In anticipation of a tour of exploration during the approaching summer, Champlain had already ascertained from the Indians that, lying far to the southwest, was an extensive lake, famous among the savages, containing many fair islands, and surrounded by a beautiful and productive country. Having expressed a desire to visit this region, the Indians readily offered to act as guides, provided, nevertheless, that he would aid them in a warlike raid upon their enemies, the Iroquois, the tribe known to us as the Mohawks, whose homes were beyond the lake in question. Champlain without hesitation acceded to the condition exacted, but with little appreciation, as we confidently believe, of the bitter consequences that were destined to follow the alliance thus inaugurated; from which, in after years, it was inexpedient, if not impossible, to recede.
Having fitted out a shallop, Champlain left Quebec on his tour of exploration on the 18th of June, 1609, with eleven men, together with a party of Montagnais, a tribe of Indians who, in their hunting and fishing excursions, roamed over an indefinite region on the north side of the St. Lawrence, but whose headquarters were at Tadoussac. After ascending the St Lawrence about sixty miles, he came upon an encampment of two hundred or three hundred savages, Hurons [60] and Algonquins, the former dwelling on the borders of the lake of the same name, the latter on the upper waters of the Ottawa. They had learned something of the French from a son of one of their chiefs, who had been at Quebec the preceding autumn, and were now on their way to enter into an alliance with the French against the Iroquois. After formal negotiations and a return to Quebec to visit the French settlement and witness the effect of their firearms, of which they had heard and which greatly excited their curiosity, and after the usual ceremonies of feasting and dancing, the whole party proceeded up the river until they reached the mouth of the Richelieu. Here they remained two days, as guests of the Indians, feasting upon fish, venison, and water-fowl.
While these festivities were in progress, a disagreement arose among the savages, and the bulk of them, including the women, returned to their homes. Sixty warriors, however, some from each of the three allied tribes, proceeded up the Richelieu with Champlain. At the Falls of Chambly, finding it impossible for the shallop to pass them, he directed the pilot to return with it to Quebec, leaving only two men from the crew to accompany him on the remainder of the expedition. From this point, Champlain and his two brave companions entrusted themselves to the birch canoe of the savages. For a short distance, the canoes, twenty-four in all, were transported by land. The fall and rapids, extending as far as St. John, were at length passed. They then proceeded up the river, and, entering the lake which now bears the name of Champlain, crept along the western bank, advancing after the first few days only in the night, hiding themselves during the day in the thickets on the shore to avoid the observation of their enemies, whom they were now liable at any moment to meet.
On the evening of the 29th of July, at about ten o'clock, when the allies were gliding noiselessly along in restrained silence, as they approached the little cape that juts out into the lake at Ticonderoga, near where Fort Carillon was afterwards erected by the French, and where its ruins are still to be seen, [61] they discovered a flotilla of heavy canoes, of oaken bark, containing not far from two hundred Iroquois warriors, armed and impatient for conflict. A furor and frenzy as of so many enraged tigers instantly seized both parties. Champlain and his allies withdrew a short distance, an arrow's range from the shore, fastening their canoes by poles to keep them together, while the Iroquois hastened to the water's edge, drew up their canoes side by side, and began to fell trees and construct a barricade, which they were well able to accomplish with marvellous facility and skill. Two boats were sent out to inquire if the Iroquois desired to fight, to which they replied that they wanted nothing so much, and, as it was now dark, at sunrise the next morning they would give them battle. The whole night was spent by both parties in loud and tumultuous boasting, berating each other in the roundest terms which their savage vocabulary could furnish, insultingly charging each other with cowardice and weakness, and declaring that they would prove the truth of their assertions to their utter ruin the next morning.
When the sun began to gild the distant mountain-tops, the combatants were ready for the fray. Champlain and his two companions, each lying low in separate canoes of the Montagnais, put on, as best they could, the light armor in use at that period, and, taking the short hand-gun, or arquebus, went on shore, concealing themselves as much as possible from the enemy. As soon as all had landed, the two parties hastily approached each other, moving with a firm and determined tread. The allies, who had become fully aware of the deadly character of the hand-gun and were anxious to see an exhibition of its mysterious power, promptly opened their ranks, and Champlain marched forward in front, until he was within thirty paces of the Iroquois. When they saw him, attracted by his pale face and strange armor, they halted and gazed at him in a calm bewilderment for some seconds. Three Iroquois chiefs, tall and athletic, stood in front, and could be easily distinguished by the lofty plumes that waved above their heads. They began at once to make ready for a discharge of arrows. At the same instant, Champlain, perceiving this movement, levelled his piece, which had been loaded with four balls, and two chiefs fell dead, and another savage was mortally wounded by the same shot. At this, the allies raised a shout rivalling thunder in its stunning effect. From both sides the whizzing arrows filled the air. The two French arquebusiers, from their ambuscade in the thicket, immediately attacked in flank, pouring a deadly fire upon the enemy's right. The explosion of the firearms, altogether new to the Iroquois, the fatal effects that instantly followed, their chiefs lying dead at their feet and others fast falling, threw them into a tumultuous panic. They at once abandoned every thing, arms, provisions, boats, and camp, and without any impediment, the naked savages fled through the forest with the fleetness of the terrified deer. Champlain and his allies pursued them a mile and a half, or to the first fall in the little stream that connects Lake Champlain [62] and Lake George. [63] The victory was complete. The allies gathered at the scene of conflict, danced and sang in triumph, collected and appropriated the abandoned armor, feasted on the provisions left by the Iroquois, and, within three hours, with ten or twelve prisoners, were sailing down the lake on their homeward voyage.
After they had rowed about eight leagues, according to Champlain's estimate, they encamped for the night. A prevailing characteristic of the savages on the eastern coast, in the early history of America, was the barbarous cruelties which they inflicted upon their prisoners of war. [64] They did not depart from their usual custom in the present instance. Having kindled a fire, they selected a victim, and proceeded to excoriate his back with red-hot burning brands, and to apply live coals to the ends of his fingers, where they would give the most exquisite pain. They tore out his finger-nails, and, with sharp slivers of wood, pierced his wrists and rudely forced out the quivering sinews. They flayed off the skin from the top of his head, [65] and poured upon the bleeding wound a stream of boiling melted gum. Champlain remonstrated in vain. The piteous cries of the poor, tormented victim excited his unavailing compassion, and he turned away in anger and disgust. At length, when these inhuman tortures had been carried as far as they desired, Champlain was permitted, at his earnest request, with a musket-shot to put an end to his sufferings. But this was not the termination of the horrid performance. The dead victim was hacked in pieces, his heart severed into parts, and the surviving prisoners were ordered to eat it. This was too revolting to their nature, degraded as it was; they were forced, however, to take it into their mouths, but they would do no more, and their guard of more compassionate Algonquins allowed them to cast it into the lake.
This exhibition of savage cruelty was not extraordinary, but according to their usual custom. It was equalled, and, if possible, even surpassed, in the treatment of captives generally, and especially of the Jesuit missionaries in after years. [66]
When the party arrived at the Falls of Chambly, the Hurons and Algonquins left the river, in order to reach their homes by a shorter way, transporting their canoes and effects over land to the St. Lawrence near Montreal, while the rest continued their journey down the Richelieu and the St. Lawrence to Tadoussac, where their families were encamped, waiting to join in the usual ceremonies and rejoicings after a great victory.
When the returning warriors approached Tadoussac, they hung aloft on the prow of their canoes the scalped heads of those whom they had slain, decorated with beads which they had begged from the French for this purpose, and with a savage grace presented these ghastly trophies to their wives and daughters, who, laying aside their garments, eagerly swam out to obtain the precious mementoes, which they hung about their necks and bore rejoicing to the shore, where they further testified their satisfaction by dancing and singing.
After a few days, Champlain repaired to Quebec, and early in September decided to return with Pont Gravé to France. All arrangements were speedily made for that purpose. Fifteen men were left to pass the winter at Quebec, in charge of Captain Pierre Chavin of Dieppe. On the 5th of September they sailed from Tadoussac, and, lingering some days at Isle Percé, arrived at Honfleur on the 13th of October, 1609.