FORT ST. LOUIS

The summer that followed the return of La Salle to Fort St. Louis was an anxious one for the colony. Iroquois were still in the valley, and the Indians about the fort were full of an apprehension that sometimes almost amounted to panic. Yet they clung to their faith in their French protectors; and the bands of invaders, not wishing to taste the vengeance of so strong a union of their enemies, did not that summer molest the group of villages.

But the months of waiting brought no aid or reinforcements to the fort on the high rock, and each day made it more clear that La Salle’s enemies were in power in Canada. More strongly than ever there grew upon him the determination to go in person to France and fit out an expedition which could come by sea to the mouth of the Mississippi and thence with men and supplies to the fort on the Illinois. Finally he could wait no longer; and so, late in August, accompanied by two Shawnee Indians, he left the fort in charge of Tonty and started upon his long journey.

La Salle had not gone far upon his way when he met a fleet of canoes laden with Frenchmen and supplies. If there arose in his mind any flicker of hope that these were his own men returning at last with reinforcements, it soon died out, for the leader of the party, the Chevalier de Baugis, brought with him a commission as commander of Fort St. Louis in place of La Salle, to whom he presented an order from the new governor of Canada commanding him to proceed at once to Quebec. There was nothing to be done but submit. Before continuing his journey, La Salle sent a letter to Tonty telling him to give up gracefully, but to remain at the fort to take care of their private possessions.

When the Chevalier de Baugis arrived at the rock, Tonty turned over the command of the fort; and the garrison, now reinforced but full of unquiet, began to prepare for the winter season. It was not a period of harmony at the fort, for the new officer had little ability in governing a Western post and spent much of his time in trying to alienate the followers of La Salle. Tonty, in spite of his leader’s orders to live at peace with his successor, was not able to endure such performances, and many and bitter were the clashes between the two men that winter.

But with the spring came an event which, for the time at least, made the men at the fort put aside their quarrels and work side by side. Iroquois bands, it appeared, still lingered in the Western country, particularly around the headwaters of the Kankakee and over toward the Mississippi. They had not had sufficient courage to attack the colony which La Salle had founded; but they found other prey.

A group of fourteen Frenchmen, in canoes, was making its way, in March, 1684, toward the Illinois. The new governor, La Barre himself, had sent them out to trade in that region in spite of the fact that the King of France had given to La Salle exclusive control of the fur trade in the valley of the Illinois. They were approaching some rapids in the Kankakee River one day, little suspecting danger, when two hundred Iroquois suddenly appeared on the bank.

Sixty Indians leaped into the water and captured the canoes, which with little ado they drew to the bank. The terror-stricken Frenchmen wildly protested as the dripping savages, their wet bodies glistening and their faces lighted with the lust of plunder, pillaged the seven canoes and carried off the owners. With fine contempt the Iroquois tore into pieces the Frenchmen’s permits from the governor. A few of the Indians took charge of the canoes with their valuable load of merchandise, while the others drove their captives across country for nine days toward Fort St. Louis.

As they went the white men were plied with questions as to the fort. Was the Man with the Iron Hand there? Was La Salle at the fort? When the French replied that a new commander was in charge and that La Salle had been recalled, the wily savages said that they knew it, but were asking to see if the French were telling the truth. They were going, they said, to attack the fort. Finally they let the Frenchmen go, threatening to break their heads, however, if they were found in the neighborhood of the fort.

The Iroquois pushed on to their conquest. When they sighted the high rock, they advanced cautiously, only to find the frowning citadel prepared for battle. Runners had come to the fort the day before with news of the Iroquois approach. Up to the base of the rock the invaders crept and drove arrow and ball at the heights above. They even tried an assault up the rugged pathway, but were repulsed with great loss. For six days they besieged the wilderness castle, but all in vain. At length they made a few captives from the neighboring tribes and tried to creep off. But the bands of Shawnees and Illinois and Miamis had been waiting their turn, and now hard upon the heels of the retreating foe they pushed with eager weapons. They killed many and brought their scalps home in triumph to the villages around the rock. Fort St. Louis had had its baptism of fire—and the fire had only hardened the courage of the garrison and the Indians of the colony.

Two months after this attack upon the fort, there came down the river a fleet of French canoes under command of Sieur de la Durantaye and containing sixty Frenchmen as reinforcements for the garrison upon the rock. Durantaye was a brave officer who had been sent out the year before by Governor La Barre to the posts on the Lake of the Illinois. Many a time he had found it necessary to make trips to Fort St. Louis to give assistance to the incapable Chevalier de Baugis. On this occasion there came with him from Green Bay the priest Allouez, who gathered up his black robe as he climbed the steep pathway to the fort.

Well did the Indians know this priest. Years before he had come to take the place of their beloved Father Marquette. And then on Christmas Eve, in the winter of their disaster, he had heard from the Miamis that La Salle was coming and had vanished like a spirit into the night. In the years that followed there had come from Green Bay, where he had gone, constant rumors that La Salle was their enemy. Now was this man come again to them when La Salle was gone and Tonty robbed of his power.

The visit of Durantaye was not alone to bring reinforcements, for he had with him an order from Governor La Barre commanding Tonty to leave the fort and go to Quebec. Tonty did not hesitate. Boisrondet, with a few faithful followers, remained in the fort, while the Man with the Iron Hand, taking leave of white and red friends, set off almost alone up the river toward distant Canada. He had spent nearly six years in the wilderness—faithful years in which he had followed his leader through ill fate and fortune. He had made warm friends with a dozen tribes and helped gather them together in the colony about Fort St. Louis. Now with a great bitterness he saw fort and colony turned over to those who, though French, were yet enemies of his friend La Salle.

Durantaye returned to the Lake, and De Baugis was left to do as he pleased. The Indians did not find in him the qualities they had admired in La Salle and Tonty. He knew little of their ways and perhaps cared less to learn about them. Trouble soon arose in the colony and he was powerless to check it. The Miamis, rising suddenly, fell upon the Illinois with great slaughter; thus making probable a disruption of the colony and the inevitable destruction of both nations by the Iroquois.

A year of incompetent rule went by. Then in the month of June, 1685, word came to the tribes that Tonty had come back. Down the river which he had ascended alone with sorrow in his heart, he now came in triumph, and climbing the path to the fort held out in his left hand an order to De Baugis to give him back the command of the fort and garrison.

La Salle in France had won the favor of the king. He had been given ships to make a voyage to the mouth of the Mississippi and men to man them, and guns and supplies and merchandise. All this had happened in the spring and summer of 1684. La Forest, one of La Salle’s lieutenants, was sent from Paris to Canada to take charge of Fort Frontenac, which La Barre had seized, and to give to Tonty a commission as captain and the governorship of Fort St. Louis. La Forest had gone out to Fort Frontenac that fall, but winter prevented Tonty from reaching his far western post until June of the following year.

After the disappointed De Baugis had left, Tonty set about conciliating the tribes. This was no easy task. But the Illinois and the Miamis finally listened to his persuasions, accepted his gifts, and agreed once more to live in peace.

To Tonty it must have seemed that the vision which he cherished and shared with La Salle was nearer realization than ever before. It was now almost a year since La Salle had set sail from France. Perhaps by this time he had already founded his fort at the mouth of the Mississippi and was coming up the Great River to join the followers who so eagerly waited for him at Fort St. Louis.