The Man with the Iron Hand

by John Carl Parish

La Salle, so said Duhaut, had coasted along the shore with canoes and the Belle for many days. Once he sent out a party of six to reconnoiter the land. They did not return, and later a search party found their dead bodies along the shore where Indians had massacred them. La Salle was discouraged but not completely disheartened. Gathering meat on shore and drying it for preservation, he loaded it with other provisions on board the Belle, and ordered a portion of his men to stay on the ship and remain out in the bay until his return. Then with twenty men he went ashore, sunk his canoes, and trailed inland—still hoping to come upon the Great River.

The elder Duhaut was one of this exploring party, as was also Moranget, who had orders from La Salle to bring up the rear. Now it so happened that Duhaut’s knapsack and shoes were in bad condition and he stopped to mend them. Moranget, coming up, urged him to move on; and Duhaut in turn asked Moranget to wait for him. Moranget, however, would not stop, but passed on with the rest of the company. Finally when Duhaut looked up he found no one in sight. With hurried steps he followed in the direction his companions had taken. When night fell he was still alone in a plain full of weeds and buffalo tracks, but with no sign of men. He fired his gun, but nothing save the echo answered the report. At last he lay down under the open sky to sleep.

When morning came Duhaut rose with fresh hope and fired again several times; but there was no answer. He was lost. All that day and night he remained near the same spot, hoping that some of the party might return to find him. At length, when no one came, he determined to hunt his way back to Fort St. Louis. Leagues of wilderness lay between him and the fort, and he well knew that in every clump of trees might lurk hostile Indians.

Each day he lay in fear and suspense, hiding under logs and underbrush; and by night he stumbled on toward home. His provisions gave out and he must kill game for food—each time with difficulty and in great danger of discovery by the Indians. Weeks of this nightly wandering passed before he finally reached the place where La Salle had sunk the canoes. Laboriously he raised one of the boats from its watery bed, and in it paddled on down the bay. When the wind blew he hoisted his shirt for a sail. At last he reached the fort after he had been a month on the way, miraculously escaping death from Indian foes and suffering almost incredible hardships. Joutel could not find it in his heart to refuse to accept the man. He contented himself with watching him carefully for a few days, but saw nothing to arouse suspicion or displeasure.

A favorite post of Joutel’s was the housetop, from which he could see in every direction. It was from this lookout, about two months after Duhaut’s return, that he saw, far off across the plains, a little group of men. Hurrying down he gathered a few of his men, put them under arms, and advanced to see who the newcomers might be. They were La Salle, the Abbé, Moranget, and five or six others. Their clothes were ragged and worn beyond description. Scarcely a hat was there in the party or a whole garment, and the Abbé’s cassock hung upon him in tatters.

La Salle had sent some of his men to find the Belle. On the day after La Salle’s return, they, too, came to the fort and reported that they could not find the ship. Later it was learned that the bark had run aground and the crew had been forced to desert it. Thus the last one of the ships was gone and with it the hope of going to the West Indies for aid.

La Salle had traveled far, but he had found little to encourage him in his journeyings. Yet like a will-o’-the-wisp the desire to find the river would not let him rest. Hardly a month did he tarry at the fort. It was during this month that Tonty was at the mouth of the Mississippi hunting with heavy heart for his lost leader.

By the end of April, La Salle again ventured forth with a score of men, this time on foot. Again the Abbé and Moranget were of the party; and with them were Dominick Duhaut, a German buccaneer named Hiens, a surgeon, and a dozen others fitted by constitution for hardship and danger.

Once more Joutel was left in charge of the settlement which thrived under his hand. All about the house he planted grain and vegetables and melons. He repaired the buildings, and here and there trained climbing vines. Father Membré kept a vegetable garden of his own. Game being fairly plentiful, Gabriel Barbier was sent out as head of the hunting-parties, and some of the women and girls went along to help dress the game. At the fort there was target practice, and prizes were offered for marksmanship. Being somewhat limited in ammunition, Joutel instructed those who dressed the game on the hunt to search for the bullet; and often the same ball was used to bring down several animals.

Sometimes the hunters had encounters with the Indians and once several of the men were wounded; yet withal they were little molested. When in the house at night the company kept in good cheer with music and dancing. Thus the summer of 1686 passed comfortably enough.