King William's War

by Michael G Laramie

  “Count Frontenac is busy with his fortifications at Quebec,” Governor Fletcher informed London after hearing that the expedition had been called off and Admiral Wheler had left for Newfoundland. “If left alone a year or two more, it will require an experienced officer and considerable force to turn him out.” The French governor would have been pleased that the enemy considered Quebec so formidable, but the realities were all too clear. Frontenac could assemble perhaps three-to four thousand men to defend the capital, but doing so would require stripping other portions of the colony along the St. Lawrence of their strength. In addition, the supplies of powder for the 130 guns mounted about the town were insufficient to withstand a siege of any extended period. Nor were there provisions to keep the colonies’ outnumbered defenders in the field for long.

  Fearing another Anglo-Iroquois expedition down Lake Champlain as well, Frontenac ordered Callières to bolster the defenses of Montreal and the posts along the Richelieu River. To deal with the latter the governor of Montreal dispatched reinforcements to Fort Sorel and six companies of marines to Fort Chambly, where they would work on repairing the old fort while sending out detachments to intercept any Iroquois raids. These troops took to their work so well that the fort’s commander reported that “it is in the best state of defense that it is possible to put a stockade fort.” A four-bastioned fort armed with eight cannon was also erected on a nearby height that dominated Montreal, and what holes that could be found in the palisade that circled the town were repaired, but there was time and resources for little else.

  In June several more prisoners were brought before Frontenac and his council. One, a Frenchman who had been captured several years before, and had recently been repatriated by a French and Indian War party, assured the count that preparations for an English expedition against both Montreal and Quebec were underway. The other prisoners gave similar stories. This news, however, was quickly supplanted by the arrival at Quebec of an Oneida chieftain named Tareha. Tareha returned a prisoner to Frontenac as a sign of his good faith and informed the governor that, although he could not speak for the other tribes, the leading cabins of the Oneida desired peace.

  Frontenac responded to the simple overture by acting like an angry father, berating the Onondaga and the Iroquois for their conduct but in the end pointing to his love for his children as overcoming his anger. If the Seneca, Onondaga, Cayuga, and Oneida wished to discuss peace they should send two representatives each to the governor and he would listen to their words. The count then issued a warning to Tareha.

  “It is for them to consider the resolution they are to adopt,” the count informed Tareha, waiting for the delay imposed by the interpreter. “Because if they refuse to enter promptly at the door the Oneida have begun to open for them, Onontio is determined to close his ears, to listen no longer to any proposition of arrangement, and to pursue them until they be wholly exterminated.” In reality, had the governor the means, he would have struck the Onondaga at the soonest moment, being convinced that it was “absolutely necessary to go and attack them in their villages.”12

  In July reports arrived that the English fleet had sailed for Quebec, and information from an escaped French captive claimed that eight hundred Iroquois would descend the St. Lawrence to attack the settlers bringing in the harvest. The reports filled the colony with an air of anxiety. On the evening of July 13, the alarm was sounded, as a vessel could be seen entering the roadstead before the town. Sentries struggled to make out the vessel’s flag and then, with a sigh of relief, announced that it was French. For the next few weeks vessels from a French relief convoy led by Iberville anchored before the town. The ships were carrying food, munitions, and, most importantly, over four hundred recruits for the companies of the marine. The reinforcements were welcomed, and soon 150 of them were dispatched along with five companies under Major Vaudreuil to help deal with a large Iroquois war party above Montreal.

  The threat proved to be nothing, and as summer slipped into fall it became clear that an English attack on Quebec was to become nothing as well. The mood of the colony began to shift, and the arrival of fur convoys at Montreal from New France’s allies helped with this. A trade fair was held at Montreal, and Frontenac used the occasion to meet with chieftains from each of the nations present. It was also an opportunity to address a number of issues on the western frontier. Foremost among these was word that the Miami had accepted gifts from the English-allied Mohegan. Fearing a possible breach in the alliance the governor dispatched a force of Canadians under experienced frontiersmen Manteth and Courtemanche to look into the matter.13

  News of the Abenaki peace treaty with New England came to the governor’s attention later in the fall, but it was not of great concern to him. French influence over the tribes in question needed to be doubled and the supplies being requested delivered to their allies, but in the end the long discord between the English and the Wabanaki would do the rest. It was the discord brewing within the Iroquois Confederacy that interested Frontenac more. In meeting with the numerous tribes at Montreal the governor got a better sense of the efforts being made by his allies against the Five Nations. Hundreds of Iroquois had been slain or captured, which, combined with the success of the Mohawk expedition earlier in the year, had begun to crack the resolve of the confederacy. The English could not protect them, and elements of the Five Nations began to understand this. A major effort now against the Onondaga would push the confederacy into a separate peace treaty with the French—precisely what Frontenac needed. Unfortunately the count did not have the resources available for such a campaign even though he was convinced that such an action was inevitable.

  After meeting with the Five Nations at Albany Governor Fletcher saw the shift in the confederacy’s attitude as well. He also realized the dire consequences that came with it, informing the Board of Trade,

  That if our Canton Indians, who seem to stagger and are enclined to make peace with the French of Canada, through want of those usual supplys and presents which this poor Province cannot longer support itself under, and they should be induced to makeup a separate peace, the ruin of the whole country would unavoidably ensue; and that if the frontiers of Albany should happen to be pushed by the enemy, the neighboring governments cannot hope to escape; for if we lose our Indians, who are our cheifest &cheapest bulwarks against the French, we cannot keep less than 1,000 men in garrison at the frontiers.14

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Stalemate in the East

  ALTHOUGH GOVERNOR FLETCHER was able to convince the Iroquois to hold peace talks with the French in Albany, which he was certain Frontenac would refuse, it was becoming clear that the Five Nations were reaching their limits. After accepting a large shipment of muskets and powder from Fletcher the various chieftains pledged their loyalty “to the last drop of our blood & altho wee are tossed to & fro’ We will remain stedfast to the last man.” Such fidelity, however, did not come without criticism. The disorganized English war effort baffled and concerned the Iroquois, who could not understand why their allies did not present a more unified front against the French. The arrival of Wheler’s fleet and talk of a coordinated attack on New France “was extream’ joyfull News to us,” the Iroquois spokesman informed the governor. “We were glad to end the war at one push to facilitate the fleet’s success in subdueing that place to remove all our troubles & make an end of this blood-shed, but to or great sorrow now Wee hear of no such designe.”1

  Fletcher certainly had his own questions and criticisms regarding colonial unity, and protest as he might, to both the nearby colonies and Whitehall, little came from the effort. It was not until the fall of 1694 that it looked like the New York governor might finally receive some satisfaction in the matter. A number of directives arrived from England looking to assist Fletcher while also providing some order in the area of colonial defense. First, the militia of Connecticut was transferred from Governor Phips’s command to Governor Fletcher’s command. This move alone would provide New York with t
he men it needed to guard the frontier. Second, the colonies were to send representatives to a conference that would establish troop quotas among each for the common defense, and third, the colonies were ordered to assist in the defense of the New York frontier.

  As promising as it might have first seemed, nothing came of this. Connecticut resisted Fletcher’s authority, several of the colonies made excuses for not sending representatives to the quota meeting, and those representatives who did appear refused to do anything unless all the representatives were present. Nor was any significant aid coming to New York. In a repeat of his previous attempts Fletcher found that all that could be secured was a small amount of money from Virginia and Maryland and a handful of troops. In search of men the governor even visited Pennsylvania, whose militia his commission gave him command of, but it was a wasted journey. “They have neither arms nor ammunition,” he wrote the Board of Trade, “nor would they suffer the few men fit for it to be trained.”2

  In the end Fletcher found himself once again writing London with his complaints. “This Province cannot hold it thus longer, their Majesty’s large Territories upon this Main are so divided in Government and circumstance from one another they drive private interest, and though we be a numerous People, yet weak exposed to the Enemy and fit for no design.” In a plea for royal intervention Fletcher asked for funds to build a stone fort at Albany and for four companies of grenadiers to be sent out from England to help with the colony’s defenses. He also asked for funds to recruit the two current regular companies on station back up to their full strength of one hundred men each, for two hundred muskets, and for cannon to help guard the numerous seaways and rivers in the province. Weary and facing a seemingly impossible task, Fletcher agreed with the Iroquois and confided to the Board of Trade that, “I heartily wish for another Squadron of Ships with Land Forces to put an End to the matter next Summer.”3

  The summer of 1694 was to bring just the opposite. Along the Maine-frontier the peace treaty signed the previous summer appeared to be holding, but for those who actually thought that both sides had seen enough it proved to be wishful thinking. The French distributing presents and supplies through Villebon and Castin called upon the tribes that had signed the treaty to take up arms again. Combined with the efforts of Father Thury and a number of leading chieftains, success was never truly in doubt.

  Durham,, was the unfortunate target of this renewed cause among the French and the Wabanaki. Durham was a scattered set of farmsteads along both sides of the Oyster River with a small concentration of buildings near the falls where a sawmill had been erected. It was a town of a few hundred souls at most and one that had seen the peace hold for the better part of a year. On the evening of July 17 no one suspected an attack, and as such, most of the inhabitants slept in their homes rather than one of the dozen garrison houses.

  Hidden in the shadows below the falls were three hundred Wabanaki and twenty French, led by their familiar war chiefs as well as Marine captain de Villieu and Father Thury. Around 3 a.m. Villieu’s scouts returned from Durham. They had arrived at this location undetected, they informed him. A brief war council was held to discuss how to attack, and within short order it was agreed that one detachment would move up the north bank of the river while the other moved up along the south bank. Both would attack at daybreak.

  Villieu’s war party had ample time to fan out across the community, but one band had a chance encounter with the owner of the mill and fired on him as he came out of the structure. The shots warned a few in the town, but in general it signaled a start to the carnage. War whoops and more shots followed as the attackers broke into the homes along both banks of the river. Soon flames began to appear as the pillaged homes and their slain occupants were put to the torch.4

  The war party had particularly targeted several of the garrison houses. The first was Stephen Jones’s house, but Jones, uneasy about a barking dog, was in one of the flankers when a shot was fired at him. A few more followed, including one from Jones toward his adversaries. Seeing that the English were on guard the Wabanaki moved on to easier targets. Nearby Charles Adams’s garrison house was not so fortunate. It was quickly overrun and its fourteen inhabitants slain. Four other garrison houses were taken in a similar manner. The remaining garrison houses, however, put up an active defense—enough at least to convince the war party that they were not worth attacking. At Robert Burnham’s garrison house the outer gate was left open, but a toothache awoke one of the house’s inhabitants who shut and barred the gate as half a dozen Wabanaki warriors approached after the opening shots. In another case, a single inhabitant, Thomas Bickford, reportedly held off the attackers by frequently changing his hat and jacket and firing from different points in the garrison house, all while shouting out fictitious orders to give the illusion of a stronger force.

  For most of Durham it was havoc and destruction. When Villieu’s war party moved off later that morning they carried with them twenty-seven prisoners and left another 104 dead, scattered about the burning ruins of the town. The main body of the war party returned to their homes, but several war chiefs, Moxus included, were not happy with the plunder from Durham and headed south in small bands in search of more profitable targets. “They mean,” Villieu later reported, “to divide into bands of four or five, and knock people in the head by surprise, which cannot fail to produce a good effect.”5

  After attacking a small farmstead, Moxus and several small bands launched a surprise attack on Groton, Massachusetts. Caught unaware, twenty-two of the town’s inhabitants fell before the attackers, while another thirteen were led away as prisoners. Only a stout defense at one of the garrison houses prevented the attack from being worse. All in all, the citizens of Groton put up far more of a fight than those of Durham. Moxus had two nephews killed at his side and his clothes torn by musket balls in half-a-dozen places. It was enough to convince the war chief to return home.6

  When news of the attack on Durham reached Governor Usher of he called out the militia and asked Massachusetts for two hundred troops to help pursue and destroy the enemy. To Usher’s amazement Phips balked at the request, saying that he could not impress men to serve outside the colony without the assembly’s consent.

  For many, such an action was the last straw, but in reality it had passed that point. Governor Phips’s behavior had become more erratic and his personal interests more dominant over the last few years, and it was beginning to catch up with him. He had been accused of overstepping his authority on numerous occasions, confiscating French naval prizes for his own gain, arguing with and failing to support nearby governors in the war effort, and a fair number of other infractions. A long series of charges were laid down against the governor, and although liked by King William for his adventurous spirit, it was agreed that Phips had proven problematic as a governor and his recall was issued. A few months after it was received Phips passed the governorship over to Lt. Governor William Stoughton and departed for England to face the charges leveled against him. Not long after reaching London Phips fell ill and died a few days later on February 18, 1695, at the age of forty-four, having never made his case before the king.7

  For most there were two William Phipses: the adventurer and risk taker and the frustrated man out of his element as a colonial governor. The former Phips was greatly admired for his traits, and often-disconcerting elements of his behavior were thrown into the shadows by these bright and daring qualities. He was a man that many would say would rather be ruined by praise than saved by criticism. Few would ever call Phips’s bravery into question, but many questioned his leadership abilities after the campaign against Quebec in 1690. In his defense there is no question that Phips made a number of mistakes in this expedition, but he was hardly alone. Blame was easily placed within the amateur army after the disaster without addressing the fact that just as much of the failure behind the expedition lay in the sluggish colonial bureaucracy and inefficient logistics which, coupled with weather, placed the New England fleet in
front of the French capital too late in the year. To his credit Phips was one of the first to advocate the idea of seizing Quebec as the speediest way of ending the war—a theme that would resurface many times over the Anglo-French conflicts in North America—and after a disastrous attempt on Quebec by the English navy in 1711 it could be said that amateur Admiral Phips did not look quite so bad.8

  If Phips’s credentials as admiral are problematic his tenure as governor of Massachusetts is more so. The daring spirit that made Phips so likable was poor preparation for the world of politics or a witch-hunt epidemic, as the new governor found when he landed in Boston. The latter problem Phips handled as well as anyone given the circumstances, but with other matters of state he was not so fortunate. He fought with the assembly regarding the new royal charter and argued with other governors to the point of turning these disputes into personal matters. He abused his authority, bullied those about him, and delved into illegal trade to enrich himself. There was a good deal of merit to many of the charges placed against him, and in the end one is left to conclude that he was a poor choice for governor.

  Although tensions were relieved upon Phips’s departure it did not immediately translate into more cooperation between the colonies. Governor Stoughton was much easier to get along with, but by the time the Massachusetts assembly dealt with the matter, it was far too late to be of help. Although a handful of attacks struck the Maine-New Hampshire frontier during the late summer, there was more calm than expected. In late November 1694, a number of prominent Abenaki leaders entered Fort Pemaquid under a flag of truce. The Abenaki were looking to trade, but when several were recognized as having participated in the attack on Durham, the safety granted by their white flag was considered null and void by the fort’s commander, Captain John March. Three of the Abenaki were seized, thrown in chains, and sent to Boston where they were held as negotiating pieces. The other four in the party were sent to Saco where they were executed by the garrison.