

a heavy load, and a carpenter for a companion who was awkward at the

paddle, found himself in jeopardy which demanded all his nerve. The

voyagers thought themselves happy when they gained at last the shelter

of a little sandy cove, where they dragged up their canoes, and made

their cheerless bivouac in the drenched and dripping forest. Here they

spent five days, living on pumpkins and Indian corn, the gift of their

Pottawattamie friends, and on a Canada porcupine brought in by La

Salle's Mohegan hunter. The gale raged meanwhile with relentless fury.

They trembled when they thought of the "Griffin." When at length the

tempest lulled, they re-embarked, and steered southward along the shore

of Wisconsin; but again the storm fell upon them, and drove them for

safety to a bare, rocky islet. Here they made a fire of drift-wood,

crouched around it, drew their blankets over their heads, and in this

miserable plight, pelted with sleet and rain, remained for two days.

At length they were afloat again; but their prosperity was brief. On the

twenty-eighth, a fierce squall drove them to a point of rocks covered

with bushes, where they consumed the little that remained of their

provisions. On the first of October they paddled about thirty miles,

without food, when they came to a village of Pottawattamies, who ran

down to the shore to help them to land; but La Salle, fearing that some

of his men would steal the merchandise and desert to the Indians,

insisted on going three leagues farther, to the great indignation of his

followers. The lake, swept by an easterly gale, was rolling its waves

against the beach, like the ocean in a storm. In the attempt to land, La

Salle's canoe was nearly swamped. He and his three canoe-men leaped into

the water, and in spite of the surf, which nearly drowned them, dragged

their vessel ashore with all its load. He then went to the rescue of

Hennepin, who with his awkward companion was in woful need of succor.

Father Gabriel, with his sixty-four years, was no match for the surf and

the violent undertow. Hennepin, finding himself safe, waded to his

relief, and carried him ashore on his sturdy shoulders; while the old

friar, though drenched to the skin, laughed gayly under his cowl as his

brother missionary staggered with him up the beach.[137]

When all were safe ashore, La Salle, who distrusted the Indians they had

passed, took post on a hill, and ordered his followers to prepare their

guns for action. Nevertheless, as they were starving, an effort must be

risked to gain a supply of food; and he sent three men back to the

village to purchase it. Well armed, but faint with toil and famine, they

made their way through the stormy forest bearing a pipe of peace, but on

arriving saw that the scared inhabitants had fled. They found, however,

a stock of corn, of which they took a portion, leaving goods in

exchange, and then set out on their return.

Meanwhile, about twenty of the warriors, armed with bows and arrows,

approached the camp of the French to reconnoitre. La Salle went to meet

them with some of his men, opened a parley with them, and kept them

seated at the foot of the hill till his three messengers returned, when

on seeing the peace-pipe the warriors set up a cry of joy. In the

morning they brought more corn to the camp, with a supply of fresh

venison, not a little cheering to the exhausted Frenchmen, who, in dread

of treachery, had stood under arms all night.

[Sidenote: HARDSHIPS.]

This was no journey of pleasure. The lake was ruffled with almost

ceaseless storms; clouds big with rain above, a turmoil of gray and

gloomy waves beneath. Every night the canoes must be shouldered through

the breakers and dragged up the steep banks, which, as they neared the

site of Milwaukee, became almost insurmountable. The men paddled all

day, with no other food than a handful of Indian corn. They were spent

with toil, sick with the haws and wild berries which they ravenously

devoured, and dejected at the prospect before them. Father Gabriel's

good spirits began to fail. He fainted several times from famine and

fatigue, but was revived by a certain "confection of Hyacinth"

administered by Hennepin, who had a small box of this precious specific.

At length they descried at a distance, on the stormy shore, two or three

eagles among a busy congregation of crows or turkey buzzards. They

paddled in all haste to the spot. The feasters took flight; and the

starved travellers found the mangled body of a deer, lately killed by

the wolves. This good luck proved the inauguration of plenty. As they

approached the head of the lake, game grew abundant; and, with the aid

of the Mohegan, there was no lack of bear's meat and venison. They found

wild grapes, too, in the woods, and gathered them by cutting down the

trees to which the vines clung.

[Sidenote: ENCOUNTER WITH INDIANS.]

While thus employed, they were startled by a sight often so fearful in

the waste and the wilderness,--the print of a human foot. It was clear

that Indians were not far off. A strict watch was kept, not, as it

proved, without cause; for that night, while the sentry thought of

little but screening himself and his gun from the floods of rain, a

party of Outagamies crept under the bank, where they lurked for some

time before he discovered them. Being challenged, they came forward,

professing great friendship, and pretending to have mistaken the French

for Iroquois. In the morning, however, there was an outcry from La

Salle's servant, who declared that the visitors had stolen his coat from

under the inverted canoe where he had placed it; while some of the

carpenters also complained of being robbed. La Salle well knew that if

the theft were left unpunished, worse would come of it. First, he posted

his men at the woody point of a peninsula, whose sandy neck was

interposed between them and the main forest. Then he went forth, pistol

in hand, met a young Outagami, seized him, and led him prisoner to his

camp. This done, he again set out, and soon found an Outagami

chief,--for the wigwams were not far distant,--to whom he told what he

had done, adding that unless the stolen goods were restored, the

prisoner should be killed. The Indians were in perplexity, for they had

cut the coat to pieces and divided it. In this dilemma they resolved,

being strong in numbers, to rescue their comrade by force. Accordingly,

they came down to the edge of the forest, or posted themselves behind

fallen trees on the banks, while La Salle's men in their stronghold

braced their nerves for the fight. Here three Flemish friars with their

rosaries, and eleven Frenchmen with their guns, confronted a hundred and

twenty screeching Outagamies. Hennepin, who had seen service, and who

had always an exhortation at his tongue's end, busied himself to inspire

the rest with a courage equal to his own. Neither party, however, had an

appetite for the fray. A parley ensued: full compensation was made for

the stolen goods, and the aggrieved Frenchmen were farther propitiated

with a gift of beaver-skins.

Their late enemies, now become friends, spent the next day in dances,

feasts, and speeches. They entreated La Salle not to advance farther,

since the Illinois, through whose country he must pass, would be sure to

kill him; for, added these friendly counsellors, they hated the French

because they had been instigating the Iroquois to invade their country,

Here was another subject of anxiety. La Salle was confirmed in his

belief that his busy and unscrupulous enemies were intriguing for his

destruction.

He pushed on, however, circling around the southern shore of Lake

Michigan, till he reached the mouth of the St. Joseph, called by him the

Miamis. Here Tonty was to have rejoined him with twenty men, making his

way from Michilimackinac along the eastern shore of the lake; but the

rendezvous was a solitude,--Tonty was nowhere to be seen. It was the

first of November; winter was at hand, and the streams would soon be

frozen. The men clamored to go forward, urging that they should starve

if they could not reach the villages of the Illinois before the tribe

scattered for the winter hunt. La Salle was inexorable. If they should

all desert, he said, he, with his Mohegan hunter and the three friars,

would still remain and wait for Tonty. The men grumbled, but obeyed;

and, to divert their thoughts, he set them at building a fort of timber

on a rising ground at the mouth of the river.

They had spent twenty days at this task, and their work was well

advanced, when at length Tonty appeared. He brought with him only half

of his men. Provisions had failed; and the rest of his party had been

left thirty leagues behind, to sustain themselves by hunting. La Salle

told him to return and hasten them forward. He set out with two men. A

violent north wind arose. He tried to run his canoe ashore through the

breakers. The two men could not manage their vessel, and he with his one

hand could not help them. She swamped, rolling over in the surf. Guns,

baggage, and provisions were lost; and the three voyagers returned to

the Miamis, subsisting on acorns by the way. Happily, the men left

behind, excepting two deserters, succeeded, a few days after, in

rejoining the party.[138]

[Sidenote: FOREBODINGS.]

Thus was one heavy load lifted from the heart of La Salle. But where was

the "Griffin"? Time enough, and more than enough, had passed for her

voyage to Niagara and back again. He scanned the dreary horizon with an

anxious eye. No returning sail gladdened the watery solitude, and a dark

foreboding gathered on his heart. Yet further delay was impossible. He

sent back two men to Michilimackinac to meet her, if she still existed,

and pilot her to his new fort of the Miamis, and then prepared to ascend

the river, whose weedy edges were already glassed with thin flakes of

ice.[139]

FOOTNOTES:

[130] They named it Sainte Claire, of which the present name is a

perversion.

[131] Hennepin (1683), 58.

[132] There is a rude plan of the establishment in La Hontan, though in

several editions its value is destroyed by the reversal of the plate.

[133] _Relation de Tonty, 1684; Ibid., 1693_. He was overtaken at the

Detroit by the "Griffin."

[134] Then usually known as Lac des Illinois, because it gave access to

the country of the tribes so called. Three years before, Allouez gave it

the name of Lac St. Joseph, by which it is often designated by the early

writers. Membré, Douay, and others, call it Lac Dauphin.

[135] "The Great Mountain," the Iroquois name for the governor of

Canada. It was borrowed by other tribes also.

[136] In the license of discovery granted to La Salle, he is expressly

prohibited from trading with the Ottawas and others who brought furs to

Montreal. This traffic on the lakes was, therefore, illicit. His enemy,

the Intendant Duchesneau, afterwards used this against him. _Lettre de

Duchesneau au Ministre, 10 Nov., 1680._

[137] Hennepin (1683), 79.

[138] Hennepin (1683), 112; _Relation de Tonty_, 1693.

[139] The official account of this journey is given at length in the

_Relation des Découvertes et des Voyages du Sieur de la Salle_,

1679-1681. This valuable document, compiled from letters and diaries of

La Salle, early in the year 1682, was known to Hennepin, who evidently

had a copy of it before him when he wrote his book, in which he

incorporated many passages from it.