By noon, however, the scouts were convinced that the French had abandoned their fortifications. Having no more than a few hours’ head start and encumbered by three hundred prisoners, Schuyler was certain that he could overtake them or even cut them off from the Hudson. The problem was that most of his men refused to march. They were low on ammunition, were poorly clothed, and had not eaten for days. Until his supplies reached him, the best he could do was dispatch a force of sixty men to follow the enemy’s movements. The next morning supplies and eighty reinforcements finally reached the English camp. Schuyler urged his men forward. There was still a chance to overtake the French, but this time the Mohawk refused to join him. The French had released several prisoners with word that they would kill all their captives if the English pursued them. Whether true or not, it was a risk the Mohawk were not willing to take.5
As it turned out, it made no difference. Upon reaching the Hudson a panic befell the French and their allies. The ice on the river had broken, leaving a dark ribbon of freezing water between them and their escape route. But once again luck visited the war party. A fractured ice jam, secure enough to cross, was found nearby. The detachment negotiated the makeshift bridge just in time, for Schuyler’s scouts arrived the following day and found the river impassable. This news, coupled with the urging of his Mohawk allies, forced Schuyler to call off the pursuit.
With the English gone, the French now faced a greater enemy—the elements. Just as it had on the Hudson, the ice on Lake George and Lake Champlain had broken, forcing the column to take the more arduous land route along the shore of the lakes. To make matters worse, the thaw had spoiled the provisions hidden on Lake George. With their food supply almost gone, a number of wounded to tend to, and many of the Indians striking their own route home, it became impossible to secure the nearly three hundred prisoners. Many just walked away, others left with the departing allies, and a large number were simply told to go home. In the end only fifty continued on to Montreal.
On March 11 the tattered detachment stopped at the Chazy River. Most could not go on for want of food or clothing. Many had thrown away their arms, not having the strength to carry them. Several had already perished from hunger, and many more would be lost if assistance was not forthcoming. A small party was sent forward to Montreal for provisions and aid. Callières responded immediately, dispatching 150 men and a large supply of provisions. Somewhat restored by the effort, what was left of the army shambled into Montreal on March 18 half-naked, without blankets, and “so wasted by the fatigue of the march and by hunger, that those alone who saw them could conceive their condition.”6
The campaign, which appeared to have held every measure of success, had collapsed into a tattered shuffling of broken men through the gates of Montreal. If blame need be placed for the failure of the expedition, one need look no further than the French mission Indians. Their insistence on stopping to parley with the English had snatched defeat from the jaws of victory. Nor had their failure to carry through with their promise to Frontenac done anything to enhance their position in the French eyes. They were fickle allies that the French dared not abandon for fear that they would change loyalties, and because of that they paid the price. All told, the French were fortunate. Their losses were not large, with some eighty dead from all causes and half as many wounded. These numbers, however, needed to be tempered by the fact that many of the men who returned were so shattered by the experience that they would never fight again. Nevertheless, had the English not called off their pursuit and caught up with the expedition on Lake Champlain, not a single Frenchman would have returned.
Although the campaign had failed to secure the loyalty of the mission Indians and had lost many of its prisoners along the way, it did send a quiver down the spine of the Mohawk and the rest of the Iroquois Confederacy. It was clear that the English could not protect their Iroquois allies any more than the French could protect theirs. The tide was beginning to turn. The French allies sensed it, the Iroquois felt it, and the French knew it. By failing to destroy the French, the Iroquois had made the mistake of becoming their greatest teachers. A generation of Canadians, having survived the perils and terrors of the Iroquois, had reared a generation of men who knew nothing else. While the Iroquois suffered losses that were difficult to replace, New France grew stronger. No longer were they and their allies content with the idea of defense. More and more they sought out their enemy, striking in large numbers into English territory, and it was the Iroquois, not the English, who were becoming their primary targets. Exhausted from nearly a century of constant warfare with the French, and unable to rely upon the English for protection, the confederacy was entering perilous days.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Missed Opportunities
WITH THE SPRING OF 1693 there was hope in New England. Along the Maine-New Hampshire frontier there were a few isolated attacks, but in general all remained quiet. Being proactive Massachusetts had dispatched a force of nearly five hundred men under Major Converse to scour the coast from Portsmouth to Pemaquid in search of the enemy, although they ended up with little to show for their efforts. Phips used the lull to send a work party under Major Francis Hooke and Captain John Hill to build a new fort at Saco Falls. Finished in July, the resulting stone structure stood on high ground along the western bank of the Saco River a short distance below the falls, which were so loud that one visitor remarked “that one can scarce hear ones selfe speak.” The odd-shaped stone structure was dominated by a three-story five-sided tower, which faced the landward approach to the fort. Firing ports were cut along the ramparts to bring cannon to bear, and by all appearances the new position seemed formidable, but like Fort William Henry at Pemaquid, the architects of Fort Saco used clay and sand as a substitute when limestone could not be found, thus calling into question the real strength of the fortification.1
A number of tribes within the Wabanaki Confederacy, the Kennebec and the Penobscot in particular, were being worn down by the constant war parties and the lack of supplies from their French allies. Signs that the English, who had been dispelled from the Maine coast a few years before, were returning in strength, coupled with a desire for a prisoner exchange, led to a proposed truce by the tribes during a conference at Fort William Henry in May. The suggestion found a receptive audience in Massachusetts. With the political strife imposed by a new royal charter and a witch-hunt hysteria threatening to engulf the colony, Governor Phips was quick to press for a more lasting peace treaty. To his satisfaction thirteen Wabanaki chieftains arrived at Pemaquid on August 11, 1693, and signed just such a document. Phips was high on the accomplishment, which he informed London would now allow Massachusetts to divert some of its resources to aid New York.
This latter cause had proved a major point of contention among the English colonies, and had Frontenac known how divided the English were before him he would have rested much easier throughout the summer. In late 1692 and again in early 1693 the English court had sent a circular out to the colonial governors addressing the concerns for the New York frontier and the need for the other colonies to assist in this mutual defense matter. New England and colonies as far south as Virginia were to send men and money to New York after deciding among themselves on a quota that each colony should provide for this task.
It was not that simple, as Governor Fletcher soon found out. Phips, who was busy fighting his own war against the French and the Wabanaki, dealing with witch trials, and trying to plan a second attack on Quebec, was not interested in helping. Neither were the other colonies. Soon personal spats broke out between the various governors. Phips argued with Fletcher over his authority and over the fate of Leisler and his cause. The exchanges between the two men and the perceived insults escalated to the point that witnesses thought it was to be settled by a duel. Both sides complained to England, but it would not be until fall, when express orders from Whitehall arrived, that these matters would be addressed. Phips also sparred with Lt. Governor John Usher of New Hampshire and
with the assembly of Rhode Island as well. Nor were the members of the Royal Navy in Boston immune to Phips’s temper as Captain Richard Short found when the governor beat him senseless with a cane and had him thrown in jail for a questionable defect in his conduct.2
News of the setbacks on the New York frontier soon faded into the background as a plan hatched in England the previous fall took hold. To protect English interests in the Caribbean Rear Admiral Francis Wheler, with eleven warships and a number of merchant vessels carrying two regular regiments, would sail for Barbados, where they would join with a pair of militia regiments raised by Governor James Kendall. After seeing to matters in the Lesser Antilles, Wheler was to depart for Boston no later than May. Here he would rendezvous with a New England force, and together they would launch a combined attack on Quebec. Letters were sent to the various colonial governors informing them of the plan and ordering them to make preparations for the expedition against the French capital.
By the end of February 1693, Wheler’s fleet had dropped anchor in Carlisle Bay before the colonial capital of Bridgetown. Joined by several warships on station and augmented by a contingent of eight hundred militia, Wheler now had a force of some 2,300 soldiers and marines at his disposal and a fleet strong enough to carry it anywhere it wished to go in the Caribbean. After consulting with Governor Kendall it took little time for the admiral to decide upon Martinique as the expedition’s first target. Wheler sent a sloop to Governor Christopher Codrington of the Leeward Islands, informing the latter of his intentions to attack Martinique and his desire that Codrington rendezvous with his forces at the French-held island.3
With all the arrangements in place, and his fleet supplemented by colonial transport and supply vessels, Wheler set sail for Martinique. On the morning of April 1, the English fleet dropped anchor at Cul de Sac Marin along the southwest coast of the island. It was agreed in a council of war that until Codrington arrived the fleet would avoid Fort Royal and instead would attack the French settlements along the coast. The army was landed the next day, and by the following evening the French plantations and homesteads at Cul de Sac Marin were in ruins. The fleet re-embarked the next day and for a week ravaged the west coast of the island from Pointe Diamant to Fort St. Pierre.
On April 9, Codrington arrived with five hundred regulars and eight hundred colonial troops. With the combined strength of the two forces Wheler turned his attention to the key French post of Fort St. Pierre. On the morning of the seventeenth, the admiral landed his entire army near the fort and within a short period of time had driven the French into the stronghold. The problem was that the army was not in a position to conduct a siege, and within three days over eight hundred troops had fallen ill during this rainy time of year. Wheler held a council of war on April 20 to determine the expedition’s next steps. The admiral favored a siege and a few of his senior officers concurred, but most, including the expedition’s engineer, Captain Christian Lilly, were for retiring. “The fort is unassailable without heavy guns, which we can only land under fire of the enemy’s batteries,” the royal engineer reported to the council of war. “Then, owing to the steepness of the country, cannot move to a suitable position. Even if the fort be breached, an assault will be very hazardous, the enemy being as strong as we.” The report convinced all to abandon the effort. An attack on Guadaloupe was briefly considered, but the illness that now ravaged the English fleet ruled out the venture.4
Wheler took the fleet to St. Christopher’s while the Barbados troops and Codrington’s men returned home. Wheler stayed at the island for nearly a month, refitting his vessels and tending to his sick. Since leaving England his fleet had lost 668 sailors and marines, and the two regiments of regulars had suffered heavily under the veil of the epidemic, as had their senior officers. Although the expedition had thus far proven a disaster, there was still an opportunity to strike a serious blow against the French. In mid-May the admiral set sail north for Boston, with the intention of joining with the colonial forces for an effort against Quebec.5
Sir William Phips had pushed for a second attempt on Quebec for over two and a half years, but now as the opportunity presented itself he could only stare in surprise at Wheler’s vessels. The letter from London informing him of the admiral’s plans to rendezvous with New England forces for another effort against Quebec had not reached him, and the first time the governor learned of the plan in writing was secondhand via a letter from the governor of Virginia in late July, after the fleet had been at Boston for over a month.6
First, under the advice of Wheler and his council, Phips quarantined the fleet and isolated the sick onboard. Next, he explained to Wheler that, having no advance notice of his intentions, nothing had been prepared for an expedition. A few weeks later Wheler pressed Phips upon the possibility of still attacking Quebec. He found Phips against the idea. Although the naval force was more than sufficient the governor claimed that four thousand men would be needed to siege the French colonial capital. Right now the two regiments from England numbered only 650, and without warning it would be impossible to recruit the required colonial troops in less than three months. This in turn placed the timing of the attack out of the question.
It was an odd response for a man who was pressing New York in February as to what their contribution to an attack on Canada would be. Wheler’s force brought 462 cannon to bear, likely more than contained in all of New France. In addition, his fleet had sailed with a bomb ship, a shallow draft vessel designed to carry mortars to bombard targets on shore. Provisions, munitions, and supplies were not an issue, and a royal engineer accompanied the admiral who would see to the siege. In all it begs the question as to whether or not Phips could have raised a force of at least 1,500 men in two months, which would have placed the departure of the fleet in mid-August. Although Phips had taken nine weeks to reach Quebec it is likely that Wheler could make the journey in a third of the time. Would such a land force, below the numbers pointed to by the governor, have been sufficient when backed by such overwhelming firepower? And would not a descent upon the St. Lawrence by such a powerful force make every settlement from Gaspe to Montreal vulnerable to bombardment? Although not a perfect opportunity, it was a better one than the previous attempt, and as such, it is surprising to see the normally fiery Phips so cool to the idea.7
For his part Wheler was ready to make the attack by himself, but when Phips dissuaded him from the idea he asked if there were other targets that his fleet might attack. The governor pointed to Placentia in Newfoundland as one opportunity, but when Wheler asked for four hundred troops to assist in the operation Phips shrugged and said that he had no authority to raise the troops without the consent of the legislature and they had just adjourned.8
Even without New England’s help Wheler decided to attack Placentia. In August the fleet set sail for the French colony, but after exchanging a few long-range volleys with the defenses of the town the French position was judged too strong and Wheler set course for England. The entire expedition was a disaster and cost England over a thousand lives. Delays, disease, and faulty communications unraveled a plan that might well have secured the Caribbean for England and ended the war in North America. “I regret greatly that the affair should have been disappointing,” Phips wrote the secretary of state for the Northern Department, the Earl of Nottingham, understanding quite well that the failure of Wheler’s expedition likely meant an end to the idea of seizing Quebec.9
To the north Frontenac spent the better part of 1693 worrying about reports of an impending English attack on Quebec. The rumors first started after the attack on the Mohawk villages. Prisoners taken along the New York and New England frontier were speaking of plans for a colonial army to rendezvous in Boston with a Royal Navy fleet from the West Indies in early summer. The combined force was then to launch an assault on Quebec while another colonial army descended Lake Champlain with the aim of seizing Montreal. The count had heard these types of rumors before, but this time the reports appeared credible
enough that they deserved a response. There was little choice. “Our city which, without difficulty, had sustained the attack of thirty miserable craft,” one witness noted, “was not in a condition to resist a more considerable force.”10
The previous fall Frontenac had assigned the Chevalier Dubois-Bertelot deBeaucours, a reduced captain at Quebec, chief engineer and tasked him with a major improvement in Quebec’s defenses. Some of the initial layout work was accomplished before winter set in, but most of the effort was set into motion by legitimate fears of an English expedition during the spring and summer of 1693. Calling upon corvee labor from within fifty miles of the town to work on the project, Beaucours directed that the old wooden palisades on the land side of the city be replaced with earthen walls. The eighteen-foot-high thick earth walls were constructed by bracing parallel wooden walls and filling them in with dirt from the ditch in front of the wall. The tops of the ramparts were sodded, and platforms were fashioned to allow a large number of men to fire from behind a sloped parapet. A pair of redans, designed to mount heavy guns, jutted out at equal intervals from the thirty-foot-tall walls, while the ends were covered by half-redans, and at the southeast end of the structure, on the heights of Cape Diamond, a stone redoubt was erected to hold a battery of cannon. In addition, a small stone fort armed with sixteen guns was constructed farther north on Cape Diamond at a point that commanded the lower town. By fall, even though there remained a number of items still left to finish, the conversation had already started about facing the new wall in stone.11
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