You Did What__ Mad Plans and Great Historical Disasters - Bill Fawcett [19]
The Half-King was understanding of Washington’s impetuousness and personally took no offense, but his tribe was not of a similar mind. After the Half-King publicly acceded to Major Washington’s wishes and the English emissary retired for the night, a loud and angry debate erupted among the tribal members over the impetuosity of this man. The next morning the Virginians awoke to find the complete services offered by the Half-King to be reduced to a hunter and three aged chiefs (including the disdainful Half-King), the remainder of the tribe having apparently refused to risk their lives for the willful Virginian’s unspoken mission.
Though disheartened, George Washington accepted the Half-King and his men into the party and departed the camp as quickly as they could gather their belongings.
During the long native-guided journey toward the French lines, Washington listened to the Half-King tirelessly rage and threaten action against their shared neighbor. The tribal leader appeared to grow ever more bitter toward the French with each passing mile, and Washington became less and less sure of his small band of native scouts. Over time the Virginian began to see the ragtag band of natives as a sign of British impotence and as a potentially destabilizing element in confronting the French.
Their situation was a powder keg ready to blow.
The Virginian would have gladly thanked the Half-King and his men for their time and sent them back to their encampment, yet neither George Washington nor his group knew the surrounding area. Furthermore, burdened by other responsibilities, Washington had not so much as a clue as to how to return to the Half-King’s camp, let alone return east. As the party neared the French encampment, Major Washington convinced the Iroquois to remain behind, encamped within the nearby woods, and hopefully out of sight.
When the unencumbered party reached the nearest French outpost (a small forward structure with only the barest complement of French forces), Washington’s men were dutifully conducted inside and introduced to the French-Indian negotiator Philippe Thomas de Joncaire, sieur de Chabert (a living legend who held great sway over the region’s Native Americans). Though unnerved by the Seneca-raised Frenchman’s presence, Major Washington was silently thankful that his new traveling companions had remained out of sight. As Major Washington explained the party’s need to convey an urgent message to his host’s superiors, they were informed that the person with whom they needed to speak was actually sixty miles upriver; but given the rapid approach of night, de Joncaire offered Major Washington and his men a good dinner and their outpost’s meager comforts before resuming their journey at dawn. Washington’s complement did not refuse the questionable invitation.
While his fellows drank deeply of French wine and gave themselves to inebriation, George Washington remained aloof, wincing at the laxness of his men’s mouths and dutifully noting every exaggerated French reply. Eventually, Washington was asked about a nearby native encampment. Answering in truth, Major Washington subsequently watched with dread as de Joncaire promptly invited the Half-King and his men inside for a drink. Coming to terms with the fear that his mission was rapidly approaching a hostile and possibly terminal conclusion, the Virginian braced for the Iroquois leader’s well-prepared speech. However, instead of hearing ire and righteousness blast from the native leader’s mouth upon his entrance, Washington witnessed the Half-King’s contingent enter, embrace the French offerings of wine, and grow steadily drunk as the night grew long. Rather than watch the continuing spectacle (and possibly redeem the evening with a sober witness to slipped French secrets), George Washington retired for the night in disgust.
The next morning the party set out once