Half King’s promise had been that the guard would be ready to start on November 29, but early that morning he and Monakatoocha came to George’s tent with a plea for one more day. November 30 brought evidence that the friendly Chief might not always be able to control the other Sachems; four men only appeared with equipment for the trail. Half King explained that after he had visited Washington the previous evening he and the other Sachems had held a council at the Long House. Their conclusion had been against sending any large escort because, if they did so, the French might become suspicious and might treat them rudely. It would be better to send only the three “great men” with a single hunter. The young emissary might have been tempted to ask the Indians why they expected any other than a rude reception if they were, in effect, to notify the French of a rupture of friendly relations, but debate would delay a departure for which he had been waiting with far more impatience than he had shown. Off he went with his companions and his Indian friends on the trail.
Gist led the party toward the junction of French Creek and the Allegheny River. December 4 brought George to Venango. He knew the village was in French hands, but his heart must have beat faster when he saw the fleur-de-lis flying over the trading post from which Frazier had been driven.
George, with van Braam and Gist, went to the building. At the entrance the trio were met by three French officers whose leader introduced himself as Capt. Philippe Thomas Joincare. Politely, he invited the visitors to enter. Captain Joincare was the son of a Seneca squaw by a French officer, and he had been so reared that he could deal equally well with his mother’s and with his father’s people. From the time of his father’s death in 1740, Joincare had been the man to whom the French Indians of the region had looked for guidance. He operated the trading post and the portage at Niagara and made large profits from both. In the service of France, along with his rank as Captain, he had the title of Chief Interpreter for the Six Nations. Having accompanied Céloron on the expedition of 1749, he knew the Ohio country and the characteristics of the savages who dwelt on its upper watershed. He was one of the ablest and most resourceful of the French spokesmen in Canada.
The reception these men gave Washington was flawless. In answer to Washington’s inquiry concerning the French commander, to whom a communication was to be delivered, Joincare replied that he himself was in charge on the Ohio, but that there was a general officer at Fort Le Boeuf, close to Lake Erie. Joincare’s advice was that George carry his letter thither. Meantime, would Monsieur Washington and the other gentlemen sup with him and his comrades that evening? George was not pleased at having to go forty or fifty miles farther up the creek but he accepted the invitation to eat with the distinguished Captain. Washington left the Indians behind deliberately. Joincare set out for his guests the best he had and offered and drank wine in abundance. Most politely he promised a French escort for the messenger on the ride to Fort Le Boeuf. As he and the others talked to George, who kept sober and listened intently, their tongues and their Gallic pride were loosed. They had perceived that a contest for the Ohio was brewing. It was their design to take possession of the river, they said, and, by God, they would prevent the settlement of English on it or any of its tributaries.
Rain reasserted its power on December 5. The Indians had by that time become engaged in council with their allies the Delawares, who lived in and near Venango. Before long Joincare heard that a council had been held and that Half King was in it. He ordered one of his men to go to the natives’ camp and invite the Chiefs to visit him forthwith. When they arrived, Joincare did not display a touch of the biting sternness that de Marin had exhibited towards Half King. He acted as if these Indians were the closest of allies and the warmest of friends. How could they be so near, he inquired, and not come to see him? He made them a few presents and plied them with brandy until the savages were too drunk to realize what they were doing. Not a word could Half King say of the warning he had sworn he would give the French to leave the land. When George in disgust went back through the rain to his tent, he realized what previously he perhaps had sensed dimly—that he was engaged in a diplomatic battle with the French for the support of the Indians. He had come to deliver a message; he found himself called upon, with Gist’s understanding aid, to save an alliance.
This challenging turn of events was even plainer the next day. Early in the morning Half King was at the entrance to George’s tent, completely sober, probably ashamed of himself, and once again entirely resolute. It was his purpose to make his speech to the commander of the French and repeat his order that they quit the Indians’ country. Earnestly the Chief urged that they delay their departure long enough for him to serve this notice on Joincare.
George’s observation the previous day made him anxious not to expose the Chief again to the Captain’s wiles and wine. Besides, the mission must be completed as soon as possible. George tried to persuade Half King to withhold his warning until they reached Fort Le Boeuf. Half King would not yield: Joincare, he said, was to light a council fire at Venango; that was to be the place where all business of this sort was transacted; Joincare had sole management of Indian affairs. George unwillingly consented: There was no escape. He had to remain, listen, and take whatever risks might develop from Half King’s defiance of the French. He did not misjudge his orator. The council assembled about ten o’clock, but the preliminaries must have been interminable. Finally Half King began his speech. It was in substance the one he had delivered to the Sieur de Marin, but it produced no such effect on Joincare as it had on the French commander at the fort. When Half King reached his climax and returned the speech belt, Joincare refused to accept it. Displaying no anger, he insisted that the belt should be presented at Le Boeuf.
It had been a disquieting day of a sort George had not been called on to endure previously. The next, December 7, scarcely gave promise of being any better. Commissary La Force came to the Englishmen’s quarters with three soldiers and reported himself ready to escort Monsieur Washington to the fort. George and his white companions were prepared to start but the Indians were not there. Washington, in desperation, sent Gist to bring them to the trail. It was nearly eleven o’clock when the guide came back. He had the three Chiefs and the young hunter with him, but prevailing upon them to forego the allurements of Venango had taxed his powers of persuasion.
After sunset on December 11, the end of the fourth day on the trail, the party reached the point on the creek opposite Fort Le Boeuf, and George sent van Braam across to notify the commandant of his arrival. Several French officers came over in a canoe and invited the emissaries to the fort. Major Washington was agreeable, and soon was received, as Gist put it, “with a great deal of complaisance.” Nothing official was undertaken that evening.
As early as he thought polite the next morning George presented himself, with Gist and van Braam, at Headquarters. The second in command received him and ushered him into the presence of the senior officer of the post, the Sieur Legardeur de St. Pierre de Repentigny, Knight of St. Louis. He had been sent to the post after the death of de Marin and had been there only a week when the English mission arrived. Through van Braam, Washington begged leave to show his passport and commission and then tendered the letter from Governor Dinwiddie. St. Pierre declined to receive it at that time. Would Monsieur Washington retain the papers until the arrival from the next fort of Monsieur Repentigny, who had been sent for and was expected shortly?
The delay gave George time to examine the fort casually. He found it a stout frontier structure of four houses built as corner bastions with the space between them stockaded. Before he was able to study the armament, he was informed that the officer from Presque Isle had arrived. George again went to Headquarters, and after an introduction to Captain Repentigny, delivered the papers. St. Pierre took them and went into another room so that the Captain, without distraction, could turn the documents into French. When the translation of this was approved, Washington asked for an early answer; the commandant said h
e would call a council to consider the question. George retired to await a decision and, meantime, to get such information as he could of the fort and the minor matters covered by his instructions.
Had the young Virginian undertaken that night to analyze the information he and his men had acquired at Fort Le Boeuf, he would have found two items important. First, there did not appear to be the least doubt in the mind of the commandant that the French had a valid title to the Ohio and could hold that river and its tributaries. Second, the intruders were preparing to extend their occupation the next spring. On this point, George’s companions reported along the creek at Fort Le Boeuf fifty birch canoes and 170 of pine. Many others were being blocked out. These preparations convinced Washington that the French were making ready on a large scale for an early descent on the Ohio. Virginia must act quickly and in strength. Not one day must be lost in getting to Williamsburg the news of what the French were undertaking.
Equally apparent was the French aim to detach the Indians from their British alliance. The tactics employed to entice Half King at Venango were being repeated at Le Boeuf. The Chief was as anxious as ever to return the treaty belt, but, he said, the commandant would not give him an audience. St. Pierre was seeking to delay the Indians in the hope that George would leave without them. If that happened, the French knew precisely how to wean the natives from the English and win them with rum, presents and promises.
Perhaps it was a game in which all the odds were against George, but it was not a contest the young man would forfeit. His aim must be to procure an early answer, depart with the Indians and, after that, get to Williamsburg as soon as possible. In this spirit he flatly declined St. Pierre’s next proposal—that Washington proceed to Quebec and present to the Governor of Canada the communication from His Excellency of Virginia. His orders were to deliver the letter to the commander on the frontier the French had occupied. He had no authority to go farther or to place the paper in the hands of anyone else. From this stand he did not permit himself to be shaken. George would do his utmost to spur Half King to press for the council St. Pierre was trying to avoid. Immediately after Half King made his speech and returned the treaty belt, young Washington intended to start down the creek.
Washington got the horses off without difficulty, and then he urged Half King again to seek an interview with the commandant. Half King got St. Pierre to receive him late on December 14, but this was done privately and with only one or two other officers—virtual defeat in itself, because the Chief had wished the return of the treaty belt to be formal and public. St. Pierre had not been willing to accept it, even though de Marin previously had demanded it. St. Pierre had protested that he had great friendship for the Indians over whom Half King held sway. The French wished to trade with the tribes, the commandant had assured him, and, as proof of this, would send goods immediately to Logstown.
That evening George received the formal written answer to Governor Dinwiddie’s letter. Along with the paper was assurance that two canoes would be at Washington’s disposal the next morning. St. Pierre was as good as his word. Early on December 15, there was much activity on the part of the French in seeing that the emissary be made comfortable for his voyage down the creek, but at the same time every blandishment was offered the Indians to keep them from leaving with the Englishmen. In this critical affair, on which the continued support of the Six Nations might depend, the young Virginian instinctively relied on moral force. He went to Half King and, with all the strength of argument at his command, tried to prevail on the Chief to depart with him. For the first time in George’s dealings with Half King, the Indian palpably evaded: The commandant, he said, would not let him go until the next day. George walked forthwith to St. Pierre and squarely faced the old soldier: Would the commandant complete his business with Half King and permit the natives to leave? Ill treatment was being accorded an emissary, because to delay the Indians was to hamper his own departure.
The Indians were waiting because the French had promised they would receive the next morning a present of guns and the supplies they most loved. For the sake of a few rifles, the savages were delaying a return journey on which English control of the Ohio might depend. George quickly made up his mind that he also would remain. Then, if the French redeemed their promise, the savages would get the presents and still go with the Virginians; if the French delayed the gifts, then George could accuse them before the Indians of breaking promises.
The next morning St. Pierre and his lieutenants saw that Washington had the advantage. Without further chicanery the presents were given the Sachems with appropriate ceremony and fine words. Then the French played their last card: Liquor was offered the Redmen. George knew that if the savages took any of it, they soon would get drunk and neither would nor could attempt that day the difficult work of steering their canoe down the creek; so, once again, George appealed to the Indians. The party must start, and at once! Half King and this three companions looked at the jugs, and then, to Washington’s immense relief, they went about the final preparations for departure. Soon both canoes were ready. George gave the word. They were off, all hands. George had won.
George and his party reached Venango December 22. He made ready to start for Logstown the next day and sent for Half King in order to learn whether the Indians were going overland with the Englishmen or intended to continue by water. Half King explained that he would use the canoe for the rest of the journey. George no longer had to depend on Half King and could not wait indefinitely at Venango to protect the Chief against the cunning of Joincare, but he took pains to warn the Indians against Joincare. Half King was reassuring in answer: Washington need not be concerned; the Chief knew the French too well to be deceived by them. He had not yet satisfied himself concerning George’s abilities but he had a measure of affection for the tall Major and a certain belief in the future of the young white emissary. Half King already had given him an Indian name, Caunotau-carius, Towntaker. What this new brother of the Six Nations needed, the tribes would endeavor to supply.
George thanked the Chief and bade him farewell. The next day the white men set out from Venango for Murthering Town. Five miles only were covered before early twilight and the weariness of the animals forced Washington to call a halt. By the morning of December 26, three of the men were so badly frost-bitten that they could do nothing. George stood inflexibly to his resolution to get the answer of the French to Williamsburg without the loss of a day that could be saved. He proposed to Gist that they strike out on foot. The veteran frontiersman did all he could to dissuade the Virginian, but the Major was insistent. Although the two men followed the easiest trail that led towards Murthering Town, the pace was exhausting, the cold, in George’s own words, “scarcely supportable,” and the small streams so tightly frozen that it was difficult to get even drinking water. The guide was correct: this was not the life for a gentleman. At Murthering Town they found among the natives one who spoke English and professed to know Gist. It seemed good fortune that this fellow had been encountered, because George now was determined to leave the trail and make for the nearest crossing of the Allegheny. The Indian might be able to show them the shortest route. On inquiry, he said he could, and would do so gladly.
With this guide Washington and Gist set out. As the Indian carried George’s pack easily, in addition to his own rifle, they made good speed for eight or ten miles. Then the Major had to admit that his feet were getting very sore and that he was weary. It would be well, he said, if they camped. On this, the Indian offered to carry George’s gun as well as his pack, but George did not wish to part with his rifle or to give the strange Indian two. Refusal displeased the savage. He became churlish and insisted that the party press on because, he said, there were Ottawas in the woods. If the white men stopped and went to sleep, these Indians would attack and scalp them.
Gist had become suspicious by this time and had noticed that the man was proceeding too far to the northeast to reach the nearest crossing of the Allegheny. Ge
orge had not received either a glance or a whisper from Gist to show that the frontiersman distrusted the Indian, but he himself was growing dubious. Soon, in the belief that the Indian was leading them astray, Washington told him that when they reached the next water, they would stop. If the native guide made any reply over his shoulder, George did not remember it afterward. He noticed only the back of the savage, less than fifteen paces ahead, and the wideness of a meadow spotted here and there with trees. The three had gone a little way into this meadow when George saw the Indian wheel, lift his rifle and fire straight at them.
“Are you shot?” George cried to Gist.
“No,” answered Gist, who had not seen the Indian fire.
As they looked, the man ran ahead a little way, got behind a big oak and started to reload his rifle. Almost instantly the two white men were upon him. Gist would have killed him without a word, but Washington restrained his companion. Silently and alertly, then, with the Indian in front of them, the travelers went on downgrade to a little run. There George called a halt and directed the savage to make a fire, while George either stood by the guns or saw that Gist was within instant reach of the weapons.
Presently Gist whispered: “As you will not have him killed, we must get him away and then we must travel all night.”
George agreed. Gist went about arranging things as if they were to camp there, and at length turned to the Indian. “I suppose,” said he, “you were lost and fired your gun.”
The bewildered savage answered only that he knew the way to his cabin and that it was nearby.
“Well,” Gist answered indulgently, “do you go home, and as we are much tired, we will follow your track in the morning; and here is a cake of bread for you, and you must give us meat in the morning.”
The native had thought he was going to be killed, and when he saw that he had a chance to get away alive, he was happy to depart without word, loot or scalps. Gist followed him some distance and listened to be sure the Indian continued to put many yards between him and the campfire. Not long after nine o’clock, Gist came back and told George they must move to another site. Weary as Washington was, he picked up his pack and tramped about a mile. Then Gist stopped again and lighted a fire so they could see to set their compass. This done, they fixed their course and started for the Allegheny. Although George had thought early in the day that he could not go any farther, new strength came with danger. In the knowledge that his trail could be followed rapidly in the snow, he was able to travel all night and all the next day.
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