Monro moved slowly to repair the damage left by Rigaud's winter raid. Months after the attack he had done little to rebuild the outbuildings burned in the attack; nor had he made much progress building boats to patrol the lake. When provincial reinforcements arrived at Fort Edward for their seasonal service in June, Webb sent them up to William Henry. Militia from New York, New Jersey, and New Hampshire arrived at the lake and pitched their tents outside the fort. Among the new arrivals were the Jersey Blues under the command of Colonel John Parker. Desperate for information, Monro decided to risk a reconnaissance in force. He took nearly every boat available and ordered Parker with 350 men down the lake. Monro, an officer with virtually no battle experience, was sending a sizable force into the maw of an enemy about whom he knew almost nothing. Parker and his men would row into a French trap.
Parker set off before dawn on July 21. Barely had the men dipped their oars when French scouts spotted them. The next morning "450 men, almost all Indians," left Ticonderoga under the command of Ensign de Cor-biere, an officer of the Troupes de la Marine. Parker sent three boats ahead, which the French ambushed, capturing the militiamen. After "questioning" by the Indians, the prisoners told their captors that the colonel planned to land at Sabbath Day Point on the west side of the lake, about twenty miles north of William Henry. At daybreak on the twenty-third Parker's unsuspecting flotilla pulled toward the point. As they drew within sight, they saw three boats and assumed that the men sent out the previous day were on them. The three decoys beckoned Parker to draw near. As soon as Parker's force was within range, French and Indians lying in wait along the shoreline delivered a withering volley. In an instant nearly fifty canoes broke around the point and surrounded Parker's men. According to Bougainville, the Indians "pursued the enemy, hit them, and sank or captured all but two which escaped. The Indians jumped into the water and speared them like fish, and also sinking the barges by seizing them from below and capsizing them. We had only one man slightly wounded. The English terrified by the shooting, the sight, the cries, and the agility of these monsters, surrendered almost without firing a shot."46 Barely 100 of Parker's men, including the colonel himself, were lucky enough to escape and make their way through heavy brush and thick forest back to William Henry. Nearly 160 militia had been killed or drowned at the point. The remainder were prisoners on their way to Ticonderoga.
As the French and Indian forces paddled north, they sang songs of victory and broke into casks of rum taken from the English boats. At the head of the lake the victors were met by hundreds of Indians gathered at the shore to greet their brothers and their prisoners. Tied with ropes noosed around their necks the Indians pulled the terrified captives up a path to a camp outside the walls of Ticonderoga. According to Father Pierre Roubaud, the rum that the Indians had been drinking nearly all day "excited their brains, and increased their ferocity." That night, Roubaud reported, a captive was boiled and eaten. In the morning as the army prepared to move, Roubaud and two other priests approached Montcalm and "asked if they would be permitted to say mass in a place where one sacrificed to the devil." The general, a "military casuist," responded "that it was better to say it there than not to say it at all."47
Monro had paid a heavy price to learn that there was a sizable body of enemy at the other end of the lake. Its intentions, however, remained unclear. On the twenty-sixth Webb arrived at William Henry to assess the situation in person. What distressed him most was the relatively low height of the walls and their shabby construction. Sand and soft pine logs offered poor protection against massed artillery.48 Rigaud had come in winter without heavy guns; Webb knew that Montcalm would not be so ill equipped. After consulting with Monro, the general ordered regulars inside the fort while the militia dug in at the nearby fortified camp on the high ground to the east. Even though they had no hard information, by now everyone was convinced that a French attack was imminent. Webb left Monro and hurried back to Fort Edward. On July 30 he called up the New York militia, and two days later he sent an additional one thousand provincials, mostly Massachusetts men, to join Monro.
Montcalm arrived at Ticonderoga on July 18. Awaiting him at the fort were six battalions of regular troops numbering some 2,600 men. Nearly as many Troupes de la Marine also mustered, along with a much smaller number of militia. Joining the French and Canadians were almost 2,000 Indians; Abenaki, Iroquois, Huron, and Ottawa made up the majority, but other tribes were represented as well, including Miami, Sauk, and Fox. It was an impressive multinational coalition, over which the marquis presided but did not always "command," since his Indian allies held to their own style of warfare.
Montcalm divided his force into two bodies. The advance element under Lévis had the tough task of chopping through the dense forest and undergrowth along the west shore to envelope Monro's left flank and cut off the road to Fort Edward. Montcalm pushed off onto Lake George with his main force, including his Indian allies. Nearly 250 bateaux, including several rafted together as catamarans to float cannon, made their way toward William Henry. Neither Lévis on land nor Montcalm on the lake encountered the slightest opposition. On the morning of August 3 Montcalm's fleet glided into view of William Henry. Although beyond range, they fired cannon to announce their presence. Busy with last-minute preparations, the English made no response. The French landed on the west shore less than half a mile from the fort, and within a few hours the British could hear the clinking sound of shovels and picks as Montcalm's engineers prepared entrenchments and approaches. The siege had begun.
Although his own regiment was in the fort, Monro established his headquarters at the militia camp, where the provincials were feverishly throwing up timber-and-brush barricades. The colonel's command presence was of more use among these untrained soldiers than amid the disciplined regulars.
Because of the difficulties of travel and distance, Montcalm hadn't had to worry about enemy reinforcements arriving at Oswego. This time reinforcements, under command of General Webb, were only a few miles down the road. It was Lévis's mission to cut the Fort Edward road and hold it against any British attempt to smash through. As was his wont, Lévis moved quickly and secured the road. If Webb decided to march, he would have to force his way past Lévis along the same road where two years earlier the French and Indians had mauled the colonial militia and Mohawk under Ephraim Williams and Chief Hendrick. Webb appreciated the risk.
Eyre and Monro had collected a considerable supply of arms and munitions in the fort and at the camp. The fort mounted eighteen pieces of cannon, including heavy thirty-two-pounders, three mortars, a howitzer, and thirteen small swivels. Shot and powder were in ample supply. Although the fortified camp had more men, it had considerably less artillery—only six brass guns and four swivels. Bearing over cleared ground around the fort, these guns enjoyed a wide sweep covering the approaches to William Henry. An advancing enemy would face a deadly hail of solid and grape shot. A frontal assault was out of the question. This would be a battle of cannon and siege.49
As he had planned, Montcalm turned the siege operation over to his "engineer" Bourlamaque, who took advantage of the natural terrain by anchoring the French left on the lake and securing the right along a deep ravine. Bourlamaque ordered several battalions to prepare siege materials, while the remainder of the troops pitched tents, unloaded supplies, positioned guns, and dug latrines. As the soldiers dug, the Indians crept close to the fort, sniping at the British. Well-placed musketry, and a few cannon shot from the ramparts, held them at a distance, but not before they had managed to kill more than one hundred oxen that had been left beyond the gates. By mid afternoon Montcalm was ready to open the play. Under a flag of truce he sent a message to Monro, summoning the British to abandon the post which, he claimed, was within the territory of the king of France. Lest Monro spend a long time considering his offer, the marquis warned, "Once our batteries [are] in place and the cannon fired, perhaps there would not be time, nor would it be in our power to restrain the cruelties of a mob of
Indians. "50
Monro declined the invitation to surrender, confident he could hold out long enough for Webb to march from Fort Edward, even though he doubtless recognized that Montcalm's menacing mention of Indian reprisal was a New World version of an Old World custom. In conventional European sieges the defender was expected to put up a good fight, but in the end if defeat seemed certain, the besieged were expected to surrender. Besieged garrisons that stubbornly failed to follow tradition, and thus caused higher casualties, could expect no mercy from the victor. Monro understood the European script. Montcalm shared that convention, but he also understood that his Indian allies had their own customs as well.
The polite encounter between French and English officers within the fort was in contrast to the scene beyond the gates. Outside "an Abenaki warrior speaking bad French but very clearly, shouted Ah you won't surrender; well, fire first; my father will then fire his great guns; then take care to defend yourself, for if I capture you, you will get no quarter.' "51
Despite the brave front, after dark Monro sent two runners with a message to Webb: "I make no doubt that you will soon send us a Reinforcement." 52
Montcalm ordered his cannoneers to concentrate their guns on William Henry's northwest bastion. The British returned fire with some effect, dropping several shots into the French camp. Time, however, was on the side of the attacker. William Henry's guns quickly showed signs of fatigue. On the night of August 4 a seven-inch mortar burst. The next day an eighteen-pounder mounted in the northwest bastion exploded, injuring several men. To save his guns, Monro slowed the rate of fire and directed his gunners to load reduced charges. He also ordered the wooden roofs over the barracks torn off and any other combustibles within the fort discarded to prevent fire. The Indians, watching the British destroy their own property, complained bitterly to Montcalm that if this continued there would be nothing left for them to take.
The siege of Fort William Henry, August 3—9, 1757
By daylight the air around William Henry was filled with the sounds of musket balls whizzing over the parapet, cannon shot smacking into the walls, and mortar shells arcing overhead and dropping into the parade ground. At night French fire let up, and Monro used these moments of respite to tend the wounded and move supplies between the fort and the encampment. From the ramparts British sentries could hear the sounds of digging as the French drew closer.
On the night of August 5 Monro dispatched another runner to Webb, but Lévis's Indians ambushed the bearer somewhere between William Henry and Fort Edward. Ironically, one of Monro's first runners had gotten through, and Webb had read the note on the fourth. Unfortunately for Monro, that same day one of Webb's patrols brought in a Canadian prisoner, who regaled his credulous captors with wild stories of French strength. There were, he told his interrogators, eleven thousand soldiers with Montcalm. Webb, to whom caution was a first instinct, decided to stay at Fort Edward until he could amass a force large enough to challenge Montcalm. This was the sad message he entrusted to three rangers to carry back to William Henry. Neither Webb nor the rangers had counted on Kanectagon.
Kanectagon, a Mohawk scout traveling with Lévis, was lying in wait along the Fort Edward road, hoping to take a prisoner for whom he could claim ransom. He got his wish when he spied Webb's three rangers coming toward him. The first he shot dead; the second one escaped; and the third he captured. After stripping and scalping the dead man, he returned to the French camp with his prisoner. The prisoner was tight-lipped, but among the dead man's possessions a French officer found Webb's reply to Monro's plea for help. Written by the general's aide-de-camp, on now bloodstained paper, the reply was succinct: The general's did "not think it prudent... to attempt a junction to assist you."53 The note concluded coldly that Monro ought to give thought to making the best deal possible. Montcalm read the note and set it on the table. It was not yet the right moment to share it with Colonel Monro.
Near dawn on the sixth the firing resumed. By then the British guns were firing very slowly. Another mortar and four cannon had burst, wounding and killing several soldiers. Monro's cannon posed a greater threat to his own men than to the French.
Early on the seventh Montcalm's artillerymen let loose with a three-hour barrage. Seventeen cannon, two mortars, and two howitzers zeroed in on the fort. At nine, "after a double salvo from the right and left batteries," the French guns fell silent. This was the psychological moment Montcalm had planned. Bougainville was sent forward with a flag of truce and the captured bloodstained letter from Webb to Monro. "I walked out of the trenches," Bougainville later reported,
accompanied by a drummer beating his drum and an escort of fifteen grenadiers. The English cried out to me to halt at the foot of the glacis, an officer and fifteen grenadiers came out to me and asked what I wanted, upon which I said that I had a letter from my general to deliver to the English commander. Two other officers came out from the fort, one of whom remained under guard of my grenadiers, and the other, having blindfolded me, led me first to the fort, and then to the entrenched camp where I handed to the commander the letter of the Marquis de Montcalm and that of General Webb. Much thanks for French politeness, expressions of pleasure at dealing with so generous an enemy. Such is the gist of the reply of Lieutenant Colonel Monro to the Marquis de Montcalm. Then they led me back again, eyes blindfolded all the time, to where they had taken me from, and our batteries started firing again when they judged that the English grenadiers had had time to get back into the fort. I hope that General Webb s letter... persuades the English to surrender the sooner.54
Noticeably absent from Bougainville's delegation were representatives of Montcalm's Indian allies. The marquis never consulted them about the terms he might offer to the British. Mohawk, Abenaki, and the others were kept at a distance, from which they could only watch and wonder at the strange ways that Europeans waged war.
Monro's situation was hopeless. Although the fort had survived the bombardment better than anyone might have expected, the garrison was in terrible shape. Stores and munitions were nearly exhausted, and the men according to Monro's aide de camp, Lieutenant George Bartman, were "almost Stupified."55 At seven in the morning on August 9 the defenders raised a white flag. Montcalm granted to Monro the traditional "honors of war."56 The officers might depart with side arms and luggage. Persons and personal possessions would be respected. All other arms would be surrendered, except for "one six pound cannon which the marquis de Montcalm granted Colonel Monro and the garrison to witness his esteem for the fine defense they had made." In return, the British gave their word that they would not serve against the French in North America for a period of eighteen months. This treatment was in sharp contrast to the year before, when Montcalm had humiliated the garrison at Oswego and denied them any honor whatsoever.
Montcalm summoned the chiefs of his Indian allies to his tent to announce the terms of surrender. He asked them to promise that "their young men would not commit any disorder"57—by which he meant looting, pillaging, and taking captives. But that was precisely what had motivated the Indians in the first place. Unlike Europeans, they cared little for the "honor" of taking a fort, and the folderol that surrounded the surrender ceremony only amused and mystified them. In the great councils at Quebec, Montreal, St. Francis, and Kahnawake, where the French had recruited these warriors, Onontio had always promised booty. More than sixteen hundred unhappy Indians milled about the camp and fort. According to Montcalm's own figures, the number of Indians killed (twenty-one) nearly matched the total of French losses (twenty-nine). By this measure, the Indians had suffered a much higher casualty rate than the French. For their efforts and sacrifices they expected revenge and reward. The most valuable prizes were captives, to be carried home to be killed, adopted, or ransomed.
At noon on the ninth William Henry was turned over to the French. The soldiers in the fort laid down their arms and marched out to the fortified encampment. A number of wounded who were unable to walk were left behind. Within minutes
several Indians forced their way past French sentries and into the fort. As the departing troops reached the encampment, they heard screams from behind. Father Roubaud reported that he saw a warrior dash from the building where the wounded had been gathered, carrying a "human head, from which trickled streams of blood."58 Other warriors burst through the gate and went for the military stores and provisions, including rum. A few French guards tried to restrain them, a move the Indians correctly viewed as a ploy so that the soldiers could take the spoils for themselves. While the Indians and French pillaged the fort, Monro and his men remained in the camp. Montcalm posted sentries to keep the British in and the Indians out. The Indians, however, muscled their way past the French, and all afternoon and into the evening, dozens of drunk and angry Indians marauded among the terrified prisoners, taunting them and stealing their personal goods. Montcalm and his officers attempted to bring order, but with so many different tribes and only a handful of interpreters, their task was nearly impossible.
Montcalm let it be known that he planned to march the prisoners to Fort Edward in the morning. This was a deception. About midnight two hundred French soldiers were awakened and ordered to fall in near the camp. Montcalm hoped to spirit the British away before the Indians could realize what was happening. It was an ill-conceived plan, and only further antagonized the Indians, who were beginning to view the French and English as partners in league to deny them their spoils. When the warriors woke up, they swarmed toward the encampment. Faced with an angry mob, the French officers hastily countermanded the order to march and returned the prisoners to the encampment. It would, they decided, be safer to leave in daylight.
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