VII
THE GIRL CAPTAIN OF CASTLE DANGEROUS
How Three Children Fought the Iroquois in 1692
Among all the incidents of endurance and pluck set forth in the annalsof the history of North America, few can be found more remarkable thanthat which is contained in some very dusty pages to be read in quaintFrench in a Paris library, or in the transcription of them by one of ourown historical authors--the "Statement of Mademoiselle Magdeleine deVercheres, aged Fourteen Years," daughter of the commander of a lonelyFrench fort, called after her father, which stood on the St. LawrenceRiver a score of miles below Montreal.
It was October 22, 1692. The strong fort enclosure, stockade andblock-house, were open, and the residents were at work in their fieldsat some distance. M. de Vercheres was at Quebec on military business.His wife (who was the heroine of another famous incident of thoseperilous days) had gone to Quebec. In the stockade were actually onlytwo soldiers, a couple of lads who were the young girl's brothers, onevery aged man, and a few women and children. Magdeleine--or, as weshould now spell it, Madeleine--was standing at a considerable distancefrom the open gate of the fort with a servant, little suspecting anydanger.
All at once a rattle of arms from the direction where some of theagriculturists were busy startled her. It was repeated. She began to seemen running in terror in the far-away fields. At the same moment theserving-man beside her, equally astonished, exclaimed, "Run,Mademoiselle, run; the Iroquois are upon us!" The young girl lookedwhere he pointed, and lo! a troop of some forty or fifty of the wilysavages, thinking to surprise the stockade while their main bandattacked those who were outside, were running towards the gates,scarcely a hundred yards from where she stood trembling. There was notan instant to lose. It was life or death for her and all. She fled forthe fort. The rest of her story can largely be quoted from MademoiselleMadeleine's own recitation, published at the time.
"The Iroquois who chased me, seeing that they could not catch me alivebefore I reached the gate, stopped and fired at me. The bullets whistledabout my ears, and [as she says, dryly] made the time seem very long. Assoon as I was near enough to be heard, I cried out, 'To arms! to arms!'hoping that somebody would come out and help me, but it was no use. Thetwo soldiers in the fort were so terrified that they had hidden withinthe block-house.
"At the gate I found two women crying for their husbands, who had justbeen killed. I forced them to go in and shut the gate. I next thoughtwhat I could do to save myself and the few people with me. I went toinspect the fort, and found that several palisades had fallen down andleft openings by which the enemy could easily get in. I ordered them tobe set up again, and helped to carry them myself."
It may be asked how there was sufficient time for this necessary work.But it must be remembered that the Indians seldom came directly to thestockade in daylight, dreading concealed defenders greatly, and in thepresent instance they were ignorant of the singularly unprotected stateof this fort. So the brave little girl was able to prepare for the worstwith all her wonderful presence of mind and courage. She continues:
"When all the breaches were stopped, I went to the block-house, wherethe ammunition is kept, and here I found the two soldiers, one hiding ina corner, and the other with a lighted match in his hand. 'What are yougoing to do with that match?' I asked. He answered, 'Set off the powderand blow us all up!' 'You are a miserable coward,' said I. 'Go out ofthis place!' I spoke so resolutely that he obeyed. I then threw off mybonnet, and after putting on a hat and taking a gun I said to mybrothers: 'Let us fight to the death. We are fighting for our countryand our religion. Remember that our father has taught you that gentlemenare born to shed their blood for the service of God and the King.'"
Getting her little company together in the stockade, and discovering theIroquois moving about the fields, and either pursuing the unfortunatemen and women in them, or else discussing the best means of advancing,Madeleine began firing at them from various loop-holes, and directed acannon to be discharged to deter them from coming nearer, and at thesame time to spread the alarm over the vicinity. The women and childrenshrieked and clamored. She made them be silent, for fear of letting theredskins suspect the situation. The foe drew back and remained quiet fora time, and as they did this a canoe with several persons in it was seenout upon the river coming swiftly to the dock near the fort. It wasevident that those in it did not suspect the danger that was so near,whatever else they had heard. It was possible to save them fromslaughter, and at the same time add the settler she recognized in thecanoe, with his family, to the little garrison. Madeleine went outalone--none other dared--from the stockade to the dock, and receivedthem.
The Indians, seeing only a little girl meet the new arrivals, feared agrand sortie if they dashed out of their ambush, and allowed Madeleineto escort the new-comers--a settler named Fontaine and his party--intothe fort gates unhurt. She had hoped for this, and was overjoyed at hersuccess. Her garrison now numbered six. She goes on:
"Strengthened by this reinforcement, I ordered that the enemy should befired on whenever they showed themselves. After sunset a violentnortheast wind began to blow, accompanied by snow and hail, which toldus we should have a terrible night. The Iroquois were all this timelurking about us, and I judged by their movements that, instead of beingdeterred by the storm, they would climb into the fort under cover of thedarkness. I assembled all my troop (that is to say, six persons), andspoke to them thus: 'God has saved us to-day from the hands of ourfoes, but we must take care not to fall into their snares to-night. Asfor me, I want you to see that I am not afraid. I will take charge ofthe fort, with the old man [she adds that he was eighty, and had neverfired a gun, but he could probably carry an alarm]; and you, PierreFontaine, with La Bonte and Gachet, go to the block-house with the womenand children, because that is the strongest place; and if I am taken,don't surrender, even if I am cut to pieces and burned before your eyes.The enemy cannot hurt you in the block-house, if you make the least showof fight.'
"I placed my young brothers on two of the bastions, the old man on thethird, and I took the fourth; and all night, in spite of wind, snow, andhail, the cries of 'All's well!' were kept up from the block-house tothe fort, and from the fort to the block-house. One would have thoughtthat the place was full of soldiers. The Iroquois believed so, and werecompletely deceived, as they confessed afterwards to M. de Callieres, towhom they told that they had held a council to make a plan forcapturing the fort in the night, but had done nothing because such aconstant watch was kept.
"About one o'clock in the morning the sentinel [the old man] on thebastion by the gate called out, 'Mademoiselle, I hear something!' I wentto him to find out what it was, and by the help of the snow whichcovered the ground I could see in the darkness a number of cattle, themiserable remnant that the Iroquois had left us. The others wanted toopen the gate and let them in, but I answered: 'No. You don't know allthe tricks of the savages. They are, no doubt, following the cattle,covered with skins of such animals, so as to get into the fort if we arefoolish enough to open the gate for them.' Nevertheless, after takingevery precaution, I decided that we might open it without risk.
"At last the daylight came again, and as the darkness disappeared ouranxieties seemed to disappear with it. Everybody took courage exceptingMadame Marguerite, wife of the Sieur Fontaine, who, being extremelytimid, as all Parisian women are, asked her husband to carry her toanother fort. [A silly request, certainly.] He said, 'I will neverabandon this fort while Mademoiselle Madeleine is here.' I answered himthat I would rather die than give it up to the enemy, and that it was ofthe greatest importance that they should never get possession of anyFrench fort, because if they took _one_ they would think they could getothers, and would grow more bold and presumptuous than ever.
"I may say, with truth, that I did not eat nor sleep for twicetwenty-four hours. I did not go once into my father's house, but keptalways on the bastion, or went to the block-house to see how the peoplethere were behaving. I always kept a cheerf
ul and smiling face, andencouraged my little company with the hope of speedy succor.
"We were one week in constant alarm, with the enemy always about us. Atlast M. de la Monnerie, a lieutenant sent by M. de Callieres, arrived inthe night with forty men. [He came down the river.] As he did not knowwhether the fort was taken or not, he approached as silently aspossible. One of our sentinels, hearing a slight sound, cried, 'Who goesthere?' I was at the time dozing, with my head on a table and my gunlying across my arms. The sentinel told me that he heard a voice fromthe river. I went up at once to the bastion to see whether it was ofIndians or Frenchmen. I demanded, 'Who goes there?' One of them replied,'We are Frenchmen; it is De la Monnerie, come to bring you help.' Icaused the gate to be opened, placed a sentinel there, and went down tothe river to meet them. As soon as I saw M. de la Monnerie I saluted himand said, 'Monsieur, I resign my arms to you.' He answered, gallantly,'Mademoiselle, they are in good hands.' 'Better than you suppose,' Ireturned. He inspected the fort and found everything in order and asentinel on each bastion. 'It is time to relieve them, monsieur,' saidI; 'we have not been off our bastions for a week.'"
M. de la Monnerie in astonished admiration took charge of the relievedfort. The heroine's work was over. The savages fled, and not long afterthey were captured near Lake Champlain, and some twenty persons they hadmade prisoners at Vercheres were brought safely back. The father andmother of Madeleine came from Montreal and Quebec, and heard the storyof her valor and coolness with rapturous praise. She grew up to be awoman, receiving for her life a pension from the King of France as amark of honor, and she died at an advanced age.