CHAPTER XIII

1686-1697

D’IBERVILLE SWEEPS THE BAY (Continued)

TheFrench were now in complete possession of the south end of Hudson Bay. Iberville’s brother, Maricourt, with a handful of men remained at Albany to guard the captured forts. Some of the English, who had taken to the woods in flight, now found the way to Severn River, half-way north between Albany and Nelson, where they hastily rushed up rude winter quarters and boldly did their best to keep the Indians from communicating with the French. Among the refugees was Chouart Groseillers, who became one of the chief advisers at Nelson. Two of his comrades had promptly deserted to the French side. For ten years, Hudson Bay became the theater of such escapades as buccaneers might have enacted on the Spanish Main. England and France were at peace. A Treaty of Neutrality, in 1686, had provided that the bay should be held in common by the fur tradersof both countries, but the Company of the North in Quebec and the English Adventurers of London had no notion of leaving their rights in such an ambiguous position. Both fitted out their raiders to fight the quarrel to the end, and in spite of the Treaty of Neutrality, the King of France issued secret instructions to the bush-rovers of Quebec “to leave of the English forts on the Northern Bay, not a vestige standing.” If the bay were to be held in common, and the English abandoned it, all rights would revert to France.

The year 1687 saw the tireless Iberville back at Rupert River. The Hudson’s Bay sloop,The Young, had come to port. Iberville seized it without any ado and sent four spies over to Charlton Island whereThe Churchill, under Captain Bond, was wintering. Three of the French spies were summarily captured by the English fur traders and thrown into the hold of the ship, manacled, for the winter. In spring, one was brought above decks to give the English sailors a helping hand. The fellow waited till six of the crew were up the ratlines, then he seized an axe, tip-toed up behind two Englishmen, brained them on the spot, rushing down the hatchway liberated his two comrades, took possession of all firearms and at pistol point kept the Englishmen up the mast poles till he steered the vessel acrossto Iberville at Rupert River, where a cargo of provisions saved the French from famine.

It was in vain that the English sent rescue parties south from Nelson and Severn to recapture Albany. Captain Moon had come down from Nelson with twenty-four men to Albany, reinforced by the crews of the two ships,HampshireandNorth-West Fox, when Iberville came canoeing across the ice floes with his Indian bandits. The English ships were locked in the ice before the besieged fort. Iberville ambushed his men in the tamarack swamps till eighty-two English had landed. Then, he rushed the deserted vessels, took possession of one with its cargo of furs, and as the ice cleared sailed gayly out of Albany for Quebec. The astounded English set fire to the other ship and retreated overland to Severn. At the straits, Iberville ran full-tilt into the fleet of incoming English vessels, but that was nothing to disconcert this blockade-runner, not though the ice closed round them all, holding French and English prisoners within gunshot of each other. Iberville ran up an English flag on his captured ship and had actually signaled the captains of the English frigates to come across the ice and visit him when the water cleared, and away he sailed.

Perhaps success bred reckless carelessness on the part of the French. From 1690 to ’93, Ibervillewas absent from the bay on the border raids of Schenectady, and Pemaquid in New England. Mike Grimmington ofThe Perpetuanawas at last released from captivity in Quebec and came to England with rage in his heart and vengeance in his hands for France. It was now almost impossible for the English Adventurers to hire captains and crews for the dangerous work of their trade on the bay. The same pensions paid by the State were offered by the Company in case of wounds or death, and in addition a bonus of twenty shillings a month was guaranteed to the sailors, of from £50 to £200 a year to the captains. A present of £10 plate was given to Grimmington for his bravery and he was appointed captain. Coming out to Nelson in ’93, Grimmington determined to capture back Albany for the English. Three ships sailed down to Albany from Nelson. The fort looked deserted. Led by Grimmington, the sailors hacked open the gates. Only four Frenchmen were holding the fort. The rest of the garrison were off hunting in the woods, and in the woods they were forced to remain that winter; for Grimmington ransacked the fort, took possession and clapped the French under Mons. Captain Le Meux, prisoners in the hold of his vessel. With Grimmington on this raid was his old mate in captivity—Smithsend. Albany was the largest fort onthe bay at this time. As the two English captains searched the cellars they came on a ghastly sight—naked, covered with vermin, shackled hands to feet and chained to the wall was a French criminal, who had murdered first the surgeon, then the priest of the fort. He, too, was turned adrift in the woods with the rest of the garrison.

Mons. Le Meux, carried to England captive, is examined by the English Adventurers. From his account, all the French garrisons are small and France holds but lightly what she has captured so easily. Captain Grimmington is given a tankard worth £36 for his distinguished services. Captain Edgecombe ofThe Royal Hudson’s Bay, who, in spite of the war, has brought home a cargo of twenty-two thousand beaver, is given plate to the value of £20 as well as a gratuity of £100. Captain Ford, who was carried prisoner to France by Iberville, is ransomed, andThe Hampshirevessel put up at auction in France is bid in by secret agents of the English company. Chouart Groseillers is welcomed home to London, and given a present of £100 and allowed to take a graceful farewell of the Company, as are all its French servants. The Company wants no French servants on the bay just now—not even Radisson to whom Mons. Péré, now escapedto France, writes tempting offers. Sargeant, who lost Albany in 1686, is first sued for £20,000 damages for surrendering the fort so easily, and is then rewarded £350 for holding it so bravely. Phipps has refused point-blank to serve as governor any longer at so dangerous a point as Nelson for so small a salary as £200 a year. Phipps comes home. Abraham tries it for a year. He, too, loses relish for the danger spot, and Walsh goes to Nelson as governor with the apprentice boy Henry Kelsey, risen to be first lieutenant. In spite of wars and raids and ambuscades, there is a dividend of 50 per cent. in ’88, (the King refusing to receive it personally as it might prejudice him with France) and of 50 per cent. in ’89, and of 25 per cent. in ’90 on stock which had been trebled, which was equivalent to 75 per cent. dividends; and there are put on record in the Company’s minutes these sentiments: “being thoroughly sensible of the great blessing it has pleased Almighty God to give the company by the arrival of the shippes, the comp’y doo thinke fitt to show some testimony of their Humble thankfulness for Gods so great a mercy and doo now unanimously resolve that the sum of £100 bee sett aparte as charity money to be distributed amongst such persons as shall dye or be wounded in the companies’ service, their widows or children & the secretary is to keep a particular account in thecompany’s books for the future.” Stock forfeited for the breaking of rules is also to go to wounded men and widows.

And the Company is equally generous to itself; no shilling pay for committeemen now but a salary of £300 a year to each committeeman of the weekly meetings on the Company’s business.

The upshot of the frequent meetings and increasing dividends was—the Company resolved on a desperate effort to recapture the lost forts. The English now held—Nelson, the great fur emporium of the North; New Severn to the South, which had been built by refugees from Albany, burnt twice to escape bush-raiders and as promptly rebuilt when the French withdrew; and Albany, itself, which Mike Grimmington had captured back.

The French held Moose and Rupert on the south of the bay.

Terms of surrender between Le Moyne d’Iberville and Governor Walsh at York Fort. These terms, the Hudson’s Bay Company averred in petitions, were grossly violated by the French. Original in the H. B. C. Memorial Books transferred to Public Records.

James Knight, who had acted variously as apprentice, trader and captain from the beginning of the Company—was now appointed commander of the south end of the bay, with headquarters at Albany, at a salary of £400 a year. Here, he was to resist the French and keep them from advancing north to Nelson. New Severn, next north, was still to serve as a refuge in case of attack. At Nelson, in addition to Walsh, Bailey—a new man—Geyer, a captain,and Kelsey were to have command as officers. Three frigates—The Dering,The Hudson’s BayandThe Hampshireare commissioned to the bay with letters of marque to war on all enemies, and three merchantmen—The Prosperous,The Owner’s LoveandThe Perryare also to go to the bay. Mutinous of voyages to the bay, seamen are paid in advance, and two hundred and twenty gallons of brandy are divided among the ships to warm up courage as occasion may require.

But Iberville was not the man to let his winnings slip through his fingers. It had now become more than a guerrilla warfare between gamesters of the wilderness. It was a fight for ascendency on the continent. It was a struggle to determine which nation was to command the rivers leading inland to the unknown West. If the French raiders were to hold the forts at the bottom of the bay, they must capture the great stronghold of the English—Nelson.

Taking on board one hundred and twenty woodrangers, Iberville sailed from Quebec on August 10, 1694. He had two frigates—The PoliandSalamander. By September 24, he was unloading his cannon below the earthworks of one hundred great guns at Nelson. Steady bombardment from his frigates poured bombs into the fort fromSeptember 25 to October 14, and without ceasing, the fort guns sent back a rain of fire and ball. Chateauguay, Iberville’s brother, landed to attempt a rush with his bush-rovers by the rear. He was met at the pickets by a spattering fire and fell shot as other brave sons of the Le Moyne family fell—wounded in front, shouting a rally with his dying breath. The death of their comrade redoubled the fury of the raiders. While long-range guns tore up the earthworks and cut great gashes in the shattered palisades to the fore, the bushrangers behind had knocked down pickets and were in a hand-to-hand fight in the ditch that separated the rows of double palisades. In the hope of saving their furs, Walsh and Kelsey hung out a tablecloth as flag of truce. For a day, the parley lasted, the men inside the pickets seizing the opportunity to eat and rest, and spill all liquor on the ground and bury ammunition and hide personal treasures. The weather had turned bitterly cold. Winter was impending. No help could come from England till the following July. Walsh did his best in a bad bargain, asking that the officers be lodged till the ships came the next year, that the English be allowed the same provisions as the French, that no injury be offered the English traders during the winter, and that they should be allowed to keep the Company’s books.

Iberville was depending on loot to pay his men, and would not hear of granting the furs to the English, but he readily subscribed to the other conditions of surrender, and took possession of the fort. When Iberville hastily sailed away to escape through the straits before winter closed them, he left De la Forêst commander at Nelson, Jeremie, interpreter. And De la Forêst quickly ignored the conditions of surrender. He was not a good man to be left in charge. He was one of those who had outfitted Radisson in ’83 and lost when Radisson turned Nelson over to the English in ’84. Early next year, the English ships would come. If De la Forêst could but torture some of the English officers, who were his prisoners, into betraying the secret signals of the ships, he might lure them into port and recoup himself for that loss of ten years ago. Only four officers were kept in the fort. The rest of the fifty-three prisoners were harried and abused so that they were glad to flee to the woods. Beds, clothes, guns and ammunition—everything, was taken from them. Eight or ten, who hung round the fort, were treated as slaves. One Englishman was tied to a stake and tortured with hot irons to compel him to tell the signals of the English ships. But the secret was not told. No English ships anchored at Port Nelson in the summer of ’95.The sail that hove on the offing was a French privateer. In the hold of this, the English survivors were huddled like beasts, fed on pease and dogs’ meat. The ship leaked, and when the water rose to mid-waist of the prisoners, they were not allowed to come above decks, but set to pumping the water out. On the chance of ransom money, the privateer carried the prisoners in irons to France because—as one of the sufferers afterward took oath—“we had not the money to grease the commander’s fist for our freedom.” Of the fifty-three Hudson’s Bay men turned adrift from Nelson, only twenty-five survived the winter.

So the merry game went on between the rival traders of the North, French and English fighting as furiously for a beaver pelt as the Spanish fought for gold. The English Adventurers’ big resolutions to capture back the bay had ended in smoke. They had lost Nelson and now possessed only one fort on the bay—Albany, under Governor Knight; but one thing now favored the English. Open war had taken the place of secret treaty between France and England. The Company applied to the government for protection. The English Admiralty granted two men-of-war,The BonaventureandSeaforth, under Captain Allen. These accompanied Grimmington and Smithsend to Nelson in ’96, so when Iberville’sbrother, Serigny, came out from France with provisions onThe PoliandHardifor the French garrisons at Nelson, he found English men-of-war lined up for attack in front of the fort. Serigny didn’t wait. He turned swift heel for the sea, so swift, indeed, thatThe Hardisplit on an ice floe and went to the bottom with all hands. On August 26, Captain Allen of the Royal Navy, demanded the surrender of Nelson from Governor De la Forêst. Without either provision or powder, La Forêst had no choice but to capitulate. In the fort, Allen seized twenty thousand beaver pelts.

Nelson or York—as it is now known—consisted under the French rule of a large square house, with lead roof and limestone walls. There were four bastions to the courtyard—one for the garrisons’ lodgings, one for trade, one for powder, one for provisions. All the buildings were painted red. Double palisades with a trench between enclosed the yard. There were two large gates, one to the waterside, one inland, paneled in iron with huge, metal hinges showing the knobs of big nail heads. A gallery ran round the roof of the main house, and on this were placed five cannon. Three cannon were also mounted in each bastion. The officers’ mess room boasted a huge iron hearth, oval tables, wall cupboards, and beds that shut up in the wall-panels.

Captain Allen now retaliated on the French for their cruelty to English captives by taking the entire garrison prisoners. Loaded with furs to the water-line, the English ships left Bailey and Kelsey at Nelson and sailed slowly for England. Just at the entrance to the straits—the place already made so famous by Indian attack on Hudson’s crew, and French raid onThe Perpetuana, a swift-sailing French privateer bore down on the fleet, singled out Allen’s ship which was separated from the other, poured a volley of shot across her decks which killed Allen on the spot, and took to flight before the other ship could come to the rescue. Was this Iberville’s brother—Serigny—on his way home? It will never be known, for as the ships made no capture, the action is not reported in French records.

The war had reduced the Hudson’s Bay Company to such straits that several of the directors had gone bankrupt advancing money to keep the ships sailing. No more money could be borrowed in England, and agents were trying to raise funds in Amsterdam. Nevertheless, the Company presented the captains—Smithsend and Grimmington—with £100 each for capturing York. The captured furs replenished the exhausted finances and preparation was made to dispatch a mighty fleet that would forever settle mastery of the bay.

Two hundred extra mariners were to be engaged. OnThe Dering, Grimmington, now a veteran campaigner, was to take sixty fighting men. Captain Moon was to have eighteen on the little frigate,Perry. Edgecombe’sHudson’s Bay, frigate, was to have fifty-five; Captain Fletcher’sHampshire, sixty; the fire shipProsperousanother thirty under a new man, Captain Batty. These mariners were in addition to the usual seamen and company servants. OnThe Hudson’s Bayalso went Smithsend as adviser in the campaign. Every penny that could be raised on sales of beaver, all that the directors were able to pledge of their private fortunes, and all the money that could be borrowed by the Adventurers as a corporate company, went to outfit the vessels for what was to be the deciding campaign. With Bailey in control at Nelson and old Governor Knight down at Albany—surely the French could be driven completely from the bay.

Those captives that Allen’s ship had brought to England, lay in prison five months at Portsmouth before they were set free. Released at last, they hastened to France where their emaciated, ragged condition spoke louder than their indignant words. Frenchmen languishing in English prison! Like wildfire ran the rumor of the outrage! Once beforewhen Péré, the Frenchman, had been imprisoned on Hudson Bay, Iberville had thrust the sword of vengeance into the very heart of the English fastness. France turned again to the same Robin Hood of Canada’s rude chivalry. Iberville was at this time carrying havoc from hamlet to hamlet of Newfoundland, where two hundred English had already fallen before his sword and seven hundred been captured.

On the 7th of April, 1697, Scrigny, his brother, just home from Nelson, was dispatched from France with five men-of-war—The Pelican,The Palmier,The Profound,The Violent,The Wasp—to be placed under Iberville’s command at Placentia, Newfoundland, whence he was to proceed to Hudson Bay with orders, “to leave not a vestige remaining” of the English fur trade in the North.

The squadron left Newfoundland on July 8. By the 25th, the ships had entered the straits amid berg and floe, with the long, transparent daylight, when sunset merges with sunrise. Iberville was onThe Pelicanwith Bienville, his brother, two hundred and fifty men and fifty guns. The other brother, Serigny, commandedThe Palmier, and Edward Fitzmaurice of Kerry, a Jacobite, had come as chaplain. A gun gone loose in the hold ofThe Wasp, created a panic during the heavy seas of the Upper Narrows in the straits—the huge implementof terror rolling from side to side of the dark hold with each wash of the billows in a way that threatened to capsize the vessel—not a man daring to risk his life to stop the cannon’s roll; and several gunners were crushed to death beforeThe Waspcould come to anchor in a quiet harbor to mend the damage. OnThe Pelican, Iberville’s ship, forty men lay in their berths ill of scurvy. The fleet was stopped by ice at Digges’ Island at the west end of the straits—a place already famous in the raiders’ history. Here, the icepans, contracted by the straits, locked around the vessels in iron grip. Fog fell concealing the ships from one another, except for the ensigns at the mastheads, which showed all the fleet anchored southward except Iberville’sPelican. For eighteen days the impatient raider found himself forcibly gripped to the ice floes in fog, his ship crushed and banged and bodily lifted until a powder blast relieved pressure, or holes drilled and filled with bombs broke the ice crush, or unshipping the rudder, his own men disembarked and up to the waist in ice slush towedThe Pelicanforward.

On the 25th of August at four in the morning, the fog suddenly lifted. Iberville saw thatThe Palmierhad been carried back in the straits.The WaspandViolenthad disappeared, but straight to the fore, ice-jammed, wereThe Profound, and—Ibervillecould scarcely believe the evidence of his eyes—three English men-of-war,The Hampshire, andDering, andHudson’s Bayclosing in a circle round the ill-fated and imprisoned French ship. Just at that moment, the ice loosened. Iberville was off like a bird inThe Pelican, not waiting to see what became ofThe Profound, which escaped from the ice that night after a day’s bombardment when the English were in the act of running across the ice for a hand-to-hand fight.

On the 3rd of September, Iberville anchored before Port Nelson. Anxiously, for two days, he scanned the sea for the rest of his fleet. On the morning of the fifth, the peaked sails of three vessels rose above the offing. Raising anchor, Iberville hastened out to meet them, and signaled a welcome. No response signaled back. The horrified watch at the masthead called down some warning. Then the full extent of the terrible mistake dawned on Iberville. These were not his consort ships at all. They were the English men-of-war,The Hampshire, Captain Fletcher, fifty-two guns and sixty soldiers;The Dering, Captain Grimmington, thirty guns and sixty men;The Hudson’s Bay, Edgecombe and Smithsend, thirty-two guns and fifty-five men—hemming him in a fatal circle between the English fort on the land and their own cannon to sea.

One can guess the wild whoop of jubilation that went up from the Englishmen to see their enemy of ten years’ merciless raids, now hopelessly trapped between their fleet and the fort. The English vessels had the wind in their favor and raced over the waves all sails set like a war troop keen for prey. Iberville didn’t wait. He had weighed anchor to sail out when he thought the vessels were his own, and now he kept unswervingly on his course. Of his original crew, forty were invalided. Some twenty-five had been sent ashore to reconnoiter the fort. Counting the Canadians and Indians taken on at Newfoundland, he could muster only one hundred and fifty fighting men. Quickly, ropes were stretched to give the mariners hand-hold over the frost-slippery decks. Stoppers were ripped from the fifty cannon, and the batterymen below, under La Salle and Grandville, had stripped naked in preparation for the hell of flame and heat that was to be their portion in the impending battle. Bienville, Iberville’s brother, swung the infantrymen in line above decks, swords and pistols prepared for the hand-to-hand grapple. De la Potherie got the Canadians to the forecastle, knives and war hatchets out, bodies stripped, all ready to board when the ships knocked keels. Iberville knew it was to be like those old-time raids—a Spartan conflict—a fight to the death;death or victory; and he swept right up toThe Hampshire, Fletcher’s frigate, the strongest of the foe, where every shot would tell.The Hampshireshifted broadsides to the French; and at nine in the morning, the battle began.

The Hampshirelet fly two roaring cannonades that ploughed up the decks ofThe Pelicanand stripped the French bare of masts to the hull. At the same instant, Grimmington’sDeringand Smithsend’sHudson’s Baycircled to the left of the French and poured a stream of musketry fire acrossThe Pelican’sstern. At one fell blast, forty French were mowed down; but the batterymen below never ceased their crash of bombs straight intoThe Hampshire’shull.

Iberville shouted for the infantrymen to fire intoThe Dering’sforecastle, to pick off Grimmington if they could; and for the Canadian sharp-shooters to rake the decks ofThe Hudson’s Bay.

For four hours, the three-cornered battle raged. The ships were so close, shout and counter-shout could be heard across decks. Faces were singed with the closeness of the musketry fire. Ninety French had been wounded.The Pelican’sdecks swam in blood that froze to ice, slippery as glass, and trickled down the clinker boards in reddening splashes. Grape shot and grenade had set the fallensails on fire. Sails and mastpoles and splintered davits were a mass of roaring flame that would presently extend to the powder magazines and blow all to eternity. Railings had gone over decks; and when the ship rolled, only the tangle of burning débris kept those on deck from washing into the sea. The bridge was crumbling. A shot had torn the high prow away; and still the batterymen below poured their storm of fire and bomb into the English hull. The fighters were so close, one old record says, and the holes torn by the bombs so large in the hull of each ship that the gunners onThe Pelicanwere looking into the eyes of the smoke-grimed men below the decks ofThe Hampshire.

For three hours, the English had tacked to boardThe Pelican, and for three hours the mastless, splinteredPelicanhad fought like a demon to cripple her enemy’s approach. The blood-grimed, half-naked men of both decks had rusheden massefor the last leap, the hand-to-hand fight, when a frantic shout went up!

Then silence, and fearful confusion, and a mad panic back from the tilting edges of the two vessels with cries from the wounded above the shriek of the sea!

The batteries ofThe Hampshirehad suddenly silenced. The great ship refused to answer to thewheel. That persistent, undeviating fire bursting from the sides ofThe Pelicanhad done its work.The Hampshiregave a quick, back lurch. Before the amazed Frenchmen could believe their senses, amid the roar of flame and crashing billows and hiss of fires extinguished in an angry sea,The Hampshire, all sails set, settled and sank like a stone amid the engulfing billows. Not a soul of her two hundred and fifty men—one hundred and ninety mariners and servants, with sixty soldiers—escaped.

The screams of the struggling seamen had not died on the waves before Iberville had turned the batteries of his shattered ship full force on Smithsend’sHudson’s Bay. Promptly,The Hudson’s Baystruck colors, but while Iberville was engaged boarding his captive and taking over ninety prisoners, Grimmington onThe Deringshowed swift heel and gained refuge in Fort Nelson.

In the fury and heat of the fight, the French had not noticed the gathering storm that now broke with hurricane gusts of sleet and rain. The whistling in the cordage became a shrill shriek—warning a blizzard. Presently the billows were washing over decks with nothing visible of the wheel but the drenched helmsman clinging for life to his place. The pancake ice pounded the ships’ sides with a noise ofthunder. Mist and darkness and roaring sleet drowned the death cries of the wounded, washed and tossed and jammed against the railing by the pounding seas.The Pelicancould only drive through the darkness before the storm-flaw, “the dead” says an old record, “floating about on the decks among the living.” The hawser, that had towed the captive ship, snapped like thread. Captor and captive in vain threw out anchors. The anchors raked bottom. Cables were cut, and the two ships drove along the sands. The deck ofThe Pelicanwas icy with blood. Every shock of smashing billows jumbled dead and dyingen masse. The night grew black as pitch. The little railing that still clung to the shattered decks ofThe Pelicanwas now washed away, and the waves carried off dead and wounded. Tables were hurled from the cabin. The rudder was broken, and the water was already to the bridge of the foundering ship, when the hull began to split, andThe Pelicanburied her prow in the sands, six miles from the fort.

All small boats had been shot away. The canoes of the Canadians swamped in the heavy sea as they were launched. Tying the spars of the shattered masts in four-sided racks, Iberville had the surviving wounded bound to these and towed ashore by the others, half-swimming, half-wading. Many of the men sprang into the icy sea bare to mid-waist asthey had fought. Guns and powderhorns carried ashore in the swimmers’ teeth were all that were saved of the wreck. Eighteen more men lost their lives going ashore in the dark. For twelve hours they had fought without pause for food, and now shivering round fires kindled in the bush, the half-famished men devoured moss and seaweed raw. Two feet of snow lay on the ground, and when the men lighted fires and gathered round in groups to warm themselves, they became targets for sharp-shooters from the fort, who aimed at the camp fires. Smithsend, who escaped from the wreckedHudson’s Bayand Grimmington, who had succeeded in takingThe Deringinto harbor—put Governor Bailey on guard. Their one hope was that Iberville might be drowned.

It was at this terrible pass that the other ships of Iberville’s fleet came to the rescue. They, too, had suffered from the storm,The Violenthaving gone to bottom;The Palmierhaving lost her steering gear, another ship her rudder.

Nelson or York under the English was the usual four-bastioned fur post, with palisades and houses of white fir logs a foot thick, the pickets punctured for small arms, with embrasures for some hundred cannon. It stood back from Hayes River, four miles up from the sea. The seamen of the wreckedHudson’s Baycarried word to Governor Bailey of Iberville’s desperate plight. Nor was Bailey inclined to surrender even after the other ships came to Iberville’s aid. With Bailey in the fort were Kelsey, and both Grimmington and Smithsend who had once been captives with the French in Quebec. When Iberville’s messenger was led into the council hall with flag of truce and bandaged eyes to demand surrender, Smithsend advised resistance till the English knew whether Iberville had been lost in the wreck. Fog favored the French. By the 11th, they had been able to haul their cannon ashore undetected by the English and so near the fort that the first intimation was the blow of hammers erecting platforms. This drew the fire of the English, and the cannonading began on both sides. On the 12th, Serigny entered the council again to demand surrender.

“If you refuse, there will be no quarter,” he warned.

“Quarter be cursed,” thundered the old governor. Then turning to his men, “Forty pounds sterling to every man who fights.”

But the Canadians with all the savagery of Indian warfare, had begun hacking down palisades to the rear.

Serigny came once more from the French. “Theyare desperate,” he urged, “they must take the fort, or pass the winter like beasts in the wilds.” Bombs had been shattering the houses. Bailey was induced to capitulate, but game to the end, haggled for the best bargain he could get. Neither the furs nor the armaments of the fort were granted him, but he was permitted to march out with people unharmed, drums beating, flags unfurled, ball in mouth, matches lighted, bag and baggage, fife screaming its shrillest defiance—to march out with all this brave pomp to a desolate winter in the wilds, while the bush-lopers, led by Boisbriant, ransacked the fort. In the surrender, Grimmington had bargained for his ship, and he now sailed for England with the refugees, reaching the Thames on October 26. Bailey and Smithsend with other refugees, resolutely marched overland in the teeth of wintry blasts to Governor Knight at Albany. How Bailey reached England, I do not know. He must have gone overland with French coureurs to Quebec; for he could not have sailed through the straits after October, and he arrived in England by December.

That the blow of the last loss paralyzed the Company—need not be told. Of all their forts on the bay, they now had only Albany, and were in debt for the last year’s ships. They had not money to pay the captains’ wages. Nevertheless, they borrowedmoney enough to pay the wages of all the seamen and £20 apiece extra, for those who had taken part in the fight. Just at this time, the Treaty of Ryswick put an end to war between England and France, but, as far as the Company was concerned, it left them worse than before, for it provided that the contestants on the bay should remain as they were at the time, which meant that France held all the bay except Albany. Before this campaign, the loss of the English Adventurers from the French raiders had been £100,000. Now the loss totaled more than £200,000.

Chouart Groseillers had long since been created a nobleman for returning to France. In spite of the peace, this enigmatical declaration is found in the private papers of the King of France:

“Owing to the peace, the King of England has given positive orders that goods taken at Hudson Bay, must be paid for; but the French King relies on getting out of this affair.”

Iberville sailed away to fresh glories. A seigniory had been granted him along the Bay of Chaleurs. In 1699, he was created Chevalier of St. Louis. The rest of his years were passed founding the colony of Louisiana, and he visited Boston and New York harbors with plans of conquest in his mind, though as the Earl of Belomont reported “he pretended itwas for wood and water.” In the war of the Barbadoes, Iberville had hoped to capture slaves for Louisiana, and he had transported hundreds, but yellow fever raged in the South and Iberville fell a victim to it on July 9, 1706, at Havana. He was, perhaps, the most picturesque type of Canada’s wildwood chivalry, with all its savage faults and romantic heroism.

And His Majesty, the King of France, well pleased with the success of his brave raiders sends out a dispatch that reads: “His Majesty declines to accept the white bear sent to him from Hudson Bay, but he will permit the fur traders to exhibit the animal.”

Notes on Chapter XIII.—The English side of the story related in this chapter is taken from the records of Hudson’s Bay House, London, and of the Public Records Office. The French side of the story, from the State Papers of the Marine Archives.Bacqueville de la Potherie, who was present in the fight of ’97, gives excellent details in hisHistorie de l’Amerique Septentrionale(1792).Jeremie, who was interpreter at York, wrote an account, to be found among other voyages in theBernard Collection of Amsterdam. For side-lights from early writers, the reader is referred toDoc. Relatifs Nouvelle France;Oldmixon;Doc. Hist. N. Y.;Quebec Hist. So. Collectionin which will be foundAbbé Belmont’s RelationandDollier de Casson’s.It will be noticed that one of the conditions of surrender was that the English should be permitted to march out “match-lighted; ball in mouth.” The latter term needs no explanation. The ball was held ready to be rammed down the barrel. With reference to the term “match-lighted,” in the novel, “Heralds of Empire,” I had referred to “matches” when the argus-eyed critic came down with the criticism that “matches” were not invented until after 1800. I stood corrected till I happened to be in the Tower of London in the room given over to the collection of old armor. I asked one of the doughty old “beefeaters” to take down a musket of that period, and show me exactly what “match-lighted” must have meant. The old soldier’s explanation was this: In time of war, not flint but a little bit of inflammable punk did duty as “match-lighter.” This was fastened below the trigger like the percussion cap of a later day. The privilege of surrendering “match-lighted” meant with the punk below the trigger. I offer this explanation for what it is worth, and as he is the keeper of the finest collection of old armor in the world, the chances are he is right and that matches preceded 1800.At first sight, there may seem to be discrepancies in the numbers on the English ships, but the 200 mariners were extra men, in addition to the 50 or 60 seamen on each frigate, and the 50 or 60 servants on each boat sent out to strengthen the forts.

It will be noticed that one of the conditions of surrender was that the English should be permitted to march out “match-lighted; ball in mouth.” The latter term needs no explanation. The ball was held ready to be rammed down the barrel. With reference to the term “match-lighted,” in the novel, “Heralds of Empire,” I had referred to “matches” when the argus-eyed critic came down with the criticism that “matches” were not invented until after 1800. I stood corrected till I happened to be in the Tower of London in the room given over to the collection of old armor. I asked one of the doughty old “beefeaters” to take down a musket of that period, and show me exactly what “match-lighted” must have meant. The old soldier’s explanation was this: In time of war, not flint but a little bit of inflammable punk did duty as “match-lighter.” This was fastened below the trigger like the percussion cap of a later day. The privilege of surrendering “match-lighted” meant with the punk below the trigger. I offer this explanation for what it is worth, and as he is the keeper of the finest collection of old armor in the world, the chances are he is right and that matches preceded 1800.

At first sight, there may seem to be discrepancies in the numbers on the English ships, but the 200 mariners were extra men, in addition to the 50 or 60 seamen on each frigate, and the 50 or 60 servants on each boat sent out to strengthen the forts.

Back to Index Next