Excerpt from "Founding Quebec" (part 1 "Victory of the Wild")

A squad of eight Iroquois riders moved towards the town of Boston. Some white women and kids yelled for help and a few soldiers took their guns abreast but did not shoot as they saw the levied hands in sign of a peaceful visit. The Iroquois had brought presents for the settlers, the prettiest furs and jewels they owned. Every possible door or stop opened to welcome the Iroquois Indians, and they penetrated into the military camp of the English army, though they were very well surveyed. Most of the young officers had never seen such wild men that close before. The only ones they had ever come across with were either hidden in some author’s narrative or in a trapper’s sketch, brought along from their trip westward. Those officers belonged to some of the last recruits moved over to the Americas. The greatest part of the men had a despising look at the natives, others looked rather fearfully at them but all of them were obviously amazed to see such muscled men. The soldiers’ ideas were at a loss or rather they suffered a mess of ideas as far as England’s control on the colonies was concerned. No doubt some of them would happily shoot at the Indians and mercilessly put them to ground while others would rather make friends with them. This could have led to a rebellion within the camp but all soldiers were to obey the rule of their commander and act only according to the will of the Crown. 

The natives stopped short in the middle of the camp. Five meters around them soldiers were gathered, standing there in a half-circle. All Indians had dreadful faces and a serious look which didn’t permit grins or jokes. Three of them were standing a little away from the others, the leader stood straight forward while the second covered him from behind. The second looked attentively all around himself, carrying his Tomahawk in the hand, and the third, a little younger than his fellows, carried a bundle of furs to give to the Whites. At the sound of the horn the heavy wooden door leading to the central mansion opened and the commander of the camp walked out to meet them, sergeant and corporal by his side. There they stood, symmetrically representing the paradox between two worlds. A giant circle had been formed all around them, the dried out earth on the ground, the sun was shining bright then. The small native went forward and laid the fur onto the ground right in front of the commander’s feet. The meeting of the Natives and the English didn’t resemble a conversation but rather an exchange of ideas. Thanks to manual signs the Iroquois painted with their hands in the dust. They made clear that there were three major camps on the coast and that an alliance of the two meant a tremendous strength, a tremendous increase of power. The English commander was so amazed when he saw the gestures of the Iroquois. He questioned the Indian Chief, the man who stood a little away, in front of the others, about the number of men each tribe of the Confederation possessed. The commander eventually grew aware of the strength of the Five Nations and only asked for a brief time of reconsideration but heartily promised the Indians that he would contact them, already esteeming the plan quite positively.

In truth the plan was the following: to organise an attack on the French colony, set a little further north. [...]

Read an excerpt from part 2 here

© 2015 Matt Oehler