“Yes, yes. What claim? A treaty with those Iroquois dogs who never owned the land to give; and who besides are rightful subjects of France and not of England! No, Monsieur the Captain—and you, Monsieur the Major: the banner of France is to float over all the country of the Ohio, and one year shall see it done, before you slow English in America can cut your trails.”
“That will take many men, gentlemen.”
“Bah! Fifteen hundred. They are waiting. We have a line of forts connecting us with Montreal, and supplies in store. We will meet our men and supplies coming up from New Orleans, and thus we will possess all the Ohio and the Mississippi. The Indians are joining France. You English cannot win the Indians. Already the Miami have sued for friendship.”
“How is that?” Washington asked, through Captain Vanbraam.
“Certainly,” prated Captain Joncaire. “The Miami have sent me two English scalps and a belt of wampum, for their French father, as token of their love. They see the strength of the French. The Delaware and Shawnee and even your Mingo Iroquois of the Allegheny have come to our camps and offered to help us march. The Sac, Potawatomi and Ojibwa are enrolled on our side. Just previous to your arrival here a band of Ottawa passed through with eight English scalps from below, for my commander their father. Oh, you can do nothing with the Indians. They are ours.”
That was stunning news. The Miamis first had vowed friendship to Virginia and Pennsylvania; and now had turned around. Delawares, Shawnees, and even some of the Mingos (said Joncaire) were helping the French. And the Ottawas were on the war trail.
“But you are not drinking, Monsieur the Major,” Joncaire continued. “The liquor of France is not to your liking?”
“The liquor may be excellent of the kind,” Washington answered. “But I find the water excellent also.”
Then one of the two other officers said something quickly, and Jacob Vanbraam as quickly translated again:
“He says you are too young and green to sit with men. You are a dolt.”