Doubling a point he sees before him the red flag of England swelling lazily in the wind and the palisades and wooden bastions of Fort Michillimackinac standing close upon the margin of the lake. On the beach canoes are drawn up and Canadians and Indians are lazily lounging. A little beyond the fort is a cluster of the white Canadian houses roofed with bark and protected by fences of strong round pickets. The trader enters at the gate, and sees before him an extensive square area surrounded by high palisades. Numerous houses, barracks, and other buildings form a smaller square within, and in the vacant space which they enclose appear the red uniforms of British soldiers, the gray coats of Canadians, and the gaudy Indian blankets mingled in picturesque confusion; while a multitude of squaws with children of every hue stroll restlessly about the place. Such was Fort Michillimackinac in 1763.
A peaceful spot this was for the scene of bloody savagery which was shortly to be enacted in its precincts. The Indians who were neighbors of Michillimackinac had never become reconciled to the Englishman’s presence in their wilderness. Many of these savages had fought with the French against the English and had lost relatives or friends in battle, thus laying the foundations for blood feuds which in the Indian custom could only be wiped out with blood. In addition to that, their leaders were conspirators with the great Pontiac in his aim to push the English back beyond the mountains whence they had come and to restore the forests to the savages. When news came in the spring of 1763 of Pontiac’s activities around Detroit, the Ojibwas and Ottawas near Michillimackinac determined that they, too, must taste of blood. The massacre of the garrison of this post was planned.
The Indians’ plans were laid well but they should not have had the uncontested success that they did have. All accounts point to a great measure of carelessness and lack of sufficient estimation of his neighbors on the part of the unhappy commander of the garrison. This officer was Captain Etherington and with him were about thirty-five men and the full complement of under-officers. Several times Etherington was warned that the red-skins were plotting mischief, and his own observation might have acquainted him with this fact as well. Yet with true British phlegm he waved aside all suggestions that were made to him and even went so far as to threaten to punish any one who disturbed his garrison with stories of impending disaster. It is not remarkable that the Indians found him unprepared.
On the morning of the fourth of June the weather was warm and sultry. It was his majesty King George’s birthday and for this reason there were festal arrangements at the fort. The soldiers were allowed liberty to wander where they would, in or out of the stockades, and the Indians had permission to play a game of ball in honor of the day. As time went on the fort became filled with Indians, chiefs and humble followers of the ranks, old hags, young women and children.
The hour for the ball game approached. This game of ball, or baggataway as the red men called it, was a favorite with the Indians. It was very much like the lacrosse of the present day, in fact was the original of that game. There were two goals and the players attempted to toss a ball through one of these two goals with sticks. They were not allowed to use their hands to throw the ball, so the game required a degree of skill as well as agility and endurance.
The Ojibwas and the Sacs, two rivals of long standing, were the contestants and excitement ran high. Captain Etherington, with one of his lieutenants, was lounging at the gate of the fort whooping on the Ojibwas, for he had promised them that he would bet on their side. Suddenly the ball arose in the air in a graceful curve and fell within the walls of the fort. The players, an excited mob, burst after it yelling. Suspecting nothing, Etherington stepped aside with a laugh to let the howling mass sweep in the walls of the citadel.
The Indians’ stratagem had been completely successful. Before he knew what was being done, Etherington, with his lieutenant, was seized and bound, while the Indians, reinforced by their comrades amongst the spectators of the game, seized tomahawks which the squaws had concealed beneath their blankets and fell on the hapless members of the little garrison. There commenced one of those familiar scenes of butchery with which border tradition and the accounts of witnesses who escaped have made us familiar. Men were stricken down and held between Indians’ knees while they were scalped, still alive. Women and children were slaughtered. Bodies of both sexes were mangled. Frenzied red warriors scooped up handfuls of blood and drank it in gulps. Soon the chapter was ended. Only a few of the little garrison—kept, like Etherington, on account of rank or for some particular reasons—were left alive.
Copyright, Detroit Publishing Company
FORT MICHILLIMACKINAC AND STATE PARK, MACKINAC ISLAND, MICHIGAN