IXHALF-KING CAUSES TROUBLE
Things were going badly for Washington. This second day at Venango the rain poured down, so that the company could not start on. Tanacharison had learned from the Hunter all that had been said and done in Captain Joncaire’s house. He and Juskakaka and White Thunder and Guyasuta were much impressed.
“The French,” said White Thunder, “know what they are about. They are not afraid to talk right into the faces of the English. Now if they put the English out of the land, and we have helped the English, we shall have to pay.”
“That is how it seems to me,” said Green Grasshopper. “I am old, I have seen many things happen, and when the Indian helps in a quarrel he does well to help the stronger side. The white men are many. Let them fight, and we should wait till we know what to do. All we want is our land.”
“The Governor of Virginia asked us to go with this Washington and we have come,” said Tanacharison. “We made up our minds to give the speech belts back to the French who have treated us like bad children. We will do as we engaged to do. But I think it poor of Joncaire, who pretends to be our brother, to leave us in the woods and never send us anything to warm our stomachs. We are chiefs, as well as Washington who sits at the feast table while we stay in the rain with our speech belt. Washingtonsays for us to beware of the French and their cunning words. But we are not children, we are men.”
Washington had gone over to the house again, with Gist and Vanbraam. Pretty soon there came to the camp a lieutenant from Captain Joncaire. His name was La Force. He was a very lean, hungry-looking man, with yellow skin and staring, sly black eyes. He asked for the Half-King, and shook hands with him and Juskakaka, White Thunder and Guyasuta; and said to them, in their language:
“Captain Joncaire your brother is much hurt that you stay away from him. He has just heard that his brothers are here in the rain. He sends me at once to beg that his brothers will come in to his fire.”
“Wah!” Half-King approved. “We will come.”
So they all went with La Force; which was bad, too. Captain Joncaire gave them such a welcome, with his strong liquors, that they were made drunk, and did not return to camp this night.
Washington was disgusted. The French had them. But in the morning Tanacharison appeared, very sorry, when the camp was packing up.
“Now I am in my senses again,” he said to Washington. “Wait a little, while I give the speech belt to these French.”
“This is not the place for giving back the speech belt,” replied Washington. “That man Joncaire is nobody. You will only waste time and we have no more time to waste. The place for delivering the speech belt is at the fort above, where you will see the head chief.”
“No,” said Tanacharison. “You are young, youdo not understand. This place Venango is where the council fire with the French is kindled. I know Joncaire. He is the man to talk to. I ask you to hear what I say to him.”
“Have done with your foolishness, then,” answered Washington, growing angry. “But I tell you he will not accept the belt.”
Just as Washington had warned, Captain Joncaire only listened, and refused the speech belt.
“It is a matter in which I am not concerned,” he smiled. “My brother should carry the belt to the father at Fort Le Boeuf. But there is no hurry. The woods are cold and wet, and the fire at Venango is warm.”
“We will start,” said Washington, to Half-King.
“In a little,” Tanacharison pleaded. “King Shingis has ordered Kustalogo the Delaware to deliver the Delaware speech belt, and I must find Kustalogo.”
“That is nonsense,” uttered John Davidson. “Kustalogo has told you he cannot make a speech for a king, and Shingis must deliver the belt himself.”
Now if Tanacharison could only be got away from the presence of the French he would be all right. Washington did not dare to leave him or he would be made to believe lies, by the Kustalogo Delawares, and might be kept all winter by the French. He was a fine man, Tanacharison was, when he did not drink; but drink took his senses.
It was not until the morning of the fourth day that Washington at last succeeded in finding Half-King and the three other Mingos sober and ashamed. The march for Fort Le Boeuf began at noon. Captain Joncaire sent La Force and three soldiers toguard Washington by the best trail, and also to spy upon him.
The march up French Creek was even harder than the march from Logstown. By this time Robert’s leg had healed nicely; but there was rain and sleet, marshes blocked the way, the crooked creek, icy cold, had to be crossed by swimming and wading. And the man La Force was constantly trying to frighten the Mingos by telling them of the Miamis and Delawares and Shawnees and of other Iroquois who had joined with the French.
Tanacharison did not listen; but all this—the wet, the cold, and the sly threats—Washington had to stand.
After seventy miles of winter travel, at nightfall of the fifth day from Venango, they sighted Fort Le Boeuf, at the head of French Creek.
There it lay, Fort Buffalo of the French, on the other side of the creek; and a powerful place it looked to be, rising from the snow and mud, half surrounded by a curve of the sullen stream, with the forest cleared to give it room, with its walls, twice a man’s height, of flattened logs set on end, and sharp at the top, with great guns peeping through at the stumps and the water, with long barracks and many Indian lodges outside, and a host of canoes drawn up on the creek banks, waiting for spring; and the French flag above all.
While they of Washington’s company forded the creek again, La Force went before to tell the fort who was coming. When, wet and muddy, they climbed out among the stumps, two officers of the fort came to meet them.
Then in the dark they entered through the biggate, where a soldier saluted. Camp was made. Wah! Here they were; but that had been a tough journey.
Evidently this was an important fort, and business should not be hurried. Washington was asked to wait until morning, when the commander would talk with him.
The officers here were very different from the crafty, blustering officers with Captain Joncaire; and the commanding chief, whose name was Chevalier Legardeur de Saint-Pierre, proved very different from the captain. He was a straight old man, with spick and span uniform, and medals, and with white hair, and only one eye, the other having been lost in battle.
He spoke a little English, and Washington spent a great deal of time with him and the under officers, after having delivered the letter from the Governor of Virginia.
But although they were good friends, it seemed, Washington was not blind.
“While I am busy,” he said to Gist, “you have the Hunter count the canoes on the bank. He is a boy and nobody will notice him.”
By knots in a string, one knot for every ten, Robert counted the canoes. There were fifty birch-bark canoes, and one hundred and seventy canoes of wood, besides many being built. In these the French were going to descend the creek and the river, in the spring. That meant a thousand men or more! Captain Joncaire had not lied.
The rains had changed to snow, and Washington was still waiting for an answer to the letter from the Governor of Virginia, so that he could startback. The horses were getting very poor, because there was little feed for them. On the third day he sent them off, with the packers, to Venango again.
“We will come down by canoe,” he said, “which the French have agreed to furnish for us.”
Then he told the Half-King to deliver the speech belt, and get that done with.
“Well,” said the Half-King, “I have the belt, and when the head chief is ready I will give it to him. Let us not be in a hurry. You are young, but the chief and I are old and wise. Meanwhile you are being well treated and so am I. This place is a good place to stay, but the way home is long and cold.”
There were other Indians and many half-breeds at the fort. They and even the French soldiers kept inviting Tanacharison, White Thunder, Juskakaka and Guyasuta to feasts, where much brandy flowed—a far better drink, Tanacharison declared, than the rum of the English. So that all were kept half drunk, and their ears were filled with stories and warnings, and they were being urged to stay until spring at the fort where they would be comfortable among their brothers.
When the Half-King was in his senses he said he would not leave Washington; but when he was foolish he thought that he would stay and get more presents.
“I am going back,” said Washington, angrily. “If your heart is good and you are a man you will deliver the belt at once. You are acting like a child and not like a chief, for these French plan to hold you.”
“Wah!” uttered Tanacharison. “I am a chief.You are my brother. I will deliver the belt this very night.”
That he did, in company with White Thunder and Juskakaka. The French commander and two other officers received them in private council, and listened to their words; but the commander would not take back the belt.
“My brother from the Indians of the Ohio is acting hastily,” he answered. “Let him keep the belt which is the link of friendship from our father the King of France, until he hears again from me. He can rely upon his brothers the French, who wish only to live at peace with him. He has seen how strong the French are, and how generous. And as further proof of our love for our Indians of the Ohio, I am gathering together a present of goods, to be sent down at once to Logstown, that the Indian may not be poor. It is my request that you remain in my fort until the trail is open; then when you are rested and wish to go home you will find your people rich. I see your guns are rusty. In a day or two you shall have better guns, that you may hunt while you are here.”
The speech pleased Tanacharison, but it did not please Washington, for the commander was smarter than the Half-King.
This same night the reply to the Governor of Virginia was received, and Washington gave notice that the start home would be made in the morning. Everybody knew, from the talk, that the Governor of Virginia had ordered the French out, and that the French refused to go out. They said again that the Ohio Country was theirs.
The canoes were ready, but Tanacharison would not go.
“It is impolite to leave so suddenly,” he grumbled. “I ask Washington to wait one day, which will make little difference. The guns are promised us in the morning, and to run away from them would be like throwing dirt in the white-headed chief’s face.”
Washington turned red, but he kept cool.
“The white-headed chief says he does not know why you stay. He says you are free to leave; your business with him is done. If you want the guns, I will wait until morning. Then you must get your guns; and if you do not go with me I shall tell the Governor of Virginia, your father, that your hearts proved weak and you sold yourselves to the French for a bottle of brandy.”
“Wah!” exclaimed Tanacharison. “Give me this day to get the drink out of us, and in the morning, after we have our guns that are promised, we will go at once with Washington.”
This time the Half-King stood by his word. The French came with the guns in the morning, and with liquor, too, to “wet the present.” Tanacharison took the guns, and reached out with his hand for the liquor. Then Washington, holding another gun, stepped between him and the liquor.
“Ask him,” Washington said to John Davidson, “whether his tongue was drunk or sober when he gave me his word.”
Tanacharison turned his back and leaving the liquor he strode down to the canoes. Washington spoke to the Hunter.
“We waited for guns for Tanacharison, Juskakaka, White Thunder and Guyasuta, who have actedlike children instead of like men. I heard nothing about a gun for you, who have acted like a man instead of a boy. So I have a gun for you, and here it is. You well deserve it.”
Robert the Hunter took the gun from the hand of Major George Washington. He was prouder of that than of the panther claws. It was a splendid little gun; with it were powder-flask and bullet-pouch.
The men with the liquor had laughed and had called after Tanacharison, who paid no attention. That was the true Half-King, at last. So they all went down to the canoes. They got in and shoved off. From the fort the French officers waved, and a great gun boomed goodby.
Thus, they left wintry Fort Le Boeuf. Washington had done well. He had come through three hundred miles of rain and snow and forest trail; he had delivered his letter and got his answer, and had brought off all his men safe. The French had not outwitted him; he had opposed them with patience, and had learned much. Now he had only to go back with the answer and the news.
But the French had not given up.
There were two canoes: one for the Washington white men, one for the Tanacharison men. The Hunter sat with Washington, Jacob Vanbraam, Christopher Gist and John Davidson. Their canoe led, Tanacharison’s followed. They had gone but a little way upon the swift current, when Washington spoke sharply:
“Look there! We must hurry. Signal the Indians to mend their pace and keep with us. Company is coming.”
Four canoes with French and Indian paddlers had appeared around the bend behind. They were loaded high. The loads, of course, were liquor, powder, lead and other presents for the Half-King party, and for Logstown, from the French “father.”
“Yah!” said Jacob Vanbraam. “It is better not to let dem rascals camp with us.”
“Or to get to Venango and below ahead of us,” Washington added. “They will make mischief.”