they could not realise the possibility of a great disaster coming upon them; but their elders both could and did.
The head members of the settlement met every evening, and took counsel for the general safety. To these meetings Howe was readily admitted; they were generally held in the great kitchen of Omega Marsh, and Father Nathaniel presided. He knew the ways of the Indians as well as his son, and patrols were organised, and everything done to prevent a sudden surprise of the enemy. He and John Cleveland and Marcus took the command of the home brigade, as they called it, which consisted chiefly of youths, and of men past their prime; all the really able-bodied men were enrolled in Roger’s corps of Rangers, and were liable at any moment to be called into action.
When the meeting dispersed, Father Nat and Brigadier Howe would open the latchet gate which separated the two homesteads, and go over to Alpha Marsh and sit with Martha and Loïs, who were always busy making and mending for the two households. Howe watched Loïs as she went and came day after day, caring for everybody, the young and the old, without apparently one selfish thought; and he felt inclined to be angry with Roger for visiting upon this inoffensive, brave-hearted woman the sorrow which had entered into his own soul. She did not resent his conduct; to all outward appearance she was indifferent to his comings or his goings, doing her daily work methodically, interested in every one and in everything, from a sick baby in the village to the last bit of news from Quebec or from the New England States.
But news did not travel quickly in those days or in those parts, and the winter was far advanced when they first heard of the taking of Fort William Henry by the French. Some scouts of Roger’s arrived one night, with an account of the frightful massacre by the Indians which had followed the surrender of the fort. Montcalm and the French officers had been powerless to restrain them. The English officer, Colonel Monro, who was in command of the fort, held out as long as there was any hope of relief; but when General Webb from Fort Edward failed to come to his assistance, and he found himself on all sides surrounded by a French army commanded by Montcalm in person, hoping to avoid unnecessary bloodshed, he hoisted the white flag.
Montcalm thereupon summoned the Indian chiefs, and explained to them the honourable terms of capitulation which he had agreed to, requesting their adhesion to the same. They gave their consent, promising to restrain their men; but no sooner had the garrison evacuated the fort than the Indians, drunk with rum, rushed in a surging rabble, which, even if the French guards had exerted themselves to their utmost—which they did not, owing either to fear of the Indians or indifference—it would have been impossible to restrain. A terrible scene of murder and rapine ensued. Montcalm tried to restore tranquillity, and by evening some sort of order reigned in the terrified fortress, and the Canadians, under their general, De la Corne, agreed to conduct the English the following morning to Fort Edward. But a panic came over the unfortunate inhabitants, and in their terror they started without waiting for the escort. Instantly the Indians rushed down upon them, and an indescribable scene of plunder followed. The savages carried off upwards of two hundred prisoners, men and women, tomahawking and scalping hundreds more, before the very eyes of De la Corne and his Canadians.
Montcalm, Levis, and the French officers rushed down into the midst of the fight, and, throwing themselves upon the English, positively tore them out of the hands of the Indians.
“Kill me, but spare the English, who are under my protection!” shouted Montcalm, snatching a young officer away from a savage who had just seized him, and covering him with his own body.
Montcalm has been severely blamed for not ordering up the regular French army to save the English; but being very inferior in number to the Indians and Canadians, doubtless he considered that if he turned his arms against his allies, the massacre would be even more sanguinary.
This is partly proved by the fact that the column of the English army offered no resistance: true, they had no ammunition; only a few of the colonial troops had bayonets. Had they shown fight they would probably all have been massacred; as it was, they were carried off alive by the savages, and later Montcalm was able to recover five or six hundred. Some of the fugitives found their way back to the fort; and all these were sent by Montcalm under a strong escort to Fort Edward. The remnant of the column dispersed into the woods, and found their way, after many days and great perils, to Fort Edward.
“I am dishonoured,” said Montcalm that night, pacing up and down his tent, brushing away the tears from his eyes. “The sights I have seen, the sounds I have heard this day, will haunt me all my life long!” Nothing Chevalier Levis or his other officers could say consoled him. He refused to see De la Corne or any of the Canadian officers; only once he exclaimed, “If Charles Langlade had been here, this dishonour would not have fallen upon me!”