Chapter 6
It was late summer, in 1702, at Fort St. Jean. There was much activity about the fort as this was the busiest time of year. Traders were coming down the Great River (which was also called the Colbert River by the French) in large numbers with pelts and food to trade.
Life was busy for the French officers, for the task of keeping the Spanish explorers out of their territory was a daily chore. The Acolapissa Indians were not as accommodating to the French as they had been in the past as well. Their demands increased as time went on. Despite this, St. Denis continued to press Governor Bienville to let him take some men back up to the head of the Red River to establish the trading routes in that area. Jean-Baptiste knew that this was a key area in the trade routes, having seen this area for himself, but he could not afford to spare any men in these hectic days.
The fort was situated on the northern banks of the river. The Acolapissa Indians were situated on the shores of Lake Pontchartrain. The explorers had to travel a few miles north on narrow bayous that ran through rugged and murky swamplands to get to the village. The Indians were regular visitors to the fort for trade with the settlers. A good relationship had been established between them and the French in the early days, but now they began to resent the ever growing number of white traders and settlers in the area.
Fog was common in these waters of the lower delta, the air was very humid and hot and mosquitoes were a common problem as well. On this morning, the fog was very thick upon the river. St. Denis was checking provisions for the troops that were preparing to head west in the following days. A garrison was prepared to setup front lines to the west to counter the Spanish incursion.
He walked outside the main gate of the fort, when he heard a call from atop the lookout, “A column is ahead! River upstream!” St. Denis climbed to a higher position to get a better look. It was difficult to see through the fog, but as they came closer, he could see twenty or more canoes coming down the river, each with two to four Indians aboard. “Take your positions, men! Be at the ready!” was the call from the lookout. At the head of the group, St. Denis could make out an Indian wearing a familiar headdress. As they neared, his eyes widened in disbelief.
“Hold your fire! Hold your fire!” he shouted to the lookout. The sentry in the lookout obeyed and shouted down the line, “Hold your fire!” St. Denis rushed to the ground, flung open the main gate, and ran towards the river. It was Natchitos at the head of the group of canoes. He was followed by the entire Nashitosh tribe.
Natchitos neared the fort and he saw a man waving his arms from the shore. He recognized him at once as St. Denis. The column of canoes came ashore, one by one, lined up like marshals along the shores of the Great River. Natchitos and Taima stepped out of the canoe and walked towards St. Denis. Taima held Nule close in her arms. “Lieutenant, I am Natchitos, I have come to your land,” Natchitos said.
“Yes!” he exclaimed. “Yes, I know it is you. Welcome, my friend. Welcome to all of you. You have traveled a long way. Please come and we will give you food and water.” He noticed the baby in Taima’s arms, now about eight months old. “You have added to your family, I see. This is wonderful to see, my friend.”
Another officer, Colonel Jean-Pierre Lemont, approached from the fort, seeing this great number of Indians coming ashore. “Lieutenant, what is going on here? Who are these people?” he demanded.
“Not to worry, Sir. I know this man from the Red River area.” St. Denis explained. “They are not a threat to us, Sir.”
“But why are they here? There must be more than sixty or seventy of them!” Lemont persisted. “Ask them why they are here, right away.”
“I will, Sir, I will find out why they are here,” St. Denis answered. “But first let’s give them some food and rest. They have been traveling for many days. I know how far they have come.”
“Take care of it quickly, Louis, I don’t want them all over this fort,” Lemont instructed him. “There is too much work to be done around here as it is.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Many of the soldiers were now looking on at this amazing sight. Many of the Indians appeared frightened, they had never seen this many white men before at one time. They stood closely together and avoided staring at the soldiers.
Among the soldiers upon the fort was LaRouche. He walked between a few men who were closer and had a better vantage point. He shoved his head forward between the two men and glared down at the group of Indians along the river. “Well I’ll be damned!” he said in disbelief. “He brought back the whole damn bunch of them!” The other men looked at him quizzically and gave him a laugh. “They’ve come back to get me,” he thought to himself. His mind had eased over the past year but no longer. He did not like the sight of these Indians at all.
St. Denis sat in the governor’s chamber inside of Fort St. Jean. Jean-Baptiste sat behind a desk wearing the traditional wig. “I understand we have some visitors with us today, eh Louis?”
“Yes, Governor. They are being given some food and water at this very moment,” answered St. Denis.
“Do you know why they are here?”
“No Sir, but I get the feeling they are not here just to say hello. I’m afraid something must have happened to them, or the whole tribe would not have come along with the chief.”
“How many do they number?” Jean-Baptiste asked.
“From my estimates, about fifty men, women and children, Sir.”
“And what do you suppose that we do with our friends that have shown up so unexpectedly?” asked Jean-Baptiste sarcastically. “I understand their position is dire, but we do not have the capacity to put up such a large number of refugees, no matter what their circumstances.”
“I understand, Sir. They can not stay here.” St. Denis sat quietly for a moment. Then he raised his hand to his chin. “But there is ample room north of here on the lake,” St. Denis thought aloud.
“Are you sure that is wise, monsieur?” asked Jean-Baptiste. “The natives along that lake are hardly pleased with us as it is now. I’d hate to see their reaction if we relocate this tribe alongside them. They’ll want even more in return for certain.”
“Yes,” thought St. Denis. “But it seems we have very few options. I think if we gather up enough provisions to bring the Acolapissa, it’s possible it will be enough of an offering to allow the Nashitosh to stay and share the lakeshore. After all, it is a large lake.”
“Indeed, but territory is a touchy subject with the natives,” Jean-Baptiste cautioned. “Don’t forget what it took to acquire the land we hold now.” He thought for a few moments more. “You have my permission, Louis, do what you can.”
St. Denis gathered up a team of soldiers and instructed them to put provisions together, including food, blankets, animal pelts and grains to bring to the Acolapissa. Sergeant LaRouche was the leader of the small platoon of soldiers. He was not amused on that he had been pulled back into duty helping this tribe once again. St. Denis also summoned Andre Pénicaut, an honorable man and carpenter whom he trusted. He placed him in charge of leading the displaced Nashitosh tribe to Lake Pontchartrain. St. Denis would travel with them initially to help them get settled.
He and Pénicaut approached a small area outside the fort where the Nashitosh were gathered. They were given food and they sat quietly and ate their first meal in days. St. Denis spotted Natchitos sitting with his family and walked towards them. Natchitos saw him coming, so he stood to greet him.
“Tell me my friend, are you fleeing some type of danger?” he asked Natchitos.
Natchitos explained, “I saw that you were not coming, so I thought you had trouble. I thought of sending a party to come and give you aid. But the crops became lost and my people were restless and weakened. I could not send my men any longer. I am sorry.”
“There is no need to apologize,” St. Denis responded. “I am honored by your gesture. Plea
se accept my apologies for not returning to your area sooner. I did not know the situation with your crops had become so desperate. You made a wise decision in coming here. I will help you as much as I can.”
He then introduced Pénicaut to Natchitos. “Monsieur Pénicaut is a builder, and a trusted friend. He has agreed to go with you to the lake that is nearby. There you and your people can settle and live without fear.” Natchitos nodded to Pénicaut. “But my friend, there is another tribe at the lake, the Acolapissa. This is the tribe of which I spoke to you. We obtained this land from them.” Natchitos nodded in understanding. “I know the chief of this tribe, he is called Red Hawk. He is a good man, but he is a cautious man as well. It may take some time for him to be comfortable with new neighbors. Do you understand?”
Natchitos looked at him with confidence. “We are in your debt, Lieutenant. I thank you. I will meet this Chief Red Hawk. It is I who should ask for his permission.” St. Denis and Pénicaut looked at each other with some worry. But St. Denis trusted his instincts. He nodded to Natchitos in agreement.
The tribe began to gather and load into their canoes. The soldiers pulled their boats alongside the canoes to load more provisions. LaRouche stood at the bow of one boat and barked orders at the men. They handed him crates one by one. As he worked, LaRouche scanned over the tribe with a glare. The he saw him. Tooantuh was loading a canoe just fifteen yards downstream. He kept his eyes fixed on him as he worked. Then Tooantuh sensed he was being watched, and he looked up to see LaRouche staring at him. He stopped what he was doing and walked a few paces towards LaRouche and stopped.
“What are you looking at, Sarge?” asked the young soldier handing him crates. Tooantuh glanced at Ayita, then back at LaRouche.
“Nothing soldier, hand me that crate! Let’s keep it moving!” he shouted. Tooantuh turned back and climbed into his canoe with Ayita.
The tribe set out and followed St. Denis, Pénicaut, and the soldiers up a small bayou towards Lake Pontchartrain. It was no more than an hour’s journey. St. Denis grew nervous, for he did not know how this encounter with the Acolapissa would unfold.
The landscape was quite different to the Nashitosh. There were marshes and bayous all around. It seemed like you could go anywhere by canoe. There was more water than there was land. Rains fell more often and the air was always thick with humidity. As they entered a clearing from the trees, their eyes widened with amazement. They had come upon the great lake. They had never seen such a large body of water before. The lake stretched to the horizon as far as the eye could see. Gulls flew overhead, a kind of bird which they had never seen either. Up towards the west shore, a tribal village could be seen. Many grass and thatch huts and some more modern wooden huts lined the shore and inland for a few hundred yards. The tribe was relatively small but the village was widespread.
They went as far as they could on the bayou, then they unloaded the canoes and began to walk a short distance. A noise could be heard from the village, as they had spotted the intruders coming down the shore. Natchitos instructed his tribe to find a place to sit and wait while he went to speak to Chief Red Hawk.
Pénicaut knew the language of the Acolapissa, so he walked along with Natchitos and St. Denis towards the village. Five Indians approached them from the village, including Chief Red Hawk. They were all adorned with tattoos on their arms and chests. Each brave had tattoos that depicted accomplishments in battle and the type of warrior they were. They stopped about twenty yards from the two white men and Natchitos. Chief Red Hawk stood in the middle and raised his right hand motioning them to stop. They did as he indicated. Pénicaut spoke in their language, “Greetings to you, Red Hawk, this tribe comes to you in peace.”
“Who is this tribe?” asked Red Hawk. “Why do you bring them to me?” He glared at St. Denis and Natchitos intently.
“They are the Nashitosh. They come from the North and are in need of land in which to live. We ask if they may share the lands of the lake with you and your people.” Pénicaut explained. “We have brought offerings to you from the fort for your trouble.” He pointed towards the boats where the provisions were stowed. Red Hawk looked past them to see the boats where LaRouche and the soldiers were unloading the provisions. He said nothing. Pénicaut instructed the soldiers to bring up the provisions to where they were standing. St. Denis helped LaRouche pile them on the ground in front of Red Hawk.
“We have no need for these offerings,” Red Hawk said abruptly. “What you ask of me is land and part of this lake for these strangers to live upon. Why should I grant you this request?” St. Denis was afraid this would be the response.
Natchitos then stepped forward and said to Pénicaut and St. Denis, “Let me speak.” He walked closer to Red Hawk and stopped in front of him. He knew the best way to work with another chief was to speak to him directly. This is what Chief Red Hawk expected all along. Pénicaut and St. Denis stood a few feet behind and helped translate for Natchitos.
“I am Natchitos, chief. My people have come down from the North,” he explained. “They have suffered many hardships. We come now to seek the great chief’s acceptance so that we may dwell here and live in peace.” Natchitos then pulled out a small leather pouch. St. Denis looked curiously at it for it seemed familiar. Natchitos removed the clasps on the pouch and opened it. Inside the pouch was the flintlock pistol that was given to him by St. Denis. It had never been fired. The ammunition and gunpowder remained inside the pouch. He lifted the pistol and showed it to Red Hawk. He now had his attention. Red Hawk and his men looked at the pistol with obvious curiosity and interest. Natchitos handed the pistol to Red Hawk and let him examine it.
LaRouche stood with a crooked stare as he looked on. He looked over at St. Denis, then back at Red Hawk holding the pistol. “So that’s how he gets these savages to trust him,” he thought to himself. LaRouche was beside himself with anger and jealousy. Such a pistol was rare even to an enlisted man. “How dare he give it to one of these Indians,” he thought to himself. “And now this damn Indian is giving it to another!”
St. Denis felt a little uneasy in seeing the gift he had given to Natchitos being used in such a manner, but he thought, ‘It’s his gift. He can do what he wants with it.” Furthermore, he could see that this was working better than any of the offerings that he had brought. He quickly decided that this was a very clever gesture.
Natchitos placed the pistol back in the leather pouch and closed it. With the pouch in both hands, he lifted it and offered it to Red Hawk. Red Hawk accepted the pistol and said, “You and your people can live among us here. We will smoke as brothers tonight at the fire.” St. Denis and Pénicaut were relieved.
Pénicaut began to help the Nashitosh build living quarters. The Indians used their skills from the year before at their old village and helped him with the tree cutting and construction. Pénicaut had done this with the Acolapissa. The new village was situated about a half mile further down the shore on Lake Pontchartrain from the Acolapissa. As the weeks and months went by, the Nashitosh became more familiar with the new landscape and ways of hunting and fishing in these different waters. Soon, all the tribal families had a place to call home. Natchitos was grateful to Pénicaut for his thankless and ceaseless help that he gave the tribe. Tooantuh and Sitting Crow took to the new wilderness easily and began to hunt the wildlife in the area around the lake with renewed vigor. The two tribes worked together in sowing the nearby fields and planting crops.
The French would send patrols to the area to check on the Indians on a regular basis. Many times, LaRouche lead these patrols as they came through to each village. The Indians now had plenty of game to hunt and ample fish to catch in the lake. When the troops came through, the tribal women would cook meals for them in thanks for their security.
Natchitos soon found a quiet place along the lake to sit and reflect as the sun rose each morning. It wasn�
�t quite the same as his old place up on the hill overlooking the Cane River, but it was sufficient. He treasured his quiet time immensely as the sun rose each morning and it helped him gather the strength to face each coming day.
As the years went by, Natchitos watched his children grow beside the lake. Anoki grew into a strong young brave who became a master hunter and fisherman. Nito and Talulah both started to grow up as well and Natchitos was pleased to see them playing with the other children. And then there was Nule, the last of his tribe to be born at their old village. He started to take his first steps beside the light of the lake and the setting sun. Natchitos was pleased with his tribe’s transition, but he longed to be back in his homeland. There was so much more activity around this area, much more than he had ever witnessed. He saw that the white man truly was coming from many directions and it didn’t seem like it was going to end. They were all around this area. And not just his tribe, but the Acolapissa were being driven to more and more remote areas, away from their original homes. But his case was different, he thought. He longed for the calming quiet waters of the Cane and his private times of reflection up on the hillside. The Cane River valley was always kind to him and his people and it provided all that they needed. But the years of drought were too much for one man to bear. He thought that the rains would soon return and they would be able to return as well. Yet, he did not know when that time would come for his people. So he was content to hope and pray for this each and every day. His hope was for his youngest son, Nule, and for all his people, to one day return home to the lands of the Cane.
Legend Upon the Cane Page 7
