Chapter 16

1763.

MICHILLIMACKINAC.

In the spring of the year 1763, before the war broke out, several English traders went up to Michillimackinac, some adopting the old route of the Ottawa, and others that of Detroit and the lakes.  We will follow one of the latter on his adventurous progress.  Passing the fort and settlement of Detroit, he soon enters Lake St.  Clair, which seems like a broad basin filled to overflowing, while, along its far distant verge, a faint line of forest separates the water from the sky.  He crosses the lake, and his voyageurs next urge his canoe against the current of the great river above.  At length, Lake Huron opens before him, stretching its liquid expanse, like an ocean, to the farthest horizon.  His canoe skirts the eastern shore of Michigan, where the forest rises like a wall from the water’s edge; and as he advances northward, an endless line of stiff and shaggy fir-trees, hung with long mosses, fringes the shore with an aspect of monotonous desolation.  In the space of two or three weeks, if his Canadians labor well, and no accident occur, the trader approaches the end of his voyage.  Passing on his right the extensive Island of Bois Blanc, he sees, nearly in front, the beautiful Mackinaw, rising, with its white cliffs and green foliage, from the broad breast of the waters.  He does not steer towards it, for at that day the Indians were its only tenants, but keeps along the main shore to the left, while his voyageurs raise their song and chorus.  Doubling a point, he sees before him the red flag of England swelling lazily in the wind, and the palisades and wooden bastions of Fort Michillimackinac standing close upon the margin of the lake.  On the beach, canoes are drawn up, and Canadians and Indians are idly lounging.  A little beyond the fort is a cluster of the white Canadian houses, roofed with bark, and protected by fences of strong round pickets.

The trader enters at the gate, and sees before him an extensive square area, surrounded by high palisades.  Numerous houses, barracks, and other buildings, form a smaller square  within, and in the vacant space which they enclose appear the red uniforms of British soldiers, the gray coats of Canadians, and the gaudy Indian blankets, mingled in picturesque confusion; while a multitude of squaws, with children of every hue, stroll restlessly about the place.  Such was Fort Michillimackinac in 1763.  Its name, which, in the Algonquin tongue, signifies the Great Turtle, was first, from a fancied resemblance, applied to the neighboring island, and thence to the fort.

Though buried in a wilderness, Michillimackinac was still of no recent origin.  As early as 1671, the Jesuits had established a mission near the place, and a military force was not long in following; for, under the French dominion, the priest and the soldier went hand in hand.  Neither toil, nor suffering, nor all the terrors of the wilderness, could damp the zeal of the undaunted missionary; and the restless ambition of France was always on the alert to seize every point of vantage, and avail itself of every means to gain ascendency over the forest tribes.  Besides Michillimackinac, there were two other posts in this northern region, Green Bay, and the Sault Ste.  Marie.  Both were founded at an early period, and both presented the same characteristic features—a mission-house, a fort, and a cluster of Canadian dwellings.  They had been originally garrisoned by small parties of militia, who, bringing their families with them, settled on the spot, and were founders of these little colonies.  Michillimackinac, much the largest of the three, contained thirty families within the palisades of the fort, and about as many more without.  Besides its military value, it was important as a centre of the fur-trade; for it was here that the traders engaged their men, and sent out their goods in canoes, under the charge of subordinates, to the more distant regions of the Mississippi and the North-west.

During the greater part of the year, the garrison and the settlers were completely isolated—cut off from all connection with the world; and, indeed, so great was the distance, and so serious the perils, which separated the three sister posts of the northern lakes, that often, through the whole winter, all intercourse was stopped between them.

It is difficult for the imagination adequately to conceive the extent of these fresh-water oceans, and vast regions of forest, which, at the date of our narrative, were the domain of nature, a mighty hunting and fishing ground, for the sustenance of a few wandering tribes.  One might journey among them for days, and even weeks together, without beholding a human face.  The Indians near Michillimackinac were the Ojibwas and Ottawas, the former of whom claimed the eastern section of Michigan, and the latter the western, their respective portions being separated by a line drawn southward from the fort itself.  The principal village of the Ojibwas contained about a hundred warriors, and stood upon the Island of Michillimackinac, now called Mackinaw.  There was another smaller village near the head of Thunder Bay.  The Ottawas, to the number of two hundred and fifty warriors, lived at the settlement of L’Arbre Croche, on the shores of Lake Michigan, some distance west of the fort.  This place was then the seat of the old Jesuit mission of St.  Ignace, originally placed, by Father Marquette, on the northern side of the straits.  Many of the Ottawas were nominal Catholics.  They were all somewhat improved from their original savage condition, living in log houses, and cultivating corn and vegetables to such an extent as to supply the fort with provisions, besides satisfying their own wants.  The Ojibwas, on the other hand, were not in the least degree removed from their primitive barbarism.

These two tribes, with most of the other neighboring Indians, were strongly hostile to the English.  Many of their warriors had fought against them in the late war, for France had summoned allies from the farthest corners of the wilderness, to aid her in her struggle.  This feeling of hostility was excited to a higher pitch by the influence of the Canadians, who disliked the English, not merely as national enemies, but also as rivals in the fur-trade, and were extremely jealous of their  intrusion upon the lakes.  The following incidents, which occurred in the autumn of the year 1761, will illustrate the state of feeling which prevailed:

At that time, although Michillimackinac had been surrendered, and the French garrison removed, no English troops had yet arrived to supply their place, and the Canadians were the only tenants of the fort.  An adventurous trader, Alexander Henry, who, with one or two others, was the pioneer of the English fur-trade in this region, came to Michillimackinac by the route of the Ottawa.  On the way, he was several times warned to turn back, and assured of death if he proceeded; and, at length, was compelled for safety to assume the disguise of a Canadian voyageur.  When his canoes, laden with goods, reached the fort, he was very coldly received by its inhabitants, who did all in their power to alarm and discourage him.  Soon after his arrival, he received the very unwelcome information, that a large number of Ojibwas, from the neighboring villages, were coming, in their canoes, to call upon him.  Under ordinary circumstances, such a visitation, though disagreeable enough, would excite neither anxiety nor surprise; for the Indians, when in their villages, lead so monotonous an existence, that they are ready to snatch at the least occasion of excitement, and the prospect of a few trifling presents, and a few pipes of tobacco, is often a sufficient inducement for a journey of several days.  But in the present instance there was serious cause of apprehension, since Canadians and Frenchmen were alike hostile to the solitary trader.  The story could not be better told than in his own words.

“At two o’clock in the afternoon, the Chippewas (Ojibwas) came to the house, about sixty in number, and headed by Minavavana, their chief.  They walked in single file, each with his tomahawk in one hand and scalping-knife in the other.  Their bodies were naked from the waist upward, except in a few examples, where blankets were thrown loosely over the shoulders.  Their faces were painted with charcoal, worked up with grease, their bodies with white clay, in patterns of various fancies.  Some had feathers thrust through their noses, and their heads decorated with the same.  It is unnecessary to dwell on the sensations with which I beheld the approach of this uncouth, if not frightful assemblage.
 
“The chief entered first, and the rest followed without noise.  On receiving a sign from the former, the latter seated themselves on the floor.

“Minavavana appeared to be about fifty years of age.  He was six feet in height, and had in his countenance an indescribable mixture of good and evil.  Looking steadfastly at me, where I sat in ceremony, with an interpreter on either hand, and several Canadians behind me, he entered, at the same time, into conversation with Campion, inquiring how long it was since I left Montreal, and observing that the English, as it would seem, were brave men, and not afraid of death, since they dared to come, as I had done, fearlessly among their enemies.

“The Indians now gravely smoked their pipes, while I inwardly endured the tortures of suspense.  At length, the pipes being finished, as well as a long pause, by which they were succeeded, Minavavana, taking a few strings of wampum in his hand, began the following speech:

“‘Englishman, it is to you that I speak, and I demand your attention.

“‘Englishman, you know that the French King is our father.  He promised to be such; and we, in return, promised to be his children.  This promise we have kept.

“‘Englishman, it is you that have made war with this our father.  You are his enemy; and how, then, could you have the boldness to venture among us, his children? You know that his enemies are ours.

“‘Englishman, we are informed that our father, the King of France, is old and infirm; and that, being fatigued with making war upon your nation, he is fallen asleep.  During his sleep you have taken advantage of him, and possessed yourselves of Canada.  But his nap is almost at an end.  I think I hear him already stirring, and inquiring for his children, the Indians; and when he does awake, what must become of you? He will destroy you utterly.
“‘Englishman, although you have conquered the French, you have not yet conquered us.  We are not your slaves.  These lakes, these woods and mountains, were left to us by our ancestors.  They are our inheritance; and we will part with them to none.  Your nation supposes that we, like the white people, cannot live without bread, and pork, and beef! But you ought to know that He, the Great Spirit and Master of Life, has provided food for us in these spacious lakes, and on these woody mountains.

“‘Englishman, our father, the King of France, employed our young men to make war upon your nation.  In this warfare many of them have been killed; and it is our custom to retaliate until such time as the spirits of the slain are satisfied.  But the spirits of the slain are to be satisfied in either of two ways; the first is by the spilling of the blood of the nation by which they fell; the other, by covering the bodies of the dead, and thus allaying the resentment of their relations.  This is done by making presents.

“‘Englishman, your king has never sent us any presents, nor entered into any treaty with us; wherefore he and we are still at war; and, until he does these things, we must consider that we have no other father nor friend, among the white men, than the King of France; but for you, we have taken into consideration that you have ventured your life among us, in the expectation that we should not molest you.  You do not come armed, with an intention to make war; you come in peace, to trade with us, and supply us with necessaries, of which we are in much want.  We shall regard you, therefore, as a brother; and you may sleep tranquilly, without fear of the Chippewas.  As a token of our friendship, we present you this pipe to smoke.’

“As Minavavana uttered these words, an Indian presented me with a pipe, which, after I had drawn the smoke three times, was carried to the chief, and after him to every person in the room.  This ceremony ended, the chief arose, and gave me his hand, in which he was followed by all the rest.”

These tokens of friendship were suitably acknowledged by the trader, who made a formal reply to Minavavana’s speech.  To this succeeded a request for whiskey on the part of the Indians, with which Henry unwillingly complied; and, having distributed several small additional presents, he beheld, with profound satisfaction, the departure of his guests.  

Scarcely had he ceased to congratulate himself on having thus got rid  of the Ojibwas, or, as he calls them, the Chippewas, when a more formidable invasion once more menaced him with destruction.  Two hundred L’Arbre Croche Ottawas came in a body to the fort, and summoned Henry, together with Goddard and Solomons, two other traders, who had just arrived, to meet them in council.  Here they informed their startled auditors that they must distribute their goods among the Indians, adding a worthless promise to pay them in the spring, and threatening force in case of a refusal.  Being allowed until the next morning to reflect on what they had heard, the traders resolved on resistance, and, accordingly, arming about thirty of their men with muskets, they barricaded themselves in the house occupied by Henry, and kept strict watch all night.  The Ottawas, however, did not venture an attack.  On the following day, the Canadians, with pretended sympathy, strongly advised compliance with the demand; but the three traders resolutely held out, and kept possession of their stronghold till night, when, to their surprise and joy, the news arrived that the body of troops known to be on their way towards the fort were, at that moment, encamped within a few miles of it.  Another night of watching and anxiety succeeded; but at sunrise, the Ottawas launched their canoes and departed, while, immediately after, the boats of the English detachment were seen to approach the landing-place.  Michillimackinac received a strong garrison; and for a time, at least, the traders were safe.

Time passed on, and the hostile feelings of the Indians towards the English did not diminish.  It necessarily follows, from the extremely loose character of Indian government,—if indeed the name government be applicable at all,—that the separate members of the same tribe have little political connection, and are often united merely by the social tie of totemship.  Thus the Ottawas at L’Arbre Croche were quite independent of those at Detroit.  They had a chief of their own, who by no means acknowledged the authority of Pontiac, though the high reputation of this great warrior everywhere attached respect and influence to his name.  The same relations subsisted between the Ojibwas of Michillimackinac and their more southern tribesmen; and the latter  might declare war and make peace without at all involving the former.

The name of the Ottawa chief at L’Arbre Croche has not survived in history or tradition.  The chief of the Ojibwas, however, is still remembered by the remnants of his people, and was the same whom Henry calls Minavavana, or, as the Canadians entitled him, by way of distinction, Le Grand Sauteur, or the Great Ojibwa.  He lived in the little village of Thunder Bay, though his power was acknowledged by the Indians of the neighboring islands.  That his mind was of no common order is sufficiently evinced by his speech to Henry; but he had not the commanding spirit of Pontiac.  His influence seems not to have extended beyond his own tribe.  He could not, or at least he did not, control the erratic forces of an Indian community, and turn them into one broad current of steady and united energy.  Hence, in the events about to be described, the natural instability of the Indian character was abundantly displayed.

In the spring of the year 1763, Pontiac, in compassing his grand scheme of hostility, sent, among the rest, to the Indians of Michillimackinac, inviting them to aid him in the war.  His messengers, bearing in their hands the war-belt of black and purple wampum, appeared before the assembled warriors, flung at their feet a hatchet painted red, and delivered the speech with which they had been charged.  The warlike auditory answered with ejaculations of applause, and, taking up the blood-red hatchet, pledged themselves to join in the contest.  Before the end of May, news reached the Ojibwas that Pontiac had already struck the English at Detroit.  This wrought them up to a high pitch of excitement and emulation, and they resolved that peace should last no longer.  Their numbers were at this time more than doubled by several bands of their wandering people, who had gathered at Michillimackinac from far and near, attracted probably by rumors of impending war.  Being, perhaps, jealous of the Ottawas, or willing to gain all the glory and plunder to themselves, they determined to attack the fort, without communicating the design to their neighbors of L’Arbre Croche.

At this time there were about thirty-five men, with their  officers, in garrison at Michillimackinac.  Warning of the tempest that impended had been clearly given; enough, had it been heeded, to have averted the fatal disaster.  Several of the Canadians least hostile to the English had thrown out hints of approaching danger, and one of them had even told Captain Etherington, the commandant, that the Indians had formed a design to destroy, not only his garrison, but all the English on the lakes.  With a folly, of which, at this period, there were several parallel instances among the British officers in America, Etherington not only turned a deaf ear to what he heard, but threatened to send prisoner to Detroit the next person who should disturb the fort with such tidings.  Henry, the trader, who was at this time in the place, had also seen occasion to distrust the Indians; but on communicating his suspicions to the commandant, the latter treated them with total disregard.  Henry accuses himself of sharing this officer’s infatuation.  That his person was in danger, had been plainly intimated to him, under the following curious circumstances:

An Ojibwa chief, named Wawatam, had conceived for him one of those friendly attachments which often form so pleasing a feature in the Indian character.  It was about a year since Henry had first met with this man.  One morning, Wawatam had entered his house, and placing before him, on the ground, a large present of furs and dried meat, delivered a speech to the following effect: Early in life, he said, he had withdrawn, after the ancient usage of his people, to fast and pray in solitude, that he might propitiate the Great Spirit, and learn the future career marked out for him.  In the course of his dreams and visions on this occasion, it was revealed to him that, in after years, he should meet a white man, who should be to him a friend and brother.  No sooner had he seen Henry, than the irrepressible conviction rose up within him, that he was the man whom the Great Spirit had indicated, and that the dream was now fulfilled.  Henry replied to the speech with suitable acknowledgments of gratitude, made a present in his turn, smoked a pipe with Wawatam, and, as the  latter soon after left the fort, speedily forgot his Indian friend and brother altogether.  Many months had elapsed since the occurrence of this very characteristic incident, when, on the second of June, Henry’s door was pushed open without ceremony, and the dark figure of Wawatam glided silently in.  He said that he was just returned from his wintering ground.  Henry, at length recollecting him, inquired after the success of his hunt; but the Indian, without replying, sat down with a dejected air, and expressed his surprise and regret at finding his brother still in the fort.  He said that he was going on the next day to the Sault Ste.  Marie, and that he wished Henry to go with him.  He then asked if the English had heard no bad news, and said that through the winter he himself had been much disturbed by the singing of evil birds.  Seeing that Henry gave little attention to what he said, he at length went away with a sad and mournful face.  On the next morning he came again, together with his squaw, and, offering the trader a present of dried meat, again pressed him to go with him, in the afternoon, to the Sault Ste.  Marie.  When Henry demanded his reason for such urgency, he asked if his brother did not know that many bad Indians, who had never shown themselves at the fort, were encamped in the woods around it.  To-morrow, he said, they are coming to ask for whiskey, and would all get drunk, so that it would be dangerous to remain.  Wawatam let fall, in addition, various other hints, which, but for Henry’s imperfect knowledge of the Algonquin language, could hardly have failed to draw his attention.  As it was, however, his friend’s words were spoken in vain; and at length, after long and persevering efforts, he and his squaw took their departure, but not, as Henry declares, before each had let fall some tears.  Among the Indian women, the practice of weeping and wailing is universal upon all occasions of sorrowful emotion; and the kind-hearted squaw, as she took down her husband’s lodge, and loaded his canoe for departure, did not cease to sob and moan aloud.

On this same afternoon, Henry remembers that the fort was full of Indians, moving about among the soldiers with a great appearance of friendship.  Many of them came to his house, to purchase knives and small hatchets, often asking to see silver bracelets, and other ornaments, with the intention,  as afterwards appeared, of learning their places of deposit, in order the more easily to lay hand on them at the moment of pillage.  As the afternoon drew to a close, the visitors quietly went away; and many of the unhappy garrison saw for the last time the sun go down behind the waters of Lake Michigan.