The Incredible Escape. The Adventures of Radisson 3 Page 11

  When the sermon was over, Radisson returned to the fort to ensure the feast got underway right after the mass. The Iroquois could not be given a minute to think. Their greed had to get the better of them as quickly as possible. The orders he had given to everyone for the feast were clear: they had to be urged to eat and eat until they were left exhausted. The fate of the French depended on the Iroquois being gluttons.

  As soon as he heard the final Latin blessing, Radisson led out a small procession carrying six pots of sagamité. They set them down in the shelter, to the Iroquois’ great delight. Radisson rushed over to serve the chiefs he knew personally: Andoura, Awenissera, and Takanissorens, as well as his informer Ouatsouan, who naturally wasn’t going to pass up an opportunity to get something for nothing from the French. Suddenly he saw Ononta. His stomach tied itself in knots as he realized his mistake. How had he missed him earlier? The shaman was staring suspiciously at the walls of the shelter, as though sensing something was being kept from him. Radisson swooped on him like an eagle.

  “Hello, Ononta! How nice it is to see you again!”

  The Iroquois hadn’t seen him coming. Radisson didn’t give him a chance to speak.

  “Stay where you are! I’ll bring you a bowl of sagamité right away! Don’t let it be said I ever let my master serve himself on a day like today. Be thankful to the French, Ononta. You’ll remember this feast until your dying day. I’m on my way! Just give me a minute!”

  Radisson plunged a bowl down into the sagamité, grabbed a spoon on his way past, and rushed to hand it, still oozing, to Ononta.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t say hello earlier. Did you know Lavionkié and I are going to marry according to your customs? She makes me so happy! Eat to our happiness and enjoy the generosity of the French. I’ll bring you anything you want.”

  “I heard about the Candlemas feast and didn’t want to miss this one.”

  Radisson was already back in the fort giving more orders.

  “Always serve the chiefs first and give them the finest cuts! I’ll point them out to you. They’re all there. Don’t forget Ononta, the shaman! And don’t scrimp on the portions! As long as their mouths are full, they won’t be asking any questions.”

  At day’s end, Radisson invited the Iroquois to take a break from eating by taking on the French in games of skill. (The French were under orders to let the Iroquois win so that they could bask in their superiority.) The French and the Iroquois then danced together Iroquois style. Next, the hosts sang their traditional, rousing songs. Their guests loved it. During the activities, men covered the floor of the shelter with fresh balsam boughs and then draped beaver pelts over them. When night fell, the Iroquois made themselves comfortable. Torches and fires were lit for light and warmth.

  Radisson repeated his most important order.

  “Not one Iroquois is to be allowed to rest his weary eyes, not even for a minute, do you hear me? Give them more to eat. Talk to them. Make plenty of noise. Walk past them. Slap their backs. Give them encouragement.”

  The night was much colder than the French had foreseen. Even with the fires raging, a few Iroquois began to shiver and complain. They asked for more pelts. Radisson gave orders not to hand them out: the cold would keep them awake.

  “We are adding wood to the fire,” the French replied. “We have no covers left and your pelts are all wrapped up. We’ll bring you more to eat instead. That will warm you up!”

  The guests helped themselves to generous portions of delicious, steaming stews that contained all the duck and Canada goose they had. The Iroquois were not new to such feasts and nibbled to save room for later.

  Toward the end of the night, as the French gave the Iroquois a little time to digest, the fort’s finest storytellers shouted their tales while others clowned around. Some of them took the Iroquois to task, pointing at them and asking them questions in French. The Iroquois tried but failed to understand.

  “Thank you for coming!” they explained in Iroquois.

  Just a little more effort. The celebrations were not over yet. There was still a lot of food left. Keep going! The spirits will be grateful.

  The French took turns. While half of them rested inside the fort, the other half kept the Iroquois awake. The sun rose at last, its light re-energizing everyone.

  There were shouts of joy when the French brought out three spit-roasted deer. The Iroquois had made proving their stamina a point of honour and kept on eating even though they no longer had any appetite. They had been through this before! And they were not going to break their own tradition on account of the French.

  Back inside, the French had begun to gather the bags beside the gate that opened up onto the river. The Jesuits and Commander Dupuys were responsible for ensuring that everything went like clockwork and was ready on time. The canoes were brought one by one, then loaded. It would soon be time to leave.

  The Jesuits joined the celebrations. They interrupted the feast for a moment to pray and sing with the guests. They had the Iroquois stand, one by one, to bless them. The time had come to preach the word of God to them one last time in their booming voices, with the fervour of one last chance. They walked among them to shake their hands, thanking them for helping to bring about an agreement between the Iroquois spirits and the God of the French. Father Le Moyne lingered with Awenissera. The old chief was uncomfortable because he could not warn his friend of the plot that would soon be the downfall of the French. Takanissorens was keeping a close eye on him to ensure he did not say too much. Awenissera was crying. Father Le Moyne understood why, but could not reveal anything either. He did his best to comfort him.

  “Do not be sad, Awenissera. I am happy that you are celebrating the resurrection of our God with us. It is a moment I will never forget. We have done great things together, and we will have many more opportunities to celebrate together, I am sure. Our Great Spirit is hope. He will reward you for your good deeds.”

  The old chief nodded sadly. The Jesuit was also sad to be leaving behind a dear friend. Le Moyne then went over to say goodbye to Andoura, who had always remained loyal to the French. The other missionaries had good words for others, too, even their enemies. They wanted to leave a good impression, hoping one day to have a second chance to convert the Iroquois.

  Radisson then led another Iroquois-style dance. Three Frenchmen beat the drums with all their might, beating and beating and shouting at the top of their voices. They made a real din. Radisson went to make sure that Ononta still posed no threat. Overcome by the celebrations, the shaman’s body had been left so tired and heavy that he seemed to be permanently dozing off.

  “Be strong!” Radisson shouted into his ears to wake him. “The celebrations are almost over. Eat for me and Lavionkié! To our happiness!”

  Radisson then went in search of Andoura.

  “Thank you. Our feast has been a great success. It was worth making at least one last try. Thank you for helping me. The French will perhaps be saved thanks to you. Tell Lavionkié I wish she could have been here with us. Tell her I love her…”

  Andoura slurred his reply. He would eat right to the end to save the French, he said.

  In fact, the best dishes of all were still to come, to finish off their guests and give the French a clear path.

  At the end of the second day, they brought out turtles boiled in their shells, smoked sturgeon, and bear fat thickened with cornmeal. The Iroquois were served one dish at a time, with the French always claiming it was the last. Their allies were making themselves ill to honour their custom. Others held both hands over their mouths to keep in the food they had made such an effort to swallow. Some were forced to give in, their eyes rolled upward, their stomachs ready to explode. They had never seen such a lavish feast. A handful of Frenchmen played the drum, blew into a bugle, and danced like madmen to keep the Iroquois awake.

  “Do you see how the French love you and honour you?” Radisson cried. “Do not sleep! Be strong! There’s only one more dish to come!”


  But the Iroquois had had their fill. They begged Radisson and the Jesuits to put them out of their agony.

  “Have mercy! Let us sleep! That’s enough! Enough!”

  And so it was. The French agreed to bring an end to the celebrations with one final precaution.

  It was even colder than the night before. As well as stirring the fires in front of the shelter, Radisson handed out enough pelts to keep the Iroquois warm until the Last Judgment. He wanted them to sleep like bears in winter. As they unwrapped all the beaver pelts they were unable to bring back to the colony, he could barely contain his anger. Even the pelts that belonged to him would have to be left behind. He had traded away all his goods in vain. A dead loss. But many people had lost even more.

  The trip had been a waste from start to finish. The blacksmiths’ tools, bellows, and anvil would also be abandoned, along with piles of farming and carpentry tools and even the powder they couldn’t carry with them. Not to mention all the buildings they had put up… What a waste. It all left a bitter taste in Radisson’s mouth. The sole consolation was being able to escape with their lives. And even then, many obstacles would have to be overcome before they ever reached Montréal.

  To give themselves every chance, Radisson told the Iroquois not to head back to their villages until the French had given them valuable gifts when they woke up. He asked them to be patient, since the French needed to rest, too. Once he had bade them goodnight, his role as operations chief was over.

  The gate to the fort closed behind him. Once the main entrance had been locked tightly, all the men gathered in the fort’s biggest room, where Commander Dupuys took charge.

  “There’s no time to lose!” he cried. “Be sure to bring the bags you are entitled to and carry them to the boat you were assigned. As soon as we are ready, I will give the signal to leave. We will file out in silence. We will put our boats in the water, starting with the flat-bottomed boats, which will lead. The canoes will follow behind. Once we are beyond the bend that takes us out of sight of the fort, we will light torches to guide the way. But not before. There is too much risk the Iroquois might see us. Be careful—and silent! Every one of you must follow this instruction to the letter. Our lives depend on it.”

  “Why not massacre them before we leave?” shouted out René Dufresne, standing so that everyone could see him. “They won’t catch us if they’re dead! Who’s with me?”

  “Let’s get them while they sleep!” a strapping man replied. “Death to the traitors!”

  “Follow me!” cried Dufresne, grabbing his musket.

  The six Jesuits leapt to their feet to block the way.

  “I’m in charge here, not you!” Zacharie Dupuys cried.

  Father Ragueneau walked right up to Dufresne until their chests were touching. His arms were outstretched and his eyes were furious.

  “We came to this country to convert the Iroquois to the faith of Jesus Christ, not to massacre them! The cross of Christ is our only sword. Damn you if you kill a single one of them!”

  “One more word out of you and I’ll leave you here bound hand and foot,” added Dupuys.

  Dufresne hesitated, took a step back, looked at the commander and the Jesuits, then began to shout again.

  “Our lives before the Iroquois’! Your plan is too risky. All I’m trying to do is protect us. The men agree.”

  Dupuys unsheathed his sword and waved it at the rebel.

  “Shut up or you’ll be the one dying!”

  “We need to hold the fort,” suggested Simon, another strapping man who stood up at the back. “Thirty men could stay here while the others fetch reinforcements. When they come back, we’ll attack! Death to the Iroquois!”

  Radisson intervened.

  “Simon is right! I want to stay with him! I’m not afraid of starving to death or being tortured. I want to sacrifice my life for the honour of the French! All those willing to die with us raise your hands!”

  No one moved. Even Dufresne was lost for words.

  “Anyone who stays here has no chance of survival,” Radisson went on. “Reinforcements will never arrive in time. And if you massacre the Iroquois who are outside, all the others will hunt you down to the ends of the earth. They know you. They’ll find you, wherever you are, and roast you slowly over a fire!”

  “Enough!” said Dupuys, still brandishing his sword. “I’ve heard enough! Any man who does not follow orders immediately will be thrown to the Iroquois! Gather your belongings! We’re leaving!”

  The rebels gave in. Better to flee like hunted animals than perish as nameless heroes, far from their own. Running away was the only way to escape with everyone’s life.

  The night was cold and windy. It began to snow.

  As he lifted the heavy flat-bottomed boat that would lead the expedition with Dupuys, Ragueneau, and eight other men, Radisson was sorry he had to leave without a word of explanation to Lavionkié and Andoura. His plan had been a total secret, and it had worked like a charm. They were leaving without a trace. But the hearts of those he had loved would be filled with bitterness. Life could sometimes be thankless.

  When they reached the shoreline, a nasty shock was waiting for them. Not only was it snowing heavily, but a layer of ice had formed on the water. Too bad. They would have to force their way through. The flat-bottomed boats were sturdy enough to clear a path for the birch-bark canoes. With the clouds masking the moon and the stars, the night was inky black. They had trouble slipping the boats into the water without making a sound. More than a few men were thigh deep in water before they could clamber on board. But they managed it. Now they were all moving forward on the river.

  Progress in the total darkness was desperately slow. They feared they might wake the Iroquois at any moment. Two men were posted at the front of the flat-bottomed boat that took the lead and they smashed the ice with heavy sticks while six paddlers worked tirelessly to force a path through. At last they were around the first bend in the river and could light their torches. Radisson piloted the expedition from the first flat-bottomed boat, given his experience at the helm of the Zeelhaen, on Touchet’s barge, and in Iroquois canoes. Robert Racine led the other boat. The six Jesuits travelled separately so that at least one of them would be able to explain to the colony’s authorities why the Gannentaha mission had ended on such a sour note.

  They travelled all night, despite the ice and the half-light, giving their all to put as much distance as possible between them and the Iroquois who would soon be awake. Daylight freed them from fears of capsizing and drowning. It became easier to navigate. The sunshine comforted the men, especially those whose legs had been in the icy water and who had almost frozen during the night. Little by little, the ice disappeared in the sun.

  They had agreed to keep going until they reached the great lake of the Iroquois. The mighty spring thaw pushed the boats along at a surprising speed. The crews of the two flat-bottomed boats worked miracles every time there was a bend in the river, to avoid the party being swept against the trees and rocks.

  ***

  The first Iroquois awoke. Their sole concern was to put more wood on the dying fires and return to the warmth of their furs. They were slowly recovering from the feast. The day was well underway and all was silent in the fort. The Iroquois supposed the French must still be asleep. That was fine with them. They would wait as long as they had to for their gifts.

  ***

  The French reached the mouth of the river in record time. The day was drawing to a close. The waves on the lake were so big that they had to stop. They were so afraid of being hunted down and caught that they would rather have pressed on. But it was too risky in such weather, in such darkness. They beached the boats on a small island, where they felt relatively safe. Dupuys set up a system of nightwatchmen while small fires were lit on the side of the lake where the Iroquois would not see them easily. They spread out on the ground the twenty or so beaver pelts they had brought with them to keep warm. They ate leftovers from the feast.
The night was again very cold.

  In the first light of day, Dupuys, the Jesuits, Radisson, Racine, and some of the more experienced men consulted each other. The wind had died down, but the waves were still threatening. Too bad. They had no choice but to set off again immediately, in spite of the poor conditions. Radisson had asked to install a small retractable mast on the flat-bottomed boats, as on a barge. The wind was blowing in the right direction and the sail would pull them along as well as the paddles. The canoes were lighter and faster but had more trouble with the waves. As a precaution, they stayed close to the shoreline and kept together as a group.

  They hoped they would not have to stop again before they reached the smattering of islands where the river flowed out of the great lake and into the St. Lawrence River. The moonlight helped them navigate at night, but the torches were kept permanently lit on the flat-bottomed boats to help them keep their bearings.

  ***

  On the morning of the second day following the feast, the Iroquois chiefs held a council. They agreed to wait until the French were well rested before receiving their gifts and returning home. But the long silence seemed strange. They decided to show their impatience by calling the French.

  Awenissera cupped his hands around his mouth before the main gate and cried:

  “Hu-llo! We are well rested now! We are waiting. Are you asleep?”

  No answer. Only a small bell could be heard on the other side of the gate. Awenissera called out again.

  “Can you hear me? Is anyone there?”

  Still no answer. It looked as though the French had disappeared.