King William's War

by Michael G Laramie

  Schuyler and his men set out from Albany on June 21, 1691, and, because of poor weather and a lack of canoes, were still descending the waters of Wood Creek in early July. On the fifth, a number of Mohegan, in advance of the main force, fired upon a French Mohawk but failed to either kill or capture the brave. The news was coupled with the loss of two of Schuyler’s men near Canastigaone. The first was killed and the second captured. The implications were clear, but at the moment Schuyler was more concerned with fashioning the needed canoes and collecting enough supplies to move forward. By mid month the expedition was ready. On July 17, the detachment reached Ticonderoga where it was joined by the Mohawk, who had elected to take the Lake George route to the rendezvous. At this point the weather deteriorated, and five days later they had only advanced as far as Crown Point, a little over ten miles away. While the rain pelted the encampment, a council of war was held, where it was agreed that the force would strike at La Prairie.

  The downpour finally subsided, and the detachment moved forward. Late in the afternoon, scouts, who had advanced as far as Split Rock, reported seeing a number of campfires on the eastern shore of the lake. Schuyler detached another party to verify the news and anchored his little fleet at the mouth of Otter Creek. While they waited for the scout’s report, the army busied itself preparing for an attack. A makeshift stone redoubt was constructed and pickets were placed about the camp. The men slept on their arms, but the night passed without incident. The next morning, the scouts returned with news that they had discovered a sizable enemy encampment but that it was now abandoned.

  The threat removed, Schuyler ordered the army forward again, and the night of the twenty-sixth was spent encamped about the fractured remains of Fort La Motte. The next day, the force entered the Richelieu and by the twenty-eighth had pitched its tents along the eastern bank of the river, half a dozen miles below Fort Chambly. That evening, three of Schuyler’s Mohawk scouts were wounded in a skirmish with a number of French Indians. The engagement brought forth the sound of cannon the next morning, which echoed back and forth between Fort Chambly and La Prairie, sounding the alarm. Schuyler dispatched fifty men to cut the path between Chambly and La Prairie and spent the remainder of the day securing his camp. Even though the element of surprise had been lost, there was no thought of abandoning the attack. The next morning, the army moved forward, leaving twenty of its number behind to guard the canoes and tend to the wounded Mohawk. The group stopped when it encountered the path between Chambly and La Prairie. Here there were clear signs that a large body of men had recently passed over the trail toward Fort Chambly. An impromptu council of war was held to determine whether or not the expedition should turn back. At length, it was decided to send seven men back to the canoes to warn the troops there, while the rest proceeded with the original plan. It was a decision that almost cost Schuyler and his men their lives.11

  Thanks to the taking of an English captive near Canastigaone, Louis Hector de Callières, the governor of Montreal, knew of Schuyler’s expedition from its infancy. Several war parties dispatched onto Lake Champlain to monitor English activity had made sporadic contact with this force, and a recent skirmish between one of these parties and a handful of French Mohawk on the evening of July 28 placed the enemy detachment somewhere below Fort Chambly. Surmising that the enemy would march on La Prairie Callières laid a trap. He dispatched a number of colonial troops, militia, and allied Indians to Fort Chambly on the night of July 29, under the command of a veteran officer named Valrenne.12 Valrenne was to allow the enemy to pass the fort unmolested. Upon hearing the cannon at La Prairie, signifying that an attack was in progress, he was to sally out of the fort and place himself between the enemy and the Richelieu River. In the meantime, Callières would be waiting at La Prairie with seven hundred French and Indian troops. The English would be caught between two fires and, with their escape route cut off, annihilated.13

  Keeping with the plan, Callières and his men crossed the St. Lawrence and encamped about Fort La Prairie. The wooden fort was no more than thirty paces from the south bank of the St. Lawrence. To the east ran a gently sloping field cut by a small streambed about three hundred yards from the fort. The militia and a number of Ottawa warriors were stationed here, between the fort and the stream. A nearby windmill served as a lookout post on the far left of this detachment. To the other side of the fort lay another field dominated by a small hill. Here Callières posted his colonial regulars. These were soldiers of the Free Companies of the Marine, so called because they were under the control of the department of the marine and not the department of war. The name, however, should not detract from what they were—regular soldiers with professional officers at their head. His trap set, Callières bowed out of the upcoming engagement, falling victim to a fever severe enough that it confined him to his bed for nearly a week. Command passed to Captain St. Cirque, who at this point had nothing to do but wait for the English attack.14

  Schuyler and his men encamped in a marsh about a mile from the fort on the evening of July 31. At dawn the detachment moved forward through a cornfield until they encountered the small streambed about a quarter of a mile from the fort. From here they followed the depression until they came within gunshot of the windmill. A French sentry posted in the upper story of the windmill discerned some movement in the misty twilight. “Qui vive?” he called out. “Qui vive?” he questioned again. But this time he needed no answer, being able to discern the English and Indians arrayed before him. He fired at the column, killing one of Schuyler’s Indians, whose comrades returned fire, leaving the sentry draped over the windowsill. Their presence betrayed, the English and their allies rushed forward, closing the gap before the Canadians and Ottawa braves could reach their arms. Behind a chorus of war whoops and wild yells, Schuyler’s men rolled through the militia encampment. A few of the enemy stood their ground, but most, taken by surprise, broke for the safety of the fort.

  On the other side of the encampment, the regulars were in much better order, having spent the night sleeping on their arms. St. Cirque, a veteran officer who had served as a battalion commander in Sicily, quickly organized a response. He dispatched one detachment along the beach behind the fort while he led another across the face of the post. The combined charge of 250 troops caught Schuyler and his men off guard. Outnumbered and on open ground, they quickly fell back to the streambed. The French pressed their charge, but now in possession of the streambed, the English loosed a volley into the packed formations, halting their advance. St. Cirque rallied his men and personally led them forward through the drifting pall of sulfur and morning mist. They marched to within a few rods of the ditch and fired a scattered volley at their half-hidden enemy. Schuyler and his men returned fire, breaking the French line once again. As the English and their allies feverishly reloaded, the French reformed for a third charge. This time the French threatened to outflank the English position, forcing Schuyler to abandon the streambed. On open ground the two sides exchanged short-range volleys. For the French it was too much. St. Cirque was mortally wounded, and his senior officers lay either dead or bleeding on the sodden ground. The French line faltered and then broke into headlong retreat when the English surged forward in a howling charge.15

  Schuyler called off the advance when the fort’s cannon began playing on the field. Thus far he had done quite well. He had routed two separate detachments and forced the French to fall back on their fort, all at the expense of two killed and a handful wounded. As the troops set about the task of burning the local structures and hacking down the green corn, Schuyler took a moment to interrogate a prisoner. The Dutchman questioned the captive on the numbers of French at La Prairie. Five hundred, the man replied. Forty were stationed with the governor inside the fort, and 420 were encamped outside. And what about the force that marched to Chambly the night before? How many were they? Three hundred French and forty Indians, the prisoner responded. The words nearly unnerved Schuyler. He was caught between two forces, each greater in nu
mber than his own. All thoughts of besieging the fort were cast aside. At this point the only option was to march to the canoes and, if need be, defeat the French force behind him before the troops at La Prairie recovered their wits.16

  When he heard the distant gunfire Captain Valrenne executed his part of the plan and moved forward to cut the trail between Chambly and La Prairie. His forces were roughly equal to Schuyler’s and he deployed them to his best advantage. Moving several miles toward La Prairie he selected a slightly elevated portion of the trail blocked by two fallen trees. Behind these he posted his soldiers in three ranks. The remainder of his troops, primarily Canadians and allied Indians, occupied the densely wooded ground to the left and right of the trailhead. These troops were thrown slightly forward, creating a half-moon formation about the natural redoubt. It was a strong position and one Valrenne felt confident that he could hold.17

  By midmorning the two forces had come into contact. A handful of musket shots echoed through the forest as Valrenne’s pickets sniped at the English vanguard. With the sound of gunfire Schuyler halted his column and ordered his men to drop their packs. He calmly moved up and down the length of the line as his men checked their weapons and muttered nervously amongst themselves. With a stern word, a sarcastic joke, and the occasional pat on the shoulder, he encouraged his troops. When the shuffling of packs and equipment was nearly complete he called out to them as a group. “Men,” he shouted so all could hear. “The enemy stands between us and our canoes!” The column responded with war whoops and a “Huzza” and then launched itself at the center of the French lines.

  When the English approached to within a pistol shot Valrenne gave the order to fire. A bluish-white cloud rolled forward from the French lines, engulfing the attackers, followed by another and then another, as the three ranks of soldiers fired in sequence. The English column staggered under the weight of the volleys and then broke for the rear, leaving a dozen of their numbers before the makeshift redoubt. Schuyler halted their flight and threw a line of skirmishers forward. The clatter of musketry and shouts of defiance traveled the border between the two sides. The English rallied and surged forward again. This time the French fire did not deter their advance, and soon the fighting about the trailhead became hand-to-hand. With tomahawks and knifes the two sides grappled with one another. Muskets flashed in the knotted mass of men burning the shirts and coats of those nearby. Thinking that the enemy was nearly broken an Algonquin chieftain named Routine fell on the English flank with his warriors, sparking a second melee. With some effort the English broke the attack, sending Routine and his Algonquin’s scurrying into the woods, but by now many of the Mohegan had seen enough as well and followed their lead. A number of the Canadians had similar thoughts and began to bolt, but their leader, Le Ber du Chesne, cursed their conduct and shoved them back into the fray with the butt of his musket. As the morning light filtered down through the canopy the two sides pushed at one another over fallen timbers and tangled brush. Finally the English attack ebbed and slid back into the surrounding forest.

  Schuyler reformed his men once again and glanced to the rear. He was fighting two enemies: the French and time. The rear guard had yet to see signs of any pursuit, but one was certain to appear. They must be through the French position by then or all would be lost. With the determination of a cornered animal he led the English line forward against the French center, and once again the fighting became confused. Schuyler called on his men to fight for England and King William only to have his shouts returned by Valrenne. Sword in hand the French commander coolly paced his lines, encouraging his men and directing their efforts as the musket balls zipped past him in the haze. Next to him was Ourehaoue, the Mohawk chieftain who had returned from France with Frontenac. He had become a true convert to the French cause and, with tomahawk in hand, threw himself against the enemy with abandonment.

  Valrenne had held the English at bay for almost an hour. With his casualties mounting he called to his officers for signs of the forces from La Prairie, but he received nothing but shrugs. There was no hint of them. He cursed to himself and peered through the smoke as his lines began to crumble under the fury of the English attack. Where were they? he asked. Where were they?

  Where indeed. The failure of the forces at La Prairie to organize a pursuit is difficult to understand. Lack of leadership certainly played a part. Callières was out of the picture and his second-in-command, St. Cirque, was dead. A number of the senior captains had also been killed or disabled by their wounds, but this hardly explains why nearly five hundred men lay idle about the fort, especially when one considers that they knew a French force lay between the English and their escape route. The explanations were never forthcoming and the trap, so well set, was never sprung. Eventually several hundred of these troops did march to the sound of the distant gunfire but too late to play any role in the battle.

  A little over an hour into the battle the English pierced the French center and, a short time later, seized control of the trail. His forces split, Valrenne had no choice but to fall back on his flanks and reform his troops along the original English lines. The two sides quickly exchanged facings and continued the battle anew but with nowhere near the same intensity. The musketry continued for a time but eventually abated into individual duels as the English slowly withdrew toward their boats. With the enemy past him, and his troops exhausted, Valrenne broke off the engagement around eleven o’clock to tend to his dead and wounded.18

  The troops from La Prairie arrived that afternoon, as did sixty Iroquois from the Montreal missions. This should have provided more than enough men for an active pursuit, but neither party was all that interested. The Mohawk did set out after the English, but upon hearing firing back at La Prairie, which turned out to be part of the funeral procession for the fallen officers, they broke off the pursuit claiming that they thought that La Prairie was under attack again. It was clear to Valrenne that they wanted no part in actually overtaking Schuyler, which would have brought them into direct confrontation with their relatives. With no pursuit present Schuyler and his men marched unimpeded to their canoes. Here they waited several hours for stragglers before pushing out into the river. By August 2, they were back on Lake Champlain, and by the end of the week the lot of them had returned to Albany.19

  In his correspondence Frontenac referred to the battle as the most stubborn and hotly contested ever seen in Canada. There was a great deal of truth to the statement. French casualties in the last engagement were estimated at twenty-five killed and twenty wounded. The losses at La Prairie were worse, with some forty killed and as many wounded. Schuyler reported twenty-one militia and twenty-two Indians killed in both engagements and twenty-five wounded, but he later amended the numbers when six colonists and Indians thought killed found their way back to Albany. The fact that almost all of Schuyler’s losses occurred in the second engagement points to the ferocity of the struggle there. Both sides claimed victory and exaggerated their opponent’s losses and numbers. In actuality neither could make such a boast. The French pointed to the captured English baggage and Schuyler’s flag, which they proudly displayed at Montreal and Quebec as a symbol of their triumph. Valrenne was rightfully commended for his conduct, but claims of the extreme damage done to the English by his outnumbered corps were dubious at best. Valrenne and his troops fought well, but they were neither outnumbered nor did they inflict significantly more casualties than they suffered. The conduct of the troops and their officers at La Prairie was another matter, but this was brushed over in the rush to celebration. In Albany Schuyler was hailed as a hero, and his raid stamped an unparalleled success. It was true that he had brazenly overcome the odds and inflicted a number of losses on the enemy, but in doing so he had come perilously close to being annihilated. He realized his mistake too late and was forced into a desperate attack on Valrenne’s position. Only the French failure to close the trap had saved him and his men. But like his brother Johannes, Peter had been lucky.20

 
CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  A Shifting Tide

  ALONG THE MAINE-NEW HAMPSHIRE FRONTIER New England townships braced for the end of the truce with the Wabanaki, but May passed and all remained quiet. It was not until June 9, 1691, that the hostilities resumed when Abenaki chieftain Moxus and two hundred warriors launched an attack on Wells, Maine. What was thought to be an easy conquest proved a bitter repulse, as the English had reinforced the town just hours before the assault. Moxus and his warriors had better luck in nearby York, where they ambushed a vessel being loaded by its crew. After a few isolated homesteads in the area were burned the war party lost interest and returned home.

  Although Moxus’s raid had accomplished little, it was clear to Massachusetts that it was just the beginning. In an attempt to be proactive, four companies were raised and placed under the command of Captain John March. March was given a number of vessels and directed to follow the route Church took last autumn; that is, sail to Maquoit Bay and ascend the Androscoggin River to Fort Pejepscot in search of the enemy. In July Captain March set sail and carried out his orders. After spending a short time at the abandoned fort and seeing no signs of the enemy, March ordered the detachment back to Maquoit Bay. As the English troops began boarding their vessels, which were aground waiting on the high tide to move off, a Wabanaki war party struck. It was strangely reminiscent of Church’s expedition the year before. The English soon became pinned down along the shore, but this time there was no charge. Instead March ordered his men to board their vessels. From here the battle evolved into a duel of musketry, with the Wabanaki shifting positions along the shoreline and the English firing from the decks of their grounded vessels. The duel continued, at least in a sporadic fashion, well into the night until the rising tide made it clear how the engagement was going to end.