The Adventures of Radisson. Back to the New World (11 page)

And so twelve more new muskets at last arrived from Québec, along with twenty or so soldiers from the garrison, who were to protect the fort. Missionaries Ménard, Dablon, and Frimin arrived by boat two days later, accompanied by Father Brouet and Father Boursier, a mason, and three carpenters. Hot on their heels came the Jesuits' superior, François Le Mercier, the expedition commander, Zacharie Dupuys, and the interpreter, Guillaume Couture, who had already spent four years with the Iroquois.

The village of Trois-Rivières had never seen the like of it; people and goods spilled out of the Jesuits' residence and into the courtyard. Radisson gave up his room to Superior Le Mercier and slept outside, more comfortable there than in the house, as long as it didn't rain. Those in Trois-Rivières who still doubted the expedition's success were won over by the excitement in the air. Nobody dared criticize a thing. Although exhausted by so much going back and forth, the tension, and a sleepless night or two, Radisson managed to do everything Father Ragueneau expected of him. He and the merchandise were ready for adventure. The Iroquois could come.

* * *

On the morning of July 30, thirty emissaries beached their canoes in front of the fort in Trois-Rivières. Seeing the almost naked Iroquois land, their powerful bodies painted bright colours, Radisson was almost overcome with fright. Trying to make himself see reason, he thought back to the day he had fled his village. Back then, he had been terrorized by the thought of meeting an Iroquois, who would have killed him on the spot. This same nightmare was slowly resurfacing.

Commander Dupuys, Ragueneau, Pierre Boucher, and Pierre Godefroy, captain of the militia, came out immediately to greet them, followed by a handful of locals who milled around the foot of the palisade to take a closer look at their former enemies. As soon as Radisson regained his composure, he went out to stand with Marguerite, who was having a hard time containing her rage before the men who had killed her husband.

Once the emissaries had gathered around a large fire in the middle of the village, discussions commenced. The Iroquois were very surprised to see so many Frenchman ready to return with them; they had come only to discuss when and where their new allies should join them on their lands. They had no mandate from their chiefs to bring the French back with them, they said. The Jesuits insisted. The Iroquois resisted. The tension mounted.

It took two days for Guillaume Couture, who had perfect command of their language and a sound grasp of their customs, to appease them. Father Le Mercier had come to doubt their sincerity, even though, since Ragueneau had already organized everything, he was keen to leave immediately. Surprised he could still understand the Iroquois language so well, Radisson sat in on all the negotiations. From time to time, scenes of his torture would come back to haunt him. Whenever that happened, he would walk away for a time, returning to make up his own mind about the Iroquois' real motives.

On the third day, Guillaume Couture withdrew with the Jesuits, Commander Dupuys, and the experienced Pierre Boucher to tell them he was running out of arguments. He suggested they give the emissaries an ultimatum; he sensed they were close to giving in. The Jesuits approved of his strategy. Back with the Iroquois, Couture spoke in no uncertain terms:

“Enough talk. Either you take us to your lands now, as the people from your nation who came to Trois-Rivières before you promised us, or the Iroquois are liars and the French will never settle among them. The French have only one word, but the Iroquois have several, it seems. It's up to you. That's all we have to say on the matter.”

The chief leading the negotiations asked for a little time for the Iroquois to discuss the matter among themselves. When they all returned to sit with each other, their spokesperson declared that they agreed to meet the French demands.

“Prepare your canoes and your bags, bid farewell to your women and children, for we will guide you to our country as soon as you are ready. The Iroquois also have only one word. The French are our allies and we wish to be at peace with them. You have prepared carefully in response to our invitation and we do not want to disappoint you. The responsibility of satisfying your desires rests with us.”

The sun had set some time ago when Radisson, still not entirely reassured, raced back to inspect the bags one last time by torchlight. He was surprised to find himself shaking again, as though an evil spirit had crept inside him and taken hold of his courage.

During this time, François Le Mercier asked Father Ragueneau to follow him into one of the residence's closed rooms. The two men shut themselves away in the attic, with only a candle for light.

The two men could barely stand each other. Because of his intransigent, quarrelsome nature, Le Mercier feared that Father Ragueneau might try to rally everyone against the Jesuits. Two years earlier, he had written about the matter to the Society in Rome. The decision came down one year later, by return mail. Ragueneau had been removed from his position as superior, with Le Mercier taking his place. Le Mercier had sent him to Trois-Rivières immediately, wanting to sideline him and give him cause to consider his behaviour. Ragueneau had reluctantly obeyed, all the while continuing to come up with initiatives such as this expedition. He now feared this little tête-à-tête was going to mean more trouble for him.

“I don't like the Iroquois' attitude,” Le Mercier told him. “Even though they have agreed to lead us back to their lands, it worries me they were so reluctant.”

Something wasn't right about their attitude. But Ragueneau was quite certain his superior hadn't pulled him aside to state the obvious. He waited for more.

“That's why I think it would be wiser if one of us stayed behind. I mean a man of experience who will be able to act quickly, and make the right decisions, if things turn sour over there. I think that man should be you, Father Ragueneau.”

The Jesuit gritted his teeth.

“I know what you're thinking,” Le Mercier went on, “but you're wrong. It's not another punishment. On the contrary. Given the level of risk, we must be able to count on a man such as yourself. Father Le Moyne and Father Chaumonot are both over there and well positioned to advise us how to act. You will be most useful here. It's for the good of the Society, Paul. We'll be safer if you stay in Trois-Rivières.”

“My experience would be more useful with the Iroquois, I'm sure of it…”

“Well, I need you here,” Le Mercier concluded bluntly. “I order you to stay here. And you have no choice but to do what I say.”

Despite the anger that flooded over him to the point that it made him dizzy, Ragueneau fought to keep a cool head. If he answered back, his fate would be sealed and Le Mercier would send him packing to France. Perhaps that was even what he secretly hoped for, but Ragueneau had no intention of giving him the satisfaction.

“Very well,” he said in a voice devoid of all emotion. “But if I stay behind, I want Radisson to stay too. You have Guillaume Couture. I want to keep Radisson. I need someone who knows their language and customs. Otherwise I will be of no use to you at all. At least give me that.”

“I agree,” Le Mercier replied, happy to soften the blow he had just dealt his colleague. “It's a wise precaution on your part. It was very clever of you to think of it so quickly. Ask him to teach you the Iroquois language over the winter and, all being well, you can come join us next summer.”

* * *

Ragueneau gave Radisson the bad news first thing the next morning. Although stunned and disappointed, he was also relieved because, try as he might, he had not been able to explain away his fears overnight. That said, he did not have the faintest idea why Ragueneau had had such a change of heart. Ragueneau wasn't about to tell him and quickly withdrew, visibly overwhelmed. Radisson still had trouble blindly obeying orders.

He helped load the canoes all the same. After a last furious day of labour, the eighteen canoes, loaded until they could carry no more, left the shoreline at last, heading west one by one, the three Iroquois canoes leading the way. The load was so big and the crew numbers so reduced that even the Jesuit priests were paddling. They formed a long trail out on the water, stretching almost as far as the eye could see, pointing like an arrow toward the horizon, making for a splendid, heart-rending spectacle. Radisson couldn't help but regret he was not part of the trip.

Standing on the shore, Father Ragueneau and he did not utter a word. The
habitants
come to bid an uneasy farewell to friends and family had gone. Ragueneau and Radisson remained until the last canoe had disappeared behind the spit of land marking the entry to Lac Saint-Pierre.

Slowly, they walked back towards the village, deep in thought. One was thinking of the day when he would leave to convert the Iroquois, the other of when his next chance to explore unknown lands would come along.

“I promise we'll both go to the Onondaga next summer,” Ragueneau told him before they crossed back through the village palisade. “My place is there, with you.”

“I'll be only too happy to, Father.”

R
adisson admired the colourful forests
that stretched into infinity on either side of the beautiful Saint-Maurice river. Short days and cool nights had seized the land, cloaking the leaves in shades of yellow, ochre, and red. The bright autumn light cut through the bracing air.

Radisson was overjoyed to dip his paddle into the clear waters of the river, keeping the brisk pace set by Pierre Godefroy at the back of the canoe. He still did not know why the captain of the militia was in such a rush, or why he had insisted on bringing Radisson with him. Every time he found himself with Godefroy, Radisson felt guilty for bringing about the death of his son François. Since Ragueneau had ordered him to go hunting with him, he had no choice but to get over the uneasiness he felt. But given the speed they were travelling at, Radisson was sure they were not going hunting. “We have to go up the Saint-Maurice” was all the captain had told him.

At day's end, Godefroy steered the canoe into a small sandy cove, where they prepared to spend the night. Their makeshift shelter would be a comfortable one. The bed of balsam boughs was covered in beaver pelts. The fire was burning nicely.

“I've been keeping a close eye on you since you came back,” Godefroy told him after the meal. “You've changed a lot in three years. You've become a man.”

His mind put at ease by these words, Radisson was waiting all the same for some harsh remarks about his son's death.

“I've seen a lot of expeditions leave Trois-Rivières, but none as big as the one you prepared for the Jesuits. Nice work!”

“I did what I could. Father Ragueneau was pleased.”

Pierre Godefroy threw another two dead branches onto the fire with hands as broad as paddles. He positioned them carefully, without saying a word. The lively flames lit up a face creased by deep wrinkles. He had untied his long brown hair, which now fell down over his shoulders.

“I've seen a lot of men die, too,” added Godefroy.

Radisson stared at the fire to avoid his gaze, sure that he was going to be chided for being so irresponsible.

“Men I loved… Marguerite probably told you about last summer's massacre. I was wounded when the commander ordered them outside to counterattack the Iroquois. Many of us knew it wasn't the right thing to do, but the commander was too young, too arrogant. He'd just arrived from France. He got Claude Volant to hold the fort with me. There were thirty of us inside with Boucher, the only one who'd refused to go. The twenty-one who left with the commander were killed in an ambush. Not one man came back. I'm lucky to still be alive today.”

Radisson felt a pang of sadness as he listened.

“I lost two sons, both to the Iroquois. François was with you when they surprised you. He's dead and you're alive. One day you can tell me what happened. But you need to be made of strong stuff to live with the Iroquois for two years and come through it. I admire you for that. You must've impressed them.”

Radisson couldn't believe it. He had expected to be blamed, accused, lambasted for causing François' death. And quite rightly so, in his book. That day he had acted like the French commander who thought he knew better than the experienced men of Trois-Rivières, better than the Iroquois.

“I'm glad you're alive,” Godefroy went on. “For us in the village it's like you've come back from the dead. Everyone thought you were a goner. It gives us all hope. It shows that God hasn't completely turned his back on us yet…”

Radisson was so stunned he didn't say a word.

“I'm not like the Jesuits, you know. I don't see everything as being black or white. You must have done a thing or two wrong for my son to end up dead. But what point is there holding it against you? It won't bring my François back. The Iroquois killed him, not you. And, even them, despite all they've done to us… I must admit they have some good customs.”

Radisson was struck by the captain's strength as he forgave him and didn't condemn all the Iroquois as a whole, just like he had learned to by living among them and seeing their good side. He had not expected such wise words, such kindness, from him. Perhaps this man might understand why he had become an Iroquois for a time.

“The custom they have of adopting prisoners, for instance. That's a good one. It's generous of them to sometimes spare their lives. That's what happened to you, from what I've heard.”

“They did adopt me. That's true.”

Only the crackling of the fire and the rustling of the leaves disturbed the night. Godefroy didn't speak again for a while.

“I'd like to do what they do. If you agree, I'd like to adopt you as my son. You'll replace François, in part. It will make up for it. I'm proud of you. Do you understand?”

Radisson couldn't manage a reply.

“I'm not bitter. There's no point. It's best we are reconciled. I know you're as sorry he's dead as I am. We'll be able to get through it together. Because our troubles are not over. If you ask me, this peace with the Iroquois won't last long. Just like I told Father Ragueneau before I brought you up here with me, we need to stand together or else we're lost. I need you. The whole village needs you. And I can help you. That's why I want you to become my son.”

Indescribable joy swept away Radisson's fears and remorse, just like when his Iroquois family had saved his life. He was never going to turn down the chance to become the adopted son of one of the most respected men in Trois-Rivières.

“I'd be only too happy to!”

* * *

The pace set by Godefroy still gave Radisson the impression of urgency. He didn't know why, but he trusted the captain—his new father—well enough to follow him without question. It had been a long time since he had felt so happy. Radisson paddled hard, never once complaining that they ate only at sunrise and sunset, that they never stopped. It was like being on a war expedition with the Iroquois. He was cut from the same cloth as the captain.

On the second night, as they ate, Godefroy opened up some more.

“The Jesuits haven't told you the whole story, you know. They haven't told you the peace is limited.”

Radisson was surprised to hear what Godefroy was implying.

“When Father Le Moyne came back from among the Onondaga last fall, he confirmed they really wanted peace, even though no one believed them. But the story doesn't end there. The Iroquois wanted something in return. In order for other missionaries to go to their lands, they demanded all our former allies be excluded from the peace. I'm sure Ragueneau never told you that.”

“No,” Radisson confirmed, still unaware of the implications. “He didn't tell me that.”

“The Jesuits aren't exactly telling anyone who will listen that they've become the Iroquois' lackeys. The peace is only for the French. The Algonquins, Hurons, Amikouès, Montagnais, and Etchemins, all our allies, are still at war with the Iroquois, who are attacking them while we stand back and watch. It's almost as if they're trying to provoke us! The Jesuits agreed too quickly. They wanted to get in the Iroquois' good books, or have a grand old time leaving on a mission to Iroquois country, but didn't stop to consider the consequences. Many of us think they were wrong. Now our allies feel betrayed. They're angry at us.”

Now Radisson understood the situation better, even though he wasn't sure he shared the experienced captain's opinion. The fur trade the Jesuits were trying to get back on its feet with the Iroquois was important too.

“The colony is weak. Things have gotten worse since you left. It's a certainty that if the Iroquois had kept on attacking us, we'd have had to go back to France. We were at breaking point. That's why the Jesuits gave in right away. But it was the time to resist, negotiate hard, stand up tall! Now the Iroquois know we're at their mercy. You know why they offered us peace?”

Radisson shrugged his shoulders.

“And you spent time with them. Perhaps you have a better idea than we do.”

Radisson thought back to all he had seen and heard when he lived with the Mohawks.

“I know the war killed a lot on their side, too. That was a worry for them. My adoptive mother and other people she admired in the village didn't think things could go on like that. She was hoping for peace.”

Radisson didn't want to say any more. The Iroquois were divided on the matter and there were bound to be lots of reasons, both for and against, that were unknown to him.

“It's true things can't go on like this,” Godefroy continued. “Did you see how much this big expedition cost? Why go running headlong into a project like that when the colony is still lacking everything? It's risky—the Jesuits themselves admit it. It makes no sense at all. There are so many more pressing things to do first before we start sending missions to the Iroquois!”

Godefroy was clearly one of those opposed to the mission. Until now, the Jesuit point of view had seemed the stronger, more constructive argument in Radisson's eyes. But he hadn't known that many old alliances had been sacrificed to get to this point. Now he wondered which side was in the right.

“Ever since the Jesuits decided to start a new mission that was just as big as the one they lost among the Hurons, but in ten times less time, they've raised a lot of hackles. They're hiding things from us. Even from me, and I'm in charge of keeping everyone safe. They won't follow my advice any more, or the advice of the experienced people who have always supported them. They just do as they please. Damned Jesuits!”

Godefroy stopped talking before his anger got the better of him. Radisson felt as though he was stuck between a rock and a hard place. He had been sure he was acting for the good of the colony by supporting Ragueneau. Now he wasn't so sure.

“Can I trust you?” Godefroy asked him.

“Of course you can.”

His new adoptive father stared hard at him, weighing his maturity more than his sincerity.

“Here's the thing,” he said. “There are more than a few of us in Trois-Rivières who think the Jesuits are making a mistake. Our allies had to flee far to the west to get away from the Iroquois, in part because we left them defenceless. We left them without firearms when they asked us for them. I'm with Médard Chouart, who's trying to find them. If these Indians abandon us, the Iroquois will wipe us out like they did the Hurons, Neutrals, and Erie.”

Radisson felt a twinge of regret as he recalled the victories he had taken part in over the Erie, who had defended themselves without iron or muskets. Many Iroquois from his village had wanted to go back and fight them to cover themselves in glory.

“You know the Iroquois well enough to know how strong they are. They offered us peace from one day to the next. But they might turn against us just as quickly. They're the ones who decide. Not us. That's why we need to keep up our old alliances. But the Jesuits and the governor don't understand.”

Godefroy was not wrong. Radisson himself had chosen not to stay among the Iroquois to escape with his life. But what could he do now that he had given his word to serve the Jesuits?”

“Tomorrow we meet the Algonquins who came to trade furs last week in Trois-Rivières. I have arranged to meet with them in secret. They live far to the north now. They are distrustful of us. As you saw for yourself, there are only fifteen or so left near the village. There used to be a hundred. My mission is to rekindle the alliance with them, even though the Jesuits are against it. I ask that you don't breathe a word to Ragueneau. I need your word on that.”

Radisson hated being put in this situation. Did he really have to take sides? Was there not a way he could stay loyal to both at once?

“I brought you with me so that you can see what's really going on,” Godefroy added, seeing Radisson's discomfort. The Jesuits are pulling the wool over your eyes. They haven't been honest with you. If we are to help the colony, everyone needs to be involved in the decisions. The Jesuits failed with the Hurons and they're probably going to fail with the Iroquois because they're not learning from their mistakes. There are a few of us in Trois-Rivières, Québec, and Montréal who think we need to be doing things differently. You'll soon see just how unhappy the Algonquins are. But I'm going to try to salvage our alliance with them. I need your word that you'll keep it a secret.”

“I agree. I won't say a word. I promise.”

* * *

Seven Algonquins were waiting patiently for Pierre Godefroy at the foot of an enormous waterfall. They had a great deal of respect for the captain from Trois-Rivières who had always been close to their nation. Together, they had signed a number of agreements to the benefit of both the French and the Algonquins. They had fought side by side. The previous summer, Godefroy's eldest son had gone hunting with one of their bands when the Iroquois had attacked without warning. They had fought and died together, brave and standing together right to the end. But the Algonquins they were meeting with were angry. They had gone to Trois-Rivières for powder and muskets and the French had turned them away, not wanting to displease the Iroquois.

The first thing Godefroy did was offer them a small barrel of powder. To thank him, the band chief Penikawa gave him the leather headband he had been wearing around his forehead. Then they climbed the path to the top of the waterfall, put their canoes back in the water, and went back up the river at great speed. Radisson had trouble keeping up with the men who had learned to paddle at the same time they learned to walk. It took four days to reach the Algonquin camp, where three huge drainage basins met at the source of the Saint-Maurice.

Surprised to see two Frenchmen arrive among them, the camp's residents gave them a cold welcome. Penikawa had to go around each teepee, reminding everyone that the French captain's eldest son had died fighting by their side. Godefroy took the chance to hand out small gifts to each family: a handful of metal needles, glass pearls, iron scrapers. Radisson watched the captain closely, noting how he established a rapport with them.