Escaping the Mohawks, the story of a young noble of New France

Front matter

Books by

ORISON ROBBINS

Each with picture jacket in full colors, and illus¬ trations by W. F. Stecher.

Preface

One of the features that lends most charm to the short but stirring chapter that is the history of France in North America, is that of contrast. As one glances through the pages, one sees, here a black-robed priest, trained in the best schools of the Old World, sharing the discomforts and squalor of wig¬ wam or long house with the copper-hued owners; there a courtier, fresh from the luxuries of Versailles, bending beneath his heavy pack at a portage, or blistering his hands in the day-long drive with the paddle.

New conditions in this new land moulded into strange forms the customs and institu¬ tions of the parent country. The institution of an aristocracy of birth was no exception to the rule. So we find nobles with the whine of beggars on their lips; and tenants, sturdy and self-reliant, who stood ready to buy the estates of their lords. Men rose or sank in

PREFACE accordance with their ability to meet and master the hard conditions of a new life: the strong and capable survived; the weak dis¬ appeared.

It is with the nobles of New France and their life on an exposed frontier that the present story is concerned. May it throw a little light into a not well-known nook of our early American life.

Orison Robbins.

Washington, D . C.

ILLUSTRATIONS

He saw a group of Indians hacking

at the door (Page 195) . Frontispiece

FACING PAGE

Waving his hand in greeting . . 64

“ Stop!” the lad shouted . . . 198

The treacherous ice broke under his weight s , . . s v . 260 r

Chapter I

Running close-hauled on the port-tack under full sail, the French sloop of war Superb drove swiftly through the short, choppy seas that ran in endless succession out of the Gulf of St. Lawrence. She was not a large vessel, as ships go to-day; but her five hundred tons of wood and iron repre¬ sented the skill of the finest marine archi¬ tects of the early eighteenth century. Long, low of deck, with sharp keel and sharper bows, she might well have passed for one of the rakish craft that flew the Jolly Roger over the blue waters of the Caribbean, two thousand miles to the south. A second look would have corrected the mistake, however, for no free-lance of the seas could show such an air of smartness as marked every detail of the sloop. Taut rigging, shining paint, glistening brass work; all betokened the care of a disciplined crew under the orders of a thorough seaman.

A glance at the thick-set figure that stood on the quarter-deck, whose air of command, as well as dress, marked him as the comman¬ der of the ship, showed him to be such a seaman. Tanned to a dull red by the sun¬ shine and storms of half a century, his skin showed in startling contrast with the white and gold of his uniform. His eyes, small and deep-set, looked from beneath white, shaggy brows, glancing alternately at the sails of his ship and at the sky and sea to windward.

With Pirard, for such was the name of the vessel’s commander, stood a lad of seven¬ teen and a man of twenty-two. The dress of the former was that of the French gentry: blue coat reaching to the knees, a long waist¬ coat of tan-colored velvet, knee trousers of material like the waistcoat, tan silk stock¬ ings, and black shoes with great silver buckles. A fluff of fine, white lace showed above the collar of his coat, and through the gap of his half-unbuttoned waistcoat. In one hand he held a three-cornered black hat of fine beaver. With the other he maintained a tight hold on one of the mizzen-shrouds, to steady himself against the sharp pitching of the ship.

The lad’s attire marked him as a member of the nobility of his country, and his face was in keeping with his dress. A skin of olive hue, through which showed the rich red of his pure young blood; clean-cut features, sparkling black eyes, and long, glossy black hair which fell in a tumble of natural waves and curls about his shoulders, or blew straight out in the fresh breeze; while these did not necessarily indicate noble blood, they certainly were not inconsistent with its pos¬ session.

The other man, Charles de La Motte by name, was in the white uniform of a lieuten¬ ant of the French army. Of moderate height and weight, he was typical of the class of young nobles from whom France drew the officers for her fighting forces. Equally at ease in the ballroom and on the field of battle, they met the foe, as they met the ladies, with smiles on their lips and jests on their tongues. Raised among the comforts, oftentimes amid the luxuries of which France boasted, no rigors of a strange clime, no fatigues of march, or toil at oar or paddle, could crush the exuberant spirit of these young soldiers.

The younger man addressed the captain of the ship: “We drive ahead fast in this wind, Mr. Captain,” he said. “You told us as much as two hours ago that we were within fifty miles of the Island of Cape Breton. It seems to me we should soon see the land, especially as you say the part of the island we are approaching is covered with high hills.”

“We should see the hills within an hour or two, Monsieur,” answered the captain re¬ spectfully. The officer was of the common people of his land. Therefore, as was the habit of his time and country, he looked up as to a superior to one who had the right to call himself “ noble.”

The three relapsed into silence. The lad scanned the horizon ahead of the ship, hoping to get the first glimpse of land. The captain’s attention, however, was given to the northwest, whence came the motive power of the great machine under his com¬ mand: the fresh breeze from the forests and mountains of Canada. Occasionally his gaze swept the sea to the east and south, and at such times a furrow of anxiety appeared in the ruddy skin of his forehead. Finally he turned again to his companions.

“ Will Monsieur repeat again,” he said to the younger of them, “ as nearly as he can remember, the words he heard at the Marine Office in Paris regarding the sailing of the English squadron? ”

“ I more than heard the words,” replied the lad. “ I saw the despatch that came from one of our secret agents in England. ‘ Three vessels/ it read, 4 a sloop of war, a frigate, and a seventy-four, sailed from Southampton for the Newfoundland coast on the tenth of June.’ ”

“ It is odd that I should have received no word of this,” said the captain, as he renewed his search of the waste of troubled waters.

Methodical, devoted to his duty as he was, he could not conceive of a laxity in the con¬ duct of the affairs of the Marine Office that would fail to give the commander of a war¬ ship sailing to Canada such vital informa¬ tion.

His young companion was better in¬ formed regarding the methods of the Ad¬ miralty.

“ The note was probably put away in a pigeonhole/’ he said, “ and not remembered until after we had sailed.”

“ No doubt Monsieur is right,” the cap¬ tain replied; and he resumed his search of the horizon.

It was the middle of July, in the year 1703. France was, as usual, at war with her ancient enemy, England. Nearly a month earlier, the Superb had left the port of Brest, bound for Quebec, where she was to relieve a vessel of similar rating. As a man-of-war, she carried no cargo. She was with¬ out passengers as well, except for part of a company of white-coated French infantry¬ men under the command of De La Motte, a meager reinforcement to the army in Can¬ ada; and, as a special favor, the lad whose acquaintance we have just made.

Louis Dupuy was the boy’s name. The youngest of five children, he had been left an orphan at the age of ten. For seven years he had lived with his oldest brother on the family estate in Brittany, varying the mo¬ notony of country life with an occasional winter spent with a sister in Paris. Now he was responding to the invitation of an uncle, the Sieur Georges Dupuy, to join him on his seigniory on the Richelieu River.

For an hour the Superb ran on, then the cry, “ Land ho! ” came ringing down from aloft. The heights of Cape Breton had come into view of the lookout, perched high on the foretopgallant-yard. Half an hour later, the blue hills, thirty miles distant, could be seen from the deck.

Then another cry, “Sail ho!” sounded above the whistling and moaning of the wind in the ship’s cordage.

Instantly every one on deck was alert.

“ Where away? ” bawled the sailing-master, a weather-beaten old tar who had immediate charge of the operation of the vessel.

“ Two points off the port bow, sir,” came the answer, indicating a direction about twenty degrees to leeward of the line on which the vessel was running.

“ Send the lookout aft,” said the captain to the master. Then, turning to his com¬ panions, he continued: “We must find out all we can about this stranger. He may be one of our three Englishmen. Any large sail in these waters must be looked upon with suspicion.”

The lookout appeared, hat in hand, but hesitated to set foot on that, to him, forbid¬ den place, the quarter-deck. At a signal from the captain, however, he slouched for¬ ward.

V -

“ How far away is the sail you saw? ” asked the officer.

“ Her topmasts are showing above the water, sir,” the sailor replied.

“ What sail does she carry? ”

*

“ None that I could see,” was the reply,

“ except perhaps a staysail. She looked as though she might be lying-to under her lower sails.”

“ How many masts has she? ”

“ Three.”

“ Very well, my man. Here is a louis d’or for you,” said the captain, giving him a small gold coin. “ Your eyes are good to make out the naked spars of a vessel fifteen miles away.”

The sailor pulled his forelock, scraped an awkward bow of acknowledgment, and de¬ parted to declare among his mates that such a fine and generous officer as Captain Pirard did not exist outside that ship, never had ex¬ isted, and in all the future of the world never would exist again.

The captain, however, was thinking of other things than the effect of his generosity upon the lookout and his fellows. He stood for a moment with his head bowed in thought, then calling sharply to the sailing-master, directed him to tack. That worthy officer looked at his superior in astonishment, a feeling that was reflected in the faces of all who heard the captain’s words. No ques¬ tions were asked, however; orders are not questioned on a well-regulated man-of-war. Discipline, however, could not prevent the master from muttering to his crony, the boatswain, that it beat all that he had ever seen or expected to see, if he lived a hundred years, that such a fighter as the “ old man ” should run away from a strange sail without even having a look at her from the deck.

Despite the surprise that the order caused, it was carried out promptly and efficiently. Obedient to her helm, the graceful vessel swung into the wind. The heavy yards swung round, the head-sails filled, and the Superb heeled far to starboard. In another moment, she was off on her new course, head¬ ing almost due north.

If discipline suppressed any open expres¬ sion of astonishment on the part of the offi¬ cers and crew at the sudden change in the course of the vessel, it placed no such re¬ straint upon the tongue of young Louis Dupuy. Presuming upon his rank, he ad¬ dressed the captain.

“ Is it customary,” he asked, “ for His Majesty’s men-of-war to turn tail without finding out whether they are running from a two-decker or a fishing boat? ”

The officer’s ruddy countenance flushed a deeper red at the taunt in the lad’s question. He controlled himself, however, and replied in level tones: “ Monsieur is new to the ways of ships and cannot be expected to under¬ stand their actions. Fishing boats do not carry three masts, and merchant vessels do not lie-to in a fair breeze such as is blowing. Only a man-of-war, trying to maintain a station, would act as this sail does. The note you saw in Paris stated that three English ships had sailed to these waters: a sloop, a frigate, and a ship of the line. This is, no doubt, one of them.”

“ Then why not run in close enough to find out if it is the sloop of war? ” said Louis. “ If so, it would be a fair fight for both of us.”

“ The English are not likely to hunt singly,” the captain replied. “ We have been seen in the past two days by half a dozen fishing vessels. If the English ships are patrolling these waters, they have prob¬ ably had word of our arrival already. No,” he continued after a moment’s pause, “ to engage that fellow now would be to play his own game. The Superb can outpoint him and outrun him, unless he is better than any English ship I have ever met. If he follows us, we will work up to windward of him, and then, if he is still alone, I promise Monsieur the Superb will show that she is sharp of tooth as well as fleet of foot.”

That the stranger had no intention of let¬ ting the French vessel get away without a chase was evident as soon as the latter changed its course. A cloud of white canvas was spread over the hitherto bare spars, and, in less than five minutes after the Superb had headed northward, the Englishman, if such he should prove to be, was coursing in the same direction.

The stranger’s topgallantsails—like the Superb , she carried no royals—were visible from the deck with the naked eye, so clear was the air from the Canadian wilds. Captain Pirard watched the three white sheets with a thoughtful countenance. Occasion¬ ally, he checked their bearing by the ship’s compass. After half an hour had passed in silence, he spoke to Louis.

“We are outsailing him,” he said. “ We are holding him steady as to distance, for his topsails are still out of sight, and we are sail¬ ing at least half a point nearer the wind than he is. There are still three hours of day¬ light. If, at the end of two hours, this fel¬ low is still alone, the Superb will show her teeth.”

Chapter II

The great orb of the sun, sinking in a cloudless west, glowered at the equally great orb of the moon as it rose in the cloudless east. Then, as the sun’s rim touched the horizon, two cries of “ Sail ho!” came almost simultaneously from aloft. Two ships had come in sight, one to the north¬ east, the other nearly east. They were about twenty miles away, and were heading to the west, on the opposite tack from the Superb.

At the appearance of these two strangers, the thoughtfulness that had marked the face of Captain Pirard since the discovery of the vessel to the southwest, deepened to a look of anxiety. He turned to Louis who, as the privileged character aboard, still shared the quarter-deck with him.

“ The man who wrote the note you saw in Paris was evidently well informed,” he said. “We have now accounted for all three of the English squadron. I judge, from the size of his sails, that the fellow to the west is the sloop of war. Which of the others is the frigate, and which the ship of the line, we shall soon know.”

Half an hour later, the two ships to the east were visible from the Superb’s deck, their graceful upper sails gleaming white against the darkening sky. The more north¬ erly of the pair still held to his western course, apparently with the intention of heading off the French ship. The other had tacked, and was running to the north, par¬ allel to the course of the Superb .

“ The English have sprung their trap,” Pirard said after a long examination of the surrounding enemies, for enemies they were. “ They have effectively blocked us in every direction except possibly one. The ship to the northeast is a frigate. If we can cross her bows unscathed, we shall have a clear path ahead of us. Then, with all our enemies behind us, we can trust to the Superb to show them a clean pair of heels.”

The captain again relapsed into a thoughtful silence. At frequent intervals he studied the three strangers through a glass. At length he sent a cabin-boy in search of the sailing-master. When that worthy ar¬ rived, the commander went aside and en¬ gaged him in a long, earnest conversation. As a result, a swarm of seamen clambered up the shrouds, and, with a maze of lines, reinforced all the lighter parts of the rig¬ ging, as if to stand some unusual strain.

When this work was completed to the satisfaction of even the critical sailing-master, the call to quarters was sounded. A period of apparent confusion followed, when every person in the ship seemed to be on the run, and every tongue to be wagging. In reality, it was a period of intense, ordered activity. At its close, the twenty-two twelve-pounders on the Superb’s main deck had been loosened from their lashings, and were loaded ready for use, the gun-crews at their sides. Magazines stood open, with powder-boys ready to carry their deadly contents to the gun-loaders. Marines, and the company of infantrymen, stood in or¬ dered array on the quarter-deck. Topmen were at their stations in the “ tops,” pre¬ pared for their double task of working the upper sails, and of pouring a fire of mus¬ ketry down on an enemy’s deck, if he should come to close quarters.

When the bustle and confusion of prepar¬ ing the ship for action had subsided, Louis turned to Captain Pirard.

“ Every one but me seems to have a duty assigned to him,” he said. “ I should not like to be an idler when we come into action. Have you a place for me where I can be of use? ”

The captain seemed pleased with the lad’s offer, but he also seemed somewhat puzzled.

“ I should be pleased to use Monsieur,” he said, “ but just where-” and he hes¬

itated.

Lieutenant de La Motte, who stood at his side, hastened to relieve him of his embar¬ rassment.

“ I should be glad to have your help with my men,” he said to Louis. “ They are a green lot, not more than ten real soldiers in the whole forty of them. If you will take charge of half of them, perhaps between us we can keep them in some kind of order. Would that arrangement be satisfactory to you, Captain? ”

“ Entirely so,” answered the officer. “ If we should come to close quarters, a heavy fire of musketry might be of great help to us. I hope, however, to keep the English¬ man at a distance. I judge from his size that he carries at least thirty-six guns, eighteen-pounders, no doubt. At close range, the Superb would be simply crushed by his fire.”

With the going down of the sun, the wind, already a fresh, whole sail breeze, gradually increased in force until it became almost a gale. Under its impulse, the Superb and the English frigate rapidly decreased the dis¬ tance between them. Both staggered under the load of canvas they carried, but as the capture or escape of the French sloop de¬ pended wholly upon the relative speed of these two enemies, neither would shorten sail.

The Superb's sailing-master cast many an anxious glance at his topgallants, and at their slender masts, bending and creaking under the unusual strain. Thanks to the precautions taken in advance, however, everything held.

The frigate was not so lucky. Rising from the effect of a heavy gust that laid her over until her lee rail was almost awash, she met another tremendous blast. Before the heavy mass could yield to the pressure, the mizzentopgallant-mast snapped short off.

Before this accident to her most danger¬ ous opponent, it had been uncertain whether the Superb would win her race to the point where the courses of the two ships crossed. Now the Englishman’s speed was slackened. More important still, due to the loss of his after sails, he was unable to maintain his former course, but fell off more to the south. The Superb would cross his bows, but by a margin of little more than half a mile.

The captain walked forward, past the gun-crews that stood waiting beside their twelve-pounders. The guns were ready for the touch of the matches that should dis-

I charge them, but so great was the heel of the vessel under the pressure of the wind, that they pointed directly into the water that foamed under the ship’s rail. The greatest elevation that could be obtained, with the crude sighting devices of the time, failed to bring the pieces to bear on the fast-ap¬ proaching target.

“ Why so downhearted, lads? ” asked the captain cheerily, as he noted a glum expres¬ sion on the faces of the sturdy sailors.

“ It is enough to make a gunner feel downhearted, sir,” answered an old salt who had sailed for years with Captain Pirard and presumed on old acquaintanceship to answer freely. “ Here we are, fast getting into position to rake this Englishman at easy range, and not a gun will bear. If we were out on the open sea, now, the roll of the ship would give us a chance for a broadside.”

“ Well, Jack, I will give you one shot at him,” said the captain, “ but make that one count. You won’t get another.” He turned to the junior officer who commanded the gun-crews.

“ As we cross the frigate’s bows,” he said, “ I will luff until everything is shaking. As the ship rights herself, fire every gun in the broadside. Aim at the rigging. I cannot give you time for a second broadside, for we must not lose our headway. See that the men all understand the arrangement, for they will have only a few seconds of time for aiming and firing.”

Night was falling fast. Already the shadows of the rigging could be traced on the Superb’s decks, in the moonlight that mingled with the fading twilight. The su¬ preme test was at hand. The captain, back on the quarter-deck, made a final survey of the situation.

To the northeast was the frigate, now less than a mile away, lying far over under the increasing force of the wind, her black hull half hidden by a cloud of spray thrown off from her bows. To the east, the seventy-four had disappeared in the gathering gloom. In the southwest was the English sloop, her topgallants silhouetted against the afterglow in the sky.

The Superb crossed the frigate’s course. As she did so, she swung sharply into the wind. Amid a tremendous roar of slatting sails and thrashing tackle, the ship came to an even keel. Then followed an even greater roar, that of the eleven guns in her broadside. Great spikes of flame, white-hot in the half-light, leaped from the Superb's side, and were transformed into clouds of fleecy vapor that raced madly to leeward. Then the head of the vessel swung away from the wind, and she resumed her course, almost without loss of speed.

With a night-glass, Captain Pirard watched the effect of his fire. Three or four ‘ shot-holes appeared in the frigate’s head-sails, a few loose rope-ends blew straight out to leeward; then, with a crash that was heard even on the Superb, her foreyard gave way. A lucky shot had severed one of the braces, another had cut half through the timber it¬ self, and the remaining wood was unable to stand the terrific strain to which it was sub¬ jected. As the frigate’s great foresail and foretopsail collapsed with the yard, a triumphant cheer arose from the deck of the French sloop. Certainly Fortune had thus far been on the side of the Superb. If only she would continue to smile for another five minutes, the sloop would be safe.

Fortune is proverbially fickle. The frig¬ ate was now definitely out of the chase, but as she forged slowly ahead, she put the fly¬ ing Superb directly under her guns. For¬ tunately for the latter, the range was now much greater than that at which she had fired her own broadside, but the number and weight of her enemy’s guns made her posi¬ tion extremely dangerous. It was not so much that she was likely to be completely disabled, but with the dark sails of the English sloop still showing above the west¬ ern sky line, and with the ship of the line present, though invisible, an unfortunate hit in the rigging might mean capture.

The frigate’s eighteen-pounders fired as they bore on the sloop; first a bow gun, fol¬ lowed by three of the forward broadside guns singly, then with a tremendous crash by a dozen more. To Louis Dupuy, standing with the men who had been assigned to his charge, this was the baptism of fire. To him, it seemed that a tornado of iron was sweeping down upon the Superb. A crash at his side told of a wrecked gun-carriage, great flying splinters of wood that barely missed him were thrown off from the rail, while overhead rushed a half-dozen heavy balls. It required the combination of all the lad’s pride and self-control to keep from ducking, for they seemed barely to miss his head. In fact, they were as high as the maintop.

v

The attention of Captain Pirard was fixed on his rigging, and his ears were strained to catch the sound of impact of iron on the wooden spars. All too soon the sound came, and directly overhead. In the full-rigged ships of that time, a great lateen sail was carried on the mizzenmast, in place of the spanker of a later date. The hit was in the spar that supported this sail. Spar and sail crashed to the deck.

An instant later, the foretopgallant-sail, weakened by a shot-hole, blew to shreds.

The captain took the loss of these two sails philosophically.

“ If we get off with nothing worse than this, we are lucky,” he said to Louis, whose assigned position was near him. “ The wind is getting so strong that we should have had to shorten sail soon, in any case. With the lateen gone, we can’t point quite as high into the wind as we have been doing, but we will get along.”

In the time required for reloading the frigate’s guns, the Superb so increased the distance separating her from her powerful enemy that the latter’s second broadside fell harmlessly into the sea.

“ Now we must look out for the English sloop,” said the captain. “ With our loss of two important sails, she will probably over¬ haul us. Then we shall fight.”

The crew was now called from the guns and set to work to repair the damage to the rigging. A spare lateen yard was got up, and the sail bent to it and set. A new fore¬ topgallant was bent to the yard, but was not set. The main and mizzen topgallants were furled, as well as the spritsail, a square sail carried by ships of that time under the bow¬ sprit, in place of jibs. Relieved of the pres¬ sure of her loftiest sails, the Superb rode more easily, though she was still making nearly ten knots.

While the sailing-master, with a coolness and efficiency born of long experience, was making good the damage to the sloop’s rig¬ ging, the captain, with his night-glass, swept the southwestern quarter of the horizon. With the falling of night, the English sloop had been lost to sight.

Two hours passed. At the end of that time, the sailing-master reported the Superb as again fit for fight or flight. Even the in¬ jured gun-carriage had been repaired, and the sloop could again show her full number of twenty-two teeth.

It is time the Englishman was coming,” said the captain, somewhat anxiously. “ I hope he intends to fight to-night. If he should keep on, close-hauled as he was when we saw him last, morning might find him to windward of us, for we lost a good deal of ground while our damage was being re¬ paired. In that case, we should be caught between the sloop and the ship of the line.”

Captain Pirard’s fears were soon dis¬ pelled. A pyramid of canvas, ghostly white in the moonlight, appeared at a distance of two miles, over the Superb's port beam. In spite of the force of the wind, the English sloop still carried her topgallants, for only so could she hope to close with the speedy Frenchman. So, tearing through the choppy seas at a tremendous pace, the English ship bore down upon the Superb .