CHAPTER XXVIII.

1687, 1688.

THE INNOCENT AND THE GUILTY.

Triumph of the Murderers.--Danger of Joutel.--Joutel among the

Cenis.--White Savages.--Insolence of Duhaut and his

Accomplices.--Murder of Duhaut and Liotot.--Hiens, the

Buccaneer.--Joutel and his Party: their Escape; they reach the

Arkansas.--Bravery and Devotion of Tonty.--The Fugitives reach

the Illinois.--Unworthy Conduct of Cavelier.--He and his Companions

return to France.

Father Anastase Douay returned to the camp, and, aghast with grief and

terror, rushed into the hut of Cavelier. "My poor brother is dead!"

cried the priest, instantly divining the catastrophe from the

horror-stricken face of the messenger. Close behind came the murderers,

Duhaut at their head. Cavelier, his young nephew, and Douay himself, all

fell on their knees, expecting instant death. The priest begged

piteously for half an hour to prepare for his end; but terror and

submission sufficed, and no more blood was shed. The camp yielded

without resistance; and Duhaut was lord of all. In truth, there were

none to oppose him; for, except the assassins themselves, the party was

now reduced to six persons,--Joutel, Douay, the elder Cavelier, his

young nephew, and two other boys, the orphan Talon and a lad called

Barthelemy.

[Sidenote: DOUBT AND ANXIETY.]

Joutel, for the moment, was absent; and L'Archevêque, who had a kindness

for him, went quietly to seek him. He found him on a hillock, making a

fire of dried grass in order that the smoke might guide La Salle on his

return, and watching the horses grazing in the meadow below. "I was very

much surprised," writes Joutel, "when I saw him approaching. When he

came up to me he seemed all in confusion, or, rather, out of his wits.

He began with saying that there was very bad news. I asked what it was.

He answered that the Sieur de la Salle was dead, and also his nephew the

Sieur de Moranget, his Indian hunter, and his servant. I was petrified,

and did not know what to say; for I saw that they had been murdered. The

man added that, at first, the murderers had sworn to kill me too. I

easily believed it, for I had always been in the interest of M. de la

Salle, and had commanded in his place; and it is hard to please

everybody, or prevent some from being dissatisfied. I was greatly

perplexed as to what I ought to do, and whether I had not better escape

to the woods, whithersoever God should guide me; but, by bad or good

luck, I had no gun and only one pistol, without balls or powder except

what was in my powder-horn. To whatever side I turned, my life was in

great peril. It is true that L'Archevêque assured me that they had

changed their minds, and had agreed to murder nobody else, unless they

met with resistance. So, being in no condition, as I just said, to go

far, having neither arms nor powder, I abandoned myself to Providence,

and went back to the camp, where I found that these wretched murderers

had seized everything belonging to M. de la Salle, and even my personal

effects. They had also taken possession of all the arms. The first words

that Duhaut said to me were, that each should command in turn; to which

I made no answer. I saw M. Cavelier praying in a corner, and Father

Anastase in another. He did not dare to speak to me, nor did I dare to

go towards him till I had seen the designs of the assassins. They were

in furious excitement, but, nevertheless, very uneasy and embarrassed. I

was some time without speaking, and, as it were, without moving, for

fear of giving umbrage to our enemies.

"They had cooked some meat, and when it was supper-time they distributed

it as they saw fit, saying that formerly their share had been served out

to them, but that it was they who would serve it out in future. They, no

doubt, wanted me to say something that would give them a chance to make

a noise; but I managed always to keep my mouth closed. When night came

and it was time to stand guard, they were in perplexity, as they could

not do it alone; therefore they said to M. Cavelier, Father Anastase,

me, and the others who were not in the plot with them, that all we had

to do was to stand guard as usual; that there was no use in thinking

about what had happened,--that what was done was done; that they had

been driven to it by despair, and that they were sorry for it, and meant

no more harm to anybody. M. Cavelier took up the word, and told them

that when they killed M. de la Salle they killed themselves, for there

was nobody but him who could get us out of this country. At last, after

a good deal of talk on both sides, they gave us our arms. So we stood

guard; during which, M. Cavelier told me how they had come to the camp,

entered his hut like so many madmen, and seized everything in it."

Joutel, Douay, and the two Caveliers spent a sleepless night, consulting

as to what they should do. They mutually pledged themselves to stand by

each other to the last, and to escape as soon as they could from the

company of the assassins. In the morning, Duhaut and his accomplices,

after much discussion, resolved to go to the Cenis villages; and,

accordingly, the whole party broke up their camp, packed their horses,

and began their march. They went five leagues, and encamped at the edge

of a grove. On the following day they advanced again till noon, when

heavy rains began, and they were forced to stop by the banks of a river.

"We passed the night and the next day there," says Joutel; "and during

that time my mind was possessed with dark thoughts. It was hard to

prevent ourselves from being in constant fear among such men, and we

could not look at them without horror. When I thought of the cruel

deeds they had committed, and the danger we were in from them, I longed

to revenge the evil they had done us. This would have been easy while

they were asleep; but M. Cavelier dissuaded us, saying that we ought to

leave vengeance to God, and that he himself had more to revenge than we,

having lost his brother and his nephew."

[Sidenote: JOURNEY TO THE CENIS.]

The comic alternated with the tragic. On the twenty-third, they reached

the bank of a river too deep to ford. Those who knew how to swim crossed

without difficulty, but Joutel, Cavelier, and Douay were not of the

number. Accordingly, they launched a log of light, dry wood, embraced it

with one arm, and struck out for the other bank with their legs and the

arm that was left free. But the friar became frightened. "He only clung

fast to the aforesaid log," says Joutel, "and did nothing to help us

forward. While I was trying to swim, my body being stretched at full

length, I hit him in the belly with my feet; on which he thought it was

all over with him, and, I can answer for it, he invoked Saint Francis

with might and main. I could not help laughing, though I was myself in

danger of drowning." Some Indians who had joined the party swam to the

rescue, and pushed the log across.

The path to the Cenis villages was exceedingly faint, and but for the

Indians they would have lost the way. They crossed the main stream of

the Trinity in a boat of raw hides, and then, being short of

provisions, held a council to determine what they should do. It was

resolved that Joutel, with Hiens, Liotot, and Teissier, should go in

advance to the villages and buy a supply of corn. Thus, Joutel found

himself doomed to the company of three villains, who, he strongly

suspected, were contriving an opportunity to kill him; but, as he had no

choice, he dissembled his doubts, and set out with his sinister

companions, Duhaut having first supplied him with goods for the intended

barter.

[Sidenote: JOUTEL AND THE CENIS.]

They rode over hills and plains till night, encamped, supped on a wild

turkey, and continued their journey till the afternoon of the next day,

when they saw three men approaching on horseback, one of whom, to

Joutel's alarm, was dressed like a Spaniard. He proved, however, to be a

Cenis Indian, like the others. The three turned their horses' heads, and

accompanied the Frenchmen on their way. At length they neared the Indian

town, which, with its large thatched lodges, looked like a cluster of

gigantic haystacks. Their approach had been made known, and they were

received in solemn state. Twelve of the elders came to meet them in

their dress of ceremony, each with his face daubed red or black, and his

head adorned with painted plumes. From their shoulders hung deer-skins

wrought with gay colors. Some carried war-clubs; some, bows and arrows;

some, the blades of Spanish rapiers, attached to wooden handles

decorated with hawk's bells and bunches of feathers. They stopped

before the honored guests, and, raising their hands aloft, uttered howls

so extraordinary that Joutel could hardly preserve the gravity which the

occasion demanded. Having next embraced the Frenchmen, the elders

conducted them into the village, attended by a crowd of warriors and

young men; ushered them into their town-hall, a large lodge, devoted to

councils, feasts, dances, and other public assemblies; seated them on

mats, and squatted in a ring around them. Here they were regaled with

sagamite or Indian porridge, corn-cake, beans, bread made of the meal of

parched corn, and another kind of bread made of the kernels of nuts and

the seed of sunflowers. Then the pipe was lighted, and all smoked

together. The four Frenchmen proposed to open a traffic for provisions,

and their entertainers grunted assent.

Joutel found a Frenchman in the village. He was a young man from

Provence, who had deserted from La Salle on his last journey, and was

now, to all appearance, a savage like his adopted countrymen, being

naked like them, and affecting to have forgotten his native language. He

was very friendly, however, and invited the visitors to a neighboring

village, where he lived, and where, as he told them, they would find a

better supply of corn. They accordingly set out with him, escorted by a

crowd of Indians. They saw lodges and clusters of lodges scattered along

their path at intervals, each with its field of corn, beans, and

pumpkins, rudely cultivated with a wooden hoe. Reaching their

destination, which was four or five leagues distant, they were greeted

with the same honors as at the first village, and, the ceremonial of

welcome over, were lodged in the abode of the savage Frenchman. It is

not to be supposed, however, that he and his squaws, of whom he had a

considerable number, dwelt here alone; for these lodges of the Cenis

often contained eight or ten families. They were made by firmly planting

in a circle tall, straight young trees, such as grew in the swamps. The

tops were then bent inward and lashed together; great numbers of

cross-pieces were bound on; and the frame thus constructed was thickly

covered with thatch, a hole being left at the top for the escape of the

smoke. The inmates were ranged around the circumference of the

structure, each family in a kind of stall, open in front, but separated

from those adjoining it by partitions of mats. Here they placed their

beds of cane, their painted robes of buffalo and deer-skin, their

cooking utensils of pottery, and other household goods; and here, too,

the head of the family hung his bow, quiver, lance, and shield. There

was nothing in common but the fire, which burned in the middle of the

lodge, and was never suffered to go out. These dwellings were of great

size, and Joutel declares that he has seen some of them sixty feet in

diameter.[332]

It was in one of the largest that the four travellers were now lodged. A

place was assigned them where to bestow their baggage; and they took

possession of their quarters amid the silent stares of the whole

community. They asked their renegade countryman, the Provençal, if they

were safe. He replied that they were; but this did not wholly reassure

them, and they spent a somewhat wakeful night. In the morning, they

opened their budgets, and began a brisk trade in knives, awls, beads,

and other trinkets, which they exchanged for corn and beans. Before

evening, they had acquired a considerable stock; and Joutel's three

companions declared their intention of returning with it to the camp,

leaving him to continue the trade. They went, accordingly, in the

morning; and Joutel was left alone. On the one hand, he was glad to be

rid of them; on the other, he found his position among the Cenis very

irksome, and, as he thought, insecure. Besides the Provençal, who had

gone with Liotot and his companions, there were two other French

deserters among this tribe, and Joutel was very desirous to see them,

hoping that they could tell him the way to the Mississippi; for he was

resolved to escape, at the first opportunity, from the company of Duhaut

and his accomplices. He therefore made the present of a knife to a young

Indian, whom he sent to find the two Frenchmen and invite them to come

to the village. Meanwhile he continued his barter, but under many

difficulties; for he could only explain himself by signs, and his

customers, though friendly by day, pilfered his goods by night. This,

joined to the fears and troubles which burdened his mind, almost

deprived him of sleep, and, as he confesses, greatly depressed his

spirits. Indeed, he had little cause for cheerfulness as to the past,

present, or future. An old Indian, one of the patriarchs of the tribe,

observing his dejection and anxious to relieve it, one evening brought

him a young wife, saying that he made him a present of her. She seated

herself at his side; "but," says Joutel, "as my head was full of other

cares and anxieties, I said nothing to the poor girl. She waited for a

little time; and then, finding that I did not speak a word, she went

away."[333]

[Sidenote: WHITE SAVAGES.]

Late one night, he lay between sleeping and waking on the buffalo-robe

that covered his bed of canes. All around the great lodge, its inmates

were buried in sleep; and the fire that still burned in the midst cast

ghostly gleams on the trophies of savage chivalry--the treasured

scalp-locks, the spear and war-club, and shield of whitened

bull-hide--that hung by each warrior's resting-place. Such was the

weird scene that lingered on the dreamy eyes of Joutel, as he closed

them at last in a troubled sleep. The sound of a footstep soon wakened

him; and, turning, he saw at his side the figure of a naked savage,

armed with a bow and arrows. Joutel spoke, but received no answer. Not

knowing what to think, he reached out his hand for his pistols; on which

the intruder withdrew, and seated himself by the fire. Thither Joutel

followed; and as the light fell on his features, he looked at him

closely. His face was tattooed, after the Cenis fashion, in lines drawn

from the top of the forehead and converging to the chin; and his body

was decorated with similar embellishments. Suddenly, this supposed

Indian rose and threw his arms around Joutel's neck, making himself

known, at the same time, as one of the Frenchmen who had deserted from

La Salle and taken refuge among the Cenis. He was a Breton sailor named

Ruter. His companion, named Grollet, also a sailor, had been afraid to

come to the village lest he should meet La Salle. Ruter expressed

surprise and regret when he heard of the death of his late commander. He

had deserted him but a few months before. That brief interval had

sufficed to transform him into a savage; and both he and his companion

found their present reckless and ungoverned way of life greatly to their

liking. He could tell nothing of the Mississippi; and on the next day he

went home, carrying with him a present of beads for his wives, of which

last he had made a large collection.

In a few days he reappeared, bringing Grollet with him. Each wore a

bunch of turkey-feathers dangling from his head, and each had wrapped

his naked body in a blanket. Three men soon after arrived from Duhaut's

camp, commissioned to receive the corn which Joutel had purchased. They

told him that Duhaut and Liotot, the tyrants of the party, had resolved

to return to Fort St. Louis, and build a vessel to escape to the West

Indies,--"a visionary scheme," writes Joutel, "for our carpenters were

all dead; and even if they had been alive, they were so ignorant that

they would not have known how to go about the work; besides, we had no

tools for it. Nevertheless, I was obliged to obey, and set out for the

camp with the provisions."

On arriving, he found a wretched state of affairs. Douay and the two

Caveliers, who had been treated by Duhaut with great harshness and

contempt, had been told to make their mess apart; and Joutel now joined

them. This separation restored them their freedom of speech, of which

they had hitherto been deprived; but it subjected them to incessant

hunger, as they were allowed only food enough to keep them from

famishing. Douay says that quarrels were rife among the assassins

themselves,--the malcontents being headed by Hiens, who was enraged that

Duhaut and Liotot should have engrossed all the plunder. Joutel was

helpless, for he had none to back him but two priests and a boy.

[Sidenote: SCHEMES OF ESCAPE.]

He and his companions talked of nothing around their solitary camp-fire

but the means of escaping from the villanous company into which they

were thrown. They saw no resource but to find the Mississippi, and thus

make their way to Canada,--a prodigious undertaking in their forlorn

condition; nor was there any probability that the assassins would permit

them to go. These, on their part, were beset with difficulties. They

could not return to civilization without manifest peril of a halter; and

their only safety was to turn buccaneers or savages. Duhaut, however,

still held to his plan of going back to Fort St. Louis; and Joutel and

his companions, who with good reason stood in daily fear of him, devised

among themselves a simple artifice to escape from his company. The elder

Cavelier was to tell him that they were too fatigued for the journey,

and wished to stay among the Cenis; and to beg him to allow them a

portion of the goods, for which Cavelier was to give his note of hand.

The old priest, whom a sacrifice of truth even on less important

occasions cost no great effort, accordingly opened the negotiation, and

to his own astonishment and that of his companions, gained the assent of

Duhaut. Their joy, however, was short; for Ruter, the French savage, to

whom Joutel had betrayed his intention, when inquiring the way to the

Mississippi, told it to Duhaut, who on this changed front and made the

ominous declaration that he and his men would also go to Canada. Joutel

and his companions were now filled with alarm; for there was no

likelihood that the assassins would permit them, the witnesses of their

crime, to reach the settlements alive. In the midst of their trouble,

the sky was cleared as by the crash of a thunderbolt.

[Sidenote: THE CRISIS.]

Hiens and several others had gone, some time before, to the Cenis

villages to purchase horses; and here they had been detained by the

charms of the Indian women. During their stay, Hiens heard of Duhaut's

new plan of going to Canada by the Mississippi; and he declared to those

with him that he would not consent. On a morning early in May he

appeared at Duhaut's camp, with Ruter and Grollet, the French savages,

and about twenty Indians. Duhaut and Liotot, it is said, were passing

the time by practising with bows and arrows in front of their hut. One

of them called to Hiens, "Good-morning;" but the buccaneer returned a

sullen answer. He then accosted Duhaut, telling him that he had no mind

to go up the Mississippi with him, and demanding a share of the goods.

Duhaut replied that the goods were his own, since La Salle had owed him

money. "So you will not give them to me?" returned Hiens. "No," was the

answer. "You are a wretch!" exclaimed Hiens; "you killed my

master."[334] And drawing a pistol from his belt he fired at Duhaut,

who staggered three or four paces and fell dead. Almost at the same

instant Ruter fired his gun at Liotot, shot three balls into his body,

and stretched him on the ground mortally wounded.

Douay and the two Caveliers stood in extreme terror, thinking that their

turn was to come next. Joutel, no less alarmed, snatched his gun to

defend himself; but Hiens called to him to fear nothing, declaring that

what he had done was only to avenge the death of La Salle,--to which,

nevertheless, he had been privy, though not an active sharer in the

crime. Liotot lived long enough to make his confession, after which

Ruter killed him by exploding a pistol loaded with a blank charge of

powder against his head. Duhaut's myrmidon, L'Archevêque, was absent,

hunting, and Hiens was for killing him on his return; but the two

priests and Joutel succeeded in dissuading him.

The Indian spectators beheld these murders with undisguised amazement,

and almost with horror. What manner of men were these who had pierced

the secret places of the wilderness to riot in mutual slaughter? Their

fiercest warriors might learn a lesson in ferocity from these heralds of

civilization. Joutel and his companions, who could not dispense with the

aid of the Cenis, were obliged to explain away, as they best might, the

atrocity of what they had witnessed.[335]

Hiens, and others of the French, had before promised to join the Cenis

on an expedition against a neighboring tribe with whom they were at war;

and the whole party having removed to the Indian village, the warriors

and their allies prepared to depart. Six Frenchmen went with Hiens; and

the rest, including Joutel, Douay, and the Caveliers, remained behind,

in the lodge where Joutel had been domesticated, and where none were now

left but women, children, and old men. Here they remained a week or

more, watched closely by the Cenis, who would not let them leave the

village; when news at length arrived of a great victory, and the

warriors soon after returned with forty-eight scalps. It was the French

guns that won the battle, but not the less did they glory in their

prowess; and several days were spent in ceremonies and feasts of

triumph.[336]

When all this hubbub of rejoicing had subsided, Joutel and his

companions broke to Hiens their plan of attempting to reach home by way

of the Mississippi. As they had expected, he opposed it vehemently,

declaring that for his own part he would not run such a risk of losing

his head; but at length he consented to their departure, on condition

that the elder Cavelier should give him a certificate of his entire

innocence of the murder of La Salle, which the priest did not hesitate

to do. For the rest, Hiens treated his departing fellow-travellers with

the generosity of a successful free-booter; for he gave them a good

share of the plunder he had won by his late crime, supplying them with

hatchets, knives, beads, and other articles of trade, besides several

horses. Meanwhile, adds Joutel, "we had the mortification and chagrin of

seeing this scoundrel walking about the camp in a scarlet coat laced

with gold which had belonged to the late Monsieur de la Salle, and which

he had seized upon, as also upon all the rest of his property." A

well-aimed shot would have avenged the wrong, but Joutel was clearly a

mild and moderate person; and the elder Cavelier had constantly opposed

all plans of violence. Therefore they stifled their emotions, and armed

themselves with patience.

[Sidenote: JOUTEL AND HIS PARTY.]

Joutel's party consisted, besides himself, of the Caveliers (uncle and

nephew), Anastase Douay, De Marle, Teissier, and a young Parisian named

Barthelemy. Teissier, an accomplice in the murders of Moranget and La

Salle, had obtained a pardon, in form, from the elder Cavelier. They had

six horses and three Cenis guides. Hiens embraced them at parting, as

did the ruffians who remained with him. Their course was northeast,

toward the mouth of the Arkansas,--a distant goal, the way to which was

beset with so many dangers that their chance of reaching it seemed

small. It was early in June, and the forests and prairies were green

with the verdure of opening summer.

They soon reached the Assonis, a tribe near the Sabine, who received

them well, and gave them guides to the nations dwelling towards Red

River. On the twenty-third, they approached a village, the inhabitants

of which, regarding them as curiosities of the first order, came out in

a body to see them; and, eager to do them honor, they required them to

mount on their backs, and thus make their entrance in procession.

Joutel, being large and heavy, weighed down his bearer, insomuch that

two of his countrymen were forced to sustain him, one on each side. On

arriving, an old chief washed their faces with warm water from an

earthen pan, and then invited them to mount on a scaffold of canes,

where they sat in the hot sun listening to four successive speeches of

welcome, of which they understood not a word.[337]

At the village of another tribe, farther on their way, they met with a

welcome still more oppressive. Cavelier, the unworthy successor of his

brother, being represented as the chief of the party, became the

principal victim of their attentions. They danced the calumet before

him; while an Indian, taking him, with an air of great respect, by the

shoulders as he sat, shook him in cadence with the thumping of the drum.

They then placed two girls close beside him, as his wives; while, at the

same time, an old chief tied a painted feather in his hair. These

proceedings so scandalized him that, pretending to be ill, he broke off

the ceremony; but they continued to sing all night, with so much zeal

that several of them were reduced to a state of complete exhaustion.

[Sidenote: ARRIVAL AT THE ARKANSAS.]

At length, after a journey of about two months, during which they lost

one of their number,--De Marle, accidentally drowned while bathing,--the

travellers approached the river Arkansas, at a point not far above its

junction with the Mississippi. Led by their Indian guides, they

traversed a rich district of plains and woods, and stood at length on

the borders of the stream. Nestled beneath the forests of the farther

shore, they saw the lodges of a large Indian town; and here, as they

gazed across the broad current, they presently descried an object which

nerved their spent limbs, and thrilled their homesick hearts with joy.

It was a tall, wooden cross; and near it was a small house, built

evidently by Christian hands. With one accord they fell on their knees,

and raised their hands to Heaven in thanksgiving. Two men, in European

dress, issued from the door of the house and fired their guns to salute

the excited travellers, who on their part replied with a volley. Canoes

put out from the farther shore and ferried them to the town, where they

were welcomed by Couture and De Launay, two followers of Henri de

Tonty.[338]

That brave, loyal, and generous man, always vigilant and always active,

beloved and feared alike by white men and by red,[339] had been

ejected, as we have seen, by the agent of the governor, La Barre, from

the command of Fort St. Louis of the Illinois. An order from the King

had reinstated him; and he no sooner heard the news of La Salle's

landing on the shores of the Gulf, and of the disastrous beginnings of

his colony,[340] than he prepared, on his own responsibility and at his

own cost, to go to his assistance. He collected twenty-five Frenchmen

and eleven Indians, and set out from his fortified rock on the

thirteenth of February, 1686;[341] descended the Mississippi, and

reached its mouth in Holy Week. All was solitude, a voiceless desolation

of river, marsh, and sea. He despatched canoes to the east and to the

west, searching the coast for some thirty leagues on either side.

Finding no trace of his friend, who at that moment was ranging the

prairies of Texas in no less fruitless search of his "fatal river,"

Tonty wrote for him a letter, which he left in the charge of an Indian

chief, who preserved it with reverential care, and gave it, fourteen

years after, to Iberville, the founder of Louisiana.[342] Deeply

disappointed at his failure, Tonty retraced his course, and ascended the

Mississippi to the villages of the Arkansas, where some of his men

volunteered to remain. He left six of them; and of this number were

Couture and De Launay.[343]

[Sidenote: A HOSPITABLE RECEPTION.]

Cavelier and his companions, followed by a crowd of Indians, some

carrying their baggage, some struggling for a view of the white

strangers, entered the log cabin of their two hosts. Rude as it was,

they found in it an earnest of peace and safety, and a foretaste of

home. Couture and De Launay were moved even to tears by the story of

their disasters, and of the catastrophe that crowned them. La Salle's

death was carefully concealed from the Indians, many of whom had seen

him on his descent of the Mississippi, and who regarded him with

prodigious respect. They lavished all their hospitality on his

followers; feasted them on corn-bread, dried buffalo meat, and

watermelons, and danced the calumet before them, the most august of all

their ceremonies. On this occasion, Cavelier's patience failed him

again; and pretending, as before, to be ill, he called on his nephew to

take his place. There were solemn dances, too, in which the

warriors--some bedaubed with white clay, some with red, and some with

both; some wearing feathers, and some the horns of buffalo; some naked,

and some in painted shirts of deer-skin, fringed with scalp-locks,

insomuch, says Joutel, that they looked like a troop of devils--leaped,

stamped, and howled from sunset till dawn. All this was partly to do the

travellers honor, and partly to extort presents. They made objections,

however, when asked to furnish guides; and it was only by dint of great

offers that four were at length procured.

[Sidenote: THE MISSISSIPPI.]

With these, the travellers resumed their journey in a wooden canoe,

about the first of August,[344] descended the Arkansas, and soon reached

the dark and inexorable river, so long the object of their search,

rolling, like a destiny, through its realms of solitude and shade. They

launched their canoe on its turbid bosom, plied their oars against the

current, and slowly won their way upward, following the writhings of

this watery monster through cane-brake, swamp, and fen. It was a hard

and toilsome journey, under the sweltering sun of August,--now on the

water, now knee-deep in mud, dragging their canoe through the

unwholesome jungle. On the nineteenth, they passed the mouth of the

Ohio; and their Indian guides made it an offering of buffalo meat. On

the first of September, they passed the Missouri, and soon after saw

Marquette's pictured rock, and the line of craggy heights on the east

shore, marked on old French maps as "the Ruined Castles." Then, with a

sense of relief, they turned from the great river into the peaceful

current of the Illinois. They were eleven days in ascending it, in their

large and heavy wooden canoe; when at length, on the afternoon of the

fourteenth of September, they saw, towering above the forest and the

river, the cliff crowned with the palisades of Fort St. Louis of the

Illinois. As they drew near, a troop of Indians, headed by a Frenchman,

descended from the rock, and fired their guns to salute them. They

landed, and followed the forest path that led towards the fort, when

they were met by Boisrondet, Tonty's comrade in the Iroquois war, and

two other Frenchmen, who no sooner saw them than they called out,

demanding where was La Salle. Cavelier, fearing lest he and his party

would lose the advantage they might derive from his character of

representative of his brother, was determined to conceal his death; and

Joutel, as he himself confesses, took part in the deceit. Substituting

equivocation for falsehood, they replied that La Salle had been with

them nearly as far as the Cenis villages, and that, when they parted,

he was in good health. This, so far as they were concerned, was,

literally speaking, true; but Douay and Teissier, the one a witness and

the other a sharer in his death, could not have said so much without a

square falsehood, and therefore evaded the inquiry.

Threading the forest path, and circling to the rear of the rock, they

climbed the rugged height, and reached the top. Here they saw an area,

encircled by the palisades that fenced the brink of the cliff, and by

several dwellings, a store-house, and a chapel. There were Indian lodges

too; for some of the red allies of the French made their abode with

them.[345] Tonty was absent, fighting the Iroquois; but his lieutenant,

Bellefontaine, received the travellers, and his little garrison of

bush-rangers greeted them with a salute of musketry, mingled with the

whooping of the Indians. A _Te Deum_ followed at the chapel; "and, with

all our hearts," says Joutel, "we gave thanks to God, who had preserved

and guided us." At length, the tired travellers were among countrymen

and friends. Bellefontaine found a room for the two priests; while

Joutel, Teissier, and young Cavelier were lodged in the store-house.

[Sidenote: THE JESUIT ALLOUEZ.]

The Jesuit Allouez was lying ill at the fort; and Joutel, Cavelier, and

Douay went to visit him. He showed great anxiety when told that La Salle

was alive, and on his way to the Illinois; asked many questions, and

could not hide his agitation. When, some time after, he had partially

recovered, he left St. Louis, as if to shun a meeting with the object of

his alarm.[346] Once before, in 1679, Allouez had fled from the

Illinois on hearing of the approach of La Salle.

The season was late, and they were eager to hasten forward that they

might reach Quebec in time to return to France in the autumn ships.

There was not a day to lose. They bade farewell to Bellefontaine, from

whom, as from all others, they had concealed the death of La Salle, and

made their way across the country to Chicago. Here they were detained a

week by a storm; and when at length they embarked in a canoe furnished

by Bellefontaine, the tempest soon forced them to put back. On this,

they abandoned their design, and returned to Fort St. Louis, to the

astonishment of its inmates.

[Sidenote: CONDUCT OF CAVELIER.]

It was October when they arrived; and, meanwhile, Tonty had returned

from the Iroquois war, where he had borne a conspicuous part in the

famous attack on the Senecas by the Marquis de Denonville.[347] He

listened with deep interest to the mournful story of his guests.

Cavelier knew him well. He knew, so far as he was capable of knowing,

his generous and disinterested character, his long and faithful

attachment to La Salle, and the invaluable services he had rendered him.

Tonty had every claim on his confidence and affection. Yet he did not

hesitate to practise on him the same deceit which he had practised on

Bellefontaine. He told him that he had left his brother in good health

on the Gulf of Mexico, and drew upon him, in La Salle's name, for an

amount stated by Joutel at about four thousand livres, in furs, besides

a canoe and a quantity of other goods, all of which were delivered to

him by the unsuspecting victim.[348]

This was at the end of the winter, when the old priest and his

companions had been living for months on Tonty's hospitality. They set

out for Canada on the twenty-first of March, reached Chicago on the

twenty-ninth, and thence proceeded to Michilimackinac. Here Cavelier

sold some of Tonty's furs to a merchant, who gave him in payment a draft

on Montreal, thus putting him in funds for his voyage home. The party

continued their journey in canoes by way of French River and the Ottawa,

and safely reached Montreal on the seventeenth of July. Here they

procured the clothing of which they were wofully in need, and then

descended the river to Quebec, where they took lodging,--some with the

Récollet friars, and some with the priests of the Seminary,--in order to

escape the questions of the curious. At the end of August they embarked

for France, and early in October arrived safely at Rochelle. None of the

party were men of especial energy or force of character; and yet, under

the spur of a dire necessity, they had achieved one of the most

adventurous journeys on record.

[Sidenote: THE COLONISTS ABANDONED.]

Now, at length, they disburdened themselves of their gloomy secret; but

the sole result seems to have been an order from the King for the arrest

of the murderers, should they appear in Canada.[349] Joutel was

disappointed. It had been his hope throughout that the King would send a

ship to the relief of the wretched band at Fort St. Louis of Texas. But

Louis XIV. hardened his heart, and left them to their fate.

FOOTNOTES:

[332] The lodges of the Florida Indians were somewhat similar. The

winter lodges of the now nearly extinct Mandans, though not so high in

proportion to their width, and built of more solid materials, as the

rigor of a northern climate requires, bear a general resemblance to

those of the Cenis.

The Cenis tattooed their faces and some parts of their bodies, by

pricking powdered charcoal into the skin. The women tattooed the

breasts; and this practice was general among them, notwithstanding the

pain of the operation, as it was thought very ornamental. Their dress

consisted of a sort of frock, or wrapper of skin, from the waist to the

knees. The men, in summer, wore nothing but the waist-cloth.

[333] _Journal Historique_, 237.

[334] "Tu es un misérable. Tu as tué mon maistre."--Tonty, _Mémoire_.

Tonty derived his information from some of those present. Douay and

Joutel have each left an account of this murder. They agree in essential

points; though Douay says that when it took place, Duhaut had moved his

camp beyond the Cenis villages, which is contrary to Joutel's statement.

[335] Joutel, _Relation_ (Margry, iii. 371).

[336] These are described by Joutel. Like nearly all the early observers

of Indian manners, he speaks of the practice of cannibalism.

[337] These Indians were a portion of the Cadodaquis, or Caddoes, then

living on Red River. The travellers afterwards visited other villages of

the same people. Tonty was here two years afterwards, and mentions the

curious custom of washing the faces of guests.

[338] Joutel, _Journal Historique_, 298.

[339] _Journal de St. Cosme_, 1699. This journal has been printed by Mr.

Shea, from the copy in my possession. St. Cosme, who knew Tonty well,

speaks of him in the warmest terms of praise.

[340] In the autumn of 1685, Tonty made a journey from the Illinois to

Michilimackinac, to seek news of La Salle. He there learned, by a letter

of the new governor, Denonville, just arrived from France, of the

landing of La Salle, and the loss of the "Aimable," as recounted by

Beaujeu, on his return. He immediately went back on foot to Fort St.

Louis of the Illinois, and prepared to descend the Mississippi, "dans

l'espérance de lui donner secours." _Lettre de Tonty au Ministre, 24

Aoust, 1686; Ibid., à Cabart de Villermont, même date_; _Mémoire de

Tonty_; _Procès Verbal de Tonty, 13 Avril, 1686._

[341] The date is from the _Procès Verbal_. In the _Mémoire_, hastily

written long after, he falls into errors of date.

[342] Iberville sent it to France, and Charlevoix gives a portion of it.

(_Histoire de la Nouvelle France_, ii. 259.) Singularly enough, the

date, as printed by him, is erroneous, being 20 April, 1685, instead of

1686. There is no doubt whatever, from its relations with concurrent

events, that this journey was in the latter year.

[343] Tonty, _Mémoire; Ibid., Lettre à Monseigneur de Ponchartrain_,

1690. Joutel, _Journal Historique_, 301.

[344] Joutel says that the Parisian boy, Barthelemy, was left behind. It

was this youth who afterwards uttered the ridiculous defamation of La

Salle mentioned in a preceding note. The account of the death of La

Salle, taken from the lips of Couture, was received by him from Cavelier

and his companions, during their stay at the Arkansas. Couture was by

trade a carpenter, and was a native of Rouen.

[345] The condition of Fort St. Louis, at this time, may be gathered

from several passages of Joutel. The houses, he says, were built at the

brink of the cliff, forming, with the palisades, the circle of defence.

The Indians lived in the area.

[346] Joutel adds that this was occasioned by "une espèce de

conspiration qu'on a voulu faire contre les interests de Monsieur de la

Salle."--_Journal Historique_, 350.

"Ce Père appréhendoit que le dit sieur ne l'y rencontrast, ... suivant

ce que j'en ai pu apprendre, les Pères avoient avancé plusieurs choses

pour contrebarrer l'entreprise et avoient voulu détacher plusieurs

nations de Sauvages, lesquelles s'estoient données à M. de la Salle. Ils

avoient esté mesme jusques à vouloir destruire le fort Saint-Louis, en

ayant construit un à Chicago, où ils avoient attiré une partie des

Sauvages, ne pouvant en quelque façon s'emparer du dit fort. Pour

conclure, le bon Père ayant eu peur d'y estre trouvé, aima mieux se

précautionner en prenant le devant.... Quoyque M. Cavelier eust dit au

Père qu'il pouvoit rester, il partit quelques sept ou huit jours avant

nous."--_Relation_ (Margry, iii. 500).

La Salle always saw the influence of the Jesuits in the disasters that

befell him. His repeated assertion, that they wished to establish

themselves in the valley of the Mississippi, receives confirmation from

a document entitled _Mémoire sur la proposition à faire par les R. Pères

Jésuites pour la découverte des environs de la rivière du Mississipi et

pour voir si elle est navigable jusqu'à la mer_. It is a memorandum of

propositions to be made to the minister Seignelay, and was apparently

put forward as a feeler, before making the propositions in form. It was

written after the return of Beaujeu to France, and before La Salle's

death became known. It intimates that the Jesuits were entitled to

precedence in the valley of the Mississippi, as having first explored

it. It affirms that _La Salle had made a blunder, and landed his colony,

not at the mouth of the river, but at another place_; and it asks

permission to continue the work in which he has failed. To this end, it

petitions for means to build a vessel at St. Louis of the Illinois,

together with canoes, arms, tents, tools, provisions, and merchandise

for the Indians; and it also asks for La Salle's maps and papers, and

for those of Beaujeu. On their part, it pursues, the Jesuits will engage

to make a complete survey of the river, and return an exact account of

its inhabitants, its plants, and its other productions.

[347] Tonty, Du Lhut, and Durantaye came to the aid of Denonville with a

hundred and eighty Frenchmen, chiefly _coureurs de bois_, and four

hundred Indians from the upper country. Their services were highly

appreciated; and Tonty especially is mentioned in the despatches of

Denonville with great praise.

[348] "Monsieur Tonty, croyant M. de la Salle vivant, ne fit pas de

difficulté de luy donner pour environ quatre mille liv. de pelleterie,

de castors, loutres, un canot, et autres effets."--Joutel, _Journal

Historique_, 349.

Tonty himself does not make the amount so great: "Sur ce qu'ils

m'assuroient qu'il étoit resté au Golfe de Mexique en bonne santé, je

les reçus comme si ç'avoit esté lui mesme et luy prestay [_à Cavelier_]

plus de 700 francs."--Tonty, _Mémoire_.

Cavelier must have known that La Salle was insolvent. Tonty had long

served without pay. Douay says that he made the stay of the party at the

fort very agreeable, and speaks of him, with some apparent compunction,

as "ce brave gentilhomme, toujours inséparablement attaché aux intérêts

du Sieur de la Salle, dont nous luy avons caché la déplorable destinée."

Couture, from the Arkansas, brought word to Tonty, several months after,

of La Salle's death, adding that Cavelier had concealed it, with no

other purpose than that of gaining money or supplies from him (Tonty),

in his brother's name. Cavelier had a letter from La Salle, desiring

Tonty to give him supplies, and pay him 2,652 livres in beaver. If

Cavelier is to be believed, this beaver belonged to La Salle.

[349] _Lettre du Roy à Denonville, 1 Mai, 1689._ Joutel must have been a

young man at the time of the Mississippi expedition; for Charlevoix saw

him at Rouen, thirty-five years after. He speaks of him with emphatic

praise; but it must be admitted that his connivance in the deception

practised by Cavelier on Tonty leaves a shade on his character, as well

as on that of Douay. In other respects, everything that appears

concerning him is highly favorable, which is not the case with Douay,

who, on one or two occasions, makes wilful misstatements.

Douay says that the elder Cavelier made a report of the expedition to

the minister Seignelay. This report remained unknown in an English

collection of autographs and old manuscripts, whence I obtained it by

purchase, in 1854, both the buyer and seller being at the time ignorant

of its exact character. It proved, on examination, to be a portion of

the first draft of Cavelier's report to Seignelay. It consists of

twenty-six small folio pages, closely written in a clear hand, though in

a few places obscured by the fading of the ink, as well as by occasional

erasures and interlineations of the writer. It is, as already stated,

confused and unsatisfactory in its statements; and all the latter part

has been lost. On reaching France, he had the impudence to tell Abbé

Tronson, Superior of St. Sulpice, "qu'il avait laissé M. de la Salle

dans un très-beau pays avec M. de Chefdeville en bonne santé."--_Lettre

de Tronson à Mad. Fauvel-Cavelier, 29 Nov., 1688._

Cavelier addressed to the King a memorial on the importance of keeping

possession of the Illinois. It closes with an earnest petition for money

in compensation for his losses, as, according to his own statement, he

was completely _épuisé_. It is affirmed in a memorial of the heirs of

his cousin, François Plet, that he concealed the death of La Salle some

time after his return to France, in order to get possession of property

which would otherwise have been seized by the creditors of the deceased.

The prudent abbé died rich and very old, at the house of a relative,

having inherited a large estate after his return from America.

Apparently, this did not satisfy him; for there is before me the copy of

a petition, written about 1717, in which he asks, jointly with one of

his nephews, to be given possession of the seigniorial property held by

La Salle in America. The petition was refused.

Young Cavelier, La Salle's nephew, died some years after, an officer in

a regiment. He has been erroneously supposed to be the same with one De

la Salle, whose name is appended to a letter giving an account of

Louisiana, and dated at Toulon, 3 Sept., 1698. This person was the son

of a naval official at Toulon, and was not related to the Caveliers.