Iberville swung past the Hampshire firing his port batteries against the frigate that quickly replied, sending plumes of water up about the warship and a burst of wooden splinters and flying debris when the rounds found their mark. The French commander then wheeled his ship to port and unleashed his starboard guns on the trailing Royal Hudson’s Bay. Soon it became a circling game of passing exchanges and rolling clouds of blue-white smoke. For several hours the four vessels weaved their way before the wind and fired away at each other until Iberville focused on the Hampshire and brought his ship alongside Fletcher’s. Yardarm to yardarm the two frigates exchanged broadsides. The move to close on the English warship had worked in the sense that the Dering and Royal Hudson’s Bay had checked their fire for fear of striking their countrymen. The odds were even now.
Legend has it that over the din of guns and shouting men Fletcher called upon Iberville to surrender, and when the fiery Frenchman refused Fletcher raised a glass of wine to toast him. Whether the case or not, the short-range duel between the two warships was not destined to last long. Iberville had only fired a few broadsides when one caused the Hampshire to lurch and knife into the frigid waters of the bay. “I fired my broadside and sank her immediately,” Iberville reported, “the vessel not passing onward three lengths.” Another French witness recalled that “we ran alongside of her [the Hampshire], yard-arm to yard-arm. As we were so close to each other, I ordered a volley of musketry to be fired at her forecastle, where there were many sailors who called out for us to leap aboard. They immediately returned our volley with a discharge of grape which cut nearly all our rigging in pieces and wounded many of our men. As they ran along by our ship, we fired our batteries which were so well aimed that they proved most effective, for we were no sooner separated from one another than the Hampshire immediately foundered under sail.” Although Iberville’s guns may have been well aimed it was a shoal and not his cannon that tore the bottom out of the vessel and sent it to the bottom with its entire crew.10
With the sudden shift in fortunes the Pelican steered for the Royal Hudson’s Bay, but the latter ship had seen enough and immediately lowered its flag. Iberville wrestled with his damaged rigging and set out in pursuit of the fleeing Dering, but taking on water and his rigging badly in need of repairs he returned and put twenty-five men aboard his newly acquired prize. The two vessels then dropped anchor southwest of Fort Nelson. On the night of September 7 the common enemy, the north wind, accomplished what the French and English had struggled to do the day before. A gale out of the north drove both the Pelican and the Royal Hudson Bay onto the rocks, sinking both of them in shallow water and drowning twenty-three of their crew in the process.
The loss was offset by the arrival of the French fleet the next day. The sight of the wrecked vessels did not dishearten the arriving forces and proved nothing more than a background to their work. The mortars onboard the Profond were brought ashore and the next few days were spent building firing platforms about two hundred yards from Fort Nelson. On September 12, these batteries opened fire and began a methodic bombardment of the fort. As Iberville suspected it did not take long for the fort’s commander, Henry Bailey, to beat a parley out on the drums. Both sides realized it was senseless to resist, and Bailey surrendered the fort and its fifty-two-man garrison the next day.11
For Iberville it was an improbable victory while at the same time a testimony to his leadership and daring. He received the thanks of the court, and although the profit involved was diminished by the loss of several vessels, his name became associated with bold ventures and synonymous with success against the odds. For the English the loss of Fort Nelson was unfortunate and ill timed. Ill timed because by occupying a post on Hudson Bay the French had another bargaining piece at the peace negotiations and a position to better back their claims to the region. For the Hudson Bay Company there was one small silver lining. The advanced season had prevented Iberville from attacking Fort Albany (Fort St. Anne), which had been retaken by the English several years earlier.
With Fort Nelson once again Fort Bourbon, Iberville departed for La Rochelle with the Profond and Wesp on September 24, 1697. As he cleared the straits and plied the rough northern waters he no doubt wondered if he would be back the next year to accomplish the same task. He left his brother Serigny and fifty others behind to garrison the fort and see to the Palmier, whose rudder had been so damaged in the September 7 gale that the ship was not fit to go to sea. After a long and sickly voyage Iberville arrived at the French seaport on November 23. Once ashore he found an answer to his earlier question. The war was over.12
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The Treaty of Ryswick
THE FALL OF 1696 and the early months of 1697 brought forth a series of plans calling for both the English and French navies to take on a more active role in the waters of North America. The English were first, spurred on by reports from banished settlers of Newfoundland as they arrived in Bristol, Dartmouth, and other ports along the English coast. There was shock and then outrage and then the realization that the economies of whole villages in England had been devastated. This economic blow quickly reached the owners of the companies that chartered fishing rights to the Grand Banks, and soon their anger was added to the chorus. All of this reached the Board of Trade, who packaged it in the appropriate form, and passed it on to the king. The Board’s recommendation was that six frigates be assigned not only to convoy the fishing and salt fleets but to cruise the waters about the island, and as “the French have already so fortified themselves in the Island, and seem so intent on the improvement of their interests there that the planters cannot suffice to protect our part,” it seemed necessary to send out an engineer from England to build new fortifications and several companies of troops to man these defenses.
A few weeks later news concerning the scale of the French attacks in Newfoundland arrived, spurring a more urgent petition to the king.
They [the French] are now masters of the Island, depriving us of the trade, and must continue so unless a sufficient land and sea force be sent out. We recommend therefore that four more ships of war and land-forces be added to those already desired for the end of February, to visit the coast of Newfoundland lately possessed by the English, secure them during the preparations for the fishery, and if possible attack and capture Placentia. For these purposes we think that a regiment of not fewer than 700 soldiers would suffice, of which, at the close of the season, two companies should be left at St. John[’s], and one each at Ferryland and Fermouse, to secure them from attack during the winter. For this purpose the regiment should be provided with tents, ammunition and provisions, not only for the summer but for the winter. Further instructions in accordance herewith should be given to the commanders of the sea and land-forces; and some of the ships if possible should be employed in cruising upon the Bank of Newfoundland and on the coast, to disturb the French fishery. Lastly, the whole enterprise should be carried on with the greatest despatch and at the times mentioned, lest the French by earlier preparations prevent us.1
The message came to the king through other channels as well. Many of his prominent merchants and noblemen, who not only politically supported him but helped to finance his war, had been struck in the pocketbook by Iberville’s campaign. Something would have to be done to rectify the situation, and given the circumstances, there was really only one response. In late January, William ordered the Admiralty to assign escorts to the fishing and salt fleets as well as launch an expedition to retake Newfoundland, including the French-held post at Placentia.
Coordination of the logistics between the Admiralty, War Office, Board of Trade, master of the ordnance, and the king’s secretary of state took some time and was not without the normal level of confusion. Although available, the warships needed to escort the fishing convoys to Newfoundland lacked provisions and needed to fill out their crews. In mid-March the delays began to worry the fishing fleets. The season for departing was already late, and when they arrived the
y faced building new docks, warehouses, and living quarters before they went to sea. As difficult as this might be, what would be worse would be a French fleet arriving before them. It might prove costly to dislodge them, if not impossible, meaning the entire fishing season would be lost.
It would not be until April 6 that a fleet of warships was assembled at Portsmouth. They consisted of two ships of the line, the Monck and the Lion, two fifty-gun warships, and six frigates. Two bomb ships, which would be required for the attack on Placentia, and a fireship rounded out the squadron, which was placed under the command of Commodore John Norris. Dispersed among the thirteen craft were 760 soldiers and their artillery under the command of Colonel John Gibson. Gibson and his men would not only be involved in taking Placentia but would also help rebuild the colony’s defenses and garrison them throughout the winter.2
By late April, Norris’s warships and most of the fishing fleets had departed for Newfoundland, and under heavy escort the supply convoy departed not long after. On June 7, 1697, the commodore’s squadron arrived before St. John’s. There were no French troops or ships to be found, and the town had been razed. Everything that could be torn down was torn down and what could burn was now ashes. Scout ships dispatched down the coast and into Conception and Trinity Bays told similar stories, and survivors from Iberville’s onslaught soon appeared at St. John’s with their accounts. As the reports filtered in Colonel Gibson was struck by the ferocity of the attacks. “There is not a living soul left, yea not at Ferryland,” he informed the Board of Trade, “which was always looked upon (as I am told) as the best harbour and the pleasantest place in the whole Island.” It soon became even more depressing as the news from the other settlements painted a similar picture.3
The English fleet occupied its main Newfoundland outpost with little effort, and with the arrival of the supply convoy on June 27, it was now time to rebuild. “We began to fortify the harbour’s mouth by a battery on each side, and by erecting a fort on a hill on the north side,” Gibson wrote of his regiment’s activities. There was good reason to proceed with haste. A French prize taken by one of Norris’s ships informed the commodore that French admiral Nesmond was in the area with a large squadron under orders to secure the Newfoundland coast.
On July 22, Norris’s squadron had just returned from a nine-day cruise with a prize that was part of a convoy bound for Quebec when five enemy ships were reported to the southwest of St. John’s. The squadron appeared off of the harbor the next day, but heavy fog obscured any operations. The enemy fleet had barely moved off when it was discovered from one of the French prisoners that the warships were not part of Nesmond’s forces but elements of a fleet arriving from the West Indies. Reports of more vessels arrived and with fear that the two French fleets were to unite before St. John’s a debate broke out as to whether the English fleet should sail out to meet them. Gibson was against the idea of dividing the English land and sea forces, and after a long argument with Norris, the final consensus was for the fleet to stay in the harbor.4
The successful campaign of 1696 had also created a need and an opportunity for the French navy to play a prominent role in North America. First, it was necessary for a French squadron to be dispatched to Newfoundland, not only for the safety of Placentia but to prevent the English from reestablishing their outposts on the Avalon Peninsula. Second, the time was right to employ this fleet not only in securing Newfoundland but in attacking Boston. The idea of attacking the New England capital was not new and had been discussed as early as the opening year of the war, but the necessity of a French fleet at Placentia, and the weakened state of the New England colonies after the previous year’s campaign, had presented New France with one of the few credible threats that it would ever pose to the city.
The king approved of the expedition and placed the Marquis de Nesmond in command. Nesmond had proven himself a capable naval commander in several major engagements during the war. He also had a flair for capturing enemy prizes, two of which, loaded merchant ships from India, earned him and the king a sizable payday. The Marquis was given ten warships, a galley, and a pair of fireships and ordered to sail as soon as possible for Placentia. If he found the English there he was to attack them, whether they had secured the town or not. If the enemy fleet was not to be found at this location he was to sail to St. John’s in search of it, and once he found it he was to engage and destroy it. To assist the marquis in this critical task a fleet under the Baron de Pointis would be diverted from the West Indies.
Should Nesmond defeat the English in Newfoundland, he was to set sail immediately for Pentagoet (Castin), where he would rendezvous with 1,500 men sent from Quebec by Frontenac and all the Wabanaki warriors that could be raised by Castin, Father Thury, and Villebon. From here most of the nine hundred Canadians and colonial marines would be put aboard the warships while their native allies took to their canoes and paddled down the coast. The troops would land on either side of Boston harbor while the warships bombarded the town. If Nesmond was successful in destroying Boston, and time permitted, he was then to proceed down the coast and likewise put New York City to the torch.
Even with Pointis’s vessels and the resources of Placentia at his disposal, Nesmond’s force was further augmented by several more warships in a clear indication of the importance of his mission. With a force of almost twice that which Commodore Norris commanded at St. John’s, Nesmond departed Brest in mid-April. As speed was necessary to relieve Placentia, the fleet sailed in two detachments. Nesmond and the bulk of the warships departed first, followed by a supply convoy escorted by several warships under Admiral Magnon.5
The marquis dropped anchor at Placentia on July 24, and his supply convoy arrived not long after. With the outpost secured and no sign of an English threat in the vicinity, Nesmond pursued his orders and set sail for St. John’s. On August 29, his fleet of sixteen vessels, some of which had scouted Conception and Trinity Bay, rendezvoused in sight of St. John’s. Reports had already reached the French admiral that an English relief fleet lay in the harbor and that troops from England were busy refortifying the location. Scouts had confirmed a pair of gun positions on both sides of the harbor’s entrance, and two vessels that approached closer noted not only cables strung across the channel but that the English warships within the anchorage were arranged so as to contest an attacker attempting to enter.6
Although the English were convinced that two French fleets had converged before them, in fact, Pointis was still busy besieging Santo Domingo in the Caribbean. Even without Pointis Nesmond held a decided advantage over his English counterpart, at least in an open engagement, but it was clear from what he saw that there would be no sea fight. The English would stand on their defenses, which they were well aware would exact a high price should the French attack from the sea. “I think that if they had attacked the harbour they would have met with a very hot reception; indeed, I looked upon it as impracticable, with the land and sea-forces thus joined,” Colonel Gibson later wrote of the situation. A French council of war essentially agreed, and any thought of attacking St. John’s was unanimously rejected.7
With the season too far advanced to carry through with an attack on Boston and with little else to be accomplished Nesmond ordered the squadron to set sail for France. There would be no naval battle to contest Newfoundland, nor any attack on the Eastern Seaboard, which might well have collapsed New England and New York resistance. Nesmond failed to accomplish any of his goals, in part because his orders and goals were unrealistic from the onset. Norris did little better. He reestablished St. John’s but failed to threaten Placentia even though he arrived in Newfoundland five weeks before Nesmond. Nor did he sail out to challenge Nesmond when he had the opportunity. Instead, both Nesmond and Norris, the latter of whom was harshly criticized for his inactivity and handling of the fleet, returned home to the news that the war was over.8
In New York, Governor Fletcher had a much simpler time than in the past seeing to the defenses of the frontier.
Orders had arrived directly from the king assigning each colony its quota of troops to be placed at his disposal. There were to be no excuses and no exceptions to this rule, with Connecticut being specifically pointed out given its past reluctance to abide by earlier directives. The manpower was useful, but after the scare from Nesmond’s fleet there were no serious threats posed against New York. Skirmishing and small war parties still occurred, but most of the fighting had shifted west toward the Iroquois homelands as the French and their allies slowly ground the Five Nations down.
For New England the spring of 1697 began with a powerful Abenaki raid on Haverhill, Massachusetts. A frontier town of some thirty homes along the Merrimack River, Haverhill was completely unprepared for what was to befall them. On the bleak windswept morning of March 15, Thomas Dunston was up early to look over his fields in anticipation of spring planting. A simple morning ride suddenly took a horrifying turn as he eyed several dozen Abenaki warriors moving toward the town. Random shots flew in his direction as he whirled his horse and rode at breakneck speed to warn his sick wife and eight children.
When he arrived he hurriedly sent his children, ranging from two to seventeen years old, running toward the three blockhouses in the center of the village. Dunston turned next to his wife, but it was already too late, as the Abenaki were knocking down the door to the house. Faced with an agonizing decision Dunston rode off to catch up with his children, who were running for their lives. By occasionally turning on their pursuers and leveling his musket toward them he would bring the pursuit to a momentary halt. Dunston would then ride on and execute the same maneuver, in each instance buying a few precious moments for his fleeing offspring. After a few minutes of this game, and seeing the children about to enter one of the blockhouses, the Abenaki gave up and turned their attention toward easier targets.9
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