The Adventures of Radisson. Back to the New World

by Martin Fournier

  “Shall I translate for you? Radisson asked Ragueneau.

  “No. I understood. Besides, I’ve heard enough for today.”

  The Jesuit appeared shaken.

  “We will pick up our discussions tomorrow,” he declared, turning on his heel.

  Radisson followed him out of the room.

  The four Iroquois returned to their room, helping their old chief, who could no longer walk alone. Given his worsening condition, Brother Leboeme brought him a warm broth. The Iroquois refused, saying they had all the remedies they needed to cure him.

  Once back in his office, Ragueneau asked Radisson to translate every word the last emissary had said.

  The Jesuit was not in the least reassured. His face pale and his back hunched, Ragueneau stayed quiet. Radisson had never seen him in such a state.

  Ragueneau had not thought the Iroquois would ask for so much. He felt betrayed. He was under no illusions and scarcely believed the last chief’s kind words. In his eyes, the Iroquois had not come so far, in the midst of winter, for a simple request. It was a demand. If the French did not comply by transferring a number of Hurons to their lands, peace was in jeopardy and the fifty men in Iroquois country would be in grave danger.

  The request was asking enormous sacrifices of Ragueneau. In the middle of the catastrophe that had ruined the Jesuit mission among the Hurons, it was he who had set fire to Sainte-Marie, undoing ten painstaking years of hard work. Along with Father Chaumonot, Ragueneau had saved a few hundred converted Hurons in extremis, bringing them to Québec despite the terrible conditions. Had it all been in vain? Had the two missionaries who had been tortured and put to death by the Iroquois sacrificed their lives for naught? Ragueneau could not decide. The Huron adventure had been exciting, although it had ultimately left a bitter taste in his mouth. Ragueneau couldn’t believe it might end in such utter failure. And yet he felt there was no alternative than to promise these Iroquois they would deliver Hurons to their lands, even if that meant later trying to minimize the consequences of this promise.

  Throughout this one-way conversation Radisson had simply listened to his master share his darkest thoughts, but Radisson had not lost hope. In his eyes, being on good terms with the Iroquois was still possible. He even thought it entirely possible the Hurons would be adopted and treated well, as had been the case for Radisson and his mother Katari, herself a Huron. Judging by his own experience, it was a very real possibility. And Andoura, the kindly chief, would surely be able to help them.

  A final, brief meeting was held the following day. There were now only three Iroquois emissaries. The old chief was so ill he could no longer get out of bed. His companions were eager to leave. Andoura took charge of bringing the negotiations to a close.

  “I have thought long and hard,” Ragueneau told him in the Iroquois language. “I accept your second condition. I will convince our governor to let me bring Hurons to your land. But I have a condition of my own. You must let the French build their fort before we come to your land next summer. If the Iroquois guides who come fetch us do not bring a message from Father Le Moyne indicating that the fort has been completed, neither I nor a single Huron will set foot on your land. That is my response.”

  The three emissaries glanced at each other.

  “We are satisfied by your offer,” Andoura responded. “We will allow the Frenchmen to build their fort before coming for you. We will meet you in Montréal on the longest day. You will see. The Hurons will be treated well. The Frenchmen will not be disappointed.”

  Radisson gave a start when Andoura theatrically held out an eagle-head knife identical to his own. His first instinct was to check to see if his knife was still where he carried it under his clothes. It was. He couldn’t believe it.

  “This knife is a guarantee of our peace,” Andoura declared, holding it above his head. “It shows the French will always be welcome among the Onondaga. When you come, the paths will be cleared, the hills levelled, the ditches filled, the rivers calmed. You shall encounter no obstacle along the way. May the prophecy of Deganawida be fulfilled and may our sons and daughters still enjoy the peace that has come between us.”

  Radisson was shocked. How could there be two copies of such a special knife? How could they both bear the same message for peace? Again he heard his sister Conharassan tell him: “Your knife is too beautiful to use for killing… It’s not a knife for war.” And his father repeat to him: “First look for peace before you fan the flames of war.”

  Since his return to Trois-Rivières, the energy emanating from the knife had been much weaker. Sometimes Radisson even forgot it was there, along with the power he associated with it. But the sudden appearance of an identical knife knocked him sideways. His emotions got the better of him and he didn’t know what to think. He rubbed his eyes to check to see if he was dreaming. But there was no getting around it: there was the same eagle-head handle, the same broad beak, the same sleek feathers as Andoura put it back in the sheath he wore around his waist. Incredible, but true. Radisson took it to be a sign that his Iroquois adventure would be under a lucky star.

  “May God bless you,” Ragueneau added, making the sign of the cross with his hand. “We will see each other again next summer.”

  The meeting was over. Ragueneau walked slowly out of the kitchen, overcome by his failure to fend off the setback. Now he would be forced to betray his dear Hurons. He would also have to inform the governor of the terrible news as quickly as possible.

  Radisson’s heart, on the other hand, was filled with hope after a knowing glance from Andoura.

  That night, he had a dream. His adoptive father Garagonké appeared before him. He stood where Andoura had been standing and moved just like him. He said the same things, inviting the French to come to the land of the Onondaga. Then he turned to Radisson, handed him an eagle-head knife and said: “Take this knife, my son, and be brave, for the lives of the Frenchmen are in your hands.”

  When he woke up, Radisson remembered what had happened, but was not sure what it meant. Hoping to understand, he held his knife. A powerful current of energy ran through his whole body, along with a curious blend of fear and confidence. He didn’t know whether to be happy or worried, although he did feel ready to face anything life might throw at him. After a moment, since no feeling stood out in particular and his dream was beginning to fade away, he got up, his thoughts turned to other matters.

  A few hours later, the three able-bodied Iroquois emissaries left Trois-Rivières, carrying the ill chief on a sled. They disappeared quickly into the woods.

  * * *

  A lot of snow had fallen over the past few days. Pierre Godefroy deemed the conditions perfect for moose hunting. Radisson jumped at the chance, delighted to take part in a hunt that neither the French nor the Iroquois had allowed him to be involved in before, saying he was too young.

  Two Algonquins who lived near the village, Guillaume Côté, Pierre Dandonneau dit Lajeunesse, and Radisson went with Godefroy, the expedition leader. The six men and their three dogs left on snowshoes on a cold February morning. They went north, each dragging a small sled loaded with gear. They followed the Saint-Maurice river for three days, then headed west into the first hills they met.

  As they had hoped, a great deal of snow had accumulated in the steep-sided valley Godefroy had chosen. The valley formed a bend with a broader valley that had a long lake at the back of it. Here, a forest of young leafy trees attracted moose, which fed on their buds over the winter. The men scaled a long slope to the top of the hill overlooking both valleys. They made their camp in among the balsam trees, hidden away and protected from the wind.

  Using their snowshoes, the Frenchmen dug a big round hole in the snow while the Algonquins gathered balsam boughs and spread them out at the bottom of the pit. The frame of their cabin was made from long poles forming a star, meeting in the centre and covered in moose skins they had brought with them. They then covered the sides of their shelter with a thick layer of snow. In
a few hours, it was ready. Just beside the entrance—which was well sheltered from the wind—they lit a large fire and kept it burning permanently. Thanks to the narrow opening they had made in the roof opposite the door, heat circulated from the entrance to the back of the shelter. Wool blankets and a few beaver pelts kept them nice and warm.

  Radisson loved his first complete immersion in winter. He appreciated both the Indians’ ingenuity and the shrewdness of the French for borrowing their customs. Like anyone who knew his way around Canada, he was dressed half like an Indian and half like a Frenchman; he was never cold in his fur and wool clothing. He was delighted to see the sled glide so effortlessly across the snow and by the fact that it was easier to carry the same load in winter than it was in summer. His snowshoes had also saved him a lot of energy. Only the man at the head of the group had trouble walking through the snow; anyone walking behind him had an easy time of it. They regularly swapped places, which meant they could cover long distances without getting tired. Radisson had never seen winter in such a favourable light. He had literally fallen in love with it.

  At sunrise the next day, the six men split into three groups to look for moose tracks. Radisson teamed up with Pierre Godefroy. Dandonneau and Côté went off together, and the two Algonquins made up the third duo. Godefroy chose to examine the narrow valley they had come down, while the others walked along the shoreline of the long lake in the other valley. Now that they were alone, Godefroy had a question or two for Radisson.

  “Everyone’s talking about the visit from the Iroquois,” Godefroy said, walking ahead of Radisson. “But no one knows what to think, because Ragueneau won’t tell us a thing, as usual. You met them. What do you think?”

  “I wanted to speak with you about that. I think it’s important. They came to discuss the French settling in their land. Father Ragueneau is very upset.”

  “Is that so?” said Godefroy, slowing down. “How come? Is the peace under threat already?”

  “No, not at all. The Iroquois want to keep the peace with us at any price. They even said they want to include our allies. They brought a message from Father Le Moyne with them. He writes that all is well over there.”

  They came upon a track that might have belonged to a moose, but Godefroy’s thoughts were elsewhere.

  “Why did they come in the middle of winter? What was so important?”

  “They had conditions.”

  “What conditions?” Godefroy snapped.

  He stopped dead at the edge of a windswept glade and turned to face an uncomfortable Radisson. It was a delicate subject. The young man wanted to faithfully report what had taken place at the meetings so that the captain would be able to act on the information, as agreed. But he was worried about his reaction.

  “Let me explain. The four chiefs spoke in turn. I was the interpreter. The first said the Onondaga had been surprised to see fifty Frenchmen arriving at once.”

  “Of course they were! I always said the Jesuits were in too much of a hurry. You saw it. We had to twist their arm for them to bring our men with them.”

  “The second chief said they had given the Frenchmen a warm welcome all the same, that they allowed them to settle in their lands. Apart from one thing… They didn’t want to let them build the fort they had been planning.”

  “Why ever not?” asked Godefroy, again surprised.

  “They think the French are behaving like enemies in their own land. They warned Ragueneau there were conditions to be met if the French were to settle as they wanted.”

  “What conditions? Go on, spit it out! What are they?”

  Passing over the crests of the hills around them, the sun suddenly shone down on them with all its force. Its light came back up off the snow, and Radisson screwed up his face. He had made it to the most difficult part. Too bad. Out he came with it.

  “The Iroquois want us to return to their land next summer with another expedition. But we must bring a gunsmith with us, to repair their muskets… and Hurons, too.”

  “Jesus!” Godefroy exclaimed, spitting into the snow.

  He bit his lip so as not to swear a second time, then spun around and charged straight ahead, mumbling incomprehensibly to himself.

  “That’s not all,” Radisson added as he tried to catch him up. “Another chief—a real advocate for peace, I’m sure of it—says they want to form one people with them, and with us.”

  Godefroy didn’t hear him. Radisson quickly fell behind and preferred to stop.

  “And what about the tracks?” Radisson shouted, now far behind. “Didn’t we come here looking for moose?”

  There was nothing to be done. Godefroy charged on without answering him.

  “I’m going anyway,” Radisson shouted after him. “I’m going to the Iroquois! My place is there with Father Ragueneau! And we’re going to bring the Hurons with us! It’s all been settled.”

  He didn’t mention the second eagle-head knife that so inspired confidence in him. That was a matter for him and him alone. At any rate, no one was going to stop him going back to the Iroquois. His destiny lay there.

  Once he had at last calmed down, Godefroy stopped. He walked back slowly. His wool coat, kept in place by a broad belt, swayed in the breeze; his long hair peeked out from underneath his woollen tuque. When he got close to Radisson, he looked him in the eyes and began to speak in a calm and controlled voice.

  “Later, I’ll tell you a few things you don’t know. Important things. But for now you should know that, if that’s what you want, I encourage you to go to the Onondaga with Ragueneau. You know them better than any of us and you’ll be able to see their intentions for what they are. But what you just told me is very serious indeed. We’ll talk about it later. In the meantime, let’s go back and take another look at that track.”

  The three groups of hunters each found moose tracks. The Algonquins had even seen a large bullmoose, although he had run off into the woods. The young saplings had been ravaged, however, and it would be more difficult to find the moose again now that they were looking for a new source of food.

  * * *

  They were posted at the foot of the hill where they had made their camp, some three hundred paces away from each other on the line that marked where the conifers ended and the deciduous forest began. All day long, they scanned an area that ran from the long lake to the spot where Godefroy and Radisson had found a track. A good-looking bull dropped by, but one of the three dogs started barking right away and the moose ran for cover in the balsam trees. No one fired for fear of scaring away other moose nearby. That evening, the dog that had cost them was scolded and given nothing to eat while the hunters sought comfort in the shelter after a testing day spent standing around in the cold. In the damp half-light, as the fire roared and crackled by the entrance, Godefroy revised their strategy.

  At dawn the next morning, the men stationed themselves in twos around a huge triangle, each pair with a dog. The first two duos hid on either side of the tip of the lake, where the moose had appeared the day before. If a moose were to show up again, their job was to drive it toward the deep valley where Godefroy and Radisson were posted. It would be at its most vulnerable in this narrow passage.

  But no moose came by that day.

  They applied the same strategy the next day. As a precaution, the two Algonquins had brought enough provisions with them to follow a wounded animal for two or three days. Clouds masked the sun. The cold was damp and bitter. They needed all their endurance to remain in position for hours at a time. But their patience was rewarded when a magnificent moose around ten years old appeared at the tip of the lake.

  The animal walked unsuspectingly towards the steep-sided valley. The three dogs didn’t make a sound. The first two pairs let the animal pass; it was beyond the range of their muskets in any case. When the moose was far beyond Dandonneau’s and Côté’s position, the pair jumped out of their hiding place and made as much noise as they could. Their dog attacked, barking with all its strength and leap
ing around in the snow. Wearing their snowshoes, Côté and Dandonneau ran one after the other towards the moose, which quickened its pace. It was heading towards Godefroy and Radisson. Its long legs sank down deep into the snow. The Algonquins, too far removed from the action, lay in wait.

  The shouts of the men and the yaps of the dog, which was making ground on the moose, frightened the animal. It struggled to run away, but ran out of breath quickly. Godefroy and Radisson remained in their hiding place, carefully watching as their prey approached, when the animal broke away towards the hill opposite and began to make its way up the slope to hide in the stand of balsam trees. Radisson and Godefroy dashed out to give chase, too. There was no time to lose. The moose plunged into the snow up to its chest. It sank down in and freed itself, started off again, then sank back down. The protection offered by the balsam trees was getting closer. Godefroy took a chance and fired a shot from a distance, wounding the panic-stricken animal, which continued on its way with the energy born of despair. A trail of blood splashed across the sparkling snow. Godefroy’s and Dandonneau’s dogs met and began running twice as hard to reach their prey.

  The moose turned around to face the dogs. Radisson had trouble following the captain; he had surprising stamina. Radisson stopped to fire off a shot of his own, also from afar, while Godefroy reloaded his musket. He rushed his shot and missed the target. The noise startled the moose and it turned around and again tried to flee to the top of the hill. But its strength was deserting it. The snow was too deep, the hill too steep. It chose to come back down the hill and charged at the dogs. It tried to strike them with its front legs. Godefroy ran up with his reloaded musket. He stopped and fired a second time. The moose, struck in the chest, fell to its knees, but picked itself up again and butted the dog as it tried to bite its neck. The king of the woods snorted feebly amid the furious barking. Radisson came from not far away and aimed carefully. He shot, this time hitting the animal in the head. The moose collapsed in a heap. Lying in the snow, it did not move again.